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Dear Mom

I remember when you would make me go upstairs and clean my room. It was early spring and we opened the windows for what seemed to be the first time all year. The house smelled like white linen. You made iced tea, remember? You always made the same brand, but you only made it in the warmer months.

Spring cleaning is what you called it. You made me check my drawers and see which clothes fit and which close we would give away. You had me go through my closet. Not sure if you knew this but my closet was my favorite hiding place. Instead of cleaning my room, I would pile my clothes in a bunch and Continue reading →

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The Cold Truth

I was around 19 years-old when I saw a violent death for the first time. It was wintertime and Old Country Road was busy with a heavy flow of  late rush hour traffic that congested along the strip at the entrance near Fortunoff’s and Roosevelt Field Mall. The cold weather was tightening its grip.
Homes were undergoing the temporary renovation of Continue reading →

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just a memory

From Sessions in The Balcony:

In the heart of New York City, there is a tall glass building that stands one block east of Columbus Circle on 57th Street at Seventh Avenue. This is home to places like The Brooklyn Diner. This is also where I worked my first shift as an operating engineer.

Reaching high above street level, the commercial office building was headquarters to a large real estate company. There was a radio station. There were attorney offices and media companies. There was Continue reading →

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Love

She opened the door to her home. Her eyes twinkled from the candlelight that flickered in the living room behind her. Outside, the full moon took its place in the center of an autumn’s night sky. The stars were bright and the wind was brisk and cool. Inside, however, the dim light from her apartment and soft music was nearly as warm as the sensation of her skin.

He thought to himself, “I knew right away.”
Her eyes seemed Continue reading →

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About Someone ‘Coming Out’

Fall, 1989

There were three buildings at my place in Liberty, New York. The first building was the foremost and closest to the road with a semi-circular driveway. The lawn inside the indentation of the circular driveway was slightly overgrown. The Blacktop was cracked and bulged from the roots of a tree that grew in the lawn. This was the main building where I first made my entryway to undergo 42 days of in-treatment drug rehabilitation. This is house is where the patients Continue reading →

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this is how the virus spread

Everyone wants to ride high on the wave but no one wants to tumble. And by tumble, I mean crash. No one ever wants their ride to end. No one wants to find themselves faced down in the sand.

But hey, it comes with the territory . . .

I walked across Front Street with two small packages hidden Continue reading →

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The Blue, The Black, The White

I admit it . . .

I used to call them cops and pigs. I never saw them as policemen or policewomen. I never saw them as man or woman at all. I saw them as a badge and a uniform. I hated them the same as I assumed they hated me.

Given a safe environment, I grew up in a decent neighborhood with few to little stories about major crime. Most Continue reading →

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The Necessary Scrapes and Bruises of Life

I say we need to scrape our knee once in a while. I say we need the bumps on the head, the black and blue bruises on the arms and legs. We need the scars from a bad idea to remind us what not to do. I say we all fall. Whether we fall flat on our ass or on our face is irrelevant

Falls are necessary. We need to fall sometimes. How else would we learn to stand back up, start over, and continue? How else would we know our own strength if there was no such thing as adversity or opposition?

I remember some of my worst falls. I remember sitting in a small cell, listening to some of the other inmates singing rap songs, and wondering what waited for me the next morning. The two inmates screamed their songs to bounce Continue reading →

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Bedtime Stories For The Insoniac

The Jason Pitkin incident:

Nearly a decade passed after the small Upstate town of Liberty New York was shaken from a tragedy in the otherwise peaceful town. Almost all had been forgotten, and those who were uninvolved had their minds on their own life.

Jason Pitkin was a small, scrawny young man. He was pimple-faced and pale skinned. His glasses were thick, wire-rimmed frames, which were too big for his small bony face. His dark brown eyebrows were Continue reading →

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Bedtime Stories For The Insomniac

Just for fun: The Parole Board

 

Manhattan, wintertime, 1989

I was dressed somewhat warmly with gloves that allowed my fingertips to poke through and stood on a roof—high above Lexington Avenue and faced the downtown of Manhattan. I looked at the far off lights on the bridges that connected the city to Brooklyn and their reflection that glimmered across the East River. I inhaled the cold air to find a moment of easiness. It was amazing to me how peaceful these sight could be—even Continue reading →