One of the more interesting parts of my story is that I returned to the neighborhood I grew up in. And while much of the place has changed, most of the important landmarks have remained as they were.
The East Meadow water tower still pokes into the underbelly of the sky and so do the glass buildings and the hospital on Hempstead turnpike.
The schools look as they did when I was young, at least the outside does, and the bowling alley is still there. Prospect Pool remains unchanged, but the Meadow Dairy across the street has seen its share of different owners.
As far as I am concerned, it is fair to say that my life has moved in a complete circle.

Upon the early years of my return, I thought it would be interesting to Continue reading →

I like to stand on the shoreline and cast my worries
into the sea of anonymous waves.
I feel as if the oncoming tides and the outgoing current
are the perfect gesture,
as if there is no better place to wash away my sins.

I come to this place to breathe; I come here to feel the breath of God
and in a sense, I come here to bleed my thoughts,
and feel the wind upon my face.
I come here to get away from my yesterdays
and to ask for a better tomorrow.
In fact, I come here to dream.

I consider this place to be my sanctuary….

I see the ocean as a source of energy:
It constantly moves, and swells.
Sometimes it moves too fast, and other times,
the ocean can be beautifully still.

We once talked about needing a place to escape. 
You have your place
….and I have mine

I have places like this:
I have a spot where I stand on the roof of Manhattan
I have a place beside Jones Inlet to watch the boats move in and out
I have keyboard to type my thoughts on
a machine to print them …..and I have you

I don’t think I need much else.

Do you?

I am writing this specifically to you…..

During the last angry lecture from The Old Man, he told me, “Sometimes I think it would be easier if you just committed suicide. It sure as hell would be easier than watching you kill yourself like this.”
According to The Old Man’s account, I dragged my feet when I walked. I barely opened my mouth when I spoke, and as I spoke, my words dragged slowly as if my brain were permanently relaxed from my drug use.

“I swear it would be easier if you killed yourself. At least this way your mother and I could hurt and then we could heal….but watching you do this to yourself is worse than watching you die.”

I was no longer their innocent little boy. My skin color was Continue reading →

The worst place for me is inside my own head. This is where battles begin.
This is where wars are fought and conversations are planned.
This is where I can choreograph an entire argument before it ever happens.

This is where I create the outcomes of problems that never exist; this is where Continue reading →

After a long weekend shift, I washed my hands from the dust and dirt. I splashed water across my face, and after losing the best hours of sunlight, I changed from my work clothes and locked the shop’s door behind me. At least for that moment, I was happily uninvolved with my job. For that moment, I turned the key to lock the top lock of the engineer’s locker-room, and after I placed my hand beneath the scanner to prove my work hours, I left the day behind and drove home.
I drove through the city streets, waiting on pedestrians that cross the street regardless to oncoming traffic. Then I ducked beneath the Midtown Tunnel and came out on the other side.
The day was beautiful—however, I spent most of it with various contractors, running from one part of an office building to another.
But finally…springtime arrived.
The warm winds allowed us a glimpse of what to expect. In no time at all, the summer will be here and our side of the hemisphere will enjoy the chance to dress less and show more skin.
I like that Continue reading →

Essentially, I am only eight years-old. I say this because of a decision I made eight years ago. And the decision was simple.
It was to say the words, “Never again.”

At the age of 33, I came to a crossroads. I came to a place where I had nothing left behind me. There was nothing in front of me and there was no one to my left or to my right. I had very little as far as clothing or possessions and my bank account was mostly empty. Aside from financially, I found myself Continue reading →

I suppose we had our moment in the sun. I suppose in our youth, we had our chance to dress like kings when we stepped from the doors of our learning institutions and into the world, which we thought would be easy.
We howled and we laughed. We lived as hard and as loud as we could, and from there, we slowly trickled into our places in society.
We found our new directions and said we would always keep in touch. Then we dressed Continue reading →

Sunrise came to close out the week and officially put Sunday on the books. And since this is my one day off, and regardless to my tax appointment before the looming deadline of April 15, I have no choice but to follow my usual routine, arm myself with a cup of coffee, and enjoy the day.
s backyard. I suppose this means Continue reading →

I suppose it has been too long; too long since I have gone away and found myself in a quiet, remote part of the world.
It has been too long since I have been anywhere spectacular, serene, or perfectly spaced away from my usual places of home and business.
It has been too long since I have been away from the gadgets of technology, computer screens, cell phones and text messages, emails, and the tall stack of bills which rise, but never seem to fall lower than halfway.

Of course, the idea of a warm island and white sand beaches with beautiful blue water and palm trees come to mind. I can imagine myself lying in a hammock, slowly swaying between two leafy palm trees to the rhythm of a Caribbean breeze, and beside me, a tall sweating glass sits with a straw poking from its top, and its placed next to a triangular slice of pineapple, orange, and a cherry, which are held together with a red plastic sword and propped at the top of my drink.
I could walk along the beach, feeling the sun on my face, and smell the coconut aroma from the lotion rubbed into my skin.

At nightfall, I could sit at a round table with a tanned-skinned waiter in a floral shirt, smiling at me as he asks, “And how would you like your steak cooked,” or, “Would you care for another shrimp cocktail,” and of course he could always say, “Excellent choice Mr. Kimmel. The garlic butter does go well with the lobster tails.”
I can see myself watching the sunrise and the sunset as it turns the horizon into an amazing shade of fiery orange.

Or…
I could sit in a small hotel I once visited in Paradise, Arizona. I could find myself sitting comfortably behind the wheel of a convertible and driving through the desert. I could be surrounded by desert’s nothingness; I could enjoy the quiet and watch the black, long-winged vultures turn motionlessly in the bluest sky.

Or…
I could spend a few days in an A-framed cottage while losing myself in a disconnected atmosphere of an old television set, and old telephone that hangs on the cedar paneled wall beside an old fridge, and an old stove in an opened room with old paintings (perhaps older than my oldest parent) and an old fireplace, which burns significantly bright and casts perfect shadows, say, like on the body of my naked woman as she waits for me.

I suppose I spend too much time in the same places with the same places. And each morning, approximately 3.8 miles north of Hempstead Turnpike and over Old Country Road, I walk up the stairs at the train station of the Long Island Railroad. I see the same people as they wait for the morning train to place them 47 minutes away from their homes and into the city that never sleeps.
I suppose I spend too much time on Lexington Avenue and not enough time at places like Columbus Circle, or Central Park. I suppose there is less opportunity for me to break away from my routine and see things like The Met, or The Hayden Planetarium.
All day, every day, I see the same things; I see the same tools and the same degreaser I use to clean my hands. I encounter the same mechanical problems and the same arguments with angry tenants in a commercial office building. I see the same bosses, lost in the worlds of their own egos, and pointing fingers while saying, “I don’t care if you don’t think it can be done. Just get it done, and get it done now.”

I do appreciate my ride home, however. I like facing backwards and looking through the train’s window, watching New York City disappear into the distance as I pass through Queens, and in no time…I’m home.

I don’t complain because this is my life.
In order to live, turn on a light, eat something or get from one place to another, I have to work.
It would be nice to get away though.
Even if only for a few days….

I like to stand near the rock piles on the west side of Jones Inlet. I watch the tides move in and out; I watch the earth breathe, and I watch as the waves crest onto the dark gray boulders that reach out like a black finger from the shoreline.
Behind me, the sleepy town of Point Lookout lives in summer homes, which were Continue reading →