I was in a small room across from a desk in a small office without any windows. The office was not specific. The desk did not belong to anyone in particular. There was nothing in the room that would indicate this was an office in a psychiatric ward at a hospital. There were no scales or any sort of medical apparatus in the room. There was only a desk with a chair behind it and a chair in front. There were a few posters on the wall, which were more like pharmaceutical advertisements than anything else.
Near the door, which was wide opened to the hospital wing, there was a Continue reading
The First Without You
Mother’s Day May, 8,2016
Of all things I think I said most, I probably said, “Don’t worry about it,” more than anything else.
“Don’t worry about it, Ma” or, “I got it,” was probably one of my most frequent responses to you.
When you asked me if I did my work in school or cleaned my room, I said, “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I got it.”
When you told me not to do something and warned me that I could hurt myself, I told you, “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I got it.” before rushing out the door.
Moms take care of us when we’re sick.
They clean up our messes.
they put band-aids on our cuts and Continue reading
You . . .
You . . .
You are a soft and gentle idea.
A feeling, perhaps.
You are a delicate shade of thunder
that rumbles with a sense of intensity
but moves in slowly to overwhelm the sky.
I am thinking of you as the sky weeps . . .
rain falls in large, drop-like tears.
The sound of wind rushes passed the homes
situated on a small quiet block.
It is daylight and still,
I am dreaming of a long slow day
that I wish would never end.
I am thinking of a couch along the wall
set below the front window of a modest home.
The long flowing drapes opened enough
for one to sit on the couch
and stare out into the empty suburban street. Continue reading
A Letter From A Son
As I’ve grown older, it seems as if life always gets in the way of things. I make plans but plans change. I tell myself, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Next thing I know, tomorrow passes and days add into weeks. Then weeks turn into months. In a blink of an eye, time passes, and I wonder how a year can move by so quickly.
I once saw a documentary about time in relation to size. Take a mosquito, for example. A mosquito has a lifespan of 24hrs. To you and me, that’s only one day—but to the mosquito; that Continue reading
The Inner Monologue Of An Everyday Man
Written as a stream of consciousness.
These were my thoughts as I had them today.
Wednesday . . . Thank God, the week is almost over.
“Take a deep breath.”
I got this
Standing on Franklin—waiting for a morning bus into the city, I watching gray morning clouds drift across the top of Harriman Mountain. The trees on the mountain have all become green, which makes for a pretty contrast beneath the gray rainy sky and the strands of long, cotton like clouds that drift by.
Spring . . .
I am at a moment where time Continue reading
And The Band Played On
I went to a show last night
Madison Square Garden, May 2, 2016
The voices from the crowd were loud and all sung together in unison. There was nothing ugly or beautiful—there was only music.
There was only love, which was a love that was so great, literally thousands of people stood with their arms raised in the flash of brilliantly colorful lights. Thousands of people screamed their Continue reading
From The Book of Firsts: Sex and Lap Dances
I was a salesman at the time. I was a 21 year-old in a suit and tie and carrying a briefcase. My industry was tough and rejection was all too common. At best, my love life was complicated and my need for female attention was at high demand. It was mid-day and the warmth of summer had nearly vanished. The autumn winds of October were cool, but the city was still warm enough to allow for lighter clothing.
I was a young man in New York City. I was tired of bad sales calls and Continue reading
What Depression Does
You want to know why I cry?
You want to know why I wanted to be involved or why I do what I do?
I sat in the small bathroom of an upstairs suite of an old hotel that was transformed into a drug rehabilitation center. The decorations were something from the 70’s. The suite had a blue rug, white walls, and wood colored furniture. The main lobby was also outdated with wood paneled walls and Berber carpeting. The couches were old. The pictures on the wall were perhaps left behind from the days when the treatment center was a temporary home to happy hotel guests. In its exchange, the hotel became a temporary home to people like me. This was a place of recovery for drug addicts and alcoholics.
I was 19 at the time and fulfilling my Continue reading
A Little Bit About The Path We Choose
I hate the fallout of friendships.
I hate the unmovable and imaginary line that splits down the center of the room, leaving us with the idea of, “You’ll stay in your half and I’ll sat in mine.”
I hate the cold war and the dirty looks between old friends who can no longer stand the sight of each other. I hate the lingering resentment and I hate it when memories appear to shine light on our foolishness.
It is right to Continue reading
A Quick Piece About Being Young
I was thinking of the late night spots of my younger days. Better than the murder burgers in 24hr fast-food restaurants, I was thinking about places where crowds of after-hour people gathered to find good food. We crowded at these eateries and restaurants before granting the overdue ending to a long insatiable night. I had my places, which I preferred over the others.
I had my favorite dishes.
By the time the meal was finished, the sun would begin to poke its way through the membrane of the horizon. Reconstructed from darkness to sunlight, the morning sun lifted as the birds chirped. If I were lucky, I would Continue reading
The Written Addiction 