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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 →

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a letter

I sat on a Manhattan bound bus this morning. I pulled my hood up and with my seat tilted slightly back, I leaned my head against the tinted window to watch droplets of freezing rain drizzle down the side of the glass. I watched the street signs and storefronts pass as the bus moved along Route 17. After more than 20 years of commuting from the east, I now make my entrance from the other side of the Hudson River.
I looked ahead to see the Westside of New York City. The tall buildings reached upwards and pushed into the palm of gray clouds. There was something beautiful and quiet to this. I suppose the cold rain and thick clouds looked like a good reason to stay home in bed. Continue reading →

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Redemption

I have always wanted to feel good. Even when I behaved badly, I always wanted to feel something so explicitly pure and genuine. I wanted to feel cleansed—I wanted something to overcome and wash me away from myself.
I wanted to feel as if I were good, or healed, as if to absolve the situations in my mind. I wished for it. I wished I could find something to ease the quiet regret that Continue reading →

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From The Book of Firsts

My First Event

I walked through the glossy wooded front door that was set in a gray stoned wall. I was greeted with a smile by a tall, bald headed bouncer with no neck, hefty arms and a chub-face. He was an over sized Irishman in a black shirt with the word “Staff” printed in white lettering across the left side of the chest. “ID please,” asked the bouncer. This was nice because after we break the 40 year age barrier, it is good to be carded at the door of a bar and made to prove that you are in fact over the age of 21.

I was given a band to wrap around my wrist and a red ticket with the actual word, “Ticket” on it, which was printed in black lettering with a random number across the top and bottom edge of the serrated ticket. Continue reading →

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Dear Mom,

I think the times I realize you most are the long quiet drives home while stuck in traffic after a Saturday morning overtime shift. I think about all that goes on in my daily life and all that I am working through. I think about the house, the mortgage, and the bills that come along with it.  Then I think about how wild it is to realize that I am an adult. I’m a grownup husband and a dad.

I remember back when I was a young boy and The Old Man Continue reading →

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From Bedtime Stories for the Insomniac

Youth

It was Monday morning and my body smelled from the residue of my weekend. I arrived at work nearly on time. My suit, shirt, and necktie were not well coordinated. My hair was slightly long and slicked back behind my ears with an excessive glob of hair gel. I appeared messily and unkempt. My eyes were red from the lack of sleep and my need for rest was the result of young foolishness.

After a long night out, which I swore would end early; I found myself walking through the front door of my home and into my bedroom. By the time I was undressed, I was able to fall on my bed with only two hours before my alarm rang to wake me the next morning. In my early Continue reading →

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Sessions From The Balcony: Passed the Hampton Docks

I drove farther east from Westhampton until the south fork of the Long Island narrowed further and almost to its point. The sky had already begun to transition from night into morning. I could hear the sound of a silent car ride; the pavement moving beneath the four wheels of my car, which was a junked blue, four-door Chevy that was neglected and beaten over the years. The cloth interior had its share of stains and cigarette burns in both front and back seats. The headliner above my head drooped down, sagging like a bubble because the fabric loosened from the roof’s interior. 

The car rumbled loudly. The deep gurgle from the engine knocked with a slight tinny sound, which perhaps meant that my beat-up four-door was near the end of its road. The odometer stopped well over 100,000 miles; the windows rolled up and down manually and the radio was equipped with an outdated, non-working tape cassette player.  Continue reading →