Seriously? It’s that simple?

When I write, people read. It’s kind of a small miracle. Like how people tend to stay on their own side of the road (most of the time – grateful), and hot water comes out of the shower (also most of the time – also grateful).

Sometimes I have to pinch myself as a reminder to just keep moving the pen across the paper… or my fingers across the keyboard. After all, I have no shortage of ideas. If anything, most of the time I’m writing as a matter of survival, to bring some order to the vast, chaotic collection of thoughts and images that relentlessly ping pong their way across the great viewscreen of my mind. It’s so freaking BUSY up there.

I feel the same way when I walk down the streets of midtown NYC during the middle of the day. For a psychic sponge like me, it can be a draining experience just dashing out for a cup of soup. Sample sale, wow, only $5 for that dress?, red light, stop, green light, cross the street, fumes, hey that guy just ran a red light, close call, fragments of German walking by, Spanish, French, (so many tourists), do you know the way to the Empire State Building?, now who’s texting me?, wow, these bicycle lanes are serious, that was close, couple arguing, how does she walk on those heels, what is that smell?, sunny day, my friends in Huntington STILL don’t have electricity, what the hell am I going to fix for dinner, I should NOT have had that coffee so late last night, now I need more just to stay awake, I need some acupuncture, so hungry, thirsty, restless, why can’t I FOCUS???, maybe if I eat some root vegetables, gotta get this mortgage modification, shit I forgot to call back that woman from the meeting, pay that parking ticket, buy more toilet paper, that guy is so looking at my ass, wow, only $10 for that shirt, what the hell is eyebrow threading, anyway?, $7 for a cup of soup???!!!

Inside, outside, not sure which is busier these days.

Now, I promised myself and you, that this blog would not be my “therapy.” This is not, therapy. I promise. I feel no closer to any truth or resolution. I only crave the opportunity to tell a story that some of you, maybe one or two of you will recognize. It’s about connecting, crafting a path from one soul to another. And yes, when I let so much time go between posts, it feels like I’m clearing the way for more coherent tales to emerge. But you and I both know, things just aren’t always that neat. And that’s a reasonable story to share, too…

Photo by SantaRosa OLD SKOOL


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