September 2008



Getting chillier each day, especially by the river.

(Sent from my Palm phone.)

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(Sent from my Palm phone.)


I played the commuter game today. My score: Two subway legs, two Metro North train legs, two rides in cars, one ride on a bus. I had to travel for a consulting gig and had forgotten how draining the commuting lifestyle is.

(Sent from my Palm phone).


$10 glass of ginger ale = Not OK. No wonder I prefer the company of Charlie Rose.

(Sent from my Palm phone).


Dusk happens around 6pm these days, and I’ve been watching it most days from shore in Red Hook, where the air smells… nautical.

(Sent from my Palm phone.)


Tonight I spent a couple hours at a piano humbly (but pleasingly) labouring over simple sheet music (Bach for kindergarteners, basically). I’m rarely disciplined with piano – or any instrument – despite wanting so deeply, ever since I was a kid, to be able to play with the kind of absolute expressive freedom that comes only from mastery. I’ve been wondering a lot lately what stops one (me) from giving oneself (myself) wholly and completely. Across the room on the TV, Serena Williams is talking to Charlie Rose about the potency of the ‘mental strength’ that she conjures up and sustains for Grand Slam matches, and the flu or cold that invariably grips her as soon as she gets home from the tournament, ‘drained.’ I’m cranky that I’ve allowed my tub to overflow. I need to set fearless fire to my skin again. Get drained in the good way.

(Sent from my Palm phone).


(Sent from my Palm phone.)

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