March 2009



Only seven generations ago, Brooklyn was the tip of a majestically fertile island with a seven or eight little houses. Fruit falling off the trees. Oysters in the Gowanus. How can there be so little left?

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Dusk at the Cathedral of Learning. When I was in college, a kid named John, who I knew from a couple classes, jumped off the Cathedral. It didn’t end well. As far as I know, anyhow. I’m feeling unusually gleeful to be back in my old neighborhoods. Everything’s drenched in a blinding sunlight that makes the freezing temps irrelevant.


Me: "But homeostasis just sounds so… Boring."

Old Friend: "We can come up with a sexier term for it. In the meantime just picture fat elvis dead on the toilet next time u think homeostasis is not for you."


Went looking for the fox den in the cemetery. No dice. A dinner companion played the Adele album, which I found pleasing. Digging Spring.


As cold as it is here today, we can still tell that it’s the first day of Spring. Some purple and yellow flowers have muscled up through cold soil in the yard. A blast of blinding sun broke through the clouds in the late afternoon. I’m told that last week a red fox skulked through the driveway out front. Word is there’s a den of them living in the nearby cemetery.


Upon landing I was greeted by a Steeler and George Washington. They urged me to get fighting fit and choose worthy battles. Amen, fellas. I feel ya.


whatagoodboyheagoodboy

A great place to live is inside headphones that are playing Bach.

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