In Life on July 5, 2011 at 10:57 am


Oh my, it’s come back.  Timorously and without any name, for it knows it may not stay for long.  It is not happiness, but that is what we will call it, for language is what we have.  Let us call happiness, quietly, for tonight it sleeps upon my heart.


Some day, I promise to write the tale of my time in Ecuador, for such a tale is why this blog was born.  But today is New York’s day.  Tonight, it’s night.  I still feel mad at this city where I’ve lived for three months, but I understand: we belong together.

I woke up today and met Vincent, a 47 year old Frenchman.  We sat in the Dean & Deluca’s at the 59th St mall and laid our voices on a table.  Stretching them and pulling them and twisting and tweaking we parsed un and engineer.  He showed me his iPhone.  By golly, I think I want one (and this is coming from the world’s last Facebook holdout).

We parted in the rain and I went home to sleep.  I woke up amazed that some day I would die.  I made eggs.  I did yoga by candlelight, wafting in Indian tunes with my roommate.  I went to the Bronx and walked by the pictures of the players at Yankee Stadium.  Some of the old boys are left.  I knocked on a door in a corridor that smelled of piss and went inside and taught a 12 year old alliteration.  “Super Sexy” I said, to loud laughter.

I left on the B train and got off a stop early.  I hoofed it over wet pavement to 114th.  When everyone arrived, we filled the church with song.  It was my first night with the choir.

Now I am happy.  I remembered I have joy.  I enjoy things.  En in Spanish means in.  In joy.  My mother’s middle name is Joy.  So it runs in the family.  To enter in where we love.  To remember that we love.

On the train home I smiled quietly thinking about telling you this.


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