So *this* is the new year

There’s a bruise on the part of my chest where, technically, my heart is located; I wasn’t paying attention, naturally, and walked into something. The mark will fade, strange as though it may look, and everything will carry on because everything has to carry on. That’s the only way. I’m trying better habits, watching the…

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Of Champagne Corks and Feelings

When I’m feeling centered I think “Everything will be ok.” When I’m feeling less than, that is when the fear will creep in. I’m not talking about a paralyzing anxiety, just this nagging, niggling presence that brings a little bit of terror into the part of my body where my heart is located. You can feel…

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Atomic

Water is made of two hydrogen atoms bonded to an oxygen atom. Some scientists would describe the connections as somewhat bent, askew, or off-kilter, more evidence perhaps that nature is thoroughly, gloriously nuanced. If you were to look closely at a water molecule, you would see it resembles Disney’s Mickey Mouse, a staple of this…

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A New York Minute Part I

There’s that warm thickness that can only be felt in New York City in the early summer. It’s perceptible when the temperature hasn’t reached its peak, so the air still has the cold-weather hint of clarity that is completely obliterated by the middle of August. In its place, by then, is a hotter, heavier atmosphere…

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Once and Again. Always.

It threatened rain so I brought my umbrella. But I usually carried my umbrella with me anyway; a city habit, I called it. By subscribing to this behavior, I saved myself the indignity of getting surprise-soaked, or losing five bucks to the “street umbrellas” which looked about as cheap and lasted about as long as…

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Toys

The air smelled like grapes, even on a Wednesday. Steamy though it was, my movement was not constricted by the extreme amount of moisture just hanging in the trees. I knew walking would have been heavy; wooden legs, thicker hair, weighted clothes all caused by the humidity. The sensation may have been an illusion brought…

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From a Barstool

The bar is an oasis, despite it being shoved up against the wall. I am not an alcoholic, because I sit and admire the flavors and colors contained in the row of bottles above me; they shine and glow like a body of shimmering water is a respite in the desert’s heat. I perch at…

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Untitled #412

It was always a golden city, even before I learned exactly what Black and Gold meant and why the sports fans were as crazed as in Boston. It was a golden city because each time I would be bleary eyed and exhausted, the sunlight would illuminate the staggered and defiant skyline for a second sunrise,…

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