nearly owned a mannequin.
big day.
but i had to meet paul.
i would have had to lug the thing onto the train, up the stair, down a block, into an elevator, six stories up to the shambhala place.
“i’m here to learn to meditate.”
“what about him?”
“he’s enlightened.”
“i think he’s holding tension in [...]

doc whips his out. quick draw.
i forget how the carrots are teetering.
can you hear morning 40 federation from the other room LOUD? drunkest band you ever saw. shots lined up at the foot of the stage, offered by the fans. trombone guy looked like the weight of his extended slide would topple him [...]

welcome to my life, crunch gym irving place weightroom strangers.

that’s the only picture on my desk.
barry powell at his daughter’s wedding ten years ago. it’s me on his right and his son on his left. barry’s a friend of my mother’s. don’t know him well or anything. he said something that night that broke open the male american horror in a way i [...]

“where you goin’?” paul says.
“meditation.”
“YEAH”
“it’s ugly.”
“it’s cool.”
“it’s FUCKING STUPID AHHAGGHHGAHHGG”
“i wish i could do that”
“AHAHGHGHGHGHGHGH”
“no way i could do that,” he says.

when it comes to things spiritual (a) i am a non-dualist; i have no recognition of spirit. or no recognition of that which could not be [...]

“heyyyy”
“heEEEYYYyYY” (me)
“HOW WAS IT??” (paul)
“[unintelligible]” (me)
“i want to hear everything.”
really?
“later!!!!!!” after that, i’ve slammed the door. i’m in my room stripping, shoes first, i have to sit down. the respectable blue sweater i took only last week to have dry cleaned for the first time in five years has his underarms dampened, as [...]

paul is “experimenting” (?).
bander was bouncing on the futon with her shoes on.
someone had too many lattes.
i didn’t.
my humor was sluggish.
we had a three-way tissy at 4 in the afternoon cuz of me.
i was able to forgive myself after. that’s the main thing.
i went to bedford avenue.
people [...]

gack that sun.

neighborhood myth says the church just right of the sun al capone was baptized in.

mattie shows his war face.

paul shows his war face.

tommy the train shows his war face.

i could have been happy on the couch all night.
this is part of being a “seeker,” you don’t need to move.

but conversation turned to literature:

no hits:

friends offered warmth.
i said yes.
you have to pick your fights.
susan made champagne cocktails.
that’s a cube of ginger at the bottom of the flutes.
having had a bellini at harry’s bar, venice, italy, i’m in a position to judge, and these were like potable jewelry.
intense.

tonight on the calendar: moth slam. finkel was in. he wanted to get food first. i had planned to eat bananas interspersed with heaping spoonfuls of peanut butterat intervals throughout the day. “anyway,” i said, “we ought to be queued by 6.40. every show’s been selling out.”
an easy victory for frugal living.

paul was reading [...]

it had been 1 yr since belle and i hung. we werent thinking about thesupposed holiday today when we made plans sheesh
“10 mins late” i texted belle. huffing out of the apt.

pretty home.
that’s a whole other episode. the painting’s done.
much much throwing-away of stuff i said to paul that i need.
he [...]

i see lever house all the time now.
that is something for which to give thanks on this day of reflection.

plans, not too big. we thought we could drinkone case of wine in 2 days and get the apartmentbeautiful, paint, throw away furniture.
the old colors clashed. they corresponded:

i hoped, painting this 4 years ago at a time of equanimity juuuuuuuust about to seize violently upand change to perturbation, hoped we could use our [...]

one thing we couldn’t know about tortilla flats based on the yelp entrywas how red it was going to be inside of that place. the crowds you couldanticipate. any place at which every night is an events night and the website of which shows that number of people utilizing a hula hoophas got to pack [...]

i was telling kelly about paul.
visual aids help biographically so, i whip outthe camera. this is the picture i show.
kelly: “oh, strapping.”
“he’s a wad of muscle.”
we’re in some bar some night. it’s a question of pabst. fuzz of baby drunkeness. you know.
“What’s paul do?”
“hemmmmmmm”
“I’m sorry?”
“hawwwwwww”
“What’s he do?”
“What’s anyone do? [...]

that done it.
i was in manhattan (“the Main Island”) no plans, my resting pulse is 51, credit cards valid. one of my cards has a crack, though; quarter-inch, who gives. the stripe is good. it functions.
what is this couple doing? the mannequins looking morebalanced off each other, than loving. how his back leans [...]