Salt Water

Its hard not to think of the porch, the rotting

wicker chair where I sat talking 

to you, the rain 

as it tapped and tapped- 

beginning to settle,

your nervous posture, 

the glances you gave 

while my eyes opened and closed

so lazily. You said, “maybe I’m a nihilist,”

but I could tell you didn’t believe 

it. After all, the damp summer was hanging 

above our youthful mouths.

It’s like for me, walking through the Met, 

how in a moment I can fully believe 

in the power of the walls, the strokes of paint,

and in a moment more, I’m in an old building.

and I’m tired of hearing about nihilism

as if it weren’t just another goddamn excuse.

At least the painter understands that 

each stroke means nothing more than 

that early morning at the diner 

when you ordered grits and toast

and I had waffles.

Man on the Train: Hey, are you a dreamer? 
Wiley: Yeah. 
Man on the Train: I haven’t seen too many around lately. Things have been tough lately for dreamers. They say dreaming is dead, no one does it anymore. It’s not dead it’s just that it’s been forgotten, removed from our language. Nobody teaches it so nobody knows it exists. The dreamer is banished to obscurity. Well, I’m trying to change all that, and I hope you are too. By dreaming, every day. Dreaming with our hands and dreaming with our minds. Our planet is facing the greatest problems it’s ever faced, ever. So whatever you do, don’t be bored, this is absolutely the most exciting time we could have possibly hoped to be alive. And things are just starting

-Waking Life

I just arrived back in NYC after a trip with 5 friends to visit our dear friend Katie in Manchester, where we all went to Greece for 4 days. Suffice it to say, there is too much to say about the trip… but I just don’t want to bore you with my endless rambling, so I’ll try to keep it at a reasonable length.

I had magical nights out on a starlit balcony in Greece looking up at the Lindos Acropolis lit in the distance, with the sound of wild cats roaming the cobbled streets. I sat on beautiful beaches, made friends with Crepe makers, Donkey tour guides, store owners, bartenders, and animals of all kinds.

In Manchester I got to soak up and discover the new life of one of my dearest friend, Katie. I met the sweetest people, who though my time with them was limited, I thought they were magical and honest. I ate lots of traditional veggie english breakfasts, got to see lots of music, and ride lots of astonishingly clean double-decker buses. 

My Pops sent me emails while I was in Greece due to being worried about the political unrest (which wasn’t present in the very small town where we were staying). One of his emails said, “you know that one of the ancient seven wonders of the world was in rhodes… called the collossus of rhodes probably around 300 bc I think?” I laughed to myself when I read it, because it was so predictably dad. I haven’t talked to him much since I moved to New York, neither of us are big phone talkers, and I guess it just doesn’t come natural to call so often, but when I read that one sentence I really missed him. He’s such a simple man, he doesn’t ask for much or need much, he doesn’t have a whole lot of close friends but he’s got a lot of “buddies”, he rarely complains, and never brags. He works hard, listens to NPR and books on tape, he’s watched every Seinfeld episode at least 38 times and doesn’t laugh out loud but always chuckles, he can finish a crossword puzzle in 10 minutes, has read almost every major literary work and remembers them in remarkable detail regardless of how many decades its been since he last picked them up, he doesn’t go around advertising his opinions, but he has them and he can discuss them in the most patient way, and most importantly, more than anything that he has or thinks or does, before anything else, he is dad… he’s my pops, and it’s just so sweet how much that means to him. Every time he sees me, he smiles, pulls me in for a kiss on the cheek and says in his soft southern accent, “hey babycakes.”