I still have the postcard, buried somewhere in a keepsake box beneath wedding photos, the abstract finger paintings of my children, photographs, ephemera.
On it, a friend’s scribbled writing dashed off hurriedly; I was grateful to receive anything at all from him on this journey across country with his family.
He told me of New York, the Village, the little places and colorful people, and the corner cafe that had the best open-faced grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had, not least, I now imagine, because he knew Kerouac or Dylan might have tried it.
The first time I visited New York, I insisted we go there, my unsure companions agreeing warily. I had the thing, and it was ordinary.
But I never let it stay that way, instead giving it the proportions of art, of gravity, of the Sistine Chapel, a Bohr model. It came with sprouts and chick peas, and it was the best thing I’ve ever had.
Because by then, he was gone.
And now it’s been twenty years and it seems impossible that someone I knew so well could be absent so long, could stay forever a boy on the precipice of manhood, the cliff so very high, so far down we insignificant humans.
I still went there at least every few visits to the city. I still drank espresso and thought about him, and had other adventures there in that tiny, dark bathroom. But now I won’t, and the postcard fades, his voice gone from memory, and he is in the ground. I am heading that way myself, these days.
I learned, upon beginning this post, that Le Figaro Cafe closed in the summer of 2008. My heart breaks, and we move through space. It’s all the same.
Tags: Le Figaro Cafe, mourning, Phillip
A rerun from last year. Because it’s my favorite.
Ladies, this is the most glorious time of year, the time when you are blessed with a multitude of lovely new sets of pajamas and slippers and wonderfully useful household tools (like, say, a pizza cutter that looks like a shark and a brand new mop head), [...]
You might, one night, find yourself buying a mango outside a bodega in the West Village after a long night spent listening to music with a pianist, in the basement of a bring-your-own bottle jazz club.
Perhaps it is almost dawn, and your favorite food in the world is a mango, and the pianist has never [...]
on Dec 12, 2009 in
Writing I’ve decided to post a tiny excerpt from the story I attempted to write for National Novel Writing Month. I made it to the half-way point at about 25,000 words, but realized my characters and story needed more work, and I needed to step away from them. Frankly, they were irritating me even more than [...]
on Nov 28, 2009 in
Poetry The wind dries our bones,
leaves hollows, marrow
sapped,
fallow no more.
Inside
in the paths,
circuits, neurons spark and
go
along sear,
synaptic lines.
What once lit and danced
now
sits shelled.
Lovers linger
under dying vines outside
cafes.
They hold no sway over us
Old Folk.
And the fair kiss
they trade
we know will fade
and pitiless winter
come again.
on Nov 27, 2009 in
Uncategorized 7KU39NQ4JJR6
There. Isn’t that fun?
on Nov 20, 2009 in
Writing “I’m a starter, not a cleaner,” she said, pulling a cigarette out of the flattened pack she fished from her purse.
“I come in with the ideas, get things rolling, you know. I excite people, get them worked up.”
I bet you do, I thought; even from behind my cluttered desk the dame was getting me worked [...]
“I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I’m told
I gave her my heart, but she wanted my soul
But don’t think twice, it’s all right” -Bob Dylan
You ask me to tell you about myself, and I feel like screaming, or running, or crying.
I’ll start answering the question [...]
For your viewing pleasure, I’m resurrecting some old posts that might have been lost in the literary action. This story is mostly true, and paints me in an odd light. Which is to say, completely accurately.
Years ago, I was invited to a party. I’m not saying it was the last time, but it might have [...]
This post is actually over at Breastfeeding Moms Unite, written for Melodie upon her request.
It was an honor to share it with her, and I hope you’ll pop on over and read it.
It concerns – you guessed it! Breastfeeding. So don’t say I didn’t warn you. But it’s also about me, and might prove interesting. Or [...]
