Clouds hang heavy,
sagging low like teats -
rain is set to spill.
The clean, unfamiliar
smell a friendly warning,
the way you sigh, roused
before the shrill cry
of the alarm, the way
my mother would wake me.
Familiar forecast
Book crumbs
I read at least one book each week. This week I finished Bless Me, Ultima and Guess Again by Bernard Cooper. The latter was recommended by David Sedaris.
Dick Cheney’s huntin’ accident
It’s a small, small world.
Life before the Internet
I frequently exasperate people when I refer to anything from the 1970s as “vintage.”
I’m sorry, but I was born in 1983 and reached consciousness in the 1990s. Until my dying day, the America I romanticize will remain an America led by Bill Clinton, fed on Pizza Hut and Betty Crocker while wearing bootcut jeans and listening to Third Eye Blind. Oh yeah, and with “amber waves of grain” or something.
Wearing my mucus like an accessory
Tonight, at 8 pm on February 14th, I don’t have a Valentine.
Rate-A-Date: Nick
Occupation: Businessguy in a small investment banking firm (I don’t know his official title)
Snow dump
Well, isn’t this special?:
With 26.9″ of snow in Central Park, New York City has set a record for greatest snowfall from a single storm. Heavy snow this morning helped the Big Apple eclipse the previous record of 26.4″ set in 1947. Although the snow in New York is winding down, blizzard warnings remain posted for southeastern New England as a powerful Nor’easter slams the Northeast with heavy snow and high winds. Blizzard warnings have also been issued for far eastern Maine. In Boston, 16 to 24 inches are forecast. Drifting and blowing snow will make travel difficult if not impossible in many areas from New York City to eastern Maine over the next several hours.
Misplaced words
I lost my words
somewhere
here.
They may be
buried in a
glistening pile of snow
or folded up, tattered
in my down coat pocket.
Rate-A-Date: Jonathan
Occupation: Attorney, aspiring writer, mensch
Length of date: 5 hours
What we did: We met in Chelsea, where he is subletting until Thursday. I stood in front of a Vitamin Shoppe and watched the incipient stages of the blizzard. We took a cab to Lombardi’s, ate my favorite pizza ever, and hung out and wined at Savoy.
Has it died or merely shed its leaves?
I hear a tremor in your voice.
Are we bound for regeneration?
And if we are, will it be as one?
Or shall I grow alone,
smaller independently,
but just as alive, hardy?
