It’s Saturday now and I have not been home yet. I’ve been back and forth between midtown and Harlem wondering in what direction I should be headed, sometimes walking, sometimes on a train (wasting money I don’t have to spare). No, seriously, I think I’m physically sick…
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when I started this blog I had just moved to canarsie to get the hell away from him. My reasons for liking him had dried up and were replaced by reasons for hating him. No, I’m not that fickle; he is. He had stopped being himself. And now he’s taking care of me while I’m sick.
...read more here…He was so small. It amazes me sometimes that kids are so small. And he had little tiny hands. And a little tiny voice (which he used frequently and with great vigor). And when he walked, he took little tiny steps. It was hard to take him seriously when he was angry. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about him now. I’m not his nanny anymore…
...read more hereI’m not certain what made me feel so high this morning. It might have been the lack of sleep, the unresolved conflict, or the fact that I so enjoy the act of writing a letter, but I felt so elated that I offered to clear the snow away from the door. Yes, by myself. Yes, it was knee-deep.
...read more hereI noticed three snowmen while walking on E103rd today. One of them was missing his head. One had a curtain rod for one arm and the spine of an umbrella for the other arm.
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