But here we are, and she’s back to nagging (why would my mother ever be able to follow a doctor’s instructions?) so now I get to decide how crazy I really am… because I know where this argument could go if it does indeed turn into an argument. I’ve actually of late been becoming more and more averse to practicing politics with people who get on my nerves.
...read more hereThe truth? I’m up to something. I must be. But I don’t know what I’m up to. I sit here on the LIRR asking myself “what am I doing?” I walk up and down from this place to that place, from the west side to the east side and then back, through all the neighborhood parts of midtown manhattan, presumably running errands and finishing up all the things on my To-Do List, which is itself a mishmosh of scattered, self-imposed commands that theoretically add up to some grand equation… and I ask myself “what am I doing?”
...read more hereI don’t know how to relay through this literary medium the quietly introspective insanity that is four hours of subway and bus travel; two there and two back. Of course, I can remember a time when this was commonplace for me, and yet now I’ve become like an impatient child constantly wondering “are we there yet?”
...read more hereI paid a visit to the old stomping grounds this morning after I took the little girl to school. This was the neighborhood where I used to live before the Harlem thing happened. I had twenty dollars and a mission. Well, a list of missions.
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