Classic NYC Story

Words of a poet… Soul of a musician…

Posts Tagged ‘transportation’

On directions

There are few things that a real New Yorker loves more than giving directions to somebody who is lost. In this case, I didn’t even wait for them to ask me for help, which was probably my first mistake, but I could tell that these ladies were lost. We were at Times Square on the [...]

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On views and strange memories

I made it a point to look out the window, as I usually do when the trains go overground. I looked out at Chinatown and the nameless project buildings on the border between Chinatown and the top edge of the Financial District, creeping out toward the East River. I used to have a storage box in a Manhattan Mini Storage on Catherine Slip, just blocks from those project buildings.

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On hurricanes and alcohol

I walked back to the house, somehow confident that the deluge would not catch up with me on the way home. I was right; it didn’t. In fact, it still hasn’t. The temperature has gotten a little cooler and a little more breezy, but it’s still pleasant enough outside to stroll through. In fact, I kind of want to do that now. To go for a stroll.

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On travelling and travel companions

Though I was geographically ahead of him, we both reached for the door at the same time, and I realized he wanted to open it for me. I retracted my hand and allowed him to do this. He opened every door for me all the way to the store, and then all the way back to the stage.

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On the OD

The chipper quality of my voice in this message belied my intent for the call. A nearby Polish woman smiled at me while taking a drag on her cigarette. I smiled back at her, and descended into the subway for the last time in life…

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Poetry Corner Friday: Distance (a dance in three movements)

[...] I turn up your stereo as
the near-silence grows eerie.
Wes Montgomery is playing the guitar.
I am tired. Your voice is like jazz. [...]

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On the way back from the concert

Earlier today, after the concert, and during the concert… i don’t know how i want to say this. The show was in a small church with classic acoustics. The sound was powerful. The sound was a tsunamic force. My God! Twenty five musicians in a tiny reverberating hall! Trumpets, trombones, saxophones, strings, drums, guitars…

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On impromtu visits

Maybe, I thought to myself, maybe I have that famous wanderers’ disease, and I’m simply never happy with the destination… any destination.

On further consideration, that’s bullshit, because I’m happy right now.

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On music

I can remember now the days when I would have done anything and spoken to anyone to be a part of a group like that. Those days were not too long ago. Just a few years ago, when I was young and fiery and artistic and intelligent and I made things happen. I also ruined a lot of things… I guess that’s how I got to where I am.

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On why you should watch your back in NYC

I leaned to the young lady sitting next to me. “Did I just see that? Did that just happen?”

… Nobody made a loud comment or protested or even tried to save him.

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