Four. ( À bout de souffle) James F. tells me he thinks the couple in the hot dog place maybe recognized him. We’re in his apartment. Books cover one wall. I think he’s read most of them, he says so at least. He wants to write a book about robbing small vendors throughout New York. It’ll be like a tour book. I’m his assistant and I make 2 and 1/2 times minimum wage.
“It’ll be memoir passed off as fiction instead of the usual fiction passed off as memoir.” James F. winks at me. I feel as his assistant I should write this down but he’s high so I just lean back on the couch. Above my head hangs a poster for a 60’s French film, I look at the girl. She probably had a lot of lovers. They had free love back then but nowadays everything feels immoral.
I go to the bathroom and sit, maybe I cry cause after I dry my face with his soft Barney’s towels.
“D.E.,” James F. calls. I go back to the living room. Where we are on T.V.
A few more days
A final Hi meeting
The local neighborhood bar has a quiet time between six and nine. It is a place that specializes in coffee, beer and seasonal menus. There is just enough of each for a satisfying snack and effective buzz. After the time when the laptop lids close and before the social gatherings start -- there is a sort of twilight*. Often this time is a fugitive ground rife with creative inspiration and meditative work -- of the kind that results in personal reward.*twilight may refer to civil, nautical or astronomical variety depending on your social or terrestrial condition
A man positions his mouse on the edge of his browser window. He clicks, holds and drags the viewport first left then right. The content of a video game promo micro site responds and adapts to the available space. To the man, this is more delightful than the game itself.
A man laboriously moves his piano down three levels onto the subway platform. Classic vocals and strided chords -- he played so well I swore he was blind. Oblivious to the heat on that August stage, he was most in touch with his audience -- whom he elevated with his music.
A woman should do exactly as she pleases no matter what a man may think.
As the Dalai Lama once said, "It is a time when there is much in the window, but nothing in the room."
"No one understands me," she said. Her grandmother was silent for a minute. It seemed she was searching for an answer in the star speckled sky. "But no one understands anyone in this world, darling. We are all unique. It is what gives us a sense of wonder."