franny

Jul 182020
 

it’s been dragging me down for a million years. that dread. the worry. so much so that i’m a little unfeeling…or at least better at swallowing that mass of hurt until it dissolves like jello.

it’s impending. the weight loss, the lack of appetite. taste buds on dry. the slow walk and shaky hands. the confirmation of no more tests, no more upkeep by the docs…

what for?

and the travel from hothead brooklyn to spanishtown, where the air smells like red beans and rice and sweet fried plantains, is filled with monkey chatter bouncing from lobe to lobe. radiohead’s melancholy can’t outdo this sad…

i’ve seen it happen too many times. the second life turns to death. i see the lights go out in the eyes, the last breath, the muscle twitches, the ever scarring grief – white hot, raw, real, truth…

how it slips to no more. and what’ll we do with your pots and pans? all the masterpieces on the fridge? and how do i get up in the morning, brush my teeth, and get ready for work?

how do you jump over this grand canyon of loss?

Jul 112020
 

humid, salty long island air. fishing, crabbing… you said he always managed to get pinched by a crab. he seemed to love tempting fate. putting his hands in boiling water to take the egg out… letting the car drive home when he’d had one too many… packing your bags and delivering them to the front porch…

my head on your lap. sleepy. hot. the long drive home on the LIE… you got into a fight with him and got out of the passenger’s side to sit next to me in the back seat. i was tired. i was hot. i rested while you traced the side of my sweaty face with your beautiful fingers…

staten island childhood home. with its piano and turbulence. full of arguments and roses, Waterford glasses, and racist comments. i sat back on the lawn chair and closed my eyes. you surprised me with a quick kiss full of affection…and i believed you…

the first six notes, strumming guitar from ten years gone always tug at my heart, my mind, and trigger memories of long dark summer nights in your room.

“did you ever really need somebody, really need them bad?” “did you ever really want somebody, best love you ever had?”

notes and melodies, words, songs, linking us still. linking those molecules still floating residue of us, connected through space, despite time… those moments still exist. searing sun and sharp edges, moments that i can feel. before her, before them. we were…a tragic story that never got a good ending…

Jun 202020
 

always. back in ’71, looking out the window of our ninth floor apartment, at the age of five, i remember humming along to carole king’s “it’s too late”…

melancholy starts early i guess.

lunch period was reserved for bowie’s low and heroes moss garden. i’d get lost in the color green and fat snowflakes falling at night to the sound of weeping walls…

early college days, i’d walk from E 68th and lexington to 42nd and 8th to catch the last bus up north. i always wondered about the people, the lives behind the lit apartment windows. making my way up the endless escalators, i’d pass the addicts, the hookers, the panhandlers, and wondered if it all stayed the same.

i’d fall asleep on the bus, hit my head on the window, in perpetual emo.. robert smith crooning in my ear, morrissey pleading…

i met him on a bus, he cut english class, i was on my way home after dance class. he sat next to me. i stuffed a sandwich in my mouth. i slept. i hit my head on the window. the bus stopped at the depot in jersey to change drivers and buses. he sat down, i sat down behind him. an hour later he gets up at the bradlees stop and throws a tissue at me…

later on, he said i looked like a chipmunk – eating that sandwich

he purposefully missed his stop and ended up having a 20 min walk to his house.

the tissue was a note – stating he didn’t know why but that he had to get to know me, his phone number scribbled in blue…

“with your long blond hair and your eyes of blue, the only thing i ever got from you was sorrow…”

and the melancholy continues. but minus the great music. i have been playing catch up the last 5 years…

i miss someone i don’t know anymore. she was young, silly. wickedly talented. and innocent.

i miss someone i don’t know anymore . she wore torn bleached tees, had no bank account and holes in her shoes. living on change and carrot sticks.

i miss someone who road-tripped from ny to cali with the love of her life and came back with someone else…broken, tanned, and determined to go to the dentist to cure the pain in her mouth thinking it would fix her soul and her heart crushed to pulp.

i am here. i am now. i am.

and

there is

always

something

in

the

way…

85,990…

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May 162020
 

deaths from Covid-19 as of today. how will this government rationalize this in order to win re-election? they will verbally support armed idiots protesting for re-opening their state, city, town, village, cave…

they will divert blame to the past administration by stating that no plan was left for such circumstances such as a pandemic….then have to retract said statement since it is an outright lie that can be proven to be a lie. but still, their “followers” will believe…

they will state that a vaccine will be available by the end of the year…

they will look to blame China…Obama, Biden, the fucken boogey-man if it will help win a re-election…

wtf? America, wake the fuck up and understand that these folk bought stock in medical supplies and pharmaceuticals instead of warning us that the shit was going to hit the fan and lots of people were going to die….

if you are not green, made of paper and can buy stuff…. you are of no significance to the current government administration. wake the fuck up already.

May 092020
 

spike lee filmed a little short for nyc- a love letter. i have a love-hate relationship with this city… and i’ve come to the conclusion that it really can’t be any other way. i hate the subway, but it’s convenient… i hate the driving, but it limits the bullshit on the subway i’d have to deal with… i’m over the pushiness, the relentless competition, yet, here, you find the cream of the crop, the fighters, the people who fight with each-other one minute and come together when the going gets tough. iconic architecture, landmarks that folks from around the world come to visit… it boasts the most diverse neighborhoods in the world (specifically in Queens)… people show you the worst of humanity and the best. and somehow, it’s all amplified here.

i’ve been back since 2006. most of that living in brooklyn. one year in the bronx. working in manhattan…

7pm every night, people make noise for the essential workers : delivery people, grocery store workers, gas station employees, nurses, doctors, janitors, sanitation, firemen, police, MTA employees, laundromat workers…

in apartment windows hang thank you notes and rainbow drawings from the kids…

bowie settled here. so did lennon.

i’ll get up tomorrow cursing the loud music that played way too long into the night. i’ll get up and feed the cats, shower and eat breakfast. regret reading the news and seeing a climb in numbers of the dead for the city and nation and shake my head in disbelief at what the orange buffoon has recently said and/or done. i’ll put my coat on cause it’s still freakin’ cold and lock my apt door (both locks). i’ll head down 3 flights, hit the bodega downstairs for a bottle of seltzer and head to my car. i’ll blast dexy’s midnight runners “come on eileen” and beastie boys “no sleep til brooklyn” while i’m cursing the speeders and cutters and head to the bridge. admire the most beautiful bridge in the world, and then curse the asshole who cut me off getting on the exit lane… i’ll head up the fdr and drive in the middle lane and watch as they speed past me on the right and left. park the car and head to work. come back in the dead of night, when all is quiet cause it’s a school night. i’ll look up at the full moon, the beautiful cherry blossoms under the night sky. i’ll head to the apt building, up 3 flights, say hello to the cats and realize… i am home. this is home with all its contradictions and complexities. this is home.