Here and Now With a Baked Potato – Bits of Pieces of My Recent Then

03JAN2011 – Winter’s been here for awhile but happily, today was the perihelion.  We were closer to the sun today than we will be all year.  It’s about damn time.  I’ve been hibernating, spending chunks of days indoors pacing the floor, watching movies and reading the used books I seem to be ordering at a fantastic rate.

I’ve been into this caveman diet for awhile now.  No more pasta, no more junk food, or ice cream.  Only things I could have conceivably eaten 1,400 years ago. Lots of steamed spinach, blueberries, tuna fish, whole tomatoes, and red meat.  And by hooking my toes on my kitchen counter and bridging my body to the chin-up bar above my bedroom door, I can manage some rather strenuous inverted body dips, face down, 10-15 up from zero.  I curl dumbbells while I watch movies.

I go to work, I do my thing, I come home.  I consciously choose the places I’m going to be alone.  Every few days I’ll get off the subway and think about how much money I have in my wallet. Based on this decision, I’ll turn right for a pint of Guinness at Harefield Road, or left for a cup of Americano at the Variety.  Icy sidewalks, dirty snow, and winter coats fill my vision.  I swear I can smell diapers when I walk these same streets each morning on my way to the subway.

Now more than ever, I want to spend some time in the desert being uncomfortable; climbing on hot rocks, sweating like a hostage, feeling the sun warm my bones and browning my skin like a 6-foot solar panel.  At night, I wanna watch the stars watching me, and listen to the No Thing.

Haven’t seen my own words for awhile.  Maybe they’re down deeper in the sleep than I can go right now.  Every time I open my mouth, it’s your voice that comes out.  My brain needs to be quiet, at rest in order for good things to come out. It’ll come back — all things are always moving toward their opposites.

Spent New Year’s Eve alone on my rooftop, bundled against the cold night air with a half a bottle of red wine plunged deep into the snowbank beside the old wooden chair on which I sat. From my vantage point, I could hear the roar of the crowd all the way over in Time’s Square.

It is what it is.


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