we meet again.

oh hello, summer in new york.

didn't expect you so soon. or so warm and malodorous in your arrival. 

thinking i'm gonna need a new wardrobe. primarily one of long, loose skirts and sleeveless t's.
and thinking i might just bring the red lip back. 

hands and fingers (knees and toes).

i'v been having this fantasy of late.

about having my hand held.

but it's not so simple as that.

its about the two hands cupping each other, fitting the one into the other.

but even that's not the whole of it.

it's that moment, when two strangers or two friends walk side by side and one hand makes the decision to reach for the other. when the fingers tentatively connect to skin, the slow crawl to palm, and the eventual grasp. all while the two people, now something more than strangers, something more than friends, walk together, heads up, forward-looking. it's the eventual glance down. the tightening of the grip. the passed mutual touch.

it's the transformation that such a small act demands.

yup, i've been dreaming of having my hand held. and of meeting a man courageous enough to reach. (or worth reaching for.)

on friday, before there was any hint of the flu that was about to sweep over me,

i had lunch with my father at the new leaf cafe. and it was perfect.

ps: happy birthday dad. i love you so much. can i blame the day-late wishes on my muddled, hysterical, feverish mind?

my manhattan: (not the one i usually like to claim, but...)

last night the weather in new york was perfect. really and truly. it was my idea of perfect. cool but not chilly. breezy but not lift-your-skirt-up-gusts. 

so when i finished work i opted to take the long walk to the A train. and i opted to pull out my camera. 

it's not my favorite area to walk in and certainly not my favorite area to photograph. in fact, i often think the slogan for midtown manhattan should be "the loneliest place on earth"(that's a whole post unto itself) but i longed for the weight of the canon in my hands and around my neck (and because you know what they say about practice). 

i get frustrated when i have nothing to share on the blog. when i have nothing to say. no pictures. no witty comments or stories. because what this really means is that life has somehow stalled. life has ceased to challenge me--i have ceased to challenge myself. that there have been no new experiences or rather that i'm not in the frame of mind to identify the mundane for the unsolicited miracles they often are. 

does this make sense?

because sometimes, even in this state, i do have things to say. but i can't get the words out. and that's tremendously frustrating. the bottleneck of words sitting in my stomach.

ps: in other news, remember how i saw johnny flynn last saturday? and how i must have annoyed him to death with the 400 pictures i took. oh, poor johnny flynn. anywhoo, a lovely, young woman studying journalism was at the same concert--found my blog because of my 400 pictures and asked to write a story about me. and write a story she did. it's a multimedia piece--print, slideshow, video (of which i'm really self-concious about the plumpness of my face, sigh), and podcast. i think it turned out really well. 

see it here. (the slideshow, video, podcast are all links on the right of that main page). 

a light breeze and i'm off and...walking. today, i'm walking.

(last night a man told me i looked like the spitting image of natalie portman in black swan. 

really? 

i have a lot of strange notions about what i look like, but really? 

i don't know if it was a compliment or his way of saying i look tired and neurotic.)

the air is barreling in through the windows today. cutting across the living room and kitchen. cutting across the gray-blue walls of my room to where i sit in my beloved reading chair.

i slept last night.  got a full night of sleep. and what wonders that strange and lovely elixir of sleep is! i awoke feeling like a person. a person who could get through the day before her, and as i'm told, that's important.

i keep catching smells and missing things. this morning it was the beach. a few days ago it was my aunt and uncle's home in new jersey. funny how each smell is of a place of peace and balance.

i had this dream for the month of may. that i'd wake each morning and spend an hour writing. one hour doing the very thing that creates a vibrational energy in the deep tissue of my body.

now it is june. and this did not happen. writing gave way. and exercise gave way. and a tidal wave of the mundane overtook. mundane but necessary.

i haven't moved my body in a month. my poor body! it's desperate for a challenge. so instead of spending any more time here i'm off for a morning walk along the hudson. there was a brief time it would have been a morning jog. sigh. oh well, i'll get back there?



ps: coming to book club this saturday @ 2:30? it's at the same location as last go round. if you'd like to attend and don't know where the meet-up is i need you to send me an email at wilybrunette@yahoo. entitle it BOSSYPANTS so i can get back to you immediately!