Ridge of Blue

With great desire to cross the spackled range, the black speck trails over the rough white terrain in solitude. Just him, his walking stick and a worn canvas pack. With every two steps the sun, a millimeter closer. Meditating adventure.

Kill the lights. Beneath cool sheets, by just the glow of a silent screen, numbers are scratched onto a grid marked easy. My eyes begin to burn and I drift away. Slumber- interrupted by a persistent car alarm. I spot a light. Flicker, Flick... Flicker, Flick. The car alarm eventually subsides to reveal a sweet, subtle melody coming from above. I love harmonicas. An army green pyramid points down at me.

I float away again and find myself laying in the tall grass. Light dims down and back up again as clouds go by in the sunset. Amoeba-shaped shadows undulate throughout the range and the sky tries on everything in its closet.

I lift myself up from the earth and transport to the fourth of july. Trudging through the sloppy, deserted trails, I try and locate a single square of dry cloth to wipe my specs. The water only relocates on the glass and now fog is added to the mix. It marks a challenge and excitedly, I climb faster and faster. The further I venture, the heavier I become. And as I descend the mountain, satisfied, I am light.

Waking-woven dreaming.
That range became my ceiling.

The Daddy Mac Will Make Ya

Brunch. Brunch. The bliss of two days off every week. Mmmm...the challah french toast. A latte and veggie style biscuits and gravy. Huevos rancheros with a bloody mary.

Try:
Brooklyn Label, Essex, Greenpoint Coffee House, Moto, Phoebes. Have had no more than coffee there, but I look forward to trying (recently opened) Blackbird Parlour's brunch (corner of Bedford and N6th in Williamsburgh).

I'm loving brooklyn. My freshly painted room (banana cream/lemon gelato). My neighborhood- the amazing italian bakery, the itsy bitsy hispanic laundromat, the subway stop outside my door, the asian produce market, phoebe's, my friendly watchful supers, the flying italian flags, puppies, beautiful doors, the mysterious loft, grandpas outside at off-track betting, flocks flapping wildly to squeeze into one small tree, brisk walks of fall, humming turn the radio off over and over again in my head.

Dancing, karaoke, sudoku, the red tent, dancing, a parade, a slice, a costume, glasses, a hanging plant, arepas, brunch.

[side note: Everything looks good in neon. A crucifix. A funeral home sign. Glow. Buzzz. A hand raised with urgency, "me! me! ooh, pick me!"]