Another park, another Sunday.
Why is it life turns out that way?
Just when you think you got a good thing,
It seems to slip away.
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I'm just tryin' to find me,
A pretty smile to get into.
It's true, I'm lost without you.
(Doobie Brothers)
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It's breezy & 34 degrees but I've had it. Three weekends in a row, sick with a nasty sinus infection. I need fresh air. I'm out of here.
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Off to the park on the bike, I cycled through the Engineer's Gate at 90th Street across the street from the Church of the Heavenly Rest, and put my music on, Another Park, Another Sunday.
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This song goes through me ~ it gives me a rich complex feeling starting deep in my belly. It's sad but melodically beautiful. It's OK the lyrics get me down. It's good to be reminded of loss. Weigh where you are, and how you feel, gives me a gauge. Central Park is an ideal location for me to do that. I've burrowed through its 843 acres for thousand of hours. Inside the warren, I've climbed, ran, biked, swam, made out, slept, laughed, played, lost a balloon, made promises, watched people, had sex, cried, sealed friendships, fell in love, got high, felt helpless, got lost, fought, made up, said things to people I love that I can never take back. Central Park is organically connected to all my senses.
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I did five loops but cheated, using the 102th Street transverse to get to the westside. I rarely do the hill from hell at the north end of the park. I have no problem with the hill, but I don't like the long coast down. I lost my recklessness a few summers ago, when I took a piece of meat out of my forehead when I fell off the bike going down a hill and waited three hours in Lenox Hill to get stitches.
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Met Ronny Hanerfeld and his family in the emergency room; then, Nicky Bowen from 87th Street came in with his group. Each had a kid that needed medical assistance. We had a reunion. It was 96 degrees outside. I had a rag over my eye covering the wound, no shirt on, too bloody, the nurse threw it away. My short shorts creeping up the crack of my ass. So, with me just shy of nude, we reminisced.
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I'm reading at Cornelia Street Cafe on Wednesday, March 18th @6pm.
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Come! Throw rotten fruit at my head. I love ducking and making you laugh. See the Cafe's performance schedule at the link below for more information:
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