TO KNOW ME IS TO LOVE ME

     Last day of July. I woke up to a drab sky. Temp read 76°. Rain forecasted around 9 am.       I sang along to The Beach Boys while I took a quick shower, switching to MGMT while I got dressed. I added   Congratulations   to my playlist of ‘All-Time Favorite Songs’. I remember when that album came out; I saw its CD cover at the register in the Hollister in the valley. This was 14 years ago. Sickening.       Plucking perfume from my night stand, I picked up Diptyque ‘Geranium Odorata’ which I had forgotten I had. I could still smell it on myself, which might have been a sign that I sprayed too much.      The humidity suffocated the subway platform. The B train arrived with no sign of a C train behind it so I hopped on.       Yesterday, on a quick lunch break I stopped by McNally’s to browse, though browsing is never enough. I left with a novel from Natsume Sōseki and ducked into Fanelli...

07/20/24 8:35 am      I got out of bed and headed to the living room. The bright sun reflected off the glass sliding doors, hiding the group of N, G and L who were sitting on the porch trying to solve a Wordle. I walked out to observe and pitched in a suggestion: SHAFT. I cleared the game. B walked up the stairs having just come from the lake and remarked on the temperature. H was pacing around the kitchen trying to memorize his lines from the poem for the memorial later today.       We walked down to the dock and he continued. “The trail was bad and I felt half mad”. I dove in. The water was warmer than when we were here just two weeks ago. As I practiced my front stroke, my mind almost doesn’t register the movement. The water and I were the same temperature—I am one with the water. When I got out, I shivered. 9:30 am      The younglings leave to go to the Yacht club to participate in a regatta. A group of us plan to meet on the dock at...

     As I smoked a cigarette I thought about having another. I missed the chance to sit at La Cabra, got my coffee to go. My nipple slipped out of my low cut dress as I was walking. 5:45 pm      Exceptionally pissed off. Nothing going right. I left work and headed to the gym only to be stopped by an impromptu 30 minute 3-way phone call with my colleagues, pacing outside blasting a cigarette trying to troubleshoot a sudden predicament. By the time I actually worked out an hour had already passed. Dinner reservation at 8 pm. 7:47 pm      I call A to vent a bit, once again pacing on the corner of Prince and Crosby. I hung up and grabbed a taxi when I realized I was already five minutes late. 8:12 pm      I paid the taxi fare and jog-walked half a block, arriving at a nondescript French spot in Tribeca for E’s birthday dinner.      My tension finally released. What you need when you’re stressed is to see at least fiv...

     Before I left for work, I grabbed Haruki Murakami’s  Dance Dance Dance   from the shelf. I bought it two summers ago and had yet to read it. I’ve been adamant about not enjoying Murakami’s novels after putting down  Norwegian Wood.  His writing is much different than what I remembered—more enjoyable and inspiring. Every sentence made me want to stop and write.      There’s a scene in chapter four in which the main character describes sitting on a train heading to Sapporo. He’s looking out the window, the sky is clear, the sun is bright, the glare becomes too much, he needs to look away. "I didn’t see another passenger looking out the windows. They all knew what snow looked like."      On the usual post-gym train ride home I got off at 59th to transfer to a local train and found myself up against a 20 minute wait time. Rather than steaming alive in the station I boarded an express uptown to then take a local downtown. ...

     Rain.       After spending the morning annoying me, H left for the office. I sat on the sofa and watched  Purple Noon   with Alain Delon. Not great. I threw the bed sheets in the laundry and put away the five pairs of my shoes which were strewn about. For the next few hours I sipped on a single cup of coffee and alternated between lying on the floor and lying on the sofa. 7:45 pm      I left my apartment for the first time all day and went for a walk. It was extremely humid and I began to sweat before I even stepped into the park. I saw traces of the setting sun. After walking a bit, I grabbed a Citibike and raced across the west side to Riverside Park hoping to catch a glimpse of the dying sunset. I parked and walked down to the water, found a spot of grass, used my Bottega as a pillow, and laid looking up at the clear sky as it darkened.  Helicopters flew above, a luxury cruise slowly floated up the Hudson, the raci...

     I woke up at 6 am and took a walk around Central Park for about an hour and a half. The humidity was bearing down on me. There was no peace and quiet; even at that early hour the park was noisy with dogs barking, light chatter, and groups of cyclists yelling orienting commands. Sunlight wrapped around the trees and up buildings as it rose. I said hello to the coffee vendor on the corner of 96th and Central Park West as I headed back home.      Yesterday, while out for a walk taking a break from work, I picked up a book at McNally’s on Prince St—a collection of essays from an author I had never heard of. I was drawn to the cover and flipping to a random page was intrigued by the writing. So, as I was riding the train to work this morning, I opened it up and at the mere mention of “lockdown” I closed it again. I find the use of contemporary terminology and references to current events in writing so jarring. References to social media, the internet, and t...

07/04/24 9:21pm Evening cruise, we’re drinking gin and tonics.  I’m looking out onto the undulating waves. Hues of the setting sky meld together on the soft swells of water as we move forward. The red and green light from the stern reflects in my eyes. Silver-lined mountains before us. The heat of the day has subsided.  07/05/24 Midnight ride in the Whaler, about an hour down the lake from our home. The water is smooth like glass; the boat easily glides at full speed. The temperature fluctuates between the cool of the open air and warm pockets as we pass by bays. Stars just barely shine through the overcast sky. We pass by pitch-black islands. We say nothing to each other. I reach down to feel the water. We’re the only ones here.  07/06/24 Estória De Você - Marisa 6:40pm  An hour after being dropped off at the dock and continuing our play, we dry off so we can head up for dinner. The water is glittering in the sunlight. R remarks that this must be what it’s like to b...