Done

"Are you fighting on the internet?" Katie says, walking into our bedroom. I'm perched on the bed, furiously typing away. 

I don't answer and keep tapping on the keyboard until I'm finished with what I hope is a scathing retort, then I shut my laptop. 

"I'm done," I say. 

-------------------------

One year ago: Since You Asked

Two years ago: Why Yes. Yes I Would

Three years ago: Delayed

Four years ago: The Magic of Live Theater (Family Edition)

Eight years ago: 6/14/09 - Churchill Called it His "Black Dog"

Nine years ago: 6-14-08 Cyberdyne and Swedish Decor

Subway Stories

"Okay, subway stories," I say to Katie. We're lying in bed with the air-conditioner on blast to try and shake the oppressive heat.

She stares up at the ceiling smiling. "All I'm saying is that if there's a report of a murder on the N train tonight, I know who did it," she says.
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One year ago: Wishful Thinking
Two years ago: Absinthe
Three years ago: Delayed
Four years ago: As If What I Want Has Anything To Do With It
Nine years ago: 6-13-08 Strangers

Counterfactual History

"Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if the slave-owning Founding Fathers hadn't done that whole revolution thing," Terry from my writing group says. "Like maybe we'd be a quiet little place, just a little titular connection to the old country, like Australia or Canada. Like how much trouble could we have avoided, and slavery would have been outlawed earlier, all that."

"Oh, I'm sure there are several million people in India who might have something to say about that," Barbara replies as she's leaving.
----------------
One year ago: Making It
Two years ago: Absinthe
Three years ago: Used
Four years ago: Still Learning (Family Dynamics Edition)
Nine years ago: 6-12-08 Why Do You Think I'm Living Here?

Helping

The tequila is starting to wear off, and my brain is playing the equivalent of that game where you write texts on your phone using the next suggested word and so you end up with lines like "I take the train delayed orgasm" or whatever it is comes up on your phone. Those words would never come up on my phone.

"I'm dying," I say to Katie as I'm trying to write this and all the stuff that I did today that was very interesting to me at the time (putting together shelves, helping Katie apply to holiday markets, cooking for us, feeding and walking the dog, watching the Tony's) seems dull and entirely unworthy of writing, even though that's the point of all this.

"Do you want me to help?" she replies, leaning in super close and putting her nose right next to my cheek.

---------------------

One year ago: Encouragement

Two years ago: A Vision of the Future

Inquisitive

Driving down 6th Avenue to drop the van we rented for the day back off at U-haul, the cops have all the roads heading west shut down. "Why are they doing this?" Katie asks irritably, knowing I don't know the answer.

Later, we're riding our bikes home, looking for a bite to eat, but 5th Avenue and all the roads leading to and from it are still blocked off, but when we bypass the barriers and go around the cops, we find that they've blocked it off for the Park Slope Pride parade, and as we duck across the parade route to cross the street, Katie is all smiles.

"I just wanted to know why," she says.
-----------------------------
One year ago: Beggary
Two years ago:
Three years ago: Avoidance
Four years ago: How Am I Supposed to Hate You If You Insist on Being Nice?
Eight years ago: This Is NOT An Assassination Threat, OK? Lighten Up.
Nine years ago: It Couldn't Be More Perfect

Strawberry Moon

"Didn't that used to be Kevin's place?" I ask. Katie and I agree that it was, but the heating oil place that used to be downstairs appears to have been replaced by a real estate office, and we shake our heads.

The moon is starting to come up, and I mention that it's going to be a Strawberry Moon, but I don't know why they call it that.

"Probably something straightforward: 'Now's the time to harvest your strawberries," or something," Katie answers.
---------------------
One year ago: Mawwige is What Bwings Us Togethah
Two years ago: What Are You Waiting For
Three years ago: Tell it Like it is
Four years ago: Typical Brooklyn Sunday (In Some Places)
Nine years ago: Kill, Chat, Kill

Nuages

The orchestra plays the music of my youth in the neighborhood in which I lived and played for years.  It's cool but not cold, and the stadium is gradually filling up when, during a stirring rendition of the music from "E.T.", the sun breaks from behind a cloud and floods the upper deck of seats with low, golden light.

I tilt my head to watch the clouds moving slowly overhead, and think about how happy I am to be here, and how not too terribly long from now, everyone in this stadium, even the kids who are dancing around enjoying the music from Star Wars and Jurassic Park, everyone of us will be dead. This thought, far from filling me with fear or despair, soothes me somewhat in a mildly sad way, and I lean to my right where Katie is sitting and push the weight of my shoulder into her side, happy just that she's there, and she, slightly distracted by the music, leans back into me, then looks up from the stage and smiles.

--------------

One year ago: Do it Again (Chemo redux)

Two years ago: The Long Cut

Three years ago: The Horror of Forgeting/The Terror of Forgetting

Four years ago: The Brooklyn Elderly Woman in Her Natural Habitat

Eight years ago: 6/8/09 Braid

Nine years ago: 6-8-08 Some days, it's just easy