First day of the new year, or New Year’s Day. Helicopters bring tourists from New Jersey for a fly-by over Central Park and the buildings of my East Side neighborhood, making it sound as if this is a war zone, … Continue reading
Last night I dreamed I had a daughter. She was playing in a park and I needed to find her. The feeling I had was similar to dreams I’ve had of trying to keep my animals safe. In Olga Tokarczuk’s … Continue reading
I’m not sure how to begin. Like many, I’ve been in a strange place lately, but maybe that’s when you turn to strangers. There is just so much you can ask from your friends. So, here I am. What I’ve … Continue reading
I read an essay by the writer Meghan Daum the other day. After living in California and being married and divorced, Daum returned to Manhattan and resumed a similar, if not identical, life to the one she had lived twenty … Continue reading
I felt terrified of the moment when she would die. I have been through it with other animals and it’s never easy, but I knew losing her would be much harder. She is my companion in a deep way, I … Continue reading
There were men on paddle-boards and no one else in the ocean, but the water was warm and I walked along the shoreline, ankle deep, with the seagulls who thought I was chasing them; I was, but only because they … Continue reading
Yesterday, Doe and I were in that place in the park… just north of the bridle path, on the East Side but west of the road. The hill there slopes down on two sides to form a bowl of newly … Continue reading
I was at Housing Works the other day — Doe drags me in there numerous times per week: they give her dog biscuits, the shitty kind she isn’t allowed at home. Anyway, I don’t mind being dragged into Housing Works. … Continue reading
I’m sitting here at my desk by the window with its view of the big maple tree. All the rain this spring has turned it into a beast of beauty. I need to find other words for lush and green … Continue reading
It’s been a long time since I’ve written here; since I’ve wanted to write. I read an article in the New Yorker this morning about a Brazilian author, Raduan Nassar, who wrote two short highly regarded novels years ago and … Continue reading