summer's lease hath all to short a date

'and summer's lease hath all too short a date...' ~shakespeare

it's cool these days. sweet summer is winding her way down. it's been nice, this one. and who knew it would rain so much. i've enjoyed the rain, all cosy inside while the rains washed the city anew. but there's still some time to savor and enjoy. it's not over yet...

today's a holiday... here. so i'm back to me wee stories tommorow.

i look forward to Obama's speech tomorrow to the little kids. i always feel like i'm going back to school when september rolls around, even if i am not. i think it sinks into us this feeling of new beginnings, new lessons to learn, and new deeds to do. there's still time though. still time to... smell the roses... hee hee.

have a sweet week sweet you!

photo: alexander cameron

p.s. i had planned to pop in and leave a little note about the holiday, as dinner awaits, and i see your comments on my last post. thank you!! it really means a lot to me and deeply encourages me. the songstress erika badu has a song that she begins where she says something like... 'this is a little something we put together while playing around on stage last night.' she said to the audience, 'y'all be nice now, 'cause i'm sensitive about my stuff.'

...you have been nice. i deeply appreciate it.

bisou

brava!

one week of writing! (5 consecutive days was my goal) whoo hoo! can you believe, i have never written for one week straight? and i say i want to be a writer. well i want to celebrate this momentous occasion. and i want to thank you for popping in, reading and commenting from time to time. i really appreciate it. in fact i said to myself one evening that i wasn't going to try to write everyday because my stories are stupid and uninteresting. and then it got worse. i was going to close down my blog because my blog, too, is stupid and uninteresting. someone left a comment. and i realised someone took the time to read what i had wrote and liked it enough to comment. and i felt better and encouraged. thank you. thing is to do it. and to keep doing it until what we are doing transforms from bad to better... to good... to hopefully... brilliant. that's what i'm hoping for. and from writing from one week i find that i like it and it feels good and i will continue. thank you so much for popping in when you have a minute.

as i am one to not celebrate really, this i will celebrate as i am learning to celebrate achievements, the tiny ones and the not so tiny ones. i think it shows an appreciation for opportunity, effort, and achievement.

i was thinking of posting a picture, a celebratory cake. then i thought i would prefer to look at a picture of a gorgeous dress. then i thought, as i am watching the u.s. open these days, and i have a crush on roger federer (hee hee) i'll post a picture of him. i wondered what he might be doing today since he is not playing, of course, practice! that is what he is doing. we must practice to get good. ok he's great, it only means more practice...

hope you are having a sweet day!

pizza at bergdorfs

it is a perfect evening, just right, not too hot and not too cool. and too, the moon has the audacity to appear in full bloom lighting the new york city sky in a marvelous spooky kinda way. the clouds appear as smokey grey fluffy grey pillows across an electric blue sky. it's the nighttime outline of the skyscrapers that makes it spooky really. in any other city it simply would be a gorgeous nighttime sky, lit by the moon and sprinkled with stars. here it takes on a gotham affect with the skyscrapers knitting out a skyline fit for intrigue in spooky film.
with a steamy slice of pizza in hand, i take in the adoration of 5th avenue’s elegant especially lit shop display windows. my time in europe has taught me better, to sit down properly with occasion and enjoy a meal. nyc is bossy and dictates its own behavior; running for the subway, coffee to go, speaking in double time…
with slice in hand in front the windows of bergdorf goodmans, i’m reminded of audrey hepburn in breakfast at tiffany’s, mais sans classe, yet still romantic in its own way. i'd like to think audrey hepburn would approve...

missing

on the way to work this morning the train was packed as usual. still it was not a usual morning. none of these mornings, afternoon, nor evenings were good these few days after the world trade center collapse, or whatever you want to call it. i really don't want to think about it much less call it something. naming it makes it real and not a dream. we're all standing there around this pole holding on. i see the missing signs and pictures in her hands like all the too many ones posted around the city. people missing the ones they love. sadly it's not unusual for someone to ask how you are these days followed by 'did you know anyone in the wtc crash?' i didn't, i breathed quietly and gratefully inward. i asked her, i mean she's holding the signs in her hands. 'are you missing someone.' deep sigh, 'yes, my son.' she went on to explain in what i later learned was an australian accent that her son was missing in the wtc collapse. i thought to myself, it's been 2 days and she hasn't heard anything yet. but if there is one thing you need to know about me, that is, i'm probably the biggest dreamer you'll ever meet. add to that i'm an eternal optimist. he could turn up, and i believed that, but i didn't say that to her. i didn't want to sound 'light' about it all.

she was here on holiday. he, her son had kissed her goodbye that september eleventh morning on his way to work. they would play after work. he'd show her some more of the city that she was visiting for the first time. the ironic thing about it is, the weather was gorgeous that day, as it always is in september here. perfect for roaming around the city and discovering. but that day, the sky was filled with black smoke against the clearest blue background, and you could smell it for miles and miles.

'so here she was,' she went on to tell me, 'here alone in this city for the first time after all this trying to navigate whatever it is that needs to be navigated to find her son.' one of which meant walking around the city posting missing signs with his picture and crucial information about him and what to do should you see him.

a seat opened up nearby and i asked her if she would like to sit. immediately afterward the one next to her opened up as well. i sat down. she said she was going to hang the signs and then go back to the apartment and have a cup of tea. i'm not one to tell another how to worry or grieve, but a cup of tea seamed rather light to me, and i adore tea. it wasn't until many years later that i learned that for the brits, irish, and australians, a cup of tea is a temporary soothing answer to what hurts. you have a seat, a sip, cry a little, talk with someone you love and get your breath back, at least enough to carry on.

i sat there lending my love as best i could under the circumstances. eventually i got off and went on to work. but i never forgot that moment there with that lady. and i still wonder if she ever did find her son.

i've been spending some time reading the magazine/journal poets and writers. there's an article about a writer who apparently is/was famous named Jay McInernay who wrote 'bright lights, big city.' I haven't heard of him. but there is much that i don't know about the literary world. i'm putting myself in the business of enjoying and learning about things connected to books and words and ideas. but what interested me about this writer is that, connected to his success and once playboy existence is his time in new york city. he lives in greenwich village. i wonder if he lives in one of those fabulous homes. i mean many of the houses in greenwich village are gorgeous. i always walk by in awe as i glance inside the floor to ceiling windows onto these beautiful spacious living rooms with lots of room to live.

this writer says that 'it makes him sad that Manhattan, the once edgy, diverse destination for generations of young artists and writers, has become an outpost for wealthy wall streeters.' this puts a finger on the many changes the city has undergone in the recent past decades, making it terribly expensive to live and be here. in connection he writes about the young, rich and fabulous that vacation on nearby islands like the hamptons and sag harbor. i think i might have to pick up a copy of his new collection of short stories. having grown up in nyc and with time, seeing all the rich and famous nouveau riche come in (i think old money has been here for a long time... but what do i know) i've always wondered who they are and what they do.

it's not that i'm so interested in them so much as learning about beautiful places close to nyc with maybe delicious food and wine... yum yum. maybe a travel guide will do, but then a juicy story in connection makes it all come alive... non?

photo of sag harbor by melinnis

little ones

she'd stepped outside the laundermat, tiny steps, as she was a little thing. she did a small slide towards the wall, parked herself there. her back against the wall, she slid down to the floor. tears in her eyes she let out a big sigh.

i turned my eyes to inside the laudermat to see where might these tears be coming from. who was responsible, and was someone coming to make it better. no one came. only the sounds of machines humming with the sounds of squishy washings, and tumbling drying came out.

i wanted to walk over to the little one, dry her tears and find out what was wrong. maybe help to make it better. but i was afraid. mammas and daddys don't like strangers near their children. understandable completely. so i moved on. pity.

be yourself

life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. ~john lennon

there are a number of things that have brought about the thought of this quote. i just put on the music of sade. remember her from the eighties? i have always loved her music. with sade you either love her music or not, take it or leave it. i have found, for the most part, there are no in-betweens. i happen to love it. perhaps it is the simplicity and the sensualness of her music that gets me. so much so i find it hard to listen to. some have even described her music as haunting. i wonder if this has anything to do with me finding it difficult to listen to. but i suspect that it has something to do with another thing that i am not so sure what it is. i hope to discover it right here with you while typing out these words.

you see her music like a few other things, i feel deeply. and perhaps this passion makes me afraid. kind of like that marianne williamson quote where she says something like our fears are connected to our wonderfulness. i'll try and leave the quote before i leave this space. but the idea is that we are so utterly cool within ourselves, it frightens us and we want to hide. don't know where that comes from. probably someone or someones saw us being our audaciously fabulous selves and fed us some crap to make us want to shrink. folks do that to kids you know. anywho, i digress...

so the thing is there are things that i love that touch me deeply that i have for far too long tried to stay away from. you would not even believe what they are (perhaps you have your own list. do you?). you already know about the music and sensualness of sade, i'll add to this...

• the flavor of sundried tomatos... intense. who wants to feel that deeply.


• really good looking guys. i feel like they might see me if i look at them, thus i hide.


• i buy really pretty clothes; dresses, slacks, blouses and skirts and i save them in my closet. for what i am not sure. perhaps if i wear them i will show off that fabulous me that i hide from(?)


• really really good books, i save them with the idea when i am strong enough i will read them. i open the pages and i see the quality of the writing and the intrigue of the story and i want to run and hide. too good, too deep. i'm out!


• there was this really good looking guy and incredibly interesting that was interested in me. he was funny because he was so frank and open. he would send me messages asking why i don't call him. i would send a message back saying he was too cute and fantastic. he would write back... 'so call me!' but i would not.

back to our quote, life is what is happening while we are making other plans. i noticed, mostly because of a recent writing, that i have these dreams of what i think my life should be like. when i wrote them down i realised that this is a kind of ideal life that i have been brainwashed into believing my life should look like. and luckily i'd like to think that i am smart enough and fabulous enough (smile), to realise that this is not what i want at all. and gratefully it has led me to begin to see what does exist in my life that i adore. and in connection to bring to light the things that i love; people, places and things. this, of course, flowers my life, allowing me to live and experience a life that was taylor made for me. and without allowing this, my days and life as a result will be empty and grey. i suppose for all of us, things would be empty and grey if we hide from ourselves and that which we love and touches us deeply. so lets not hide for those of us who are hiding. and for those of us who are not hiding, we continue to be inspired by you.

here's that marianne williamson quote (so often mistakenly attributed to nelson mandela but that's another story about a great person making a little mistake. see it happens to all of us.)

'our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. it is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. we ask ourselves 'who am i to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' actually who are you not to be?... your playing small does not serve the world. there's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. we are all meant to shine, as children do...'

sade's sweetest taboo... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c52JzxjEPNU