Tuesday, October 06, 2020

October and kingdoms rise...

It's been, thus far, a deliciously mild autumn - jackets are optional; the air isn't quite chilly, the trees haven't been stripped of leaves, etc. yet.  A strange time, however - still; we're all in this purgatory and, it seems, certain politicians are trying to instill a new wave of panic and fear that this pandemic is rising again.  I'm not falling prey to any of it - I continue to conduct my life the same way I have, since this began:  wear a mask; keep a safe distance from others, always practice common-sense hygiene (shocking how so few people understand this concept!) and don't go out, if it isn't necessary.  I already had my flu shot a few weeks ago (haven't missed one since 1996); I take my daily regimen of vitamins and supplements and try to maintain a calm and balanced life.  This isn't so difficult, but media loves to make mountains out of molehills.

Nonetheless, it's a quiet time, which I treasure.  The joy of going out the other night to a wonderful, delicious dinner at a nice restaurant indoors for the first time since March (to celebrate our 22nd wedding anniversary) was a huge moment - low key, but perfect and an evening of pure joy.  Been reading a lot more again; picked up my guitar again and at last report from my colonoscopy follow up, I've lost 18 pounds, which is a thrill, frankly.

So in wrapping this entry up, I was just alerted to the very sad news that Eddie Van Halen has died at age 65.  I was immediately catapulted back to the summer of '83, when we had just graduated from high school.  We spent many nights, driving around in my friend Darren's car, blasting Van Halen's Diver Down album and it's a memory I treasure.  I saw Van Halen in July, '81, at Madison Square Garden with Judas Priest as the opening band - they were one of the few heavy rock bands I really liked (being a "punk" rocker didn't allow or accept such transgressions...).  To this day, I still love those original Van Halen albums, from the debut through to 1984, and this is just another one of those ugly reminders of how brief our own stars shine.

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

September song #4 (the turnaround)

All of a sudden, we've gone from swelter and heavy humidity to cool, almost jacket weather in the blink of an eye.  Although we were smart and got our flu shots this past Saturday (a month earlier than usual), I hope this change doesn't make me sick.  I'm being cautious, especially since we're still in an unsafe state due to COVID-19.  

The likeliness of us going back to work full-time in the office isn't happening now until January, it seems.  If I'm being honest, I'm fine with that; actually happy.  I like the balance I've been able to find of working from home and going in to pick up checks and mail, etc. twice a week or so.  I've been able to save money in not having to get a MetroCard for the subway, buying lunch and, frankly, not having to go into the city if it isn't necessary.  I like the peace and quiet; I'm not someone who needs stimuli to keep me sustained.  Throughout this period, I've tried to make this as positive an experience as I could and it's worked.  We're safe, healthy, working and doing what needs to be done to avoid contracting the coronavirus.

I know people are tired of staying indoors; certainly, businesses need to be allowed to reopen and some sense of normalcy needs to return.  But if you're able to do what we've done, patience and calm will help navigate the ship into safe harbor.

Monday, September 07, 2020

Time passes (the gardener of Eden)

The summer came and went; it's Labor Day and we're still on the collective treadmill.  While others have let this situation overtake them in a negative emotional direction, I haven't (and I'm very proud to say that).  I've used the time wisely - went for medical examinations, tried to clear out my internal and external closets and allowed things to just be.  To let nature run its course, along with the realities of the pandemic.

It's been a time of changes, both for the good and the sad - just the dissolution of a long-time friendship that I don't understand exactly how it became undone.  When emails, texts and messages go unanswered and you find out surreptitiously via social media that this close, completely trusted friend has moved away and doesn't let you know, it gives you pause.  But as I get older, I don't spend too much time contemplating it - I just let it go.  It's all you can do.  Say goodbye and wish them the best.

There's still more good things to look forward to - that's what I prefer to focus and concentrate on.  As should we all.

Wednesday, August 05, 2020

Riding the waves to somewhere...

6 months since COVID-19 began crippling the world (and life in general); 5 months since I began working at home.  I still feel good, physically - and I've taken some wise steps to make sure that I remain healthy.  I scheduled two medical appointments next week - dentist and gastroenterologist.  It's two years since my last teeth cleaning, so I'm overdue.  And at 55, I'm late with having a consultation for a colonoscopy.  So that's finally on the docket.  Later on, I'll schedule a proper physical because that's another one that's gotten away for me - like 15 years.  Although everything is at a standstill, I feel the need to reshape certain elements in/of my life - and going to doctors for the sake of remaining in good physical health is paramount.  I already have my yearly appointment with my eye doctor set for next month - it's a matter of checking off necessities from the list.

Part of these changes do - sadly - include another cleaning out of the emotional closet.  The jettisoning of a very long-term relationship (albeit, a friendship) is always a painful, taxing, difficult process.  But when you clearly see that the end is coming - and in essence, has arrived - you should do the rational thing and just let go.  It makes me sad, but I watched the slow decline.  I tried to save it and my efforts were for naught, so okay - I did my best.  I'm not a martyr here; I don't feel any recriminations; I'm not angry, just disappointed.  When the communication becomes a one-way street, it's pointless.  But that's part of the cycle.  I walk away with my head held high and with appreciation for the years.

At the same time, little things are the seeds of joy planted.  I have a scheduled day off from work next week to spend at the beach - giving me a long weekend.  I have some new books and albums to digest and devour...  this is a good time for refreshment/reset/rejuvenation.  And once the gyms finally reopen, I'm going to be there, daily, if possible.  I also want to give myself a spa day in October; it's a little costly but it's a worthwhile investment.

As I've said on many occasions, I'm using this period as something to be treasured; lessons well-learned and filled with positivity. 

Sunday, July 12, 2020

Sigh and not explode

Another glorious Sunday - waking up after a (thankfully) solid night's sleep with sun pouring in.  Feed the cats and enjoy breakfast in the calm and quiet.  An ice-cold glass of orange juice; a chocolate chip muffin; a  fresh banana and deliciously string coffee is all I needed to set the tone for the day.  A quick and easy grocery shop; an iced blueberry coffee before heading home and all is golden.  I even dozed off for a little while.

Days like today are all I want; they're all I need.  Now when I watch the news, I don't let it affect me.  I see Twitter or Facebook and I don't care.  My orbit is what I'm about.  I feel good; I'm still healthy and I feel sharper; clear-headed and able to parse out my thoughts in an even-more rational fashion than before.

Ever onward, y'know...

Wednesday, July 08, 2020

Another pleasant valley Sunday into tomorrow...

The days are speeding past and blending into one another, almost seamlessly.  Independence Day came and went with an embarrassing deluge of anti-American sentiment and childish complaints about "too many fireworks" - when did this suddenly become such a topic to bitch about?  It's July 4th... Everyone is looking for something to be pissed off at and by.  I won't have any of it.  I've been learning to master the art of not caring about the superficial feelings of people who want desperately to preach at me.  I know I sound like a broken record, but Twitter is the petri dish of stupidity fomenting and Facebook is the platform of unadulterated insanity.  And I refuse to take bait.

Here's what I've come to feel:  your opinions don't matter to me.  They're opinions.  Your preaching means nothing to me.  You want to jump on a bandwagon/flavor-of-the-week cause, don't expect me to give you the time of day.  I don't support it; I never have.  Has it cost me friends?  Perhaps.  Does it worry or concern me now?  No.  Because the reality is this:  I'm 55 years old.  I'm already educated and wise enough to know what is real, what is viable and what is momentary bullshit.  I've seen this nonsense before and I don't have any care about your "feelings" and feigned passion.  If you partake in the hideous acts of "doxxing" and public shaming, ridicule and trying to put someone out of a job or out of business, you are absolutely no better than the so-called evil you're barking about.  "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone"...  well, that cannot be said about any of the morally indignant, social justice warriors/virtue signalers.  99% of those who take these actions are amongst the most amoral, indecent degenerates walking the streets.  Hypocrisy knows no bounds.  And these people are just empty vessels.  They need to fill a gaping void.

This time at home has been an unseen blessing in my eyes - I've been able to observe with greater clarity than ever at how truly unappealing people are - and they've allowed themselves to become these awful characters.  Being at home, safe and following the very simple directives on how not to become ill, has made me mentally stronger; emotionally sharper and I feel re-educated and rejuvenated.  Instead of being an asshole, bemoaning "why can't I go to the bar?" (how old are you people, college age idiots aside?), I do what needs to be done.  It costs nothing to stay home in safety; I have my mask for when I go out and I practice social distancing.  I do what I need to do and it suits me fine.  When the time comes, I can go back to the gym - that's the only thing I miss.  So what's to complain about?

People want to be miserable; people want to point fingers and place blame.  It doesn't work for me and it doesn't work on me.  Get your own house in order first. 

Me?  I'm going to enjoy watching the rain come down, as I know it's going to break the heat!

Monday, June 29, 2020


This has been a particularly cruel month.  It started badly, although it wasn't direct and personal and it's ending on a profoundly painful note.  A very dear friend; someone I loved, passed away on Friday, the 26th.  Her death is a complete shock to me and so many of our mutual friends. 

We were friends for several years; we worked for the same company, albeit years apart from one another.  We came from the same professional background and shared a very similar sense of humor.  We had meaningful conversations; she was passionate about New York City, her home since the early 1980's; she had a deep appreciation for the music and cultural styles of the 1970's and she was absolutely enthralled with anything that had a Latin-flavored beat.  She was intelligent, sharp, quick-witted, kind, gentle and wise. 

We would go back and forth about wonderfully obscure music that only we seemed to know and like; the matter-of-factness in the way we both approached things - it was a wonderful connection. I remember how strident she was about her neighborhood being compromised by Mayor deBlasio and she was very active in the East River Neighborhood Association, to fight off the builders and landlords that he let in to tear up the park, etc.  She was still in love with New York City and she was very hurt and angry at the reality of what was happening.  We’d had a running joke about having a time machine to take us back to the ‘70’s - and she suggested she and I get out of here and go South. 
Her last birthday message to me, which disappeared when she deleted her Facebook account, was her promise to get me new Earth Shoes and an 8 track player for the ‘76 Plymouth Duster.  She waxed poetic and eloquent about certain albums she loved and always asked me if I knew of anything "new" that she hadn't previously heard.

She was so well-rounded; she knew about everything.  Her personality wasn't never arrogant or haughty; she was even-keeled and it made you love her even more.  She appreciated you; she appreciated everyone.  Anyone and everyone who knew her loved her.  Instantly.  She was that kind of person.

There is a void now.  My only comfort in her being gone is that she's now at peace and free of pain.  All I can do is say thank you, Holly.  I love you and I'll miss you.