April 09, 2015


seen on a frosted window in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a mere 9 days before I become 38 in 2015

Life takes too many turns to count. I'm equally in love and in dislike with life right now, in all of its infinite strange strangeness. My heart burns as if a flame were lit to it. My back aches because I hunch over a desk all day, my eyes have weakened to the point of being near legally blind. I consume a horrible diet. My current job is amazing to the point of carrying all of my default pathetic and sad feelings on its shoulders. I live in Williamsburg, one of the most incredible and yet ridiculous places to live. I spotted this message (above) two days ago on a frosted window as I walked my roommate's Grey Hounds around the corner from our apartment; I took the photo yesterday, again with the Grey Hounds in tow. I want to remember the smallest, slightest vignettes of life, those images moving enough to shake your soul, the ones that turn up soil. Like when I caught this message in my line of (poor) sight. I walked right up to it and stared at it hard. It's a manageable message. I like yer aesthetic. 

I just finished a writing class which I found to be only semi-inspiring. The people have become characters in my week; Sadaf introduced me to it, and invited me to it, and I invited Greg, and of course, being in a course with Sadaf and Greg is a thrill for me. The others are still slight strangers to me, though we spent a term sharing our lives on paper and in person. I'm taking next term, of course, because it felt warm and natural and I like the overall notion of it.

I've just begun my next French term at Coucou Brooklyn, a five minute walk from my apartment, just under the BQE at Marcy and Hope, and my new instructor is *handsome*! and clever and fun. I'm enjoying it thus far. It's Level 2, which I began before Grandma B. passed away in March (a different story for its own post) but I begged to re-start because I missed 3 courses of Level 2 when I began it early in the year. The lovely French instructors cheerfully complied that that would be okay. So having re-started, I am happy to be back at the French language, sometimes as difficult as it may be to recall all of that from when I studied it so many years ago.

Hard parts of life keep returning. I don't want to become stupidly morbid in this post. So I won't. But I'll say this: I'm not sure my birthday this year is going to be everything I hoped it would be. I have Amtrak tickets and Neutral Milk Hotel tickets for Greg and I the weekend of my birthday, but I've since decided that it is neither affordable for me or appropriate for us, as two people, to do that.