varied

Before the explanation of this shot:

I read this article when it came out three weeks ago and I thought of it again today amongst a week of mental lull. Lately, I have inundated myself with rollicking waves of illegitimate self-pity: I have too much to do, life is hard, etc. etc. It is so pathetic of me, so immature. So fucking embarrassing, to be quite frank.

Tonight at Fred's (more on this below), I saw the the African-American kid I see in our neighborhood from time to time. Everything he wears is ill-fitting because his frame is so gaunt, so fragile. He swims in his Knicks jacket. His faces has several haphazard scars, old gashes from only God knows what. He limps. His lips are gnarled and twisted as if he is always crying out in this silent pain.

This sounds dramatic, I know, but he gets to me; when I see him something in my chest fucking tightens and it makes me sad. There is no other way that I can describe it.

So, he sells these candy bars, these giant Hersey's and Reese's for five dollars cash. Maybe it is all he can do. But I mean these things are fucking huge. Tonight, he came into the Fred's outdoor seating area, in the cold, where music was playing and the people were sitting. He wanted to make a few bucks. The Fred's staff let him in, he lingers for a bit, tries to sell a few bars, then saunters off. I don't know to where--perhaps he vanishes until next time.

But, tonight, we make eye contact and I want to buy something, anything, but I never carry cash. I just don't--it is Visa debit all the time. We lock eyes: I turn my mouth into something which I hope looks like a frown and shake my head. A few tables over, a couple are waving their arms, trying to get his attention--they feel the same necessary obligation I do. But he doesn't see them and he seems about to leave. I reach out my hand--he is still next to me, dejected--I reach out my hand to tap him and point to the couple who want to buy one of his enormous candy bars.

But he sees my arm coming towards him, he flinches. He flinches big time, his body is practically convulsing. My fingers never reach him. He is scared of my movement, my sudden gesture; it is directed at him, this reaching out for contact. It frightens him to his frail core. I speculate on this; I am still speculating on this. But what is this: 'his frail core.' No, his 'core' is not frail, just the shell around it perhaps, the shell not of his design. Yes, his core is stout, robust, pulsating with a force I could never exhibit with my own shallow innards. Never.

So, the candy-salesman sees what I am doing, I am directing his gaze to the couple, who pull out five bucks, I notice, for one of his bars. They wave it in the air like a tiny green flag. He goes to it. After, he makes eye contact with me again following his sell. I smile. He returns back to me and my friend Shane, drinking our beers just because we can: I feel like shit. Shane asks him how much his stuff is and he tells us, I can't hear his voice over the acoustic duo on stage.

I wish I could have.

Shane tells me and I shrug because I don't know what else to do, my guilt further deepening. Shane opens his wallet, tells the guy he never carries cash, and gives him his only two dollars. "You can just have it," Shane says, "you can just have it." He thanks Shane, cradling his enormous box of enormous candy bars.

I want to reach out to him again, right now, his thin arm, hours later, typing this in my apartment with my laptop and my throw pillows and my Ikea bathroom scale and my Venetian blinds and my bicycles and my catalogs and my Brita water filter. I want him to let me touch his arm.

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What a community this Blip is. Briaan sends me a wool jersey so I thank him, weak as it is. And, after writing Briaan, I realize that he and I never would found each other without Joe, so I penned him a note next. As you can see, the Post arrived today for them both.

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This photo was taken at Fred's tonight as I had some beers with Shane. Shane is married to Brighton, who is in the med school program with Leah and Liz. Anyhow, this guy (who works for some publication in town here as I have seen him at many a social event) intrigued me with his ginormous flash diffusion tower. I knew that he knew I was taking his picture as he was doing the same of the band but I didn't know that he was giving me the googly eye.

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I cannot wait to see Leah when she gets home from studying.
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What is my point here, in all of this? My life is blessed. I am not a religious person but I don't know what other word to use. And: we are all connected. All of us, here and abroad. I am exuding a huge sigh right now. Can you hear it? I have found something tonight.