I miss her. She’d call me “stampie”. We’d go shoe shopping and she loved riding around in my old truck as we cruised through Spanish Harlem “shooting rats”. She was the smartest I’ve known and loved dogs more than people. She wanted more than I had to give at the time and stalked me outside restaurants when I was with my co-workers. I wish we could talk more but her husband should come first and I am smart enough to know that (pretty damn obvious to most people (MOST PEOPLE)). I want to look at her “eye tattoo”.
I miss her. She could sail and was always a trooper. We went to Marti Gras and she is the only person I can imagine, that could have exposed themselves while still maintaining her poise and dignity. She was unconfident, which was something I though to be unbearable, now I know that is typical. I want to hold her hand. She had great hands.
I miss others and think about them sometimes but these are the ones that mattered and although, I’ve had to rebuild my life this last calendar year, these are the ones who matter. These are honorable women and the reason that I keep hope. Thank you.
As I’m listening to Noam speak, I am thrilled to be back in a thinking life. I’m making music. I’m designing more since my first 4 years in NYC. It’s ok, but I still need to learn balance. My timing is still all off. I’m not perfect, but things are ok. I’m working on three coasts again soon and may start island hoping in the next few months.
No worries of infidelity, no park benches, no caffeine, no smoking, no tumor and little stress. Things have been worse.
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