The Journey Back

It feels like a holiday. I have been waiting and waiting for people to call and tell me if I have work for the fall. I interviewed on Sunday for a second job on 59th and Lexington. It is nice, non-descript, rich, European, touristy and low traffic. Perfect for me.

The other treat was the first episode of UFC 4. Fantastic. First fight was great.

The big job is still a question. I have passed the time with the Harlem Baker who baked a cake for me so I could take it to S and A and their kids' house. S and I talked for a long time. She has so much to bear and is a totally different person than years ago. But she is not sad nor has she aged. We talked about the sadness that comes with maturity. Not a depression, but a realization of who you are and what you want simply makes some experiences unnecessary. You are old enough to know the outcome, realize that you are wasting your time or circumstances and relationships will not giving you what you really need. So there is little thill in new experiences, cause you have an increasing encyclopedia of them.

I left on Thursday and just got back from THE CITY today. That is what my father calls NYC, with all the foreboding of carnal acts, rude people and a lack of respect for capital.
New Jersey.
The Harlem Baker.
Prospect Park.
An hour to Brooklyn from 145th street on the local B train.
A faster journey to Port Authority on the Q,
but 20 minutes underground by foot with my bags.
An hour and a half on the turnpike and Route 27.
As I slept on the bus there were many voices in my head,
and so many people around me were drowned out by their own iPods.
I think I am overstimulated.

Something in me craves solitude. I dreamt of Vermont last night. Actually, it was a guy named Vermont. His face was unfamiliar, but when he said his name I recognized him from childhood. I wonder what the universe is trying to say. I don't know a John Vermont in real life.

S said she would be willing to go. Maybe we will. But first the beach if E coli if down.