333 writings have flowed from inside to this screen. 3 is a special number in my world view, although I suppose I need all of the numbers to make this world what it is. I wanted to write something very special for this occasion, with all sorts of links to the past and comments on the magical significance of three, but I think a simple description of my day will suffice.
Today I taught two classes at a language center in the Bronx, and during one of the classes we learned about "Achievement." One of the examples was Albert Einstein and his theory of relativity. And I thought teaching them about infinitives and gerunds was difficult! The basic idea is about the relations between supposedly separate objects. "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
Afterward I went home, cooked food, took a nap, read to make my mind run and listened to Alan Watts talk about the perceptual illusion of reality, in that that's what makes life possible. He also talked about heroes going on journeys and needing skillful technique to express their inspiration to the world, which expects that this person would have brought something useful back to society if they had really gone on such an extravagant series of adventures.
Then I read some writing I had done before and waited for my friend to arrive. Around 7:30 I got a text from a Cambridge friend saying he had arrived in Harlem. He's in town on business, and I've known him since I was 12 years old. It's hard to pick one, but he definitely qualifies as a "best friend." I shared the glory of New York pizza with him (just next door!) and then gave him an earful about my current situation: I'm a writer, I'm approaching 30, and I need to start making people believe by writing my dreams into reality. His listening and feedback eased my mood. Then I got a text from a friend who lives nearby. I have known this friend since kindergarten. He also qualifies as a "best friend." Our group of three walked to the river to take in the view, and then around the neighborhood. The hometown friend caught the downtown train and the other friend and I got some tea near his apartment. He opened up to me a little bit about his problems, and I offered a little perspective to help him in whatever way possible, and then we parted ways until next time.
There is a quote on my wall that reads: "People who live in a society, enjoy looking into each other's eyes, who share their troubles, who focus their efforts on what is important to them and find this joyful--these people lead a full life." --Albert Einstein
Expressing as much of a book as possible in time for (metaphorical) Bonnaroo in June is what is important to me. I would love for it to be complete, and even happier if an agent was representing me and making it possible for many people to read the stories. That's why I am significantly reducing the frequency of writings expressed on this page for free. Please keep continuing to check in on me. I appreciate it greatly. There will still be occasional writings and photographs. But to achieve my dreams, I must have both literary feet walking on this book's balance beam.
Today I taught two classes at a language center in the Bronx, and during one of the classes we learned about "Achievement." One of the examples was Albert Einstein and his theory of relativity. And I thought teaching them about infinitives and gerunds was difficult! The basic idea is about the relations between supposedly separate objects. "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
Afterward I went home, cooked food, took a nap, read to make my mind run and listened to Alan Watts talk about the perceptual illusion of reality, in that that's what makes life possible. He also talked about heroes going on journeys and needing skillful technique to express their inspiration to the world, which expects that this person would have brought something useful back to society if they had really gone on such an extravagant series of adventures.
Then I read some writing I had done before and waited for my friend to arrive. Around 7:30 I got a text from a Cambridge friend saying he had arrived in Harlem. He's in town on business, and I've known him since I was 12 years old. It's hard to pick one, but he definitely qualifies as a "best friend." I shared the glory of New York pizza with him (just next door!) and then gave him an earful about my current situation: I'm a writer, I'm approaching 30, and I need to start making people believe by writing my dreams into reality. His listening and feedback eased my mood. Then I got a text from a friend who lives nearby. I have known this friend since kindergarten. He also qualifies as a "best friend." Our group of three walked to the river to take in the view, and then around the neighborhood. The hometown friend caught the downtown train and the other friend and I got some tea near his apartment. He opened up to me a little bit about his problems, and I offered a little perspective to help him in whatever way possible, and then we parted ways until next time.
There is a quote on my wall that reads: "People who live in a society, enjoy looking into each other's eyes, who share their troubles, who focus their efforts on what is important to them and find this joyful--these people lead a full life." --Albert Einstein
Expressing as much of a book as possible in time for (metaphorical) Bonnaroo in June is what is important to me. I would love for it to be complete, and even happier if an agent was representing me and making it possible for many people to read the stories. That's why I am significantly reducing the frequency of writings expressed on this page for free. Please keep continuing to check in on me. I appreciate it greatly. There will still be occasional writings and photographs. But to achieve my dreams, I must have both literary feet walking on this book's balance beam.
