Hope and Despair

Walking down Broadway last week a man walked past me talking on his cel phone saying "I'm psyching myself up to be calm." Words I can't forget. I hope he managed to be keep his cool.

The other day I worked with a man named Men who is from Guyana. I broke the ice by whistling Big Rock Candy Mountain, a song I doubt he knew. Later he told me that his family are refugees from Guyanese killer bees, which killed his father. He tells me the bees hit his country in the 80's, moving up from Brazil, cross breeding.

Falling asleep yesterday, I saw a man slipping a penny out of his black sock. Now who would do that? Also, there was a sparkling glass full of water with peanut shells showing crystal clear behind it, and lastly, on the floor, a puddle surrounding a bucket on the parquet floor.

Today at work my friend who makes the most amazing bird noises accused me of giving her my cold, but I know she got it from her kids. She came down with it on Friday, after a glitter heavy installation in the store windows. She joked that she'd gotten glitter poisoning. Her husband joked that when they autopsied her and and opened her lungs, it would be dazzling.

I woke up seeing an image of Jesus bearing the cross on his back and hearing the words "the burden of truth." I think we are tired of lies, but unfortunately the truth is a blunt instrument.

The manager at Key Food tells me that business is steady there inspite of the economy, he supposes although people are entertaining less more people are cooking at home. He was disturbed though because shoplifting is up – they recently caught a customer stealing food for his dog. Sad. I understand the wine business isn't hurting too much, although the pricey stuff might be gathering some dust.

Radar folded Friday and now what will my husband be doing for work? He'll miss that old book and its awesome crew. We'll see what happens now. We are psyching ourselves up to stay calm–an excellent if overwhelming challenge.

On the subway a new Remy Martin ad campaign reads something like "Things are getting interesting." A woman grabs another woman's heavy chain necklace with her teeth under another scene in which two flirty women whisper into a handsome man's ear. It is hard to take first thing Monday morning.

I keep thinking about Marcus Aurelius, a cocklebur I've come across with a hardcore stoic work ethic. He's always whispering in my ear, saying, "Aren't you forgetting something. Don't be so lazy." He's a pain in my *ss. But I forgive him, because he's a good addition to my conscience. And he almost sounds like Walt Whitman, or a Taoist: "Everything harmonizes with me, which is harmonious to thee, O Universe. Nothing for me is too early nor too late, which is in due time for thee. Everything is fruit to me which thy seasons bring, O Nature: from thee are all things, in thee are all things, to thee all things return." Somewhere I read that his Meditations resembles the Sermon on the Mount in certain respects. I get the feeling Marcus Aurelius carried blunt instruments.