a new year

(that al waxman statue i'm discussing the pigeon problem with has bad dandruff, but i didn't say anything to him about it)

THIS IS NOT A POEM. i was writing about what new year's day meant, why we recalibrated our outlooks or our goals or our dreams or ourselves, and then i rhymed the second sentence, so i kept the flow. it's not a poem, it just sounds like one.

a time for reflection, of readjusting directions
of looking behind to make bold suggestions for the future
or maybe making none at all

carry on like you did the year before
letting golden days blossom, finding gems wash ashore
maybe life is like smoke between your fingertips
try as we may, the control always slips
away

which is fun too.
floating down a river on your back, smiling into the sun
can't fight the current, can't kick, bite or run
so you do what you have to do.


**
i'm reading a book on the subway. (yes, i've become one of those people. )
art always wakes me up to the beauty in everything. every beautiful thing, every incredible thing, is a testament to the indefatigable will of mankind, of which we are all a part, of which we all share in man's achievements, of beauty and triumph and thought.

on new year's eve day, my gal and i spent the day walking around the city. we took 97 photographs, just of each other. i think i have been using my digital camera more like a film camera - afraid i would run out of film, so only shooting 'the good stuff'. you miss so much doing that. i must have taken 7 pics of stacey just standing in line at tim horton's ordering a hot chocolate. such recording-of-history freedom!

record everything. everything is meaningful.