Tag Archives: New York

Bad Biographies

(*Names changed to spare me yet trouble the wicked. This continues “Crazy Quilt.”)

 

    The family line descends through the father.

    *Blowhard, my boss and chief of *Mugwump, the family-held company for which I’ve toiled two dozen years, has rapidly deteriorated into decrepitude. A little under two years ago he was a sharp 80-year-old man. Today, enfeebled mentally and physically, he’s a ghostly figure peeking out from tired flesh.

    He’s lost muscle mass. His acuity wanes more than waxes. Despite the obvious infirmities, no family member has yet summoned the compassion to tell him “enough.” Instead of compelling their father to see reason and retire, Blowhard’s surviving daughters *Loca and *Fea, whose management has sapped their patrimony, still let him commute to the office, and defer to him although his mind is shakier than theirs.

    The Mugwumps are not a compassionate bunch. There’s plenty they aren’t and have never bothered being. The Turk needs to come around and collect all their playbooks. Continue reading Bad Biographies

Cocktail Afternoons With Wendy

(*Some names and places changed to protect me and placate others.)

 

    Now is the perfect season to have a significant other.

    We wear less clothing, a condition which excites and lowers our inhibitions. Summer heat unshackles us from interior living. If you’re buff enough, stronger sunlight further rewards physical culture by lending a glow to faces. Limbs are also burnished.

    Aren’t those the sort of allures that entice receptive humans?

    Given longer days we live more outside. Don’t the conditions conjure lengthier strolls, spontaneous hand holding, aimless caresses, shared smiles that lean into kisses for no purposes other than simple exaltation in the moment, and the utterance of phrases which would sound strained and strange during cooler, darker seasons?

    We actually notice sunsets and regard fireflies as favorable apparitions.

    Well, one does if there’s someone else with whom to create and enjoy these instances. Unfortunately for me such sweet hours have vanished. (SOB!) I believe I squandered them decades ago. What remains is keen vision of others’ fleeting happiness. Then even clearer sight when atmospheric attraction sours into all-weather acrimony. Continue reading Cocktail Afternoons With Wendy

Crazy Quilt

(*My signature is on a confidentiality agreement somewhere. Names and particular circumstances changed to protect me.)

 

    Some days more than others feel like what should be work’s final hours. The betting here is closure occurs end of January 2012. Any urgency entering our building has long vacated. It’s not so much a death watch as impending stasis.

    Countdown began six years ago. It accelerated in January 2010. Nonetheless there have been occasions since when the fall could’ve been braked, the slide leveled, and altitude regained. All of those saving instances have been missed. Intentionally. Leaving inexorability. Continue reading Crazy Quilt

What Came Along

    Blessed and cursed are those of us residing in the New York Metropolitan area. Regarding the first, where else on earth can inquisitive minds, the nakedly ambitious, poseurs even, find such a concatenation of amusements, outlets and audiences? 

    On the downside, cheap is expensive here.
    
    In order to avoid falling into an exaggerated subsistence level, throughout January I  performed certain economies. The 2008 financial tumble washed over me in 2009 but I didn’t start gasping for air until last year.

    Being luckier than many others reduced my pay, transformed my bonus into lousy tip money, while my investments only started recouping their declines slower than a tired fat man climbing Empire State Building stairs. Continue reading What Came Along

Behind the Curtain

    Why the pen name? Why the whole establishment of an entirely separate entity? Why isn’t the ebook’s author visible?

    Does Reveries (http://www.amazon.com/Reveries-ebook/dp/B004H8G1KO/) embarrass me? Am I ashamed of publishing so much sexual detail?

    Those were questions from the clique to whom I devulged my nom de porn and output.

    The wise guy response: Hey. Why so many questions?

    But it was good to have friends challenge me. What better preparation exists for the inevitable tight-assed abstainers, the righteous who advertise their piety instead of demonstrate virtue, and the extreme hardcore types who wonder whether procreative relations are necessary sinning? 

    Recently, a collar of New York City clerics and laity convened a press conference. They decried the high number of abortions within the five boroughs. Looking upon the clammy assemblage, I noticed a paucity of women. Mostly men complained about a condition unique to the second sex. Sincere as every male in that room could’ve sworn himself, not a one had first-hand knowledge regarding menstruation, ovulation or gestation. 

    Especially the ones who’d taken celibacy vows. A-hem, instead of amen. Continue reading Behind the Curtain