Calm before

New Yorkers have no sense of calm before the storm. Perhaps it is just Saturday morning grocery traffic, but there is an anxiety as the lines grow longer.

The feeder bands began to spatter a light rain, and despite the winds which are clearly picking up, the air is warm with humidity.

x= blue

In algebra, I always had a ball unfolding equations.
So many mathematical possibilities for a tiny letter, it could be flourished or utilitarian.
Oh, to have understood de Saussure at a sweet sixteen.
--

I bounced through a Russian revolution to the French front. Romantics smashed empty wine bottles to the ground, thrashed by the harmony of colors and surprising new forms of art.


One sketch held together with a pin, of Picasso; influential. A nod to Dada, perhaps:
a square scrap parallel to charcoal bars.
Tacked by faux-bois and held back in the cradle of
Journal, small victories day and night.

Holes in pockets betrayed by elbows, and dancers stretched across mattresses flecked with paint to catch a glint off the hip of the guitar as we took a deep breath before the chorus.

Some dry coughs sprinkle blood on their kerchiefs, some wine splashes onto the hems of garments.

Reading against the grain

For the moment, New York is unblanketed. I have cracked my window open the past two nights, although April has been showering, it's been pleasant enough to fold down the comforter.

Right. Blogging. Write. Blogging.

Tomorrow is April Fool's Day, and hopefully New York will finally release its furious grasp on winter and let us all in on the joke.

On one hand, Spring is pushing the bulbs up, the buds out, and the grass around; under dull skies spitting rain, ice, and even now snow, on the other. This has been one noisy lamb, friends.

To make it through the lack of lovely days, I get out and about, perusing the thrifty vintage racks and stomping around Brooklyn in a good pair of shoes so my mind won't worry about barking dogs. It's not wanderlust so much as an interest in the curio nestled in all the lefts and rights of way. I like to see things happen.

There's plenty to mention.
The store...
My local...
Changes changing... chaos in the details I spose. And that's probably why I haven't blogged since the eighth night of Chanukah, 2010.

So. I will simply start fresh and tell you, dear reader, that yesterday I went to my most favorite museum in New York to catch up with a friend visiting from San Francisco. It was my first time through the meteors and minerals, and my second tour of the dinosaurs. There are millions of stories one could tell along so many different kinds of tours through the American Museum of Natural History--and Smithsonian memories came cantering--but I think the gem I'll drop pays homage to our 26th president.

Back when I was teaching in Miami, I asked the seventh period AP U.S. History class what came to mind when they thought of Theodore Roosevelt. I think I was expecting "Rough Rider," "burly fellow," and other unimaginative responses but right away the brightest student's hand shot up as she blurted, "National Parks!"

So, as I sit on my couch while the changing climate squats in what is supposed to be a lovely spring, I slap hands with conservation.