Category Archives: creative writing
Paying Through The Nose
Starbucks 87th And Third Avenue I rarely come here since it’s long rather then wide, like a subway car, everyone almost touching elbows. But the smell of fresh brewed beans lures me in after holding the door for a … Continue reading
Coffee Light…Hold The Donut
Paris Baguette…mid afternoon I love coffee, my drug of choice. If I could I’d have an IV of Maxwell House beneath my blazer, still good to the last drop even if it’s not. Baguette’s coffee is pricy, … Continue reading
Quotable
Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always…Robin Williams I don’t want to be part of a world where being kind is a weakness…Keanu Reeves Never confuse education with intelligence, you can … Continue reading
Hump Day
It never fails. The minute I’m suffering from a case of the poor mes I see the woman with the hump, my harbinger that things could always be worse. And it’s never in the same place. I’ve seen … Continue reading
May I Have A Word?
The adjective, postprandial, inspired this. It came up three times in a novel I’m rereading. It’s what happens or what one does after a meal. Do you go for a stroll or nap in a chair? Did you suffer postprandial … Continue reading
When You Want To Smack Mother Nature
It feels as if I’m trapped in a snow globe, or under house arrest since the city is paralyzed. I keep staring out the window looking for a sign of life that’s as still as a Currier and Ives … Continue reading
Bookends
I’m across the street watching a man throw away books. He’s stacking them like a pulp tower while his young son watches. I don’t know what bothers me more, tossing them or teaching his kid it’s an okay thing … Continue reading
Life On The Train
Downtown Number 6 10:30 a.m. Cold be damned. I need to go to the 42nd Street Library to get a special gift. This is when I wish my incessant thoughtfulness would take a hike. But we are who we are. … Continue reading
Minus 6 Degrees Of Separation
Sunday 4: 30 a.m. I can’t get over how cold it is and that truly, if I’m smart, will not venture out. My doorman with his many layers looks like someone sneaking out without paying from a cheap … Continue reading
Notes From The Carlyle
It feels as if I’ve reentered my former life even though I’m not at the bar, instead in the little red room off of it having coffee. I’m stalling not to have to go the Apple Store across … Continue reading



