Thursday, February 10, 2005

posted by: copernicus on 2/10/2005 03:10:00 AM
Hey all,

I'm the proud owner of of a brand new Dell Inspirion 1000 laptop. I no longer have to lug a home PC halfway across the country while taking up half of my valuable trunk space. When you're traveling to a new city every 3 months with only what you can fit into your Saturn sedan, half of your trunk is prime real estate.....

Sorry, just heard something on the tv that sucked me away for a moment:

-"Hey Albert! Good luck exploring the infinate abyss."

-"Thank you.....Hey!.....you too."

Anyway, it's 3:37 in the morning and.....and I don't know what.

So here's to Ginger, who I never met. She was rescued from abuse at the age of 2, and spent the next 13 years living in a home of comfort and love. She died tonight, and she is mourned by those who loved her.

In honor of Ginger, Zeke and Little, I will post something I wrote for my brother's dog:

"Zeke is gone,
I spill some beer as one pale blue eye closes.
A puddle foams in memory of a kid I knew in doses.
I did not know this child well,
but that matters not.
For my brother raised this soul,
and that says quite a lot.
My brother mourns and I gave up a while back asking why,
a good, kind, warm and loving soul is the one to die.
The answer of course is that none exists,
but that just cleans the wound.
and the healing itch of forming scabs is by this time nothing new.
So nothing to do but drink this beer,
with the Dog Star changing colors.
It blinks and fades in constant change,
as I think of my dead brothers."

Good night Ginger, good night Zeke, good night Little, good night Dad.

Wow,.....Dad.

A few weeks ago was the 10 year anniversary of his death. That night I walked over 60 city blocks from the neighborhood he grew up in on the Upper East Side of Manhattan all the way down the edge of Central Park and across to Times Square, stood in the middle of the city that forged his perception and ached for his hand on my shoulder.

What I discovered was her hand squeezing mine, gently pulling me back from tactile and olfactory memories. With the city lights dimmed by falling snow, yet refracting in my blurry eyes, I turned my head to look at her compassionatly silent face as she smiled, licked her finger and stuck it in my ear.