cutting great neck

Monday January 19 2009 early early in the morning


the night is closing in on me.

the snow is smoothing.



frank sinatra croons jazz in my ears, his words like feathers dancing, playing in and out of shadows.

i am forgetful, old, prococious. i am a wonderer.



i said something bizarre to this girl today.

"i don't believe in god
and he's punishing me for it."



i am a paradox.



how can god punish me
if he does not exist?

how can life punish us
if we do not exist?



i went outside today.

in the snow, bitter and white and blankety, soft. it hardens in your fist. it smooths your eyes, jades them. it's fresh, it's cool, it's comfortable. it's black skies above white, brown-hued snow.



i sleep in morning hours.


and now i think of madrid.

i don't know why.



i miss madrid. i miss europe. i miss life, lives, which i had not been able to hold, which i had been able to hold but had not held long enough.

i miss persons whom i had not been able to hold long enough.



i feel so alone. so worthless.

Frank Sinatra - My Way

recently read Bono's nytime's column, downloaded my way. and i liked it. i understood it. i felt its force. its sheer, human force. and i've been thinking how different i am from everyone and how lovely everyone still is.



i took a long walk today. two friends didn't want to talk to me. that's ok. i thought about life. about friends.



on facebook, i look through pics of old israeli friends. i see how different each one looks. how grown-up. how matured. how unlike me, how like me. how tremendously altered and ostentatious, so unfamiliar, tall, gaunt, square. and i think: do i look like that to them? what would i have looked like if i stayed in israel? who would i have been?



who am i now?