cutting great neck

it has been a beautiful two-year experience.



i guess moving has become more of a ritual for me now. i am not in disbelief; i am not a child ripped out of its mother’s womb. more like a child whose head has been pulled gradually over a seven-month period out of the opening in his mother’s body at an increasing rate, until he knows the world and the world knows him, until he’s ripped out, however gently.

this almost feels natural, moving: this room is home, or at least a home, already.



i miss nothing, almost. i miss you, my friends; i miss the city. i have thoughts of missing my house, but only surface thoughts, superficial. i don’t miss middle neck road, and i don’t miss the LIE or the LIRR. i don’t miss walking down the street wrapped up in utter blackness all alone towards home; i don’t miss the best teachers i’ve ever had; i don’t miss the library (okay, i might, because the dvd section here stinks); i don’t miss memorial field, grace avenue or allenwood; i don’t miss fireflies, mosquitoes, cicada; i don’t miss being able to see the empire state building’s jutting rib of an antenna poking out from behind a field of houses from baker; i don’t miss walking ginger up and down the same corner so many times, each one so different than the others (the time i stole a newsday to pick up ginger’s shit; the time she hid in the bushes and i searched for five minutes all panicked); i don’t miss bagel hut, amal, sushi palace, starbucks; i don’t miss the trips to new jersey; i don’t miss the snow; i don’t miss missing; i don’t miss the u.s. open, watching the sun set from behind the profile of epic structures; i don’t miss studying on the swing; i don’t miss the wooden den; i don’t miss the stars, the tall trees, kings point, biking to the point, cheese bagels, extra-large ice coffee after fours hours of sleep, rotten apples in my backpack, writing on the drama room whiteboard, screwing nails, eating caviar from 108th street, dripping rainstorm rain, tanned skins after winter break, the way a wall of heat packs into you as you step into those doors and blows you backwards and the day just seems to open up like a (very warm) flower, pajamas to school, free movie tuesdays, metacognition, ap world history exam, deli on the green, cuttinggreatneck.blogspot.com, dreaming about israel and wanting to move there, listening to the last summer, philly washington d.c. or boston, guide post, yctiwy mattress crucible, coming home and puking all over the office floor because you’re so sick and tired of working, coming home and puking all over the living room floor because of a virus, swine flu, morning swim, brittle rain, holocaust books, listening to indie music at night, athens 2008, pretending to care about the 2008 elections just so people would know me, looking out and look it’s snowing, snow days, cousins coming to visit, tuesday evening journalism, ordering a whole pizza pie and feeding journalism, going with the stream, masterswarm, thinking at first that i missed san diego.




i miss the idea of them. i wish i could relive them quickly so i would know what i did and where, just like everything and everywhere in life. remembering unremembered memories. i wish i would’ve known two years ago where i am today so that i could have understood it more. who i am today.