My third week here in New York City I saw a dead, homeless black man with his rotting, open soars baking in the 100 degree heat. Lying there dead on the floor while people walk past. His shirt pulled up as if he lifted it for some relief from the heat and then.... and then I don't know. I kept walking too.

I see them barely alive all over the city. In the snow, the heat, the rain. So many are just crazy, mumbling to themselves. I always wonder what happened. What separates me from where I am, to where they are. One paycheck? Poor planning?  I told Cory I think its when no one loves you but your parents. There's no family to help or you never had one to begin with.  

The worst is when they make eye contact and it catches me off guard.  Its' easier to walk over and see lumps on the floor, looking down as the beg for change. Its harder to remember they're human beings. 

And then what? And then you walk on and forget. You forget because the present in New York is so powerful that you forget the past and the poor. 

There are no words for today, only positive thoughts. 

New Air Conditioner Installed by Luigi

Spring is crashing to Summer and we didn't have a Spring, so its 45- to 80 degrees. So we had Cory, aka Luigi, install a new Kmart air conditioner. 

The Weekend

In Central Park it was almost warm enough to not wear a coat or really, a light coat.

Cafe in Central Park, where a weirdo hit on me when Cory got lunch and then came back, and well, scared him away.

As you can see Cory is forced into these photos....he's almost used to it.

A cheese Cory said was named after my stinky feet, we went to the Chelsea Market. 

The High Line in Chelsea, right by Chelsea Market, is an old railroad that has been converted to a garden (you can click the link)

Sea Port after the Hurricane is still a ghost town, Cory said in October they will be tearing everything down and starting over. Nothing is open, we used to come down all the time, its depressing.

Pensive, Sad, Artsy-Fartsy Cory (told him i was NOT taking a photo of him)

Even the historic Fulton Fish Market

 The Tower

The Crystal Palace

I get sad a lot thinking of Merlin, I try not to talk about it,  though it's hard, so I just tell myself its better this way. This sadness has resolved itself into a bunch of strange animal collages. I'm told by Eric I wont get to see him when I come home to visit at the end of April.  

The only thing newsworthy is I had such a scary Zombie dream Friday night I work Cory up and made him stay awake till I fell asleep. I'm guessing its because I saw a commercial (NOT the show) for the Walking Dead. I just, I can't, when Cory leaves for work in the morning (1/2 hour before me) I get nervous and think of Zombies. Reminds me of Becca and I driving around her mom's old house and we'd drive into the woods and she'd swear she heard Aliens like from Signs, (I miss that). We were also totally sober during this/and or strange, we just liked to scare each other.

My Childhood Books (my Strongest memories)

There are fewer things to me more important then books and reading. My mother would buy me any book I ever wanted growing up and she read a book almost every night before she went to sleep. Before I was old enough to read, I remember  my father's voice reading aloud to me and my little sister, a variety of books, before bed. A lot of which i remember exactly to this day. These stories are so important to me,  memories of listening to the words and imaging them  in my mind. I remember the pictures, the smell of the book, the words, the sound of my dad's voice.

Bonny's Big Day

Bonny's Big Day is my favorite, I remember the horse show the old Scottish man brought Bonny to all dressed up, the illustrations, how much it made me want a horse myself. I remember the last photo in the book is Bonny's nuzzling him, pulling down his cap in every photo after she won best in show.

The Paper Bag Princess

The Paper Bag Princess was such a great book. The Dragon made me think anything could be real, the princess who lost everything and only had a paper bag left to her name that showed how strong she could be to win against a dragon. A great children's book for girls that have too much entitlement (aka me).

Good Dog Carl

I forgot about this book, Good Dog Carl, until i saw it at EPCOT Germany and had a flashback to my mom reading/explaining the photos to me and my sister at Blue Lake (we were so little). My parents lived in Germany for a while so maybe that's how the book made it's way to us....i'm not sure. I just remember the dog babysitting the little baby and washing/feeding/playing with it and wishing I had a puppy nanny. I excitedly asked my mom if this was a true story and she said yes, this made me so excited and helped me love dogs even more. 

Catherine, Called Birdy

Catherine, Called Birdy, I still to this day reread and read this book again over and over. I got it at a middle school book fair. My mom read it in an hour and gave it to me, exclaiming how much she liked it and I would love it too, obviously I did. For some reason i remember watching her read it on the couch and laughing, with me asking "what, what, is it good?"  It is!  It's a medieval time period, (my mom and I both loveeee) and it was my very first introduction to feminism. You see Birdy, a girl of 14, writes in her diary everyday, avoiding suitors by scheming, having a mind of her own and avoiding being another married girl. It's so good, I swear, she is clever, smart, sarcastic and wants a life of her own without marriage to hold her back, she wants freedom.  The writing is very very good, no matter what age.  I reread it because it brings back the thoughts and feelings i had when i read it for the first time.

 The Red Pony

The first time my dad red me The red Pony i cried. I cried a lot but tried to hide it with my nightgown (wiping my tear with my sleeves) , whether he knew I cried or not, my dad never mentioned it. The book is four stories in one with the same characters but when the young boy lost his pony that he loved so much and it died, well..... my younger self couldn't handle it. I still can't.
I have this book saved since it was my dad's when he was younger. John Steinbeck wrote it in 1933, (my copy was from the 60's) but it could have been written today. So good and sad all wrapped into one.

A Classic

No other reason needed

The Box Car Children

A girl in my class was reading the Box Car Children, (a book series) and I didn't like her, for whatever my young mind didn't like her but the way she spoke about the books intrigued me. So I borrowed the first book ( I was still kind of nice to her) in the series and was hooked, three siblings whose parents died and they ran away together for adventure. A Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mix, I read the books instead of paying attention in class. I did a lot of this.

Little Women

When Little Women was turned into a movie in the mid nineties I really, really, really wanted to see it, my mom told me I could only go if i read the book. I'm so glad I did. I loved it, still read it. I always wanted to be Jo March, who Louise May Alcott modeled after herself to have all her adventures and talent in writing. The movie was just as good and Christian Bale, who played Laurie (my first literary crush besides Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice) made me crush even harder on Laurie when I would reread the book. Also, there are SO many covers to this book, the one below is the only acceptable one to me, its the cover of the book like the copy my mom gave me.  

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner

When I first start running, the summer before 7th or 8th grade my mom gave me this short story, (in a book of the authors other short stores) and it always stuck with me. I am a runner for life and this story is a huge part of why I continue to run, i wont give it away but once you read it, its so hard to forget it.

Stone Soup

A fable of sorts, a book that the librarian of my elementary school read to our class. It taught me to always take care of those that have littleto nothing and even if people don't help you, there is always a way to trick them into helping, the plot via the review:

"Some travelers come to a village, carrying nothing more than an empty cooking pot. Upon their arrival, the villagers are unwilling to share any of their food stores with the hungry travellers. Then the travellers go to a stream and fill the pot with water, drop a large stone in it, and place it over a fire. One of the villagers becomes curious and asks what they are doing. The travellers answer that they are making "stone soup", which tastes wonderful, although it still needs a little bit of garnish to improve the flavour, which they are missing. The villager does not mind parting with a few carrots to help them out, so that gets added to the soup. Another villager walks by, inquiring about the pot, and the travellers again mention their stone soup which has not reached its full potential yet. The villager hands them a little bit of seasoning to help them out. More and more villagers walk by, each adding another ingredient. Finally, a delicious and nourishing pot of soup is enjoyed by all."

Where the Sidewalk Ends

In fourth or fifth grade i remember my teacher giving us this book and we had to pick one poem/story and recite it word for word. I remember her standing at the front of the classroom and telling us, "no matter what you pick, you will always remember your story word for word." I doubted her but she was right. When Cory and I went to FAO Schwarz I looked for this book and recited the poem for Cory word for word, below is the poem I picked. 

I think the books that are read to us as children and the books we choose to read when we are young shape us as individuals, they open our minds, they stick to our insides and are internalized.  I remember I was so addicted to reading I would read ahead in all my English books and got into trouble in my math classes.
 So i'm shit at math but I got a perfect score on my FCAT writing/reading tests in my High School.  I'll never be a mathematics professor or good at math but my imagination and love for words will last me a lifetime.  And as a child I think reading and writing make the world easier and harder and everything all at once.