When I was much younger, I met a wonderful woman, and we decided to get married. We had a nice celebration, and everyone toasted to our lasting happiness. For the next few years, we shared everything — hope and despair, success and failure, joy and sorrow — all the moments that make up a life. We were strong together, and life presented no challenge too large for us to manage.
Over time, however, we began to follow our own paths, making choices that prioritized new and separate interests, until one day, not recognizing each other any longer, we decided to let go. …
I was so excited for New York City.
I had been a few times before, and so the standard tourist attractions were not my concern. This time, as a newly blossoming chef, my focus was more singular. In spite of my floundering bank account, I had eight restaurants with a combined 14 Michelin stars in my sights.
It was going to be epic.
The night before my departure, I dreamed of vintage champagne, briny caviar, seared foie gras, braised pork belly, sweet buttery lobster, and silky Bordelaise. Mmmm…
So much for dreams. …
Rachel swears she likes to travel. No matter that she is deathly afraid of flying, does not enjoy trains, is prone to seasickness, and saving the particulars for later, detests my driving. Motorcycles? No way. Buses? Rather not. Subway? Out of the question. Mopeds, skateboards, zeppelins? Nope, nope, nope. Biking is good. Walking is better. Funny thing, though, she rides her bike on the sidewalk and walks on the bike path. This is a personal pet peeve of mine and seems dangerous, but to her, it makes perfect sense. Forget the wide-eyed, terror-stricken pedestrians who unexpectedly find themselves in the path of her blue mountain bike as it barrels towards them. She just gives a little ring ring of her pink bell, they narrowly escape by diving into the bushes, and she pedals on. I gave her that bell one Christmas as a cute stocking stuffer, unaware of how many lives it would save. I deserve a medal. …
There’s something nearly indescribable about the sweet smell of night-blooming jasmine — its intoxicating fragrance, like no perfume could ever replicate.
I think it’s because it comes over you all at once, surprising you with its powerful awakening, every time.
In summer, on an after-dinner stroll about the neighborhood, you’re suddenly enveloped by it. It perks up your senses as you stop to wonder “Oh, what is that?” before remembering how jasmine works its pollination magic at night. Closing your eyes to inhale deeply, you try to take in every flower’s offering.
All this from a single scent.
There’s something nearly indescribable about the downy feel of lamb’s ear — its velvety softness, like no other foliage could ever replicate. …
I begin in the depths, where all waves begin, in an entity larger than themselves, a part of something, a part of everything, a part of nothing, apart.
I am drawn by a force beyond grasp or control, unknown yet unmistakably present, a silent, distant cry. It pulls the thread, at first softly, then taut, until I am on my way. I am my way.
As I move, I feel the potential within. Smoothly I rise and fall, always beneath the surface, all the while gaining.
I encounter many as my path is wide. Some run from me, others dive below, while those who are able soar above. Most simply let me slide by, pretending to be unaffected by my presence. …
Let’s face it. You can’t make money on Medium. Wait a minute, that’s not what I meant. You can’t make money on Medium if no one reads your articles. Yeah, that’s it.
And the one surefire way to attract and retain a massive audience who will read everything you publish until the very end is by using clickbait titles.
Readers LOVE clickbait titles. Duh.
Because there’s nothing like the feeling of being fooled. We revel at the thought of buying into an investment only to find out it’s a Ponzi scheme. And who doesn’t love the joy of an Amazon purchase that shows up in a dented UPS package and is nothing like the photos? How about the giant IKEA wall unit that’s missing a critical piece? …
I consider myself an aspiring writer of literary nature. Not a blogger. Not a content generator. Not a frivolous poster of crap.
I also consider myself a decent photographer of artistic nature. Not selfies. Not cats being cats. Not a frivolous poster of sunsets with crooked horizons.
Given the nightmare of COVID-19 and the amazing decline of the US political system, however, I’m having a hard time focusing on my literary and artistic endeavors. The remedy for getting out of one’s head and clearing the detritus?
Many years ago, undoubtedly after too many glasses of wine, I discovered my iMac camera had built-in filters. For a highly-educated man of a certain age, you’d be surprised how much fun I had taking photos of my goofy mug. …
When I was younger, baseball was my first love, and because it conflicted with tennis season, I never played high school or college tennis. It wasn’t until after I entered the workforce that I began to play competitive tennis, and it quickly became one of my favorite activities.
I was just starting out in my adult life so my weekdays were dedicated to figuring out how to excel in my newly-launched career, but my weekends were spent on the tennis court, trying to improve my game. Surprisingly — or perhaps not — there was substantial overlap.
Like every tennis newbie, I started at the lower ranks. Being a solid, multi-sport athlete, I improved quickly, and eventually, I was playing at a fairly high level, even competing against club pros and former college players. To be honest, those opponents were well beyond my skill level — and they knew it — but somehow I hung in there, battling match after match, sometimes winning and sometimes losing, but always a threat to their egos. To compete above my official tennis rating was exhilarating for me and utterly frustrating for them. …
Standing on the moon, I see the battle rage below.
Standing on the moon, I see the soldiers come and go.
~ Jerry Garcia & Robert Hunter
When I look at the world today, I see chaos, greed, misdirection, hostility, senselessness, fear, anguish, repression, depression, aggression, conflict, irresponsibility, avoidance, denial, selfishness … BIG problems.
I see military machines balancing on a thin wire of humanity, economies artificially propped up to favor the top echelons while the masses struggle below, and nations jostling, diplomatically or otherwise, for an upper-hand. …
Waiting for his order to arrive, Julian texted his fam, “Do u think she’s dtf Coop?”
“Idk. Hoping. She’s hot af,” came the reply.
Thierry jumped in, “Facts.”
“Total snacc. If u pull her bruh, Im unfriending u no cap,” Julian threatened.
“Same,” agreed Thierry.
Cooper, smirking, clicked in “Dead.”
Blaine stopped scrolling Insta and added, “What’s the tea on Jake?”
“Over. Hundo P.”
Suddenly, an audible voice jerked all four heads from their screens, “Who has the tacos?”
Julian raised his fingers slightly. Three burgers and the tacos landed.
Faces downward, phones momentarily aside, the friends ate in comfortable silence. …