In the blinking of an eye

In the blinking of an eye
Soon everything will change
From a blue September sky
The brimstone falls like rain.
If true Love
Soars the heavens
Pretend and we can fly
Soon everything will change
My love
In the blinking of an eye.

-Neil Thomas, September 2001

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Anniversary

My sweet, sweet friend, you are loved and you are missed, today and always.

Speaking of the vapors ...

Neil in Haugesund, Norway, summer 2007

Neil in Cooperstown, NY, summer 2008

Brian and me, faking it.

Neil's mom sent him a couple of articles from his hometown newspaper yesterday (did you know that there's a $1.00 bus to Philadelphia?), and told him of a story she'd read recently about a 5-year-old accordion prodigy. Apparently this little boy's dead grandfather, himself an accomplished player, appeared in a dream one night and taught his grandson everything he knew. The little guy woke up the next morning "fluent" in accordion.

Weird.

I have had two dreams in which Mel Gibson, whom I'd never found particularly attractive even before his anti-Semitic drunken rants and weird relationship with Britney Spears (I have to skim US Magazine. It's part of my job. I swear.), proposed to me. In the second one he proposed on stage at my highschool (what was the name of that room, TJ?) with a pair of sapphire earrings.

I woke up fluent in Aussie and best friends with Danny Glover.

Autumn

Alright, despite the rental and lack of photos, I feel like writing a bit. We're coming up on what may be my favorite time of year -- or at least my most energetic and productive time. The languid summer days are drawing to a close ... and the stress of the holidays is miles away. Or seems to be, anyway. They do start decorating earlier and earlier these days, which drives my mom and me nutso -- she takes the same stance on people who leave their decorations up well into January, and I can understand why. There's something forlorn about it, unloved. Like a hanging clock that stopped working ages ago - or a calendar set on the wrong month.

When I was looking for apartments before finding this one, I was particularly interested in a much larger but affordable place in the West Village, on Barrow Street. Actually on the corner of Barrow and whatever Christopher turns into across 7th Avenue. I visited it twice -- brought my mom by -- but there was always something that felt a little off -- like it had been suddenly abandoned. According to my sister I've "got the vapors"; I tend to pick up on weird energy (I know how flaky that sounds to some). There've been many times that I've sensed something forboding -- have not wanted to enter certain rooms, all that. This has been happening since I was a child. Some years ago I went to a party at the home of someone I was just getting to know. After a glass of wine or two I asked if someone had died there recently -- and, as it turned out, his roommate had a couple of months prior. Once in a bar in New Orleans I headed toward the ladies' room and couldn't bring myself to open the door ... I said something to the bartender and she said, "Everyone says that room is haunted!" If the vapors do in fact exist, I believe I've got 'em. With regard to the enormous apartment on Barrow Street, I asked my realtor to look into why the apartment was for sale ... I think you can guess how this story ends, but yes, the previous tenant had died there.

This was not at all what I intended to write about.

Are we all going to have arthritic thumbs in the future from all the texting that's suddenly required of us? I hate texting -- but sometimes it makes the most sense.

That said, I have an errand to run -- perhaps I'll be back later.

Insomnia

This time it's seasonal ... hi TJ, my dearest friend, who lives much too far away. So far away that the time zone is convenient both for an insomniac and for one who has trouble remembering time zones.

My grandfather, Wei Liang Chow, was a mathematician and fellow insomniac. I've long assumed that it was on one of these nights, while pacing the house in his slippers, efficient pajamas and dark blue robe, that he discovered what became the Chow Theorem of Algebra.

I've read this theorem, have had it explained to me (by an exceptionally quiet man), have spoken it aloud, and I have absolutely no idea what it means. I completed my formal mathematical education early in college, in a course widely referred to as "Math for Morons". It involved arranging match sticks in patterns. So I love and appreciate Tara for finding such an efficient time zone, one that eliminates the need for any calculation whatsoever, and for a slew of other reasons. We're coming up on 25 years of knowing one another, having met as infants. Give or take 12 years. I can't do the math.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my next point: for a few days I'll be communicating the old-fashioned way, via Skype and Blackberry, as I will be taking a slight hiatus. Due to the unfortunate union of my laptop and the floor, I will be on a rented machine for a couple of days. And I don't have all my extras, so I can't post the photo of my Papa (Chow) that I otherwise would and so on and so forth, and I'm taking a few days off.

Until we meet again -- the nice fellows at Tekserve promise by Monday -- enjoy the waning days of summer.

Responsibilty

My friends,

If you are a McCain supporter -- and I don't think that McCain is an evil man -- please, I urge you as responsible and educated citizens and free-thinkers to read everything you can about Sarah Palin's politics. The Vice Presidency is a crucial role -- Dick Cheney has been a formidable and influential presence during his years in office. This is the year that the fate of many, many people in our and other countries rests upon this election -- people you know, and people you read about.

I will now be stepping down from the unusual political soapbox I've been on lately and write, mostly, about other things. I'll save the politics for lulls in cocktail party conversation and dialogues with some of the mostly foreign-born cabdrivers in this fine city.

With love, truth, and good intentions,
LLB

Balance

I'm a great believer in luck and I find that the harder I work, the more I have of it.

-Attributed to Thomas Jefferson

Happy Labor Day, folks. A new chapter begins ...