Among many other things we did today was a visit of the Peter Cooper grave. Last time we walked past it was probably three years ago or so. The sun was shining and we just walked by. It is a nice grave, a white tower on a round island. It is a fine grave. Today we walked around it. We walked up to it. The marble looks as if it wanted to go home now. It is done being a grave and would like to just go back to being pieces of fine sand, somewhere in the soil, ready to be pressed together to new marble or plant, or person or whatever. The words carved into the grave are a bit blurry now, but at the same time rather brilliant and focussed. What a man. We could not stay for long. Not sure who brought it up actually, but it turns out that Peter Cooper was the gentleman who allowed us to meet. And that's obviously not inscribed on the stone. And neither are many other things. Or maybe they are? Or maybe... And we actually did not even visit his grave intentionally. The F did not arrive on time, so we took the D, wanted to walk through the Green Wood Cemetery; The Hamilton Parkway exit was closed, or so the ranger in his jeep told us as we were almost there, and so we had to turn around, walk by the Peter Cooper grave, to the main exit, with the nest of green parrots, and the woodpecker playing percussionist in the trees out all the way from fifth avenue then... home. important events as buildup to the calm and daily. It was a good walk today. We also saw some rather good art. In a private setting... made public... only today. but that's a completely different story.
March 2008 Archives
beat the heart a few times. different speeds, so things do not get boring. blicked with eyelids. made hair grow (not so good about the locations anymore.) Hurt. just a little. where the scab stopped healing for a few days now. breathing in. and out. worked with the plants a bit this morning. some are not doing so well. it has been a long winter and we worked out a bit much too late in the season. they are ready to get out of the house again. some are. i can't let them go there yet. we need each other right now. cut one of the lime trees so much it hurt me a bit. it was like cutting a nail with the finger. too much. the jade tree is now just six plants. the smallest one died recently, turning itself into food and some odd looking stuff. the trees behind buildings a few blocks away now tend to shimmer in a almost autumn shade of yellow. these are the buds that are going to explode in just a few days, or weeks. then the particles of the trees will enter me through eyes, mouth, nose, and we will cry together. pure happiness. the plants will finally get out of the house for the warm season. the pigeons will come to try to eat whatever is out there. and i will beat the heart. and grow the hair. and i will also breathe in and out. and listen to the blood rushing through whatever part of the skull that is closest to the inner ears. or maybe a universe far away.
fresh crushed lush trash, rush now. time is tight. tonight. right. a packed day of sorts. and yet it feels as if it had been a bit of a dance. punches were given out, but some of them felt more like air caressing the face than true blows that break jaws. today. there were two flying monkeys around the office today. i had bought them after liking one just like them, with a chewed off face though. special cases. we do not make fun of conditions that are not voluntary. the weather is not half bad today. it is still a bit on the grey side, but hey, it is getting warmer. soon the plants will be allowed to play with the pigeons outside. something they and the pigeons have been waiting for all winter long. exciting. we had lunch with the famous mr. bingo (and mrs. bingo,) after introducing him as the mysterious surprise guest who knows why harrison ford is a lady. a wig did not look like a wig when one did not pay attention to it being a wig. i guess that's how it always works somehow. with wigs and pieces and hair systems. i want to go bald gracefully. bald means "soon" in german. pessimists. it is almost 10. and i am feeling like a freshly hatched 65 year old (though one that still has about 30 years until retirement.) took two cabs today. fresh crushed dish soap, hope... rope? nope. there was an okay sound to this. perhaps in some former life. need to take the raft to the other side of the river, perhaps. enough.