all the president's men

It's been a crazybusy week of crisp weather and now - June weather. Blue skies that seem to go on and on and on. I had the window open and I was cold. Good kind of cold. The kind of cold that kept me sharp and let me ponder.

Everything seems to be wrapped in Sade's music - that for the most part brings a lump to my throat. I clean my house and I play host. I am being well entertained.

With all the president's men I spent three hours at a deserted hangar at JFK. Bomb squad, panic squad. Secret Service. Every morning I watch the snipers take their positions on top of the UN building.

I see tents being erected for fashion week in Bryant Park, and I see them torn down the next day. Stepping on a sharp object that goes through the sole of my shoe I cut myself. That fascinates me. I had the tetanus done a year ago - we're good.

The town feels sad at times. I feel busy. And why is it that for months on end whenever I look at the watch it shows identical digits?
1:11, 4:44; 17:17. That scares me.

A lot of things need to change. There's a fork in the road. For the most part I walk blindfolded.
The books I read tell me that there's an end of the world in each and every one of us. And Mary Magdalene wasn't really a whore.
Perceptions - of your mind and mine.