I am alone this afternoon. Peace is slowly creeping into me. I've cleaned some. The rain has stopped, allowing me to open the windows. There is no constant chatter of the TV. Only the sounds of birds, an occasional passing car, Robert Fripp and David Sylvian. Fripp. My ex of a gazillion years ago introduced me to him. What was his name? Paul. I can't seem to grasp his last name but I can picture him perfectly. Somewhere down in the basement there are pictures of him in an old, neglected photo album.

With nameless Paul, I would wander New York City. We had no money. I had no education beyond Art. I had no idea of the real excitement that was under neath it all; the culture and life. Since then, I guess I've learned some. If I ever go back to NYC, I will visit China Town and have dim sum. I will find hole-in-the-wall Thai places.

The phone just rang, it is a very not-nameless man. I will never forget his last name. I am in our home now. Which is a world away from NYC. I had to dig through multiple stores to find Sriracha sauce. I found it, though, and tonight my Man with a name will create a little culture in our island.

It's strange how being here actually winds me tighter. Being in a city actually punctured the tension in me and let it bleed. Here, I have to find ways to let it go. Time alone is good.

Labels: 'personal'