15 Jun

It’s Saturday, June 15th.  I leave in 5 days.  I am in my room, delaying packing, staring at empty cardboard boxes.

off to a bad start.

off to a bad start.

I must apologize, again, for not writing lately.  I haven’t posted in over a month, the longest break since my triumphant return to the Kingdom of Jewish Baseball.  Life in New York has taken over.  Today I am going to Baby LyLy’s 1st birthday party, the gallery at 4, and a goodbye dinner tonight.  I have a new camera, new spikes, speakers, everything I need for Israel.  I have three big suit cases, and everything else is going in storage.  I am taking inventory.

It’s been 10 years to the month since I moved to New York, and I seem to be suffering some premature nostalgia syndrome.  I send long, emotional e-mails to friends.  Coffee.  Parties.  As is always the case, now that I am leaving, life here has never been better.

But I am, after all, the King of Jewish Baseball, and I must honorably and dutifully fulfill my obligation to the people!

So prepare yourselfs, Ladies and Geetle Beans, for a frenzy of blogging the likes of which the world has not witnessed since, since– has never witnessed.  There will be video, photo, the written word, iphone drones, helmet cams, go pros, collage, minimalist sculpture, stethoscopes, submersibles, fish-eye lenses, printing and scanning, and improper use of all technologies not yet imagined.

To everyone in Tel Aviv, see you in 5 days.

To everyone in New York, see you tonight.

I love you.


2 Responses to “NEW YORK”

  1. Dan Reineke June 15, 2013 at 5:23 pm #

    New York I love you but you’re bringing me down…

  2. iraosi June 16, 2013 at 5:53 am #

    Here’s thinking of you kid… James Taylor’s Migration: Distant hands in foreign lands Are turning hidden wheels Causing things to come about Which no one seems to feel All invisible from where we stand The connections come to pass And though too strange to comprehend They affect us nonetheless, yes

    Once again a time of change O the change makes music And the children will dance

    See the pieces of the picture rearrange themselves It feels just like a symphony to me, With nothing left to chance

    Just look over your shoulder It’s out of your hands It’s over for now Leave behind what you can You can always return

    The rhythm remains unbroken Unspoken but loud and clear It’s a slow vibration. Migration

    Mystery muse, how I hunger for an answer Unsung song, how I long to play the changes Hidden rhythm, haven’t I always been your dancer Sacred secrets of the meaning to my dreaming. Migration

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