Brooklyn Christmas eve

in brooklyn now, trying to figure out what to do with these cats i am responsible for tending over while my hosts are out of town. one of the cats, Bamboo, keeps rubbing up against the door that leads to the backyard. but i don’t think i’m supposed to let him outside. that’s actually why i’m writing at this moment. to distract myself from exercising poor judgement. this has nothing to do with writing. and i know so very little about cats. but i still need to remind myself that they are not dogs.

i’m not sure if i am supposed to be here now. at the risk of possibly offending 2 of my readers (who happen to be nieces), i kind of had to get away from my family… not away from them as people. bur away from holiday psycho-dramatics/dynamics. i think they will understand. i think they will appreciate my decision to not regress,  as tends to happen around these days.

but i always love coming to New York, so there’s that, too. i just hope that the timing is right–i’ve been under the weather of later and this makes me worried that i will not be as lively or entertaining a visitor or guest. i know it’s kind of ridiculous. i am here to challenge those thoughts. that’s why i’m here.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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