INTO THE DARK

My friend Julio, who lived a life wracked with dark secrets, passed away today.

It is strange to think only six months ago we were walking, driving, hanging around the streets of Philadelphia. He gave me things, like William Zinsser's On Writing Well, because we both struggled with telling our stories. He cooked me meals in his small apartment when I visited. He was a lonely soul, like many of us.

I did not get to say goodbye to him one last time. I was too late. It's strange to know that someone is leaving, their time is up, and you will never see them again, never have another meaningful conversation with them again. And when they are gone, the world becomes an even lonelier place, because you have one less friend, and those are hard to come by.

The Amtrak train had just arrived when I heard he had passed away. I did not get on the train to Philadelphia, but walked around the streets of Boston until late in the evening, feeling an inescapable grief for my friend.

REBEL

Ai Wei Wei's Fuck Off
at the Museum of Fine Arts gift shop

ETIQUETTE

Travel always makes for sublime observations of people in their habits of entitlement. What I consider to be bad form is taking liberties with reclining your seat just because you can. For many people this means reclining it as far back as it will go, and who gives a crap if there is another person sitting behind you, because your comfort is of the utmost importance on a planet that is made up of many other people that are not you.

I felt bad for the guy on that long Amtrak trip heading towards New York City. He was absorbed in his work on his laptop, and this lady gets on at some point, unlatches the tray in front of her, spreads her food and beverage out, and reclines her seat all the way back, pressing on the button even after the seat would not go back any further. It pushed against the guy's laptop behind her, and he sat there for a awhile trying to continue his work with his laptop positioned at an awkward angle, and keeping it from sliding off the fold-down tray. After about twenty minutes, he got up and went in search of another seat on the crowded train, while the lady continued lounging in what she thought was her bed, and chewed noisily on her carrots and celery for the remainder of the trip.

If there should be any public service announcements for airlines, buses, and trains, companies should target the entitled snowflakes who think paying for a ticket means you have the right to impinge on other paying passengers' comfort.

TRAVELER

Made a new friend on Thursday night at the cafe down the street. I asked a stranger if he'd mind if I took a photo of his t-shirt, and he immediately asked if he should sit or stand for the picture.

Tony, visiting from Florida, and formerly a resident of New Orleans, is a writer and a great listener as well as conversationalist. We bonded instantly and had a five hour conversation until the cafe closed at 11pm.

A CHANGE IS GONNA COME

Times are rough, and 2016 is coming to a close with love packing its bags and peacing out, knowing that nothing can save humans from themselves. 

But there's also knowing that the true damage has not yet been done. 

Still, I go about my day, spirits high despite everything. Nothing too exciting, just getting glimpses of others, wondering what life must be like for them. What do they think of as they lay in bed at night, the ones who seem like they have no one? Last Friday night in CVS an old frail Italian man tripped over his cane and fell over right as I turned into an aisle looking for peppermint lip balm. I heard a ruckus as a few people called for help, so I looked around the corner to see now a huge standing banner that had been upright next to him waft down over his small frame as he grasped at it frantically for support, and then disappeared beneath it.

The homeless Asian lady with grey hair and rubber slippers still sits by herself in a section of the Prudential center. She smiles to herself, her trashbags filled with belongings at her ashen feet. I've seen her in the exact state for the nine and a half years I've walked through Back Bay.

I sit in Barnes & Noble eating a pretzel in their cafe area while observing an Indian lady talking animatedy to a bookshelf a few feet from me. She wags her finger at the shelf, and then smiles flirtatiously and touches her face shyly. When she glances around to see if anybody is watching her intimate dalliance with a bookshelf, I pretend to be absorbed in my pretzel.

Who knows what life has in store for us? Where will home be? Who will be the one to stay with us through it all?