Isn’t it amazing how sometimes life can feel so… BIG? So badass?
New York City is particularly good at giving this feeling—especially if you happen to be a writer/maker/schemer of any sort. Every moment is so full… so ripe and ready to speak itself. Life… is always on the brink. Up until last week, mine felt like this… (That’s right… you apologize to me Lenny Kravitz because this is my show…)
Then, I had an accident. A very badass accident.
“You had a seizure in Gristedes and broke your face. We’ve had to wire your jaw shut.”
What? But I’m claustrophobic…
“We used plates and pins… ”
For what?… My face?
“You won’t be able to speak for some time.”
But that’s kind of my job lately…
And suddenly… life could become very small, but tonight… as I consider my crappy, lovely apartment, crowded with books… the thrum of central park amid open windows, the vague smell of piss and neighbors, life does not feel wired shut.
Instead, it looms large… fuller than ever.
xx – gg