Last time I told you about a wonderful writing, thinking, being exercise I learned from Natalie Goldberg and invited you all to try it and let me know how it went. So far no one’s accepted the invitation, so I did–but I didn’t throw it out. Here it is:
Sunday, July 20th: Once again here I am. Yes! Right here. In my head I’d begun working on a lament: O, poor me! All alone on this hot and appropriately humid New York July Sunday. Bobbie’s up in Connecticut with the grandbabies. My two best bike buddies are elsewhere, as my third best bike buddy, and I got up too late after having been out too late last night to ride to the beach with a group of strangers. My best art buddy and I are buddies no longer. O lonesome me (in the words of mostly forgotten song.)
Be all that as it may, I’m here: siting by the Hudson river at about 62nd Street in a little bit of shade, listening via mp3 to Charcoal Gypsies by Musicians of the Nile. One can listen to only so much Umm Kalthum! Out of the corner of my eye a site-specific dance event is being rehearsed. It will start in about an hour and a half. I’ve brought a bottle of water, a camera and extra batteries.
Next to me on the bench is National Geographic Traveler’s Egypt and the list of sights out trip (in less than 3 weeks!) will cover. My plan for this afternoon: to read up on what we’ll see in weather hotter and drier than what’s upon me now.
Meanwhile leaves, willow style, blow gently across my head, cheek, neck and shoulder. What a tickle!
Frankly, what a life!
Clearly “Poor Me” is not cutting it. “Lucky Me” and “Blessed Me” and “Grateful Me” are kicking Poor Me’s ass.
Poor “Poor Me.”
Welcome! 