I’ve had a some interesting experiences since I left NYC oh so many years ago. I am amazed by these moments. It’s a wonder that never quite ceases, holding me then, me now, in mind at the same moment. To see what has happened and what has not. How is the person that skulks around in the mists of those moments waiting to be taken notice of, desperate for recognition.

And there are some things I’ve learned in the past few years that that child I was could never have even imagined. One is that a love never quite leaves you. You might forget, you might want to forget, you might hope, pray, long, pay homage to foul and sickly gods to release you and still…there will be something to force a memory, to jog a moment from the subconscious like a cow into the chute.

In a tiny town this happens more than one would like. In a tiny town you can’t help seeing people places and things that force memories that you’d rather die, to linger, a splash of sunlight in a drop of water that’s only there for a moment that you see while you sit and you see that beauty and then you lose the moment. It doesn’t happen anymore. It is gone.

This is the essence of life and it is quite annoying.

People touch. They they feel they grasp they make connections. Those connections mostly wither. Sometimes they last, they grow, and stories are told about them. In that is the strange and mysterious hope that everyone seems to hold no matter their age, culture or place in this vast universe.

It is in connection that life is born.

Not just simple biological life, simple baby with that new baby smell, but all life in all it’s vast tapestry. Life that is experience that is the universe understanding itself subjectively. It is in separation that perspective is gained an in perspective that understanding can happen.

And this is the curious thing. Because experience of most anything ends up in pain, in loss, in desire, in need for more, a need for something better.

So you see a love pass you on a street with a new love and you see this person you knew intimately who is dead, who doesn’t not exist and never existed.. You wonder what happened, you regret, you remember what was bad and what you loathed. What drove you mad with insanity and jealousy. You see this person who isn’t that person anymore and you think, “Man, she could have done better.” And somehow you’re insulted by this fact. A GQ model, a doctor, a CEO with his own jet plane, a rock star would make it all better because it would be a much better choice. Any old someone is an uneaded tweak of the nipple on a cold winter morning.

It is the story we tell that fascinates me so. Who knows the reality? You can’t. No one tells. It’s all too obscured by distance and time and vagaries of human conceits. Life is just a gray ooze.

It’s very odd and I keep hoping something will make sense and it doesn’t. You get a glimpse, a sliver, then it fades.

Still there is one thing I know for certain. Being on a set is one of the greatest things in the universe. Great spiritual sex happens sometimes, it engages your entirety of emotional well-being and We are built for those delights, like the lust for sugar and fatty foods. It’s what makes us biological creatures.

The set is an intellectual exercise. It’s an explosion of mental constructs, logic, reason, creativity, emotional depth, revolve around enach other and tell a tale, a story. When you’re on a set you create a reality that is more real than real that tells a story of a moment that should have happened.

Very few other moments in life can get you to that moment where tale and hope and future and need coalesce in a symphony of other human players.

I’ve been told that having a baby girl can do that every day. From what I’ve seen I believe it but then I’m a softie at heart.