New Year's Day

Last night I read Plato (it's a New Year's Eve tradition) and listened to New Sounds on WNYC until about about 11:55 when I turned off the lights and the radio and listened in bed to the city celebrate the end of a shitty year. I was actually smiling in the dark as the fireworks went off, glad to know I made it through the big three holidays without crying more than a few times and never in public--well once, or twice. Fuck it, I can cry if I want to.

This morning after running 9 miles in the windy cold (15 degrees!) I laid around listening to the Freddie Hubbard memorial on WKCR (he died on Christmas day) and reading James Schuyler's Journals and poems. Schuyler's thick elegant sadness is so musical and tragic. Like sitting with a friend that is articulate, observant, smart and in despair--but sweetly so. Perfect for a New Year's Day.

Tonight I read at The Poetry Project (I'm scheduled to hit the podium right at 7PM). The poem is picked--it's handwritten and folded in the pocket of my jeans. I'm a Gemini--so it's what I do to make up for my sins that matters most.

I'm so glad it's 2009. I'm going to do everything I can to make it a magical year.