The Happiest Days of My Life
Emerging from the 190th St. elevator the cherry dip Mr. Softee cone was possibly the best thing I had ever put in my mouth. The heather field of Fort Tryon Park hit my nose a thick fog of beautiful aroma, lilac & jasmine entwined with rose petal. The day nothing short of perfect & had the British held their ground 300 years ago & we paid homage to the crown the air would be just as sweet. Last night was a fantastic blur of dream in waking life, I felt loved and my heart was full. Holding the lovely Tim and Valerie, dancing with my favorite, Gillian, ridiculous slurred conversation with MGJR; & if by some strange chance I am one day a withered old man & all my friends have disappeared on a sunset ocean in an English painting I hope to remember these days, sitting on this stone wall in the tree shade with tears welling in my eyes. Life is hard & ugly & wrought crudely from stone, a savage pageant of unnecessary brutality that inevitably culminates in lonesome death. But in moments, small slivers of the dream that is time, it is precious and beautiful. And were it not so would we ever even realize to what degree?
Wet cherry pastry and coffee from the Hungarian in the hot sun of cathedral row, the cafe girl extremely appealing. Children scream in the garden and Satan's decapitated head hangs limply in the claw of the giant crab for all eternity. His infernal majesty's head will remain so long after the rest of us are dust. My head rings from last nights indulgences, I should be drinking more water as my sweat soaks the suit I slept in. There are no peacocks today.
We give names to our gods and devils but really we're just screaming into the darkness at the same thing. I know Quetzalcoatl is not Quetzalcoatl or Apep or Set or Leviathan but at the same time he is all of them. He is the thing stirring outside our window just beyond sight and I praise him and I fear him. So I lit a candle for Saint Lucifer in the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, hoping that he one day resolves his lovers quarrel with the good lord.
Hours later and miles away I attend night prayer alone, and perhaps for the first time ever after the singing and in the quiet and the darkness I actually prayed.