Punch Drunk

So this is Christmas… And what have you done? Another year over. A new one just begun…

Last night, I dreamt in slow motion. I moved like I was on the moon, floating weightless through a florescent-lit grocery store, bouncing and gliding effortlessly through the aisles.

I woke up and began cleaning a month’s-worth of clutter from my apartment: dirty clothes, half-wrapped gifts, newspapers and unpaid bills all scattered on the floor.

When the phone rang, it was my brother, readying himself and Ethan for a Christmas morning run through Central Park. The sun was just rising over the East side. The City was empty. And we ran, so Earthbound, so grounded in gravity.

I thought of Miami, of driving the narrow causeways to Key West, top down, stereo blasting, singing along. And I thought of coffee: warm, sweet, delicious coffee.

Last night, I had Christmas Eve dinner with my mother on the Upper West, then walked down Broadway, now deserted of shoppers, to Tower Records. I bumped into Chris Rock, twice, then purchased my favorite film of 2002, ‘Punch Drunk Love.’ Back home, a bowl of Breyer’s Cookies-n-Cream in my lap, I watched, and giggled, and smiled.

“I have a love in my life. It makes me stronger than anything you can imagine.”

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