“Envy not the oppressor, choose none of his ways.Be not wise in thine own eyes, only Jah you must praise.

Strive not with a man without a cause if he has done thee no harm, let bygones be bygones.” – Buju 

This morning I left my apartment around 5:30 to head to the airport. Bahamas on the horizon. Across the street were roughly ten cops, some milling around, others moving into the building. Seems like a lot of cops for pretty much any reason given how causally they were moving. I’ll probably never find out what that was all about..

On the Long Island Expressway a woman in a Prius (of all cars), hit the median after swerving and drifting back and forth across lanes. She had been playing solo bumper cars with the inside of the midtown tunnel, having hit the side (or curb) about four times. At first it seemed like bad driving, then careless driving, then truly reckless driving; but after she hit the median on the highway and came off the ground it was clearly drunk driving. I felt compelled to call it in in the interest of public safety, which may very well have saved her life as well. The Uber driver congratulated me on a “good job” 

It is what is. 

Just occurring to me is this: Words are only the leaves on the trees of thought, held together and arranged. They age, eventually blanketing the forest floor where they take on new life, or merely create a new layer on the carpet of things once said whose shape, color, and precise origin have been forgotten. I am meandering through the forest today from my apartment. I have been somewhat absent here, but always present somewhere. 

Please stay tuned.