Rest in Peace

Last summer I came to New York with a healthy dose of curiosity and a wanton song in my heart. To my surprise, I found someone worth forsaking the choir for. A charming, chivalrous Jewish boy from Connecticut. The picture of East Coast thorough breeding (tennis racket included!), he charmed me with his strange, contrasting blend of cuff link professionalism and child-like wonder.

This Friday night left me alone, in the middle of Times Square, digesting a street meat hot dog and the remnants of our one year relationship. It received a proper burial (not the hot dog) with all the trimmings. A decent amount of crying, the inability of either of us to yet remove my toothbrush from its weekend spot and the follow up call the next day.

Just as with any ceremony, I began to bury the things I had as well as the things I will never have.


Give me a break; I'll be funny next time.



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