Friday, September 13, 2013

An Excerpt Snippet Two

Snippet two...

The view on the ground was somewhat less illustrious than from the penthouse. Rain had set in overnight and the streets of the city were gritty. Or maybe that was me. I felt as if I had been hit by a truck.

I raised my hand for a cab. Even after years of brutal taxi cab rejection, I still expect one to stop immediately. Twenty minutes later I was starting to consider throwing myself in front of one of the bastards, when miraculously one stopped. A fresh looking woman emerged and looked down at me disdainfully. I threw my disheveled ass into the back seat after giving her my best "Yeah? What, bitch!?" looks.  Didn't everyone wake up in a strange apartment with no memory and a hangover to end all this morning?  I blurted out my address to the cabbie and leaned back against the worn seat. "Wait...what is the address here?" I asked. He looked at me with an amused expression. He was giving me judgement...really? "Just tell me the address." Shaking his head he said "509 Park Avenue. Don't you live here?" He smirked. Shamed by a NYC cabbie. "Just drive." I said sharply.

We arrived at my "less than Park Avenue" address, I tumbled out and practically crawled up the steps to the building then up the two flights to my tiny apartment.  I dragged myself to my bed and collapsed.

I dreamt of beige furniture and passion.

I awoke an hour later to the buzzing of my cell phone.  23 missed calls.  15 from my editor.  I listened to voicemail, made coffee and turned on the shower.  As the steam filled the bathroom I called him back and listened to his tirade with the phone held 5 inches away from my ear.  "I know Tom, I will be in your office in a half hour.  Deadline will be met as usual. Yes I'm alive."  It was almost as if he cared. The next five calls were from the girls frantic about where I went after the bar. Well, that makes six of us. What the hell was I going to tell them?

The other three calls were from an unrecognized number.  No voicemail.  All received this morning.

I shrugged and got into the hot shower.  As I soaped my body to rid my skin of the NYC grime I attempted to piece together last night.  Interview with a local politico, drinks with some colleagues, dinner and clubbing with the girls.  It was after the club that was a complete blackout.  Not good.  OK, what was the last thing I remember?  Suddenly I remembered dancing with a man.  Tall, dark and handsome.  Dark hair with gray temples.  Physique of a marathon runner, grace on the dance floor. His hands on my hips drawing me close as the music pulsated around us. Lips I wanted to devour.  Then black.  Nothing until the sunrise nearly blinded me this morning in the Park Avenue penthouse.

I stood in the shower frozen.  Shit....what did I do?  The fact that it was a complete blank after that point shared the shit out of me.  I doubt I could pick his face out in a line up.  But his body....his hands on imagination was going haywire.

The buzzing of my phone brought me back to the present.  When I picked it up it was the mystery caller.  Here we go.  "Hello?"

To be continued....

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


As I stare at the blank page I am struck by the overwhelming feeling of pause.  It has been over a month since I've written a post for this, my personal blog. It started with a little procrastination.  A few days passed.  The days stretched into weeks....  And here it is September 11, 2013.  Seems like a good day to get back to it.

While listening to the news this morning I was struck by the recount of 9/11 on the twelfth anniversary of the attacks on the United States.  The pattern of broadcasts centered on people affected by the terrorist attacks rebuilding their lives, the area surrounding ground zero being established as a beautiful memorial site and service men and women who rushed to aid the injured.  Also featured were average people across the United States recounting where they were and what they were doing on that fateful morning.  My daughter, who is now a senior in high school and about to enter adulthood, was a kindergartener and was at school.  My son, who is now 13 and a growing adolescent, was a baby.  I was a stay-at-home mom and was in my white and green kitchen feeding Nick his cereal when the first plane struck. The tiny kitchen TV was tuned into the Today Show when it was interrupted with the Special Report music announcing something big had happened. I was in utter disbelief.  It couldn't be real...was my first thought.  Surely it is a movie trailer. Then as reality struck and the gravity of what happened settled in the second plane struck. I wondered what the hell was happening, and where else might be hit?  My thoughts turned to my daughter at school....was she safe?!

Today is a day for quiet reflection.

Focusing on gratitude.

My thoughts turned inward. The last several months has been the metaphoric roller coaster.  I ran the gamut of emotions.  I am sure you saw a pattern forming with my last posts.  Writers block, personal pain and change, etc.  In looking back, it might seem as if I was experiencing the infamous midlife stress.  I'm 46, so I kind of fit the profile.  There has been change within me and in my life.  Some good, some bad. I should have been writing about it, but for some reason didn't. I kind of went into lockdown as life played out as it does.  I can never expect it to flow smoothly, and I've come to terms that change can be good.  It should be embraced rather than feared.

So I'm back.  Time to catch up on friends' and colleagues' blogs.  Time to get back to what my soul craves; reading and writing.  To be alive.  I was completely AWOL and as I write this I realize how important this blog is to me.  It's really good to be back.

More soon...