To Be Continued...

Often the poorer the character, the more emotional, the less centered it appears. You see them, on your way to work begging and even crying uncontrollably to get on your most sympathetic side, perhaps stirring that good old Christian guilt. Except downtown Manhattan, you may have seen a homeless man with a sign that reads something to the following effect: "Give me money. I swear to God I will only use it for booze and drugs." To that man, I give. Twice I’ve seen him at different stages throughout my nightlife, and in those rare occasions I congratulate him for his creativity with the proper limosna (alms). Who cares what they will use your money for? The feeling you get from reaching out outweighs any plausible rationale attesting to the contrary. You can make sense of being cheap. But you’re still cheap. So, do give. Not just to homeless people, invite friends over, go out, plan a no-reason party, schedule a three day getaway, take a cruise... give to those around you, starting by you. Altruism is a purer form of narcissism. We’re all in it for the vanity, baby. Soon, we’ll get that tax money. I’ll make one third more than today in less than a year. My salary will increase in more than 20 percent. I will surely take a two-week long vacation in Barranquilla by the end of the year. I will take a three day cruise and spend another few days in Miami with Isabel. I haven’t seen any girl formally, I’ve flirted madly, even made out with a different girl three weeks in a row on the same joint. But that’s way low key to me. I’ve lived enough this past summer; to be more precise, dating from April to August. I took lust out of my system by moving out on my own for good four months. To be more exact from April 4th to August 4th, just like I planned it.
I went to live in Astoria. Oh, yeah. Nowadays, what I live daily vastly outdoes what I put to writing. It wasn’t always like that. In my twenties, I was more a writer than a man. Not having a father figure in my life obscured my masculinity for a while. I didn’t have a good start. Eventually landing on your fours with all the odds set dead against you from the start truly brings out the optimist in you. People will scrutinize you one way or the other. In a land as prolific as ours, there are no real boundaries, just mental scenarios, personal obstacles, individual demons, phobias, etc. Once you learn to get over yourself, unsaid amounts of joy will come through. Instead of fearing outcomes, take risks, jump with one foot back on security and the other crossing over to freedom. Do have an income but also devise other means of income. Even if you fail, try again and again. See what could have failed, fix it and then make it better. Keep at it. Failure will teach you far more than success. In fact, success often comes after a succession of failed attempts.
Oh, right.
You guys (that includes the ladies) want me to tell about my adventures in Queens. That will be another story. Not tonight. However, I'll tell only because I trust each and everyone of you reading this blog not to tell Isabel the truth. It was not cheating. I haven't technically cheated on her in almost three years. It all makes sense in my head. Anyway, this story is to be continued...