Archive for February, 2023


Numbers game

Filed under: Emotions, Manhattan, New York, Personal not private — Leave a comment
February 6, 2023

While reevaluating this blog I started looking at the numbers. If you look at the numbers, this is not a successful blog. It is more like an online diary or journal. My first blog post was on November 27, 2006. I have 1,565 posts, that averages out to 98 posts a year. There were 14,705 hits on those posts. That averages out to 10 hits a post. Rather abysmal. I don’t view this as bad or sad or anything, I started this blog because since I have been a little girl I have kept a diary/journal, so in a sense I am rather glad not many people are reading. It makes this feel more private.

What is disheartening is reading the first posts I made. I wrote like I was talking to someone, making jokes and snarky comments. Now I am just reporting life, not seeing the joy in it. There is no more joy in my life apparently.

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NYC subway like no other

Filed under: New York, WTF? — Leave a comment

It always starts this way.

“Excuse me I hate to bother you.” Then why are you? “I’m two chapters away from completing my book.” That’s a new one. “I am writing about homeless black Muslims. I am a homeless black Muslim man.” Shocked I tell you, I am shocked. “I just need $20 for some turkey bacon, pancakes, and eggs for my wife and I. If you don’t have cash I have Cash App.” WHAT?

Of course there was more. He loves everybody. Blacks, whites, Asians. Christians, Atheists. How do I know this? He only told us about 5 times in the time it took to go from 86th St to 72nd St on the Q train.

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It’s been a minute

Filed under: Health, Manhattan, New York, Personal not private — Leave a comment
February 1, 2023

The first time someone said that to me, it was a bartender at a place I hadn’t been to in a few months. It seemed to me a cool way to say, “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age thought you had died.”.


So, to everyone who may have thought I died, I didn’t. I just disappeared into a deep dark place. I am talking depression, aggravated by excessive alcohol consumption.


My father is an alcoholic, my brother is an alcoholic. I am an alcoholic. I was going to say, “I guess”, but there is no guessing. It is a fact. Today I went to work with the worst headache and feeling like I was going to puke. Yes, hungover.


My reason for writing this here is I know I should quit. So far, I haven’t been able to. Writing it down means, I must think about it. I must face the fact that the amount of alcohol I consume on a weekly basis will kill me. It’s not a maybe or an if. It’s a when.


When I first thought about writing this post, I had a lot more in my head. Now that I have started it, all the pretty words have deserted me. Now I am staring at this screen wondering if I should post it. Do I want the world to know? Oh that’s right, I have 5 maybe 6 people that read this.


Signing off. B

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