puck

 Sun 3.29.20

I am beginning to develop cabin fever from social distancing, and I’m running out of toilet paper.  Below is a posting that I made on Sunday, May 17, 2009.  I’m not up to writing anything and I thought this was a good tribute to my little friend. I went to the Puck building pictured above when I first came to the city and placed a roommate wanted ad in the New York Press, which was situated on one of the top floors of the building. The office girl and I made it up on the spot and I ended up a roommate to an out of town editor who only came into the city once a week and stayed for a couple of days:

"In my secret life, in my secret life," sings Leonard Cohen. What happens in your secret life? There is in mine, a Puck, a mischievous boy who is getting a big bang out of it all. This Puck delights in playing tricks, being quick, an innocent in the big bad world. And if I'm with someone, it has to involve fun, and gaiety. Laughing, laughing at the secrets we share, the things we will never say to each other, because, there are no words to explain the mystery.

 The mystery of course is love, that delightful energy that chooses to visit occasionally. And when it does, it's there in every encounter. The man who stops to inquire about your services, introduces himself and takes your hand, is, you understand, a truly beautiful human being, comforting, exciting, sensuous. You are there, with hand in his, enveloped in the power of love, that ineffable feeling, and the man feels it too. We may never meet again, there's no need; the moment has been complete. We have exchanged what is most powerful and most profound in us.

 My Chloe is a Puck. I saw that immediately at Madison Square Garden where I found her at an event sponsored by the ASPCA. They were looking for homes to place their many cats. The place was a bevy of cats in cages, little ones, big poufy ones, old ladies, grand dames, hungry toms, old codgers, and there in her tiny cage, so cramped she was almost sitting on her feces was this little black and white creature, who played casually with my finger when I put it through the bars, not the least bit afraid. What's this new adventure, she seemed to ask. Yes, I'll take her, I said. Carrying her to the bus in her cardboard box that proclaimed to the world that I had adopted a cat from the ASPCA, I was shaken and protective of this little Puck who was going to be my friend, and undoubtedly, had a few lessons to impart.

The favorite essay this month has again been, Dandy