sidewalk scribbling

June 21 The question really throws me off.   Even if I am lying on a beach under a shady umbrella, with sand flecked toes and a perspiring cold drink in my hands, the question about happiness makes me pause.   I am never sure.   Do you mean right now, this very instant?   Or do you mean generally, overall?   Do you mean ‘most of the time’ or a ‘majority’ of my days?   Do you mean satisfaction with where I am headed?   Do you mean to say if I have many regrets or complaints?   Or do you mean a sense of sated peace that makes it easy to breathe and sleep, that makes my heart feel as light as a wispy cloud, that makes me want to perpetually smile, with my lips, my eyes, my soul? There are very few mornings when I wake up and think to myself, what a beautiful day to be alive! That may be partly because of my sleeping, eating, living habits, or maybe it is because of my tiresome dreams… nevertheless, I don’t wake up with a spring in my step and a big smile on my face.   My shoulders

June 6 Soft tendrils of smoke swirl above my yellow mug, caught in the morning sun that has joined me for breakfast. I could only see the smoke from a certain angle, and it moved continuously, changing shapes, beautiful and dreamlike, like a lovely memory that stirs when you hear a certain song, or catch sight of a silver chain around someone’s neck – you have no control over it, you can only see a part of it, and you can’t reach out and touch it. And just like that, it slips away, dissolving back into the past that follows us around on tiptoes. I love mornings. Especially when everyone else is asleep and the solitude of a cool day that hasn’t quite stretched itself out and started about its business, with the warm sunlight that brightens all colors, the promise of a new start, the resolve of getting things done strong like coffee brewing in a pot. Add hazelnut creamer to give it just a little sweetness, stir, inhale. A cup of hot tea, strong with a teaspoon of sugar to b

June 3 Bagels. Low-fat cream cheese. Enough cute, quirky cafes hidden in neighborhoods to still boredom for years. Live music in restaurants. A gym within walking distance from my house. Actually going to the gym and all the joys that come with it: buying yoga pants for the first time, moving from 5 lbs. to 10 lbs., being able to fill out ‘three days a week’ in health questionnaires, looking at guys that have found the right balance between tank tops and trees-for-arms. The less-glamorous but just as important skills of cleaning the toilets, realizing the never-ending chores that come with living in a house without parents. America, and in particular St Louis, was kind to me, with its million varieties of bread and cheese that always make grocery shopping a nerve-wracking experience, and its relative first world calm where people obey traffic laws, stand in queues and you can look to the police and the courts for justice. Usually. People always talk about how young men an