Well you know perhaps there is such a thing as miracles after all. not that we ever had our doubts mind you. [chuckle] the neighborhood is bustling. Spring has finally arrived. At least for today it seems. Sunny cool and breezy. Everyone walking around with the air that they are on their way to somewhere. Me I sit on the steps of the little brownstone I call home here temporarily, having an afternoon smoke and typing on the old laptop. As always. An almost constant fixture here in this neighborhood, so much so that residents on this block are so used to seeing me sitting here when they're walking in our out of their respective apartments or walking their dogs that they feel at ease enough to stop and chat, ask me what I'm writing or what cigar I happen to be smoking. New York is like that. think sesame street. Remember sesame street? Well that's what living in New York is like.

So about miracles. This morning I actually woke up before 11am on Sunday. Had enough time to sit in the bath for a while. As always I felt great; as we often do in the morning before our mind takes over with its incessant chatter of worries and concerns and fears and judgments and criticisms. I noticed these thoughts popping in and being that it was Sunday I decided that instead of running with any one particular thought that I was just going to give each one to God. turn them into prayer requests and then primaries. ‘God help me to become free of judgment of others.’ ‘God help me live the life of my dreams and fulfill my own personal legacy.’ ‘God help me to be a positive influence on others and a good role model.’ ‘ God help me to fully integrate this whole friends thing I have been struggling with and to open my heart again so I can recognize how blessed I am.’ ‘God help me to finally completely integrate my struggle with the God concept and that whole Jesus thing... help me to know you and to have a deep and meaningful connection with you...’ so on and on it went like that throughout my droopy-eyed bath.

Up and out and fast-walked to that giant church on the corner of park and 60th St. where I had first had that spiritual epiphany of an experience a few weeks back. plenty of time to get there this week. only seven minutes late. that's certainly a miracle. for me at least. I'm bored now so I'll quick note instead of prose it: overwhelming feeling of comfort and joy at this church. Been church-hopping/shopping for nine months now here. every week I force myself up at the ungodly hour of ‘sometime before 11am’ on Sundays and head to a new church hoping to find an hour of spiritual community for the week and not much more, being that I'm extremely unreligious to say the least, but still caught between worlds so that I cannot seem to shake the need to search out comfort and respite from the harsh and cruel world of the entertainment business in a church of some kind at leas tonce a week.

Cannot really explain the joy I felt there today. I even went down to the coffee hour afterwards. I swear to whatever the hell is out there that I really did this. walked around. talked with people. now of course I didn't go so far as to wear the visitor badge but I sure came close. But I walked out of there with such a feeling of joy and peace and comfort that I've spent the last hour or so sitting here feeling as though I was breathing new life into my lungs with each breath. As if there may or may not be a God still, we’ll leave that to him/her/it to settle, but at the least there is a damn good community of fine people gathering not two blocks from my apartment in this place called Christ church and I feel slightly reborn at the discovery of it. had that feeling of ‘I am home; I have found my church.’ That's the feeling that everyone gets when they are church-shopping and they finally find a place they feel that they can attend more than once or twice in a lifetime.

Last screening: Cinderella man. Great movie. Not amazing. but just good on the edge of your seat entertainment.

Current spin: al green. Green is blues. Starts off great. Can’t beat Al’s voice. Slides into extreme mediocrity towards the end.

Also, 50 cent, the massacre. A guilty pleasure.