Never Enough
As this post begins, it's sunset on Tuesday, June 24th.
The album "Never Enough" by the band Turnstile blares in my ears.
With a heatwave ongoing, it's a perfect time to look back on the first half of 2025.
The year began in the early morning hours of New Year's Day.
I'm in the dark, trying to pop the cork on my mini bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne, and not realizing that it's like opening a full-size bottle and undoing the foil, the cage, and waiting for the pop. To my great relief, not a drop of bubbly spilled.
With "Happy New Year!" being exchanged, the fireworks went off outside.
It was a slow start to January, with snow in the skies and freezing temperatures. I was in no hurry to let go of 2024, especially since the Croatia trip in October and the launch of my first paperback book, "A Poetic Journey...", coincided.
However, I was able to emerge from my slumber at month's end, mentally escaping to the Italian Alps with Eataly's Alpine Festa and visiting the rest of the world via the New York Travel and Adventure Show. Given that he shall not be named's second inauguration, it would be the first of many mental escapes to come.
February began with all the optimism.
My second book of poetry, "The Dawn of A Poetic Summer," came out via Kindle at the start of the month. After a two-year wait, the manuscript was converted into proof copies of a physical book. It warmed up a freezing time to hold the book in my hands. The physical joy from the release would be short-lived, as the paperback encountered issues with KDP that are still being resolved. Hopefully, the book will see the light of day in its physical form.
Valentine's Day. The words evoke a sense of dread in me that doesn't easily subside. I'm at my most melancholy at this time of the year. This year, I made sure that wouldn't happen.
Back in December, my sister asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I was struggling to answer her. That was until I came across the Candlelight series of concerts. Classical musicians performed under candlelight at a Valentine's Day concert.
In the shadow of the Guggenheim Museum and Central Park lies the Church of Heavenly Rest—a majestic setting for an evening of love songs. I didn't mind being the only single person in a room full of couples; the music moved my soul, and so did the Highline String Quartet. It wasn't easy for me not to sing along to Edith Piaf's "La Vie En Rose" and Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," but I did so quietly.
As the last days of winter gave way to spring, creativity began to emerge from the hibernation of winter as well. Poems, so many poems. Between my stint with Gather and the annual writing marathons that are Bad Poet and Amy Kay's Poem A Day, respectively. But this year, another element was added to the mix.
If you had told me in January that I would be taking salsa dancing classes, I wouldn't have believed it. This has been a long time coming. I, along with my coach Felice, had been going back and forth over finding something for me. French class didn't stick, nor did improv class. But I kept coming around to the idea of dance. To move my body and my trauma around.
I did my usual routine. Delay the decision with any litany of excuses—money, time, and fear of embarrassing myself. However, I reached a point where I couldn't keep delaying. I signed up for drop-in classes. Due to my awkwardness, I grew to love moving my body and the intimacy of a partner's embrace. I attended a social event in March. At the end of the night, and maybe impaired by beer and euphoria, I signed up for the Salsa 101 course.
I didn't think I could keep up with it. But I tried my best to keep up with every sidestep, cross-body lead, and turn. Another social event led to Salsa 102 in May. The game was stepped up as I filmed myself performing the moves each week. I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment before the aches arrived.
As the weeks went by, salsa and tango began to collide. The contrast in pace, songs, and moves brought the idea of switching styles to mind. I've been at a standstill, unsure of which way to go.
May was ending. There was something big on the horizon. Back in February, my friend and fellow LIC Bulldog, Synthia, brought up the idea of a high school reunion on May 31st. I couldn't say yes fast enough.
So, the windy Saturday arrived at Bohemian Hall. Barely five minutes after arriving, I found my friend Selim. We've kept in touch over the years via social media. With Pilsner Urquell in hand, we rolled back the years before everyone else arrived. And kept on going with a table of classmates from 2003 and 2004 until well after sunset.
Attempts at passion are the theme of June.
From taking the stage at the Thalia Spanish Theater during the milonga portion of their show, "Tango 100%". The music and its sense of loss and longing resonate deeply within me. As I was in the front row on June 6th, I couldn't wait to dance. And the praise came after I sat down.
Then, two weeks later, came my most daring endeavor. I came across the singles event, "The Feels", scrolling online and through the email list, "The Joy List". It felt like a different way to meet people. I wasn't expecting to be overwhelmed by how intimate things would get. From the prompts on the screen to all the points of contact. Let alone having to mingle. But I did it. I’m unsure where I’ll go next in the relationship front.
I’d be utterly remiss if I didn’t mention Ms. Karen Levy.
She was my English teacher during my senior year of high school. If it weren’t for her, Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” wouldn’t still be on my bookshelf all these years later. Nor would I have found the first inkling of my poetic prowess. Famously, as a found poetry exercise was returned to me, she wrote on the left margin of the sheet of paper, “Oswald, you’re a poet!”. I didn’t know in that moment that her note of encouragement would spur me on to be a writer and poet. I couldn’t help but feel deeply her loss in my life after she passed away in May. Her spirit, kindness, and love of Led Zeppelin all shone through in the one semester that I was her student. I hope that wherever she is on the astral plane right now, she’s at peace reading her words and bringing her smile. Her note in my yearbook is next to the stick drawn photo of her instead of a full photo.
Before the first half of the year closes, my life lessons will be on display. My list of life lessons is one of the selections for the City Employee Arts Showcase, "Art Is Life." I also took part in one of the artist panels. As I spoke to the crowd, I mentioned that my poetry has reflected the growth over the years in my life with cerebral palsy.
Despite all that’s happened so far this year, something’s still on my mind. I’ve accomplished a lot, but I’m not sure where my life is heading.
This much, I do know of what’s coming ahead….
In the second half of this year, my travels draw nearer.
First, a writing residency at the Chateau Orquevaux in eastern France at summer's end in September. Then, after nine years of waiting, I will return to Spain on a solo traveler's only tour in November that starts in Barcelona and ends in Malaga. All before I say goodbye to my 30s and welcome in my 40s in December..
Aside from that, the rest of 2025 is a story that's waiting to be written.
