I’m listening to WRTI, and some great trumpet music, and it’s a warm early summer night. I wish I was in…

Anyplace where I can sit outside, drink a drink, and watch the world pass by.

Let’s see. Over the span of seven days, we’ve seen…

The deaths of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson and Billy Mays.

A deadly train crash in Washington.

A governor throw a marriage and political career down the tubes and go AWOL from a state for a woman in Argentina.

And the ongoing turmoil in Iran.

I’m not a tinfoil-hat wearing conspiracy theorist, but this is just weird…

I know he got in trouble, but still…

N.C. State student accused of creating a ‘monster’ :: WRAL.com.

I love the last six lines

Czeslaw Milosz: On Angels.

I hope you’ve found peace.

Michael Jackson | The Official Site.

The Atlantic article by Jonathan Rauch on introverts is a great piece, and so is this one. Now it doesn’t mean that we’re anti-social–we can party. The way we recharge is different…

How to Understand/Live With an Introvert | Living Introverted.

I’m in the airport, which seems a lot like a church, with its bright natural lights and its high ceilings. i look up at the flight board and wonder where my plane home is. I rifle through my bag, then head off to the bathroom. I come back and the flight is being called. I bound over the gate, trying to find the ticket. In a panic, I start racing around the terminal trying to find it. Ah, there it is, on the table where I left it. I race back to the gate, getting them to hold the plane.

Is this dream, where was I going?

Every so often in the summer here in New Jersey, the evening sky turns this otherworldly orange tint that gives the landscape an odd, vaguely scary feel. Tonight, I was lucky enough to catch it on camera…

I see stuff like this, and it makes my blood boil. Basically, you buy the CD or MP3, listen to it, and you’ll magically turn from a lonely, desperate, anti-social introvert into a lively, outgoing, social extrovert.

As if there is something wrong with being an introvert. I don’t feel like having to defend myself from stuff like this. It’s obnoxious to think that I’m ill or deficient to the point where I need to listen to this. Unfortunately, some people will see it and think it’ll be the cure for their “problems.” What they should realize is that they are ok on their own. As they are.

What if I came up with a similar scheme to turn extroverts intro introverts?

Hmmm, maybe the world would benefit from that…

I don’t need the money from reparations; this will do just fine.

http://www.thedailybeast.com/cheat-sheet/item/senate-apologizes-for-slavery/our-mistake/

This poem from Rumi is making the rounds on the web. It has special resonance given what is going on in Iran. It’s well worth reading.

Sunlight: [Sunlight] A Green-Winged Longing — Ghazal 1713.

Introverts have to be careful. We can be so inner-directed (with the rich inner lives that we have ) that what makes us unique and special can become issues, and not good ones. Maybe more than other people, we have to be more aware of who we are, where we are and what we are. If not, we lose ourselves and we lose what makes us, us.

When Introverted Personality Traits Become Problematic | Quips and Tips for Achieving Your Goals.

What this word–namaste–means?

The God Spirit within me recognizes and honors the God Spirit within you.

Ah yes.

Namaste

Worth a look and an appreciation…

#iranelection – a set on Flickr.

What is taking place on the other side of the world from me is stunning. These pictures are well worth a look.

Iran’s Disputed Election – The Big Picture – Boston.com.

Tonight, half a world away from here, kids are getting the shit kicked out of their asses because they saw injustice and refused to be silent. They said no.

God bless them for their act of defiance.

Following the post below, here is the entire album from yesterday’s walk, with some random skyline photos…

Yesterday I went to New York and toured the High Line, the new park that opened last week. For years it was nothing more than an abandoned rail line (and sometime-host for rogue parties), until a couple of guys thought it would be cool to build a park there. It was inspired by the Promenade Plantee in Paris, an abandoned viaduct. Here are some snaps…

The south end of the park. The building in the background is the Standard Hotel. The High Line will be a boost to that part of New York.

The planners planted all sorts of plants and flowers in the abandoned rail bed.

The High Line runs through a couple of buildings, and the planners used the chance for art installations. This one is at the Chelsea Market.

The first weekend the park was open to the public. This will be a popular place.

The view to Hoboken, New Jersey

I loved the dichtomy of this sign

The 10th Avenue Square. You can sit in the small ampitheater and watch the traffic zoom uptown

Looking back onto the space above 10th Avenue

Flora above the city

Looking out to Midtown

End of the line. This is 20th St. The plan is to open the second section to 30th St. next year; a third section about the Hudson Rail Yards is in discussions.

Extravert / Introvert Cartoon | Savage Chickens – Cartoons on Sticky Notes by Doug Savage.

Sometimes you wake up happy. I’ve woken up happy this morning because I’ve realized–yet again–that I am better whole than in pieces.

Events like yesterday in Washington serve as a reminder–the heart and the soul and the mind have to be constantly nourished with good ingredients. And must be kept awake and vigliant.

I see the picture here, and I go–yep, this man’s an introvert. Birds of a feather, I suppose

The Daily Dish | By Andrew Sullivan.

I loved this post. Sometimes we are underestimated, thought to be weak, and ripe for being taken advantage of. Then something happens, and blows all that nonsense away. Loved these takeaways…

Without some measure of self definition and defiance, most introverts would have been crushed long ago.

Life under the shimmering surface of society is not for weaklings.

We have more strength than can be readily seen…

The Myth of Introvert Weakness « Kingdom of Introversion.

If I could seduce women the way Apple seduces its customers, I’d make Casanova look like Steve Urkel.

Apple Unveils Cheap New iPhone – The Daily Beast.

Yeah, there are times where I feel guilty about being introverted, but those have gotten fewer and farther between. As usual, a work in progress…

Do You Feel Guilty About Being Introverted? | Living Introverted.

I’ve been blogging for two years, through about 2,500 posts, and figured it was past time to post an FAQ…

Who are you?

I am a bunch of things, a walking bundle of humanity. But really, I am a black guy (yes, I say black and not African-American–I’m old-school), mid-30s, living in New Jersey.

Why are you writing?

I write to write and write to live. I had no real grand plans for this, but it has become a place for me to plant my flag and say who I am and who I am becoming.

Your writing seems intensely personal.

It is. Something happened to me about two years (ok, ok, I got my heart broken), and instead of closing up shop and shriveling into a corner, I wrote what I felt. And I’m still doing that. And in the bargain, a strong guy (internally) has become stronger. I write what I feel and often my heart feels strong. This is where I write from, or try to.

Forgive me, but black guys usually don’t do this–write from the heart and all that.

I forgive you, but you’re wrong I once had a friend say that she doesn’t see stereotype. That’s great, but the problem is everyone else does. And that notion is one of them. I know who I am, and make no apologies for that. I am used to swimming against the tide, and that’s more fun than swimming with the pack. Were you to meet me, you’d be surprised. Pleasantly so

Ok, I stand corrected. What do you do for a living?

I’d tell you, but, well, you know…

Not even a hint?

It’s a creative enterprise.

You’re not gonna say.

No.

Ok, that explains the nom de plume. What’s the origin?

It’s an homage to Ralph Ellison’s essay, “The Little Man at Chehaw Station.” Basically, it says you have to be your best at any time, even for an old guy cleaning a train station.

Cool. So are you gonna write a book based on this blog?

Maybe. I’ve got the material.

Final thoughts?

I’m an introvert (again, going against type), and we are often slammed for being distant and not being passionate. Take a walk through this blog. I reject the charge. Categorically.

I live close to Philadelphia (actually, between Philly and New York), and a couple of weeks ago I went tromping through Center City. Normally when I go I roam through the west part of downtown, hanging out around Rittenhouse Square. This time, I went through the eastern part, going down to South Street, one of the funkier areas of the city (Manayunk is another cool place). Though, South Street has changed. When I went there in the mid-90s, there was a seediness to it that made it vaguely sketchy–even with a Starbucks. Now, there are two Starbucks and Whole Foods. And the bookstore I used to wander through is now a clothing store.

There's still some funkiness in the area

These give the neighborhood a fun, laidback groove

There are tons of murals in Philly, usually painted in blighted areas. South Street isn't blighted, but this is a great example of what you'll is in the city.

A fair at the Headhouse Market

Streetscape. Some of the homes in the eastern part of Center City are more than 200 years old. The quiet streets are a contrast to the hurly burly of the city (and the interstate a couple of blocks away).

I didn't catch the name of this sculpture

Independence Hall--where the great experiment called the United States began

There are times, when I hear, read and see things, and wonder–why are we men such goddamned jackasses? All I want to do sometimes is not be that guy. But be smarter, think and not be a bloody idiot.

It usually happens about once a year. I wish it happened more, but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I live in New Jersey, and sometimes thunderstorms rumble through in the middle of the night. And there I was last night, sound alseep, when the rumbles came through. I don’t know what time–I couldn’t be bothered to look at the clock. I seemed to stay as the rumbles and claps of thunder got stronger and pierced through the night. I barely noticed any lightning–my eyes stayed closed, but my ears remained open. Then the rains came, beating their ryhthm on the window and the trees.

It was almost a dream, a lush, warm blanket to wrap myself in. At least, it was better than the strange dream I had later about a beach house…