He went into the oncoming pedestrians, half of them on their phones, and failed to pull his shoulder back, knocking the woman, intent on her messages, sideways. 
Another was coming right after her, protecting a plastic bag. 
“What ya got in there?”
“A crystal palace.”
“Looks like some bullshit trophy to me.” 
“Come on, man, have a heart.” The homeless man was on his knees, hat and sweater askew. “Jesus had a heart for you.” 
He cut around him and hurried down the stairs to the 5 train.
“Could I get another?”
“Sorry, the bar is closed.”
“Oh, the bar’s closed?” I repeated it quickly to make it go away.
“Sorry, sir.”
“What about last call?” 
“I made the announcement 15 minutes ago.”
“No, you didn’t.” My voice sounded outside of me.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“I must have been in the bathroom.”
He started to take my glass.
“Just a pint. I’ll finish it in 5 minutes.” The ringing in my ears was worse; I had to see a doctor.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s still 6 minutes to, right?” Could he even hear what I said? “I’ll be finished by the time you close.”
He took my glass.
“You’re not serious.”
And walked away.
“What the fuck…?”
The woman beside looked half around and pulled her purse closer in.
I slid the stool abruptly back. “I’m Jason B., man! What do you think I want with that?”
The bartender returned. “Sir, do we have a problem here?”
“I just asked for another beer, all right?”
“Do we have a problem?”
I blinked back, open and closed, like a mechanical doll. “No, we don’t.”
It was warm outside, still, and the streets were quiet. 
I just needed one more.
Bogdan Dico’s icon looked at me like an ATM machine, the bald head gleaming.
I was lucky and won a big hand. Everybody was surprised by that, except Bogdan. He knew that I would make a wrong move. I rested on my laurels and got distracted by drink and then the people walking past. 
And then I saw that Bogdan had taken two players out. There were only two of us left. I had an Ace-Eight, and the River produced a matching Ace. Bogdan beat me on that hand. He eliminated the other player and had 80% of the chips.
And then I took Bogdan Dico down. I had the cards, and he never believed it. It ended with a straight. We were both stunned by that. I stared at that glorious little Nine of Clubs until the screen changed for the next game. 
I’ve seen too many polls as of late regarding this racism thing in the United States. 
More than anything, I am confounded by the manner in which the ‘information’ is delivered, newscasters frowning as they read, “Black people don’t trust authority and white people can’t understand why that is.” 
It’s like the damn gun issue – everyone talking and no one listening.
Here’s my dime: It’s going to take a long time yet for this society to recover from the abomination that was slavery.
And for any positive changes to occur, whites need to be a hell of a lot more understanding, accommodating and trusting toward blacks. (Exclamation point.)
I just need this drink to be content. 
Just that, the refreshment, the alcohol in my blood at the right percentage. 
Ah, yes…there! I am content, genuinely and truly so.
It’s nice to feel like this, to have everything set, the holidays approaching, the weather cool and crisp, all emails answered, assignments managed, my work going fine. 
My Bad Side will be published one day, The Ark is finally coming together, and the first draft of Glenayr is almost there. Friends and family are healthy – Micaela happy and More Art prospering – and the Leafs are actually winning.
Yes, everything is all right…although, now that I think about it, the Leafs could be more consistent, especially in the defensive end.
And, well, my brother won’t talk to me, and More Art could use more grant money. Glenayr lacks a clear antagonist, and, to be honest, The Ark will be impossible to finish. 
An email from Fedex? Claim rejected? Damn it, I forgot to call my doctor, and I have to set up the website for next week. Yeah, and it’s going to snow.
What? And the bar is closed? 
No, that’s not good.
I hear what you’re saying. I do. I honestly understand. But here’s the thing. You need to listen to me. Just listen. And don’t say anything back. Okay? Are you listening? Good. 
The first thing is that I appreciate you trying to reach out, but you need to respect my personal space. And spare me the guise of thanking me for making the effort. It just doesn’t ring true. I am not interested in a phony relationship without attempting to solve our real problems. 
It is my belief that you and I can’t solve our issues alone. It isn’t a matter of perception; it’s just straight-forward reasoning. It’s too painful to interact with you in a deep way. You cause me nothing but pain.
You said it yourself. You don’t trust me and therefore cannot open up. And so, by your own admission, your suggestion is doomed to failure, right? 
And if you don’t like what I have to say, don’t ever call or email me again! Don’t worry, I won’t contact you first.
Make no bones about it, Barrack Obama is the greatest President of the United States in the past 60 years. 
I say this despite the anti-Obama media barrage, the ceaseless mud slung by his political opponents and the embittered populace who have lost faith in a man who was once their desperate icon for hope. 
The truth is that President Obama was set up to fail. The ridiculous expectations dumped on him demanded that he walk on water and then turn that into wine; anything less would be a failure. That’s the way everyone wanted it. It gave them a perfect scapegoat for unemployment, international strife, indeed whatever plague or natural disaster arose.
Hurricane Sandy, Battery park Tunnel, 2012
All anyone has to say is, “Obama’s let us down again,” and there is applause. This despite the facts, which are these:
a. Obama passed a bill that actually made health care more affordable, an achievement no other president has been able to achieve in the face of a sick political culture which believes in money more than well being.
b. Obama has reduced America’s military presence in the world, despite a war-hungry opposition, and worked to develop coalitions with anyone who will listen.
c. The economy has steadily improved every year under his administration, to where the financial markets now sit at record highs.
d. Obama has consistently endorsed social policies which promote understanding and acceptance of others, such as gay marriage. And although he has yet to succeed in the battle for gun control, he has stood firm for the reduction of automatic weapons.
e. Obama acknowledges the need to confront climate change and looks ready to put this issue at the top of his agenda in his final two years.
It’s actually surprising that there hasn’t been even more hate against the president. After all, not only has he directly challenged the establishment – and played golf with friends – but there is also the insidious problem this country has with skin color.
As high-minded as it might have sounded to have a black guy as president, there are some, a lot actually, that are tired of the idea and want to go back to way things were, everyone knowing their place, that kind of thing. The George Zimmerman verdict, unrest in Ferguson and choke-hold death of Eric Garner all speak to the fact that this is not going away any time soon.. 
Nevertheless, the elections are just a couple of days away, and as much as everyone seems to want to distance themselves from this leader of our time, only time will tell how bad a mistake it turns out they all made. 
More Art has produced another fascinating public work of art in New York City: The Impossibility of Freedom in a Country Founded on Slavery and Genocide, conceived and performed by Dread Scott. 
While the title might be a mouthful, so is the concept, an idea that no one seems to want to accept or seriously consider beyond the platitudes spat in cross-fire talking-head vents. 
Mr. Scott performed the work before two hundred transfixed spectators, many of them school children, under the Manhattan Bridge in Brooklyn in early October. 
A video of the work, recently released by More Art and available here, is worth viewing. Neither cute nor clever, it asks us instead what it is that we are doing with our lives in this world we cherish as free?
I went to a movie with Justice Stephen Breyer last night. 
It was a classic: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, directed by John Ford, starring John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart and Lee Marvin. 
To my surprise, it wasn’t made in the heyday of the Western, but rather 1962, and so revealed a genre on the decline, stumbling between haphazard morality speeches, comic drunken bits and a camera that lingered too long over everything. 
Justice Breyer loved it though, praising its themes of justice which espoused the eternal need for “Achilles shield” behind lawyers and judges. 
He went on to reflect upon the process in the Supreme Court, how there were never raised voices, no matter the issue, and that the 5-4 decisions were always different combinations. He added that the experiment of the United States of America, although temporal, would carry on for many more years. (Everyone at the 92nd Street Y applauded that.)
“What system?” He was small and intense, his square jaw set.
“Apple.” The other guy was bigger and shaggier with glasses and an absent-minded smile.
“Platform?” He drank his Hefeweizen in gulps.
“Apps mostly.” He sipped, shrugging slightly, almost like a Teddy Bear.
I didn’t know them – they were friends of an acquaintance I had recently made – and while waiting for the conversation to make a better turn, looked between them, out the tavern window, at a couple who had suddenly engaged in a kiss. There were no tongues, no sloppy drunkenness, but a constant embrace of their lips.He had his hands on her face, bringing her closer in. And she acquiesced.
“Broadband,” the intense one asserted.
“Protocol?” The Teddy Bear inquired.
The couple was apart, as suddenly as they had started, looking into each other’s eyes, he a little more desperately, beseeching for her to understand, and she acquiescing to that.
“The job isn’t on the clock.”
“When it’s done, it’s done.”
They stood on the sidewalk, talking casually, laughing, and held their cigarillos like lovers do.
That’s when I noticed that my new acquaintances had gone quiet, both of them looking at me and waiting for me to say something too.
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