KEEP IT SIMPLE

My feet are cold and swollen and blue.

I sit at my desk (a mass of papers, stamps, mess) and ignore them.

JD appears in my apartment. My front door is open. JD comes to force pills down the cat's throat. It's his third day medicating the cat. The cat spots JD and he quietly slips beneath the bed - a delinquent losing a cop.

"Aro0 -oooo!" JD grins. "I'm here!" JD is channeling Jack Nicholson in "The Shining" and

it's pretty funny to watch the poor cat slink away vulnerable and scared.

JD corners the cat in the living-room. I remain at my desk in my bedroom. I hear the muffled noises of an easy mugging. It's quiet and creepy. (What we creatures must go through! Animal and human! Fear and medicine forced on us by the stronger and dominant). This is life.

JD is done - two pills and some liquid medicine - now he is back for me.

"I don't like the way your feet look. How long have they looked like that?"

"I don't know. I don't look at them any more."

"Let's get them up above your head."

"I did that today! For a half hour!"

"Well, lets do it again."

JD instructs on the proper method and I am compliant. I lie on the bed and put my feet flat on the headboard. I stare at the Manhattan skyline as JD swivels the desk chair next to the bed and sits.

I am tumbling. My life has become formless days. People arrive to deliver instructions and machines and things and I have given into it.

I lie and let go.

"How are you?" I ask JD.

"Well, it's funny you should ask. I'm having quite a day. I feel funny complaining to you with your blue cold feet but I was in the dentist chair having my front tooth worked on (JD - oddly enough, broke his front tooth around the same time I did) when I got a call from my tax guy. The dentist was taking a break so I took the call. He said, 'Are you sitting down?' And then he told me that I owe many thousands this year."

"Who wants it?"

"Federal and I don't have it. We only have a little in checking. Ross took her pension early this year and she also made a lot on a few commercial spots. I made some, but it all goes back into the company (JD owns a design and construction company) and we got taxed at 25%. I'm sixty two years old and I've never paid attention to taxes because we never owed much. I just handed it to my tax guy and didn't pay attention. And now I'm learning. The hard way. I don't know Charlie. I really think I want out of this business."

"Finance and money and real estate is so stressful!" I lament.

"You're telling me. We've been riding a wave. We've had a lot of success. We're the best in our area. But with the economy tanking ... this is the second time I've been in the building business. I think I might go back to acting and teaching yoga full time. I want to live in Costa Rica for a while. I'm stressed. But then I look at you and your blue swollen feet and it puts things in perspective."

And I resent JD for using me as a way to calm his own anxiety. I understand it. I'd do the same thing - 'I think I've got it bad - look at Charlie!' - but this kind of thing is exactly why I stay so remote. I've no desire to be a lesson for the rest of the world. Call me if you want to hang out. Don't call me out of pity or because I'm on your list, or to gain perspective. I think JD truly cares about me but it's hard to be the one in the worst place. Always.

JD's cell phone rings.

"I got to take this, this is the guy who owns the bank. This is the guy I owe millions to."

I lie on my fluffy high bed and stare at the brand new neighboring high-rises. I consider sitting up to make dinner or grab a glass of red wine. (It's almost seven). But I stay, seemingly paralyzed, and listen to JD's call as if it were a radio play.

JD is in full focus and form. He treats the banker like they are best buddies.

They won a prize together for restoring an historic ice house.

I listen.

JD's is to sincere and appreciative and overly confessional.

The phone call is taught and dramatic. JD comes off as a guy talking to the mob - trying to make everything family and comfortable - a last attempt before he gets whacked.

JD has several ambitious real estate projects but the economy has turned. There is no money. JD reveals too much to the banker (I think) like he's the loser in a Mamet play. He talks for a half hour.

When he gets off the phone I say, "Well I'm disappointed"

"So am I."

My mind calculates trying to access the best way to approach life and money. Renting a plain jane apartment in a full service building seems to make sense to me all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I use JD to count my own blessings. No banks breathing down my back.

I can see that living humbly without distractions is the better way to go. Men (and women) are drawn to get the golden apple. But in terms of daily life satisfaction all you get is bragging rights. There is little pleasure in owning things or taking on projects or entangling yourself with people who cause happiness -threatening- stress.

I have a list of things I want JD to do

But a doorman from the lobby knocks on the door to tell JD to move his car.

"Will you be back?"

"There's no where to move it."

"JD."

"Yes."

"You need to get in a calm place. Don't react. My tendency is to react to problems that are presented to me, with - 'well if that's the case, then I'm going to do this or that'. I clutch and grab for things. Don't do that. Reacting is bad for you. It's a basic principal of kabalah. Remain calm and focused. Listen. Don't react."

JD listens hard.

He nods.

"Thanks. Thanks for that," and he leaves.