The Luna Park Gazette

I once had a therapist who very succinctly explained to me the dangers of being indecisive. "Sitting on the fence," he said, "gets you nothing but a big red mark on your ass." I'm doubt if Freud would've expressed it this way, but I'm sure he would agree with the sentiment. I've given up far too much of my time agonizing over decisions about all things great and small and all I've gotten out of this emotional fence-sitting was a big red mark on my psyche. No decision is a decision and I would rather do things than allow inaction make the decision for me. While I would like to think I've made progress in this area, I did have a minor but disappointing incident occur recently that's still bugging me. I was sitting in front of the TV one Saturday night-like I do most nights after wrecking my knees last month-thumbing my remote-control unit into a coma. I do a fair bit of channel-surfing, but I was especially bad on this particul...

My auntie shared such a lovely dream with me on Saturday. She has been suffering with a bad hip for a long time now, so the simplest actions-like walking or standing, for instance-are now incredibly challenging. But all that changed in her dream. "I was walking," said my auntie, who will undergo surgery in the coming weeks. "I couldn't believe it. I told people around me, 'look, I'm walking!'" It was so painful to hear this because she walks with such difficulty now. I can remember when she was hiking all over Manhattan, but now it takes her so long just to pick up the phone. Dreams provide fertile ground for wish fulfillment, of course, which is all well and good until the cruel light of day breaks in and ruins the dance. I wake up most mornings expecting to get up and walk around my home like I've always done and then I realize that I'm wearing these massive leg braces and that every single move has to be planned before being pu...

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” – William Shakespeare I’ve been home from the hospital for 8 days now and I have to confess this new year is getting old real fast. While I’m trying to accept the fact that I’m a virtual prisoner in my own home, I took some solace in the fact that I was reasonably healthy. I have a walker, a cane, and a grabber, a little mechanical claw that I use to pick up the mail and anything else that might be out of reach. Going to the bathroom when you can’t bend your knees is a bit of a challenge—I’ll spare you the details—but I’m managing. And it’s not like I have nothing to do with my time. I thought that I’d take advantage of my forced imprisonment by taking a run at my creative to-do list. I’m working on my next book project, organizing my notes on an idea for a TV pilot, and reviewing the draft of a screenplay I finished last year. And the weather has been so harsh lately that I figured I’m not missing much. ...

I slept in my own bed last night for the first time in nearly a month. It felt strange not having a nurse walk in at 5AM looking to take my vitals or make me swallow a handful of pills. I didn’t have to listen to my roommate’s television blaring out quiz shows, infomercials, and football player interviews at all hours of the day and night, and I didn’t have to suffer through the pre-dawn shrieks of “Help! Help! Help!” from that crazy old bastard across the hall. There are no more daily rehab classes with those wonderful people in the gym, no more hospital meals, and no more blood tests. And I don’t have to wear those hospital gowns anymore. That’s all behind me, God willing, and now my rehab begins at home. I came out the hospital on Saturday the same way I went in—riding in the back of an ambulance. The two lovely crew members rolled me out into the blistering cold weather—my first taste of outside air in weeks--loaded me up into the bus, and zipped over to my street. The o...