Homage

Winter loosens its grip. The air is warmer, moister. Rain will be here soon. I will try to embrace the change. But change is for the young. We get older and more set in our ways. We don't mean to, but we do. It begins when we are young, of course, and is a sort of homage to age like wearing guayabera shirts at the age of twenty-two. In our thirties, we are not old but somehow feel wise, and our wisdom shows in habit. It is not a resistance to change in itself, just a refining. Favorite places, favorite sandwiches, favorite old songs. Then one day, you know longer look hip in that guayabera. You just look like an old Cuban barber, and nobody is asking you where you got the shirt.

I used to be obsessed with Cole Porter songs. It seemed I could hear them everywhere. Where'd they all go? I never hear Cole Porter any more. I want to walk into a Manhattan store and hear them playing once again.

But things change.

Homage to the past. E.J. Bellocq. Storyville.