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Sampled Appellativeness

(or, Inhale… Exhale… a Handful of the Heartfelt) Well, fellow Men Alive! and miscellaneous Friends – Finally, I find myself culminating a year of served heartfelt handfuls of labored-over fruits of truths pursued. With a relaxed glance backwards, from the sizzling top to the savory bottom, I survey what I’ve stolen that has succored me read more..


(or, Inhale… Exhale… a Handful of the Heartfelt)


Well, fellow Men Alive! and miscellaneous Friends –

Finally, I find myself culminating a year of served heartfelt handfuls of labored-over fruits of truths pursued. With a relaxed glance backwards, from the sizzling top to the savory bottom, I survey what I’ve stolen that has succored me – sometimes in juxtaposing the buoyancy of joyfulness with the heaviness of heartache simply in forsaking the superfluous in a culture of clickbait and quick fixes. I’ve handed myself over to an oft-humbling bumbling to pluck pride in persistently naming experiences and perceptions in exceptionally etcetera-oriented prose and poesies that but sample life’s fullness. And, lo and behold! I proclaim that this passion project – this idea of a peculiar Eden – has been very, very good for me. Ingenuous from its genesis, with feeble flops and steep drops into a definiteness-dependence, this identify-forging has found me in a frustratingly cathartic knowing of myself within a wider context – expanding my capacity to lift myself and loved ones up. To detect dawn coming out of dusk, and light as being in harmony with darkness – not feasibly, but fully.


As I re-root myself on an eve of intention-setting, I ponder on how I’m to re-route, settled in the promise of further establishing community. It remains my deepest hope that you’ve felt supported – nudged gently toward a sense of the goodness in living and the graciousness in loving yourselves to envelop the whole of humanity. I appreciate you, sweet partners in beauty-seeking and truth-finding, as you’ve located love with me – sustaining this know-nothing as he’s lumbered upon everything during this particular era that has had me reclaim my inner child, by way of an ability too long abandoned, mainly to express my enraptured self. God. We truly are connective creators, collective mediators – hosting heaven and earth, birthing form from the void, we breathing creatures of life amidst this suffocating dread of death. And we represent our repressed selves, and ones forgotten – colorful and so, so alike. How I revere you all as you’ve returned to me here in this corner of the blogosphere.


And as I ferry my feelings and reasonings from my aerie to you – above the grid-lock, below the clouds – I meditate more and more on this cultural competition. In part, my monthslong unraveling has been as marked by revulsion as revelry as this shunning of masterstroked monoliths for superstructures of glass that rupture this stunning skyline in a one-upmanship of defined, short-sighted height rather than refined, longstanding enhancement has me wondering if my time in Hell’s Kitchen is a private forty days and nights in the wilderness. Tempted again to defect I, again, reflect on where I come from and why I’m hither and not yon. As severely as I long for a space safe from industrialist squandering, I’ve discovered myself enjoying an engagement with these scourges as suggestions of a putting away of any immediate personal power in exchange for this fierce faith in future prospect. From my temporal vantage point, as this port view begins to be blighted just to the left of Liberty, I enmesh new distresses with old redresses tinted with hints and glimpses of remembrances and ruminations to eventually reveal themselves. Appalled by cautionary cranes, I practice self-compassion, and recollections that appear to pain me are played with in clichés in this uncontained niche of word-wagering. From a seven-year-old me who unremittingly reminisced with a “Mom, remember when I was four…?” to a boy at twelve who was bullyingly blamed for backend-grabbing a girl at Bible camp to a man of seventeen who began singing “Jesus Loves Me” as a mea culpa for a guy twice his age licking his nipples – as he tickled them and titillated me –


Yes, I’m reminded of my resplendent innocence at two, three, four. From radiant dreams I dreamed of a witch surveying the ceiling for my mother and I, who huddled on the floor, underneath the bathroom sink, and a static man who emerged from the TV to search the cupboards, hovering above me, as I hid in plain sight beneath the kitchen table whilst my half-brother and soon-to-be stepsiblings watched silently… to sweeping, unsleeping memories of Oatmeal and Sally, two heads with beehive hairdos below my bed, the womanly whispering of “raspberries” in my ear in the backyard of “the peach house,” and invisible arms pulling me up as I confoundedly cried “Mom!” afore gravity pushing me down to the dredged bottom of Burt Lake, single-handedly for that force to lift and lead me to clear-headedly call “Tammy!” to alert one of a sea of mothers to come running to my rescue. But perhaps my earliest anamnesis is of expiring “I love you, I love you, I love you very much!” patently with the latent belief that my repetitive chorus belonged to the tintinnabulation of ‘80s synth pop as I propped myself higher in the high seat in front, alongside my father, as he traversed US Highway 131 from the delicious deciduousness of southwestern Michigan to its lower peninsula’s fascinatingly conifer-defined northern tip –


“I love you, I love you, I love you very much!” I glowingly exhaled. My teeny Adam’s apple bobbed up and dropped down as I looked out the window in a tremendous receiving of others as blatantly as I gave of myself. This sensitivity – that careless awareness – as I named what I noticed. “A car!” I inhaled. “The sun!” I reflected, as it had by now risen from the east to an azure zenith. Still a novice to the brightened skyway as it met the light-leavened heavens, my paternal guide at my passenger’s side, I bursted with a love for all that is human as I bounced my head back and forth against the midsection of the front seat, out of a belted impression of safely free-falling as I rode a lifelong theme of receptiveness in approaching my pa’s gray-painted abode with shock and trust of the known and unnamed –

Little Adam James Martin allowed himself to be led in big faith from the ecclesiastically ecstatic everyday of Mommy’s to godless getaways with Daddy up north, identifying trees of all kinds as they morphed along the way as I trampolined my fragile frame transversely. And as tender two thrust itself upon three, I harbored an arborous ideal while eavesdropping amid an atmosphere I sensed threatened as did four as it forced itself on me with this fondness for knowledge seeming to make the awesomely snaky awfully snacky. And the implicitly forbidden mattered to me insomuch as it dwelled inwardly – an orientation of spirit to a world, wide and whole. And as four transformed into five to transfix me at six with what increasingly at seven I would come to do, I did honor what came before in order to agree to what was to follow. But as the first star burned brightly in the tinkled sky I went from asking, “Are we there yet?” to answering “Petoskey!” then “Alanson!” then “Brutus!” sprinkled with the panoptic, optimistic, “I love you, I love you, I love you very much!”


Love is an attitude, not the initial charge. I work myself up to turn myself onto this land as it meets the sea as I get off on going overboard on this blog. Life is best when destined for a greatness of gratitude, an inhabiting of a man’s humanness – that barges through a civilization of inhibiting cynicism to understand this magic on the margins, inside the mundane. Now, in the center of my being, here in the Capital of the World, I flail in foraging as I fail to fall in with an appellative for myself that encapsulates my contra-resolution to encounter revolution in the middle of my own worthiness in a fashion that rallies this calling for pace, space, and surrender. From crying “Gee!” with glee, Adam James caves into an “Amen!” from Him (not Elohim!) for All Men who were once boys of ambiguous dispositions, inescapably exposed to euphoric epiphanies of an individualized trailblazing in a society of symbol, figure, status, and tail-chasing.


Routinely a loner with a boner, with you I’m lonely no longer in this wonder-working of healing hands and holy holes – fingers in mouths and anuses, scrotums lingering on surfaces and penises lodging in crevices. Daily – gaily! – I build the backbone to sanction an infinitude of falling, heavenly bodies to shine on the fortuitous failures sanctified in “Man Alive!” Succumbing to a pleasure that finishes and rests in togetherness – not wresting with uneasiness, but laid out in uncertainty, in playfulness. This is how the painful is rendered prayerful as I recognize that He is as much Adam as I am Him and we breathless creations sidestep the faithlessness of subscribed-to otherness in an unnameable unknowableness that transcends itself, suffering in bouts of sprouted spurts. How in loving one another we sensationally comprise all of mankind – yea, sentience altogether! We pair of guys tap into our able selves to tip into a paradise of canes that top any misconception of separateness.


I cheerfully – queerfully! – manifest a fresh perspective of the globe’s oldest profession as I prompt men from the cock blockage of a chockablocked day-to-day existence of exactitude whilst a mess of intensities stream through my consciousness… unfolding the passion-fueled ”Simply Addicted” sequences farther into Nepal’s massage parlors onto lush lands that lay beyond, climaxing on the sacred Ganges River… tracking the ”Post-Travel Processing” episodes into Europe and the Middle-East, from America back to Africa to South Asian vagabonding it all toward a Shiva-filled finale. Heady and frisky in bed, we risk the realization that any fear of being unlovable – unloved – is in reality our apprehension of loving without reservation. So, bone from my bones and flesh of my flesh, we entrust our stupor-fallen selves one to another to faithfully summon fate to be taken by one another in a sexual evolution of not evading our being made one brother from another.


Tired of trying to furnish a worthwhile wandering at my desk, and wired for the spiritual expansion of social exploration, I grow in going from an urge for plugged-into poetic license – blissed out on key-punching in hourslong surges – to allowing the pressure to be off by blessedly surrendering to my surroundings, solely to arrive at myself. To make the man I am awake by way of a collapsing of the weekly wonted, unashamedly putting on the day only to wear it ‘til the night comes. Desiring a deflection –


From this singular sunset of the every-Friday blocked-off entry, I realize that the real fall is in forgetting ourselves, in forgoing our own sensations as we vacantly compare to compete with each other in this vulgar conformity of the status quo and the constrictiveness of stati likes. And in this period of anger, confusion, and elation, I make out that right to the right of Freedom, twin towers will soon take out the remainder of this harbor view, and I drearily prepare my dreamy self to accept what I’ve read said, “So the last shall be first, and the first last.” For I believe every word heard, preaching and grasping it now from both sides. And I am recommitted to cooperation and collaboration. To contribution. To draft a plan of service that will predictably crack apart in fits and starts, as I’m crashing this undertaking merely to resume it in bits and parts.


We reside within a transformative time, and I’ve attempted to illuminate the current climate with comforting constants of penetrating substance accented by sprightly soundsynthesizing – to be broken down to break through, woken up to a communal wonderment at living. Man. Doubtlessly, it’s been the dependability of this deep-end diving that has revived a desire to delight in the city I’ve decided to spend this span of vibrant aliveness in. So as Joni croons on my cloud speaker, I’m beckoned by a swelling song outside my window to take action in stupefaction – to be the Man I Am That I Am That I Am becoming through these misgivings to an out-and-out thanksgiving for capitulation halfway of horror and hunger. To not be stuck in a self-imposed structure, to be led astray to sumptuously fallen-into wisdom – alone and with the like-minded and similarly-spirited amidst the simulacra of all that is a Big Apple ripe for a little sampling as I demand to appellate simply to be startled by grace, to touch on transcendence.


Freely, flagrantly, and everlastingly! That’s how I choose to welcome myself. That’s how I forgive those who’ve trespassed against me. That’s how I live authentically. And in this apocalyptic epoch of subtleties surfacing, I consider any acolyte a verifiable equal – vulnerable, upended in openheartedness. And as I enter the last year of my early thirties, and this certain seventh day, I seek to cater to innate cravings to create, boundlessly, anew to belong to myself as informed by my sort. [So pardon the upcoming seven-weeklong wiggle room (for the ideation of an epitomized creation), and anticipate the fiftieth gift to be a special delivery sure to surprise on Christmas morning (as always, generously genuine and wildly childlike). Until then, I’ll be reveling in this effusive effervescence, ever present in the epicenter of this high-rising upheaval of humankind in an epic venture of personalized proportions as I profess – over and over and over – “I love you and you and you very, very, very much!” (Not lastly, but firstly!)]


A Sampled Adam


PS – As we accord love to others to be the very thing itself, likewise, there are several ways you can blow me away for my birthday:

1.) Subscribe to the “Man Alive!” Monthly.

2.) Share your favorite entries on social media and elsewhere.

3.) Contribute monetarily to allot me moments to relive and research.

4.) Send me a gift via my Amazon Wish List.

5.) Reach out anytime to give advice, provide ideas, or ask questions.

Thanks – so very, very much! ☺

Add a Response 66 thoughts on “Sampled Appellativeness

  1. Your birthday entry is significantly different from the first time I read your blog months back. You were more verbose then, though strangely concise. This entry is much more esoteric and complex because there many more layers to discern. When I got about halfway through it I immediately thought of James Joyce’s Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man which has become the quintessential example of stream of consciousness which is the rawest and most immediate reflection of self expression. It’s apparent you’ve got a penchant for alliteration, and I’m trying to be constructive. The question is: are you writing entries for yourself or to convey thoughts to your reader? In taking a great deal of time, I’ve been richly rewarded peeling back the layers of your ruminations, but I’ve taken the time.

    I haven’t even gotten to what you’ve written, and that is incredibly fascinating to me. For me I love the stream of consciousness and I can wade through the vocabulary which could possibly be a shield for you but expression is not always synonymous with complexity.

    You are a fascinating man, Adam. I’ll save the rest for when we meet.

    • Thank you for this thoughtful commentary, Paul. I’m writing entries for myself, and sharing them (with no intention of shielding – quite the contrary) – so anyone who wishes to get lost in them can extract their own truths and come upon personal revelation – as you have (quite thrillingly, for me) done. 🙂 I look forward to the rest… Adam

  2. With such an insightful way of writing its hard to believe that you’re just human. I feel like I know you on so much more of a personal level now. Thanks for such a wonderful story…

  3. Dear Adam,

    It was a beautiful writing and thank you for sharing it with us. I just got the time to write my thoughts on your page now.

    It was wonderful to see how your journey has been so far. I do believe that we are who we are today because of our past, as long as we learn from it to become a better person. No one can ever be perfect but there are ways to be better. It is important to be happy and grateful for everything, to be content of what we have and we don’t have, so we can see even more beyond the horizon of our lives.

    Thank you for listening to my story on the night before I flew out to see someone to get a closure. It wasn’t an easy nor an efficient way, but I knew it was the right way.

    May you always love the life you live, and live the life you love.


    • That’s the key, isn’t it, Ferdi? – being grateful for what we have so as to expand ourselves into welcoming more. I am honored we connected in the way we did, and that you at last found resolution while in the States. Now, be free – expanding with gratitude. 🙂 A gentle kiss from New York to Singapore… Adam

  4. On Saturday, I heard a prodding voice asking “What IS the significance of today? Why do I not know? This day before my father’s birth-day is some other birth-day that is significant.” A psychic muse? It was your day, Adam, your celebration of being I see from your blog. Significant? I do not know but I do know I am growing because of you. Morning Pages and Morning Musings are a gift from you to me. Be well, be happy …. celebrate and love and embrace and Be! Until next time? Happy Birthday!

    • Those pages and musings are going to break you down and on through, Steve! It means so much that you received the same birthday tug I did. I felt it in the Big Apple all the way from the Windy City too. 🙂 I’m here… Adam

  5. Dearest Adam and I say that truly from my heart. You and your writings have be such a wonderful, embracing and teaching tool. Thank you for being so insightful and giving, with your mind and your body, I have taken away many lesson’s from our time’s together. Hope you had a wonderful Birthday and sending you as much love as you send to us all.

    Love and Thankfulness,


    • You say everything truly and straight from the heart, Dennis – it’s one of so many reasons you are easily and enduringly lovable! You’re most welcome, and I look forward to our lunch date so, so soon. 🙂 Corny joking – corn-holed poking! – from the aerie… And lots of love and laughter. Adam

  6. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a year since I’ve known you, but what a year it’s been. Your writings, and our times together in person (too few!) have been so enormously important to me. Thank you for all of it.

    This blog post is going to take a little more digesting, but I look forward to poring over it some more in the upcoming days.

    • What a year, indeed, dear, dear man! I cannot express enough what an honor connecting with you has been – and as much as I’ve been a guide, you’ve also allowed me to dip into that same cathartic pool… to be pulled from ahead, pushed from behind… just floating in this flow… You are welcome. Thank you. Take your time… you’ll have it now. Adam is gonna take a bike ride. Wander a museum. Get lost! Do the same, however it makes sense for you right here. Right… NOW. So much love… A

  7. Some evening at Chez Josephine over martinis (up with olives) and manhattans (on the rocks) you’ll have to walk me through parts of this latest entry. I had to look up the word anamnesis. Your writing is like a Baroque tapestry. Full of rich detail and ornate beauty. It’s clear it has been a labor of love. You deserve a blog break. Time to come down from your glass tower. Time to enjoy the city. Time to be a bit frivolous. And no one knows frivolity like i do. 🙂

    • Another, on the rocks, please – this walk through is gonna take a little time! 😉 I learned the word anamnesis just last week, Steve, and it seemed so fitting to include a new term (for me) for “memory” given the emphasis of the interplay of nostalgia and neophilia within so many of these musings. 🙂 I’m heading down the glass tower in a matter of minutes… Here I am! Let’s do it. Adam

  8. As always, your words serve as powerful containers; welcome reminders of how writing can be transcendental for both writer and reader.

    Wishing you all the best for your birthday. Up, up, and away! Love always. :-*

    • And I love you, dear friend who has stood the test of time – in waves… wondrous ways! Up, up… Then down on the sidewalks of Fifth Avenue, like you got down on the dancefloor at The Zoo Bar at Republican 18. See you soon my genderbending, heartmending wonder! Adam

  9. I see I’m late to the party, but better late than never! I hope you had a hugely filling and fulfilling birthday! I’m reminded of what Mark Twain said:

    “it’s not the years in your life, it’s the life in your years”

    You’ve put a lot of life in your years and in those of your friends and clients.

    Happy birthday!

    Paul, NYC

    • Fulfilling, yes, but not filling – even the day prior and following, Paul. I received four hours of massage on Saturday and simply relished being manhandled. Ain’t nothin’ like a good build-up – not-knowing, and most likely not-getting (we’ll see about today’s massage). 🙂 I have material for your writing. To putting life in the day-to-day – in sundry ways! XXX Adam

  10. I miss your birthday Adam! You are sweet. I love your art and pictures. It is difficult to understand all your English but I love your spirit. Thank you for giving this blog. Happy birthday!

  11. Reading this culminating chapter and verse, Adam, I realize that part of your gift to me has been to include me in your whirling dervish of thoughts that don’t so much describe universes as to create them. Spending time with you on the blog and in person, I am often reminded that I carry a whole other universe of experiences inside of me, just like you, as you encourage and reassure me that by going there I’m not lost, but rather I’m found. This last entry, particularly the description of yourself as a little boy and his incantations through the window of his father’s
    truck, is one of the most beautiful, both sad and joyous, descriptions I’ve ever read of a child’s confrontation with a frightening and exquisite world. I’m reminded of the ecstasy of William Blake: “Tiger, Tiger burning bright in the forests of the night.” Though now, at thirty-something,you see that “fearful symmetry” in the yellow lights glinting ominously off the skyscrapers that are being brought closer and closer to you. They don’t realize they are about to meet their match!

    • Chris – yes! Frightening and exquisite… The crossroads of fear and desire… That’s exactly it. And, absolutely, these godawful yellow lights that glint ominously – obnoxiously – have stirred something old, and might just incite a revolution. It’s all open. We’ll have to keep creating universes to make sense of it, now won’t we? And this isn’t it. “Man Alive!” is going to be a monthly offering in the coming year. Thought I’m not sure what that will even look like. I know you’re as intrigued as I am, and that delights me to no end. Thank you for co-creating with me… Until soon, Adam

  12. Happy birthday, my friend!!! Wow, Adam, you are such a talented writer. Your vocabulary, your passion, your beautiful mind, etc. As I’ve said before, you never cease to amaze me, and you continue to inspire me. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, reflections and feelings. I could see a cool, vibrant and intense collaboration with this one 😉 xo

    • Old friend – fellow “cottonmouth queen!” – thank you! 🙂 Just yesterday a client was admiring your Detroit-inspired artwork… we must combine forces in some artistic way. So much love… Adam

  13. Happy belated birthday, dearest Adam. Thanks for being such a wonderful friend and “big brother” over the past year! Wishing you a terrific year ahead.

    • I know yours will continue to be extraordinarily expansive, “little bro!” I look forward to celebrating your epic new epoch in it. A gentle kiss on that sweet face… Adam

  14. This year has been a whirlwind of emotions and intelligent anecdotes, Adam. I have enjoyed the parts I’ve had the chance to read. I also agree that you have a particular and powerful voice. It will be interesting to see what happens after Christmas. Enjoy being 33! Until then, I remain your faithful reader.

  15. Adam, this is amazing; like you. I hurt for that child and I am inspired by him. I am proud of the man you are and I am thankful for your role in helping me gain self-acceptance and self-forgiveness. Life keeps getting better and many thanks to you. I’m excited for your Christmas delivery whatever it is. I love your tribute to Joni Mitchell on both of your birthdays. Be well.

    • How terrific to hear from you, Smitty! I’m thrilled that life continues to unfold, with you as its proactive, amazed participant. And, yes – your countrywoman sings to me like a chain-smoking angel from my cloud speaker almost daily these days. What a comfort… Accept these heaps of love. Adam

  16. Arriving late in the year, I’ve had lot of catching up to do. Your words and your writings have been inspirational. Happy birthday dear friend. I’m sure tremendous things are in store for you. Wonderful surprises await you.

    • Well, you’re in store for me – again – Michael. Consider yourself tremendous. 😉 I’ll work on that wonderful surprise. Thank you for all that you are, and all that you put out into the world. Welcome, welcome, welcome… to an altogether new era. Kisses from the world’s “capital” all the way on over and Down Under from a koala-socked Adam

  17. This letter is among your most profound, Adam. The “Shock” and “Trust” coinciding with naming to know the unnamed (maybe unknowingly) is something you maintain to this day. Stay true to your childlike sensuality and mature spirituality. We need more poets who compel us to stop and consider how wonderful it is to be in the world. Maybe by missing you online I’ll finally see you again for round two. 8—D O-: Enjoy your special day and get out of that piece of paradise and onto the streets, gentle warrior, good man!

    • I’ve been wandering these streets, and attracting all sorts of attention with this childlike, ear-to-ear grin. William – you were right – it takes over a year for New York to hit you. The gratitude! And, Jesus: “8—D O-:” – I’m rock hard. Thank you for the encouragement. For seeing me. Adam

  18. love your thoughts, but, my dear friend… get thee to a book deal (and a copy editor)! there is so much going on here that needs to be edited and exploited. as mentioned below, you have a rare voice and a special gift. share, share, share! the inclusion of naming the world around you and breaking the ideas formed and inherited down is sheer genius.

    • To you as well, Eric! Keep coaching and coaxing… and I trust our paths will cross – at Easton or elsewhere – soon. Big hugs back… Adam

  19. You always make me ponder life, look at what i consider mundane, through new eyes. Your energy you put into everything is astounding. Have a wonderful birthday and I look forward to seeing you soon. xx

    • I look forward to pouncing on you with all this energy, Dan. Thank you for rearing that sweet head during this special moment. 🙂 Adam

  20. Another wonderful and thoughtful read – thank you Adam for continuing to share your journey with us and just being you – . And a very Happy Birthday to you!! I wish I could give you a birthday hug in person, but a virtual hug will have to do.

    • Virtually accepted, and verily consummated – someday. Keep pushing… keep resting in it, Herm. I’m so proud of you – of us both! – for heading into epic epochs of life head-on. Warmly, Adam

  21. My dear Adam, as always you make us think as we learn and grow from you. I would love nothing more then to give you a huge warm hug on this birthday! I look forward to seeing you,


  22. My Dear Adam:
    This trip to the soul-souls almost culminates on your birthday. Thank you for being genuinely you throughout all these fifty-something stations in a fascinating journey for all. I have no doubt that certain passages must have been emotionally painful, but your openness creates a collective cathartic effect, that I appreciate. Now, the train, full of graceful readers approaches the temporary final destination. But, due to the experience, I am more courageous in my daily struggle in a world tainted by hatred, ignorance or indifference and more and more alienated facing a technology that often surpasses our emotional comprehension.
    A long time ago, I told you that you had chiseled your personal niche from a hard and sometimes painful rock. In those early days, I was already right. I saw then, the hands of the artist carving on the adamant stone with passion and love. Congratulations on your Birthday but mainly on your accomplishments.
    I send you in this gleeful day an enormous virtual hug of appreciation and love.

    • My dear Gil – it remains in the process of culminating. 🙂 My deepest wish is for that “collective cathartic effect.” Thank you – just, thank you. For your support, and your validation. And your personalized poetry. And, of course, your love. I send a surplus back… Adam

  23. At every engagement with your readers you’ve shared your profound experiences of the journey that your life has taken. This latest entr’acte embellishes everything already stated with such exquisite pause. Resiliently harmonious even in its being dissonant in moments. Quiet in its ability to burst forth with such intimate surprise…booming with the keenest insights and viewpoints which make so many of us say “Ah, YES! and Ah, HA! and feel that occasional shiver up and down one’s back as they share reminiscent moments that you describe with such an array of exotic spices and condiments… every salivary gland is engaged…. Thank you, Adam for giving of yourself and of your spirit with such unadulterated intimacy and zeal. On this day – your BIRTHDAY, I celebrate the BIRTH of MAN ALIVE… how utterly proper that your given name echoes that of God’s penultimate creation: MAN. Appealingly and appropriately given the name you share with him….ADAM! Wishing you a joyous and joyful birthday! Longing to celebrate soon with you!

    • Yes, Larry! This is my great hope: “Resiliently harmonious even in its being dissonant in moments.” And that almost never happens intentionally – much as is the case with life, I suppose (as you know, you who held my hand during that tumultuous transition to living as a New Yorker just over a year ago). Joyously – joyfully – longingly… I remain yours in spirit until flesh is enmeshed… soon. 🙂 Adam

  24. My dear Adam, I hope this new year keeps bringing knowledge and happiness to your life… And a dictionary for me to understand the 3 syllable words you keep summoning in each paragraph hahaha! Besos guapo.

  25. Dear, dear boy, you truly are a gift to the world. Burma. The Netherlands. Old friends in Michigan. Now your lover and admirer in Israel. You encapsulate the spirit of that boy of two, three, four with the man you are and becoming. You encourage me to bite into life, to taste forbidden knowledge to realize it as forever freedom and experience myself as whole already. I will miss you here in the next weeks but look forward to celebrating my first Christmas morning with our favorite former “Shabbes Goy” and anything but simple Adam. I hope you start writing your memoir in your seven week absence! Noah
    PS – I read your “Resurrected” pieces again. What a masterpiece! I sure wish you did bring “Simply Addicted” to Haifa.

    • Oh, Noah! Keep sampling, keep savoring. I’ll begin writing that memoir when I leave New York – there’s so much material to gather – life to be lived! – here. 😉 And as much as I’m eager to resume with the “Simply Addicted” streak, yes – “A Resurrected Adam” is my most beloved piece. Thank you for taking it in anew. Someday… Much love, Adam

  26. I continue to savor each and every entry, Adam, as you appellate and deconstruct and find anew. You have found and are finding your unique voice and you are a gift to the world. Is it possible to fall in love with someone from words written? Yes! You have a devoted fan in the Netherlands who gets you as well as is confounded by you. The best of years lived deeply and meaningfully, Simply Adam. I remain simply awed and hope you enjoy the presents on the way.

    • You’re making me fall in love in return, Gertjan. How delightful to read another comment from you, and know that you’ve been following along all this time. 🙂 And now I have presents to anticipate… Life sure is good. A big hug, sweet man… Adam

    • I send love back to you, Desmond. You were one of the first readers of “Man Alive!” and I’m honored you still come back from time to time. 🙂 My thoughts are with the people of Myanmar today. Let’s hope the National League for Democracy wins and uplifts your countrymen. With hope and solidarity… Adam

  27. My oh my…how you have grown. We are all on a separate but exquisitely together journey. Sending you good vibes on your birthday! This is your time. Sending all my love and kisses! XOXO. I hope to continue to grow with you on this journey we call life.

    • Surely we will grow separately, together-ly for a long, long time to come, Meltastic! Thank you for the everlasting love. 🙂 Your Queenie, your forever Anal Adam

  28. Your writing is telling those of us who read your blog and have come to know your life through you candid observations something important; that is, that the last year of your early thirties is but a doorway into a future of boundless expectations that you are framing in the here and now. What does the future hold? A lot, because you dare to create it and define it through experience and questioning. In this world of cookie-cutter education and pre-cast experiences, authentic experience that you create and design, sometimes intentionally, sometimes randomly as the opportunity hits, is the best education/experience to know how and what to give to our world in the future. Thank you for taking those risks to benefit so many.

    • Thank you, Scott – and thank YOU for all that you are, and the joy you have brought to my journey. A big birthday hug to you, dear man. Adam

  29. Dearest Adam,
    Happiest of birthdays to my friend and former student. I am continually amazed at your descriptive writing (especially your hyphenated adjectives), your incredible photos (Oh, the view!), and your comfort with the world (all eleventy-seven countries you’ve traveled to). Enjoy your weekend. I hope to get back to NYC soon, see your abode, and eat somewhere delectably delicious and exotic.
    Incredibly proud,
    Your friend and HS English teacher,
    Mary <3

    • What a meaningful message, Mrs. Collier – er – Mary. 🙂 Thank you! I, too, look forward to welcoming a new era in this wonderful city we both love so, so much with you soon. Much love, always, from that ninth grader who will forever answer your rhetorical questions and sit, eagerly, front row, left.


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