I sat with Tom in the back corner of Destination as he proclaimed his new found respect for New York City. “Six dollars for two beers? I could get used to this place.”

The Sunday evening special had this Boston boy succumbing to the allures of the East Village neighborhood that I call home. Time had changed both our appearances – gone was the flowing blonde Dawson Leary-esque hair of yesteryear – replaced by the shaved out of growing necessity head of our late 20′s. He’s put on a little weight. I’ve put on a bit more. He still loved Pearl Jam. I’ve moved on to the Dirty Projectors. He speaks in the tongues of bastardized 80′s slang and phrases on he can pull off. I speak a lot less than I used to. Still, the conversation flowed as seamlessly as they did back in the confines of AC13.

Tom is still with his college girlfriend – despite a bump in the road here or there. Stories of mine come up now and then but they are distant memories. I tell him about my latest heartbreak and classic misadventures. We share grass is greener moments and more drinks. It’s a classic night in the ways that have been escaping me more and more.

We shuffled through the streets onto Avenue A, and I was drunk and I was thinking – thinking about all those typical thoughts when you’re hanging out with someone you haven’t seen in years. With Tom, it’s been about four years. I saw him regularly when I first left school – making trips out to Boston. I even attempted to date a girl or two out in New England because I was heading out there so much. Looking back, it seems like so long ago. Especially the last few years – with old friends fading from my memory while Tom regales me with stories of weddings, break ups, and the various details of lives I find myself a stranger to. We laughed about the various things over a slice or two of Nino’s pizza, climbed the fences in Thompkins Square Park, and ran back to my apartment where we had left Elaine passed out.

I found myself sitting in my dark apartment alone last night. I was upset – not about anything in particular but just in general. The excitement of Elaine and Tom’s visit had disappeared. I was alone for the first time in a week. Probably even longer than that as the various entrappings of New York have entertained me. Someone mentioned that perhaps I was an addict to adrenaline and I can see that. The excitement of social situations empowers me. I am at my best when I am around others. Still, solitude can be comforting in it’s malaise. I took a recap of the events, saw my bed room in shambles from a week of sharing it with someone, and sighed. The sigh soon turned into tears. I didn’t really know why I was crying. I didn’t feel anything in particular – there was no sadness, nothing bitter hanging around. While I was lonely, it wasn’t the kind of lonely that brings on the tears. Still, there they were, streaming down my face, coming in uncontrollable waves. It lasted for what felt like an hour but probably was no more than 10 minutes. Then I felt relief. And calmness. I pulled out my book and started reading, aftershocks of tears coming here and there, but for the most part – I was done. It was just a release…

Pearl Jam’s song “Release” contains the lines: “Oh, dear dad, can you see me now / I am myself, like you somehow / I’ll ride the wave where it takes me / I’ll hold the pain…Release me…” This always makes me think of my father, his issues with mental illness, and its impact on me. My dad is bi-polar, among a myriad of other things. Moments like this – these high low moments that I have – I find myself wondering if I suffer from the same things. The pains of adolescence once had me in serious depressions. Even in college, I “felt” a lot more than other people. Somewhere along the way though, I feel I developed an emotional maturity. My life reached more of a balance. I feel far more normal now than ever. This crying jag that I had wasn’t about depression, chemical imbalances, or my father. It was merely a stress release – my body telling me, “Hey asshole, I think you need a break.”

It takes a lot to understand one’s personal emotions. It takes a clairvoyance that can not be seen in tarot cards, or the palms of your hands. I think I developed my self-confidence by really understanding my emotions. The ebb and flow of my oceans of blood and hormones have been regulated, and I feel at peace. A lot more in control. But sometimes, true control is realizing when you need to let it all go. When you need that release….