Listening to 'The Celibate Life' by The Shins

Another day another dollar. Over the past few months I have been looking at my life and wondering what it is we are all trying to achieve. Sometimes I feel like we are all just whittling away the minutes until that final hour and then we will have the experience necessary to fully analyze what our waking life was about. Yesterday evening I was in a very expensive mansion surrounded by very famous and important people in a place very far away from where I call home. Still, the only thing I felt throughout was a desire to be someplace a little quieter, a little less involved with itself, someplace a little simpler. I got this strange sensation of occupying sapce within a circle which is completely self-sufficient by its own right. It's hard to explain - but just imagine a top spinning independently of any outside force, it just spins and spins, constantly being fed by a power that knows no other source but itself. I was in a place that was so insular as to almost be incestuous. I was not an observer, because that would denote a presence. Rather, I was a necessary concession to an event that was transpiring. This is not to say I was treated harshly, on the contrary the experience was rather pleasant. Again, it just made me want to go back to something that was not nearly as layered, or rather, something that was more layered and not as transparent.

So ......I just ate 6 marinated pork soft tacos from Chipotle Mexican Grill. Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick! That stuff is really good. There has got to be crack in it, right? Now I am sitting in my hotel room with my best friend and watching Braveheart on cable. Sigh. I was discussing the unique advantages of working at Barnes and Noble.
What is up with Mel Gibson? he's giving Catholics a bad name. My polish roommate here at the hotel was telling me how Catholics are kind of rare. I guess i never realized it growing up, but it only makes sense. JFK was the only Catholic president, right? I remember having a long discourse with myself during college and even early graduate school about the existence of God, a higher deity, etc. And I have heard all of the philosophical arguments against God. The whole timepiece in the desert jibe, and the turtle standing on the elephant's back or whatever. But I gotta say - On an everyday basis I believe that there is something else out there. I don't know what has inspired this whole thing - oh wait, I do. Mel Gibson. What is up with that guy?

Listening To A Long December by Counting Crows

Let it just be said that I have repeatedly risen at 6:30 AM here in Los Angeles. Not the most pleasurable feeling. I know it has only been a few days but I miss NYC. I never thought of myself as much of a homesick type of person but I am feeling it now. I think it was because it was my niece's birthday party yesterday. I knew that my family was gathering far away and that I would not be able to attend. There were times in my life when I remember hating my family, despising them even. Now I treasure spending time with them more than anything else in the world.
"I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they past...." I had a 39 year old mexican last night tell me about his life, his losses, and his loves. He told me about his young love when he was 16 years old. How that love was young and foolish and that it wasn't real love. It made me take a look at a love that i had revered for years, a love I held onto long after it was done more for dramatic affect than for any real sentiment. As we get older the things we need from love and the things we need from other people change. We find ourselves more independent, more cynical, less trusting, less vulnerable. We're just more weary overall. It makes the entire endeavor seem more and more impossible. I had a guy read my tarot cards when I was 13. I think he was like 15. I dunno, I was at some camp for the Arts or something. Anyway, the one thing that i took away from it was the guy saying that I would be tremendously successful in my life but lonely until the day I die. A little morbid, eh? Maybe that's why I am so obsessed with love/romance/etc. But I don't think it's true. First of all, where's the success. I always thought that is something were to happen in my life it would be like the Robin Williams character in Good Will Hunting. Where he is madly in love, but his wife dies of some terrible cancer. Is that morbid? Yes. I think I've always enjoyed the posture of the martyr. I don't know. 7 AM thoughts are the strangest..

Someday I will be able to simultaneously eat macaroni and cheese with hot dogs and masturbate.

Listening to Good To Me by Irma Thomas

Man-oh-man Irma Thomas is just the right thing sometimes. So.....LA......judgement is still in progress. The jury is out. I am not actively looking for something to complain about but there are some things that are what everybody complains about. The car situation for one. That's probably the worst. I'm not gonna get into it at this point. In half an hour I will be spirited off to a mansion where I will have to set up a high end bar, restaurant, etc. That should be interesting. So far I have lounged by a pool, drank too many beers, ate an incredibly large hamburger at a chain called "Island Burger" and watched some pretty crappy hotel TV. I also got to see my best friend for a couple hours, hang out with a director friend, and lounge around and talk about recent films. It all sounds so "LA" to me. Which is funny - because I have never been here before. I think it's interesting that once we are informed about a place we decide how it is stigmatized. I.E. Paris=romance, Texas = autonomy, LA = sheer solipsism. Without ever really having lived in these places we just kind of bandwagon the entire experience. Which is not to say these experiences are false, which just have to be careful about how we feel or WHAT we feel I suppose. I think the same goes for relationships. After the first time we fall in love we are constantly looking for the same ground we covered before. The familiar markings, paths, trees, hillsides of the landscape that made us feel so impassioned originally. But shouldn't every great love, if we are capable of more than one, be more uncharted territory? Shouldn't each person we grant our heart do show us something different about love, life, ourselves? I don't know. It sounds so difficult, and nearly impossible to expect someone to completely turn your world around. I would like to believe that it could happen. Hope all is well in New York. I miss it.

Listening to Shake Your Tailfeathers by Ray Charles

Whew! Can you say hungover? I mean Hung - Over! Remember that entire conversation we had about trains this past weekend? Well, now I am on a plane that is Los Angeles bound. I am about to begin a work week for my posh upscale bar that includes a very private very confidential oscar party. Since this is a public blog, and they’re making me sign a confidentiality agreement, I think it is important that we establish the fact that if you want any dirt that may or may not happen you will have to contact me via the phone or in person. Sorry.
Can we also talk about JetBlue for a minute? Who’s better than JB? Nobody. Blue chips? Awesome.
I am excited about this whole thing. Never been to Cali. I am excited to see what it will be like. My friend Susie was all “Don’t have any expectations.” My friend Alex was all like “Have expectations.” Haha. What’s a man to do with all this wonderful female attention?
So I guess I am somewhere in the middle. I will allow myself to experience whatever may occur without allowing myself to succumb to my more self-analytical tendencies. How does that sound? After all, whenever I go on a trip for leisure or whatever I always tend to suspend the enjoyment on a primal level and examine everything. This time around I think I may just be a little bit of a fuck-up and do what I feel. I mean, come on, the hotel has a pool! A mother-effin’ pool.
Drunk drunk drunk last night. Not super drunk, but enough to think that smoking a Newport was a good idea. When did I become a 60 year old woman? CURSE YOU SEAGRAM’S SEVEN.

This morning I got paid $ 250.00 American to say "I Will Kill You" in a vaguely hispanic voice approximately 58 times. I played a sinister coconut. It was a T-Mobile spot that will air by the end of the month.
To quote my very dear friend Dan:
"THE THEATRE! ACTING! "
sigh.

Listening to: Is This Love? By Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Okay, okay so maybe I missed the boat with the whole Clap Your Hands thing but I am all aboard now. They're awesome!
Two fortune cookies tonight. One said "You have a natural grace and great consideration for others." The other says "You will soon gain something you have always wanted." goody goody. Guess I will have to keep you posted.
I booked my first national spot on Friday. I know that in my last post I said something about feeling like a sham. Well you know what ? - not so much anymore. Not that the voice of a coconut in a t-mobile commercial is a huge artistic opus. But it is something that I can point at and say "Hear that? That coconut is...me....I.....or whatever. I am that coconut."
Very exciting stuff.
Went to my little nephew's baptism this weekend. He has Down Syndrome. He is about 1.5 now. And probably the sweetest kid I have ever seen at his age. As you would think with his condition, his mental growth is impeded a little. He only recently started walking with some sort of apparatus with wheels. But he only really cries when he is hungry or in real pain or needs to be changed. Other than that he is more than happy to be passed around from family member to family member.
There were some real highlights to the weekend. Of course, seeing my niece and and nephews was wonderful. I also got to witness what appeared to be genuine friendship if not affection between my normally abrasive folks. I got to beat my oldest brother at pool - which is always precious real estate in future exchanges. I was on the recceiving end of my usually stoic middle brother's realtonship problems. Turns out he is a pretty lonely soul that is fed up with his options in North Carolina. I also got to see my wonderful saint-like Grandmother. I know everybody says that, but I have never met a Grandma that held a candle to mine. I had some chocolate chip ice cream, some Rhode Island Weenies, a couple of clam cakes and a buffalo chicken tender or two. It always takes me at least a week to get my gut back on track after a family outing in the Ocean State.
I'd also like to say something about my Uncle's Homily at the baptism. You see, he's a Catholic priest and my Godfather. Basically, I got an automatic in at the pearly gates. But he remarked on the fact that no matter how hard you plan, every child requires a different set of needs and cares. He likened my niece and older nephew to my two older brothers. Saying that once you have two kids you believe you have really seen it all. But then he spoke about how my youngest nephew and I represented our own unique set of problems. Now, those of you out there with darker inclinations will undoubtedly be forming some sort of ill-formed joke about me and my Down's nephew, but what my uncle said really rang true with me.
We all try to extrapolate general meaning from our everyday existence. We try to create newer and broader generalizations after more and more specific data happens to us. Of course, inevitable patterns emerge, but everything and everyone is different and each application of a hypothesis takes a certain amount of delicacy. Every person has value and weight and merit. It's up to us to choose to see it or not. There is something to be learned from everybody. Even the people we can't stand to be around. Perhaps that is where we learn the most.
As for the fortune cookies....I have always been obsessed with luck, chance, fortune, fate, etc. The past two years has been the only period in my life where I haven't wished upon stars, looked for signs, read my horoscope, etc. I am not superstitious but I have never completely discounted that sort of thing either. When I was a child I wished on a star nightly. I would make sure that I would pull open my drapes to our front yard (My room was on the second floor) overlooking our beech nut trees and I would scan the night sky for the first star I could see. Up in Rhode Island this weekend my brothers and I left a bar and I looked up and saw stars stretch for miles and miles and miles. It took my breath away. I had forgotten about them. For two years I forgot. And maybe there's something to that. Maybe the dreams that people have in the suburbs aren't as lofty as they are in the city. And because they are a little more obtainable the stars are a little bit more visible. Or maybe vice versa. Either way, the city is a hard place to make your dreams come true, and it is an even harder place to see the stars at night. I can't help but think that those two things go hand in hand.
Some wonderful people were in my bar in Brooklyn tonight. They were all making merry, clapping each other on the back, smiling and laughing, looking each other in the eye and artfully giving one another a good ribbing. I noticed that none of the camaraderie that I hold so dear at my shitty little blue collar bar ever takes place in my other high end bar. It's a sad thing. That we try so hard to get away from the parts of ourselves that let us truly enjoy ourselves. I took this job to really confront some things about me I didn't like. My animosity against undeserved wealth for one.
I haven't made a bit of difference at all. I am still the resentful person I was when I took the job. I have never understood the rationale behind dehumanizing another person or simply not treating them with the respect that every human being deserves from the outright beginning. How people manage to take themselves so seriously I will never know. Life is meant for laughter and deep feeling. It shouldn't be lived by holding up a mirror to someone you think you should be like and comparing yourself to that reflection. That's the echo of a life. Not the real thing.
One of my favorite quotes is by George Bernard Shaw.
He said "The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

Listening to Details of The War by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Do you wanna know what one of the greatest benefits to being an actor is?
Sucking. Just totally bombing. Going into a room and absolutely embarrassing the shit out of yourself. Taking all you got, parading it in front of people, and having them humiliate you. It’s because it’s ART. And there is such a confluence of factors informing every aspect of the endeavor. What you ate that morning, if you look like a casting directors high school sweetheart, the size of your nose. A million little things. Of course, these things can inform other employment opportunities, but not nearly to the extent that they do in acting.
I had to tell a room full of New Jersey college students yesterday what it was like to be a “working” actor. HA! Imagine that. I got to call myself a working actor. I’m not lying, but it still feels like a sham. I wish I could have flashed them forward 8 hours from my class and shown them bartending for a room full of unhappy douchebags. And told them what I have to do for my “Art.” they could have given a fuck. I think that we forget, after leaving school, that we allow ourselves to specialized every aspect of our lives. Our career, our friends, our apartments, our interactions. Especially in New York City. We have to create such an insular world as a defense against the things that could threaten to tear us down. So we surrounded ourselves with like-minded people with like-minded interests. I am not accusing anyone of small-mindedness. It’s just the way it is. Back in school everything is so general that it gets as boring as shit. Like Western Civ sophomore year in High School. I had to learn how minstrels spread the vernacular and what the Tennis Court Pact was about or some shit. What the fuck is that? How did I not commit suicide. Girls I guess. Fuck, I was a horny little dude.
Oh, before I forget, I just want to add that my friend Chastity told me that bartending isn’t a job. Well, it’s better than nothing, eh Chastity?
I mean I was a really horny little dude. I had a camp counselor call me Hormone Boy for a while. He would yell it out like a super-hero title “Hooooooorrrrmoooooone Booooooy.” I always got a kick out of that. There were just years and years of inexplicable boners. They arose at every occasion. I don’t think that women experience this like we do. Maybe in their early thirties, but definitely as acutely and as powerfully as we do from 13 to 18. God. It was bad. Not bad bad. But bad good. You know?
So what happens as we get older? Do we just sort of lose interest? Do all of our libidos slowly flag to the point of weakness? Is all pussy the same? Well........yes.
I mean - I gotta be honest. Now before we go getting out of control, let me qualify that statement. The sex act can be elevated by many different things. Like, for instance, new pussy. I suppose I should stop using that word, huh. Okay “P.” We’ll call it “P.” So this ability to elevate “P” to new levels is multi-formed. There are the lovers, fetishists, perverts, there are people that hold out, there are the solipsists (masturbators), the multi-partner incapable of love folks (I think we all know a couple of those).
What I am interested in discussing are the lovers and the people incapable of experiencing loves. I got this friend, let’s call her “M.” No - it’s not you Maggie. She has had sex with a lot of people. A lot. She had sex with me. I put it that way b/c I definitely was not in control of the situation. Well....not entirely true. You see, I knew that “M” wanted to get it on and as a single man I am more than willing to be accommodating. Here’s the deal -when it time to do the deed, this larger than life, blustery, loud, boisterous lioness turned into this quiet little kitten. I found this remarkably sweet and endearing. “M” had gone from Mastodon to Mouse. And no - that wasn’t a commentary on her weight. She had a perfectly nice body. Since that time she has continually bedded many different men on multiple occasions and I have gone to get tested for STDs. I’m clean, thanks for asking. Maybe the fact that she is, in reality, this delicate person searching for comfort is directly tied to the fact that she has a machine gun approach to sex. She is unable to show vulnerability in real life so she has to seduce men to allow herself to expose her true self. She has an inability to remain faithful as well. Did I mention that? It should be noted that we never dated. I knew very well what it was I was getting into (pun intended) and was wary of any long-term commitment. We have spoken of it since. “M” says “I am a cheater. I say “You never cheated on me.” She says “You weren’t around long enough.”

So now let’s jump to the other side. The person willing to be absolutely vulnerable over and over again. Well call this guy....er....person “B” for arguments sake. Let’s say that “B” realizes that it takes him approximately twice as long to get over somebody as it did for the period of their dating. We’ll say that he is continually willing to be open and vulnerable in real life - offer emotions, support, strength, love, but when it comes to the sack itself can be something of a technician. Not to say that he isn’t emotionally involved, but that he sees the experience as the means by which he could make the other person happy. Not necessarily being greedy enough to take what he needs at that moment. Do you see what I am saying? “M” pents all that shit up for so long that when she becomes intimate it is a very hungry consuming experience. When “B” gets into a sex situation he wants to make sure the other person feels good enough that he doesn’t always think of himself. There should be a balance, right? In it’s purest form, the ideal, the Karma Sutravesty of it all, a relationship should be a symbiotic relationship. I’ve only had that happen a couple of times and “B” says the same about his experiences. But that is what makes love love. If we fell in love everyday what would be the point.
I think that we have to make an examination of who we are and what we allow ourselves to show other people and then ask ourselves if we are ready to unburden ourselves. Who we are when we are around that person is the person we want to be. We should love someone that shows us what it means to love ourselves. Because, let’s face it, all of us deal with a fair amount of self-loathing. And if you don’t then You’re Warren Beatty or some shit. Don’t think that doubt disappears with success. If anything it just becomes more acute. A partner should remind us why we are capable of being loved.
That being said, I wish “B” the best on his soul journey. Should he find that special partner that elicits a connection beyond his technical ability to inspire orgasm in his partners then he would have truly found someone worth hanging onto.
As for myself, I think I am going to turn over a new leaf. I think I might have to embark on a short journey of misogyny. I don’t hate women outright. But i have recently developed a strange dislike for their behavior. I treasure my female friends but as for the clumsy dance of courtship, I am not a big fan of women’s ways. Maybe this whole depth-seeking approach has yielded no fruit b/c I’ve allowed myself to become the thing that men and women disdain equally : a whiny little bitch.
So, from that perspective I think it may be important to simply emptily objectify women in as 1-dimensional a way as possible. Use them for sex. Wake up in the morning and go home. Maybe Chastity was right. Maybe it isn’t worth the hurt.

Listening to: The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

On a train speeding north towards Rhode Island. What is it about the temporal reality of trains that lends itself to romanticism? Planes - not a whole lot of romance, buses even less, cars? Eh. But trains? Look at the cliches. The waiting platform as the train pulls away. An unknown destination. Will the lovers ever meet again?
Nope.
Hey - it’s my movie.
So anyway - temporal realities. Transitions. A plane suspends time whereas a train allows you to experience time as it thunders past. A plane is a reprieve, an elevation while a train places you in the center of the action. I’m not saying that there isn’t a certain romantic aspect to departure, returning, etc. But a train let’s you dwell on the fact that things are passing you by. Planes only let you have some peanuts. Maybe.
Best plane scene: Say Anything. 3...2....1 Credits. Genius.
Best train scene: Top Secret. “What did you ask him?”
“ If his daughter was 16.” Also genius.

Listening To: Neverending Math Equation by Sun Kil Moon

There were several moments yesterday when I thought about seriously putting down this whole blog thing. I sometimes feel like it does me more ill than good. During several conversations with different people I realized that I was not over somebody that i thought I was. Since that moment of realization I have decided to simply move on with my mind and wait for my heart to catch up. I also asked for my book of Andre Dubus short stories back. There's an excerpt from a story she never read that I would like to post for all of you.
There's only so much we can ask someone to care for us and then the rest is just letting go. Sometimes, well, most the time we never get a response. It is the moment when the feeling is returned that we know we have found something worth holding onto. After critically examining my past relationships I have figured out that it takes me approximately twice as long as the infatuation/relationship itself to get over someone. I am, of course, talking about significant relationships. All the times I have woke up in strange beds, made out in bathrooms, squinted against the dawn as I tried to puzzle my way home are simply stops on a journey toward someone and something that is a lot more meaningful. If I never get to that destination then I will know that it was everyone in it that made the travel worth it.
I had an ex-girlfriend liken love and relationships to a ship sailing down a river. Sometimes people from the bank swim out to the ship and join for certain periods of time. Often they disappear and sometimes they reappear to take the journey with you. People wave at you from the banks,stormy seas, flooding, etc. I don't think that it is the strongest analogy, but it is something that has stayed with me for several years. 10. Could it be ten years? Wow.
And it is these oddities that become the hallmark of love and remembrance. These little anomalous details that seem so trivial and banal to other people, but mean the most to you. I found a poem I wrote 8 years ago around this time. It seems interesting to me that so much can change in 8 years and yet so much stays the same. Yesterday's entry was Pablo Neruda. Today's mine. Obviously, there is no comparison. But I thought it would be a good companion piece. And more importantly, maybe something that could help me close the door on certain aspects of my life that I would prefer to have closed. So, without further ado:

Untitled

Not feeling any need to call
I thought of her last night.
A black dress, a sunflower, a picture frame, a porcelain shoulder.
These things all decaying,
Blurring at the edges,
Wavering from a heat far away.

Now I ache to dance
In the middle of a fire
Scattering ashes with my bare feet
Throwing embers into the twisting wind.

I can write the saddest verses tonight.
Write, for example: "The night sky is full of stars,
And far away, blue, celestial bodies tremble".
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she also loved me.
Through nights like tonight I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, and sometimes I also loved her.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
I can write the saddest verses tonight.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I lost her.
To hear the immense night, even more immeasurable without her.
And the verse falls to the soul as dew to the pasture.
It does not matter that my love could not keep her.
The night sky is full of stars, and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone sings. In the distance.
My soul cannot be relieved now that I lost her.
My eyes search for her, trying to bring her close to me.
My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.
The same night, whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, it is true, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to caress her hearing.
Another's. She must belong to someone else, just as she belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, it is true, but maybe I still love her.
Love is so short, and forgetting takes so long.
Because through nights like tonight I held her in my arms,
My soul cannot be relieved now that I lost her.
Even when this is the last pain she causes me
And these are the last verses that I write about her.

POEMA VEINTE
Pablo Neruda

Listening to: I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen


I had a lousy day today. No rhyme or reason. Probably drank too much this weekend, stayed up too late chatting. Who knows? Just a lousy day. I had a class for some voice over shit. I blew my copy. Or my copy blew. That sucked. I hosted a comedy show. I was not funny. That blew. Admittedly, it was not my job to be funny. Just a lousy day. Had a nice long critical look at myself. Didn't like what I saw. Just a lousy day. It's Valentine's Day Eve. Nobody. Lousy. Day.
It occured to me after a couple of conversations today that maybe it is time to throw the proverbial hat in. I don't even feel like talking or typing or anything. I thought this would make me feel better but all it's doing is making me feel worse.
I walked a Japanese couple 3 blocks out of my way because they were looking for a vintage clothing store. I gave a young girl a dollar because she said she needed seventy-five cents to make a phone call. Everyday I do these stupid little things. I think it is because I am inherently selfish and I think all of this karma is just building up somewhere. But it isn't. Sigh.
I don't know why I always feel like going to my Grandma's house when I get like this. I think it's because nothing was ever really wrong there. Dolores. That's my Grandma's name. She makes a killer soup, has a heavy french candadian accent, loves the Celtics and the Red Sox, sings in her church choir, and she prays for me. Ain't that a hoot! She prays to Saint Anthony that I will find whatever it is I am looking for. Saint Anthony is the patron saint of lost objects. St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. Whatever.
I try not to be too critical of myself but self-analysis and self-criticism is something I have always gravitated towards. I never wanted to hurt anyone or make anyone feel ostracized. Where am I going with this? I don't know. Tonight was just one of those nights when I did not want to be in New York. I want to be as far away from this place as possible. Unfortunately, that is not an option right now.
I'm going to bed. I feel like I can quiet all these voices there.
Last night's dream: I had to write an essay on the entire Lord of The Rings Trilogy. Post-apocolyptic futuristic New York City. Fast stream-lined cars, Ogres and the like. Graduate school professor yelling at me. A pervasive cold feeling. There was more but it escapes me.
Goodnight.

Listening to: South Central Rain by Hem


Today's best quote "Part of the blessing of having not being married or with someone for a long period of time when you're 27 is the fact that you will have a lot of baggage. And the process of somebody getting to know you will be you having to sort through that baggage. "
I just had a friend philosophize on the practical existence of the romantic in today's society. Her implication was that the likelihood is slim to none. Sigh. It should be taken into account that she recently ended a relationship that she had devoted a lot of time, energy, and emotion into. Apart from a few semantical obligations with words, it seemed pretty good.
Maybe she's right. Maybe the chance of actual romantic love occurring is so slim that we should all cultivate ways of finding better cups of coffees, upgrading our Netflix ratings, and deciding where we are going to have dinner that night. All of these simple things we do anyway but it would without the burden of that other person always weighing on our minds.
Romantics are not unrealistic. We recognize that all relationships take work. It's isn't a simple "click." Well, maybe at first. But all of the relationships that are the classic example of romantics had some pretty fucked up circumstances that both parties had to work through. Romeo and Juliet, Harold and Maude, Sid and Nancy, Michael and Bubbles. The key was what made them stay together. That was the key. What was that thing? Love. Pure and simple. To say that romantics are self-saboteurs is to approach fucking sacrilege as far this blog is concerned.
Everybody has best friends that they are willing to lay their life down for. Who is to say that the person you end up loving and being with is not just the same thing except you get sex as a bonus. My closest friends are blessings in my life. As is my family. You know what? Any love-relationship that doesn't meet the expectations I have isn't worth pursuing. Who I am and what I want are completely under my power. And if I end up holding false hope for the entirety of my life than I am confident that I will die the most noble fool in the history of mankind.
When it comes to relationships settling is for rocks.
Don't think that I haven't had my doubts. There were nights when I wanted to set all these question afloat, to watch them drift like dark balloons into the night sky, never to hear from them again. There have been times when I was so hurt and lovesick I wanted to purge myself of all the needs and desires I felt welling up from the person I loved/missed/hated/desired/envied/yearned for. It's all part of it. And you worry "Was that it?" Will I ever be able to do it again. But you can and you will. When relationships end you can look back and recognize the difficulties you experienced. You can categorize it and dissect it but sometimes that doesn't help. Time. Only time can re-establish that hope. I have been around people long enough to see them time and time again be willing to approach that flame with the risk of being burned.
As for the nobility of the romantic, when you decide to love again, and you let that person in, you risk being hurt more than anyone in any "non-romantic" relationship. How much more painful is it to hear a criticism from a best friend or family member than it is a complete stranger? Now imagine a person who knows you better than anyone else, who knows the most intimate minutiae of yours hopes, dreams, fears, insecurities, etc. To give love a chance is to risk the noblest of things. Yourself.

Listening to: Radiation Vibe by Fountains of Wayne

Still Tired. Bet you're sick of hearing that. Went out last night with a bunch of guys that I did a children's show with about a year ago. My friend jess was wasted! And my brother and his wife showed up. that was nice. Nothing to really talk about there. I think Saturday was a little bit different. Me and my roomie went to dinner at the Soho House with my brother and his wife. We had a bottle of champagne, a couple bottles of white, lamb, tuna, monkfish, mozzarella.....the whole 9. It was very good. I ended up going with my roommate to meet up with her new beau at this place called Uncle Ming's in the East Village. New York was just beautiful last night. Even the herd of badly dancing NYUers couldn't kill my buzz. We basically closed the place down and Kristina stayed with her new guy and I hoofed it back to the subway. Getting a cab was a fucking joke last night. I came home drunk, stripped, and proceeded to chat until about 6 am whereupon I promptly passed out. When I opened my eyes this morning my computer was neatly placed on my chair. My chat window was open still and there was like a half hour where I didn't say anything. Oops.
Oh - so get this. The first thing I receive this morning at 10 am is a text message from the kiss on the cheek girl. It's all like "Enjoying the snow day?" I wasn't that angry this time. Nor even confused. Just sort of....well.....disappointed. I mean enough is enough, right? Who do you think I am? Whatever.
So I worked today. My best friend called again. More problems with his current girlfriend. He was asking me for advice. I think he is getting tired of the cyclical nature of his relationships. I understand where he's coming from. i mean, he is my mother-fucking best friend. Someone said to me at the bar today "I think every guy eventually comes to that realization." She was referring to the fact that I said I wasn't going to take my next relationship lightly. That I am waiting for something that is worth waiting for, if that makes any sense. It is also the reason that I HAVEN'T BEEN LAID SINCE AUGUST!!!!!
But who's counting (5 months, 13 days, 23 hours, seven minutes).
My best friend sees that the women he dates are worthy of receiving love, he is just incapable of giving it to them. And that almost always makes them want to stay with him. I told him he should try pursuing somebody. Find someone that you think is really incredible and go after them. Of course, it's not always that easy. I think for something long term to work out there has to be a balance of desire and need from both sides. It may not be the same thing that each side needs, but the level of it has to be the same. And it can't just be money. We always find ourselves running from the people that are running towards us, and running towards the people that are running away. Why is that? What is it about someone else that repels us when they tell us that we are worthy of their love. Is it because in our heart of hearts we know what disgusting animals we really are? That we can so conveniently reflect on the wreckage of past relationships as if they were yesterday? But is that a reason not to try and pursue it anyway? Who are these people with perfect relationships? Where are they? They don't exist. Everything needs a little work, but I am not going to start off with a real fix-me-up of a girlfriend. Okay okay I'm boring myself.
I ordered chinese food. I know I know. Foreign Fast Food. But I love it
Especially the spicy mustard.
That's the best.
Okay, not bored anymore. There's something lyrical and just that sings in everyone's heart. It's a thing that becomes more wilted and crumpled the more you try to explain it or put it into words. You can express it sometimes, but usually it is through song or dance or movement. That is the thing that stands up and sings when you meet the person that you will fall in love with. Some people find it once in their lifetime, some people more. Some people never find it. They are in love with other people, but that love achieves a kind of pragmatism that is beautiful in it's own way. I am not saying that one is better than another, I just think that different people belong to different camps. I happen to subscribe to the former, wishing upon a star, starry-eyed, Nora Ephron school of thought. But that's just me.
My other two best friends Casey and Megan are going to get married this summer. They are inviting my high school sweetheart to the wedding. There were years when I thought the sun and the moon rose and fell for this girl. Even after we had broken up. She was the one that taught me what love, infatuation, need, adoration, happiness, sex, etc was all about. You know- first cut is the deepest and all that. I think that by the time I got over her my friends were so sick of hearing me talk about her that they would have gladly killed me to put me out of my misery.
Youth!
And now that I'm older? I dunno how much I have learned. I think that I am still willing to get burned. I think that as you get older you just become less content with the interactions that were passable in, say, college. A lot of those relationships you knew weren't going to be final or ultimate but that didn't make you hesitate. These days I just don't have the time or the energy to waste on anyone that I won't think will be extraordinary.
My sister-in-law was telling me that my mother told her that she (my Ma) and my Pop are getting along better than they ever have. I took a lot of solace in that. I mean, 36 years is a long ass time. Just the fact that they are still together is an impressive enough feat. But for them to be happy again - well I find that very satisfying.

Listening to: Open The Door To Your Heart by Darrell Banks

get it here: http://www.melingo.com/thesoulnet/banks.htm

So...I slept today. I deserved it. i feel like this passt week has been very busy and I capped it with a very rewarding night. Yesterday morning i recorded that voiceover and then had a 4 o'clock meeting about LA. It was more of the same."You'll be working your ass off, blah blah, blah." I fly out on the 22nd. Don't worry true believers, the computer will come with me. After the meeting I went to this place called the Bourgeois Pig on 7th Street between 1st and A. Very small very intimate.



Also, their bottles of wine are half price at happy hour. Which means you can get very drunk for very cheap. Always a big plus with me. Why was I there, you ask? I had a date. How did it go, you ask? Well....
No -that's my answer. Well.
I would consider anything that wasn't completely a bomb as something that went well. It was nice, we had a nice chat, talked about many comon interests. We left and said "we should do do this again sometime." I don't know. If somebody ocupies that middle ground between spectacular and comple wreck on a date do you pursue it? I'll have to think about it more.
After that I had managed to wrangle my friend Sarah into going to the Hem concert at the Allen Room with me. Holy Shit! The Allen room is one of the most beautiful places in NYC. The backdrop of the stage is this two-story high all window arrangment that looks over Columbus circle and Central Park from six-stories up. You could see all the way down 59th street.



Hem was excellent. I still have a major crush on the lead singer. And the xylophonist. Like - the crush on the lead singer is more like sexy lady crush while the crush on the xylophonist is more like mousy librarian quiet girl crush. However, were the two to appoach me in a group setting, I don't thing I would decline the invitation.

After the show Sarah and I went to Planet Thai and may or may not have had too much Hibachi, Sushi, Miso Soup, Calamari, and Steamed Mussels. We finish, start walking home to burn off that FULL FULL FULL feeling and I get a message that Drew and Nick are at Spike Hill. We stop in, I have a bourbon and RX chit-chat, head home, try to IM my friend, get no response, and pass out around 1 am. I am still tired. But more rested than before.

Now, why do I relate this string of seemingly inconsequential occurrences? Because it was a nice fucking day. Nothing went wrong, nothing was spectacular. It was just a pleasant way to end a week of otherwise severe busyness.
Actually, I stopped into some ubiquitous no-name bar on Avenue A for a quick pint of Guiness on my way up to Lincoln Center and I saw this relatively harmless 40-something year old guy chatting with some relatively harmless 20-something year old bartender and all I could think was 'rookie.' They were talking about cats. How they're "perfect city pets." I feel like all people want to talk about these days are cats. I downed my Guiness, barreled out the door and realized that I was the "mysterious one drink guy."
Now, the one-drink-guy (or gal - no gender biases here thankyouverymuch) is that romantic, enigmatic, figure that many of us run into at bars on a weekly basis. We might not see them, and the reason for their one drink may be of little import. But there's always a quality of mystery about them. It operates for one major reason - who stops into a bar for one drink by themselves? Honestly? Who does it? Think about it. Drunks stay. People meeting friends with other plans who stop in for one drink always seem lame or whipped. But the one drink folks? Always strange and anomalous. I had an older black guy stop into a bar I was working on the lower east side one night. He comes in. The bar's empty. I say the usual "HowyadoinwhatcanIgetforyou?" He says "Not well. Double Jack neat." I pour his drink, take the payment, turn around with his change. Front door closes, empty shot glass on the bar. Now my Guiness wasn't that dramatic,. but what was up with that guy? Some fucked up shit I tell you. Anyway - just something you should know. Maybe I will begin another blog caled "overheard at the bar." Heh. That'd be funny. One of my favorite quotes from the SoSo House? Mid-thirty husband hunting woman at the bar "Yeah - he seems great. But how big is his boat?" Cue long shallow laughter. Sigh.

Listening to: Sailing By Night by Department of Eagles

I am tired. Beyond tired. I am exhausted. I had to record a voice over for this company that sets up exhibits for large expositions, etc. It was all word pairings. I had to say shit like "Form"......"Function"......"Big"....."Small." It took less than an hour and I got paid 250.00 dollars american. Well, I haven't been paid yet, but soon enough. I went out to lunch with my friend Jess. We were discussing, as has been a popular topic with me later, the benefits and social implications of chatting with someone online. From there the discussion naturally led to relationships (another favorite topic of mine, as I'm sure all of you know) and Jess presented me with her theory on the penultimate relationship. The idea begins with the notion that at some point everyone dates somebody exactly like them before they date the person they are meant to be with. Everyone thinks this is a good idea, but then soon finds out it is not a wise decision whatsoever. I am not sure why it is not a wise decision. I mean, I know in theory, but I am not sure if I know in practice. Like, every pot has a lid, right? Which implies that we all need someone to compliment the aspects of our personality that necessitate massaging or the like. But I would imagine that you would find out pretty quickly if you love someone what it is exactly that they need. And that, perhaps, is the danger inherent in dating someone exactly like you - they recognize what they need to survive because they can see it so plainly in your behavior. And let's face it, the person who is the worst at analyzing your tendencies is yourself. Our friends are always pointing out our negative tendencies and helping us in recognizing patterns but we can pretty consistently stop ourselves from recognizing our own negative behavior.
Anyway, once the person that is so similar to you recognizes your negative tendencies (which they are very familiar with because they act the same way) can then withhold whatever it is you may need - in my case positive reinforcement, immediate recognition or thanks for tasks accomplished, aesthetic reassurance, affection, and kindness. Whereas, maybe a person that is the complete opposite of you will help to give you exactly what it is you need because they are inherently good at providing what it is. I.E it is part of their nature and it is not possible for them to act any other way. But then that would assume that the person that is exactly like you is unable to provide to others what it is they need. You know what? I disagree with that. If anything, because of my weaknesses I am very proactive about making sure people get treated the way I would like to get treated.
It's obviously a pretty complicated theory. I haven't fully worked it out. And I am trying to fit past relationships into the paradigm and they just won't be accommodating. My interest in it springs from a conversation I was having with a friend about their eharmony profile. Go ahead laugh. No really - it's pretty funny. Apparently, they don't let gay members join which angers me quite a bit.
Anyway, the point of pride in the eharmony model is their personality analysis. Well this friend and I were comparing notes about our personality profile and our compatibility profile (not to each other, silly - though I think that thought is a little unavoidable when dealing with your own computer generated projected desires) to determine how close the analysis was. It was kind of like reading a horoscope. I mean, all the qualities they described I felt like were things that anyone would want in a partner. Maybe I'm not giving the website enough credit. I mean, their commercials have evidently brought together a lot of unattractive people. But every time my friend read one of her descriptions for what she, according to eharmony, wanted in a partner I felt like "Hey, that's just like me!" which means one of 4 things: 1. Eharmony just writes empty analysis to which we could all adhere or 2. I have a really warped and egocentric view of myself or 3. My friend and I are a perfect match or 4. Some bizarre mix of the three. If I was a betting man I would go with 2. As for my personality profile it was less than complimentary. Actually...you know what? I'll just post it:
So this is what it says about me. I left in the topic headings for easy comprehension.

You may want:
A friendly, favorable social environment.
Acceptance in a variety of groups.
Time and opportunity to weigh pros and cons of decisions.
An environment free from conflict or hostility.
Many and varied activities.
Popularity.
Peace and harmony.
A predictable environment with few surprises that are not "planned."
Sound relationships which form naturally, and are not contriving or scheming.
Equal relations with others.
Recognition of skills and ability.
A support system to help you get things done.

So that was from the needs section. Now I need your help. Isn't this what everyone wants? Am I a moron? Am I really this needy. Admittedly - this is the needs section. Now, as a favor to my obvious need for "popularity" I will post some of my strengths:

Following are some of the specific strengths and/or personal characteristics that you bring to a relationship. These may form the foundations of many of your friendships and dealings with other people. Some will seem obvious, but you may be surprised by others. Take a moment to reflect on each and consider what role it may have played in your past successes, and even failures.

You are usually enthusiastic about activities and planning.
You are passionate about your ideals.
You are optimistic and tend to make others feel good about themselves.
You are a big thinker with big plans and a big image that usually carries through.
You tend to approach problems in a creative way.
You like to resolve issues well the first time, and then move on.
You don't get bogged down when the going gets tough in a relationship.
You meet new people easily and are good at making them feel welcome.
You tend to be self-reliant and not enjoy relying solely on others.
You tend to give others a sense of self-reliance and strength in a relationship.

So those are pretty good things, eh? So do you want to hear what this Dr. Phil rip-off says that I am looking for in a mate? Too bad - I'm gonna post it anyway.

No person can be fully described or defined by a few short sentences. However, here are several of the most important characteristics revealed by your eHarmony Compatibility Profile that you should keep in mind as you search for your ideal mate:

Some of your ideal mate's strongest personality characteristics are:

She is very caring, compassionate and sensitive towards the needs of others.
She is always a very loyal and reliable friend.
When necessary, she can take charge and organize others.
She has a strong intellect.

Some important qualities that your ideal partner brings to the relationship are:
She tends to be lighthearted and shares your humorous view of the world.
Her friends all appreciate her ability to make people laugh on occasion.
Even when something bothers her she tends to be even tempered.

Even when things get bad, she can usually appreciate the good things life has to offer.
Important goals and values for your ideal mate in a relationship are:

She enjoys looking her best.
She has a great sense of style.
She shares you attitudes regarding sex.
She has a sensual side that can be brought out by the right person or situation.

Do you see what I mean? I mean who doesn't want these things? Do you really think I want a dumb, terribly dressed, unreliable, dumpy whore-bag that doesn't like to give it up? I mean really! I guess that's a bit of a contradiction. The whore-bag/not giving it up part I mean. Maybe I meant doesn't like to give it up to me - just to everybody else.

Mom?

Side note: Still have not found anyone to go to the concert with me tonight. Sigh. I will just go alone. I also have a date at 5:30. I went to bed at 6 am, was up at 9 am , recorded a voiceover at 10, had lunch, am now about to embark on a nap, have a meeting at 4, a drink/date at 5:30, concert at 8:30 and then home again. I need a day off to do nothing.
And see - this is why it would be nice to have somebody (eharmony approved or not). I could just come home, crawl into bed with them, have a quickie and then pop off to sleep. And I wouldn't waste so much energy on asking dumb questions about eharmony. Whatever.
Another quick note: If you want to hear the best song from 2005 it's called Glenn Tipton by Sun Kil Moon. If you want to hear the best super secret song to give to your lover on Valentine's Day it's called "Lord, If I Ever Needed Someone" by Van Morrison. If you want someone to save your soul you have to check out "Big Mama" Thornton singing 'I Feel The Way I Feel." 'Big Mama' and Van are pictured below.

Alright - nap time.

So I finished my shoot this morning. I was a forensics dude for the cops. I got to look at puppets and their insides. It was pretty funny. I don't tend to gravitate towrds empty materialism but I think that I am going to get one of those Razor phones. They're awesome!

I also got a haircut and bought the damn razor. Now I have to be off to work around 8 but not before making an enormous ceasar salad.

Listening to: New Hampshire by Matt Pond PA
As I looked over my other posting I feel like I may have been a little....well.....angry. So, as a solution to my unfounded guilt I thought I would write a short list of things that make me happy.
Black v-neck tee-shirts. Beef Jerky. Bull Dogs. Van Morrison. Nighttime. Clean Sheets. Otis Redding.
Okay this is gay. I'm stopping.
My buddies made a pilot episode of this show called puppet rapist. It's on a website called channel102.net You should check it out. I'll be in episode 2 playing the coroner. It shoots tomorrow so i should be getting my beauty rest. Unfortunately I am awake and typing in this blog. just postponing my eventual self-abuse. Sigh. So this is what life becomes.

Listening to currently: The Late Show by Jackson Browne

I need a dog. It really has reached a point of critical mass.
I have this woman in my life, there are several more important ones really, but let's just focus on this one for the moment. We had a bit of a romantic interlude which came to a crashing halt when we were in the middle of a drunken sojourn through the pre-dawn streets of New York and she told me that she had a boyfriend. Nothing had occurred between us until that point, which I think only fed my desire. She appeared, at first, to have all of the qualities that I find attractive in a woman: 1. She seemed interested - always a really big one with me. 2. She's kind, considerate, intelligent, well read, cultured, has a good sense of style....I mean a lot of things that really get my engine running. To make a long story short, she ended up kind of leading me on and then sort of leading me astray and then quasi leading me off a cliff. All fine. I accept my punishment for poor relationship reconnaissance. However, since this happened about 5 months ago we have reached this strange plateau of friendship that doesn't suit me at all.
I guess I should put it out there that I work with her also. So there aren't a lot of free moments conducive to sharing my feelings with her, hurt or otherwise. Nonetheless, whenever we do interact I look her square in the eye and she laughs and I laugh and I think to myself " You (meaning her) really fucked up." Listen, we get to a point in our adult lives where we have to be honest with ourselves. We have to acknowledge that we are inherently desirable. It's not an egotistical thing and this is not to say that we are invulnerable to depression or low self-esteem, but it is silly to hold onto insecurities that you know are incorrect. So during our interactions I know that she feels the same way that I do. That there is something more powerful than what she can describe and I know that in her heart of hearts she knows she fucked up. That I was someone worth risking a lot for. And if she wasn't going to make that leap then there is someone else out there that will be lucky enough to have me. I feel like those last few lines are something my Mom would say to cheer me up....
Anyway, this brings us to tonight's events. I am not a gratuitous affection giver. If I like someone I will pat them on their back or rub their shoulder, etc. But I am not a cheek kisser unless it's family or a close female friend. So tonight, this girl, the one that fucked up, who I tactfully try to avoid at work, stops me and says "Hey, I haven't seen you in a long time!" and goes in for the cheek kiss.
You know what?
Spare me.
Spare me out the mother-fucking door. Don't do me any favors. I'm not your friend. This ain't no fucking bistro in the middle of Paris. Don't fucking lean in and kiss me on the cheek. I want nothing to do with you or your chump ass fucked up situation that threw me into an emotional loop for 2 months (and judging by this entry probably still has some residual effects). Let's be tactful and honest and say hello and interact like two people at work. You didn't give me the courtesy of knowing outright that you couldn't be mine, you don't get the privilege of being my friend and idly exchanging empty physical pleasantries with me at your whim.
Whew, that said I think it's important to establish boundaries with other people and yourself. You have to know when you have had enough. We all need things from other people, unless you're the unibomber - then all you need is postage - but you have to know when the dependency changes, when the wanting and needing has become a negative force on your life. I think that in the most sustainable relationships there is a little bit of a see-saw as you try to help each other get through periods of good and bad times. But when your emotional needs overrun your desires, ambitions, philosophies.....that's when you get into trouble.
Note: this is all coming from a man who said that he would throw away everything for true love.
And I still believe it, because I don't think that a pure form of love can honestly be tainted by all of these other mitigating factors. A pure love is something that springs naturally and freely and is built upon mystery, admiration, respect, adoration, awe and countless other wonderful feelings that Hallmark cashes in on every single year. And so, it is with that thought, that I bring this little essay full circle.
I need a dog.
See how I did that? Not bad, eh?
I don't need a fucking cat. Cats are like God's big laughing furry bag of fuck you. He's like "I'll invent a pet that will want shit-all to do with you on a daily basis, cough up lumps of hair, shit in a box, and have the worst breath of any other animal on my green Earth."
I faintly thought of Wilford Brimley as the voice of GOD but Christopher Walken may have been better.
Now a dog... A mother-fucking D-O-G will love your ass come hide or hair. You can kick the shit out of it and it will still love you. Not that I have ever physically hurt an animal. But you know what I am saying. That fucking dog will never cheat on you, or pretend to be yours when it really belongs to another. The worst it will do is leave you for someone with a pocket full of bacon. You know what? I would leave me for a pocket full of bacon. I don't really see that as a fault. I just need some non-qualified, gratuitous, wholesome, pure love to make me feel like I deserve to feel like. None of this kiss on the cheek like were best buddies shit. Women. FUCK.

Hahahahahahahahahaha...
So, more insight into the twisted mine of a raving romantic. I am unable to buy single tickets to concerts. I just can't do it. I can go to dinner by myself, see movies by myself, have sex with myself, you name it. But a concert? nope. So there are all these bands I really want to see and I always end up buying two tickets to them way in advance and then when the date gets here I have nobody to go with. Which is fine. I'm sure I'll just end up asking somebody.
In December when I had tickets to go see the Lemonheads nobody could go with me so I posted an ad on Craigslist. Like 2 dudes and 3 girls replied. sigh. I think the dudes were interested in my Lemonhead.
http://rabbitsongs.com
That's the website for this band Hem that I really really like. The lead singer's voice (Sally something) would be perfect singing lullabies. plus I think she's really fucking sexy. I have tickets to see them on Thursday at Lincoln Center. Two tickets. I bought 'em last November at some point.
I think I figured that by the time February rolled around I might have somebody to go see them with. Oh well. I might just ask my friend Gwynne.
I think that there's an enormous emotional detriment to thinking like that though. I suppose that if I had to look at yesterday through that filter, of always stressing myself out emotionally over whether or not someone is really out there, etc,etc, blah blah blah then I would have to say that I handled myself pretty well. My friend Shannon and I made a long term contract that if neither of us had a baby within 7 years (at which point we would meet to renegotiate for a possible 3 year extension) we would throw the proverbial tie on the door and get down to business. Then, of course, the Superbowl was on and the Steelers won. I had em up by 7. Shoulda put money down. Congrats Kevin. Then my buddy Dan showed up to the bar and I was off. I decided that I could have a little beer on Superbowl Sunday. That wouldn't hurt. Then at Black Betty I decided I could have a little bourbon. Then a little rye. Then some Chimay. Then another beer. Then a lamb kebab.
I faintly remember raking a cab home from Bedford Avenue and talking with the driver about Steely Dan. Then I gave him a twenty on a 5 dollar cab ride. sigh. How am I ever gonna pay for the nursery for my fictional little Baby if I keep spending the middle class food stamp so freely?
That's another problem! Usually I'm pretty good about the whole vagrant population. If they wanna get on a train I'll put them on a train, if they want a sanwich or pizza i'll but them a slice. But just the open ended money? well.......fine I give them that too. But during the holidays, for that week that I was drunk, I was handing out twenties to bums like I was made of money. Okay...maybe like 3 bums. But still - that's sixty bucks. That can buy a lot of lamb kebabs, you know?
I had a little extra cash cause I had made a lot of money off of this private party I worked at one of my bars in Brooklyn. It was for this loosely affiliated semi-mafioso glass/construction outfit that hired a lot of mexicans. They closed the bar down and hired a bunch of really skanky looking strippers/hookers to dance. Once of them was faintly attractive. She gave me her number. Said I was nice and that she'd give me one "on the house." Shudder. I don't know what "one" is.
You know what's kind of funny? I used to think that you couldn't get over a hangover until you pissed, shat, whacked off, and ate something. Now I think it's just whacking off and eating something. Like I had a werid superstitious thought that until you explelled all of the fluids/solids in your body that were infected with the alcohol the hangover would remain. Nice thought, eh? These are the reasons why I can never find somebody to go see shows with.
Aaaargh! Stop. Stop it. I'm being unfair. I do get asked. And people do give me their numbers. I am doing a great disservice to any of the women that have actually asked me out by pretending that I am completely alone, etc.etc. I have had offers but I think that as you get older you become more and more attuned to what and who it is that you are attracted to. At least I have. I think that I honestly know within a few moments of meeting someone whether or not I will actually want to be with them for any substantial amount of time. One ex-girlfriend told me "when we first met, didn't you feel like we were going to have sex?" Now I wouldn't be so crass. But yeah, in hindsight when we did meet there was a certain feeling, an attraction, some quicksilver. But then she had to go and fuck it all up by pulling this bullshit arguing for arguing's sake so that I would prove that I really care. Whatever - the sex was really good. But I think that you do get a sense of these things from the outset. Whether or not you act on them is another thing entirely. But when they come along I don't think you should waver too long on whether or not to act on them. Because then you might miss your window and end up masturbating in the dark to Billy Joel and crying. Not like I do that.......a lot.

Ugh.
Now I remember why I stopped drinking for so long.
I am in bed. It is 12:57.
I feel like shit.
I got my ass kicked at electronic video game bowling at Rosemary's Greenpoint Tavern.
I faintly remember eating a lamb kebab.
And smoking cigarettes?
Trash can was by the bed this morning. Empty.
Things are not looking up.
Funny note: I woke up this morning to a message from a friend of mine referring me to a masturbation website. In an attempt to return somethings equally funny and scathing (which, ultimately, failed. Apparently there are no good websites for celibacy or nunneries on the web. Who knew ?) all I am left with is the following word combination in my google search window :
vagina masturnation.
Now, before you judge, did you read the phrasing closely? Yes indeed - there is no actual bation in my mastur. It's "Nation." So....not only am I too hungover to correctly come up with something of a retort I am also unable to properly spell masturbation.
Mmmmmmmmm........masturbation.
I'll be right back.

Good Morning. Or good night depending on what end your looking at it from. I am about to head off to bed. Just as soon as I finish writing this little blurb.
I wasn't sure what it was I thought I would try to say. I am always trying to put into words these giant amorphous thoughts I have. But the best I can do is try to capture them in the vernacular of my days.
Uh....did that make any sense to you? Cause it didn't make any sense to me.
Anyway...for today's blog I thought I would share a little bit about my childhood. Not for any particular reason, just the fact that the more I get away from it the more I treasure it.
It was a pretty typical upbringing. My folks were probably middle class, maybe upper middle class, but I thought we were rich. I mean, Dude, it was the eighties. Didn't everyone who was white think that they were rich?
I guess what I remember specifically, the moments I remember loving the most were late at night (who am I kidding - like seven o'clock) and me and Chad and Brett Aicher would play hide and go seek in between our houses and in the surrounding woods. We thought nothing of scaling trees, diving behind bushes, using my treehouse, hiding behind sheds, whatever. It was all part of it. There would be itmes where you felt like you would be lying on the ground for hours, when it was probably just 5 minutes. But you could smell the dank mustyness of the dirt, the freshness of the plants and trees and bushes. You would always end up getting your hands covered in sap or something else equally difficult to wash off. And that was always the finishing point of any night's adventure. The bath. It was a mandatory event. There was no negotiating. No pleading. No arguing. Your ass got plunked down in the tub and you had to get all the dirt and grime and bugs and flora and fauna off your body and down the drain. Every night would uncover a new bruise, scrape, gash, cut, whatever. All war wounds. All marks of the semi adventures you had right when the sun was setting and everything became just a little hazier. In winter time it was always forts and snowballs and snowmen. Then inside for some hot chocolate or the like. I remember waiting for my school bus in the freezing VT am with the snot freezing in my nostrils, tendrils of steam billowing out of my mouth.
My mom tells a story of when I was 5 years old and she was on the phone in the kitchen. I was outside in my own piece zip up snowsuit banging and banging and banging on the door. Apparently she had locked it. When she finally got off the phone and opened the door I yelled at her "Now you've done it! I pooped in my snowsuit."
Sigh.
That pretty much epitomizes my life. An ideal portrait of a normal kid who eventually ends up in the middle of some joke about poop. I guess I wouldn't have it any other way. I've been trying to draw a correlation recently between who I am now and that little kid, but I can't. Sometimes I worry about my popularity in high school. Not that I care about being popular back then. In fact, it's the inverse. I'm afraid that I was too popular and that I may have missed out on some scarring incidences that would drive me to succeed now. I can't think of anything that damaging, although I would hesitate to think that I was even really that popular. As a whole, I think my entire high school experience was pretty much ok. I was a generally happy kid that smiled a lot and the teachers were fine with that. Sure, they liked me fine, but they never deigned me worthy enough of any special focus or motivation. I think that they always thought I would be okay, and I guess that I am. But that doesn't mean that I liked that I was viewed that way.
I think that when I realized that my college sucked for me was when I made appointments with two of my favorite professors. I went and met with them each separately and asked them both the same question, Who the fuck am I and what the fuck should I do with my life? I look back on that and I laugh now. Of course, they had no idea. And neither did I. I just knew that i hated it there. I mean, I liked the meal plan, but I didn't feel any attachment to anything. just a listlessness. I spent my entire second semester freshman year asleep on a matress on my dorm room floor listening to Neil Young's 'Philadelphia' on repeat. I think my roommate thought I was insane. My first semester Sophomore year I became wholly nocturnal. I read all of the popular fiction at the library as well as most of the modern classics. I skipped 75% of my classes, still made passing grades and hated myself more for it. That was probably rock bottom. It was at that point that I had a big conversation with my middle brother. He's real stoic. But he did say one thing. He said "if nothing in your life seems to be looking up you have to depend on external things to motivate you to feel better. They might be fake at first but they can help eventually." I'm paraphrasing - he was actually a lot more eloquent for a man who constantly refers to me as "Meathead." So I got a little buddy. I became a Big Brother in the community and would go pick up this kid in Colchester, VT and we would go to the arcade, or to Burger King, or to this huge indoor playground. I think his favorite thing we ever did was plat Star Wars in my college apartment and I jumped on my bed and completely broke it. He was mortified. His face turned bright white. I think he thought I was gonna flip out. Instead I just started laughing and pretty soon he was too. Bo. Bo Bannister was his name. Bo was short for Robert. I remember the last time I talked to him it was on the phone and I explained to him that I probably wasn't going to hang out with him anymore. He said "Oh. Okay. Ben...I love you." I think he was 6 or 7. In hindsight that was probably the most significant thing I did in those 4 years. Don't tell my folks or they'll shit a brick over my tuition.
Since then things have only become better and better. I think that what happened was because I was stuck in my home town, because my folks were 15 minutes away, because I was going to college with people I went to high school with, and because I worked at a local restaurant (Sirloin Saloon. We had to answer the phone and say "Sirloin Saloon Serving you Steak Seafood and Smiles. Ben speaking. how may I help you?) I never really had a chacne to grow up. When I hit NYC and started going to grad school I fucking went crazy. I was shitfaced for an entire year of my life. I also lived in NJ (What up? Journal Square Represent!) and would drink until 4 am and then ride the path train home. I swear that I puked on every one of the stops until mine. I have a story about it. Ask me sometime.
I'm kind of unsure where I was going with this whole brief synopsis of the psat 27 years. By no means do I think that the story is over. But at the same time there are certainly parts that I would like to revisit. I would hate to think that as life propels me forward I am continually looking backwards, but I know the things that I treasure and I hope that there will be more in the future. How was that for a tacked on ending? Gimme a break. It's fucking 5 am and I just worked a 9 hour shift. A guy can cop out on his shit if he wants, right? Guys? Right guys? Anyone?

You know what?
I'm not going to shy away from it. I'm lonely. I'm not the loneliest I have ever been, but I am definitely lonely. I'm not without options - I am a normal healthy alright looking guy. I've turned down a couple dates here and there. So what am I complaining about? The lack of poon? The enormous expanse of my mattress left empty every night? Cooking for one? Arguing over video tapes? Thinking about someone when they're not around? Smelling phantom perfume? Perhaps it's an envy of other people's relationships? My roommate says "You have your entire life to find somebody. Why are you in such a rush now?" Or at least she used to say it.
My best friend is a serial monogamist. Over Xmas we sat down and tallied up his past relationships. Since college, approx. 7 yrs ago, he has been single for about 3 months. Mind you, he has had about 5 girlfriends during that time. I, however, am the complete opposite. My longest relationship to date has been just shy of a year. Are either of us correct? Is there such a thing as "correctness" in relationships? Probably not.
Quick side note: My best friend recently called me with a story about his present ex-girlfriend and ow she flipped out and asked him to move in while she was drunk. I'm not being weird - she really flipped out. The point is that he is my best friend. A dude that I would give organs for, and I feel like he only calls me to talk about sex and/or dating woes. We are very similar and are pursuing these dreams and sometimes I feel like our communication is just getting distilled to these women talks. Which is fine, but sort of reinforces what I was talking about above, which is............
The fact that I go long periods of time without anyone significant. I think that somewhere along the line I developed this irrational reverence for love and romance. I'm just like everyone else I tend to think. But maybe I am wrong. Maybe all things romantic weigh more on my mind than the average Joe. You know what? I think that is correct. I think I obsess entirely too much about being in love. I mean, first of all, does the obsessing help accelerate the rate at which I will find it? No. Does the obsessing help me end this cycle of pining and whining and creating meaningless 2 month realtionships? Does it help pay the bills I get from renting so many romantic comedies? Buying love songs on itunes? No. None of it. So what good is it at all? Not much. I keep on practicing and practicing to be this really great thing. A great guy, a great son, a great friend, a great boyfriend/husband/lover. Cause it's all rolled into one. I just keep working on myself. And that's it. That's all you can do. You have to be open and honest with yourself and just keep working til the day you die. And part of that is the yearning and the loneliness and the dissatisfaction. And that's all okay. Cause one of the best things you can say is that i did the best I could with the tools I was given. Actually, it's just about the only thing you can say.

What to write......what to write.......
I have a strenuous February ahead of me. At the end of the month I got to go and bartend in LA. Which sounds like fun but may in reality be a bear of a time. Evryone in NYC says the same thing - LA sucks. Well you know what? I don't want to hear it. I haven't been there. I haven't breathed the smog, been in the traffic, talked to the people, etc. I want to decide I hate it for myself. Which is exactly what I want to do. I think that it is rare when I am persuaded or dissuaded to do something I have already made up my mind about. Which is strange, because I think I give due crredence to what people say about certaing things. Obviously, I place greater trust in the opinions of people I care about or respect, but sometimes complete strangers can have an insight that your everyday friends may have had missing from your life.
Which is what brings me to what I think about the choices we make in life and the direction we decide we are going to move in. I don' think that I am the kind of person who has ever sat down and decided wha the hell he was going to do for the next year, five years, ten years, etc. Is this poor planning? Does actual planning ever happen in life? We make our choices and then deal with the consequences. There were few times in my life when I actually thought "you know what - I have these two opportunities and if I choose one the other will disappear." I have always just sort of been buoyed by the choices I make. Mind you, this isn't any sort of deterministic cop-out. This is just a feeling that I ma moving in the right direction and that eventually I will end up in the place I am supposed to be. It should be noted that the things that I place value in are already situated in my life. I have my health, a job, a roof over my head, good friends,a great family....There is little I could want for. MAybe every once in a while a piece of ass might cheer me up, but even that could be sacrificed in face of the greater good that I feel that my life has. Am I giving back? I don't know. I guess not. I think we all like to believe that we have an impact on the people in our lives, but do we really? I think we do. Maybe it isn't some great ovr-arching catalyst in the vein of someone like Gandhi, but maybe that little bit is all we need to keep each other afloat. Fucked up shit happens. I'm not dismissing that. But we have support systems and even if we didn't we have other people to lean on.
As for deciding for ourselves which choices we should make on an ethical or moral basis I think that we all have the faculties to decide what is right and what is wrong at any given moment. In our heart of hearts we know what the right answer is, unfortunately we have the ability to stop ourselves from making the right choice. I know that there are anomalies - the Nazis, sociopathy and the like. But on a day to day basis - we all know the difference between making the right and wrong decision barring some strange psychosis. And we convince ourselves a million different ways to do whatever we like. Because more often than not, the right thing is not the easiest. So then what lies at the heart of the million little wrongs we do each other everyday? Is it just a perverse sense of laziness? Of course not, it is a combination of a million different emotions and motivations - greed, envy, laziness, etc.
Woah - when did this get all Christian?
Anyway - the high moral ground is often the loneliest. And no one is without sin. But I have always felt that the certain evils we do to each other have more to do with intention than anything else. I think that depending upon your intention you are ultimately forgiveable. So many things occur that are beyond our abilty to control or understand that we can only hold onto our hopes and best intentions and jump headlong into the fire.

Underworld 2 - Evolution.
Skip it.