On (or close to) Schedule

I think I hate dating.

Blue
Me: (joking) You're not a pescatarian are you?

Her: No.

Me: Good.

Her: I'm a Lacto-ovo vegetarian.

Me: (nodding slowly) Of course you are.

Brown
Her: I don't think this is gonna work out.

Me: I'm surprisingly ok with that. (pause) Biscuit?

Her: (shrugging) Sure.

Green
Her: (after thinking) I liked that.

Me: That's good. I may do it again.

Her: (pause) OK.

OK, fine, that last one was nice, but still...

I saw my friend Skinny tonight. He's on his way to Japan to a new life.

I'm secretly a little jealous, but happy for him too.

Teddy Roosevelt once said that of the person who tries something bold and new:

at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

I'm always impressed by who just pick up and go. Transistor-girl just did it too.

I thought so many times about moving here or here. But I never did.

I don't know why I don't just get to the other side.

Someday.

Until then, Skinny, if you meet a nice (non-pescatarian) Japanese girl, send her my way?

I'll be here. I'm ever here.

Ganbare yo!

(und, beim Nachbarn scheint das Gras immer grüner order...?)

Korea/Germany Betty called me today; she's in town on a surprise visit.

My car insurance company also called me, not as pleasant.

I also just got the coolest phone call; but I've gotta get back to work

I think I'm pretty much just feeding the mice at this point. They even keep eating all the poison bait I put out, with no effect.

Mouse1: Look, I like that he leaves us food on these shiny wood and metal plates. But, #$@#! That green stuff gave me a @#$@#! stomachache.

Mouse2: Why do you have to curse so much?

Mouse1: I've become inured to it as the expressive vocabulary of my society. It's neither indicative of a belief nor of a value system.

Mouse2: (...)

Mouse1: (sighing, shaking head) I know, we totally gotta get outta this @#$@# joint.

Called the ex today. Purely practical reasons, I assure you. Wasn't that bad. Like I said yesterday, forgetting is good.

I'll write more on that later.

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Went to church last Sunday.

I met this woman named named Tara-Leigh Cobble who sang a song called Somehow Stay. I liked it because I thought that it sounded like something I might have written; it's a gospel but works as a love song too.

I liked it so I picked it up; you can also go to her website and hear it to decide if you like it.

Speaking of church, my pastor Dr. Tim Keller once gave his own definition that I liked greatly. I've been busy, and sick, and I missed CindyE's birthday. She sang to me on mine. I felt terrible, so I sent her a belated happy birthday recording on the topic of that definition, which she seemed to like.

If you'd like to hear it too, you can click here:

OK, back to coughing up a lung...

Note to self: 48 oz of black coffee with DayQuil in one sitting is way too much caffeine.

Way...too...much.

Pardon me as I curl up and shake myself to death.

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Nadi, I actually posted a happy date story once. Of course that too went to hell but that's neither here nor there. And I had two nice dates recently but one ended up as a figurative train wreck; the other, a literal car wreck.

A while back, I did see a girl I've was orbiting around for almost a year right before she got gone.

Me: Hey, just wondering if that invitation for lunch still open...

Her: Hi! (pause) Did you ever work through your things?

Me: (pause) In a manner of speaking.

Her: What does that mean?

Me: (thinking) There's this river, Lethe, that the Greeks thought that, when you died, your spirit went there to drink from it so you could forget your former life and get on with your new one.

Her: Okaaay...creepy...and...

Me: (laughing) You're trying to forget someone; I'm trying to forget someone. It's like that song This Modern Love, Do you wanna come over and kill some time?

Her: (laughing) This has got to be worst invitation for a date I've had since junior high.

Me: I go for the superlative. (pause) So...you wanna come over and kill some time?

Her: (thinking) Sure.

Interestingly, in classical Greek, lethe could also mean the opposite of truth; the opposite of real.

This modern love is like lactose-free, shelf-stable, non-fat, non-dairy cream.

All the trappings of the real thing without a drop of it.

Not even a drop.

She's a sweetheart. I hope she finds ~~something~~ someone real.

Once again, I'm gonna ask you to send me soup.

Every time I go through these two week periods with little sleep and lots of work, I worry about getting sick. And then I get sick.

Dammit.

With nods to Sabatoa, Katsmw, Furison, and everyone who's asked me this in real life - I have this conversation almost every weekend:

Him: Nasty. Why rum?

Me: I like the taste of a good aged rum, like a Cruzan or Montecristo. Plus it's got the least amount of carbohydrates, acetaldehyde and congeners so you can drink buckets of the stuff and never get a gut, a hangover, or into a fight.

(pause)

Also, I like to pretend I'm a pirate - YAAARRRRRG!

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Her: (whispering) Are you awake?

Me: (sleepily) I'm always awake.

I've been sitting here working all damn day. At least it's the weekend. Hazel took this picture a couple of weekends back at the 7/7/07 rooftop party. Time's just sprinting by.

People email me asking why Hazel, Somena, or any of my other female friends and I don't just get together.

It's because When Harry Met Sally isn't ~~the real world~~ the NY I know. In my NY, guys can have three types of female friends: former somethings, just friends, and potential somethings.

In my life at least, we all know the parts we play.

A guy like me won't end up with a chick just cause she's around. And vice versa.

Who wants that? That's like when you eat the crap in the fridge because you're too lazy to go out so you think, Eh, it looks ok.

I've had crazy love before. Once you've had that, everything else is a distant second. If you've ever been loved, you know. You won't take less.

Dean Martin knew that you can never really go home to Steubenville after you've seen the lights of New York.

I'm alone, yeah.

But I'm not lonely.

OK, back to work...

I heard one guy died. Sad.

The thing about living here, is that there's a million ways to buy it in the big city.

When my accident happened, it was exactly like those VW commercials where two people are just chatting and a half-second later, BAM!

Your life can really change just like that.

I know a few people on the East Side, two in particular spring to mind. But we've lost touch. They're all, by chance, part of the people I cut yesterday.

Just as well, what would I say?

Me: Hey, just calling to make sure you're alive.

Her: I picked up the phone didn't I?

Me: (pause) Yes. Yes, you did.

I've decided to start volunteering in my church.

I'm hoping it'll balance out my Thursday thru Saturday drinking and womanizing.

In addition to the Swedish girls, I met a bunch of really attractive lipstick lesbians/bisexuals this past weekend.

Girl 1

Me: Why are you giving me your number?

Her: If you wanna call me, call me, if you don't, f___ off.

Me: OK. Just to be clear, you mostly like the girlies, yeah?

Her: Yeah, and? (pause) Y'know, gimme back my f____ number.

Girl 2

Her: So what's your story?

Me: I'm looking for Ms. Right in the big city.

Her: (laughing) Funny, so am I.

The second girl and I have swapped a few emails; she's in a similar profession. She's very nice - she's also a full-on Jewish lesbian. I'm sure she's a pescatarian from NJ too but I didn't ask.

I seem to get along with girlies that like the girlies. Modern America.

In Logan's Run, the book, I'd be 13 years post prime; in the movie, I'd be 4.

Either way, I'm last year's model.

This week, because of the accident, I did some reassessing. I found out that I was deleted by some people.

And I deleted some people - friends, former loves, acquaintances and about two dozen people I'm embarrassed to say that I just don't remember.

Some I've known for a few days and some I've known for 14 years.

I've blinked and it's 20070718. One of you shoulda called me to let me know that I'm an anachronism.

Sent an email. Even a text. Telegram, maybe?

Something.

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Speaking of telegrams, damn that AT&T.

Here's 2% of why I hate them, there's another 98% I could tell you.

Mouse1: What's that?

Mouse2: He put out peanut butter.

Mouse1: SWEET!

Mouse2: No, it's that healthful crap. The kind where the oil and stuff separate...

Mouse1: What the @#$! is wrong with that guy? He needs to get some sleep.

Me: Actually, I bought a lottery ticket that night. I was sure I'd win.

Her: (laughing) I think you already used up your luck for the day.

I looked for Selene in the blue sky today. I didn't see her.

I know I've picked up a bunch of new readers and I'm sorry that I'm not more entertaining at the moment.

My insomnia and hand shaking has returned with a vengeance, recent events - both open and secret - have kinda brought me down.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful I'm alright. Very.

The hand of God is in all things.

But I sometimes I feel like I take a step forward and two steps back all the time, you know?

Do you know where the word, tantalize comes from? There's this myth where this dude Tantalus, cursed to be thirsty, bends to a stream to drink, only to have it recede just beyond reach. Cursed to be hungry, reaches for an apple, and the branches pull back.

Sleep is the water. Love is the apple. Peace is the goal.

I'm always so damn close to that trinity. And then it's gone.

I never go more than a week without a sleepless night. Last week, I slept. Last night, it started again. It's ever the same. Two weeks now. I know it.

I hate it.

And it's killing me bit by bit. Absolutely...breaking me.

Not at once. Just a little at a time.

OK, I'll stop. Emo - just learned the term recently. Sorry. Working through a few things.

Above, the ever popular and lovely KT Tunstall again for your entertainment.

You cannot buy love. You cannot buy sleep. But red, red rum...that you can have for $10 a glass. And YouTube is free.

Friday the 13th. Of course.

I'll be back on Monday after I've bent some time.

See you then.

But my car is totaled. There was a picture up there but I deleted it because I'm trying to forget it.

Instead, here's a picture of the blue sky.

Thank god the girl I was with, who was in the passenger seat, was wearing a seatbelt too because she's fine too. I had just met her.

I'm still a little muddle-headed.

-----

Thanks for all the kind words. I'm going to make an appointment with the doc today.

My neck's a bit stiff but hopefully that'll clear up.

I just spoke to the girl; she went to work but is leaving early because she's going to see the doc. This was only our second date. At least we'll both remember each other vividly.

Well, in a way, this is a good date story, no? We both walked away almost completely unscathed.

On another note entirely, I was actually sleeping well last week.

Last night...not so much.

Her: ...then there are the serial daters. The guys that are always out and about.

Me: If I were honest, I'd tell you that that's what I'm afraid of. See, I've only ever been in long-term relationships. I never really dated. I think I secretly worried that I might be good at it.

Her: (turning) And?

Me: (laughing) You tell me.

------

Him: You don't think it's strange, to have a site with your name on it all about you? And all the stuff you write - who reads it? I mean, you're just you. You're just a regular dude. You're not like a celebrity or anything.

Me: Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is.

Him: What?

Me: (shrugging) It just means that in my head, I think I'm someone.