Fly, baby, fly…

A bird fell out of the sky and into my NYC backyard

It beyond cold the other day. I woke up and heard a thud in my back yard.

I was pissed because people are always tossing things into my area, but I looked in and saw that a pigeon had just up and dropped outta the sky and into my yard.

Poor bastard.

Just stared at it for a while before I finally went back there to remove it.

Not the best way to start the day but, I gotta admit, my day was better than the bird’s. I’m hoping he was just old and it was his time.

My sister took the above picture over the summer. I decided that it was a better picture to post than one of the dead bird.

Always be positive, that’s what I say – there’s enough sadness to go around.

Fly, baby, fly…

Location: @3PM, bumping into an old friend off Grand Street
Mood: happy
Music: slippin, slippin, slippin, into the future

Leftovers

Splitting cellular phone plans is like signing divorce papers

(c) Postsecret

Saw my ex the other day. We split up our mobile plan; so comically modern – it’s today’s equivalent of signing divorce papers for domestic partners.

It would be funny if it…well…if it just weren’t.

Not one kind word was spoken by either of us. Not one.

She looks like the woman I once loved; I’m sure I looked like the man she once loved. But we’re both not; just shells that can’t even manage to smile.

The above pic summaries perfectly her sentiment as to what went wrong. Who am I to disagree? I know what I am.

When we broke up, I ate my bones and chewed on my heart. Then I had leftovers for @#%^&$! months.

I’ve been seeing a few people; I had drinks with someone just last night. There is this one girl with eyes like faded jeans that I can’t get out of my head, though.

Finished those leftovers months ago; I’m ready for something new.

Location: @12:20, Duane Reade buying cures
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Someday you’re going to get hungry and eat most of the words you just said

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My luck’s like a button

Why you shouldn’t buy random women drinks

I rarely, if ever, buy a girl a drink.

Something about that whole process I find gives the guy the short end of the stick. The times when I am asked by a girl to buy her a drink, I always say the same thing, “I buy my friends drinks, which you could be but are not yet, and the women I date drinks…same deal.”

Met another girl, L, recently that I’ve been orbiting around for the past two months. My friend Jon was in town and L said we should meet up with her and her friends. The friends happened to be three other guys.

That’s five guys for one L, for the mathematically challenged.

I just spent the time catching up with Jon.

Pretty soon L comes up to me and we talk a bit. She wants a drink. I tell her that she has a job to do now: she has to get drinks from any other guy in the bar except me but spend the rest of the night with me.

She says she’s on it.

She manages to get several drinks in exchange for a few minutes of chit-chat while Jon and I are laughing to ourselves.

To top it off, she slides me a drink or two and we later slip into the back and spend a bit of time together.

Moral: Only buy your friends drinks.

Otherwise, you’re just buying a guy like me a drink.

Location: -15, bathroom, getting the sleep out
Mood: contented
Music: My luck’s like a button, I can’t stop pushing it

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Finding out

Moving on from the breakup

That’s my houseplant, Harold. He keeps mostly to himself.

———-

Bought a new bed about four months ago.

Stopped making two cups of coffee every morning about three months ago.

Stopped thinking about her constantly about two months ago.

Last week we finally split up our phone plans (more on that later).

Just bought new linens and sheets.

I’m moving on.

But her shelves are still bare. Her side of the medicine cabinet is still empty. The spot where her desk used to be is still open.

The thing is, they’re not empty for her.

Tuesday night, I gave in and called one of those women I said I wouldn’t. Something about the weather I guess. Last night, we met up and were out for eight hours in the first real NYC snow of the year. Laughed harder than I have in months.

Maybe nothing.

Maybe something.

Who knows?

Let’s find out.

Location: @3:03 AM, hopping a cab on 9th St & 3rd Ave.
Mood: Working
Music: in the faces you see, you’ll see just who you’ve been

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Clear Blue Skies

I’d like to move away – but I’d miss my family

The funeral I went to has been on my mind. It’s made me pensive and sappy.

I have no death wish – far from it. I have a master plan to live until I’m 100. But the plans of mice and men…

What I think about is whether or not I’ll get to find out if my father is right or wrong.

My father, you see, believes me in. I don’t know why, especially in light of my dismal track record in, well…just about everything. Yet, he thinks that I am capable of things I don’t think I am.

He always says, The race is long, one day you’ll fly.

Maybe he’s just like every other dad in the world. Maybe he really believes it.

I like to think he believes it.

That’s the real reason I don’t just pack up and leave to Beijing, Berlin or someplace where no one knows me, you know?

Because it would be nice if I could prove him right.

And I’d miss them all.

Location: sick in bed
Mood: sick
Music: So, all alone I keep the wolves at bay
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Friends and funerals

The average American only has two friends

Went to yet another funeral last week. I’m going to far too many for my age. Or maybe it’s just right. I don’t know.

No joy.

My friend said, afterward, “It makes you think who’ll show up to your, you know, your…thing.”

I wonder who will.

You know, a recent survey says that the average American has only two close friends. I’ve got a few because I know I need them.

I hope you have more than two – life is hard enough as it is.

Plus it would just be sad if no one showed up.

Not that…oh, you know what I mean…

Location: -5 minutes in kitchen, waiting for coffee
Mood: sick
Music: Heads we will, Tails we’ll try again

Don’t wake me from the dream

Sometimes dreams seem so real, and we wish they were

Had a dream the other night that seemed so real.

Was in an old apartment I had and someone was washing the dishes. I came up behind her and tapped her shoulder and a face I haven’t seen in a while turned around to smile at me.

Her: (drying hands) You ok?
Me: What are you doing here?
Her: (laughing) I live here. Why? Are you trying to tell me something?
Me: You live here?
Her: Yes, I live here.
Me: Are we happy?
Her: What the hell’s wrong with you? The question is, are you happy?
Me: I am.
Her: Then what’s wrong?
Me: Not a thing. Everything is…everything is right.

Then I woke up.

I so didn’t want to wake up.

Location: @1:23AM, showering before bed
Mood: melancholy
Music: I’m so free…No black and white in the blue

I gotta talk to you

Made a bad email faux pas

Me: I’ll just get to the point – you’re gonna be REALLY mad in about 30 seconds.
Him: Why? What’d you do now?
Me: Did you see that episode of The Office where Michael accidentally sends an email to the wrong person?
Him: Oh god…
Me: Well, I forwarded those pics you asked for and my accompanying comments to X.
Him: How do you screw that up?!?!? My name is spelled nothing like her’s.
Me: Yeah, I did it though. I’m really sorry.
Him: …
Me: Hello? You’re really mad, right?
Him: What makes you think that? Because, while I’m working like a dog for coin, you’re dismantling my social life brick-by-brick? No, I’m not mad. Listen, you gotta take the train down here right now.
Me: Uh…sure. Why?
Him: Because I need to strangle you. Don’t wear a turtleneck.

Location: the intersection of embarrassment and stupidity
Mood: mortified
Music: I’m no longer moved to drink strong whiskey

Expanding

Take up your space in the world

Reaction of two people whose personal space ar...
Reaction of two people whose personal space are in conflict. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Personal space runs from 18″ to four feet from your body to another person.

In NYC, that number is probably two feet from you body. That would mean that your personal space is a 13 square-foot circle around you.

So in the past number of weeks, I’ve learned that three of my friends are involved in “secret” relationships, not with each other, where people don’t know that they’re involved. Two are women, one is a man.

Why would any self-respecting person want to be with something that isn’t proud to say, Yeah she’s with me?

That, and premium ice cubes, is just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.

  • I say, you’re entitled to your 13 square-foot circle.
  • I say, take up your damn space in the world – in fact take up more.
  • I say, if you don’t think you deserve it, you don’t.

Me? I’m expanding.

Location: Home sweet home.
Mood: grumpy
Music: I’m thrown and overblown with bliss.

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Totally worth it

You pay a price for the things you do

Me: Do you remember hitting me on New Years?
Her: I hit you?! Why?
Me: Well, someone, not me, grabbed your butt and you turned to me and you were all pissed. You asked, “Did you grab my butt?” And I said, “No.”
Her: Did you grab my butt?
Me: No.
Her: Then what happened?
Me: Then I grabbed your butt. And you immediately slapped me.
Her: (pause) Was it any good?
Me: (pause) Yes. It was totally worth it.

We then both laughed. My friends are awesome. She thinks I’m in love with her, I think she’s in love with me. We’re both wrong – a good thing.

We’ll be friends for a long time.

Location: @12:25, Glitter and Doom @ 1000 Fifth Avenue
Mood: mellow
Music: Somehow, I lost my way, looking to see something in your eyes

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