Long post. I come to you with questions. But first, some background:
Her: Do you only date non-asians? Me: (puzzled) Most the women I’ve dated have been Asians. In fact, I’ve only dated two four that weren’t. I’m equal opportunity. Him: Yeah, everyone deserves an opportunity to be miserable with Logan.
With nods to Mylai, I have FOUR weddings to go to in the next two months and I’ve already RSVP-ed with a date as…oh, I’d rather not say, it’s complicated. Anyway, questions for you – answers will be much appreciated (really, I wanna know):
Should I call and tell them all that I’m going stag? Inevitably, I’ll have to say at least 12 times: “I’d rather not say, it’s complicated.”
Should I just bring someone? Pro: no questions. Con: You read this blog, use your imagination. I’m reluctant to bring a friend because weddings are big deals – especially these weddings (man, reading this, I am an idiot).
Unrelated to the above, am I updating this blog too much? I’ve had RIDICULOUS insomnia these days.
Saw Blue Jean Eyes last week. Waited to write because I wanted to see how it panned out. No change, unfortunately.
She asked me the most peculiar thing once, she asked if I said unkind things about her afterwards. I asked her why I would. If you’ve read this blog long enough, you know I’m tired of being the bad guy.
Had dinner Saturday with some friends and strangers including a Candy Fiend from Texas:
Her: I read your blog, you know. Me: Really? I’m always surprised… Her: Are you depressed?
Is that how I come across?
Looking back at my entries, I think that, more than anything, I’m dorky/hopeful.
Yes, I have my miniature disasters and minor catastrophes, (see supra) but my last tiny calamity brought about this blog, friendship with rum, a better idea of what I want/don’t want in life, 72 to Canal, a dozen new satellites, and a few memorable, if short-lived, romances.
A fair trade, no?
I updated my About section to reflect my new age but everything else is still true.
I was out with some friends hauling furniture, drinking rum, and arguing.
Me: Of course I’m pissed, you opened the vault! You’re supposed to keep that stuff to yourself! Him: I opened the vault? Look who’s talking! At least I was drunk. What’s your excuse for that email from last time? Me: That was a mistake and I apologized. Him: I may have opened the vault, but you, you give f___ tours. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?”
It’s just as well, I need to stay home and clean up. I bought myself what I think is the best canister vacuum, yet I haven’t used it once, I’m going to use it, I just don’t know when.
Her: Spring cleaning, eh? I wanna do that too. BTW, so many people are single these days, a friend called me yesterday to tell me that he and his girl just split up. Me: Well, two friends of mine just got into relationships and someone I know just got back with an ex. But I think it’s all part of the same thing: spring cleaning.
Something about spring makes you wanna examine your stuff. The spring light sharpens things dull from the winter. You can see what’s worth working on and what’s gotta go. Doesn’t matter if they’re comic books, handbags, or relationships.
Last spring was terrible for me.
This spring, things are looking much better.
Excuse the mess – it’s I’m still a work in progress.
Was out and about this weekend again with three females; two were friends, one was not.
The two that were friends were out to meet people. They’re both very attractive and when they’re out with people they have no interest in, they’re socially fine. But the moment they like someone, they get shy. Think most people are like that. I was like that too.
But that was a while ago.
Now, I always ask myself: Just who the hell do you think you are?
As for the girl that was not my friend, that’s a story for a different time.
Been having nightmares. The kind where you wake up in a sweat.
You know the story of King Midas and the golden touch, yeah? He’s got a lesser known story. His servant knew a secret of Midas and couldn’t bear it. So the servant whispered it to a bed of reeds but the reeds told the world.
I meet people all the time. The last several weeks have been blurs of What’s your story, morning glory? But nothing ever comes of them because of the things in my head. So many things.
When I’m out and about, I’m innocuous and easy without a hint of depth; like Wonder Bread.
Had a recent conversation with a girl I reconnected with. We got onto the topic of regrets somehow and I told her it was the story of my life. She asked, “What could you really have done that was so bad?”
Against my normal character, I told her the least of it and she looked back at me with a face I’ve seen many times before.
Threw her a wink and a smile and that was the end of it.
For her, anyway.
There are no reeds I know of in my fine city (s’ok, they’re gossip folk anyway) so I leaned over and whispered my dirty to some tulips in Central Park on Sunday.
I cut my hair finally because we shot all my scenes for 72nd to Canal. Psyched. I hated that haircut.
To continue in the vein of my Monday post, my friends have been mocking me incessantly about how I hold my left hand when I stand. It’s worse when I’m out and about.
I never noticed it until they mentioned it. I think it’s because of my fencing class because I don’t do it with my right hand.
Speaking of my fencing class, I met this brown-eyed girl outside of it whom I’m sure is from NJ:
Her: (concerned and eyeing what’s in my hand) I’m sorry, do you live here? Me: No, I take a fencing class here. Don’t worry, it’s not real. Her: (relieved) Oh, that’s great, do you like it? (15 minutes of conversation later) Me: I’m sorry, this is going to sound like a weird question, but are you a vegetarian? Her: (laughing) That is a weird question! I’m actually a pescatarian, that means… Me: (nodding) …you only eat fish. Right. Her: I’d better let you get to your class, Logan. See you around? Me: See you around, Jen.
This is what my desk looks like right this minute.
Please note that my passport, rum and gum are within easy access should I need to bolt. You can barely see it, but the hardcover book behind my screen is A Cricket in Times Square. On that note, the other books are travel books for places I will never see.
What does yours look like and what’s the most interesting thing there?