What she has to put up with

Location: my desk
Mood: frick’n tired
Music: make me work so we can work it out

Homemade sauerkraut in NYC

Two months ago.

Her: Hey…have you noticed a funny smell here?
Me: Hmmm, I’m not sure. I did start making sauerkraut last week though.
Her: Where?
Me: Here. (pointing) In my bedroom.
Her: Oh – that’s got to go.
Me: Where’m I gonna put it?!
Her: Don’t know, but it’s not staying on the floor in your room.
Me: (grumble)

This week.

Me: Hey, I think my sauerkraut’s ready, want some?
Her: No.
Me: More for me then.

———-

Me: So what do you wanna to do?
Her: Let’s go on a date – all we ever do these days is sit around and frick’n yell at each other.
Drink in NYC

Words

Location: having a gyro with my pop east of 11354
Mood: still sick
Music: lemme light your candle, cause mama I’m sure hard to handle


Her
: You getting closer to normal.
Me: You mean, “normalcy.”
Her: (shaking head) Well, you just took a step back.

Woke up this morning and fixed myself a killer filtered ground bean soup with cow-baby food. But just cause I can’t go a day without it, also had some roasted mashed peas with pre-digested insect vomit and baked wet flour along with it. Big fan of insect vomit. Especially when I’m sick. Wish I had liquid from a citrus reproductive unit to go with it but no luck.

Heartgirl just boiled some water with vegetables and dissolved insect vomit cause my cold’s coming back.

Stupid cold.

———-

Agree with Obama’s assertion that the phrase, Just words, is insulting. Words’re how we organize the world around us, not just to other people but to ourselves.

Was out with my girl the other day and we heard a guy just screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs in middle of Columbus Circle. And the people around him were visibly uncomfortable.

Look, sometimes few things match the situation better than expletive. And sometimes, y’gotta cut some people slack cause it’s the only vocabulary they got.

But what if it’s not? Cause, sometimes cursing’s just cursing, and that’s fine. But sometimes cursing’s showing the other person how y’process the world.

And that might not be what y’want.

———-

Woke up this morning and fixed myself a killer cafe au lait. But just cause I can’t go a day without it, also had some peanut butter and honey on a biscuit with it. Big fan of honey. Especially when I’m sick. Wish I had some lemon juice to go with it but no luck

Heartgirl just made me some tea with honey cause my cold’s coming back.

Damn cold.

YASYCTAI: Clean up that stack of magazine: read or toss. (240 mins/2 pts)

Gone Fisher King (but coming back)

If only we could just pay the bill and go home

A red door from the East Village

 

You ever kinda just space out while walking or driving and just magically end up on your doorstep? Hold that thought.

There’s this great line from The Fisher King where the lead, who’s destroyed a buncha people’s lives, wails out, “If there were some way I could just pay the fine and go home.”

S’never that easy. Did you ever complete that sentence, The purpose of life is?

My answer I actually told you once a while ago, except, I didn’t tell you. It was my dating philosophy: Leave people better off having met you. Note that I never said “women.”

Did it to try and help the world out; turns out it helped me out.

Thought I’d take this time to tell you some things, because I still get the occasional email asking.

  • The PCD is doing very well; we chat every so often. She’s one of my people, even though we never see each other. She’s also Beatrix from an old entry and you can read up on her love life here.
  • And the HEI is doing well too; she’s packed up and gone to see about a boy and a life out west. She drops me a line here and there.
  • Caligirl got married and that’s a story in itself.
  • Elle’s finding her way through the big city and finding herself along the way.
  • The Italian Lawyer, GES, the writer, human resources girl, and others I run into from time-to-time.
  • It was the SX’s birthday recently but she’s MIA. She, like most of them’ve left my Venn Diagram. Suppose that’s probably for the best.

Finally, there’s Heartgirl. She’s asked that I not write about her so I don’t but I think it’d be amiss if I didn’t. Because I’ve set her apart.

Spent the last hour trying to figure out how to tell you about her. I’ve decided that she’s my receipt.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still hustling for scratch, several items on my body are broken and/or bruised. Lotsa fail.

But I think she’s my cashed check from Life saying, OK, you did some horrible, _____ things in your life. And I still promise you nuthin but pain. But all of that stuff you did? For that, we’re square. You’ve paid your fine…and you can go home.

It’s been almost exactly three years – August 17, 2006 – since I left who I was to figure out who I wanted to be; three years since my feet were pointed home.

Tonight, while talking to her, looked up to realize that I was almost there.

Was thinking that this was gonna be my last entry. Was gonna put down: Gone Fish’n and be off.

But this blog helped me find my way. So even if there’s only one person that still reads me, wanna say “Thanks” for taking the time. (Mom, if it’s you, “rum” is what kids call “apple juice”).

Gonna take next week off while I try and figure out a few things and spend some time with Heartgirl. But I’ll be back Sept 1st round midnight, like always.

See you then, yeah?

YASYCTAI: Come back September 1st. (a week/1 pt)

Heartgirl’s surprise elements

new york city, nyc, Astor place, St. Marks

Spent the last two months planning a surprise birthday for Heartgirl.

Everyone should have a nice surprise from time-to-time. Mine are always of the, “Think you should sit down,” ilk.

Started off with a buncha her friends at a tapas joint Saturday. Four pitchers of sangria and 24+ plates of food later, waddled off to M1-5, where we threw the opening party for 72nd to Canal. Heartgirl was totally surprised.

Her best friend brought a huge cake (and I forgot Clara, my newest camera). We barely made a dent in it. Interestingly, her best friend’s also Irish and her husband’s also Asian. He and I spent the tail end of the night picking at the cake. Mainly cause we just don’t let things go to waste like that.

Rain, Paul, Tess, WM, Gio and Hazel all made an appearance too, if only just to drink with me. We had a whole section to ourselves. It was 2AM when we left and 4AM when we called it a night.
Cabdriver: (pointing to her) She drunk?
Me: Yes, but she’s not going to boot in your car.
Her: I’m Irish. We don’t do that.

Sunday, Heartgirl and I took the whip out in a misguided attempt to go shopping in the burbs. The reason why it was misguided is best illustrated with Boolean logic:

Elements (in)

  • Gut-wrenching nausea (Gwn)
  • Hangover (H)
  • Heatgirl (Hg)
  • Logan (L)
  • Rum (R)
  • Wine (W)
  • Sundry alcoholic products (S)

Where

  • + = “and”
  • ~ = “not” or “no”
  • = “but not”
  • = = “results in”


Ergo

  • L+R=~H
  • Hg+W+S-R=H+Gwn

In short, my trip to the burbs was ill-conceived at best.

However, Heartgirl did note that she enjoyed her birthday greatly. She said she was glad she spent it with me, then fell asleep on my couch as I went off to church.

———-

In other news, the buddy that swung by last time when that woman was screaming Chinatown came by again and brought me out for Malaysian food on his per diem. Man, I miss having a diem.

And I’m becoming a chunky monkey. Gotta start working out again. Stupid cold…

Location: 20:00 yest, ordering the Roti on 72nd
Mood: busy ~sick
Music: count to five Let’s craft the only thing we know into surprise
YASYCTAI: Try some new cuisine. Like Spanish tapas. (60 mins/1 pt)

Once I get better

Location: 1hr ago, in front of a mailbox on Broadway
Mood: indescribable
Music: a hustle here and a hustle there

A club scene in NYC

Him
: Come out with me – open bar, girls too young for us. The usual. You in?

Me: I’m in.

Think Heartgirl’s tired of hearing me talk about my life so I’ve been trying to talk to her less. Guess I don’t blame her, got a lot on my mind. So, RE Mike invited me out to the premier of Peter & Vandy where we chatted up some folk and a tall drink of water bought me a tall drink of rum.

But I swung by Paul’s new pad first where he was unpacking.

Him: Look what I found (pulls out a stack of papers) it’s all the numbers I got last year.
Me: Ah, I tossed mine a long time ago.
Him: (shakes head) Dude – you never do that. Not until you’re married. Even then…
Me: Nah, if you gotta, y’just get more.
Him: Suppose. Just wanna meet someone that thinks I’m awesome, y’know? I’m weary soldier.

Me: Aren’t we all?

Brooklyn Bridge at night

The next day, met up with Heartgirl for onea my oldest buddy’s wedding in Brooklyn. Heartgirl and I then got lit together and stumbled across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan. Told her I lived here my whole life and never walked across it before. It’s true.

Her shoes kept getting stuck in the walkway and we couldn’t help but laugh.

Heartgirl getting her shoe stuck on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Life’s been stressful lately. Can’t keep taking the disappointments.

But the flip side’s the unexpected kindness, the grace I’m always talking about. Like old friends that make an appearance.

My friend Steel, his real name, stopped by and dropped off a rack of prime rib and some fillet mignion cause he heard I wasn’t doing so hot. And Bryson called me up to tell me he’s gonna be a pop.

And the last little bit I got tonight. Closing an office isn’t just shutting the doors and kicking everyone to the curb. There’s a lotta shredding involved. A lot of it. Was up at 4AM and it was 10PM in front of my shredder when my wrestling coach calls me.

Him: You’re doing well. I think maybe you can hold your own once you get better.

It made the hour commute home not so sucktastic. Cause, in some way, that’s what everyone’s been saying, that maybe I can hold my own once I get better.

Her (not Heartgirl): Are there lights on the Brooklyn Bridge at night?
Me: No, but if you get wet, you’ve gone the wrong way.

YASYCTAI: Take a walk on a bridge at night. If you get wet, you’ve gone the wrong way. (10 mins/1 pt)

The pits

Location: my apartment, all day
Mood: ouch!
Music: well pick me up with golden hand

A tribeca apartment stoop

Me
: I think I need to go to the emergency room.
Her: OK.
  • When you make a salad, do not put in olives that have pits in them.
  • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, do not serve at a dinner party.
  • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, and must serve said salad at a dinner party, let your guests know about the aforementioned pits.

You can say:

a) The salad has olives that have pits in them.
b) There’re olives with pits in the salad.
c) Be careful eating this salad as the olives aren’t pitted.

Won’t belabour the point but y’know what happens when you don’t?

One bleeding guest, one shattered tooth, four tabs of vicodin, one shot of some painful painkiller, 500mg of naproxen, three shots of lidocaine, three shots of novocaine, four tabs of sleeping pills, $3,000 of tooth damage and Teeth whitening, two visits to the dentist (with another nine to go), one root canal, and more drugs.

Lots and lots of drugs. And lots of oatmeal. In fact, all the oatmeal one could eat.

In short, it was…wait for it…the pits. I really can’t stand having to even consider pediatric dentistry & orthodontics, being an adult has many challenges and pains, dental problems, I think everyone can agree, is terrible.

However, Heartgirl did get to meet my mother and speak to my brother – although the circumstances were less than ideal. So that was my weekend, how was yours?

Me: (drugged out) On the way here, I was thinking two things: (a) man, I’m in pain, and (b) wonder if that halal food cart is still serving food this late.
Her: (shakes head) You know, I was just thinking this morning that I should get all your medical information. You have the worst luck.
Me: It’s more stupid luck. than anything. (later) Hey, thanks for staying.
Her: (laughing) Where else was I going to go?

YASYCTAI: If you get a feeling that a something is going to end badly, go with your gut. (10 mins/1 pt)

First-tierers, second-stringers

Location: a yellow couch
Mood: wondering
Music: It`s up to you All I can do, i`ve done But mem`ries won`t go


Her
: I was worried you were one of those religious nuts.
Me: I am one of those religious nuts.

Been busy trying to get my life in order. More craziness that I’ll tell you, as I always do, in due time.

Saw Heartgirl and I had a long discussion about our beliefs. It’s bothersome that all people know of my religion’re the shrill caricatures.

She met somea my first-tier friends. We’ve all got our first-tierers and our second-stringers – sorta like our front-runners and back-burners, yeah? They gave her the thumbs up over some watermelon soju down by St. Marks. Caught the first snowfall of the season as we walked past Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick to Katsmw‘s for some red, red wine fore heading home. Katsmw, like Heartgirl, loves sports while her husband and I don’t watch any sports. The two shared more than that in common but those’re their stories and not mine.

Sunday she and I caught brunch around the way where she somehow lost her copy of Vogue. Losing a copy of Vogue’s like losing a ten-pound weight; they just don’t disappear. On the way back, I was holding a copy of the Sunday Times out when a bird pooped on it. We both couldn’t stop laughing and almost collapsed on the street.

Told her that a bird pooping on you’s good luck so I bought an instant win lottery card for a $1 and won…$1. Of course.

Sometimes, wonder about my role in her life. Suppose time will tell. I don’t try to hide who/what I am: a nerdy, religious nut that plays/watches no sports (that don’t involve one-on-one violence), talks a lot with his hands, and is overly concerned with rum, trivia, quotes, stories, gadgets, nice clothes, and minutia.

It’s 2009 soon. I’d like some win, please. Some real win, espankyuverymuch…

YASYCTAI: It’s cold. Did you donate those clothes? (60 mins/2 pts)

Creepy

You get points in life for being brave

Late Monday night, got the most creepy phone call ever from HeartGirl – or, rather, from her and her hella creepy friend. Wanted to take a shower afterwards.

Speaking of which, I met seven women this long weekend. I’ve been told that the reason I meet so many people is that I’ve got a really low “creepiness factor.” All men people have it; some more than others.

Consider this: HEI had some guy she vaguely knows recently wait on her doorstep unannounced with flowers and wine. He mighta been there for hours. In Hollywood, that’s romantic. In the real world, that’s creepy. Let’s review, shall we?

Standing outside your ex’s home holding a boombox belting out Peter Gabriel.

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and stalkerish)

Meeting a girl for 10 minutes and telling her that you’re her soulmate.

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and pathetic)

Telling someone that they “complete you.”This one I particularly loathe – cause who wants someone that isn’t whole on their own?

Hollywood: Romantic
Real life: Creepy (and lame)

Following a girlie around a bar all night because you spoke to her for five minutes.

Hollywood: Creepy – Look, even Hollywood thinks this is creepy. Don’t do it.
Real life: Creepy (and something I see every week)

 

Seriously, there is no line you can say to a girlie, no shirt you can wear, no drink you can buy that will change your ability to talk to a girl than lowering your creepy factor. How to do this is a whole ‘nother story.

BTW, HeartGirl called me twice to apologize for her friend; I called her back and we spoke.

I think I forgive her. Dunno yet. But I thought it was brave of her to call me back twice to say she was sorry. You get points for being brave in this life.

And because…I know what it’s like to wanna be forgiven for the stupid mistakes we make. For the awful, awful things we say and do to one another.

Man, I know that oh so well.

Location: my office
Mood: exhausted
Music: so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away

Ships in the night

Met the Ship in the Night Girl Again

Me: Ships in the night?
Her: I’m sorry what?
Me: (laughing) My mistake…thought you were someone else.

Friday, go to a party thrown by Jenny and friends – they hired a bartender and had an open bar. Sweeeeeet. Saturday, spend the day roaming the hood with with HEI. We end up having a wind-tunnel-like lunch at the Boat Basin. She’s all sorts of lovely.

Saturday night, go to a friend’s b-day party. Meet someone I swear is the Ship In the Night Girlie.

Her: It sounds like it could be me, but I don’t remember.
Me: (disappointed) Then it wasn’t you.
Her: How do you know it wasn’t me?
Me: Cause you’d remember a fella like me.
Her: That’s awfully egotistical of you.
Me: (sighing) Don’t mean it to be. But it’s true.

She and I hang out with Paul and WM til six in the morning. We finish up the night at a French bistro downtown as the run rises. Lose my phone – ugh. That’s a whole entry in itself.

Don’t get into bed until 7AM. Wake up a little while later and run in the rain to meet up for a memorial lunch for Mike. His sister gives me an envelope fulla singles; said she wanted me to hand them out to anyone that asked for help cause Mike woulda liked that. Said I would.

Hop off to church where I meet a girl from Holland and end up walking this girl Beth home – she’s involved but fun company. Give her the nickel tour before we run into Jenny and some other people ’round the way.

Finally get a few moments to think. Wonder if I’ll ever see Ship in the Night Girl again. Stupid isn’t it? You see a girl for a moment and she’s in your head weeks later?

Her: (to WM) Your friend’s so peculiar. (to me) You’re so peculiar. Maybe I am the Ship in the Night Girl.
Me: You’re not, but thanks. (taking her hand) We’ll be friends, yeah?
Her: Yes.

There’re numbers I’ll never get again in that phone I lost. Seems like more ships pass me in the night than I thought.

———-

Ran into my friend Christianne tonight too. Here’s a story about her or you can just listen to her sing to you now…

 

Location: 7AM yest, stumbling home
Mood: hoping
Music: Hey Snowflake! What ‘cha doin on Arlington Place?