Of course you’re 23

Rang up the the Sexologist last week.

Me: Gio and his girl Amy’re going to his friend’s birthday party (wait for it) in Philly this weekend. Thought I’d see you.
SX: How convenient. I could hang out Saturday night. BTW, I found your blog. I’m 22 not 23.
Me: (pause) Of course you are.

Off to Philly.

SX and I met up with Seemoore briefly at her restaurant; we both agreed that she’s very attractive. Why do pretty girls always think they’re not? Asked Seemoore if she believed all the stuff I wrote about. She said she did.

Me: Am I like what you expected?
Seemoore: You seem older in the blog. You’re more friendly and outgoing in real life.
Me: (laughing) I don’t like to visit my troubles on my friends in real life. Just you guys that read me – sorry ’bout that.

She actually paid for our dessert – she’s all win. Then SX and I left, spending the rest of the night talking and walking about town. It was punctuated by laughter as the laces of her boots constantly got tangled.

Her: I like how you just invite yourself over to my place. (dismissively) Men always just wanna get into my pants.
Me: Just looking to crash, darlin’. I can promise you I won’t try.
Her: Why not?
Me: (shrugging) Because.

We met up with her friend who told us about her sex life. In vivid detail. Evidently, I lived a very sheltered life in college I live a very sheltered life. Did I mention vivid? Later we watched a chick flick before we passed out.

Loathe to admit it, but I do enjoy the British chick flicks.

Came back Sunday morning. Gio and Amy were passed out in the back seat the whole ride back. 3 hours to get to Manhattan and an hour to get through Manhattan.

Turning 35 in two weeks. Gotta come up with 26K the same day as my birthday.

Ain’t that a kick in the head?

Location: 14:00 yest, going 80 on the Penn Turnpike
Mood: tired
Music: finding myself making every possible mistake


A Day in the Life

Was in the paper this past week and a HS friend recognized me and shot me an email. Then Paul and I grabbed a drink around then way with Stephen Phillips. And then I got home and spent the night talking to the Sexologist I met this past weekend. And I still need to come up with $26K.

NYC’s a funny place.


Bedroom 7:00
Radio snaps on. McCain, Clinton, Obama. War. Housing market. Sigh. Six hours sleep. Very good. Situps (auf deutch) …48…49…50. Rub eyes. Check computer next to bed. Geek, me. Stretch. Stumble outta bed, stumble to kitchen.

Kitchen 7:08
Two cups coffee. Peanut butter & marmalade sandwich. Spoonful of ice cream. Protein shake. Gag.

Living Room 7:14
Push-ups (yung zhong wen)…48…49…50. 10 minutes of fencing. Sumbrada three, four & five, right handed. Double-handed. Left-handed. Espada y daga. Wonder why they never made a sequel to The Princess Bride.

Bathroom 7:35
Wash hands. Brush teeth. Consider combing hair. Don’t.

Living Room 7:38
Blue jeans. Black shirt. Grey socks. Good Morning America. Shut down computer. Pen. Wallet. Money. Mobile. Headset. Computer bag. Goodbye George, Goodbye Harold, and Goodbye Sydney.

Outside 8:00
Shut door. Lock gate.

Deep breath…

Blue skies, above. Concrete, below.

Troubles, behind (for now). Weekend Life, ahead.

Location: three hours ago, Dive 75
Mood: sotted
Music: I read the news today, oh boy


Easter Weekend 2008

The time where I meet a sexologist


Won’t be posting much this week. Getting audited. I’ve got 24 days to come up with $25,674. I really dunno how much more pressure a man can take.


Friday I saw Hazel and her pretty friend, Helen. We chatted about life and love out in the wilds of Long Island. Then I drove them home. The weekend was off to a good start.

Until the letter above came in Saturday morning. Gio rang me and said we had to go out to a party in the Upper East Side. A party in UES’s like a party in the wilds of Long Island. But I went anyway.

Glad I did. I met a beautiful Sexologist who refused to kiss me.

Her: You have to work for it.
Me: (laughing) Fair enough.

Of course, she was 23. Not a pescatarian and not from NJ, though – Philly. We called it a night at 4AM and she told me to look her up when I was in her part of the world.

Me: If I go, can we get a cheesesteak?
Her: Cheesesteak’s a must.

Rolled out of bed a few hours later and worked non-stop. Paul and Hazel wanted to buy me brunch and Rain wanted to shoot me dough but charity and pity ain’t my thing. Rum’s my thing.

Stopped so I could make church on time at at 16:30; stayed until 19:45. Was walking home when I ran into lovely Jenny. Coffee and conversation? I asked. She nodded and we went to a bookstore where I told her about my life. And she told me about her’s.

She said her dramas seemed small compared to mine. I shook my head. Heartache doesn’t work that that way – there’re no absolute values of pain. Anyway…let’s actually plan to do this again instead of leaving it to chance, I said. She laughed and we left.

Hopping into my whip, I raced across the city see the woman I love most in the world. When I arrived, she beamed and gave me a huge hug.

Her: How was your Easter weekend?
Me: Could have been better, mom. Could have been better.

Gave her a kiss on the cheek and went downstairs where I sat by my lonesome. Took a deep breath, bowed my head, and asked for some grace and mercy. I ate, washed and took some poison to sleep. Could have been better but could have been worse, I guess.

I told you, yeah? There’s always more room for down.

Location: on a new leather couch that’s not mine
Mood: so very tired
Music: pressure pressure pressure AAAAAAAhhh…pressure pressure pressure


Something Came Up

Location: read below
Mood: full
Music: I know that you are not a child

I’ll be very impressed if you know this song.

Met a pretty scientist tonight. Yes, I didn’t know either.

Was supposed to meet a girlie for drink tonight but something came up. So instead, I went to a grand opening with Sheridan. But something came up with him.

No worries, I met up with Paul at The Naked Lunch instead. But he bailed too, because, you guessed it, something came up with him too. So I chatted up a girl that insisted I met her and made out with her friend last summer.

I didn’t, I said. Only later did Kung remind me that I did – and I did.

New venue: the Grey-eyed girl and Kung were all going across the street to some cafe. Was putting on my jacket when the scientist smiled at me.

You guys go ahead, something came up, I said.

Fifteen minutes later, I slipped her my info and slipped outside. Was going to meet everyone when another friend suggested we grab some cheap tacos around the way. Perfect.

Four tacos later, I was leaving the joint when Gio rang. So I swung by his loft. Want some chili? he asked. Sure. Cause I got zero self-control.

45 minutes later, I grabbed the subway home and thought that the night didn’t go anything like I thought it would. S’ok, though.

Life never does.


Remembering Snow Angels and Lynda

Location: 10:00 PM, yest, fencing in Manhattan
Mood: contemplative
Music: and I say goodbye na zai jian

My college English teacher, Stewart O’Nan was a good fella and an amazing teacher. He once said to me, “Your stuff is good. Just…work on it.” I still remember. His novel, Snow Angels was just made into a film with Kate Beckinsale. I was lucky, I think, because I had a string of really good English teachers people in my life.

Paul used to have a B-Team of friends that were fun but he learned that you should only have an A-Team because you only got so much time and energy.

Remember when I said that your friends are mirrors to yourself? If you’ve changed and your friends haven’t, maybe it’s time to start cutting. Or call the ones that matter.

I should have called Stewart. Had his digits – just never got around to it. He was a good guy. Probably won’t remember me now.

But I remember him.


Thomas Mann once said that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own.

Lynda was murdered ten years ago by a guy in my college circle of friends. My friends who knew her well never talk about it but it’s always there.

She and I only met a few times so it was more consoling my friends than anything else. But I did want to write something – if only to confirm that what the reporter wrote was true. She was beautiful.

Yeah, call your friends that matter.

dating personal

Dressing for success

Location: 03:00 yest, bumping into a friend on Broadway
Mood: mischievous
Music: Again and again and again, I think I will break but I mend

Me: Oh for…why would you ask that now?
Her: Well, you have low, or no, creepiness factor and you dress well. A girl’s gotta know.
Me: I would think by now, you’d have figured it out.
Her: You could be bi.
Me: Oh for…

Been doing the online dating thing. Four months ago, it was about 90% RL and 10% online, then it flipped (please don’t search for me, that’s just stalkerish and weird). Lately, it’s about 50/50.

Dating in general is tiring – the constant hellos and goodbyes. But like most things, on the net it happens faster; the disappointing and disappointments zip by and I don’t even have time to register them. Still meeting lots of pescatarians. Don’t ask.

This weekend, I took a break. Friday, stayed in, cooked, and watched a Law & Order marathon. Saturday fenced and then Paul and I saw CaptainRedStar and crew. Ran into L – twice in a week. Bumped into each other earlier Tuesday at Candyfiend‘s party. We’re always so busy.

On another point entirely, decided to act and dress my age. There’s a story there, but it’s for next time. Guess I gotta start shopping at the Gap or something.

The other part’s harder – how does a 34 year-old act?


Pathological / MyMusicRightNow

Location: 23:07 yest, outside Penn Station
Mood: entertained

Someone wrote me an email recently saying that she was glad to find another hopeless single. Sweet sentiment and I’m clearly single. But I think I’m the opposite of hopeless.

Almost pathologically, stupidly so. Saw L, Sheridan, and TexasA tonight and had the following conversation while trying to sober up on a Tuesday night.

MiamiK: OK, I like how you did that, but how did you not see that rock on her left hand? I mean it was huge.

Me: (sighing) I’ve gotta make it a point to look at that damn left hand earlier. (laughing) Welcome to my world.

Paul: (commiserating) We’ll all been there, we’ve all been there.

Pathological. Because, in my head, there’s always tomorrow.


If you like the music I listen to, or if you want to share some cool-but-not-well-known music, I started a music community. Come with?


The Prodigal

Location: my own apartment for a change
Mood: anxious
Music: You’re like a favorite song to That melody, that melody I love

Was out this weekend with Paul. He got a killer Hong Kong gig lined up so if any of you are from there, drop me a line? He’s the guy I go out with the most so if you do end up showing him around, he’ll fill you in on about 40% of what I leave out in this blog.

Consider it a bargain. Plus he’s the gold-standard of wingmen.

Speaking of being out, a girlie and I got into a theological discussion at a bar recently about the parable of The Lost Son/The Prodigal Son. Yes, I like to interrupt my drinking with religious discussions. Of course, she’s a bisexual pescatarian – although not from NJ.

I always felt that the older brother got screwed. Here, the younger son blows all his coin, lives it up and comes back broke, only to be welcomed by his father. The older brother’s pissed.

He was loyal. He took care of his scratch, his family and here’s this messed up brother who gets welcomed back with open arms. A party no less. How’s that fair? Now I see it like this; the father loved all kids and so:

  • the older son will be rewarded for what’s he’s done;
  • the younger son is forgiven for what he is.

That’s what fathers do. Even when the kid a royal screwup, a father pulls for him anyway.

I think hope that’s what it says. Because I’m the family screwup; the cautionary tale for my extended family. But they’re all too polite to say it to me.

So I sigh, put on my brown shoes, my happy face and wait for the 1 train to roll in. And I hold my breath for the weekend to come again.

Hello, Monday. What do you have for me this week?


There’s no place to hide

Location: 21:00 yest, ordering another roti in Jackson Heights
Mood: full
Music: remember when you used to pick out my shirts?

What do you think of those happy dreams where you wake up and it was just that – a happy dream? Is it better to have them so it’s real, if only for a bit, or not have them at all?

I’ve been sleeping very little these days and it shows on my face. But this week I dreamt of my possible pasts.

Once got into a stupid argument with No 2. I went off to class, then to my usual study place in the library and there she was. She drove two hours to see me. I guess I dreamt of it causa my brother visiting me. She’s married now and happy I heard. I’m glad. I was just awful to her. Awful.

S’bad enough I run into old ghosts on the streets. Now they’re visiting me in my dreams.

Should you need me this weekend, I’ll be the dude swimming in a vat of rum. Please don’t interrupt.


Met a girlie a while back; I’m hoping to run into her again this weekend.

‘Scuse me darlin’, lemme cross?
I’m not your darling.
Huh. It’s early yet. Y’could be.


Grace and Mercy

Do you know the difference between Grace and Mercy?

Him: The fine is $2,000 a day for non-compliance.
Me: (coughing) You either gotta kill me and sell my body parts a nickel a shot, or we’ve gotta work something out.
Him: (laughing) We don’t have a department for that type of collection. (pause) I can give you two more days. Can you be in compliance by then?
Me: (nodding) Hell or high water.

Do y’know the difference between Grace and Mercy? They’re two sides of the same coin.

  • Grace is when you get the good things you don’t deserve.
  • Mercy is when you don’t get the bad things you do deserve.

Been posting less these days – cause I’ve never been into ranty posts. I did call my brother about two days ago, though. Guess something in my voice worried him. Or maybe mom told him about my shaking. Dunno.

Today I was running around all morning, having one unpleasant meeting after another, before I finally made it to my office.

And there sat my brother.

He dropped everything and took the 7AM flight outta Florida. I was in the hood, thought I’d see you, he joked. Then he looked down for a moment and asked, You ok?

Outside, my three employees were working, my partner was in her office, and I had clients waiting. I said it before, the words that’ll make a grown man cry are, I’m on my way. Just showing up’s even better.

But a boss weeping in his office doesn’t do anyone any good. So instead, I coughed, cleared my throat, frowned and nodded. He got it.

Later that night he and his friend Kathy had dinner with my folks, laughed, and sang about two American kids growing up in this heartland on the road home.

Today I got mercy from a total stranger and grace from my earliest memory.

Yes, I said honestly, I’m ok, now.

Location: 22:00 yest, Rego Park
Mood: hopeful
Music: life goes on Long after the thrill of livin is gone