Categories
business personal

Why do you hate me so?

Location: a new leather couch; not mine
Mood: hard to say
Music: baby I know we had a bad day and you are so mad at me

Spent part of the morning last week patching the roof on my building. Good thing I went to an ivy league. Got covered in tar; took me an hour to get it off before I had to run to a meeting. Musta smelled like a mechanic, which is not good considering I’m trying to land this client.

Speaking of clients, in About a Boy, Will had just enough scratch to pretty much stop working and just idly fill up his days. That was me for seven years. Not so much any more.

Me: OK, the account is locked. Don’t put anything else into the account, otherwise, it’ll trigger an audit by the bank, alright?

Client: Got it.

One week later

Me: (exasperated) The bank called and said you deposited $10,000. Do you remember our conversation?
Client: (puzzled) It’s just $10,000.
Me: “Just $10,000?” How’m I gonna explain this? Stop putting money into the account!
Client: Got it.

This morning

Me: (almost screaming into phone) You took the $10,000 outta the @#$@# account?!?!
Client: You said it didn’t look good if I put money in so I pulled it out.
Me: (slamming head repeatedly onto desk) Now we gotta explain how $10,000 magically came in and now left the account IN THREE DAYS! Where did it come from, where did it go?
Client: (angrily) You said don’t put anything else in – I didn’t! I took it out!
Me: (quietly sinking into chair) I see. Why do you…why do you hate me so?

———-

If you look closely at the pic, you’ll see a faint contrail right above the first building. I remember taking it and wondering if they were coming or going.

Then again, I hardly know if I’m coming or going.

Categories
personal

Life gets in the way

Location: 19:00, walking up Broadway
Mood: pensive
Music: your empty eyes Seem to pass me by Leave me

Friday, crash a party with some amazing food by this gorgeous 5’9″ woman. Also meet this 6’1″ Italian woman who’s looking for some people to hang out with so we exchange info. Man, wish I were taller, wish I were a baller. Oh well.

Saturday, hit up a party and play with a killer camera and take all these pics. Round 11, meet up with this girl Yvey as well as her friend Pyro. Then at 2AM, meet up with my buddy WM who’s hung up on a girlie. Tell him that the girlie’ll either call or not but either way, it resolves itself. He asks how I’m sure.

Me: After a while, you start seeing patterns. OK, you see that blond? I’m going to say hello and she’ll dance with me. Then she’s going to ask me to buy her a drink and I won’t. Then she’ll find some other guy to buy her a drink, dance with him and try and make me jealous. When we leave, we’re going to talk one more time.

(one hour later)

Me: Like I said. Patterns.

Him: Get her number?

Me: Why? I already know how the story ends.

Sunday had a date with French girl that started and ended there. Also saw a friend and just wept – but it was cause we got ourselves into a laughing fit and couldn’t stop. I think we laughed for five minutes straight.

Speaking of weeping, made yet another woman cry, but for different reasons:

Her: You’re a nice young man to call. (sniffles) It means a lot to me that you called.

Me: (laughing) I’m not that nice nor young. (quiet) I’m sorry it took so long for me to call. Life gets in the way, y’know? Mike…he’s very missed. Very.
Her: I… (cries)

I like to mix it up. Do something good every once in a while.

It helps me forget people ‘n things.

Categories
personal

NYC Boy

Rain and Scottie invite me to to a party uptown. Since he never heads uptown, had to say yes. Going there, meet a blue-eyed girl named Gwen who said she can’t tell who’s mad and who’s wearing a bluetooth headset. Contemplate giving her my number but we didn’t hit the pivot point so I don’t.

At the party, make my way across to my friends and run into pair of long legs before I find Rain.

Me: I just picked up the prettiest girl for you (turn to long legs and wave; she smiles and waves back)
Rain: (laughs)

We bounce into the bar in the pic where Scottie and Rain tell me that there’s something wrong with me cause I don’t sleep with the women I date.

Me: Guys call it “getting lucky,” right? I hate that. It’s a pathetic statement from pathetic men. Women don’t “get lucky” but men do. That’s ridiculous. Boys like me sleep with a girl cause we choose to, not cause we “get lucky.”
Her: I don’t approve.
Me: (shrugging and turning to Scottie) OK, I’ll sleep with you then.
Her: (pause) Take a number.
Me: Sheeyah…
Bartender: (interrupting and pointing at me) Your friend’s right. The guys that try to get lucky never do.

Soon, we pile into Scottie’s whip. When we hit Central Park, Rain jets. Earlier, mentioned I liked Rain’s leather jacket so as he exits, he takes it off and hands it to me. It’s yours, he says. Before I can protest, he’s already in a yellow going downtown.

He’s a good fella, that one. I’m wearing it below.

Once home, I get a message that Pretty Jenny and some others’re around the way but then onea my stories I thought ended drops me a line.

You should stop by here for a spell. It’ll break your heart, NYC in the Spring.

But it’s totally worth it. If only for the people and the violets in Central Park.

 

Location: 22:00, 1409 York Avenue
Mood: touched
Music: Take me on a trip, I’d like to go some day – take me to New York

Categories
personal

My favorite picture

Location: 21:00 punching someone off West End Ave
Mood: excited
Music: don’t have to wait for words I can walk away and listen to the birds

Had the best news tonight when I realized that I had no one to share it with. Called someone because I wanted to but she didn’t pick up. Sad but not completely unexpected.

Gonna keep some more things to myself if you don’t mind; let’s just say, I got a tiny win today. Just a little. And that’s something.

Also, my fencing instructor said I was high intermediate – just under expert, which made me all sortsa warm and fuzzy too, in a cutthroat kinda way. I also talked to L and Pretty Jenny, botha whom reminded me how nice it is to have friends that are still on your side.

Finally, I found this picture after months of looking for it. It’s one of my favorites. I think that’s a hawk in the NYC sky.

Hey there, blue sky. Did y’miss me?

I’ve missed you.

Categories
personal

Stupid Tequila / Oranges in our drinks

Me: There are three types of people in the world. Single, sorta single and not single.
Her: Which one are you?
Me: Which one do you want me to be?

Busy weekend. Here’re the highlights. Friday, meet up with Pretty Jenny and her friends. We all hang out downtown where an outdoor flick’s playing. Then we’re off in cabs to another joint where I snap the pic below and Jenny buys rounds. Gave Tequila another chance and she screwed me. Always ends the same.

Saturday, Rain, Hazel, Paul and I hit up a few bars and The Park. Between the bartender whipping a patron with his own belt and the skinnydipping in the club, I run into the Cornell crew; a woman from way back; somea Paul’s friends; and somea Gio’s friends. Said it before, NYC’s a small town. Eh, at least you’re never bored.

Speaking of town, Caligirl’s back in it and wants to get together; she’s marrying someone else. But it’s not the man she loves and not me either. It’d be funny if it wasn’t. She found out about this blog too so I guess her story ends here.

Arrive home comfortably numb, and there’s a painfully sad email sitting in my inbox that sobered me up right quick. Couldn’t read it all. Guess that story ends here too. She had the most beautiful eyes.

Three stories ended this weekend, in one way or another. I’m always exiting people’s Venn Diagram or vice versa. Sucks either way. Hence the Tequila. Stupid Tequila.

Rethinking pouring my life into this blog. No. 5 once asked once if I was lonely. No, I said, I have my secrets. Only got a few left.

And those I wish I didn’t have. Cause they rattle ’round my brain at 5AM and keep me up. Stupid secrets.

Me: Sorta single? It doesn’t matter. The night is young and we have oranges in our drinks. Well, I do anyway. You’ve got bubbles.

Location: 22:40, walking up Broadway w a friend
Mood: hopeful
Music: people in your life are seasons, And anything that happen is for a reason

Categories
personal

E pur si muove

Location: getting up to go
Mood: honest
Music: io lo so che non sono solo anche quando sono solo

I suspect that this weekend will be quite different from last weekend.

The legend goes that Galileo Galilei was arrested in 1633 for going against church doctrine that the earth does not move and, instead, everything revolves around it. He recanted his beliefs rather than face the Inquisition but as he was being led out of the courtroom, he muttered, E pur si muove – and yet it moves.

What he was saying was that the truth is the truth regardless of what else one says. It’s action, the motion, that matters.

Could try’n explain why I do what I do but it’d just be hot breath and lies.

Ah, there it is: The lies we tell ourselves.

Tonight I was honest, I mean really honest, with the Hazel-Eyed Italian and where I was. And hate myself for it. And tonight I was also honest, really honest, with myself about SX. And hate myself more for it.

Well look at that, I’m completely single again. Isn’t that convenient?

As luck would have it, it’s the weekend. Even luckier, I clean up real nice, have far too little shame and far too much rum.

But one more bit of honesty between you and me, just because it’s late. And I’m tired and introspective.

I hide my ugly well.

So well, in fact, that when I smile, you only see the whiteness of my teeth and never the sharpness.

And yet it moves.

Categories
personal

Uncool me

A few weeks back:

Her: Wait, you only have one bowl?
Me: (shrugging) I only have one me.

I don’t have an iPod – don’t have an “i” anything, in fact. Someday maybe, not now.

Almost all my music, DVDs, books, papers, works, I’ve digitized and put into a computer I built myself. I watch it all through either a TV I bought seven years ago or a projector I use for business.

Got a lotta Valentino shirts and about eight custom-made suits but I bought ’em all at least a decade ago when I was young and stupid. Tee-shirts and Levi jeans for me.

Drama notwithstanding, I spend coin on:

I’m lucky because I’ve never been cool and I’m WAY too old to start now. Plus, I have zero need to impress anyone.

Where do you think the happiest place on earth is? It’s here. Not what you expect, huh? Happiness comes from community and purpose. Stuff cannot make you happy. Don’t be fooled by ad execs (I was one) – there’s no pill, shirt, shoes, phone, that will make you happy.

Working jobs you hate, to buy crap you don’t need, to impress those you don’t know – that’s just !#@$ nuts.

Connecting, man, that’s where it’s at. Ah, but there’s the rub. Another person cannot make you happy. But losing them can make you all sortsa bent outta shape.

Connecting. It’s harder than one might imagine:

Her: Can you not call me?
Me: Tonight or ever?
Her: (pause) Ever. ()
Me: (pause) Well…that sounds about right. (sighing, putting down phone and turning to fish) Yes George, I know it’s nonea my business. But still…

Location: my blue couch
Mood: throughly confused
Music: I think she’s leaving Ooh man she’s leaving

Categories
personal

Who pays the price?

Me: If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were happy couple.
Her: (long pause) We were.

Thanks for all the well-wishes; got me through a rough day. Worked until 1AM on my birthday. S’ok cause I did a lot of living this past weekend.

SX came up from Philly to see me and I showed her my city.

Saturday night we hit up a party that my friends Paolo and Cindy threw for me. Do you remember that last scene from It’s a Wonderful Life where Geroge can’t believe all the people that came out for him? Sorta how I felt.

On Sunday, SX and I grab brunch around the way. Then she gets ready to go. It’s terribly sad. Terribly. My self-sabotaging’s pretty much train on time.

Ok then.

Her: It’s funny, I feel like we’re breaking up and we were never together. Who knew I’d find a 35 year-old womanizer appealing? (pause) I like you, Logan.
Me: I like you too.
Her: (pause) Will you write about me?
Me: I like to keep some of my private life private. (pause) Do you want me to?
Her: (long pause) Yes. I want you to write about this weekend.

This weekend I had a beautiful girl come visit me for my birthday and we had an absolutely amazing time. But I discovered that I’m a lousy womanizer. Cause Paul and I stick to two rules:

  1. Never lie.
  2. Always leave people better off having met you.

Causea rule one, I never know if somea these people that cross my Venn Diagram’ll cross them again. Causea rule two, I tell SX that she should be with that other guy because he can be there for her and I can’t – then again, I’m no one’s careful consideration.

I sighed this past weekend and SX asked me what I was thinking. I just smiled and shrugged.

But what I was thinking was that, My head knows I’m doing the right thing but it’s never my head that pays the price.

She picked up her bag, shut the door, and walked away.

And here I am again.

Location: 22:23, 57th and 8th Avenue
Mood: alone
Music: There’s a somebody I’m longing to see

Categories
personal

Logan’s 35

The lies you tell yourself

I submit that your misery is the sum of the lies you tell yourself:

  • I’m not good at languages, that’s why I don’t learn Italian.
  • I need a drink to talk to her.
  • I’m too old to start something like that.

My favorite: I’m not that type of guy/gal.

That’s the stupidest one of all. Following that logic: I’m not the type of guy that drives because I’ve never driven before.

It’s all horse___, you know? The lies you tell yourself. It’s all horse____.

Put another way: you’re not the person you know you could be, causa the lies you tell yourself.

I’m pensive. Turning 35 today. Halfway to getting my ticket punched, and still waiting for my real life to begin. Been thinking, maybe it begins when you stop lying to yourself. When you take that nasty truth, bite into it and swallow. Then go in for seconds.

Wish I did it a lot earlier myself. Then again, wish I bought Google at 300 bucks, kissed Stella in 9th grade, and didn’t have my life’s savings stolen. But whaddya gonna do?

A pretty lady from a sun-kissed beach just dropped me a line and another pretty lady’s heading my way for a spell. Plus there’s the weekend. Hoping for some awesome to head my way.

Some awesome, and maybe another whole wheat donut, would be nice.

Now…wish me a happy birthday, all of you bastards that read me and never say anything.

Location: 13:00 yest, Harlem
Mood: excited
Music: Coming outta my cage and I’ve been doing just fine

Categories
dating personal

Monday Always Comes a Day Too Soon

Location: all over the damn place
Mood: confused
Music: risk all this for just a kiss I promise I will not resist

Friday night, Sheridan invites me another one of his high-society parties and Gio invites me to a club; woulda been floated into both but I need some downtime.

Using a broken chopstick and four rubber-bands, spend the night mounting a 2.5″ HD into a 3.5″ bay in my DVR. Used to spend a lotta Fridays like that. No lie.

Saturday night, hit up a girlie’s party in Jersey. Met someone whom I may have kissed over New Year’s, but I don’t think so. Then again, been wrong before. An hour into it, get a call from SX. She’s in Jersey too.

Her: Let’s meet up half-way.

Me: (thinking) OK, I’m game.

We end up at a diner just east of no-freaking-where. Her blond hair falls into her eyes when she walks in, laughs and says, This is crazy. I smile and nod. In one of our conversations, I tell her that I occasionally kiss the women I meet.

Her: You’re a tongue-whore.

Me: Do people say that?

It’s almost 5AM when we call it a night. Sunday, wake up, do my situps and clean up my train-wreck of a pad. Meet up with a Hazel-Eyed Italian for caramels who lives around the way with an easy laugh. She asks about my dating life so I take a deep breath and tell her.

Her: Oh…you’re a tongue-slut.

Me: Wow, people really do say that. And I prefer whore, thank you.

We walk around the big city for a bit. Pointing at some violets, she says that she never sees enough of them here. I smile in agreement before she slips underground and I dash off to church.

I slide into a pew and sit by my lonesome in the back. Find myself staring just a little too long at the smug couples around me. I excuse myself, go to the restroom and wash my face for no particular reason. Then trudge up the steps to sit alone again.

Monday always comes a day too soon, yeah?