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personal

Pathological / MyMusicRightNow

Location: 23:07 yest, outside Penn Station
Mood: entertained
Music: community.livejournal.com/mymusicrightnow

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?

Categories
personal

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?

Categories
personal

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.

Categories
personal

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

Categories
personal

Terribly Romantic

 

No slappage, guys, sorry.

Hazel crashed on my couch the other night and we grabbed brunch the next day. The weather? The conversation? The morning? Perfect.

So over some freshly baked Portuguese bread and steaming coffee:

Me: This would all be terribly romantic if either one of us was even remotely attracted to the other person.
Her: (laughing) It’s ok, I like what we have. Speaking of which, you should meet my friend…

We’re gonna keep looking, she and I.

Wonder what her friend’s like.

Location: 17:00 yest, church
Mood: doubting
Music: You’ve got to push all the doubt to the side of your mouth

Categories
personal

One point five

Painting by Constellajen
Me: Mom, don’t cry, my hands always shake.
Her: But they’re not supposed to…

Mom’s terribly worried about me these days. I tell her not to be and yet – well, mothers are as they are.

When she first came here, my mom tied a 1.5 minute egg timer to the phone. Once a month, she would call her mom and they would talk for exactly 1.5 minutes. No matter what, they got off the phone after 1.5 minutes. It’s all they could afford. Her mom worried about her too. She was 26?

Can you imagine?

Here’s the thing: unless you know me IRL, you and I most likely wouldn’t be anything back in those days. What a world we live in, where communication is a commodity. Text, email, fax, blogs – we can all connect.

Veijukka asked who gives me pep talks, I don’t really need them. Because I’m so much in my own head all the time. Sometimes, though, I could use a quiet connection.

Thanks for listening this week. It’s been rough.

I’ll see if I can’t get slapped again by another girl this weekend to keep y’all entertained.

Location: Queens, locked outta my office
Mood: irritated at myself
Music: The more you ignore me, the closer I get

Categories
personal

Being a brick wall

It’s hard keeping it together when it comes down on you

Me: You can do this. You’ve done it before, you survived. You can do it again. You just gotta be a brick wall.
Her: What does that mean?
Me: Two things. First, a brick wall doesn’t cry, it doesn’t beg, it doesn’t plead, it doesn’t do anything. It just is. A brick wall does what it’s supposed to do – without compunction, without complaint, without contempt. A brick wall’s built for pressure; you’re built for pressure.
Her: And second?
Me: Second is it doesn’t give anything away – you can read a face, you can’t read a brick wall. Keep it together. People’re relying on you. You’re relying on you. Don’t ever let him break you down. A brick wall doesn’t break; everything else breaks against it.
Her: (quizzically) I’ma brick wall?
Me: Yeah, you’re a goddamned brick wall.
Her: (deep breath) I’m a brick wall.
Me: You’re stone.

Location: 18:30 yest, hopping onto the seven train
Mood: beat tired
Music: the only one here now is me; I’m fighting things I cannot see

Categories
personal

Mike

We live in a Cliff’s Notes society where we think we know things

My friend Mike passed away; I just heard the news this weekend. Very sudden.

An older guy, he looked like he was 45. He had a six-pack! Paul and I joked all the time that he looked better than botha us. He was a student in my fencing class; 65 years old and still training hard.

I remember that when everything went down with me, so many people said, Well, the only way is up. Which is yet another one of those sayings that only has the air of truth but no real truth to it – dude, there’s always more room for down. Always.

Mike didn’t say that; he said: I’m an old man, I’ve seen a lotta things. You never know what Life will give you, but good or bad, you take it anyway.

We live in a Cliff’s Notes society where we know the punchlines, but never the whole saying:

  • Fools rush in (where angels fear tread)
  • Curiosity killed the cat, (and satisfaction brought him back)
  • Speak of the devil (and the devil appears)

Y’know the sayings: for whom the bell tolls and no man is an island? They come from a John Donne poem:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

Mike, you bastard, you made a room fulla grown men with pointy sticks and aggression issues cry. We’re diminished.

I hope when I go, I’m half the man you were.
Location: writing this with a glass of rum for Mike
Mood: grateful
Music: Well, if it rains, I don’t care Don’t make no difference to me
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Categories
personal

Music Week Day 4 – Bedtime stories

Location: 20:00, locked out of my car and freezing in Queens
Mood: sotted
Music: they keep getting younger, Don’t they baby?

no mother ever thinks that her daughter’s gonna grow up to sleep alone.

I was listening to this song before I fell asleep one night and I had the strangest dream about a man who couldn’t sleep and woman who wouldn’t speak. I’d like to tell it to you.

If I can remember it all, I will.

I’ll add that to the list of things I’ve gotta do. I’m sorry for all of those of you that said you could help – I don’t think I can do the rum project. No time.

There’s never enough time these days.

Categories
personal

Music Week Day 3 – Charm attack -ish

To continue from my last post:

Me: OK, I’ll meet your friend.
Cain: Wait, you know Logan has a strict catch and release policy, right?
Her: What does that…oh…
Me: Hey! (sighing) Nevermind…

Time: 500(ish) Days
Dates: 80(ish)
Relationships: 5(ish)
Shortest: 2 weeks
Longest: 4 months (4.5 if you count the recidivism)
Dates this week: 2
Batting average: 80:0

I’m 35 in two months. Cain thinks I’m self-sabotaging, my parents think I’m not getting any younger, friends Rain questions if I’m gay.

They all think I’m the guy that’s just passing by, but I’m not. I’m killing time.

I told you then, I’m waiting for my person.

I’m still waiting.

Location: 10:30 yest, queuing at the bank
Mood: creative
Music: Well, I’m no savior But I tried to save you