Tag: hope

Categories
personal

Doing it for the Crackers

There’s always something waiting around the corner

copyleft Wikipedia

Remember that deal that Sheridan wanted to know if I wanted in on? He closed it with RE Mike and it was just reported in the NY Post. I’m super happy for him but…damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

It’s the third deal that Sheridian and I didn’t do together. The first, I made bank but he missed; the second we both missed. This one? $15.85 million. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Hate being this poor. Hate always worrying about scratch. Was about to have a pity party when I read that Ruslana Korshunova jumped outta her Manhattan building in a suicide. Stopped me cold. She was wealthy, beautiful, successful…and 20.

What troubles would be so big at 20 that you’d swan dive off a 9th floor building when, externally, you got it all? I dunno. Hate suicide stories.

Something’s always waiting round the corner. True, sometimes it’s fail, but sometimes it’s win. Regardless, you hope and you hope. Cause, statistically speaking, 10 outta 10 of us are gonna get our tickets punched – so why’d you ever wanna rush the matter? It’ll come sooner than you know it.

Admittedly, it’s hard to go from caviar and crackers to just crackers. But really, I got no complaints; don’t have enough fingers to count all my blessings.

Plus, when a girlie says she wants to spend some time these days, I’m (fairly) confident she does it for the company.

I mean, she’s certainly not doing it for the crackers, yeah?

800.SUICIDE / 800.784.2433

(c) PostSecret

Location: 21:44 yest, getting whacked w/a stick in the UWS
Mood: sad
Music: and it breaks my heart, it breaks my heart

Categories
personal

Derek

Location: home
Mood: sad
Music: And I’m asking the good Lord “why?” and sigh

(c) Derek Srisaranard

Somber day.

Found out through Benlbr that our friend Derek is in the hospital. Hit and run driver. From what I know, it’s touch and go; he’s not awake. It’s very scary. He was the stoner in our show, 72 to Canal.

I don’t know him that well but I like him; he’s young and talented. I hope very, very much that he gets a chance to be old and talented. I pray he gets that chance.

Like most people in NYC, I run into him in the life. When he first found out that I had taken up photography, he was like a kid in a pot-filled candystore. He’s such a good guy.

Wish I could say something profound but the words escape me at the moment.

I’ll tell my brother to let you know if anything happens to me. Cause you should know.

We’re friends, after all.

———-

With nods to Irnbruise, this guy is selling his entire life online. He’s going to walk out of his house with the clothes on his back and his wallet.

I can relate. Of course, I’d take Harold and Syd. No worries. I’ll tell if I’ve gone fishing.

I’d like to start over again where nobody knows me. Have all my stupid mistakes a million miles away. But we all got our baggage, yeah? Even if it’s only what we carry inside.

Categories
personal

Right here, right now

Me: I just wanted you to know that I’m outside again and it’s amazing. Jealous?
Her: Yes.

Had to drop off something for a friend yesterday so grabbed Syd and dashed downtown.

Was all stressed cause I was supposed to be working but, as I made it crosstown, I got lost in the jumble that is the Lower West Side. It ended up a good thing as I slowed down a bit to take pictures and enjoy the weather.

Later that night, met up with the Blue-Eyed Girl for drinks in the one block radius around Blue Jean Eyes’s pad. It’s weird when you revisit places and things from your past.

I’m trying to not live in the past or worry (quite) that much about the future.

It’s harder than you might think – to be here, in the right-this-second and not stuck in your head.

Luckily, we both know I’m stupidly optimistic. Keep thinking my better day’s right round the corner, y’know?

Time for work.

Location: not in my head
Mood: still optimistic
Music: there is no other place I want to be

Categories
personal

McGuffins, Caterpillars and Pepe le Pew

I’m a bit like Pepe le Pew

With nods to a friend.

According to Hitchcock, a guy on a train sees something above and asks another dude what it is.

Guy2: It’s a McGuffin. It’s used to catch lions in Scotland.

Guy1: There’re aren’t any lions in Scotland.

Guy2: Well then, a McGuffin’s nuthin at all.

Used in stories or film, a McGuffin’s just a device that the characters place meaning onto to move the story along, like in Ronin where they’re all chasing after some briefcase but we never find out why it’s important. It’s just important cause they made it important.

With the exception of health and family, I submit that a lot of what you put your heart and soul with, it’s nuthin at all. A lot of what I put my heart and soul into is nuthin at all.

At the end of the cartoon above, the characters are the same; the situation’s the same. The only thing that’s changed is each character’s perception of reality. But, man, that’s everything, that’s the whole nut, yeah?

Heard once that, On the day he thought he died, the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. It’s dorky, overly sentimental and hopeful. Like me.

Speaking of which, y’know, I pretty much am Pepe le Pew when I’m out and about. And ’bout as successful.

It’s ok, I have fun…Bonjour Week-end! Où sont les filles?

Location: home
Mood: beat tired
Music: tell your white knight that he’s handsome in hindsight

Categories
personal

No troubles

Met a girlie last week.

Her: I think I have you beat.
Me: I doubt that.
Her: (deep breath) Well, when I was in high school, my prom date raped me, got me pregnant, and, causa my dad, I got married causa it. Then I had a miscarriage so I was a divorcee before I went to college. He divorced me – can you believe that? Moved here, became a model. Now I throw up at least once a day so I can pay my rent and I hate, hate, hate men of every type. Can you beat that?
Me: (shaking head, pause, lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek)
Her: Why did you do that?
Me: I dunno…thought you deserved it. (she laughed, then frowned and nodded)

Didn’t give her my number or ask for her’s, and paid for her drink, which I never do.

There’s this comedian that says that children are a man’s receipt; children are the canceled check that proves that we were here.

The stuff you hear about happening in China is horrifying, isn’t it? 22,000 to 50,000 dead with 169,000 injured. But it’s actually even worse than that. With the PRC’s One Child Policy, bloodlines and family lose everything. For those that lose their one child and they’re too old to have kids again, they’ve no safety net to take care of them in their old age. Their history ends with them; they’ve no connection to the future. They’ve no child to love. Can’t imagine how that must feel.

My father once said that he loved us all before we were born. That didn’t make sense back then.

I’m getting sued (again). I’m working 12 hour days for negative returns. There’s stuff I don’t tell you about. But really, I got no problems. I got my life, my family, my rum, and the occasional girlie for company.

It’s raining here, but in my head, there’re blue skies. Told you before, yeah? God gave me everything.

Hope you have an amazing weekend.

Location: in my office, looking at the rain and thinking
Mood: grateful
Music: Won’t you miss me?

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

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
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

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