Tag: nostalgia

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personal

What I remember

9/11 made me believe in evil things again

So, I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Wasn’t planning on writing anything – every two-bit hack with a computer writes something about the day and I didn’t wanna be another one.

But here I am. Makes sense; I am a two-bit hack with a computer.

I’ve lived here my whole life. I had one of my first elementary school class trips to see those buildings. I remember I was scared to look up at them because I thought they might fall on me.

After college I worked on the 2nd Floor. Wheelock NatWest. Then again about a decade ago. Mancini Duffy. My brother worked there once.

My sister went to school in their shadow.

They were always there.

That’s why when you lose someone close to you, it’s so heartbreaking. It’s because they’re always there. And then one day, poof. They’re gone.

The scene I remember most is that of strangers gathered around cars, the city quiet, save for the radios.

Can you see it?

Cars stopped along Broadway with their radios on full blast for strangers? No music, no commercials, just the news. Everyone quiet and craning their neck so they could hear the latest bit of misery.

I believed in evil again that day. I believe in it now. I remember thinking of that line from American Pie that goes, I saw satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

I’m not a good enough writer to put into words how I felt then or feel now. So I’ll just say that I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Location: in my living room, trying not to be depressed
Mood: see location
Music: and there we were all in one place
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Rising

It’s 9/11/2007 today

I’m flying today. I’ve flown for at least three 9/11s since that day.

Ever miss a flight?

I almost missed mine this morning. I’m always almost missing flights. Not because I’m late; today I arrived with almost two hours to spare.

No, I was daydreaming again.

Heard my name on the loudspeaker a coupla times before it fully registered. I rose, grabbed my bag and ran the 30 feet to the gate. The pretty girl at the gate laughed because she said she noticed me staring out at the planes the whole time but assumed I was waiting for the next flight.

Go, go, go, she said.

Threw her a wink and a smile as I went, went, went.

Right now I’m in another nondescript upstate hotel room by myself listening to sad songs with only you, Tupac and the light from my screen for company. I’m remembering things and people I don’t wanna remember but I can’t forget.

And still I rise…

Location: 13601, talking to Somena
Mood: pensive
Music: Please give me to the sky
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September

My year really starts in September

Busy week. My rule to never say no to an invite came back to bite me last week. I was out every night after returning from Baltimore. Both my liver and my wallet hate me.

Saw a curly-haired girl from NYC, a grey-eyed blond from down south, and a brunette actress from Berlin, whom I suppose should be called Berlingirl.

For the first time in months, I find myself thinking about one particular girl. I’m trying not to dwell on it her too much, but it’s not easy.

Still, Fall’s my favorite season and I was alone(ish) last time around. Some company this year would be nice.

Not absolutely necessary but nice.

Hey, when does your year start? Does it start in January like most people? Or on your birthday?

Or September? Mine starts in September. Probably cause I was a student for so long.

And when you’re a fat, clumsy, geek, no one calls you to come out to play over summers. Plus camp’s for people with spare scratch.

For kids like me, summer’s just three months of solitude.

I can’t hardly wait for Fall to come.

Seriously, bring it, bring it, bring it…

Location: 10PM yest, saying goodbye and then hello on Broadway
Mood: excited again
Music: One eye on the winter Oh there’s just a hint of soviet snow

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personal

This time around

 

Camera Obscura in concert at the South Street Seaport

 

Camera Obscura – the drummer was smoking like a chimney.

Baltimore was nice. Coming home was nicer. This time around, there was silverware. Sorta.

Was in the Baltimore Penn Station and I remembered being there a year ago asking my brother what I should do when I got home. He reminded me of something:

You’re 33. How can someone that you’ve been with for four years define you? What’d you do before her?

Told him the same thing once before.

I’m troubled again, but this time, for totally different reasons.

Was going to make a peanut butter and marmalade sandwich but instead had a rendezvous with a single-barrel, seven-year rum. No oranges.

This week is going to be very unpleasant but I just told someone here that life has it’s highs and lows. Life’s like that.

I’m ready for some more highs.

Camera Obscura in concert at the South Street Seaport

Location: 9PM yest, Freehold NJ, hearing a sad story
Mood: troubled
Music: I’m a stupid little thing

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personal

Comings and Goings

 

A buddy had a going away party on Saturday at one of my favorite joints, Solas and different people from different circles of my life met up there.

We ran into others like Candyfiend – whom I also bumped into last week midtown, an actor from 72nd to Canal, and a Texan and her friend (like the hat?) I met at a party a week ago. Sometimes NYC’s a small town.

Lots of memories there. Before my time it was called Café Tabac and Madonna worked there. You know, I met Somena there, was there for dozens of parties, was slapped there and last saw Blue-Jean Eyes there.

Had my 30th birthday party at Solas too.

The coolest thing about Saturday night was that there were at least 10 people there for my buddy’s thing that were at my 30th as well.

Friends come and go. Some stay with you physically; some stay with you mentally. Some do both.

Have a safe trip, buddy.

Location: 7:15PM yest, saying hello at church
Mood: psyched!
Music: On my way to see my friends who live a couple blocks away
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Bye Betty

Saw my friend Betty for dinner

Was supposed to do all these things yesterday. Instead, I went for a walk; cleaned up my pad; did some laundry; read some magazines; even cleaned out the fish tank.

Felt normal again – well, as normal as I get.

KG Betty is on a plane but we had a long talk before she left. She said she might visit Germany but she’d never move back. Her friends are all over the world now; home isn’t home any more.

Like me, she’s working her way through the world.

In 2002, I was supposed to attend the University of Dresden for a graduate program in Chinese Political Science and Law (I’m geek, what can I say).

But then I met this chick…

Ultimately, our lives are just strings of choices we make, like those Choose Your Own Adventure books from childhood.

Think I got off schedule somewhere between Chapters Three and Four.

But it’s been hella fun.

Well, Hello Weekend!

Did ya miss me?

Location: 4PM yest, walking down Broadway
Mood: content
Music: I hope you’re thinking about me daily
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Still thinking of the other side

If we fail, let’s fail greatly

Saw my friend Skinny tonight. He’s on his way to Japan to a new life.

I’m secretly a little jealous, but happy for him too.

Teddy Roosevelt once said that of the person who tries something bold and new:

at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

I’m always impressed by who just pick up and go. Thought so many times about moving here or here. But I never did.

Don’t know why I don’t just get to the other side.

Someday.

Until then, Skinny, if you meet a nice (non-pescatarian) Japanese girl, send her my way?

I’ll be here. I’m ever here.

Location: 10PM, yest., with friends
Mood: sotted
Music: What does this city have to offer me
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Always Dreaming

I dream a lot, but I’m not a very good sleeper

 

But I don’t want to go among mad people, Alice remarked.
Oh, you can’t help that, said the Cat, we’re all mad here. I’m mad, you’re mad.
How do you know I’m mad? said Alice.
You must be, said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.

Sometimes I have nice dreams.

Unfortunately, it’s rare because of my insomnia – and when I’m awake, I feel like I’m sleepwalking. But I daydream a lot.

And sometimes, my daydreams are just as real and just as nice when I’m up as when I sleep. I spend a lot of time in my head, you see.

An ex once told me that when she and I lived in the same neighborhood, she used to walk to my building, sit on my stoop, and whisper, Come out, come out…let’s have some fun.

The times I did randomly come out, she thought she had magic.

In my head, she doesn’t hate me, and I don’t hate myself, for how I treated her.

And, in my head, my other ex is wrong and my insides do match my outsides.

But you can never change what another person does or thinks. Only yourself. I know that.

Still, being ambulatory for 18 hours a day means that I spend a lot of time there. In my head, I mean.

I know, I know – what if I get stuck there? I suppose large polite men in clean white coats will take me away. Funny, sometimes I think I’m just one more sleepless night away from that. I’ve been up for…I don’t know how long now…

Hey, you’d visit me, yeah?

Shake your head with that, “Oh, so sad, he had so much promise,” look on your face before you shuffle off?

But sometimes I wonder, which way is worse.

Because, you see, in my head, I’m quite happy.

Michel Gondry said, I dream a lot, but I’m not a very good sleeper.

I love that. The knowing that it’s not just me.

Come out, come out…let’s have some fun…

Location: physically, an ugly hotel bed in 14202, mentally…
Mood: awake
Music: one more, you’re nuts

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personal

My biggest fan

What is your definition of love?

 

Meant to post this a while ago but I thought it was too long. It’s my definition:

When I was 15, my best friend, Kevin, told me that my girl Diana cheated on me. We never spoke, I just shut her out. Stupid kid stuff.

Maybe a decade later, I drove by her home and, for some reason, I rang her doorbell. I expected her to slap me when she answered the door; instead, she let me in, gave me a smile and an apron. She had this huge bar of chocolate that she told me to chop for cookies.

So I went in and started chopping.

After a bit, I asked her, half-jokingly, what happened between us.

She stopped and answered:

You listened to Kevin but we both know that he was the first guy to ask me out after we broke up. So that makes you an idiot. I never cheated on you, you know that. I was your biggest fan. That makes me an idiot. You never stood up for me and I didn’t understand why, because I was kind to you. I was on your side but you weren’t on mine.


Why weren’t you?

I had no answer. Almost twenty years after the fact, I still have no answer. I don’t remember anything else but I remember what she said.

That conversation started me off in being who I am now. In fact, I learned the phrases biggest fan and on your side that day.

It’s why I’m always loyal.

You see, she doesn’t know, but I still wonder if No. 7 ever found that job under the California sun; I wanna call her office someday and hear that message that says she’s left the company she hates.

And I still wonder if Diana bought that ranch in Colorado that she dreamt of and has kids to help her make cookies. I wouldn’t know, though.

I never saw her again.

But I hope she got it all.

As for me, I’m waiting for someone to be on my side again.

Location: home
Mood: pensive
Music: But until then I’ll do just fine on my own

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personal

Fathers and sons

For my dad on Father’s Day

Couldn’t celebrate father’s day because of the wedding. I saw him though.

My dad graduated from the second hardest law school in Japan – the equivalent of Princeton here. I graduated in the top third of my class; he graduated in the top 5%.

But, when he was younger than I am now, he came here to wash dishes and chop fish to feed his family. He didn’t want us growing up there.

Realize now how hard it must have been to be 4,000 miles from home, not know the language and work at jobs far beneath you.

Can barely make it outta the Upper West Side.

He said my mom cried when he came home stinking of fish guts for the first time. She was the local beauty queen; he was now a fish monger.

I thought I married a lawyer, she said.
You once believed in me enough to marry me, he said, just wait.

She did and he became the man he knew he could be.

He says that he believed in himself even if no one else did.

He says that he believes in me. I’m actually a bit surprised he’s still pulling for me.

At least you’re not gutting fish; you’re already doing better than I was.

I’d like to be the man I think I could be. I’d like to be the man he thinks I could be.

He doesn’t know about this blog (don’t tell him). But I wanna say, Thanks anyway.

I’m very grateful.

Location: 1PM, yest., doctor’s office
Mood: sick
Music: daddy’s rich And your ma is so good-looking
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