A weekend in food

Me: You wanna…?
Her: Sure.
Me: (five minutes later) Actually, I feel like a fatty-fat-fat.
Her: Yeah, I’m beat. (laughing) We are so married.

Friday night, came home to a Spanish Dinner that Heartgirl picked up; it’s good to mix it up some. We were getting a bit tired of the usual Chinese/Italian/American we’ve been eating for a while. Wish I had pix but we were so voraciously hungry that we just tore into it.

Menu: Pan Tomaca, Bravas, Empanadas Argentinas, Brochetas De Pollo, and Chorizo A La Parrilla.

Saturday, went out to Brooklyn for work in the AM. Coincidentally, an employee of the client was in the same train car as me all of way there but we both didn’t really recognize each other. When I walked into the client’s he started shouting and laughing, “Man, I knew I knew you!”

When I got back, HG and I walked over to the Whitney Museum across town to check out the Edward Hopper exhibit. Kinda underwhleming – they didn’t have Nighthawks and wouldn’t lemme take pics but they did have Sunday Morning. Afterward, went out for Japanese at our local sushi joint before staying in and watching The Next Three Days.

Menu: Ramen, Dragon Roll, California Roll, Chicken Teriyaki.

Sunday, was supposed to stay in but a buddy a mine had the building nexta his apartment catch on fire so at 9AM, I’m in a taxi to Times Square to check out the fire damage. It was pretty bad. Walking up 5th Avenue, the guy at the local halal cart recognized me at and asked me if I wanted some. Breakfasta champions.

Went downtown again Sunday to pick up a new camera; more on that some other time. Syd was so long ago.

Menu: Rice, meat, and grease.

Was a lot busier a weekend than I wanted it to be but still good. S’funny how stuffing our faces’s so basic and complex a parta our lives.

So, that was my weekend. Hope yours was good.

Location: staying in today to finish some work
Mood: optimistic
Music: and so it goes, this soldier knows
YASYCTAI: Pick an artist to like. I like Hopper cause he’s NYC. (time/1 pt)



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.


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


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


Meet Syd

Got a new camera and named her Syd

As I said, it didn’t work out with me and Fiona. I need a camera with anti-shake – you know why. So, above is my new camera – Syd (after Sydney Wayser).



Her: That’s cheating.
Me: I don’t say I’m gay, they just ask and I politely decline to answer. Besides, how’s it cheating?
Her: It’s dishonest! You’re not gay and you should tell them right away.
Me: (rolling eyes) Please. Men don’t wear three-inch heels, makeup, or anything that starts with the words “push up.” What you see is what you get. I assure you, there’s been more than one time when I don’t even recognize the girl the next time around.
Her: (ignoring comment) So how to they find out you’re not?
Me: (laughing) That’s a whole different conversation.


Me: I have no idea why I keep meeting chicks that are so young.
Her: I think it’s how you dress.
Me: (puzzled) How I dress? How should I dress?
Her: Have you ever thought about shopping at the Gap?
Me: (pause) No.

Location: 9:40 yest, the Midtown Tunnel
Mood: possibly sick again
Music: no sympathy come around and I’m in between the layers