Life at an Intersection

Chicago Phoenix, indemnity bonds, journaling, really really really want a zigazig ah, travel, books, travel books, relationships, values. It is hard to pinpoint precisely, but I'd say about 82% of what you read here is true. The rest is fictional nonfiction.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009



One drowsy spring afternoon in Modern American Literature class, my professor accused me of being a romantic. We are talking personality-wise here, not in the literary or aesthetic-sense. Loudly, in front of the entire class, with basically no context, he said, "Now David, I think he's a romantic. Aren't you, David?" (I think he was probably flirting with me. He loved hugs from boys, asked for them frequently, but I can't remember ever seeing him hug a girl.) After a modicum of teasing by my friendly classmates and about eight years of reflection, today I find that he was correct. I am something of a romantic. (Sometimes our teachers tell us what to become, and sometimes they help us become what we already are. I'm not qualified to say which is the case here.)

This romantic made a dinner date last Friday night with his girl-buddy Happy. We went to HB, which is a bit more upscale of a restaurant than I usually frequent in Chicago (read: no counter service here). Also, inexplicably, though it is nestled deep in the gayest cockles of the heart of this city, it was chock-full of guy/girl couples. We fit in! But boy, did we have them fooled. After dinner, we moved a few doors down for some fun at my favorite nightspot. Some other friends joined; we were filled with spirits and merriment; we whiled the hours away on the dance floor and in the more conversation-friendly courtyard with great joy.

Then this happened: I noticed a boy. I danced with him. I wrote a missed connection about it. Maybe this was a flare-up of my romantic temperament. Maybe it was silly. Either way, I posted it.

David Visiting from Phoenix, AZ - m4m - 30

I pulled you away from your group of friends late tonight at Roscoe's and asked you to dance with me. You were quite obliging, and by far the cutest guy among hundreds of cute guys at the bar tonight. I am not into hookups or one-nighters, and I got the feeling that you aren't either, so this was going nowhere fast. But I also got the feeling that you are much more than a smoking hot, stylish, vest-wearing guy; you seemed incredibly sweet and kind in the few minutes that I got to spend with you. Thanks again for dancing with me, and I hope that you enjoy your long weekend here in Chicago.

David from Tennessee...
Location: Roscoe's, Friday Night

Yes, friends, I got a hot guy to dance with me. It was a great moment for me, because I am usually not the go-get-'em, instigator type. You can probably glean everything that you need to know about our fabulous ten minutes together from this posting: we danced, we talked, we found out that we were both named David, he told me that he was just visiting for the weekend from Phoenix, we said goodbye. We said goodbye several times, actually. Once on the dance floor. Once when we left the dance floor. Once at the coat check. Once when our groups of friends pushed us towards each other and told us that we should go home together. One last time outside on the sidewalk, replete with fleeting glances and overly dramatic goodbye waves. Yeah, that was me.

Then I went home and wrote the missed connection that you just read. I was pleased to have met him, and felt like I needed to express some thanks and well-wishes. I spent the rest of the weekend hoping that I would run into him and his friends somewhere in the neighborhood, just for laughs. There's really no use having actual hopes or expectations in a situation like this, is there? No, there isn't. Wise words, level-headed perspective there, David #1.

Fast forward to Monday night, when this shows up in my email:

From: (

Wow... I can't tell you how many times my friends told me I was dumb for walking away after we danced & not following up with you before we left the bar. I guess impairment can also affect your judgment negatively to cause you to pass up something good just as much as it can cause you to do something bad. Clearly I missed out on something good here... Hit me back?

and then this:

From: David X Xxxxxxxxxx (

Ok, so first of all I've never done this before and didn't know if my reply would post straight to craigslist, or if it went straight to you, so I didn't include any personal info in my last email. Then, I realized "how would he even know it's actually me and not some creeper?!" So, do this - check my facebook ( or just take a look at the pic I've attached. (ooh, the shirt and tie in the pic were actually the same ones I wore under my black vest! But don't tell anyone that... haha! jk) I wish I had some pics from the trip to send, but no such luck.

But yeah, like I mentioned before, I'd definitely like to catch up/keep in touch, if for no other reason than to continue kicking myself for being so overwhelmed by the fun of my first trip to Chicago that I missed a chance to get to know a cute and intelligent guy. I'll stop now before I start/continue to sound crazy...

Hope to talk soon.

Imagine my joy! Imagine my excitement! Imagine a missed connection actually working! Imagine the fact that my eyes seem to water now every time I get really excited about a boy. It isn't crying; it is watery eyes. Bizarre but true.

So I wrote him back tonight. You don't get to know what that email said just yet, but I'll post an update if there is more news to share.

Currently Listening to:
Funhouse by P!nk

Sunday, November 15, 2009

PDX Food

And now for something completely different and wholly unexpected, a food photo blog from this Pringles and chicken nuggets connoisseur. If one of you posted this on your blog, I would probably be like, "Snooze!" But it seems like I'm the only person that I know who isn't completely, totally in love with food - so who knows! Maybe you'll enjoy it.


Delicious, decadent chocolate bouquet filled with some sort of mousse and chocolate cake from Pix. It was so incredibly rich that I couldn't finish it. I always finish everything.


Breakfast, a farm scramble with eggs, bacon, peppers, onions, and other assorted vegetables, from New Deal, a lovely restaurant a mere two blocks from Liza's abode. Also, that biscuit was almost perfect, a little heartier and buttery-er than should be allowed by law. Also, a very good book by a Nobel Prize winner.


This was a delicious lunch discovery from the Pearl District: a bowl of brown rice and red and black beans garnished with a slice of avocado, black olives, a generous pinch of cilantro and cheddar cheese, and awakened by a yellow tali sauce that had hints of mustard and paprika. The Whole Bowl. Fantastic, unpretentious, everything that a person who doesn't care about food secretly wants his food to be.


Pizza from HOTLIPS on Hawthorne. The Friday veggie special was green chilis, roasted peppers, mushrooms, feta, and cilantro pesto. It was outrageously delicious. There was a salad on the side also, so I basically got more vegetables in one meal there than I do in a month here at home.


I did a lot of breakfast-time hanging out and reading. This trio was at a nice working bakery/cafe near Liza's home in the Hollywood District called Fleur de Lis. The cinnamon roll was uninspired but satisfying, the chocolate croissant was delicious with a remarkably generous vein of chocolate running through the middle, and the coffee was bold, tasty, and not devastating to my caffeine-sensitive constitution.


Late one afternoon during my Portland wanderings, I found a bubble tea shop that fairly and adequatley approximated the Taiwanese tea experience that I miss so dreadfully. Here is an iced mango green tea and the netbook on which I am currently typing this blog. Web 2.0 can be so eye-rollingly meta.

And now, my friends, the piece de resistance: a $5 bucket of day-old doughnuts from Voodoo Doughnuts. This is no small bucket; this is a 3 gallon bucket. I would guess there were between 20 and 25 doughnuts inside, and then 6 enormous fritters that were as big as your face. I don't exaggerate when it comes to baked goods, people. This may be the second best reason to move to Portland. A convincing case, indeed.



There is some focus on incorporating different kinds of cereal as doughnut toppings. You'll notice Froot Loops and Cocoa Puffs here. That little voodoo man contained some strawberry jam filling, which was appropriate and wonderful. That's also a pentagram doughnut. Didn't get eaten.



We played and posed with the doughnuts for longer than you'd like to know.



The fritters aren't as photo-friendly, but they were enormous and delicious. A winning combination, right?


Just one more: my last night in Portland we went to Branch, a new restaurant and whiskey bar. We had delicious drinks and fantastic food. I actually had a steak, which doesn't happen more than once a year, because who really likes to eat an enormous slab and/or pile of animal flesh? NRA members, that's who. And that's not me. But anyway, the steak was served on sauteed kale with potatoes and wonderful garlic and spices that I could not begin to isolate. It was divine.

Sorry that I overused the word delicious, but I'm fairly vocabulary-limited when it comes to taste descriptors. Guess I should start downloading Top Chef.

Currently Not Downloading:
Top Chef

Monday, November 9, 2009


I'm wrapping up my last days and hours here in the Pacific Northwest. Time has gone by quickly, but I feel like I have really been able to relax and enjoy my time as fully as was possible. Vacation. Swell.

I had an ecstatic doughnut experience Saturday morning when Liza took me on a pilgrimage to Portland's famous Voodoo Doughnuts. I chose the $5 bucket of day-olds, which contained no less than 25 doughnuts and 6 enormous fritters. Seriously, these fritters are the size of your face, and they will rock said face right off your head. Pictures can't do this bucket of awesomeness justice, but I took some and will share in the next few days. Just a heads-up: prepare your amazedness and doughnut jealousy now.

Liza and I drove a few hours up the road to Seattle mid-day Saturday to meet up with Scott and Tami and their children Asher and Bella. We stayed in a hotel that was recently converted from a corportate retreat/conference center, so it was kind of perfect for us. The kiddos went to bed early, and the adults got to hang out in comfortable chairs by the fireplace in the lounge and catch up on years of shared history and gaps of togetherness. We told stories and asked questions and talked about all of you people that we know in common. Liza and the Camerons had previously enjoyed an online-only style of friendship, so it was cool that they got to know each other a bit. Catching up with old friends is a special kind of communion.

Sunday we hung out at the hotel a bit in the morning and then explored the University District and some nearby areas in the afternoon. Playing with Asher was great fun, and Bella was a perfect, beautiful little angel. It was a simple, wonderful day that really made me appreciate the power of friendship, and of course these special, priceless friends in particular.

Today Liza and I have been batting clean-up, hitting some shopping and dining spots that we didn't make it to previously or needed to return to. Tomorrow I'm heading back to Chicago and a bit of extra stress at work. My no-good coworkers have been pestering me this week - during my vacation, hello! - about their scheduling issues and things that frankly couldn't concern me less when I'm 2 time zones and a million mental miles away. I snapped pretty hard on the telephone on Saturday, so I'm expecting a little blowback from that. But, whatever. Bitches will be bitches, and I'll leave it up to you to figure out whether I'm talking about myself or them.

Currently disagreeing with Liza on a summary judgement of the movie
500 Days of Summer
and waiting for another Facebook message that may never come.

Friday, November 6, 2009


I have all of these really great photos of beautiful Portland girls and wonderful food and I have no way to get them from my phone to my computer for posting here. This is lame. So another boring, imageless blog. Please use your imagination, just like Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street taught us.

*Someday I'd like to own a shop, a business of some sort, where I can choose the music that will be playing. A tea shop, perhaps! Today I wandered into a vintage store of some vintage or another that was playing Bjork on the stereo. And it was perfect, and I marveled.

*The station and safety messages on the Portland light rail are completely bilingual. Every single announcement in both English and Spanish. The female voice tells you that doors will open on her right, and then the male one says that they will open on his derecha. Frankly, it is completely annoying, and I say that from the position of someone who lived in another country where the lingua franca wasn't my own. I am all for helping out people who don't speak English, but making everything completely bilingual is accomodation, not acclimation. And that's not the American way. That's the Quebecan way, and we should all know how well that's worked out.

*I had a fantastic day of socialization yesterday. Meaghan and I got together for a super-sized (conversation-wise, not dietary portion-wise) lunch and marathon catch-up session. She looks fantastic like you wouldn't believe, radiant and alive. We can banter our faces off, and I hope we get to do it again before another seven years passes. Then I had drinks and frommage with Bethanne downtown. Beth and I were destined to be better friends than we've ever been able to actually be. Geographical constraints, sadly. We have such a common perspective, see eye-to-eye on so many things from romance to reconciling ourselves with our past. Time with her was fairly short but intensely gratifying. I love these girls. Then Liza took me to the home of some of her friends where they have a regular group that watches the show "Project Runway" together. That show is way too gay for me, but her friends were fun, dynamic people. I'm glad she's got cool peeps to wear athletic clothing with and keep her company here.

*Tomorrow it is off to Seattle for 24-hours of hang time with Scott, Tami, Asher & Bella! You could say that I'm pretty excited about this, but you'd be selling it a thousand miles short. Is that a mixed metaphor? Hrm.

*And etc.: Pretty disappointed by Maine's big marriage equality rejection earlier this week. Pretty excited about maybe having a date next week. Pretty pissed off by my coworkers bothering me during my vacation time to ask me questions about next week's work schedule. Pretty much always hot and sweating recently. Pretty sure it is menopause-related.

Drinking a passion fruit green iced tea that is pretty darn Taiwanese but just a tad bit too fragrant-tasting and has been sealed with a Hello Kitty zodiac lid, so it is all good.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


I'm in Portland! This is a fairly recent development.

First impressions:

*Girl at the decadent desert cafe plopping down a table away from us, typing on a tiny little typewriter with a clack-clack-clack. So counterculture retro chic. So funny. Kudos to her. It was poetry: her typing, and what she was typing.

*The houses in Liza's neighborhood are completely endearing. They are a bit frumpy, a bit unkempt and rough around the edges, not at all the preening, overly manicured homes of the pretentious eastern half of America. They are rich in experience. They have seen better, newer days, and are more loved for these memories that they hold.

*Approximatley 66.7% of the men here have beards. I've already seen 3 or 4 ramshackle Volkswagon vans. Stereotypes exist for a reason.

*I am eating really fantastic food at a fairly rapid rate. Liza and Fred Pierce's famous chili last night, aforementioned mind-blowingly decadend desert at Pix, one of the finest breakfasts of my life this morning at New Deal, and something fabulous and a bit difficult to describe from a food cart for lunch this afternoon. I may gain a pound or two of ass here, which could potentially make the plane ride home more comfortable.

Much more excitement - and food photos! - still to come.

Currently Reading:
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Twitter / Davie_St

Words That I'm Living By - 5/2/2010

Time, as I've known it
Doesn't take much time to pass by me
Minutes into days, turn into months
Turn into years, they hurry by me
But still I love to see the sun go down
And the world go around

Dreams full of promises
Hopes for the future, I've had many
Dreams I can't remember now
Hopes that I've forgotten,
faded memories
But still I love to see the sun go down
And the world go around

And I love to see the morning
as it steals across the sky
I love to remember and
I love to wonder why
And I hope that I'm around
so I can be there when I die
When I'm gone

I hope that you will think of me
In moments when you're happy and you're smiling
That the thought will comfort you
On cold and cloudy days
if you are crying
And that you'll love to see
the sun go down
And the world go around
And around and around

"Around and Around" by Mark Kozelek

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