Davie St.

Glyphs

2011-01-22T12:35:00.004-06:00

I have things to say, so many things. This past week I have thought of so many things to say here, so many things to write on postcards and mail to Frank at PostSecret, so many thank you notes and emails to compose to so many people. Sometimes there's something like a stirring in my...mind? heart? pituitary gland?...that makes me want to write. I've forgotten many of these writing impulses as the days have rushed on by, most of them probably lost to the ether. But maybe I'll remember some of them as I type this.

***

I won a scholarship from my school this week. I got the email while I was in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store at 5 pm Friday evening in my sweaty gym clothes. I was so excited that I punched a Boca burger in the face. It feels nice to earn some money for the first time in about eight months.

***

I like being normal. I aspire to normality. Not in the average, plain, or nondescript sense, but in the mainstream, natural, balanced sense. (Yes, I used a thesaurus for this. Go ahead and judge me.) Someone recently tried to make me feel very abnormal. This person used words as weapons against me and tried to make me feel that, because of my sexual orientation, I am bad, evil, deviant, less-than, other. This person tried to make me feel extremely abnormal.

It did not work.

I'm a confident guy. This is helpful in job interviews, class presentations and when driving. This is a detriment when playing football, buying used cars, or pretending that I know what someone is talking about when I really have no idea. In this particular confrontation, my confidence served me well.

But this whole episode really made me reflect on the experience of others, other people who are different, people who have more trouble fitting in and feeling normal that I do. Made me reflect on the ways that people harm and destroy each other. Thank God, there's been such a big movement lately towards affirmation and honesty and protecting vulnerable people from bullies, intimidation, and discrimination. Organizations like the It Gets Better Project are making a huge difference, media are recognizing the stories of gay and lesbian youngsters and the difficulties that they face at home, at school, and at church. Hate speech is being called out, and groups that actively work to undermine equal rights and enshrine their own narrow ideas of faith, family, and freedom are being exposed for the hacks that they are.

I wonder, though, what an incident like this would have done to me in an earlier, more vulnerable time in my life. We've seen so many stories over the last few months of kids who commit suicide because of peer and internet bullying, because of family pressures and hateful words. Kids kill themselves because of other people's words. I see kids at school every day who have been wounded by words and actions, by their family dysfunctions, by their parents and family members and teachers and classmates and community. I want to protect them, I want to help them rise above and achieve because of and regardless of these hurdles. This is part of my calling.

Thank you, person who tried to hurt me, for reaffirming this for me and helping to strengthen my resolve.

***

It is 70 degrees here. Every day. Why doesn't everyone live here? This not-living-here, this is a form of madness.

***

In terms of frequency and magnitude, I may be having more fun at this time in my life than ever before. My friends here - mostly my classmates and their significant others - are the most remarkable group. They make every class day, every weekend, every event and gathering a riot.

We have crazy fun, and thankfully most of the picture proof on Facebook is locked away behind "Friends Only" barriers. Our first professor this past summer, our technology teacher, warned us about this.

***

I've noticed a law of diminishing returns in regards to my dating life here in Phoenix. Which is to say, every guy I go out with is a bigger bum than the last.

No, not really a bum. Just not for me. Actually this last guy that I saw for a couple of dates, I came to the conclusion that we actually had too much in common. All the things that I usually say on a date, the things that are supposed to make me unique and memorable, he said them. We have all this geography and perspective and academic history in common, and it just weirds me out. We even kind of look a bit alike. Maybe I'm expected to be into that, you know, since homosexuality is really just a narcissistic personality disorder, but I'm not.

***

I miss this one TV show (as in yearn for and feel sentimental feelings towards, not as in fail to watch) like pretty much every Sunday night. That's a fairly embarrassing thing to admit all in its own right, so I'm not going to do myself the further embarrassment of telling you what cringe-worthy show it actually is. Suffice it to say that it no longer comes on, and that I wish it did. It had really interesting, complex characters and outlandish soap operatic plotlines. I was a big, fat fanboy.

But when I think about it, I guess I'm not really missing the show as much as I am missing a specific time in my life. I was much younger, I was in the midst of my first really fulfilling and enjoyable job experience, I was living on my own and managing to have a pretty cool little Chattanooga futon-in-my-apartment life. It was all very just-barely post-collegiate and innocent. It was a very good time in my life, and I shared it with some fictional TV friends.

***

Oh, but this is a very good time in my life too, and I'm sharing it with some extraordinarily sweet, hilarious real-life friends.

Here are a few of those people, and a few of those photos that you maybe can't see on Facebook.

Thanks to Liza, Kati, Michelle, and Roxi for the photos.

Currently Listening to

The King is Dead by the Decemberists and

Last Night I Watched

The Town with Ben Affleck and it was phenomenally good.

Year in Music, 2010 - Part II

2010-12-20T14:27:00.002-06:00

My other musical obsession this year, and my pick for best album of the year, was Miranda Lambert's Revolution. My computer, my mp3 player, and probably my roommate can all attest to the fact that this record never got much of a rest, that I kept going back to it again and again, sometimes just listening to it multiple times in a row. If country is the new pop, I really think that Miranda Lambert's dirtier, grittier, catchier, more honest version of country is the new rock. I love the way that she can be the Southern trailer park princess who sings to her prissy rival, "I don't have to be hateful / I can just say 'Bless your heart' ... We're just like you / only prettier," and just as easily slip into a soft love song like "Makin' Plans" or rock out on John Prine's hilariously absurd "That's the Way that the World Goes 'Round." Miranda Lambert is fantastic, the kind of tough, scrappy girl that you want on your side in a bar fight, with the kind of uniquely wonderful and versatile voice that you would want singing at both your wedding and your wake.

Other albums that I really enjoyed this year included:

Arcade Fire's The Suburbs

The National's High Violet

MGMT's Oracular Spectacular

Dierks Bentley's Feel That Fire

The Soundtrack from 500 Days of Summer

A Fine Frenzy's One Cell in the Sea

fun.'s Aim and Ignite

Vampire Weekend's Contra

David Bazan's Curse Your Branches

Besides the most excellent Sufjan Stevens concert, I got to see a few other cool shows and acts this year: The Weepies were a huge highlight at a small, intimate Phoenix venue called Rhythm Room, Tim McGraw and Lady Antebellum were great together earlier this summer out in Glendale, and seeing the musical version of Billy Elliot on stage just before I left Chicago was awesome.

And of course, how wildly remiss I would be if I didn't give a big time hat tip to Glee for making my year extra-specially musical. I've listened to many of the songs from the first season repeatedly this year, and the Finn and Rachel duets of "Faithfully" from the season finale and "Borderline/Open Your Heart" from the Madonna episode are probably my favorite stand-alone songs of the year. I haven't found the songs from season 2 to be quite as catchy, memorable, or worthy of my attention, but hopefully that's just a little sophomore slump.

Currently Listening to

Carlos Baute & Marta Sanchez, "Colgando en tus Manos"

Year in Music, 2010 - Part I

2010-12-20T12:43:00.004-06:00

2010 was a great music year for me, one of the best that I can remember. That primarily has to do with Sufjan Stevens.

Seeing him in concert here in Phoenix back in October was one of the highlights of my year. I snatched up some prime sixth row seats during the pre-sale back in August and then spent the next two months eagerly anticipating my first Sufjan live show. It did not disappoint. It really was a most transcendent concert experience.

Sufjan released two albums this year, both consuming a great part of the second half of my musical year: the All Delighted People EP was a surprise August release and his full-length Royal Robertson-inspired concept album about love, art, and the apocalypse The Age of Adz came out in October. I also spent a great deal of time earlier in the year listening to Michigan and Seven Swans. And of course, now that it is holiday time, Songs for Christmas is in heavy rotation in my media player.

My year in music belongs to Sufjan Stevens. He is a provocative, challenging, intellectual artist; his lyrics and melodies prod, enlighten, and inspire.

Now turn off all of your lights and watch this video in HD full screen.

Too Much from Asthmatic Kitty on Vimeo.

Currently Listening to

"Impossible Soul" by Sufjan Stevens

It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Get your face together, better roll along
It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Put your face together, better stand up straight
It's a long life only one last chance
Couldn't get much better, do you wanna dance?
It's a good life, better pinch yourself
Is it impossible? Is it impossible?
Boy, we can do much more together
(Better get it right, get it right, get it right, get it right)
Boy, we can do much more together
(Better get a life, get a life, get a life, get a life)

Boy we can do much more together, it's not so impossible
It's not so impossible

It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Put your face together, better get it right
It's a long life, better hit yourself
Put your face together, better stand up straight
In the wrong life, everything is chance
Does it register? Do you wanna dance?
In the right life, it's a miracle
Possibility, do you wanna dance?

小摩托車

2010-10-16T01:31:00.002-05:00

One night during my life in Asia I was heading home from a night market after getting some dinner or doing a little shopping, maybe meeting up with a friend or two, I don't remember exactly. But I was on my way back to the apartment, driving my scooter, waiting at a stoplight, and a guy pulled up beside me on the tiniest little red motorcycle that I had ever seen. And then the light changed, and he drove away. He drove away really quickly too. Like his tiny little ridiculous motorcycle had way more juice than my 150 horsepower Yamaha bike. It was one the best, funniest, most random moments of my life, but I had forgotten about it until tonight.

Tonight, when I was watching one of those old Jackass movies and there was a setup where a bunch of those guys drove these tiny motorcycles all over a grocery store and were wiping out and startling customers and crashing into shelves and each other.

Such a fun memory. Thanks, jackasses.

Currently Listening to

All the Roadrunning by Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris

Italic

2010-09-26T23:51:00.007-05:00

I remember a time when I used to come to this blog to write sad things.

No wait, let me go further back. Farther back? Let me go back.

I remember a time when I used to not feel much. I was a pretty numb person. A guy in the midst of a life defined, perhaps, shall we say, by a general malaise. Which is to not say much at all except that there wasn't much to say. It was a life, and it was fairly empty. A dusty, neglected attic sort of life.

And then I awoke, and I found joy, beauty, love, happiness - those sorts of things. And life was good and exciting and contained some wonder and purpose. I sought and I found. I worked and I tried; I laughed and I felt. I felt so much for a while there.

And then I hit a rough patch and fell under the spell of one wicked witch who, in the fairy tale version of my existence, would be named - and not with even a touch of subtlety - Madame Inertia.

I lived under the enchantment of this femme terrible for no less than three years. And good things happened during this three years, don't get me wrong. I made friends that I madly cherish, friends whose faces are beaming at me from photos in frames just above the desk where I now type. Friends that I can't wait to see again; soon, please soon. And I lived and saw things and worked and tried and learned then too.

I'm tempted to say some harsher things, to use words like wasted and lost and defeated.

But the funny thing is that you can't really regret, can you? You can't really say, oh, I should have done this sooner, I should have moved and not wasted so much time. I should have chosen a different school for my undergrad or not stayed in Chicago so long. No. Because then this wouldn't be this, would it? This would be different - people, situation, city, who knows? - and not at all this. This is bringing me such joy and contentment, but it couldn't be if anything in my life - anything at all - had been any different.

***

I think I lost my main point there. They are a windy path tonight, my thoughts. But here's what I was getting at:

I am so happy.

My life is so blessed.

I made the right choice, at the right time.

These people in my life here, I love them so much.

I know that I am doing exactly what I should be doing, and what I want to be doing.

It is weird, actually. Times are difficult. September has been a very hard month in lots of ways. I had this day a couple of weeks ago, and let's just say that it would make a fantastic Steve Martin comedy. I'm not going for hyperbole here; it was the worst day of my life. Think Planes, Trains, and Automobiles or whatever is your least favorite, most painful one of his movies. They are all pretty awful, so good luck narrowing it down to one.

But truly, life is so fundamentally good. I can't stop wondering how I fumbled into this good fortune. Joy. Here are some of the reasons why this is so: constantsunshinefriendsCulver'sfrozencustardteachingmathmusicnoveltynodramapossibilityopportunity

thefuturelayssparklingahead. I'm so thankful for all of these. I'm blessed a quintillion miles beyond anything that I deserve.

Currently Listening to

Dierks Bentley Feel That Fire

Sentimentality

2010-09-03T10:53:00.004-05:00

This is a photo by Eric Ogden. It is beautiful. I don't own it. He does. Please don't sue me.

Shortly after moving to Arizona I found myself struggling to eat breakfast. I don't know if it was the time shift, the climate, nerves, or what, but I just had no appetite in the morning, couldn't choke anything down. A few half-eaten bowls of Frosted Mini Wheats later, I gave in to my body. Some days I'll eat a granola bar or a single donut (!!) or a very small bowl of cereal, but sometimes it is just a glass of orange juice.

Yesterday I bought two enormous boxes of cereal at Safeway: one box of Lucky Charms and one of Cap'n Crunch. My thought is that maybe I can trick my body into responding to these sentimental cereals of childhood. Our lunch break at school is less than 30 minutes, and I get so hungry by the end of the day that I overeat for dinner and am getting skinny-fat. Skinny-fat is, like, the worst. Well, maybe not worse than morbidly obese, but certainly worse than plain old skinny or plain old fat.

*************************************************

Have I said this before? I can't remember. American flags look so beautiful, so majestic here in the desert. I dare say that nowhere in the United States does our flag look so magnificent flying overhead. I live not far from a bunch of car dealerships - patriotic lot that is - so I get to see these enormous flags flying and flowing and stirring the heart in the warm desert winds a couple of times a week. It gets me every time.

*************************************************

School is going well. I am in an eighth grade math classroom at a nice suburban (but still Title I) school three days a week. So far the pattern has been that I observe and assist two days and teach one of those days every week. The kids are a pretty good lot, but they are a little older and more attitudinal than my preferred student age. Then on Tuesdays and Fridays I have grad school classes all day. I really adore my classmates, and we have a great time learning and sharing life together.

Also I am working on a case study of an English Language Learner (ELL) student for one of our grad school classes, so I have a little 5th grade buddy that we'll call Rob. His mom doesn't speak any English; therefore his family speaks only Spanish at home for her sake and Rob is reading proficiently on a 2nd grade level. But he loves dinosaurs and Goosebumps books and video games and we are going to become great friends. I'm not his teacher, so we can be friends, you know.

**********************************************

I think it is fair to say that this is the least tan I have been in a solid decade. Bleh.

**********************************************

I'm really excited for the fall concert season here in Phoenix. I've got tickets to see Sufjan Stevens in October, The Weepies in November, and really want to get tickets to see Jack Johnson in October too.

I remember the first time I went to Vancouver, back in October of 2002, I went to an in-store mini-concert and album signing with Jack Johnson at that Virgin Megastore on the corner of Robson and Burrard. We lined up outside for an hour beforehand and then filed calmly and orderly into the store at the appointed time. We sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor at the feet of our surfer/rocker/bard while he played "Bubbly Toes" on his acoustic guitar and sang. It was his first album, and he'd only had like two songs on the radio, but I knew that I really liked his vibe. That's a nice memory.

**********************************************

The other day I had this moment where my thoughts flashed to the Logan Square Blue Line train stop, this ridiculously, unnecessarily long, mysteriously puddled but well-lit underground transit stop back in Chicago. It made me miss my former life, but only for a moment. Because then I realized that the only time I was ever at the Logan Square Blue Line train stop was when I was going to O'Hare airport to take a trip somewhere. So basically I was missing leaving Chicago. Which is a pretty strange thing to feel sentimental about.

Currently Listening to:

A Sun Came by Sufjan Stevens

I'm basically obsessed with him at the moment.

Kukelchoo

2010-08-10T01:17:00.002-05:00

It is my birthday! I'm not a big fan of my birthday. It's been kind of over-done, I think.

As a kid, my birthday was sometimes celebrated during family vacations to the beach with my grandparents and extended family. A couple of times it was celebrated at my grandparents' house in Ohio or my granddaddy's house in Mississippi. I remember a few childhood birthday parties: themes in variations of dinosaurs, Star Wars, Batman. My parents had this record that they used to play on the Inter-Com system at our house. "Hey David, It's your birthday. I'm in charge of the stars, and I'm here to say - Hey David, you're the big star today!" Thanks for the enduring melody, Captain Zoom.

In 1999, between my sophomore and junior years of college, my Grandpa died in early August, just a few days before my birthday. My Aunt Debbie used my twentieth birthday as an outlet for her grief and mourning energies; she insisted that my birthday not be forgotten, so we celebrated repeatedly over those weeks. Between the funerals in Florida and West Virginia, the downtime in Tennessee and the estate planning and house-cleaning that we returned to Florida to complete, not to mention all of the driving back and forth - well, we ate cake in at least five states. I was serenaded by most of the Applebees waitstaff east of the Louisiana Purchase, we went to Busch Gardens and a Devil Rays baseball game for my birthday, and took countless pictures of me blowing out candles. It has become a permanent family joke, all those birthdays that Aunt Debbie made me celebrate that year.

My first birthday card this year was from Aunt Debbie. She wrote, "Hope you have a wonderful birthday. I remember many of your birthdays." Something about this birthday card meant a lot, was important to me this year.

Currently Listening to:

Jack Johnson's To the Sea

Save Me from What I Want

2010-07-28T19:26:00.003-05:00

I love keeping up with my friends and coworkers from Taiwan via Facebook. But my Chinese is, to say the least, getting a little rusty. Well, it was never anything close to polished to begin with, but now what little I knew is going straight to pot. So I employ Google Translator pretty regularly in my attempts to stay abreast of the developments of their lives by "reading" their status updates. But translating Chinese to English or vice versa is something slightly less than a mathematically pure equation. Today's sample:

Katrina's Status Update - Garbage is a major event in life, whether family, psychological, or intestines inside.

Comment from Jill - You can make sentences??

Comment from Sandy - Yes, when the garbage needs to refuse, and found the garbage can, and sometimes have to wait ... But after garbage truck emptied the refuse, The happier ~

Thanks so much for all of your help, Google.

********************************************************************

Some quick media notes:

I stumbled upon the CD/DVD package of Sufjan Stevens' The BQE at the public library last weekend. I tried the CD first and just thought, "Well, this is nice..." but when I popped the DVD into my computer and took a gander at the short film that accompanies the music I was dazzled. Hope you can see this. It is tres magnifique.
I am obsessed with the Miranda Lambert album Revolution. I listen to it, on average, twice a day. It is such a good album, every song, so good.
I went last week with a friend to see the movie Inception. I had heard lots of rattle and buzz about it, but didn't know much, content-wise, other than that it dealt with dreams or the dream world. It is a great movie, and I highly recommend it. One of those movies that really requires you to pay attention, get the rules, plug in, and play along. A fun ride.
July has been an easy month at school, so I've been doing lots of pleasure reading. You can always check out my goodreads page, but I'll tell you here that I have been really edified by Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, and The Road by Cormack McCarthy as of late. I would like to write another blog about Eating Animals sometime very soon, because it has been a bit of a game changer for me.

****************************************************************

Tonight I went with my friend Andy to Ikea over in Tempe. Andy is moving in to a new apartment this week, so I offered to help him shop for furniture and furnishings and life-things. Ikea is exhausting, and it was a full three hours, and I didn't even get any meatballs - but it was a much more enjoyable experience for me in that I spent no money, and he spent a lot of money.

Wandering some of the aisles while he debated slate versus white dishes or side tables versus nightstands, I thought about my previous Ikea partners. I thought about our shopping strategies, our predilections, our magnetic attractions and repulsions to specific facets of Swedish home furnishings and the culture of Ikea. I thought about our traditions and routines, about purchases large and small. Sofia and I always bought candles and bedding. Kevin, Elena, and I once bought enough to furnish an entire Taiwanese apartment.

*************************************************************

I am happy, but not content. I'd like to meet some more like-minded individuals here. Some more grounded people. I'd like to be seeing less people for more time.

Currently Listening to

The BQE by Sufjan Stevens and

Currently Reading

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Electric Eel

2010-07-18T17:47:00.004-05:00

A transcript of my thoughts whilst reading today's PostSecret blog:

Nice looking postcard, but that kind of hyperbole isn't very effective. It makes me think you are a selfish idiot instead of a clever, annoyed observer of colleagues.
Doubt it is true.
"All I ask: don't tell anyone the secrets that I told you."
That's some Robin Hood-ing. Hope this person works for Walmart.
Ugh, tmi. And BURN!
I miss Dana Fairbanks.
Where is Lake Michigan on this map? I'm guessing Dad moved from Rockford, IL to Greenville, SC to take a job at Bob Jones University.
Perfect.
Took me like three reads to understand it. Bullshit.
Funny, but the glare makes me have to strain my eyes just a bit too much to make this an effective photo to use.
This is a realistic, kinda funny secret.
Love the dream/nightmare boat underwater visual. Strong, informative secret.
Another beautiful visual, but accompanying a secret that isn't actually much.
Vague and therefore instantly forgettable.
Beautiful lettering!
SUPER CREEPY and the unicorn just sort of seals the case.
I'm not sure how I feel about the content of this secret or the clip-art modification; it did make me think, I guess.
Really? How is that possible, exactly? I don't get it.
Sincere. Nicely done.
Brilliant. Loved the husband ps.
Very poor sentence structure. The pronoun "them" apparently isn't meant to represent the beard and contacts which are the actual antecedents, but the beard and glasses which are pictured and implied. Sadly, this person might actually have a bachelor's degree.
That's super sweet. I love this postcard's positivity and optimism.
Neighbor - they = singular-plural imbalance. This could have been a highly effective secret with a little tweaking.

I went to San Diego last weekend to see my sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew as they were in town visiting my brother-in-law's family. My friend Travis went with me. We stayed somewhere nice because he works for the Biltmore resort here in Phoenix and therefore gets these free hotel stays on reciprocity.

And now, a video spectacular:

Eh, so I didn't take many photos. And my sister didn't post hers yet, so I couldn't steal any of those. And YouTube is such shitty video quality. But making that movie, I learned how to do that in grad school. So use it or lose it, I guess.

Currently Listening to

Miranda Lambert's Revolution

and the muchly under-appreciated Lucinda Williams version of Nick Drake's song "Which Will."

The Climb

2010-07-06T14:35:00.002-05:00

This is a burrito and a few things that are traditionally eaten with a burrito, such as chips and salsa, rice and black beans. Also, radish and cucumber slices. I think that about covers it. It was a pretty good burrito, I'm not gonna pretend otherwise.

Now here are some things that you should know about Phoenix. These are my entirely unscientific, purely anecdotal observations. Which makes them way more reliable.

Denny's rules Phoenix. Yes, the restaurant. The home of the Grand Slam and (personal fave) Moons Over My-Hammy. Everywhere that I have been in this sprawling metro area, that familiar, saddish yellow and red irregular hexagonal sign is there to greet me. There's one just a couple of blocks from my house. There's another one about a half-mile down the road. According to my count, I pass four on my way to school in the morning. I imagine that restaurant sign sighs when it speaks its name. "Hello and welcome to Denny's. **sigh**"

I'm really enjoying the desert architecture. It is so different, but so perfect. So adapted. So suitable. The church architecture here is really impressive too. Often times laughable, avant-garde, 1980s daring. But always notable and interesting. Here, for instance, is a photo of the church that I have attended the last two Sundays. I think we can all agree that this is a dramatic roofline.

The birds! So many, all over, all the time. A bird watcher's dream or a Hitchcock watcher's nightmare come true. Lots of pretty varieties, fun to watch in the backyard or playing in the trees. They certainly are a bonanza for one business: car washes. Nearly every morning I find new vile and disgusting dried puddles of bird diarrhea on Miss Truvy's windshield and my driver's side door.

Miss Truvy and I are getting pretty tight. Phoenix is definitely a car culture, for better or for worse. Well, no, that is certainly for worse. But I have been enjoying driving as of late. I've done a little exploring, a little wandering, a little getting lost. The scenery, the mountains and the desert, are spectacular. Enchanting.

I went with roommate David up to his family's cabin in the mountains around Prescott last weekend after I had finished my school work. It was a nice, relaxing time. I read a book and watched the wildlife and beat him in Scrabble. He is a really sore loser. We climbed some rocks. Here is a video in which I share my newfound knowledge concerning the proper pronunciation of this city name from the top of said rocks:

Let's finish this blog with a fun little contrast. Two cool but very different people playing the peg game in two very different venues in two very different parts of the country, about a month apart.

First: Sofia, Cracker Barrel, Indiana.

Second: Travis, America's Taco Shop, Arizona.

Currently Listening to

Lily Allen's album It's Not Me, It's You

Opthacular Spectacular

2010-06-19T12:07:00.004-05:00

And now, in typically Davie St. fashion, a bunch of random photographs that are a little too large, leave you confused, having still no idea of what my life here in Phoenix is like, and feeling - frankly - a little empty inside.

Liza drove me here, or something like that. Welcome to AZ!

David took us apartment shopping and to In N Out Burger on our first day here.

Now I'm living with him and haven't been back since.

I get to make my own orange juice from the fruit trees in the back yard. I did it this morning! But this photo is from a few weeks ago. I've never felt so handy in the kitchen before. And it tastes like liquid awesome.

As the delightful Kati Jo commented, "Look at you, boi! You're a student teacher... only five years after being a 'real' teacher."

This one time, I ate dinner on the back porch while talking with Liza on the phone. And I took this photo while talking with her just to prove what an awesome multitasker I and/or my phone am/is/are. Also, to prove that though I moved across the continent, I still look the same.

This is a photo of me with one of my classmates. The doughnut and the pointer finger are incidental. I took this photo to text it to the boy that I'm seeing because it turns out that he used to be romantically involved with her. Like seven years ago. Apparently Phoenix is like one of those small town high schools where everyone has gonorrhea.

I have a Taiwanese friend named Andy. He knows where to go for good beef noodle soup.

Also, he is wicked cute.

Currently pouring over

the lyrics of Ryan Adams

Boys Like Ravenous Dingoes

2010-06-19T00:54:00.003-05:00

The things to say, they build and compound, they stack and they topple. They require plotting on an intricate thought map; they require planning and scheming and precise wording that I am not capable of composing at this late Friday night moment.

My family was on vacation this week. Escaping to a condo on the coast etc. They were having an excellent time together in Sarasota, but I was not there. I regret that. I was here working out a year of indentured servitude. A year wherein I do the work of people who are getting paid to do that work while they continue to get paid for that work that I am doing. While I instead pay, tidily, to do that work for them. Sweet deal, eh?

School is going well. My June morning have been spent in a kindergarten summer school reading program. I have five delightful students. I secretly adore them. They are Diego, Jose, Armida, Tylor, and Gabe. They say hilarious things like, "Can you please help me, Mrs. Bennett?" and "What did you say, old man?" Then I have my actual grad school classes in the afternoons. These are significantly less delightful. My fall experiences will be divided between a sixth grade all-subjects classroom and an eighth grade math assignment. About these things I am excited.

I am seeing this boy. Bam, there it is. He is basically nothing that I ever thought I would go for. For instance, he has brown eyes. And yet: it works. It is pretty weird, and I am continually amused by it all. (If you've kept up with the dirty intrigue, by the way, I should tell you that he is most certainly *not* my housemate David. He is, instead, one of David's childhood best friends. Yep, it is weird. Yep, we're working it out.)

We have a place that we go on Thursday nights, this boy that I'm seeing and I. It is our own private bar. We have our own hot bartender. We have our own go-go boy. We have our own DJ and our own dance floor. (I would like Mr. DJ to consult us a little more closely on the music selections, but I'm not sure yet how to kindly convey that message.) We were there for nearly two hours last night, and only two other patrons came in during that time. Oh wait, three. One guy with a huge potbelly came in and asked if it was a strip club. Our go-go boy was mid-martini and not dancing, so the answer was no. He looked like more of a boob man anyway, though.

Some days, if something difficult happens or I feel a bit low or out of sorts, I look up at the palm trees. The constant sunshine and the palm trees are miracle drugs; lithium for the eyes. I miss many people, places, feelings, things about Chicago, but fundamentally, I am so glad to not be there any more. I am glad to not be in Chicago.

There are dates, specific days of the calendar year, that I thought I would never forget. But you know what? I forgot them all this year. They came and they went, and I completely missed them. Don't take this too harshly, please, but I feel so very good about that.

Currently Listening to

Taylor Swift's "Today Was a Fairytale"

Phoenician

2010-05-30T17:08:00.003-05:00

That's the correct demonym for residents of Phoenix. Makes me feel like a Harry Potter character to say it.

I'm at one of those coffeehouses where the staff feels that they are just too cool, the people just kind of sit around and look at each other, and the music is a bit too loud for comfortable conversation. That's okay since I'm just here relaxing on my own, whiling away a few Sunday afternoon hours.

At the moment, I'm the third wheel housemate, so I'm trying not to be around all the time. That's a bit of a challenge since I'm still living out of boxes and don't really know anyone here or many cool places to go. This Friday the other rent boy will be moving out, I'll be moving in to my bedroom and getting settled a bit, and it will be just me and the man with the mortgage left. The two Davids. We still haven't worked out the name issue yet. I mean, it isn't a problem for us since neither of us are in the habit of speaking in the third person, but it does seem to be tripping other people up a bit.

Yesterday I found the Asian supermarket. It is a way better one-stop destination for Taiwanese food than anything that we had in Chicago. They have my tea - which I needlessly super stocked-up on before moving - bagged and bottled varieties, they have the kind of frozen fried rice that I used to buy, they have the perfect green onion pancakes for making dan bing, they have the lychee jellies and a nice variety of ramen noodles. I'm really happy.

Oh yeah, I'm really happy. I love it here. This can always change, right, and I've only been here a little more than a week. But for right now I feel like I've made a really great move. There's palm trees everywhere. My nose is really red right now because I did some tanning in the backyard after church this morning. The nightlife places that I've been to so far have been great. People are so friendly. It is 95 degrees and awesome. School starts in a couple of days, and I'm excited about all of the possibilities that holds. I met with the program director last week, and it was such an encouraging meeting.

I'm on Pacific Time now, so stop texting me so friggin' early. Thanks.

The drive here! I almost forgot, there's been so much to do in the last week. The drive was - unexpectedly - wonderful. I got to see so much more of Illinois than ever before, had some crazy weather in Missouri, sang Carrie Underwood at the top of my lungs while loving the beautiful crossing of Oklahoma, picked up Elizabeth Annette in Texas, was wowed by the subtle beauties of New Mexico, and then we rolled into Arizona through some really cool red dust storms and amazing mountain terrain, right on in to Phoenix.

Money sucks, the spending of it, the lack of it coming in.

I bought a car! I had to; school is about 30 minutes away from my lovely Central Phoenix neighborhood. She is the same shade of red as the lipstick the every little girl paints her face with when she first breaks into her mother's cosmetic cabinet to begin experimenting. That bright, sort of tacky red. I named her Truvy, but you can call her Miss Truvy. As in, "Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair." She is an Oldsmobile Alero, which I am certain makes my GM-pensioned Grandpa and Grandma smile down on me from Heaven (and hopefully watch over me since she has 140,000+ miles on her engine).

So that's a bit of a rambling update from me. I did it. All of those spoken and unspoken threats to you, Chicago, that I was going to leave you: fulfilled. All of those songs that I heard and thought would make great driving away music, I sang 'em. All the ways that I told myself that I should make my life better, I'm going to do them. I started last week, and I'm not going to stop.

I don't think I can overstate the importance of these words to me in the last couple of months: "Decide what to be, and go be it." Thanks, Avetts. I have, and I will.

And just to add insult to injury, when I get on my feet a little more, money-wise, I'm going to get a scooter. I am.

Currently Listening to
MGMT's Oracular Spectacular

Dear Chicago

2010-05-15T14:47:00.004-05:00

I'm sure I tell this story all of the time. I'm sure you are sick of hearing it. But here I go again.

I remember so clearly the day that I first came to Chicago to live. Moving truck cresting the Chicago Skyway, crossing the Illinois state line, first glimpses of the impressive architectural feats of the downtown of this monstrous city that was going to kill or be conquered. I remember driving up Lake Shore Drive on the most beautiful late summer mid-afternoon that has ever been. I remember passing that sleek starship that we call Soldier Field, being overwhelmed by the verdant Grant Park on my left, thinking that the blue of Lake Michigan was the most impressive, most fabulous, most alive color that I had ever seen. Sailboats dotted the blue; my heart raced with anxiety, wonder, joy. There were beaches, there were skyscrapers, there were people everywhere.

To say I was overwhelmed doesn't do justice. I guess I was gobsmacked.

Living in this city now for three years - three trying, rewarding, wonderful, awful years - has not yet robbed me of the wonder that I felt that first day. I still love to look out the windows of the Brown Line L train as it crosses the Chicago River into downtown. I still love the skyline views from the beach at Fullerton and the Museum Campus. I still love walking up and down Broadway and Clark and Milwaukee and Michigan and Belmont and Randolph. I still love the parks and the restaurants and the theatres, and the people still make me roll my eyes and laugh. The hearty, strange Midwestern people. The city people. The people of amazing ethnicities and difficult languages.

I am excited about my big move. My life is going to change in large, fundamental ways. But I'm worried. I know this city now. I know my parts of it well. We've reached a level of comfortable stasis. I'm worried that I'll never be able to walk to work again. I'm worried that I won't find tacos al pastor that I love as much as the ones at Buena Vista. I'm worried that no Gay Pride Parade can ever compare. I'm worried that I won't find good thrift stores and won't like the nightlife and won't have any Muslim coworkers and will have to drive, like, everywhere, like, all the time.

Thank you, Chicago. Thank you for three beautiful years of life. Please don't forget me.

"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"

Uprooted

2010-04-28T21:15:00.002-05:00

This picture of my nephew Jesse is outdated - he's way bigger than this now - but it cracks me up and must be shared.

*****************************************

One problem with having friends in other countries who speak other languages (no offense, Anne Sue!) is that details can get lost in translation. They they can sometimes misunderstand time words or verb tenses from emails and Facebook status updates. One of my friends and one of my former co-teachers from Taiwan met each other last week and were apparently talking about me and how I had moved to Phoenix. They both sent me emails asking about how I liked my new home and when they could come visit.

Not yet, people.

********************************************

Chicago has all of these awesome, kinda strange laws. One is that if your restaurant, cafe, or coffee shop provides sidewalk dining opportunities, you have to maintain flower boxes and live plants in a certain proportion to the amount of seating available. It sounds weird, but it makes everything look much, much nicer. Sometimes it is an invitation to mischief though.

Walking to work Monday morning, I passed by a stem of tulip that had been uprooted from a restaurant window box, bulb and all, and left to die of exposure on the cold, desolate concrete sidewalk. There was still a bit of dirt clinging to the tiny rootules spreading from the bottom of the bulb. The green of the stem was still fresh.

It felt a bit like one of those horrible news stories where person after person walks by a dying woman on an urban sidewalk, and it is all caught on surveillance camera footage. Like the callous rabbi passing by the beaten, suffering man in the story of the Good Samaritan.

I kept walking.

****************************************

If I had known then what I know now, I would have asked to have been assigned to work at our bank's main office two years ago when I started this job. Yesterday I got tickets, really great seats, to a Cubs game. Just for being there at the right time and saying "Yes, I would like two free tickets to tonight's game." My bank has a bunch of season tickets which they generally give to those hefty, important business or loan customers that they need to keep happy. I guess no one wanted them yesterday, so I got to mark "Baseball Game at Wrigley Field" off of my Chicago Bucket List.

And then there's the neighborhood connections. I have met so many of the owners, operators, and managers of some of Chicago's biggest and best gay bars over the last month. Scarlett, Circuit, Roscoe's, Bobby Love's, Charlie's, North End, MiniBar... I could have been drinking for free for the last two years, people. Not to mention the Boystown restaurants, salons, shops... Shame.

******************************************

I have nothing to say about Arizona's new state law concerning illegal immigrants.

******************************************

On Sunday I finally cashed in my Entenmann's outlet punch card. Two years of bakery thrift store shopping for two free loaves of bread. And two boxes of donuts - those I paid for. I was able to walk to this palace of refined flour and carbo-laden breakfast treats for a few months after I moved back to Chicago in 2008. Since I've lived in Lakeview my visits have been limited to occasions when Sofia and I happen to be driving by on our way to...wherever.

I really wanted to ask that quirky checkout lady if I could take a picture with her since it was certain to be my last visit. I'll always remember her: her rambling, borderline-nonsensical cash register conversation, the way that she loved me for bringing my own bags, and that uniquely sloppy way in which she pins up her hair. Kind of the art of misdirection, actually. 'Cause she's beautiful.

Currently Listening to:

"Borderline/Open Your Heart" by those talented kids from that Glee show

Backup

2010-04-20T22:14:00.004-05:00

I talked with a couple of really good friends on the phone this afternoon. I love how whenever I talk with these friends - all too rare an occasion - I always understand something better after our conversation. Something about life, something about how I feel or how the world works.

We are all moving; exciting things are happening in our lives. I asked this friend if the next couple of weeks were going to be difficult for him, emotionally. He said simply, straighforwardly, somewhat quickly, no. (I hope he doesn't mind me sharing this. Anyway, I'm not using his name, so you'll never know who he is! Ha.) He said that he thinks it will be a bit more difficult for his wife, but that he doesn't expect to feel much, you know, sadness. (I'm paraphrasing like crazy here.) He isn't too attached. But there is an element of something else. Some guilt. A feeling of leaving people behind, people who - I suggested - may very well have become attached to him.

I feel this way also. There are a few people here in Chicago whom I will miss, and miss greatly. People who have become dear to me. I feel sad to leave them. My heart will be heavy when we say goodbye. I'll even tear up over a couple of them. But in general, leaving now, I'm excited, and I'm going to feel that excitement of being the one off to see and experience and conquer a new place. But I feel bad about leaving. I feel some guilt; I feel like I am abandoning people. (It seems based on this sentence that I have a very high opinion of myself. I don't think that is necessarily the case, but perhaps it is.) I actually felt bad when I gave my notice at work last Friday. For the most part, these people have been very nice to me. They have offered me opportunities, they have supported me and looked out for me. They have been my coworkers and pals. I respect them and thank them.

I guess I feel a bit of the abandoner's guilt. My other friend on the phone told me that I am fortunate to be single, to be able to move, to seize opportunities and not have those attachments that make these kind of life transitions so much more difficult. She asked me not to be offended by that. I'm not offended in the least. (How could I ever be offended by something that she said? Okay, well, there was that one time...)

And sometimes, the best times, I even agree with her.

*****************************************

I'm making a Chicago bucket list. Less than a month now, and I'm out of here. The clock is ticking, and there's still so much that I haven't done yet.

There are a few things on the list that I just want to do. Everything else is on the list as a response to this imaginary future conversation:

Person to Whom I am Speaking: Oh, you lived in Chicago? Did you ever...

Me: Oh, no, I never actually...

PtWIaS: Oh, well, you must have been to...

Me: Well, you know, I'm not actually from Chicago, so...

PtWIaS: But you were there how many years? You must have eaten at...

Me: No, somehow I never quite made it there. I heard about it, but just never got around to...

PtWIaS: Wow, you've really got to go back there some time and check these things out.

Me: Will you excuse me please? I've just got to...

*****************************************

I just had the best weekend with my dearest, darlingest friends Sarah and Kati as they were in town for - primarily - a visit with me, and a little sidecar medical conference hobbnobbery also. We ate and talked and drank, (there was some Sunday night dancing in there as well) and I personally just had the warmest, most delightful time. I love those girls.

Tonight I went to one of those wonderful movie premieres with my (pardon the crudity, but she is pretty celeb-obsessed) starfucking friend Happy. They plied us with alcohol and food at this swanky Brazilian steakhouse ahead of time, and I ate this lovely plate of meat pictured below. The movie was still A-W-F-U-L. Richard Roeper was sitting in the press row behind us, so I stole a glance his way every now and then. He went catatonic just a few minutes in, from what I could gather.

Currently Just Watched:

The Backup Plan

Key quote from the film: "I think you are going to leave this place and really regret it."

Lakeview

2010-04-17T16:56:00.003-05:00

I had a customer today, I swear he walked right out of Tales of the City and into my bank. Big guy, talking to his dog, 70s hair and shirt style. I thought to myself, "Armistead Maupin character," and then he gave me his driver's license. California. San Francisco. Castro Street. Named Jon.

*****************************************

Better but slightly longer customer story: I read this blog called Towleroad on a daily basis. It is a gay politics/pop culture/sports/world interests blog. Thursday evening I got home from eating dinner, wandering the downtown streets, and spending quality time with my visiting friends Sarah and Kati, and I did a little internet reading before I turned in for the night. I read this particular blog entry with particular interest.

Background: last week, former Republican Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee gave an interview in which he disagreed with the rolling back of the gays in the military ban, said that not-quite-marriage civil unions were unacceptable, and then flung this gem at gay couples who want to adopt (was against the law until this week in his home state of Arkansas): "Children are not puppies."

So the Hearty Boys didn't like that. They are a gay couple who own and operate several Chicago restaurants, a catering business, and have a show on the Food Network. And they wrote this really great letter to Mr. Huckabee rebuking him for his ignorant, mean-spirited diss on gay parents and inviting him over for dinner at their house. You know, so that he could see how their very normal, very loving, and very gay family operates. How very similar it is, indeed, to his own.

I read their letter on the blog Thursday night, and for no particular reason other than my own curiosity, I looked closely at the photo of the two of them. I've eaten at their restaurant before, they are kind of neighborhood celebrities, and I know that their business accounts are at my bank. So I was curious.

Friday morning at work a gentleman came to my teller window who looked kind of familiar. My first reaction was that he looks like the dad from Modern Family. And then I glanced at his checks. Depositing Hearty Boys checks into a joint account, Dan and Steve. So I helped him with his transaction, and then I said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are actually one of the Hearty Boys, right?" Which is kind of a super awkward line, but I was building up to something. And I was really excited that I had just been reading about him on the internets the night before, and now here he was, right in front of me! Cool.

He acknowledged that he was with a smile and a nod, and then I said, "I saw the letter that you and your husband wrote to Mike Huckabee. That was so wonderful and felt really meaningful and important to me." And he got a little flustered and a little embarrassed as any really normal, humble human being would, and he thanked me and said that his partner had actually been the one to write it. And then we had a further little exchange about how great the letter was and gay rights and his family and then we said goodbye. It felt so good to thank him, to just add my little voice to his bigger voice, speaking out for recognition and equality. It made my week.

As he walked away, I sort of regretted not telling him that my family all voted for Mike Huckabee in the primaries a couple of years ago. But now I'm sort of relieved that I kept that colorful little detail to myself.

Currently Listening to

Glee Vols. 1 and 2

Light a Roman Candle With Me

2010-04-14T22:33:00.002-05:00

Jewish pigeons. Hilarious.

*****************************************

Everything's happening very quickly. I just reserved a moving truck. I'm giving my notice at work on Friday. I'm making plans. Stuff is going down. I feel a bit lightheaded. I'm kind of freaking out. Yes, it is a good freaking out, but like I said to Liza on the phone just now, the physical effects are the same. I'm very twitchy.

School is happening. I'm going to be back in the classroom doing what I love - teaching! - in a matter of a few months. This is wonderful.

Currently Listening to

Aim and Ignite by fun. That guy used to be in The Format.

Clever

2010-04-04T19:45:00.003-05:00

Debacle. (Please pronounce this word in your best faux-French accent.)

This is a horrible thing that happened to me yesterday. (I very much prefer to use the passive voice in this case.) Mid-afternoon, I had just arrived home from work, I was talking with Liza on the phone, and I was starving. And I took this very hot Trader Joe's Curried Lentils microwave meal out of said microwave with one hand, and I dropped it. And then I said naughty words because that shit went flying everywhere. But eventually I was able to mop it all up and laugh it off. My little shoebox apartment still smells quite exotic though.

******************************************

I got an Easter basket today. I can't remember the last time that I had an Easter basket. Only really, really special people give you Easter baskets. It contained a bottle of bubbles (Super Miracle Bubbles with a really fancy wand!), as every decent Easter basket should. I was thrilled and humbled.

******************************************

I got in trouble yesterday for wearing blue corduroys to work. My supervisor said, "You know you can't wear jeans to work, even on Saturday." And I said, "These aren't jeans. They are cords." And she said "You can't wear those either." And I said, "Since when?" And she said, "It is in the dress code." And I said, "No, it isn't." And she said, "I'll be right back." And she came back like five minutes later with an ancient copy of the bank's dress code and said, "I know this isn't the most recent version of the dress code, but here it is, 'No Corduroys.'" And I looked at her like she was a crazy person and said, "Okay."

The thing is, the men at our bank have to wear a dress shirt and tie to work every day of the week. And the girls? Most of them wear tee shirts (which they call "blouses," ha) and ugly pants. Sexist community bank. Those girls should have to wear skirts or jaunty neck scarves or something equally penal.

******************************************

I got a missed connection at work the other day! (This is no great feat, as I work in one of the gayest neighborhoods in the universe. In fact, if I never got a missed connection there, I'd be a pretty terrible gay.)

We are gonna go out for sushi. Oooh, fun!

Currently thinking about the motion picture that I watched last night called

An Education

which really pulls you in to what seems like a pretty pervy premise, kinda convinces you, and then slams you on your ass. Great movie.

Chicas y Maletas

2010-03-29T14:39:00.004-05:00

It is scholarship application day for me. "Please oh please, won't you give me some money?" No, I beg my future school in slightly more verbose, slightly less lyrical language.

"As an incoming non-resident student to the cohort, I am facing an extraordinarily large tuition bill for a relatively short program of study. Additionally, I will be relocating from Chicago, Illinois in order to take part in this program. I am excited about the fact that this accelerated program will allow me to be observing and working in the classroom almost immediately, but I am in need of some some significant financial assistance in order to make this dream a reality. I am pursuing any and all funding opportunities available. My sincerest gratitude to you for your consideration."

I'm also applying for a scholarship that is given exclusively to gay men. The age cutoff for award consideration is 35 years old. I find this to be a close call, which I then find to be incredibly disturbing. Like finding a rat in my refrigerator, it turns my stomach a bit.

***************************************************

Work is going well. I feel like I've got most of the transition behind me now. I'm working out of the main office about half of the time, working at other branches the other days. After two years at the same desk at the same location with the same people every day, this obliteration of my safe, comfortable routines was just what I needed at just the right time. A swift kick in the ass; no more coasting, no more inertia.

And the time is passing so quickly! Just a couple more days until April. And then May, the month when everything changes.

**************************************************

My parents are coming to visit for a few days next week. I'm excited about this. The last time they were in Chicago was back in the summer of 2006, a few weeks before I left for Taiwan. I've got a few things planned for us. Hopefully the weather will be nice and spring-like. It has been drippy nose temperatures the last few days.

The week after that I am expecting quality time with my dear friend Sarah as she visits Chicago for a medical conference. She is an extremely important medical professional - Dr. Sarah, in fact. We missed our yearly catch-up Christmas date this past holiday season, so it will be great, great, great to see her. Is her sister Kati Jo coming to town too, perhaps? I haven't heard, though I know that this was under discussion.

Spring! What an exciting time.

Last night I watched a wonderful film:

Broken Embraces, a film by Pedro Almodovar

Passion, Fruit

2010-03-19T16:11:00.003-05:00

Sometimes you are just sitting in a really fine place, having a good tea, thinking or writing an email to a wonderful friend, and a Whiskeytown song comes on, and man, it is just so overwhelming. How good life is. How sweet and warm and perfect it can all be. How friends make your life so rich. How a little sadness and quiet time around the edges of your life make the laughter and fun of a night out with a couple of crazy kids that much more rewarding. How many things there are to miss, how much you miss those things but know that your life is so much better now. You think about all of the gifts you've been given, how undeserved and underappreciated this uncountable wealth. And you tear up a bit, the good tears, and take a deep breath and hope that no one will really notice.

And you thank God for Pandora and passion fruit juice and the people that she's blessed you with in your life and their kind words. And you look forward to good times, so many more good times to come. So many, many times.

***********************************************

This week has been challenging. I'm working at a new office, learning new duties, meeting new people. For the first few days it all felt so surreal; I worked at the same office for two years, so this new thing felt like a temporary training exercise, an experience to conquer before returning to my comfortable, familiar old haunt and coworkers. As the week wore on, the panic began to creep its way in. This is my new situation, like it or not. And, oh no, I don't really like it.

But meeting the new officemates has been wonderful. Everyone has truly been so nice to me. I quickly developed a crush on one of my new coworkers. She is the kind of girl who is able to have a fully-formed, witty but low-key adult conversation with you the first time that you ever meet. She talks to you like she's known you for a while. This is a strategy that I often try to employ myself upon meeting a new person. It doesn't always work. Personality thing. Some people like to keep you at a distance and work their way towards warming up. Knowing Katie feels like wearing a comfortable old sweater. That sounds terribly strange and unromantic. Oh, she's so pretty also. Don't tell her. Crush, crush, crush.

(Don't wonder about this. You've had crushes on boys and girls that go against your sexual orientation also. Yes you have.)

Walking home from work in the evenings is a wonderful new therapy. I'm lucky enough to be living a mere ten Chicago city blocks away from my new bank location. I'm finding that at the end of a stressful day, there's nothing like a nice evening sunshine stroll to release the tension and debrief from whatever unpleasantness you've faced. Also, I love my neighborhood so fully that walking through it, people watching, checking out the new window displays, laughing at the ridiculous sunglasses, and greeting the Streetwise vendors is a joy no matter the quality of the hours that proceeded.

********************************************

I got fingerprinted today. I feel like I've been fingerprinted an inordinate amount of times in my adult life for a non-felon.

Currently
Catching up on this final season of Lost

I'm Not Saying

2010-03-10T18:09:00.003-06:00

I had a bad dream two weeks ago Monday. Not bad, that's not enough. Maybe disturbing. Not just disturbing, though, more like awful. It was a dream that I woke up from, dealt with for a few minutes, and then felt like my life had changed. That I had been moved. Kind of like that earthquake in Chile that resulted in the entire city moving ten feet from its previous location; there were consequences to this dream.

I haven't slept in my bed since. I've been sleeping on my couch for the last two and a half weeks. If you have been lucky enough (oh so lucky) to have guested at my apartment, you will note how inconsequential this move actually seems. Seeing as how the couch actually touches the end of my bed, this is a pretty symbolic sort of action. Also, I haven't made my bed since that night. I am happy in my sleeping bag on my click-down couch and still feeling some pretty strong animosity towards my mattresses. My poor bed. I know it isn't her fault, but I have to work out my anger and ill will on something. We might need a professional arbitrator or relationship coach to help us out.

*******************************************

Hey, I got into grad school, received my acceptance letter this morning. I should probably go this time.

Pretty excellent timing too, because I am facing quite a bit of unknown at work beginning next Monday. My bank branch is finally closing for good this Saturday - I tell people it has seemed like the longest, slowest death ever and has made me a firm believer in voluntary euthanasia - and I am headed to my small community bank's main office. I've had it pretty darn good for the last two years: plenty of leeway, a fair amount of leisure time and relaxation on the clock, lack of aggressive or strict supervision, brilliantly quirky customers and neighborhood characters. This new placement will probably turn all of those wonderful things right on their adorable little heads, so I'm liking the light at the end of the tunnel that this acceptance letter provides. Two months or so to go. If I go.

Currently Listening to

David Bazan's Curse Your Branches and

Currently Reading

The Wild Things by Dave Eggers

Cleaning House

2010-02-18T22:35:00.003-06:00

I started cleaning off my bookshelves this evening.

This is an unprecedented event. I'm a bit of a book hoarder. But it is time to face up to the fact that I'm never actually going to get around to reading Uncle Tom's Cabin in its entirety. And I'm just not going to revisit He's Just Not That Into You. (All I needed from that one was to read the chapter titles anyway.) Two sets of The Chronicles of Narnia? Not necessary. Anything that my uncle ever gave me that I didn't request specifically? Sweet but superfluous. Goodbye Max Lucado, Anne Rice, Dorian Gray, and a couple of children's books that I picked up in my thrift store travels that turn out to be pretty creepy.

I need to hire one of those life coaches or personal assistants or someone who can come to my increasingly piled-upon apartment/shoebox and help me simplify and declutter and get ready for a move. I can't really afford that right now, so I'm gonna make Sofie come help me instead.

She owes me, because last night I took her to the Joffrey Ballet for her birthday to see their production of Cinderella. It was fantastic. I kept getting confused yesterday and telling people that I was taking her to the opera. I've never seen either of those types of performances before (no, Hofia, Phantom of the Opera does not count), so I was excited either way. It was magnificent, and she had a great birthday, people making her feel special all day.

I'm really elated right now because Evan Lysacek just won the men's figure skating gold medal in Vancouver. I've got a mad crush.

There's other news. I know where I'm being transferred to when my bank branch closes in three weeks. I've applied to two graduate school programs, thinking about going for a third. I've found a wonderful new place to hang out. Oh, and I got a new rug. I love rugs.

Currently:

Just kind of enjoying life

Being in Edgewater

2010-02-13T19:01:00.004-06:00

Being single is no reason to ruin a perfectly good Valentine's Day tradition, so I took the bus up to my old 'hood this afternoon and ate lunch at Ben's Noodles and Rice. It is the perfect neighborhood Thai restaurant: tiny, endearing, sweet staff, disarming and charming in its simplicity. When I lived and worked in that neighborhood, I used to help the owner/operator in the bank and eat at his restaurant with a fair amount of regularity. So we were friendly. I know that he doesn't remember me any longer, but I still feel such a warm, family feeling when I see him again.

Being a man of routines and regulations - dare I say inertia - eating Valentine's dinner at the most comfortable spot that I can think of seems ideal to me. Why would I want to go somewhere starchy or stuffy for a celebration of the warm fuzzies? That seems pretty antithetical to me. So Ben's was the tradition. I like it; I'm keeping it.

Being in the old neighborhood today, though, man, that almost put me over the edge. It is on the up-and-up, that's for sure. There's a few new restaurants and a couple of nice looking shops. Reza's deli is still there, but he wasn't behind the counter when I went by. That man is a precious soul, a shot of whiskey and a warm hug in human form. He'd drive you crazy, but how could you not love him? Walking past my old bank - the place where I spent so many stressful hours learning how to make small talk, how to multi-task like the mother of septuplets, how to negotiate relationships with coworkers with whom I didn't have a straw of commonality, where I made overtime - I get a thrill. I remember those coworkers, our motley crew, and our fun times together. Geez, those were great times. Walking past Bryn Mawr Care and remembering the gargoyle, that scary man who crouched on the sidewalk, looking frail enough that you could imagine a slight breeze would topple him. Strolling past my old building, still being managed by The Future. I loved that apartment. It was a tiny palace, a sweet cocoon; it was a perfect home for me.

Being away from home in every possible sense for the first time, totally disconnected from the previous 26 years of my life, this neighborhood gave me freedom. I have this strong sense that in some nebulous, impossible to define way, this neighborhood made me who I am today. I'm a little rough around the edges, I'm good with diversity, I keep to myself but make sweet, lasting connections, I'm quieter than some but more outspoken than many. I squeeze past a trio of Eastern European women on the sidewalk; they are sitting on the padded seats of their walkers with their hair in kerchiefs, speaking a language that I'll never know or care to know.

Being the crazy person that I am, I have another strong sense that I initially resist, but eventually have to admit aloud, here, to you, now: I've got to get myself out of this city.

Currently Watching

The Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics

Mountain, Lake

2010-02-01T21:56:00.004-06:00

Magenta leaned forward as she moved to the edge of the chaise lounge, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her face with her hands. "My dream last night, Carey. It was not good."

"What happened? Would you like to describe it for me?"

"Well, first of all, I was hanging out at my friend's apartment last night. I've told you about Lurie, right? Yeah, so I went over to her house to watch the finals of the Australian Open. Actually, we went out to this swanky place to watch the match because Lurie read in the shitty daily free paper that they were having a viewing party."

"What place?"

"The Browbeater. Ever heard of it? No, okay, so I've never been there either. But when we got there it was completely crowded, and the host asked if we had a reservation, and we totally didn't. So we left, no room at the inn. We just wandered back down the street and couldn't find the match playing anywhere else, so we ended up back at her place."

"Did you have a nice time?"

"Oh sure, we ordered take out and cheered for Andy Roddick and talked during the commercials. Actually, that's one of the things that must have triggered this dream."

"What was?"

"Well, she asked about Walleye. She said that she was curious, wanted to see what he looked like."

"Do you talk about him often with her?"

"No, almost never. I mean, why would I, right?"

"Understandable. But he is a big part of your recent past."

"Granted. And I guess that must be why she is interested. I mean, we go out together on the weekends. We meet guys. She tries to get me to describe my 'type.' 'What kind of guys do you go for...' You know, stuff like that. I don't really have a type; I just like what I like."

"So you say. Anyway, she asked to see Walleye."

"Yeah, so I was like, log on to my Facebook page. There's some random pictures of him on there. Not much, since - this is kind of funny, actually - I didn't even join Facebook until after we broke up. Before I was kind of lazy about it. Keeping up with people, I mean. I let him give me updates on our mutual friends and made him keep me posted on the lives of the people we met and got to know in common. So, anyway, she logs on to my page and starts flipping through my photos."

"And?"

"And that's it. There he was. Walleye in Indonesia with me and a group of our friends. Tiny Walleye at the base of Chichen Itza. That's it. Big deal."

"What did Lurie say?"

"It doesn't matter. Nothing. What matters is, he was in my head. And then he was in my dream."

"So tell me about your dream, then."

"We were driving. It was the two of us. The absurd rules of dreaming were in full effect, though, because while I am one-hundred percent sure that he was driving the Volkswagon minibus in which we were riding, I am also quite sure that we were both sitting on a flat floor covered in green astroturf."

"Hmmm."

"And we were driving through these mountains. Beautiful mountains. Sharp peaks, amazing views. The scenery was spectacular, flying around these bends in the road. And Carey, Walleye and I, we were, you know, together."

"Okay. Can you remember how you felt about that?"

"I felt safe. I felt wanted. I felt like things were back where they were supposed to be. I remember seeing this lake up in the mountains; I guess we were driving around it. I remember how peaceful, calm, and perfectly serene it looked. I think that I felt like that lake."

"Magenta, were you in control of this dream? I mean, did you ever feel like you were directing the events that were occurring?"

"I know what you are talking about, Dr. Carey. Lucid dreaming, right? No, it wasn't like that at all. Because here's how the dream ended: he killed us."

"What do you mean, he killed you? How?"

"He was accelerating too quickly, we were coming up on this overlook, this enormous curve in the road high over the lake. And he just floored it. I remember the feeling, the thrilling few seconds after we left the road and the vehicle flew out into the open air. It was exhilarating, nothing short. And then the reality, the panic, the terror: we were going to die. I was dead. He killed me."

"Wow."

"Wow for sure. And then I woke up. I made myself wake up. I didn't want to die. You know they say that if you ever die in your dream, you die in real life, too. Like your brain thinks that you are really dead. So you are."

"The awareness of this obviously didn't escape you."

"That dreaming about Walleye killing me could have killed me? No, it didn't escape me at all."

Currently Listening to:

Kings of Leon, Only By the Night

Modern Housewives

2010-01-21T14:20:00.005-06:00

I think that Modern Family is the best, most intelligent show on TV. There are other good comedies on television now: The Office is smart and the characters are very well-developed, 30 Rock is slapstick and hilarious if often cursory, Scrubs is still hanging on with its glowing, celebratory homoeroticism and sarcasm. Arrested Development was hilarious because it was outrageous, no-holds-barred, not remotely believable, and every character was (at least) seriously morally compromised. But last night when I was watching Modern Family, I actually had a moment where I said, aloud, to the TV, "Yes." This show is just so accurate, so true to how life is. There aren't any good people or bad people on this show, just three wildly different but connected family units made up of entirely true characters. The dialogue and family dynamics are so believable, so real life.

In last night's episode, there was a struggle between Claire and Phil, the straight married couple, as a result of her inability to figure out how to operate the new, fancy, fandangled television remote control. Phil wanted to teach her how to use it and Claire resisted, which led to an exchange something like this between Claire and her daughter Haley:

Haley - Why can't Dad teach you to use the remote?
Claire - Because we are married.

That, to me, is how relationships work.

***********************************************

I guess I'm not a very ambitious person. Or maybe I'm just not a very driven person. I'm sure there's a fine disitinction, but I'm either too overcome by inertia or cozy in my current personality divet to figure it out.

I found out last week that my ex-boyfriend Kevin was admitted to the University of Chicago's Master's of Social Work program and is pursuing admission at Columbia University in New York City as well. This was surprising to me. That probably sounds condescending and patronizing or just plain rude, but my surprise has nothing to do with his intellectual capacity (which is quite high) or his qualifications (which are impressive, I'm sure). It has to do with the fact that he is setting his sights on prestigious schools and programs instead of settling for easier, safer - and frankly cheaper - options.

I need to go back to school for a master's degree next fall, too. I've been kicking this down the road since, um, 2005, when I was admitted to Loyola University in New Orleans but chose to move to Chicago instead. (That was the summer that God and Pat Robertson decided to punish the wicked city of New Orleans via Hurricane Katrina anyway, so it was a serendipitous choice.) My criteria for schools and programs that I'm looking at right now can be summed up in two words: quick and cheap. I'm not aiming for the skies or a fancy degree; I just want to do it and be done with it so that I can get back to a career that I truly loved, teaching.

But here's a confession, something I've been thinking about and ruminating on lately: what if I really just want to be a family man? I really hate the feminizing pronouns and roles that a lot of gay men adopt in their quest for a unique gender identity - I'm a man, and if we are gonna be together, you should be too, as that's kind of the point - but something about this song by Jay Brannan really speaks to me.

There's a couple of f-bombs in here, so you might not want to watch this if you have a teensy, impressionable child on your lap or something. Otherwise, it is a beautiful song. Jay Brannan posing the musical question, "I want to be a housewife, what's so wrong with that?"

Currently Reading:
South of Broad by Pat Conroy, which contains this lovely snippet:
"Because I had the Southern boy's disease of needing to be liked by everyone I met..."

Sunset

2010-01-17T22:10:00.003-06:00

I'm feeling brave and combative, so I'm going to go ahead and say this: you've never known beauty until you've seen the tops of clouds from a tiny plane porthole on a sunset night like tonight. The fiery distance on the far horizon could hardly be contained. If not for the rolling, peaceful, cool blue nimbus close to us, the vast, limitless grazing expanse keeping us safe, our plane would surely have been consumed. Eventually the fire gave way to a golden glow, a warm amber, a band of perfectly enunciated visual spectrum, and finally a deeply resonant navy which faded to black night as we flew farther and farther north (why north? why? insanity...same mistakes over and over...why?).

Sunset isn't about color, it is about the colors. The evolution, the permutations, the ebullient fades. The group, the chorus, the textual interplay. Sunset is life. I hate it. It kills me. It is perfect.

Currently Listening To

Contra by Vampire Weekend

UAE

2010-01-02T11:51:00.004-06:00

No matter what I say here, you are going to be the one to choose whether you believe this to be a true story of not. Go ahead, make your choice.

***************************************

Ashar and I met on a gay social networking site last spring, something akin to MySpace like 5 years or 20 site upgrades ago. It is a lame and clunky website, but turns out to be a good way to meet guys. I also met Scott, my wonderful summer boyfriend, and Zach, a sweet boy who has since fallen madly in love and off the rails of sanity, on there as well. Ashar and I were both in the video chat room late one Friday or Saturday evening. He's very handsome in an exotic, other-side-of-the-world way, and he was looking as bored as humanly possible, so I struck up a conversation. We hit it off.

Over the next few weeks we chatted online a bit, sometimes with text, sometimes with microphones and videos. Turns out that, though he was living in Manhattan, he has the posh British accent that Middle Eastern people sometimes have when their formative English experiences happen on the other side of the Atlantic. He was born in Las Vegas (who has even claimed to have been born in Las Vegas? No one, I assert) and is therefore an American citizen, but he spent his childhood years in London and his adolescence in Dubai, where his parents have permanently settled. One unsettling thing that I noticed at first: he claimed to be bisexual. This is actually a pretty common thing among gay men, though, when they are first working through a coming out experience. Many have had relationships with women in the past, and they try to reconcile this history with their current, maybe newly-discovered attraction to men. It is pretty easy to shrug off these claims of bisexuality, just a step in the gay man's evolution.

Ashar and I learned a lot about each other over the weeks and developed a pretty good friendship, as far as I could ascertain and these online things go, you know. He kept prodding me to come to New York for a visit, and I was at a fairly impressionable place and needed a getaway. So I found a good package on Travelocity and went. It was a great weekend. Spring was coming on, Central Park was a bit soggy but blooming, the food was primo, the boys were looking fine. I experienced New York City nightlife for the first time, and had the most fun, most memorable club night of my life. I should hasten to add at this point that Ashar and I did not become romantically involved.

We stayed close after that May weekend, talking often, trading stories of our current boy dramas, our complicated exes and ohs. I got Ashar to come visit for the long July 4th weekend, and we had a great time. He had never been to Chicago, so we did some touristy stuff, went up to Scott's family manse for a pool party/cookout, hit up the bars so he could compare and contrast our gay Chicago nightlife to his own. I tried to convince him in advance that the Chicago boys would love him, but he seemed to believe that all Midwesterners are white xenophobes who would be less likely to find his Persian-Pakistani ethnicity appealing. I won that argument in the end.

He told me just after that July visit that he was going home to Dubai for his cousin's wedding. This female cousin was his best friend and closest family member, so he was very excited and was going for the entire two weeks of festivities. This must have been early to mid-August. I remember him wishing me a happy birthday and ribbing me for being such an old man. I got an offline instant message from him a few weeks later on AIM saying that he had so much to tell me about his trip home to Dubai. That was the last time that I ever heard from him.

I sent him text messages, I tried to instant message him, I called his phone number, I sent emails on the ridiculous social networking website where we had met. Nothing. I did Google News searches for his name, hoping that I wouldn't find any mention of him in any New York newspaper obituaries. I called his work phone number, sent emails to his work address, and got no answer. Left voicemails, kept trying over the course of several months. Then I gave up.

**************************************

New Year's Eve, just a few days ago, 8 o'clock, getting ready to go out for a big night. I started my congratulatory, well-wishing texting a bit early, expecting that the place where I was going for the evening would be packed and noisy and I would be drinking and it would be impossible to do much with those tiny phone keys under the influence of that wicked combination. I'm not sure exactly why I sent this message, some combination at the crossing of sentimentality and fatality, I suppose. But I sent it.

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 7:59 pm CST
"Happy New Year, Ashar, wherever you are and whatever the hell happened to you. I still think of you fondly. <3 David..."

When my phone buzzed a few minutes later and I saw his name on the screen, strangely, inexplicably, I felt nothing. Not surprise, not excitement, nothing.

Incoming Text, 12/31/09 8:01 pm CST "I think you messaged the wrong person?"

Now I know why those messages weren't returned. His phone was deactivated, he's moved, someone else has his number now.

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 8:02 pm CST "Sorry! I must have an old number. Happy New Year to you, anyway! hahaha"

Well, that's over. I can delete his number from my contacts for sure now. Continue getting ready, fiddling with hair, etc.

Incoming Text, 12/31/09 8:09 pm CST "Are you trying to reach Ashar Khan?"

Sproing!!! Sweet, surprising, a lead!

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 8:11 pm CST "Indeed! Do you know him? Do you know how I can get in touch with him?"

Incoming Text, 12/31/09 8:14 pm CST "This is his wife; I have his phone."

Oh. My. Allah. (I say this as a prayer, and not in vain. A prayer of total shock. Prayer as punchline.)

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 8:19 pm CST "Is he in the US? Can you give me his new number or some other way to contact him?"

Incoming Text, 12/31/09 8:29 pm CST "Are you talking about Ashar Xxxx from Xxxxx Xxxxx? May I know who this is?" (Family and employer names redacted to protect the innocent from Google search results)

Okay, time to panic. Wait, must reread initial messages to make sure I didn't say anything inappropriate. Okay, besides the <3, everything is quite tame and asexual. But what if I'm not the first, just another piece of evidence in a mounting case against his heterosexuality? Is this an arranged marriage? Did he marry his cousin? Must act quickly, must lie creatively, accurately, and convincingly.

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 8:32 pm CST "This is his friend David from Chicago. We went to UPenn together. Can you send me his number?"

And that's pretty much the end. I made one more unanswered attempt a few minutes later.

Outgoing Text, 12/31/09 8:57 pm CST "Alright, thanks anyway. Please tell Ashar that his friend David in Chicago says Happy New Year if you have a chance. Take care!"

Waiting in line at the 53rd and 6th Halal food cart in midtown Manhattan with Ashar, 2 am, May 2009.

Currently Listening to:
John Mayer's Battle Studies

Favorite Music, 2009

2009-12-13T16:40:00.004-06:00

It is the end of the year! Yes, yes, it is. For my year-end music list this year, I've decided to choose the top five artists that have carried me through this turbulent annum. My list of favorite songs for this year seems so inadequate, so scatter-shot, and an album list just wouldn't do justice to the depth of the work of these artists that I was introduced to or discovered or loved in the past twelve months.

#5 - Lucinda Williams

Yeah, I've had a rough year, but this rock goddess helps me put it in perspective: it occurred to me the other day that no one on earth has probably written more songs about suicide than Lucinda Williams. I had the opportunity to attend a three-night concert event here in Chicago celebrating the 30th anniversary of her recording career back in October, and it was a huge highlight of the year for me. The first night especially, when she focused on performing songs from her earliest three records, singing songs that have fallen by the wayside over the years and are rarely performed any more, was sublime and will be memorable for such a long time to come. "Crescent City," "Sharp Cutting Wings," "The Night's Too Long," "Little Angel, Little Brother," "Sweet Old World" - magnificent. And hearing her sing "Learning How to Live" and "Everything Has Changed" from the West album was one of the most transcendent, healing moments of my year. Those three days, indeed.

#4 - The Avett Brothers

Scott and Tami have been raving about these guys for a few years now, but I'd never made any moves towards checking them out until early this year when those generous Camerons gifted me the Emotionalism album. "All My Mistakes," "I Would Be Sad," "Die Die Die," "Shame" - perfect. Later this year, when I and Love and You was streaming on NPR, I became fully, completely smitten. I picked that one up right after it was released, and now those songs are the ones popping into my head at opportune times, the ones that I'm singing along to while washing the dishes. And I feel pretty good about the fact that the most discriminating 2 year-old music fan in the world, Asher Scott Cameron, and I have the same favorite song: "Kick Drum Heart." If I'm picking a best album of 2009, it is I and Love and You. Also, if I'm picking worst album cover art, it is that one, too. "Get Out!"

#3 - The Format

I found out this year that I like people from Phoenix, Arizona; I should have known this already, because this band from Phoenix has been rocking my world with their prescient, perfect lyrics for a couple of years now. I don't have much more to say this year than I did last, when I picked Interventions and Lullabies as my favorite album of the year. The Format never came off of my mp3 player this year; maybe they never will.

#2 - The Weepies

This husband and wife duo specialize in simplicity, melody, and heart-searing lyrics. I downloaded their most recent album, Hideaway, this past spring when it was the $1.99 daily deal at the Amazon mp3 Store (by the way, if you use iTunes, you are paying too much for your downloads). Just a few minutes of previews, and I knew that this was my kind of music. There's some really great break-up songs and a delicious mellowness to the album that were just what I wanted for wallowing in a bit of sorrow. There's "Can't Go Back Now" and "Lighting Candles" and "How You Survived the War" and "All Good Things (Come to an End)." Just the titles probably give you a sufficient idea. I met a nice boy named Zach a few months later, and we had The Weepies in common. He gave me a copy of their earlier album Say I Am You, which is equally awesome but with slightly more oblique titles like "Painting by Chagall," "Living in Twilight," and "Riga Girls." The best song title of 2009 for me? "Not Your Year." Yeah, I feel that. Thanks to The Weepies for, appropriately, some healthy tears and beautiful poetry.

#1 - Sun Kil Moon

I am fully aware that this choice is drenched in irony. Kevin introduced me to the music of Mark Kozelek back in 2005; his former band was Red House Painters, sometimes he releases self-billed, and now he's performing under this name. I bought both April, his most recent release, and Ghosts of the Great Highway this year, and I am now firmly, resolutely convinced that no artist captures pain, despair, tragedy, loss, and unfulfilled longing more acutely, more perfectly in his voice and lyrics than Mark Kozelek. Of course, these are not necessarily emotions that you want to be reminded of on a daily basis, so this isn't everyday music. This is difficult, raw, often unpleasant stuff, but couched in such beauty, sometimes such ethereal, exquisite, delicate beauty. "Lost Verses" and "Tonight the Sky" are both 10-minute tracks on April, and such an incredible journey of 10 minutes it is. "Salvador Sanchez" is a brilliant, shimmering rocker on Ghosts and its twin "Pancho Villa" is a beautiful, stripped-down version. The bonus track cover of "Somewhere" from West Side Story teases with a bit of hope ("Someday, a place for us, somewhere a time for us...We'll find a way of living, we'll find a way of forgiving."), but also just enough melodic dissonance to make you wonder, really?

***************************************************

Honorable mentions: Kris Allen, who made me truly, completely excited about "American Idol" - The Killers, who I think are actually wildly underrated for a popular band - Coldplay, who put on a fantastic live show for me and some friends up in Wisconsin this summer - Pink and Kelly Clarkson, whose albums this year were honest and awesome - Andrew Bird and St. Vincent, whose unique artistry is enjoyable, novel, and quirky.

Favorite Radio Artist to Love to Hate While Singing Along With - Taylor Swift

Favorite Dance Songs - Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance," Pink's "So What" and "Please Don't Leave Me," Shakira's "She Wolf"

Most Infectious Song - Miley Cyrus's "Party in the USA"

Most Eye-Rolling Lyrics of the Year (tie) -
Owl City's "Cave In" - Please take a long hard look through your text book /'Cause I'm history...Riding a dirtbike down a turnpike/Always takes its toll on me
Owl City's "Dental Care" - I've been to the dentist a thousand times / So I know the drill

Most Unfortunate Song Title to an Awesome Song - Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You"

Best Song That You've Never Heard - Miles Fisher's "This Must Be the Place"

Most Disappointing Albums - Conor Oberst et al's Outer South and Mindy Smith's Stupid Love

Favorite Fun, Profanity-Filled Song - Lily Allen's "F@#$ You"

Concert that I am Suddenly Thrilled that I Didn't Go To With the Hipster Boy that Invited Me - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

Tears

2009-12-01T21:39:00.002-06:00

I am better now. This is just a reflection, a memory.

I read something tonight as I neared the end of a book, a scene where the past catches up with a character, and he cries. "He locked himself in the bathroom and cried, slowly, until his last tear was shed. Only then did he have the courage to admit to himself how much he had loved her."

I remember the first time I cried in front of Kevin. I was moving out of my apartment, my lovely little one bedroom Chattanooga apartment, the place where I lived for two years while teaching at Grace. It was the most wonderful little place. I was overwhelmed with sadness, probably scared about the uncertainty of my future, of where we were going and what we were going to be doing - which we didn't know. I had to move back in with my parents for a few weeks; this was very frustrating. I started crying, and I was so embarrased. I fled into the bathroom and sat on the toilet in the dark and cried. And he came in, and he was comforting in a stolid, awkward, standoff-ish way, as was natural and correct. We had been dating only two or three months. There was a hand on the shoulder, there was a neck squeeze. Crying in the bathroom is so inelegant.

I remember another time more than a year later, we had just arrived in Asia, we were a few days in to a two-week trip in Thailand. We had this dumb-luck penthouse room in a bizarrely empty guesthouse in Phuket. No shower curtain, but the view from the balcony was amazing, the sunset I guarantee would melt the heart of the most jaded, flinty bitch on earth. The beach outside our windows was still ruined, still scarred by the tsunami's rapage some 20 months earlier. But there was tension inside too, there was more uncertainty, there was limbo, there was DW-TV. We felt like maybe we didn't know what we were getting into with this around-the-world move, and having all these suitcases with us and no idea what next week would hold caught up with us and got to be a bit overwhelming. I remember Kevin's head resting on me that night, his hot tears falling onto my chest, I remember exactly how that felt, and I knew for sure that was the most love that I had ever felt in my life.

I've cried more in this past year than I ever have and ever hope to again, I'm sure. I have a tiny measure of courage, I can admit that. But it is over now, I am better now. This is just a reflection, a memory.

Just finished reading
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez-

MC

2009-11-17T19:33:00.006-06:00

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: davidxxxxxxxx@gmail.com (davidxxxxxxxx@gmail.com)

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 (davidxxxxxxxxx@gmail.com)

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 (facebook.com/davidxxxxxxxxx) 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

PDX Food

2009-11-15T16:18:00.006-06:00

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

PDX III / SEA-TAC

2009-11-09T18:14:00.003-06:00

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.

PDX II

2009-11-06T18:21:00.002-06:00

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.

Currently:
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.

PDX

2009-11-04T15:52:00.003-06:00

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

Lame Times Three

2009-10-21T17:55:00.003-05:00

This is a perfectly lovely little video. If you have six minutes - I know, an eternity in internet video time! - give it a whirl.

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

Where would you wish to wake up tomorrow? That question really suceeded in capturing my imagination the other day. I guess it says a bit about my personality and state of mind that I searched my memory for the most wonderful place that I could remember waking up over the last few years. I rewound to beds and hostels and apartments and morning views from windows in several Central American, Asian, and North American cities. I considered emotions more than company, simple location more than emotion, the past much more than future possibility. But I thought about all of these things. I haven't yet come up with a definitive answer, though I have conjured some great contenders. What a fun thought exercise.

There is a boy that I like. The circumstances of our meeting could not have been more perfectly off-the-wall, more expectedly unexpected. Imagine someone slipping on a banana peel or standing in front of a huge audience with his zipper down and you aren't far off.

Of course, there are a million miles between "There is a boy that I like" and "There is a boy, and he and I are in like with each other." I tend to view this as a similar situation to a job search, though. (That sounds rather dispassionate, doesn't it? My, what a romantic I've unbecome.) The biggest hurdle to getting oneself a new job is scoring an interview; getting past that resume stage, having the opportunity for the sit-down, face-to-face. After that, it is cake and "Where's my cubicle, who signs the overtime slips, please?" (I say this not because it is true for me, but because it is true for every person that reads my blog. Give us a chance, and we succeed.)

So it is pretty much the same thing with friendships and relationships. It is difficult to charm some handsome boy with a Facebook message or make a new friend just by sharing your table with them at the coffee shop. You need a chance to talk, to ask, to wear a new shirt that you love, to show them your favorite restaurant and pay the bill and put your best face forward. So I guess that I'm hoping for that chance.

My coworker is pregnant. Her pregnancy is making me hungry. She just found out that she is expecting on Friday, and she's already eating for two, bringing these elaborate, delicious-smelling meals to work or ordering the most fantastic greasy takeout in a forty block radius. I just realized that the second sentence of this paragraph might make it sound like I want to eat her or her baby. That's funny. I don't.

Currently Listening to:
Sun Kil Moon Ghosts of the Great Highway and
Ryan Adams and the Cardinals Cardinology

Ari and Happy

2009-10-10T21:05:00.003-05:00

So I'm walking north on Clark Street this evening, headed out to the coffee palace to drink something wonderful and fall-like and enjoy my book, when this middle-aged gentleman stops me and struggles to get his question out.

"Excuse me...um...do you know if...are there any...how do you call them...um...I'm looking for a bar. Do you know if there are...um...any bars around here?"

He has a Caribbean accent, if that helps. Go back and read that scintillating dialogue with a Caribbean accent, if you please.

"Well, of course," I reply, in what I hope was a kind tone with a slightly condescending, yer-an-idiot, Midwestern sort-of edge. It is a fine art, this Chicago tone. I'm working on it. "There's bars all over here. What are you looking for?"

"I want a...strip bar. Yes, a strip bar."

"Guys or girls?" was my next query.

"Girls, girls," was his rapid reply.

"Wrong neighborhood, pal."

*********************************************

I'm going to Portland the first week in November to see my old gal pal Liza. I'm so excited about this. Hopefully I'll get to see the Cam'rons for a spell as well. The Pacific Northwest holds so many wonderful people that I love!

*********************************************

This is an exciting concert week for me. Sunday night Sofia and I are going to support one of our favorite bank customers at his movie premiere/band show. We actually have really good luck with these things; when our customers invite us to their concerts and restaurants and theatre productions, we generally have a really good time and get to appreciate people that we only associate with balances and casual conversation in a cool new way.

Even more exciting, though, is the three night Lucinda Williams concert extravaganza that I'm going to be partaking in on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. This is her 30th anniversary tour, and she's highlighting music from three different albums on each of the three nights. I'm excited to hear some older and lesser-known, but personal favorite selections.

********************************************

I got to go to the opening night of the Chicago International Film Festival this past Thursday night. (Side note: this is because the secret of life - sorry, James Taylor and Oprah - is knowing some well-connected Jews.) It was a fun night, with several celebrities, both actual and local, in attendance. Uma Thurman was there, as was Jacqueline Bisset, Roger Ebert, and Mayor Daley. Uma's new movie Motherhood was the opening film of the festival, and yeah, it was not great. But it doesn't matter that much because I could look at her all day. And since she was there and all, they gave her a Career Achievement award in what had to have been one of the most awesomely awkward ceremonies ever. Seriously, it might have been David Brent giving the award, it was that bad. Michael Kutza, the director or creator or whatever of the festival, needs to be put out to pasture, like, stat. He kept correcting people that he was standing beside at the podium, even Uma! And when he went to give her the award, he couldn't find it, even though it was in the podium. Anyway, the whole thing made Chicago's film community look really third-rate, which it probably is, so no big deal.

Currently Listening to:
Ryan Adams and the Cardinals Follow the Lights and
The Format Interventions and Lullabies and
Lucinda Williams World Without Tears

Everyone at this Caribou seems to be writing! How inspiring!

2009-09-24T11:50:00.002-05:00

That awesome location for the Taiwanese tea shop that I want to open? The rent has dropped to a mere $3,600 per month. If I could get Liza to draw me up a business plan, I might just go for it. I'm telling you, this place is perfect: the counters, the tall, germ-blocking plastic barriers, the sinks. There isn't even a Starbucks next door, which is a minor miracle in nearly any big city in the world.

I had this friend in a previous life - we aren't really in touch any longer - and he used to say that he really enjoyed having a routine. He liked the regularity, the liturgy of daily repetitions, of being a faithful doer of the same daily or weekly activities. This made me think, maybe even say to him - I don't actually remember, how boring. As the world turns, I have become that person. Every Thursday on my day off, I walk 3 blocks to the 7-11 and get a couple of doughnuts for breakfast. I drop off the Netflix disc that I watched the night before in the corner mailbox. Later in the day I go to Marshalls and TJMaxx for a little fun shopping. On sunny summer days, I go to the beach. On frosty winter mornings, I cram my hockey blades in my backpack and go downtown to Millennium Park for a few hours of ice skating. When I am blessed with a Saturday off, I take the bus to my favorite downtown farmers market where I walk the blocks and admire the baked goods, produce, flowers, and cheese. And I buy absolutely nothing. I go to the Corner Bakery at State and Elm and buy a baby bundt cake. I take it down a block to that fun little plaza where I can sit and read and eat and watch the tourists and Gold Coasters come and go.

Strange how we become the people that we used to know, and the people that we used to know become unknowable.

Currently admitting that I fell asleep last night listening to:
All the Way: A Decade of Song by Celine Dion

Tonight's Gonna Be a Good Night

2009-09-21T21:23:00.002-05:00

This is a fictional account.

I was a terrible person the other night. I don't remember most of it. The drinks were evidently much stronger on this particular night than on all other previous nights that I've spent at this bar. Also, we got a pitcher, and I drank almost all of it. Hrm. My escorts were being pussies, and I didn't want anything to go to waste, child of the Depression that I am. After a good bit of the bebidas had been drunk, there was (I've heard) a hairless Filipino involved somehow, in some way; also some dancing and heavy petting with a Christina Aguilera-type drag queen (I actually remember this); some incredible freaking out about a mysteriously disappearing straw; some gradual inability to remain steadily upright; and some persistent badgering for me to take my shirt off on the dance floor (this did not, would never happen).

Like I said, though, I don't remember most of the four hours that we spent at this particular bar. This has never, ever happened to me before. This should probably have happened to me sometime in my early 20s, if it was ever going to happen. What is it about my personal permanent developmental delay? Why am I so far behind all of my peers? Also, I suspect that I was drugged.

I was driven home, though I live a mere six blocks from this particular establishment. Things were spinning. I was walked to my door. I managed to stay in bed for a few minutes before the puking began. Serious, soul-shifting puking. The puking lasted until the next day, mid-afternoon. Also there was a grinding headache. I was miserable. I had to cancel the only plans that I had been looking forward to that weekend, cancel on a nice afternoon with some uber-cool friends. Boo on me.

What did I learn from this? I learned that when the first sip makes you say, "Hey, this is a lot stronger than usual," you should slow the fuck down. Also, I learned that dancing with a cross-dresser is fun as long as no one is taking pictures, and you don't linger; get in, get out.

Currently Listening to
Cassadega
I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning and
Digital Ash in a Digital Urn by Bright Eyes because I was talking to this guy the other day, and he said how he really likes Bright Eyes too but hasn't listened to him in forever, and it made me realize that I haven't listened to him in forever either. And that is some good stuff, people.

Lynchburg Trip

2009-09-21T20:53:00.004-05:00

Here are some photos that I took when I went to visit my family down in Lynchburg a couple of weekends ago.

From Lynchburg 9-09

Papa, Nana, and Ellie (2 years old)

From Lynchburg 9-09

Jesse (4 months old)

From Lynchburg 9-09

We went on a walk, and I was pushing Jesse in the stroller. He took to me right away, and he loves me. Too bad he won't actually remember me next time we meet, at Christmas or whenever.

From Lynchburg 9-09

Ellie doesn't love me yet - we're working on that - but she loves her heart-shaped sunglasses. Too bad she always puts them on upside down.

From Lynchburg 9-09

This is very modern art, don't you think?

From Lynchburg 9-09

I really like this quiet moment with Ellie and my mom.

From Lynchburg 9-09

Siblings.

From Lynchburg 9-09

That same walk in the woods.

From Lynchburg 9-09

What a cutie, first thing in the morning.

From Lynchburg 9-09

Killer smile.

SEIU

2009-09-07T19:20:00.004-05:00

The last day of summer? Say it ain't so! Well, I flagrantly overstayed my SPF at the beach today in an effort to soak up every last drop of sun. God willing and the bottom don't drop out, there may be a couple of beach days left in the year yet.

It isn't good for me to be alone. Someone wise said that way back in Genesis, but maybe I'm just now getting around to agreeing. Being alone means lots of time with one's thoughts, and oftentimes one's thoughts aren't good company. The mind wanders, and it settles on troubles of the past, unresolved emotional damages, questions of why that will never be answered. (Don't ask why questions, Anne Lamott's friend Father Tom says. He's probably on to something there.)

I miss things a lot. Very specific things. Last week I missed the Borders store in that enormous Berjaya Times Square mall in Kuala Lumpur. It felt omniscient to me, safe, comforting, like a big bookstore hug. We stayed for hours. I bought a fantastic book by Jonathan Safran Foer. Don't spill any coffee on it, Liza dear.

Then I thought about waiting for a bus on the side of the road in Kuala Lumpur, waiting and waiting and being not sure if we should just get on the next bus because it seemed like ours would never come. So we did, we hopped a random bus, and we got to where we needed to be. Oh God, there's that pronoun. I thought that I had ruthlessly eliminated that pronoun from my life. Epic pronoun fail.

Today I missed the New Siam II Guesthouse in Bangkok. As far as I can remember, this is the only place in my travels that I have ever returned to stay on multiple occasions. I love the tiny triangular shower, the echoy corridors, the Asian satellite television stations, the "Please Don't Flush Your Toilet Paper" sign that is a little more informative than most others. Actually, it answers the why question, so take that, Father Tom.

I miss my Grandma, my scooter, Marilyn at Wagor Bilingual Academy, McKays Used Books and CDs, the feeling of knowing that someone would be waiting for me when I got off of work on a Saturday. I miss Carolina beaches and going to Argo Tea with a friend.

Last week we found out that our bank branch is going to be permanently closed next March. This does not mean that I will be losing my job. The bank has said that we will all be moved to other locations. But this potential reality shift causes me two conflicting emotional responses: relief and trepidation. First I'm thinking, sweet, here's my exit. I don't want to stay in banking forever, but it is a bird in the hand at this moment of 10% unemployment. I should seize this opportunity next spring to quit and take some more time to travel before I (at least attempt to once again) enter school next fall. Once I'm in school, it is pretty much a career-track sort of thing, so this would be my last chance to really have a wide-open travel experience. If I chose to be moved to a new location instead, there's all sorts of starting-over trauma involved there. But then I would have a job to help me transition into graduate school, pay the bills, etc. Some interesting choices ahead, I guess.

Going down to Lynchburg this weekend to hang out with the family. Let's be optimistic - it should be a fun time. Ideally I'd like to just carry my luggage on the plane and not have to check any bags, but with the amount of patience that I am going to have to pack, that might not be a possibility.

I found the perfect location for opening up a Taiwanese tea shop today. It is a tiny storefront and has cute counters and basically no space - ideal. Sadly, the monthly rent is $4,800. I don't think I've saved up quite enough to buy a couple of lid-sealing machines and get this venture off the ground yet.

Currently Watching:
Brokeback Mountain

Currently Listening to:
Illinoise by Sufjan Stevens

Rock River

2009-08-31T21:04:00.003-05:00

It seems that I am a single man once again. Furthermore, it seems that every time I become a newly-single man, I celebrate by purchasing a new bedding set.

Whatever, judge me, whatever. It helps me.

I actually rearranged my entire apartment yesterday. My apartment is a studio, so no big deal. But those small changes have given me a bit more space, a breath of fresh air, some nice tweaks. Oh, I like that last sentence! How I would like to apply it to my life writ larger.

Sometimes life is like a pretty bowl full of something that looks a lot like diarrhea.

I played pool boy one lovely Sunday afternoon this summer. I think this was, all things considered, the best summer of my life. I might be overselling it.

This pigeon waiting nervously at the bus stop with me was tagged. I thought it worthy of a photo.

Lincoln Karaoke is really Lincoln KTV. I went with a couple of Koreans. These aren't them. It was pretty fun.

I still look the same. I still wear that same hat.

Had to go to the last movie in the park (aka Chicago Outdoor Film Festival) alone. This is my favorite summer thing, these movies in the park, but it turns out that I don't like to go it alone anymore. Not after I had such wonderful company for so many weeks. Miss you, Marv.

I'm hoping to take some time off soon. I have a nice long weekend for the Labor Day holiday coming up. I should be going to visit my family down in Virginia the next week, and I'd like to make it out to Portland sometime in the coming months. I need to stretch my legs a bit, get out of this nutty metropolis.

Currently Reading:
Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott

Buddy

2009-08-18T21:07:00.003-05:00

It was my birthday. We went to a slightly pretentious Asian restaurant that I've always wanted to visit, replete with beautiful waitstaff, deafening music, and snobby people. I drank this watermelon martini. It was delicious.

So I'm 30. And big deal. Like I said before, as long as people are surprised when they find out that I'm 30, I'm okay with it. When I actually start looking 30 and acting 30 and having the kind of responsibilities that most people acquire around the age of 30, that's when I'll get all bitter and depressed about it. For now, it is cool. But I'm not changing my age on any of my online dating profiles.

I didn't do any sort of blow-out, big deal wham-she-bam or anything like that. I decided that since the events of my August - work and school-fizzle related - conspired to make this an unfortunately-timed watershed moment, I'm gonna have to really tear it up for my 31st. India in 2010, anyone?

I had a really great birthday, though. Everyone treated me very well, and for days on end, actually. Thanks for your cards and gifts and wishes and words.

This is Coldplay, when they came out into the audience to sing! Yeah, we weren't that close. But the concert was awwww-some.

This will be one of my favorite people to think about in the coming months. His name is Scott, and he looks exceedingly like James Marsden; four out of five friends who have been consulted on this agree. He leaves for Madrid next Tuesday for a year of schooling. He has made my summer wonderful in a hundred ways. He is kind, thoughtful, loving, adventurous, fun, and challenging. Because of his plans for this fall, our relationship had an expiration date stamped on it the very first time we met. But I'm happy to say that our friendship won't expire, and I look forward to having him in my life in the future.

Ending on good terms! How nice.

Currently Listening to:
Stupid Love by Mindy Smith

Grand Mall

2009-08-01T19:15:00.003-05:00

And so the older sibling abuse begins: new nephew Jesse with old niece Ellie

Currently listening to Sufjan Stevens. Currently watching Watchmen. Currently reading something with the rather trite title A Fraction of the Whole - it is much better than the title suggests. Currently drinking root beer and locking my big toes together.

There is no taste more nostalgic for me than the taste of root beer. It is the taste of my grandparents' house in rural Ohio, the taste of the incredibly exciting visits there during holidays and summers. The tractor rides or trudges through that oh-so exotic substance called snow, the Christmas mornings or summer birthday parties with Dairy Queen ice cream cakes. Mine was the one in the shape of a log, Amy's was the heart-shaped one. Oh but the root beer - I remember the exact place in the pantry where the root beer was kept. I remember looking at it often, admiring it. Ignoring the other bottles of other flavors that were obviously for the boring taste buds of the boring adults. Ginger ale, anyone? Blech. Faygo was my grandma's brand. Didn't make any difference to me at the time, though now I suspect that seemingly innocuous bottle label may have had an acute effect on my adult sexual identity.

This afternoon on my bus ride home from work a woman in the front of the vehicle experienced some sort of medical crisis. It was intense and heartbreaking. The bus was full but not crowded, I was far to the back - my preferred seating - and the first indication that something was wrong was when this very loud, practical-looking woman with a shopping bag said, "Bus driver, I think we have an incident here." My first thought, hilariously, was that someone had touched her inappropriately, and she was gonna take care of business right there in front of us all. Instead, she crossed the aisle to this young African-American woman who appeared at first to be sobbing rather heavily. After a few seconds, it became clear that she was in fact experiencing some sort of seizure. Her head was rolling and jerking and her hands were moving very erratically. Another young lady from the middle of the bus moved quickly to the front to see to the girl. I thought they might have been together - funny how irrationally one can think during these critical moments - but it turned out that she was a nurse. I think she was a wonderful person to have on the bus, not at all shy about helping out or employing her skills. In a simple, understated way, heroic. These two ladies calmed her, encouraged her, and gave her comfort until the ambulance came to take her to get help. They are good people.

So, I bought one of those big hand soap refills and a 6-pack of toilet paper today. Guess I'm staying in Chicago. I actually did get an acceptance letter on Thursday to the school in Savannah that I applied to back in February. Ha ha, fuck you and all the snails that work in your admissions department, AASU.

I am still romantically involved with that handsome, vegan Jew that I told you about earlier. He's away for the weekend at a family wedding - oh my gosh, a Jewish wedding, how fun! - so I'm using these days as practice for returning to life on my own. He's leaving for Madrid in just a few weeks, so I'm wringing every drop of fun out of him that I can in the meantime. We went to a Coldplay concert up in Wisconsin last weekend, we've attended every Tuesday night movie down in Grant Park so far this summer, and we are now on a first name basis with the staff of the restaurant Crisp just down the street here. He's not big on shopping or the beach, so I get plenty of me time too.

What a great summer it has been. I hope that yours has been great, too. Let's have tea sometime soon and talk about it.

Currently looking forward to turning 30, just to get it over with already.

About Food

2009-07-08T19:27:00.002-05:00

This was my dinner on Monday night. I like dinosaur-shaped meats. All meats should be dinosaur-shaped. In other thoughts, are McCain Smiles kind of black-face racist or do I just overcook them?

I'm sitting here eating Edy's Double Chocolate Brownie ice cream and remembering how I used to pay a small fortune for a midget-sized quart import container of this stuff at the Carrefour in Taiwan. Taiwanese ice cream sucks, and I would have absolutely died a miserable white man's Asian death without this crack. Even now, the taste takes me back to laptop movie nights under the mosquito net on the world's hardest bed.

Everyone that I know loves food. Except me. I've been running with a gang for a few weeks now that can easily spend an hour in Whole Foods' produce section picking vegetables for a cookout. This is great, excruciating madness. I see the enjoyment that eating out at new restaurants brings people, the excitement of trying a new type of cuisine, the fun that some find in cooking from scratch, from finding a new recipe.

I love ice cream, doughnuts, and Pringles, am passionate now about certain, very specific Asian dishes, and pretty much just eat to survive otherwise. I actually enjoy smelling food more than eating it most of the time. I work right by the break room at my bank, so I get the olfactory experience of biryani, Greek kabobs, and Vietnamese rice dishes on a regular basis. And then there was the day when someone brought sardines, extolling their Omega 3 content, and was savagely rebuked by all others in attendance.

Anyway, I don't love food. I guess some people have a hard time understanding this.

Just Watched:
Grey Gardens on DVD
"If you can't get a man to propose to you, you might as well be dead."

2009-06-29T22:15:00.002-05:00

Pride comes easy with 450,000 of your peers and peeps around. The Monday after it generally isn't quite so easy.

Blogs are great. You can come and go, people care and they don't. So casual, like gym memberships for people who join just because they want to tell their friends and not feel so lazy. The best blogs, of course, have multiple authors with interconnected conversations and conflicting ideas and dynamic comments and heated discussion. My blog is a soliloquy, a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Looking for meaning in the dustbin of my life. I probably won't find it in Savannah, so I might as well keep looking here. I learned a couple of weeks ago that the school to which I have applied doesn't make the all-important out of state tuition waver decision (my $10,000 question) until 2 weeks before school starts in August. This hardly allows me enough time to pack my apartment, much less quit my job, give my landlord any sort of notice, get a moving truck, move 1,000 miles, find a new place to live, change my mailing address with the postal authorities, start classes, get a job, and grow a new life to replace the one from Chicago that I shredded and recycled.

Young (very, very young) artist's work on display in the corridor outside the classroom portion of the new modern wing of the Art Institute of Chicago. The gril is sad indeed.

I am not. I've really been enjoying this summer so far. I'm at the beach almost every day that I have off of work. I've been to several interesting concerts in Millennium Park, several fun neighborhood festivals, and experienced a different side to life in Chicago than I have during previous summers. It has been good. A lot of this has to do with the fact that...

I am still seeing this boy named Scott. He is very NICE. This may be my highest compliment of all, and altogether too rare for the gay boys. Which is not to mention other facts such as: he is also nice looking and nice smelling and intelligent and accomplished and stylish in a slightly-askew sort of way and somehow, miraculously, enjoys my company, too. He has cool friends, and I am working hard to get over his veganism. He turns out to be Jewish, which is a delicious irony if you know anything at all about my father. He is also moving to Madrid in August for a year of school, so I am totally, positively not falling in love with him.

I am mapping some things in my head now, though, as far as relationships go. And ebb and flow. I'm learning. There are interesting convergences and divergences, people patterns. There's probably more in common with evolutionary theory than just terminology, also. Punctuated equilibrium and missing links and extinction.

Currently Listening to:
Marry Me by St. Vincent

2009-05-26T19:32:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow I have a first date.

Fiction-worthy irony: tomorrow would be the fourth anniversary of the beginning of my relationship with Kevin.

I realized this fun fact while getting all googley-eyed at work this afternoon thinking about my exciting and terrifying first date to come. I was very happy about this irony; it seems like a great way to NOT mark the day, to forget it and begin to attempt to bury it. We celebrated May 27 for the last few years because it was the last day of my school year in 2005; thus, it was the first day that we could date after I finished working at Grace.

His name is Scott. Funny but true. While I've never dated a Scott before, I have also never met a Scott that I didn't want more of in my life. Scotts are good people. Let's hope that continues to be true after tomorrow.

I asked him out over IMs. That's awfully 21st century for an old guy like me, and feels a little too easy, actually. A bit of a cheat. But, of course, I can't ask him out face-to-face as we have never met. We have chatted online several times now, and it turns out that he lives very nearby.

I asked if I could take him out to dinner. He tried to bargain me down to drinks or coffee. Said that dinner makes him too nervous. I find this to be a most winning answer. Eating in front of someone you don't know is intimidating, isn't it? I would never bid on lunch with a favorite celebrity at a charity auction; I'd be too freaked out about eating in front of them. So we are going for tea, and then a movie. The fine art of bartering: something less than dinner, more than drinks.

So I offered Wednesday, Thursday, or Saturday, thinking these are the best days for me, work schedule-wise. He went for Wednesday, and the rest is a beautiful twist straight from O. Henry's celebrated short fiction.

But, a date! I'm so excited.

Currently Listening to:
"I Do Not Hook Up" by Kelly Clarkson

I Like

2009-05-17T09:51:00.003-05:00

I like how the girls in my life take care of me. Sending me home from work with food, saying "Awww" a lot, asking me questions and giving me unsolicited advice. Sometimes I take girls for granted, but sometimes the little things they do can melt my heart.

I like how my RSS reader captures your blog posts, even the ones that you have second thoughts about later and remove. I'm glad I got to read that, it made me hurt for you, but now I'm not sure what to do with the information that I have. I want to help. How can I help?

I like the ramen noodle soup and general vibe at this pan-Asian restaurant near my bank - a truly unlikely location. Sofia and I went there yesterday afternoon after work, and it was the best thing I've tasted in a long time. Not exactly the way I remember it, but familiar enough and fantastic in its own unique way.

我喜歡說中文,可是我的中文不好. (I like speaking Chinese, but my Chinese is bad.)

I like Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls from the can that explodes on Sunday mornings.

I like The Wire, and chatting late into the night with some cool guy that I just met, and people with different cultural backgrounds that want to share with me what that culture is like, and Dave Eggers, and old friends, and walking and walking and walking, and exotic but easily pronounceable names, and making plans but not following through on those plans, and going places in the backseat of a car though not while tied up.

I like French movies lately. When was the last time you saw a bad French movie? Never, that's when. I'm halfway through Paris, Je T'aime right now. What a cool, cool, fascinating, funny little movie. Recently I watched Tell No One, Persepolis, and Ma Vie En Rose, too. And what about Ratatouille? One of the best French movies ever.

Currently Liking:
"Heartless" by Kris Allen

Dispatches from the Dead Twitter/Letter Room

2009-05-08T18:24:00.003-05:00

What the what? I have no idea.

Today is one of those days when I say that little rhetorical, pointlessly ego-reflexive prayer aloud: "Dear God, it is perfect here. Why would I ever want to leave?"

Ladies who fall off of their ridiculously tall shoes and injure themselves: who do you have to blame?

Saw two be-hoodied individuals making out in the park as I walked home this afternoon. That is so mysterious and hot. Girls in love? Guys? One of each? The androgyny is intriguing.

Tomorrow morning I'm heading to New York City for a couple of days to hang out with a few friends. It promises to be a weekend unlike any other I've ever had.

I'm staying at a hotel in Rockefeller Center. If I don't see Tina Fey, I will be severely disappointed. I know it is fiction, but still.

"Gone, gone to New York City, where you gonna go with a head that empty? Gone, gone to New York City, where you gonna go with a heart that gone?" Lyrics by Conor Oberst, kind of.

Currently Listening to:
Vampire Weekend by Vampire Weekend

I Want Them To Know How I Love Them So

2009-04-25T16:55:00.004-05:00

The sadness doesn't fill me anymore. It visits me occasionally, touches me lightly, tousles my hair, and then moves along. I feel better. I am making some friends and connections. I am planning towards the future, a bit. I feel happy. I am moving on.

Wonderful things are happening in the world. Scott and Tami have a new baby girl. Our bank cut back our hours of operation, which means I get an extra hour of non-work life every weekday and two on Saturdays, without taking a pay cut. This is not comparable to having a new child, nor is its inclusion in the same paragraph meant to imply this. Just both wonderful things.

In two weeks I will be taking a long weekend and travelling to New York City for the second time in the past year. I'm going to be visiting with a couple of friends and spending some time laying around Central Park and staying somewhere with a moderate amount of swank and just generally enjoying a little freedom. I am excited about this trip.

Little marbles of hail just started coming down from the sky moments ago, making the most wonderful ping and clang sounds on the heating units in the alley below my window. Thunderstorms and random downpours today, like a summer day that is full to its breaking point.

Currently Can't Get Enough of:
April by Sun Kil Moon

Plan to Marry

2009-04-04T15:51:00.005-05:00

Even though it is being overshadowed by bigger news events and won't make anywhere near as much press as the Prop 8 battle in California, something about the gay marriage decision in Iowa feels very real, more personal and exciting for me. A state which is not my state, but is located directly adjacent to my state, and is not located in the very progressive Northeast or the very libertarian left coast but in the very heart of America, has decided that people like me should have equal access to marriage.

Here is a most awesome quote from the unanimous Iowa Supreme Court ruling: "We are firmly convinced the exclusion of gay and lesbian people from the institution of civil marriage does not substantially further any important governmental objective."

Damn straight.

Currently Watching:
Slumdog Millionaire

Who Loves You, Baby?

2009-04-02T10:45:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a very stressful day. My bank branch was audited by our company, which basically means that two guys came in first thing yesterday morning and looked over our shoulders and all of our paperwork from the last year for the entire day. It is very nerve-wracking and tense-making. They ask you questions that you couldn't possibly know the answer to, and count everything and go through notebooks and folders and drawers and everything. But we got through it and did very well. They only found the most insignificant errors possible, which makes me happy and reflects well on all of us at the branch.

In the afternoon, the human resources director of our bank came into the branch and asked to speak with me. She raised the possibility of transferring me to a supervisory position at our main bank location. That would have been a very good opportunity for me, promotion and networking-wise, if I was interested in a continued career in banking. I thanked her for thinking of me, but explained that I am tentatively planning on returning to school this fall to pursue a Master's Degree and my career in education. I'm riddled with doubts now, though; isn't this all a little bird-in-the-hand considering quitting my job means facing 10% unemployment and acquiring new debt?

I have a cold. Can't breathe. Bad timing, bad timing.

Tuesday night I got to see Jersey Boys, the Broadway musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. A couple of Kevin's friends (does that make them my ex-friends in-law? former friend's friends? ah, nomenclature) came into town for a mid-week visit. I trudged through the Sunday morning snow to meet them for breakfast, and Bethany mentioned that they were going to see Jersey Boys, that she went to college with a cast member. I guess I kind of invited myself along by saying how much I would love to see it. Well, the show was pretty great. If you were ever forced to listen to oldies in the car with your dad, you probably know many of the songs. Bethany's friend didn't go on that night, but he hooked us up with some sweet seats. We all went out for drinks after the show which was great, great fun. I know just enough about Broadway to carry on a casual conversation about shows and showtunes with him, so that was cool, too. Melodie and Bethany are the sweetest girls, just wonderful, wonderful people. Great huggers, great talkers, great fun. I hope that I will get to see them more if I move to Georgia later this year, which is where they both live.

Facebook is interesting. It is a lot of work, lots of messages and pictures and stroking people's egos. I'm kind of lazy on the internet. I read a lot, but try not to do too much that takes effort. Sad but true. Since I was two years late for Facebook, I also signed up for the internet thingy du jour, Twitter, which I am actually enjoying more, I think. I can send a quick txt message from my phone during the day to say something important or mundane, and I enjoy reading other people's micro-posts. If you are interested, you can find me at Davie_St. I've never used an underscore for anything before, thinking it looks just a little too self-congratulatory, but I guess DavieSt was already taken.

Just finished watching:
The Wire, Season 2

Southern Man

2009-03-20T17:38:00.003-05:00

My bank manager goes to the mosque every Friday afternoon for a weekly prayer service. Today when he came back, he told us that there had been a special ceremony because a guy there had, in his words, "accepted Islam." Then he told us that the man had converted from Christianity. I said, "She must be really beautiful," and Mohammad said, "No, he." And then I explained my joke, that the man must be becoming a Muslim so that he can marry some beautiful woman. Don't tell him that I said so, but Mohammad's wife is a total knock-out. I'd convert for her.

But really, at the words accepted Islam, I became very uncomfortable with the whole conversation. I can't say that it was because I am unfamiliar with that sort of terminology or usage; I'm very familiar with it. Only from a Christian perspective, of course. It took me four-tenths of a second to realize how very off-putting and cultish a lot of our Christian verbiage and nounage must seem to those with limited knowledge of faithspeak and Bibletalk.

*******************************************

I joined Facebook yesterday. I think that I'll probably come to regret that, but for now I'm finding it a profitable exercise, reconnecting with some really nice people from my past and connecting differently with some really nice people from my present. I'm adding friends slowly so that I can try to be personable and write a message to folks that I may not have talked with in six or eight years instead of just adding people to some silly roll call friends list.

A moment of unfettered honesty, I hope: I think that one reason I'm doing this is to prove to myself that I have friends. And I do have friends! Lovely, nice people. But I'm not the kind of person that collects connections or flaunts friendliness, and I don't have many friends in the here and now. So I'm reminding myself that I like people and people like me. I'm getting better about this in the real world, too, attending this Sunday night church service the last three weeks and meeting some nice and funny people. Making conversation and laughing, I can do it!

********************************************

But do I sabotage myself? Do I wait until I have my flight booked and my exit from the scene staged before I really try to love and embrace the place where I am? I've been accused of that, but I don't think it is necessarily fair. Sure, it is easier to try meeting new people and getting involved in new things now that my calendar says T-minus three months to liftoff. If something doesn't work out, no sweat, I'm leaving anyway. But I'm no commitment-phobe, and I've managed to make great new friends in lots of places that I've been in the world.

I guess the truth is that things really start coming together after a year of living somewhere. Stuff becomes second nature, and you get to know people, even the incidental little people in your life, on a deeper level. Opportunities arise, things grow and change, and life becomes easier and better. Sadly for me, that is also the time that I am itching to move along to somewhere else, something new and exciting and different. So while there are some really positive and advantageous changes coming at my work, and while I may have just met some really cool new people, and while I may be totally digging this new church service, and while they may be building a Trader Joe's - I couldn't dream this up if I wanted - at the end of the block where I live, I am still getting ready to leave. Again.

*********************************************

I got some papers in the mail yesterday from my building managers asking me to renew my lease - which expires at the end of next month - for another year. I was kind of sweating it, then: what if they won't let me stay for just a few months, what if they want another year commitment or I have to be out? Moving to a new, temporary place in Chicago just isn't an option; way too much expense, work, and hassel to justify a three month stay. So I was trying to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of moving to Savannah at the end of April instead of the end of July. That would be so soon!

I called today on my lunch break, and they are letting me go month-to-month, just asking for a month's notice before I move out. Dodged a bullet on that one.

Currently Listening to:
Neil Young, Greatest Hits

Éirinn go brách

2009-03-14T18:33:00.003-05:00

Today is pretty much the low point of the Chicago social calendar as far as I'm concerned. The Saturday of or just before St. Patrick's Day is certifiably insane around here. It seems to be especially bad here in my neighborhood, as there are a large concentration of Irish-themed pubs in a very short walking distance from my apartment. This morning I went to catch my bus to work at about 8:30, and I was amazed at the number of people who were already staggering down the street in their bright green tee shirts and Mardi-Gras-with-clover plastic bead necklaces. It took me a few hours to realize that those people probably just never went home last night, but still, 8:30 am is impressive either way, starting or finishing. On the ride home this afternoon I saw the police dragging some guy out of this one pub just down the block, handcuffing him on the back of the unmarked squad car while the line up of eager DePaul students waiting to get in the door for some green beer watched idly by. That was about 3 pm, so the party's really just begun.

I hate drunk people, so I'm gonna be holed up at home for the rest of the evening, waiting for this storm of cod-Irish alcoholism to pass me by. At least tonight I'll feel like I have some excuse.

Currently Reading:
At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O'Neill

Can't Go Back Now

2009-03-12T14:54:00.002-05:00

I've never seen white people drinking beer on the bus before. So I had to take a picture.

Before I decided that it was okay to post that, I made a flowchart of how to determine is a comment like that is racist or not. Is is true? Yes. Then, is it funny? Yes. Then, is it mean-spirited? No. Then, is it outright offensive? No. Then say it.

It is snowing here today, tiny, sparkling snow somewhere between glitter and the tiniest down feathers that escape from my insulated vest. It swirls and shines and falls and disappears.

I sat at Starbucks for several hours earlier today, one up in the Andersonville neighborhood that I chose specifically because it gets several Missed Connections a week on Craigslist. I think that all of the attractive coffee drinkers must have been taking the day off from being attractive coffee drinkers today, though.

Whenever I get a drink at Starbucks or Caribou or wherever, I have to have the opening of the lid positioned directly above the cup's main logo before I take a drink. Then I adjust the sleeve so that it is centered as well.

Also, did you notice that Starbucks is calling its new product Via "ready brew"? It is instant coffee, folks. I hate manipulative marketing word play like that.

Last night I watched No Country for Old Men. It is a jarring movie. Some great, priceless dialogue and populated with wonderful incidental characters, but the violence was too much. I haven't jumped that many times while watching a movie in a long time.

I've been thinking about getting a dog once I make my big move to Savannah later this year. There was a cover story in our commuter newspaper earlier this week on this popular-in-Chicago breed called Vizsla (pronounced veez-shlah). What a beautiful dog! It is an active breed, too, so that would have to motivate me to get outside and exercise a bit. Space is always an issue though in the micro-apartments where I seem to find myself living. Dogs need a yard, too.

Speaking of Savannah, I'm dreading the thought of getting a car and dealing with all those hassels and expenses once again, but it is a foregone conclusion that I'll need one once I leave Chicago. What a difficult modern world we've made for ourselves.

And one final Savannah note, one of my favorite singers, Ryan Adams, just married that interesting former teen pop star Mandy Moore in a wedding ceremony there. I thought that was surprising, but I'm not sure why since I don't really know either of them.

And I was reading in an old issue of Paste the other day that The Weepies and Mandy Moore collaborated on some songwriting for her most recent record. Which leads me to say once again that I simply can't get enough of The Weepies CD Hideaway. What a fantastic group of songs that is.

This is the most interesting thing that I've read about Christianity, religion, or faith in a long time. How different our country will be if even parts of it come true. I'm interested to hear what you think about it, and my dad, too.

Once upon a time, I took a very nice Spring Break trip to the beach, half of which I spent in lovely solitary repose, and half of which I shared with two wonderful friends. You know how the late night conversation tends to stray to the outlyings of ridiculousness when you are with certain people, and eventually there's no accounting for where it goes? Well, one friend asked a legendarily mind-numbing question that went something like this: if you could have sex with someone's voice, with what person's voice would you attempt carnal relations? My answer was Chris Cornell, former lead singer of Soundgarden and Audioslave, a man who released a solo album this week titled, Scream. From what I can tell, though, that new album is terrible. Some sort of wanna-be techno, hip-hop, new wave synthetic mess. I couldn't even cough up the $2.99 that the Amazon mp3 Store wanted for it this week. Judging by the equal number of 1-star and 5-star user ratings that it has received, I'm glad that I didn't.

I've started planning my annual Memorial Day getaway this week. I think I'm going to strech it into a full week's vacation this year. There is one really exciting option that I have my sights set on at this moment, but I'm not sure of the wisdom of taking such a trip at this juncture when I should be saving pennies for going back to school and the poor student life that lies ahead. But then again, airfares may not be this cheap again any time soon, and it is a place that I've wanted to go for quite a while now. For the time being, I'll probably just keep an eye on it.

Women and Children First is a terrible name for a bookstore or establishment of any kind, other than the possible exception of a lifeboat manufacturing company. Half of your potential customer base is alienated right from the get-go. Boo.

When did Under Armour become the new North Face? Everything that I see is Under Armour.

Currently Listening to:
The Weepies, Hideaway

2009-03-05T09:38:00.002-06:00

The moving walkway at Midway Airport. It never, ever works. This might be a sad blog. Don't read it.

Do you know what I miss the most right now? I miss sharing life with someone. I miss the pronouns we and our and us. I actively avoid using them. Now I talk about my time in Taiwan, and when I went to Costa Rica, and the last time that I lived in Chicago. But I miss living life together, collaborating, consorting, and conspiring in tandem. There's something about being a pair that is really nice. Always having a buddy, a friend, a partner.

For the years after college I was a very independent guy, moving and travelling and living on my own. Making my own way, etc. It wasn't by choice, but it was my life, and I became deeply used to it. Honestly, I wasn't sure that I'd ever be able to be half of a couple after all of that time alone, that I could find a complement to my personality that would click into place. After being with Kevin for a while, though, I was happy to find that it was in fact very nice to share life with him, to look out for each other and help each other, and that this really worked for me and I loved it.

Perhaps I got too complacent with this nascent partnership. Perhaps that U mark that he got on his kindergarten report card for Sharing with Classmates was a harbinger of things to come. I know that I would do a zillion things differently if I could go back and do it all again, but this isn't a terribly profitable enterprise, this compulsive hindsight rehashing, and I'm trying to give it up.

All that I want to say today is that I miss living life together with him, and that I miss my buddy.

Currently Listening to:
The Damnwells, One Last Century
Download it free from Paste

Raised on Robbery

2009-03-02T19:25:00.003-06:00

Another day, another robbery. If I wasn't already planning a career field change before, I sure would be thinking about it now.

It was a busy afternoon, and we had just taken a series of large deposits from one of our bank's biggest business customers. I had my back to the front door, counting cash that was being sent to the vault as our end of business day was quickly approaching. Sofia was balancing her drawer, Tuyet getting ready to go home. Suddenly I heard our bank manager's voice: "Hey, HEy, HEY! HEY!!!" I turned around in time to see this little black man reaching across the counter towards Tuyet, then pulling himself up onto the counter. It all - you knew I was going to say this - happened really fast. As I saw him getting up onto the counter, I realized that I was holding a lot of cash, in the broad light of day, just standing there with this money ready to take back to the vault. The progression of his movement meant that he was about to jump over the counter onto our side and take all of our money. I took two steps toward my teller window and chucked that three thousand dollars right into my trash can like it was a flopping fish or a scorching hot brick. So, the dude's on the counter, and Tuyet has, naturally taken a couple of steps away. He grabs what he can out of her drawer, slides off, and heads for the door. Quick as that.

It is pretty interesting the way that a day can go from frustrating and bad to better to what-the-fuck in the course of a few hours. For ridiculous and complicated reasons, I had spent most of the morning feeling like I work with the biggest bunch of idiots on the planet. But armed robberies (he showed her a knife, I should have mentioned), 911 calls, hot Latina CPD officers, and chats with the FBI have a way of getting you to rally around your coworkers. Craziness. Two robberies in two weeks. I'll try to post some pictures if I get them tomorrow.

Currently Listening to:
The Weepies, Hideaway

UPDATE 3/3/09 - Here's the Chicago Tribune story from this afternoon; this time it is entirely accurate! Pretty cool story, really. Our messenger, DJ, is a hero! Apparently they have filed charges against the guy, too. Sorry, no pictures.

How You Survived the War

2009-02-25T18:05:00.002-06:00

We had a warm today. The ice is getting thinner.

Currently Listening to:
Hideaway by The Weepies - a total heartbreaker and
Noble Beast by Andrew Bird - still loving this one

************************************************

I got my Verizon bill yesterday and was surprised and horrified to see the total had floated northwards of $50. You know me, and you know how much I (don't) talk on the phone, so for me to spend that ludicrously high amount of dinero on my stupid cell phone makes me hopping mad. I never come within a country mile of using all of my minutes. I do text like an angry Irishman sometimes, though, and that was the case here; I used 330 of my allotted 250 texts last month. That's fine, lesson learned, I'll be more careful next month.

You know what my ultimate texting pet peeve is, though? One word texts. What a waste of a message! You just sent me a message that said, "OK" or "Thanks"? That's 1/250th of my messages for the month, you jerk. I got one this morning from a coworker who was running late. Jerk face! Ugh. I guess lots of people have unlimited texts and they take it for granted that everyone else does, too.

Currently Watching:
The Wire, Season 1

Roll On

2009-02-24T20:27:00.004-06:00

I got my work wife Sofia a Snuggie for her birthday last week. She enjoyed the joke.

How do you like the new page updates? I know that the colors and layout of this blog have been gouge-your-eyes-out ugly for a long time, so I spent a little time doing some research and fiddling around this last weekend, and here's what I came up with. Hope it is a little easier to look at and a little more enjoyable, too.

Speaking of eyes, my new glasses shipped yesterday! I can't wait. I bought a new old coat at Urban Outfitters this past weekend, too. It is a really cool refurbished Sears cordoroy coat with big lapels and roomy front pockets and fuzzy lining. It looks like the kind of coat I've seen my Grandpa wearing in old black and white photos, so I imagine that it was his once upon a time, and I've just acquired it for the family once again.

In slightly more unsettling news, I've developed a couple of weird little tics in the last few weeks. Let me tell you about them so that you can make fun of me more effectively and accurately. I've started making this little kapow explosion sound (like when the coyote falls off the cliff while chasing the roadrunner) when something doesn't go well or I mess something up or there is confusion or negativity. Also, I've taken to rolling my eyes. I do it on the bus when someone is an idiot. I do it several times a day when one of my coworkers says ignorant, stupid, or obnoxious things. I do it constantly when watching the oh-so predictable plot twists of The L Word.

I'm really craving a Blizzard from Dairy Queen tonight. That would be nice.

Currently Watching:
Future Husband Dustin Lance Black's Oscar acceptance speech

Wasps

2009-02-21T07:59:00.005-06:00

The snow has returned to Chicago. We've had a really quiet and clear - though cold - February, but last night and today we've gotten several inches. It is kind of nice, since we had a break.

I watched the movie Dan in Real Life last night. I thought that it was a very sweet movie, kind of quiet and mostly kind. There were several moments when I thought, "Aww, I hope my family will be like that someday." The movie takes place at one of those large family vacation gatherings, the kind where you have big dinners together but everyone eats breakfast on their own. The kind where there's a big, ridiculous football game and at least one awkward family fight. You know the kind.

I think about the future a lot these days. (It is certainly better than thinking about the past.) I wonder what life will be like in the context of my family in the next few years. (I think I keep going back to this theme often; sorry if it is boring to you.) 30 isn't creeping up on me anymore - it is running at me, full tilt boogie. When I find someone to live and love my life with, when we become a family together, how will that be received in my larger family? Sure, I'm out to my parents and sister's family, but their level of acceptance is, on a scale of 1 to 10, probably a 2 - meaning that they don't beat me with broomsticks and curtain rods when something is said that relates to my gaiety, which would qualify as a 1. I'm not out to my extended family - aunts, uncles and cousins - and I'm working on a little something to rectify that at the moment. I think this will probably create some strain in the short term with my immediate family as they are better with the status quo, don't ask, don't tell policy that I've been playing along with for the last several years. But there's absolutely no reason why this should go on even a moment longer, why every last person in the world shouldn't have easy access to the knowledge that I'm gay.

In a slightly tangential note, I don't enjoy playing the eunuch bachelor uncle/cousin/nephew at Christmas, holidays, weddings and special events. It is creepy and false. So they are all going to have to get over that hump (pun intended) or stop seeing me.

Life is getting better. I have the upcoming weekend off of work, and I'm trying to make some plans for a getaway. I'm still waiting on my new glasses to arrive.

Currently Listening to:
"The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens

5th and 27

2009-02-19T10:29:00.003-06:00

My bank got robbed on Tuesday. Tuesday was also my co-worker and current BFF Sofia's 27th birthday. Coincidence? Yes, actually, it was.

So, it was like 10:30 in the morning. All of my co-workers had arrived for the day; there's only five of us in the branch, and we all work on Tuesdays. I told my manager that I was going to step out for a few minutes, walk a couple of blocks down to the grocery store, and get a cake for our mini-birthday celebration. I put on my coat and headed out the door. About 10 minutes later, as I was agonizing in the bakery section over buttercream or whipped cream, pink or green, Sofia called me on my cell phone and said, "David, we just got robbed!" It was too much excitement to be believed, so I said, "What?" And she repeated herself, and I said, "Okay, I'll be right back." Then I realized that there wasn't anything that I could do about it, so I took another couple of minutes, decided on buttercream and pink, got her name put on the cake, paid, and headed back.

Waiting to cross the street, I counted four police cars with blue lights a flashin'. The place was swarming with cops, then upper bank management came, detectives arrived and the FBI was last on the scene. Apparently, just a minute or two after I left (was he watching the door?) this little guy came in with a paper bag and a note and told our other teller, Tuyet, to give him all her money. She was all alone at the moment, and the guy was really quiet, so no one else really noticed anything was up until he ran out the door.

So, the big bonus of getting robbed, besides being able to close the bank for a few hours and all the wildly atypical excitement that it brings, is that the bank buys you pizza for lunch. So our mini-birthday celebration turned into a raucous and crazy pizza, Diet Coke, and cake birthday/robbery extravaganza. I'm exaggerating grossly, of course, but it did make Sofia's 27th birthday and Tuyet's 5th robbery (!) into bigger events than they otherwise would have been seperatly.

I'm not going to lie - I'm disappointed that I missed the robbery. It would have been terribly exciting to have been there. And, tangentially, I wonder if it would have happened if I had been there. It is sexist but true that male bank employees are much less likely to be robbed, and even just the presence of a male employee decreases the likelihood of robbery.

Here is a link to the news story from the Tribune and WGN from the afternoon of the robbery. It is very inaccurate, though, as Tuyet says the picture isn't the same guy who robbed her, he never threatened harm to anyone and never even implied that he had a weapon. So that's about as inaccurate as you could get, I think. Also, the other three banks that are mentioned here are very, very far away from our bank, so it seems unlikely to me that they would all necessarily be related.

*************************

Meanwhile, today my dear Liza arrives in her new home of Portland, Oregon after four days of driving and driving and marathon driving across the country. I hope there will be someone at her new home to help her unload her car. Today is my day off, so I'm feeling a little guilty about not being there to help. I'm so excited for her, for all the new friends and opportunities and connections and life that is waiting for her there in Portland.

*************************

I wake up earlier now. I'm not sure why, I've even tried staying up later, but I'm still waking up around 6 every morning. I have all this craziness in my stomach then, too. Like stress and tension and worry and manic something or other.

Currently Listening to Mini-Playlist:
"Jump" by Madonna
"2 Kool 2 Be 4-Gotten" by Lucinda Williams
"Out of the Woods" by Nickel Creek
"Human" by The Killers

Currently Drinking:
A scorching hot Hot Apple Blast at Caribou

Thank You for the Music

2009-02-12T21:54:00.002-06:00

A triple trifecta in my mailbox tonight:

Dunkin Donuts coupons - the only thing better than donuts? Donuts on sale.
Mamma Mia on DVD from Netflix. I'm gonna be singing along, bitches.
The most hilarious, heartfelt breakup sympathy card a boy could ever hope for.

Seriously, this card was all comfort and cursing and quotes from The Office, basically a perfectly formed note from a perfect friend. SBP, you are fantastic. I laughed out loud when I read this card, and that is neither expected nor allowed when experiencing existential grief and thoughts of despair. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Friends who have shared kind words and expensive phone calls and thoughts and time with me over the last few weeks, thank you. I don't have the most friends, but I do have the highest quality friends. I wish that I could live in the same area code as each and every one of you so that we could hang and chat and play cards and bond in good times and bad. I might even compromise that down to just living in the same country as all of you. Anyway, thank you for sharing life with me and nudging me towards better persondom.

Currently Reading:
Significant Others by Armistead Maupin

Abre Tus Ojos, Abre Tu Corazon

2009-02-12T16:54:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was an especially boring day at work. I did a crossword puzzle. Never did get 5 across or 7 down.

Holy heck. I just ordered three pairs of prescription glasses at Zenni Optical for a grand total - including shipping - of $30.90. I went a little crazy because of how cheap some of those frames are; I ordered orange, red, and blue ones in slightly unconventional styles. Even if just one pair works out to be cool, it is still like $100 cheaper than getting a single pair at the optical shop. I'll let you know how they are when they arrive in a couple of weeks. If you have your recent prescription and know or can measure your PD, check it out. $5 shipping for as many pairs as you want to order.

Have you seen this Jane Seymour commercial for her new line at Kay Jewelers? She has "designed" some little squiggly thing, and they are making jewelry out of it called The Open Hearts collection. In the commercial she says, "My wish is that my open heart design becomes a universal symbol of hope and love." Here's what it looks like:

Jane, my dear, your universal symbol calls to my simple mind the image of a vicious, poisonous snake which is reared and ready to strike me in the calf. Also, in 100% of the world the image of a deadly serpent represents neither hope nor love. So much for that humbly held wish. Ah, the ridiculous hubris of celebrity. If I ever see anyone with this ugly thing around their neck, I'm going to ask them how long they've been a Pentacostal snake handler. Or a Satanist.

Today I filed my taxes. I usually do the good old-fashioned 1040 paper, pencil, and calculator deed, because it makes me feel careful and intellectually superior and accountant-like. But this year I e-filed, because it will be nice to have a little money back faster.

Currently Listening to:
"Let Down" by Radiohead and
"Simple Together" by Alanis Morissette

Neo Futurists

2009-02-08T23:24:00.002-06:00

I think that part of what's been so difficult for me over the last couple of weeks has been that, for a while now, I have thought that Kevin was The One. I imagined that we would be married in the not-too-distant future. I thought that somewhere down the line we would probably have some children and a house. We would live our lives, travel, cultivate meaningful careers, grow old together and be a happy, loving, lasting family. I have imagined him in my future for so long that now, my future just seems sort of empty without him. And I don't know what to do about that.

It has been a hard day.

Currently Listening to:
Noble Beast by Andrew Bird

Miso Happy

2009-02-08T09:22:00.003-06:00

Yesterday after work, my pal Sofia had a really nice surprise for me. She took me out to the 'burbs for a little mini-adventure, and we ended up at this very wonderful Japanese supermarket called Mitsuwa. The best part about this place was the food court, replete with some of my absolute Asian food favorites. I've never been much of a food person, but I became completely addicted to all forms of Asian cuisine during my days in Taiwan; I still dream of beef noodle soup and fried dumplings from the Overseas Dragon restaurant. Anyway, I had some stellar Ramen, and Sofia had the fried pork chop cutlet, and then we got these matcha (Japanese green tea) ice cream sundaes. They were so good. Besides the ice cream, there were these weird jelly lima bean things and biscuit/cracker pieces, and the dark stuff in there is actually red bean, not chocolate. Phenomenal.

The supermarket part of the store actually reminded me of how hard it was grocery shopping in Taiwan and how I used to buy mostly familiar, American foods. When it came to snack foods, I usually just bought Oreos and Pringles and Snickers. So I didn't buy any groceries there at Mitsuwa, because it turns out that what I really want is someone to cook all that wonderful food that I love for me. I guess I should have married the Fried Chicken Man from Ching Hai Road or one of those Teppanyaki chefs when I had the chance and brought him home with me.

Anyway, three cheers for Sofia! She knows just how to make me happy.

Currently Listening to:
Death Cab for Cutie, "Someday You Will Be Loved"

Transitions

2009-02-05T07:49:00.002-06:00

Music has been a great help and distraction to me in the last week. I've had to eschew much of my personal music collection, though, since I seem to be excessively drawn to melancholy and maudlin. I also had to make the command decision to change the radio station at work. We usually listen to The Light, which is a veritable treasure trove of Phil Collins and Peter Cetera's greatest, most heartbreaking hits. I couldn't stomach that, so we've been rocking (quietly) to XRT this week. At home, Pandora has been great. Last night R.E.M.'s Losing My Religion came on, and I really listened to the words, intently, for the first time. Surprise! They have nothing to do with faith or religion, and everything to do with the emotions of a break-up.

Life is bigger, bigger than you
And you are not me

**************************************************************

So, Congress and the President are postponing the digital transition of TV. This pisses me off. People with basic, over the air reception have had like a year and a half to get their $40 government coupon, buy their box, and hook it up to their antenna. Every 5th commercial on TV is, "Are you ready for the digital transition, coming February 17?" The bottom line for me is this: anyone who is unprepared for February 17 is also going to be unprepared for June 12. The only thing that will cause these people to prepare is actually losing their TV reception. "Hey, my TV doesn't get any channels any more. How can I fix that?"

Currently Watching:
Wall-E

Ellie Monster

2009-02-04T08:22:00.003-06:00

Here's some cute pictures of a little girl that I love. They had a little snow down in Lynchburg, and she got to go out and enjoy it with her dad and mom.

For Christmas, I got her three little Sesame Street tee shirts during my visit to New York City last fall. I told Amy to dress her with Elmo, Oscar the Grouch, and Cookie Monster as her mood dictated. I guess she had the munchies yesterday.

She and Asher can be tee shirt twins!

Also, I had a much, much better day yesterday. Thanks for asking.

Currently Listening to:
The Format, Interventions and Lullabies

I Feel It All

2009-02-03T06:54:00.004-06:00

In the last few years, several people have told me that I am a poor communicator. Maybe not in so many words, but in statements like, "Why don't you ever talk about what's going on with you?" or "Why can't you be open with me and tell me what's on your mind?" or "You are not a good communicator." I guess that last one is in so many words. Well, after the next few weeks, I'm thinking that everyone's going to be saying the exact opposite, like "Too much information," and "Just shut up already."

My main dream last night was interesting: Sheryl Crow performed a mini-concert during the Sunday morning service at my parents' home church. She was on some sort of church tour and was warmly received at this most unlikely of venues. I think she might have been playing a harp during one of her songs, and she definitely left all her songs featuring beer, one night stands, and hells & damns off the set list. It was still a great concert, though I heard many people complaining that it was too short.

I had a rough night last night. I told Liza earlier that everything is easier in the daylight, and that seems to remain true. Going home at night, new realities set in, and everything seems a bit more unbearable. The future's got me worried such awful thoughts, etc. Sometimes I feel kind of like I'm falling through empty space. How do I abandon my best friend and companion of nearly four years and continue my life with some semblance of normality? That isn't normal; I want to pick up the phone and call him. I have so many things to say. I want to send him a text message that uses the f-word a ridiculous number of times. How do I go back to the times when I was okay with being alone? I used to be so good at being alone. How do I become okay with not knowing anything about his life, when it used to be a life that we pretty much lived together? I need to know whether he's safe and happy, or if he needs some help or learned something new. But now I can't know anything about him, because it hurts too much, those old wounds.

I went way back in my email last night, back to the beginning of our friendship, through the first part of our dating. There was so much happiness there, so much excitement at having found a new friend, having found someone to love life with. Then I found this photo music video that Kevin made me last summer. It is made mostly of pictures from our trips (the boring routines of everyday life don't make very compelling slide shows), but I think it does a pretty good job of capturing the happiness, too.

Currently Listening to:
Pandora Radio

I Have No Problem With That

2009-02-01T07:58:00.003-06:00

I love my co-worker and friend Sofia. She kept me laughing and in good spirits through the work day yesterday, a most impressive feat. She even offered to break up with her long-term boyfriend (soon to be fiance!), so that we could go through all this drama and sadness together. Now there's a selfless - if morally questionable - friend. Then, when I turned down that generous offer, she came up with about 15 different things that we could do together this weekend to stay busy and have fun and keep our minds occupied. They were all great ideas, and I promised her that we would hang out next week sometime, but I told her that I really need to spend this weekend alone, thinking and writing and watching funny TV shows and reading and being disgustingly emotional.

Speaking of questionable values, I think that is the most daunting thing for me about the already near-impossible task of Finding Someone. There just aren't that many gay guys out there that share much of the same moral code as me. For instance, and sorry if this is too much information - skip ahead why don't you? - I would prefer to meet someone, build a friendship, start a relationship over time, and then include sex. Hopefully that startling revelation didn't rock your world too much. But it probably isn't much of a news flash either for me to say that most gay men go right for the sex. They reason something like, hey, we're men, we can keep things no-strings-attached and purely physical. That seems very distasteful and empty and disrespectful to me, and isn't something that I could justify based on my own personal morality. So that rules out about 95% of eligible men for me.

You know what I want, ultimately? To be married, one half of an old, boring married couple like my parents. Not exactly like my parents (who would say that?), but in the same fashion as my parents. I won't apologize for wanting something very conventional, and wanting to take a very traditional route to get there.

TV is kind of back! Scrubs, Lost, The Office, 30 Rock! Survivor in a couple of weeks. I started watching The Wire, Season 1 last night on DVD. Has anyone seen it? I'm only on episode 3, but it is a really cool show so far. I don't normally get into cop shows, and anything involving drugs is usually a total downer, but something about this show gets my attention. The language is awful, and that actually does bother me. I guess I'm coming off as some sort of naive prude this morning. :) Also, I've been watching the first season of Arrested Development on hulu.com, because it is one of those shows that people rave about, and I wanted to see what I missed. It is actually quite funny once you get into it, and hulu is a great, free way to watch it.

Yesterday after work I walked down to Diversey Harbor, one of my favorite spots. There's still a few inches of snow on the ground everywhere, but the path was pretty well worn. There were lots of Canada geese out on the ice. Hey, where do all the boats go during the winter? I walked up the lakeshore path to Belmont and enjoyed having the wind on the right side of my face and the sun on my left.

Currently Listening to:
Emotionalism by the Avett Brothers

Now This Is the First Day of My Life

2009-01-31T08:24:00.004-06:00

Thursday I mailed my application to Armstrong Atlantic State University's Master of Arts in Teaching - Middle Grades Education program. Entering this program would require a move to Savannah, Georgia late this summer. I am excited about this plan, getting my life and career plans back on the right track.

Friday night Kevin and I settled that we are finally, irretrievably, irrevocably broken up. I am sad about this, of course, but decided that I need to stop punishing myself and reopening old wounds over and over again by continuing to see him. Right now I pretty much think that he is the worst person in the world, but I do wish him all the best in the future. I gave him a fist bump and said, "Goodbye, take care," and that was the end.

The worst moment of my year 2009 is already over! This is because I had an appointment with my eye doctor on Thursday evening. My eye doctor is actually really cool; he's conversational and caring and an all-around pleasant human being. But I begged and pleaded and threatened and cajoled, please, no glaucoma test. You know the glaucoma test? It is the one where you put your face in the little contraption and the machine blows a puff of air into your eyeball. It is impossible, impossible! to not jump like a mile out of your seat and feel like a total fool during this test. My eye doctor told me to suck it up and be a man. I said, do you really want the worst moment of my entire year to be spent here with you wearing that crazy contraption on your head in this dark little room? He said, at least you are getting it over with early in the year. I lost, but I don't have glaucoma.

Currently Unable to Listen To:
The Format

Currently Reading:
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Some Portraits

2009-01-15T09:13:00.002-06:00

I was watching the Today show yesterday morning before heading off to work, as is my daily habit, and they had a short interview with President Obama's official photographer and the unveiling of his official Presidential portrait. Here it is, in case you haven't seen it yet:

It is a formality, sure, but they were listing the places where we will be seeing this particular picture in the coming years like government offices, schools, and every United States embassy in countries all over the world. That last one really hit me, really filled me with a sense of total pride. I remember going into the American Corner at the National Taichung Library and seeing President Bush's portrait there. As strange as it sounds, even seeing his photo when I was so far away from home was a little comforting, a nice reminder of my country. And I was so far past being proud of him by that point. So now I imagine going into that room next week and seeing this picture of President Obama hanging on the wall, and I feel this enormous swelling of pride and joy inside of me. He is our representative to the world now, he is the face that America is putting forward to the world, he is us. When these thoughts occurred to me I felt them so deeply, I was so moved, and I had to say, quietly and aloud, "Oh, thank God."

*************************************

Here's another portrait that I saw on the Today show that morning. Have you heard this bizarre story? He's a successful investment advisor and amateur pilot from Indiana. He was trying to escape from some poor business decisions and his life, I guess, so he set the auto-pilot on his plane and parachuted out somewhere over Birmingham where he had stashed a motorcycle in a storage facility. He tried to make a getaway, but the police caught up with him, and now he's in a bit of trouble. It is an interesting story, but I think this picture tells a much more interesting, much more ridiculous story:

Oh, where to begin? Posing with your plane? Your luxury car? Your trophy wife, in some sort of bizarre, quasi-sexy trophy pose? The whole thing makes me want to laugh and vomit simultaneously. Seriously, though, how screwed up in the head do you have to be to meticulously arrange your toys for an ultimate vanity portrait like this? I believe you might just be begging for it all to come crashing down around you.

*********************************

Speaking of vomit and in other news, I got that 24 hour flu thing that everyone has been getting on Tuesday. It was a rough day. I've harbored this little fantasy for a long time now, that someday I would take a sick day off of work and spend all day in bed watching my Lord of the Rings Extended Edition DVDs straight through; that's like 12 hours of movie action, people. That would be a wonderful sick day! It didn't happen. I got about 2 hours in before I was feeling so sick that I couldn't even sit up in bed or focus my eyes on the screen. I had to just lay flat on my back and listen to music. I won't go into any other details of the day. You're welcome. Oh, but this: two days later and I still haven't really regained my appetite yet. And I am completely okay with that. Most of the time, eating is just one more thing for me to do that I would rather not bother with. And I don't do it very well; I'm such an unhealthy eater. Hand me those doughnuts!

Currently Watching:
The Today Show

2009-01-08T18:08:00.004-06:00

(One of the 8x10s)

What a roller coaster of a day!

+2 I woke up,
+5 put a load of new (+3 Christmas present!) towels in the laundry downstairs,
+3 placed my Netflix disc in the mailbox on the street corner,
+3 and walked to McDonald's for breakfast.
-4 The lady sitting two seats down from me was slurping her coffee like it was the most delicious soup ever.
+1 I walked home, moved my towels into the dryer,
+6 and made the most awesome playlist of forgotten and neglected songs from my mp3 library.
-17 I went to the dryer to find that, after 75 minutes, my towels were all still entirely damp.
-5 I hung towels in front of my heater and all over my apartment,
+100 and then I received a phone call from my apartment landlords telling me that they have decided to credit me with $400 of rent for the 20 days that I went without heat this fall and winter. Wow! Best settlement ever. I mean, I asked for some credit, but I didn't expect that much.

+5 I cut out all of my coupons, bundled up, and headed for the grocery store.
+4 I found nearly everything that I wanted
-2 except hot dog relish for less than $2 and sliced cheese for less than $4.
-15 The cashier rang all of my coupons for 1 cent each, became flustered, had to get help, and took a good 10 minutes to complete my sale. Embarrassing!
+5 I successfully made light of the situation with the girl who was unfortunately in line behind me. I acknowledged ruining her life, and she agreed that I had, but forgave me.

+3 I left the grocery store a sweaty mess,
+5 but the train came right away!
+10 I picked up the mail on the way back inside, and received a lovely letter from an old friend and the 8x10 photo enlargements that I ordered last week.
+10 The photos look great!
+8 I ordered a humidifier
+9 in the shape of a penguin from Amazon.com in order to stop
-20 my nightly nosebleeds and
-10 itchy, dry winter skin.

+5 I packed my skates, bundled up again, and headed downtown for the evening.
+6 The train came right away again!
-5 But everyone on the train looked tired, haggard, angry, or smelly. No eye candy there.
-25 When I got to the skating rink, I found it, quite literally, crawling with pre-teens, suburban moms, and Asian tourists. The rink was so crowded, and everyone was skating so badly, tripping, falling, tearing up the ice, that I skated for less than 30 minutes before giving up in disgust.
-40 I realized that I am the grumpiest old 29 year old man in the world. "Darn kids..." etc.
+3 I headed towards State Street to check out the January sales at some of my favorite stores,
-75 and received a text message from my new friend that he is leaving Chicago tonight and won't be back for a long time.
+25 See, he actually lives in New York City,
+10 but works in Chicago all week, when we hang out,
-25 and goes home to New York for the weekends.
-50 And now his work is transferring him to a new project that is not in Chicago. Bye, new friend!

-12 I browsed a while but didn't find anything to buy,
+12 but I also didn't spend any money.
+5 The train came quickly! What a streak of luck!
+3 And there was a couple of cute guys inside.
+15 Looking out the train window, I saw a guy playing with his two large dogs in the snow, doing something that looked a lot like a jumping group hug with them. Fun!
+3 I got home,
+6 Amazon has shipped my humidifier,
+10 and my towels are finally dry.

Just returned to Netflix:
Scrubs, Season 7, Disc 1

Favorite Albums, 2008

2008-12-07T22:05:00.002-06:00

Oh, it's my five favorite albums of 2008. How fun!

1. The Format, Interventions + Lullabies

In a year that was a roller-coaster of emotional lows and highs, no one spoke the words of my bleeding heart and screaming head like The Format. I've got to give mad props to Miss Laura Zempel for introducing me to this awesomely underrated and recently deep-sixed Arizona band. I could swear that the lyrics from this 2003 album were transcribed straight from diary entries that I never wrote, and the melodies are catchy and memorable as can be. I went back to this album again and again this year, and it never let me down.

2. Belle and Sebastian, The Life Pursuit

Bouncy, retro, Anglo-cool, familiar, fun. From this first listen, you feel like you've known every song for years. Recently voted "#76 Diversey Bus Commuter's Choice Album for Getting You to Work with a Smile on Your Face." Another prop is due here: Jeff Motter told the world two years ago on MySpace (remember when MySpace was the world?) to love this band and this album. As with all good advice, I filed it away in a dusty box and tripped over it long after I should have. "Dress Up in You" is a tragic, lovely story, and "The Blues Are Still Blue" is the best laundry metaphor song ever, I swear.

3. Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst

It's still Bright Eyes. It's still a bad pun, no matter how convincingly you sell it ("All souled out in heaven!). It's still road tripping music at its finest ("There's nothing that the road cannot heal"). He still sings the hell out of every song. "I Don't Want to Die (In the Hospital)" is made of the most honest song premise that I can imagine, and makes you chuckle at first with its Jerry Lee Lewis-in-the-saloon piano and rollicking chorus. But the song spirals and crescendos into palpable fear, panic and terror. "You've got to take me back outside! I don't want to die!" I'm pretty sure that's what every Conor Oberst song has ever been about anyway.

4. Lucinda Williams, Little Honey

This album contains multitudes. Of musical genres, that is. I swear, in 13 songs there's hard rock, pure country, Appalachian gospel, folk, something like pop, Mississippi delta blues, alt country, a couple of those slow, uncategorizable ballads, and then she caps off the album with an AC/DC song. When she growls, "I'll tell you folks, it's harder than it looks," you must believe her. There's something very difficult about approaching a new album from your favorite artist. Expectations can be so high, your existing relationship together has been so wonderful for so long, a new batch of songs can't possibly live up to your hopes. That is true here, too. But it is a very good album, with several highlights and my favorite lyric of the year: "If wishes were horses, I'd have a ranch. Come on and give me another chance."

5. Arcade Fire, Funeral

My list is kind of lame in that only 2/5ths of these five albums were actually released in 2008. What can I say? I'm a late bloomer, a slow poke, and totally behind the curve. The rest of the world discovered how awesome Arcade Fire is back in 2004 or 2005. The best way that I can describe their songs to the uninitiated is, I guess, atmospheric. Intricate, beautiful, involving, totally headphone and full attention-requiring. Fascinating. Funeral seems like the stronger of Arcade Fire's two albums to me, but Neon Bible has lots to recommend it also, like a couple of really cool songs about cars - "Keep the Car Running" and "No Cars Go."

Oh, other stuff:

Most Disappointing Album of the Year - Counting Crows, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings

Dear Adam Duritz, Tell me something that I don't know. Make me some poetry. Invent a new melody. I still respect you. Please keep trying. Love, Davie...

Most Played Song of 2008 on my Windows Media Player - "When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek

Guiltiest Guilty Pleasure - Soundtracks from High School Musicals 1, 2, and 3

2008-12-04T17:25:00.002-06:00

Kelly and Amy's oldest and most faithful friend, their boxer dog Scooby, died today. They are very upset, of course. Kelly got Scooby a looong time ago, before they were married, and he's been a great companion. I remember the first time Amy brought Kelly home from Lynchburg for a visit, and they brought Scooby. He was so young and lean and handsome and energetic, zipping around the yard and chasing the neighbor kids. Sorry that Mom and Dad made you sleep outside with the scary raccoons, Scooby.

I'm usually pretty cold and uncaring when it comes to animals, among other things, but this has got me down a bit. Or maybe it is just early onset Seasonal Affective Disorder. Scooby, by the way, is the one with the prodigious protruding genitalia who is not being abused in the photo above.

Goodbye, Scooby. You are loved, and will always be remembered.

Currently Watching:
Milk

googlestalkblock

2008-12-02T22:31:00.003-06:00

West Chelsea street art, New York, New York

Currently Watching:
Baby Mama

MPsan

2008-11-26T21:00:00.004-06:00

A rainy night in Guatemala, one year ago. Only the gays have enough sense to carry an umbrella, apparently. Who could possibly be taking this picture? I have no idea.

Photos are nice. I hope you read my blog in an RSS reader or Google Reader or something, because this blog page is really ugly now. I wanted to kill the sidebar, so that pictures can be bigger and look nicer.

****************************************

Here's a hot tip from a really cheap guy who loves music: if you are still buying your digital music from iTunes, you are paying too much. Have you checked out the Amazon.com mp3 store? It is awesome, and I have yet to find an album that isn't cheaper there than on iTunes. They have a new, basically unbeatable sale every day. This week they had the new Killers album up on its first day of release for just $3.99. Yesterday they had the new Coldplay EP, "Prospekt's March" for only $0.99. Eight songs for only 99 cents!

Another really awesome example is this 50 albums for $5 each sale that they have going on right now. 50 of their picks for the top albums of 2008 on sale for only $5 each. Lots of cool stuff like Jack Johnson, Coldplay, Death Cab, Vampire Weekend, Beck, Radiohead, Sugarland, Paste Magazine's pick for the best album of the year - She and Him's "Volume One," Fleet Foxes, and the "High School Musical 3" soundtrack. OK, that last one is maybe just for me and Liza. Oh, and the Avett Brothers. I know some of you out there are just devoted to the Avett Brothers. I don't really know them, but I sure liked the sound of the previews that I heard from "The Second Gleam" album. And for $5 maybe I'll take the risk...

One more tip: if you scroll down the page and click on "See all Top mp3 Albums," it will show you a list of the current 50 bestsellers - a good way to see what's at a discount, since that tends to drive up sales - and each album's price. Do that and you'll see that the new Copeland album is available for $3.99, as is "Oh, Inverted World" by The Shins. And "A Charlie Brown Christmas"? $1.99. Deals, steals, everywhere.

You have to download a little tool in order to get mp3s from the site, but it takes like 60 seconds and no effort whatsoever. You can set up the tracks to play in your iTunes or Windows Media libraries. Oh, and I'm totally not making any money for this endorsement. :) No referral credits or anything. Just thought you might want to save a little money too.

Currently Listening to:
"Sleep Through the Static" by Jack Johnson

The Digital Transition

2008-11-24T18:00:00.002-06:00

I haven't laughed this hard in a while. And, I miss my grandma.

Currently:
Doing My Laundry

Rorschach Test

2008-11-19T09:28:00.001-06:00

A little bus graffiti. What do you see?

I'll post my answer in the comments.

Currently Watching:
Real Time With Bill Maher

It's A Great Time...

2008-11-17T22:18:00.002-06:00

...to live in Chicago, to see the fruition of one civil rights movement, and the furthering of another.

...to have a boyfriend who contributes monetarily to candidates and causes that he believes in.

...to have the foresight to get on the heavily favored presidential candidate's email list.

...to fight for marriage equality, nothing less than the same legal protections and governmental recognitions afforded every straight couple in America.

...to be a speck, a tiny pixel in a sea of faces, standing somewhere in Grant Park, excited to be fortunate enough to witness a little history.

...to have a new President who, apparently, is not only a miracle-worker, savior, and all-around great guy, but whose image is so transcendent that it can't be captured in digital imaging by my otherwise trusty camera phone.

Currently Watching:
Survivor: Gabon

If Wishes Were Horses

2008-10-12T14:31:00.003-05:00

Here's a pick-me-up in case you've lost your shirt in the stock market or are angry and depressed that Barack Hussein Obama, that untrustworthy Arab is about to become our next president. Five new Lucinda Williams songs, no credit default swaps required. I think Elvis Costello kind of sucks, but other than that: sweet.

Then and Now

2008-08-07T21:16:00.002-05:00

Thrilling. For all the travel and international gallivanting that one does, making friends and enjoying people the world 'round, there is scarce a chance to follow up on those friendships and connections in a meaningful face-to-face way. Last night the old boy and I got to see our dear friend Amelie as she passed through Chicago with her rag-tag group of friends on their whirlwind U.S. tour. She just might be the most international friend that I have. We met in Guatemala, where we stayed in the same house and studied at the same school as her and her friend from back home in France. We had the chance to travel with them a couple of weekends and spend lots of quality time together in Antigua, soaking up their Continental je ne sais quoi. After Guatemala, Amelie went to visit her brother in Shanghai for a few weeks, after which she obtained a visa to work in Canada for a year. She has just finished several months in Vancouver, and is travelling with her friends to Montreal, where she plans to stay until next March. And then, who knows?

In our home in Antigua

At Giordano's last night

At a Guatemalan brunch feast

On the Red Line last night

One more from Thanksgiving at the avocado farm in Guatemala because it is such a smiley picture, and I just love her so much

In a completely unrelated note, will the horrors unleashed on us by the current U.S. presidential administration never cease? I'm not sure I want to live in a country that can sanction this kind of torture on poor, defenseless bicycles. Ripped gear from limb, leaving only one sad pedal and one sturdy bike lock behind. Whatever happened to the Geneva Convention, habeas corpus, and the rule of law?

Seriously, doesn't it remind you of those Abu Graib Iraqi prison photos, with the hoods and the dog leashes? I'm not being flippant; there's something stark and horrible about it.

How would you go about reporting this to the police? "Um, my bike has been stolen, I guess. Piece by piece. They left, um, kind of the middle part, just. And a twist of broken chain. And a pedal."

Currently Unable to Stop My Hands from Involuntarily Moving to the Sounds of
The Life Pursuit by Belle and Sebastian

A Nice Walk

2008-07-21T21:04:00.003-05:00

I stood outside that store until your face appeared. It wasn't that long of a wait, really; I imagine you take a photo every time you go in there. I imagine you think of it as some sort of gift to the world, your visage on those screens. You are interesting looking, at the very least, I'll grant you that. Your emo sweep of fringe and crooked mocking smirk look just perfect poised above that dummy and its shirt. Beautiful brown eyes.

I walked up Broadway in the cool evening breeze. I passed next week's boyfriend holding hands with this week's boyfriend, and I though, "Used goods. Pass."

I walked past the restaurant where I will celebrate my 29th birthday next month. I walked past a tanning bed window display. How much is that melanoma in the window? I walked past the gays that I despise and their beautiful women. I walked, with some effort, around a couple who was taking up entirely too much sidewalk for only two people.

At the corner of Belmont I saw that guy that I keep seeing everywhere I go. Train from O'Hare, movie in the park downtown, now here on the street. Eyes like slate grey river rocks, or the pools that hold them. Regrettable sideburns, though.

I walked past the bank that isn't mine but could some day be mine, and I saw the cleaning lady casually wiping a counter and talking furiously into her phone.

I walked past an Indian princess at whose feet I would surely worship and learn Punjabi. I would take the three day train from Mumbai and greet her family in whatever traditional way I must in order to make her mine.

I walked past mannequins with nipples much too prominent to properly display men's clothing, and breasts much too small to display women's.

I was cut off at the next crossing by a couple of women in a car with an open sunroof. I didn't yell, because I'm not impulsive like that. I took off my red flip-flop and chucked it at the side of their car, because I am impulsive like that. As they drove away, I wished that somehow I had been able to lob the flip-flop through the sunroof and into the car. I'm not sure why, though, since it wouldn't really have made as big of an impression as the noisy thon-nk in their side panel did. Something about carnival games, I think.

I walked home barefoot because I couldn't stand the thought of retrieving that symbol of pedestrian rage, no matter how well those flip-flops match my red kids-size soccer jersey from Costa Rica. I got dripped on a couple of times by window a/c units overhanging the sidewalk. What is worse than being dripped on? Nothing is the answer that you are looking for. I walked past sushi restaurants that were entirely too full for 9 pm on a Monday, and past that ice cream shop where we had our last great date, and then I jumped a couple of curbside puddles and came home.

Maybe in five years' time that's all that I will remember of you anyway: a flat screen image perched above an empty chest. I'm more interested in the world when I'm on my own anyway.

Currently Listening To:
Interventions and Lullabies by The Format

2008-07-06T17:07:00.004-05:00

Summer rolls on. It has been such a wonderful season here. Before last week, we had only one 90 degree day! It was in the 90s most of last week, but I'm following a strictly-no-complaints-allowed policy. As I see it, you can only pick one season to complain about, and here in Chicago you are crazy if you choose to whine about the beautiful, sunshiney summer instead of the desolate, soul-sucking winter.

I want your heart to be set upon me, to want me, as mine is set upon wanting you. (Tennyson)

I was in Montana last weekend for my cousin's wedding. It was a beautiful time together with family and a wonderful event. I had the chance to spend some time with family that I hadn't seen in about six years, and the opportunity to meet some future family members-in-law. (Everyone's getting married now. "When will we be attending a wedding for you, David?") We spent a day inside Yellowstone National Park, did a little hiking, and I got to play with my niece Ellie a little bit, too. I also had the chance to reflect a little on the emergence of a very strong line of females in the Bennett family. My cousin's mother was quite the dominant force at the wedding, and is not just a bit reminiscent (personality-wise) of my sister Amy. My cousin's bride is just like his mother, and my dearly departed Grandma's memory was often referenced. Now young Ellie is making her presence and capable lungs often and loudly heard. It was a long weekend, in the sense that sometimes when I am with family I feel every minute acutely, but a good weekend, too.

The future has got me worried, such awful thoughts.
My head is a carousel of pictures.
The spinning never stops.
I just want someone to walk in front
and I'll follow the leader...
But if everything that happens is supposed to be
and it is predetermined, can't change your destiny,
Then I guess I'll just keep moving, someday, maybe, I'll get to where I'm going... (Bright Eyes)

The best thing that I did for myself this summer is purchasing a window-unit air conditioner. The last time I lived here in Chicago I sweated the summer away thinking that I was saving so much money by not being a bourgeois A/C pig. Even now that I have it, I don't need to use it that much, and it is pretty energy efficient when I run it, I guess. I was looking forward, with a bit of trepidation, to seeing how much my power bill would go up though. Yesterday I received the bill, and it is a full $3 more expensive than last month. Well worth it.

Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable
And lightness has a call that's hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it... (Indigo Girls)

I went to another movie-in-the-park last week: All About Eve. It was really good! I can recommend it highly, especially if you enjoy older movies or might like a glimpse at the state of feminism in the early 1950s. Tuesday night I'm hoping to crash a Lucinda Williams concert downtown. It is at a lakefront amphitheater, so I'm gonna try to chill on the beach or grass nearby and catch whatever sonic rays of goodness I can.

I am weary of you, my lover. I am weary of your continual blind selfishness; nearly pure you are in your selfishness, like a small child or idiot savant, unable to feel what another person is feeling, unable to understand or live the Golden Rule. (The Barth)

Currently Listening To:
Arcade Fire, Iron and Wine, and Nickel Creek

Saca in the Wind

2008-06-26T20:26:00.004-05:00

My awesome "free"/"borrowed" internet is down at home, so I'm arm-twisted into packing up my baby and its umbilical cord and buying a $4 cup of tea for a couple hours of the wifi commodity that used to be free and easy, on demand. What a bummer!

I saw two things in the last 24 hours that were of note to me.

1 - Last night, on a bus ride home, I saw an otherwise sane-appearing girl with a broom, nudging one of those rolling two-shelf TV carts down the sidewalk. Sweep, roll. Sweep, roll. It was like a parody of that awful Canadian winter sport curling. Or a sly commentary on TV abuse and TV's abuse.

Side note, I was riding the bus home from Most Awesome Summer Event Ever: an outdoor movie showing of "Hairspray" at one of the northside lake beaches. It was also the Gayest Event I've Ever Attended, and I'm including Lilith Fair. Think about it, though: movie musical, pride week, Zac Efron. Who's surprised the gays came out in droves?

2 - This morning before work, while waiting to cross a street, a short bus drove by. In the bus's very last row, two arms raised high above his head, fingers clinging to the window's top, his face pressed against the glass with mouth agape, a special boy. He, I think, was enjoying the ride. His pose was dramatic. He made me smile.

Currently Netflixing:
Freaks and Geeks

Who Knew

2008-06-11T22:04:00.004-05:00

I've never really gotten too comfortable with this blog. I don't post here often, so I guess that I don't remember to mention the more colorful inanities that give life that wonderful lived-in feel.

Last week was concert week. We saw Death Cab for Cutie on Tuesday at Millennium Park in the heart of beautiful downtown Chicago. It is a pretty cool venue, but maybe not perfect for a more introspective-ish alternative band like Death Cab.

Here is a picture from the concert that proves that I have two - 2! - friends in Chicago. They are married, and they are about to have a baby just like all the rest of you suckers, but I'm still counting them and counting them separately. Maybe after Lucy comes I'll be able to say that I have three - 3! - friends here. Kyle and Melissa are the coolest. Oh yeah, we went to a James Taylor concert on Friday also, but I didn't take any pictures there.

Now that I'm living in this strange foreign land, I wanted to show you a picture of some canned food that I found in my local import store the other day. How ribald! How outrageous! How microwaveable?!?!

I've been struggling with forgiveness lately. More specifically if or how to create it. In the midst of the complexity and confusion that is a serious romantic relationship arose a situation that I am finding incredibly difficult to deal with. I'm not sure if I can forgive; I'm not sure if I want to forgive. I know that in simpler instances I have been able to choose forgiveness, but that doesn't seem to be an option here. I'm at a bit of an impasse, I guess. The hurt and bitterness grow. Mostly hurt.

Currently Just Watched:
Once

Bubble

2008-06-02T20:26:00.002-05:00

Not a...

Riding the bus home from work the other night. I plopped my butt down in this seat and was immediately taken with the hundred little air bubbles trapped underneath the carelessly applied window tinting beside me. It is a 20 minute ride home, so I let my mind wander. I liked how I could imagine being on an underwater bus, even though the glug-glug aquarium sounds were only in my head. Or how the neighborhoods that we were crawling and lurching through might have been filled with invisible children blowing bubbles: tiny bubbles, large bubbles, siamese twin bubbles fusing and separating. I tried to capture some interesting photos of the bubbles with my phone, but succeeded mostly in just totally confusing the focus and making some fun blurs over the iconery of a couple of deplorable chain stores.

A view of downtown from where the sidewalk of my neighborhood street ends. The weather this time of year reminds me that summer is the only reason that anyone lives in Chicago. Why don't you come for a visit?

Currently Watching
Into the Wild which gets ***** A+ "Two Thumbs Up" from me

Saugatuck, Memorial Day Weekend

2008-06-02T20:13:00.002-05:00

Kevin and I took a little trip across Lake Michigan last weekend for the long holiday. We stayed in one of those picturesque little waterfront villages where affluent bed-and-breakfast 50somethings just love to untuck their shirts. It was great.

We took a room at the Shangrai-La Hotel where our hosts, the Patels, had done just a bang-up job on the shower tile. I took pictures because I hope to replicate it one day in a home of my own.

We hung out on the village green's grass, listened to some gazebo bar band play Jimmy Buffet, and congratulated ourselves on 3 years minus 10 days of togetherness.

We spent a day at Lake Michigan's nicest beach. That's not as easy a title to win as you might think, smartasses. It was too windy to take off your shirt and tan, but perfect kite flying weather. My towel was red, white, and blue to honor our nation's war dead.

A sign.

A sunset.

A very nice getaway.

Currently Listening to
Death Cab for Cutie Narrow Stairs

Seasonal Allergies

2008-05-14T15:00:00.002-05:00

My computer (happy 3rd birthday, baby) has apparently suffered a series of severe allergic reactions to my tidy new little white bread apartment. I turned it in to shop #2 this afternoon, and now I am at the public library, facing 50something new Hotmail junk messages and trying to tie up some loose 'net ends. Paying bills, keeping up with friends, searching for good deals: how did we do all this before the internet?!?!

Life is good. I'm settling in at home and work a little more every day. I'm Netflixing. I have every intention of joining an exercise facility. I'm shopping at charity thrift stores, where one can find tremendous secondhand deals and where one shouldn't mind being charged too much by the elderly volunteer at the cash register. I'm collecting my transcripts for a second, more determined attempt at graduate school in the fall of '09. I'm reading, though that tends to lose in the spirited jostle with Netflix. (Did you ever watch Six Feet Under? The mother on that show, Ruth Fisher, has to be one of my favorite television characters of all time.)

I'm looking towards the future, maybe now more than ever, and doing my best to enjoy this moment, too. Spring is wonderful.

Love,
Davie...

Currently About to Check Out:
Blind Fall by Christopher Rice

Roscoe Village People

2008-04-15T17:00:00.002-05:00

Some spring not-so-wild-flowers I stumbled by today. Their blue was brilliant, and I loved how they were escaping and taking over the sidewalk and surroundings.

Things are going well at my new job. Yesterday was another first day; I finished training last week and was assigned back for good to the branch where I worked a couple of weeks ago. The branch manager, in his welcoming, here's-the-rules rant, told me that if it was up to him I would have to shave every day, but since his boss "looks like me" (meaning doesn't shave for a week, also? or is a white guy?) he can't expect any different from me. I was impressed with his relative open-mindedness and flexibility, since he's from a country where "men like me" are probably either persecuted or executed. I got the 19 year-old Mexican-American wife and mother who is my supervisor to warm up to me a little, too. Personality-wise, she should be good for some sparks. She ended a phone call with her husband yesterday by saying, "Ok, I love you, goodbye, you fuckin' Puerto Rican." Ah, teenagers trapped in a loveless, crisis pregnancy-induced marriage. So romantic.

We had a fun security scare yesterday, too. An emergency call came in for our manager, who for future reference shares a name with the Great Prophet (may his name be ever praised), at just before noon saying that the branch of our bank nearest our location, actually just six blocks up the street, had just been robbed. It caused quite the scramble, and a little bit of whimpering from one of the other bank employees. Oh, who am I kidding? That was me hiding under the counter and crying softly.

This was - hopefully - the last snowman of winter. I snapped this one while walking to Target on March 22. I call it, "Frosty had bitch tits." Don't be offended; rent Fight Club again, commit it to memory, and become a better person, like me! We've had more than enough late-season snow and cold temperatures this winter. Hopefully it is over now for good.

Did you hear about the cougar that was shot and killed here in Chicago yesterday evening? Such a crazy thing. On my way home from work last night I was waiting for my second bus, and noticed a couple of news and police helicopters hovering a few blocks away. I guess this wild cat had been stalking and gallivanting around the neighborhood of Roscoe Village for most of the day yesterday, and police finally cornered it and had to kill it.

Not coincidentally, I think - the bank that was robbed yesterday? Also in Roscoe Village. Did the cougar rob the bank? Did the bank robber loose the cougar after the robbery to cover his tracks? Did the bank robber transmogrify into a cougar? Regardless, it was certainly the most exciting day ever in Roscoe Village.

My computer died a horrible death last night. I had just settled down to catch up on blogs and emails and was listening to a little Mindy Smith in the background. When I went to click on an email from my dad, a ridiculously fear-mongering Fox News-type email as it turns out, just as Ms. Smith reached for a high note, the old boy rebelled. Everything locked up, and you know how sometimes a digital music file will get stuck and repeat a little clip? Well, Mindy Smith's voice turned into a fire alarm we-re-we-re-we-re-we-re, so I reached for the power button pretty quickly. After I gave it a few seconds of rest, I tried to reboot, but the darn thing wouldn't load up Windows, just trapped in some kind of endless rebooting loop. Anyway, long story short, I had to do one of those desperate system salvage thingys and completely start over from scratch. My last external hard drive backup was more than a month ago, so I lost more than I want to think about right now. It is frustrating to start over again, downloading programs and plug-ins and making new bookmarks and all those million little inconvenient things. I am glad, though, that it was able to be resuscitated, since this is not a good time for another major expense.

Hope you are doing well! Spring. Ah.

Currently Reading:
The World Is Flat by Thomas Friedman

Tibet, Taiwan, Tyrants

2008-03-26T08:08:00.002-05:00

Dear Chinese Communist Party,

Fuck you.

No Love,

David...

Did anyone else catch the irony of the headline from China this morning: "China on Wednesday strongly protested the U.S. military's mistaken delivery to Taiwan of intercontinental ballistic missile electrical fuses,"? China won't let the people of Tibet hold a peaceful, non-violent protest in their own land, cracking down in an incredibly violent, out-of-proportion, heavy-handed manner. But their evil, tyrannical, land-grabbing government feels self-righteous enough to file a protest and make demands of two other autonomous governments: "Qin again demanded an end to such weapons sales and military-to-military contacts between Washington and Taipei in order to 'avoid damaging peace and stability in the Taiwan Strait and the healthy development of China-U.S. relations.'" I wish Washington would have the balls to say to China what I just did - fuck you, evil bastards. Take your Dollar Tree junk and your shoes that give me blisters and shove them up your rice evacuation hole.

I used quotes from this AP story.

Currently Listening:
Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings by Counting Crows

Atonement

2008-03-22T09:56:00.003-05:00

Back in January, after the big move and starting to get settled, I sent out a lot of resumes. Last Friday I got a response from one of those, a small community bank called me and wanted to set up an interview. I said okay, because why not, really? I finished my training at Moral Bank W on Tuesday, worked in my branch on Wednesday, and had an interview at Community Bank N on Thursday. After asking me about 3 questions, the human resources lady at Community Bank N offered me a job.

They offered me a comparable amount of salary and benefits to Moral Bank W, the chance to escape the e-vile clutches of an overlarge corporation, the opportunity to do more of the tasks and operations things that I enjoy when working in a bank, better prospects for promotions and raises, and a just-plain-better community friendly-vibe feeling.

So I accepted. I went over to Moral Bank W on Thursday afternoon and quit. I feel just a little bad, just a twinge of regret, but not so much. If someone there had been really nice, very encouraging, made me feel really welcome, then I would truly have felt bad about quitting so quickly. But that wasn't the reality. The truth is that I had no peers there, in the sense that I was the lowest of the low on the branch ladder, and I didn't enjoy the atmosphere that the bank manager created when she was there or the air of authority that she seems to work hard at broadcasting.

Anyway, blah blah, the point of the story is that I have a new job! I'm excited about this new company, and I start another two weeks of training on Monday. After that I will find out at which of their 26 branches I will be working.

**********************************

Last night, in lieu of attending a Good Friday church service, I went to the movies; the only appropriate title for the date, of course, was Atonement. I liked this movie much. It was the quietest movie that I have seen in a while, and very slow and patient as well. It captured my attention and held me. It makes sense that the movie is paced thusly, because there isn't actually a whole lot of plot involved. Lots of alternate perspective shots, lots of fading in and out of focus, lots of captured facial expressions. I read the book several years ago, 2003 if I remember correctly, and the film follows it very faithfully, so no surprises. A beautiful, romantic story.

**********************************

It snowed several inches yesterday, the supposed first day of Spring. Trudging through the new-fallen snow, stepping in street corner slush up to my ankles, wind blowing tiny ice pellets into my eyes, big wet flakes soaking my gloves in late March: it wounds the spirit.

Currently Reading:
The End by Lemony Snicket

Simple Truths

2008-03-16T19:15:00.003-05:00

In church this morning, we sang "This is My Father's World," and I remembered how much I like that hymn. Here's my favorite verse:

This is my Father’s world, why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King, let the heavens ring.
God reigns, let the earth be glad.

Simple, but just right.

India, Terror, Consequence, Disillusionment, Frailty, Silence

2008-03-14T20:11:00.004-05:00

Fridays are just, wow, so good now. I went ice skating again, and for the last time, this afternoon after work. Just when I was getting pretty good, season's over! And by "good" I mean I didn't fall down at all. Go me!

I had to return the microwave that my parents got me for Christmas to Target last week. The door latch was stubborn, and I wasn't taking any guff. I thought I would upgrade to something a little more powerful, too, like something that didn't take 6 minutes for a bag of popcorn. Being the ridiculously thorough and thrifty shopper that I am, I decided to wait for a new week and a new sale before getting a replacement. I AM STARVING. I have managed, spoiled brat, to live almost my entire life with one of these wonderful, quick-witted/watted devices always at my beck and call. This week I've visited both of our local Target stores, trying to get plugged in again now that a model that I like is on sale. Sold out, of course. But cereal for dinner is always a winner.

I've been feeling lots of jealousy lately. That is a bad emotion; I can sense its amoeba movements, its pseudopods trying to package little parts of my soul into vacuoles for slow digestion. I need those parts of my soul, the outer edge. The tough stuff, protection. Back, jealousy! Back!

Got my first paycheck today. Painfully small.

I wish that Hillary Clinton would just go away. She is a very unfortunate person, and I think that she is supremely selfish. Selfishness really bothers me. It is my belief that many, or most, of the world's, and my world's, problems are caused by selfishness. In a bit of deconstructionist irony, though, I see selfishness everywhere all day long, and call it such, mostly in my mind. That makes me a judgmental person, which is a very selfish way to live, too. I am aware of my selfishness, though. And other people's, too.

This morning as I was ascending to work, I saw on the elevator TV a picture of the space house on Signal Mountain and a blurb that said it is going to be auctioned off tomorrow! If you aren't from Chattanooga, that makes no sense at all and you don't care, which I thought also made it kind of a weird thing to be on the Chicago elevator TV channel with all the stock quotes and business news and weather forecasts. But I couldn't help myself, I had to say, "Hey! That's in my hometown!" And this guy says to me, "Have you seen that house before?" And I was like, "Yeah, it is pretty well-known in Chattanooga." And this girl was like, "You're from Chatterblurg-huh?" And I was like, "Um, yeah."

On Wednesday morning I listened to Alanis on the train to work. Something about it made me so happy, just bursting with happiness. I smiled so much that morning, at strangers, at fellow commuters; it felt like I absolutely HAD to be happy. The sun, and the fact that I could take off my gloves and hat in the train, and the music that meant something, that carried actual thoughts and feelings and grown-up words, emotions ohmygosh, and I wrote her a Thank You note in my head that I will never send because fan mail? No.

Currently Watching:
Scrubs, Season 2

Call Ahead

2008-03-07T23:09:00.003-06:00

Delighted: Walking from the train station to the bus stop on my way home this evening, glancing in the window of a little, inauspicious diner, seeing the handsome couple (tousled hair, complimentary but not matching wool crewneck sweaters, nervous perma-smiles), hands resting on thighs, perfect posture, both staring at their table-top menus. First date, blind date, friend-of-a-friend? You are doing fine, he likes you, just breathe and keep smiling. Not embarrassed to meet somewhere so cheap, unpretentious, and homey so early? How honest, how admirable in a sub-culture that values sexy and flash over substance and quality. May there be many more like you, with your humanness and lack of pretension.

Relieved: Maybe Friday night is only as much fun as you deserve, as much relief as your week has earned. Left Moral Bank W's corporate brainwashing center at 4 o'clock, rewarded self for small attempts at subjugating the dominant paradigm during return to 40-hour work week by going ice skating at the humble and adjacent Daley Plaza rink (slab?). Tranquil, nearly deserted until a group of five year-old little girls and their camcorder-toting Young City Moms converged for a class. Fled to Old Navy, purchased another jean jacket, employing the following reasoning: having a dark one, medium one, and light one means that no matter what wash is in style in a given year, I should have it covered. I should never have to buy another jean jacket ever again. Blue one, anyway. Caribou for coffee and a book. Espresso makes my legs tingle.

Sickened: The train, or at least the one particular area of the train where I had the misfortune of sitting this morning, smelled like vomit. Is it the man next to me? No, he's well-groomed, older, and reading one of the LGBTQQI papers. Is it someone behind me? Did I step in it? Is it on my shoes?

At home: Started thinking about the city today, how I interact with it, how I respond to it, how I think of it and me and us together. Decided that it is a relationship, oneself and the place where one lives. Analogous, at least.

Away from home: Sitting next to Chinese speakers, still thrilling, still intriguing, wishing that I was brave enough to talk to them and make friends, invite them over for a grapefruit green tea.

With plenty of nice moments and a couple of perfect ones, it was a good day.

Currently Reading:
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

(A/E)rgo

2008-03-02T16:13:00.005-06:00

Tomorrow I begin my new job at Moral Bank W. (((Which, you might have gathered, is not actually the name of my new employer. If you really want to know, I will be glad to tell you its/their name over a secure land-line telephone connection, now that our Brave! Courageous! and Tardy! Democratic Congress has decided that George W. Bush is no longer allowed to secretly listen to our phone calls.)))

I have a few fluttering butterflies, same old first day jitterbugs, but otherwise am convinced of the inconsequence, and thus lack of reason for nervousness, of this, my new short-term life task. A reason to get up in the morning? Yes. A reason for living? Barf, no, and a pox on you for even reading that question. We'll see how it goes, all the while hoping to stumble into something different, better, and worth all the complex shades of meaning that could be contained in the adjective good.

Liza is here visiting right now. It has been a very nice long weekend, a sort-of last hurrah, in a strictly not-final way. We have seen a couple of shows, eaten some very large muffins in an orderly, well-thought out process, watched a couple of movies, drank much coffee, and had some good conversations. She isn't feeling well at the moment, sinuses sleeping in the other room at this moment, so you can be a buddy and send her a smile when you read this.

As for other buddies, I had brunch with Michael Essington, future Legal Counselor to the (Great/Downtrodden) last weekend. It is always fun to see him, hear all of the latest, concoct some new conspiracy theories, and pick his brain about life in Chicago. Sounds like he is planning a return to Dallas for an internship this summer, so that's muy bien para el but minus one friend for me for the long, hot, festive months.

If anyone besides the Camerons and Liza actually look at this page, for whom this message is redundant, I would encourage you, yea verily exhort you, to check out the website goodreads.com, which is a very fun and easy way to get some good book recommendations and keep up with what your friends and lovers are reading at the moment. You can write little bitty or long winded reviews of books that you have loved and hated, or just give star ratings to books and authors that you have encountered along the way. I can think of lots of people that I would love to get recommendations from before I head off to the public library, but I don't necessarily want to bug them to join another **sigh** social networking site. At least this one is stalker- and bikinied girl-free.

A really cool commentary about how Barack Hussein Obama's name is a proud, American name.

Currently Watching:
High School Musical 2
(Don't knock it; it makes me happy.)

These Days

2008-02-21T11:11:00.003-06:00

I'm going with the (moral) bank (hole in the wall). {I'll buy lunch to the first person to name the source of that quote - Googling is strictly not allowed.} The manager at the credit union sounded really sad when I called and explained my conundrum and told her that I decided to stick with my original decision. She said they've been looking to fill their position for 6 months, and that they had 25 interviews last week. She said, "You just don't get many good interviews these days." Sounds to me like they are screening applicants for the International Space Station, not a silly bank job.

In other snide observations, I love it when people in their twenties or thirties say, "these days," as if they have lived a long, hard life and known other highly preferable days. "It sure is hard to find a good barber/church/movie/nail polish these days." If you are forty-five or older, of course, I give you a pass. "These days, the kids just don't respect their elders like we used to." True.

Currently Listening:
"The Collection" by Alanis Morrisette