When I was talking about the limitations of this blog, I was mostly referring to the events of this evening, when I planned a surprise party for both Sean and Tessa, both of them engineered to think the party was for the other. Tessa was thoroughly stunned to find a congregation of her friends at Phobang in Chinatown, but Sean had suspected something all along, and actually came up with the winning idea. I suppose we think enough alike to make things like that difficult to conceal. That, and Michelle getting into the car with a stack of presents didn't help matters.
Lots of good people were there Jamie and Susan, Nell, Billy Strong, Ned Eisenberg, and of course, Gill brought two 19-year-old hotties from somewhere deep in Long Island. One has to appreciate Gill for his consistency, if nothing else. The man just knows how to have a good time.
All of Sean's NYC posse were there as well, representing themselves well. Everything about the evening was cool, except for the bill, of which I paid $60 (but it could have been much worse I think I paid $120 extra for our reading at Jeollado). We took Matt Dawson and Jen Albano home to Cobble Hill, and played with their terrier puppy Henry, who has the never-flagging entertainment value of running around the yard like a baby kangaroo on steroids. We decided to let Chopin play with Henry, but instead the Chopes tried to disembowel the little fella. Our dog is really getting hard to explain to guests.
Oh yeah, this morning I played five games of one-on-one with a dude at Chelsea Piers who is clearly one of the better players. I played him close each game, then won the last game in the stretch. I felt really good about that, even if my back isn't.
The Celextant, May 6, 2002
I'd like to say that my days have become largely free of anxiety, but today has made it hard to muster. I still have the same old ever-conscious fears, and they exhaust me. It seem like every time I have a little spark of paranoia and anxiety, three things come along to make it 100 times worse. I'll go into the whole thing once I feel like writing about it, but for now, it continues to fill me with sickness. Dr. Bloch says such worrying makes a man brittle, and I'm feeling it. It is time for a new way of thinking about these things, but I'm having an awful time letting go.
Posted by at May 6, 2002 10:46 PM