May 17, 2003

5/17/03 Columbia County, NY I

5/17/03 Columbia County, NY

I threw my pants on the dresser, turned on the nightstand light and Tessa and I started talking about some crazy shit that Martha Stewart was doing with shards of broken pottery.

Then we both stopped talking, as we noticed the shadow on the wall:


click for bigger

Some things are creepy, some things are beautiful, and some things are truly both.

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May 16, 2003

5/16/03 Columbia County, NY Do

5/16/03 Columbia County, NY

Do any of you read this on the weekend? I know some bloggers only write on weekdays, and if you ever look at your webstat page, it's easy to see why: nobody reads anything on Saturday, and less than nobody reads anything on Sunday. Not having committed to the regular work week since 2001, I'm a bit of a stranger to that way of thinking, but I do remember what it was like.

The one thing that truly sucked about That Internet Job besides "everything" – was that I couldn't come home and surf the internet for kicks, because that's all I did all day anyway. Even though I didn't mind the sensation of swapping one screen for another, I hated feeling guilty about it. Oh, don't get me wrong – I still had "friends" and we still "did things" and I saw "art" and the occasional "movie." But nothing beats the long stream-of-consciousness internet surfing of the your own, private, onanistic lair. At work, there was always this fear of being discovered, making all internet goofing-off unsatisfying, like the peculiar half-sleep of an airline trip.

At work, I used to have a file open at all times: a graph with some nonsensical words around it, followed by a Summary of Nothing. Whenever one of my fifteen vice-president bosses would wander too close, I sprang that stupid graph to life. I did this for a year, the same file. I would prefer to stitch soccer balls together like an underpaid Djakartan house elf than to live through that kind of slow-leak paranoia ever again.

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May 15, 2003

5/15/03 Brooklyn, NY Things I

5/15/03 Brooklyn, NY

Things I Did Wrong Today

- forgot to take lactose intolerance pill after cheese ingestion; intestinal disaster followed

- copied 1.17 gigabytes of the wrong folder from the old Mac to the new one; 47 minutes wasted

- kicked dog poop while walking, 1:30pm

- attempted to pay Mr. Wonton Chinese Delivery with a credit card

- told new guy at hoops to "fuck off," even though he deserved it; everyone on court stopped playing and spent over a minute shaming me

- almost drank bottle of chamomile-scented ironing water

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May 14, 2003

5/14/03 Brooklyn, NY Due to

5/14/03 Brooklyn, NY

Due to an amazing confluence of events - my impending birthday, the insurance on stuff stolen on our trip, our upcoming nuptials, a giant tax return, and a lucky day on eBay I have pretty much upgraded my entire electronic life. This will probably be the last blog I write on my awesome gay little Tangerine iBook because a windfall allowed us to get the new 17-inch Powerbook. I can't tell you how beautiful this fella is; you have to go to one of the Apple Stores and caress it for yourself. We got the big one because we're doing so much video crunching and writing with several documents open at once, but I'm sure there's a cock issue or two in there somewhere.

The Apple Store in Soho looks like Jor-El's palace in the second Superman movie everything is the color of crystals and snow, even the toilet seat cover dispensers. These people have vision, I tellya. Could you imagine walking into a Dell store without trying to fight back a drooling, soporific stupor? Apple stuff is so cool that I've gladly spent 1/3rd more money in my life just to stick with them.

Every five years, they blow the roof off of the computing world with something so great that scores of thick-footed PC mavens pee themselves playing catch-up. In 1987, it was the Mac Plus; in 1992 it was the first Powerbooks; in 1997, it was the iMac; and last year it was the iPod. The fact that Apple still maintains less than 10% of the computer market should be Exhibit A for Why Americans Are So Goddamn Stupid.

The other great purchase or, rather, re-purchase – was a new guitar to replace the one stolen out West. Sean, Dad and I picked it out from our favorite little guitar store on 48th St., and it rings so clear, with basses so fat, I stayed up until now (3:42am) playing it. Andy Partridge said that the entire English Settlement album spewed forth when he found a 12-string guitar; I can only hope good things can gush out of me with this flirty little vixen.


with Sean and Dad in a cab, midtown I'm stuck behind guitar

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May 13, 2003

5/13/03 Brooklyn, NY Dad and

5/13/03 Brooklyn, NY

Dad and Carole took us to Union Square Caf tonight, and I got one of my favorite dishes in all mankind: the sushi-grade seared tuna with wasabi mashed potatoes. I know I should be more adventurous, but it's such a sure thing.


Tessa and Michelle test lipstick at the Duane Reade - apparently this Lipfinity stuff rocks the free world

Aboard the Q train on the way home, we sat next to a young Russian couple who were cracking themselves up over a subway schedule. They used a mix of Russian and English that was truly remarkable, actually saying stuff like "dupronya biltsch der smoylitsnyana fucking sucks blytonisch fyghyrya!"

I think we had more in common with these two:

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May 12, 2003

5/12/03 Brooklyn, NY the old

5/12/03 Brooklyn, NY


the old Madison Square Garden during last night's fog
click on any image for bigger

We began our various forays into Manhattan today by seeing a "couples therapy" shrink who, by all standards, appears to be the man for the job. He didn't bring a lot of pre-conceived notions into the gig, and after spending the hour with him, I didn't feel like I was given any assembly-line advice. He reminds me a lot of Jon Vaden if he had dropped the whole sports-show-producing thing and decided to go into marriage counseling. I think he and I would have found that very funny.

Afterwards, we visited the delightful Williams-Sonoma on 59th Street, where Tessa was re-convinced to fill our wedding registry full of cake pans, even though we still never bake anything. The only dish I found palatable was the bread pan, only because I have made lots of banana bread in my life, and know what happens when you use a shitty one.

The place exhausted the hell out of me, and frankly, the idea of registering at a place like that for our wedding has always seemed a bit predictable for two young white WASPs, but that's just me being an asshole. Truth is, we need good knives, even if we use them for pagan rituals. In further news about how gay I am, I bought chamomile ironing water, cuz I like the way it smells when I do my linen shirts.

I had been terribly psyched to play hoops with the Brooklyn natives tonight, but it turned out that the 52nd Street Project benefit dinner was on, so I had to sublimate my desires to run up and down a court screaming bloody murder, and get into a zoot suit for the shindig.


with Alex Draper, Lorraine Tobias and Tessa outside the Stanford White Bank Bldg. on Bowery

Those with a love of architecture and casual starfucking – would have liked the dinner. Edie Falco, Stanley Tucci, Lili Taylor and Elizabeth Shue were there, but my favorite dude was John Carroll Lynch, a character actor you may remember as Frances McDormand's bald husband in Fargo. We liked him because his little role in my fave movie this week - Confidence, the one with Ed Burns and Rachel Weisz – had us talking to each other in the theater. It's the ability to turn to the next table, tap a guy like that on the shoulder and tell him he's awesome - that's why we pay such insane rent here in New York.

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May 11, 2003

5/11/03 Brooklyn, NY When Sean

5/11/03 Brooklyn, NY

When Sean came home that very first day, it was sunny, but our apartment in San Jose barely let in any light. His baby room had the shades drawn, and he was in a crib, and I felt like I had to have permission to come look at him. The entire family was gathered around him, cooing and making giggle noises. Over by the door, however, I was beginning to feel a warm sensation on the back of my head. I looked up, and saw a perfect stream of urine, originating from the crib, arcing across the room and onto my head.

That was May 11, 1970, and it's been very interesting ever since.

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