Wednesday, December 31

Hurrah. Final Entry of 2008.

Afternoon bus ride home from Upstate, NY. As the years progress the idea of being born and raised in the town known as Burnt Hills and growing up in the family that I once considered my own. It had become more allegorical than I ever intended it to be. I have two hours to get this all straight, I may not need them. I have allotted the trip to put my thoughts in order. Join me, won’t you?

The worse part is starting at the beginning, the task at hand seems to daunting. While I was home a friend, that boy, the young religious one, told me how sorry he felt about my reaction to visiting home. Is that how life is these days? The blessed pity the impious? He felt sorry that my trips home don’t prove restful and that’s what a trip home is supposed to do. Is it? Really?

My mother and father, I love. My dad recently took a big step in a good direction. The whole of it was strange. He made a snide comment to my grandparents about how I did nothing when I was home. I let my voice raise, but I felt it wasn’t worth it. Everyone here is at their wit’s end.

My dad and I went to see a movie after this indiscretion. He decided to do his talk, for which I have learned means: sit there and listen. I compare it to a lecture in college. He’s not necessarily asking for my opinion in anything. He just wishes to lay the cards out. He complimented me, he told me truths about life.

He talked of my mother, his wife, as I’ve never heard it before. There seemed to be an eagerness in his voice. A prayer that I would just listen and not take anything at offense. I performed to my highest ability. He was being open and honest with me. When he told me how my mother threatens to leave him constantly, I could not respond.

Both my parents want me to succeed in life. Do I enjoy the fact that they both think I’m spoiled? Not necessarily, but they both believe I was. I was spoiled as a kid, I worked for the good grades while my brother slipped by. I always tried to appease their wishes, when I knew how easy it was to break the rules. I am trying to be the best son I can be. I guess I expected something in return.

Both my parents are amazed at how I’ve gotten by. They only know the censored for TV version, which tends to make life a little more difficult. I’m figuring all that out as we go along. When I am cornered with my mother in the car and discussions move from point A to B and then suddenly to point G. That much is my fault because I allow myself to go there. I can’t get frustrated at her for not understanding.

A year ago, I went to China. A year ago, I felt invincible. A year ago, I thought life owed me for everything.

My entire nine days home was focused on my Drug Addict/Alcoholic/Mess of an Aunt. I’ve never thought my family would turn into one of those families. We harbor this wraith in the house while everyone goes on pretending she’s necessary to the scenery. People speak openly about her impending funeral and I wish I could tell them what is really on my mind. True the woman has been awful in her recovery, but why do we entertain her drunken wants and needs? I learned tt’s not in my power to make choices on that, just to watch as she wastes away. Then that day when she’s gone, we will all wash our hands of the issues? Will we? Can we ever just forget that?

My mother’s boredom, her restlessness, has become an issue that drives me slightly mad. I found myself going off onto more personal issues because she argues about the littlest things. I left the ice cream out on the counter to long. Some of my high school friends I invite over are too loud. Why do you hate Upstate, NY? I have such an anger problem, but I’m only twenty-three. Whatever will we do about my aunt? (Keeping in mind this last topic was brought up about twice a day for nine days.)

She is so terribly bored and thus has become a creature of habit. She doesn’t read or follow anything, other than TV. She obsesses over these little things, but can’t admit that. Yet, there is nothing wrong in reminding me of my eccentricities. I guess I am used to it.

I return home, nine days later, knowing that everyone in the family now sees my depression. Notices my sadness, as if I wear it on my sleeve and they are concerned. I wonder if I walk by bushes and they don’t wilt. They understand the world is in awry, I am jobless, poor and stressed. They want to be there for me, which is reassuring.

So I need to be proactive and look for a job, if one exists. I need to better myself as a person, because the damages can be repaired. I need to be ceremonious and allow the New Years of 2009 to be a transition. Of energies, goals, wishes and happiness.

A year ago on New Years I blacked out in China. Drunk on too much rice wine. 2008 came without my approval and I believe that something happened. A wire crossed and things became blurry.

It’s only been a year, people expected so much improvement in only a year. People can’t see time how I see time. That’s their folly.

Saturday, December 27

Lets End This Sooner Than Later

I'm ending this affair upstate, only a day earlier than planned. I have accomplished all I can while I've been up here. I need to just be in Brooklyn and be done with this last semester. I need to take a breath and think of what is coming next.

I've rediscovered Queen thanks to K. Freddie Mercury makes me so happy and hot. Bicycle is such a trippy song and the way he sings the word "bicycle" is just chills my soul. I melt a little.

So today was the day I ate with my Oma and Opa. Which means I returned into that time capsule. In turn this means images I enjoy thoroughly:




My Opa has made a bunch of pens out of different kinds of woods from all over the world. He let me pick out any one of the pens from his collection. I felt like a J.K. Rowling character getting their wand for the first time.I picked this one he made from a rare African wood and African Nut. Also because the story of this pen went something like this:
OPA: (Thick German Accent.) I get these little African nuts, that I have to shape with my machines. So I crack open the nut and what do I see . . . little insects! Little insects are living in the nut! You know what I do? I pack the nut up into a plastic bag . . . and I stick it in the freezer!


My Oma stores her cookies in a pot with pieces of bread to keep moisture? The pot is stored in her guest/sewing room. She somehow manages to make cookies without using butter or some intricate ingredient.
Welcome to my home...

Friday, December 26

The Day After Pill

Christmas arrived and I got an Xbox 360! That was supposed to be my initial reaction, but then life happened and I got more and more poor, etc. Before the reality could set in, I spent the $100 dollars more I needed to make my Xbox 360 complete.

I'm glad I have the newest in ridiculousness-technology. I wrote that list sometime in August if I remember correctly. The times since have changed and I felt it weird to retract my request. So I am content that I got this ridiculous box of entertainment.

That aside I am going to play games like GTA IV, Oblivion and Silent Hill: Homecoming. I enjoy GTA IV because I see streets that I've lived on. It mirrors it frighteningly well. I was in Grand Army Plaza today and almost died when I looked at a replica of the Brooklyn Public Library!

I was supposed to go out with an acquaintance from the city who is from Saratoga. I don't know if it will happen, but we were supposed to get drinks in Albany. I once shared a sofa with him after a night of crazy partying. We drank a lot and the capillaries in my nostrils may have shed a little more light on the subject. We ended the night buying microwave pizza (or was it waffles?) and gobbling them down. Then we shared the sofa, nothing sexual, just two random guys cuddling on a sofa because they were to far gone to enjoy anything more.

Wow, that was a memory I haven't relived in some time. Funny how we have those little stories in our lives. Or is it just me? We of course have met before in other social situations. I've shared seats next to him at plays and in bars. We've laughed and felt together. He's a nice guy, but I think tonight may not mount to anything. My bones are cold and I am sleepy.

I've never gone out to the bars upstate, I'm slightly curious. The acquaintance has dubbed Albany: Trashtastic. My first bar outings were in the city, isn't that an odd thought? I will make a point of going out tomorrow!

This morning I had a wet dream. It was so quick and sudden. Not hot at all actually. I dreamt that I was dry humping some guy I worked on that TV Pilot gig. A couple of humps in and I came all over his fully clothes body. Hotness!

There's been a big discussion of my future, as usual. I am still figuring it out, being here doesn't necessarily help. Seeing high school friends and who's engaged to who, it doesn't intrigue me. Do people think marriage at 22 is a wise choice? Having a baby at 23 is an okay decision?

Perhaps some people have that maturity in them. I would like to think I am capable of that, but it just seems that people are just agreeing to being bored. Oh, how I so wish I could be boring.

Being up here, 9 PM feels so late. I want to be in my PJs, but in case that guy calls. I shared a sofa with him, I owe him past 9 PM.

Thursday, December 25

Harold Pinter and...


Eartha Kitt. The holidays can be so cruel sometimes. She was a small lady, but a lot of woman. R.I.P.

Wednesday, December 24

Tiddle-Di-Du, Tiddle-Dee-Doe

It's Christmas Eve! Since my family is of the anti-Christ nature, we're watching movies indoors tonight. We already paid dues when we saw my 97-year-old Great Grandmother. She is demented beyond all craziness. You get a lot of, "I don't remember anything anymore?" and "Who are you again?"

I noticed on her table there was a picture of every grandchildren and great grandchild. Except mine. Symbolism isn't even necessary here. So I decided that I can treat this woman as a stranger, I don't know either. I had more fun that way, someone foreign to me, not a dying relative.

I got her shaking a shoulder and laughing when I danced to Judy Garland on the TV. She must think I'm just dandy. Perhaps she will remember that, or if it's just passed on like most of her memories.

I got my hair trimmed and had a wonderful time plowing the driveway and pouring salt around the tires of the car. It was stuck in the middle of the driveway, slipping and sliding. I got to the barbers though! If this is real life, I don't know what I shall ever do!

The Obama/Warren debacle has pissed off many a homo. I am not willing to turn my back on him just yet. Be careful though, Obama.

Enjoy the day tomorrow, Merry Christmas Evie.

Tuesday, December 23

For a Moment, All Was Calm

It started off with a conversation on how old the Boston Terrier was. It ended with me telling her I did need help and I was indeed seeking it!

How did it go from point A to point G? I'm holding my cool, I can't be mad at them. They can't understand. I blame too much, I rely on past events because she writes my life off. Was I just the boy who always made a mountain out of a molehill? Yes mother, it's not as if I were molested or abused.

This is the holiday time of year. Did I run home for a chance to relax, I am trying to relax. I am unable to relate with some of these people here. Does that mean I'm living a better life? Or what? I am not sure.

I get worked up so easily. I get so upset and I yell and tense up. When I talk to her, it just gets to me. She's a mother, that's what they do. They annoy and prod. There is a generation gap and it's not to passe to realize they can't figure out based on experience.

Breath, breath, breath.

Sunday, December 21

My Own On the Road

"I dance because I love dancing and I love men."

Jeffery Marx tells the story of New Orleans better than I could ever do it.

I feel like I'm reading a novel.

Saturday, December 20

Returning "Home"

The semester is finished and as predicted by the great prophets. I will return upstate. It's going to be a trip to remember, or perhaps not. It will read and look for jobs. I will argue with my father and hang out with friends. It's all like it used to be.

I was going to write something meaningful, but I have an emergency errand to run before I go home. Oh, to get pregnant now!

Friday, December 19

Liza At The Palace

The semester is through. It's time for Christmas and it's blizzarding out. I feel weird. Odd.

My gift for you...

Thursday, December 18

Sing, Little Boy In Drag, Sing.

It's an admirable attempt, with such heart. He's a beautiful soul.




I saw a documentary called Cat Dancers tonight. This amazing tale of Ron and Joy Holiday who were dancers and animal trainers. After years working together they took on a third caretaker and things just got more creepy. Ron is a closeted homosexual and it's an amazing study at two incredibly fascinating stories.



It ends in death and desperation!

Liza was incredible. She is a performer. I loved the performance I got.

Liza Is INDEED at the Palace

Wednesday, December 17

Commercial Reading & Liza

I'm currently reading Gods & Devils/Angels & Demons/Madonna & Britney. Whatever this book is called. It's like a ride through Central Park in the spring. I just read, I don't have to think, wonder or even fathom what will happen. I will be informed 5-25 pages later. It's like a vacation!

What feels odd is they're trying to save The Vatican from being obliterated. I'm sitting here and thinking, "If they don't accomplish this goal I won't be that upset."

I'm informed that I'm at a part where it really takes off! Let the roller coaster ride begin!

What's ironic is the other book you can find in my bag right now is Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. It hasn't been touched because I am enjoying this neurological holiday during finals. Speaking of which, I am on my way to finishing a majority of it today!

Then to celebrate. Liza at the Palace!



I love this woman! Elizabeth knows her innerworkings, I just know her as my Judy's Liza. She has lead an amazing life and I am more than prepared to hear a so-so voice, but to see an amazing performance. I've been listening to her for a little while now. I have most of her concerts on CD and I know what her voice sounded like. I appreciate that to no end and I'm sure if you saw her in The Act in the 70s you'd be disappointed too.

I know what she could do years ago, I've seen plenty of old TV clips and heard even a bootleg recording of her as Roxy Hart in Chicago. I love what she says about addiction, "I have three Tony Awards, an Oscar, a Grammy. . . " She's accomplished so much at such a young age, her being an alcoholic wasn't due to lack of motivation indeed!

When she does the Palace Tribute. I will shit.

However, she is 62 and has had both hips replaced. I just found out from Elizabeth that she had some brain issues a couple of years ago and was told she'd never sing or dance again. Well, here she is boys...

There But For The Grace of God Go I

I finished that paper. With that out of the way and two more tests tomorrow. I'll be over the hill! Then, Upstate New York! The dregs of the state. I'll be incredibly bored, but I won't have to pay for anything. That seems to be key in this game. No tattoos planned, just resting and reading and relaxing. Going to the mall and driving around the rent-a-car. Listening to music, working on my resume.

With that, I'll have one more semester until I graduate! Hurrah! I will get through it and do the whole "degree acceptance thing." It really doesn't mean anything, it just means I have prolonged normal living.

Then there begins the terror of getting a job. All I hear constantly is people getting fired and hours getting cut. That finding a job of any type is pointless, there's so many unemployed. It seems that the drug business is the only thing to get into.

If that were to happen, I assure you, I will omit it from this part of my life. I don't need any evidence. I've seen Oz, I don't really want to go to jail.

We shall see. I keep having visions of myself on the garbage truck working for my father, picking up trash. Or building a road for Obama. Oh, what the future holds. I truly do believe we are in the Great Depression, despite positive thinking. Lets see what happens shall we?

Tuesday, December 16

Sweet Dreams Are Made of Insomnia

After I fell asleep again and because pills weren't involved. I remembered my dream. It started off so hot and good, then ended on such a low note.

My friends and I were on a street on Halloween night and I was dressed as a Sex Pig again. We went to a bar and I immediately fell for the cute redheaded bartender named Iggy (or something like that). He talked and then began making out. Eric, who tends to be competitive when there's someone hot around said, "Oh, who is HE?" and I turned to him and snarled like a pig. He backed off.

Eventually my friends all left the bar to go down the street to this water park and Raymore & Flanagan show room area. Leaving the bar empty, except for Ricky (perhaps that's who it was) and I alone. He made out and touched each other in dirty ways.

After a little while of some heavy petting, one of Nicky's (I think) co-workers returned and he had to stop making out with me. I told him I'd be right back and I'd leave my clothes, wallet and bag at the bar in the upstairs room.

I found my friends, who were having a grand time at the water park half of the wonderland. They asked me how it went and I told them I was gonna get lucky tonight and I was SO ready to have sex. So ready in fact I couldn't hide my erection in my short shorts. I was so horny and piggy I didn't care.

I ran back to the bar and ran upstairs to meet Ziggy (hm), but was stopped by two Italian bodyguards. They told me I wasn't allowed upstairs or really anywhere in the bar for more than five minute intervals. I told them all my stuff was in the upstairs and they still denied me entry. I looked beyond the bodyguards and saw my beau and he just shrugged and mouthed he would be downstairs later.

I returned to my friends and told them of my situation. They told me that it was my fault for leaving my stuff in the bar. I got mad, but I knew I could get it back tomorrow when they changed shifts. By the way, my erection still wouldn't go down.

I began to notice how closely the bar was monitoring me from afar. As I looked around the water park I saw small camera's pointed at me. Even a little toy Scuba diver was swimming in the water and had a little blinking red light. It followed me everywhere, until I squashed it with my feet.

I returned to the bar for another five minutes and found my bartender working in the downstairs bar. I asked him for his number so we could continue this another night when the bodyguards weren't around. He frowned and said they monitored his phone, so it would be best for me to give him my number. I told him to take a hike and left. I then tried to find my way home, dressed as a Sex Pig with a hard-on, on the subway.

As If It Never Went Away

The Ambien wore off. I'm not taking another one because I need to be up at 7:30 anyway.

I am glad to know that months after beginning the pills, nothing has changed. The election is over and my life is getting better (I think). I still can't figure out how to sleep.

The 15th Anniversary Tommy Reunion Concert was stellar! Poor Alice Ripley, I wish they'd turned on you microphone. They kept showing clips from the Broadway show. It was such an amazing and captivating production. So dark and amazing. Marcia Mitzmin Gaven still has it too! Not to mention she looked amazing! I actually wish they'd revive it, with no real changes, it's honestly an Amazing Journey to watch that show.

I wish I could sleep. I really wish I could sleep.

Monday, December 15

The Who's Tommy Reunion

Two Things.

One.

I'm seeing the The Who's Tommy the musical's 15th Anniversary Concert tonight. This show came out in 1993/94 and was about to close until they performed on the Tony Awards. I wish I could've seen it on Broadway. It's one of my favorite soundtracks...

Two.



In New Orleans. At Pat O'Briens. We discovered Babs Woods. She played the piano, took requests and made darling jokes to her drunken audience members...

The Great Work Has Begun

Finals, finals, finals. I'm jobless. I'm tired. Blah blah blah. I think I'm dependent on Ambien. I have finished most of my projects, but what of the tests? Blah blah blah. I am reading Angels and Demons, I feel so common. That book is like an amusement park ride, I don't need to do any work. I got the crappiest gift in the White Elephant Gift Exchange. Cause someone did not want to get a crappy gift, I took it. I don't really care. Blah blah blah. In five days I'll be upstate for ten days. In fifteen days, I'll be back in the city looking for jobs. Blah blah blah. Will anyone hire me? Where do I want to work? I have class, though it seems pointless to go cause one of my teachers a crazed bitch who sued Jonathan Larson, after his death, I might add. Blah blah blah. I will be driving a rent-a-car when I get home, is that even allowed? What does the future hold? Where will I be in years to come? Will I make it to the end of all this? Yes, I know I will.

Sunday, December 14

First Thing...

Something about my High School Years just clicked...

I need time to figure this one out.

Saturday, December 13

The Many Faces of Eve — A Series

Though she'd hate that I've turned her into a study, but this girl has some interesting faces. I present The Many Faces of Eve:

Smile

Drunk Smile

Ecstatic

Teary-eyed

Distressed

Smudge

wtf?

The Days of Wine and Roses

It seems those days have come to a close. The Depression has begun. Bank account is at a lower level than it's ever been. This is not necessarily a surprise. It's my father's way of handling it that was a surprise. I was in pharmacy filling my Ambien prescription, because I need my pills during times of stress.

He spoke to me with the same sharp tongue that I learned from him. Saying exactly what needed to be said, my ego took the pain. I hung up, bent down in an aisle and wept for a moment. I stood outside the store and felt the chilling wind string my eyes. Freezing my tears until a new ice age could begin.

I returned home and worked. I called him back and apologized and he said we'd talk when I came to visit. Oh joy, oh rapture.

The final countdown has begun. Papers and projects are already underway. Is it truly Saturday? For it doesn't feel like it, it feels more like a Sunday or Monday. Who knows where the time goes?

Lastly, my roommate sang last night in a cabaret at Don't Tell Mama's. The songs were so-so, but her voice was superb. She sang about being a caterpillar, a caterpillar with huge lungs. Since it's Christmas time and I love to hear her voice. I'll share this...



Oh and she sings this to me every night before I go to bed. No lie.

Tis The Season

To cry in a CVS. After your dad successfully reminds you what an irresponsible person you are. Just cause you went to go see Milk twice.

Happy holidays.

Friday, December 12

Thus It Returned

I am sleepless. I am without sleep. I knew it was bound to happen with the finals and such.

It's been a big night! I finished On The Road and Oz all in the same day!

First, On The Road was truly amazing. It opened my eyes to a whole different style of writing. I loved the homosexual context. As the book drew closer to an end, I was torn about the character of Dean. His madness! It seemed so familiar to me. The ending when Dean could only whisper, he wasn't able to speak audibly or coherently.

I see images of myself driven that far and into that stupor. I fear the rejection by people who once cared about you. Yet, Dean is the ultimate loner. Another reason I relate to him. His life is like the wind and he floats like a leaf on it. If that be my fate, then I guess I will have to go gracefully.

The book was amazing and I hope to never forget it. When Dean would go into rapture while listening to music or see a landscape and just burst into sobs. I felt such a linking with those moment. Am I a Beat? Destined to a dead generation movement.

Oz is done and ended as it began. No one has really changed, people have died. They would've be replaced. Adebisi was my favorite and will always be my favorite on that show. The show took character types of all kinds, then added the fact that they were prisoners.

They had already ascended justice. This was a prison filled with demi-Gods. They stole, killed and threatened. No one was to powerful, because they were all in an equal playing cage. You'd route for Beecher, because he was the good one. Was he? Or was his crime that he was to good. He cared to much and that's why he still ended up in jail.

Lastly, now this one is a dozy, but I'll articulate to the best of my abilities.

Tonight, the boy who told me he likes me. He went on a little speech that had to do with God. How his praying has helped him find a decent apartment and to find this job so quickly. He believes that all he needs is a boyfriend and he'll be good to go in life.

He told me how he prays and asks his parents to pray for him. Recently his prayers have all been answered. Then he continued on with how he's upset because he has no one to complain to. As God rewards the virtuous, he will also punish his children because they believed they deserved things in earnestly.

I sat there and only could agree. I don't want to burn a bridge with him yet, I don't intend to. I did ask him, "Why are you complaining if all these good things have come your way? You seem to only be complaining about how no one will listen to you complain." In short, that you have no one to coddle you!

Of course my statement was taken in offense. Where I had to make clear that I asked him repeatedly to tell me what was wrong, yet the only thing he could come up with was that was his major complaint.

I suppose that's where the Boyfriend will come in. Someone to share your sorrows with, who has no choice to to listen and take it in.

I told him good luck to finding that, as I have had no luck. His response was, "We're two different stories."

I quickly needed to end the conversation, as I was getting a little irked. I didn't know how to politely ask, what makes us so different? That you're pure and have God on your side? And I'm a tainted heathen who is Godless and bound for sadness?

I know it's over exaggerating, but we're close in age. We've had different starting off points. I am sure he'll find love and a boyfriend in a snap. He'll look and it'll be amazing and I'll be bitter. Or will I? I don't know these days.

I'm sure that's how the whole story will go. I was bothered by how he was not necessarily telling me about his accomplishments. He kept reminding me how praying to God got them for him. I am sorry, friend, but I bought into him for a while and life wasn't that way for me.

I am anything but a stable or happy person right now. Do I feel that it's because I lack God's light in my life. I would certainly hope it's not that simple, as if I went to H&M over American Apparel, thus missing a great sale. My action's are done, I have given myself experience in life. The bitterest of life's experiences, yet they are my own.

I let his talk of God get to me because I hear bragging. "I pray...look what came into my life." There is no advice he can pass onto me, except the feeling of confusion.

Has everything bad happened because I stopped praying? The homelessness, the scabies, the drugs, the sex, the virus, the tears, the sobs, the dark nights, the loss of time, the insomnia and all other aspects of this. Has all this been God's justified punishment for my leaving him? And if that is the case, isn't it true that sometimes you can go to far when disciplining someone you love. You can take that step and get to greedy for seeing the victim suffer.

And in turn something clicks in the victim's mind. Perhaps, God didn't foresee this at all. I am sure he is bound to make mistakes.

I was being punished by God, I'll allow that fact to be true. I wanted life to earnestly, I was greedy and unknowing.

Why would I ever return to someone who has knowingly put me through so much pain? How could I go back to someone who I know rewards the simple and punishes those who want to discover?

The spark of creation, is burning bright inside me.

I appreciate this boy's honesty and his openness. Yet, he speaks of God from only a positive light. I am sure he knows the bad things, but I can tell him of my woes and we'll see. Maybe I won't, because it will take a lot of energy, I do feel this is true.

Thursday, December 11

It Baffles Me

Last night my aunt came into town and bought me a steak. This is the good aunt, the one I love and enjoy. I got drunk with her, which was nice. I based a lot of my personality off of hers, she taught me to be upfront and not take shit.

We remembered stories of days past, like old friends. When we used to sit up and watch the Home Shopping Network and mock the dolls they sold. We laughed at the poor people who could only afford Cubic Zirconium Diamonds. I ate to many Sour Cream and Onion Pringles and threw up all over her floor and she made me clean it up (I was 10 years old), because she could not stand the smell.

She remembered the story of how I named her first daughter. Which is true. I can't remember this, but I called her up (when I was 12) and told said:
E.Iguana (12-years-old version of the older): Aunt, I have been thinking. You want to name the baby Christy, right? Well I can't allow you to do that because Christy sounds so much like Chris. Which as you know, is my brother's name. As you also know, I just became a middle child. This has been a year celebrating my siblings! So if you name your daughter Christy, that will remind me to much of my family. I don't think I could ever love her if that was the case.

Aunt: Okay. What do you want to name her?

E.Iguana: Lately, I've been very into the name Leah.

And it was done. That conversation was verbatim. Just so you're aware. I would like to believe I was articulate as a kid.

Tuesday, December 9

New Favorite Story Song

I love the tale this song weaves. The lyrics are amazing and to hear Barbara Cook sing it is stunning and life changing. Until then, he does an okay job...


I'm "Brave"

When I'm not freaking out about finals or not sleeping. I am like this:



Or this:



Oh wait, there really is no difference is there?

Sunday, December 7

Another Glass of Milk

I've been working on some projects today. It's going to be a long day indeed! Lots of standing in the cold, watching a director make cut after cut after cut.

Reminder: Pick up heating pads.

It's so interesting how people just stand around, not moving. Half of them aren't necessary. You just stand there in the cold and hope and pray they get it correct soon. So you can move on. Then he says, "Cut, print!" and the tension is gone.

My only real job is to hold coats, and return them to actors when they're in between shoots. It must be done, and I am to carry that job out. Alas, this is life!

Before this marathon starts, I am happy to say I am going to see Milk again! It's the one luxury I will allow myself this weekend. Elizabeth and I hung out last night, making funny stories of our lives. As well as stringing up popcorn and turning our rubber tree plant. It's a very Charlie Brown Christmas this year.

Is it really December 6th? When did that happen! Oh my goodness, less than two weeks and it'll be through. I have decided (either for punishment or retribution) I will be returning home from December 20th until the 30th.

It's been five years since I have willingly been home for more than 4 days at a time. The one summer of my youth with Jeremy doesn't count. I was much younger then. I can't go back there anymore...

Reminder: I love you, still.

He came back into my life and helped me with a Biology lab. I always knew I had fallen in love with him, for his genius brain. I love smart men. They don't exist here in the Theatrical world. We're all to emotional in this world.

To stay warm tonight, I will be wearing these:

Saturday, December 6

Long Day's Journey

My wardrobe gig started. I performed the last 24 hours for my roommate in the kitchen tonight. It was a one man act of perfection. Unfortunately, I'm now to tired to live it here. I'm sleepy and focusing on finals. I'm choosing my moments as if I'm playing Chess.

During stressful times, all I want to hear is vocalists. Powerful singers keep me going.

I am going to reacquaint myself with Oz. IF you'll excuse me...

Oh, one last thing. Last night a girl called me brave when I showed her my Halloween photos. She's southern so that's probably the polite version of stupid. I was a little touched and I stopped and replied, "Thank you, no one ever called it that before."

I need to stop reading so much Eugene O'Neill.

Overbooked?

It's 4 AM. Finals are my life. I haven't consistently been to the gym in over a week. I feel my eyes constantly tearing up.

I am more messy than I have ever been. It's finals time, I am like a hurricane, destroying all in my wake. I designed a set today while listening to Shirley Bassey for hours on end. After three hours of her nonstop, I realized something was wrong and switched to Rilo Kiley.

Then I worked wardrobe for a TV Pilot that will not take off. If it did, then I would be amazed. It's experience and interesting. I am going to bed soon because low and behold we have to get up and be there again at 1 PM to[day]morrow. Luckily, it's down the street, which makes me happy. Unfortunately I won't have time for the gym...as far as I know I'm not waking up to go in the morning.

I miss the gym, I miss the gym. I miss the gym! I want to run again. Oh, Ambien, you kick in so quickly. I am going to lay down.

I am going to try and appear coherent for the next couple of weeks. I will fail often, almost more than often. I'm waiting for little things to make me happy.

For example. I've been promised a ticket to see Liza at the Palace from my roommate. I'm waiting for when it will appear. With finals I fear that may be a promise that just may not happen. Or, I am waiting for the Support Group to contact me about an intake session. Yet, no one has called. It's made me nervous. I should call back, but I'm so busy I forget.

It's still 4 AM.

Then there's me, waiting, for the grace of God to show up. I am waiting for my body to change and tell me it's okay to smile again. It's okay to clean up the room and get a job again. It's okay, you're worth something these days.

The computer screen is starting to move slowly in my drugged up eyes. So I'll end this quickly. I am in a state of emotional stress. Oh, but I know we all are. So in my defense, just be understanding and be polite.

Take a moment in your life to tell someone you know that you love them. Or give someone a gift. Or reconnected with a new person and show them you care too. Don't allow others to feel as lonely as you yourself have become.

Everything is swirly right now

Oh, finals times. How strangely written you are.

Thursday, December 4

Judy, Judy, Jenny

So, Judy Collins. Yea, I get why you're so famous now. This song is beautiful, she seems like she was just a pretty lady who could sing well. So she just sang other people's songs. At first I wasn't impressed then songs like this came along:



I am converted. I read up on her past and I'm actually moved by it. What an interesting life. She played the clubs until she got picked up, at 22 she sang The Maid of Constant Sorrow. I just listened to it and felt my life sung to me.

Then there is this lady I have just come into contact with. Her name is Jenny Lewis. She is the voice of her own band, Rilo Keily and The Postal Service.



Acid Tongue is a song I can relate to.

I suggest giving them all a listen to. It seems like during finals I am weening myself to the vocalists.

Wednesday, December 3

Endings and Beginnings

I am home from New Orleans.

I am working on that tale. Now begins the final three weeks of insanity that teachers like to pretend is "normal". The projects, on top of tests, on top of presentations, on top of first and final drafts, on top of biology labs, on top of scheduling for classes.

It is hell these next few weeks. I will be living off the money I don't have anymore. I will be doing final projects until I bleed. And I WILL bleed, trust me.

I am exhausted and I need to sleep. Tomorrow is the beginning of a marathon I don't wish to run in. Finals have never been my forte, but finals without financial stability is even worse.

I am taking an Ambien, falling into a sleepless haze and hoping that all the answers come to me in a grand dream.

I will return in full mind.

Thursday, November 27

Cause I need to Say it First Off...


See MILK!!! SEE IT SEE IT SEE IT SEE IT!

Except, Elizabeth. She must wait until I am home to see it with me.

Such a good movie and if after you see it you don't think Sean Penn is amazing. Or that Harvey Milk was a truly incredible man. Then you obviously are a Conservative Christian.

I balled my eyes out. BALLED!

Once again:
SEE IT SEE IT SEE IT SEE IT!

Except, Elizabeth. You don't see it until you see it with me. Deal? If I find out otherwise, you'll ruin my life.

I am Thankful for...

  • My wonderful friends (Eric and all the Jeff's I've met) who I am going to New Orleans with. Making me laugh and understanding my eccentricities. No matter how unique they may be.
  • My roommate, who has allowed me to feel comfortable in my living situation for the first time in 2.5 years. It's been a nice feeling to have her always close by, I hope she feels the same way.
  • My Ex-Husband, no matter who else he dates or if he withholds information from me. He will always have a special place in my heart and soul.
  • K, the lady who is twice my age, but loves me for me. As I love her for her.
  • My Florida Lover, who keeps me entertained for hours.
  • My Australian connection. His wisdom and smarts make me smile. His comments I always take to heart. He is a beacon of positive energy and I know whenever I am down. He will send a wonderful comment my way.
  • Jim, who lives across the country, but showed me that caring can cross these lands without any trouble.
  • Anita Morris. Patti LuPone. Judy Garland. Liza Minnelli. Betty Buckley. Barbara Cook. All those Diva's who's voices that have entertained my ears everyday for years.
  • My strength and determination. Though sometimes I am the Maid of Constant Sorrow on here. I am in a place I haven't been before, it's a good place.
  • My family who is supportive and will always love me. No matter how much of a Wayward Prince I may be to them. To my mother, father, brother and sister. I love them all, even if I don't show it all the time.
Thank you all, Happy Thanksgiving.

Monday, November 24

Snakes, Speedos and Sexuality

Tonight I snaked the toilet! For fun I wore my Red Speedo. I was feeling sexy. Not to mention the absurdity of playing around in toilet water while wearing this:

Pose much? Actually, I always stand this way.

It all seems very strange, right? But, why not put on your bathing trunks when you're about to go swimming? Oh if I could have taken a picture with the Yellow Rubber Gloves!

Now this leads me to my next point. As far as my body goes, I do believe I am in the prime of my life. I am very proud of my body, for the first time in a while. It makes me happy that when I lift my arms, abs are visible. You have to understand 4 to 6 years ago the idea of abs were a legend that I would talk about with people over firesides.

Sit back and listen as I tell you a tale. Horses that have horns are called Unicorns. Men who have goat legs are called Satyrs. People born with Abs are called Abnormals!
It was the only way I could deal with the idea that people are just BORN with 6-pack Abs. They can eat as much as they want and never lose them. Now I sort of have them [really only when I lift my arms or in the right lighting] and I'm happy with that. It's not that I don't run and lift weights at the gym. I do! So excuse me while I brag for a moment...

Bragabsbragabragsbabsbragbragbragarbabs

Okay, I'm done gloating. It's also ironic in this time. The prime of my life. I have decided to withhold my body from the touch of others. As much as looks shouldn't matter in dating and love, in the cruel reality, they do. We all want people who turn us on sexually.

The Tall Man was in great shape, but there was one night he showed me pictures of himself, when he was fatter [because you show fuckbuddies who you have no feelings for embarassing pictures of yourself when you were huge. Right? That's what I've come to understand.] So his body reflected this when examined up close. Stretchmarks, but a very flat stomach. His pectorals were well defined, but if uncared for could easily turn into man bosoms. I loved his body, more than anyone else I've met in my life [to date]. I felt hot when I was with him, because I thought his body was perfect. It obviously wasn't the textbook definition of "Hot". The abs were absent and the muscles on the body were not always all that well-defined.

When we fucked though, you could feel all the muscles working.

When I lost him, I think I mourned the loss of his body most of all. That's not that bad of a discovery. I didn't love him, I loved his body. His personality obviously needs some major improvement, though it was a decent personality, it was still a Gay New York Males Personality.

When the going gets tough, the tough calls you on the phone and feeds you bullshit.

I allowed myself to get lost for a moment. Excuse me. Yet, the outcome of that memory dive was a positive one. Positivity. A reoccurring theme this year.

Lastly, and I know you were thinking this the entire time reading. Yes, I did shower after I snaked the toilet.

Sunday, November 23

Miss Otis Regrets...

So much to not say. So little not to do. Where doth the time fly?

New Orleans, this Thursday. Back on the plane, this time heading towards the gorgeous South! Land of Plastic beads and Tennessee Williams! Oh, perhaps I should reread some 10? I sometimes long for him, I long from that time when I first read his words and felt whole new worlds opening. Beautiful and tragic. The Kingdom of Heaven does not come at an easy price!

Today has been a day of no work. Shame, shame, shame. I did discover Patti LaBelle's version of Miss Otis Regrets that has sent me giggling like a 14-year-old school girl every time I start it! You need to hear it to believe it! She turns it into a harrowing tale.
When she woke up and found that her dream of love was...GOOOOONNNNNE! Madame! She ran, she ran to the man! Who lead her astray!

And from under a black velvet gown! She drew a gun and SHOT her love down...Madame!

Miss Otis Regrets! She's unable, unable, UNABLE! To lunch...TODAY!

When the mob came and got her! And dragged her from the jail! MADAME! They strung her up! Up! UP! On the Willow across the way!
Tonight a boy I have befriended has revealed that he has feelings for me. It was straight-forward and to the point. I appreciated that, and felt warmly happy inside. I responded with, "I am all types of unstable right now. Just be my friend for now." He's young and naive and I feel that if I touched his body it would melt like a freshly fallen snowflake.

I want him to be in my life. As a friend for now. I don't know how I feel about him, but I like his friendship. That's what's important, right? To value the friendships you have before anything else. Perhaps someday I'll be able to feel that same way in return. Of course, then it will be to late and I'll realize how "Julia Roberts" my life has become.

Lastly, I leave you with various pictures of Jennifer Holliday making weird faces at the Tony Awards:

The one that got her the Tony Award:

Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today.

Friday, November 21

Making Dinner Tonight

So much is changing so quickly. We now have a digital Cable box Converter. Which means that for the first time in years, I can watch TV. Right now, I have PBS on and Wishbone is playing. Wishbone! I get upset that PBS's connection is a little looser than the others. It's PBS, what can I say. Heh, loose.

Oh, and there's the Traffic Channel! A Channel that plays security cameras from various intersections. Amazing! I haven't seen a commercial in so many years, some of them hurt my brain. Or the Christian Channel! Now that one is a pisser! A lady dressed all in sequins plays the organ. Or the old man, who I am convinced is GOD, discusses the bible, "The best book that's been around for over 2000 years."

I built a coffee table out of beechwood and spit. It was quite and accomplishment and came out looking like this:

It's all those years I spent building with Legos. Look at that, I have material possessions. I have revenue! Oh, good I can go bankrupt like all the rest.

I enjoy putting things together, not necessarily building them from scratch. That's where my faults lie, and it seems to be the theme of this semester. I knew taking two classes that are about scene stuff would just destroy me. I'll get through it, worry not, I am sure I'll get through it.

I am going to New Orleans next week. I'll bring my laptop, but I'm not sure about Internet connection. I'm going there poor, but I'll not let it worry me to much. I have a little amount set back. Just means no souvenirs for anyone, a couple small things for myself and just money on food and drink.

Homework was the theme of the day, and that's what I did. Nothing exciting!

OH! Yes, the good news. There must be some good news, shouldn't there?

I have a chance to get some experience in wardrobe. It's not paid, but they will feed me! That's decent work and it's experience outside of college. So we'll see, it's networking and such. Let's work it you. This is why you're here!

I have to much homework, but I'll get it done. I think I will, maybe I won't. Maybe this is where I stop and fail? I hope not. I keep thinking about the future, what's going to become of Iguana? It's like a cry in the darkness really. No one cares to answer the cry though.

My friend has two different guys he's going back and forth between. While I am incredibly jealous, I am also very happy that he has that to worry about. Not other issues like health or moving or loneliness. I'm happy for him. I wouldn't mind just one guy giving me problems with my love life, we'll get there.

I'm making dinner for K tonight, she's back from San Francisco. Oh joy, oh rapture!

Edit: The dinner was very successful! I cooked a full mean successfully!

Thursday, November 20

Right There, In Front of Me

I was waiting on the train. Worrying a little about life. Reading On The Road and listening to The Fantasticks. There was a woman next to me, she seemed to be practicing dance moves while listening to her iPod.

The novel by Jack Kerouac is amazing. It's much better than I ever gave it credit. I wish it were still possible to bum around the country. To hitchhike. To see America. To live off 50 bucks, realistically.

I was listening to Much More from The Fantasticks and thinking about how crazy the girl is. How crazy I am. How crazy life is...

Then I noticed a small puddle coming towards my feet. My eyes quickly followed the fast forming steam to it's source. In between the woman's legs. I've never seen a person unwillingly give into the demand to urinate. I have had close calls in life, when I drink a touch more than necessary. I have pee'd on subway platforms, alone, but that's more information than anyone needs to know.

I looked at her face, since I'm perverted that way. It was a cross between humiliation and relief, which caused my heart to reach out to her. I moved away from her, I felt guilty. I couldn't pretend pee wasn't about to make close realtions with my shoe. I left her there, as subtly as I could. The relief quickly disappeared and shame was left. People began to notice something was off. As she left the subway at the next stop, hanging her head. She started to walk towards the way I moved in the subway. Without warning she did a U-Turn. She was ashamed of me fleeing, I just know it.

I felt bad for her, and hope not to many people noticed. Wherever you are, whomever you are, you should really get that checked out.

Tuesday, November 18

To Anyone Who Has Gone To College

To Anyone Who Has Gone To College:

What the fuck? I start off by asking you a simple and plain statement. What the fuck? I was led to believe that college would be the carefree years of my life. That I wouldn't have to worry about real issues until I had graduated. Whoever told me, told us, these things, lied.

Perhaps it's because I went to school in New York City. I exposed myself to soon, I became to involved. Whenever, I sit back and think about my life, it's a wonder to even myself how I did it. I didn't get four years in the middle of nowhere. It's just been on continuous journey. The friends I have now, I will not lose once I graduate. I will be in the same place I am once I graduate. I will need to find a job and see what happens from there.

There was only two years of dorm life, and two years of unadjusted "real life" living. I still get motion sickness when I think about those days. In June, there will be no packing up. There won't be any graduation parties or Senior Formals. It'll be working for a diploma and a continuation of a program already in process.

So I ask you, I ask you people who have gone to college. What the fuck? I am told all the time, "Stay in school! Stay as long as you can!"

Seriously? For real? I can't even get a loan to live comfortably. Perhaps when you went to school in the mid-90s, when they were giving out loans left and right, yes it was an easy life! I want to work with my wardrobe shop, but my college has deemed that I cant' do that by not allowing me the proper loans, because my parents are rich. It's an eternal paradox I can't seem to grasp my head around.

Oh, the complaints go on and on and on. I am okay, it's just one small thing amongst many other things.

I want normalcy. I would like some regularity, a source of income. No part time work, but focusing on a future. Call me old fashioned. I don't want AWOL apartment situations, scabies or sadness. I don't want insecurity and confusion all the time. I would like a little order. God, I am trying for order.

To those who have gone to college. Was I to hasty in my decision to come to the city? Did I cheat myself out of some experience later in life? If I had gone to school in a smaller town and learned life's lessons in simpler ways, then moved here and understood it all, would it have been easier at all?

Alas, worrying about the past cannot happen. It promotes nothing! You lived as you have lived and there's nothing that can change it! No time machine, no magic incantation, nothing!

Tonight I had dinner with a guy my age, but with less knowledge of life than I. In the ways of life, as it were. He's a sweet person to have around and makes me smile. We listened to music and I cooked for him. I told him things and he actually enjoyed hearing them.

I am in love with the idea of this guy, but I know he is far outside of my reach. I could never appreciate his naivety to it's fullest extent, I would always be tainting it somehow. He enjoys my company though, I make him laugh. I refresh him, or so he tells me.

He's so innocent and young. How am I refreshing? My character is refreshing? I sometimes don't understand what people mean? I don't view my life in terms of comedy, I see it terms of struggle more or less. When you laugh at my life, I see it for a moment as refreshing. I am making someone smile, for a moment. Then I see it only as sadness. My struggle is startling enough to make people chuckle? I don't remember laughing when I was bleeding from all that scratching. There was no fit of giggles that came when I was trapped in a sling? I wish I had heard the applause when I was packing my suitcase and being kicked out of my apartment.

Oh I am losing my point. I am tired and beginning to feel weak. This was just a moment to vent. It's confusion and not in a particular kind of order.

I have finished reading, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and Wings. We're moving onto On The Road. I need to read/listen to happier things.

In short. To anyone who has gone to college. What the fuck?

Monday, November 17

A Monday Completed.


A Monday Completed
A Poem

Marc:
you there man?
me: hey
who is this?
Marc: would love to see that big cock of yours on cam...
:-)
marc
me: haha Marc who?
do I know you
Marc: 10" dick that you wanted back in the summer.
we've never met
but you said,
me: Oh okay yes

Marc: I love the idea of tackling something that big. I'm really turned on by that right now. I decided I'm to tired for the gym. So I'm gonna crawl into bed. When are you free.
and i quote.

me: It's coming back. Sorry I'm in the middle of building a coffee table right now. I'm not that horny either. Try again another time
Marc:
haha
alright
me: yes, yes. That was me in my dirty mind. woof. But tonight. Not so much right now.

It was a valiant gesture on his part. Bravo, dear sir.

Other than that, I am stressed out a little. I will be working soon. I'm tired, I wish to sleep.

Sunday, November 16

The Weekend Returns

I'm using it like a student. That counts for something.

When I'm not killing cockroaches, I am seeing horrible plays like To Be Or Not To Be. Or going to brunch and having decent food. Or doing homework assignment after assignment.

That's all.

The Cockroach and The Sandal

Picture a cockroach, now picture a cockroach that's bigger than that one you originally thought of. Okay, does he look like this. Yes? Good we're on the same page here.

She's been living in my room since August. Maybe it's not even the same one since August. Maybe it's her sister. Well regardless oh which generation she falls into. She is now dead. I killed her with a sandal. She tempted me, deceitful slut. Showed her face and danced into my sight.

Elizabeth was intent on kill her, but she didn't like my roommate. After the first search was through I sat by myself and not before to long she popped up again. The tango started and I got my sandal. She ran into a trap of her devices, into my bookshelf. She ran into a corner and I swatted, not wanting to crush her on my rare copies of books.

She ran up the sandal and fell back downwards and I took one quick swipe and she EXPLODED!

WHOA, what? Cockroaches explode? When does this happen? What video did I miss that told me this fact?

I ran out of my room screaming as if I had just killed a family of four and woken up in their blood. "I killed it! It exploded and it's terrible!!!!"

We quickly got rid of the body and I washed all the tools involved. My fingertips reek of bleach, but no traces will ever be found. Dear god, she exploded.

Sweet dreams.

Friday, November 14

A Paper Bag Over My Head

I was upset so I sat in my room with a paper bag over my head. Inside the paper bag I looked around, felt cramped and absurd. If someone could see me the would probably break out in laughter. So in my stress I broke out in tears.

Realist, let's be real right now! In less than two weeks I am going to New Orleans, I feel like such a world traveler. I will watch my wallet, but I intend to enjoy myself. I can do this, I think.

The job search. When does it happen, I have a couple of lame options. They're options though.

I finished reading The Beautiful Room Is Empty. Very good novel, so earnest and sincere.

I have been feeling sad recently, it's a tough feeling to fight. It's fall and things are changing. We are trying new things (ie: Paper Bag on head) and seeing different results (ie: Tears).

This weekend is dedicated to homework. Model building, studying, outlining, drafting, etc. Just need to get through this semester and it'll be okay. It'll be okay.

Thursday, November 13

New York Protesting



Thanks to Jeff for taking these :)

Tuesday, November 11

Thank you kindly.



This is it. We are speaking out, we are upset.

San Francisco Reflection


I wrote this on the plane ride home today:

San Francisco to New York. Fleeing the daylight as quickly as I can. The other end of the country, a place that came and went in five days. I left at 4:30 AM and had to hold back tears. It’s not like I suddenly hate New York City, but the difference of the cities is stunning.

I am excited to return to New York and I plan listening to Liza Minnelli Live at Carnegie Hall . When she sings, I Happen to Like New York and then finishes with New York, New York. I will be home.

San Francisco is where I will go to die, I think. No, no that’s a touch harsh. It’s true what they say, “You don’t move to New York to rest peacefully.” I think I may have made that saying up. Or a wise man once told me, I forget which. I can only presume that the opposite end of the country is where you go to rest peacefully.

I met some of the locales and enjoyed their quirkiness. Jim is an interesting guy, my San Franciscan Connection, for this I am eternally grateful. Cool, cute and calculated. He’s got a plan and intends to follow through. He captures the world through a camera lens and I find that a worthy cause to live for. I love his photos.

The waitress at It’s Top’s Diner. During both my trips there she discussed politics rather heatedly. She ran the counter and chatted with me as if I’d come into the diner everyday for years. She wasn’t annoying and she often got her point across eloquently enough.

The girl from New Orleans, but not lives in San Francisco whom sat next to me at Hemlock Tavern. She placed her wine down and simply said, “I am just putting this on the table. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to be friendly or anything.” I smiled and we joked back and forth. Then quickly added, “I’m holding you up from being rude.” It was a completely harmless and fun interaction.

In New York, you’d probably get a lewd look, luckily I left the New Yorker Attitude on the East Coast. The only time it slipped out was when we missed a Trolley Car and I screamed out, “WELL FUCK YOU, TOO!” Since it was a tourist area, not to mention little kids were around, I got off looks. You can take the boy out of New York City...

When San Francisco is sunny, it’s like seeing an classic movie in Cinema-Scope. The colors are so lush I found my eyes tearing from the saturation. When it’s rainy the city changes drastically. It isn’t like a gray day in New York. It seems as if the city is in mourning. At one point during my stay the city became completely engulfed in fog. I couldn’t see an inch in front of me. My entire mood fell and thus I allowed myself to weep.

Will I move there? Why is that a question I keep hearing? The waitress, K, my mother and different others would randomly asked that. Is San Francisco where New Yorkers go to when they’ve had enough? I suppose it’s only of the other cities to escape to. For it’s almost impossible to live in anything else after New York.

My soul, my spirit, my body and my mind have all been shaped by such a cruel mistress. In San Francisco, I was able to recapture something. To relive memories of my childhood I’d all but forgotten. Life would be quieter if I moved there, it’s only a fact that the city closes down at 2 AM. Silly Westerners, there were nights when my being didn’t begin until then.

I am home though. I am back in the state where I was born and raised. I am back in New York and the bloodline that connects me to this city, tainted yes, is of a superior strain. To move West would mean to change. To escape. Am I ready to escape?

Not quiet yet. It’s all a matter of order. Finish college, this annoying priority is ahead of any other decisions I make. I am 23-years-old...

I'm back home and finishing up a project. I'm sleepy and tired, but it feels nice to be back. Elizabeth was here to greet me. A friend texted me and asked if I wanted to go into the city for
dinner. The 5-hour plane ride I just got off of obviously didn't seem to matter, I should still come out into the city. It's acts like that that remind me, I am home.

Open your Golden Gate.