My job

Today's things I hate about working at Wolfram & Hart*:

1) None of the fraking equipment works (two fax machines on my floor . . . neither works).

2) The first year associates make (after bonus) triple what I make. And I make less than my colleagues at other firms.

3) The Senior Partners expect me to place all their pet projects, but won't back me up when I need to place real work.

4) Lawyers get new chairs every year. I've had three in the last decade. And the third one (my current one), I had to steal from an empty office.


*Sorry for the Angel reference, but at times I'm fairly certain they based that firm on mine.

Feeling Better

I'm alive. Still feeling a little worn down, but that's how it goes.

Also, Bravo has been showing the final episode of Six Feet Under (I've seen it three times in the last week). Very emotional. Still makes me cry a little.

Anyway, pictures of my newly beardless chin will follow soon.

Sick

So I've been sick for the last couple of days. Food poisoning, I think. (For those of you who saw The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, think of the "can you use it in a sentence?" answer for 'dengue.')

Pros of food poisoning
1) Rapid weight loss (six pounds in two days)
2) Not having to go to work
3) Sleeping . . . lots and lots of sleeping

Cons of food poisoning
1) Running for the bathroom every 30 minutes or so
2) Dehydration headaches
3) Every part of my body hurting

While I feel much better today, I also feel really weak. I got winded walking up the subway stairs and right now I feel like I could put my head down on my desk and fall asleep.

Luckily, I can rest this weekend.

Frakity frak frak frak

So how good was last night's episode of Battlestar Galactica?

And how pissed am I that there are no new episodes until 2008?

Feeling good

I submitted a resume for a similar job to the one I have now. Two hours later, I got a call asking if I can interview this week.

Sweet.

What I did this weekend

1. Walked out of a play at intermission for only the second time in my life. Sure, I've wanted to other times, but usually at shows I've been reviewing, so I couldn't.

2. Ate dim sum with Jase, Charles, Patrick, and David. Mmmm . . . tripelicious.

3. Shaved. First time in years I've been without facial hair. Um . . . wow. Not sure how I feel about it yet.

Much better

Tylenol PM. That did the trick last night. It was the first uninterrupted night's sleep I've had in ages. I feel much better today.

It may also be because I got a jolt of inspiration for a short play that I'm going to submit for a ten-minute play contest. Started working on it last night and will have it ready to let some people read it by Monday.

I also started a new poem.

Man, having the creative juices flowing, so to speak, really does wonders for my mood.

Insomnia

So I've been having major trouble sleeping. Going to bed around 1. Not falling asleep until 2. Waking up every hour or so. Pain in the ass.

On the up side, I was watching Frasier last night and saw an episode that had T.R. Knight for maybe a minute as one of his patients. The show also had Sarah Silverman, Missi Pyle, and Dan Castellaneta.

It was only an okay episode, but how is that for guest stars?

The rule of three

I remember reading a book (gay fiction, natch) that had the following life lesson: you can have two of the three following things at any one time - a good job, a good apartment, a good relationship.

Now, my self-esteem being what it is, I've always believed I could have one of the three things at any time. When I moved to NY, I had a good apartment, the job was brutal, and I was alone. By the time the apartment got to be too much to handle (I had four roommates), I was liking the job, but I was still alone. When I moved to Chelsea, I loved the apartment, hated the job, and was alone.

Now I find myself hating my job, hating my apartment, and alone.

Bollocks.

The problem, of course, boils down to fear. I am scared to leave the security of my current job, I'm scared to go through the interviewing process, I'm scared to put myself out there. Same can be said for apartment and boyfriend hunting.

I'm not one to take chances. A great line from Wicked, "those who don't try/never look foolish." I spent my childhood being the one who was laughed at and made fun of. Naturally, I'm a little gun-shy nowadays.

So how do I beat that? How do I force myself to take the risks that I have to take? How do I keep from living my life in a safe monotonous rut?

Well, I've been applying for jobs, both in my current field (one opened up today) and in theatre. The apartment thing . . . well, I'm not going to worry about that for now. I think if I get myself in a good place as far as work, I'll care less about the apartment.

The boyfriend . . . I'm not sure I can tackle that one yet. The best I can do right now is to be more social. Go out with friends at least once a week. Maybe get involved in a new activity. I'd love to find a writing group to join.

We'll see, I suppose.

In the meantime, if anyone wants to hang out sometime, let me know. I need to get out of my house and out of my head.

Lambda Literary Awards Finalists

Here is a list of the Lambda Lit finalists. I'm psyched that I know several of the authors. Run out an buy a few books.

Nominees for ANTHOLOGY
Confessions of the Other Mother, edited by Harlyn Aizley (Beacon)
From Boys to Men, edited by Ted Gideonse & Rob Williams (Carroll & Graf)
Love, Bourbon Street, edited by Greg Herren & Paul J. Willis (Alyson)
Charmed Lives, edited by Toby Johnson & Steve Berman (Lethe Press)
No Margins: Writing Canadian Fiction in Lesbian, edited by Catherine Lake & Nairne Holtz (Insomniac)

Nominees for ARTS & CULTURE
Fun Home by Alison Bechdel (Houghton Mifflin)
Cinemachismo by Sergio de la Mora (University of Texas Press)
Sex Objects by Jennifer Doyle (University of Minnesota Press)
GAY L.A. by Lillian Faderman & Stuart Timmons (Basic Books)
Blood Beats: Vol 1 by Ernest Hardy (Redbone Press)

Nominees for BISEXUAL
Eros by Serena Anderlini-D'Onofrio (Harrington Park Press)
Affirmative Psychotherapy with Bisexual Women & Bisexual Men by Ronald C. Fox (Harrington Park Press)
Three Sides to Every Story by Clarence Nero (Harlem Moon/Doubleday)
Bi Guys, edited by Ron Jackson Suresha (Harrington Park Press)
Bi Men, edited by Ron Jackson Suresha & Pete Chvany (Harrington Park Press)
The Bisexual's Guide to the Universe, Michael Szymanski & Nicole Kristal (Alyson)

Nominees for CHILDRENS/YOUNG ADULT
The Manny Files by Christian Burch (Simon & Schuster)
Full Spectrum, edited by David Levithan & Billy Merrell (Random House Children's Books)
Between Mom & Jo by Julie Anne Peters (Little Brown)
Tale of Two Summers by Brian Sloan (Simon & Schuster)
Erik & Isabelle's Junior Year at Foresthill High by Kim Wallace (Foglight Press)

Nominees for DRAMA/THEATER
Questa by Victor Bumbalo (Broadway Publishing Inc.)
Confessions of a Mormon Boy by Stephen Fales (Alyson)
1001 Beds by Tim Miller (University of Wisconsin)

Nominees for HUMOR
Queen of the Oddballs by Hilary Carlip (HarperCollins)
My Lucky Star by Joe Keenan (Little Brown)
Roy & Al by Ralf Konig (Arsenal Pulp Press)

Nominees for LGBT NONFICTION
Hello, Cruel World by Kate Bornstein (Seven Stories)
GAY L.A. by Lillian Faderman & Stuart Timmons (Basic Books)
Different Daughters by Marcia Gallo (Carroll & Graf)
Behind the Mask of the Mattachine by James T. Sears (Harrington Park Press)
Unspeakable Love by Brian Whitaker (University of California)

Nominees for LGBT STUDIES
Every Inch A Man: Phallic Possession, etc. by Carellin Brooks (UBC Press)
Gay Power: An American Revolution by David Eisenbach (Carroll & Graf)
Their Own Receive Them Not by Horace Griffin (Pilgrim Press)
Crip Theory by Robert McRuer (NYU Press)
Beautiful Bottom, Beautiful Shame by Kathryn Stockton (Duke University Press)

Nominees for SCI-FI/FANTASY/HORROR
Carnival by Elizabeth Bear (Bantam Spectra)
Mordred, Bastard Son by Douglas Clegg (Alyson)
A Strong and Sudden Thaw by R.W. Day (Iris Print)
Izzy and Eve by Neal Drinnan (Green Candy Press)
Spin Control by Chris Moriarty (Bantam Spectra)

Nominees for SPIRITUALITY
Sex & the Sacred by Daniel Helminiak (Harrington Park Press)
The After-Death Room by Michael McColly (Soft Skull Press)
Spirited edited by Lisa Moore & G. Winston James (Redbone Press)
The Singing of Swans by Mary Saracino (Pearlsong Press )
Mobius Trip by Giti Thadani (Spinifex Press)

Nominees for TRANSGENDER
Transgender Rights edited Paisley Currah, Richard M. Juang, and Shannon Price Minter (University of Minnesota Press)
Drag King Dreams by Leslie Feinberg (Carroll & Graf)
Supervillainz by Alicia E. Goranson (Suspect Thoughts)
The Transgender Studies Reader edited by Susan Stryker & Chris Whittle (Routledge)
The Testosterone Files by Max Wolf Valerio (Seal Press)

Nominees for LESBIAN FICTION
Punk Like Me by JD Glass (Bold Strokes)
Slipstream by Leslie Larson (Crown)
Outrageous by Sheila Ortiz Taylor (Spinsters Ink)
Rose of No Man's Land by Michelle Tea (Macadam Cage)
The Night Watch by Sarah Waters (Riverhead Books)

Nominees for LESBIAN ROMANCE
Fresh Tracks by Georgia Beers (Bold Strokes)
Wild Abandon by Ronica Black (Bold Strokes)
Finders Keepers by Karin Kallmaker (Bella Books)
Chance by Grace Lennox (Bold Strokes)
Turn Back Time by Radclyffe (Bold Strokes)

Nominees for LESBIAN MYSTERY
Sleep of Reason by Rose Beecham, Rose (Bold Strokes)
Night Vision by Ellen Hart (St. Martins)
The Art of Detection by Laurie R. King (Bantam)
Idaho Code by Joan Opyr (Bywater Books)
The Weekend Visitor by Jessica Thomas (Bella Books)

Nominees for LESBIAN POETRY
Domain of Perfect Affection by Robin Becker (University of Pittsburgh)
Days of Good Looks by Cheryl Clarke (Carroll & Graf)
The Truant Lover by Juliet Patterson (Nightboat Books)
Lemon Hound by Sina Queyras (Coach House Books)
Touch to Affliction by Nathalie Stephens (Coach House Books)

Nominees for LESBIAN MEMOIR/BIOGRAPHY
Intimate Politics by Bettina Aptheker (Seal Press)
Fun Home by Alison Bechdel (Houghton Mifflin)
Queen of the Oddballs by Hilary Carlip (HarperCollins)
Hit by a Farm by Catherine Friend (Carroll & Graf)
Incognito Street by Barbara Sjoholm (Seal Press)

Nominees for LESBIAN EROTICA
Walk Like a Man by Laurinda D. Brown (Q-Boro Books)
Glamour Girls edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel (Harrington Park Press)
18th & Castro by Karin Kallmaker (Bella Books)
Master Han's Daughter by Midori (Circlet Press)
Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 edited by Tristan Taromino & Emma Donoghue (Cleis Press)

Nominees for LESBIAN DEBUT FICTION
The Teahouse Fire by Ellis Avery (Riverhead)Black Marks by Kirsten Dinnall Hoyte (Akashic)
Erzulie's Skirt by Ana-Maurine Lara (Redbone Press)
Slipstream by Leslie Larson (Crown)
Origami Striptease by Peggy Munson (Suspect Thoughts)

Nominees for GAY FICTION
Every Visible Thing by Lisa Carey (HarperCollins)
Izzy and Eve by Neal Drinnan (Green Candy Press)
Alternatives to Sex by Stephen McCauley (Simon & Schuster)
Now Is the Hour by Tom Spanbauer (Houghton Mifflin)
Suspension by Robert Westfield (HarperCollins)

Nominees for GAY ROMANCE
Someone Like You by Timothy James Beck (Kensington)
When the Stars Come Out by Rob Byrnes (Kensington)
Two Boys in Love by Lawrence Schimel (Seventh Window)
Surf 'N Turf by Scott & Scott (Romenticc)
Going Down in La-La Land by Andy Zeffer (Harrington Park Press)

Nominees for GAY MYSTERY
Mardi Gras Mambo by Greg Herren (Kensington)
The Hell You Say by Josh Lanyon (I-Universe)
The Back Passage by James Lear (Cleis Press)
Provincetown Follies, Bangkok Blues by Randall Peffer (Bleak House Books)
The Lucky Elephant Restaurant by Garry Ryan (NeWest Press)

Nominees for GAY POETRY
Gutted by Justin Chin (Manic D Press)
The Album That Changed My Life by Jeffrey Conway (Cold Calm Press)
A History of My Tattoo by Jim Elledge (Stonewall)
Other Fugitives & Other Strangers by Rigoberto Gonzalez (Tupelo Press)
When the Eye Forms by Dwaine Rieves (Tupelo)

Nominees for GAY MEMOIR/BIOGRAPHY
Untold Stories by Alan Bennett (FSG)
The Bill From My Father by Bernard Cooper (Simon & Schuster)
Tweaked by Patrick Moore (Kensington)
History of Swimming by Kim Powers (Carroll & Graf)
My Father's Keeper by Jonathan Silin (Beacon)

Nominees for GAY EROTICA
Best Gay Erotica 2007 edited by Richard Labonte & Timothy J. Lambert (Cleis Press)
A History of Barbed Wire by Jeff Mann (Suspect Thoughts)
Hot On His Trail by Zavo (Alyson)

Nominees for GAY DEBUT FICTION
A Scarecrow's Bible by Martin Hyatt (Suspect Thoughts)
Send Me by Patrick Ryan (Dial Press)
The Zookeeper by Alex MacLennan (Alyson)
Suspension by Robert Westfield (HarperCollins)
5 Minutes & 42 Seconds by Timothy Williams (HarperCollins)

From Today's TV Listings

Lost - Sawyer competes in a pingpong competition to get back his belongings.

Seriously, I am over this show.

Theatre recommendation

For those of you in Washington DC or who will be visiting, there is a great show at the Warehouse Theatre, Writer's Cramp by John Byrne. Very, very funny (kind of like Joe Orton) and a really talented cast.

Check it out.

Ash Wednesday

For Lent this year, I've decided to give up soft drinks and meat (the usual).

Anyone else giving up anything for Lent?

In a nutshell

So, I didn't get into grad school. Found out yesterday.

So let's recap:

I'm nearly forty.

I'm working at a job where my bosses tell me I'm doing a good job, but then blithely shrug their shoulders when I point out that people with less experience at smaller companies make more than I do.

Last year I began interviewing for any jobs that opened up in my current field (a very limited number) and didn't get any of them.

Jobs in theatre pay about half what I make now.

I didn't get into grad school.

I'm alone.

I am profoundly unhappy with just about every aspect of my life.




Yep, the future's so bright, I've gotta wear shades.

Not frozen, just busy

I've been pretty busy for the last week or so. Hopefully things will settle down a little soon.

The Weather Inside is Frightful

I'm Mister White Christmas
I'm Mister Snow
I'm Mister Icicle
I'm Mister Ten Below
Friends call me Snow Miser,
Whatever I touch
Turns to snow in my clutch
I'm too much!

Perhaps you're asking yourself, "Doesn't he realize Christmas is over?"

Yes, I do.

"Then why are your putting the lyrics to Snow Miser's song on your site?"

Because, nosey Nell, last night the boiler in my building died. No heat. No hot water.

I woke up this morning curled in a tight fetal position, completely buried under my blankets, with a scratchy throat and runny nose. And I couldn't even warm up in the shower because, as I mentioned, the water was cold as fucking ice.

Brilliant start to the day.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm changing my name from Crash to Stinky McBedhead Grumpypants III.*

You'd think, given my uncanny resemblence to a polar bear, that I'd be fine with a freezing apartment and a frigid shower. I'd just shrug it off, lumber into the kitchen, eat a seal for breakfast, and go to work.

Not so much. I hate, hate, hate being cold in the morning.

With luck, the heat will be back on tonight. And if not, at least I'll know to get up early so I can grab a shower at the gym.




*An homage to David and his neverending quest to find a new name for Goblin.

Rest in Peace

God bless you, Molly Ivins. It's a poorer world without you.

One more thing . . .

I received my 2007 Dieux du Stade calendar. For those of you not in the know, it features pictures of (mostly) French rugby players in provocative poses.

This is without a doubt the most erotic one yet.

The only way next year's will beat it is if it shows erections or hot man-on-man action. Personally, I'm hoping for both.

Tee hee

Did anyone watch Family Guy last night? The scene with Pat Robertson and Don Wildmon (or maybe it was Jerry Falwell . . . all those fundies look alike to me) making out made my freakin' day.

Hilarious.

Starbucks

There is a Starbucks just steps from my office (I'm sure nearly everyone in Manhattan can say the same thing). Some days the coffee is . . . well, I won't say good. Let's go with adequate. Some days, it tastes like it was brewed in Satan's colon.

Take a guess which one it was today.

Denver

Looks like I'll be going to Denver soon. Anyone know which bars I should visit?

TV

Okay, so I've been watching a little TV. Not much, but more than I intended to.

I've now seen two episodes of 'Gay, Straight or Taken.'

They really should have called the show 'Damn, This Bitch is Stupid.' There was a guy on one of the episodes that made Charles Nelson Reilly look butch, and the idiot girl thought he was the Taken one.

Taken from behind, maybe. Ba-dum-bum.

And that, ladies and germs, is why I don't write comedy.

Anywho, I saw a good production of Carlo Goldoni's The Servant of Two Masters by The New Globe Theatre tonight at Theatre 3 (next door to Second Stage Theatre where Little Dog Laughed is playing). Lots of over the top fun, if you're into such things. Well worth checking out.

Done

It's in the mail and I don't have to think of it again for a while.

Whew.

I need a martini.

Free-ish at last, free-ish at last.

I just finished the first draft of my paper. Or rather, I hit 19 pages and it all just started to look like strings of words without any real cohesion, so I stopped writing. Now I'm just waiting to get back some comments, then I'll edit it, and send it in.

It's due tomorrow, by the way.

Now I'm off to make a call or two, then I'm writing my personal statement.

Woo hoo! Fun times.

The ball's in their court

So I came up with a way to save my office thousands of dollars a year with one simple change.

And if it turns out that my raise sucks as bad as it has the last two years, then I'm keeping mum about it. Fuck 'em.

Update: Fuck 'em.

Good news/Bad news

Bad News - The gas smell that is permeating the city gave me a headache from hell based on my relatively brief exposure to it.

Good News - Weather.com is finally forecasting snow. It's due to arrive on January 17th. That being said, things change from moment to moment, so we'll see.

Let's see . . . other news. This weekend I made minestrone, veggie chili, tuna salad, and a chicken and vegetables thing in the crockpot. Lots of food stockpiled for when the gas smell starts turning people into zombies.

UPDATE: They took the snow off the forecast. Bugger.
UPDATE 2: No zombies as yet.

Getting to know me

Some things I like right now:
1) The Neo-Futurists' Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. Some of the most energetic and interesting theatre in town. They perform (or try to) 30 short plays in 60 minutes. Sometimes they make it, sometimes they don't. But you won't care one way or the other; the joy is in the journey, not the destination.

2) Gus Fink. This is an artist I met in Atlanta when I was down there for Dragon Con (don't you judge me). Anyway, his work is cool and disturbing and I bought several pieces of it. Not for nothing, but I really like his drawings. I'm certainly not saying you have to run out and buy me some . . . but if you wanted to, who am I to stand in your way?

3) This fuckin' weather. When was the last time you were outside in January in New York and thought to yourself, "damn, I wish I'd worn shorts today"?

4) Working on my writing sample. Sure, this is a major pain in my ass, but I'd forgotten how much I enjoy doing research. It's like putting together a puzzle where you first have to find all the hidden pieces, then put them together to make a picture.

5) My iPod. Best. Gift. Ever.

6) Losing weight. Or more to the point, wearing clothes I haven't fit into for a while.

7) Cooking. Today was Mexican Chicken & Chayote Soup for lunch and a really good Tuna Pasta Salad for dinner. Tomorrow, maybe Chili or Chicken Stew. We'll see.

Things I'm Not Really Digging:
1) The assholes with their car stereos blaring and their windows down outside my apartment. While I have nothing against Middle-Eastern hip hop or whatever the hell it is, I don't want to hear it at 3 a.m.

2) The fact that Restaurant Week falls during my "no eating out" January. Meaning that I will be eating out. Bollocks.

3) Drunk assholes who sit halfway on my lap on the subway and don't have the good manners to apologize or move. Bitch, if I wanted a lap dance, I sure as hell could find a hotter guy than you to give it to me.

What's cool

You know what's cool?

1) When it's 68 degrees outside. In New York. In January.

2) Pulling on a pair of pants you haven't worn for a while and finding $50 in the pocket.

I hope you have a cool Saturday.

And another thing . . .

Another cool thing about making my own meals, rather than eating out, is that the weight just drops off me.

I lost 6.5 lbs this week. Woo hoo!

The down side of not eating anything I didn't prepare will be obvious in a couple of minutes when I go to a business lunch. I guess I'd better grab a bite to eat before it.

Cooking

The nice things about making all my own food for the month is that the house smells great.

That's pretty much all I've got today.

Blog? What blog?

Right, I have a blog. Sorry I've been neglecting it, but things are still a little crazy for me. So rather than bothering to catch you up on all the fabulous things I haven't been doing, I think I'll just list some of my New Year's Resolutions.

1) Write between 500-1000 words a day.

2) Eat out less. Specifically, for the month of January, I won't be eating anything I didn't prepare. No cafeteria for lunch. No pre-theatre dinners at a local restaurant. No calling for pizza when I don't feel like cooking. After January, I'll be limiting myself to no more than two meals out per week.

3) Be more proactive about getting in shape. Go to the gym at least three days per week. Start doing my physical therapy exercises every evening before bed.

4) Spend a little time every day (15-30 minutes) cleaning or organizing my apartment. Get rid of all the old clothes, books I don't intend to read again, and other clutter.

5) Cut back on the TV. No TV in January (though I will tape BSG and watch it later). After that, no more than 5 hours of TV per week, though I will allow myself to tape shows and watch them later. The basic upshot of this is to keep me from wasting hours flipping channels when nothing is on.

5) Add at least one CD a day to iTunes until I'm caught up.

6) Blog every day.

7) Catch up on my theatre reviews and once done, file all my future reviews within two days of having seen the show.

8) Market my plays. Submit at least five plays to festivals or local theatre companies. This should be made considerably easier by the 500-1000 words a day resolution.

9) Be better about writing. Respond to all e-mails within two days. Send someone I know a letter or card at least once a week. I know how much I like receiving something other than junk mail, it's the least I can do to brighten a friend's day.

10) Be diligent about keeping track of my finances for tax purposes. Now that I'm actually making money from my writing, I need to start keeping track of my expenses.

11) Take care of a personal matter. That's all I'm saying about that one.

12) Make one Christmas gift per month. This year I gave a couple of handmade gifts and loved making them. I've decided to make most of my gifts this year.

13) Finish one art project per month.

I'm sure that more will be added as the year goes on.

So where do I stand on the resolutions three days into the year?

Well, January 1 was spent coming up with the resolutions, so it doesn't count. But looking at yesterday and today:

1) Good.
2) Good.
3) Well, nothing so far, but I'm going to the gym tonight.
4) Good.
5) Good.
6) Um . . . well, I'm blogging today.
7) Catching up. Next show to be reviewed is Friday, so I'll let you know on Sunday.
8) Nothing yet.
9) Doing okay with e-mail. No letter yet.
10) Good.
11) Good.
12) Ordered the material for two of the gifts.
13) Nothing yet.

All in all, not too bad.

So did any of you make resolutions?

A Six Word Review: Company

Saw it. Loved it. See it.

Best. Party. Ever.

Birthday week is going very nicely.

Some coworkers brought me a Juniors Cheesecake for lunch on Monday.

Great party Monday night. Lot's of friends (bloggers, ruggers, miscellaneous). Lots of martinis. Great gifts (actually, frakkin' amazing gifts). Showtunes. Cute guys. Fun.

And the actual birthday hasn't arrived yet.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a few of my best birthday memories from my life.

1. The year mom made me a Snoopy cake with a black gumdrop for the nose. I was probably five.

2. The year most of my friends got me Star Trek action figures.

3. My freshman year of college when I was feeling really lonely because I was celebrating my birthday by myself for the first time. There was a knock on the door and when I opened it, there was a note (like a ransom note with cut out letters) telling me to be in the lobby at 6. When I got downstairs, a group of my friends 'kidnapped' me and took me out for dinner. I still have the ransom note.

4. Buying my first "legal" bottle of booze. Peach schnapps, if memory serves. Gads.

5. Last year's awesome, awesome coconut cake.

6. Mom throwing me a surprise party that actually surprised me. I had no idea what she was up to.

What are your favorite birthday memories?

With special guest star . . .

After drinks the other night, I was thinking about what my life would be like if the world were a TV show. Truth be told, my life is entirely too boring to be a drama. Though I suppose that's a good thing considering the dramas I tend to watch (Dexter, Jericho, Law & Order, etc.) have remarkably high body counts.

So I guess by default, my life would be a sitcom.

Then it occurred to me that if I were in a sitcom, it would probably be someone else's. I might be Fred Mertz. Or maybe Sally Rogers (particularly apt, I think). But I wonder if I'd even qualify to be in the main cast like them. Maybe just a recurring character. Dr. Bombay, perhaps. Or, sticking with Bewitched, Esmerelda, the one who had a tendency to turn invisible.

So what have we learned from today's entry? First, I get maudlin when I drink. Second, I'm having doubts about my self-worth. Third, I should stop watching Nick at Night while drunk and depressed. Fourth, it's going to be one of those birthdays.

Essay Question

Chocolate Covered Mint Oreos: Proof of the Existence of a Divine and Merciful Creator?

Discuss.

School Daze

On Saturday, I'll be taking the GRE. For the record, the last time I took this particular exam was in the late '80s. On the practice exams, my verbal skills have been just peachy. My math scores, however . . . well, let's just say I'd be riding to school on the short bus. Or maybe I'd be the head cheerleader. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

I've been trying to teach myself basic math for the last few days. That explains why it is almost one in the morning and I'm just now going to bed. It also explains why I will probably be dreaming of complex fractions and geometry.

I can't wait for this crap to be over.

I love math. I really do. There is a certain beauty in the symmetry and logic of numbers. However, that doesn't help me when I can't remember how to calculate the area of a circle.

Argh.

Sorry

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. It's just that I'm horribly busy right now. Not so much with work, but with real life stuff. Things will slow down soon, but for now, I'm miserable.

Anyway, I'll write when I can.

BTW, I'm throwing myself a little birthday party at Splash next Monday (the 4th) at 6pm. Anyone interested? And yes, I'm aware that I just said I was horribly busy. But come on, if I can't take an evening to celebrate my birthday, I'll go crazy.

OMG

Now Rumsfeld has resigned.

I'm totally doing a happy dance in my office right now.

If the next announcement is that someone discovered pictures of Tom DeLay wearing women's clothing, my head will probably explode.

WOO HOO!!!!!!!

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead.
Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below.
Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!

Rick Santorum has been voted out of office. I hope this is the first of a long string of concession speeches he will give over the course of his life.

Strangers on a Train

Based on what I saw on the train today, it appears Boyfriend 101 Guy has moved on to a new book. Another self-help book. I am intrigued.

And speaking of people who are on my train, I thought I'd introduce you to a few of the other regulars who make my life interesting during my morning commute.

Gilmore Guy - A goodlooking fellow who looks just like an older version of Matt Czuchry who plays Logan on Gilmore Girls (yes, I watch it . . . don't you judge me).

Angry Black Doug - This guy works at some delivery service and is always wearing his polyester shirt/shorts combo. I call him black Doug because he looks like a black version of Doug Heffernan the IPS delivery guy on King of Queens. I call him angry because he curses and mutters to himself whenever the train is held in the station or is delayed for any reason. If it goes on long enough, he starts yelling that he's in a hurry and he's got a job and they're making him late. Then he storms off the train at his station, shoving people out of the way. Angry Black Doug really needs to leave his house about ten minutes earlier every day. Or he needs to get laid.

Hoochie Mama - A rather zaftig woman who wears very, very, very tight low-rise jeans and works them. In her world, she is the sexiest thing there is. And I have to admire her for that.

The Redhead - He's hot. When he's on the train, he's the only person on the train.

Ms. Swan - A look-alike for Ms. Swan from Mad TV.

These are just the ones I've noticed for one reason or another.

When will it end?

You know that commercial for the fake boner pills that features the guy with the creepy smile (Smiling Bob according to the commercial) and the insipid whistled tune that goes on and on and on and on . . . ?

Well, since they show that commercial on LOGO every, I don't know, six minutes or so, it's been stuck in my head for two days. Two frakkin' days.

So today's question for my readers (yes, both of you): When you get a song stuck in your head, how do you unstick it?

Me, I normally start humming the I Dream of Jeannie theme. It bumps things out of my head, but doesn't stick. Sadly, Smiling Bob's Boner Theme seems to be impervious.

Lost

While watching Lost last night, it occured to me. I don't care anymore.

I don't care what the mystery of the island is. I don't care if Jack gets free from the Others. I don't care if Kate does/doesn't love Sawyer.

I used to really enjoy the show, but now it's like getting hit in the head with a hammer.

So until Sawyer finally power-fucks the attitude out of Jack, or Phil Silvers shows up on the island and puts on a musical version of Hamlet set to the music from Carmen, I'm done.

Go see this show

I'm reviewing this one, so I can't go into details, but it was terrific. Go see it before it closes. Marvelous horror, comedy, sex, gore, suspense, terror . . . well, Grand Guignol . . . what more needs be said?

The show is called The Blood Brothers present . . . An Evening of Grand Guignol Horror.

Sadly, it closes tomorrow (Sat. 28th).

I'm giving up

Today on the train, there was a really cute guy sitting across from me. Dark hair, thin, well-dressed, and . . . well, let's just say he had a rather impressive bulge.

He was reading this book, Boyfriend 101: A Gay Guy's Guide to Dating, Romance, and Finding True Love.

So if a cute, fit, well-dressed, hung guy can't find love . . . ?

Well, I don't want to continue that thought.

Anyway, at least there is a dating site just for me. And possibly Palochi.

Creativity

Over the last week or two, my nesting instincts have gone into overdrive. I've been unpacking boxes (one of which I'd packed in 1994 according to the papers I'd wrapped everything in), choosing paint colors, ordering furniture, that sort of thing.

Basically, I've decided that it's time to make my apartment into my home.

So I have a project for any of you who might be game.

I like to surround myself with pictures of my friends or with things that they've created. So your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to send me one of the following things:

1) A favortie photo of yourself or something that is important to you (preferably a photo that you took yourself)

or

2) A piece of art that you've made (it can be anything you like, but I have lots of small spaces to fill, so things that are postcard up to standard letter sized are best).

While you are welcome to send things to me via e-mail, I would actually prefer to get hard copies in the mail. Mostly because I'd like you to sign whatever you send me. If anyone wants my address, shoot me an e-mail.

So there you have it. I hope some of you give it a shot. I know a lot of you are extremely creative and I'd really like to have your art or photos hanging in my apartment.

I'll post pictures of anything I get in Flickr, so you can all be inspired by each other's creativity.

By the way, if anyone would like a photo or piece of art from me as a quid pro quo, I'm up for it. And at the very least, everyone who sends me something will get a (poorly) handmade Thank You card.

Huh

Well spank my ass and call me Sally. The old fogeys beat the youngsters. I'm shocked and amazed. Guile and experience beat youth and talent.

The game was brilliant, but I am so sore it isn't even funny. For me. For others, it's probably hilarious.

I pulled a muscle in my back and one in my forearm. My neck is stiff and won't bend quite right and my knees are a real mess. I also took two elbows to the head and one to the nose. No blood, though.

But I had so much fun today.

And we won.

Whee.

D'oh

One drink. A colleague was having a birthday party and I was going to have one drink then leave.

8 drinks later (3 ciders and 5 shots of vodka), I'm home, drunk, and ordering pizza. Lots of pizza.

Sigh.

Well, I'll be in great shape for tomorrow's rugby game (1 pm-ish on Randall's Island Field 19). Come for te laugh of me dragging my fat, hungover ass all up and down the pitch.

Truth is, we (the 'alumni' side) have been invited so the B-side can have one victory this year. We'll be getting our asses kicked by guys half our age.

So what? At least the drinks will be free. And if the boys on the B-side get their kicks beating a bunch of old men, well, more power to them.

Now I'm going to go watch, Dr. Who and BSG. Maybe I'll drunk dial a few of you, too.

The Rejection

This song has been in my head all day.

I just really enjoy the way the one line "I'd like to like you like you like me" sounds.

Of course, if it's still in my head by this evening I'll be sticking an ice pick in my temple, but whatever.

Busy

Been a little busy recently, so I haven't had time to post. Plus, I'm kind of lazy.

So here's a recap in reverse chron.

Lots of working out. A trip to Splash for Musical Monday. Broadway Flea Market. Rainy Days and Mondays at the Fringe Festival Encore. Oedipus for Kids at the NY Musical Theatre Festival. Work events. The Innovative Theatre Awards (an off-off Broadway award show). Drowsy Chaperone. Famous Author Rob Byrnes' book launch (go buy When the Stars Come Out).

Anyway. There you go.

Tagged

Sherry tagged me with a meme where you post five things to do in your city. Well, hello, I live in New York. There are probably indigenous people in the heart of the jungle who can come up with five things to do in New York. So I think I will make it more interesting by coming up with five things to do in my neighborhood of Astoria.

1. Visit the Socrates Sculpture Park.

2. Have a beer or eight at the Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden.

3. Stalk a cute cub.

4. Visit the American Museum of the Moving Image.

5. Eat some amazing Greek food (too many restaurants to possibly link to).

So there you have it.

As for the five bloggers I'm supposed to tag, I choose Jeff, Jeff, Tuna Girl, Scott and Knottyboy.

UPDATE: Hello, visitors from the Improv Resource Center.

Yea me!

Okay, I don't want to turn this into a weight loss blog, but I figure if I mention it from time to time, I'll have more incentive to keep up the good work.

As of today, I'm down 17 lbs. Slowly but surely.

Anyway, next week I start my weight-lifting routine, which will make me thinner, but will probably slow down the actual weight loss. I'm not going to worry about it.

I've made a few deals with myself about what I'm going to do once I hit my goal weight. First, I'm going to buy some nicer clothes. Like stylish, get-laid-when-you-go-to-the-bar, designer clothes. I'm tired of looking schlumpy.

And I'm getting a tattoo. I'm thinking of a double ouroborus (two entwined snakes in a circle, each one with the other's tail in its mouth). And maybe a second one which would be a celtic cross, if I don't cry like a little girl when I'm getting my first one. (Speaking of which, do any of you remember the episode of "Bosom Buddies" where Tom Hanks decides to get a tattoo to impress the girl that he likes? If you do, his reaction when the needle touches his skin (about 2:27 in the video clip) is what I fear my reaction will be.)

Anyway, that's majorly putting the cart before the horse. But it's fun to have a goal in mind.

What the cool kids are doing tonight

Thursday, September 14, 2006
6:00 PM - 9:00 PM
"When the Stars Come Out": The Launch Party at VLADA
331 West 51st Street
(betw. 8th and 9th avenues)
Manhattan

Another pet peeve

Bemused - bewildered, confused or lost in thought.

Amused - entertained, mirthful.

I'm reading some gay-themed young adult novels right now (I'm trying to write one and am getting a sense of the genre). The author whose books I'm currently reading uses bemused for amused with alarming frequency.

At first, I assumed it was on purpose. After two books where he does it repeatedly, I'm thinking it's not.

Would it be tacky to e-mail him and explain the difference? Or should I just give it up since no one at Simon & Schuster seems to have noticed either.

Do you have any similar pet peeves?

UPDATE: The author in question was Brian Sloan and the books were Tale of Two Summers and A Really Nice Prom Mess. Despite the bemused/amused thing, they were both good books. Sloan manages to create characters who really sound and act like teenagers; a rarity in young adult literature (at least based on what I've read so far). And the stories are amusing on top of that. In fact, I'd love to see A Really Nice Prom Mess as a film. Read them if you're interested in the genre.

And he's also the writer/director of the film WTC View which is on Logo now. I haven't seen it yet, but I intend to. But if I hear bemused used incorrectly . . .

9/11

I wrote it four years ago, posted it a couple of years ago. I'm posting it again because I'm too tired to write anything else. I hate this day.

September Morning

There were shoes everywhere
High-heels, clunky sandals, oxfords
Scattered among the briefcases, purses, gym bags
Anything that slowed us down

We ran in stocking feet
Through glass and metal, mud and ash
Not feeling the cuts
Not noticing the blood

How could we?

When all around was fire and smoke
Paper like rain, bodies like hail
The screams, the anguish, the chaos
What was our pain compared to that?

Only later, alone at home, safe
Could we look at our feet and guiltily wonder
How could something that tears open your soul
Leave such little marks?

And we're back . . .

Great vacation, but I'm exhausted.

I had a fun time, met some really cool people, shook hands with some celebrities, totally gave in to my sci-fi geek side, and all that jazz. I also have a new answer when people ask me the weirdest place I've ever had sex. Not that anyone has ever asked, come to think of it. But I'm ready in case they do.

Update from my awesome, awesome vacation

The score:

1/1/2005-8/31/2006: 0
9/1/2006-today: 3

If you can guess what those numbers indicate, you'll understand why I don't want to come back home.

Three. Three! Three!!!!!!!!

Resistance is futile

Oh, give me a home
Where the sci-fi geeks roam
And the Borg and the Peacekeepers play
Where Babylon 5
Is forever alive
And it's always Colonial Day

Home, home at the Con
Where a costume is just de rigueur
Watch vampires pounce
And George Takei flounce
While surrounded by Southern grandeur

Yes, I am that much of a geek. I'm already planning to attend a party for GLBT Star Trek fans, a Q&A with George Romero and Sam Raimi (even with my whole zombie thing), and (frak me) President Gaius Baltar's State of the Fleet Address. I'm even toying with going to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Senior Prom.

I suppose I should give up the hope of ever getting laid again and should move into my parent's basement. Thank God they have room for my graphic novels and action figures.

See you in a week or so. Live long and prosper.

Theatre

Last night I went to DiverseCity Theater Company's Equality Playwrights Festival at the Clurman Theatre. Four one-acts all having to do gender identity. While all four were interesting and good in their own way, one of them was pretty damn brilliant. Veils, by Joe Byers, was about a soldier in Iraq about to have his first sexual experience with a local prostitute. Given that this play is about gender identity, neither the soldier nor the prostitute is what they appear to be.

It was a great little play.

Two of the others, Onna Field by Stuart Harris, and Cold Flesh by Jorshinelle Taleon-Sonza, were okay. Interesting concepts, but I had problems with the writing. Onna Field had a lot of very stylized language that the actors seemed to stumble on from time to time. Cold Flesh had an interesting concept (a woman investigating her husband's suicide and finding out about his gay affairs), but it seemed a little too easy for the main character to find out the truth about his reasons. Imagine a Law and Order episode where the detectives ask the first suspect if he did it, and he confesses. Too much, too quickly. Maybe if it had been stretched into a full-length play and the wife had to do more digging; I'm not sure.

The final play, Clean Living by Robert Askins, was the only comedy of the evening. It took on the whole "don't ask, don't tell" issue in a new and rather amusing way. Plus, there was a naked redhead onstage the entire time, which is always a plus in my book.

In all four shows, the acting, directing and production values were strong. Well, I would have made some different choices as a director in some of the shows, but I feel that way about everything I see.

The festival runs through this weekend, I believe. If you get a chance, you should check it out.

Choices

While working out on the elliptical machine tonight, I was faced with two choices:

1) Watch the big TV screen which some mouth-breathing moron had tuned to Wife Swap;

or

2) Watch the perky asses of the hot dancer boys who were using the machines in front of me as they swayed seductively back and forth.

Wanna guess which I chose?

[title of post]

Last night I saw [title of show]. I loved it. I want to see it again and again.

A few thoughts:

1) I wish I'd written it.
2) Since I can't date Faustus (a funny, clever redhead), I want to date Hunter Bell (a funny, clever redhead).
3) The show introduced a new word into my lexicon: procrastibator. I would like that inscribed on my headstone.

Anyway, the show closes on Sept. 9th (I believe) so go see it if you haven't yet. Hell, go see it even if you have.

Help

To my readers who are (or were) in theatre: Does anyone have a translation of Pierre Marivaux's The Dispute that I could borrow?

I know it's unlikely, but I don't want to purchase one and I thought I'd try this first.

UPDATE: Never mind. The library has it. God, I love this city.

But I want it now!

So after three weeks of eating (sorta) right and working out, I'm down nine pounds.

Naturally, I'm despondent. I can't help but think that the folks on The Biggest Loser would have been down . . . I don't know . . . like 40 pounds in that amount of time.

Yes, I'm losing slowly which is better, yadda, yadda, yadda. But I want to be skinny now. Right now, this instant.

My former shrink saw unreasonable expectations as one of my problems. Gee, you think?

Anyway, we'll see how this goes.

Joke

This Hasidic Jew walks into a bar with a bright orange frog on his head. The bartender looks at him and says, "Where on earth did you get that?"

The frog answers, "Brooklyn. They're all over the place."

Ba dum bum.

My Year Sunday of New Things

As a nod to Erik's blog, I've decided to list the handful of new things I did Sunday.

1) Ate chicken feet at the Golden Palace while having dim sum with Jase, Brian and Patrick.

2) Went to Coney Island and walked the boardwalk.

3) Had pizza at Grimaldi's in Brooklyn.

4) Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.

It was a great weekend.

Venting

How fair is it that this cat received more press than any of my friends or family who've ever passed away?

I imagine when Baby Jessica passes on, there will be a national day of prayer and the flags will be at half-staff.

Last night

When I climbed the stairs out of the subway, the first thing I noticed was the flashing light. It looked like a Hollywood premiere.

I had my umbrella, but the rain hadn't started, so I was fine. But the lightning. It was like a sci-fi movie. Jagged spears everywhere, immediate booms of thunder. People were stopped on the sidewalks looking at the clouds. A couple of people had cameras out.

By the time I'd reached my street, the lightning and thunder had me rattled. Too close, too loud. A block away from my house, the rain started. Fat, heavy drops. By the time I had my umbrella opened, it was pouring. The wind whipped the rain sideways, catching my umbrella and rendering it useless. I ran the half-block down to my apartment. When I reached the scaffolding, I was dripping wet and my shoes were filled with water.

Once safely indoors, I looked out and marveled at the rain and the wind. The streets were filled with water and leaves. The wind tore at the branches and awnings. I could hear the pings as small hailstones bounced off my air conditioner.

Needless to say, I didn't make it to the gym.

This morning I noticed that the Lutheran church across the street had been cordoned off. Safety tape around the building, wooden barriers blocking the sidewalk and part of the street. My first thought was a bomb scare. Then I noticed the twin spires at the front of the church were no longer twins. One was now shorter than the other. And large pieces of carved stone had gouged chunks out of the pavement, ripped limbs from the surrounding trees and crushed the wrought-iron fence. I don't know if it was the wind or the lightning, but it's amazing what one relatively quick storm can do.

One other thing

Re: the whole blowing up airplanes thing.

I'm not good when it comes to flying. Haven't been since I was a kid.

When I was in my 20s, I was on a plane that hit an air pocket an dropped a fairly insane distance. That made things ever so much worse. From that point, even a little turbulence could make me start to panic.

But I dealt with it.

Then came 9/11.

At that point, flying became terrifying for me. I started having panic attacks while I was flying. If I fell asleep while flying, I would wake in a panicked state, sure that we were about to crash.

Since I couldn't deal with it, I let science help me out. I started flying with Prince Valium.

Now I take my Valium and use a pair of the noise-reducing headphones with my Walkman (yes, Walkman . . . not everyone has an iPod). Flying is actually fine, and from time to time is even fun.

The events in London (real or not . . . I'll leave that to the conspiracy theorists) may have screwed that up for me. Once again, I will be very worried while I fly and there is the possibility that I will be forced to give up my music and magic headphones. I'll basically be screwed.

I can't wait for the development of transporter technology.

Pretend I wrote something clever here

Last night I went to the gym considerably later than normal. I usually come home, grab a bite, and hit the gym around 7 or so. Last night I didn't get there until 9. Little did I know that the hotties come out at night. Seriously, there was so much eye candy, my workout flew by. And redheads. There were several really hot redheads.

That's the strange thing about my neighborhood. It's hopping at night. Restaurants are always packed with people at 10 or 11 p.m. Even during the week.

Ah well, considering the number of OTB Europeans, I suppose it's no surprise. But it makes me feel tired just thinking about it.

That being said however, my new workout time is officially 9 p.m.

And speaking of douchebags . . .

I have recently returned from a trip to Jesusland where I attended my high school reunion. Twenty years on and the popular assholes are still assholes, they're just fatter and wrinkly. On the flip side, the ones who were put upon and made fun of are really blossoming. I spent the evening talking to a girl who I was in band with. She is now a chef, looks stunning and is married to a comedian/writer who has an Emmy and is about to get his own series on Comedy Central.

It was one of those karmic victories.

I hope every single one of those bitches who were mean to her back in high school were eating their hearts out. Though she did seem pleased that one of the girls actually apologized for the way she treated her.

While it would have been nice if one or two of the people who made my life miserable back then had apologized to me, I will simply take comfort in the knowledge that I have a pretty fucking amazing life.

In Vino Douchebagitas

Or as we say in English, "In wine, douchebaggery."

Sometimes, while drinking, I say things I come to regret later (or even instantly). And when I examine the situations leading up to saying something I regret, invariably, I find I have only you, my reading public, to blame.

For why were you not at the bar keeping me from drinking? Why did you not nudge me under the table and say "Dude, shut the fuck up."? Indeed, why were you not there?

"Oh," I hear you say, "I have a job and can't watch over you 24/7." "Oh," you whine, "I live across a continent/ocean." "Oh, I only read your blog every month or two."

Feh! That's right, I said "Feh!" You only make excuses because you know, deep in your heart of hearts, that I'm right.

Well, at least I can sleep easy knowing that I was not being an asshole this evening; you were allowing me to be an asshole by your negligence.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Pet Peeve

The following words are not interchangeable:

Blond and blonde
Brunet and brunette
Masseur and masseuse

and I'm sure I'm out of fashion with this one:

Actor and actress

Well, that's it for today.

Another meme

From Rick:

Things always in my backpack:
1. Notebook and pen
2. Umbrella
3. Checkbook
4. Business cards
5. Cell phone

Things in my wallet:
1. Receipts
2. Credit cards
3. Book/play/article ideas I've scribble on scrap paper and don't want to lose
4. Driver’s License
5. Money

Things in my fridge:
1. Hard cider
2. Jell-O
3. Apples
4. Milk
5. Two cartons of eggs that expired in May

Things in my closet:
1. My skinny clothes
2. Guest bed
3. Rugby gear
4. Ugly shoes
5. Rugs

Things in my car:
Well, my car is a subway so here goes
1. Street people
2. Fast food remains
3. Unidentifiable odors
4. People with iPods
5. Attitude

Things on my desk:
1. Monitor
2. Books
3. Pens
4. CDs
5. Broadway Bares program

Affirmations

This morning on my way into work, I ran into a co-worker. We chatted about the (horrible, disgusting) weather and she mentioned that she had an affirmation that she uses on days like this "the weather is like a hug." In effect, making something positive out of a hot, humid negative.

That led me to think that I need an affirmation. I started with "Adversity leads to growth." But that sounded too Dr. Phil.

That's when I came up with "I am a strong, black woman and ain't nobody gonna keep me down!"

That was followed by a giggle fit in the (very crowded) elevator.

Five Questions

A while back, RcktMan Rick asked me five interview questions. I'm finally getting around to answering them. You can all stop holding your breath now.

Rick is a pretty amazing guy. I wish I knew some way to ease the pain he's going through now, but the best I can do is say that he is in my thoughts. And in a break from my usual style, I'm going to try to answer these honestly as possible. I may even manage not to sound whiny or glib.

1. In one of your recent posts, you talk about being hit on at a bar, and then you list the requirements for someone to date you. All kidding aside (as I am quite sure you weren't serious when you wrote that, because in my cynical mind, I think a lot of the same things about myself), what are the REAL things that you hope for in a dating relationship?

Yep. Clearly the list was a joke, born out of all the bad relationships (real and imagined) that I've had in the past. More than anything, I just want someone who makes me want to be a better person. Not that the guy wants or needs me to be different, but that I love him so much and am so secure in our relationship that I can let go of all the baggage that I've been carrying around for so long and can be myself, whoever that may turn out to be. My great fear is that I won't find a person like that, or worse, that it's some sort of pipe dream that I've created from a steady diet of TV and movies. But I think I've seen it in some of the couples I know.

I'd also like someone who has some of the same interests I do, but different ones, too. And that he enjoys teaching me about the things he loves that I've never experienced as much as he enjoys learning from me.

And maybe someone adventurous. Not sky-diving adventurous necessarily, but more adventurous than me. Someone who would push me beyond my comfort zone and help me grow.

2. You mentioned in another post that you have dreams where you are visited by your late grandfather. I have had similar dreams as well, only they are with my grandmother. I visit her in her second to last apartment (the one I liked the best) and we just sit and talk, although I can never remember what we talk about when I wake up. What would you like to talk to your grandfather about, and why do you think he wants to talk to you?

It may sound odd, but it's not really about talking to my grandpa. It's about being around him. He gave the best hugs in the world. He's been gone for twenty years now, but I can still feel them, as though he were still here. They felt like safety and unconditional love and comfort and everything good in the world. A part of me hopes that heaven is simply that, a hug from my grandpa.

As for what he wants to talk to me about, or why I've been dreaming of him, I don't know. Could it be him (or my subconscious using him as a symbol) telling me to calm down and not worry about things in my life? Possibly. Whatever it is, I take some comfort in seeing him, even if it's just in a dream.

3. You're in the middle of a pretty intense job search right now. I feel your pain about your current job, because I have felt extremely under-appreciated for the last few years but I simply HATE the thought of having to update (in this case, re-write) my resume, hunt for job openings, and pound the pavement looking for something better. What are the three top requirements you have for a new position, and why would they help you choose whether or not the company is right for you?

Well, that has hopefully become a moot point with my decision to return to grad school. But assuming it hadn't, the main thing for me at this point is that the job be in theatre or the arts. I am so sick of working for a soulless corporation. It would be a lot less money and a lot more work, but I would love to feel passionate about my job for a change.

So, quick answer: 1) in the arts, 2) makes me feel passionate, 3) good people.

In the arts because that's my background. Makes me feel passionate because life is too short to spend 8-10 hours a day feeling miserable. And good people because I want and need to be surrounded by people like that.

4. Your blog name, Crash and Byrne, seems to be the running theme throughout your blog persona. Do you really feel that life is full of 'Crashing' and 'Burning'? How do you rebuild yourself after a 'Crash and Burn' episode?

Crash and Byrne is not something that I put much conscious thought into. Clearly, it's a pun on my name, but really, it was the only thing I could think of. Well, I could have chosen Byrne, Baby, Byrne. But that hated song has been dogging me since elementary school, so it wasn't really an option.

When forced to examine the idea of crashing and burning, though, I suppose you could say it's one of my big fears. Failure. Embarrassment. Feeling ridiculous. Taking a risk and having it blow up in my face. It's paralyzing most of the time. That's why I think I've been in a holding pattern for the last decade, doing as little as possible, taking as few risks as possible, trying to be invisible. In ten years, the only daring thing I did was start playing rugby and even that tanked, mostly through self-sabotage. Whenever a play starts going well, I quit writing it. Or if I do finish one and send it out, the first rejection I get ruins it for me and sends me into a spiral of self-loathing. It's really fucked up.

And based on past experience, I don't really do well after a true crash and burn episode. I'm still really fucked up over a relationship that I had in college. There are things I refuse to do because someone at some time made fun of me for doing them. I live in dread fear of being talked about or laughed at. Normal people move past these things. I wish to God I knew how to.

5. Your use of sarcasm makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. I fully believe that sarcasm is our friend. Do you subscribe to that notion?

Sarcasm and humor are our friends, however they can also be defense mechanisms. It's either make them laugh at someone else so they won't hurt you, or hurt yourself so they don't get to draw first blood. The problem for me is turning it off. Not just when I direct it at my friends and hurt them when I don't mean to, but the constant barrage of sarcastic comments that I throw at myself.

To make an odd and kinda gay analogy, humor for me is The Great and Mighty Oz. Usually I use it when I don't want people to look at the frail old man cowering behind the curtain.

-Fin-

And there we have it. Five questions answered. And, my, oh my, didn't it turn a little dark there toward the end? I think I avoided whiny and glib, but it seemed to have landed me smack dab in the briar patch of my mind. Well, what the hell, those of you who know me probably realize I'm a little fucked up. Those of you who don't . . . feh, what do you care?

Rick, I hope this was what you had in mind. I bet you're sorry you didn't ask the "what kind of tree would you be" question.

Anyway, since this is a meme, I am posting the rules. If you'd like to be interviewed, here's what you do.

So now it's your turn: here are the rules!

If you wish to participate, leave a comment saying, 'interview me'.

I will ask you five questions - totally different from the ones I was asked.

You update your journal or blog with the answers to the questions.

You include this explanation of the rules and an offer to interview others in the same post.

When others comment asking to be interviewed, you ask them five new questions.

Grad School

Things I will have to do in order to apply for Ph.D. programs:

1) Take the fucking GRE again. Probably next month, which means I need a refresher soon. Luckily, I aced the test last time . . . of course that was 16 or so years ago.

2) Get letters of recommendation from two professors to whom I haven't spoken in a decade. Naturally, the person who is most qualified to write a letter on my behalf died in 2004.

3) Prepare a writing sample. Of course, they want scholarly writing and a rather substantial amount. So I can't use any of my plays (creative writing) or any of my theater reviews (too short and not scholarly). The last paper like this that I wrote was a history of swimwear. It sucked. I have no clue what I'm going to do about this.

I'm a little freaked right now.

Pop Quiz

Pick up your pens and open your blue books. This essay will count for one fourth of your semester grade.

Essay topic: Crash, fed up with the job search and dealing with all the bullshit at work, has decided to start applying for Ph.D programs. Is he insane? Be sure to use examples to justify your opinion (good starting points are the fact that students can't afford to pay rent and his rapidly advancing age).

Okay. At first, I just started looking into local Ph.D programs as sort of a 'one of these days I'll go back'. Then I couldn't come up with a decent reason not to do it now. I mean, if I apply now, I won't be starting until Fall 2007 anyway. And when I bounced the idea off my folks, they were really excited.

Is this really something I can do? I am terrified by change.

And, on a different note, a while back Rick posted some questions for me to answer. Then he went of vacation, so I held off answering. Those of you who read his blog (and you all should, he's a good writer) know what happened next. As you can imagine, I haven't felt that I should hurry and answer his questions. Now that he's back, I will. I'll post them tomorrow.

Confidential to Palochi

Palochi, I just found this online dating site, but I couldn't find your profile. I ran searches for ones containing "Starbuck" and "Crichton", but no luck.

For those of you who are free tomorrow

Really busy

I've been freakishly busy lately, but I will try to do some blogging soon.

In the meantime, here is a funny thing. I saw a job listing today seeking a "jack-off-all-trades."

I would totally apply if it were a job for a "jack-off-all-trades-as-long-as-they're-reasonably-attractive."

AVP March Addendum

Amusingly, there is a photo from the march with me in it on Towleroad. Probably the one and only time I'll ever be on it. An A-Lister I am not.

Weekend

Turns out it was a really good weekend.

I met up with FARB and his boys after work on Friday. I was just meeting them to pick up some samplers featuring his new novel, but I wound up staying for a couple of hours. It was great. Left to my own devices, I tend to be a hermit, and it was really nice to have some interaction.

Plus I had a guy hit on me, which is always a nice ego boost. However, as is typical, as soon as someone shows the slightest interest in me, I get hit with a feeling akin to the old Groucho Marx line "I'd never join a country club that would have someone like me as a member." So basically, I'd never date anyone who would date someone like me.

As a brief aside, if you would like to date me, here is the best way to approach it, based on what seems to have attracted me to guys in the past: Be completely aloof and disdainful; Give me just enough hope that there might be a future for us that I'll be willing to pay for everything; Tell me you love me when no one is around, but treat me like shit in public; Tell me you'd totally be into me if I weren't _____ [fill in the blank with something cruel and personal, and come up with something new each time you say it]; Tell me that you're not into me, but show up at my place everytime you're drunk and need to get off.

So, long story short, if you treat me with kindness or tell me you like me, you can expect me to disappear with a little puff of dust like a Warner Brothers character.

So where was I?

After a fun happy hour(s), I headed back to watch the Doctor Who marathon on the SciFi channel. I tell you, I'm just a hair's-breadth away from turning into one of those guys who dresses up as a scifi character and goes to Cons.

Maybe for the next one I can dress up like D'Argo. Palochi, do you still have your Chiana costume?

So Saturday I went to the AVP march and rally. Good, though I really expected more people. Three gay bashings in one week? I would have thought this would make people angry. I guess not. At least I got to hang out with Jase and Charles.

After the rally, I went to work for the rest of the day. Weekends are the only time I can work without constant interruptions.

Sunday was all about cooking and cleaning. Then I went to the midnight performance of Broadway Bares, which was great. Once again, I saw Jase and Charles. I heard Matt and Kevin were there, too, but I didn't see them. I also ran into Patrick and Karen as they were leaving the earlier performance. Bares was fantastic (even better than last year's) and the special guests (Cyndi Lauper, Alan Cumming, Fran Drescher . . . um . . . and others). It was a great time with lots of hot men and women, all in various stages of undress. And they had rocking bodies. I would absolutely love to date a dancer. But, you know, only if he treats me badly. I do have my standards, after all.

Anti-Violence March

The NYC Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project will be holding a march and rally tomorrow to protest the recent attacks in the East Village and Astoria.

People will be meeting at 2 p.m. at 14th and 1st Ave. I hope I'll see some of you there.

Pride Dance

If any of you New York bloggers are interested in attending the Pride Dance on the Pier on the 25th, but don't want to spend the money for tickets, I'm looking for some volunteers to help staff one of the bars at the event.

If you're interested, drop me a line.

Job search

I applied for two jobs in the last two days (I'm working on the assumption that the bad interview I mentioned previously pretty much scuttled that job). I would be great for both of them, but I'm concerned that neither one will be able to get near my current salary.

But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I have 9 more job openings to apply for (and two or three more that I identified, but haven't researched yet).

Keep your fingers crossed.

Off to a good start

Which is worse?

1. Singing to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught?

2. Singing to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught by a really cute guy?

3. Singing '. . . Baby One More Time' by Britney Spears to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught by a really cute guy?

This is why I never get laid.

Well, okay, it's one of many reasons.

At least I wasn't doing choreography.

It's the little things

So last night was the awards event that our company does every year (though it appears this will be the last one . . . but that's another story). My boss got up there to begin his comments and started by thanking all the people that helped put the event together.

Well, all but one of the people who put the event together.

I'm sure you see where this is going.

Dude, where's my liver?

Tonight is the first official night of GB:NYIII (or GB:NY Trinity or GB:NY Electric Boogaloo or GB:NY Return of the Muppet on Crack).

Anyhoo.

Barrage, 47th and 9th Ave., 7-ish. Should be fun. I imagine there will be some drinking and some nudity involved.

It just keeps getting better and better . . .

Today I found out that my office has approved a raise for me. This should, I imagine, bring my salary more in line with the others who do my job, even though I also imagine it won't take into account the fact that I've been doing this job for nearly a decade and due to my experience should be making more than the others.

Okay, fine, whatever.

But here's the fun part. The only reason I found out that I'd been approved for a raise is that my boss let me know that it had been frozen indefinitely while my department goes through a shakeup.

As soon as I get an offer, I'm out of here.

Bingham Cup II

There is a really good article about the cup (with photos) at Outsports. Also, my friend Stuff, who's in China right now, said there was a news report on TV over there. Weird, no?

Bingham Cup

I'm sunburnt and thoroughly exhausted, but I had a great weekend. While Gotham didn't do as well as I'd hoped, they played hard and are much stronger as a team. Now we just have to start working toward winning Bingham 2008. At least the SF Fog didn't win; the Sydney Convicts did. Since they were rather attractive and friendly, I'm okay with that.

The various events were okay, though extremely expensive ($9 for a mixed drink?!?!). Needless to say, I'll be conserving my money for a while.

The closing night party at Webster Hall was a lot of fun; I even danced, which I rarely ever do.

Now it's time to start getting in shape for the fall season. Come hell or high water, I plan on playing.

I'm stuck here forever

So after three really good interviews at the new company, the last, and sadly most crucial, had me basically looking like a glorified secretary. It's a bad start when the guy who is interviewing you, and who is the one who will ultimately decide if you get hired, starts by saying, "I want an attorney in this position, why should I give it to you instead?"

I can do my job. I'm really good at my job. I've won awards for doing my job. So why in the fuck can't I seem to explain why I'm good at my job?

If I can hold on through the night . . .

Last night I watched the first half of The Poseidon Adventure, killing time while waiting for Lost to start.

I realized that I am turning into Red Button's character, Mr. Martin: alone, odd, fussy (though, God willing, I will never wear a cravat). Granted, I'm built more like Ernest Borgnine or Shelly Winters, but in the water, I'm a very skinny lady.

P.S. Did anyone else think that Roddy McDowall looked kinda hot in that movie? No? Okay, it was just me, I guess.

Hog Heaven

This weekend not only features the Bingham Cup Rugby Tournament (which, alas, I am not competing in . . . didn't make the cut this year) but it also is the first weekend of Fleet Week.

Six hundred gay rugby players, probably an equal number of closeted sailors, and I still probably won't get laid.

Maybe I should just go to seminary.

What's the word I'm looking for . . . ?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And that, gentle readers, is my day in a nutshell.

Rugby

Last night I remembered why I like to play rugby. Very few things feel better than grabbing some guy around the thighs and smashing him into the mud. Since this was only my third practice this season and I haven't played any games in quite a while, I haven't done any tackling in a long time. It's physically demanding. It hurts. But, God in heaven, it rocks.

After last night's practice, I was bleeding, bruised and dirty. I was also exhausted from all the running. But I felt good. Elated. After I showered and put ointment on my cuts (the soil on Randall's Island is basically half toxic mud and half goose shit), I felt the best I have in a long time.

I also slept better last night than I have in months.

Granted, when I woke up this morning, I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. My right knee doesn't seem to want to bend. I have a welt on my thigh that is turning all sorts of interesting colors. My legs are scraped up. My shoulder is red and tender. My biceps just plain hurt. And my back has more knots than an Afgan rug. But despite all that (and maybe because of it), I still feel great.

I have a lot of training to do before fall season, but for the first time in a while, I'm really looking forward to it.

I Kind of Miss the Zombies

As has been mentioned on these pages (screens?) numerous times, when my mind is in turmoil, I have zombie dreams.

Well, that seems to have changed. Recently, I've started getting visits from my dead grandfather. I'm not sure what the dreams mean or even what has been happening in them. Like a light frost at daybreak, these dreams melt away once I begin to wake up. All I'm left with is a sense of longing and an undercurrent of dread.

Recently death seems to be playing a big part of my dreams. I wish I knew what was up with that.

Spell Check, stat!

From the New York Times online edition (I won't link since they'll probably fix it quickly):

U.S. Restores Dimplomatic Ties to Libya
By JOHN O'NEIL
Published: May 15, 2006

Dimplomacy - The art or practice of conducting international relations, as in negotiating alliances, treaties, and agreements, using nothing but a cute smile.

Empty Wallet

I discovered a Michael's, Home Depot, Staples and Best Buy all within walking distance (a bit of a hike, but not too bad) of my apartment. Between this discovery and the fact that I spent the weekend cleaning and organizing, my apartment is starting to look pretty good.

I also took some art to a framing store so I'll actually have something on the walls soon.

Soon I may even start having people over for dinner or movies.

Well, baby steps.

So f*cking tired

I'm so tired. I can't seem to fall asleep. I'm swamped at work. I've got a bunch of reviews to write. I've got a bunch of other writing to do.

Arrggh.

I need a vacation.

In the news

The Associated Press had an article about Lewis, a cat that has been terrorizing its neighbors.

Here is some of the text:

The neighbors said Lewis' long claws, along with catlike stealth, have allowed the cat to attack at least a half dozen people and ambush the Avon lady as she was getting out of her car.

Catlike? It's not catlike . . . it's a cat. Does no one use the word 'feline' any more?