all is fair in love and war

had a lovely afternoon with marge and the dogs, four huge laundry loads and all. rainy and ick all day long, but it gave me a chance to test out my spankin' new digital cam. i have to say, i'm 35mm loyal at this point: just not impressed with digital. yes, will unload some crapola on ebay, hence the purchase (well, and to play around new jack, i suppose), but otherwise, i'm not sold. gimme a 12mp, well, we'll talk. 5 is pointless.

and to that point (that's a good corporate america-ism, by the way), i entered two photographs into a competition. (special thanks to easterisland who hooked me up with mattes... that saved me a buck or two... or ninety...) i am not too keen on the ones i entered, and am not getting stupidly optimistic, but no worries: i support the arts and if the entrance fee gets me nothing more than the satisfaction in knowing that some thirteen-year-old will take an art class this summer underwritten by the council that sponsors the competition, well, i'm kinda happy about that.

so tonight, will i hit the open bar at the design show, a drag queen's birthday, or random-guy-from-the-gym's party? random-guy is kind of ambiguous: he and i met one day on the weights floor, he asking me about my ipod mini. (because ipod minis are rare, mind you.) well, months of nothing more than, 'hey' in the locker room or elsewhere at the gym, we're not exactly friends or even friendly. he has been getting on treadmills next to me lately, as we're clearly on the same lunchtime workout schedule. yesterday was kind of an anomaly: i'm arriving as he's mid-change. it was about 60 degrees, more actually, and i was all about doing my loop-and-then-some in the park. he was getting into track pants when i walk in:

'[evan!]'
'hey buddy.' [he completely forgot my name. i am having fun with this.]
'how's it going? well, i hope.'
'yeah, good stuff. so, let me ask you, you're like a runner and shit, right?'
'eh? i guess. i run, so, yeah, i guess so.'
'yeah, i do what i think is a good pace, i think, and i'm on the treadmill next to you and you're blazing. how long have you been doing that?'
[taking undies off, putting on running shorts, he getting squirly and eyes darting everywhere.]
'um, long enough. going to do the loop. join me?'
'nah, it looks like it may rain again. i don't want to get all wet.'
'and you'll take a shower when you get back, no?'
'this is true...'
[random queen listening in laughs.]
'so, i get on the treadmill and think i'm doing a good pace and you're on like 10, and i'm on like 6.5, you run a lot?'
'i guess. good plans this weekend?'
'i'm throwing my friend a party in [times square.]'
'sounds like a good time.'
'hey, well, if you're bored, maybe you can stop by? bring whoever you want, it will be a good time.'

ok, here is the thing. he and i took the subway once last fall, we chatted and he mentioned his 'ex-girlfriend who, thank god, [he] didn't marry' and i cannot help to wonder if it's a thankgodididn'tmarryher because he came out or because he found more appealing puss elsewhere. honestly, i don't care, but it's more the principle than anything else. despite, i'm kind of intrigued why he'd invite a complete stranger from the gym, a guy whose name he doesn't even remember, to a birthday.

despite, tonight's plans are most up in the air. any of the above will result in a story i'd think... unless i fall dead asleep after putting some crap on ebay with my shiny new digital cam? it could go either way, really..............

'it's 1015 on a friday night...'

oh happy birthday, marge! cheers to all good things on the, um, well whatever it is anniversary of your turning twenty-one. a natal celebration to be had by all!

quite a day. i think i can say, without hyperbole, that i did nothing today but write, play on photoshop, and email with friends. bosslady out malaised (attending to the youngin', no doubt) and bigbossman was equally as bored and called me into his (fabulous corner) office to hang out. talked him out of putting some bullshit in my department and, thus, not to be handled by my 'group.' i'm pretty smooth at talking people into, or out of, things. i mean, i can't well write all day and take two hour lunches to run in the park (lovely run, while i'm on it) when i have real work to do, now can i? clearly these people don't have the same priorities as do i. i suppose that was my good (and only) deed of the day.

and for what it's worth, if god had an enema, he'd stick it between 23rd and 59th streets. my two cents.

on the venerable long island railroad, second weekend in a row, and, for once, have nothing to say about the locals. quiet. got my own seat. express to marge's. well, transferred at jamaica (mon) for the espresso, and the ride to jamaica (mon) was rather unfortunate, but merely a speed bump in the way. fell into a standing room only crowd (but then i did board the 830 at 829) and got next to the only other person in the world i've ever seen, other than me, whose hair is dark blonde but who grows a red beard. yes, he clearly wants down the skank's pants with whom he's been talking, and she clearly wants down his: 'nooo, me and the skater are like kaput since the macy's incident, i mean, hel-LOW!' 'yeah, well i think he's a fool.' 'i think he's a fool, too! do you really think he's a fool?' they're in the railroad restroom as we speak, i'm sure. despite, i kind of wanted to ask him about his beard, but since i'm growing my hair out for the first time since i was [this] many years old, i think i'm going to keep with the harrystudsvideo.com theme and grow a beard back, too. what the hell, i hate shaving and it is a theme after all...

and speaking of shaving... so, as i'm partly an eye-talian (i really, really hate that, by the way), i hit puberty like a brick wall in the eighth grade which is when i started shaving. no, clearly not every day or even every other day, but i was called 'stache' by the kids at the now defunkt st. joe's. even got a disposable razor for my birthday that year by one of my classmates, a pilferage from daddy's pack, i'd imagine. but, still and for all, when i hit puberty, i hit it hard: i've been cutting myself every other day (cuz every other day growth is sexy) for the past, oh, sixteen years. time to hibernate for the winter that we're hellbent on not getting endowed to us this year... down with haircuts, down with shaving... i'm going to be a hairy bastard, and i'm liking the thought of it.

red, not kidding. wait and see.

(what's that smell?)

i can only imagine how greenpoint, and parts of the bronx do on this little toy

spring cleaning

three of my friends are getting this by friday if they don't get it together stat:

dear ___,

thank you for the past ___ (months / years) being my (friend / friend with benefits / drinking buddy / acquaintance / other).

as a result of some recent (conversations / non-conversations / co-pays to shrink), i am recognizing our relationship as being one sided and borderline unhealthy, and, thus, think it's mentally healthiest to sever ties effective immediately.

cheers to all good things to you in your future endeavors--

--t

(and some people say i'm abrasive, imagine!)

someone paid me the most wonderful and sincere complement today

had a fan-fucking-tastic weekend. did the motherland thing and chilled with my chilled dogs, hit tar-zhay not once, but twice, and headed back to kip's birthday extravaganza last night. lafonda called me earlier in the day, 'it's impromptu and totally just put together, um, well, about ten minutes ago, but if you're around, come on out.' 'sorry, lafonda, i've got plans tonight. but we'll get together soon.' text from kip: '[friend from college] you're in [napoleon's] neighborhood. [napoleon,] meet [friend from college.]' he comes over, had some beers, 'what do you mean you're missing kip's birthday, you must come out.' ok... and what a wonderful fucking night it was, wow. i've left out all the good details, just in case a member of the law comes across this... ;-) otherwise, lafonda, you throw a hell of a party, and happy birthday, kip...

saw some friends this evening, and one comes up to me with 'a little something:' he took the photo i used for his christmas card this year, not even a good one, just one i knew he'd appreciate, went to a photo place, and had a copy blown up for himself. since the reproduction came out well, he made one for me. 'i thought you'd like it. it's a wonderful shot, i just had to make it bigger.'

i'm speechless. what a wonderful beginning to the week.