BEGINNINGS : My Next Door Sexghbor

Sent: 7/31/2001 12:45 PM

I don't know about you, but it makes me kind of uncomfortable hearing people having sex in the next room. Oh, don't get me wrong, I don't mind at all. In fact, I think more people should have sex. It's just I get this feeling of, "How can I keep from listening to this?" I feel so intrusive, for some reason.

When I lived in Chelsea, I lived next door to a girl named Jennifer. She was subletting from Paul, a dancer who took frequent trips to Germany and such. Well, Jennifer was quite the little lover. She was quite the LOUD little lover. For some time, I thought she must have been a prostitute. I couldn't imagine that she wasn't making any money from her performance. And performance is exactly what it was. Her shudders and squeals were almost perfectly timed with such intense volume, that she just had to have been playing to the back of the house (as I used to hear when I was acting). And, since there was no applause following, I assumed she must have been accepting cash.

But the more frequently it happened, the more I wondered if she really was performing. Was there anyone with her at all during these moments of ecstasy? I found a new respect for her. If she wasn't performing and those moans and hollers were genuine, then she must have really known herself, so to speak.

After one instance, I heard her clatter around in the kitchen and then go to the door to leave. I jumped up and ran to my peep-hole. Now, I would know exactly who, if anyone, she was dancing with. As I looked through, a man appeared at her doorway. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, short, with a wide smile, looking very satisfied and relaxed. Jennifer followed just after. I studied her face as she locked the door. She didn't look quite as satisfied and relaxed as her beau, but there was a pleasant look in her smile just the same.

I shut the peep-hole. All questions seemed answered. No, Jennifer was not a prostitute; however, yes, Jennifer was performing. No, Jennifer didn't know herself as well as I had thought, but, yes, she did know how to show someone a good time. No, Jennifer was not having an orgasm; however, yes, her friend was.

There were none of these questions last night as I tried to go to sleep while occasionally hearing a moan or two from the other room, mostly because I found the answer in cranking up the radio and letting my music drown out any queries.

BEGINNINGS : Living Vicariously

Sent: 7/29/2001 11:48 PM

Okay, so I couldn't resist telling a story that my sister told me:

Tara went down to Gulf Shores recently for a vacation. It was some major fun in the sun, or so she says. She says she going to write me a letter all about it. It's okay Tara, I can imagine. Let's just say she had a good time. She and her friends got to know quite a few people around the town. They were 'socialites' as it were and image is everything. Okay, that was Chad talking. Just butting in. Keep going. One night . . .

Going clubbing later that night, Tara had dressed in a little black top with a gold snake on the front with a ruby eye. She liked the shirt. She thought she looked really good in it. She smiled at herself in the mirror. What a great find!

She and two other friends were driving down the street, feeling pretty siked about the night. They were rolling down the windows. They were letting their hair down. They were excited about being out on the town. And, they were also really hungry. So they stopped off at a little restaurant on the way. It was one of those restaurants where they knew they could get some good fish and perhaps a nice beverage. But it was just a pit stop on the way to fun.

They walked in the door. A blonde blueeyed Floridian hostess approached them. "Three." one of Tara's friends said. The hostess smiled revealing every 55 teeth she had in her mouth, checked her list, looked around, grabbed three menus and then said, "Right this way." Suddenly, Tara felt a little funny. Suddenly, it seemed like the restaurant grew very quiet just before this man yelled out, "What? Is that a gold turd on your shirt?"

As the words, "gold turd" richoted in Tara's brain, she spun around to find that all eyes were on her. Everyone was examining the front of her shirt. Behind the screening made of hand, a woman whispered something to her husband.

Tara backed away from all the eyes. Then quickly followed her friends to the table. She noticed the restaurant turning to look at her while she passed them. Their necks like giraffes. They were all straining for a look at that gold turd on her shirt.

Tara sat at the table and noticed all the commotion around her. Everyone looking. That asshole, she thought to herself trying to pull her attention from everyone looking for the gold turd. One of her friends had opened a menu, "So, what are you guys gonna have?" Tara looked at her. "What?" she said, surprised and shocked. Her friend looked at her curiously, "What are you going to have for dinner?" she said.

Closing her menu, Tara looked at both of them. She took a brief look around to make sure no waiters were listening. "Did you hear that guy ask me if that was a gold turd on my shirt?"

"Yeah." one said. "Yeah, I heard him." The other stated while pushing her water glass towards the salt shaker.

"WELL?" Tara asked, flabbergasted.

"Well what?"

Tara began in a whisper "Well, that man just asked me why I had a gold turd on my shirt. I don't know why, but I think that's a big deal. I think it's a big deal because, number one, he asked it rather loudly. Everyone in the restaurant heard him blurt out," she whispered softly, 'Why do you have a gold turd on your shirt.' He pratically yelled it. Everyone heard him. And number two, this isn't a turd! This is a snake with a ruby red eye."

"Really?" one friend laughed examining it, "I always thought it was a dragon."

After a moment of silently glaring, Tara said softly but firmly, "No. This is a gold snake with a ruby red eye. Dragons have feet. You'll notice that this gold snake does not have feet; therefore, it couldn't be a dragon."

Tara sighed, "Now everyone in this restaurant is wondering if I really do have a gold turd on my shirt," she talked a little loudly, "which I do not, thank you very much."

"Tara, that guy is crazy. Do you really care about what he thinks about your shirt?"

Tara looked at her friend, "No, no I don't. It's just that . . . "

"Then shut-up, open your menu and choose something to eat, I'm starving."

BEGINNINGS : 1) Where is he? 2) Souls

Sent: 7/29/2001 1:38 AM

Okay friends. Here are the two things I want to talk to you about tonight: 1) Where is he? 2) Souls.

Let's start with number 2 because I hate it when you start with number one. Why do we have to always start with number 1? I say we start with number 2 for a change. See, I root for the underdog in that way. Okay, so Number 2 is Souls. I was just out on my fire-escape and looking off into Queens.

Lights in windows. People behind panes shaded from my view, living their own lives, lives that I really knew nothing about. The fading blue sky beyond the TV antenne from the rooftops showed the existance of our longing to know about each other. It was such a unique night. And suddenly I got this flash of a picture in my mind.

It was like I had traveled back in time for just one short instance of a memory. I was in a tractor-trailer playing in beans. Gosh, I don't know how old I was? I played in the recently harvested soybeans a lot growing up. But in this memory I looked down at my hands. And there on my . . . well, did I know the right from the left at that age, there on my right hand was the little reminder that the other one was the left. There was a little faint pink birthmark on that hand in the upperleft corner. Okay, now I'm even a little confused. Anyway, it must have meant that I was about 4 years old.

A memory from when I was 4 years old had made it's long journey back into my present memory. But, only lasting a flash of a second, before I knew it, I was back sitting on my fire escape in New York City watching dusk fall upon the neighborhood. As those two collided, as soon as that old memory registered in my present mind, I realized just what I had done for my soul. You're getting closer, soul. Don't worry. I might not get you all the way there, but next time around you're going to be on some strong footing, so there will be no reason to not go all the way the next time. Maybe that's why being second just isn't all that bad.

1. Where is he? Alright, I'm a romantic. Cut me some slack. I've watched too many happy ending movies about dating and relationships. I BELIEVED in "Can't buy me love", you know? But somehow, I have the hope that it's possible.

I'm going to get a little deep right now. I hope you can handle it. But I keep asking myself, where is this "one" that is going to complete me. Where is this guy that I'm going to have a ball with, be best friends with, connect on such a level that we'll want to spend our lives together? Where is he? Is he hiding out in a Starbucks somewhere sipping a cafe latte? Put the damn cup of coffee down and come and find me. Where the hell are you?

I've had close to "ones". There have been a few that, for anywhere from a moment to a few months, I thought, wonder what would it be like for us to be boyfriends? Yes, some were very close "seconds". But not that "one" ("one" whatever that means).

What? Are you speaking to me? I'm typing something here. Can you please let me finish before you start butting in? Oh, wait a second, you think you're "the one"? Really? Oh. Well. Ha. I had no idea you felt that way.

Hmmmmmmm.

Let me think about this for a second, k?

You think you're "the one". Is that right? "The one." Confident are you? I see.

Well in that case, this is the way I want us to meet. I'm going to walk home from work one day, keys in hand, bebopping down the street to my apartment complex. I arrive at my gate, looking quite ... oh should I say it? ...sexy. Pulling the keys from my left hand pocket, I raise one to the door. Unfortunately it is the wrong key and revolted at my carelessness, my keys jump off the cliff of my hand to the ground. There's a clatter. I look down. There they are on the ground just below me perfectly centered in my eyesight. As I lean down to pick them up, you reach out and grab them. I notice your hand first and then I gradually take you all in.

"Did you drop these?" You say. Very clever. Ha. You knew I dropped them. Funny. "Uh, yes, I did drop these," I say a little sarcastically to acknowledge that I know that you are playing. I open my hand and you place them there softly. Then with your other hand you caress my fingertips just beyond my keys. Your hands are roughly smooth. There is a moment of silence as we look into one another's eyes. Something registers. Something, somewhere in both of us, gets up and says, "Time to punch in. Breaks over." I smile. You smile. You say, "Hi, my name is . . . .

BEGINNINGS : wish you were here

Sent: 7/28/2001 6:23 PM

Well friends, if you didn't make it to the party last night then you are a fool. yes. I'm talking to you. You, there, you fool, you missed out. Okay, so maybe IIIII had a lot of fun at the party last night, but I kind of think you would too.

Leon and I hadn't finished completely setting everything up until 8:30 p.m. The first guests were to arrive at 9:00 p.m., if you were one of those kinds of guests that gets to the party right on time. So since no one we invited would be, we decided we had until 9:30 p.m. before everything was completed.

When I stepped out of the shower, two guests had arrived, which gave me just enough time to fix myself up as this Stu Martin character that I was supposed to be. :) The male gay version of Martha Stewart would be Stu Martin, and his room would represent this completely. Ah, but I'm jumping ahead of myself.

Let's start back just after I finished getting ready and stepped out my door into the completely transformed apartment. It wasn't Leon and Chad's apartment anymore, but rather sometime completely different entirely. I walked out into the den and looked around. Red light flooded the room - no, literally. There was one of those police sirens sitting on top of the desk flooding the room with red light. Only a stark red blub fell from its lone wire from the curtain rod. A boa sat on top of the mirror filled with red lights.

I looked up and on the ceiling was the taping of a body that had been murdered - a chalkline of a dead body as it were. The red bulb in the ceiling light posed as a heart still aglow. Just because he was dead, didn't mean he wasn't still alive somehow. However, the head, a balloon with two circles and an x laid beyond the body, only attached by a log black string. Had he been decapitated? I laughed at joke.

In the kitchen, Leon was putting the last few touches on the bowl of maguerita. The kitchen was lit in candles. On the table sat two boxes of cheese pizza and on the left-hand counter sat profitarolls (sp?) covered in chocolate sauce. The kitchen was warm and functional.

I wandered back towards my bedroom, or should I say, Stu's bedroom. As I entered, I hardly recognized it. It look like a quaint little room for rent somewhere in Paris. Rich, dark, orange walls gave way to white airy curtains. Between the curtains sat a lantern flickering in time to the fans rotations. The bed layered in pillows. The candles burning. Dried flowers. A bouquet of lilys and lavendar in a jar resting in a tin cyclindar sat atop the chest of drawers just under the gold mirror. Gay male Martha Stewart must live here. What was his name? Oh yes, Stu.

Then I tunneled through a door way of blue tinsel streamers which had been dotted with silver paint. What the hell? I walked into the room. The sole source of light was blu-light aside from the strobe light perched shooting upwards at a collage of cut-outs of naked men. Oh, and there WAS light shining from the television (covered in gauze, mind you) showing a little soft-porn for all the kiddies who might be interested. You know who it look like lived there in that room - that guy that runs Playboy magazine, Hugh Heffner, oh, but wait, the gay male verion of Hugh Heffner....his name, Jeff Hughes.

I turned on my heels and walked to the stairs to the room. A string of red lights lead me directly to the roof. When I emerged on the roof this stage light from the front blinded me. Jeff and Ann were on the stage floor going over some notes. Jeff's performance would go on sometime that night. He had been working so diligently on this project, trying to perfect the tale that he wanted to tell with the help of language, music, and movement.

I went back downstairs. As I walked towards the door, I heard conversation and laughter and music. I stood in front of the door for a second. It was like this party was my baby that I needed to be done just right. I wanted each and every person to have a good time. I wanted each and every person to take a little something from the night with them when they left. I put my hand on the door and pushed. Let the party begin.

BEGINNINGS : Adorable, cute & good-looking

Sent: 7/26/2001 5:51 PM

Today was my day to think about sexiness. I don't know why really? Okay, that's a lie. See, Nezerly is infatuated with this girl named ... well ... let's call her Corrina - like that Whoopie Goldberg flop, which is exactly what this girl is, in my opinion - a big flop. However, Corrina radiates sexiness. There is a mysterious air about her which pulls all eyes to her when she enters a room. Her skin, soft and clean, looks like caramel poured over a ripe apple at the county fair. (That makes me hungry.) Her eyes are dark although the flicker of candlelight behind them is quite stunning. Long curls of brown hair fall around her face and down her back. There is just something so sexy about her. And it's no wonder that my friend, Nezerly, is taken with her. Hey, if I was a different kind of boy, I think I'd be taken with her too.

So, I decided to take a moment and stroll down the hallway to the bathroom to take a few glances in the mirror to see if I'm sexy.

Conclusion: Nope. Nada. No.

Why is that? Why am I not "sexy"? I just had to stop and wonder why. When people describe me, they say "he's cute", "he's adorable", or "he's good-looking", but never, I mean never, have I heard anyone say, "Boy that Chad is SOOO sexy." And when you say that someone is sexy, I think you can't help but say "SOOO sexy". I don't think anyone can be moderately sexy, you know what I mean?

Skeptical of how much sex someone who is adorable, cute, and good-looking might have, I began to think of ways I could turn these qualities into sexiness. First I pictured myself in an speedo, running along the beach with one of those large orange life-preservers. I'm afraid I looked more like Bayignored than sexy. But, then, speedos look bad on everyone don't they?? (Please do not comment unless your answer is yes.) Then I pictured myself in an business suit which, if a good suit, (in and of itself) alludes to sexiness, driving a Porshe Boxer, smoking a cigarette, pulling my sunglasses down from my eyes and flirting with a little wink, but something about the boyish face ruined the innate sex appeal. What if I grew a beard? What if I shaved my head?

You know what? What if I just fall in love with adorable, cute, and good-looking? As I turned and walked out of the bathroom door, I thought, yep, that's good enough.

BEGINNINGS : Summer City Heat

Sent: 7/25/2001 11:08 AM

It's SO hot in New York. You just can't possibly understand. Okay, maybe you can, but still, it is SO HUMID and HOT, I might as well be swimming when I step outside the comfort of my air-conditioned office/home. Ugh.

And it has all New Yorkers grumpy and irritable and quite stinky. I believe some New Yorkers have decided, why shower when I am just going to get even more sweaty tomorrow. They walk around with their shirts off or open, sweat dripping from their bodies, their formerly white underwear emerging from the top of their damp jeans now yellow with grime. The air around them becomes its own mass of grossness.

Then there are other New Yorkers who become even more neurotic about being clean. They walk around with handkerchiefs in hand continually wiping sweat from their brows. Taking extreme measures, they avoid any germs that might be hovering around them in the thick air. Like a woman on the subway this morning pulling out a handi-wipe and basically rubbing down her seat before she sat down. I guessed she was trying to remove any sweat that might have lingered on the seat from a prior passenger. Summer City Heat. It's not pretty.

It also seems to be causing people to be a little bold with their horniness. Like this guy on the bus this morning telling the girl sitting across from him that she was extremely attractive and that he would like to make her a "superstar". Oh, by the way, I should preface that by saying that this man was no Hollywood producer. Far from it. In fact, I'm guessing he worked at the deli which was across from the bus stop where he finally creeped off the bus. The girl, of course, rudely gave him a thing or two to think about while he's mixing biscuit batter this morning.

I for one am so glad that I'm single. I get my whole bed and air-conditioner to myself. If I get hot, I throw off the covers and spread my arms and legs across the entire bed. Cool, almost cold, breezes from the little humming machine in my window skip and jump across my body. So nice.

SOOOO - No suitors until the summer heat passes please.

BEGINNINGS : Weekend Update

Sent: 7/22/2001 11:02 PM

What a weekend. I'm exhausted. On Friday, Nez and I hung out and had a wonderful time, just hanging out, talking, shooting the shxt. It was fun. Then on Saturday, Leon, Nez, J.J. and I went to Mount Laurel Lodge where Leon was guaranteed free airline tickets upon completing a tour of the lodge, introducing him to the timeshare they were selling. Then we went down by a little river and had lunch.

I waded out into the river, my pants rolled above my knees, my toes grasping at the slippery rocks. It was beautiful, peaceful. It made me realize what I really want out of life, simplicity. A quiet night on a porch swing. Catching fireflies with my children in the front yard. Fishing all day in silence. Someday, I hope. Someday.

And that's all I have to say today. This weekend opened my eyes in a lot of ways to what I want and what I have to do to get it. First and foremost, I have to leave New York. That may still be some time away, but I know that I won't find what I'm looking for in the ruins of this city. What I'm looking for is free. In New York, everything is for sale.

BEGINNINGS : Imagine a day

Sent: 7/29/2001 11:35 PM

Nice feeling today when I noticed that I was being flirted with from the soccer game. Smiles at my smiles of acknowledgment that he was a really good soccer player were just a little bit more than just that. But, I digress, the story ended just beyond, as Leon ushered me and Nezerly off the park lawn and on our feet towards the day.

It was a beautiful day today, cool and surprisingly crisp, rare for late July. We had nothing planned. We thought of seeing a movie, but had some trouble locating a Planet of the Apes showing in Queens. See, bus service was taking local subway takers down to Queensboro Plaza instead because they are working on the N and W track this weekend. It makes getting to Manhattan a little tedious.

Leon suggested that we do a reading of Nezerly's play, and she agreed.

Can I tell you how fortunate I feel I am to be surrounded by such creative people? That the friends that I have are ones that are really exploring themselves through some form of art.

Wow. We did a reading of Nezerly's play, and Wow. Wow. Unfortunately, we were 40 pages short of the end, so we couldn't finish today, but we will soon. Look for it, coming soon.

Now I'm tired. I should go to bed. For some reason I thought I might have something of interest to say tonight, but it seems I don't. I did get to talk to my sister tonight and that was, as always, a wonderful thing to do. Her stories make me laugh so hard - that kind of laugh that is from the gut, almost like a hiccup, that you can't really help. It's just natural. I love my sister.

So goodnight all. Have safe and happy dreams tripping over the milky way.

BEGINNINGS : Beautiful

Sent: 7/19/2001 11:07 PM

What a wonderful day. Bet you didn't think I was going to say that did you? But what a wonderful day. The weather was absolutely beautiful. A nice popsicle breeze. The quiet warmth from the sun's blanket of gold. A beautiful day. And why the change of heart? What happened to that guy that wrote that JE called "Depression"? Where DID he go? Well, my friends and family, that Chad had to pop out. That Chad just needed a little breather. He had to go out and smell the fresh air. He was feeling a little uptight, you know, so I told him to take a break. I hope you don't mind. I hope you weren't horribly attached to him. Yes, he is quite poetic, but, God, I just don't think I can wade through all the nasty mud. I'll bet you can't either. I can't promise that he won't check in every now and again; however, like the FCC, I'll be here to moniter what he says.

BEGINNINGS : Morning Has Broken

Sent: 7/19/2001 2:01 PM

God, it's amazing what venting will do. It's more amazing what a little lunch will do. I just had lunch with one of the grad students I work with, Paul, and it was so nice, sitting outside, talking, eating (sushi - spicy tuna rolls). We discussed it all - America, hitchhiking across Europe, relationships, SUV stupidity, etc. etc. After dating his girlfriend for six years, they recently broke up. Why? Because she had such a negative outlook on life. Wow. Now that was an arrow meant for my heart. See, he loves her a lot, but he just couldn't be her therapist for the rest of their lives. He had grown tired of trying to cheer her up all time. Of course, they plan to get back together, but only after she takes some time to find a new perspective on life. Granted, I think that's a lot to ask of a person; however, it did open my eyes to just how nice the sun felt on my arm. It did soften my skin to accept the breeze's embrace while slipping quietly by. It did cause me to re-think my journal entry from this morning and look at it in an entirely different perspective. Thank you Paul!

I don't regret writing what I wrote this morning, even with all its moaning and groaning and sadness, for at that moment, it was exactly the way I was feeling. However, it's really nice to be 3 hours further into the day only to realize that I'm healing. And if I'm healing from this depression disease, then that must mean that it's not getting any worse which is a pillow of dandelions to me.

BEGINNINGS : Depression

Sent: 7/19/2001 11:06 AM

Depression. Depression is a real thing. I've even heard doctors say that it is its own disease. At times, I think this is true. Now, I'm not talking about feeling a little sad or down in the dumps, mind you. I'm talking about that overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that shrouds your soul, that consumes every single part of you, that clouds every good thing in your life. I'm talking about depression that is chicken pox, itchy, covering your body, raising your fever.

Depression is one of those things that you'll do just about anything to get rid of - even if for just a moment. Some of us take anti-depressants. Some of us drink. Some of us do drugs. Some of us smoke. Some of us sleep. Some of us have sex. Some of us seek relationships. Some of us consume ourselves with thrill seeking. Some of us go to therapy. Some of us pray. Some of us go to church. Some of us clean. Some of us read. Some of us sit in front of the television for years. Whatever the vice, whatever the cost, we long for rose colored glasses. Whatever the vice, whatever the cost, we doctor our disease. Unfortunately, the methods that we choose are usually the ones least effective in the long run.

Last night was one of those doctoring nights for me. Depressed and disillusioned, I went out seeking relief, a thread of happiness in (what seems to be) this unhappy world. God. What surprises me is that life is going really well for me right now. By all standards, I should feel on top of the world; however, somehow, unfortunately, this depression lingers like the stench of cigarette smoke in my clothes after a night of bar hopping. And, of course, after a night of doctoring, I found myself in the train at 1:00 a.m., going home, feeling worse than I felt when I first went out yesterday after work. Sure, there were glimpses of happiness here and there throughout the night, but nothing with longevity and nothing to remember.

J.J. had to wake me up this morning. I guess my alarm had been going off for a long time. I guess I was sleeping right through it. I really don't know. My head ached, my senses were drained, my body lay there dying, my heart cried. How did this happen to me? Was I allowing it to happen? Probably. Does it mean that I'm not strong enough? Does it mean that I'm a weak human being? Does it mean that I'm buckling under the weight of life? Did my soul carry this disfunction over from another life before? Where does pain come from? Where is sadness born? Who births it? How is it conceived?

Lots of questions in the wake of the morning. Lots of puzzlement blowing in the breeze.

I know life is not a bed of roses, but, at this point, I'd be grateful for a pillow of dandelions.

BEGINNINGS : My hair & God

Sent: 7/18/2001 2:38 PM

At lunch I walked over to St. John's The Divine, a cathedral that isn't far from Columbia. It stands, unfinished, one of the largest cathedrals in North America. Episcopalian, it houses an impressive collection of religious art. As I walked towards it, after finishing a calzone at Familga Pizza, I noticed how run-down it looked. Its stones turning black, weathered by not only the natural elements but also the pollution of the city.

Upon entering the cathedral, I removed my cap (thought wearing it would avoid a bad day due to bad hair today) only to show even worse hair than yesterday. Alas, God didn't care what my hair looked like, or if he did, he could make a mental note to do something about Chad's hair ASAP. I wandered to the center of the cathedral. It was beautiful. The lack of upkeep on the outside was certainly made edible by the care the inside was given. I said a little prayer, something that I find myself not doing enough, and walked around looking at some of the artwork.

Now some of you are going to moan at the cheesiness of this, but it made me feel a lot better to know that no matter how old, torn, or tattered I get on the outside, I will always have the ability to keep-up the inside. Maybe that should be my summer resolution. As long as light is coming through the stainglass windows, I should make sure that the floors have been buffed and shined

BEGINNINGS : Whatever

Sent: 7/17/2001 11:22 AM

I just finished setting up a meeting. The speaker of the meeting is going to speak about self-trapped states in magnetic oxides. Yes, I have no idea what that is or what it is about, and should probably be sitting in on the meeting learning, but I'm taking a wild guess that you already have to have some knowledge of this for it to make any sense. The last time I thought about magnets was when the one of the little chefs head that we have on the refridgerator door wouldn't hold up the card that Candice sent me. The card was too heavy and the magnet didn't have enough strenght; therefore, the force of gravity was greater than that of the magnet, pulling the card off of the refridgerator door. Wow! Did I just say all that? Maybe I AM learning a thing or two about physics.

I have toyed on and off with this website a great deal lately, but am disheartened to find that I'm not sure that anyone is reading it. Well, to heck with you all, I'm still going to write junk, and if you read it then whatever and if you don't then whatever. Whatever. Seems to be the word of the century.

Whatever!

BEGINNINGS : Garbage

Sent: 7/17/2001 5:02 PM

I feel awful today. I don't know what's wrong with me really. I'm having a bad hair day, my skin looks like shit, my body is covered in mosquito bites including my earlobe (it looks like a peanut covered with a thin layer of skin), my eye is developing some sort of sty all adding to my overall discontent with my appearance. Oh my. Is that what it is? Somehow I'm feeling insecure about the way I look. I wonder where that came from. I was pretty confident last week. Ugh. Whatever. Yep, there's that word again. Now why am I so self-concious all of a sudden??

So, I joined the gym at Columbia today. Very cheap. For the rest of the summer, I'm going to get to go to the gym for those peanuts lodged in my earlobe. Damn mosquitos! Starting tomorrow, I'm going to go after work and have a nice swim. I think it will not only work me out, but also really give me some peace of mind. We'll see. Right now, I feel like trash....

BEGINNINGS : Ouch

Sent: 7/16/2001 12:06 PM

There is nothing worse than have one mosquito trapped in your room when you are sleeping. I am covered in bites. My earlobe, my fingers, my arms and legs. Does anyone know . . . is that west nile disease thing still happening? I'd better get these benefit forms into Human Resources.

BEGINNINGS : Living with a Celebrity and his #1 fan

Sent: 7/15/2001 6:50 PM

Do you know what's it's like to have someone adore you, admire you, look up to you? Do you know what it's like to have a fan who practically worships you and/or the ground you walk on? Do you know what's it like to have someone think SO MUCH of you that they will clean your apartment spotless from top to bottom like it's never been cleaned before?

Neither do I. Leon, on the other hand, seems to have stumbled upon a fan of his. Really, I feel like I'm living with Madonna with her number one fan staying as a houseguest. Believe it or not, as I sit here writing this, J.J. is, only in underwear, in our bathroom in our bathtub, the water running, sponge in one hand, Comet in the other scrubbing every single crevice that is Leon's bathroom. I guess he has decided to make the conditions liveable for his idol, meanwhile benefiting the idol's roommate, I have to snicker. But the funny thing is that I feel a little pissed?

I can't believe that the living conditions weren't already liveable when the fan had come to stay. And I guess, honestly, it's a little hard for me to see someone adore Leon so much, in a different way than me.

I sat while J.J. walked over to the shelf where a picture of Leon sits. In the photograph, Leon is frozen timeless in midst of a dance move. His body pushing his arm upward towards the sky, his eyes in a flutter. The shadows in his arm deepen romantically in the black and white photo. It's a wonderful picture of him. J.J. took it off the shelf and swooned, "I love this picture of Leon." I smiled and looked back at the magazine I was thumbing through.

"I mean," he said sitting next to me wanting me to look with him, "he looks like he really feels what his body is doing. That's what I finally want to accomplish as a dancer. See, I feel like I'm doing something in dance, but only to watch the video to discover that what I'm feeling is not what people are seeing. What I want someday, is for people to be able to see what I'm feeling." He looked down at the photo. "I know what Leon is feeling here."

I agreed. Leon was, in that moment, truly feeling. His body seemed to be a perfect representation of his soul at that very second. That is what the picture said.

J.J. stood with the frame in hand and walked over to the kitchen table. "God, I LOVE this picture," he exclaimed and then thoughtfully and slowly looked towards me with adore in his eyes, "Leonardo is amazing." With that he took the glass from the frame and began to pick at something which stuck to it, "Do you have any windex?"

Before I vomitted, I motioned towards the pantry. Who did this guy think he was talking to? Jealousy erupted into my thoughts, Damnit, I know Leonardo much, MUCH better than you do, Mr. Clean! Yes, Leonardo IS amazing but I know exactly what makes him really and truly amazing, you asshole!!! But, as these words were not vocalized, and because only my thoughts were angry at that moment, I decided to hang out on the roof alone for a while. I guess that was when I gave him the space to do what he had been longing to do since he came; "#1. Clean Leonardo's apartment."

Thought: I really like J.J. a lot, but I don't think I'm ready to join J.J.'s fan club.

BEGINNINGS : Sleepy in my Eyes

Sent: 7/15/2001 1:06 PM

I just woke up. It's now 1:00 p.m. Nice to sleep in for a change. J.J. is making omelettes, Leon has gone to another afternoon of shooting Jesse's film, and I'm sitting here at the computer, exhausted.

I finally got the chance to talk with Candice last night. It has been so long. Too long. I won't go into detail about our conversation, but just know that it was so great talking to her.

Bethany, this color is for you.

I don't know what I'll do today. There's a part of me that wants to crawl back under the covers and sleep some more. But then there's that side of me that can feel the breeze blowing through my window and can see the sun shining so bright between the clouds. That side says, get out in the world today. Don't stay in the apartment. Maybe I'll ride my bike. We'll see.

In any case, I don't have much else to write about yet. We'll see how the day progresses.

BEGINNINGS : Day with JJ

Sent: 7/14/2001 8:08 PM

JJ and I had a great time in the park today at that birthday party. The birthday party wasn't really all that spectacular, but the park was. It was a little crowded and we were sitting on a blanket that Jason had brought. It was a Ralph Lauren Teddy Bear blanket. JJ and I just cracked up. This other crowd was sitting close to us and started playing Janet Jackson's new song which had us moving - a little.

Jason seemed annoyed by something and he and Jason left, so JJ and I walked further into the park. There is a sidewalk completely shaded by huge oak trees strategically placed centuries ago. At the end of the walkway is an atrium. Loud disco music boomed from the atrium as people rollerbladed/skated in front of it. I felt like I was at Skateworld, only in New York and out doors. Fancy moves.

J.J. and I walked to the huge fountain just beyond. Behind it is the lake that boat rowers row around. Couples laughing, sharing sandwiches and the scenery, rowing along the lake have a wonderful time. I don't remember what we were talking about, but I think we were talking about guys. He's cute. He's hot. Ugh, look at him. You know the kind of talk.

Then we headed to the west side to go to this little shop called Chrome Hearts. It is the most expensive rock clothing that you'll find. Gothic sliver necklaces dusted in diamonds. Sliver screw cap lids, for like your toothpaste, were sculpted with crosses. Truly some heavy metal. It was an amazing space, an old townhouse with a fountain and garden in the center. I fell in love with Rachel working at the cash register. She even gave us free jolly ranchers in our bag after we purchased three temporary tattoos - for Leon, J.J. and me.

Very nice day today. I enjoyed spending time with J.J. He seems like someone I could be really good friends with. Of course, I wished Leon was with us, for the time would have been even better. But why wish for better when it's already perfect???

BEGINNINGS: Movie to see

Sent: 7/14/2001 12:17 PM

Memento was great - a great thriller with everything you need in a movie. I'm not going to tell you everything about it, but at least know the basics. It is about a man looking for his wife's killer - problem is that he has no short-term memory. If he loses concentration on something, then the memory is gone. It is really cool, and I recommend you all to see it!! Leon and I came back here afterwards and had a great time as always, laughing, being kids.

Today I'm off to a birthday party of a friend's of a friend. It's happening in Central Park and I'm assured food will be provided. Granted it's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but food just the same. I'm going with North, a friend of Leon's who is staying with us for a couple of weeks. He has quite a crush on Leon it seems. :) But don't let on about it, Leon, if you are reading this. :)

The party should be fun - it is in Central Park and it's a beautiful day. The weather alone will be party enough. Talk to you later!!

BEGINNINGS : Victims

Sent: 7/13/2001 5:54 PM

I have had the worst headache today. I am causing myself lots of stress. I won't go into the details, for there is no reason for you to worry. Just me, running myself around like a crazy person, thinking that every little "i" should be dotted and every little "t" should be crossed. Ugh! Finally, about 4:00 p.m. today, things started to come together. If they hadn't, I was going to miserable for the entire weekend. Let's all say a prayer of thanks for everything coming together . . . "Thanks Chase Manhattan Bank."

Yes, that's what my life feels like, like I have to pray to a damn bank. Worse, it's Chase Manhattan Bank which has singled me out to torment and ridicule. It is insistent on making my life intolerable. Okay, so maybe I'M the one who put myself in a position of being a Bank's victim, but I still feel like a victim. How can one not feel like a victim when someone else holds onto your life support device. I hate money. Let's just leave it at that.

Do I sound upset? I really don't mean to. I'm not upset really. It's just been one of those days - you know those days. We all have them; we don't know why they occur; we hate them; we don't know how to stop them once they get rolling. Dad says to look in the mirror in the morning and say, "Today is going to be a great day," and you know something, my first mistake this morning was forgetting to tell myself that very thing! I've never wanted to admit it, but when I DO tell myself that today will be a great day, it usually is. Why don't I do that more often?

Well, I'm off to see a movie with Leon tonight. We are going to see Memento at Lincoln Plaza Cinema across from Lincoln Center. It's supposed to be a really good thriller. I'll let you know the verdict tomorrow. Until then, have a great day and a wonderful weekend.

BEGINNINGS : What to say, what to say?

BEGINNINGS : What to say, what to say?

Sent: 7/13/2001 12:00 AM

Officially, on Monday, I become a Columbia University full-time employee. Excitement is in the air. Benefits, vacation, sick time, personal days, they are all going to be mine on Monday. Say a prayer for me.

I have sat and pondered what to write all day today. Sitting in the office, going to lunch, taking a psychology test to make five buck$, everywhere, all the time, I have been intensely watching things around me looking for inspiration for today's journal entry. Where was it?

I didn't find it until I got home, straightened the apartment, changed out of my work clothes and into some khakis and a t-shirt. I still hadn’t found it as I poured a glass of water, climbed out of the window and up the fire escape to the roof. It jumped from its hiding place right when I saw the sky. Blue. So very, very blue. A clear blue sky with the sun setting over city. An empty blue blanket full of feathered pillows. It was amazing.

It has been a long time since I’ve stared up at the sky trying to determine what each cloud looked like. The first one looked like a video game cartoon, you know, one of the ones that runs straight ahead grabbing gold coins and smashing evil thingys with its hammer. Then, weirdly, he kinda transformed into an evil dragon. The white spews of clouds at the end of his mouth formed the smoke he blew from his nose. I could only imagine what the flame must have looked like just moments before. Then a kitten whose ears laid down like a puppies. Off to the left there was a nun running after a toaster oven that was obviously on fire. She then cartwheeled into a prince, his long sword was out-stretched in defense against the blob of marshmellow which had been plopped before him. Incredible transformations were going on in the sky, and I was witnessing them all . . . . and I finally found the thing I wanted to write about.

So, I guess all that worry earlier today was for naught. :o)

BEGINNINGS : Adulthood

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #5 - Adulthood

Sent: 7/12/2001 12:33 AM

This girl on the bus this morning told me that I had beautiful eyes. "Oh my God, your eyes are so blue. I've never seen that color of eyes before." Of course, I was flattered. I think I even opened my eyes wider and stared up towards the sun a little just so my pupil would get smaller and my iris would flower like a blue daisy. Yes, it never hurts to hear a compliment now and again, especially at the beginning of the day. Then she asked if I was going to Columbia to school. Not yet, but hopefully will start my masters in the next few years. She laughed and looked at me, "How old are you?" I told her I was 27 - a year old habit that I haven't quite licked in the past 6 weeks of being 28. "Oh my, I thought you were 22 or 23 years old." I wanted to reach out my arms and give her a big hug. With a few more wrinkles in my hands, a few more pounds over my belt line, and a few more hairs in the drain in the shower (I'm counting on them being Leon's, although I think I might be mistaken) I have begun to look a little older. Her flattery was a great vitamin to start the day.

But as I climbed into the bus today, and settled down in the back directly across from a teenage girl talking on her cell phone, I realized that getting older has been the best thing for me since peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Finally life was tasting pretty good while filling me up. Getting older means getting closer to really feeling like an adult. God, sometimes I have to really ask myself, do I feel like an adult? As the wrinkles crease across my hands, as the pounds creep onto my waist, and as the few more hairs decide to take flight from my scalp, I feel so excited that I am very close to answering "yes" to that question. I am an adult.

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #4b - Love in an Elevator

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #4b - Love in an Elevator

Sent: 7/11/2001 3:05 PM

Funniest thing just happened. I got in the elevator to go down to the labs on the 1st floor, and on the 8th floor, the elevator stopped, the doors opened and this cute asian girl backed towards the door while talking to this guy in the hallway. While she was standing in the door, keeping the elevator stuck at the 8th floor, she continued her conversation, something heartfelt it seemed. Even though I couldn't understand what she was saying, I knew that this guy in the hallway must be her boyfriend or perhaps a lover.

The guy in the hallway saw that I was waiting and tried to urge her along with a few words, but she kept talking. FINALLY, she said goodbye. As the door closed, she puckered her lips and began kissing towards him. Loud, smooching kisses (like the kind when you pull in your cheeks and make sucking sounds) that she even continued after the door closed. Then she let out a long sigh and stepped further into the elevator and pushed her floor.

That's when she saw me. She screamed with embarassment. I tried to console her, saying, "I think that's great. It's so cute. You're lucky to have someone you feel that way about." Nevertheless, she jumped off the elevator at the next floor, her face a cotton candy pink. Funny.

BEGINNINGS : Random Thoughts

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #4a - Random Thoughts

Sent: 7/11/2001 12:14 PM

Columbia has so many piegons. No, that's not surprising. It is New York, and the city is full of them flying, walking, pecking, hopping. However, it is surprising that Columbia's piegons don't have feet. I just saw yet another piegon just outside the entrance to the Engineering building with only one foot. I guess his cousin, the one with no feet, was off playing in a fountain somewhere.

He hobbled up to me to see if I was going to throw him a few crumbs from my Snickers bar and then, disappointed at my selfishness, hobbled across the way to a guy smoking a cigarette. Maybe he just needed a nicotine fix. Funny thing about piegons with no feet, they worry about grates much like women in high heeled shoes do. He had to carefully watch where he was putting his stub for fear of taking a nasty spill.

Just so you know, he made it across the grate just in time for the guy to put out his cigarette.

BEGINNINGS : Expression

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #4 - Expression

Sent: 7/11/2001 10:49 AM

Leaving my date with MDL at 8:30 p.m. last night, I thought I was going to be really late for the poetry reading I had promised Nez I would not only attend but also participate in. I hopped off the train at the Astoria Boulevard stop and practically ran to the bar, Albatross, where the reading was taking place. You see, Nez has become quite chummy with the owner of this local neighborhood bar and thought that a poetry slam might be just what the doctor ordered for their fading business.

As I approached the door, I again felt uncertain about whether or not I could go through with reading the prose piece that I had written in front of people. The piece was really good, naturally, (haha) but pretty personal, and I just didn't think I wanted to share that much of myself with strangers.

Sweating from the sprint, I opened the door and stepped inside. The bar was empty. Okay, okay, the bartender was there and Nez and a cricket. That was it. Nez was drowning herself in a beer. "Is it over?" I asked. She looked up and smiled. "Yeah, you just missed it" she said sarcastically. I sat down next to her, "Well, I'll read my piece as soon as that cricket finishes his if you want me to." Poor Nez. All that work, putting up flyers, pulling together pieces to read, only to find no one interested. Granted, it is Queens AND it IS a bar in Queens - not the premier place to read thoughtful poetry in New York City. Still, I really thought more people would show.

I went home not long after that, thinking about the night. A cool breeze skipped around the street. The sky was clear minus the couple of stars and couple of clouds. I picked a daisy from someone’s yard and twirled it in my fingers as I walked home. This was great thinking time. God, I had spent an hour talking to MDL on that date, but, now that I thought about it, I really didn’t disclose anything. I had gone to a poetry slam, but didn’t get to read. I even talked with Nez and Leo briefly, but couldn’t really find the words to express myself. It had been a night of leaving things left unsaid.

And, I guess that’s the moment I decided that it was time to say some things. And I am.

BEGINNINGS : Start being me

BEGINNINGS : Journal Entry #3 - Start being me

Sent: 7/10/2001 10:34 PM

So, I met this guy on the internet : MDL. I had put a personal ad up to see if I could possibly date SOMEONE this summer before my life passes me by, and MDL happen to be one of the guys who responded. Originally from Texas, he is an architect who is probably one of the most down to earth guys I know. Anyway, the point of this story is not the date, which went really well by the way, but the point is to show something that he taught me. '

See, MDL has a website set up for himself and his family and friends, much like this one, except he has added the most interesting part of a site like this - a real journal. Just kind one of those things that he thinks might be of interest to others about what's going on in his life. I was so inspired by this, that I've decided to do the same. If you want to see his site go to:

I figure, what a great idea! See I know there are those of you out there who pretend not to be interested in what's going on in my life, but you are dying to know. I mean, my life is one exciting adventure after another. haha! Well, we'll come to see about that, won't we?

So this is the start of this new part of this community - my own personal daily reflections. I hope you can all gain some wisdom and inspiration from my humble words. haha! Or hopefully, on occasion, I will be able to provide a good laugh. Perhaps, someday, I might even bring a tear to your eye. So stay tuned folks. This community is about to become a real community. Hold on to your seats!