Trivia and Self-Talk

La Resistance! Came in second place again. Second place isn't a bad place to be at all. We beat Super Sperm (aka Whiskey Dick) in all categories but one. Yet, the thing I want to write about is my weird tendency to talk to myself as of late. I just noticed it as I was going to the bathroom and talking to myself as I peed. I felt ok, I said to myself, about ordering soon to be delivered Omaha steaks and lots of franks for Murph. I said it is okay to be tired and order an iPhone. I was really psyched about that until I had to truly put my brakes on and realize I have a bid on a Nexus one on ebay. So, we shall see, faithful readers. Which one prevails? The iphone? The nexusone, which has become a rare commodity in America these days? We shall see.

Back to the fact of talking to yourself. I have this weird feeling it is all due to the heat reduction in the city these days. A week ago, I simply wanted to spit on myself. How do you like anything when it is that hot? Yourself, is the first to go. So through all of the self-loathing and hatred I felt, it simply felt good to say these things to myself, aloud, and proud, that I wouldn't normally say.

Examples:

I have to pee!

Such a cute kitty who loves me.

Thank God I have Foxy.

Wow, you are really talking to yourself.

You should write about this.

Do not pick up the phone.

Can't believed you ordered Omaha steaks!

Wow, you've gotta wait til the eBay auction ends before you cancel your iPhone order.

These are all things I"ve said aloud to myself this evening/morning.

How American Am I?

I gave my Yankee tickets to a man from down the street. For some unknown reason (he grew up in Brooklyn, loves the Knicks), he is a Red Sox fan. He hadn't been to a stadium since he was 4, which was old Yankee Stadium. So, I gave him my tickets a few weeks ago. He went to the game; the Royals won, we lost. He was happy.

So, I see him today and just ask about his experience. He goes: Are you American? I say: What? Do you mean was I born here? He says: Yeah, were you born here? I say: Sure, I was born in Pittsburgh. And he goes: Well, who is taking over our country? And I say: What? And he says: Go down to Nostrand and Fulton and you'll see what I'm talking about.

So I did. And in this low budget style was a parade of poor folk who were Bangledeshi. They were all in costume. It was a short block parade. Man, the sky looked fierce. And, I thought, fuck ya, I'm American. And, they are American. This is America.

Afterwards, I went to my boy Ricky's birthday party in Williamsburg at an obscure, big bar on a hidden street. Indians surrounding me, as his wife is Indian. And, I felt so good to just not be surrounded by myself. In my mind that is what makes you American. You just don't even think about it. You just laugh, drink beer, admire kids.

It is an odd thing, when you are forced to look at race. I never told anyone the guy from my block was any which race. By where I live, it might be easy to figure out, yet he loves baseball. I love baseball and he was a perfect man to give a ticket to.

Man, though, nobody owns these streets. To see Bangledeshis partying, was awesome. I just feel bad it rained on their parade at all today.

E

I never thought Entourage on HBO would make me feel bad about myself, or lonely for that matter, yet it did. The last episode with E standing alone while his boys go off to Vegas was kind of a soul searcher for me. E got it right; stay. There is nothing out there and he has what he wants. Yet, there is that random part of anyone who just wants to go. It really doesn't matter what Vegas has in store with Vince, etal, what does matter is that E loves his lady and they have some kind of florist or some shit coming. He stayed and Sloane will be happy. He will fulfill responsibilities. Maybe I'm looking into E too deeply, he might fuck up. Fuck, Turtle is in Mexico City for christsakes! Yet, I feel very much like E. E fucked up with Sloane, made up with her, etc. I have not yet fucked up with FB, and I don't want to. I am not E and FL is not Sloane. So, there is work to be done.

Bridge

Leigh and I have approached a bridge that is one I'm sure many couples have met before. Their spittle dangles. This is a bridge we need to travel over, in different cars. There is no E-ZPass. It is that bridge of doubt and lack of forgiveness. It is that bridge you look upon and just guess it's depth. We need to love each other through shitty times. And, that is my bridge. My bridge is weak and rickety. It is barely standing. It is scary. It sways. Yet, that is me at this point.

The Way Things Go

The cats stare at me,

don't know who I am and want.

Coldest of cold spells.

So, the haiku came first this time. Missing baseball so much, watching Lincecum blank the Mets. All I think about is how much I love Favorite Librarian.

New Haiku:

Stare at each other

we care about what we think,

yet we are silent.

Umbrella PArt 2

By FL:

We went to a beach

no shade to be found at all

lost and found again

Umbrella Part 1

With FL:

Gay umbrella found,

at Jacob Riis park, roadside.

never sit under