The Buddha is a new year
New Years has come and gone. My resolution: to do the best I can. Either this is a bold step forward or a desperate regression to some sort of kindergarten mentality. I figure it's a win-win.
New Years itself was a gas - Jeffy has a gorgeous apartment in Hells Kitchen, from which you have a great few of Times Square's ass. Thus, we watched the ball drop from behind. Vague sexual inferences, ahoy! In all seriousness, though, the view was great - especially from the roof. I drank too much bourbon and took a power nap between the hours of two and four, until I was awoken by Rob. We shared a taxi ride back to his house in Rockaway Beach at four in the morning, and it wasn't until waking up New Years day that we realized just how terrifying that ride was. I still haven't decided whether or not it was because the driver was miffed about having to drive all the way to Rockaway (we paid the guy $80! Get over it!) or because he routinely enjoyed punishing his car and everyone in it, or some horrible amalgam of the two, but what I do know is that we made it from Manhattan to Rockaway Beach in 25 minutes. Terrifying. Impressive. Impressifying.
Beyond that life is quiet, dull. I've decided I need friends in this town. If anyone would like to be my friend, that would be just swell - most find I'm a quite an agreeable person. I can talk books! Poetry! Music! I enjoy drinking, or even not drinking! Seriously. I'm lonely. (This post now with sound effects.)
Today is a good day, however! My fiancee is coming home for a short vacation from her volunteering, and I get to pick her up from the airport! Huzzah. She'll also get to finally feast her eyes upon her magnificent Christmas present, a 140 link construction paper paper-chain, made at her request. The making of the paper-chain itself, personally, was a distraction from the true present: the 140 line poem painstakingly written across each individual link. Pictures of the enormously long monstrosity forthcoming. However the poem has been posted on my poetry journal. Comments welcome and desperately appreciated.
I also made her a mix CD (so 90's!) and used work time and resources to make a custom CD case to hold it. It's cute. Unfortunately I was unable to find (steal) CD labels so the CDs themselves are rather plain, diminishing from the total effect. Oh well - win some, lose some.
In summary: life goes on, business as usual, I need Long Beach friends (please), comment on my poem (please), and coffee is delicious.
New Years itself was a gas - Jeffy has a gorgeous apartment in Hells Kitchen, from which you have a great few of Times Square's ass. Thus, we watched the ball drop from behind. Vague sexual inferences, ahoy! In all seriousness, though, the view was great - especially from the roof. I drank too much bourbon and took a power nap between the hours of two and four, until I was awoken by Rob. We shared a taxi ride back to his house in Rockaway Beach at four in the morning, and it wasn't until waking up New Years day that we realized just how terrifying that ride was. I still haven't decided whether or not it was because the driver was miffed about having to drive all the way to Rockaway (we paid the guy $80! Get over it!) or because he routinely enjoyed punishing his car and everyone in it, or some horrible amalgam of the two, but what I do know is that we made it from Manhattan to Rockaway Beach in 25 minutes. Terrifying. Impressive. Impressifying.
Beyond that life is quiet, dull. I've decided I need friends in this town. If anyone would like to be my friend, that would be just swell - most find I'm a quite an agreeable person. I can talk books! Poetry! Music! I enjoy drinking, or even not drinking! Seriously. I'm lonely. (This post now with sound effects.)
Today is a good day, however! My fiancee is coming home for a short vacation from her volunteering, and I get to pick her up from the airport! Huzzah. She'll also get to finally feast her eyes upon her magnificent Christmas present, a 140 link construction paper paper-chain, made at her request. The making of the paper-chain itself, personally, was a distraction from the true present: the 140 line poem painstakingly written across each individual link. Pictures of the enormously long monstrosity forthcoming. However the poem has been posted on my poetry journal. Comments welcome and desperately appreciated.
I also made her a mix CD (so 90's!) and used work time and resources to make a custom CD case to hold it. It's cute. Unfortunately I was unable to find (steal) CD labels so the CDs themselves are rather plain, diminishing from the total effect. Oh well - win some, lose some.
In summary: life goes on, business as usual, I need Long Beach friends (please), comment on my poem (please), and coffee is delicious.