I woke up today with the theme song to a telenovela I used to watch (well, sort of watch*) in my head, so I looked it up online when I had a minute and checked out its Wikipedia entry just for nostalgia's sake. The plot description was pretty much Mad-Libs with Latin names:

"When Fernanda and José Luis fall in love, Eugenio gets extremely jealous, ( Read more... )

I am passing through Time Square, noting the falafel carts and remembering my Week 7 (Brouhaha) entry.

No link, unfortunately, because I am mobile.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.

I first met him that August. He sat in a park at One Liberty Plaza, New York, New York, tucked in a corner, glancing into his briefcase. He lived in harmony with the workers and tourists meandering through the area; he paid them no mind, nor they him.


( Read more... )

I wasn't close enough to call him a friend. I wasn't distant enough to call him an acquaintance. I don't know what I should call him. I have always wanted to know him better, but our lives didn't sync up enough, as sometimes happens. He has existed almost exclusively through Facebook posts and my friends. I can tell you this for sure: I liked him a ( Read more... )

I'm going to repeat this because it bears repeating.

It begs the question: is there a way to think and talk about it without making it a fetish? I'll be back to ask again in another nine years.


By 2002, I had lived several lives in New York City. I’d been a wide-eyed tourist, a jaded commuter, an unemployed pothead, a spurned lover, the most social of drunks, and very nearly a Casanova. I’d been broke and financial stable. I’d been profoundly unsure of myself and utterly confident. I’d been introverted and extroverted. The only constant ( Read more... )

For a period of time several years back, my two best friends were named Jennifer. Our lives intersected and orbited and careened off of each other as lives often do. A few weeks ago, I watched Jennifer say "I do" while Jennifer beamed proudly on as the maiden of honor.

The bride shall henceforth be known as Jenni, as that was her name when I met her ( Read more... )

This week my wife and I watched a documentary about the Oklahoma City bombing and Tim McVeigh, and I had a... moment.

As you probably know, I was ridiculously close to the World Trade Center on that sunny, beautiful morning in 2001 when everything changed. Eight and a half years later, I've nearly forgotten how it felt. Maybe it's because a lot of ( Read more... )

Sunday morning, shortly after I posted the last conversation, Thomas J. Foster replied one more time. The tone of the e-mail was civil and thoughtful and lacked the beautiful, colorful language of his earlier missives. In it, to his credit, he takes the time to acknowledge the source of my ill will. But let’s let him speak for himself. Here you go ( Read more... )

My readers (both of them) might recall that, on Wednesday, I wrote a journal entry recounting my experiences with Third Party Politics, publisher of The Book of Jesse. I had thought that to be the last word on the subject. I was wrong.

Thursday, my friend (who is not my wife), Donna, discovered this blog post at the Bleeding Cool Comic News website ( Read more... )