No title

I was going to start posting about my trip to Hong Kong, which was pretty amazing, but I can't get my camera to connect to my computer, thus I can't post any pictures. Once I manage to figure out the problem, I shall post all about my trip, pictures and all (even if you aren't interested in seeing them).

But as of right now I've lost a interest in all this. A friend of mine, a few weeks shy of 22, passed away in his sleep last night. His mom walked in and thought he was still asleep, but when she tried to wake him, she realized he had passed on. We don't know the cause of death, though heart disease does run in his family. He was a really great person, a bit loud, and sometimes annoying, but had a great big heart, and was one of the funniest guys I've known. He had a problem with drugs and alcohol in the past, but had cleaned up his act and putting his life back together. He was sober for at least 6 months prior to today, and we were all very proud of him. He was finishing up a degree at Queens college and wanted to go to law school after he graduated, and some day run for office. He was a big goofy oaf of a man, and he wanted to do good in the world.

I just saw him yesterday, we worked together at Starbucks. He seemed fine, healthy, and at the top of his game. For lack of a better way of saying this, but it's just sad. I can't get used to writing all this in the past tense. It's all too depressing.

I have a wedding to go to this weekend, I'm the best man. I'm all very hectic emotionally right now, and need time to settle (He would have made fun of me for being all girly with emotions).

So I might not post for a while. Not that I post regularly anyway, but right now it just isn't on my mind.

Take care.

Life might not totally suck

For various reasons that I'll mention if it turns out life doesn't suck. If life does suck then we already know why.

Also, please check out my pal's Charlie's blog. She's a hundred times better at this than I am, also more interesting and smarter. (The fact that she's a far superior writer also helps).

I'll hyperlink it here, when I'm less lazy, but for know it's already linked on the side column where I have all my blog links. Enjoy you crazy readers.

Blogs, apparently, are not worthless (wow)

Ask and ye shall receive.

A little while ago I posted this.

My pal Charlie who reads this blog occasionally (unbeknownst to me until very recently) went out - by which I mean followed my link - and actually got me the t-shirt. So Charlie Rocks!

Charlie rocks anyway, she's just rocking harder right now. If any body else wants to rock as hard as Charlie, I'd be happy to inform you of the other things I want that you can purchase for me from the comfort of your own computer.

Next on my list, I realize after reading many comments that I unintentionally mislead many of you in my last post. I was confused at first when I read the comments, then, upon re-reading my post, I realized the problem. The previous post was not actually a dream I had. I was bored at work and was playing around and wrote that as a little prose poem, or dialogue for something yet to be written, or a prelude to a short story also yet to be written, or I don't know why, I was just bored. The beginning of "I had a dream..." was a mistake (as it works for the fiction of the poem/dialogue/prelude to a short story, just not the regular accounting of my life via this blog).

Though based on some of the comments, I don't know this makes me less weird now you know it's not actually a dream I had, or more weird as this is the sort of stuff I think about on my own, fully conscious.

And finally, I have become addicted to the game Snood. I can't stop playing it. I should be doing all sorts of other work, but instead I am playing snood. If you don't know snood, I recommend not finding out because it's insanely addictive. And if you know snood, then you know my problem.

Glad I straightened out the record. Readers (all five of you out there) be good to your neighbors, you never know who is secretly a psycho-killer bent on revenge for the horrid injustice of the world. Or, as a wiser man than me once said "Love your neighbors as you love yourselves, just choose your neighborhood carefully."

Land of the Frozen North at Summertime

Right then.

As you have probably already learned from Rawbean's Rant I was in Winnipeg this past weekend. I was thinking about posting about my travels earlier in the week, yet found myself without the time to sit down and actually write it all down. This has been my first moment since returning home with the time and energy both to give a faithful account of my travels. So, without any further ado, here we go.

Outside of stories, one's life doesn't so much work in circles. Granted there are cycles that occur in life (as we all know history does repeat itself), but I am speaking more in lines of the circles one finds in works of fiction. The fact that I can bookmark this story, giving it a strange circular quality, both pleases and concerns me.

Regardless, it starts:

Seven fifteen Friday morning at LaGuardia airport I saw a woman who shouldn't be allowed to dress herself and then go out in public. Maybe five feet tops, wearing bright pink, yellow, blue and purple socks with "cute" cats and dogs sheathed in black rubber sandals. Her black pants, seemingly Capri, would fit like regular pants had she not worn them pulled up to her ribcage (thus making her ass seem as if it was the same length as her legs). Into the those pants she had tucked in a light pink cotton shirt. She was skinny, with short cropped grey hair, no older than sixty-five, no younger than fifty, with a very severe face - as if she was both frustrated and confused, not so much by anything specific but by the world around her - and all the time. I'm guessing she was a hippie back in the day and is now frustrated that the world has passed her by and who has yet to learn how to dress like a person.

This woman, who was taking her sweet time trying to figure out how to use the electronic check in machine, bothered me to no end. Each time she touched the electronic screen she hastily withdrew her fingers to her bosom, as if the machine would bite off the tips of her fingers if she lingered too long.

I just wanted to check my luggage and sit down. It was an early flight, and I'd been up since six thirty. I was already in a bad mood as I had been the day previous; J_ was already up in Syracuse for school having left Thursday morning. I figured this to be the start of a very long, long weekend.

The trip itself is uneventful otherwise. From LaGuardia to Toronto, and from Toronto to Winnipeg. We land (we = me and my mom) and we walk over to a different gate to meet up with my friend Jason. Then we (we=the three of us) walked over, picked up our rental car, and drove into the city.

Then the eating commenced, and it didn't end until my departure from Canada. First there was a dinner at the bride's house hosted by her parents. It was a small affair, the bride's immediate family, the groom's immediate family, and any other out of town guests (said out of town guests consisted solely of myself, Jason, and my mother). Dinner consumed, we realized it was time to drive to the Rabbi's house before the Sabbath started (my mother is more religious than I am and won't drive on the Sabbath).

Brief interlude: I was scared I'd be spending more money than I had on travel and accommodations. Luckily, however, there is a bond among Rabbis. My father was in the same graduating class as the local Rabbi in Winnipeg back when they both graduated from rabbinical school. Though they weren't ever really close, and though they hadn't really spoken in about twenty years or so, after receiving an e-mail from my mother he said "Of course you can stay with me." End interlude

The Rabbi's house was a bit of a mess (by bit read "extremely messy") but it's understandable, as he had just returned home from vacation and his children were both in the midst of getting ready to go back to college. In any case it was but the Rabbi and his eldest son home that weekend. They waited until the Sabbath to start the Sabbath meal and once again we ate dinner (that's two dinners on Friday night).

Saturday we went to services at the synagogue for the ufroof (a Jewish tradition where the groom - and now our more egalitarian times bride and groom - are called up to the the torah and say a special blessing on the Sabbath before their marriage) and stayed for the luncheon afterwards. It was nice, a few salads: egg, tuna, and Caesar; with of course the needed (it was a Jewish affair) bagels and cream cheese. I don't want to insinuate that I'm some sort of bagel snob, but I was very disappointed with Winnipeg bagels. They tasted less like bagels and more like regular bread just cut to look like a bagel. Still the bread they tasted like was good bread and I enjoyed my lunch. Unbeknownst to Jason, and me the Rabbi was having a lunch afterwards at his house and invited over a few more guests.

So back we went to the Rabbi's for a second lunch. I ate less of this lunch being it was Chili with Italian sausage. This second lunch ran long. The rabbi, a very friendly man, is also a man who enjoys a ritualistic formality. Before the meal we made kiddish (the traditional Jewish blessing over wine before Sabbath meals) over scotch instead of wine and took our time sipping our drinks and shmoozing. Then we moved onto a course of turkish salad, humus, and pita and Challah (a jewish egg bread which if you've never had, you're missing out). From there, when we finished those appetizers, we moved on to the main course, the previously mentioned chili and salad.

Lunch was a good two hours long, if not a bit longer, when my mother and I had to excuse ourselves early. The rehearsal dinner was at the Old Spaghetti Factory in the Forks, about three and a half miles away, and being that my mother won't drive on the Sabbath we decided to walk there, leaving at 3:30 an hour before the event was scheduled to start.

We were all warned that to walk from the Rabbi's house to the Forks we'd be walking through the bad part of town. The "dangerous" part of Winnipeg. Jason claims this is just me and my mom being NY snobs (something I took to offense being that I haven't even lived here a year, and regardless how long I live here, I will never really consider myself a New Yorker) that we thought comparatively, how dangerous could Winnipeg really be? I can't speak for all of Winnipeg all the time, but this particular "bad" area on main street through which we walked, was not dangerous at all - at least not at three-thirty in the afternoon under a clear blue sky and bright hot sun.

We got there a little late, but still before many people who were only staying in the hotel across the street, and about two hours after we finished our second lunch, began to eat our dinner.

After dinner we hung out in the forks until sunset (when the Sabbath ends) and then drove my mom back to the Rabbi's so she could meet up with friends she has in Winnipeg. At the Rabbi's house I then, feeling a bit nervous and awkward called Rawbean. And so we met at the Second Cup coffee shop in Osborne village. Osborne village = the small hipster area of Winnipeg.

For the record (specifically to those who do read Rawbean's rant): My name is pronounced pretty much how she said, only it isn't a soft H but a hard one, as if you had something caught in your throat. A bit guttural, very hebrew/arabic sounding. It's not that I prefer "Ami" (Ah-me) rather it's much easier for people to say. I can't really think of a single person who calls me by my first name, family included. I just generally sign my name "Amichai" because too often if I just write "Ami" people think it's a strange spelling of "Amy" and assume I'm a girl. I am not a girl (though I do enjoy watching "The Gilmore Girls" and "Grey's Anatomy"). And I don't have an accent, everyone else has an accent, I speak just fine. And I'm living in Queens, not Brooklyn, but that is really neither her nor there (well it's actually Here and not There, but you know what I mean).

Rawbean was nice, and it wasn't strange meeting her. Every so often it was odd realizing that this very nice Canadian girl behind the blog I read so often. But other than that it was a very pleasent evening, and a very chill way to spend my time after doing so much the previous two days.

The wedding the next day was nice, though Jason and I were seated and the strange cousins table. The wedding and reception both were held in the synagogue and was about 96 people total. There wasn't a lot of dancing going on and most people there were family, the bride's family to be specific. The groom had his immediate family there, an aunt, and me and Jason and my mom (and two of the groom's mother's friends who were also friends with my mom, all from the same town I grew up in).

And again we ate. And ate. And ate. There was a lot of food going on. We hung out, felt strange at the awkward cousins table, made more polite small talk than we ever felt we'd be capable of, and then retired to our hotel room. The Rabbi was off driving his son back to college so for our final night in Winnipeg we stayed at the Hampton Suites hotel on the recommendation of Rawbean (and it was very nice, so for that I must take this moment to thank Rawbean for her advice).

Jason and I were exhausted and we just dropped into our respective beds and watched Canadian television. Well actually we stopped on TBS and watched the Mummy, but it was in Canada so I'm gonna say it was Canadian television.

Four hours pass and it's time once again to head to the bride's family's house for a smaller after party for those who couldn't make the wedding (ie. weren't invited due to monetary reasons) and the out of towners who were still in town. We knew left overs would be served, but said left overs turned out just to be the desserts. Not so bad, so we ate dessert with out a dinner. It was a very nice time. The Brides' father grew up in some small farm in Saskatchewan and his whole family's idea of a good time is to sit around, pull out their instruments, and play bluegrass and country music. I'm told someone even yodels in Yiddish, but either it never happened or it only occurred after I left.

Still, for some reason feeling we needed to eat some more, Jason and I went back out to Osborn village and got some food at the Billabong.

Again, woke up early the following day to catch my flight. Delayed transferring in Montreal and finally arrived home around five o'clock on Monday afternoon.

There I stood, next to my mother waiting for our luggage to go around the little carousel at LaGuardia. My mother on her cell phone telling my father that we finally arrived. Bored, tired, cranky, lacking the constant flow of either food or activities thus reverting back to the missing of J_, I turned around. Who did I see standing behind me? None other than that strange woman who started the whole thing.

This time dressed far more sensibly. I couldn't help but smile and wave hello.

I kinda wish I had a camera so I could post pictures

Princess Pessimism once remarked that my life, i.e my blog - to her - reads like a movie. I don't know exactly how I feel about this, but now that thought is in the back of my mind as I write this post. (if you are curious why she thinks this, I believe said notion was derived from this post)

Movie or no, this weekend I took a trip with J_ to Boston. First because I missed the darn place, and second because J_ had never been to Boston previous. I had no car available to me that weekend thus we took the Chinatown Fung Wa bus. Simply put it's a bus that goes from Chinatown NY to Chinatown Boston (well South station Boston, though it used to go direct to Chinatown). It's reletivly nice, and it's only 15 bucks one way, cheaper than any other bus line that I know.

Once again traffic sucks. It took us five and a half hours to get from city to city, which is at least an hour and a half too long. Damn you again interstate 95 and your incessant construction. But we were smart enough to take the noon oclock bus and still arrived before dinner time.

The Plan: stay with my freind Jeff. Jeff's plan, help his freind Jim move into a brand new house (Yay for Jim, first time home owner!). Jeff wouldn't be back into the city until later that evening giving us ample free time. J_, having hated being cooped up for so long, insisted that we walk around for the next five and a half hours to make up for the five and a half hours spent on the bus.

I love Boston, I really do, which is why I had no problems walking around downtown and into some other neighborhoods. I decided she'll get a nice walking tour of my old stomping grounds, where I used to hang out.



Ok, we started at South Station, which is kinda where the big Route 93 icon is above Chinatown. We walked down Boylston through Chinatown, around and through the Commons and the Gardens, down Beacond street to Berkely, then back up Beacon, walking down Charles street through Beacon Hill. We then took Cambridge street up to Government center (City Hall) and through there to Faniuel Hall/Quincy Market. That was about two hours of walking so far. I shared stories about my dorm life at Emerson College (I lived at both 80 Boylston St. and 132 Beacon st. - which they don't have a picture of on their website for some reason). Told her the story and pointed out the spot where I was mugged on the Commons my sophmore year (it's actually a funny story, remind me to tell it sometime if I haven't already). I showed her my favorite Pizza place (Nino's on Charles St.) some of the really nice apartments I'll never be able to afford on Beacon Hill, and the various different spots in China town we used to hit (i.e. the ones that wouldn't card us before we were of age).

We kinda stalled out in Quincy Market. J_ was hit by sudden dehydration and felt miserable. Thus, we hung out in Quincy market for quite some time, watching the street performers, sitting down, while J_ drank many bottles of over priced bottled water, and I managed to get a little food in her (a fruit cup and some samosas).

From there we worked our way up into the North End. For those of you not familiar with Boston, the North End is the Italian neighborhood. I didn't normally go to the North End back when I lived in Boston only because the T (the subway system in Boston is called the T) doesn't go directly there.

As we walked down North street we heard music coming from up ahead. We suddenly found ourselves in the midst of the Fisherman's Madonna festival in the North End. The streets were blocked off to cars, and were lined with countless booths selling pizza, italian sauseges, fresh canoli and other italian pastries (though mostly canoli) and games and other odds and ends. In the center of it all, a big Italian cheesball and his band, playing all the favorite Frank Sinatra standards, and other modern jazz classics (I believe he covered a few songs by Harry Conick Jr. and a decent Cherry Poppin Daddies song as well). The streets were lit up, the music was up tempo, and it really was very nice. We completely lucked out.

We strolled the booths, J_ ate a very rich canoli made by a woman who goes no other name save "The Canoli Girl"; leading me to believe she is some sort of superhero, though at the same time forces me to wonder who her arch nemisis is, Marzipan Man?.

We walked around, ate, and (yes this is corny) even danced to the music of "Sweet Caroline" on the street. I wish I could say other people were also dancing, but we were the only ones that I saw. We were just fooling around, having some fun. It was pretty sweet. Good times, Good times.

We adjurned to Jeff's place, taking the T (the B green line) from Government center to Packards corner (on the map below it's where Brighton Ave grows out of Commonwealth Ave).



That really was the best night. The next day we walked around cambridge. I'd relate it to you, but it's pretty uneventful and I'm too lazy to go into details now, especially reading over what I have so far, I realize that this is pretty boring if you weren't there with me. Still, we walked around harvard, down then across the river, walking up Storrow Dr. Then back over the River onto River street straight to Central Square. From Central we too the bus up Prospect and down Hampshire to Inman Square and got Dinner at Buckowski's (good eats, great beer selection). Then we took the bus home.

The end. I had a great time and even though I did a horrid job relating it to anyone who might be reading (and if you've even got this far I'm sorry to have put you through all this).

On another note, the shirt J_ had made for me (the one I'm wearing in my avatar) is up for Neighborhoodie of the week at Neighborhoodies.com. You should all go to this site:
http://neighborhoodies.com/catalog/notw_vote.php
Right now and vote for it. Remember, vote early and vote often and we just might have a chance for this meaningless title. Tell your freinds.

Because Rawbean asked

From August 25th until the 27th I shall be in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I have a wedding to attend (and I really should RVSP) on the 27th and I'm awfully excited.

And for any other stalkers who need to be updated as to my plans, I shall be in Phillidelphia from June 16th until the 18th for a bachelor weekend for the groom of the aforementioned wedding up in Canada.

Philly is all set, there's about five of us all crashing at a freinds place.

Canada is a entirely different sotry. I need to find cheap airfare to and then cheap accomidations while in the frozen north. I'm still waiting for the day when instant teleportation is both technologically viable and cheap enough for the public to use. That and flying cars. Man, that would be sweet.

Things to do before the wedding: find a good dry cleaners for my suit, get my shoes shined, and maybe buy a nice new shirt and tie. Also find out where they are registered (dear god please somewhere that has an outlet in Northeast USA) and buy a wedding present. But I still have plenty of time (said the hare right before he took a nap in the middle of the race).

Ti Chi or Chai Tea?

I fear I have run out of interesting things to say.

Also, I'm a horrible friend. One of my best friends whom I've known forever got engaged on New Years. It is now 18 days later and I have yet to call and congragulate him. I'm doing it tommorrow, I swear, I just should have done it the very next day. Man I totally suck.

I totally miss boston

Million Dollar Rabbi (having quicktime will definitely help)

These are the type of shananagins I've missed by moving to Queens. Both fellows in the video are my former roommates. I didn't think I missed my freinds so much, but apparently I do.

As the song goes "Boston you're my home."

Also, my thoughts on the holiday season, summed up by someone else. I don't know who wrote it, but I really wish it was me. If you get gooey over christmas, this might not be the read for you. (I should thank Jeremy for posting this on his blog first, otherwise I would never have found it.)

Friends and other nonsense

Everyone needs a back up plan. I don't plan on being rich and famous (though it wouldn't hurt) but I do plan on mooching off all of my friends. Not really all of my friends, because many, like me, can't afford to have anyone mooch off of them. For instance, I'll never really be able to hop on my dear friend Jason's bandwagon because he's a do gooder. By which of course I mean a person who will probably work for non-profit and other governmental positions trying to make the world a better place (that jerk) and that really doesn't pay much.

My friend Michael on the other hand... He of Cambridge currently editing his first feature length film (which he financed himself and unless it sells, coupled with his student loans will cause him to be in debt forever) hopefully will one day be a famous film maker whom I shall be able to mooch off of. I'd link you to something of Mike's but alas his only online connection is an e-mail address, and I shan't be giving that out.

Two other friends of note whose bandwagon I shall hop on immediately if given the chance.

The first is my freind Gretchen Akers. Gretchen is a bit of a stretch as we aren't very close. The summer after her graduation from college she broke up with her boyfriend (with whom she was living) and moved -albeit temporarily- into the living room of my spacious four bedroom apartment. She was friends with two of my three roommates, and after spending a glorious Saturday with Gretchen (the first Saturday of our acquaintance - a long story involving all my roommates leaving town for the weekend, an awkward attempt to bond through the streets of Somerville, and more little debbie zebra cakes than you can shake a stick at) we became friends. She then moved off to California to make her mark in the movies (she starred in both Michael's thesis film and the feature length he's currently editing). For those interested in her progression you can check out her IMDB page. Yeah she's a cutie and talented and I expect her to go far. Thus when she does, I'll be there hanging on her coat tails.

Finally, there is my old roommate Jeremy. He is finishing up his graduate degree at BU. I believe his focus is theater and playwriting. He is quite possibly the greatest writer I have yet to meet in person, and would not be surprised if those of you into theater hear his name within the next few years. For those of you interested in getting in on the ground floor you can check out his blog. When you check it out (and you all should everyday, regardless whether he's posted or not) you will realize not only his literary prowess but his fabulous sense of humor. And once again, when his name goes up in lights I'll be there, hanging on, mooching off his success.

Then again, if I get rich and famous first I'll be the first one to send the elevator back down - yet only after I've cut the tether preventing them from following me back up. I mean really, why should I have to deal with people mooching off my success?

The secret true history of Amichai (an awfuly long post)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Say wha?

First off I have to say posting is addictive. I posted then posted, and now am posting again. Hmm... what does that really say about my follow through? Well, not a lot really.

But this post isn't about me, well it is, as most posts in someway are about me. Instead lets say this post is more about a friend and me.

Which is to say it's not really about anything at all, or might not be about anything at all. I'm not sure. The thing is - I think a good friend of mine just tried to come out of the closet to me. I was on the phone talking to her, enjoying the conversation as I always do when speaking to this friend, then when I mentioned I planned on getting a hair cut this week (it's been a year and three days since my last cut) she mumbled something very quickly.

Now, her response is what befuddled me. In her muddled response affirming that yes indeed I should cut my hair, I think she tried slipping something in about being gay. One of those really awkward:

"Yes, the roast is delicious. I'm a lesbian. Can you please pass the gravy?"
"What did you just say?"
"I was asking for the gravy."
"Oh."

Granted it was a phone conversation and didn't occur anything like that (as there was no roast or gravy to speak of; though as I mention it, I am getting hungry) but had that general gist to it. The whole bit happened so quickly I wasn't sure if she actually said she was gay, trying to make a joke about my long and crappy hair, or it was something else all together. I can honestly say I'm not sure. And it really isn't something I can ask her. I mean I can ask her, I just don't know how to tactfully bring it up in conversation, and worse, I wouldn't know what to do if I brought it up and she said she was straight.

Friends have come out of the closet to me before. I know how to be supportive and nonchalant. I write nonchalant because sexuality really has no bearing on how I treat people. I have gay friends, I have straight friends; there are gay people I hate, there are straight people I hate. The reason I like and or hate these people has nothing to do with being gay or straight, but on the person's personality. And this friend who may or not be gay knows that about me. We've been friends for six years now and have shared many of the same friends.

Random aside. As I write this I am completely flipping out. I'm home alone, it's nearing midnight and I heard a huge crash sound coming from the other room. Let me repeat. I am alone and the crash came from the other room. In horror movies this is the point where you yell at the scream, "don't be stupid and check the noise, run away as fast as you can." Well, I got up and checked on the noise, because in real life that's what you do when you live alone - though on the other hand it's probably what you do when you die alone too. The shower broke and fell, crashing onto the tub making the noise. I don't know how, or why, as I never use that shower (I use the one downstairs) or how to fix it. I'm kinda freaked but I'm trying to move on. Though if this winds up being my last post ever, you'll all know it was the monster in the bathtub that did me in.

And if I ask and she says she's straight, what do I say next. It can't be like "oh, are you sure, cause I thought you were." What's the next sentence after she says, "no, I'm not gay"?

If she is gay she needs to deal with it in her own way and I respect that. I will admit that it does saddens me a little, if she is, that she isn't comfortable telling me yet. She's one of my best pals ever, her being gay won't change that. And if she thinks it will, what does that say about how she thinks of me? So I hope she isn't, not because I really care whether she's gay or not, but because I don't like the idea that she isn't comfortable telling me.

I guess I'm it

I was tagged by Cute little box so I am completing this meme. I wasn't planning on posting again so soon as I'm still working out my stuff, but it seemed like fun and I was getting a little bored. I don't know when the next post will be and I'm just considering this post a short recess from my self-imposed absence. Anyway, without further elaboration or excuses (and pardoning the poor writing), here we go.

Ten Years Ago: I was just starting my sophomore year of high school. It was wicked freaky as most my freshman year was spent in in Israel and I had maybe three friends in my American high school. I had such an amazing time the year prior the first semester of my return I hated school. I wasn't a complete loser, but I was pretty close. The worst part was biology. It took me almost a semester to realize I had learned it all the material in Israel only now I had to learn the terms and names in English.

On the plus side I did make friends and was for some reason given the nickname Moses (which I was called even by people I didn't know) because apparently, Amichai wasn't Jewish enough for them.

Five Years Ago: I moved across campus starting my junior year in a new dorm. I went to a small college in downtown Boston, so across campus was really a seven minute walk across Boston Commons and the Public Garden. I moved because I wanted a single room, and I wanted something new and fresh as I had lived in the same dorm room for my freshman and sophomore years. Moving turned out to be one of the best things I ever did as most of my college friends I keep in touch with today are the friends I made at the new dorm.

A side note, the dorm was built in a brownstone on Beacon street (132 Beacon to be exact) and there were maybe 70 people living in the dorm total (compared to the 70 people per floor of the my previous dorm -13 floors total). Since I am a very forgetful person and didn't own anything of any value what so ever I never locked my dorm room door. I was scared I'd lose my key or lock myself out, both of which carried a fine as a penalty. Once Mike and Sara (two people who consequentially became some of my best friends) found out that my door was never locked they snuck in and messed with my stuff. Being something of an (and by "something of an" I mean complete and utter) absent minded doofus when they cleaned up my desk - didn't notice. Then they turned some of my stuff upside down (my calendar, a few business cards, and a small poster) and I didn't realize it. I am always fiddling with something so when I saw them upside down I figured I didn't it with out realizing it. They even switched two drawers in my dresser. When I woke up the following morning and opened the drawer for my socks I saw my pants. Instead of wondering how this switch occured I just assumed I was an idiot and forgot which drawer I put my socks in. It took about three weeks for me to think maybe something strange was going on.

One Year Ago: I quit my job at Kolbo Fine Judaica and moved out of my apartment in Somerville back to Framingham. Nothing else really exciting happened. Of mild interest, it will be exactly a year ago tomorrow that I had my last hair cut.

Yesterday: I hung out with my mom in the morning, scheduled a phone interview for a job at WGBH I really want (the interview is thursday at 11 am) went shopping for bread and fruit, then watched TV. I'm a pretty boring guy.

5 Songs I Know All The Words To: Basically everything by They Might Be Giants; Cosmic Dancer by Marc Bolan (though I prefer the Lo Galluccio version); Coin Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls; Down South, 10 Hours, I-5 by the All Girl Summer Fun Band; Punk Rock Girl by the Dead Milkmen.

5 Snacks: Oreos, Edy's whole fruit bars, Granny Smith Apples, Rum Raisin ice cream with carmel syrup and sprinkles, Zebra cakes.

5 things I would do with 100 million dollars: Buy six houses in Israel (one for each member of my immediate family), start my own production company (to print comic books and produce movies), Pay off my student loans and for my brothers college educations, I'd do the whole charity thing; maybe start my own non profit to subsidize grants to local artists and education initiatives, and roll naked in huge vault with what ever was left just like Scrooge McDuck.

5 Places I Would Run Away To: New Zealand (just to see the Kakapo Bird), Tzfat in Israel, Tokyo, Micronesia (but just general island hopping in the Pacific), Curocao.

5 Things that I'd never wear: Assless pants, Bike shorts, a toupee (don't need one, but as every male in my family over the age of 40 is bald or balding - both paternal and maternal sides of the family - I figure it's only a matter of time before genetics catches up with me), anything with a swastika on it, a parachute (well I would wear one, but I never plan on being in a situation where one is needed).

5 Favorite TV Shows: Simpson, Arrested Development, Barbershop, Deadwood, Gilmore Girls.

5 Favorite Joys: Don't really know how to answer this one. I'm not someone often filled with joy. In fact i'm not quite sure what joy feels like. I've been happy, celebratory, but never filled with joy (well there was this one girl I had a crush on named Joy but I don't think that counts).

5 Favorite Toys: All my old HeMan action figures (I don't play with them anymore but if we ware talking about all time favorite throughout the course of my life HeMan probably ranks near number one), My playstation 2, Shrinky Dinks - those things are awesome, My Computer (an old iMac, but it's still cool), my various frisbees (I love them all the same).

5 People I'm Tagging: I don't know if anyone reads this now, as I am not really posting, so I don't think anyone would know if I tagged them, but if you have read this entry, consider yourself tagged.

That is all for now (at least until I get my shit together or get bored once again).

The good the bad and the candidate for pastic surgery

First thing first, though nothing is going to come of this it is a nice ego boost right when I needed it. My script on triggerstreet received a few more reviews and jumped up into the top ten on the site. That's the top ten out of a little over 2000 scripts. This means very little in the real world, but it's a nice temporary feather in my cap.

Secondly, this is one of the funnier postings I've seen online recently. You will not be disapointed (Pun intended. What pun you ask, check out the post!).

And thirdly, I hung out with my friend Jenni last night. We saw the cute yet mildly disappointing French film "Look At Me" at the Lexington theater. Jenni normally lives out in Utah for half the year and West Virginia the other half, leading various different outdoor adventure groups (mostly for troubled teens). Whilst in Utah, on a mountain biking trip she broke her ankle and a few other bones in her legs. I saw the pictures and the X-rays and they are nasty. Her ankle is bent in a direction it shouldn't by all accounts be bent at. I shudder just thinking about it (but I will not hesitate to post the images of said ankle if she ever sends them to me - just to share with everyone else). She's undergone some surgery and now has a metal plate and pin keeping her lower left leg together (along with a cast) She has come home to Lexington to recover and be taken care of (she probably won't be able to walk on her own until sometime in September of this year).

Anyway, I don't know why Jenni is my friend. Most people try to be cool. They might buy certain clothes, hang out in certain places with certain people, read certain books, see certain movies, listen to certain music; all in the attempt to be cool. Coolness is something most of us strive for. We all have a different idea as to what cool is, for some it's getting into that really exclusive club. For others it's getting the newest Dismemberment Plan CD and complaining that Modest Mouse sold out. Whatever it is, we want to be it. Whether we realize this or not, trying to be cool takes up most of how we interact with the world. I don't by any stretch of the imagination mean that we are being fake or phony, just simply trying to be cool is simply trying to be our best.

Jenni doesn't try to be cool. Trying to be cool is the farthest thing from her mind. Jenni is one of the few people who don't have to try, she just is cool. I doesn't matter what she wears, who she might listen to, what books she reads, who she talks to; she is cool - she just can't help it. She is cool in any and every situation. It's not an act, it's not a pretension, it's just who she is, and she probably doesn't even realize how cool she is (which is just one of the ways one can figure out who really is cool). She might not fit in every crowd, but I can't imagine anyone (regardless who they are) not thinking she is cool.

Aesthetically she isn't anything extraordinary. She's cute, not movie cute, just in a regular person sort of way. That being said I haven't met a man yet who isn't instantly crushed after finding out she's in a relationship. This aura of coolness permiates her being attracting everyone she meets.

And I don't know why she's my friend. Rather, I don't know why she has chosen to be friends with me. I certainly know why I want to be her friend. I always have fun hanging out with her. I don't anyone to get the wrong impression, my fondness towards her is purely platonic (I would disagree with Harry, men and women can just be friends). It's just I've met some of her other friends and they are also cool people (the type of kids I always wanted to hang out with in high school, but was too scared to try). All very nice, all very open to everybody, all very engaging, all very cool. I am pretty nice, I try (though often fail) to be open to everybody, and I can be engaging, but I'm not particularly cool.

I have good friends, in fact they're great. They're all good people in the same way I would like to think I'm a good person - I wouldn't change them for the world. But Jenni; Jenni is my cool friend. The friend that I wonder what I might have done in my past life to get a friend as cool as Jenni.

I'm just thankful that she'll never realize how cool she is, or if she does, she still won't care (she's that cool!) and that these thoughts will never plague her mind as they plague mine.

Uhh.. Carry on then.

Trying to figure out 42

I'm still going through the process of figuring it all out. In an earlier post I mentioned that my life is unraveling, and I want to clarify by stating that I was overstating the matter. My life, as it stands is more akin to legos than anything else. Perhaps you have had this experience: as a child you decided to build a magnificent lego structure. You build and build and build. You follow the directions, and as you are nearly finished you invite a friend over to marvel at your creation. This friend, with no malicious intent, walks over to your structure to inspect it. The friend reaches to touch it and accidentally breaks off a piece. While attempting to fix the gaff the friend accidentally knocks into another section knocking pieces apart. Quickly you pull your friend aside and say you'll fix it later, now realizing the only way to piece it back together is to pull more apart and start over again.

Maybe this has happened to you, maybe not, but that is about as good as an analogy I can come up with for my present situation. Everything is falling apart, but it isn't by any means broken, and at least I have a friend touching my stuff.

First off, I'm not getting any freaking job interviews. None what-so-ever! And this is seriously starting to wear on my self-esteem. Am I really this worthless? What am I doing wrong? And so forth. But this is only the beginning.

I have two friends (I have more than just two but I'm only writing about these two) living together in Manhattan. They aren't talking to each other any more. They were going to move down to Louisville, Kentucky come september, but that looks less likely to happen, as they are no longer speaking to each other, and I think it's my fault. I'm the first one to admit it, I don't understand women. Not one bit. I'm not going to make any stupid stereotypes about the differences between the sexes so often commented upon by lame comedians, suffice to say that there are differences, neither being better or worse than the other. A month ago I was invited to move down south with them, and late last week I called asking if the invitation was still open. I was feeling stagnant, the move was only going to be for 9 months, and I thought a change would do me some good.

Now I'm not so sure what happened next. The two of them spoke, they argued about something- I'm not entirely sure what, I've heard a different story from each of them- and now they aren't speaking, they aren't going to be moving together, and it all has something to do with my question wondering if the invitation was still open. One of them is moving down to Louisville, the other is convinced that she is moving to Eugene, Oregon with me, something I'm still not sure exactly how it happened. I remember saying Eugene sounded like a nice place, something of a college town, and that somehow translated into "Yes, let's move to Eugene together." She currently is so set on this I don't know how to back out without hurting her feelings. But I have to figure something out soon as I'm going to her graduate school graduation this Friday.

My artist, the one with whom I've been collaborating on a comic book, bailed on me. I thought things were going well. Apparently he couldn't pull it together, didn't have the inspiration needed, and bam, gone. This is the fourth artist to bail on me. And once again I go back to the idea that this is somehow my fault. If it's such a consistent problem it can't be just a coincidence. I just don't know what I'm doing wrong. After I give them the script we talk, and I let them know they can run with it. Take as many creative liberties as they think necessary, make it as much their own as it is mine. I don't set up any specific schedules, and try to play it by ear. I don't pester them with e-mails or phone calls everyday, or even every week. usually a letter every two weeks to see how things are going, maybe schedule a meeting in a month, or just to shoot the shit. I never hold on too tight for fear they'll slip away through my fingers, but maybe I should be closing my hand just a little bit. I don't know.

I might be homeless come june 30th and have to figure out where I'm going to live, and how I'm going to pay for it.

So there is all that.

On the plus side, I have a script doing well on Trigger street (it's #250 out of about 2050, the best I've done so far). Also, theNoyse.com liked my writing sample and I probably will be writing reviews for them and maybe a regular column. It's not paying, but at least it's a step in the right direction. So my life doesn't completely suck.

I'm not in the best mood for writing which should explain the poor writing quality of this post. My next one will be better written, I promise.

Uhh.... carry on then

Life continuing

I went out last night to a rock show/fashion show. Didn't know the bands but all the clothes were designed by my good pal Ayana (and many of them had comic book themes, which is alwasy cool in my book). I saw freinds, I heard live music, I ate cookies. I had fun. I miss having fun. I need to do it more often.

damn I need life.

Uh.. Carry on then...