now that i'm high...

...on a damn fine Davidoff cigar, that is! Ok, not so much high as a little buzzed. I don't recall feeling that way "in the old days" in college when I smoked cigars regularly. Yet the past couple times I've smoked cigars, i've been a bit affected. The power of smell...as soon as I started puffing, it was like I was in Panama City, FL in 1995, staring out at the Gulf of Mexico, my 20s ahead of me. But I digress into aching melancholy. I got this wonderful smoke from my cousin, who got it for free from some fellow trucker. Yes, I have a second cousin who's a trucker. I'd like to "truck" with him sometime, if possible. Fulfill my BJ and the Bear fantasy and all. Not sure if I quite have the cocky swagger of pre-My Two Dads Greg Evigan, but I think I could fake it till I make it. It is with this cousin that I went on my only four-wheelin' adventure through some sandy Pinelands quarry on a dark night in '91. I tend to have a problem with paragraphs online, so i'm gonna make a concerted effort to somewhat separate thoughts...starting...NOW!

I was walking at the slowest pace i'm capable of, down my street, to the corner, and a bit down the main drag, taking in both the still calm of the final night of January at 1:30am and the cancer-causing elements of my swanky cigar. January has been a fine start to '06 and I wanted to "celebrate" its end. 1/12 of the year down! I was clad in mesh shorts, a large jacket that made it appear I had no bottoms on, a sideways "yo, yo, YO!" hat, and my 30%-off Isotoner brown slippers. Surely ANYONE who spied me walking at the pace of an IV drip, in that get-up, at 1:30am would have thought me odd and possibly deranged. Because, you know, to walk down your very own street, late at night, sans dog or cellphone, is, well, MADNESS. At least I had my smoking prop if the cops came by. Mercifully, they didn't. For that matter, there wasn't much traffic at all. At one point, I waltzed straight down the middle of my street, Empire State Building ahead of me. Magic! Maybe I should steal one of the local wild cats, buy a leash, and walk the cat when I wanna go on one of my many wee hour strolls. Making believe i'm talking to someone on my cell to avoid being pegged as an al-queda operative is just getting SO old. Though I SHOULD win some award for acting. I can really get into those fake calls. Gesticulate and all!

The State of the Union address tonight proved once again to be an exercise in tedium. I was greatly encouraged to see NIGHTLINE asking exactly what I did (to myself, of course)...is this REALLY fucking necessary in 2006? They left that F-word out of it, but more or less the same question. It's so ungodly staged and rehearsed and FUCKING BULLSHIT. Yes, yes, yes..."the state of our union is strong!" Thanks, Dubya. Because I thought he'd say that it was as weak as NBC's Thursday lineup. And then we have the quick camera shots of the couple of black people in the audience clapping to his opening statement saluting Coretta Scott King. We also got our Hillary Nodding and Forcing A Smile shot. And the Very Special Guests sitting in the audience, who invariably look awkward and pained. And the endless goddamn motherfucking standing and clapping, standing and clapping. It's like the LONGEST Catholic mass you've ever been to...times ten!! Ugh. Oh, yeah, and the issues and Big Bold Agenda...you know, the reason FOR the speech...nothing ever happens. Entirely bullshit. Empty promises and rhetoric. Every year. Eh, it's still perversely fun to watch, though. Seeing who talks to who in the audience, if Dubya mispronounces a word, stuff like that. And CBS' Bob Schieffer...God, I'm so glad he's still on the air and actually winning praise. He's just the best. About time he got his props. I'll always be a CBS News guy.

What else? Ahhhhhhhh...Gotta wrap up this day...and month. God, i'm loving this blog, I must say. Gives me "an outlet," as they say. It's win-win-win-win. I entertain myself...entertain some select (for now) others (well, hopefully)...have yet more records of my life...and, in the best possible scenario, someone In Authority stumbles upon my musings and offers me a book deal. I've always wanted to write a book...or twenty. I want my name known. In bold print. On Page Six. With all the other idiots, lol. "Gary, looking irritated, grabbing a single hot dog at Gray's Papaya before bolting into the 9th St. PATH station."...some completely pointless time-wasting sentence like that. NOT for any sordid doings. Because I'm SUCH a good boy. Cue wink-winking. And yes, no last name for me. Who do I have to compete with? Only Garry Shandling. And he has 2 Rs along with a fading star. They'll know me as Gary. OK, so the truth is that I don't want my last name used here, OKAY?! Anyway, I have "be careful what you wish for" whispering to myself. I heard Heart's "Nothin' At All" before on PLJ. Sigh...1986. Wasn't I JUST in seventh grade? Man, what a great album that is....their eponymous classic. So long, January! Here's to a fucking kickass February! "Your emotional reaction, caught me off guard..."

Heather & Thai

This is my FIRST.BLOG.FUCKING.EVER. I fear it could become addictive...or The Key (at long, long last) to the fame and fortune I fucking deserve. Dammit. I have issues with these things, as much as i'm a fan of both writing and self-analysis. Frankly, a lot of blogs are pointless wastes of time...glorified idiotic diary entries, this time for all the world to see. Everyone online now thinks they're fucking Fitzgerald just because they have 10 fingers to type with, in the same way that all these reality show morons think they're justifiably famous because they've fucked The Bachelor and inexplicably went on national TV to proclaim said fact. Jesus fucking Christ. Will I become a willing participant in one of the 18,429 things that piss me off? Looks like I already have. Thing is, though, I DO think i'm potentially Fitzgerald. Or at least Frey. I guess the REAL "thing" is that I'M not delusional. It's 1:17am and this whole thing is a random creation, so that kinda explains the Zen.Anger.Perspective bit. Yes, they're 3 words that I relate to daily, but try not to read TOO much into it...it's basically me being cute at 1something in the morning off the top of my head. So, um, yeah...I went to Chinatown tonight with Heather From College. Let's see how long my militant "I won't list anyone's whole name to protect them from the evil stalkers/voyeurs of the internet" stance lasts. Anyway, Heather's in town for a trade show at the Javits Center. She lives on the Outer Banks. I rarely see her, so it's always a joy, and ALWAYS memorable. I mean, I spent 3 hours with her tonight, but there was sooooooooo much Meaning packed into those 3 fucking hours, it's not funny. What IS funny...on paper, we couldn't be more different. She's, well, a she. I'm a he. She's married with a child on the NC coast. I'm happily single in Soprano Land NJ. Here's where it gets fun...she grew up Mennonite in semi-rural VA, pressed against the Appalachians. I grew up Catholic, pressed against...hmm, many things pressed against me, but let's say Newark. And tonight, Heather told me that she's totally shifting gears in her life...and is applying to Duke Divinity School to become an ordained minister!?!?!?!?! So there I sat, Trucker Profane & Anti-Religion Gary, across from my friend Heather, Future Preacher. I think I uttered the word FUCK just for fun when she first told me. But that's the thing...she says FUCK, too. Ok, not as much as me, but she says it. And she had a beer at dinner. And funneled beer on spring break in college. She's not the fucking Mennonite Virgin Mary. She's COOL. And perhaps even more shocking...I'M very inspired by her ever-growing concern for others. She's truly one of the rare people who consistently alters the way I view life, who makes me appreciate the differences between me and The Others, and perhaps most of all, hammers home the point that one can radically change one's life whenEVER the fuck one feels like it. Ya JUST gotta do it. YEAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Did I mention we also had Thai? After I spent all weekend researching a 5-year-old Time Out New York guide to restaurants, looking for something "funky, different, ethnic," we wound up at Pongsri Thai Restaurant on Bayard Street. Holy Christ, run there NOW!! Until a couple years ago, all I ever had was chicken or Italian. Even steak was exotic. So, for me, Thai is OUT THERE still. I'm very impressed with myself (insert LOL here). Next stop, Ethiopian! But seriously, this place was fucking fantastic. I had seaweed soup and something curry...with, er, chicken. New things in '06!!! Ok, i'm done with this inaugural blog. It's clearly just a cheaper version of therapy. I feel a Very Special Thank You needs to be given to Mark F., whose relentless pitch for The Blog REALLY got my mind moving toward starting one. More rambling thoughts to come...