Complain about my street resembling fucking Wisteria Lane today...or join in the chorus to save Darfur from genocide?

How 'bout I do both? I mean, who ISN'T against genocide? Thanks, George Clooney, for again saving the world. You weren't Batman for nothing. I interrupt this entry to note that I just heard that NYC cops have deemed crystal meth an out of control epidemic in clubs. Is it harsh to suggest everyone just calm the fuck down and let all the idiot users overdose into their graves? I have ZERO sympathy for overdose deaths. NONE. And zero patience for anyone who does most drugs. Pot...that's another blog...but I don't get that, either. If I'm righteous and I know it, clap my hands!! If I'm righteous and I know it, and I really wanna show it...ok, back to my original point...genocide -- bad. Moving on, I woke up today to find my street just unbelievably, irritatingly full of bustling neighbors. EVERYONE was in front of their house...chitchatting, walking dogs, moving in, riding bikes, tending to their front garden, coming home from church. I even saw, for the first time on my street, a gate sale...which, of course, invited even MORE people. And there I was, up in my 3rd floor Mrs. Bates window, sipping tea and muttering sardonic profanities to myself as I watched the cheery neighbors mingle or enjoying the sunshine solo. I'm REALLY not the nasty fuck I sound like...but I SO stand by my eye rolling. It was just beyond annoying to view. Does anyone know how to hang out in their BACKyard? In private? Oh, that's right, one family does...the obnoxious loudmouths who routinely have barbecues in their yard diagonal to my bedroom as soon as it pushes past 60 degrees. Like today...which included a BIRTHDAY song being sung by all of them. Vomit. Yet another moment when my deep breathing exercises kicked in. These people do things like yell "MAAAAAAAA, we need a knife!"...and then Ma tosses a plastic knife from the second floor window, the fat ass yenta daughter catches it, and everyone at the party feels compelled to bellow, "HEEEEEYYYY, good catch!" Heavy sigh. Having said all that, I've noticed that my Panic Attack While Behind the Wheel Phase has passed. YAY! I actually am making a concerted effort across the board to burrow even deeper into my own head and zone out when I sense i'm about to be infuriated. Maybe it's working? But anyway...

It's the last day of April and the end of the first third of the year. I like that May starts 1) on a Monday and 2) with me working. Yes, working! I feel like the first third of this year has been SOOOOOOOOOO much (necessary to trudge through) FUCKING CLUTTER, and now the real meat & potatoes of Gary's Comeback begins with the advent of the summer months. I will desperately try to minimalize my morning rush hour fury...AND my fury at simply having to wake at 7am. Positive thoughts...positive thoughts...burrow deeper, Gary...deeper...deeper...ZEN...

It totally feels like October outside

That's my riveting posting for this late evening. It even SMELLS like October 15th or so. It's currently 47 degrees. I don't know why I felt compelled to note how it felt like October, but I did. Went to the twins' birthday fest tonight...inhaled a great deal of food, 2 Yuenglings, and 3 cups of tea. A nice time. Did laundry, too. Was home by midnight. I will now lay on the couch in the dark and watch something on TV for a few minutes, often glancing out at the twinkling lights of Manhattan, before I head off to bed on this last Saturday night of April 2006...

Just a Country Boy Saturday Morning

So how odd is it that 1) I pick an article i've been saving about country music's history in NJ to finally start reading over breakfast and then 2) randomly stumble upon the 2-hour A&E Biography of Dolly Parton? I think it's beyond odd...how life works in those weird little ways. And NOW because of both my reading whim and TV randomness, I'm gonna listen to some country albums today...Tim McGraw, Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, and yes, the one I have of Dolly. THAT is what's fun about life...having NO clue where the day will take you! By the way, it IS "album" and not "CD." You're listening to an ALBUM...in either CD, cassette, or vinyl format. Yet another pet peeve of mine. Then we have the agitating pretentious idiots who "don't buy CDs anymore" because they have their Ipods. I'm now veering into rant mode, but for the life of me, don't get me started on the Ipod. Listen, I GET its appeal and would actually like to own one. And I GET the argument that a lot of albums have one or two good songs and the rest are shit. Gee, here's an idea...only buy albums by established artists who are personal faves and/or inform yourself by reading reviews. But NOW i'm in danger of going off on the people who "don't listen to reviews." Bottom line...it's yet another topic about which i'm in the Gray Zone, whereas most seem to be in either Black or White Land. My point...I see the value of owning both an Ipod AND albums at the same time. I sense my mind spinning, so I'm just gonna jerk myself back to the original Country Theme of this blog entry, say how I REALLY enjoyed the Parton biography on many levels, and end this so I can start playing my country albums. **BTW, I'm relishing sitting here in peace after the hell of yesterday. It's a gorgeous 62-degree day out...but i'll be goin out at 7ish to a party, so for now, i'll sit inside, sipping tea, in Zen mode.

I look and feel like I trekked through a Cambodian jungle

A tad dramatic, yes...but I'm being SARCASTIC, you know? I did yardwork today for FIVE straight hours -- the lawn mower blowing dirt in my face, hands deep in mulch and dirt, pollen from overgrown bushes falling all over me, branches from those same bushes scraping me all over as I cut them down to size. I emerged literally bloody. HA! Good workout, though. It indeed eventually wound up being a pretty good day. I'm exhausted, though. This hellish week of frantic job searching actually resulted in...a one-day gig Monday at some marketing firm. YAY!! Christ, my hands are so fucking rough from my outdoor beautifying. I need someone to come give me a full body massage. For free, of course. No happy ending necessary. That's all I feel like writing on this last Friday of April...a brilliantly sunny day, in the low 60s. Beautiful. Everything blooming.

Construction FINALLY begins at Ground Zero!!

REJOICE!!!!!!!!!!!! I canNOT wait to see that towering, gleaming new skyscraper rise!!

Can Marissa Cooper attend ANY formal affair without winding up in tears while clutching a liquor bottle on the pier?

Just asking.

One month left...

...until Memorial Day Weekend!! All SORTS of personal deadlines are wrapped up in that date...Friday, May 26. What IS it with my Rain Man-esque penchant for dates? I love it, though...gives such perspective. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Can someone fucking HIRE ME?!?!?!

The title question pretty much sums up my day...HOURS of looking for either a "real" job, or something for one day or a few hours, just to net me some quick cash. It's funny how my blog titles just come to me right before I start writing. Ok, not funny...interesting...to me, at least. No one else, i'm sure. Just me. I'm proud to say I worked out a good deal again...biceps today, and DID take a healthy stab at my remaining Piles O'Shit. YAY!! Oh, can't forget giving the kitchen sink a good bleaching...that alone was a solid half-hour of my life. OH!...I also finally, finally, FINALLY sent in my awesome sunrise photo to PARADE magazine. I've been meaning to send something to THAT photo contest for literally months. DONE! So, yes, another good day...though I am BEYOND tired of both this apt. and having not a pot to piss in. Do you HEAR me?!?! If ANYONE reading this knows of some REAL job opening in NYC or metropolitan NJ involving writing, the media, SOMETHING interesting/creative...CONTACT ME!! But also...do you need your yard weeded or raked? A room painted? Help moving? Contact me for THAT, too! Envelopes stuffed? I'M your man! I also have breathtaking handwriting if anyone needs THAT old world skill. But I hold precious little hope anyone will contact me. Three months of writing, and I've received ONE comment. That's how I get through life...expecting little, so when good things DO happen, i'm BEYOND overjoyed. Surprise me, though. I need a nice surprise. HIRE GARY!!!!!

I wish I had a lenai

Today wasn't the whirlwind of productivity I'd hoped for. But having said that, I spent a TON of time looking for jobs and also worked out a good deal. So it's not like I did nothing with my precious time. In fact, I think they're 2 of the BEST things I could have done, no? But my eyes are glazing over from online employment-searching for hours on end. Tomorrow, I gotta mix it up a bit. The shit in my room...piles of everything -- mainly papers, articles, mementos -- FINALLY must go or be properly stored away, once and for all. I've been working steadily toward it, and tomorrow I WILL take a giant swipe at it. It was nice not to run around anywhere today, though. Hell, barely left the house. And those jobs? Well, not much to speak of...though I'm waiting on a few things. Temp agency, here I come, I think. Did I just write that? It ALL much change ...NOW.

Adios, high school leather jacket!

The day dawned with CRASHES of thunder...I LOVE that!! It was a pretty good Monday...though I fear my "highlights" will appear pathetic in print. Namely, finally hauling off my 15-year-old leather jacket, that I wasn't happy with from day one, to the Salvation Army...along with my green velour J Crew top that was long past its expiration date. Sure got my money's worth out of it, though. And a couple other things went to the poor, too. Well, the OTHER poor...as i'm also poor. I also ripped up a calendar on my wall that depressed me every time I looked at it...pictures of trucks and cranes. Retrieved mom's calendar of exotic destinations to replace it. YAY! I've looked for work a lot, gardened a bit, hit ShopRite again. I know, nothing seismic in scale to the reader's eye. But I felt better. It was a lot of "little things" yet again. I realize it sounds absurd to say Maggie's death inspired me to throw out my coat!!!!! And a calendar!! But it did. I've been meaning to, but it just kept sitting there. I'd have done it anyway sooner than later...but it's those little things that are far easier to do now. Does that make sense? Yes, it does. **I don't think I mentioned that on Thursday evening, about 7:45pm, I went up on my roof for the first time this year. Maybe I did. It was fantastic, as it always is. One of the best things about living here. I also talked to Freddy again online today...always a pleasure. Tomorrow, the focus on self-improvement will continue. Because there's much to do!!

Sunrise, sunset

The most encouraging part of this "still processing things" day was sending a fantastic sunrise pic of my friend entering the ocean with a surfboard in Bradley Beach to the Star Ledger's photo contest. I love this pic...so much that I blew it up and put it on my living room wall. I really think I have a shot at winning, at the very least, the 2nd place $2,500 prize in the "Jersey Scenes" category. The Grand Prize is $25,000! Can I dare dream?! Frankly, lol, I will be pissed if I DON'T win. I need a fucking break, dammit. I need recognition and I need money. Hell, I'll even take 3rd place...a $400 digital camera. But I REALLY want the money. Conversely, the most depressing part of this day began with a stunning view of the sun setting over the Meadowlands, with the hills in the distance. It was quite a sight, the clouds all perfectly situated and colored. I caught it as I entered ShopRite in North Bergen...delayed my entry to go toward the back of the store for a closer look. Surely I was being stared at; I tried not to care. I just stood there gawking at the beauty of the day ending...and, naturally, thought of Maggie. I'd been doing so well all day for the most part. Dipshit didn't get home till after 5:30pm, so I had the whole day to myself. Pouring rain gave way to brilliant sun...everything looked so green and glistening. Full of LIFE. Leaning out my front window, I was so grateful to simply smell the fresh air. But the sunset made me depressed again, and I wandered through ShopRite in a funky haze. I didn't even feel like being there...great deals on cereal and OJ and all. But I got my few things, and mildly buoyed myself by stumbling on a 49-cent 4-pack of batteries. I feel better now again. It struck me how random the waves of both joy and depression can be...what sets them off. I had fun this afternoon thoroughly examining an Ocean County map...where I was this weekend, where relatives live. I LOVE maps! I'm super tired now, though...and it's not even midnight. I'm gonna end this night and weekend kinda early...hopefully be well-rested and rarin' to go for Monday morning. No matter how I feel, I have little patience for long-term moping. I'M alive.

Maggie

I can't stop thinking about Maggie. Over and over in my head, for the past 36 hours, all I hear is "Maggie." It's 2am now; I've been home since about 5:30pm...and I have done absolutely nothing but sit online and watch TV in merciful peace (Dipshit's away) as it pours rain outside. It's been exactly what I needed after 3 days of running around crazy, along with the emotional hell of Maggie's wake and funeral. I shouldn't even write much because my mind is just overloaded and tired. Woke up at 6am in a Manahawkin beach house...best part of the day. I've been so damn depressed the whole night...much more so than at the wake or funeral, not that they were peppy affairs. I guess, as I noted yesterday, I just did what I had to do to steel myself through it. I'm not a crier, even at the worst of times. This is a good thing, because I have a feeling if I started, I'd be the same way as I am when I start laughing at the wrong time...uncontrollable. I'd have to be taken by force out of the funeral home and tasered on the front sidewalk, left twitching. So I just sit there, telling myself to keep it together. Maybe I was extra numb today, because it wasn't that difficult. It helped that the funeral wasn't in a church, with a long procession and endless "shoot me now" hymns. Instead, it was a brief, 30-minute ceremony in the funeral home, led by an Episcopalian priest. And there were no family member eulogies, as I've been made used to. JUST the priest, end of story. Thank GOD. Lastly, there was no trip to the cemetery. Private cremation. This, though, was almost worse...for the time came when we all made our final viewing of the body, which is just miserable. Absolutely miserable. And then greet the family again before making our way outside. I nervously grappled to put my gum in a tissue in my back pocket as I inched toward the casket, SURE it'd fall out as I embraced Barb, Billy, or Will. That's right...hours later, I found the gum all over my pant pocket. And so we then lingered outside...and before we knew it, the casket was coming out...which we didn't expect. And pall bearers -- Will and his & Maggie's friends -- placed it into the hearse. And, well, we made our way to our cars to leave the immediate family that last bit of private time...before the hearse rode off to the crematorium. There's just no gentle way to say that. It's the darkest reality there is...and I've been thinking about it all day. I just can't comprehend so much. HOW in the name of God did Billy and Barb and Will proceed to the VFW hall...and laugh and chat? Drink, I can understand. And they did. And Barb was smoking, too...but no one in charge dared tell her to put it out. I don't think anyone even cared or recalled it's against the law now. But HOW does a parent and brother laugh when their daughter and sister has just been buried? I found myself catching glances at them whenever I could, macabrely fascinated by how one carries on. It WAS a CELEBRATION of her life, though...which I can appreciate, hard as it can be. There was even a radio playing toe-tapping pop music at the VFW, along with tons of Maggie's photos laid out for people to look through. But what does her family do when they get home? If I'M depressed once the funeral hoopla ends, God only knows what they are going through. Will lost his only sibling; two great kids Billy and Barb raised. I worry about all of them, but you just hope that your presence provided the SLIGHTEST bit of comfort to them. Unprecedented heavy sigh. So i'm left feeling both unspeakably depressed and full of a zest for life at the exact same time. An APPRECIATION for life...again. I'm a fool if Maggie's death doesn't put everything in a new light.

Prepping for a wake

NEVER fun. I'm in a rush and really have nothing more to say...yet in my obsessive way, had to write SOMETHING just to be consistent. Haven't missed a day yet since I began this thing. At least my forehead zit looks better. There...something positive.

I mulch, bag, lay seed, mow & hoe

That is what I will do for you. Let's talk pricing. That's also what I did today...at FOUR different houses, including dear old mom & dad's. My nails remain dirty after many vigorous washings...and I'm a fanatic about my nails being short and clean. The life of a laborer. I worked my ass off for hours on end...in the 80-degree sun. Wonderful. Actually, I worked till I couldn't work no more...I was laying mulch till it got dark. I do so enjoy making yards look pretty. I also enjoy having worked hard for a very reasonable dollar...and LIKING what I was doing. And I will especially enjoy my big ass Martha pillow tonight. But not before FRASIER & GOLDEN GIRLS...and a late night walk in search of a Ledger. And trying everything in the book to diminish the ungodly zit over my right eyebrow. And trying to get my nails clean again.

The Death Call vs. The Funeral...and that unending time in-between

Which is the most upsetting? I guess it differs with the person who died and your relation to them. This is by far the most conflicted I've been yet in terms of what I write in my blog. Someone I know died...Maggie, only 26...from cancer. TWENTY-SIX. I don't really want to go on and on about it. I simply don't feel like it. Something remains odd and awkward to me about writing TOO much in a blog. Maybe someday I will. That's what writers do, right? Great. But i'm not writing my autobiography yet. So let's just keep details vague, themes general, and humor dark...like how, after I got the bad news via phone message from mom, I proceeded to NOT call mom back within seconds...but instead pressed redial over and over to attempt to vote for AMERICAN IDOL. That WAS why I picked up the phone in the first place at 9:03pm yesterday...only to hear that dreaded "voicemail" beep-beep-beeping. I decided to zone out for 10 minutes and let the news sink in before having a conversation with mom. THEN, I walked to ShopRite, where I'll go on a GOOD day to lose myself. A wonderful, vital, smart, pretty 27-year-old woman died hours earlier from cancer...and i'm debating the merits of fudge pops vs. creamsicles. I chose creamsicles, figuring I'd see enough dark colors in the coming days. The news hit me harder this morning when I woke up...which is when I had this sudden memory of Maggie asking me to dance at my cousin's wedding in October of 2002. In the nine days I knew she'd been very sick in the hospital, I didn't once remember this, but soon after waking...bam. Thank GOD for my diaries...I later verified my memory, as I'd written down the general highlights of the wedding...and that turned out to be one of them. And my diary noted it was the last dance of the evening, too...all the more special. That weekend was really the only time in my life that I hung out with Maggie. We didn't even often see each other, but she's been in my world in an extended way for 27 years...and in that one weekend, she left an incredibly positive impression on me that will last for the rest of MY life. An impressive woman across the board...an engineer. And now we'll all go through the rituals of mourning, go through the motions, JUST wanting it to be over with so we can get back home, lay on the couch and try to forget both the grim reality of what's happened...and that -- surrealistically -- one day, WE'LL be the focus of the mourning. Life's a bitch...learn it early, kids. Enjoy those creamsicles while you can.

Not the best day

But others had a far worse one, so let's just say good night. I SHOULD try to go to bed early for once. Might do me well.

Flower power

Today is certainly the worst allergic reaction to anything I've ever had in my life. The cause, besides the ungodly high tree pollen count I keep hearing about, is surely those 2 small flowers I ripped off a bush in my parents' yard last night and promptly put in a bottle in my room. The entire apartment smelled of them instantaneously. Be nice if I knew the name of one of my fave-smelling flowers after all these years. It hasn't been THAT bad...but still, my entire day has been a drag. It actually began just before I went to bed about 3am, when my vision was...well, I still don't know how to explain it. It wasn't double-vision and I wasn't blind, lol. But it was like spotty or something, and my eyes were super tired. Very odd...but I quickly fell asleep...with the TV on, which I hate. At 7am, I woke up, not only with an annoying full bladder...but the most pounding headache I've had in years. So bad I almost felt like vomiting. Pissed, downed 2 Tylenol, then went back to bed. Then got up again, ripped the flowers out of the bottle and stuffed them deep in the kitchen trash. I kept thinking of Sharon Stone being interviewed about her aneurysm, where she said it was like someone shot her in the head. Yes, I always fear the worst. Anyway, I felt tired and vaguely like vomiting again about 3pm. But then I showered...and hopefully cleaned myself of any excess pollen...and I DO feel better now...though still blah. My entire day so far...ruined by a FUCKING FLOWER.

Dr. Robin, Oprah's latest bitch

I've long said I generally admire Oprah. So it's interesting that, conversely, I greatly detest about 85% of the stupid fuck "experts" she makes famous. The latest is Dr. Robin, another in a long line of psychologists dispensing advice to some insecure wreck on national television. And it IS the Mental Health Geniuses I have the biggest issues with. Though I despised money expert Suze Orman, too...but she mingled money talk with psychobabble. Many reasons I feel this way...clearly the fact that I feel i'm smarter than all of them at the top of the list. Are SO many SO unaware of "the reasons" behind their issues that they need some idiot who doesn't know them to shed some light on it? And, yeah, let's broadcast it for millions to see. Because unless you announce your issues/problems to the world, thus "owning" them, you can't move forward...RIGHT? We live in a world where your every secret is supposed to be splashed across the front page of a newspaper to somehow make it "valid"...and in turn, allowing you to "heal." Ugh. It's my deepest yearning for Dr. Phil to be found in women's lingerie while smoking a crack pipe...well, one of many career-killing scenarios I dream about for him. So, Dr. Robin...give me a break & shut the fuck up, already. Oh, yeah, and you look like a horse...or monkey...I just CAN'T put my finger on exactly which animal yet...

EVERY day can be New Year's Day!

That idea hit me tonight. Another trite saying perhaps, but whatever urges you along, I say. ANY day you wake up is an an opportunity for positive change. SO true. Today was Income Tax Day...and naturally, TODAY was when I mailed mine in. Actually better than last year, when I got an extension for the federal and mailed the state in...TODAY. Ha! I called and they said just mail in the 2004 form for my whopping $31 and change refund. Which basically proves my theory that you only need to file by today if you OWE money. And even that's debatable, lol. It was an exhausting, melancholy, good day. Woke up with a stiff neck...which made bolting across streets more difficult, not being as quick to jerk my neck to look for oncoming buses and all. It also didn't help having a stiff neck while I undertook a big mulching job. But you know what, who cares. So my neck hurts a little. I got everything done. It was removing LAST year's mulch that was the bitch...and 20mph gusts didn't help. I had dirt flying in my face and all over the sidewalk, trash bags blowing shut as I tried to pour the old shit in. WIND...a vexing issue when landscaping. Today also had dad telling me, "I love you...but you're a real asshole." Awww, shucks...thanks, daddy! Ya KNEW it'd only be a one-day break for Easter from hurling profanities at each other. Naturally, I defend my asshole-ness. You see, I had to piss like a champ after running around for like 2 hours. So once at the 'rents, I raced into the bathroom. So i'm standing there, cock in hand, JUST starting to unleash the lava flow of urine, when I hear, "Gary?" Instantly, I tense up and the urine flow slows to a trickle. Again, "Gary?" Just...ignore...him...and he'll stop, I desperately tell myself. But no. "GARY, is that you?!" Three strikes, tops, and you're out with me. "WHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!," I screamed with clear irritation at the top of my lungs. Of course, he "just wanted to know who came in." That was the urgency requiring my yelling my name through the bathroom door. Let's be clear...NO reason to be grilling the occupant of the bathroom as they struggle privately with their urine or bowels. NONE. I mean, there were 4 choices as to "who came in" -- me, mom, my brother, or the late afternoon thief who thought he'd tinkle before robbing us. So in under a minute of being at my parents', I was infuriated...as was dad -- at my "attitude." Can't even PISS in fucking peace. Thankfully, that anecdote sums up only 5 minutes of my day. The rest of it was productive or relaxing. I thank you, Lord, for this day. **I say that nightly, you know. Honest. ME. I say THAT. Swear.

Mr. Hinchy Runs For Mayor...and other Easter parables

My father told me today, on Easter, that my best friend from about ages 6 through 10 -- "Hinchy" -- is running for mayor of our hometown. Dad saw him this week from his car and zoomed over to the curb to strike up a chat. "You know who was asking about you?," my dad began today's story as our family of four breezed into the Orange, NJ Italian restaurant for our 4pm reservation. I was actually pleasantly shocked by the revelation it was Hinchy; normally, I'm rather bored by any passed-on greetings from old chums. Hinchy's mayoral run is beyond surreal to me...and both depressing and inspiring, as it again reminds me that people my age are accomplishing BIG things while I continue to "find my way." I think I come off far more insecure in this blog than I really am, because I really don't see myself as insecure at all, and in fact think i'm rather full of and sure of myself. But career-wise, GODDAMMIT, people with 1/10th of my smarts are living the life. Ugh. I'm certainly not jealous of either my old friend OR his job goal. I have no desire to be mayor of anywhere...let alone the town I grew up in. It's funny how some people maintain a lifelong allegiance to their roots, while others (read: me) prefer a healthy distance...even though I find myself there far more than I'd like to be. I continue to aim to be...eventually...the most famous person to come out of that town. There, I said it. But HOW? Christ, it'd be so much easier if I was dumb, uncreative, unambitious, and not full of "I'll show THEM!" revenge fantasies. **This is where I sound like a neurotic nutcase. Let's put it this way...if I was a songwriter -- say, Springsteen -- reviewers would always say that my "relationship with his hometown is one of his familiar themes." I wanna say that I think it's common, but I dunno. IS it? God, i'm getting off track, though. I wish I could still vote in my hometown...i'd vote for "Hinchy." Even though he left me for another man at age 10...that damn Jesus (no, not Jesus of Nazareth whose rising we celebrate today, but Jesus of Around the Corner whose name is pronounced HAY-SUESS)...I long ago realized that my inability to throw a ball severely soured my friendship with jock-in-training Hinchy, and no hard feelings remain. We even hung out sporadically through high school. Actually, I have a most fond memory of camping out in a tent one night with Hinchy in HAY-SUESS' backyard in September of my freshman year of high school. Us urban kids pretending we lived in Warren County. It WOULD be awkward for me to see him now, though...and i'm not even sure why. I haven't seen him in probably more than a decade. That's just insane. It's all just insane. That's one big difference between my father and I...he'll talk to anyone at any time with zero pre-chat plotting, while I'll walk blocks out of my way to avoid simply saying "hi" to a casual acquaintance I spy up ahead...let ALONE my best friend from childhood. Funny. ***So onto other things, briefly...the opening scene of THE SOPRANOS tonight, where Tony is infuriated beyond belief by noise interrupting his reading in the yard...SO me. TOTALLY me. I need ABSOLUTE silence to read/relax. And it's so damn hard to find in this world. AGAIN...a chief reason I loooooooove the wee hours of the morning. ***I didn't go to Easter mass today for the 2nd straight year. But, unlike last year, I had no plans to go this year. I decided early on that my Easter mass ship has sailed. Dad even called me -- in a lighthearted way -- an atheist during dinner. Christmas I'll still do...it's THE holiday of our lives. Easter has always been beyond secondary. Plus, for Xmas we go on Xmas Eve, while on Easter...i'm supposed to be up for NOON mass? Fuck THAT. I mean, I was UP by noon...but lounging and having tea, not already dressed and ready for mass. Mom liked the flowers I got her...mums. Good, i'm glad. Dinner out was nice...and filling. Talapia for me...and about 18 pieces of bread. And we all had some red wine...and toasted...me with my Peroni. Nice. I kept the holiday melancholy relatively at bay today...though it was there. Saw my fave baby boy after dinner...see, I DO like kids. OK, i'm tired and ready to read the Ledger in bed. Happy Easter...and vote Hinchy!

Over My Head

This song by The Fray is a song I like. The video was just on, so I thought I'd write about it, lol. The song's title kinda generally sums up how I feel about my whole life, so perhaps that's why I like the song. That, or the catchy pop chorus. I also just watched ROSEANNE...another favorite. Especially the middle years, when it was at its peak...like tonight's ep where David moved in after Roseanne saw how his nutcase mother treated him. Well, it hit 80 degrees today for the first time this year...right smack in the middle of April. I enjoy the symmetry of that. Naturally, I didn't go outside until evening. I had a most pleasant afternoon, though...reading a bit again on the radiator. I need to put a pillow there to cushion my bony ass. I really need a fainting couch, but one dream at a time. I finally went out about 6:30pm and it was just perfect outside. I love evening strolls. And stroll I did...all through Hoboken, with Don Henley's BOYS OF SUMMER and SUNSET GRILL on my headphones. Just mahvelous. Yes, i'm in wistful song mode today. I did some Hoboken Reporter reading while perched on a wall...more interested in watching the NYC skyline as night fell and all the twinkling lights came on in the buildings and on the bridges. Yes, it was all most soothing. I completed the fun by using a $1 coupon for Minute Maid that got me TWO 64oz. containers of OJ for $1.27 each. A Hungry Man turkey dinner was the icing on the cake of my restful Saturday. Eight seconds left of overtime...

Can I just say...

...that in more than 8 years of not living under my parents' roof, I have NEVER ordered food to the house? On top of that, you can throw in 4 years of college and 2 summer beach houses. Sure, i'd share in many pizzas ordered during college, but that doesn't count. I have never myself picked up the phone in my life to order, for me...solo...Chinese, or Chicken Galore, or Indian, or ANYTHING. WHO are all these people 1) too lazy to go to the supermarket, 2) too lazy to pick up the food themselves (particularly on an 80-degree Saturday), 3) with the disposable income to be constantly ordering food to the house? It's just yet another little thing in life that completely escapes me. For that matter, who the fuck is ordering Chinese at 2:30pm on a Saturday? I'm still on my 4th cup of breakfast hot tea. Yes, I saw an Asian man with NY plates pull up out front with a delivery bag. That's what sparked this blog. Hmm, unless it was a heroin drop?

Fox 5 News...their priorities in order

On a day when yet more human remains were found on top of the Deutsche Bank building across from Ground Zero, the top story on Fox 5 News in NYC was the continued rescue effort for...Molly the Cat, trapped in a West Village deli's walls. Shameful.

A new benchmark for my roommate's staggering stupidity -- seriously, i'm NOT kidding

I've long maintained that every syllable of every rant I ever make, on here OR in person, is absolutely warranted. I don't LIKE being angry or stressed. I much prefer the ZEN portion of this blog's title. I'm not even angry now, but I have a short anecdote to share that perfectly illustrates how utterly foreign the domestic sciences are to my dipshit of a hick-town-in-western-NJ-raised roomie, THUS why I'm so consistently enraged at his inability to move about the house unlike a retarded, blind 4-year-old. SO...i'm VERY ready to enjoy my 3rd cup of tea of the day and proceed to turn the teapot on. Dipshit is also in the kitchen, readying HIS coffee. Two seconds after I turn on the teapot, I lift the pot up to gauge the water level. It needs more, I determine. So I lift up said teapot and bring it to the sink to fill it up. Next thing I hear is "oh, so THAT'S what happens?!" Cue me puzzled beyond human belief. Dipshit proceeds to say "I always wondered what would happen if you turned on the burner without anything underneath it...I always assumed the flames would like shoot up toward the ceiling or something." Is everyone reading this as open-mouthed flabbergasted as I was? Are you TELLING me that a 30-and-a-half-year-old man has never in his LIFE turned on a stovetop burner without something "covering it," for fear the flames would get instantly out of hand and engulf the house?!?!?!? Are you TELLING me this, LORD, on Good Friday?!?! Jesus, I NEED you now! God forbid the pilot light ever went out on his watch...he'd be gassed to death before he figured out how to fix it. I'd come home and find him twitching on the kitchen floor, whereupon I'd cover my face with a wet cloth, take a cigarette lighter to the burner, call 911 for Dipshit, then proceed to check my email. Surely he doesn't even know it's CALLED a pilot light. So after he said this, I just giggled, muttered "no," and swiftly moved toward the computer to begin detailing his immense stupidity for all to read about. I just...I just...it's just so beyond incredible to me. Yet it makes even more sense now that he doesn't know how to wash a dish or is even aware that adults should, like, DUST now and then. STAGGERING.

Old friends

I finally called Charlie back today. He first called a week ago, then again on Sunday. Now, as i've said 300 times, I detest the phone, but I must say...it was a delight to talk to him. We only talked for like 5 minutes, but every second was wonderful. I think, pathetically, I may have just been delighted to be talking to ANYone to some degree. I haven't seen Charlie in more than 4 years, but it was like not a day had gone by, and we were working together in 2001 again. And how's this for super odd...Charlie was at Virgil's BBQ with SAVI when I called! Savi...who hasn't been down from Maine in years, and is only in town for like a day...HOW bloody bizarre he's there when I make my call. Well, I'd called just as he was being served dinner, so it was a brief chat...but we both VOWED to get together soon. I miss Charlie...and it was evident he misses me, which made me weepy. HA! Ok, so I didn't sob. I was really, really happy, though. Got off the phone and just felt great...and I'd already been in a good mood after thoroughly figuring/filling out my taxes for hours. I also reclined on the radiator next to the window for a good spell, reading a depressing, yet absorbing Sports Illustrated article...the warm sun beating down on me, the gusty breeze thoroughly refreshing. No NEED to leave the house with my practical balcony of a living room set-up. I ALMOST went up to the roof to lay out. First I'd ever lain on the radiator reading in all my time here, and the article, naturally, even had an LA/NYC focus to it. And JUST when I thought the day's satisfactions had ended...I return from a 10pm walk to Pathmark to find an email from Kevin, an old grammar school friend...who i'd written on Classmates.com months ago & got a reply...but couldn't fucking read it because i'm not "gold." Well, Kevin got the free trial gold bullshit...thus, I could read his email, got his REAL email address, and now i'm back in touch with yet another ancient friend! I love shit like this! LOVE it! Gloriously comforting to correspond or meet with a friend from waaaaaaaaaay back in the day. I love full circles. And did I mention it was in the upper 70s today? Warmest day of the year thus far. Just a VERY good day. Holy Thursday, too. Sadly, no one came by to wash my feet...

Who wants to celebrate Good Friday with a SMOKE?!

...IN A BAR...IN NEW JERSEY? Because after midnight tomorrow, it's done...over...kaput. ILLEGAL. I'm not even a remotely regular smoker, and it annoys me. I mean, i'm not WAY fired up over it. But it agitates. The thing, though, that really gets me about the NJ law is the "keep from smoking 25 feet away from any establishment" provision. Um, WHAT?! FUCKING insanity. Although it DOES open up room for high hilarity when I start bringing my measuring tape to local taverns. So, yeah, it's not a BURNING need, but it'd be really cool to puff up one last time inside a NJ bar before the Whining Lifestyle Police explode wildly-out-of-proportion yet another life risk and impose yet another restriction on our society. I dunno, I'M more worried about my PATH train blowing up...

One month in...

One month since my birthday. Am I on my way to San Jose? Well, not quite. Let's get past Trenton first. I'm not the type to generally be completely satisfied with my accomplishments in any given period of time...I have too many goals and plots, in addition to surely having undiagnosed ADD. Having said that, I'm pretty happy with what I've done in a month on a few levels. One of my favorite sayings, that I repeat to myself daily, is "Rome wasn't built in a day." Gotta maintain my bullet-in-flight focus...I like the sound of that one, too. I still have a couple deadline dates in mind for several things. Oh, but you, the random reader, doesn't care about my self-help mantras. Or do you? DO YOU?!?! Again I wonder who i'm writing for here...me or you. Well, I just wanted to note that 1/12th of my new year is done. Put some MORE pressure on myself. Hmm, David Letterman turned 59 today. I've always liked that we share a birth DATE. He was my age in 1980. That frightens me...'cause I remember 1980. I shouldn't dwell on that...

KNOTS LANDING

I stumbled across an ad today alerting me to the fact that the first season of KNOTS LANDING is now on DVD. I nearly convulsed on the spot. HOW did I not know of this?! Not only is it one of my fave shows ever, but it also reminded me...AGAIN...of California. I'm more and more realizing that this urge to get there -- at least to visit, maybe to live -- is NOT a new one. It's not as stunning as some, even myself, might think. It seems to me that it's one of those yearnings that you somehow just let slip under the radar amidst the daily roar of life, then go "oh, yeah, when I was TWELVE I dreamed of driving cross country to CA." I used to watch KNOTS and admire the Southern CA lifestyle...in between cheering on the machinations of Abby Ewing & Greg Sumner. It's funny, I now study the scenery of anything on TV set in LA. I'll leave shows on mute that I never watch...just to look at the views. I must get to LA if only to stalk the Valley cul-de-sac where they shot KNOTS. Neighbors will stare with disgust as I whip the car around into a spot, run out, and start yelling "VALENE!? KAREN?!"

Another night of enduring Dipshit's nails-on-chalkboard voice, as I'm forced to overhear another "get to know you" call with another Match.com whore

Painful. Very, very painful.

1-866-IDOLS-06

Yup, I did it. I dialed that number earlier and became one giant, monster pussy of a man. And I couldn't be more proud. After more than 3 years on the air, I gave in and voted for an AMERICAN IDOL. My precious phonecall was for...ELLIOTT! Always a champion of the underdog, I feel he IS one amongst the current crop. Even though it's obvious Ace (and what kind of name IS that?) sucked the most tonight, he has the kind of manufactured looks and appeal (starting with that name) that large fan bases are made of. I think Elliott is the most underhyped of all the men. He WAS in the final 2 last week. And so I felt compelled to pick up my phone and vote. My little way of lowering myself...I mean, being one with the hoi polloi for this week. So, bring it on, Elliott! Show daddy some love!

Stella D'oro

I now have four packages of these on top of my fridge. They're $1 each this week at Pathmark. I truly can't get enough of them...especially the breakfast treats and anisette toast, though tonight I bought some cookie thingie I never had before. Part of my "only live once" motto. Some people fly to Iceland for a weekend...I buy a new kind of Stella D'oro. I WOULD like to go to Iceland, though. Also bought $.60 Barilla pasta...the BEST brand, period, thank you very much. So it's obvious I'm desperate for a quick topic here to fill some space. I've been online pretty much all day. I gave myself SOMEwhat of a break today...not beatin myself up too much for just chilling...even though I was decently productive -- lookin for work, working out, emailing, grocery shopping, among other things. I just SO needed a day to relax, though, after this marathon weekend. I had one of those awesome sleeps where your whole body is just ungodly glad to be laying in bed. Tomorrow, crazy hectic organizational projects will resume...in ADDITION to the daily search for employment. I was painfully aware that it's April 10...one-third of April gone. Sigh. Time, time, ticking...

Walking and Gardening

I completed this exhausting weekend by exhausting myself to the extreme on this Palm Sunday. My body felt like it'd been through pilates after my heavy gyrating of last night...and so TWO 55-minute walks & 2 train rides before and after 90 minutes of rigorous mowing and hedge-clipping has left me rather depleted. Throw in the tiring effect of the sun for good measure. Having said that, I enjoyed it...great exercise, nice to be out and about, seeing the fruits of my landscaping labor. Wound up with a home-cooked dinner, too. MMMM. It was my inaugural gardening gig of the season. I do so enjoy being one with Mother Earth. Pouring gasoline into the mower's always fun, too...not sure why, but I enjoy it. Simple things. Oh, yes, and I also got rid of 2 food items I didn't want by dropping them off in a ShopRite bag in front of a church door. Surely the clergy still collects random drop-offs for the needy in 2006? That was actually Plan B after I couldn't find the Hoboken homeless shelter on my brisk jaunt home. I actually made sure the food was clearly visible, not wanting a priest or nun to fear a bomb or abandoned baby...the perverse way I think. And then there was the phone message at my parents'. They were in Atlantic City. I saw the blinking light and played the message. And here's where blogs get weird -- for me, at least -- because I have no interest in relaying the content of the message. Yet it altered my day. I don't mean to be coy or melodramatic, but it wasn't good news, and made me feel like a jackass for complaining about various things since Friday. Again...perspective. Damn if the off-the-top-of-my-head title of this blog isn't perfect! Remain optimistic...sounds so Mary Poppins. But the alternative's no way to live. Where would it get you?

Gyrating, pulsating, thrusting, humping, crawling on all fours...

Just SOME of the adjectives to describe my "private dancing" tonight at MB's. NOT the night I expected when I waltzed off to Fred's 1st birthday party late this afternoon...but it turned out to be QUITE the private afterparty. But my spectacle was waaaaaaaaaaay secondary to the endless visionary delights performed by Foxy Miss R. It was like being at Score's, minus the nudity (barely) and dollar bill offerings. Oh, and I got to yet again put on an electrifying rendition of Prince's KISS. Simply never fails to captivate. A wonderful late afternoon and evening. Old friends, great food, endless beer and Jager...and proof that some peers DO "still got it."

"PERSPECTIVE," I kept calmly repeating to myself...

...as I struggled not to explode in fury over 2 hours of my time being utterly wasted tonight due to...well, I don't even care to recount it. And tomorrow's been affected, too. Ugh, such a logistical fucking mess. I'm proud I didn't say certain things to certain people. I kept it all in check. And when I got home, I thought, "hmm, NOW is the time MOST people would reach for alcohol." Yet, I had zero interest in further wasting time by making myself loopy and tired. And I didn't smash things, either. And I just again wondered where I put all my anger...I guess in my rants both in person and in diaries and blogs? Or AM I good in dealing with stress? Frasier Crane, where are you? Well, he was in my living room...in TWO hilarious episodes of FRASIER, followed by a riotous GOLDEN GIRLS. Much cackling ensued and i'm in a much better mood now. The delicious Hungry Man fried chicken dinner also helped...as did the Turkey Hill ice cream. BTW, I cooked the TV dinner in the oven. I've had it with microwaves. Nothing tastes as good in them....and it leaves some parts cold while others are piping hot, not to mention totally melting my TV dinner brownies. Just an all-around pain in the ass. Surely, few will concur with me. Even hot water doesn't taste right the few times I've made tea. Ironically enough, I cleaned the microwave today for what appeared to be the first time since its manufacture date of July 1984. Lord knows, Dipshit would never grasp it needed a thorough cleaning. Yes, I can never resist taking potshots at his worthlessness/stupidity. Yes, I said the microwave is from the summer of PURPLE RAIN. OK, time to get back to my latest CA-based obsession...reading up on earthquake history/potential. I truly feel like I live there, I know so much detail...

$56.19

I tally my grocery expenses. I try to tally most everything I buy, but groceries absolutely are tracked. And each month, I add them up. Most reading this, I think, will either 1) be stunned I do such a thing or 2) dumbstruck at how little I spent over a month. That's right, $56.19 during the month of March. But the reason I'm writing about this is that I SPENT THE EXACT SAME AMOUNT IN FEBRUARY!! HOW bloody bizarre is that?!?! I computed the numbers like 4 times to make sure I wasn't nuts. What the HELL are the chances of this?! I can't help but think there's some cosmic message in this. Or maybe it's just a Pick 4 number I should play? Hmmm...THAT could be the message!

In MY book, winter ended TODAY

I woke up (at an hour surely to infuriate most) to see the ground in the yard covered in WHITE! I was giddy with surprise at not only the snow having stuck, but that it snowed at ALL. They'd been saying some snow MAYBE mixing in with the rain showers, but nothing like THIS. And it was supposed to be done by super early morning, too. AND it was STILL snowing!! And kinda hard! Surely i've gone on WAY too much about the half inch of snow or so that fell briefly today...on April 5. But it was fun to see...one last time. The first 10 days of April often bring snow in the NYC area. And the weather freak that I am was glad it barely pushed NYC to the 40-inch mark for the season...for the 4th year in a row...which has only happened like once before in recorded history. YAY! So it's fitting that I stored away my gloves and scarves for the season tonight. And thirdly, i'm about to enjoy my final packet of hot cocoa of the season. And THUS, winter ends. God, I love when events align, tied up in neat little packages. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I opened up that bin of winter wear in another apartment...or better yet, on another coast? Of course, if in CA, I doubt I'd be even opening it up...

I was overjoyed today at the news that ever-progressive Massachusetts has somehow come up with a way for EVERY person in the state to receive health insurance. Genius!! I've long been dismayed that the Clintons didn't succeed with achieving national health care reform. It CAN be done. It SHOULD be done. EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN should have health benefits!!! Kudos, MA!

Katie Couric is officially becoming the first sole female anchor of a network evening newscast. Good for her, and good for women...but SHUT THE FUCK UP about it already. Good Lord. Now we have to endure the Meredith Vieira Watch...and then the Who The Fuck Cares Who Fills Meredith's VIEW Spot Watch. Can someone make Fatass Righteous Bitch Star Jones go away, too? And for that matter, the completely pointless, uninteresting, and irritatingly Republican SURVIVOR Elizabeth?

Sandra Bernhard's new show opened in NYC tonight. I saw her last one in February of '98...one hell of a fun night out. This woman is, like I said about THE SIMPSONS, soooooooooooooo spot-on about everything. Just a very smart, observant, sharp-tongued, hilarious broad. If you don't agree, I'm not sure I want to know you.

Finally, I talked to THREE old friends whom I rarely see today...two of them initiating the contact, the 3rd about to jet to --sigh -- LA to do a DJ gig. God is torturing me with everyone and their mother going to LA. The most exciting was the phone message from Charlie. I NEVER get phonecalls. HA, sounds pathetic. Well, I DO detest the phone. Now I just have to actually SEE these people in person, which I'm adding to my front burner list. This longass entry is now done.

I'M going to tell an anecdote about lovemaking...withOUT having to look around!

Actually, i'm not. That's merely one of my fave SIMPSONS lines...from one of my fave episodes, where the adults in town are fed up with everything in the world being about The Children. Brilliantly and viciously spot-on...as usual.

Shifting my feng shui

I moved around my computer table, end table, lamp, and phone in the living room today. This took 3 fucking hours. Figuring how to best place each item, and how to FIT them, vacuuming an area not touched in years, dusting, reconfiguring tons of wires...this "simple" little chore took 3 hours. Ever since the laptop died 5 weeks ago after it was freezing up and I slammed my fist down on the keyboard...well, after THAT, i've been forced to revert to the old warhorse computer...which faced the wall, forcing me to whirl and jerk my body and/or head around to view the TV. Little things like this greatly annoy me...and are unnecessary...so I finally went about changing the set-up of things. BTW, the slammed laptop was the roomie's from work anyway...no harm done by my fist. Though it took -- as always -- longer than I expected, i'm VASTLY happy with the way things turned out. Productivity!! The computer is now facing sideways on a slant so I can gently turn my head to the right to view the TV. Ahhh, these little things in life that SO make me happy. Plus, helping my bro move only further fueled me with urges to move out myself...and in lieu of that, shift furnishings around at home for SOME aspect of "change." So THAT was my big to-do today. LOL, seismic in scope, huh? I also finally put new pics in an album...always a chore, as much as I like having photo albums. It's 1:45am now...just went for a walk...with a spare cigarette i've had. Exercising while smoking...talk about multi-tasking! FRASIER and GOLDEN GIRLS is one hell of a soothing, funny way to spend an hour, by the way. God bless Lifetime, the network for women. It's on mute now, but THE DIVISION enables me to spy Nancy McKeon still sporting her tough chick image, while also catching glances of San Fran to further light a CA fire under my ass. Oh, hi, Marcie...I saw my blog listed in your email as one of your faves to visit...merci beaucoup!! I'm SO honored! Since no one fucking COMMENTS, I'm never sure if my musings and rants are actually being enjoyed/tolerated/spat upon by anyone. But I always said, first and foremost, this thing is for ME. Ok, that's all for now. Peace out, America.

Monday, Monday...

Speaking of Mamas and Papas, I saw mine today...for what feels like the 277th time in 10 days. I'm anxious for SEVERAL days alone, getting back into several different self-centered grooves. I have a few disparate things to quickly blog about. Drumroll...1) At about 3:30am last night, I was struck -- in the still silence of my bedroom -- by the sound of birds chirping/singing. I leaned out my window and took it in for a couple of minutes. THE most soothing thing to hear. It was the perfect way to end my weekend. Ahhhhhhhh. 2) Switching gears violently, this 20th 9/11 hijacker named Zac...thank GOD they've at least decided he CAN be sentenced to death. Now we just have to waste more time waiting to see if that's what he gets. Jesus, give ME the gun to rid us of him. And then he's screaming out in court about how we'll never get his blood?! I say we help him find Allah by strapping him to a chair on a Newark runway and having a plane run into HIM. 3) On a related note, seems people are complaining about the trailer for UNITED 93, the soon-to-be-released 9/11 movie. I'm generally against censorship (especially as it's usually knee-jerk), but I can understand people being upset, especially in NYC. But more than being against the trailer, i'm against the MOVIE. What in the name of God is the purpose of this? HOW can a movie version of that plane's doomed flight be ANY more compelling than THE TRUTH...what we already know in such vivid, painful detail? It CAN'T. There is ZERO reason for this film. It's so utterly pointless and a complete waste of time and money. I can't fathom why anyone would wanna see it. Much like the insipid SCOTT PETERSON STORY that CBS embarrassed themselves with recently. Gee, I wonder how THAT one ended. Oh, that's right...I already KNEW from the unnecessary media fascination...and never fucking CARED in the first place. This 9/11 movie is a crass way for Universal to make money, and I have no patience for the argument surely to be posited by every dumb actor involved that they "really wanna tell those passengers' stories." Riiiiiiiight. Quit kidding yourselves. Those passengers' stories have already been told in the way they should be...in the thousands of articles and TV stories on the REAL people involved...by relatives and friends who knew them, airline officials, police, CIA, FBI, you name it. PERIOD. 4) I read today that if you started drinking before age 15, you're 5 times more likely to become an alcoholic. LOFUCKINGL! I began at 13. HA! And i'm fine, thank you. 5) Finally, it was officially announced today that Madonna's touring this summer...THE CONFESSIONS TOUR. I missed the last go-around...which I honestly wasn't that shaken by. This one i'd like to see, though. We'll see how that pans out. All done. Good night.

A short rant...because I can't inspire the masses EVERY day...but mainly 'cause I don't care to write much

GORGEOUS day today, this first day of Daylight Saving Time. Mid 60s, not a cloud in the sky...and I sat inside till after 7pm. And i'm fine with that. The roomie remained gone, and I MUST take advantage of home time without him there. And I was still unwinding from being so tired yesterday, even though I woke up rather refreshed...and after only 7 hours of sleep or so. I am more and more convinced that simply having SILENCE around me, whether i'm actually asleep or not, is ALMOST just as restorative as sleeping. If the roomie had been around this weekend, i'd have had a headache, been stressed, and ultimately, been more exhausted than I was. But onto that RANT. Well, as dusk came, I went walking around the Hoboken waterfront. Now, as I said, the temp reached like 66 or so today. NOT 96. YET...people are traipsing around in fucking flip-flops, shorts, wife beaters. SO fucking annoying. NO sense of dressing appropriately for the elements. I hope they all catch their death. And by the time I saw them, the sun was down and the temp was close to 60 degrees. I know, I know...something's wrong with me for being bothered by such a thing. Whatever. It's annoying, and more evidence of society's stupidity. Almost as annoying are the opposite types of people, who "braved" the delightful spring day in fucking parkas and leather jackets. Couldn't they find their scarf? I was also generally annoyed by, well, people. Less of them out and about in the winter, lol. NOW they're all out again, as annoying as ever with their yammering cell chats, fancy outside eating, baby strolling, hand holding, walking at a snail's pace. God, I sound so angry. HAHAHA. To think I was in a RELAXED mood today...

April blossoms, as Gary wilts

Greetings to the cruelest month! Bring it on! Very exciting...events today have convinced me...i'm officially, sometime this summer, MOVING TO CALIFORNIA!! Yeeeeehaaaaahhhhh!! But more on that later. First, those "events." First off, for the 2nd time in 3 days, i'm running on less than 4 hours sleep...thus, the wilting of the title. Today I didn't nap, though...and that's on TOP of vigorous activity, namely moving furniture & running up and down several staircases while often uttering profanities or slipping away to put on the tea kettle yet again to dope me up on more caffeine. Younger bro moved again...this time to a rather large Victorian house in the verdant suburbs with tilting floors that make you feel like you're at sea. Said house is being renovated to include a built-in pool out back. Well, isn't that special. Rent? $1,400 split between my bro and his friend. Ample land, a driveway, a built-in pool, a spacious apt, in a fetching 130-year-old Victorian...for $700. Excuse me as I light myself on fire.

Ok, back from pulling a Richard Pryor. Fire reminds me of gas...and how I nearly ran out of it today as I drove bro's truck behind his moving van. Shortly after pulling out of the repair shop (where my bro's truck was, after being hit by a fire engine out of its jurisdiction simply to pick up lunch sandwiches, but that's HIS blog to write...), I noticed the gas was perilously near empty. Panic-stricken about running out of gas for a 2ND time in my life, I spent the next 2 miles frantically beeping, waving, and screaming at my brother in front of me...to no avail. Naturally, the ONE time you WANT a red light, you don't get one. Finally, I got one...and ran out of the truck like a freak to alert him I needed gas. His reply? I was overreacting...but we got the gas. No respect.

Back at the repair shop, I had about 15 minutes to stare out the window and daydream alone. During this time, I spied a guy with a thick wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and decided then and there I'd write about this tonight. Yet ANOTHER absurd issue that drives me up a wall...because I feel like i'm 2% of the population of men who puts his wallet in the FRONT pant pocket. So, like, isn't it OBVIOUS to millions of men that 1) it's bulky and awkward to sit on one's wallet and 2) you're putting yourself at OBSCENE greater risk of being pickpocketed this way?!?! Yet I'M the one who's mocked for having a George Costanza wallet in the FRONT of my person. Well, fuck everyone. You're all wrong yet again. WAAAAHHHHHH, SOME BASTARD STOLE MY WALLET, you'll all cry. Well, do the SMART thing -- as I do -- and you won't be WAAHHHHHHHing. I can't even FATHOM walking freely through crowds with my wallet unprotected in my back pocket. What is WRONG with everyone?!

I'm so tired and out of it that until about 6:30pm I thought we were springing BACK tonight at 2am. I was ecstatic all day long about my extra hour of sleep to be had. **OH, MY GOD...Peter Cetera's GLORY OF LOVE video on VH1 Classic now! "I am a MAN who will FIGHT for your honor!" WOW. Another 1986 beaut! And can we all give a rousing round of applause to Mr. Cetera for his many soothing hits of the 80s and early 90s. Props to Morita and Macchio, too. Lord, now here's Wilson Phillips strutting down Venice Beach singing HOLD ON. CA again calling to me...in the form of Carnie Wilson (whom i've met) in a form-fitting black number. Oh, but, yeah...so we're SPRINGing AHEAD at 2am tonight, that annual sign of summer inching ever closer. YAY! It indeed felt summery today...humid and pushing 70 by 10am! Perfect!

It's approaching that time when I pace the apartment, seeking out all clocks to thrust them forward...always emotional, losing an hour of time with one giant thrust and all. But especially this year...my LAST in this apartment! Indeed, I'm heading west...as a young man. Ok, i'm too tired for this...APRIL FOOL'S! HAHAHA, any gullible fuckers reading this! Just kidding! Or AM I? That's the funny thing. I came to no earth-shattering decision today on ANYthing, yet I WOULD like this to be the last April I spend in this fucking place...and I WILL perhaps still move to CA. My brother moving was yet another catalyst for change in my own life. So, who knows. Wink, nudge.

It's ironic that despite my RAH-RAH attitude about 2006's "second quarter," the first day of it saw me doing NOTHING personally productive. This blog entry is IT. Pondering and a blog entry. Otherwise, I helped my brother for hours, then came home -- to the shock of an empty apt -- and have done NOTHING since 4:30pm except sit online, watch TV, and eat. Didn't even make my bed today! Thank GOD Dipshit is away. JUST what I needed...silence!! And now I will finally start the slow crawl toward bed...after watching TV by candlelight and thrusting those clocks.