entering the adult scene...

my last relationship ended in november. a two year journey with a very sweet loving girl that i never appreciated enough (basically until we broke up, at which point i pined and still do). we had met my senior year in college, so i had never been single outside a school social frame. and nyc is a completely different pool than ol' wesleyan. and the rules of the game have changed, though not too much just enough to make me do some double takes.

saturday night i went to a bar, a going away party for this girl christina. grabbing a seat next to some friends, i spotted cristina's friend lauren, who i had always had a small far away crush on. we had chated a few times, but i never felt the vibes enough to get over my tremendous fear of rejection. when xtina came around to say hello, i asked her if lauren had ever had a crush on me. she said no, but i knew she would tell lauren this, and if she had an interest, this was an easy safe way to get the ball rolling (funily enough, i went to lauren's page on friendster, and xtina wrote a testimonial affirming something like "if i could count how many times someone at a bar confided in me that they had a secret crush on lauren..." dated like three months ago, which made me realize i was just like everybody else). so lauren comes by an we chat for a bit, and the vibe was good. but after she walked away, and still thinking in a very college way, i told my friend, you know, im not feeling it, i dont think i am taking this girl home with me. to which he replied, why don't you get her number...

well shit, it was like an epiphany deus ex machina eureka moment, i am in a different scene now and the digits are where you start. i know it seems so simple, but i just was not thinking that way. upon our second conversation, my inner monologue kept forcing me to ask her for her number, ask her for her number... but the vibe suddenly did not feel as good, so i chickened out. later on, finishing my beer, seeing her at the end of the bar talking to some other guy that seemed so much cooler than i, i felt disenhearted, no wind in my sails, ready to leave. by the time i said goodbye to my five friends, she had stopped talking to that guy and was standing near the door. i went over to say good bye, went in for a small hug, and recieved an unexpected kiss on the cheek. i took one step to the door, but thought, its now or never. in my biggest loser fashion i said: "hey you wanna hang out some time?" and here comes my genius "can i get your digits" thats what i had been calling them earlier that night, so that's how they came out. she said yeah, i took it into my phone, and she smiled as i left and said i should call her.

from a train ride home that would have been filled with utter depression, it switched to one of pure elation. funny how that can happen. one little thing affects you so much

spotless mind...

if you have not seen this movie, do it now. go to the theatre this very miniute and let the magic flow through your eyes. run dont walk. the quirky intellectual fantastical musings of charlie kaufman sublimely combined with the transitional master of visual arts. michel gondry. okay, im being a bit pretentious but the movie does rock. check it.

just a quick head scratcher....

so, i have been thinking, one of the most unfair things in our reproduction cycle is that the woman is not required to orgasm to make life happen. so, do females of other species ever have orgasms? i've watched discovery stuff and sex usually lasts a very short amount of time, certainly not enough to make the clitorises i know stimulate enough. how very sad...

a weekend of disappointments...

i have an addictive personality. i find something i like and i obsess and obsess and delve into its world trying to own it. it happened with video games, books, crosswords, chess, scrabble, weed, and now poker. what's weird, is that certain very addictive things came and went in my life without much ado. cocaine just never stuck. i tried it and i had fun but i didn't drive the eight ball highway. e and psychedelics both had their eras, but out of the drugs only weed held me. alcohol never even had a chance, and i had too much anti indoctrination for cigarettes. but with my slightly obsessive compulsive brain, plus social anxiety, in addition to some slight depression, and a desperate need for escapism (the old usual divorce tugging thing) i clung to the wacky tobacci for way too long. my parents finally kind of had to have an intervention. For WEED, for crying out loud. but i digress...

POKER. yes, thanks to tv its seems its everywhere these days, and a certain group of friends has now started a weekly game and it has changed my weekly routine. how i do on that silly game can affect me the rest of the seven days. its beutiful. chess is amazing, but at its base the psychology of it is hindered by what is ultimately a numbers game. being able to see all the moves. scrabble has a certain flare and creativity, but once again, just knowing the words plus board theory and you've got it. poker though, knowing all the odds in the world won't make you world class, because its a people game, a game of observation, of taking a small amount of information and coming to correct conclusion, a game of guts, of acting... i have just started my love affair. the only issue, is that this obsession has some side effects: the excitement of gambling. gambling can add a surge of energy and thrill to even the most mundane of activities. we had an oscar pool at the office, and suddenly waching even the categories that no one cares about became fun. but there lies the problem, that excitement can lead to an unstoppable addiction, and to the loss of incredible amounts of money, so like some previous obsessions i must be careful.

anyways, on this weekends poker game, a few new people came to play, and it was terribly hard to read them, to know if they were being stupid newbie's, or if they actually had the nuts. i kind of fucked up a bit and bet when i should have, trying to force people out of bets that had trips. bet then, on the shortest stack, i was playing very extremely tight, waiting for a good hand, and bam! i get two aces in the pocket, basically the best hand you can be dealt. so i don't bet too high, not wanting to chase people out, but then i got bet against big, and i went all in. he had a pair of kings with a ten kicker, and i was almost unbeatable, but on the river, bam again, a ten comes off, and i am out. oh lady luck, i hate you.

the second dissapointment was mostly my fault. in november my longest relationship, one of two years dismantled, and while the freedom kept my spirits up at first, now i am just lonely and horny all the time, and reading too much into any interaction with my female friends. so when i friend sent me this flrity email, wanting to hang cause she was comming into the city, i was ready for some hanky panky. needless to say, the vibe for sex did not exist, and i left annoyed and even more desperate for a sexual encounter. oh how the brain can make a simple thing complicated...

the picture... ( i used to have my markered up naked picture as the profile)

i love my picture. it reminds me of some of the happiest moments of young life. you see, I went to wesleyan university. no, not wellesly, wesleyan, in connecticut. this, my loyal readers, is a very liberal minded institution, and every semester, the quirky crunchy art house throws a naked party. this is a party i did not attend, ever, except in my final days, the last semester in which i would grace the campus.
at the time, i had a part in a play which subtly asked nudity, but the director told me i only had to go to my undies, but i new that i should be naked, so in the last performance, i went balls out, jingling, feeling the cool air of freedom. nakedness slowly leaked into my ken, the excitment of the vulnerability and exhibitionism sparking the pleasure most nudists feel.
and when a cast member talked about always wanting to go to a naked party, i was on that like a hobo on a ham sanwhich (yes i stole that from the buddy lee commercial). we met at my apartment and went to art house only to find it was the wrong day. when we met at the right day, he brought along a few more kids, one of them this cute ass dancer chick i had hooked up with before (more on her later, probably), which was great becuase i now knew a hot girl going in to it. so we walked in, and bam, everyone is naked, and you with clothes, feel weird. and you walk into a declothing room, one for girls and one for guys, and take it all off, and head into the party, trying not to stare. after a while, it just feels normal, but there is a strange sense of... correctness, like this is the way its suppossed to be, all of us running around undressed, unashamed of what we are or have. it breeds a type of happiness i have not felt since.
well, it was quite a night, one room was filled with washable markers so you could paint on yourself or on others. room two had the band, room three had paper and pencils and a modelling stage so you could figure draw or be drawn. guys had warned me that it would probably be a sausage party, but it was almost fifty fifty.
highlights included watching this hot lesbian couple grind it on the dance floor, flirting with this cute frosh girl who i could feel was just dying for some intimacy (i was going out with someone at the time so i didn't try to prove my theory), and a very embarassing story which turned into my favorite tale to tell:

knowing the cute dancer girl, adria, we drew on each other with markers. now, a danger for boys at naked parties is sporting the inadvertent wood, but that is hard to come by, let me assure you. its a bit drafty and just looking at the exposed flesh is not that sexual. but then i began drawing, and feeling her cool soft skin, and being able to see her delicious perky breasts, a nice full B, shapely, and that lucious black triangle of hair peeking out between her legs while sliding my had down her back as i doodled whatever it was, blood began to flow. sensing old sergio (yes i named him and i think it fits well) going into half mast, i quickly finished my drawing and tried to relax, deep breathing, turning into a corner, away from the gorgeuos adria. soon enough, the excitement died down, and i rejoined the party relaxed, not at attention. i kept schmoozing, trying to draw on girls, getting drawn on. a whole lot of fun, feeling at one with nature in this primitive state, when i happened to look down, and low and behold, i was leaking a nice little drop of precum, glistening on my tip. oh the wonders of the human body. of course, i was naked, so i had nothing to wipe it off with, and scurrying to the bathroom, i wondered how many people caught the little slip, and what they thought.

besides that, the party rocked, and when it ended, a few of us were so enthralled by our freed state, we streaked across campus, hitting libraries and dorms in a rush of liberty. when i arrived back at my then girlfriends place, at the end of the night, i had her snap a picture of me to remember that pinnaclle of happiness, and the empirical evidence still makes me smile to this day.

well,

i am at work, and it is excruciatingly slow. so slow, that it gets dangerous. like the witching hour, times where clients are not in and there is little to do are eras of famine and disease where blood spills and horrible things occur, as in when one of my three and a half bosses thinks up the Worst possible task and sends me on my way.

to explain... i work at a post production editorial house that mostly cuts commercials. snickers, skittles, nyse, alot of that crap is us. we are heavily into client curtisy, so if one of our prima donna ass hole clients wants anything, anything at all, one of the running monkeys (me, or now the runner below me ((i'm head runner now, ha))) has to go and "make it so." need a bag of m and ms, but with no brown ones, of course. need a blue pen with a black cap, sure. need a specific type of kosher weiner for your lunch, we'll just send our runners to the tip of manhattan.

well, its work, and when clients are in house things like this do happen but its mostly just ordering lunch for them and bringing it into the edit suite. but things are busy then. when things get slow, thats when i have to fold 1,000 t-shirts (presents with the company name), or name sound fx (think a thousand files with number names that you need to listen to and otomatopea ((you didn't think that was a verb, did you))). I have nothing to do, and this is very dangerous. must act busy, just keep typing.

and this is a slice of today's news. stay tuned for more juicy details that mean noting to you.

i'm here.

ready to share whatever measly thoughts that drip out of my head with the entire world, ready to wow them with the minutae of my mundane existence, ready for a star studded extravaganza of mind blowing ideas and incredible insights.

with the reality sneaking in the edges, that this blog will be, truthfully, no more or less compelling than any other fucking blog, and that the only people who will ever give this a second glance are those few idiots whocount themselves as my friends (and they will probably just glance at it never to return), or are just weirdly bored and come across it randomly. how 'bout this, maybe some lonely searcher will have my same name and search themselves online to find me not them blurting off about their (my) life. it could happen.

so enough about me (ha, blog humor), lets talk about motivation. lets philosophize. . . bear with me, this is my first post and i want to get something, you know, substantive or entertaining, or engaging, so... okay. why start a blog? obviously, i am an egomaniac at heart and want everyone to think im great and like anyone else who is part of a social species, i. fuckin' e. every human, i care about my position in the scheme of things, care about what people think of me, and want to be popular, and in this day and age of media orgies and the unstoppable stamp of your culture on your being (more nurture rather than nature) being known, celebrated, a celebrity, is just that awful junior and high school popularity dance/game just in a slightly greater scale.

so here i am, a lonely human amongst millions of others, trying to somehow make a mark, caress my ego into thinking i'm special, i am better, i am different, i am cooler, whatever, that i exist and am important. i will not just be a number, one of the vast peons, cogs in this machine of life, plodding through this meaningless existence with no hope of ever rising to the stars... you get what im saying. even if i am just one of millions before me and after me, i am now here, and this, is my story. i am unique, and i do matter, and here is why...