currently

Since the debacle that was Easter weekend (that's a story unto itself not meant for the pages of this blog -- yet), I've been back in the city, going about the motions of life - work, play, and what lies between. I took the train upstate for a disastrous three-day visit, and the next time I leave the city will be for my friend Dave's wedding in San Francisco in July. Back to the city by the Bay. My city. The city that I will always consider my second home (Buffalo would take third place by rank), unless I decide to make San Francisco home again.

Here and now, present tense, in New York, yes, there are the motions - the motions that keep a roof overhead, food in the cupboard, and new clothes in the closet. Somnolent at sunrise, thoughts inchoate, on the elevated platform so damn early in the morning. The bonus is that the subway almost always runs on time pre-rush hour. There's always a seat, and I close my eyes and relax before the fluorescent rigors of the workday and lose myself in the music piped through my earbuds. Now and then you're unfortunate enough to find yourself on "the crazy train" (as I did on Friday morning). A jolly fella was whooping it up, laughing heartily at his own perceived comedy stylings, and calling himself the "n-word." There I sat, eyes slit, turning up the volume, thinking, "Please, I beg of thee, get off the train, Mr. Forgot-His-Meds-This-Morning." And his apparent insanity must have picked up the psionic waves of my fervent telepathic wish, and the gent took his controversial, race-inflected stand-up act onto the Queensboro Plaza platform. Thank you. The rest of the morning went as usual - sign out keys, open office, power everything on, slump into the chair at my assigned cubicle, stare at the ceiling, determine with little precision my sarcasm/arrogance quotient for the rest of the morning (read: defense mechanisms/self-deprecation), and contemplate existence.

Job search! Yes, that is an exclamation point. You don't see me using many of those, and that would make grammarians everywhere pleased. Anyway, the job search! Yes, it continues. But with this economy... sheesh. Jobs are not in flux. Then I factor in the narrow and competitive market to which I apply. No excuses - I simply won't settle and I won't sell myself short. So, I sleepwalk through the morning job with caffeine and a chemical buoy. Alternately, I actually like the afternoon job. I earn more than enough to maintain my lifestyle, which isn't necessarily high maintenance, but I do have a certain comfort level I enjoy. So it goes.

The book! No elaboration on that exclamation point. My book. Ache. Yes, it's coming. There is no doubt, so shut down those synapses in the skeptical area of your brain before they even fire off. Delays, edits, rewrites, renewed submissions, work-induced fatigue, and a social life contribute to the delays. Most importantly, it needs to be the best it can be. That takes time and patience. Why rush and release something below my high standards? I write. The standards I hold myself to in my life are no different for my writing.

And, finally, this website has given me an abundance of uncomfortable chortles, unsettled belly laughs, and pained grimaces for the past couple days: Hot Chicks with Douchebags. It's hilarious. Gasp in wonderment at the (ahem) finest specimens of humanity on display in all of their post-modern foppish, pseudo-gangsta, trainwrecked, steroid-pumped glory. By "finest," I mean "the most cringe-worthy" and "abominable." I'm sure they are all avid readers and have devoured many, many books and are prepared for intelligent discourse at the drop of a halter top. Prepare yourself for "the Warthog," "Fish Slap," "Dung Beetle," and "Magilla Scrotilla." You have been warned.

I am off into the night. Until next time...