Pederasty Stinkeye

Laura's 15 year old cousin, Candice is in town visiting us for her spring break. Laura needed to get some work done, so the two of us went off to go to the top of the Arch. The line was going to be over an hour, so I bought the tickets for later that afternoon. Candice is a metabolical freak and needs to be fed every few hours, so I took her to a South City cafe I wanted to check out. While sitting there waiting for our food a man and woman sat down at the table next to us. The woman had a do-rag on and had obviously gone through chemotherapy so I decided not to stare. As Candice and I talked over the finer points of Law and Order the original, Criminal Intent and Special Victems Unit, I kept feeling a set of eyes on me. Then I caught the woman sneaking a peek at me, sitting there on a weekday, having lunch with a minor and chatting away.

When I got out I told her: "Candice, if anyone asks, you are my girfriend and we met on the INTERNET!!!!"

Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig

Coming back to St. Louis has been a trip. There is no possible way that I could appreciate this city without having left for near a decade. Coming back, I'm looking at it with new eyes.

The first thing that's hit me is the architecture and the history around here. North Carolina seems to have been built, for the most part, somewhere around 2003. When doing my apartment search from my brother's house, I looked at one apartment that was formerly at boarding house from before the 1860's, almost got an apartment that was formerly two hotel rooms in the 1920's and then settled on a great apartment in Maplewood, Mo. that was built in the 1940's.

I would be remiss if I didn't share with everyone my experience with Mardi Gras in St. Louis. After a day of drinking and revelry in the historic Soulard District of St. Louis, I woke up in my brother's best friends brother's house feeling like absolute hell. My bro drove me home and I felt even worse. I barely glanced at Laura, ignored Pig and my brother's dog Milo and headed straight for the bathroom to boot.

As daintily as I could, I vomited. I thought that I was done and sat back on my heels then mustered myself to get up and rinse out my mouth and realized that my stomach was far from done with emptying itself. I rushed over to get to the bowl and on the way down bonked the flesh on the side of my right eye on the corner of the sink counter, saw some stars and missed the bowl. I immediately knew what I had done to myself, puked twice more and then got myself over to the sink to deal with the bloody aftermath.

Five hours of waiting and some supergluing of my face later, I was good as new. I would post photos, but hey, you'll all be able to see my lasting scar at your leisure.

Finally Here

Two days and 830 miles later we're finally here at my brother's house. Tomorrow, the great apartment hunt begins, tonight I drink Jono's beer and watch Survivor/CSI at my parents building's "screening room".

Also on the docket is Soulard Mardi Gras, which used to be the second biggest Mardi Gras celebration but due to mother earth and extreme federal incompetence, St. Louis might be on top.

Movin' Out

All right everyone, I'm the shithead that doesn't update their blog at all.

For all 7 of you that still look at this thing and don't know....

1. Laura and I will be moving to St. Louis
2. We just did a big-ass tour of the east coast.
3. Laura managed to sell the house and our furniture to a woman who was randomly living in our neighborhood.

As for the tour of the East Coast, it was a great time. Laura and I basically "porked up the east coast", eating like pigs all along the way. It was possibly the worst possible time to head north, the weather was cold and shitty the entire time, particularly in Boston. I brought my bike along and took one final ride through New York. It was spectalular. I sighed when we left drove past New York on our way back from Boston yesterday. It will be missed.

Many thanks to Shannon and Tim, Andrew and TK (fucking great Superbowl Party, you're wonderful hosts), John and Noreen, Val and Amy for putting us up. Should the fates leave you stranded in the Gateway City, my spare bed is yours.

Oh The Roadkill You'll See

My morning commute to work is through either rural or formerly rural roads. I have seen exactly 3 other cyclists and they were all going the other way. I started the job as the winter solstace was creeping up and now the days are getting slightly longer. The only thing aside from the sunrise and the weather that varies is the roadkill.

My commute is something around 8.5 miles and you see the whole gamut of dead shit. Deer, possum, squirrels, pets and more deer. I give them pet names like "Dierdre" for the dead deer that has it's tongue sticking out and it's neck in a funny direction. "Rocky" of course is the racoon that the buzzards or the highway patrol took care of over Christmas break, and "Pokey" is the name for the splayed out dead housecat that just wasn't fast enough crossing 15-501.

This morning I found what looks to be the remains of a black lab about 50 feet from "Pokey". I've decided to give the dog a one week moratorium on naming it to see if someone will claim it. After that, it'll probably go by "Lucky" till the highway patrol or the buzzards take care of him too.

2007 Baby

Christmas was a good time. Laura and I went to St. Louis where we stayed with my brother, checked out my parents new apartment and only had to listen to a bare minimum of my dad's lectures on the relationship between ancient Egypt and it's influence on early Judeaism. Go ahead, ask him about it sometime, he'd looooove to tell you all about it.

My brother had brewed a couple of Belgian beers which we both drank in profusion. The dubble was excellent, his seasonal pumpkin beer was the best I've ever tasted but his other Belgian brew was so freaking alchoholic that I got gunshy from it after the first night.

My Cousin/Sister has once again proved herself to be one tough ass little lady. She bounced right back from an elective surgery and barely took a single pain med.

My Dad is still chugging along. He's still reading everything published in English or French about his favorite subject and at this point could probably go head to head with Dan Brown if there was every a "Davinci Code" Jeopardy special.

Mom is kicking ass and taking names. She is on a major charm offensive with a large stuff toy company and will probably have them eating out of her hand by the summer.

Jono is Jono. Teaching, making art, taking classes and raising Milo, a dog rivalled only by my own. If we move there, I'm sure Laura will do everything in her power to find him a good woman.

Laura and I took a good hard look at St. Louis as a possible place to move. St. Louis has changed a lot in the last decade since I moved out. The downtown is developing at a pretty good clip, but not quite fast enough that I would move down there anytime soon (last year St. Louis was voted the most dangerous downtown in America.) The cost of living is so freaking cheap it makes my head spin, and I already have friends and family there.

There's just the matter of confronting my 18 year old self. I have a good decade and about 20 pounds on the little shit, but he is pretty wiry and determined. My parents, of course are totally against the idea of being within driving distance to their future grandchildren and tried to talk me out of it the entire time. Carrboro is nice, but things aren't gelling anywhere close to what I would have hoped. What I realized in moving here and also spending a little bit of time in San Fran and the rest of the country is that nothing is like New York. Nothing. There are quality people everywhere, you just don't get that kind of buzz that you get in New York.

New Years was spent in Chapel Hill where Laura and I had a great meal and spent the night in a nice hotel. I passed out 10 minutes after midnight and Laura and Noreen spent an hour on the phone talking about what shitheads their husbands were (apparently John was something of a liablility on New Year's Eve and had to be escorted back early).

2007 is the year is going to be a pretty big year. If all goes according to plan, I might be a business owner and an expecting father before the year lets out. If not, I'll probably have a huge crisis of meaning and have to figure out for sure what the next 25 years of my life will be about. High stakes all around, it's exciting shit.

I am competetive to the point of retardation

I went to they gym yesterday and sat down on one of the reclining bikes with Time magazine thinking that I would poke along and read about Obama's electablility. I set the stationary bike on a "race mode" where you put in the pace of the race (20mph) and the distance (10 miles).

"Race Mode" such as it was consisted of two red dots on a 4"x4" screen. One was me and one was my opponent and we both circled the boundery of the screen counter-clockwise. About two minutes in I was completely hooked and I ended up racing the machine like I was in an actual race, panting till I couldn't take it anymore. When it was done, I had sweated through both the front and the back of my shirt and I could hardly walk.

The whole thing made me realize just how different my life is here, that I have to race a stationary bike in order to feed my competetive nature.

Lapped that dot twice though. Try fucking with me next time you red flashing motherfucker.

Yeah!

No, You Tell ME What's Worse

The genocide in Darfur
The sectarian strife in Iraq
The reality of a Nuclear North Korea

We now have to deal with:

JESSICA SIMPSON PLAYING A FUCKING BIKE MESSENGER!!

Life In NC

These last few weeks have flown by at times and gone painstakingly slow at others. Our life has revolved around our house in Carrboro, finishing it, moving into it and finally, buying the bitch.

Our first week here was a sexless, suburban one which we spent at Laura's aunt's house in her son Zack's room (he's in military school). Imagine readers, being 28, freshly wed and waking up in a room with a football jersey tacked to the wall. The house, such as it was, was laughably behind where we were assured it would be before we packed up all of our belongings and drove 500 miles. The men working on the house, nice guys all, didn't answer to us, so all we could do was patiently nod as they told us for the third time that the place'd be done in just a few days. I won't go into it too much, it's not great stuff to read and anyhow, I still don't have a back deck.

While the house became livable, Laura and I lived/squatted in another house Laura's aunt owns about a mile from the other and did all the requisite nesting stuff. Unbeknownst to a lot of the good people who gave generously at our wedding, the stuff from the registry went to Laura's mom's house, where it was turned into store credit. We then just went to the Raleigh Mall and bought all of our registry all over again, with a few goodies thrown in: "A lemon zester? We-helll, don't mind if I do!"

Another big purchase was a car to replace our deadbeat Volvo. We decided this time to go with the most vanilla vehicle money could buy, and have a good mechanic give it a good look-see. We settled on a white, 1998 Toyota Camry with about 120K miles on it. Good times.

For the last week we've been living in the house which has been sublime. Now our lives are filled with the business of buying this sucker. I feel that I made the absolute most of my 20's, lending institutions seem bent on having a healthy debate on the subject. The gears slowly turn.

The weather is great, the dog is happy, and I miss you all so much. I'll do my best to write on this thing more.

The Wedding Pictures Are In

Check Out More Here

Retirement

So Monday marked my last day as a New York City bike messenger, however nominal a messenger I really was for the last year and a half. I have the same delivery route, so I see the same people and it was kind of funky knocking off my deliveries and seeing them for the last time in my life. It reminded me of that feeling the last night of a show's run where it hits you that that's the last time you'll do that scene, beat, or moment that you never quite got where you wanted it to be. As in theatre, that got me kinda jazzed and I picked up all my cues unconsciously and finished a full four minutes faster than my best record.

The following is a short list of goodbyes to people who I never really knew and who never got to know me. Both of us were completely interchangable, but they were part of my life for over a year of Monday mornings. Here it goes in order of delivery, the boring people have of course been omitted.

To the woman at the Conde Nast loading dock with the ripped arms: Thanks for always quickly opening the window on cold mornings.

To the silent guy who didn't give a fuck at Time Magazine: The whole damned time you only spoke twice, both times to tell me that you weren't accepting packages on Martin Luther King day. May your indifference bring you nowhere.

To my man at Rolling Stone: Thank you for the "good morning"'s and most of all for the unimpeded use of the bathroom key and letting me use the facilities clean enough for Jann Wenner to take a dump in. Good times.

To the wonderful women of 444 Madison Ave: You saved my ass on three separate occasions, thank you for being polite, professional, good at your jobs and good people. I hope they're paying you enough.

To the front desk guy at The Avedon Foundation: You're so damned cool, you must have been a messenger before you got that gig.

To my Russian pal at USA Today: Joe Felice told me to give you a free Newsweek Magazine every week and I did. For that, you never once asked me to sign in. Bribery really does work, you taught me that.

To the older man at the Newsweek front desk: I freaking love it when you sing! The marble makes it bounce around everywhere, total boost to my morning.

To the grumpy guys at 1010 WINS: Your office is in an underground garage, I imagine that it's the carbon monoxide that makes you cranky, thank god I never had to get signatures from you.

To the Puerto Rican lady at the Letterman Show: Thanks for letting me drop stuff off without having to go upstairs, and thanks also for calling me "ho-ney".

To Mr. Chin at Paramount: YOU'RE MR. FUCKING CHIN MAN!

To the older DCAS guy at 1 Centre Street: Thanks for being a sport about checking my tools.

Last but not least. Thanks to the good people at Lasership HQ on 39th Street: You put a lot of things in perspective for me. I know messenging is difficult cause I've done it. I've never had to do it while I was living at a homelesse shelter shelter in the Bronx or suffering from a physical ailment and walking with a cane. I took the job because it paid well and I liked the work, and above all my employer was matching me for health insurance, not because I had no other options because I hadn't finished high school/been convicted of a felony. That being said, WHY YOU GOTTA START SHIT WITH PEOPLE AT SIX IN THE FUCKING MORNING???!!! I love you all.

IT'S CARRBORO!

So here is exactly where we are moving. After seeing this, Laura and I gave ourselves the option of running in utter horror.

Strange Human Connections With Craigslist

Even though I took the ad down from Craigslist, I still get a few e-mails asking me about the car. I usually just shoot them a one line e-mail and tell em' that the car is long gone. Two days ago this woman who we'll call "judith" contacted me and asked me about the car and added that she needed it to tote around her three children and that she was a single mother "not by choice". I don't know that I've ever heard a woman with three kids up and choosing to go it alone, but I decided to ignore that particular red flag and give her a slightly longer e-mail.
" Hey "Judith",
I'm sorry we don't have the car anymore. I'm about to get married and my money is all tied up into my wedding so when the alternator died, I just decided that I had to get ride of the darned thing before it killed me (I had to push it across the street for alternate side street parking just once). I didn't feel comfortable selling it to anyone, certainly not someone who would have three kids depending on it so I just sold it for a buck to a man in long island who scrapped it for parts. Best of luck "Judith".
Frank "

"judith" decided to reward my forthrightness with this little gem:

Best of luck to you and your bride. Please know one piece of advice...NEVER give up. NEVER give in to temptation. NEVER, no never, walk away from your best friend. Because I promise you, there will be times that you will want to walk away. There will be times you will be tested as to the true strength of your relationship.

When temptation knocks, think first about who you married, and WHY. If you have lost something in your relationship, talk about it. Find it. Always remember why you married this person, what you felt and how committed you were (are). For eventually, the newness of an affair, or the newness of any situation will wear out. And, again you will find yourself faced with a decision. A decision of what to do... Go home or stay away.

Marry for life. Marry for love. Marry for fun.

I lost my husband to another woman a year and a half ago. My divorce is final on the 26th of Sept. but he now claims to want to come back home. He has just 8 days to get here before it is legally over. I pray he comes home for I have remained strong. Committed to my vows and life of family.

So, no matter how perfect life is now be smart enough to realize that perfection will die one day. Then the real test of your friendship will reach a new height. It is not a bad place to be either. To be with your best friend is a gift, never, ever take it for granted.

My speech done, I have only to say, "Be Happy and Be True". Life is wonderful, fun and joyous.

Enjoy your new life. I am happy for you both.

Sincerely,

"Judith"

Best of luck "Judith" best of luck.

There Is No Justice, Or Is There

It was an action packed morning. It was finally my day in court for my four tickets from trying to outrun the threewheeler cop. I was guilty as freaking sin on all four counts, and my entire legal strategy was hoping the guy didn't show up.

I'm a legal fucking genious. The guy who whipped across four lanes of traffic in a 600 pound car is no longer with the NYPD. Me and four other people previously snagged by this guy were all let go. It took all of 15 minutes.

I biked off to work, feeling untouchable. Ten minutes later, my steering was all messed up and I had to take the subway. Somewhere between Rector Street and Canal, my bike frame finally gave up the ghost and snapped right where I had bent it two and a half years ago. What had started off saving me $160 ended up costing me god knows how much. The Pista will be sorely missed.

What will not be missed is Laura and my first car. We ditched The Bloob with a guy from Long Island for $1 after the alternator blew. It was a pity to see it go, but the car won't cost us any more money. It was a lot of money down the tubes at a crappy time. If I lived in a different part of the country, I'd scratch off the vin numbers and push it off a cliff.

New Job

All the big windfalls I've had this year have had to do with the United States Army. I got a call from a man I worked with on the TA job (who saved my ever-lovin ass by the way) named Ross who asked me if I wanted a job. There's a guy who works with his wife who was called up for active duty as a reservist and needed a replacement. A quick interview, a hasty sionara to my old job (I hope there's no hard feelings with my old boss, but he's since declined my wedding invite) and I was off to the races.
I work at a theatre called Symphony Space on 95th street and Broadway. I'm sort of the property manager, a job that I've done in some capacity or another over the years. The gig is four days a week so I don't have to drop my messenger job and it pays twice as much as my old job. A welcome boon right now when money is tight.

Thank freaking god.

Pickin' Up The Motherfuckin' Car

After work tomorrow, I'm going to catch a train out to Connecticut to pick up the car from the shop. I had a nightmare last night that something else went wrong with the car and that we had to just leave the car and hope someone wouldn't charge us with dumping. I've found that no one has really come at me with a smug "I told you so" or plattitude about car buying. It's probably because most people I know have either owned a lemon or are too consious of their own karmic liability in degrading another person's eye for cars. Then again, most people I know, with the exception of Andrew, who owns a car with over 260,000 miles owns a car.

The car has cost us so much money, what with the transportation to and from Boston to get it, sales tax, inspection, windshier etc that it seems a tragedy to walk away from it having lost so much. I keep having this hope that there'll be some kind of "Smokey and the Bandit" job where I can make $5000 to just drive a bunch of moonshine up to the Canadian border then push the car off a cliff. That or some crazy person offering us $5000 for our car just because he's got a fetish for the smell of old Volvos and he wants to spend every waking hour gratifying himself in the back seat. If any of you know of any such opportunities HOOK ME UP!

Messenger 58

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Messenger Death

Bronx John, a messenger I've seen around a lot, talked to a few times and locked horns with once died this Saturday from injuries he sustained after getting hit by a car in Williamsburg this past Wednesday. It's always chilling to hear about a biker getting killed but this is the first time anyone who I've seen alive and biking through the streets has been cut down.

Here he is doing a song he wrote that was made into a video in the movie Red Light Go. A memorial bike ride has been planned for 8:00 by the Javitz center and will end at Rock Star Bar in Williamsburg.

Good God What a Two Weeks

From August first till my birthday on the 10th I didn't drink. I did it last year as a sort of cleansing before turning 28, did the same thing last year. Now think here, when was the last time you didn't have anything to drink for 10 days? It had been exactly a year for me. I found myself a little crankier at the end of the work day, feeling extremely good in the mornings and after 8 days, I was down about five pounds from the last time I weighed myself a few months ago. I developed this nervous tick that I haven't suffered from since I was in college (a need to click my teeth together and take shallow chest breaths), which has pretty much gone away since my birthday. I can't say that the absense of booze made me a mental or physical superhero, but it did improve my faculties a notch or two.

The birthday itself was a pretty low key affair. I haven't been training so much these days, so I just ran to work (5.5 miles), something that I think I'll do again soon. I would have run back, but I had to pick up the dog and drop him with Rose for the weekend as I went to Shannon and Tim's wedding on the Cape. After squaring the dog away, Laura and I went off to my favorite restaurant, Little Giant for an incredible meal.

Driving to the Cape was nice until it wasn't. We escaped the majority of incoming Cape traffic, but the car started leaking more and more. We dropped the thing at a place called Frank's Citgo near where we were staying and had Frank take a look at it. He told us that the coolant pump was shot, how much it would be and then gave us a lift to our bed and breakfast and walking directions to a good restaurant.

On the way home from the Cape, we again escaped the traffic only to have the whole enginge disengage on the highway, along with the brakes with just enough time for Laura to ease it off to the side of the road and for me to grind it to a halt with the parking brake. A tow, a taxi, a train, the subway and a 10 minute walk were all that it took to get home, eleven and a half hours after we left that morning.

Today I found out that the timing belt was what gave up the ghost. Generally, they're to be replaced every 60,000 miles, which would mean that this sucker will be the third or fourth that the car has seen.

There's a certain logic that might say that since we've replaced so many major mechanical things on the car and have had a wide variety of professionals look the thing over in the 1000 or so miles that we've driven the thing, that perhaps we've reached some kind of equilbrium. After this, 70,000 miles of free sailing, you've replaced all the big shit. On the other hand, Laura and I are leaning towards the logic used by pit bull owners whose dog has twice bitten their small child. Either through adoption or lethal injection, we going to get rid of the thing.

So, if any of you 8 people that read this have a friend of a friend of a friend who's in the market and is an expert tinkerer and/or licensed mechanic then steer 'em to me.

Everything's Coming Up Laura

Aside from the heatwave and worries about coming home to baked bichon, everything has been going right this week. It must be said that this is all Laura's doing. She managed a major coup when she found a lady in Hillsboro NC who is letting us live rent-and-utility-free for two months in exchange for looking after her dogs. The low cost of living down there is now significantly lower. In other news the invitations have all gone out and we got our first RSVP back from Alex and Laura who pointed out just how wrong we spelled both of their names. We might also be staying for free at a friend of Laura's mom's place on the Cape next weekend when we go to see Shannon and Tim get married. With all of this money saving, I feel that some huge expense will creep up on us and bite us in the ass, but for now our financial prospects are looking rosy.

As hot as it is outside, it is always hotter inside of my car. Our Volvo, which was made by Swedes to be used by Swedes has nothing when it comes to air conditioning. I read on the Volvo lovers' website The Brick Board that even new, these things didn't have a lot of cooling power. This weekend, when the auto parts store up the street gets the hose in, I'm going to shoot coolant back into the system and see if I can't get something better than dirty car breath to shoot through the vents.