| One thing I neglected to mention |
[Aug. 2nd, 2007|08:11 am] |
The guy I've seen in the deli three times already who I think lives in my building? He's hot. I think he's a around my age, perhaps a couple of years senior. He's Latino, with thick, curly black hair, a goatee, glasses, and what seem to be great hands. I really like hands that are square, strong, relatively hairless, and I have a weird thing for veins and fingers that still look like they hold crystals carefully. Sexy, certain hands. He's a little taller than me, wiry, with well-cut arms. He seems to know the deli owner pretty since I seen them talking every time I've seen him in there.
For the first time since last summer, I think I am interested in more than just looking. I have no idea whether or not he's gay, straight, queer, whatever, but at this point, I don't care. I think it's time for me to finally learn how to talk to strangers. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 2nd, 2007|07:30 am] |
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I moved this weekend. Two bruises, 23 boxes, and 14 barrels of sweat later, I now live ten blocks from where I used to in yet another deli and concrete patch in Brooklyn. I think one of the guys I've seen three times in my new corner deli lives in the building, but I have not seen him in the hallways yet. |
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| Beginning of a long night in Brooklyn |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|03:00 pm] |
Semester started on Tuesday. It's going to be mostly more workshopping this semester, but I sat in on a class this afternoon on Surrealism, and I think it might be worth it to stay there.
Last night, A called me, and we ended up talking for four hours. She's worried about me being lonely, but I know she's pretty lonely herself. It's been four months since her boyfriend left, and think she's just starting to shake off the first ropes of break-up depression. She's at the stage when she starts noticing life again, and sometimes that's worse if your life was all wrapped up in the relationship. It's shitty to realize that you don't have a whole to re-enter. Of course with A, she does have things going for her, but they're mostly dim outlines through all the sadness.
Um, anyway. That all became a bit more sad than I had intended. It was good talking to her again. She'd been in Boston for most of the holidays, so it was the first time we had talked on the phone for almost a month. At one point around 1 am or so, she was telling me a long story about something her sister had said to her boss at the company holiday party and how she was afraid he would assume she was flirting. Midway through the story, I slid to floor and just leaned against the door as I listened. There was something perfect in the quietness of the moment. My living room was almost completely dark because I has drawn the shades earlier in the day. I could hear the buzzing of the coolers from the deli downstairs, but the street outside was quiet and just about empty. She whispered into my ear in that low, breathless way she has when she's in the midde of a long story. Darkness settled in all around me, and it felt like one of those moments when you're convinced you're dissolving into it. |
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| Be it resolved |
[Dec. 26th, 2006|06:54 pm] |
Perhaps it's time to actually to start writing in this thing again.
Spent Christmas having my own personal River Phoenix film festival. I watched Running On Empty, My Own Private Idaho, and Sneakers. Weekday holidays are perfect time for the solitary contemplation of doomed, pretty boys. The Chinese take-out place around the corner was open, and I was very tempted to just call and see if they would deliver my order. But, I hadn't left the apartment since Friday, so I finally shrugged off my bathrobe and walked out to pick up my lo mein.
I spent part of last semester starting to going out more and talking to folks, but now I feel almost as I have nothing to show for it. Almost everyone I know is gone during the semester break, and it was a pretty lonely weekend. I faced the fact a couple of days ago that there is literally no one I feel comfortable enough with in my program who I can just pick up the phone and call just to talk about anything not related to what happened during the last workshop.
Perhaps it's time to actually come up with a serious new year's resolution this year. Being the recluse writer typing away (or not typing, as the case may be) in my chilly, little attic is not actually working out for me. It's time to stop hiding. That is, of course, easier said than done. But, perhaps I can start off going to the new year's Paul is having. Last week, he sent around an email to the entire department inviting everyone to a party as his place in Park Slope. Paul's one of those friendly, laidback guys who seems to be able to talk and be nice to everyone. He's always treated me decently, and at the same he makes weirdly nervous. People who seem that genuinely nice always do. I don't possess anything resembling that sort of social ease, and I sometimes wonder how nice he actually is. Agatha would say I'm being paranoid, and she's right, and perhaps it it neurotic to assume someone being nice all the time is really disingenuous. Neuroses don't actually make sense, of course.
Okay, enough with this electronic finger-drumming. It's almost 10:30 here. I haven't left the house today, and I finished off the last of the lo mein this morning. I might actually try to buy some groceries from the deli. |
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[Aug. 17th, 2006|08:57 am] |
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This light o' mine, I'm going to let it SHINE! |
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pluricula's journal