holy gee-zus

just remembered a phrase, details of provenance escape me, but an older fella—as i write i recall just what: was in colorado for a wedding, years ago, driving to the san de cristo or sang cristo mountains (going to a town called crestone) and we stopped in co springs or boulder or something and there was a cowboy in a shop, asked us where we were from, my friends and i and we answered our various answers—massachusetts, chicago, new york. and the cowboy said, no, scratch, he exlaimed: holy jeesus! new... york.... city!

a friend of a friend who lives in moscow wrote me to tell me what to bring on my trip. among other things she suggested: 'your sluttiest clothes' but my slutty clothes are all for summer and now it's cool there. and am i really going to wear a halter dress to see lenin's tomb? wait, scratch that too. am i going to see lenin's tomb at all? not the highest on my list of to-dos. or ta-das.

ta-tas.

thus and such

been getting up every day before dawn to exercise and then to work and then after work more work, freelance work, and right now on this here wed-nes-day i feel like i'm about to crash out, flat out, as if jetlagged and in a daze and hungry and that autumn malaise is tickling the bottom of my intestine.

and listening right now to the song 'upward over the mountain' which i think at this very moment is the most beautiful song ever. i mean in the history of this year and last year and the universe and infinity.

going to see ian mckellan tonight as lear! lear! you hear! saw chris plummer in that part a couple of yrs ago. he was good. this isn't about dating at all. not at all.

what's there to say about dating anyway? not a whole lot. some dates are good. some are bad. some men are fun to kiss, etc. others are not. really, really not though they think they are (and it's a pity and crime that they think so and i've wondered how do you tell someone... 'please, less forceful, it's not very fun this and i don't like the tongue-equivalent of a gym-sock rammed down my throat' without seeming like a jerk). some people go dutch on a date. others don't. some people like to be picked up for dates. i don't know those people particularly and i don't think it's ever happened to me. i think that would be nice. it would also be nice if a date brought me flowers. do you know, that in my whole entire history of dating, nobody has ever brought me flowers? i mean, that's kind of a stinker. but they've me brought me other things...wine, music, books, that counts too.

last night i got a call from a harris pollster. first he asked if any grown-ups were home. when i said 'i'm a grown-up, i'm home,' he said, 'oh, you sound young.' then he asked me the last time i bought a car. i had to tell him, 'i never in my life bought a car.' he couldn't believe it. then he asked me when i might. i said. 'when i move somewhere which doesn't have good public transportation, which is not, as far as i can tell, imminent.'

that was it. i think his poll questions were about cars.

i did have a car once...it was given to me. but it was a lemon. i had to give it up when the mechanic said it would explode while i was driving and kill me. i mean, you don't have to tell me twice. fool me once and such.

my waiter texted me. i don't really like texting. but he doesn't have email or if he does, i don't have his address. it hurts my fingers to text. hurts them to type too. so i'm audi!

viewer discretion is advised

i have a temporary 'birthmark' on my neck. it's a 'birthmark' aka euphemism because some of my half-dozen readers are prurient, especially the one in the middle west, but what is nice is how nobody on the east has said anything about it, i mean assuming they notice. i sure do appreciate that cause it's embarrassing. my albanian friend is responsible. also, he might me muslim; i mean, i asked, he said no, just albanian, but he was sly and then he wished me happy new year. oh and i'm from the jewish peuple, but i know how to count in arabic, which is not muslim, and how to ask you how you are and to tell you my name and also to say some pretty mean curses which i don't even say in spanglish.

guess pops was right...the whole opposite attracting bizness; 'cept he meant it would help end the israel-palestinian conflict. that would be a good solution.

got so much to do. i woke up at 6 to get doing it. yet feel some paralysis now. it's five and the feast of san gennero, little itly-style, which seems to have been going on for weeks, is getting revved up for the night and i can hear a barker in the distance, making it very hard to edit and work. my office is a wee block away.

i want zeppoli!!

baby, can i drive yr car?

britney spears is basically a lowrent striptease. i know—that's stating obvious, the. what if every sentence i move words around in? would that you confuse? just watched a video of her live performance and it's like watching me in karaoke, except i don't writhe live.

reminds me of a bachelor party i went to where a male stripper was hired (this was yrs ago, women who were not good friends of mine; how's that disclaimer?) and the dude was this muscle beach type who kept his white gym socks on his feet while he did a lap dance in black bikini underwear pour l'homme. the socks just about killed me.

had other things to say: oh. yes. i drove a benz on friday. now that is a nice ride. which means i saw my waiter friend again for a drink, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. it was mega-fun. he's sweet and cute. and i asked him how a waiter comes to own a fancy car and he had a good answer and then we joked that he is a drug dealer! hah! that's funny right!?! he didn't make any arms dealer jokes, though, so make of that what you will.

and i felt a wee guilty b/c am i wasting my time? am just being kind? mean what you say say what you mean. i could make a whole blog of song lyrics. i think i have.

am i distracting myself from meeting quote more suitable mates unquote when i span time with him and like hims. but i have democratic inclinations! should i discount someone for the reason that they're basically not like me? that ain't right and yet and yet and—

i like the way he says: viskey.

then i saw the seagull on saturday. that was good. getting me in mind of russia and tragedy and provinces and trigorian. ah trigorian! for thee, i swoon in spite of your hackdom.

horror show

this is not a love song.

two words: fred thompson

another two: quebec city

it's looking finer by the second.

got this problem, see

insomnia. tonight. woke up at around a quarter past four, here it is almost half past five, and i'm wildly awake waiting for the moment i can go out and have a run. a little nervous because of work, because of buyers remorse (didn't buy anything but remorse on other accounts), remembering that sometimes i am misanthropic and regretting some silly interactions of the past few days which i wish i had not had.

and nervous because i know in a few hours i am going to be sooo damn tired. this cannot help imminent crows feet.

back in the u-s-s-r

well, i'm going to russia in a few weeks...on a vacation of sorts. but it's already making me kinda panicked at the disco because i got a free ticket because over the yrs i spend so much money with credit cards and that's great, except i wanted to make a change and have done so and without getting too detailed because mundane details of what a person eats or how a person travels are mundane and only grist for obsession for the eater or traveler (that's me today) it appears now that to get to st pete's i'll have traveled for more than 24 hours, which is a long, long amount of travel and part of it will have been a long layover in amsterdam, not long enough to get into the city, but long enough that i'll get restless and cross and uncross my legs several times and if i had a rosary i would worry it for sure.

but my travel agent, a russian lady, told me not to worry, not to panic, because i'm going to russia and there i will drink vodka and relax and it will be okay! but what if latter day kgb come after me or i get mixed up with the mafia or i get lost or when it comes time to meet my sister the cellist who will be there on tour and is in fact the reason i came up with this exciting/harebrained notion i don't find her and i don't know cyrillic or i discover a tap in my room. is it dangerous even writing this post? are they watching? did you know that when my parents went to russia in the olden days a cabbie dropped them off in a forest outside the city as a form of intimidation. do you see how i can become prone to paranoia not to mention paranormal?

it's all enough to make me hungry. which i am having run a lot this morning to settle my nerves after an upsetting dream about babies and single mommies not exactly by choice but by failed birth control and how do you explain that to your folks, if at all, that you're pregnant on account of a one night stand and is it even their business. that is the question.