Have you met my friend Jimmy?

Since returning from a week in Istanbul, my spirits have been much better. I realized that my personality was really suffering from investing so much of myself into work, and so I've made more of an effort to relax and not take every tour that comes my way. At the moment, I'm working for 10 different companies, and I get calls all the time, and many of them are last minute. Real pain in the ass. I guess it is good that I have a reputation in this town as one of the better guides, but still. Oftentimes it is up to me to find someone for another company too. A guide. Because I have a network of guides that for some reason none of the owners of these other companies have. How they don't have a network of guides I don't know. But I imagine it is because most of them are living like fat cats in their air-conditioned offices taking no risks every day, so they never mingle. I know it sounds stupid, but it is true. I need to start charging a finder's fee on every guide that I find, every tour that I organize. The only good thing about this situation is that I can set my own rates and hours. I bring in 35-50 euros an hour now. Which ain't bad. Especially since every other guide is working for half that. So I'm obviously quite pleased with myself. Allow me to pat myself on the back. Hoorah.

Jordan and I are working on a new project. Something that if it is successful, can take me out of the tour guiding industry altogether (though I must admit, I'd still do tours; just too damn enjoyable). I hesitate to discuss this on the internet, but I don't think anyone is going to read this blog anyways. But we're trying to set up a website where teachers of anything (foreign language, yoga, guitar, dancing) can post profiles and find students. If an English teacher here in Rome posts a profile, maybe they could say they are really good teaching business English or maybe they are better with children. Then the students can leave reviews and feedback on the page. Sorta like myspace.

Currently annoyed that there don't seem to be any attractive females in my life. At least in the States, though I was depressed before, there were girls around. I'm happier here, but there are no girls. Maybe the two points are related...? Just a goddamn shame how rarely I meet someone with fucking vision. Got all these brain-dead American students here right now, so I talked to a bunch of them at the pub the other night (just kept walking up to whoever looked interesting), and I got bored miraculously quickly. These aren't even real people, just slabs of meat... like all the people I went to high school with.

I don't know what I'm babbling about. Going to a show tonight. I actually like these guys. Their music is decent, kinda like old school Bad Brains. And the guys in it are pretty cool. Went and hung out with them last night. The guitar player's girlfriend is a guide and it was her birthday.

Fuck. I keep getting distracted while writing this. Nevermind. I give up. Next time.

Ungrateful Little Blogger

Amazing. All these stupid sad blogs I was writing. What an asshole I was.

Anyways, I'm back in Rome. And life is getting better. Much better.

I will keep you all posted. I'm lazy right now, but I'll be back soon enough.

Cold Weather T-Shirt

So I'm looking for a new job, and let me say, they are all a bunch of fuckers. Why do I need 5+ years of proofreading experience? The "proof" should be in how well I read. Fucking idiots. I proofread everything. I fucking proofread my cereal box. Unfortunately, in a few weeks, I won't even be able to afford cereal. I would apply to better jobs, but I want to attend a film program asap and I don't want to be stuck in a full-time job. I want something I can do from my computer, at odd hours. Right now I'm obsessed with making money. It is all I can think about. How to make money. How hard I'll work to do that. Someone just needs to give me the opportunity.

I just got a phone call from a film school in D.C. I applied to back when I thought I would move there to be with Kate. The lady seemed really intent on having me come in and talk to the director of the program. Something I've learned about life is that if they are recruiting you, it probably ain't that great. Most things that are worth a damn require you to do all the footwork. It's like all the editing jobs I'm applying for. Some pages or posts REALLY want you to apply, and they are selling themselves to you. Probably ain't worth it. Not saying that I haven't applied to some of these, but really. If the job is good, they are going to be very specific about who they want. My problem is that I don't usually fit the criteria.

Gaelan was visiting recently. That was fun.

I'm not really in the mood to write, but I wanted to distract myself for a moment from the monotonous drudgery of job hunting.

It's Like Learning a New Language

Today I was sent to a nursing home to visit my dying uncle, whom I'd never met. Amanda volunteered to come as well, which was nice, since I didn't want to go in the first place. He is my grandma's older brother. They haven't spoken in over 15 years. The only time I'd ever see him was when I was 9 at my granny's funeral. I didn't remember him.

I got up and one of the dogs, Zooey, was constipated and hid in the closet or under the bed all morning. I watched a movie before I noticed. I should have been working. But I watched the movie because I'm currently depressed. More on that later. But I drove her to the vet and got some giant gel caps for her. The other dog, Gizmo, currently has diarrhea and is on his own medication. Hopefully i don't get the two drugs mixed up. No good giving a diarrhetic dog a laxative, or a constipated dog... whatever it is they give diarrhetic dogs.

Afterwards I picked up Amanda and we hunted down this retirement home. It was a nightmare. Like a halfway house between a hospital and hell. Old people wandered about the corridors while nurses chased after them or pushed trays of microwaved dinners to the more sedated patients. This was a nursing home for poor people, which makes it worse. My uncle is poor. He wants my dad to buy his worthless property out in the country just so he can afford some of his medical bills. The poor guy should just die. When Amanda and I got there we knocked on his door, even though it was open, because he was asleep. It took a few rounds of introductions before he finally realized who we were. Though I write that off on just waking up. Because soon afterwards he was conversing reasonably well and asked questions about my life and Amanda's life. His southern accent is so thick only another southerner could possibly understand him. I have friends from other parts of America that I'm certain wouldn't have understood anything he said. He had the type of southern accent my next-door-neighbor growing up had. That Old South mumble. Carolyn (my grandma) doesn't even have an accent. But her brother did.

He looked frail. Like his skin was made of weakened cobwebs. He was as thin as a prisoner of war. And other than the dark splotches all over his body, he was practically translucent. Like a cloudy jellyfish. I'll refrain from more similes. I made small talk with him about how Carolyn wanted to come herself, but couldn't and blah blah blah, while my little sister fidgeted with the baby. My uncle's grandfather fought in the Civil War. Not many people left in the world who have heard a first-hand account of fighting in the Civil War. And here was his great-great-nephew. A healthy, blue-eyed baby boy. The New South.

My week has otherwise been weird. My old best friend James Brown stopped by. 3 years ago, after a lifetime of being a pillar of sanity while his entire family sunk further into drug and alcohol addiction, after watching his Mom smoke crystal meth and his sister go in and out of Rehab, after being the only one with a future, after all of this, James lost his mind finally and became addicted to Heroin. He began attacking everyone that cared about him, sometimes physically. He stole. Lots. From everyone. He was the nicest person in the world, but when he snapped, he went off the deep end. Finally he broke into an old lady's house and got caught, sent to prison, and is now a born-again Christian. Not just a born-again, but you know, one of THOSE people. Yesterday he showed up with an ichthys tattooed on his wrist. And a cross on the other. And a beanie with Matthew 23:19 written on it. He told me about the many miracles he'd witnessed at the Jesus camp they made him go to after prison. And about the saving power of the lord. I'm fine with God, at least I hope I am, but it was freaky, the way he recited this brainwashed mumbo-jumbo at me. He wants to move to Oklahoma because that's "Where it's at!" What exactly he means by this statement eludes me. He's back with his Canadian ex-wife (who is boring in every possible way) and working at Ruby Tuesday's as a cook. At least he's sober. But weird since so many of my formative years were spent with him, hanging out and being chill. Maybe we'd drink, but we tended not to except on special occasions; maybe we'd smoke some pot, but it was never important; typically we just grew up together, in very similar directions. And now he's this other person. I don't see any of him left. It's depressing in a way, but I'm glad I never saw him become the monster that he became. I was in Rome when that happened.

Montgomery is getting to me. Just a mess of corporate chain restaurants and Wal-Marts and oil changing places and fast food and empty lots and nothing has a shred of fucking character. And everyone here seems to be wallowing in this stench, this shit-hole, all with a hint of destitute loneliness; as though everyone is lonely and desperate but pretending on the surface that everything is fine. There is a general sense of paranoia about the place I don't like. And everyone here seems fine with it. I feel like I'm in a David Lynch film. Apart from a few friends, namely Beka, I don't have much faith in it. Beka manages pretty well, but I don't know how. She learned to love a new Montgomery when she came back from college. I never approached it that way. Maybe that's why any prolonged stay here inevitably depresses me. My parents are dog-paddling here. They are some of the only sane people I know. Completely there, I mean. And they want to leave. Phew. I don't know.

I started an account on a different dating site. okcupid. The girls are generally more attractive and the site is free. So yeah. It's more like a myspace for people who are looking for dates. Which means it is super-addictive. I've been in contact with a number of very interesting, very beautiful girls on it. When I get back to Philly. Every girl either went to art school, or is in some grad program. There is a girl from Princeton who is getting her PhD in some study of literature. She looks really cool. Hopefully I don't fuck it up.

I'm listening to Elliot Smith, so you know I must be depressed.

Tomorrow will be better, hopefully.

peace!
-justin

Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.

So it has been a while since my last post. It snowed. A lot. Everywhere. Feets and feets. The roads just had enough time to be formed into dangerous, ice covered paths before more snow came and fell. The city of Philadelphia shut down for almost the entire week. It also snowed both in Alabama and Rome (on the same day!). It never snows in either of those places. Crazy.

Right now I'm back in Bama. Just to babysit my parents 2 dogs for 10 days. While they go to Disneyworld. Never took me to Disneyworld, but no matter. I'm trying to quit smoking and quit drinking at the same time. Not an easy thing to do. It is much easier not to drink than not to smoke. Drinking is something I do in the evening, and typically with other people (though not always with other people), while I tend to smoke all day long. After my coffee, after my shower, before lunch, after lunch, in the afternoon several times, then all evening long. I smoke a pack a day. I've gone from that to an average of 3 a day since my birthday Sunday. Today is Friday. I've had the same pack all week. Haven't even really thought about alcohol, which is nice. I'm not as bad as I always make myself out to be, and part of me wonders if I drink as much as I do because I tell myself in the back of my head somewhere that I'm an alcoholic. Last night Beka and I went to see a movie, but I got there too late cuz my dad wanted me to buy him some ice cream (when were the roles reversed? I housesit and work and be responsible while they go to Disneyworld? I have to go out at night and buy him ice cream AND Oreo Klondike bars?). So instead we went to El Rey. Leah waited on us and sat with us from time to time. I ended up drinking two beers, but over the course of 2 and a half hours, so it wasn't too bad. But Leah did ask me if I wanted to go to Bud's after her shift ended and shoot some pool. I had to decline, even though I was starting to get ready for another drink. A trip to Bud's is the last thing in the world I need. Everyone smoking, cheap beer, pool. Good way to fall back into the habit of smoking and drinking myself to death.

Besides, I've enjoyed by sobriety. I've been productive and healthy. Eating better and exercising. Just pull-ups, sit-ups, and push-ups. But still. If I had some better running shoes maybe I'd get on the treadmill. Maybe I'll borrow my Dad's. Tonight I'm going to make spaghetti and lasagna for the week. My Mom's spaghetti and lasagna is honestly better than anything I've ever had in Italy (Sorry Italian friends!). Italian cuisine often is much simpler than Americans tend to imagine it, using fewer ingredients than any American dish, but also fresher ingredients and less butter and fatty foods. Every dumb American woman I get on a tour asks me how Italian women stay so thin when they eat pasta everyday. Simple: they don't eat junk food or put junk ingredients in their staple dishes, and they get EXERCISE. They WALK places. Holy shit. Revolutionary concepts those are. Don't eat shit food, and walk a little everyday. We've just gotten so greedy. We want a thousand different things, and we want the easiest and most convenient ways of doing everything, no holes barred. No sacrifices here. Cheap and easy. That's how we want our food, and that's how we want our diets. Fucking infatuated with diets! That's something that annoys the fuck out of me about America. But anyways, my mom's pasta sauce is bangarang. Even though there isn't much that correlates to any authentically Italian dish I've ever had. She fills it with all sorts of things: fresh mushrooms, diced tomatoes, italian sausage, ground sirloin, tomato paste, ricotta, fresh parmesan, etc. A lot of ingredients. It is amazing. Especially the lasagna. It takes hours to make. I know how to make it, but I'm a lazy ass and have never done it, and sometimes it ain't no fun cooking for my friends cuz half of em are vegetarian, which I've never been bothered by before, but now that I think of it, that's really obnoxious. I love elaborate meat dishes, and having to cater to those 2 or 3 people at a dinner really sucks. I mean, imagine a room of 5 people and there is 1 vegetarian, well you don't want to make all sorts of shit for 4 people and then something else for that 1 vegetarian, so why not just make it all veggie friendly. Ok, well whatever. I'm rambling.

I've been listening to the Leonard Cohen Pandora station, and I don't know if I so much like Leonard Cohen as much as I like all the musicians that Pandora associates with him. Perfect matches for me.

Things with Kate are eh. That's about all I can say about it. I had a panic attack before boarding my flight out of Philly because since August I've had an uncompromising fear of flying (totally random fear that developed during a flight from Bratislava to Rome), and it was the middle of a snow storm, so I started scratching my head until it was bleeding and finally she was the only one I could think to contact about it. She called me after exchanging a few texts and talked to me for a while. That was nice of her. But still. I shouldn't have done that. I know other people who would have talked to me while I was freaking out about this flight, but she was the first that came to mind. So I talked to her. I feel differently here in Alabama though. Less caught up on it. But I also feel more solitary than ever, in a good way. I just want to stay at home alone all day with the dogs, exercising, cleaning, editing, writing, reading not smoking, not drinking, watching films, etc. I just want to sit around by myself. Or with the dogs as company.

I have to pee. And I promised myself I wouldn't have a cigarette today till afternoon. Which is an accomplishment for me. It is now afternoon. And I want one. My next won't be till tonight, so yeah. Hopefully I can just smoke the two for the day. And be done. But I think this weekend at some point I'm going to finally break down and invest in some gum or patches or something. Cuz I'm really serious about it this time. It's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do though. Quit smoking. I'm terrified of it, for some reason. I feel like cigarettes have gotten me out of some really tough spots, anxiety-wise. What am I going to do now? People don't realize what a psychological addiction it is as well as a physical one. I could probably get over the physical one before the psychological one. Cigarettes have always been like a companion. A pause in the day in which I can think and be alone for a minute. God. Help me.

ciao!
-southern

Don't Dance in a Dive, Don't Sulk in a Dance Club

I've slumped back into depression the past few days. Everything was going well for me, till Saturday. Then it started snowing and I was confined to my empty apartment. I'm not sure what to do with myself to get out of this. That night Toliver had a housewarming party, which was a good distraction. I danced a bit. Megan spent the night with me again. I asked her the next morning if she wanted to go see a movie with me. She said are you asking me out on a date? And I said there's no need to italicize it. Her boyfriend gets in Friday from Switzerland, so I wasn't asking her out on a date. I was asking her to go see a movie with me. Because I'm lonely and want to do something with whoever will do something with me. Because of all of this, I haven't been as productive as I should be. It is really annoying.

All that positive energy I was feeling... gone.

I sent Kate an email that started off as a blog entry about a week ago. It summed up everything so clearly. I talked about her breaking her hip, and how shitty I felt when she did, and how I wished I had been there to support her. How I tried, even being overseas. I talked about growing up and maturing and realizing what she had always wanted from me. I talked about a whole lot of shit. But I was pretty clear about how I need to sever all ties with her in order to move on, since talking to her at all merely inspires a false hope in me that things will work out, and I can't have that false hope lingering in the back of my mind all the time. She texted me an hour later saying it made her cry, and that she misses me. Well. Here I am.

So I felt better for a few days, like I had a sense of closure. Then Friday she started talking to me on gchat. Small talk. What are you doing this weekend. Said she was going dancing. Since I know that this dude is there, of course I thought it a bit insensitive to tell me her plans. I went out to Shayla's housewarming party with Abdullah. Shayla avoided me all night. Oh well. Abdullah drove me back home and we smoked a lot of pot. That's my new thing, since I don't generally smoke pot. But it's better than booze. That heightened paranoia can be harnessed for creative purposes, I believe. I don't need to smoke pot that often, but once every two weeks is ok. Maybe I shouldn't talk about this in a blog. I dunno. Don't really care that much. Apart from that, I'm a fairly law-abiding citizen.

Then Saturday came and the snow storm and it was freezing outside and that's when I went nuts. Got stir-crazy. Paced for hours. Finally went to Toliver's and helped make some appetizers for the party. Not very many people showed up, but whatever. The core crowd was there. And it was a nice distraction. The next morning I actually felt fantastic. Me and Megan went upstairs to Toliver's and turns out Jonathan, Megan's roommate, had slept on the floor up there. I don't think anyone suspected anything between me and Megan. Stacey was there too, and we all had brunch. And it was nice. The sky had cleared and it was much warmer outside. So after Megan and Jonathan left I decided to walk around. And walk around did I. I walked from West Philly to Center City down to South Philly and back up to Old City, back through Center City and up towards Fairmount. Finally stopped at Mugshots, across from Eastern State Penitentiary and ate a Turkey sandwich. Then walked back down to Center City, and a few hours later, back up to Fairmount to eat dinner with Dan and Robin. Apart from my one stop to get the Turkey sandwich, I never stopped. I thought about everything under the sun, but at one point I started thinking about Kate striking up this bland conversation on im with me about absolutely nothing, blithely ignoring all that lies beneath the surface. And how I'd thought I'd made it quite clear that I didn't want to talk to her anymore. So I planned out everything I was going to say to her next time she tried to chat with me. Had a whole spiel. Later, Dan drove me home and I was trolling the internet, getting ready to go to bed, when at about midnight guess who decides to start texting me?

And what do I do? I respond. And we chit chat for a few minutes again about nothing. Now my day had been relatively ok, especially since I'd gotten so much exercise. But what? As soon as she texts me I'm like a dog, wagging my tail, waiting for some sort of treat, like maybe, "I'm so sorry I made a mistake, let's try to work things out." What an asshole I am.

So Monday I hung out with Ian all day long and we talked about art, philosophy, literature, politics... everything. First truly great conversation I've had in a while. But still I found myself analyzing everything Kate had said to me in her texts. Trying to read between the lines. She had told me she saw a band she thinks I'd like. Asked me how I was. Said I was applying to a lot of freelance editing jobs, and that I hoped I'd get them. She said You will. You always do. To which I replied that I don't always get what I want... Then she promptly changed the subject. Said she'd hung out with Elizabeth that night, her old friend. I said, I remember Elizabeth. She's nice. Tell her I said hey. She said I will, she hearts you. So I wondered. Why was she out without her new boyfriend when he'd only arrived a few days earlier, and had come to be exclusively with her? Why was she telling me that her friend "hearts" me? Had they been talking about me? Was Elizabeth pulling for me? All this was going on in the back of my head while I talked to Ian about Shakespeare and Duchamp and Althusser. Whenever there was a pause in me and Ian's conversation, all I could think about was how much I'd have rather have been having that conversation with Kate.

So when I got home I wrote a more direct email than the last, stating quite explicitly that I don't ever want to talk to her again. The first email was poetic. I put a lot of time and effort into getting it just right. This one was very direct, and almost bitchy. She hasn't responded. I also blocked her on gchat. Which may or may not seem extreme. But it's what I did. Because if I don't she will just keep trying to keep me on the leash. And though she'll deny that's what she's doing, it is exactly what she's doing. You don't drunken text your ex-boyfriend with all this bland small talk unless you want to keep him around in your life. Well, not after the things I've said to her. You don't do that to someone who has told you point blank, to your face that he is in love with you and willing to leave Rome and move to a city he hates just to be with you. No, don't text me asking me how my day was.

I haven't written in a few days because I would rather stay away from the darker side of what's going on in my life, and try to veer more towards the positive, but I need to get shit out sometimes. I'm going to be in Alabama again in a few weeks. I'm looking forward to certain parts of it, but also dreading some parts. I'm looking forward on trying to make some progress in the filmmaking industry, and sitting down with Gaelan and fleshing out our ideas one-on-one, but also Leah keeps texting me. Asking me when I'm getting back, etc. I think she really likes me. If it weren't that way, if it were understood that we were just going to fool around with no emotions to it, I'd be fine with it. But I think it's a bit more than that with her. She wants to visit me in Rome. I need to be fair to her and tell her what's going on in my head right now. She's a really cool, very sweet girl. She doesn't deserve to be led on. Not that I have. But it seems like if I don't say something soon, it will start to get that way. Meanwhile I can go out and have sex with Sarah Beth and not give a damn. I lost my virginity to her. And I don't really care for her that much. And I was pretty explicit with her that I was just pursuing my hedonistic tendencies.

But I have no interest in random hook-ups like that. No, not anymore. Need something meaningful.

gotta go. Maybe I'll call Dan and see what he's up to.

-southern

From the Vaults

I was reading through my old blog and found this one. It really captures my enthusiasm for being in Rome, when I first got the job as a guide. Such a different time...

Yes, folks, today is the birthday of Augustus Caesar, full name: Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus. Gaius Octavius Thurinus, if we're referring to him before the year 27BC. If he were still alive, he'd be 2,070 years old. During his reign Jesus Christ was born. Among his descendents were Nero, Caligula, Tiberius, and Claudius. Basically a bunch of lunatics (excepting Claudius). But he was a pretty good guy. As far as emperors go. He was also the first emperor. Let's all pour a little out for our dead homey. I mean, this is the man who virtually invented the calendar we use today, and I mean, not many people have an entire month named after them (I can only think of one other, being July, after Julius Caesar). What a guy. Maybe one day they'll change the name of the month of February to Justinuary. One can only dream, right? Did you know that the months September through December were originally the 7th through the 10 months, hence the roots septem-, octo-, nove-, dece-, which are, respectively seven, eight, nine, and ten in Latin. Augustus changed the calendar from an unreliable Lunar one to a Solar one. I believe he also started the world's first fire department, but don't quote me on that.

I am currently listening to Dave Brubeck. Time Out. And today is Sunday. My roommates are gone to some distant place, and I am alone.

Tomorrow I have an 8 hour tour of Rome, starting at the Vatican, then to the Colosseum and Forum, and finally through all of the piazzas and fountains. My friend told me Joanna Newsome is playing tonight in Rome, and I'm hoping that maybe this private tour is with her, just so I can rub it in the face of everyone I know. Another of my fellow "Cultural Historians" (our preferred nomenclature) got to give a tour to Chelsea Clinton. Being British and none too knowledgeable about the finer details of American politics, she made a joke about Bill Clinton (there is an ancient Roman statue in the Vatican that looks an awful lot like Slick Willy). Her boss was none too happy about that. I've yet to walk anyone through the Vatican, but the other two I've done, and I've become quite proficient with the Forum and Colosseum (if I do say so myself). Obviously this is a lot of information I have to keep in my head, so I've been busy studying up on it all. It's basically like delivering a 6 and a half hour lecture (since we travel a bit in the taxi and also stop for lunch). This is why I've been so lazy in terms of posting. For that, I apologize. My days and nights are spent trying to remember the differences between Baroque architecture and Renaissance; between Carlo Maderno, Domenica Fontana, Carlo Rainaldi, and Giacomo della Porta; between the Pamphilj popes, della Rovere popes, Farnese popes, and the Barberini popes; etc.

Since Jim has arrived, however, I've been much more active. Before I was staying at my house, with my nose in books or on the internet (I've filled an entire Moleskin with notes). He's probably the best person I could have here at the moment, since he enjoys walking around and finding new stuff just as much as I do; and since his background is in Art and Art History, he can tell me about the processes through which bronze doors are cast, or what materials artists used to glue gold leafing to the ceilings. Meanwhile I tell him about the history of the founding of the church, institution, or beliefs depicted in the art. Together we are building our knowledge and teaching each other how to read the art, something quite difficult for me, who's always seen a painting as a painting. Saints and Pagan gods are always depicted with some sort of prop to distinguish them from other Saints or Pagan gods (Hercules always has a lion's skin, St. Peter is always holding keys, St. Paul, a sword, St. Agnes is always with a lamb, Hera is often with a peacock, Venus an apple, etc.). I have now read the New Testament from cover to cover, and plan on starting the Old Testament soon (whenever I get a chance). We've also revived the process of "Church Hunting," which is like treasure hunting, only better. Knowing that Caravaggio's three masterpieces of the lives of St. Matthew are in San Luigi dei Francesi is a good start to the day. From there we walk around, going into church after church, looking for them. That particular example took two days for us to find (turns out it was right around the corner from the Pantheon).

At night we get a bottle of wine and sit in the piazzas, trying to talk to girls, with varying degrees of success. Both of us are trying to learn Italian. Since I've been here longer, I feel it would be embarrassing if he mastered it first. So far I speak it better than he does, but he understands it better than I do. Between us we can hold a decent conversation with someone. He has the advantage of being really good friends with several Italians, whereas I only have some acquaintances, most of whom want to practise their English with me. Regardless, his presence is going to motivate me to start really learning this language, if for no other reason than the shame I would feel if I didn't.

Now on to the Gallery of Candelabrae! I can't remember which pope set it up (I think it was Gregory XIII in 1575, but I can't say, "I think" on a tour... too improfessional). Wish me luck, everyone. I'll need it.

No City for Young Men

Haven't posted in a few days. Sorry. Not that my posting or not posting is going to make or ruin your day. But still.

Things were going well for a few days, but then I sorta relapsed into thinking about Kate again. Which makes working difficult. But I have been putting effort into my scripts. And I've gotten a few suggestions. I don't have very much of it typed out, but I do have a little bit, and I have some scribbled out in my moleskin, but most of it is still in my head.

I've become a true alcoholic. This is no good. Last night I went to meet up with Courtney for drinks, even though I was still hungover from my night before, in which my friends Jamie and Natalie tried to set me up with some 36 year-old waitress. Now granted, she was cute, but she's like 36 and works at Marathon Grill. Jamie texted me saying Natalie's cute, single friend was coming out, so I texted him back asking if she was literate. He said he'd seen her order a beer from a menu, so unless she was faking it, she could definitely read. Then he said she was an artist. Failed to mention she was old, and looked it. I have nothing against her or older women, just that, well, she could have bought me booze when I was in the 5th grade, and that makes me feel uncomfortable. But anyways I made the (surprisingly easy) trek out to Johnny Brenda's and we split several pitchers. I caught a ride with her into Center City, then took a cab home. And so yesterday I was incredibly hungover, and I didn't leave the house till 6, and that was to go out drinking some more. I think I've said it before, but it bears repeating: I don't know if I'm so addicted to alcohol, as I am to women. And alcohol is just a facilitator.

After a no-go with Courtney (as in, I can tell she wasn't interested), I texted my friend Avalon and went down to South Philly to hang out with her. That was actually a lot of fun, as I got into a good mood seeing her and was playing off my own awkwardness to varying degrees of hilarity. At least she thought I was hilarious. It is nice every once and a while to be around someone who totally understands your peculiar brand of humor. Then we went back to her place and smoked some pot. She had to work at 7 in the morning though, so I ditched out around 1. This is where the alcoholic part comes in, because even though I was already a little drunk, and quite stoned, and by all means ready for bed, I went to the Cantina and drank a lonely beer at the bar. Something about being slightly more paranoid and aware of myself by being stoned made the situation seem so terribly lonely. I wasn't particularly disturbed by it, in my own way. I just sort of analyzed this situation with a clear head, accepting that I was going to drink that beer. Other people there... 1am on a Wednesday. Just me and a bunch of other drunks. Sitting at the bar. Commiserating. The rest of the civilized world around us tucked snuggly into warm beds with expensive comforters and cuddling with their loved ones, children upstairs. Whatever. I left after that beer, and went to the Pope, to catch last call. It is a different situation there, since it is THE South Philly hipster bar, and the hipsters may or may not be alcoholics. Some of them just don't have jobs and are there grabbing a pint with friends. But that's the weird part. Everyone there was there with someone. And the place was packed. And I sat there by myself and continued to articulate this madness to myself.

Caught a cab home.

Yesterday was the day when she told me he'd be moving up there. So maybe my sitting at the bar alone, stoned and drunk, made me even more disgusted with myself. Thinking about her and this guy, seeing each other at the airport or where ever, kissing, eating dinner, fucking, falling asleep. Waking up the next morning, ready to start this wicked awesome life together. Me being relegated to a footnote in the history of her life.

So I haven't gotten as much done in the past few days as I'd've liked to. I did help translate this Italian web page. And I'll get paid for it and can add it to the list of freelance editing work I've done. That's neat.

Shayla is having a house-warming party this Friday. I haven't seen her since having breakfast with her and her roommate a while back. I read her blog, think she might be fooling around with someone else. And he sounds like a douche. Stole her pants in a desperate bid to get her to let him sleep in her bed. Ha! At least I never stooped THAT low. Then Toliver is having a house-warming party the next day. Sunday I'm thinking of taking a trip up to Brooklyn to meet with some filmmakers. One of them, Taryn, I had a mild crush on last year. She's working as a PA at some studio. Good for her.

Jim is coming into town today, but warned me that he was going to a nude drawing class and that the model is Julie. Had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to go too. He said, "Julie will be naked!" I find his enthusiasm confusing, since both of us have seen her naked before. I told him we should blow that shit off and go to the Pope, cuz that seems to be where every hot girl I've never seen in Philly goes. And Jim, like everyone I know, complains about how "small" Philly is. I insist that Philly is huge, but you can't stay in one circle of friends. Mine are kept quite distinct from one another. And I like it that way.

Ok, so nothing really insightful here. My neighbors are all really friendly. I feel bad that I was writing about how I live in the ghetto now. Even though it pretty much is the ghetto. But I sit on my stoop and people passing by come up and talk to me. Friendlier than white people, actually. At least they don't seem to notice that I'm white. Not in the same way that if this neighborhood was all white and I was a black person, the white people are definitely more attuned to the color of your skin. Even though we try not to be.

Guess I'm going to get out of here.

-southern

Feeling Right, Feels Fine, But Being Right is Better.

Yesterday went well. With the philosophy mentioned in yesterday's post in mind, I ventured out into the world clear-headed and enthusiastic. Met up with Dan. Nice to have friends that have nothing to do either. Sat at the weird anarchist cafe on 45th, just off Spruce. Sat outside. The weather was nice.

Dan worked for the AFL-CIO (America's largest labor union) for a while and saved up God knows how much money, quit, moved back to Philly, became a barista, did some other stuff, and has been virtually unemployed for the past year. At least I can't ever figure out what he does. Just lives off his savings from his time at the AFL-CIO. So we go and get coffee together, since I'm living off my savings from my year abroad, and have no editorial work for at least another week and a half. Dan doesn't talk much. That's an understatement. He rarely says anything. So our conversations tend to be a bit one-sided. Which is fine. I talk more around him than around anyone else. I probably tell him more than just about anyone else as well. And it's hard to tell how much he is absorbing sometimes, because he always seems a little bored, but every once and a while he'll make some insightful response that proves he's not entirely sedated. If Dan was born with any super-power, it would be his Zen. I don't know how you fight crime with that, but yeah. He's almost disturbingly sedated. You almost never get any reaction out of him. I find something comforting about this, but can easily see why other people feel disconcerted by this weird, seemingly disinterested demeanor.

We had coffee and chewed the fat. He was more talkative than he's been. Got into a fender bender the other day. I witnessed it. He just backed into an impala while parallel parking. I was there. It wasn't that hard. That sorta thing happens all the time. And Dan inspected it and started to walk over to the car I was in when this guy smoking a cigarette outside the barber shop came over and started looking at it. Dan tried talking to him and the man wouldn't acknowledge him. Finally Dan got in the car with us. Apparently the man is trying to claim that Dan was drunk and was in fits of laughter afterwards and that he was latino. And that the crash was so loud he could hear it in the barber shop with the doors closed. What an idiot. Is he taking for granted the car full of witnesses that was there as well?

Later on I met up with the Lithuanians. Gint and Aistis. Ate dinner at the Good Dog. Went down to Old City, shot pool the same place me and Megan B. shot pool at last Friday. Then went to Ray's Happy Birthday Bar because Aistis is new in town and doesn't know where to buy pot, and I know a few people and they were hanging out there. Then I walked back to McGlinchey's and plopped myself on a stool in the corner next to my good friend Rebecca and we proceeded to drink beer and smoke cigarettes the rest of the evening. At one point in the history of our friendship I confessed I had feelings for her. Bought her a plane ticket to Rome. It didn't go down so well. We are both to blame equally for that disaster. But now that that's behind us, and she's with her on-off bf of forever, I remember how much I enjoy her presence and friendship. She talked a lot to me about how fucked up her finances are and I told her I would come to her house today and we would work on some of it together. I'll see what I can do. I'm trying to encourage her furniture making career as well, because she has a lot of legitimate talent that she isn't marketing very well. So I'm going to try to encourage her to build a portfolio and start giving it to some of her contacts in NY. She says a friend is selling tote bags for 300 bucks a pop there. Her lamps could fetch over a thousand in some stores.

Only at one point, when me, Gint, and Aistis, were playing pool in Old City did I think or stress about Kate yesterday. Which is definitely a good thing, but also it was disturbing for a moment to start to think that I wasn't really over it. I think it is really helpful hanging out with Rebecca, because I do have a different relationship with her. We seem to read each other better and know each other's thoughts oftentimes. Kate and I could never read each other. We knew what the other was thinking, but neither of us would ever bring it up or acknowledge it. Not a good way to have a relationship. But it is hard thinking I have to try to develop that with someone new now. Kind of intimidating. Especially since I'm always bouncing between here and Rome.

Lately there has been a girl at fiume that hangs out there all night at the bar and drinks Seltzer and reads books. I used to do that all the time, but that's because I was living in a boarding house filled with crackheads and nutjobs and I would use fiume as my living room. I would study, drink, eat, etc. Wasn't much of a cafe in the evening person. Like my smoky dives. Then I'd finish studying and the place would start filling up and there would be live jazz or blues or bluegrass. So this girl is there all the time, and I really, really thought she was flirting with me the first time I went in there. But I thought she was dating Kevin. Because he referenced his gf. And she'd stay and help close the bar every night. And I've seen them walking around together. Well I ran into her last night 3 times. Once in S. Philly. Then again at Ray's. Then when she was leaving I said, "You going back out West?" And she said, "No, 12 steps down first. Then back out West." An hour later she and Kevin walk into McGlinchey's. Wtf? And who was with them? Kevin's girlfriend. The same damn girl mentioned a few posts ago that held my gaze for so long that one night when I was out with Megan S. So I guess I got mixed up somehow. They came over and she talked to me a whole lot, Alli, is her name. And as soon as they left, Reba said, "Well she sure took a liking to you." I told Rebecca that I had mistakenly thought she was dating Kevin.

Unfortunately this girl seems kind of annoying. And Rebecca doesn't seem to like her, and though Rebecca doesn't seem to like anyone, her reasons with this girl seemed legit.

These posts might be too long for most readers attention span. I should be less verbose. Tighten my prose. Maybe I should start trying to make these things more readable on at least a literary level.

-southern

Awesomest Awesomer that ever Awesomed.

Different speed today, folks. Today I woke up fresh and juicy. In the polar opposite mood from these other posts, which could be a result of some sort of bipolar disorder, but I never really believed in that shit. Not in my case. In my case I'm a thinker. That's what I do. Don't talk to me about brain chemicals. Not interested. I'm interested in philosophy and conundrums. And I have to sometimes think myself out of conundrums. And I think I've done it. I wouldn't be so sure, but these are revelations I had last night, in a state of moderate sobriety (only had a few, and drank them over the course of several hours), and which I didn't want to trust until this morning.

Just can't let the feeling fade.

I think that in the back of my mind somewhere, I've always been reserving myself for Kate. Emotionally, that is. Never quite addressed it to myself or anyone else. But looking back on it, I know that's the case. And I guess the revelation I had is that I don't need her. Or that. Overcoming that helps me overcome a whole range of anxieties I didn't even realize were related to that one, but which I believe today all stemmed from that source. I should have listened to Jim years ago. When we were in Rome in 07 or 08 or something. I was video chatting with Kate on skype everyday. And he said to me, "You need to quit talking to that girl or you'll never get anything done." He has no problems with her, but just knew that here I was in Rome, traveling around Europe, meeting all these interesting and awesome people, and meanwhile I was constantly calling my ex-girlfriend and spending whole evenings talking to her.

Sound advice.

And so now, perhaps a little belatedly, I'm taking that advice. And last night, as I felt I was closing the chapter in my life that is Her, I began to think about all the world of possibilities that lie before me. And I got excited about it for the first time. Rather than feeling bogged down by all the pent up anger and non-reciprocated affection that I was feeling, rather than somehow putting everyone else off or keeping them at arm's length, rather than secretly doing everything I was doing with the hopes that she'd come back to me, I feel completely liberated. I'd almost say disinterested in her. Because now I am associating her with all these anxieties. Not her fault, just the fault of the human psyche. But I don't actually want anything to do with her anymore. I have one interest at the moment: kicking ass. I used to be great at that; at being amazing. To myself. But that's all that really matters, is what you think of yourself. As long as you aren't naive or delusional about it. You know, like thinking you're the most handsome and coolest guy in the bar. No. But realizing one's potential, self-actualizing. Knowing in your heart you can do everything you've ever dreamed of (except go on a date with Scarlett Johansson sp?). And that's what I'm feeling right now. That I can bounce back harder from this than anything. I want to make films. I've said that so many times now it's starting not to sound completely foolish or ridiculous. And I've been watching and studying so many award winning short films lately. Hardly any of them are better than my ideas. If I can learn to translate that to the film medium, then there is no reason I can't make it.

So in short, I need to go. I'll try to keep blogging, but this has started to run its course. At least, as far as this blog goes being about loneliness.

-southern

The Nature of Everything

I've been writing this email to Kate for the past week. Started off as a blog entry, but realized its tone was perfect for what I want to say to her. But the more I write it, the more it doesn't feel right. I've said so much of it to her in person. But the fact that I wasn't writing this for her eyes lent it a more earnest feeling.

I need to get over this shit. I like how "this" and "shit" are anagrams of each other.

Bumped into my old friend Ian the other day. We went to the Upenn bookstore and sat around chewing the fat. A lot of people don't like Ian. He's too quiet around most people. And his sense of humor is weird. But I've always found him easy to talk to. Later we went down to Center City and drank some beers with Jamie. It was the first time in a long time that I had a really excellent time. Jamie came and visited me and Jim in Italy. They've been best friends since childhood. It took me a while to warm up to him. He's got a lot of tattoos and is into punk rock, which aren't particularly things that make me uncomfortable, but I thought he was the type who really lived the lifestyle. I thought he was more violent tempered and aggressive. But he's made such efforts over the years to befriend me that I gotta wonder. And we told stories that night and laughed and the bartender kept giving us free shots. Eventually Jamie's girlfriend Natalie showed up. She is a really good looking girl. Out of his league. Easily. But he's got a lot of charisma. And he's devoted.

This blog is more and more taking the shape of just a bland journal. I'm not saying anything fresh or interesting. Or witty. Damnable depression.

Hung out with Jim and Jamie again last night after eating dinner with Toliver and Co. Later this girl Julie started texting me. She's a freak and a whore. Otherwise a nice girl. On the surface she seems like a really nice girl. Very suburban. But both Jim and Jamie told me stories that have made me want to stay away from her. I ended up taking a cab to her place at 3 in the morning. Break-danced on her kitchen floor. Hooked up with her. Refused to have sex with her. Every time I'm with someone else, I just start thinking about Kate. It's one thing to kiss and make out with a girl and fool around, but I don't feel comfortable sealing the deal. Especially not with her. Somehow feels like I'm cheating on the only girl I care about. I wonder why I do these things. I'm not really a man-whore. But I'm addicted to women. Women as a concept. A philosophy in and of themselves. I'm addicted to enigmas. And every woman is an enigma.

So I now have readers. I think everyone wants to read about my exciting life in Rome. And instead I'm in Philly and at this really dark period in my life and I'm writing this to come out of that dark period. Because I'm a happy person. And one day I will start writing about my adventures in Europe. Because I have a lot of them.

I'll tell you about all the celebrities I've seen and met. I'll tell you about my life living with an Italian rockstar (legitimate rockstar, as in tours around the world and is featured on MTV in Europe frequently). I'll tell you about my travels. 17 countries I've backpacked around. But be patient.

Till then, arrivederci tutti.

-southern

Home is Whenever I'm with You.

Yesterday was miserable. Cold rain. All day. After coming home from Megan S.'s house did nothing. Posted a blog. Toliver and Stacey came to show the apartment. Made myself scarce for a while. Sat around longer. Went stir crazy after a few hours and decided to leave. Paced the streets of West Philadelphia for 2 hours. Got drenched. I don't know why. I couldn't stop walking. I started and kept thinking about ducking into a cafe or bar or something. Couldn't do it. Thought about Kate. How I think she's slipping away. For a minute I thought it was inevitable that she was going to come back to me. Now I feel like she's slowly closing the chapter in her life that is Me.

Tried seeing if anyone would get food with me. No one would. Abdullah said he would, but he was all the way in S. Philly with a friend. Finally Megan S. got back to me. Ate Indian food. Was nervous. She is disarmingly beautiful, but I am not really affected by that anymore. It was more me just not knowing what to communicate about. Easy when I'm at work. Sorta scripted. I have a specific agenda. People are paying me to talk about certain stuff. No confusion there. Not on a date. Shouldn't spend so much time cooped up in my head. Makes it difficult to interact with people. Finally started talking about the Renaissance and Humanism and how the Florentine Renaissance differed from the Roman one, or the one in Northern Europe. Sounded cultured and intelligent. Good fallback plan.

Afterwards we went to fiume. For blues night. Shakey Lyman. Always fun. To a degree. Never particularly cared for Shakey's style of the blues. Or his voice. But he tells funny stories. Was more of a Jim Trainer fan. Those were the days. When Blues Night was Blues Night. An institution. And we'd all be there till 2am singing together drinking cheap beer and smoking cigarettes and just generally disturbing the Ethiopians downstairs. That's where some of my most meaningful friendships in Philly were formed. There and smoking cigarettes at 18th and Walnut. Outside of my old work. With my work buddies. Like Gint. And Ian. And Muff. We four were something out of this world when put together. Used to actually look forward to going to work when I knew it'd be with any of them, and on the rare occasions when it was all four of us, it was amazing.

Those times are all gone. Oh well. Pity.

Megan S. is another category of woman. If I have any hidden talent, it would be my ability to read people. I understand people at a glance. What they want, what they think, how they feel. Never had confidence before. But now it's my job to read people. Two minutes with a stranger when I'm on the job and I can have them in love with me. Treating me like family. That's my job. I'm a surrogate family member. My job is to show people around Rome. Lawyers and Doctors. And their families. I interact with so many strangers a year. I meet more people in a week than most people do all year round. They take me out and buy me dinner or drinks. Whatever. So I have honed this ability. I understand Megan pretty well. Too intimidating for the types of guys that could appreciate her. Too uninterested in the guys that have the confidence to pursue her. Imagine most of them are pretty self-absorbed. I dunno. Sitting there with her eating dinner and talking I felt whatever attraction was there was slipping away. I wasn't in top form. I was in bottom form. Until I talked about the Renaissance. Walked around in the rain for two hours beforehand depressed, thinking about Kate. Then tried to go on a date?

It was nice being in fiume for once with easily the most beautiful girl in the room. Most of the time I'm the lonely drunk in the corner trying to make eye contact with whoever. I've hit on two separate girlfriends of Kevin's before, and one of Brendan's. Those are the bartenders. So even though I knew nothing was really gonna happen between me and Megan, and even though I wasn't really that worried that nothing would, I made it clear who was buying her drinks (she bought me dinner). Although there was plenty of fresh meat there since my year of absence. And several girls in my league. One of whom looked at me and held my gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. Never said hey.

Going downtown with Megan B. in a minute. Then we're going to Bartram's Garden. Where Toliver and Stacey are getting married. I wonder if I'm going to have to stop calling her "Toliver" when she gets married. Will I ever be able to do that? Why do all of my friends have the same names?

Walked Megan home afterwards. She gave me a friendly hug at the door. Asked if we were still on for bowling. She seemed on the fence about it. If she wanted to hook up ever, that would be more than fine with me, but if she doesn't, I still had a good time with her. She's an interesting conversationalist. So I wanted it to be clear that I just want someone to do something with. I think she'll come out. And I think we'll probably end up making out at some point. Don't really care though.

Went to Dahlak afterwards. Drank a few beers alone. Checked my email on my phone. Kate had tried to chat with me. Sent her a text asking how NY was. She never got back to me. Oh well.

Must shower and make a hasty departure. Megan B. is waiting for me.

I promise these posts will get funnier one day. Today is beautiful and I'm actually in a good mood. So I put less thought into this one. Not that I'm really putting a whole lot of thought into these, just with the others I put a little thought into them. This one is just me trying to maintain the habit.

Fare ye well.

-southern

You Can't Polish a Turd.

Yesterday's weather was superb. Sat on my stoop smoking cigarettes and talking to whoever passed by. Kinda helping me overcome the anxieties I mentioned in my previous post. Walked around for a bit. Didn't accomplish anything. It was ok.

Toliver came over and we cleaned the apartment. She talks a lot. I was grateful for her presence. At the same time, I've been spending so much time alone that I wasn't really talking back. Was supposed to go out with Shayla, but she texted me that her roommate was sick and they were staying in together. Wasn't particularly disappointed by it. We'll hang out again sometime soon. Her roommate flirts with me. It's funny. Her roommate talks to me more than she does. I wonder sometimes about Shayla. I was kind of a dick last year to her on a few separate occasions. No surprises there. Wonder why she stills talks to me.

Me and Toliver went to fiume afterwards. I ordered Ethiopian food downstairs. First thing I saw on the menu. Said beef and collards. Two things I like. The waitress asked me if I wanted it raw or cooked. I couldn't hear her as the music in the bar was too loud, and her accent was heavy. I asked her to repeat herself 3 times. Thought she said "rare" rather than "raw." Told her that was fine. Turns out, she really meant "raw." I was starving, so I ate a plate of raw beef at a divy Ethiopian restaurant. Toliver kept encouraging me to eat it. Hope I don't get E. coli. They forgot the collards.

She called Megan. A completely different Megan from either of the other two entries. We went over there. I used to have a crush on this Megan. And she used to flirt with me when we first met. But my friend Brandon was sort of there first. And he was madly in love with her. So I kept my distance. Last night she was flirting with me hardcore. To the point that even Toliver kept looking at me with raised eyebrows. This Megan is super intelligent, beautiful, successful. Very literate. Goes to an ivy-league school. For her graduate degree in business. She's all-around one classy babe. In short, couldn't figure out why the hell she was flirting with me. I'm a scruffy vagabond who sleeps on an air-mattress in an empty apartment in the ghetto. Toliver eventually left and Megan started rubbing up on my shit. So I started rubbing up on her shit. I've had a crush on her forever. But somehow I realized we would never work together. I'm a bit intimidated by her. We fell asleep on the couch together, her the little spoon. But she wouldn't kiss me. Maybe it was cuz we were drunk. Later she woke up and we moved upstairs. But she wouldn't let me sleep in her bed. What a weird girl. I'm blaming it on the alcohol. What a facilitator. And an inhibitor. Had to leave early cuz Toliver doesn't have keys to this apartment and she's showing it today. Left a note. Megan texted me 20 minutes later. Guess she woke up right as I was leaving. I texted her asking her to go bowling on Thursday. She said it sounds fun. We're also having dinner Wednesday. For Toliver's birthday. Both Megan's will be there. How bizarre. And I'm bowling with another Megan on Tuesday. How bizarre.

I don't even particularly enjoy bowling. Not that good at it. But that's probably why it's a good thing to do with a girl. When me and Megan B. went out we shot pool. That's a game I'm good at. And it gets weird. Especially when I'm on point. Cuz then I'm really good. And the girl always feels ashamed. And doesn't have a good time. With bowling, we can both suck. And it's more fun that way.

Apparently Toliver is the teacher of Dan's girlfriend's little brother. I'm good friends with her too. Robin. Toliver mentioned her student and said his name. "David Preiss." Preiss is pronounced "Price." So it was weird that I caught it. I said, "Is it spelled P-R-E-I-S-S." She said yeah. This is where my world's collide. It's like how Morgan works at my old high school. Morgan was the first of the three girls I really thought I was in love with. She called me the other day and told me a whole bunch of shit about how amazing she thinks I am. It was the best thing I've heard in forever. Really inspired me.

I started a match.com profile. Out of curiosity. Wanted to see what types of girls it would match me with. The criteria mainly seems to be that I like swimming and I'm a middle child. Otherwise the system lacks sophistication. Keeps pairing me with latino women with big hoop earrings that live in south Jersey. Says, "95% match! Like you, she loves dogs [something I never said; I merely said I didn't mind dogs.], she is a middle-child, and she loves swimming!" Another one was exercise. I said I exercise 5 times a week. Cuz I walk all the time. And I consider that exercise. So I get all these fitness freaks.

I should really work on making these posts funnier. So far the only post I thought had any humor value to it was the first one. Mainly that was just funny to me.

But I don't want to stop typing. Because as soon as I do, I'm alone again. Not that I'm not when I'm typing. Just that I'm not thinking about it. Maybe I should try to write a story. Or something. Jim is supposed to come into town today. I need to see him. Need to talk to him. He's one of the last people I feel completely comfortable around. Used to be Rebecca, but she has become more hermetic lately. And she stays with Peter constantly. Which he is sorta hermetic as well.

I'm going now. Goodbye internet world. Feel free to direct my attention to anything interesting.

Day 2.

I was told I should probably be more candid on this blog. Change names and such. Thought about it. Naw. There are only two people that I've shared the link with. I only shared it with the two of you cuz I don't think you'll think any less of me. For being a fuckup. And sharing it on the interweb. That said, I'm going to talk about people, and be honest about it. Talk about myself. And be honest about it.

Just took a really nasty shit in the bathroom. And I think Toliver wants to show the apt to someone. I can hear them outside talking. It smells terrible in there.

Went out last night to a couple of smoky dives in South Philly with Megan. Not previous blog's Megan. Different one. I told her I had started a blog earlier yesterday, but then I refused to divulge any information about it to her. Said I don't want people I know reading it. She asked why I didn't just keep a journal. Said I dunno. I really don't. I could make some twisted argument about how a journal is actually more self-indulgent than a blog, but I'm not going to. I don't think the argument would be very good anyways. And most people would not agree. Megan wouldn't.

We talked a lot about Kate. Sucked. Megan seemed like she wanted to talk about it. Or maybe she felt like I needed to talk about it. Either way, I didn't instigate it. Dan suggested to me earlier yesterday that Kate has been plotting and carrying out this elaborate revenge on me for years now. Sometimes I think he's right. Listening to what Megan said, I felt it had some truth to it. At one point I knew I deserved it. If it is what he says it is, she is one sadistic bitch. Don't really believe that though.

There is church music playing somewhere near me. I live in the ghetto. At the threshold of where it is acceptable for white people to live. Or where I think it is at least. Haven't taken any polls or anything. Not knocking door to door. Though apart from me and Toliver, I don't think any white people live here. This makes me feel uncomfortable in many ways, mostly because it makes me feel uncomfortable. I wonder why I'm uncomfortable. Maybe because I'm some privileged middle-class suburban white kid and my presence indicates the steady gentrification of the neighborhood, and I feel a typical middle-class guilt about it and a certain amount of middle-class shame too. Been taught to be that way by someone. Don't know who. But I know it was someone. Maybe a part of me detects a little veiled hostility in the glances I get on the streets. Though maybe it's my imagination. Either way, it bothers me. I also find myself getting nervous at night when passing strangers. It shouldn't be that way. I'll get used to it.

I hooked up with Megan last night. That's something I should keep to myself. The implications are a bit too much to grasp. Besides that, no one should know about it (in the event that you are reading this, Rachel, keep it to yourself). Megan is Kate's best friend. Megan is dating somebody. Megan is Rebecca's sister. Rebecca is one of the only other girls I thought I was in love with. One of my three. And I brought Megan in on that one too. We both wanted someone to be with I think. Her bf lives in Europe. My gf doesn't exist. I've hooked up with a lot of girls, especially lately. Leah was a nice girl, but I didn't really know her that well. I have to say that apart from Kate on New Year's, I haven't actually been with anyone that I cared deeply about. That I knew. Not that I'm looking for this to evolve into anything. I know it won't. I don't think I'd even want it to. But we've been really good friends for a long time. It was nice for me. I think she feels really weird about it. I think this because she told me. I sorta want to do it again. It was easy to be intimate with someone you know and care about. Different. Much smoother. A bit weird though. But I got over that quickly. Kate would disown the both of us though. Must keep secret. Still, it was nice.

Supposed to go out with Shayla tonight. I'll make out with her. And sleep on her couch when she won't let me be the big spoon. Spent way too much money last few nights. Bitches and booze. Need to slow down. But we're going to a party. Parties are cheap. To attend. Gint might come out too. His grandfather is in the hospital. I think he needs to come out. Gint is radically awesome. A burly, lumberjack Lithuanian. Not really a lumberjack. But really Lithuanian. I miss him. He is one of my good friends. I will never be intimate with him. He is quitting smoking. I hope it goes well for him.

This blog isn't funny. I'm just typing away. Not that my intention is to be funny. But it would be nice to flavor it with a few one-liners or some dead-pan remarks. Instead it is depressing. Probably.

I am going to take a shower. 15 minutes in this shower and the tub is filled with water. It takes 4-5 hours on average to drain. I have timed it and I'm not exaggerating. Toliver wants to charge 600 for this apartment. I think that is way too much. 450 would be reasonable. Not 600. But she is letting me stay here for free for as long as I want. How did I luck out and meet such awesome people?

Goodbye, readers. Or reader. Or empty space. I dunno if or why anyone would read this blog, now that I think about it. It isn't remotely interesting for anyone but me.

Blood on the Tracks

Woke up this morning. Hungover and depressed. Typical these days.

Feel like Kate broke up with me, even though we aren't dating.

Sat around for an hour. Dicked around on facebook. Jerked off. Thought about Adrienne. She was the first girl whose pussy I ever touched. Later she got pregnant in a threesome. Father unknown. Now I hear she's a born-again. Life. How bizarre.

Went out yesterday. Grabbed a beer at the Good Dog in Center City. Cute girl was sitting alone. I sat near her. Ordered my beer and waited ten minutes. She was eyeing me. I went to the restroom. Asked her to watch my stuff. Made a stupid joke. Got back. She asked me what book I was reading. Man and His Gods. By Homer W. Smith. I've been reading it for 4 years. Never finished it. Made witty remarks. She laughed. We talked. Then a guy showed up that she was waiting for. I think she started talking to me just to make him jealous.

Listened to Bob Dylan all morning (when not jerking off). Then walked down to the Green Line. Drank a coffee. 16oz. Black. Looked around at the cute girls. Grabbed the City Paper. Only available seat was next to a dumpy looking girl. Read the paper. She sang along to Cindi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." A bird once shat in Cindi Lauper's mouth at a live show while she was singing that song. I think that's funny.

Jim called. He's coming into town Sunday. Apparently his Dad went crazy. Told Jim that Jim's mom was a whore. Jim tried to defend his mother. Then his Dad threatened to kick his ass. Called him a pussy. Jim is a much stronger person than many people give him credit for.

Last night after leaving the Good Dog, I went to Johnny Brenda's. Bumped into Leigh. My life is filled with Lee's and Leah's and Leia's and Leigh's and any variation thereof. Did I use that correctly? Thereof? I once almost puked wine on Leigh in Marino, Italy. She was trying to make out with me.

I'm obsessed with sex. Or just women.

Also ran into Jill. Used to have a crush on her. She was drunk and flirting with me. Her boyfriend got jealous and gave me the evil eye. Her friend Saliyah was there too. Had a crush on her as well. Used to chat her up at Fiume all the time. Should have got her number. Instead made plans with Leigh for Wednesday next week. I'll bump into Saliyah some other time.

Brushed my teeth earlier. Not interesting, but I decided I'd stand on my toilet while I did it. Had no revelations.

Wrote a short film yesterday about a promiscuous business man, but the audio is only a voice over of him reflecting on the nature of a run-on sentence. The idea is to make a visual run-on. The idea is to emphasize the inaccessible, inner world of the individual while he is in these potentially intimate situations. It'll work. Maybe I'll see if Adrienne wants to be in it. She was an actress.

I don't know who this blog is for. I'm writing it to keep myself from going crazy. List of objects in room: airmattress, sleeping bag, suitcase, chair, and dirty clothes strewn everywhere. Depressing.

Kate broke my heart. What inopportune timing. The only times I'm not thinking about it are when I'm with other women. Or when I'm working on film ideas. Have a really great idea for my online series, "Popes and Astronauts." Just need the equipment and some time. And encouragement.

Left cafe, went to CVS. Bought toilet paper. Came back home and took shit with the consistency of a milkshake. I can make really good milkshakes. I can make a milkshake that will make your milk shake.

Hanging out with Dan in a bit. Maybe we'll smoke some pot. He brought a girl around the other night to Dahlak. I was in top form. I haven't been that funny in a while. Asked her if she wanted to go bowling with me. She said yeah. She has amazing breasts. Can't remember her name. Think it was Megan. Lots of Megan's in my life too.

Hung out with Shayla the other night. Got plastered. Made out with her. Forgot who I was making out with. Then I tried to go to bed with her. She wouldn't let me. I told her I just wanted to cuddle. I told her she could be the little spoon. She made me sleep on the couch. Seeing her again on Saturday.

Maybe me and Dan will go to Fairmount Park together. One of these days I have to go back to Alabama.

This is my first blog post. I hope to post more. But I can't guarantee anything. If you like it, subscribe. If you don't like it then go fuck yourself.