Thursday, January 28, 2010

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.

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