A Big Fat Waste of Time

some thoughts

Summer is coming (officially anyway) in 3 days and it really does change the demeanor of this place. This place being New York City. The change is a good one. It makes me very happy and gives me pause to think about how far I've come in my relationship with this old bitch, the city. It's been a long, hard journey full of surprises and disappointments, but I can honestly say now that I do appreciate the city and all its subtle beauties that a wise man once told me can take about 5 years to see.

I moved to New York City six (I can't believe it's been that long) years ago to escape a toxic relationship I was involved in during grad school. Before grad school, I lived in Austin for six years, and let's face it Austin is utopia on earth. Seriously. The most laid back, socially and politically conscious, hip and hippie town in the world. With gorgeous landscapes and hot, young people. They get a fresh shipment every fall so the pool never runs out. Not to mention a sprinkling of the film community and a live music scene that, frankly, rivals if not kicks New York's ass for quality if not quantity. I had a great life there. So, I never wanted to move to New York. But, I work in advertising. And when I finished grad school, desperate to escape the aforementioned toxic relationship, I was ready to go the first place I got an offer. As you might have guessed, that place was New York City. Where there are ad agencies aplenty.

I began a long, miserable journey of acclimation. I hated it here. When I moved into my first apartment in Woodside, Queens, I felt like I'd been dropped in Beirut. Every morning I woke up and asked myself what the hell kind of masochistic trip I was on. But, the job situation was best here and I was too financially practical to move into Manhattan (mistake #1). After about a year and a half, the dot com crash happened. Moving to the west coast (the other advertising hot spot) was out of the question. I was lucky to have a job. I stayed put a couple more years. Plus, something in me was determined not to let this city beat me. I realized all those clichéd songs were true. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. This city doesn't coddle. It doesn't care if you're a nice person. You have to bring something more to the table: money, power, looks, talent, or incredible determination. If you have any two of them, you can own the town.

So, I did what any self-respecting New Yorker would do: I worked hard. I worked hard on myself, on my career, on my creative interests outside the job. I finally moved into Manhattan after four years, and that made a world of difference. I'm still not rich. I'm still not a supermodel. But, I like myself a lot better. And oh the experiences I’ve had. The people I’ve worked with. I'm on the track to a huge pay jump if I decide to take this job offer that's been put on the table. And it feels really good. I love my neighborhood. My block. The other day, when I returned from Austin where I did the triathlon, I was sad to leave, but I was also happy to return. That feels great. Having two places I love rather than just one.

Staying in New York until I was happy with it proved something I think I knew deep inside since day one. Living in New York is like facing a big, full-length mirror in a dressing room with florescent lighting. There's no sugar coating. It forces you to face yourself, all of yourself. And then you're left with two options: run from what you see, or learn to change the things you can and love the things you can't. Because it's you. And what makes this city so unique is the incredible mix of all these ugly, beautiful, strange, dark, light, foreign and domestic people. That's why everyone moves here. That's why everyone finds inspiration here. And now I see that, too. And it feels good.

I found this on Craigslist. I must confess I've killed two this week.

You know what they say about big shoe companies

This is the shoe of the jew with the biggest schlong in Chicago. Or so I've heard. Proof that Nike is taking over Eeeeverything .

Addendum: Apparently this jew gets around: Rave: Jewish Guys , from Chicago craigslist>rants & raves

Re: Jewish Guys , also from Chicago craigslist>rants & raves

Proof that you must take the reigns (so to speak) with younger men

Thank God and Demi Moore we live in a time when older women can blatantly seduce younger men. A time unlike 1978 when, apparently, in Queens, older woman-younger man couples had to get their rocks off secretly, on the 7 train, and then never speak of the incident again. Until now...

7 Train, June 1978, Queens Plaza , from New York Craigslist>Queens>Missed Connections

How can I put this, dear? Perhaps that train has sailed? About a zillion times and with countless gallons of vomit from drunk Irishmen. By the way, I lost my tooth in 1978 at the Skateland in Houston, Texas. If anyone happened to find it, could you contact me via Craigslist, too? Ta.

THE YOUNG OLD THING

I live and work in New York City at a HUGE ad agency. We're talking 1100 people on 11 floors. So, very often when people are working on a project and they need to informally test an idea quickly, they send out an email to the entire agency to ask for volunteers who fit in their target audience. Often, they'll ply them with free food, drinks, etc. So, when I saw this inner-office email entitled: WANTED: SINGLE MEN & WOMEN TO ANSWER QUESTIONS, it was nothing out of the ordinary."ARE YOU IN YOUR LATE TWENTIES TO EARLY FORTIES, SINGLE AND LOOKING TO MEET SOMEONE?" It asked. And then proceeded to bribe potential participants with free food AND booze to answer a few questions about whatever the hell they were trying to sell. But the sad and funny part was a couple of days later when the follow up email entitled, WE STILL NEED SINGLE MEN IN THEIR THIRTIES AND FORTIES went out. All I can say is get in line, sister.

It's confirmation that the situation for single chicks in this town sucks. It sucks so bad that when my forty-year-old, balding, but very financially successful male friend and I began to joke about the fact that the Olsen twins are moving down the block from him in the West Village this fall, and he jokingly said he'd be dating them by Christmas, I found myself wondering if it's possible. I've never lived anywhere where more average looking guys get to sleep with more beautiful women/girls than here in Manhattan. If only I'd moved here directly out of high school. I'd be collecting fat alimony by now. I suppose I should take advantage of another New York phenomenon I've noticed: The fact that young men are just as pissed as older women that they're being judged on a superficial basis--in this case, they're being judged by their incomes. You'd be surprised how eager they are for a little attention.

Running with the Devil

Yes, young Americans, I journeyed south to the hill country of Texas because this flat, Neo-Rican, Yankee wasteland was not challenging enough for me to embark upon my first triathlon. I scoffed in the face of what you New Yorkers call a hill. And I was rewarded with a medal for kicking some Texas ass all over Walter E. Long Park on Sunday, June 13. Shawn Colvin showed up to run alongside me because she knew that if I was doing it, it was the place to be. I'm sure she'll write a song about the experience. Probably a duet with Willie Nelson.

Oh, and Bob Schneider threw me a little good luck suaree at the Shady Grove on the 10th. He made a special CD to mark the event. It's not available in stores. But, then, none of my fabulous life is. You'll just have to wait for the movie.

Raise Your Tiny Fists Like Antennaes To Heaven

Eff all y'all. I just finished a triathlon.
Danskin Austin Triathlon