This Is Not My Beautiful Life. Or, Is It?

It seems like lifetimes ago that Toby Joe and I were living in D.C. It seems like a lifetime ago we then picked up everything and moved to San Francisco. And it seems like not so long ago we were packing everything back up and moving back to New York City. And it seems that as I remember it all, I’m making it all up.

Toby Joe and I have moved five times since we met. That includes once while living in New York City (the first time.) It includes twice during our time spent in D.C. It includes two cross-country moves; one to San Francisco and one back to New York. As it states in the About Section of this Web site, Toby Joe and I have moved a lot. In just four short years we have moved more than some folks do in a lifetime.

Yesterday, it occurred to me that on November 22nd of last year we began our move back across the United States. I remembered this because as the Thanksgiving Holiday draws near, I remembered that last year we held our Thanksgiving dinner at a Cracker Barrel in Indiana.

Because of all our moving, we’ve had the opportunity to meet some of the most amazing people. Sadly, we’ve also had to say goodbye to them. While living in D.C., more specifically in Adam’s Morgan, I frequented a yoga studio called 18th and Yoga. (Now, it’s called Inspired Yoga.) I took classes there for a year straight. Toby Joe and I even flew to Turks and Caicos for a weeklong yoga retreat. While studying yoga with Kyra, I met some of the kindest people during the 31 years I’ve spent alive. Some of whom I still desperately try and keep in contact with.

This morning, I received a mass email from Inspired Yoga. They mentioned that this year they’d be traveling to Hawaii for the annual retreat. After reading about what everyone there is up to, I felt a wave of bittersweet sadness compress me. So much has changed over the past several years, it’s as if parts of my life were merely memories I adopted after reading an extraordinarily vivid novel. Parts of my life just don’t seem real to me. And I’m left wondering if that’s normal.

Today, after I convinced myself that Kyra was indeed someone I not only once knew but was also someone who meant the world to me, I decided to break time’s silence and write her an email. There is a part of me who wants to fly to Hawaii this February and join them all, try and relive that part of my life as much as I can. And then there is another part of me who is terrified of revisiting a period of time I can no longer get to.

Mike and Dee arrive today from San Francisco. Their existence and the fact they are visiting us pretty much proves that I actually did once live there. This realization surprises me time and time again.

As people exit your life, whether they pass away or they grow tired of you or you of them, does that extraction work to blur or erase life’s film a little bit? Is one’s history better set with the proof of other people?

I want to remember to not forget that these experiences, while distant, are indeed my own. I want to keep people with me no matter how far we move or how long it’s been. And I place shame on myself for not raising my hand more.

Gay Dot Com

Did I ever mention I worked for I did. I worked there when we lived in San Francisco.

While I worked there, the below scenario took place. I put the image up then and said it was funny but wasn’t able to mention why it was funny. Today, I am.

Anyway… just thought I’d share.

A Month of Visitors

Tonight, both Nico and George are coming into the city to see Antony and The Johnsons at Carnegie Hall. I’m going to try and see it with them, if there are tickets still available AND I can leave work in time to get there. I have two phone interviews scheduled for tonight so we’ll see. I might have to skip this adventure. Either way, I get to hang out with them and stomp around the wet city tomorrow as I took the day off. We’re going to have lunch here and who knows what else will happen.

Tomorrow night, Toby Joe and I are going to see the Moscow Cats Theater at the TRIBECA Performing Arts Center. I read a review of it yesterday that had me laughing. Here’s my favorite part:

But some of their routines go nowhere, and the Act I finale, in which two clowns dressed as giant elephants murder the main clown (for reasons I cannot fathom) is not just bizarre, it’s deeply disturbing.

I hate clowns. They frighten me. But I love cats. Which is why I purchased these tickets.

Right after we’re finished watching a bunch of Russian cats do weird shit, my Dearest, Soung, arrives. And I think there’s some billiard time scheduled. I’m sure Toby Joe could use it after the week he’s had.

In a few weeks from now, Mike and Dee arrive all the way from San Francisco. This will be their first time in the city. I can hardly wait. (If either of them read this, hopefully, they will send me a link to their latest and greatest Web site.)

Last weekend, I finally got to see Miss Mia. This weekend, Soung, Nico AND George. I love friends.

Is This Really Necessary?

This morning there was a dildo riding a SEGWAY on the elevator. I’m sorry, did I just say “dildo”? I meant perfectly able rich man.

He’s now second in line in receiving the award for the biggest ass. The contender is still somewhere in San Francisco. This gent rode his SEGWAY around the grocery store and once he reached the check-out line, proceeded to put it into reverse over and over again all the while running into the walls making up the isle. Eventually, he got off, turned it manually, and pushed it through the isle.

I silently judged him. To be honest, I am not sure why SEGWAYS bug me so much.

I’ll Have a Side of Boob Job with that Mango Lassi.

I have always wanted to go to India. I have told Toby Joe that for years and years.

Let’s go to India!!!!

How the hell are you going to survive a 20+ hour flight to India? You sobbed on the way home from San Francisco.

I can drug myself. Let’s go to India.

That dream has solidified after having seen the latest 60 Minutes regarding Medical Tourism. I wonder how much a boob reduction would cost? Knowing I could sit on a beach in India wearing a B-cup bikini top (or maybe one of those coconut bras) while sipping a mango lassi directly following surgery sounds awfully tempting.

I wonder how much a boob job cost in India.

(Side note: I will have one roll of vacation photos up later today.)

Leaving On a Jet Plane

My Toby Joe is heading to San Francisco for business this evening. I hate it when he leaves. I don’t like to be away from him. I know I have issues and am high maintenance, but I guess it’s better than rejoicing every time he leaves. I also hate it when he flies, drives, moves, or swims. :]

He returns on Thursday just in time for the Song’s Ohia show at Southpaw.

What am I going to do all day and night?

Hurricane Isabel Arrived Two Years Late

Yesterday afternoon, Toby and I heard thunder rolling in over the city. I love thunderstorms. One of the reasons I wasn’t able to embrace the West coast – more specifically, San Francisco – was due to its predictable weather. There is nothing more intriguing that the schizophrenic weather of the Northeast. Growing up with it, you become attached as one might with an eccentric cousin or an unpredictable friend; you just never know what might happen next.

Take yesterday, for example. We drove the car a lot this weekend. And although it lacks a working air conditioner, it does have a barely functioning sun roof. If it’s not closed all the way it leaks. Upon hearing the first distant rumble, I asked Toby if we could make sure it was closed tightly.

It probably won’t rain anyway—but just incase.

Within a half hour from my false prediction, we were witness to a thunderstorm with hurricane envy. And this went on for hours. First, the wind picked up. And the neighbors’ grill blew over and into their back yard. I’m not talking about one of those small, portable ones. I’m talking about the variety one wheels, the SUV of grills.

Our back yard turned into a monsoon. Buildings collapsed in Williamsburg. Trees were brought down smashing cars all throughout Greenpoint and Williamsburg. It was an awesome storm.

Today, I took a few pictures of my walk to the L Train on Graham Avenue. They don’t reveal much. And they certainly don’t illustrate what Williamsburg went through.

I got a phone call from Gerry after the first storm came and went. He called from the car as he and Anna drove home from a movie and aksed me if a tornado hit Greenpoint and Williamsburg. Apparently, in downtown Brooklyn, it didn’t even rain. Downtown Brooklyn is not far from Greenpoint.

It’s being reported that there were no deaths. And with the departure of the storm, it’s about 20 degrees cooler. Given the unbearably hot summer we’ve had, I think that I’m ready for Fall. I’m ready to take drives up north to see the leaves change. We missed our Northeaster Fall last year. I’m ready for the Apple Festival and hiking in the catskills. I am ready to take the car on long drives through Pennsyltuckey. I’m even ready for primetime TV again.

The 41st Annual National Apple Harvest Festival

Last year, we were in San Francisco at the time of the Gettysburg Apple Festival. This year, I’d like to attend. We went to the one two years ago and had a great time in spite of the fact that we had a most horrible meal at a local “5 star” restaurant. But the festival was fun and the Gaslight Inn was lovely. Anyway, I think I will treat us both this year in celebration of the day we met (October 11th).

At the end of August we’re heading to Little Compton, Rhode Island for a week of fun in the sun with our friends, Nico and George. I can’t wait. Trips like these make me realize the fun in being an adult. This is the sort of thing I used to dream about as a child, spending vacations away with the boy I love and excellent friends. While I want it to come up immediately, the waiting is exciting.

And hopefully, we’ll head to Pennsyltuckey for a camping adventure sometime in the fall with Gerry, Greg and whoever else wants to come along. Walter was right again, good things are indeed coming our way.


I knew my constant job hopping would eventually bite me in the ass. I just downloaded The Outfield’s “Your Love” because I have been singing it for two days now and I REALLY WANT TO HEAR THE DAMN SONG. I just went to play it and was told I can not listen to it because I already have five computers signed on to my account. That sucks. I have no way of turning that shit off as the computer in question, well, one of them, is in San Francisco.

Man, does this suck. Now, I’ll never hear that song.

Edited to add: Sucess! Holy sweet jesus this song rules. Does anyone out there have The Butchies cover of it? I’ll trade you.