Just a set I've been working on. Urban suffocation with a hint of transcendence and a dash towards  Freedom. May 2012.

“So you invited you new boyfriend to come stay the weekend of my birthday and you are just telling me now? I’m not mad, you are just so fucking inconsiderate, all the time Tyler, it’s infuriating. I’m trying so hard to be level headed about all this. Thank you for constantly confirming that you wouldn’t have been good for me.”

“I hate it when you say boyfriend like that, it’s not like that. I can tell him not to come, but he is surprising me, and I need to get laid so bad.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Nothing. No… it’s fine. But don’t expect me to be outwardly nice. Like I don’t understand what you like about him, he’s not cute or particularly interesting… and he’s a graphic designer who works at a pizza place and lives with his parents. Sorry but if you really want to be friends I’m going to be honest.”

“You’re doing that mood swing thing again.”

“Deal with it. Not really my fault.”

“This is true. I’m a dick.”

“Yep.”

“Yep.”

“He just gets me. I’m sorrrrry.”

“You don’t do relationships. You couldn’t do a relationship with me or anyone before.”

“This is different… he’s never… here. That sounded wrong. I don’t know.”

“Don’t break him too. I give you like a month before he tells you his real feelings… and then what?”

“I’ll be nice.”


(This was one of the better conversations she and I have had in the time since I last posted… things are gradually getting better, we joke around but I’m still a head fuck and she’s still reminding me of it. She is probably right though, I’ve already been pushing the limits of this open thing a little bit but I’ll dish that dirt some other time.)

Sorry for not having written in so long…

(no I’m not)

…but my friends and I were playing a rousing game of floor hockey with a half used roll of duct tape, a spur of the moment childish game that ended badly, when suddenly my friend Chris kicked it a little furiously and it killed the screen on my gawddammed computer.

I’m not quite flush enough to fix it and to be honest the more I write the more I realize that writing seems to conflict with who I am.

I am a liver.

Not like, the organ that always dramatically fails in small children so they can suddenly appear with yellow eyes in a tense scene on some prime-time doctor show, but someone for whom thinking too intensely about the things I do really just slows me down and bums me out. I feel like I constantly complain about this but seriously, it’s as if I have ADHD or something, or maybe it’s characteristic of a distinct lack of maturity. Difficult to be sure.

I mean look at me, in the two weeks that I haven’t been chained to my keyboard, trapped inside my head, I have actually started to go out more.

And I like someone new.

Well, not particularly new since I knew him from work but new in the sense that I wasn’t planning on exploring that option and then did (and don’t regret it at all). I thought we were just going to be friends—that’s all I really wanted but then I started to get to know him and… he just understands me. Plus it’s really great because he lives in Philly and I hardly ever see him. I went to see him over the Easter weekend, met some of his family and all that, and wondered how it is that hollow chocolate bunnies are supposed to symbolize mysteriously empty caves. I just don’t get it.

Okay I lied. We are dating. I changed my status yesterday. My ex ‘liked’ it ironically. But yeah, he is a really nice guy and we are doing the open relationship thing because he knows I need my lady time... it’s working so far. 

“Things I am bad at” Excerpt from 3-7-2012-3:52AM

1)    Crying. I hate it. It accomplishes nothing and makes you look awful.

2)    Saying no in sexual scenarios, I just aim to please.

3)    Understanding why anyone puts mayo on anything, it’s really rather disgusting, so  cease and desist.

4)    Being honest with people when I know that I am going to hurt them, I like seeing people happy.

5)    Making friends and not sleeping with them.

6)    Keeping my room clean.

7)    Committing to finishing a book… If the first 20 pages aren’t exciting I’m out.

8)    Reminding people that I have feelings, and that just because I don’t leave them out on the surface it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

Okay, lists are where people start, right? Little tiny changes will be good for me. Commitment, I hope I can be capable of you in some manner or another. 

Sometimes when I can’t fall asleep at night—after a couple of hours of lackadaisically staring at my computer screen, watching something useless on Netflix just to lull myself into a half-hearted rest—I start to make lists. 

Little scribbles in awful entirely uppercase handwriting usually entirely about myself, sometimes about some particularly interesting encounters I’ve had with other humans over the years. 

It’s almost as if I am trying to obsessively compile some basic facts about myself for the day when I’m old and have some sort of Alzheimer’s induced by exposure to Bluetooth-Wifi-Lithium-Ion Combination Radiation from sleeping with a running computer inches away from my face for years. 

Obviously, I never want to get old. I’d much rather prefer dying young and in a way that makes people really uncomfortable at my funeral.

But if I somehow manage to ebb towards the end of life and lose my marbles along the way, at least I can look back at some scraps of truths and make every morning a sentimental mystery adventure to piece together a portrait of a formal self, only to have it delicately plucked away overnight. Everyday would be a game! I love games! Anyways, I thought I’d share some good ones periodically in case anyone was interested but mostly because once it goes on the inter-webs it never goes away. Immortality at the click of a button and these are the things we choose to share: the future is here and it’s selfish and unapologetic.

Aerial Shots of the Park 3/18

The spring is probably my favorite time of year. Everyone shakes off their layers of indoor winter dust and puts on some sort of pastel skin exposing nonsense shirt and ventures outdoors just for the sake of being outdoors. Moods are instantly elevated in the sunshine and people begin to act a little more human—like smiling and nodding where virtually impossible in the dead of winter. I love the spring but I hate the influx of baby strollers, oh the horror of city sidewalks filled with power moms and their little poop machines! I mean, I’m cool with kids just not other people’s kids. I can’t wait to have a little version of me to play with, how crazy is that someday I will create a tiny creature and teach it the ways of the world.

I hope it’s a hot baby; otherwise I don’t know how nice to it I will be able to be to it.

But seriously, now that everyone is lounging out on the grass in Central Park mating season has begun. Hormones or pheromones or whatever it is that controls our crazy actions are wafting around like a haze of Halal street vendor stench that just lingers on your jacket after you walk through a patch of it.

I went on the best walk today, took some pictures while doing so, but just really got my walk on. Strolling more than anything, people watching as a recreational sport. I love just creating life stories for the random people I see—inserting things that those sad souls may never come to experience and snickering to think that they actually might have. You should spend an afternoon in my head; my poor kid will be in for a treat someday.

I have been going on lots of walks lately, trying to meet new people, it’s still pretty weird in my house… I am just tired of thinking about it. I want to move on already. I don’t know what everyone wants from me. So, I just keep on walking.