Let go of the loft out of practicality considerations. Took a picture of the 7 though, before I left. At 440K, a 2 bedroom 1200 sq ft flat was just too good of an investment to pass up. Trying to convince Bohr to rent out his place and get one, too, both because it’s a better place for him to live and because the investment value is strong. I’m going to be living in a unit that’s an 11. 9 needs 11 to get to 22.
Let’s make it happen.
You reject me when I’m a caterpillar but when I’m a butterfly, all you want to do is catch me. Did you ever think, with true nectar sweet, I would always come back on terms we could both agree?
Sweet Andrew, 23 years old and drunk off his ass, calls me on my brother’s phone asking me to come out and play poker at 1 in the morning despite having just dropped me off at home from my birthday party (a much more responsible Sean was driving). I tell him he can’t handle me and to call me when he’s 29 and got his shit together. But you’re gonna be like 39, he said.
You’ve seen my mom so you know I’m still gonna be hot then, I said. Plus, I’m gonna be on TV by then. You just get your shit together.
It’s done, he said. I’m gonna get my shit together in a couple of weeks, and then we’re gonna talk.
Talk to you when you’re 29, I said.
Brian messaged me to see how the party went. I told him that I didn’t make out with anyone, despite Michael having invited all his 20-something year-old trainer friends. New era, I wrote him. We are now pillars of maturity.
I’m looking for someone who’s 29-36. I would bend for an outstanding 27 or 28 year old but it will be at least a 2 year relationship before I know what’s up, but I don’t know if I want to spend 2 years locked down in a relationship waiting to see if someone’s ready to even be in a relationship. I would rather do what I need to do, and only notice guys who already have their shit together. Then we can spend our time seeing what’s between us and developing it, rather than trying to get them man enough to be in a relationship in the first place.
The cute waiter was off but at the restaurant yesterday, meeting a friend to go see a movie. I’m pretty sure he was trying to talk to me and trying to bring up that he wanted to hang out before I leave town (and it turns out that he knows one of my cousins), but I kept running off. I don’t know. I can’t deal with these young guys anymore. I run too many circles around them. I really need someone who is ready. He’s always our waiter every time we go to that restaurant, and he’s always talking to me about cameras because he’s a photographer. Once he even chased me out of the restaurant and everyone’s thinking either I forgot my coat or he’s going to ask me out. But he just talks to me about more camera stuff. So this morning I told my mom how he was there and he gave me his phone number and wanted to hang out. And about Andrew’s late night call, telling me to give him a couple of weeks and he would be ready for me.
It’s like you’ve stunned these small town boys, she said. You’re the brightest thing they’ve ever seen. But they can’t keep up with you.
I know, I said. I don’t want to be their training wheels, making them better for someone else.
Don’t, she said. Don’t waste the pretty.
Seriously. Boys are sweet, and I’m a tough but fair leader. But in terms of a partner, I don’t have time to spare on them anymore.
The Pisces problem:
Not only your partner but all your friends are likely to appreciate your sympathetic nature. What might not be quite so appreciated is your tendency to be so sympathetic that you get pulled into romantic and sexual entanglements out of pity and the inability to say no – entanglements which you must then lie your way out of. It is possible to be too kind and too willing to give yourself away because of momentary empathy or enchantment, with the result that you wind up doing the thing you hate the most – hurting someone else.
This is kind of interesting. Last week I wrote this in my book:
The earlier darkness also brought on more feelings of loneliness, as my days were consumed with work and I spent my evenings alone, writing, thinking and listening to music. I hadn’t really dated since the break-up, hadn’t met anyone where things really clicked, and I wasn’t interested in falling into a relationship only for the sake of being in one. I would rather be alone and enjoy my own company than be in unsuitable company. Plus, I’d been working hard trying to carve out who I was and who I wanted to be, continuing to work on myself to break through my own personal boundaries and reach new heights. I remember one sleepless night when I decided to take a walk. It was a cloudless night, no moon, and I looked up at the sky intending to make a wish on the first star I saw. My eyes locked on a bright one, low in the horizon, and I made a wish.
Like Steve Martin in The Jerk, I wished to find my special purpose. And perhaps a red thermos I could call my own.
A few days later was my birthday. Michael brought out a wrapped present, and my parents informed me that Michael had insisted on buying a present for me, picking it out all by himself. I opened it up, and would you believe it…it was a red Thermos.
Siggraph is in LA. I’m also getting home town advantage. All signs pointing to this launch point. This will be as big as I can make it. I’m gonna work my ass off to make this an incontrovertible breakthrough.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Just put down a deposit on a 3-level loft in a new construction near downtown San Jose. I’m impressed. Like I wrote months ago, I’ve always wanted to live in a loft. And I found it! This building and unit are beautiful. Balcony facing west over tree-lined street and park. Patio off bedroom. Beautiful gym in building. Residential neighborhood in walking distance to downtown city dining and nightlife. Cool thing was they built a new building out of an old red-brick factory, but used the old walls, graffiti’d and all, for decor. My patio has a brick wall with a graffiti’d 7 on it. Up next, the negotiations. Where I thrive.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Wait, there’s an extra 9 hiding. I always admired 36.
To Ernesto who told me he’s turning 36 in October, and I said 36 is a great age for a man because it’s when he really figures out his shit.
I still believe it. Have an amazing year.
7 7 7 7
_888_
=
the trophy that is my iPod.
To 7, my prophet and guide, who loves me so much he can not touch me.
You are worth reclaiming.
You are worth the quest.
by the way, do you know flight 333 has shipped my iPod to Dallas?
I’ve left so many messages on so many machines, talked to one girl who claimed to be out sick for a week who transferred me to another who claimed to be sick for the next two days. Find out they’ve shipped my iPod to Dallas, despite my strong expression that they leave it where it is, and I will fly over to Oakland and pick it up.
Seattle tells me they won’t even ship it back to me because of “we don’t ship any passengers’ items due to liability issues. You can give us your Fed Ex number.” Yet they decide to ship it to Dallas.
Where I assume, it will be examined aboard the Southwest Mothership.
What is going on?
My iPod disappears on Flight 333, to be deboarded by a flight attendant acting out of her own volition, to end up in Oakland which is close enough to my home town in time and place for me to physically go there the next week and pick it up, but they send it to Dallas. My birth place, where I have not returned since I was 2 months old.
What. the. fuck.
Clearly I’m being summoned to Dallas. Just like Team True Blood in the episodes I watched last week as I was preparing to come home. Clearly, I will also be required to stay at the sickest, sleakest hotel I can find. The kind where it’s always night, and if we’re not fucking you, it’s because it’d be too easy. Clearly.
Numbers:
Tracking 798 735 752 476
Phone 214 792 560 3600
She threw in extra digits for the phone number. Even she stopped and said, “No wait, that’s not it.” But I wrote down what she said, and this is what I saw: 9 9 9
Have you listened to a stranger read off a phone number that you suddenly realized was yours?
I was born 9, 3 times.
I was born 9 times, as 3.
Let’s write an ending in Dallas.
How strange that I choose to have my birthday at the Texas Roadhouse. Before I leave, I text Brian, “May we never lose the Texan in us.” I’ve lost my ability to do accents, but I can always pick up Texas.
It was only supposed to be a few people, and then more and more people got invited. Had to handle an ego situation with the manager. Looked for him to give him cake, hoping he could learn something from the night and be better, but he was nowhere to be found. Had just enough pieces for the waitress, the hostess and the busboy.
Strange how during birthday times, my body handles alcohol.
My body is doing it’s own thing right now. I don’t look like me. But I’m assuming that it’s like this, because I’m preparing something for Saturday. Why 19 on a 19? 1. I don’t trust 1. One is unlimited potential and unlimited power. But it also kills a part of you while the rest goes on living. And it tends to be the good part. 2 has always had more humanity. as a god, as a human.
let us all be better humans within our gods, so that our gods can be greater humans.
When what we aren’t becomes what we are, then we are no longer what we used to be.
It’s the way of growth. Do not let the fears and limitations of others define you or your aim. Wherever your dreams lay, set your path for them.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
I was in LA when Michael Jackson died. We live down the street from UCLA’s Emergency Room, so we walked into Westwood where hundreds of people had already gathered in candlelight vigil. Even Jesus was there, long hair, robe and everything, praying for the soul of Michael.
Last week at PT, the subject came up and Sarah mentioned she was in LA that weekend as well. She was on her way to the airport, fighting traffic on the 405, and some radio station was playing Beat It. Suddenly, it seemed like every car on the freeway had its windows down, tuned into the same song, so that the entire freeway, the entire moment, was the dedication of a voice that lived on.
Jesus was resurrected 3 days after he died. Or was it his spirit, through his passion and his words?
I’ve often wondered how to live on after physical death. I envision it will require a light so radiant and life-giving, it will live on after my passing, connecting the hearts and dreams of people.
Perhaps two things in complementary opposition are dangerous to each other because their entire sense of identity would dissolve the moment they realize they are the same.
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | |
| 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |
| 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |
| 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 |
| 28 | 29 | 30 | ||||
