Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Walking through Astoria, and sitting on the subway (as I am now), sometimes I am reminded of Istanbul. No, Astoria doesn't have seven hills to knock the wind out of you or calls for prayer coming from every direction. Instead, among the Greek store fronts and Spanish enclaves are growing numbers of Middle Eastern immigrants and second and third generation families blooming. Walking along Astoria Blvd the keen and half-awake observer will see men in fezs and turbans, covered women, and clicks of the tongue of languages far from the romantic variety. As I walk along I chuckle as I hear conversations about dinner, tea, and life. I then realize that I understand more than I should, or more than those around me think I do, as we tumble along these well worn and sometimes grimy streets. Along Crescent (I think), a few weeks back, I stopped for a long desired Türk Khave and I ordered it sade without thinking. After all, I've always ordered them in Turkey. The cafe owner was so tak...

Yea, perhaps the last post was misleading.  No, I'm not still hung up on someone, and  no I'm not going bat shit crazy over a lost moment.  More so, random neural firings cause you to look back on things and reevaluate, or to evaluate.  That's mostly what yesterday was.  I don't really believe in the whole Carrie Bradshaw character module that someone has a "Mr. Big."  More so, I'm in the camp that some people will end up alone out of logistics, population percentages, and the cards of life.  On that note, I should note that on the 17th at 11:55pm I got a message from a certain Jackass.  Says he hopes "New York Redux is going well." What I should tell you is that he never, ever messaged me on my birthday, always the day after, and if I was lucky a week later he'd say something labor-laden about happy birthday.  He knew my birthday, and I don't appreciate the sentiment a day later considering he knows about my birthday history.  Let'...

I'm not really somber at the moment, just . . . but sometimes thoughts cross your mind in the strangest way, and they always happen at the strangest times.  Right now . . . I sometimes wonder if I had known what would have happened if I would have told someone ten years ago that we shouldn't wait.  In all reality, ten years ago I was in no kind of place to make a relationship . . . not that I really wanted to.  Instead, the past ten years have been littered with good and bad.  Grad school, new jobs, being po', books, relationships from levels of hell Dante never wrote about, and teaching in the pokey among other things.  Eh . . . So much happens in ten years that it is hard to say if it would have been worth it.  The idealist in me likes to think that instead of having an apartment share in Astoria, I would be living with him in Astoria.  Again, what can really be certain? Assertions are just that . . . educated guesses and romanticized moments of ...