Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

I'm back in NYC these days, and while the weather slowly changes (or refuses to) I tread on . . . remembering the long, seemingly lazy days of last summer.  Days I want to make come alive again, in spirit and reality.   Newport.  Newport, Oregon for your pleasure.  When traveling I often rent a bike, as its cheap transportation and typically fun.   In this case, spending a month in Corvallis, Oregon I certainly needed a mode to shuttle me about town. Granted, my own two feet would have sufficed, but the little Lime-colored Townie I rented (for a flat rate of 55 bucks a week, lock included) has certainly paid for itself in spades.   I’m told it had—at max—thirty miles on her when I picked her up.   I am certain I have logged more than thirty on old Limey (for the record, when I turned her in the 24th of August, I cried a little tear of goodbye knowing her and I had seen more than a hundred miles of road together).   Aside from getting lost aro...

I guess it has been three years now since I had a melancholy blather about daffodils .  Seems like so long ago, yet so close to home. It is funny, though, when you think about the fleetingness of days and how time and life change in a near instant.  As the feets of snow began to earnestly melt, I bought from the season's first shipment. Though, the sheer glow and simple ease of it remind me that in the mass of things awry that life will return to its normal rhythm. Daffs, all those years ago, marked a moment for me.  I remember drinking my cup of tea, those daffs sitting on my window ledge, and my shoulders fell and my breathing mellowed.  I realized that that 'hood of Astoria had made me love my NYC home.  There's a simple peace in that kind of comfort.  The pharmacy, my Dr.s, the fluff and fold, the park, the bakery I loved, and my favorite kiosk for Greek pies were all within a stone's throw.   Then, life changed.  I left my 'hood ...

Last month, as it really has been a month now, I took my annual voyage to the summer camp for nerds, AKA the College Board's read of the AP US History exams.  We've been in Louisville, KY for my tenure, which isn't all bad.  I lived in Kentucky twice, got my bachelor's there, and while it is not my longest place of residence it is the place that captured my soul for homesickness boughts and markers of oddly made binaries of identity.  In blunt laymen's terms, I'm not from the Bluegrass but parts of me are.  So, amid the mass of grading--and OMG there are so many essays in seven days--I meet up with some old friends from years gone by.  And . . . I partake in local cuisines, like Ale-8 and bourbon.  We all know that I have a long love of bourbon . . .  That being said, this year's view derives from the Marriott . . . as I wasn't at the Galt.  Did I mind? Eh, ya know . . . those little free apps and bourbon mixers at 5 everyday went a long...

Blogging in traffic. Sometimes life has a funny way of working out. Six weeks ago I came back up to NY with wild hopes of staying and refinding my lost dreams of self-respect, redemption, and career. I guess persistence, fear, and shame paid off as I've landed adjunct lines, health insurance, and an apartment share. I emailed every call for adjuncts, and I hit up schools not advertising. I prayed under a star lit sky, along the shores of the island I once called home. In all reality, I never stopped calling NY home. Memories of spending nights in the city haunted and drove me on my quest to find my solace in the city of dirt, grime, dreams by the dozens. The classes kind of fell into place, and after a week of scouring Craigslist for housing I found something great. Of course, I had the handful of crazies and jerks, but persistence paid off as I didn't feel at home in College Point, Queens city, and Kew Gardens. I had secretly had my sights on the sometimes grimy but deeply...