Insomniac Haiku #3

Still awake. Again.

When was the last time I blinked?

Guess I'll nap at work.

In which I crave coffee with a side of horseradish

The office in New York is filled with artistic types.  We have actors, artists, writers and dancers.  And the really great thing is that we all support each other by attending each others' shows and reading each others' plays and looking at each others' websites.  The other night, several of us went to see one of our former colleagues in her dance concert.  We weren't able to sit together, though, so I ended up sitting next to several older women with some serious New York accents who apparently had some rather unfortunate friends.  During intermission they were talking to each other, and I was eavesdropping, as usual.  Eavesdropping is actually one of my best skills.  That and reading upside down.  I still think I'd make one hell of a spy. But as I was listening to their conversation, I couldn't figure out what the odd clicking sound was that I kept hearing in between sentences. 

"What about Pete?"

*click* [What is that noise?]

"Pete?"

*click*  

"You remember Pete?" 

*click*  [What IS that?]

"The one who makes his own horseradish?"  [Who makes horseradish?  How do you even make horseradish?]

"Yes!  I think we still have some in our fridge."

*click*  [Could it be ill-fitting dentures?]

"What happened to him?" 

*click*

"I think he died." 

"Oh."  [Wait, from the horseradish?]

*click* *cough* *choke*

"Are you ok?"

"Oh, yes...oh.  *cough*  What a way to go!  On a Nip.  Oh."

*click*  [Oh, good heavens.  Is that it?  She's sucking on coffee flavored candy?]

"Do you want one?"

*click*

"What?"

*click*

"A nip?"  [Because her clicking and choking are such a ringing endorsement for Nips.]

*click*

"No, thanks.  Oh, Sue.  Do you remember her?"

*click* 

"She used to come all the time."

*click*

"I wonder what happened to her."

*click*

"I think she died."  [No doubt by choking on a Nip.]

*click*

In which I may have lost my mind

Flink flink flink flink.

I know, I know.  I've been staring at you for an hour and a half.

Flink.

Yeah, I know.  But I just can't think of anything.

Flink.  Flinky flink flink.

Right, Cursor, that's true, but isn't it better not to write anything than just to write a bunch of nonsensical dreck?

Flink, flink flink flink flink flink.

Wait, what do you mean that would be a change?  I try to write posts that are somewhat entertaining, yes, but I also like them to be uplifting and informative.

Flink flink flink flink!

Oh really?  Have you ever tried to write a blog?  It's not as easy as it looks.

Flink flink flink flink!

That's not funny.

Fl-fl-fli-fli-fli!

Stop laughing at me!

FL-FL-FLI-FLI-FLI-FLI-FLI!!!!!!

Oh, come on!  Like YOU do anything important?  You just sit around flinking your flinker all the livelong day.  "Flink flink flink."  Very creative.

Flink flink flinker flink.  Flink flinking flink flink FLINK.

There is NO. NEED. to get personal.

Flink.  Flink flinky.

Hmpf.

Flinky flink.  Flink?

Ok.  Truce.  

Flink flink.  Flink flink flink flink!

I'll try to think of something for tomorrow night, ok?

Flink flink.

Good night.

Flink.

In which I have to drink tepid water out of a GLASS, for God's sake...

 I am so happy I moved back to NYC. I do love being here.  I'm close to my friends, my social life is much more active and I am able make fantastic use of my green raincoat.  But I am exhausted.  My ankles and knees are sore and swollen.  I'm tired all the time.  I don't have any money and I'm struggling to find a second job, as well as figure out ways to cut costs in this expensive city.

Officially?  New York is kicking my ass.  

KICKING. MY. ASS.  

HARD.

I mean, I felt compelled to order tea instead of some lovely wine at my book club meeting today to save money.  How many more concessions am I going to have to make, I ask you????

At least I have my friends to commiserate with.  I was having dinner with C and M the other night, and we collectively decided that the recession stinks.  We all liked it better when we felt like our jobs were secure and we could drink champagne out of our Christian Louboutins.    Not that I actually ever had Louboutins.  It's more like Nine Wests or Banana Republics for me.   Maybe flip-flops, although it seems like it might be hard to keep the champagne "in" them.  Probably you'd have to lap the champagne off the inside of the... oh, never mind.  This is getting gross. 

Well, at least I still have a job, I still have friends and I still have the skills to get that second job.  I still love New York.  It may be kicking me, but I'm still kicking back.

IN WHICH IN WHICH IN WHICH SOMETHING

MY SISTER IS HARASSING ME ABOUT POSTING SOMETHING PROBLEM IS I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING TO POST ALTHOUGH YOU'D THINK I COULD COME UP WITH SOMETHING BECAUSE I WENT TO THE PERSIAN PARADE AND THEN TO JERSEY FOR A MOVIE AND DINNER WHERE I HAD THREE GLASSES OF COKE/DIET COKE/CHERRY COKE/COKE ZERO AND SO NOW I AM ALL JACKED UP ON CAFFEINE AND SUGAR AND I CAN'T EVEN CONSIDER THE IDEA OF SLEEPING AND MY BRAIN CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING CLEVER TO WRITE ABOUT SO I GUESS PERSIAN PARADE IT IS SO I WENT TO THE PERSIAN PARADE WITH A COLLEAGUE WHO IS HALF PERSIAN AND WHEN I ASKED HER QUESTIONS SHE WOULD SAY "I DON'T KNOW I AM ONLY HALF PERSIAN" AND I SAID "DOES THAT MEAN YOUR ANSWERS ARE ONLY HALF RIGHT?" BUT SHE DID NOT THINK I WAS FUNNY AND I SAY TOO BAD FOR HER.  

THE PERSIAN PARADE HAD FLOATS AND HORSES AND FLAG BEARERS AND BELLY DANCERS AND TRADITIONAL DRESS AND DIFFERENT KINDS OF FLAGS AND FUN MUSIC AND ARMENIAN DANCERS AND PICK UP TRUCKS AND ONE GUY IN BLACK FACE WHICH WHAT WAS HE THINKING I STILL HAVEN'T FIGURED THAT OUT.

TOWARDS THE END OF THE PARADE WAS A FLOAT THAT SAID "THE CHILDREN OF ADAM ARE LIMBS TO EACH OTHER..."  WHICH WHAT A COOL THING TO SAY AND I THINK IS AN IMPORTANT STATEMENT ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING OUR CURRENT POLITICAL CLIMATE OH AND THE MOVIE WAS GOOD TOO I LAUGHED A LOT AND HAD BUTTER ON MY POPCORN AND THEN WE HAD FATBURGER FOR DINNER AND THAT WAS GREAT AND I HAD LOTS OF-

*CLUNK*

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

In which I get more than I bargained for

Before I left LA, I spent a lot of time getting the right clothes for New York.  I bought coats and sweaters and boots in preparation for the rest of the New York winter.  I also purchased some slammin' rain boots and a green trench for the spring.  Meanwhile, I have worn the same pants to work for the last five days.  But that is neither here nor there, as this is a story about coats.  COATS!

The coat I have worn the most since I have been here is my ivory wool coat.  Now, I knew ivory wouldn't last long in New York before needing to be cleaned and I was right.  The thing is filthy.  Also, I've had to re-attach the buttons about ninety times.  I decided it was time to switch to another coat.  

It's been warm enough, for the most part, to wear my green trench, so that has been my overcoat for the past couple of weeks.  The other night I went to a gay bar with a friend.  I got so much attention because of my coat - those gay boys loved me - proving once again that I am a gay man trapped in a straight woman's body.  

Really drunk guy:  That coat really makes your eyes look green.

Me:  Thanks!  My eyes ARE green.  

Really drunk guy: Oh.

On Sunday, I joined some friends for brunch.  While walking to the subway, I was offered a tour of the city by one of those guys that stand around Times Square looking for tourists.  My friend, SK, said they offered me a tour of my own neighborhood because I was wearing a green coat.  

Me: What does that have to do with anything? 

SK: New Yorkers don't wear green.  They wear black.  

Me: I'm a New Yorker and I'm wearing green.

SK: Look over there - see that family?

I did.  They were carrying maps of the city and wearing various shades of green.  Obviously tourists.  Fine.

At Macy's the other day, I was darting through the throng of cologne sprayers when a couple of the sprayers sashayed towards me.  I panicked, remembering the time I went to Bloomingdale's in LA to find a perfume and the saleswomen practically molested me with atomizers and coffee beans. 

Molesting Saleswoman:  Excuse me-

Me: Uh oh.

Molesting Saleswoman: She (pointing to the other saleswoman) loves your coat.  Where did you get it?

Me: Oh!  Target!

Saleswoman 2: I'm going there right after work!

Molesting Saleswoman: It looks great on you!

Me: Thanks!   

Tonight I was coming back from an American Idol party with my friend M. and her boyfriend S.  We got on the train to come downtown, and at 96th, a gentleman with a guitar got on the train.  He was trying to sing for his supper, and he dedicated his first song to the girl in the green jacket.  

Me: No.

Guitar Guy: I'm singing this song for the white girl in the green jacket.

Me: No.

Guitar Guy: I've got sunshine on the number two train....

Me: No.

Guitar Guy: When it's cold outside, I've got the white girl in the green jacket.

I can feel my face flushing as I laugh.

Guitar Guy: I guess you'll say what can make me feel this way?  The white girl in the green jacket who looks like Ellen DeGeneres.

Me: (SHREIK!)

My face is in flames as I wipe away my tears of laughter.

Guitar Guy: White girl in the green jacket who looks like Ellen.

Train Conducter: 72nd Street

Me: Thank God!

S:  Bye, Ellen!

It's supposed to be 60 degrees tomorrow.  Maybe I can get away with a nice black cardigan.

In which I realize I may have left whatever writing skills I did I have back in Los Angeles

Aaaaaaaaaand we're back to crack den:

Excuse me, that's "crack HOME".  I don't want to be politically incorrect or anything.  

So, if you haven't guessed, I found a New York apartment - love it, love the neighborhood.  It just might be a while before I get some furniture.  Do you see that pile of books in the corner, though?  Doesn't that make me look like an intellectual crack head?

But seriously, what crack head has this view:

Hello, New York. 

 

I am paying for this view, though.  I have to walk up five flights of stairs to get here.  It's fine, except my ankles are terribly swollen, my arches throbbing and my knees are quite angry with me.  I've been hobbling around the city like Frankenstein.

I remember when I lived here before I used to walk around peering into other people's apartments, thinking "oooh, look!  What a great apartment.  If I just had my own apartment, I'd be so happy."  

I am very pleased with my apartment.  Now when I hobble around the city and look in people's windows, I think "oooh, look! I bet they have an elevator!"