September 2011
8 posts
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There’s one thing that I need a bunch of you...
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A World Without Lonely Havens
About a year ago, I met the muse at an undisclosed location to say goodbye. There have been a few more goodbyes between us since then (for example…), but this is the one I think about the most.
I hadn’t seen her in the weeks leading up to that meeting. The “farewell tour” — a flurry of days/nights out with her closest friends — had been keeping her busy....
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In mid-August of last year, I came down to NYC for...
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LH#32: Apt 28 (Brighton)
Estimated visits: N/A Abandoned on: 08.26.11 Last thing I did before I left: Put the keys in the freezer.
Hypothetical interview: Q: Hi there — I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but by any chance did you meet the guy who used to live here? A: No, why? Was he a real asshole or something? Q: Well, no; that’s not what I’m getting at. A: How about you get to the point...
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I passed on a bunch of “kitchen” blues...
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Feeder
After a month and a half of shelling out to eat out (or drinking coffee instead of eating), I finally decided to cook something for myself in my new and unfamiliar kitchen.
It was a flawed plan from the beginning: frittata-for-one. I did not have enough “bulk” ingredents to fill up the pan, so just before pouring in the eggs I pressed two rolls (from Syrena Bakery) into the edge of...
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The stuff is tough.
142. Jerry McCain,...
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Stuff That Lasts, Pt. 3
I suppose I could keep milking this theme indefinitely, but it would not be long before you realized that really boring stuff tends to last, too.
Memorex dBS cassette tape A few years after the Korean blues proselytizers got me into Buddy Guy, I taught myself the guitar part for “Don’t Leave Me,” from Alone & Acoustic. The intro has a lot of basic blues licks in key of E,...
August 2011
26 posts
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Not sure if this applies to optometrists.
...
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Look-see
I look up, and I see the dull, beige, rectangular ceiling panels alternating with the dim fluorescent lights.
“Now look down.”
My eyes rotate in their sockets until I see what constitutes “down”: a striped camisole under a blue blouse that is under a white doctor’s coat. “Down” is also the ring on her left hand — it’s one of those imposing...
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The last cut was a bit shorter than expected.
...
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Final Cut
The same two barbers — a Greek and an Ecuadorian — have worked here since I became a regular customer about nine years ago. Both are low-key, old-school types who take their time with each customer. (Neither of them knows my name, but they know me better than a lot of people…)
The Ecuadorian, who tends to cut much shorter, will spritz his customers with water before going in...
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Part
After a farewell drink at a bar near the old office, I suggest to Smitty that she visit me sometime.
“Why would I want to go to New York?” she says. “It smells like trash. Even worse, it’s full of New Yorkers.”
She’ll come around.
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In certain advanced dialects, time is a...
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Revisited
It could be another sign of clinginess that I find myself back in Ye Olde Allston for a few days. Had I planned things better, I could have avoided this trip. But now that I’m here, I’ll make the most of it — see some people I didn’t get to say goodbye to, dig up some more stuff that lasts, snag another goroke from Seoul Bakery…
I try not to play this game too...
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Fork Test
Somehow we get to talking about how foreigners pick up American words or phrases. She tells me she has a Russian friend who recently learned how to use goose as a verb (which he finds hilarious)…
There’s a story I consider telling her — about a girl I used to know who heard the phrase “stick a fork in ’em” for the first time. It was probably a TV sports commentator...
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Better to listen.
136. Wynonie Harris,...
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Mute Button
I have her cornered at a table to myself, but for some reason the Great Listener is nowhere to be found and the only sub available is the Great Blabber, a third-tier act who is far less interesting.
“May I interject?” she interjects. “You know what you are? You are girl crazy.”
Girl crazy. No one has called me that before. It worries me a little. Girl crazy? Based on...
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135. Memphis Minnie & Kansas Joe,...
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Filter
“You’ve been talking about her a lot,” she says. “So it makes me wonder how much you talk about me in front of her.”
It is hard for me not to talk about people I like when I open up to someone. So what happens when I open up to the people I like?
It gets complicated, that’s what.
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If you haven’t figured it out yet,...
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Teaser
I notice that gchat tends to bring out the honesty in the average reader:
who is this chick btw?
i want some details
i've read the Muse. but
i want inside scoop
who is she
where did you meet
what's is the deal.
none of this cryptic shit
How many details would I have to give to satisfy your craving to know?
I guess you have to remember that I’m left guessing too. There are things I...
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Not to overanalyze or anything.
133. The...
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Out of Sight
Before we turned the corner onto Washington, I took the umbrella from her right hand and grasped it in my left. She hooked her arm around mine, and we walked for a while in the rain — a right onto Water Street, then a left onto Kilby.
“There’s another place I could take you,” she said to me.
“What time is it?” I asked. (A stupid question; we were out of...
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Nominal
One thing that I’ve done since moving to New York is change my name — sort of.
The friends who knew me from before still call me by my Boston-era nickname, which is one syllable — like a Bob, a Sam, a Dan…
But back when I was younger, it was two syllables — like Bobby, Sammy, Danny. Very few people call me this name nowadays; mainly just family and a couple...
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Notice use of singular.
131. Percy Mayfield,...
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Muldoon's Mandate
The escalator at Court Square station is looking fuzzy for some reason — could it be the alcohol? Or just astigmatism? It’s hard to say at my age.
It began at the wrong Japanese restaurant on East 43rd Street. My bad. I headed left when I should have gone right.
There are three of us — one, in fact, who is going through a breakup and is in need of a drink (and a soba) or...
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She says it was raining at the time she called....
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Imperative
Before ending the message with “bye,” she says, “Write me.”
What should I write? That I’d rather see her alone next time? That seeing her is (sometimes) a reminder of how badly I lost out? That I hadn’t been thinking about her much until now? That I wish I could see her when I feel like it instead of contriving a scenario to get us at the same table or the...
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Now that I think about it, I’ve never dated...
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French Southpaw
It’s not often that I get driven home from the bar by a twenty-year-old, but stranger things have happened in Allston. Her being a stranger makes it that much easier to ask.
“Is it all right if I hitch a ride home with you?”
In the car, she talks about her uncertain plans after graduation. I tell her she’s got plenty of time to decide. I’m sure her parents have told...
July 2011
40 posts
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Same ol’, same ol’, same...
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Static/Cling
Over mediocre Mexican in the west 50s, the Great Listener is getting lectured on his notorious tendency to cling. The argument is straightforward as I hear it:
“You are the one who moved here. Not her. You don’t owe her a thing.”
“You deserve to be wanted. You don’t get that from her. You deserve better.”
“Why are you her ‘secret’? No one...
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It’s not like I have much of a hang-up over...
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Pacify
Just a few more exchanges with the new neighbors, and we’ll be on good terms.
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We will. I’m sure of it.
126....
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Official Score
So I can’t seem to pull the trigger — walk into Brooklyn bar, establish low-key (but noticeable) rapport with bartender, pose (why? Because everyone else is posing), show off tattoos, and engage stranger in conversation. I am just not there yet.
(Maybe my lack of tattoos is the problem.)
Rather than dwell on it, I head to Pier 6 for a pickup game. Beach doubles, co-ed. Fewer tattoos...
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When was the last time I had someone as a...
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To Be Continued
I realize it doesn’t look like much yet. But it’s starting to feel like home.
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Let’s make it work, shall we?
124. Big...
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LH#31: Tenth Floor West (Boston)
Estimated visits: 1000+ Abandoned on: 07.21.11 Last “office” task: I printed a shipping label — Brooklyn-bound UPS Ground.
Hypothetical interview: Q: What happened to the guy who used to sit in this office? A: Wait — you mean 張 doesn’t work here anymore? When did he leave?
The goodbye: Four, maybe five years ago, I landed in here — my first office with a...
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Only you can tell how deep is the well, ’Cus the...
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Cross-Pollinate
How long does it take for a follower of your first tumblr to serendipitously discover (unprompted) your second? In my case, about two months.
Good luck finding the third.
(And the fourth.)
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Still can’t remember.
122. Memphis...
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Bananas and Left
Sometimes I overestimate my memory. Much to figure out here. I don’t remember receiving this postcard, but I kept it. I don’t remember her ever taking a semester abroad, but apparently she did. I don’t remember replying with any sensitive musings; why did she think I was capable of doing so? Was “S.V.” a nickname? If so, what did it stand for?
And how did I...
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Sometimes we allow the on-court soundtrack to...
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Diversion
It’s been like this since May. Each day, approximately one to five sketchy realtors show my empty, run-down apartment to hopeful, would-be Allstonians. Most of the clients are students or new graduates. At least two showed up with their mothers in tow. I try my best never to be around when it happens, but sometimes the agents are overeager and show up a good forty-five minutes earlier than...