I’ve lived in this apartment for three years, and I’ve still got a bit of a puppy-love crush on my little Midtown building. I spend a lot of time taking pictures in and of it, really for no one else but myself, so that when I move on to another place (assuming that might ever happen), I’ll be able to remember every nook and cranny that this current life inhabits, for better or for worse.…
My sister gave me this painting a while back, although I can’t remember where she found it. She has a talent that could rival Dave and Amy‘s for finding the most interesting stuff at thrift stores and yard sales. The painting itself is deliciously kitschy and I love how it looks against the cloying yellow of the bathroom wall. Two bathroom pictures and I’m just two weeks in? Yep. [Project 365]
Talked about Revolutionary Road with some other bibliophiles online tonight. Even took a shower beforehand, which clearly demonstrates that I still don’t “get” the internet. If you haven’t read this book, you really should. It’s superbly written and pretty much helped invent all those notions of the desperation of 1950s suburbia and suburban conformity that we take for granted nowadays. Author Richard Yates: “If my work has a theme, I suspect it is a simple…
I pet-sat today for Phil, who went out of town for the weekend. His roommate, who usually does the pet-sitting, is currently in New York City, auditioning for some band that’s been in an iPod commercial or some shit. Ya rly. Anyway, it was cool getting to let myself in the house to play with the animals. Of course we all remember Sir Howard the Lap-Bound and King Felix, but another ball of fur has…
So it’s not quite as easy on the eardrums as the far more common fifth-of-November trope, but everyone remembers the fifth of November. Why can’t the ninth of January get a little love? Sure, it exists in that no man’s land between New Year’s Day and Valentine’s Day, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. In the sense that every day you’re not dead is important, I guess. I figure anyone’s life can be judged…
I always feel a little like I’m tempting fate when I cook chicken for myself.
Met up with @fancycwabs for lunch today at Lobster King, continuing my quest to de-weirdify Asian food to my palate. Had the cashew chicken and the hot and sour soup. It was great. I ate tofu, y’all. TOFU. Well, a little. Like, maybe a tablespoon or so. Still not sold. This is the fortune I got. I want very badly to believe that there is some big cosmic meaning behind the usage of “prophesy” instead…
Went to the Griz game tonight. Bought the $5 tickets and sat way up high and tried to fend off the fantasies of what would happen if one unlucky beer drinker tripped and pitched himself down those vertical stairs. Oy. We lost. [Project 365]
Last night I cleaned out my fridge and today I finally threw away the remains of my 2007 birthday cake. There are no typos in that sentence, I assure you. I am just a disgusting, filthy human being who lives more or less like a 22-year-old bachelor (but who places “banging chicks” waaaay further down on the ol’ priority list). Actually, I made a conscious decision to keep the cake in, oh, say June, when…
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