The Weeks Fly By in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Been putting off the entry writing long enough I suppose. It’s Sunday, and if I don’t get one out today, perhaps I never will. I haven’t written in what, a week and ½?

So, so much has happened. Let’s see, I spent last weekend with [undergroundathena] at her housewarming soiree, and it was even lovelier than I had imagined. I’d only explored Brooklyn once in my life, and I can’t really call it exploring, as it was in a chauffeured Town Car with Crazy Tony and Maria (Maria was born and raised in Brooklyn, and she wanted to show us her roots via a gigantic dinner and bizarre bar hopping with a few of her Guido friends).

But this time it was different and much more…real, I guess you’d say. Because I got to UA’s at noon on Saturday, in time to go with her to run errands and shop some secondhand stores (with [now] and [charmingly neurotic]) and even take a nap in UA’s perfect apartment.

And the party! Well, what can I say? Take several brilliant (and gorgeous) writers, a shoe designer, me dressed in what resembled something of a prom ensemble, several other interesting creatures sprinkled on top, and…a chocolate fountain?!?! Nothing short of amazing, I tell you. I enjoyed every last drop (including a bottle of a wine called “Horny”, which only made me fall asleep on UA’s big, pink fluff of a chair in the living room).

I think I’ve fallen for Brooklyn. At least Park Slope, where UA and [bob] live. It’s neighborhoody, yet still gritty enough to feel distinctly urban. Prospect Park is lush and beautiful, even the little bit of it that I saw. It’s a 20-minute subway commute to midtown (where my hotel was). As I lugged my giant bag down the stairs and through the subway tunnels, I pictured myself on the train headed to work in the mornings. I could see it. And as I attempted to lug my bag back up the stairs, I was helped out by not just one, but two beautiful strangers who took the other end of my bag and lugged along with me.

And believe me, I do know that New York is not filled entirely with sunny days and delicious parties and beautiful strangers. I know it’s tough and jagged and soggy and gray and smells horrific at times. But that’s what makes those sunny, delicious days even that much more tasty and divine.

I’m feeling the itch.

Even through the meetings all during the week, I pictured myself a New Yorker. I walked to the office as if it was my everyday workplace. I stopped at the deli for water and cigarettes. I gave people directions when they asked me. I slogged through the downpour, talking on my cellphone the whole time. I winked at the guy at the magazine stand who hubba-hubba’d me.

And I did get a phone call from someone while I was there that could actually change everything, but I don’t want to jinx myself yet. I’ll be really bummed if this doesn’t work out, but I can’t let everything else go while I’m waiting for this thing to happen.

I have a case of severe Ants in the Pants, but the show must go on…

Work’s as crazy as ever and things could easily spiral out of control. I keep spinning right along.

There was a party this week. A work party. It was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. And there was Stephan, my super-gay friend who took me over to Lance’s place—probably my most favorite sanctuary in Manhattan—his garden is filled with glorious blooms and greenery. He clipped roses for me to freshen up my hotel room. And there was the Young One. We’d talked on the phone and made plans to see each other. He blew me off, though…which shouldn’t surprise me. What’s a 22-year-old doing with a 37-year-old anyway? And how could I have possibly developed feelings? I don’t know, but there they were. Spinning.

And then back in the Midwest office on Friday. I was exhausted and fairly useless. I got a couple of expense reports done, and interviewed a girl for Christy’s position. Christy is leaving us, and it hasn’t quite hit me yet, but I’m going to be horribly bummed when she leaves. She’s one of the coolest girls in the office. She held me up when Young One blew me off on Wednesday night. She also kept me out until 4am, bless her!

Oh yeah, and then the text I got from Young One on Friday afternoon:

“Im really sorry for being an asshole on the phone the other night. That’s not me. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”

I wrote back yesterday (wasn’t going to, but, damn):

“perhaps next time u can make up for it”

His reply:

“Ill make it up to you however you want”

Mmmm hmmm.

So now, the weekend. Man, if I could sleep the whole thing away, I probably would. I practically did. But my conscience gets the best of me. Just got back from the grocery, and on the way there I called Jon to see if he wanted to go for a bike ride when I got back. Sure enough, he did. So I’m off to pump up my tires, put my contacts in, and change into riding attire.

May be back later tonight. We’ll see.