There’s a change that happens when you work unusual, varying hours than your friends.

For the past (almost) three years I’ve worked all hours of the day, never having the same schedule week-to-week. Sometimes this is s good thing, like when you have a Tuesday off and there’s no one at the grocery store fan you can get your errands done. It can also be a bad thing, like when there’s a pool party on a Saturday afternoon and you have to work.

But what really bites is what happens over a period of time. After a period of time, and numerous “Hey, let’s go out!” followed by “I can’t, I’m working.” conversations, you will stop being asked by your friends to get together; they will assume you’re working.

This is not always the case.

Take today, for example. It’s my one day off after closing three nights in a row, so I figured I would just chill at home since I was exhausted. Solace turned turned boredom. I thought of later in the day, about joining the gang for Services, and what time they would be going. I planned on that but also thought about brunch and getting out of the house. I checked in at foursquare and found out that the Services gang were already out to brunch, without me and without any invitation.

I thought about places I could go for brunch. The roommate was napping and so I went out and started walking. I came down 11th St down to Mass Ave and then headed east and wound up on CapHill. That’s about 4–5 mile walk, if you’re tracking.

Ending up at Mr. Henry’s (I was thinking of where to go for bloody’s the whole time but didn’t see anyplace that interested me) I checked the foursquare again and the gang was now at Fathom, with Drew & Bill, so apparently there’s been an entire day/afternoon planned.

Again, no invitation. So now I feel like intruding on their day to ask when they’re going to Our Lady of Perpetual Indulgence.

I get it.

I get it that after many times extending invitations and many times getting turned down that its going to be assumed that I’m working and can’t attend. There’s no fault there.

But still…

what have i done
what lies i have told
i played games with the one
who rescued my soul
have i come to the point
where i’m losing my grip
or is there still time to get into
the swing of things?

name ____________
vsop
destroy date
energizer daiquiri
it’s always tease tease tease
commander salamander remainder
supernova 1987
city id no. 1p16656
77006
28 years ago today was the first time that i fell in love

Today is the birthday of the third, and possibly last, person I have fallen in love with. His name is Hal and he lives in Chicago and is married and has Friday night “Movie Night” parties. He and his husband live in Andersonville and host democratic fundraiser events at their home. He coaches rugby and has a cooking blog. He’s a winner.

I’ve seen Hal twice in Chicago.

The first time I saw him outside of Houston he had invited me to the opening of an art show he was in, called “Artikizm”. This was in 1996, which seems like a long time ago and I guess it is. That trip ended in a little personal tragedy, and the most tear-induced flight I’ve ever been on. Long story short: Hal had moved on, I hadn’t. On one of his birthdays, I don’t remember if it was the same year or a couple of years later, I called him and explained everything to him, just to let it go and give it out to the universe. Now that I think about it, it had to be later than that year because there was… dare I say it… a mixtape made. It had a car theme, since he only had a cassette player in his car: 1996 WAS s long time ago. Tellingly, the list office returned it with “Unclaimed” stamped all across it and I thought that was very appropriate. So, I spoke with him on ne if his birthdays and got it all off my chest.

The second time I saw Hal in Chicago was of my doing. I was there visiting friends and asked if he wanted to have cocktails. I dressed absurdly for the meeting: white Steve Madden shoes, black and white checked Ben Sherman shorts complete with red/white/blue stripe down the outside seam and light blue Lacoste polo. I was never a labelwhore and wasn’t wearing that to impress him, because I know he’s never impressed with labels either. But I did. Luckily I had my hottie friend Jonathan joining me as emotional and physical backup. Hal was there with some of his rugby team and maybe that was his backup.

I don’t remember much from his meeting and maybe that’s summing everything up. I still TwitterStalk or GoogleStalk him occasionally, but at least it’s down to only once a year, in early October.

The weekend’s almost over here in Gotham but that’s fine because I’m here until Wednesday evening. 

Friday: rolled into town and checked into the hotel. Apparently my debit card has been fraud-compromised and it’s not processing correctly. Fortunately a quick call to Citi and the problem is temporarily rectified. I do have to get a temporary card though, which causes some problems of only being accepted as a debit card so I’m having to carry cash around. Like so 1990. Another flashback.

The Paramount is under construction, at least the lobby is, so it looks nothing like I remembered. Maybe this is a good thing. I’ve got a room on the 18th floor, one shy of the penthouse. So close. And it faces the street instead of a brick wall like last time. Things are looking up.

After the hotel bar (cute bartender: Andrew) I head downtown to barhop and go to Gym Bar, Splash and Boxers until I learn that Blowoff is happening at the Highland Ballroom. So I head right over and feel at home. I run into Joe and chat with him for a bit. I dance with a stranger and stop at a Spanish-speaking only food truck on the way back to the hotel. Not a bad night.

Saturday: first stop is, of course, Record Runner where I easily drop $100 on Duran Duran DVDs and Pet Shop Boys CDs. John, the proprietor, recognizes me instantly when I come in and informs me of secret Japanese-only DD imports that will arrive in a few months. He puts me down for one. It’s nice to have that kind of relationship.

I want to grab some food at the Waverly Street Fair but it’s too bloody hot out and I need some air-conditioning. So I duck into Waverly Diner or something like that for an iced tea and a club sandwich. While eating I realize how close I am to the Soho store and there’s an iPhoto for iOS Workshop starting so I jump over there to see how they run their workshops. Soho had a theatre in it and that’s where they deliver their workshops, very cool.

Going back to the hotel I nap and then get ready to meet up with Ty. He ends up totally pulling an Ivan (fell asleep napping, too late to go out) which is totally fine by me. I have a couple of drynx in the hotel bar and then crash out, knowing that tomorrow is going to be another long day, starting with the Highline.

I’m on my way to New York right now, on the Quiet Car of the Acela. It’s kind of nice. I have my earbuds in, listening to music, but at least there’s nobody near me yakking on their cell phone. Those are the rules. It is a “library-like” atmosphere.

What am I doing going to NewYork? Well it’s time for some much-deserved time off. For the first time since 2008 I’m financially solvent enough to go on a comfortable vacation. 

Let me define “comfortable”: 
Not taking the cheapest, and therefore most cramped, mode of transportation
Not staying in a hostel and having to share a communal bathroom down the hall
Not having to stock my room with groceries (typically apples, bagels and single-serve cheeses) in order to avoid pricey restaurants

So I’m rolling into NYC on the Acela, not one of Amtrak’s regionals. It costs a little more, but it’s new, less crowded (due to ticket pricing, no doubt) and there’s a man that brings a cart around do you don’t have to go to the Cafe Car. I purchased a Heineken, btdubs, for $6.25.

I’m staying at Paramount in midtown. It’s an average of about $250 a night. But I have my own bathroom in a bedroom that I don’t have to flip the mattress over to check for bedbugs. I’m on the 18th floor with a fab south-facing view. 

Now, if the Internet existed in 1990 I could link to an entirely different post involving Paramount, New Year’s Eve, a broken heart, a determination to not let New York defeat me and a one Mr. Jason Nunan. 

But that was then. This is

Read about its creation here.

dyslexicon
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what does your heart say now?
033690