The dark scares me a bit. I don't like watch syringes going into flesh. I have the standard fear that everyone around me are just tolerating me. But all of hose are just minor fears.
But rays? Sting rays, manta rays, even skates... wig me out. Just looking at the photo below makes my stomach churn. I want to run away from the computer and hide in the closet. I also think they are beautiful. But beautiful in the way that something that wants wrap its fleshy wings around my head and slowly suck my eyes out of their sockets is beautiful.
I have all of these "qualifications," this checklist I run through whenever I first feel something that resembles "attraction": • Past the mid-twenties, not too deep into the mid-forties. • Smart. • Make's me laugh. • Opinionated. • Not moralistic/dogmatic. • Working towards something. • Reads. • Quirky in some way (which should be everyone... but isn't). • Cute smile. • Both outgoing and bashful. • Single. • Female. • Likes boys. • Etc, etc. Another problem comes when ANYONE actually matches this list. My immediate response is "Hell! I should be interested in them!" This sometimes ignores whether or not I actually like the person. Perhaps because I so rarely develop crushes (although I actually do enjoy having them), I jump at the opportunity. But, early on, I realize that my pseudo-crush is just based on The List. So I start to doubt it. Then I wonder if my doubt is doubt just because I think I should doubt it.
I think too much, that much is clear.
I certainly miss the days I would like someone for months, we'd both get drunk, she (out of frustration of me just staring at her all the time and not doing anything about it) announces that I'm being stupid, I kiss them and all is dandy. Ah, those were the days.
Can we just assume that we are sorry? The subway and platforms are packed with people. Everyone is pushing up against everyone. If we each said "I'm sorry" every time we had some incidental physical contact, the air would be a cacophonous chorus of apologies. So don't give me that look. Besides, you have your legs stick out into the car and are lugging around a bag the size of a medium sized refrigerator. And are fat. Yeah, yeah. I shouldn't be all high and mighty about the fact that I occupy the volume of a bendy-straw. But when I sit I only use 7/8th of a seat... and even then I make an effort to collapse into as small a space as possible. I'm not saying it's your fault you have to use two turnstiles to even get into the subway, but at least try to share. And if not that, don't get upset when I am dragged into your gravitation pull and my shoe brushes up against your shoe.
I not even going to bother listing them all. Except to say... Melissa Joan Heart is messed up. She created something that has crawled out from a Lovecraft story. Amphibian-like with a spike mace for a tail, a toothed sphincter mouth and what appears to be buzz saws extending out from the back of the knees. And she named it Buttercup.
I was just updating my photos on a dating website. God knows why. I never use it. I just like having it out there. Makes me feel like I'm at least making an effort to meet people. Anywhozits, I was looking at my profile that I wrote a year plus ago. It's still a relatively accurate description of me. And, if I do say so myself, I think it's a pretty good dating websie profile. Seriously, have you ever read those things? 99% of them are Snoresville. The Coma District in Snoresville.
Just sit right back and hear a tale...
Let's look at a typical day. Alarm goes off and I have to twist myself out of the sheets and knock over a stack of books to hit the snooze button as NPR wakes me from a dream that probably resembled Dali's never filmed Disney projects. By the third time the alarm goes off, I am ready to move. Turn on NPR in the bathroom while I brush my teeth. Down to the kitchen. Radio on. Coffee. Must make coffee. Full pot. If I'm feeling ambitious, I'll make an omelet (maybe veggie sausage or maybe bacon... I swing both ways). If I'm not ambitious that morning, cereal (Cheerios, as if you care). While eating, listening to the news, the laptop is out. Bit of a blog junky, mainly others, but I need to write at least one entry a day in my own (except when I neglect it for months, like right now). Why do I do that? Blog, that is.
Interesting topic, that. Perhaps I'll blog about it.
Take coffee upstairs and try to get some writing done. Maybe it is freelance work. Hopefully it is my own.
Answer emails. Assorted projects. Have some theater projects I have to keep floating. Work? Damn, work. If it is a writing gig, fine. Carpentry when I have to.
In the afternoon, work on a board game design. Maybe play with the Lego bricks. Make more notes for the novels. Mail's here? Anything from Netflix? I don't even know what is at the top of my list since it is 400+ long. Off to improv practice. Or maybe to just watch some. Maybe performing. Or some other theater.
Usually followed by cold kicking it (like we used to say in the '90s) with folks at a bar.
Back home, late. Snack, drink some herbal tea (or lots of water if I've been drinking). Most likely read or catch something on the DVR. Maybe write until dawn.
Look, I can't be summarized. Nor can you.
What I'm doing with my life
Rebuilding, to be 100% honest. Not that it is in shambles, but it took a long path that ended up not being where I wanted it to be. So, while it sounds nice and flaky like a perfectly made Hot Pocket, I am rediscovering Art.
I like to make up words. I like games, but not Games. Man, I could go for a game of cribbage. Or Go.
I'll admit that I applied to be on Survivor and wouldn't mind being on Amazing Race. Not a dream. But if you think TV is horrible and has no value, look the other way.
On the other hand, if the idea of spending all day at museums makes you sick, look the other way.
But none of that actually answers what I am doing. I write for a living. I'm just not writing what I want to be writing. Well, actually I am writing what I want to be writing, just haven't been paid for much of that yet. But I have a plan. Actually I have four plans. None of them are going to make me rich very quick, but they keep me comfortable and happy and always push for more.
But I do lots of stuff. Build stuff, make things, cook other stuff, and hope I can get at least one person a day to laugh.
I'm really good at
Thinking of things. Making board games. Charming other folks' parents. Moments of whimsy. Writing a lot of words in a short amount of time (none of them will be good, but there will be a lot of them). Random useless trivia. Making up elaborate theories. Cooking from cookbooks. Talking about just about anything (with sincerity). Wasting time. Writing emails. Making up stuff. Playing with 2 to 9 year olds. Entertaining myself.
What I'm not good at? Spelling.
The first thing(s) people usually notice about me
That I'm skinny. I have a good skull when I shave my head. Laugh lines around the eyes. Slight awkwardness.
It's not the first thing they notice because they would have to know me first but my age and how I don't look it. Or act it, I suppose.
If you saw me at a bar, you might notice me trying to steal looks at you. When you look at me I might look away... but give me one second. I'll turn back and then try to hold your gaze. I might smile or I might try to look all serious (which I am really not that good at).
On the subway you'd notice my nose in a book or in a notebook... or maybe bopping along to random music on my iPod. I like dancing in the subway. Small dances. Nothing fancy.
My favorite (A) books, (B) movies, (C) music, and (D) food
Oh I hate making these lists, but I shall try:
(A) Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, One Hundred Years of Solitude, James Ellroy's L.A. saga, Infinite Jest, Let the Dog Drive, Man in the High Castle, Geek Love, Neil Gaiman, most of Shakespeare (except Twelve Night), Godel Escher Bach, and many many others that will come to me later.
(B) Oldboy, Alien, Apocalypse Now, The Apartment, Better Off Dead, Big Night, Brazil, City of Lost Children, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Fight Club, Pixar's work, Hero, Kubrick, Rosemary's Baby, Rushmore, Singing in the Rain, Spirited Away, The Thing, Tremors, Science of Sleep, Good Luck/Good Night, Pan's Labyrinth, Old Country for Old Men (heck, almost all the Cohen Brothers' work). (What a horrible list. Very inadequate. I just don't even know how to work on this list.)
(C) It completely depends on the day. I like finding new local bands. I am not a huge music person. I know, I know. I don't understand it either. I like music. I love music. I just don't pay that much attention to it. I mean, I have an iPod with an insane amount of stuff on it, but half the time I am listening to assorted podcasts and such. And when I do listen to music, I often just hit random and skip until I hit something that suits my mood.
(D) Oh, how I love food. I will try literally anything that at least one culture considers food (except 'long pig') and I will try it at least three times before I make my final judgment. If I had to pick it would be the cliché of sushi. But my tastes go from the $1 hot dog to the $300 meal (not that I have had all that many of those). I like healthy food. I like a pint of good ice cream or a pint of stout. I am an omnivore.
And cheeses of all sorts. Man, how I enjoy good cheese. It's kind of wrong how much I like it. Yes, I would marry cheese if I could.
The six things I could never do without
At least a pen and paper.
And, sadly, the internet. Sigh.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Writing. What makes "Funny" funny. (You know what doesn't make "Funny" funny? Thinking about it.) Why the world is great and why it blows. How to make it better, one tiny moment at a time.
How to make online dating profiles not seem pretentious. The fact that my spelling is horrible and why I keep forgetting to run spell checks on these damn text fields.
I think about play. Game play, sex play, theater plays, the play of the light across a piece of trash. Whatever.
A good portion of my day is spent with my head in other worlds. That sounds so flaky but that's what you get with me. I like talking about them. That is either going to be a big plus to you or a big negative. Ah well. On a typical Friday night I am
At the theater with friends and colleagues. Or nose deep in the laptop, writing. Or maybe at the bar. Or making plans. Devious plans. Plans I can't talk about it. But you'll see. You'll ALL see....
I don't have "typical" Friday nights. The time I start having "typical" Friday nights, drag me out back a shoot me. No wait! Don't do that. Just slap me around a bit. The most private thing I'm willing to admit here
I can be hugely shy and passive at times. I often need a bit of encouragement to make the first move. However, I have begun to discover the inner "aggressor" as of late. Not sure why. I have used the word "prowl" three times in the last week. I'm not sure that is a good thing or not.
Oh, and I was a founding member of Team C.O.B.R.A.. Google "Idiotarod New York."
You should message me if
If you have opinions about things but are willing to listen to the opinions of others. If you are not embarrassed to be silly. If you are open and honest about where you are and what you want from a friendship, a relationship, a Relationship with a capital R, or a relationship with a wink wink nudge nudge. (Not that you have to know. Just know that you don't know.) If you like trying new things. If you make adventure where you find it.
I do good email. Really. I enjoy writing. I don't like phones, but I like writing long emails. Seriously.
In addition, I've lately been feeling a touch passive about sending the first contact message. Oh, I'll respond like a viking! I'm just saying that I may very well have looked at your profile and thought "Hey, they seem pretty darn intriguing" and then gone back to eating my Hot Pocket. Just sayin'.
My friend Seth took a bunch of photos of me for those (rare) times I need a headshot. For once, I actually like a LOT of the photos. This one is actually the closet of any picture in recent memory that is how I see myself in my mind's eye.
First, I proved today (yet again) that I really have lost all ability to flirt.
Second, one can't control one's dreams. They happen. And yet I spent all day feeling vaguely guilty about my dreams last night. On one level, I realize that they are just a manifestation of my current tight focus on the very topic of crushes. On the other hand, they were pretty hot dreams.