Hey, guess who's back?!




If you guessed Pervy Gym Bunny David, then you would be right!

Dear Stupid Drunk Bitch in the Alley Behind The Academy,

Thank you. Thank you muchly for stopping to ask where I was going and why I was marching there. Thank you for asking if I was in the army. Thank you for replying to my response of, "It's medical," with "Like, a doctor in the army?"

Thanks to you I marched my evidently flamboyantly gimpy ass home and threw my work out clothes in the old gym bag, where they now reside by the back door, ready for me to march down to the Y and buy that long-overdue membership so that assholes like you don't ask me retarded questions like that (Yeah. I said 'retarded'. And you know what? I'd say it again. I like it. I think it's fun). Cause it seems to be that when I'm such an eyesore that you simply cannot contain your ignorance any longer, it's time to do something about it.

So thanks.

Love,

Me

PS - Fuck you.

For Totebag, whose comment made my day, something to ponder:

Life's events happen not for a reason but rather because they could not have happened any other way.

and this.

Oh, you guys, I'm struggling. Struggling, struggling, struggling. But good news: it's ok! It's a beautiful struggle. I'm finding all these ideas and concepts and precepts and mantras and theories and notions...all of them just flowing in, doing battle with each other. Not war-like battle, but more organizational battle. How to exist together battle, like trying to figure out how all the pieces of a room fit together.

Yes, I have feng shui battles.

There's a thirst right now to bring to configurations of thinking into being and, conversely perhaps, a desire to learn how to keep them at bay. It's like I want to know everything but rather than have it become instant gospel, I'd like to keep it all in a pen to fester and then settle, leaving, hopefully, some small truths that may be gleaned. I'm learning how to treat people, less reactionary, less 'helpful', which is really just another word for judgmental. I have this habit of throwing people away. I know this. I'm not saying that I've been necessarily wrong in doing this sometimes, but it is still a habit. I'm now thinking what would happen if instead of saying, "You know what? We had a good run. Thanks for playing," I let them, us, evolve into something else. Perhaps it would still end, that this shift was a sign that the relationship really does have an organic finish, but perhaps they...you know, wouldn't and we'd enter into a different stage with completely different functions.

Ultimately, this is a decision to not walk away, which is sorely tempting on so many occasions. I'm going through this really messed up period with my father, which certainly does not need to be aired in cyberspace, but contains many issues surrounding alpha male domination and parental sovereignty...things of that nature. And there's distance, unlike since I was in my teens and I feel it as well this instinctual desire to just shut off, contented with my cranial soap operas now showing the cutting and eloquent things I would say to demonstrate how demeaning this situation is to us both. What I'm learning, however, is that this will not do. It will not get us anywhere and could provide a pattern of alienation that could last until his death; the seeds of alienation have been planted over issues far smaller than this. So this is one of the struggles: how to maintain personal integrity (read: pride) while not catering to these base, irrational debates in which one is asked to participate. I don't know of course, hence the struggle, but rather than come to one conclusion and declare it god and master, I'm going to put the options at my disposal in that pen we were talking about earlier and let them stew, see what happens.

Ugh, this was so not intended to be a Daddy Issues diatribe but I just realized how late it is and must retire lest the Mennos decide to take up midnight tap dance lessons.

The best experiences are those we miss but do not regret leaving behind.

This is my conclusion having spent a good part of the afternoon downtown. I absolutely loved living there, the bravery it summoned, the self-defined grittiness, as well as some really memorable times. That said, I am so glad to be where I am now and that makes it the best kind of memory possible.

In other news, I am obsessed with this. If you don't think that I've already found a karaoke version on youtube, you're dead wrong.

And lastly, I've just made a huge-ass lasagna with Passover only two days a week. Biiiiig dummy.

Ok, I need to post something just so that this doesn't become a "thing". A big "Oh crap I haven't posted in forever so what's the point in starting now?" thing. So here's that post.

10 goals for the coming year:

1. Move to Toronto - For anyone not in the loop, I'm going to Toronto for a year or two to learn how to be a big Jew before I go to the big Jew school fer realz.

2. Stop being so slutty - Seriously! Ok, well not that seriously, but maybe a bit. If not less slutty, then a bit more discerning about the reasons, if not the people, behind the wanton actions. Bored, evidently, is not a good motivator.

3. Have a clean kitchen for a week - Neeeeever gonna happen, my friend. (Hey, remember on Mad About You when they said that all the time? Damn, I miss that show.)

4. Develop calf muscles - Dream big.

5. Make a good cream sauce - I can make a decent one, but I'm talking, like, restaurant-quality, grounds-for-marriage good.

6. Go on a road trip of some kind - I needs to get my roadside attraction on.

7. Be nicer - Not for anyone else's sake other than my own. People are jackasses. However, constantly thinking of ways I'd like to tell them off is taking a toll on my mental health.

8. Write a great song - I used to be able to do this. I know it can/should happen again. Evidently in order to really do it up I require some sort of soul-crushing emotional experience. Here's hoping.

9. Make better friends with my penis - Yeesh, it's been a rough year, buddy.

10. Be happy - I'm sorry, is that selling out? Yeah, a bit. Still, I think it's time.



10 ½. Learn how to write numbers in an ascending sequence - That shit was hard.