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Monday October 30, 2000, 03:28

I'm not so much in the mood to write because I am cold and sick and if I write now I'm going to come off as really grumpy and sad, which I am not, in real life. But my head is all full of snot, so who knows what I'm going to say.

I'm back in New York. That is to say, I'm back at my parents' house, and therefore I find myself going to the city, or being there, quite often. Or rather, a lot over this weekend. Well, technically, from Thursday until today, when I woke up with a cat on my face and felt very grubby. Also, I found a cashmere coat in the closet here today which was there because someone thought that I might want it. I am a lucky, warm, boy.

My dog is downstairs, sighing, and slowly dying. We will probably have to put her down tomorrow, if she doesn't go in the night. Which is a nice way of saying that we're going to have to kill her. Maybe. She can't stand up and more, and she can't eat. She just lies and shivers and sometimes tries to stand up and can't because she can't hold herself up. When we brought her home from the pound, she was a shaking ball of grey fur. My father looked into the car and said "That's a scruffy dog." We named her Scruffy. She's about thirteen years old now, and she's had a good life. But boy isn't that a morbid thing to say?

The truth of the matter is that I've not been home for over five years. Not living here at least (though perceptive readers will note that I still refered to this place as "home"), and so I haven't been around and as such, the dog has not been a big part of my life. But it's still not a happy, play in the sunshine and frolick, sort of a thing.

I attended a wedding this past Friday, and will post pictures when I feel like it. It was fun, and featured the line "You pain in the ass" which makes much more sense in the context of the couple getting married. They're artist-types. They're bound to be a little strange. I mean, the groom looked like Kid Rock, all dressed in his red zoot suit as he was.

Walking around the city in a tuxedo made sense, in that Walking Around New York In A Tuxedo way.

Things make much more sense to me here, and I don't even think of myself having my apartment that I do any more. In fact, I question whether or not I will actually return for more time than to just gather all my belongings and drag them back here with me. That's certainly an interesting mindset to be in.

But coffee across the street from Bloomingdales as I reached across the table to eat the coconut filling from her pastry at a coffee shop that almost had too much neon for my liking but not enough that it would keep us from going in from the cold and then going back to her boyfriend's1 apartment where we woke him up and we talked as he unpacked clothing and we tried to help her with her programming homework and my semester (singular) of teaching assistant experience made little difference but yet so nice and relaxing just seeing people and being with people.

The evening was topped by a party at a topless bar where no toplessness actually took place except at one point when a partygoer received a lapdance off to the side of the dance floor during which the stripper flopped one of her breasts (or would it be more appropriate to say "tits" here?) out of her top as she ground her butt into him. This display was met with quite a few of the partygoers staring and tittering (no pun intended) amongst themselves as *NSYNC played on in the evenings less than stellar music line-up. And it left me to note that while still slightly arrousing, there is something entirely unsexy about watching a lapdance in a crowded room, the performer's mouth frozen in a permanent "Oh" sort of a You Make Me So Hot way made even more bizarre by the presence of the token Sketchy Old Guys wandering the room.

As I progressively lost my voice I found myself out in the hall with a girl named Christian2 (pronounced, to the best of my abilities, Christ-i-enne) who held my hands and voiced her concern that I was not having fun. I did not guess that her father was German, her mother Ethiopian, and did manage to say something stupid along the lines of "You're pretty" though perhaps not quite so fourth grade dance (but is certainly in the realm of possibility). I did manage to convince her that I was managing to have a fun time and that I would mingle more with the crowd if only I could speak, the illness brought on my parents' cold house and my walking through the city without a scarf taking its toll on my throat. I saw her once again that evening after she had left me to use the restroom and then the party ended. On her way out of the post-party, she said goodbye to me, "We'll probably run into each other again" or something of the sort. Realizing that two days prior I had seen my next door neighbor from my freshman year dorm sitting on the sidewalk on 42nd street, a person whom I had not seen in several years, I took her at her word.

It really is the biggest small town in the world and I go to sleep tonight confident in the fact that it's always been my home.



1. As is the case with most girls I like, she has a boyfriend, and I don't think that there is much more that should be said on the subject. Perhaps just to note that in my current mindset, the announcement that she had a key to his appartment was followed by my saying "It's like you're married!" to which she said something quite firmly to the contrary. This made me smile.

2. She is beautiful, though I did not realize it when I first met her. It came on slowly, as we talked throughout the evening, that I realized that her skin was gorgeous, her face perfectly proportioned, hair dark and wavy. Slightly taller than I (and I found myself looking at her feet to see if she was wearing particularly tall shoes). A history grad student at NYU, a Princeton grad, and I felt, if nothing else, that she was entirely in my league. I like not feeling inferior.

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