What I think of my life, as told to Diana

> My roomates are both very nice (and very different from each other), but
> you know how it is, your roomates aren't your hanging-out friends, unless
> they were your friends before you moved in together.
*** Actually, precisely one of my roommates, Larry, is quite awesome,
and he and I hang out all the time.

That said, he, I, and my other roommate, Julio, found ourselves down
at my favorite bar, Clydz, on thursday night. And I must say that
Julio, while he is nice on a personal level, completely cramps my
style in a bar situation. I mean, at this point I'm completely
comfortable in bars, even upscale ones like Clydz, and have even
gotten to the point of getting women's phone numbers while at bars.
But Julio's philosophy is completely different-- He's more of the
macho type, the reserved, perfected, on the attack, no chest hair,
browns, blacks, whites, and khaki's type. I mean, to the point of
being the exact opposite of me. Now, I kinda like this-- I've been
wanting a foil this good since the departure of Zach Finkelstein, and
in a way he's even better. I mean, I'm battling for the sake of my own
style against someone who still succeeds at getting laid by hot girls,
but everything he does I disapprove of, and vice versa. That's a much
better enemy than a guy who's bent on being a liberal. So it's useful,
for now... but still on thursday I was not happy in the bar because of
him.

So on we go to friday night. Last night. I went out with this Puerto
Rican girl who I've gone out with once or twice with only poor results
just for kicks. I get a kick out of her, it's true-- which is weird
because later on thursday I wound up chilling with her sister for a while
who well, sucked! But anyway, the deal is that we enjoyed a bit of L
on a wooden bench around town somewhere, and then walked through the hospital's
emergency room to get to this hole-in-the-wall bar, McCormicks. Yes,
5$ pitchers of PBR in this place. And between me and this 120 lb.
girl, 3 pitchers were consumed. I was completely completely trashed.
But I was so happy-- I haven't enjoyed a beer that much in so long. So
of course I talked garbage with my neighbors. I swear I said the
weirdest things to these people. But still-- I came out with
sufficiently mature and intellectual shit, just at the point where you
can be like "eh" or respond with as creative a response as you'd like.
I got a little of both. I seriously had a blast.

Then tonight, I went to a grad student party out in the town that's
next to my town. This town has no bars, but a surprising number of
grad students. Anyway, the party was relatively low-key. Something
which I imagined was the case b/c the party was supposed to be more
adult. But now let's see-- First off, I was the only American. This is
a problem. There were other native English speakers-- first an Irish
guy, who was quite cool, and a Canadian guy from Toronto, who, as
expected, was quite adamant in imposing the fact that he was not
American. The point is this-- the low-keyness of this party, despite
its intentions, wound up making this party AS BORING AS HELL! It
actually took me a while to notice the fact that I was really bored.
But like, after the 3 interesting Turks left the party, I realized
that no one was saying anything interesting! No one told a joke, or
talked about anything intellectual, or told an interesting story. It
was like this huge clique in which people were more concerned about
not doing the wrong thing than doing the right thing. And what's to
boot, I was probably the youngest person there. Usually these events
have people ages 22-32 or so. But I would hate to think that in ten
years I'm going to put up with the same cliches and talking for
effect.

Honestly, it's so easy to come up with random shit to say! And based
on a tiny bit of emirical knowledge, I think that smart people, with a
sense of humor, really want to hear something new while they're out. I
mean, if now, it's not really worth my time! And that's at age 22.
Could you imagine in 5 or 10 years?

So as the only American in the crowd, I caught some of the same slack
I always do. I talked to this Spanish girl for a while, thinking she
was smart (and cute, in fact). The motif of the bulk of our
conversation was-- come up with a completely random question to ask.
See- what an idea! And it came up so naturally. And yet, in the middle
of this little game, she managed to the the completely trite line:
"how can you go off to the army at 18 but not be able to drink until
you're 21" it's like-- thanks. I've never heard that. It'll really
change my thinking-- maybe I'll ponder that now!

That's not what conversations are. They're not you reciting practiced
speeches or practiced theses about certain popular topics. They're
using the response of the other person to actually have a new thought
yourself. And you know, that's what flirting is too. Even if a girl is
beautiful (like you), I would hate to sit there about spout lines
that's I've practiced in the shower for four years at her and hope
that she'd think I was cool because of it.

Seriously, I would say that I've got to move to the city. And soon.
But, my times in these bars have said otherwise. I mean, a piece of
shit bar like McCormicks and I had a much more fun and intellectual
time! The point of a party is to invite interesting people. I guess
that philosophy failed. No, the bars are good. I'll keep going to
them. Every thursday and friday.

Girls with American Express

Girls with American Express cards are cute. Really, that's adorable.
I've spent a lot of effort trying to determine why this is. You know
me, my tastes can be pretty weird: I really liked girls with
retainers back in high school. So why American Express?

Well, first off, localize the group of girls we're discussing.
They're post-college, pre-career 20-somethings who are single. And
cute by their own rite. And single.

Now that that's settled, consider how they must be building their
lives, just like me. They have to establish a credit line, and when
you first start working, the only card you can get is an American
Express card. Somehow, of course, I didn't get one myself. It makes
me think the girls must be a little naïve not to go straight to visa.
Or maybe they have bad credit.

Maybe it's the idea that they had to think this up at some point. "I
need a credit card that daddy doesn't pay off." They had to apply for
one, get it in the mail, and start to carry it around in that huge
wallet full of cards that girls always have. The fact that they have
to pay it off later, or just imagining it, is itself cute.

That said, I think there is no way for me to say that American
Express cards on girls is cute without sounding entirely sexist. But
isn't that the point of attraction, after all?

A viable definition of art

Someone once asked me, "Hey Owen, what's the definition of art?"

I thought about it for a minute, stroking my beard, and finally responded: "Well, it's anything that's in an art museum."

She responded, "Um, well then what's an art museum?"

I said: "Oh, it's a building that has a whole bunch of art in it."

See, it's like a chicken and the egg problem. Which came first, the art or the art museums? A grave question, one which I pose to you, with the hope of seeing some responses in the comments section.

Fun on craigslist

I'm just a sucker for those "missed encounter" posts. Especially in New York, because I frequently know the place they're talking about. Here's one that's short and sweet.


Oh, Mr. Handsome I just can't take it anymore! You're still the most handsome man I've ever seen. I'm getting closer to saying hello. I just wish you'd give the ipod a rest so I have the chance to do it.

See you when I get on at Bayside at 8am.

P.S. -- nice haircut. I love your brown hair and brown eyes.

this is in or around Port Washington Line


How modern is this, really? I can just imagine how cute this girl is. Her desperation, at age 29, for a man in her situation. Her repeated attempts. Her attention to details. Maybe she's emotional; maybe she's professional. Maybe she's quite reserved with her feelings usually, but while writing on craigslist, like me writing this blog, lets all her emotions out because she knows no one will ever read it.