One of my favorite bars here (not that the list is very long) is called The Griffin. Yes, as in that medieval monster thing you’ve probably seen on a coat of arms or two. Appropriately, the interior looks like some sort of castle or dungeon straight out of Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. It’s dark and dreary, the drinks are plenty stiff, and you’re likely to run into everyone you know if you stop in on the weekend. But my favorite thing by far is the heavy jukebox rotation of Weezer’s magnum opus Pinkerton. On a good night, you’ll be graced with two or three bona fide nerd rock anthems oozing with Cuomo’s pent-up, sullen, sexual frustration.
A journal entry entitled “Consolation Prize” that I began and abandoned many moons ago reads: “A family is what you start when you finally fail at what you really wanted to do in life.” It’s lain dormant for months or more because I’m still debating both the truth and the sentiment behind that statement.
better days will haunt you
—an excerpt from “Memorize This Face” by Chavez
they will say who wants to own you
find the other ways to slip the light through
better days will haunt you
let your model home surround you
find the other ways to push the air through
One of the most annoying things about being single—apart from the celibacy by default—is the balancing act you have to go through to befriend a member of the opposite sex without either insinuating or instigating some sort of sexual interest. A female friend can turn out to be an award-winning wingman, but she can also dish out the worst cockblock you’ve ever had if she likes you more than you think.
I seem to have developed a really pitiful habit of feeling sorry for myself lately. It repulses me to no end when I see it in others, so it really disgusts me to see it in myself. Despite how logical and rational I strive to be, far too often it is the emotional and compulsive side that wins out. How absolutely maddening it is, to know exactly what you ought to do and yet do precisely the opposite. Sure, to be fair, I’ve lost quite a few things dear to me in the past half year or so, and it’s been nowhere near easy. But the bitterness only gets you so far, and then what?
If there is one thing I’m learning, if ever so stubbornly, it’s that if you continue to regret the past or fear the future, you’ll never make that first step forward. It will seem like too much of a leap.
This was supposed to be a quick and easy exercise. So much for that.