More debauched tales from my callow youth

Time for another journal extract. And you thought it was going to be just another dull Sunday evening, didn’t you? As usual, I offer no edits or apologies for being the insensitive rogue I once was.

jnl+1~~~~~~~~~~

November 7, 1992

Grandma passed away yesterday. I can’t go to the funeral. My checking account balance is -$49.63, so I can’t afford the ticket. I never visited her in the home so I don’t suppose it makes a difference now that she’s gone. I never wanted to see her in her fucked-up, vegetative state. Mom said the last time she went, grandma was so out of it that she didn’t recognize her. Her own daughter! Grandpa died 22 years ago this month. I wonder what kept her hanging on for so many years? None of the other grandchildren who live out of state are going either, so I’m not the only dirtbag. Those crazy, old-world I-talians are going to insist on an open casket. Gross. Uncle Frank is already in Cleveland. I heard that dad is going to be there, too. I’m glad I’m not going. Who needs that noise? Remind me to scratch Walnut Hills Nursing Home off the Christmas card list.

November 9

I was sitting at my desk and Dennis passed the phone to me and said, “It’s a secret admirer.” Do you remember Madelynn? The tall blond with the nice demeanor and ordinary face? She said she didn’t have anything to do and asked if I would like to meet for a drink after work. I got over being better than nothing and said yes. I met her at that Irish bar on 46th and Broadway. I was propositioned by a whore on the way up 8th Avenue. I had my hands in my coat pockets and she walked up next to me and locked her arm in mine and asked where Broadway was. I pointed. She asked if I would go with her. [Note: That was then. That neighborhood hasn’t seen a prostitute for a long, long time.]

I got a stool at the bar and Madelynn was on time. She looked beautiful! I was hoping her sister would come but it was just her. We had a beer and talked. It was nice. I said, “Let’s go somewhere a bit dumpier” and she said, “I know just the place!” She wasn’t kidding. I was waiting for a knife fight to break out. It was in the appropriately-named Hell’s Kitchen. Her neighborhood. She’s got a lot of nerve making fun of me for living in Brooklyn. I didn’t drink much—because I don’t—but she got really drunk. You can always tell when someone’s drunk because they keep asking “Am I drunk?” over and over. She’s confrontational and thinks she’s an intellectual. 35 years old! I didn’t know she was that old. [Note: That old?! *sigh*] We talked a long time. I got home at 4:00 a.m.

I called her the next day and asked her out for Friday. She said yes. I told her I’m glad I got to her before her calendar filled up and she said not to worry because nobody ever asks her out.

November 12

I went up to Bonnie’s on Sunday to help move her office. Instead of meeting at her office as originally planned, she had me come to her apartment to type out her resume. I didn’t have a case for my laptop so I just carried it out in the open. On the way to the subway I bumped into an Hasidim selling laptop cases. He was so funny! We joked around for a while and I bought a padded case for $50.

I took a cab from Union Square to Bonnie’s apartment. I typed out her resume and a letter and then she wanted to go to bed. I said yes and she had her clothes off and was under the sheets in about six seconds! I never saw anyone move so fast in my life! It was like watching an old-time, black and white, sped-up film. I wore a condom and hated it. It was ghastly but at least I didn’t lose my erection. I never finished. Neither did she but it was still really nice. Sometimes, it’s all about the journey.

Afterwards, I was wiped out and would have preferred to lounge in bed all afternoon and nap but I had to move her office. I asked if we could have sex on her new desk. She laughed and said yes. We got there and I met Bonnie’s secretary, a vivacious, beautiful Israeli. Bonnie was in the other room and she heard the two of us laughing and talking and having a good time, so she walked in and announced that we had just had sex. Strange.

I lugged those goddamn boxes all by myself. Bonnie said she’d buy me dinner and I said I had already extracted payment from her *wink-wink* but she insisted. We took a cab to Café Des Artiste. I was dirty and sweaty from the move and I told her I didn’t want to eat anywhere fancy so we found a casual Italian joint. I had chicken and sausage in marinara sauce and Bonnie had chicken with sun dried tomatoes. Two glasses of Pinot noir. 110% delicious. $26 total. That meal would have cost $150 at Café Des Artiste. Fuck that joint.

~~~~~~~~~~

This week marks the sixth anniversary of my blog. 915 posts. That’s a lot of water under the bridge. A lot of personal history.

122 thoughts on “More debauched tales from my callow youth

      • I wonder what the longest running personal blog is? Would be interesting if WordPress mentioned blogs at the five-year, ten-year, fifteen-year mark, etc. I’m not even sure how long WordPress has been around. Of course, some blogs die out but are left public so I suppose there’s really no way to know how long one’s been posting.

      • I was on Blogger for many, many years, then a failed stint as a self-hosted .org site and now, as of about three months ago, on a proper WordPress site. I’ve been all over the joint.

        Some blogs go on much longer than they should. Quality! Not quantity!

  1. 3 posts a week for 6 years?? Damn, that’s dedicated Mark! Happy blog-iversary. Are you reliving any of the same feelings you had when first writing in your journals?

    • No, not quite. For the first two or so years, I was posting almost EVERY DAY. They were short, one- and two-paragraph posts but JESUS that’s too much. NOBODY is that interesting. Especially me. I’m down to a manageable 6 or so posts a month. It’s less taxing for anyone following.

      I am constantly reliving my past. It keeps me going.

      • Yeah, everyday is a bit much for my inbox, I’ve unfollowed a bunch of people for that reason, possibly because the quality just isn’t engaging enough to make me keen to open the next post like when I get email notification that you’ve posted, or Samara or Aussa for instance. I’ll have a Kilkenny in your blogs honour thisarvo (‘s’only 8:30am).

      • I don’t think anybody can be engaging every day. When I was on Blogger I used to think I was so clever but I read a bunch of old posts and they were okay but not as captivating as I thought they were when I hit ‘publish.’ Now I try to be more selective and careful about what I post. It’s an act of mercy. I really do enjoy the hell out of these old journal entries. I was having MUCH more fun than I though I was at the time!

      • And thanks for lumping me in with Samara and Aussa. That’s rarefied air and I am flattered. Not to turn this into a mutual ass-lathering session but you should throw up a post now and then. More than one or two a month. But don’t turn it into goddamn a job. I’ve already got a goddamn jobs and I don’t want to turn blogging into another one.

      • I stumbled on some old journals a while back and the most surprising thing to me as I randomly flicked through a few pages was how similar some of that stuff is to what I’m writing 30 years later…I can’t tell if I was old then or need to grow up now.

      • I keep trying to decide if I should burn them or not. Seriously. I don’t want my daughters stumbling onto these things. There’s some bad stuff in there. Stuff you’ll never see in a blog post.

      • Thanks for the vote of confidence guys, and I really do appreciate you wanting to read my stuff but I can’t get out of my fucking way at the moment. I’ve got several different drafts floating around back there but unless I feel like writing it all out I find it very taxing…and I am certain it would turn out completely shithouse if I tried forcing anything. Maybe I will finish something before I go back to the factory Wednesday.

      • Don’t force it. Let it flow of its own accord. Every time I posted because I felt I really should, I’ve regretted it. Forced writing always reads like it was forced.

  2. I started my blog in 2006. At one stage I think I was writing a post a day or one every other day, at least. And then, I had a break between 2008 and 2009, before kick-starting myself again.

    Nowadays I try to write at least one post a week; and most times I succeed. That’s enough for any law-abiding person to read, because they’re usually of epic proportions; and I shouldn’t and can’t expect others to devote too much of their precious time over my ramblings.

    I enjoy blogging. I enjoy writing; and I enjoy reading the blogs of others. I’ve made some good friends over the years from far and wide…friends I’ve not met out here in the “real” world.

    • I think everyone starts off with the dial set to 11. Then we settle in and maintain a more manageable pace. One per week seems reasonable. I try to keep my posts to +/- 500 words. This current post ran a little longer than normal but it was so fun for me. I couldn’t stop. They were crazy days and I miss them. This is as close as I can get to reliving them.

  3. Happy six years, Mark. On the subject above, I always look forward to your posts, there’s something very genuine about them, especially when you’re recollecting your younger self. For me, the past is unlivable, I don’t want it. But you don’t shy away, and I respect that, and you don’t sensationalize, which I think is terrific. You’re also a hell of a writer.

    • Thanks, Trent! That means a lot to me and I appreciate it. I publish stuff in this blog that I couldn’t discuss with close friends. It’s the beautiful anonymity of the internet that makes it possible.

      I was such a dope when I was younger. Too self-absorbed to really appreciate the people who walked in and out of my life. I see that when I read these journals. The stuff I’ve posted barely scratches the surface. There’s years and years of this stuff sitting in my basement.

      • Yeah, well, like Red Dog said, there are two kinds of people in this world, my friend (he didn’t really say this, but he kind of did): those who post the same basic stuff every day or two days or three days, and those who put out something truly good and meaningful. So there. Revel in the anonymity.

        Guess we’re all dopes when we’re younger. You seem to have okay with confronting the past, though. Sharing it, even in an unattributable manner. I think that’s cool. I can’t do that. I don’t really know why.

      • I’ve forgiven myself. I was unkind to some people but I really didn’t know any better. And, as I’ve always said, behind me is a long trail of broken hearts–most of them mine.

      • You and me both, my friend. One of my ex’s (she dumped me for a rock star) is now my biggest client and I have to interact with her every day. Sometimes, the heartaches don’t stop.

      • I wish I had a nickle for every girl who left me for some scrub who could play guitar. The problem was that Manhattan was/is guitar scrub central, so there was always stiff competition for the objects of my affection. I should have taken a few piano lessons. I was shooting with blanks.

      • You shoulda. You were in the right place for it. My epic combo of no skill and backwaters Canadian wilderness rendered it a bit moot. It’s near magic someone actually married me.

      • Yeah, I shoulda did a LOT of things. Anyone who says they have no regrets is blissfully detached from their past.

        That is, indeed, a fatal combo, but things seemed to have turned out okay for you. You’ve got a great wife. You write gooder than most. What more is there? Cash?

      • All I REALLY want is a tap in the house, stainless steel capped with a titanium faucet, that shoots out Blue Label whenever I give it a little crank. Is that too much to ask, really?

        My wife is amazing, no doubt. Honestly, if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t even be blogging, she put me here.

      • I dunno, Mark. I’ve found that stretching for the silly and the improbable can reap odd rewards at times… I know everyone says stuff like this, but my wife is an epic catch, and I had no business being anywhere near her. I’m awesome at wooing, though (not the most substantive skill, I know), and engaged at high speed, and look where that got me. I just stepped in a day-old diaper. But I couldn’t be happier about it…

        On a different note, isn’t there something in the water in NYC that says you must strive for the grand? I get tingles when I’m there.

      • Talking a good game is the greatest life skill you can have. It’s how I got ahead. I don’t have a degree in jack-all, but I can yack a blue streak. It helps.

        New York can tingle but it can also wear your ass down. And it’ll empty your wallet in the process. Look at my checking account balance in the post above.

      • Dude, I think you would be a lot of fun to have drinks with. But not like the two or three variety, or the twenty or twenty five variety, but somewhere in-between, that rational centre where we might figure things out. Waterloo is a pale imitation of New York, though, so you’re hosting – I’ll fill my wallet up as much as possible, and I bet I won’t feel a bit of remorse if it’s all empty when I leave.

        Although if I get into a negative checking account… my wife might have something to say about that.

      • Yeah, Trent, it’s definitely a quality thing that keeps people in my my blogroll I’ve noticed. I like it that people like my stuff, it’s a great feeling when the writers you think are really good think you are too .I struggle with letting people down by not posting as often as I’d/they’d like but not nearly as much as I would if I published shit. I still have issues and see rejection where there isn’t any sometimes, so I’m really careful about hitting publish too soon.

        And Mark, I agree with TL that it’s pretty courageous to confront your younger self and put some of that stuff out there…I was a major league screw up who got lucky, I think. Write on, I say, write on!

      • I’ll keep at it. I’ve tried to quit but I can’t. I’ll stop without ever intending to post again but sooner or later I weaken and break. It’s the affordable addiction. The one that won’t wreck your life.

  4. Congrats on your anniversary Mark! I’m relatively new to reading your blog and I enjoy your posts. May your blogging career carry on as long as you desire.

    • Thanks, Paul! It’s nice to have you here. Best avatar ever.

      I think I picked up a lot of new readers when I migrated to WordPress not long ago. It’s a pity I waited as long as I did but everything unfolds in it’s own good time.

  5. Happy anniversary!

    Bonnie was all about staking her claim, huh?

    I post everyday, but it is about distraction, boredom and therapy for me. I don’t expect to have high reader numbers or people to read every day, which is fine. We’ll see where I end up this time next year, after two whole years of this.

    • Bonnie was really special. I liked her a lot but was never really in love with her. But she did okay for herself. She married a billionaire and had an amicable divorce a couple years later. I bumped into her and she seemed happy. She traded up from my broke ass.

  6. I love reading about your good old days…and your posts ARE lean and mean. I wish I could write 500 word posts, consistently. And that’s after editing.

    Now, you didn’t seem to have to do any begging to get Bonnie in bed with you. Was this an anomaly?

    And by any chance, is Bonnie’s ex-billionaire husband available?

      • Yikes, did I write ex-billionaire?

        I definitely meant billionaire EX.

        Thank goodness I have you around to watch my back. What would I do without you? xoxo

      • Her ex-husband is owner of a huge company that you’ve heard of a million times. He’ll never be an ex-billionaire. Only just a billionaire-ex.

        I’ll always watch your back. Solidarity!

      • Could you do it? He’s really old and kind of gross but he still has his billions. Women are different than men. Women can see past physical grotesqueries like old age and appreciate what’s within. Men are much more shallow. I’ve heard that when you walk around Hollywood, all you see are these statuesque, beautiful women arm-in-arm with these short, dumpy, bald trolls.

      • When I met my Ex, he was 50 pounds overweight.
        I was a gym rat. He thought eating a big meal was a workout.

        I fell in love with him anyway. He was the funniest, smartest man I’d ever met. Smarter and funnier than me – which did it, for me.

        And I worked him out til he lost that weight.

        And he didn’t even have billions. But he wasn’t gross, just fat. Still, the idea of being with a billionaire, I have to say, is intriguing.

        No doubt this gross, old billionaire is besieged with women, probably as young as 20 somethings. Some women are just looking for meal tickets. But we covered that in my last post…

      • It all loops around, doesn’t it? I don’t know if it can be blamed on primal urges, but men are not good at seeing what’s under the skin until some time is spent. Are we shallow or is that just they way we’re wired? Women seem to have the ability to cut through the superficial.

    • You are correct that Bonnie was an anomaly. I may have had lots of girls pass in and out of my life via dating, but very, very few made it to my bedroom. I was such a mess. As I stated a post or two ago, I didn’t even lose my virginity until I was almost 20. That’s because I didn’t feel worthy of that gift. What a waste of time and emotion.

      I even go back and edit my comments down before I post them. There’s so much fat where I write.

      I think Bonnie’s ex is really, really old. Like…too old even if it means a ton of money at the end of the rainbow. You’d look like Anna Nicole Smith.

      • I know you work hard on your posts, and edit like crazy. I can tell by the end result.

        And its why your work is fantastic. Even reading the commentary between you and Trent was entertaining!

        Regarding Bonnie’s Ex- I’m still not ruling him out. What’s wrong with Anna Nicole Smith? Apart from her being a drugged out gold digging harlot?

      • I always notice that you comment on the comments, too! Now, THAT’S dedication. Thank you for your kind words. I spent years and years in the audience. Theater. Bands. You name it. This blog became the first time I ever actually participated in something that can be considered quasi-artistic. I like it.

        Did you know there was an opera about Anna Nicole Smith that played at BAM last year? It actually got great reviews. Was supposed to be a good show.

    • I’m glad you enjoy them. They’re a blast for me. Even the dark, dreary stuff. A flood of emotions. Men–especially this one–don’t have very good memories. These journals are invaluable. As I turn pages, I am constantly reminded of things long forgotten. Some of them were better left forgotten but you can’t un-ring a bell once it’s rung.

  7. Many bloggers seem to be in the doldrums lately…on your side, I expect the long winter ground some down.I can’t use that excuse! 🙂 I just don’t feel like writing at the moment.I also have a few other things that must be done and blogging is just for fun.

    • You have lots going on aside from blogging. You’ve got lots of fun hobbies. I’m just glad you stop by here every once in a while. And even though I might not respond to every email, I love the stuff you drop in my inbox. They’t great little mental holidays in the middle of my day.

  8. Wow, 6 years and 915 posts! I wouldn’t get to 915 even if I add up all my posts, my tweets, and my Facebook updates. And you still only got to 1992, so there’s probably plenty more to write about…
    Also – you had a laptop all the way back in 1992? Until now, I didn’t even realize there were laptops already back then.

    • I don’t have a Facebook page or twitter account so it’s all in here. That could account for the high post count and longevity. Plus, many of those early posts are very brief and inconsequential.

      I remember that laptop vividly. It was a Mac Powerbook 145 with a little trackball. So quaint. It had 4MB of ram and a 40MB hard drive. I thought I was the shit! A 40MB hard drive! Man! I’ll NEVER use all that space. Now I have graphic files at work that are 40MB.

      • You know, I still remember computers that worked on punch cards and those that had memory on cassette tape players. (I’m younger than you, I just had a different experience)
        It’s amazing that my already obsolete smartphone is hundreds of times more powerful than that once cutting edge technology.

  9. So you must have later realised why Bonnie announced that you’d had sex. The Israeli secretary needed to know you were property of the boss!

    • I had to approve your comment again. I wonder what the hell is going on? It’s just you! Honestly, it makes me crazy.

      Bonnie had good reason to worry. Even though we just met I felt a chemistry with that secretary. Good thing Bonnie claimed her property. What a mess that would have been.

  10. Please keep posting extracts from your journal. “so she walked in and announced that we had just had sex. Strange.” Oh Bonnie was totally jealous. Do you still keep in contact with her?

    • All of these posts have been from just one binder. There are several more PLUS a bunch of hand-written books. I could set up a separate blog with just journal entries. Too bad I’m so lazy.

      I bumped into Bonnie about a year and a half ago. It was a nice meeting. We exchanged a couple of emails but no meetings. I’d still like to get together with her. I wonder if she remembers any of this stuff?

    • I get sucked in. Page after page and the flood of memories wash over me. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t bother opening one unless I’ve got an uninterrupted block of time in front of me because just reading one or two posts is unsatisfying. There’s no endpoint, either. The sad stuff brings me down but I am reminded of people I’ve long forgotten about, like Madelynne in the post above. I hadn’t though about her in decades.

  11. Congrats on the blogging years! It’s interesting when you post about your past-since we didn’t see or talk much back then it’s like I am getting to know what you were doing when you left; good or bad. Glad we talk every week now wouldn’t want it any other way. Funny how as you get older we all realize how important family is. I’m sure that makes mom happy that is all she ever wanted was for all of us to get along.

    • Thanks, Graham. Eight years. Do you still have access to the old blog or is it long gone?

      I think you’ve been around here for quite a while and I thank you for that. I revamped my blog a bit and changed the title about a year ago. Do you remember The Unbearable Banishment? I always thought it didn’t roll off the tongue easily but that I was stuck with it forever. Not so.

  12. First post on the lounge 1/16/07, didn’t realize i passed 7 years a few months back… i won’t say when i got laid for the first time, i wasn’t losing my virginity cuz in a way that was lost long before… and now back to my cave…

    • Seven years is a long haul. You must find it satisfying or you’d have stopped long ago. It’s better to not keep track. It’s more Zen. You’re the Zen master, did you know? I’m certainly not bragging about having waited so long. It exacerbates my loserdom but I put it out there to entertain everyone.

  13. Happy blogiversary!!
    I’m pleased I didn’t write journals after the age of 20!! No temptation to publish.
    Bonnie was probably stamping you as hers when she announced you’d just had sex… weird though.
    Sx

    • I just remembered something…I met a friend of hers, a beautiful Japanese woman named Fuji. Afterwards, we were walking back to her apartment and I said, thinking I was being clever, “I’d really like to mount Fuji!” Bonnie was really hurt by that but I didn’t mean anything. Perhaps there was more going on there than I realized. No matter. She traded-up from my broke ass, that’s for sure.

    • I’m like Holden Caulfield without the wealthy family and private school. I’m Holden Clampett. [Are you old enough to ‘get’ that? I don’t think you are.]

      I swear, if these fall into my kid’s hands before they’re old enough to parse the real from the unreal, it’s going to cost me a king’s ransom in therapy bills.

      • Sadly, yes, I got that joke.
        I just didn’t want it.

        At least you seem to reread yours from time to time.
        do you find anything useful in revisitng them?

      • I can’t start reading unless I’ve got at least a solid :30 minutes in front of me because I get sucked in. Sucked into my past!

        They’re very useful. When I enjoy a success and become all full of myself and whatnot, I break out my journals and remind myself of what a little dickhead I was when I first arrived here. You should see the stuff I CAN’T post!

  14. Ah the good old days… when hookers could prowl freely around Manhattan. I’ve been blogging for 1 year and have about 600 posts. I’m not sure that’s anything to be proud of.

    “Sometimes, it’s all about the journey.”

    Jeez I guess you really are buddhist! 😀

    • A lot of people have a fond memories of, and pine for, old, pre-Disney and Mayor Giuliani New York but NOT ME. It was scary! 42nd Street was dark and creepy and you didn’t dare go into Bryant Park. They’d roll your ass for a dollar. It may be too sanitized now, but I’ll take this evil over the previous one.

      Even back then I was looking inward!

  15. Oh now this was fascinating! I wonder if our brains are just wired up to hate ourselves for what we did or didn’t do when we were young. And you have a lot of courage to put this out there.

    I really need to leave time to come to your blog because it’s alway entertaining and the comments are so thoughtful.

    Congratulations on your blogversary (I don’t know why I’m using that word as it makes me kind of sick to my stomach). Anyway 6 years. Wow. I’m going into my fourth year of blogging. I think it’s interesting that you only add to your blog twice a week. I wouldn’t write at all if I only wrote twice a week. If I skip even one day, I get out of the flow (and whether it’s a good or bad flow I don’t like being out of it ). I figure what the hell, whatever I write will be covered up tomorrow anyway with something new. I love that. It keeps me from taking my writing too seriously and from over thinking it. I’ve always found writing to be like golf — the harder you try the worse you do. I guess when all is said and done, I happier writing bad than not writing at all.

    • It’s a fine line between courage and blind egoism without regard for consequences. I still beat myself up over some stuff I did when I was younger, conveniently forgetting the times I took the high road. Why is that part of the human condition, I wonder?

      Thanks for your kind words! I’ve always said that the posts are merely a jumping off point and the real party is in the comments sections. If you click on “The Lost Journals of Manhattan” under categories, there are a few more diary excerpts. They’re all equally…umm…informative.

      I could probably post every day but I think it’s overkill. I recently had to review all my old posts (long story) and there’s just too much there. I learned to self-edit (not the same as self-medicate) and I think there’s a little less suffering in the world as a result.

      • A fine line between courage and blind egoism– now that’s a very interesting comparison — I’ll be thinking about that one for awhile . . .

        The beauty of not keeping a journal when your young is that the older you get the more you forget — so that eventually, you’re pretty okay with you past!

        Oh you have a tab for your journals. That’s good. I’ll have to go over there and catch up!

        I suppose posting everyday is overkill. All through 2012 and 2013, I was posing almost everyday. It was fun and exciting — but eventually I dropped the ball and I’ve never really gotten back into that rhythm since. As far as self-editing goes, I tend to err on the side of too much self-editing — but blogging has freed me up a lot in that regard. That and self medicating with healing properties of coffee.

      • I posted every day at the onset. I know how that feels. Once the ball is rolling, it’s almost impossible to stop it. Hit ‘publish’ and get a little endorphin charge. I get it.

        Coffee! The affordable, benign addiction. The one that won’t cost you your job, your house and your family.

  16. I think it’s some kind of wonderful that your past journal entries are interesting enough to be the way you celebrate an anniversary. By the way… I’m really glad you stuck around. 🙂

    • Well, I’m glad that people seem to find this stuff amusing. It’s absolutely riveting to me because I lived it. What a thrill ride! A flood of forgotten memories.

      I didn’t put the two together but you are correct. What better way to mark a milestone than by a peek into the past? There’s plenty more where this came from. PLENTY.

  17. I realize I am very VERY late on the Exile to Pain Street train, for which I apologize. We have many common friends, so I decided to check you out. Glad I did. Looking forward to reading more.

    • Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.
      Fremde, etranger, stranger.
      Gluklich zu sehen, je suis enchante,
      Happy to see you, bleibe, reste, stay.

      That’s from Cabaret, which I just saw with the talented, hatchet-faced Alan Cumming as the creepy, sinister MC. I might use that for all my new follows.

      There IS no late to the party. In fact, now that you’ve finally arrived, I can get things started. Please wipe your feet on the way in.

      • Actually, that Pino noir I had with Bonnie in the post above was really lovely. And so cheap! I’ll try to find the Italian joint but 1992 is a long, long time ago. Restaurants come and go in NYC. It might not be there anymore.

      • I love that you can get a good meal and decent wine, cheap, in NYC. I enjoyed finding a couple of small hole-in-the-wall spots when I was there on business last week.

      • Next time you’re in town, find a place called Don Giovanni’s. Two locations; one in midtown and one in Chelsea. My favorite Italian joint. Really reasonable. Killer lasagna. I hear the veggie lasagna is great as well, but it has never touched my lips. It never will, either.

      • Veggie lasagna is sacrilege. Thanks for the reco. My office is in Times Square, so that’s where I stay, but everything is just a subway ride away anyway, right?

      • You’re golden. The midtown location is on 44th and 9th. You can walk from your office, especially if the weather is cooperating.

        My office is in midtown as well. We’re practically related!

      • Office is at 38th & 8th – we’re neighbours!! I stayed at the (used to be) Milford, (now newly rebranded) Row NYC. they actually did a pretty nice job with the reno and the rate can’t be beat. Super convenient for walking to office, down to 1/2 price Tix place and all the theatres. 🙂 I also got to do my first outdoor run in Manhattan, which made me feel completely bad ass. 🙂

      • The Milford Plaza. The lullaby of old Broadway. I’ve been wondering how the re-vamp went. I never get to stay in any hotels out here. No need!

        Running in Manhattan IS bad ass but you need to slather yourself with penicillin beforehand and take a long, hot shower afterwards.

  18. Wow, happy six years of blogging! How many of the bloggers you were interacting with at the start are still around? Not many I guess. I enjoyed the glimpse at your journal too. Do people still do private journals now, or do they just broadcast everything right away?

    • No, not many, but there are a few from way back. I follow them, too. They’re Blogger folk. That’s where I spent five of my blogging years.

      I don’t think anybody journals anymore, do they? It’s all out there now unedited. No more diaries with little padlocks on them. It’s all straight to Facebook. Journaling is like flying. It used to be elegant and quiet. Now it’s just a mess.

  19. I picture you wearing a trench coat and a sneer when I read these. They’re awesome.
    So, having lived in seedy New York and gentrified New York, which do you prefer?

    • I’m SUPPOSED to say seedy New York was better. I’m SUPPOSED to look down my nose at the low crime rate and clean boulevards. But people have a tendency to assign a poetic majesty to seedy New York. A dark romanticism. Well, I remember it vividly and although it’s far from perfect, I’ll take gentrified New York, thank you very much. I remember taking the subway and being scared shitless. I don’t need that again, thanks.

      • I have The New York Trilogy on my desk in the next-or-near-next-reading pile. I have a feeling makes for better stories, which is why its romanticized. Having a hooker grab your arm sounds way better than when some guy in an Elmo costume grabs your arm.

      • It’s certainly makes for a better read but, take it from me, when you’re in the thick of it, it’s no fun. I was mugged three times during those years. It beats the dark, poetic panache right out of you.

  20. Impressed.
    915 posts and over 100 comments?

    Well done, Your blog has certainly grown since I was a regular last year, but I’m not really surprised. You always keep the standard of writing high, and almost always on an interesting topic.

    As far as being an insensitive youth; we all were at one point.

    I still cringe with huge embarrassment when I recall some of the things I did. (Like last month for goodness sake)

    Here’s to reaching 1000.

    • I forgave myself long ago for these youthful indiscretions. If I hadn’t, I doubt I could write about them and make them public, albeit anonymously.

      Thank you for your congrats. Can I confess something? It makes me really happy that people seem to be responding to this stuff. It’s something I’ve always wanted. You’re not supposed pay any mind to the size of an audience because it’s something that’s completely out of your control but I’m all wrapped-up in it. I don’t know how much longer it’s going to last—I’ve seen the popularity of blogs rise and fall—but I’m going to enjoy it for as long as it’s around.

    • It’s true…we were born from the same loin cloth. Plus, I think I’ve had more meet-ups with you than any other blogger. That counts for plenty! Thanks for sticking around all these many years. Hope the boy is doing well.

    • There you go bragging on your youth again. You young punks think you own the joint. While you were struggling with Algebra, I was struggling with a much older woman. Neither fight will get you anywhere in the long run.

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