divingtank.com

So I didn’t write anything about the weekend, mainly because I was tired and just wanted to get the photos upload with little consequence. At the time, my FTP was doing odd shit, and I was wrestling with MT over the 400 some odd spam comments on my website. I still haven’t taken care of that, in fact.

The weekend was good. Not great, not bad, just good. It was good to get away, to see some scenery, to spend time with the fellas, to climb random mountains, etc. Still, I couldn’t help but feel, as it is ever my nature to feel, that there was tons of work waiting for me at home, or elsewhere. It was also strange to note that over the course of the whole weekend, we never really engaged in any serious or borderline-serious conversation. Jay was drunk a lot, pouring Everclear on campfires and such, Eddie and Scott like to smoke herb, and thus laugh at everything and eat lots of food, and Pete just curses a lot. Still, they’re my boys.

I enjoyed the car ride, in spite of how monstrously lost we got. No one told me the Adirondacks are north of Albany, I thought they were somewhere near Buffalo. It was a collective navigational error, so I don’t blame myself. We did get to see some stunningly odd architecture and re-visit with the true nature of America – shabby homes and discarded trucks left rusting on the lawn, hand-painted signage and towns named for random countries like Poland and Russia. I like riding in cars, listening to music, making fun of the scenery.

At times I wish I had never quit the Boy Scouts. It was so long ago that it usually doesn’t even bother me, not like Baseball which is semi-recent, at least in the last 10 years, but I haven’t been a Scout since the 80s. But on weekends like this, when all conversations divert back to memories of Summer camp, pranks, and faces long since forgotten, I wonder what life would be like if I had worn that uniform like Jay, Charlie, Eddie, Pete, Pete, Scott and everyone else who spent the time. But I learned a lot this weekend past – how to make an effective fire, how to fabricate some canoe paddles where once were none, and the math behind a walking stick (or walking pole, depending on how fancy you wanna get.)

I didn’t like the fact that I spent about $60 on food and gas. We sure ate a helluva lot around that campfire, enough granola bars to feed an army, it seemed, and we took some home. Next time, pack light, lose a few pounds over the course of the weekend, even.

Summer resumes. The break from my everyday, my boring-yet-somehow-stressful everyday comes to a close as swiftly as it began and I am back to the grind. Next week I head to Puerto Rico with Johanna and for the first time to my family’s home in Patillas to sit and relax in the tropical breezes and maybe do some crazy yard work, removing the jungle from our property and trying to replace it with conveniences of the modern world, or at least a nice-looking garden.

Train of thought = lost.

Bill Clinton has a weblog? Jeez, that’s a lot of corporate sponsorship – its practically to the point of “Bill Clinton, presented by Nabisco, Miller and Blockbuster Video”

http://www.billclintondailydiary.blogspot.com

Spend the weekend camping with the fellas. Photos are as follows.

Another day in New York, taking pics with Stephanie, walking around, being hot.

Ran out of battery power. Shame.

Religious Zealots in Bryant Park, narrow stairs of the Midtown Comics, Lunch with Bonetti.

I think these photos are a reflection of my state. Considering I spent an entire Saturday at an LUL alumni conclave which is a fancy way of saying arguing, my hand was unsteady as the rest of me. Plus, I was trying to catch a train so stopping was a minor detail.

A lot of girls out there today, although few of them are photographed since its not really socially acceptable, or legal, to photograph random women without their permission. At least not unless you’re a tourist or really sneaky.

Working at Seldin’s, helping to photograph artwork, retouch said photographs, make giclée prints, etc. All out of the goodness of my heart.

Sigh.

The weekend passed with little consequence. Independence Day this year was not the occasion it usually is. I only attended one sub-par barbecue, at which I ate nothing, and then went home to paint the bathroom, opting out of fireworks entirely.

It seems that this is my course, as of late. My friends seem so distant nowadays, even the ones who remain local. The pool, once the source of life, seems empty, except for a few skeletons of my teen years, still lurking in the summer sun.

The weeks wear on. I only have about 2 months left of Maplewood, then I’m off, and onto the next chapter.

Till then, the tedium continues.

I get bored sometimes during the week. I call people I think are around and see what they are up to, usually nothing eventful. I sometimes look at people’s IM Away Messages and see the absurd remarks they make to the world at large. Last night, Meghan Hislop, who is still on my list although I have seen almost none of her since 2000 or so, had a message: “9 pm, The Dancing Goat. If you are reading this, consider yourself invited.” And so I went, just to get out of the house for a while.

We ended up in the Gaslight, some stupid bar which is clearly less crowded on Thursday than on weekends, holidays and whenever else I am unlucky enough to be suckered in bar-hopping with the fellas. It was a motley and vintage crew. Meghan, Jordan Lee, Greg Khan, Tom DiGirolomo, Kasha-something, Suhagi Shah, Gloria Mui, Jordan’s boyfriend whose name I forget and that other girl whose name I don’t think I caught in the first place. And me. What a random lot.

It was surreal. People I haven’t seen in years just joking around and asking questions and just being friendly and random – what else could you really ask for. And although I earned nothing by coming home at 11 and smelling of cigarettes, last night will make an interesting chapter in my book.

Whenever I find myself in the presence of Columbia grads, the time spent apart seems almost non-existent, as if its still 1999 and the 5 years in Philly never happened, just some odd sort of dream I can only vaguely recall. I do much wonder if this effect will wear off as time goes by.