My brother's in town and he's helping fix somea the computers here.

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Heartgirl told me recently that she doesn't know what to tell people when they ask what I do for a living. S'funny, alla the women I dated've said the same thing. Mosta my friends don't know.

It's...complicated, how I make my money.

I've a particularly odd skillset but the funny thing's that I'm very good at a several, seemingly unrelated things. But if I had to sum it up to in one unifying idea, it's that I collect and process data.

Writing, in fact, is an example of my processing data; I take various disparate concepts, weave them to one (hopefully) coherent argument and distill that to a printed page.

On that note, I've gotta pick one of these skillsets sooner than later.


Music: The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing
YASYCTAI: Organize your computer files. (10 hrs/2 pts)
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With nods to Kastinkerbell.

Dated several people who's favourite book's 100 Years of Solitude. Tried four times to read it but couldn't. Not my cuppa tea. But the author once said something that I think of often: Uno tiene tres vidas: la vida pública, la vida privada y la vida secreta.

That's the first thing I thought of when I heard about three lives this past April: Philip Markoff, Susan Boyle, and Russell Dunham. Philip's this fairly attractive guy with an immense hidden evil. Susan's this fairly unattractive woman with an immense hidden talent. Russell was a fairly average looking guy with an immense hidden strength.

I lived with a scumbag that murdered his girlfriend. People asked me afterward if we knew that he was capable of such a thing. Always thought that was a stupid question - as if he liked to manically stab at his food when ate.

No, people're really good at hiding their pretty and their dirty. Alla those little bits of this 'n that, aggregated over time like piles of crumbs, cemented together by secrets.

It's only when situations shift that our real selves cut through the chatter - whether that be by choice like Susan and Philip, or by chance like Russell. Our real selves're always there, just waiting.

After the London bombings, some dude quipped something like, "Always wondered how I'd act in a crisis. Turns out I'm rubbish in a crisis."

It's totally true. Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life.

Me? I'd like to think that my angels'd beat my demons. Ah, but who doesn't? Nobody wakes up hoping they're a friend of the Devil.

An ex once said to me, If only your insides matched your outsides.

Do her one better: If only our outsides matched our insides.


Music: hard to believe we need a place called hell
YASYCTAI: Read about Russell. (20 mins/1 pt)
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Made a decision about 15 years ago; wanted to live like I was in college for as long as possible, meaning: wake up when I want, eat when I want, travel when I want, work when I had to.

So what, in essence, does a college student do?

Day 1: Student arrives and meets Teacher.

Days 2-119: Student accumulates and (hopefully) processes data. Student can:

• Go to 1% of the classes.
• Go to 74% of the classes.
• Go to 100% of the classes.
• Learn it on his own.
• Any variation or combination of the above.

Whatever path he chooses is irrelevant. Days 1-119 do not count. Only Day 120 counts. Note: you will recall which path I chose. It's why I was able to teach myself cooking, German, and all around geekiness. Self-education has it's benefits. I digress.

Day 120: Student must distill all that data onto a piece of paper and use data to answer a question or set of questions. That paper can be:

• Exam
• Report
• Painting
• Whatever the teacher wants it to be.

In exchange for this piece of paper, the teacher hands back student a grade. The transaction's complete.

Repeat as necessary.

That's what I do. Cept insteada a student, it's me; insteada a teacher, it's a client, insteada a grade, it's a check. A pretty pink, blue, green, or grey check.

I'm given or acquire data; I process said data; I distill said data to a piece of paper by answering a question or set of questions; I hand that paper to the client; the client hands me a check. A pretty pink, blue, green, or grey check.

Repeat as necessary.

Made enough scratch to buy my pad, my whip and my toys. But that was then. I'm 36 in two months. It's 2009 already. Maybe I should grow up already.

Music: what's right wakes me through the night
YASYCTAI: Read Good to Great; it's about you. Figure out your paradigm. (3 days/2 pts)
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Making some major life decisions but I'll fill you in on those later. On an unrelated matter, broke my right pinky. Again.

Guess you've seen Pretty in Pink. But I much preferred the remake, which came out the very next year called Some Kind of Wonderful. Same director, same writer, different cast but same roles.

The writer and director couldn't get the ending they wanted for Pretty in Pink. Ergo, Some Kind of Wonderful. So their got their ending.

In other news, voted today. Got a free cuppa joe and now my hands're shaking like an 80s crack addict. The voting machines were the same grey machines they had in NYC since I was kid - also in the 80s. More things change, the more they stay the same. I worry we got a different cast, but the same roles.

But there is one aspect of this story, however, I particularly like. MLK was murdered seven years before I was born. 44 years ago. Now a black dude is the 44th president - and almost no one I know thinks of him as a black dude. He's just a brilliant, ambitious man. That's something different and good. Hopefully, we'll have the ending we want.

God bless and protect the man and the office. Le Roi est mort, vive le Roi...


Music: may your dreams Be realized
YASYCTAI: Be hopeful (1 min/1 pt)
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Music: People stop and stare. They don't bother me
YASYCTAI: Read about Stanislav Petrov and thank him for doing the difficult but right thing. It's hard doing the difficult but right thing. (3 mins/1 pt)
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Woke up at an ungodly hour to drive all over the city. Still didn't finish what I had to finish. Also went to the dentist today for the first time in four years. Two dentists in 11 years - no cavities.


Got into a very perplexing conversation with Heartgirl today so I'm distracted yet again. It's onea those things that I need to figure out myself before I write about it.

Breaking with tradition for the second time, HEI has a blog. So readers, please meet: JBell.

She came by for dinner the other night to borrow Syd. We chatted over some rum. It's nice when people stick around your Venn Diagrams no matter how screwy y'are. You can read her take on me if you can figure out which one's me.

On that note, someone's wondered if I'm nicer in this blog than I am in real life, so in addition to Jbell, the girlie from Sunday said she'd write her view of what happened in my last entry - she said she wrote it in my style (yes, she knows about this blog, no I didn't meet her from it). I never considered that I have a style, but I digress:


Music: I am likely to miss the main event If I stop
YASYCTAI: Get your teeth cleaned. I wanna make out with someone if only cause my teeth feel amazing. (60 mins/2 pts)
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Friday, go to a party thrown by Jenny and friends - they hired a bartender and had an open bar. Sweeeeeet. Saturday, spend the day roaming the hood with with HEI. We end up having a wind-tunnel-like lunch at the Boat Basin. She's all sorts of lovely.

Saturday night, go to a friend's b-day party. Meet someone I swear is the Ship In the Night Girlie.


She and I hang out with Paul and WM til six in the morning. We finish up the night at a French bistro downtown as the run rises. Lose my phone - ugh. That's a whole entry in itself.

Don't get into bed until 7AM. Wake up a little while later and run in the rain to meet up for a memorial lunch for Mike. His sister gives me an envelope fulla singles; said she wanted me to hand them out to anyone that asked for help cause Mike woulda liked that. Said I would.

Hop off to church where I meet a girl from Holland and end up walking this girl Beth home - she's involved but fun company. Give her the nickel tour before we run into Jenny and some other people 'round the way.

Finally get a few moments to think. Wonder if I'll ever see Ship in the Night Girl again. Stupid isn't it? You see a girl for a moment and she's in your head weeks later?


There're numbers I'll never get again in that phone I lost. Seems like more ships pass me in the night than I thought.

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Ran into my friend Christianne tonight too. Here's a story about her or you can just listen to her sing to you now...


Music: Hey Snowflake! What 'cha doin on Arlington Place?
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Met up with some friends for a Spring party. There was a girlie there from Guest House a few months back. My friend was gaming her but I could tell she was vibing me so I discreetly bounced - girlies come and go, good friends are harder to find. He's now with someone else so fast forward to this past weekend.


Was leaving cause I was thinking of ringing SX when I ran into a pair of green eyes.


Walking to the subway, flicked on my mobile and dialed a number. I'm sleeping, she said, but we talked until dawn anyway.

Saturday involved more rum, the Token girl (who's moving 'round the way), the bouncers at Solas (who turned me upside down), Paul and a German girl in Zum Schneider (who was entertaining), and a Russian blond (who was awfully handy) on 9th Street.

Sunday night, went to church and sat next to a friend who told me she couldn't make it to my birthday. Then I walked home with Jenny again.

It's Monday. Got 11 days left; the devil's been calling. Afraid I'll have to answer at some point. The devil and God comes when you're on your knees.

Don't wanna be on my knees again. Thankfully, that's where the rum comes in.


Music: And when you think it's all over, It's not over, it's not over
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With nods to Jaerik and my friend who cares way too much.

I figure at least 20 people hate me in this world. One of them is this old hippie that yelled at me in Cooper Union while stumbling home for having my feet up on a public seat. My feet, I said, with a wink and a smile, are probably cleaner than most people's butts.

Ass___, she said. To which I shrugged and said, That's merely your opinion. And why should your opinion matter to me? You didn't even say hello.

Considering that there are 6,641,114,623 people in the world, the fact that 20 hate me, that's pretty good. In fact, I don't have a calculator that can compute such a tiny figure. Try it.

Whatever someone thinks of me is just their opinion. Someone's else's opinion should not control your life - it's a sucker's bet.

Frankly, it's none of my business what people think of me. It's none of your business either.

On a grand scale, wars are fought over opinions. People fly planes into buildings because they have an opinion. Men become stalkers because they have an opinion. Little girls commit suicide because of people's opinions.

On a more personal scale, you'll drive yourself starkers caring what people think of you. I wasted my youth and my 20s tilting at those windmills. In this world, you can only ever change things about yourself.

The rest is just heartache or paper cuts.

In other news, I'm sick again. I'm always getting sick. Dammit.

Music: Love me or hate me, it's still an obsession.
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I was in an office all day yesterday so there's no excitement there. And I'm in court today.

I've become that which I always never wanted to be (again): a suit, running after a check.

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That's a pic I took at like 4AM on the red line going downtown from this past weekend. A good bunch of females 'n fellas.

I think I've said it before: I don't have a problem meeting people, I have a problem connecting with people.


Smooth right? Don't be impressed; as an ex once said, I'm a talker (glattzüngig).

It only lasts for as long as it lasts.

Music: I'm not perfect I wanted to be I have this big mouth It always contradicts me
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The thing that...that just about broke me, was when I had to tell my parents. My mom worries so. And my father? I think I'm like every son, I just want him to be proud of me.

But he told me to keep daring greatly. Cause he did. It's what we do, he said, you have to keep trying. I would only be disappointed in you if you stopped trying.

I nodded and stammered in my crappy, crappy, Chinese, I will.

Music: I got every ingredient, all I need is the courage
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I lent a friend some money because she was going through a divorce and was in a bind. It's not like I had that much spare scratch but I figured that she was good for it so I borrowed some dough against the cards and gave it to her.

I stopped by her place cause I haven't heard from her and was worried. Apartment was empty. She up and left. I've known her seven years. She didn't even say sorry.

On the same day, I took the last straw from another friend too. I've known him since the 90s. The very last straw.

What a day. It was...indescribable.

Then I got a call from the guy that gave me the gig in Mancini Duffy a decade ago.


Then Bryson called me.


When you keep cutting your friends, you end up with the ones that matter. I guess that's something, yeah?

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I'll be posting a lot of pictures - still a work in progress, but you can click here to figure out where I am and see pics. I wanted to write more, but I drank my night away.

I really gotta go.

I feel terrible here.

Music: Some glad morning when this life is o'er I'll fly away
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Dunno if you know about this guy Stanislav Petrov but he saved humanity by pretty much doing nothing. I like Heroes as much as the next guy but this, as real life, is something else.

To make a long story short, due to a bunch of insane coincidences, the Soviet Union 'round this time in '83 thought the US launched all our nukes at them and he was ordered to counterstrike with all of their nuclear weapons.

He refused. Because he wasn't insane.

He knew we woulda launched against them for the same reasons. Then, he lost his career for saving the world. How's that for a thank you?

I too did almost nothing today but I didn't save humanity because of it.

I did manage to get a haircut though.

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I'm going to Oktoberfest on my own for the last three days and I just spent the last three hours trying to book a hotel.

My German has gone to crap.

Music: do the good thing hey hey I saved the world today
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With nods to unenuitblanche.

Rain once wrote something brilliant maybe a decade ago called My Soulmate Sells Kumquats in Istanbul, or something. Basically, it was about the ridiculousness of the concept of a soulmate.

Fun with math:

• There are 8.2 million people here in NYC.
• With some 65% women, that means 5.33 million women.
• Assume arguendo that 1% of 1% are perfect for me - the right age, look, brains, education, dietary restrictions, whatnot.
  
• Ergo, there are 533 women in NYC perfect for me. Perfect. I just gotta find em.
  

Point is, there's no such thing as The One. That and St. Valentine's Day, was invented to sell you something - whether it be $4.50 for a piece of paper or the thought that, this person is the best I can do.

Oh please. Trust me, their stuff ain't that grand.

The only thing that changes in your relationship life is the degree of (a) effort and (b) forgiveness two people expend. That's it. It's true of any relationship - lovers, friends, family.

One-itus. It's a crock. And don't tell me I'm not a romantic - if you've read me at all you know I am.

It's lot more romantic, IMHO, that two people work on making something...work, than two people being together because they both happen like the same obscure 80s band.

The one means, you're the one I found cause I'm too lazy or scared to go up to a stranger and ask, what's your story morning glory?

1% of 1%. I assure you, there're others.

Music: I was off kilter, now I got shelter
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Nadi, Happy Birthday. This year woulda been tougher without you.

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I've resolved my business issues but it's a sad disappointment to discover you're not quite as noble as you imagined you'd be.

So I met up with Hazel, Paul and Bryson and drank what was left of my self-respect.

Causa my insomnia, I grew up watching black & white films at 2AM. Jimmy Stewart was my favorite. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, The Philadelphia Story, It's a Wonderful Life, etc

Do you ever wake up and wonder what happened to all your youth and idealism?

I sometimes often think that I've become the very, very worst version of myself.

Music: Here's coming a better version of me
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OK, whaddya got for me?

Music: there's no place that I could be without you honestly
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