Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Day 6: Almost Home

In the middle of the night, AxL went "freakshow" for a bit. He got up and just started doing circle upon circle across the room, pacing and spinning and panting. He would periodically look at his food bowl then his water bowl and then resume his dizzy antics. Finally, he got tired and I was able to get him to lie down for a minute and he just passed out. I figure it was sort of a doggie-nightmare-sleepwalking venture. I'm not sure but it was sadly crazy.

Eventually, we got up early to a beautiful day and an ugly apartment. Today was the day of Lisa Caruso, "personal assistant/professional organizer/superwoman" coming over to revamp my home life and put it in order. I'm not sure why, but the thought of hiring a personal assistant for the day to help me orgainze was just too cool. So, in the wee hours of the morning after our first walk, I race home to start hauling out the worst of it before she arrived. I took out some garbage, folded a mountain of laundry, and rolled up a bombed out throw rug that AxL has relentlessly subdued over the last day as I countered with a bottle Nature's Miracle as best I could. We went for one more walk to Starbucks for a kickstart mocha and returned to the apartment minutes before she rang the buzzer. I've still not figured out how to "talk" to people like Jerry Seinfeld does. Maybe the talk button doesn't work but I keep trying.

A spry little redhead appeared at our door moments after I buzzed her in. She was wearing a bandana and appeared to be all business under an elf-like grin as she introduced herself. Moments later, she attacked the kitchen, God save her. I unpacked books while frantically searching for the missing "pegs" to put the shelves together. Forty-five minutes later, she had thorougly cleaned and organized the kitchen which has stymied me since the day I got here. It all makes perfect sense now.

I ducked out of the way as she assaulted the main area. Eventually, the pegs turned up albeit I'm somehow six pegs short so two entire shelves are sadly sidelined until I can figure out a fix. Nonetheless, my stereo, vcr, books, telephone and a few precious knick-knacks are all at home on the now upright and mostly assembled Ikea structure.

At one point, I get a phone call from Peter, the ex-New Yorker who warned me about the city eating me alive. He's shocked that I've hired a personal assistant for the day, probably more shocked than knowing I haven't been eaten alive yet. Throughout the flying acrobatic organizational operation, AxL paces about, getting stuck in corners and seeming to fret that we're moving one more damn time. Nope, we're movin' in, not movin' out.

As my time is almost up, most everything is put away into a home. Lisa announces that I'm a man with a good spirit so she's going to give me some extra time for free. Wow. Cool. She scrubs the bathroom and I open up my Christmas Present to myself: a set of Aveda shaving cream, aftershave, soap, shampoo and conditioner. Yea, a bit metro-sexual but when I got it, I was trying to be "gentle" to myself and thinking a dash of "pampering" was in order beyond Irisih Spring and cheap-o Suave shampoo. It's kind of nice to get a Christmas present three months late. I have to remember to send myself a thank you card so that I've got some mail to open.

About half an hour later, we're done. My unneeded items are downstairs, ready for the Salvation Army around the corner. My apartment actually looks like a home. I've even got a couple of things up on the walls now and pictures set about on top of my cabinets. There's no clutter, no dust bunnies, no boxes, no piles of laundry, no piles of tax paperwork and no fortune cookie fortunes floating about. I thank Lisa profusely and she says that if I need help organizing my scrapbook stuff, that she's more than happy to return. I pay her about one thousandth of what this has done for my soul and she gives me a hug unexpectedly. She knew that a lot of what I was going through was tough. Hanging up pictures of Venus was especially hard, not to mention stacking away old memories into a trunk where they can be out of sight and out of mind rather than underfoot and on top of heart.

I walk with her for half a block as AxL slowly drags along, limping on the front foot and sliding the back one on his left side. He's such a trooper. After saying goodbye, I shell out a few bucks for some purple tulips to go in the vase on my tiny joke of a table. The place needs a bit of color and life. We do our "normal route" around the block, up 8th Ave, down West 22nd, down 7th Ave and back home on West 21st. We step into an apartment that amazes us even though we were just there. It's spacious and warm and welcoming now. It feels like a home. It's still missing "love" but at least there's room for it now should it miraculously push the buzzer downstairs one day. Maybe I'll know how to use the "talk button" by then. I feel peaceful and wonder what to do with the rest of the day.

I decide to get AxL a new bed. He got a great one at Christmas this year, but considering he was winding down so fast, I left it with Venus to enjoy along with everything else "dog." As AxL happily snoozes away, passed out cold, I break out my juggling balls and toss them for a bit. I get bored. I tune the guitar and play for an hour or so. I suck, but it has never stopped me before and doesn't seem to now. Still bored. I didn't count on this.

I pick up a book and read: The Icelandic Sagas. Too deep for a sunny afternoon turning to dusk. AxL gets up and nudges his skull into the door. It's time to go again. I'm a bit hungry so we get a piece of our favorite NY Pizza - pepperoni...always pepperoni. My cell phone rings and it's my friend/landlord Bryce. He's shopping for a new carseat for his baby and he and his wife are around the corner. I invite them over, unembarassed that my place is guest-worthy. They show up, again I don't know how to "talk" to them on the intercom so I just buzz them up. His 10-month old daughter, Ann, is an adorable angel. I don't know what the hell happened to me, but I really want to have children someday in the next few years. I just marvel at them and the miracle that they are. She plays with pooh-bear (of the 3,700 mile cross-country bike trek) while I chat with Bryce and Jennifer. They invite me over for dinner and "baby play-time" tomorrow night. Yeeha - Upper East Side Adventure and a home-cooked meal that isn't spaghetti.

They gradually depart as Ann drops foreshadows of crankiness. I walk down with them as it's once again AxL-time. The dog's bladder is a machine. If only his legs worked as well. As we make our usual circle around the block, I find myself hungry from all the cleaning despite the "NY Slice" two hours earlier. Cafe Fillipe shows up on our right and I decide to get the lasagna that I almost got last night. I lay AxL down and walk in and am greeted by the skinny waiter with the thick accent. Alas, Racquel is there again, too. I order a Ceasar Salad, Lasagna and another cup of tea to enjoy while I wait. I sit at my now usual table and stare out the window at AxL. I love that dog. I love watching people's faces as they go by him. He brings such joy to the planet.

Racquel comes up and starts to chat. I tell her my friend is looking forward to getting an email from her to discuss fashion merchandising. Then I'm lost. She asks how my dinner was the night before. I say it was "stunning." I'm not quite sure how Fettucine Alfredo can be "stunning" but that's what I said. I'm an idiot. I try to shut up as she continues to be incredibly nice, making small talk as I wait and fumble with a tea bag. Why on earth am I drinking tea? Something about the "quaint-nicity" of the place makes me order something I usually drink once every three years. Eventually, we start talking about New York and what there is to see and do. I hope that at some point I meet someone to do things with so I'm not just bumbling around by myself all the time like a reject toursit.

You see, it goes like this in Chelsea. Most every guy is seemingly gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I just don't want to ask a gay man to go and hang out, get his hopes up and then crush him when I turn out to be totally "not" gay. Then there are a few seemingly straight guys, but if I ask them to go and do stuff then they're thinking..."no way am I hanging out with this gay guy." So that leaves trying to find a nice girl to hang out with as my only option. I've considered acting gay so that I'm "safe," but the truth of the matter is, eventually I'd have to come out of the closet, so to speak. So that's out since honesty is in. Therefore, it's nigh-impossible to find someone to see the city with at this juncture.

My food arrives and I gather up AxL and we head home. The lasagna is of course, "stunning." I share it with my best friend and look out at yet another "white night" of the Empire State Building. I don't know what happened to all the color changes. Maybe the person in charge of rotating them is on vacation this week. As I start to gather up and toss out the remnants of the "to go" package, the plot thickens. Somehow they put an extra "to go" cup of tea in my bag but didn't charge me for it. Stunning. They must think I really like tea. I don't want free tea hanging over my head so on our next walk, I head back by Cafe Fillipe to pay for it

The skinny, thick-accented waiter asks me if I'm crazy that I came back to pay for tea. Yea, I might be...then again, I just want to lead an honest life here and not have any bad karma at a time when I definitely don't need it. It's only a few days from when I'll hear back on an exciting job and if I get an offer. Plus, it's going to take some luck to meet someone who's up for catching a show or hitting Chelsea Market or Soho for the afternoon. I'm going to need the company once AxL decides to finally move on. Until then, we've got a clean apartment that almost feels like home.

Day Job Panic: 0 - Relax. It's the weekend.

AxL-O-Meter: 4 - aside from his Ringling Bros. act, he has a fairly good day, albeit his walk is abnormally slow. The new bed is well accepted and I give him an hour of "grooming time" including brushing and massage to help him relax from a stressful day of organizing.

ESB: White. The color seems to be on spring break.

Dream Dial: 1 - Taking a day off from the screenplay, read a bit about screenwriting from unpacked book.

NYC Degree: 7 - hired my first personal assistant and got moved into my NY apartment. Feel guest-worthy. Bought purple tulips at local flower shop. Hung out with old college buddy and his baby, got invited to dinner tomorrow. Donated old bed to the city in general when it was stolen before I could get it to Salvation Army. Ate stunning lasagna with AxL, drank two (??) cups of tea.

Heart Rate: 1 - getting by, on my own and much easier now that our accomodations are luxuriously tidy at "The AxL Plaza Hotel - New York" thanks to completed renovations.

Day 5: Bit By Bit

Today started early of course, around 5 a.m. It's funny how you can feel when it's going to be sunny even before dawn. After a couple of morning walks, I showered and scrounged around for one of my three ties to wear to the interview. It takes me three tries to get the length right because it's been so long since I've actually worn a tie. I consider myself in the mirror. It'll have to do. I practice smiling. Hmm...nice and fake. It'll have to do. I grab my subway pass and head out after scolding AxL sternly: "AxL! Eat your breakfast!!!" It seems to sort of do the trick and he's begrudgingly choking down the best canned food money can buy. It helps that I've garnished it with a turkey frank.

As I step outside into a beautiful morning for yet another time, I smile a real smile as I see all the cars lined up, double parked down the street for the "parking circus" before the street cleaner has arrived. There must be a better way, but I doubt it will ever occur. Some things are just meant to be "New York" and this is one of them.

I decide to take a cab so I'm there extra early. Then I decide to opt for the subway to save money. Then I decide to opt to walk to take in a bit of scenery first. It was a great choice.

I eventually crossed over West 30th and into more "bustle." I stroll past Madison Square Garden for the first time and can't wait for my first concert or Knicks Game. Soon, I hope. I seem to be getting my stride as little old ladies are no longer passing me and shoving me aside. For the first time, I arrive at 42nd Street and break into a huge grin as I take in the spectacle of the theaters and the lights and the marquis. I wonder how to spell "marquis" in plural form..."marquises?"

I notice that a taxi would've been the utterly wrong choice as traffic is entirely snarled right here. I keep walking as I'm making good time and seem to be able to make it. A few blocks later, the street is totally empty. I wonder why this part of town doesn't have cars but figure it's because everyone wants to be on 42nd. Then I see a flashing light ahead, then many, many, many...

The Days Inn Motel is surrounded by fire trucks, police cars, news crews, and yellow "do not cross" tape. Helicopters are whipping about overhead. It's exciting, it's New York. It turns out a wall on the upper roof has caved over and injured two people when bricks went through the ceiling. It's in a neighborhood called Hell's Kitchen that they're trying to rename as "Clinton." What's the difference...it'll always be affectionately called Hell's Kitchen. It has a nicer ring to it.

I reach my destination at West 52nd and 8th Ave. It's not my destination. I need to reach Columbus Circle. I panic as I've now only got five minutes to spare after shoving my way through the throngs about the Days Inn spectacle. I go faster. I reach the building with about one minute to spare and go upstairs to the office. It's warm and rich and inviting, better than I expected. The interviews seem to go well except for the one hour where I was left waiting in a meeting room between interviewers. They had kindly given me a great book to read about movie ratings. I enjoyed it immensely. As I flipped through the pages, I stole gazes at a white pillar with Columbus on top and Central Park as a backdrop. I'm in New York City...it's still kind of soaking in to a large degree.

After several hours, I leave and head home. I decide to take the subway back because I'm sure that AxL is dancing by now...or worse. Just as I get home, the cable guy shows up to install my high-speed digital internet. As I'm talking to him for a minute, AxL has disappeared and I hear him clunking about down the hall. I race after him but it's too late. Another carpet cleaning job is in order outside Cha Cha the cat's door. I still haven't figured out if it's affection or detestation that AxL is lavishing upon the doorstep.

Eventually, high-speed digital internet is working and I'm thrilled. So thrilled that it's time for a walk. It's been a pretty dang good day despite a night of zero sleep. I saw the parking circus, 42nd Street, firemen and police officers in action, had a good job interview and can now surf the net at real speeds looking for jobs.

We decide to celebrate by getting take out at a quaint cafe around the corner on 7th. It's called "Fillipe." We're outside perusing the menu when a stunning blonde walks out and says, "hello." I turn around to see who's behind me that she's talking to. I realize it's AxL. Duh.

Her name's Racquel and she's a hostess by night and a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology by day. I always laugh a bit when I hear the name of the school because it makes me think of trying to get computer geeks to dress better. Um, yea...

So I end up chatting with Racquel about old dogs as she recently lost her family's dear one. I can't decide between fettucine and lasagna or New York Stip and mashed potatoes. I roll with Fettucine Alfredo and go all out by adding an extra $2 for grilled chicken. I get a cup of tea while waiting to warm up a bit. I pass along a friend's email to Racquel who works in the fashion industry in case she might be able to get Racquel a job after her upcoming graduation. It feels good to help out a stranger in the event that it makes a difference for her. She cheered us up in saying that she always notices AxL walking by with his little old limp. It's nice to know that even strangers are "cheering" for him on his daily rounds. Before I leave, she tells me I should come in and sit for dinner one night. I politely decline, telling her I'll opt for take out rather than be the pathetic single guy at a table for one. She gives me that look of understanding combined with an unspoken, "oh, yea...you're right."

We get home and the fettucine is amazing and huge. AxL eats well for the first time in ten days. So do I. Food coma sets in as I wonder who will ever take the time to talk to me after he's gone. Until then, we'll keep making the rounds and gathering "AxL's Fan Club" members.

It's early, but I'm wiped and it feels late. Tomorrow is hopefully going to be an exciting day of unpacking, cleaning and organizing. I dream of a tiny apartment and this tiny life being tidy. It will be another step in the right direction, piled on the few that I felt I took today. Bit by bit, day by day...things are starting to get brighter. As AxL keeps throwing himself at the ground, I'll keep throwing myself at life...sometimes landing with a thud, but landing.

Day Job Panic: 3 - good second interviews, still wondering what happens if I don't get the job.

AxL-O-Meter: 4 - ate a tiny breakfast but a good dinner for once. Added another fan to his club.

ESB: YES, IT'S STILL WHITE. Not sure why, but the dark blue of the night sky is a beautiful backdrop behind the spire tonight as the car horns blasting break the serenity of the scene below. New York is alive and well and I'm trying to be.

Dream Dial: 4 - added five more scenes of AxL's movie to scene index. Should be getting to last few scenes soon.

NYC Degree: 8 - Madison Square Garden fly by, 42nd Street spectacle, firetrucks, falling walls, Columbus Circle, great take out dinner from Fillipe.

Heart Rate: +1 - Met the lovely Racquel who took the time to cheer me up about AxL. It seems there are still angels out there who can help pass a few minutes of the day with their kindness.

Day 4: Night Of The Living Dead

Today was spent in nothingness for the most part. Hopefully and hopelessly job searching has a way of taking its mental toll. I reconfirmed my second interview with a company for tomorrow. We're still on. It's a good thing. Luckily, I remembered to pick up my clean shirts. I wonder where my tie is? I own three. I also notice that I only own three button-down shirts. I own one sport coat and one regular suit. Last time I checked, a work week is five days. I slowly realize due to superior math skills that a logisitical clothing problem may arise if a real job is landed.

I took the time to buy my cleaning supplies as instructed by Lisa, the personal assistant arriving on Saturday. The cable company called. We're also on for tomorrow to finally get digital cable and a real internet connection. Somehow, I have free TV so I'm not going to do anything about that since the cable company told me that I'm not hooked up to TV. It's a little gift, I guess.

AxL took the time to have no less than three seizures today. I'm drained. I fall asleep at 9 p.m. and wake up at 10:30 to take him out. His little stomach has gotten so bad that he's got blood in his "stool" to put it politely. Not a great topic to write about. A worse topic to experience firsthand. I called the vet about it. He asks "how much?"

Now, maybe I'm paranoid, but isn't ANY amount of blood coming out of my dog "too much???"

During one of our walks tonight, AxL took the time to just pass out sideways into a fence and go down. Of course, he walked it off, like he always does...eventually. I tell him it's okay to go, I'm not sure why he's hanging on. I'll be okay. He might be waiting until I find the next job or until he knows all the cardboard boxes are gone and I'm fully moved in. Whatever it is, he's hanging on while I'm losing it.

It eventually gets to be 3 a.m. and we take yet another trip outside. I'm going to be a zombie at my 10 a.m. interview. I've lost the mental line between bad dream and bad awake. I'm reaching the point of bad English now as I write. I contemplate the fact that I didn't have a New York moment today, nothing special to go on and on and on about. No landmarks visited, no crazy happenings, no weirdos on the street, no crossed phone lines, no broken steam heaters leaking all over the floor. Even the shower handles remain in place. The closest thing is almost too disturbing to write about so I'll just mention it below in the ratings.

What's left to write about? I guess there's the 99 Cent Store. I got a mop and a bucket. The bucket will double as a garbage can when I'm not mopping. I bought some 99 cent generic brand q-tips which turn out to be nothing more than plastic sticks with hard white nubs on them. I'm going to toss them and upgrade to the real thing for my ears. I deserve real Q-tips at the very least. At least that's what this zombie tells himself.

At some point, AxL crashes hard to the floor after struggling to stay upright. He's out cold. He's not really breathing. I gently pet him to wake him up be he doesn't really respond. I wonder if this is it. I hope it's not. I could use a friend for a bit longer. Although I could also use some sleep.

As I sit here and pet him and look out at another "white night" on the Empire State Building, I wonder where all of this will lead. Or fall. If nothing else, something is bound to get more interesting in one way or another soon enough. My life can never be normal. It seems to be a fate I endure and somehow manage to semi-embrace at times.

I must sleep...or at least lie down on the hard floor of a hard life that I hope will get easier. It's times like these that I don't doubt God, but I do question his sense of humor.

Day Job Panic: 7 - wide awake in the middle of the night just hours before 2nd interview, writing screenplay skipped again for sending out useless resumes.

AxL-O-Meter: 1 - three seizures and his stomach is showing no signs of stopping its turmoil

ESB: Seems to be a week of white. Still glorious. (Say "glorious" with a Will Farrell accent.)

Dream Dial: 0.5 - opted out for resumes again. At least the journal is still rolling.

NYC Degree: 1 - experienced the 99 Cent store on West 23rd. AxL crapped on many square feet of sidewalk. Suffered vision of ugly naked man staring out at us from his apartment during one of our dog walks. Changing dog walking route going forward to prevent further psychological damage.

Heart Rate: 0 - pulled myself back from -1 (negative one) by not calling LoLo to tell her I miss her and Venus. Must get more sleep to keep from having stupid thoughts like this.

Day 3: Cleaning Up, Winding Down

I have a 2nd round job interview on Friday. I'm somewhere between stone-faced confidence and sheer panic. I've been sending out resumes like crazy after feeling like I've got something to offer these companies yet, my responses have been fairly slow. I believe that I can make it another 89-90 days on my savings. Tomorrow that number will drop to 88-89.

AxL has been on the upswing for the last two days, looking, acting and seeming better. We walked over to Chelsea Piers to see if we knew any of the skating coaches from my past days of competitive figure skating. No dice. We walked back after passing by a tiny dog park filled with big, young, playful furballs. AxL didn't want to go in. He observed the wrestling from afar. We walked on and meandered back home via West 23rd to stop by the petstore and get him a brush and some liver snacks. The liver snacks actually were more of a hit than expected and he even played a bit of his favorite game, "GO FIND!" on the small throw rug in the middle of our small floor, in the middle of our small studio.

From the petstore onward, his walking suddenly declined, his head hung low and he got "that dying look" about him yet again. It persisted throughout the rest of the day and into the evening as his stomach decided to cut loose again. It was bad enough that he peed all the way down the hall in the morning, but now I was stuck cleaning up my floor and carpet and the sidewalk outside as best I could every hour or two throughout the entire night. I'm becoming exhausted from this.

We met Tom and his old husky "Cody." Tom recently let his fourteen year old German Shephard go, two weeks ago after she spent seven days not walking. We're not to that point yet, but Tom said he could see the similarities in AxL as his dog Cody went up to say hi and sniff AxL's nose. AxL bit Cody's nose. Weird. Grouchy... I don't think my buddy feels too good.

I contemplate giving him a bath as he could really use one, yet he really hates them. There's the groomer option but that usually involves leaving him somewhere else for several hours which likely would not be a good thing. None of this really has anything to do with living in New York and aspiring to be a writer.

We went across the street this afternoon so I could get a haircut and look "presentable." I don't really like spending $40 on a haircut, but then...it's kind of worth it. I get a shampoo and a "temple massage" and a "scalp massage" then a "neck massage" and a "shoulder and upper back massage" which is all part of the deal. At least it is today because the ladies know what I'm going through with AxL over the past week as he always wants to stop by their door and say hello. They also know I'm freaking out over the job interview so they treat me with a bit of extra care. Life is looking up in that moment. I'm looking better after getting my strangely persistent, non-balding blonde mop trimmed back to reality. If nothing else, I don't look or feel 39. It's a tenet I can hold onto...for now.

After the haircut, we returned home to do more job searching and resume sending. AxL had another seizure, his first in almost two days but his seventh in five days. Seizures seem to be followed with his stomach explosions.

My phone rings around 6:30 tonight. It's a strange sound in that I've not really had a home phone since December where it would ring for me. It actually IS for me now that the lines have been uncrossed. It's "Lisa" a personal assistant/cleaning lady/life organizer/errand runner/dog walker "Superwoman." I ask her if she wears a cape. She says it's standard for Manhattan that she does. She gives me her one-minute life story about how she got into the business after running a catering business and needing to care for a 17 year old dog in its last days. I relate. I give her my one-minute life story. She relates back. I decide to hire her for three hours of unpacking, deep cleaning and massive organizing on Saturday from 10-1.

After my experience with hiring movers which is still the best $120 I've ever spent, I decide that her $105 fee is worth getting my tiny home on track so I can quit living out of boxes while dancing over dust bunnies. I feel like it will be an experience in itself as I try to unravel my life into something better, neater and more adult-like. I often feel like I'm stuck in the week after college in terms of my life and I'm fighting to grow up and be a man, end to end. I feel like I shouldn't pay money for this kind of service, but the truth is, I'm so emotionally tired from AxL over the past week that I need help in the area that I can't seem to enjoy myself - cleaning and organizing. She promises to help me throw out the things I really don't need that I can't seem to throw out myself. She promises to make my place spotless and to get my ducks in a row. She feels like a caring mother that I don't have but desperately need in this moment.

We eat left over spaghettit again. My made from scratch sauce isn't too bad. I sit on the floor and look out at the third night of glowing white lights of the Empire State Building shining like a beacon of hope. I push panic aside and continue to send resumes to jobs well into the late hours while making the trips with AxL outside.

I see beautiful girls and their gay friends grabbing taxis and heading out on the town or coming back from heading out on the town. I long to say hi, introduce myself and someday laugh with them, but for now, I'm carrying plastic bags stuffed into my jeans and keep my baseball cap pulled down over my drooping head. My friend Peter's words ring in my subconscious: "New York is a great city but it can eat you alive."

Luckily, I feel dead in the moment. I shouldn't say it, but I miss LoLo...with all my heart. I miss Venus, the eternally happy dog. AxL is pure love, pure angel, but he's so hard to watch decline. In the dark evening, I pray for brighter days for this man. I pray for a good job and for success in writing. I pray that all of this will someday be nothing more than a little bump in the long road of life still ahead. Until then, what can I do but hit the gym each day, and hit the keyboard each night and walk AxL each hour...

Somehow, even in this non-beautiful moment, life is still beautiful...and I still love it. I'm just trying to decide if that means there's something wrong with me or nothing at all. I feel like a man who loves something that doesn't want to love him back. I guess I'll just have to keep going and see what the next 362 days bring. Good or bad, it's going to be a story for me to write which is hopefully worth reading.

Day Job Panic: 5 - sent out several more resumes, 48 hours to second interview on one job.

AxL-O-Meter: 2 - one more seizure, head low, refuses to walk very far, skipped breakfast, stomach awry.

ESB: White for the third night in a row. It's glorious.

Dream Dial: Skipped writing screenplay and opted for cover letters due to Day Job Panic.

NYC Degree: 4 - visited Chelsea Piers and Sky Rink, got a great haircut and massage, met Tom and his dog Cody, but felt like a rather uneventful day overall.

Heart Rate: -1 - self explanatory. Missing the most wonderful person to ever touch my life. Missing her giggle and the butterflies she always brought to my stomach. Butterflies now replaced by hollow pit but am hoping to feel better in time.

Day 2: Tennis Anyone?

The day started early. The phone company showed up at 8 a.m. to uncross my lines from the girl with an attitude nearby. Thank God. It took over two hours. In the meantime, I chatted with Vasili the super for my building. He told me all about 9-11 with tears in his eyes. Then he launched into action. I hadn't noticed while we were talking, but one entire side of my street was lined with cars, double parked while their owners sat in them reading the paper for the last hour. The other side of the street was empty as a street cleaning machine came brushing along.

The minute the machine went by, cars screeched and honked and jetted across to the empty side to grab a parking spot. It didn't stop there. It was 9:30. Every one of the owners had to remain with their car until 10:30 when the "ticket" window would be officially over. So I guess that on street cleaning days, people literally sit for hours in their cars, reading or talking on cell phones just to get a parking spot after the street cleaner goes by, then they sit there until the designated time on the sign when they are free and clear from parking tickets. The "meter-maids" don't drive along with the street cleaners like they do in San Francisco. It's a weird system and I find it amazing that people go through this just to park their cars. At some point, it's beyond ridiculous...but it's New York and I love it for all it's worth.

I spent most of the day next to "the now uncrossed phone line," awaiting a call for an interview in San Francisco. The call never came. I decided to do laundry. I met "Pearl" the attendant after AxL and I walked right past the "no pets" sign on the wall. We contemplated using the "wash and fold" service at sixty cents a pound, but it turns out to be twice as expensive as doing it on our own. Considering I'm not working, my time is not valuable in the moment. When I'm being paid $100 an hour in some job, yea, then I'm going wash and fold, baby.

Considering the phone was working, I thought I'd give Chantelle the model/actress and Paprika the dog a call around 6 when AxL and I were going out for a walk. She had given me her card a week ago so I figured, what the heck, might be nice to walk AxL and chat with someone for once. I called, she picked up and said hello. I said we were just going out for a walk and thought we'd call and say hi. She said she lived with her boyfriend and "HE wouldn't be down with that." Uh......okay??? I was perplexed. Her boyfriend wouldn't be down with me walking my dog? I said, "um, I'm not calling for a date...you gave me your card and all...but...well...okay...take it easy..." She replied, lobbing the tennis ball back into my court yet again. "Well, um, can you call me later? I'm just really busy running into the elevator and I'm sick." I reply with a confused "Uh, sure...take it easy."

I hang up. I don't get it. Why does someone give out their card for you to call them, then tell you they live with their boyfriend, then tell you to call back? My phone rings five minutes later. Unknown Caller ID. I say hello, they hang up. I continue to chat on Instant Messenger with a friend who's a former model. She says, "models and actresses are really fucked up people. Don't call back." (Her words, not mine so forgive the profanity.)

Of course...in fact, hell yeah...I'm going to call back, hoping there are a few more bits to this mini-saga.

As a writer looking for the "New York Experience," now I'm intrigued (or at least bored enough) to just see what's next in the mini-saga of "call me tennis." Now, I've got to be honest here. I'm truly not wanting to date anyone. I've been too freakin' messed up, beat up, thrown out, stepped on, trashed and financially sucked dry to even think about the possibility of ever letting anyone into my life again. I fully admit that the trashing was 1000% my fault. Which is why I'm not going to go through it again. Why ruin someone else's life as well as my own? I'm going to stick to just saving stray dogs. That's what I'm good at. If I stick to that, I can't hurt anyone and likewise.

That all said, in calling back I'm actually hoping to eventually meet her "live-with boyfriend" and have some people to hang out with here and there. I live two blocks from Chelsea Piers which sport a driving range, basketball courts, roller-blade hockey, ice rink, etc. etc. etc. and need some "guy buddies" to do sports stuff with. We'll see how it goes. It could be cool, it could end up that she's truly psycho as my friend warned me. Either way, it's all good as long as there's something to write about.

I'm going to go off on a side-note here. I gotta ('scuse the slang) admit that I'm disappointed in her now. She kind of gave me the first impression that she was this "independent-move to NYC-making it on my own actress," much the same way that I'm truly an "independent-move to NYC-making it on my own writer." Talk about cheating yourself out of a great experience. I admired her so much, I looked up to her in a brief while, I admired her pluck, her bravery, her determination, her courage and her ability to follow her dream. Now I found out that she's likely just living a cush-life, supported by someone else to a degree, no risk, no fear, working with a safety net. She might make it big, she might not. But she'll never know the feeling I've got right now. It's a feeling of chasing a dream and knowing that fly or fail, I did it. I dreamed, I tried. No one can take this away from me, this teetering on the edge, this pit-in-the-stomach-fear that I'm facing and will either overcome or crash in flames trying.

As much as I despise myself in so many ways, I admire myself in this endeavor. I will know at the end of my days, that I risked it all and gave my best without the support of others. I don't have the benefit of corporate housing and corporate relocation giving me a soft ride. It's all me. Sink or swim. I'm not cheating, I'm not sucking off of someone else. This is all me. She won't ever know the feeling. She won't be able to look back with the same feeling and say, "wow...I really put myself out there on the edge." In my mind, she's taking the lazy route...

Once you take the lazy route, you deny yourself 100% of what I'm going through now...which I wouldn't trade for the world - my integrity, my guts, my determination, my risk, my possible reward, my richness (or poorness) in daring to live my dream. I've got a sense of satisfaction despite my self-loathing at failure, that this is all me. As much as I'm a screw up and a failure...I'm still at the plate swinging alone at every pitch in the game, every curve ball, every screw ball, every fast ball is mine to hit or miss. Yea, I might strike out miserably...but no one is pinch-hitting for me. I'm at the bottom of the barrel, swinging for the fence. Me - alone....for all to watch, come what may. I sleep at night knowing that if nothing else, I've got balls. (So to speak.) I'll never suck off of others and use them in any way to reach my own dreams. If I make it, I make it. If I fail, I fail. There's a ton to be said for that. I wish I had the words.

Sure, I could probably find some easier way to make my way. I could take an easy, lazy route. But I refuse to cheat my way through this short but sweet life. When my books are in stores and my movies are on the big screen, I'm going to have something that is rare and undefinable in words and in me. I'll have self-worth, I'll have a sense of integrity and grit and courage that is uncommon. Even if I fail, I will have this. I guess my point is, don't cheat your way through life. Don't cheat yourself out of facing your biggest fears and overcoming them. I thought about it, I thought about giving up a million times over. I realized that I cannot look myself in the mirror each day and face the person who is there if I did that. If I do nothing else right in this lifetime, I'm at least a big enough person to stick to my word, to dare face my greatest fears and either succeed or fail without cheating. I may not be much, I may never make it, but I am able to at least say it was all me. Okay, so I'm on my soapbox now. I'll get off of it with a final word: if you have a dream and fear...then go after it on your own. Don't pretend to be something you're not. Don't cheat yourself out of the experience. Don't lie. Don't use others to get by. Stand on your own two feet and fly or die trying. Because if you don't, your success is empty and you are a pitiful soul incapable of doing what you fear most. You're hiding from life. You're cheating yourself out of the richness it can offer in trying and succeeding or failing on your own. That is truly the saddest thing imaginable. To reach the end of your days and look back and realize that you never dared. You never risked. You never truly lived.

Reality: We're eating left-over spaghetti and folding a mountain of clean laundry. It's been a good day overall, a New York kind of day. I even took the risk of calling a "personal assistant/dogwalker/bookkeeper/cleaning person/errand runner" to see about getting help with some stuff. I learned that when I got here and hired movers to unload me in 45 minutes for $120 that sometimes it's more than worth a little bit of cash to let someone do the stuff I hate. We'll see if they call back. I giggle when I think about having a part-time "personal assistant" like "Mr. Pitt" on Seinfeld where Elaine has to go out and buy him socks. It's another story for another day.

...And now It's another night for "New York's Favorite Boy and Dog Duo." We're going to sleep on our tiny hardwood floor, me in a sleeping bag, AxL on an old blanket. I'm buying sheets the day I get a new job. I'm saving the moment as my reward. Well, actually I'm saving the cash until I can breathe again financially. If you believe in God - any god for that matter - pray for me, pray for AxL(bless his little heart), and pray that I find a job somewhere on this planet soon. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will take an act of God for someone to employ me so I need all the help I can get on that front.

With that, here are today's ratings as promised:

Day Job Panic: 4 - I am feeling the beginnings of freaking out, but remain calm on the exterior. An expected call back never called back. Another friend asked for my resume for a friend's co. I remain hopeful, but have that slight worry that I won't find a job and end up homeless on 8th Ave. I contemplate a Starbucks Application yet again.

AxL-O-Meter: 4 - no apparent seizures today, but is still eating half of what he ate ten days ago. He continues to remain all too bone-thin despite canned food and people food mixed. Only two falls during walks.

ESB: White - again, an incredible sight to behold in the night as it glows with a pearly softness in the clouds. I love looking out my window at it while daydreaming of better times ahead.

Dream Dial: 5 - Writing was offset by laundry today. Only two additional scene indexes written. On a good note, learned from a friend that he knows a top producer in Hollywood so I'll have one more place to send my completed script in three months.

Reader Meter: such a boring statistic that I'll only update once a month for now.

NYC Degree: 5 - did my first laundry, phoneline finally "uncrossed" from "girl with an attitude," my own number is now working after 2 hour tech visit: 212-242-3190, leaking steam heater fixed, unattached shower handles fixed, experienced "parking circus"

Heart Rate: 0 - naturally.

Day 1: New Beginnings

New York City. Here I am. It's my first day in what will be a year of chasing my dream of becoming a writer. Last night's fortune cookie said, "Welcome Each Day As A Fresh New Beginning."

I've been here three weeks as of today. I'm hitting the reset button to make it Day 1..."control-alt-delete" for you computer geeks. I revamped my journal with my pen name: "Scott Richards." I figure that if I'm starting over, I'm going to go all out. I'll even be listed in the phone book as Scott Richards. I was tired of "Kurttila." No one ever got it right. Kind of like my life...I never seem to get it right. I'm tired of that, too. Time to toss the past and grab the future.

New address, new phone number, new keys, new neighborhood, new name, new everything. This time, I'm going to get it right.

I've even decided to take the risk of trying to be a paid writer. So here's the deal. Right now, there are about 3,000 of you strangely loyal people who read my journal on a regular basis. I figure that since I spend at least an hour or two per day writing about the several other hours I spend living, that perhaps there is enough "entertainment value" in there for everyone to donate a small subscription for my journalistic efforts...thereby helping me reach my dream.

I created an "amazon honor system account" for it all and the link is right up there in the right margin if you look for it. You can donate any amount between $1 and $50 and I suggested $19.95 for a one year subscription because it seemed like less than the cost of a latte each month was an appropriate amount . Of course you don't have to give anything by any means as this will always be "free" to read, but God Bless You if you do pitch in to my cause. Who knows, eventually I might get a book or TV or Movie deal out of this little experiment and you can say, "I knew him when..."

Next, if you 3,000 strangely loyal people each tell three to ten (or more) friends about my "ONE YEAR IN NEW YORK" story, and then they all tell some friends, well....my reader base will grow. I set a goal of getting 100,000 regular readers within one year. With that, it's time to get on with writing about the first day...

blah, blah, blah...

Day 1 - New Beginnings

So, I went through my first day. I thought about how best to send it along to you, my loyal readers. I figured i should lay out some sort of format, a daily "rating" if you will. Allow me to begin:

I took a look at my life in its current state and figure there are a few aspects to it. These will change over time, but for now, they stand as follows: "Day Job Panic," rated 1 to 10 with "1" being, "I'm making bank and happy" and "10" being the "oh crap" level. Next is the "AxL-O-Meter" (rhymes with "thermometer) which will have his health and energy rating from a 1-10 where "1" is "knockin' on heaven's door" and "10" is "all systems go." Next is one of my favorite aspects of living here, The Empire State Building or "ESB" for short, if you will. Each night, it's a different color, all lit up. I'll keep you in the know. Next is the "Dream Dial," or...basically an indicator of how my writing is going in terms of quantity and quality as I attempt to become self-sufficient financially as a writer. This is of course followed by a "reader meter" which will be updated here and there regarding the number of actual readers I have in this experiment. Next, I'll have the "NYC Degree" rating which will give a rating of the unique NYC experience I had that day...from Yankees games to laundromats. A "1" is, "today sucked eggs" and a "10" is courtside seats at a Knicks Game. Lastly, I'll have the "Heart Rate" which is my level of hope that I might someday be loved by some incredible woman. This will of course always read zero unless a miracle happens, but something this meaningful should never be left out.

And now the ratings:
Day Job Panic: 2 - no job, but great interviews last week and follow ups later this week. 37 resumes sent out.
AxL-O-Meter: 3 - nil bladder control, six "seizures" in two days, massive limping, tail perceptibly wagging
ESB: tonght's color is "all white" and enmeshed in clouds to give this icon a "heavenly castle" appearance
Dream Dial: 7 - Journal pages updated. 20 scenes outlined of a 40 scene movie index written about AxL's life.
Reader Meter: 3,148 unique monthly readers
NYC Degree: 7 - Ate NYC pepperoni pizza, worked out at new gym, 3 new acquaintances, made spaghetti
Heart Rate: 0 - get used to it.

Normally, I'd write a pile here about what the day was about. I'll be brief considering all that I wrote above. I'll just breifly state that I love the Empire State Building. I gaze out my window at this incredibly picturesque masterpiece of architecture while dreaming of going to heaven someday. It's surreal in that it looks like something to aspire to, something to reach, a beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless life. Somewhere, somehow, someone achieved a dream when they built it. I ponder as I eat my first home-cooked meal: spaghetti. It seems appropriate in that I am paying a tribute to the one or two Italians and their descendents who live in this city. Or so it seems.

I went to the gym today. Lovely place. I realize I'm blessed with a somewhat athletically inclined physique. I sent out a pile of resumes. I realized that I have had a rich career experience that is unique. Not stellar, mind you, but unique. I dove into writing tonight. It's easy for some reason. Words flow, thoughts churn and AxL's screenplay unravels effortlessly so far. It snowed tonight, at least it was while we were outside on one of the many walks. My phone doesn't work. I pick it up and half the time I'm in the middle of someone else's conversation. If I get a dial tone, it's only a matter of time while I'm chatting before this girl with a thick NY accent picks up and says something to the effect of, "why are you on my phone?" as if I crossed our lines on purpose and this is all a joy ride to share a line with her. Yea, it's a Seinfeld Episode - Crossed Lines. I seem to share a line with a girl sporting an attitude somewhere in the neighborhood. I'm supposed to have my own number but for the past two weeks, wishes have been wishes.

AxL continues to shudder and reel. He's had six seizures since Saturday afternoon. He's a stubborn one, always bouncing back as if nothing's wrong despite his massive limp which people constantly comment on as they pass by. "Why don't you take him to the vet???" I see where New Yorkers get their attitudes now as I just want to throttle anyone who thinks that I can't seem to see that my dog is limping like a three-legged turtle.

On a side-note, my door has remained unlocked and I've remained unrobbed. I don't know why, but this little tidbit just cracks me up each day. Despite my hopes that someone will take my possessions so that I might have less to unpack, I remain 90% unpacked. I have 9 boxes of books and a bookcase, but I don't seem to have the pegs which hold the shelves in place and therefore cannot finish this one frustrating aspect of unpacking. In light of AxL's decline, who cares at the moment.

On another side-note, I think there's an addictive chemical in the pizza here.

I'm falling in love with this city...and learning to love myself. It will take some time. We're both a bit rough in places...but we have our strong points. For now, I am so New York. Why? Because I get asked for directions three times a day. I must be doing something right to look that local. I always give detailed directions but always wonder where the heck I just sent someone as they depart. I hope it's the right direction. Because I don't really have a clue. "Whaddo I know? I just live heah..."

Seize The Day

Waking up felt better today now that I've decided to stop playing "God" and defer the big decision regarding AxL to the appropriate deity. I was to go into work this morning but while walking AxL, he had another seizure which kept us an hour longer than expected while he recovered a block and a half away. I got home and made another hard decision.

I politely resigned.

I usually don't give up on something, especially a new job which is pretty important to my self-confidence in the moment. However, I called a great friend and bounced things off of him. He said exactly what I was thinking: there will be plenty of jobs but only one AxL.

After sending out my resume for the past three months, I've finally had two callbacks and two great interviews with follow-ups scheduled. I am going to trust that life will take care of me as it should. Heck, I might even end up back on the West Coast in San Francisco if things go great. I got to New York because it was the only job offer I'd had. I was extremely torn about coming here. I wanted the job but not the location. I told myself to just quit worrying and go and make the most of it, lay low, and work my way through life from there. So far, I've done my best to lay low and enjoy it, despite AxL's decline. I've met new people, I've seen some cool things and I've started putting my life back together in a lot of respects.

When I got here, I didn't even have sheets, pillows, a toaster, a garbage can or any sort of cleaning supplies. I left a lot behind on my last move, including a good chunk of cash for rent to a landlord where I wasn't even living. I definitely could've used it, but took what I felt to be the "good road." In my new apartment, all two hundred square feet of it, I slept on the floor with a rolled up sweatshirt for a pillow and a bathtowel for a blanket the first few nights since I started my job right away and didn't have time to settle in. Bit by bit, I'm finding some stuff as I unpack. I'm also "not" finding things that I used to have. Such is life. There will be other toasters, I bought a pillow...and I can make more cash.

Speaking of, I finally got paid for my screenwriting deal and so I'm able to float for another three months comfortably in case a job doesn't come through right away. Not that I should expound about my financial situation but it does feel nice to have some sense of security in these rough times. A friend told me that the founder of Heinz Ketchup went bankrupt two times before finally getting off the ground. I don't plan on following in his footsteps, but do keep in mind that it's okay when life isn't a smooth road.

Tonight as I sit here next to AxL, I almost feel proud of myself. If nothing else, I am my own man, standing on my own two feet, making my own way. I took a big risk, faced my fears and moved to New York City without a place to live. I got an apartment by cell phone during the drive. Since I've been here, I've been making great connections for my writing. I'm three degrees from Martin Scorcese and two degrees from Tim Robbins. I've seen Grand Central Station, Times Square, the Flat Iron District, Chinatown, the Chelsea Piers and a lot of stuff in between. As much as possible, I've been trying to soak it all in, knowing that someday I'll get back to San Francisco and wiggle my toes in the sand on the beach at sunset. For now, I'm' just taking in all that is New York one day at a time...

...One day at time, made up of hours. We went for an afternoon walk and 8th Ave was filled with people dining at outdoor seating in all the little restaurants. AxL tried to go after a steak but was fended off with a smile. Rascal.

People love this dog. He's just got a charm and a kindness and a peace about him like no other. If only I could absorb it all when he goes. Maybe I'll inherit it, who knows.

We met our first real actress: Chantelle and her dog Paprika. Paprika is a long-lost sister of Venus I believe. She's two years old, same body, same shyness, same "velcro leg hug" thing. The only difference is she doesn't sport a blue eye, just two brown ones. I almost cried while talking to Paprika because I realized how very much I miss "Venus The Peanut" and the energetic happiness she always brought me. (Why on earth did I ever give her up?) Just one more "stupid Scott decision" I guess. Chantelle just moved here from L.A. and is a film and television actress. She made me promise to never put AxL to sleep but instead give him to her if it got to that point because she used to work at the ASPCA taking care of old dogs. Despite the fact that she looks like a Victoria's Secret model, AxL was uninterested so as his agent, I politely declined on his behalf to save him the embarassment associated with severely shunning and disappointing her. AxL's got his loyalties and he keeps them.

The day wore on and I found myself getting one more round of Chinese Take-Out to complement the NY Pepperoni Pizza we had earlier. On the way home, we met "Kayla" the dog and her Icelandic owner, Bjorg. Bjorg is a kind, soft-spoken older woman with a charming accent. As we talked and Kayla sniffed AxL's ears, AxL decided to have yet another seizure. He swayed back and forth as his eyes slowly closed and then he just sort of melted into the sidewalk.

Bjorg commented that he looked "stoned but peaceful." She didn't strike me as the pot-smoking type but then again, maybe the '60's culture hit Iceland and she was a part of it all. After about thirty minutes, AxL "came to" and off we went again as if nothing had happened. I don't get it, but I am okay with it.

Another day is behind us and we'll see what hidden treasures a jobless Monday brings. More resumes out the door for sure, and more walks and more new friends, too. I joined a gym so I'm going to take some "Scott Time" to work out after a week of "All About AxL." I've got a big heart for this dog but I gotta keep it in shape here and there.

He's sleeping soundly on the floor next to me. His ears twitch and tremble as if he's in a car on a bumpy road. It must be from all the little strokes he's had over the last two days. As I look down at him, I look back over the past week of absolute grief and sadness and despair. I'm so oddly peaceful now. I guess I'm either too exhausted to be sad or just learning "to be" in light of the fact that AxL will soon "not to be." I'm going to be okay and know in my heart that he's soon going to be even better.

Until then, we'll keep seizing the hours and hopefully days that we have left.

Sleep Of Faith

I got a call from an old friend in the middle of the night to wish me a late happy birthday. I hadn't talked to her in about six years and we caught up and laughed for over two hours at all that we've been through during the hiatus of conversation.

She pushed me further along the road of believing in myself. I think that sometimes a random phone call isn't so random. Yea, I'll just say it here. There's more to life than this earth, I know that.

Last November, I visited my parents' grave for the first time since the day they were buried. I prayed to my mom for answers. I've been alive for a long time now. Thirty-nine years and a day or so. In that lifetime, I have never felt something so strange as in that moment of prayer. I felt something "wash through me." It scared the crap out of me but at the same time, it pushed me over the edge in terms of knowing that there truly is something bigger out there in God and heaven and all that goes with it.

I'm not religious per se, in terms of church and bible-thumping. I will say that I know without a doubt that God exists, though. To put it lightly, it's a bit freaky. To put it kindly, it's more than reassuring.

I hung up after saying "good morning" at 3 a.m. to the long lost friend on the other end of the line. I sat with AxL for an hour until I couldn't stay awake any longer. I fell asleep on the hardwood floor next to him with my hand on his heart as I've done so many times recently. Soon, I won't have a good heart next to me at night. I'll have to just hold my own, so to speak.

At 7:30, he woke up, raging to go outside. He peed in front of Cha-Cha the cat's door at apartment 2E on the way out. I figure it was some sort of dog tribute to his new friend down the hall.

I got a coffee and meandered about slowly on the empty streets. It was raining and AxL was not pleased. We eventually made it home, I dried him off and then laid down on the couch, needing a short nap after a long night of laughing. It felt great to laugh for the first time in a couple of weeks.

Our appointment was at 11:40 and I wanted to get up in an hour to get as much time in with him as I could.

I woke up at 12:30. I slept through putting AxL to sleep. Irony abounds. The vet had no more appointments available so we'd have to wait until Monday. He was perking up again over the last twelve hours so I didn't mind keeping him for one more day. Procrastination seems to be a good thing all of a sudden.

We went for a walk and just as I thought he was doing better, his stomach gave way again and his limping went from bearable to sadly unbearable to watch. It took us two hours to go one block and back and I went through five plastic bags amidst the Saturday throngs on 8th Ave. We got home and chatted with Cha-Cha's owner Maria for a bit She loaned us a vacuum to clean the Ikea rug which is littered with remnants from Venus destroying a chew toy. She was going out and invited me, but I opted to stick with my best friend.

As we got back to our apartment, AxL started acting strange. He made about ten circles in one spot and then began to lose control of his hind legs. His head tilted sideways and his whole body trembled a bit. He gently fell over like a drunken sailor. It was the best Johhny Depp "Pirates Of The Caribbean" impersonation I've seen. He landed on his side with one hind leg stiffly sticking out in the air. I sat down next to him, softly petting him and saying goodbye. He slowly opened his eyes and eventually his leg relaxed as he came to again.

It turns out that he has some sort of tumor or lesion in his nervous system which is causing him to decline so fast now. I went and got us Chinese Take-Out one more time. I love the food at this place, but the girl at the desk is a total bitch. I won't candy-coat it. I feel like she hates me for some reason but figure there's got to be something else in her life that causes her nastiness. AxL turned up his nose at food. I tried his favorite treats with no luck. I decided to pull out all the stops and I went and got a soft-serve vanilla ice cream cone. He took two licks and walked away instead of devouring the whole thing as he normally would.

Half an hour later, he got up with a small yelp and started pacing and panting about while slightly drooling. We went outside and began walking down the sidewalk at a snail's pace...stand...step an inch...stand. We made it a few yards and his body began to tremble again. His head did little circles, his eyes began to roll about and close. His back legs started collapsing and he fought to stay upright on his front ones. I was at peace and gently caught him as he went down. He stayed there a long time, perhaps half an hour as I just pet him while people walked by without a word.

The stubborn rascal eventually sat up again. His left ear was inside out and I fixed it for him. I gently helped him up, turned him around and he slowly, ever so slowly made his way back with a tilted head as if he were listening to something on the ground while walking. I figured that even though I didn't let him go today, it was his day.

We got home and he laid down on the floor, I got my pillow and blanket and laid down next to him as he barely breathed. We got up two hours later and headed back outside yet again. He pees like a clock now...every hour it seems. We got back home once more and he went back to sleep next to me. I couldn't sleep and decided to write. I worked on his screenplay for a bit and am making good headway. In three months, I'm hoping to have it read by Tim Robbins through three degrees of separation via my cousin Erik.

It's loud outside as the bar crowds millling the sidewalks heat up along with car horns protesting their jaywalking. I'm quiet inside after watching AxL give up twice knowing that when the time comes, he'll just peacefully fall asleep like a drunken pirate. I'm going to be okay with all of it. It's been a hell of a week, but I'm going to be okay.