Little Fish, Big River, Bigger City

Day 27: My First Date

I woke up with my first headache that I can recall in a long time. I deserve it for not following the Queer Eye advice of making every other drink "non-alcoholic...especially water." A banana, three glasses of water and thirty minutes later and I'm fully recovered and off walking my wonderful dog. We start making our way to the dog run at Madison Square Park, but he's not up for going that far. After some minor protesting, we make our way back home again.

Today feels like it's going to be a good day despite the rough start. The hours burn away until Maria calls from down the hall seeing if I want breakfast at 1 p.m. Yea...eggs are a good call. I leave AxL with strict instructions to behave and Maria and I walk down 8th Ave to the "Galaxy Cafe." I order a turkey omelet and OJ and it arrives with more potatoes than exist in all of Ireland and I can't finish it. Maria shares her "toasted" blueberry muffin with me as we talk about nothing in particular after she's done ridiculing me for showing up with a guest so late last night. Little does she know what better revenge lies in wait for her at some unsuspecting moment in the near future.

It's a good "shopping day" so I retrieve Mr. AxL and the three of us walk to the flower shop and then the drugstore followed by a trip to the petstore for AxL food and Cha Cha kitty litter. Maria tries talking me into buying a "cool hat" like Bruce Willis wears but I look ridiculous. I opt for knocking over wire displays on the shop's table instead. As we get within a block of home, AxL greets a shaggy black mutt-dog. On the other end of the leash is a blue-eyed man in a stocking cap. He's holding a beautiful little girl and a clear bag containing a new teddy bear. The girl is utterly precious and I silently wonder if I'll ever be so lucky as to have a family of my own in five years or so. First things, first...I need a date.

After we part ways, Maria begins hyperventilating.

"Do you know who that was?????"

"Um........no?" I dumbly reply.

"That was my favorite soap stah! Rogah Howarth from As The World Turns!!!"

"Oh....hm. Well, he had a nice dog and an adorable girl." I'm not sure of what else to say to my freaked out neighbah.

"You should see his wife, she's GOH-jus!"

So there it was and I missed it. My first actor sighting. Well, I guess I can count Carson Kressley from "Queer Eye" who walked by me and AxL about a month ago when the coffee shop employee sneered and said...

"Unh!! They're ALWAYS in here and they never tip!"

Maria finally catches her breath as we get back to our building. She races into her apaht-ment to call everyone she knows about "the sighting" and AxL and I head home.

Around 6:30, I start getting ready for my first big date....I'm going to the Josh Groban concert at Radio City Music Hall. I'm incredibly pumped except for one thing:

I'm going alone.

Yea, tell me about it. I've pretty much come to the conclusion that my horoscope in the "The Secret Language Of Relationships" is pretty much right on. My birthday is known as "The Week Of The Loner." I got an email from one of the anonymous people who emails me here and there and signs it, "a friend." This person said that I need to stop relying on the acceptance of others for my reality and happiness. It's great advice and so tonight, I'm trying to heed it to a large extent and will continue to do so to a larger extent.

I get dressed up to the degree possible from my "meager straight guy bachelor wardrobe" and head out. I decide to take a cab rather than risk getting off the wrong subway stop again. The cabbie doesn't speak when I ask him how he's doing. He just waves a small hand in a sort of "hello" gesture. I'm not sure if he's telling me to shut up or if he can't speak so I opt to just shut up and hang on for dear life, scrambling desperately for the seatbelt as he nears lightspeed down 6th Ave just north of West 30th. Safely strapped in, I marvel at the buildings and bustling people of the city. This place is so alive that you one can be alone without feeling the heartache and pain that one would feel in a less interesting, less thriving place. I vow to myself that despite a broken heart, I refuse to let my dreams break, too. I'm going to make it, somehow, someway...or die trying...or die riding in a New York Taxi, whichever comes first.

I exit the cab and walk into the most amazing theater lobby I've ever seen. I go through my standard child-like awe thing....standing in the middle of the room, slowly turning, looking up as if searching for shapes in the clouds, while I soak in the spectacle as the buzz of people all around me bounces off my quiet thoughts of "wow-dom."

Wow.

Again, wow.

I make my way past the sponsored Mercedes Benz on a platform and through Door D, then down the incredibly long aisle, almost to the front. My seat obtained through a friend is insane...center section, center seat, 15 rows back from the stage. After gazing at the spectacular cone-shaped ceiling while trying to come up with mental words for it, I turn and look behind me at the soaring mezzanines full of less blessed spectators. The announcer announces, the screamers scream and the lights de-light until darkness ensues.

The music starts and Josh begins ripping into his first notes while standing in front of a monstrous karaoke screen on steroids as footage of crashing waves serves as a stunning backdrop.

Wow.

Again, wow.

The sound of his voice ripples over my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand on end while the richness of his voice fills my ears with undefinable treasure. I devour every song, especially "My Confession" and "Broken Vow," both of which send involuntary tears streaming down my face with thoughts of beautiful LoLo past. It feels good to hurt. I'm thankful I don't have a date as there wouldn't have ever been a second one had she witnessed my embarassing emotions which I don't have to hide in my solitude.

Love is a twisted, hellish thing. For some reason, I don't seem to be able to turn it off. How do you get someone out of your heart once they found their way in? The hole she left is relentlessly deep...covering it up is like trying to fill the Grand Canyon using a teaspoon: pointlessly and perpetually impossible...as thoughts of her carry away each speck of effort like a raging river.

The concert ends and I spill back into the street with the crowd. I call Caroline to see if the going away party for her friend that I've been invited to is still on. It is and she's in a cab on her way. I meet the vehicle on 47th and 5th where I burn away a few minutes giving useless directions to a drunk Irish couple wearing flags like Superman capes. Only in New York. I watch the countless taxis race by on the artery-like streets around me. I long for New York to fill my veins with new blood, new experiences, new memories...new life.

Caroline and cab arrive, I hop in and we're off to The Opium Den in the East Village. As we enter, I'm expecting a huge bar packed with people. It's a small bar that's nearly empty. I meet a few of her friends and have trouble understanding their Brit accents over the loud music. I decide to order drinks. Caroline opts for a coke, I opt for a water and then one of the best mojito's I've ever had. More people arrive and I strain to hold onto ten or so names. I notice a girl at the center of the bar, completely alone with at least six feet of empty space all about her.

She carries a perturbed look on her face as she spins her cell phone on the bar, obviously upset that her party hasn't arrived yet. I tell Caroline I'm going to invite the loner to join our group until hers arrives. In fifteen minutes, her group arrives and it turns out that she was in my same boat..."a friend of a friend" of the going away party. Big City, Small World.

The lounge fills and fills as I keep chatting away and alternating two non-alcoholic drinks for every mojito to keep from repeating last night's performance. Midnight arrives and Caroline heads home. I'm asked by the group to rally and stay despite her departure and I oblige. Two-thirty a.m. arrives and we've all had enough. We depart and catch a couple of taxis out front. In six point five minutes, I'm walking in my door then taking AxL outside. I notice a buzz on my phone. I have two text messages...one from Caroline saying she made it back to her place safely and one from JP, the girl who I stepped up to help three weeks ago from the Russian Mafia type guy wearing Aqua-neon shoes who thankfully didn't shoot me. JP's message just came through a minute ago so I call her back to see what the heck she's doing up.

She's out with her parents, driving home from a night on the town somewhere in Delaware. We talk and laugh for a bit and eventually I'm on the phone with her mom who thanks me and says she's looking forward to meeting me next week for JP's bday night in the Big Apple. One minute, you're in some dude's face trying to help a girl out, the next minute, you're on the phone with her mom at 3 a.m. laughing as if you're an old family friend.

It's late, or early, or both...especially with the time change. As I lie down, I thank myself for the concert date and an enjoyable evening. I give the furball a big hug as I flop my head down on the pillow beside him on the floor and ponder the night. I wonder if I should ask myself out on a second date sometime. Nah...I decide not to since I've got too much baggage and I don't think I'm my type...but I did have fun, heard some incredible music, and met some new people before getting home at an un-Godly hour.

I tell myself the standard line, knowing full-well it's a lie.

"Yea, I'll give you a call sometime...."

Day Job Panic: 1 - just have to get through a few days and see if the promised offer comes through next week after sending off my references.

AxL-O-Meter: 6 - not only does he seem to be doing a lot better than he was almost a month ago, he actually seems to have slept despite my long night out. I thank God I didn't put him to sleep and have had the last few weeks of extra time with him. Perhaps he's got another month, or two, or six or???

Dream Dial: 0 - I think I have writer's block of some sort. My creative side might be in hibernation for some reason. Need to figure out how to kick-start myself back into writing on the screenplay again.

ESB: White. I'm thinking that one of these days I'm going to actually research and see what the colors and lack of colors actually mean.

NYC Degree: 10 - you can't top Radio City Music Hall and Josh Groban. The rest of the day is all fluff - Galaxy Cafe hangover brunch, hat shopping, chatting with Roger Howarth and his dog, going out to The Opium Den and meeting new friends then finishing it off talking to JP's mom in the wee hours.

Heart Rate: -2 - the more people I meet, the more I miss LoLo and especially Venus the dog. I've got to figure out a way to erase it all from my heart at some point...if there is a way. I find myself considering sailing around the world again just to kill time in life...maybe I'll have enough saved up in a year or two? I dream of setting out on the high seas and never coming back, swallowed up by some rogue wave that takes me out in the middle of the night. It feels like that would be a perfect ending to an incredibly full life of experiences and adventures... much better than dying full of tubes, alone in some random nursing home in thirty or forty more years.

Day 26: Trailer Trashed

I'm beginning to rack up friends through random occurrences. Sometimes I get an email here and there, out of the blue and before I know it, it turns into something to do. Sometimes I get advice, other times, I give advice. What comes around, goes around.

If today was nothing else, it was the day of several of these emails all piling on top of one another. It began with a recruiter which flowed into an interview for a job. During the interview, my phone was quietly buzzing away in my pocket when the girl called who I semi-rescued two weeks ago by getting up in the face of "Mr. Drunk and Screaming Russian Mafia" (who happened to be wearing neon, aqua-colored shoes). She had originally called me a few days after the incident to say "thank you." I was programmed into her phone as "help." It turns out that during this afternoon's job interview, she was also in the city for an interview of her own. I called her back when I didn't recognize the number and a few minutes later, I'm invited to birthday drinks with her and her parents next weekend when they'll be in the city to catch "The Lion King" on Broadway.

When I got home, I checked my email and found one from another person I've not yet met. We're supposed to meet up on Monday for a play, but a few rounds of email later, we're going to meet at Trailer Park for after work drinks. Granted, she has a job and I don't, but...interviewing all week for jobs counts just as much in my book. Next thing I know, I'm on the phone with a potential employer and I'm verbally promised an offer letter early next week.

So...I guess I'm nearly employed. Time to celebrate.

Maria's not up for going out so I'm forced to fly solo with someone I've never met. I'm supposed to be able to spot her red purse as she's standing just outside the subway station. The hour arrives and I head out. I stand for awhile at the South West corner of West 23rd and 7th Ave. Then I notice that there's a subway stairwell on every corner of the intersection. I spy a red purse and chase it down. It's the wrong red purse and I'm the recipient of a strange look. I go back and start over. I spy another red purse on the completely opposite corner and make my way up and over. This time it's the right red purse and I introduce myself to Caroline. She seems harmless enough and I guess I do too so we head to one of my favorite hang outs, "Trailer Park" on West 23rd Street. I guess I've been here about three too many times as the bouncer greets me like an old friend. Um...yea.

We get a table in the back since we opt to get a bite to eat as a foundation for a margarita. Luckily, the food is ample as Caroline makes the uncanny call that after the first margarita, a pitcher of the stuff is in order. Somehow, we're able to blab and talk and chat and laugh and blab our way through dinner and the pitcher of margaritas plus an orchard of limes. Caroline is charming and her stories about life in the city make me feel rather boring. I make a mental note that I've got to step it up a notch if I'm going to be able to compete with people like this. We leave and for some strange reason, I'm dialing Maria of "Mr. Cha Cha The Cat." Since it's only about ten o'clock, Caroline and I head to my building so she can meet, Maria, Cha Cha and Mr. AxL. Little did I know, it was actually twelve thirty as we'd somehow burned away three hours swapping stories.

We're able to bother Maria for a good two hours before recruiting Mr. AxL for a walk to catch a cab so Caroline can head home to the Upper East Side. I walk my old dog around the block on our normal route and soak up the randomness of life. In a way, none of it makes sense but in a better way, it all sort of works out. I'm still not quite sure how I got here, had a job, was losing my dog, quit the job to save the dog, searched for a new job, am beginning to land offers and better yet, I'm landing friends, one by one.

As I lie down, I realize I probably had one too many from the "pitcher of margarita"...I might even be a bit trashed, but my life isn't. I hug AxL "goodnight" and he groans. I chuckle to myself and think, "this New York Adventure is going to be okay." It reminds me of one my favorite Hansel quotes from the movie "Zoolander:"

"I wasn't like every other kid, you know, who dreams about being an astronaut, I was always more interested in what bark was made out of on a tree. Richard Gere's a real hero of mine. Sting. Sting would be another person who's a hero. The music he's created over the years, I don't really listen to it, but the fact that he's making it, I respect that. I care desperately about what I do. Do I know what product I'm selling? No. Do I know what I'm doing today? No. But I'm here, and I'm gonna give it my best shot."

Day Job Panic: 1 - received verbal that offer letter is on its way. Do I know what product I'm selling? No...but I'll give it my best shot.

AxL-O-Meter: 3 - he seems to be holding in there okay. However, I realized today that I might not be the best judge since I've grown used to him. A lady passing us on the street stopped and said, "Oooh, he's limping so badly! Don't wait too long to put that old dog to sleep." Um, yea...that made my day.

Dream Dial: 0 - Ready to get back into writing again now that Day Job Panic has substantially subsided.

ESB: White. Yipee skipee.

NYC Degree: 6 - got invited to birthday drinks next week, went on a crazy romper-room job interview complete with a 9 year old receptionist, met new random friend, Caroline, face to face at Trailer Park, got Trailer Trashed then terrorized Maria for a good spell. Still trying to figure out payback for April Fool's Day...

Heart Rate: 0 - the more people I meet, the more I miss what I used to have. Oh well, what can you do? C'est la vie.

Day 25: Maria's Antics

It was a basic day for the most part. I'm not sure if I'm killing time or it's killing me. I spent a large part of the day working on some legal documents for my attorney in addition to more resumes and more resumes and a few more resumes. I'm just trying to burn the day away until it's time to watch The Apprentice on TV at Maria's place.

I'm also trying to get the images from the cover of The New York Times out of my head. I'm still in shock and disbelief that they actually published a picture of burned American's bodies hanging from a bridge in Iraq. My heart and soul bleeds for the families and loved ones who lost someone in this manner. War is hell.

Maria decides to unknowingly add to my "sickened" stomach. She calls in the early evening and tells me that she was fired today after 10 years with her company and just when she was about to try and move to another department. Again, I'm in shock and disbelief and don't know what to say or do to cheer her up. Then she says, "April Fool's." I'm too gullible and she got me good. I will get revenge at some point, in some fitting way. AxL and I head to her apartment to catch our current favorite show. We're a bit early so Maria tells me about all of the twisted and evil April Fool's Day jokes her sister played on friends and family. The conversation meanders into her interest in helping me with my "New York Experience" writing mission.

It turns out that she's starting to look around for things I can try out and then write about to a degree. I'm not sure if it's just an extension of her evil-joking side or if she's sincere about it but she starts laying out some ideas. The first is to go and see a psychic. While I don't believe in them, it definitely would be an experience. What the heck...I'm down with that.

Then she drops the bomb. "How about Speed Dating?" Hhmmm...no?

However, it doesn't take much for her to talk me into it. The Apprentice starts and I start my dislike of Amy all over again. I'm not sure why, but that girl just puts a bitter pill in my mouth. I feel sorry for Nick for some reason. He's going to get burned by her for sure at some point, either on the show or off. On a commercial break, Maria is reading off the different speed dating events that we can attend. You sort of have to sign up with a person of the opposite sex so that the numbers work out for the evening so I decide to be a team player and figure if nothing else, it's definitely going to be something to write about.

None of the dates of the events are working out for her schedule...except for one...the Catholic Singles night coming up in a couple of weeks. Before I know it, we're both registering and I'm now on a waiting list for speed dating some Catholic girls at some point in the not too distant future.

The Apprentice works it's way through the episode, with Nick and Amy being saved by an act of God in the final minutes of the day's contest. Unbelievable. I swear it's a set up by Trump who sent the guy back in to give them the deal. It makes for a more gripping show than if the other team had just flat out won which looked like it was going to be the case. Whatever...Nick and Amy are off on Trump's private jet to have lunch in Florida on a speed date of their own.

It's that time of day to head home before Maria decides to come up with anything beyond psychics and speed dating. She's lived here longer than I have by a longshot so the typical "tourist" stuff is out for her since she's already been there, done that. In the meantime, the upcoming prospects are
"April-Fool's-Joke-interesting" to say the least. I lie down to sleep and start thinking of revenge...mooha-ha-haaa.

Day Job Panic: 9 - For some reason, I start to wonder, what if I don't actually find a job I like? We'll see what tomorrow's interview brings.

AxL-O-Meter: 3 and 7 - his stomach has straightened out since yesterday, however his panting and pacing have been off the charts today where he's wanted to go outside every hour and just walk around. It's like he's doing better in terms of being less "mopey" however his pacing and panting are nerve-wracking. Up and down...is he good or not so good?

Dream Dial: 0 - Still on hold while job searching.

ESB: Blue with a white spire again. Looks really, really cool. My favorite combination.

NYC Degree: 1 - nothing notable beyond Maria's antics.

Heart Rate: -1 - totally dreading the upcoming speed dating while somehow seeing it as a great writing topic. Why can't life be easy? Why can't I just have a beautiful princess in my life to take care of and love and be done with the cruel joke life has dealt? So goes, April 1st.
Friday can't get here soon enough...

Day 24: Almost Famous

The morning hours were the usual morning hours, parking circus included. My first job interview was at 11, so I tidied up, did my best to get my hair in order the way it was last night and I set out. I found the Lincoln Building on Madison Ave and went inside after staring up at Grand Central Station and other surrounding architectural wonders. Sometimes I find myself just standing and looking up and around, soaking in all there is to see while listening to the cacophony of energy all around. New York is alive and well...thriving...sometimes it almost feels like I'm standing in the middle of a stirred up hornet's nest without being stung.

I walk inside the amazing, gold-dripped lobby of The Lincoln Building. I check in at the desk and walk toward the far elevators while staring up at the mesmerizing ceiling after passing a replica of the Abraham Lincoln statue from The Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC. Wow. I see some gold plated, electronic turnstiles and walk through. A security alarm goes off and a guard comes chasing after me. Oops. I guess I was supposed to hand him the little sheet of paper stamped with a "V" for "visitor" on it. I make it to the office eventually, enjoy the artwork on the walls while talking to the receptionist and then spend a bit of time interviewing with what seems like a good opportunity and a great match for my experience. I'll be doing another interview with the same firm on Friday.

I head back out, go through the turnstiles in the reverse direction without setting off any alarms and I'm on the streets of New York. I walk to 5th Ave and marvel at The New York Public Library. I once had a poetry course in college taught by Father Patrick Healy, former president of the Library. The years have flown by since. I keep making my way down and across town, back home. I stop in to flop on the couch at the salon for a minute. Rose tells me that my haircut looks so good that when I stopped in earlier, one of the customers asked which TV show I was from. I laugh as I do look a bit like a newscaster or a short-lived soap opera actor in a suit and tie. I'm starting to like "dressing up" a bit. I'm looking forward to possibly having a job where I'm presentable to the public more often.

I rescue AxL from the apartment and we head around the block. Along the way, I buy myself some on sale Gerbera Daisies for the vase on my table so the apartment is a bit more colorful. Normally, they're $3 a stem and I never buy them, but today they're $3 for five stems. "Whadda bahgain!" We also pick up another three day supply of canned dog food. We notice that Sean Penn and Nicole Kidman's trailers and film crew trucks are back, splattered all over West 22nd and 7th Ave. I decide to reward myself for my determined job search, cover letter writing, resume sending and interviewing over the last couple of weeks with a take out order of pad thai. While I'm waiting, we walk down 7th a few steps to get a Dr. Pepper and see Racquel in Cafe Filippe. I wave, pop in the door and say hello for two seconds and then head back to the Thai place.

Dinner is divine as I try to buoy my spirits, sitting and looking out the window at a fog covered Empire State Building which seems to be glowing "peach" tonight but it's hard to tell since it's nigh-invisible. It's been a long haul over the last several days. I think about life ahead and feel like it's going to be a much longer haul so I should start getting used to it. It's times like these that I wish little Venus was still around with her unlimited happy tail wagging and bright eyes. AxL's wonderfully loveable to have around, yet at the same time, it's sort of a heartbreaking endeavor living with his "Eeyore" personality.

Nonetheless, we're making it. Day by day, hour by hour, bit by bit. At a certain point, all the little things I do right will hopefully add up in some meaningful way. No, I'm not a TV star nor will I ever be...but it's fun to hear that I almost look like one now and then. ..me and my dog...almost famous...and still a couple steps ahead of being eaten alive by the Big Apple.

Day Job Panic: 5 - feeling productive in terms of having two interviews today and one more coming up on Friday. Craigslist has been a godsend as every day, there are more and more places to keep throwing my resume.

AxL-O-Meter: 2 - he was having a good run, but his stomach took another turn for the worse in the evening. Still amazed that he's stuck it nearly a month longer than I ever expected him to make it and I'm relieved that his seizures seem to have taken a vacation for now.

Dream Dial: 0 - Decided to put writing totally on hold until a job is landed. It's not what I want to do, but it feels like the right thing to do.

ESB: Red? Peach? White? Impossible to tell in the fog.

NYC Degree: 3 - Visited the Lincoln Building, marvelled at Grand Central Station and New York Public Library, walked by Bryant Park, bought daisies on sale, enjoyed amazing pad thai.

Heart Rate: 0 - missing Venus almost too much. Wondering if there's a way to "buy" her back at some point. Money always talks but for now, I'm keeping my "cushion" in the bank.

Day 23: Make It Short

Before I get too far in the day, I've gotten one more interview for tomorrow. Things are starting to rack up. This company is pretty successful and as I glance at myself in the mirror, I realize it's time for one more haircut. I'm tired of the long-ish mop I've got so I decide to go short.

I go across the street to The Blu Sky Salon and get an appointment for 5:45 p.m. I kill the day away, cruising for jobs online, writing more cover letters, trying to pick up packages from the Post Office and talking to my attorney. Yea, I've got an attorney. I sold a business awhile back and am now trying to get paid. After a three hour conversation with him, I learn that things are flying in my favor after almost a year of pursuit. I'm not sure if it's luck or God, but I'm going to go with "God" since I went to mass on Sunday. The only downside is, it could be another year until I see anything financially. I keep job hunting...

Eventually, it's 5:45 and time for the big event. My appointment is with Koomee today. I ask her if she has a boyfriend because I'm thinking of setting her up with a friend of mine. She's married with two kids. I guess I'll skip the set up. The chopping begins after a quick rinse and scalp massage. If there's one thing I've got, it's hair. Almost too much of it. I'm not sure why, but it grows like grass in Kentucky and I constantly find myself wrestling it under a baseball cap to try and tame it down. Koomee says something about, "you gotta wabe." Turns out, I've got a "wave" which basically means, my mop is unmanageable. She keeps cutting and cutting and cutting as little wisps keep curling up on the ends which I don't want since I don't own a blow dryer and don't want to keep coming back to the salon for a quick "can you make the fluffy stuff go away?" visit before each job interview as I've been doing. While Koomee is patiently chopping and cutting and then cutting some more, I wonder why she doesn't just pull out the clippers and buzz it all off. Rose, the front desk girl, advises me against it.

"No, you wouldn't look good, trust me." Okay. I continue chatting with Rose about everything under the sun from horror films to how many days to wait after getting someone's number before you call them. I thought it was two, but it turns out it's three. Not that at matters at this point in my life, but it's good to know for future reference. As Koomee begins the final stages of attempting to calm my frizziness, AxL paces about the salon randomly. A few minutes later, Rose is exclaiming..."wow, you actually look really good! wow..."

Okay, so I guess that's good news but now I'm wondering just how bad I looked before??? One can only move forward from this point...I set out for home with my "wow" haircut and old dog. I stop by Maria's and she also tells me that "wow, you look really good." Okay, now I'm really, really wondering just how horrific I was before. Not much is going on, on TV or otherwise so AxL and I continue to our apartment. I look in the mirror again. Yea, I actually look okay, not that I could ever make my head look this way again without a blow dryer. I may have to invest in one at Salvation Army around the corner.

I think about the day. It was one of those days that you can't put your finger on, the kind that races by but you have nothing to show for it. Nothing stands out, nothing substantial happened...even the Empire State Building is missing behind the fog this evening. These are the kinds of days that make life short.

Day Job Panic: 3 - Two more interviews today plus two lined up for tomorrow again.

AxL-O-Meter: 6 - Wow. He's actually doing pretty well, end to end. The only noticeable thing is that his "droopy" left eye seems to be getting a bit worse and I found a toenail (ew!) that he lost on the carpet while doing his "spinning" routine.

Dream Dial: 3 - spent about an hour working on the treatment. Finding that I need something to inspire me a bit more as this doesn't feel like my best stuff and I know I could do better.

ESB: Invisible, but probably white.

NYC Degree: 1 - Haircut and that's about it. At least it was a good one.

Heart Rate: 0 - yawn. Wondering if there's a way to get Venus the dog back because she was such a little joy to have in life.

Day 22: Off Broadway

I've been meaning to catch up with an old friend, "Mike Daisey" who has a one-man comedy skit show in addition to being the infamous author of 21 Dog Years: Doing Time At Amazon.com. I used to sit next to Mike and vice versa until he launched his entertainment career and fled to New York. I feel I owe him one as in his book, he "immortalized" AxL as a character simply named, "DOG." So, tonight I plan on going to see his latest show which is a weekly one hour stint on any given subject.

I spend the better part of the day following up with companies I've interviewed with as well as sending out more resumes and cover letters. Oddly, my job search is identical to what I'll be doing - sales. It's a numbers game. You just keep throwing yourself at the sky until you hit the ground. I have two interviews today, one at a web-design/application company and a 2nd interview with a design firm. If nothing else, I'm getting around the city as I rack up the number of offices I visit and people I meet.

The morning interview goes well, I think. At least I had a great time and met a great start-up. The afternoon interview goes well, too. Somewhere in the middle, I land two more interviews for tomorrow. All told, I'm reaching double-digits soon in terms of the number of companies I'm seeing face to face. Since there's probably nothing more boring to write about than a job search, I'm going to fast forward to the evening.

Mike's show starts at 8 p.m. so I set out around 7:20, grab a cab to the East Village and strap myself in as the vehicle seems to be pushing 78 mph as I slide across the imitation vinyl back seat. When I die, I want it to be somewhat glorious and not, "dude deceased after flying out of taxi." I love the individual flavors and personalities of each new neighborhood I visit in New York. Everything seems to have sort of the same New York theme underlying it, yet each area has it's particular quirks. The East Village feels a bit like Chelsea, but oddly, more "lit up" and commercial. There are bright stores and restaurants and life is buzzing as the cab races and stops, races and stops. We eventually land on 1st Ave between East 8th and 9th. I hop out, find the P.S. 122 Theater and a locked gate. Two others are standing outside, arguing with the box office employee about getting in. What?

It's 7:37 p.m. and it turns out the show started at 7:30, not 8 as I had thought. Duh. I'm able to get into the box office and I write Mike a note to call me on my cell phone when the show is over. In the meantime, since I paid $4.30 for a cab, I'm going to enjoy the neighborhood and grab some dinner. I find a sushi place and considering it's been over six months since I've had sushi, I figure I'm due. The place is called, "Shenobo" and I take my lonely seat at the sushi bar. The waiter could not care less about me. Story of my life. I eventually order a combo plate which comes with lukewarm miso soup. Luckily the tea is hot. The sushi chefs appear to be South American, however they're still freakin' artists and I kill time watching them work with their knives and bamboo sushi rollers. They're unbelievable fast and unbelievably precise in their work. The food turns out to be good, but it takes a full twenty minutes to get my check since despite eating, I still seem to be invisible to the waiter.

I pay and make my way outside. My phone has not rung yet. I find a small coffee shop, make small talk with the Iranian girl who makes an Americano for me while telling me that she flew through Paris on her way to New York. This is the place where people come to chase dreams or get eaten alive or both. As I'm paying, my phone rings. It's my buddy Eugene, or "Weegie"as I like to call him. He's calling me to say hi, and tell me he's moving here in the fall. I'm totally pumped as we've always had a great time hanging out. In the meantime, he also asks me about clubs in Miami as he's in charge of a bachelor party there this upcoming weekend. I give him the rundown but warn him that he needs to check with a waiter when he gets there just to know what's hot/not as everything changes so often.

We chat and laugh for awhile and then hang up. I mosey back to the theater to see if Mike's show is out yet. It's just finishing up and I hear loud applause through the locked door. Eventually, I make my in, after the crowd makes its way out. I was bummed I missed the show, but a small group of us makes our way to a little tavern called "The Rusty Hinge" or something like that. Much to my delight, there's an old dog sleeping on the floor. He's an Irish Setter, fourteen years old, blind and deaf, but happy. He wags his tail at the scent of AxL on my hand and pants. Our group grabs a table in the back, I grab a pint of Guinness since it's an Irish bar. I end up chatting with a couple of people, one of which is an aspring author working on a book about a man who makes a cross-country trip after being disgruntled with the New York art world. I hope it's not an ironic foreshadowing of my life...although I do know that someday I will be heading back west to San Francisco, maybe in a year or two, maybe less depending on the job search. I love it here, but miss the sunsets and the sound of the ocean, the waves, the feel of sand in my toes when I walk on the beach.

After the author and her friend depart, I end up talking with a great guy who is about to go full-time into his own film production efforts with his wife. I wanted to get going on home as it was getting late, but I must've talked with him for nearly two hours because he was so incredibly interesting and fun to chat with. Eventually, I chat with Mike to a degree and hear stories about his new dog which is a pug. Mike's wife treats it like a child, Mike is not quite so enamored but I imagine that in time, he will become much more enthralled.

It's midnight and time to head home. I'm too lazy to walk and have no idea where the nearest subway is so I take the easy road out and grab another cab. I'm home in less than two minutes since there's no traffic. I'm greeted by my best friend because he was lying just inside the door and I accidentally bumped his nose while entering. Oops. He spends some time sniffing my pants where Ringo the Irish Setter had been leaning. Oops, again. I take good old AxL for a short walk before going through my nighttime ritual...wash face, floss, brush, rinse spit...

It was a great day for a Monday. I got to see an old friend, make new ones and know that some people who come to New York with a dream actually make it happen. You just gotta keep throwing yourself at the sky until you land on the ground.

Day Job Panic: 3 - For some reason, I think I'm getting close.

AxL-O-Meter: 5 - Again, he seems to be on an upswing while maintaining his almost imperceptible decline each week. The little seizures seem to have stopped again and his stomach is fairly normal. It's a blessing, believe me.

Dream Dial: 2 - didn't do any writing, but got to see that dreams do come true when I visited my friend Mike, plus made friends with an up and coming film production guy and another aspiring author.

ESB: White. And I found out that there's an Empire State Building "calendar" in the "Time Out" magazine which says what color it's going to be on what day and why. I might actually check it out and solve the "mystery."

NYC Degree: 6 - Missed the show, but saw a bit of the East Village, had sushi, and hung out in a bar with a dog as old as AxL.

Heart Rate: 0 - It's Monday...why bother with hope.

Day 21: Critical Mass

I'm nearly freaked out of my skin at approximately 3:52 a.m. by a phenomenal sound inches from my dreaming brain. It's a sound that can best be described as something akin to an acoustic guitar banging down onto a hardwood floor in the wee hours of the morning just inches from one's face. The reason it can be described as akin to this, is because that is exactly what happend when AxL pulled off such a stunt, much to my non-delight.

Oddly, upon interviewing our downstairs neighbor "Barlag" later in the day, he didn't hear a sound. He's either mostly deaf like AxL, or the floors are much thicker than I thought.

The day could only get better from here. It eventually became 8 a.m. as we were out walking about. AxL seemed to be doing better so we took the time to reach Madison Square Park on West 23rd. This time, it was open and completely void of police officers and war protestors. I brought along some bread crusts as "sKwirreL bait." Now, people probably think of New Yorkers in general as tough. They might even lump the supposed rats running about (haven't seen one yet) as tough, too. I'm here to tell you that the squirrels are as tough as they come and fit right in with the stereotype. As I tossed little pieces of crust out and made "come hither oh trusting one" noises, a couple of them came racing toward us. Then, just before they got to the awaiting treasure I'd thrown, they stop cold. I was reminded of AxL and Spud's conversation the last night as I listened to them.

"WHOA! LEO! STOP...dat's a big fuggin' dog!" The leader squirrel checks his buddy short of the prize.

"CRAP STAN, YOU GOT DAT RIGHT!" the smaller sidekick replies. Then Stan stands up on his hind legs with his little squirrel fists in front of his chest. He's got scrappy looking fur, as if he just came out of an alley fight or a bad barber. He regards AxL who is highly entertained at the first close sighting of NYC SKwirreLz. Stan's words are loud and clear.

"Yo, who you lookin' at, dog? You lookin' at me? Huh? You done wanna piece a dis'? Huh?" Stan and Leo are ready to rumble despite a 125 to 1 weight disadvantage if you include me as backing up AxL, which of course I would do.

Leo decides to step up, grab the bread crust and take off. Stan glares a bit longer at AxL and leaves after one last taunt.

"Yea, tough guy. If I were on da other side of dat fence, you'd wipe dat smile offa ya face." Despite their attitude, they were still cute and in all honesty, AxL was unfazed since he's taken out many a squirrel in his younger days without flinching. You wouldn't guess it looking at him now, but long ago AxL was a ruthless, cold-hearted squirrel killer without remorse.

We continue our walk about the park, tossing bits and pieces of bread to more members of the squirrel tough guy gang. Just as we finish our circle and start to head out, we're stopped cold. Good grief...there's on offleash dog area here called, "Jemmy's Run." I've got no clue how I missed it as it was filled barking, chasing, happy dogs. AxL and I went in for a bit and chatted with a few of the people while AxL sniffed butt and acted like he owned the place in general despite being the new dog on the block. I think part of his act comes from being 99% deaf.

I check my watch, we still have a ton of time before "mass with Maria." We begin the long walk home and spy the Barnes and Noble on 7th Ave. I heard that they love having dogs in there and give them treats so we went in to listen to some CD's on a beautifully sunny, Sunday morning. AxL and I wandered about the store, picking up CD's and scanning them into the machines with headphones plugged into them. When you scan the CD, it's information pops up and you can play every track on it. It's pretty cool stuff, actually. I end up buying Josh Groban's "Closer" and "The Essential Simon and Garfunkel." I've got tickets to Josh Groban at Radio City Music Hall later this week and my friend Erin was going off about S&G as she saw them in Madison Square Garden when they came through. My NYC related music collection grows but I still don't have a CD rack to hold any of it.

As we leave the store, we're held up by a trio of Frenchness made up of a little girl, her mom and grandma. They speak nothing but French and luckily, after three years of college level French, I speak at a three year old level and am able to converse with the petite infant fluently about AxL. I'd recount the entire conversation here, but the squirrel confrontation above took up too much time.

We arrive home and I have just enough time to shower and dress up for mass. I race down to Maria's and she gives me a "hahd time" about wearing a button down, khaki's and dress shoes while she's going in sweats since she's still "undah the weathah." It's been so long since I've been to mass that I want it to be a bit "special" rather than an afterthought. We arrive just in time for the Fifth Sunday of Lent. The reading is about the woman who committed adultery which is punishable by being stoned to death. She's brought before Jesus who lays out his famous quote, "let he without sin cast the first stone." The priest went on further, discussing how their is forgiveness, and there is "beyond forgiveness" which is called "mercy." It's the kindness one shows to another that comes beyond just forgiving them. Food for thought...

As we walk out of mass, we're back onto the streets of reality as Maria says, "Gawd I should go inta work today, but I just don't fuckin' feel like it." I laugh with mercy. She wants to get fruit at the Chelsea Market and so we bust our way down 10th Ave and hang a left into one of the coolest places I've seen yet. The Chelsea Market is an old warehouse which has been rebuilt while maintaining all of its original character plus the addition of sculptures and artwork adorning the space between stores. Our first stop is The Fruit Exchange. I buy a pomelo and a grapefruit so that I can do a side by side taste test to see if there's any difference beyond size. Although yea, I fully agree that size does matter, at least in my experience. I also buy a single granny smith apple, two bananas, a small tomato and a couple of shitake mushrooms for an omelet when I get back home.

I take a bit of time exploring the bins of twelve different kinds of potatoes and some of the more "exotic" vegetables in baskets all over the store. As I check out, it turns out I've got a full basket but it only sets me back $9 including the POM drink in the cool little bottle that I've wanted to try for the past three weeks. That alone cost $4 but was worth every penny in anti-oxidants.

After getting our shopping done, we hit a few more stores, including an overpriced furniture store and a flower shop. I want to get bark for "Charlize" the orchid but they're out of it. I tell the sales clerk my predicament and ask if there is maybe just a handful of it on the floor in the back that I can stick in my pocket because I don't really need a whole ten pound bag of the stuff. She disappears while Maria and I check out some insanely cool flowers and plants all over the shop. Eventually, the clerk emerges with a small bag of bark, all neatly taped up for me. I take out my wallet and she tells me not to worry about it. I'm floored. Since I've been here, I've received free bagels, free tea, free key lime pie, and now free orchid bark. New York is turning out to be less expensive than I thought.

On the way back up 9th Ave toward home, I show Maria a shop that AxL and I ran across the other day while trying to figure out just how on earth to decorate our apartment. I've got this taste for two extreme opposites and don't know which way to go. I just know that with how it looks now, it feels like I'm walking with two different shoes on since nothing matches, nothing works, nothing goes. I'm not sure I believe in Feng Shui, but there's a definite "discord" between the current furniture I've got. I decide to just mull it over until I have a job.

Later in the day, AxL and I are heading out for another walk. We knock on Maria's door and she wants to come along for "fresh ai'." We head up to West 23rd and go East for a block to a place I saw earlier called "Straight From The Crate which not only has fun and cool looking stuff, but it's literally about one-quarter the price of similar things at other stores in the "neighbahood." Not to mention, it uses the word, "straight" in it's name which has a subconscious appeal to me. I end up finally getting a cool "wave" CD rack after agonizing back and forth between silver or black, silver or black, silver or black. Maria somehow didn't punch me in the face. I got black. I made the bold move of inviting her up to see my dilemma despite the fact that my place wasn't perfectly spotless.

She walked in, sat down on the futon couch and looked around.

"Hhhhmmm....yea....I don't know what you're going to do with this place." So much for getting help from a female who did a great job decorating her place. I remain stuck until I land a job and am able to afford to toss what I've got and start fresh. We'll see what tomorrow's interviews bring.

May God have mercy...

Day Job Panic: 7 - I've still got plenty of financial cushion, but am starting to consider consulting in the short term to pick up a little extra spending cash. I'd sell my original paintings for thousands of dollars, but I don't paint...yet.

AxL-O-Meter: 5 - still doing okay except for the guitar antics. I'm hoping he doesn't have an encore guitar smashing performance tonight/tomorrow morning. Encounter with NYC SkwirreLz and the offleash park seem to have lifted his spirits a notch.

Dream Dial: 0 - it's the day of rest.

ESB: White. They color change mystery continues. Perhaps it's always white unless there's a special occaision? I'm not sure how to spell "okaszhun."

NYC Degree: 8 - a long and wonderful day from Madison Square Park and Jemmy's Run to my first mass, The Chelsea Market, trying POM juice, to finally getting a CD rack(finally!)

Heart Rate: 0.5 - there's something to be said about being loved enough to get free orchid bark...but not much.