From time to time I pay tribute to my Irish nature, get savagely drunk. Last night was such an instance. It's a kind of ritual for me, as I awake with a few blurry memories of how I got home -- hazy end-of-night at the Palace, a fall off my bike in the slush, quesadilla -- clean myself up and face the world. Its related to that feeling that makes me want to take crazy wild mind-bending drugs, that witch-doctor feeling. It's not the same ritual, but it serves a similar end.

I enjoy a good hangover. I don't enjoy the headache, but the overall feeling brings a kind of clarity to my existence. It feels good, getting distilled, getting slowed down and opened up. Not every drunk produces this feeling, not by a long shot, and this is far from the only reason I drink, but it's one of the better ones I can think of.

Eugene McCarthy and Richard Pryor died, so the air last night must have been thick with spirits. Annual holiday party at A-Stock and Laura's. Good times, great party, fantastic spread. I committed a faux pas with my joint -- I sort of thought that might be pushing it -- but we worked it out. I got to meet S-Stock's fiance, who I liked (and who I liked liking since I always liked Sarah). Julia gave me this awesome shirt. On the front it says "One Wild And Crazy Guy" in kind of tacky glitter lettering, maybe iron-on. On the back is screen-printed "Coach Koenig." Found it that way at Bacons, she did. People seem good overall. The friends are happy.

The distilation, the clarity, the end of the year, the holidays. Lots to write, potentially. My attention flickers. Great ambitions; great revelations slither over the top of my brain and then dip back down. Yeah. I think the first thing that needs doing is getting myself some way to carry my tunes around. I feel like walking and listening, letting the muses pool.

Confession: I don't like checking my voicemail. I find it oppressive.

This is highly unprofessional and needs to stop.

Anyway, have a good Friday. I'm goin' potlucking.

0078h by M83

That's music; click it and see. I feel on the cusp, right about at 2:34 in that track. Felt like this before, though, and I know it doesn't mean anything necessarily.

God damn things seem complex sometimes. Too many irons in the fire maybe. To many moving parts. The gears are grinding. I've been back here in beloved BKLYN for about two months now and already I've got itchy feet, curse of the rambler, thinking about how Mark's got the internets now out in Westhaven, thinking about how to take up hermitage in the Siesta, rack up billable hours, write at a book, maybe get fat or something.

Ginding my gears, spinning my wheels. Time for a tune up? Too much sleep over the holiday; got the sluggishness. Wake it and shake it! Man, maybe time for the gym, for structure. Fuck getting fat, how about getting ripped again? Really hit it and throw some weight around. Or maybe a yoga class is the thing. I seen Ginger Legon (ol' theater comrade) is teaching in the neighborhood. What am I doing with my life? I need to get health and dental insurance and checkups. I need to pay off the IRS, pay off MBNA. I need to get rid of that old mattress and replace it with a bookshelf.

I really need to do some art. I need that sweaty unconcsious moment. I need I need I need. I need to not be bored. I need a distraction, a downer, an upper, a challenge, a doorway to a new dimension. Videogames, drugs, women; anything to throw me into the heat of battle so I don't have to feel the cold out here on the edges. Everyone's sweating the transition. Where's that fucking easy button?

UPDATE: Note to self -- remember to eat food. It helps your mind work right.

0078h by M83

That's music; click it and see. I feel on the cusp, right about at 2:34 in that track. Felt like this before, though, and I know it doesn't mean anything necessarily.

God damn things seem complex sometimes. Too many irons in the fire maybe. To many moving parts. The gears are grinding. I've been back here in beloved BKLYN for about two months now and already I've got itchy feet, curse of the rambler, thinking about how Mark's got the internets now out in Westhaven, thinking about how to take up hermitage in the Siesta, rack up billable hours, write at a book, maybe get fat or something.

Ginding my gears, spinning my wheels. Time for a tune up? Too much sleep over the holiday; got the sluggishness. Wake it and shake it! Man, maybe time for the gym, for structure. Fuck getting fat, how about getting ripped again? Really hit it and throw some weight around. Or maybe a yoga class is the thing. I seen Ginger Legon (ol' theater comrade) is teaching in the neighborhood. What am I doing with my life? I need to get health and dental insurance and checkups. I need to pay off the IRS, pay off MBNA. I need to get rid of that old mattress and replace it with a bookshelf.

I really need to do some art. I need that sweaty unconcsious moment. I need I need I need. I need to not be bored. I need a distraction, a downer, an upper, a challenge, a doorway to a new dimension. Videogames, drugs, women; anything to throw me into the heat of battle so I don't have to feel the cold out here on the edges. Everyone's sweating the transition. Where's that fucking easy button?

UPDATE: Note to self -- remember to eat food. It helps your mind work right.

Pop quiz, hotshot: how many controlled subtances do you keep around the house? I have four now. The HST imitation train continues. These aren't even all drugs I enjoy or seek out, but as the Doctor says, once you start collecting the tendency is to push it as far as you can go.

That time-release ritalin could be key though. Pomo bennies. Hoo-rah. Ride Johnny, ride.

I self-idenify as a nice guy, I do, but I also suspect that I'm a bad, bad man. Irresponsible. Shameless. Rakish would be a nice way to put it. Asshole might be more accurate depending on who you ask.

And I'm sorry about that. I really am. I wish I were iron-willed, and I wish I didn't excite 22-year olds. But sometimes I'm not and sometimes I do, and sometimes those two coincide. And those younger girls (young girl, get out of my mind) can be precocious, G-D it, and this can lead to some really good times, times that I should probably not really stress out about. Come on man. Follow the queers: stick with oral until you're ready to be serious... But I think I know where this goes. Several more good times followed by me feeling like a scumbag because... well, because... I let things get a little ahead of me? Because I led someone on? I haven't lied to anyone and I really do try not to do that. However, as the President has shown us, there's a great deal of difference between lying and misleading.

Oh, you thought I wouldn't find a political angle? Shows you.

Base deal? I'm finding the ephemeral "ahhhhh" not quite balancing out that soul-staining "uggggg" that I anticipate. That's my baggage. Am I being a paranoid? I don't know. Probably. Maybe I'm not really a bad man. Maybe I just worry too much. That's probably true in any case.

So pile it on. Shots of espresso diffused in pints of Guiness... the old Ren Fayre speedball. The only way through is to keep pushing at that membrane until you break on through to the other side. Listen up here I got something to say / Boys, I'm buying this round.

Yeah, anyway, I have a hot date on Saturday. She promised not to read my blog, so no worries posting this... right? I'm also getting a bed that afternoon. Auspicious? You better believe it. Humina-humania-humina-humina.

What would the Buddha do? Probably let go of some attachments. The most important thing is to stop struggling. Belive in the divinity of your forward momentum. This is old philosophy for me, but it cuts to the bone. Every month or so I go through my little ego crisis, wondering when my friends will turn against me because I've become such a wontonly selfish eater of souls. When will I be finally branded for the unreliable charlatan that I am. A big red X carved in my forehead... I preach a Dark Future!

Well, anyway, it's ass-cold and I'm thinking about whipping myself into a savage cross-brooklyn ride. Tunes would be key here... damn that broken iPod! The route is down back to the homestead via the Manhattan bridge, then tracing the G-line above ground to the 'Burg for some shenanigans. I'm going to hook up with the old crew, maybe roll in heavy on this movie afterparty. I have a yen for the director. Yeah, that would be not my hot date for tomorrow -- now you begin to understand my perdicament.

Oh poor Josh. Shut the fuck up and enjoy it already. Let the godhead spring forth and roll with the punches. You only live once.

I have to admit that one of the reasons I like New York is that I feel like I have a solid handle on how things work between boys and girls in this town. It's home court, where I did nearly all my sexual maturation. I remember being struck when I moved to SF at how confusing things were. It wasn't even that, in the end, I was any less likely to wind up in bed with someone cute. I don't have a good explanation for it, other than to say that I always felt a bit on the defensive in California, whereas being back in the five boros, I feel like I'm in my element.

All of which is neither here nor there. I've been chaste since before we got on the road this summer, and that remains unchanged. But the way things are going, not for too much longer. Mainly I say that because it's clear that on a sub-conscious level (e.g. on a plane not of my choosing) I'm in the hunt. On a conscious level I'm trying a different angle, trying to be intentional about everything, trying to be an initiator with the highest of standards rather than just another 20-something man-slut.

Yes. Judging by the kind of itch I have, someone is going to get it good. My real hope is that all this confidence and adventurism I feel will lead me to something that outlasts the ephemeral. We'll see how it plays out. I think it's going to be fun, no matter what.

Back when it first opened and I lived across the street...

Went to the Lyric Lounge closeout party. A good time was had by all, I think. Jeremy made the mistake of inviting two (2) ex-girlfriends, one of whom -- our friend Kristy -- created her second Princess Leah gold bikini outfit. 2.0 for her, last one sold on ebay. Anyway, she's half-naked, and the other -- our friend Lilah -- isn't. Caused a little drama. Could have told ya, brah. Never works out.

Overall it was everything you could have wanted. Archie working the door. Cal talking big about the future. At least one fist fight. Carrie gives out t-shirts to the former staff: "It's closed now. It never happened." But the place is getting a raucous send-off. Murph rolls with an entourage of asian women. Lots of women around, actually. Devil girls. dead girls, girls from Kansas. Viking girls too. Working class cocaine. We're in for the long haul, the idea for the closing party to drink the place dry.

I have a crush on a bartender, which is good and bad. Good because it gets me out of a tight spot with some pink-haired lady. Good because it's exciting for me to have a crush on someone. Good because she's interesting and beautiful of course; and tall, oh yes. But bad because I know her from the bar, so 9 out of 10 times she's seen me I'm looking back through the whiskey. Last night does nothing to break that pattern or set new expectations. That's me, par for the course. Just like all the other leering jackasses. I've been trying to play the long game there, but I get the impression that I'm running out of time.

So I get gone around 5:30 (would have been 6:30 without the fall-back clock change) and I get McDonalds from Meeker on the way back. That's another thing I haven't done in several years.

And now it's Sunday and I'm hearing the misfits in my head -- this is a ghoul's night out -- and Todd Snider (below), and I've got to start thinking about work and the future and tomorrow and things like that. And, and, and. Yes. Selah.

Play a train song
Pour me one more round
Make 'em leave my boots on when they lay me into the ground
I am a run away
locomotive
out of my one-track mind
And I'm lookin' for any kind of trouble that I can find...

Who knows where life goes from here. You grows up and you grows up and you grows up.

Rudy's continues to be a stomping good time. And pretty girls too, not even the ones I expected. That's always good.

Yeah, I know. A lot of "politics" posting lately. I'm ramping up back into the profession and I need a place to ruminate.

There's a bit of a shakeup going on in the world of new-school liberal politics. It's odd to watch people I've met, and in some cases sort of know, and in some cases consider to be allies, friends even, end up smacking one-another around rhetorically. As the new blood moves into positions of power, conflict is inevitable. Crises precipitate change, but change often precipitates a crisis. Entropy is a Real Thing.

To be honest, I'm happy to not be directly involved in any campaigns for the '06 cycle. The only thing I'd consider doing would be local, and I'd only do it on a volunteer basis. I think there's an enormous amount of fighting to be done in reforming the establishment, in working out our coalitions and in setting long-term goals. Those are were my political passions lie, and the truth is that the tactical maneuverings of an-off year campaign are going to be 80% business as usual. To put it another way, I'm interested in working on the Public, not a candidate.

Someone's got to keep the Gonzo juice flowing.

I'm consciously shooting for something different with my political blogging going forward. Trying to find my value. Kevin Murphy told me a while back -- after he told me that he respected my work, but that he might have voted for Bush anyway -- that what made it worthwhile for him was that I've "been there." Zack told me in explaining why he appreciated my opinion that what made it work for him was that I'm coming at it from a point of view that centers around "our generation" and that I'm not a hack. John told me the other day that he's got punk-rock friends who tacked print out's of this MFA blog post to their wall. That's sobering.

Anyone else actually give my opinions any merit? Feel like telling me why? I'm not just fishing for ego-strokes. I'm contemplating a somewhat more professional writing/publishing venture, and I'm curious what people are hungry for.

Yeah, I know. A lot of "politics" posting lately. I'm ramping up back into the profession and I need a place to ruminate.

There's a bit of a shakeup going on in the world of new-school liberal politics. It's odd to watch people I've met, and in some cases sort of know, and in some cases consider to be allies, friends even, end up smacking one-another around rhetorically. As the new blood moves into positions of power, conflict is inevitable. Crises precipitate change, but change often precipitates a crisis. Entropy is a Real Thing.

To be honest, I'm happy to not be directly involved in any campaigns for the '06 cycle. The only thing I'd consider doing would be local, and I'd only do it on a volunteer basis. I think there's an enormous amount of fighting to be done in reforming the establishment, in working out our coalitions and in setting long-term goals. Those are were my political passions lie, and the truth is that the tactical maneuverings of an-off year campaign are going to be 80% business as usual. To put it another way, I'm interested in working on the Public, not a candidate.

Someone's got to keep the Gonzo juice flowing.

I'm consciously shooting for something different with my political blogging going forward. Trying to find my value. Kevin Murphy told me a while back -- after he told me that he respected my work, but that he might have voted for Bush anyway -- that what made it worthwhile for him was that I've "been there." Zack told me in explaining why he appreciated my opinion that what made it work for him was that I'm coming at it from a point of view that centers around "our generation" and that I'm not a hack. John told me the other day that he's got punk-rock friends who tacked print out's of this MFA blog post to their wall. That's sobering.

Anyone else actually give my opinions any merit? Feel like telling me why? I'm not just fishing for ego-strokes. I'm contemplating a somewhat more professional writing/publishing venture, and I'm curious what people are hungry for.