The Mom who keeps on giving

So before I trot off to the subway to meet Bob for a day of beach R & R I have to tell you 3 faithful readers about what I got in that mail today. CARE PACKAGES!!!!!!!!! My midwestern mother, in her attempt to keep me alive and healthy in this lifetime has sent me not one, but TWO boxes of T.L.C.

Box 1 had the most important thing: Coffee. So many types of coffee. The coffee my brother shipped me for my 16th birthday that's so good I only use it for special events. There was package of Blue Mountain coffee from Jamaica(my mom went there with my sister and thats about all she brought back) and the tried and true Millstone, even though I'm more of a Folgers person I can deal.

Box 2 was much larger and contained more goodies. Such as the following:

2 coffee mugs
6 movies from home(The Hours, Lost in Translation, Vanilla Sky, Frida, Finding Nemo, and Little Manhattan)
A crisp new copy of Guns Germs and Steal by Jared Diamond(I'm the worst teenager ever)
Roach traps
spoons(...?)
a laundry hamper
cough drops
sinus meds( I get sinus headaches somethin fierce)
envelopes
and other various goodies that I cant tell you because they're hilarious to my mother and I and you wouldnt get them because you dont know her(hows that for a statement?)

Unfortunartly there was no money in the boxes, nor were there helper monkeys, or a petition to see Suri Cruise(seriously though, where the fuck is she?), but my mom tries her hardest and you gotta love her for it.

I'm off to the beach to get another sunburn, but I'm not getting naked. Been there, done that.

Bob: the other parent

So I know that I have a sort of biased attraction to older men. I'm aware of this, and dont sweat it too much. I get along with people older than me much better than with peope my own age. I go to great lengths to aviod conversations like the following:

Tween #1: Oh. My. God. stacie did you know that Brad and Debbie are dating again?

Tween #2[with ipod still plugged into head]: No. Way. I cant believe that!!! Its only been like 3 milla-seconds since he broke up with kimberly!!!!

Tween #1: He even told her he likes her more than just friends, and she let him borrow her copy of "the Notebook".

Tween #2[still with ipod]: That sound really serious. Poor kimberly.

Tween #1[unsympathetic]: Look, kimberly kinda deserved it though, I mean she's such a slut for what she did to Jim.

Tween #2: I guess you have a point, but Jim has such a rockin body.



If I ever talk like that please shoot me.

But on with the story.

So the 4 people who read this know that I lost my debit card yesterday. I got a phone call from Bob, I informed him of my lack of dinero. And he starts telling me about some teenage girl from Jersey who got raped and murdered behind a dumpster in Chelsea. It's sad I understand that, and I'm aware of how dangerous this city is, I already told him about my bad night.

Now I refuse to freudenize my attraction to older men, mostly because the idea of secretly wanting to fuck my dad is both distrubing and makes think a better idea would be shitting out of my mouth and then eating it.

And secondly, I didnt move 1,000 miles away from my parents to aquire a second one. I mean if I wanted to be lectured about the dangers of New York City all I would have to do is call home. Where the right after "Hi honey" and "How are you" I'll be asked "So you werent mugged today were you?" I'm no idiot, I just dropped my debit card, not my fucking lung.

And then the thing that really preplexed me was as soon as he finished scolding me, he invited me to the beach again. I still cant tell if I'm brown or red. I told him I'd think about it. Though I dont think he heard the slight "are you fucking kidding me?" condisention in my voice.

my morning view

This is what you can get for $680 a month in East Flatbush folks.

Scene 1

So because I have a crippled social life since my big move to the Big Apple, I'm in on a Saturday night. And sense no one is yet discovering and reading my little place in cyberspace I decided to post another story. This was an attempt to write a play, but I liked the scene so much just as itself that I couldnt move past this in fear of fucking it up. I never titled it, its just called Scene 1, so here you go I hope you like it.

Elise lives in a sizable apartment in green point Brooklyn. Its morning and Elise is just waking up. The bedroom should be totally white with a few black and white photos on the walls. The sheets are white. As they move through the apartment the colors of the walls should change to show their emotions.

Elise (waking): I had the most wonderful dream.
Why are you sitting over there?
John is sitting in a chair next to the bed. He’s naked and smoking a cigarette.

John: I’m watching you sleep.
Elise: Why would my lazy body amuse you?
John: Tell me about your dream?
Elise: I didn’t know that snoring French girls turned you on.
John: I’m not turned on.
Elise: We fucked all night, you’re probably just burnt out (laughs).
John (after a pause): I think I’m in love with you.
Elise: I know you are
I need a cigarette.

John {handing her a cigarette}: You don’t love me back?
Elise: You want eggs?
John doesn’t light the cigarette for her. She takes the lighter from him.
Elise: I don’t know if I love you.
John: I think that’s the kind of thing you know or you don’t know.
Elise: we never made love. How can you love me if we’ve never made it?
John: Making love and feeling love are 2 different things.
Elise: The ends justify the means
I’ll go make some eggs. You want salsa on them?

Elise puts on her bra, she’s already wearing underwear. John puts out his cigarette and puts on jeans. Elise is in the kitchen cracking eggs; she puts out her cigarette. The walls of the kitchen are red, the sink in out of place being black.
As she prepares the scrambled eggs john digs in the drawers for something.
John: Don’t you have cigarettes in here?
Elise: They’re in the cookie jar.
John: That’s crafty. What if people want cookies?
Elise: I would consider those a treat
John: I would have to agree with you on that one. I know that they’re bad for you but I couldn’t live without ‘em.
Elise: I quit once, about 5 years ago.
John: oh what happened?
Elise: I had a bad day. [Smiles]
There’s a pause. Elise goes back to the eggs, digging through her fridge looking for random things. John stares at her for a little while.
Elise: I can feel your eyes on me again.
John: I love you.
Elise: I thought we were done with all of this.
John: I don’t see why you can’t love me.
Elise: You expect me to love you. How can you love someone, truly love, if they already expect you to love them?
It’s too much pressure.
John: There’s no pressure here. I want you to be happy.
Elise: Happy in love with you, that how you see me happy.
John: It’s an idea.
Elise: It’s an expectation. And soon you’ll fall out of love with me.
John: I don’t think that’s possible Elly.
Elise: Fuck you. You don’t know what’s possible!
John: Elly, please.[he tries to hold her] just love me?
Elise [pushes him away]: Don’t beg for love. Great things don’t come to beggars.
John: Your heart is in a box Elise.
Elise: Stop saying my name like it’s the name of a god. I’m not god.
John: Goddess. You’re a goddess to me.
Elise: I don’t like being put on a pedestal.
Eat your eggs. I’m out of salsa.


I apologize for the grammatical errors but I honestly just dont feel like editing it again at the moment. But I hope you like it, I've got a big glass of milk waiting for me.

Today sucks

So today was going okay, nothing too great, nothing too terrible. I woke up and cleaned up a little in the apartmento, trying to forget last night, and doing a pretty good job of it. (Thats a lie).
I went into the city, took a walk down Bleeker St. (my favorite street in the city) went to the Barnes and Noble on Union Sq. and picked up an application.

I went up to the cafe to fill it out and work on le book. I of course fucked it up and put my address from home, not my current residence...for the second time. I took another trip down to Bleeker and checked out the Biography Bookshop, checked out some discount books. I didnt buy, no cash on me.

I took a walk back up 4th avenue on my way to see a movie at random. I bought a small fruit salad and a bottle of water. I made my way back to Union Sq. eating me fruit salad. I shoved my debit card into my pocket along with my phone, the reciept and my trusty pen. And then I continued on with my walking to the theater. As I arrived I dug in my pocket for my card, I was treating myself to a present. I felt it deserved. A sort of goodbye to my vacation here, now its time for business. I looked and it wasnt there, my metro card, my phone, my reciept from the deli, but no debit card.

Now I dont get stressed out about things like this, there are procediures by which to take care of events like this. Worst possible scenario is that I left it on the counter of the deli by mistake, the cashier was nice, she's probably just holding onto it for me.

I decide to call my mom and inform her of the "potential" situation....Bad idea. She about lost it. "Oh my god Jesse! Your money, its gone, someone took all your money." I eventually calm her down and she gives me the 1-800 number of Chase bank, all 3 of them.

I walked back to the deli, the cashier recongnized me.
"Hi," I said, "I feel kind of embarrassed asking this but, did I by chance leave my card here?"
Her face took on a grave look.
"No," she said, "I handed it right to you. I didnt take it."
"I never said you did. I was just wondering if I maybe left it here on accident."
"No," she became sympathetic again,"I'm sorry I didnt see it."

I said thank you and walked away, my optimism fading.

I proceeded to call the various 1-800 numbers and finally found the one I needed. A very kind man named Pete picked up the phone. I explained my situation and he worked his magic. He was very sympathetic to my situation. Plus I was kind of flirting with him, he had a great telephone voice.

It turns out that someone made a charge on my card 20 minutes after my last purchase....at Lowes! A fucking hardware store! How lame is that. But Pete and I were both amazed at the speed by which the illegal purchase was made.

Especially since the nearest Lowes is so far away. Bastard.

On the Q-train I sat, waiting patiently for the damn train to get itself moving. We were forced to sit and wait on the Manhattan Bridge for almost 15 mins, then another 15 mins right before we got to Dekalb Ave. And another 15 before Atlantic Ave. In the time I sat waiting on the train to move I could have made it all the way to Church Ave from Union Sq. Fucking MTA, if only I didnt need it.

But I made serious progress on Le Book. I got the foundation at least. If there are any really great parts I may post.

The First Bad Night

I couldn't sleep last night. I had unwisely taken a nap at 6 pm. It was ment to be a power nap, get some rest in my bones. When I awoke at 9 I knew I needed practice in the art of power napping.

I spent the rest of the night on the internet, willing myself to sleep. I read other blogs, read the news, watched some funny videos on http://www.youtube.com. The airplane sex video is hilarious.

At around 1 I decided to give sleeping another try. I closed me laptop, and my eyes and lay back, hopeing that dreaming would catch me. Then I heard it, the most blood curtiling scream I've ever heard in my life. And it wouldnt stop, it wouldnt end. It was a woman and she, without a doubt sounded like she was dying, or the even crueler scenario.

I didnt know what to do, I clutched my pillow, afraid for me, for her. I didnt stop, she just kept screaming and scream and I was completely terrified. All of these different possiblities popped into my head. "what if she was being murdered slowly?" No she sounds like she's in the service alley, or near the street. "What she's being mugged?" No, muggers usually get that over with quickly. "......rape?" My mind went into a frenzy, I was going quietly insane in my tiny apartment with the big windows that allowed all kinds of sounds to come through.

"Surely my neighbors can hear her. Why arent there sirens? Doesnt my neighborhood have a 24 hours task force or something like that?" There we no sirens, I felt almost betrayed. I couldnt call the police, I was so scared I couldnt move. If thats the case for everyone else, than I have no reason to blam them. To be honest I feel really terrible.

After almost 30 minutes of this womans' panicked attack, it ended. Just like that. Fear again gripped me, "is she dead? Is she in the process of dying? Did she get up and walk away?" The worst and hardest part is that I'll never know. Unless when I go outside I see yellow tape and flashing lights, then my worst fears will be realized.

I can say this: just hearing whatever it was that I heard. If it was a rape, I never really understood how terrible it must be for someone who is sexually assualted, and now that I have a pretty good idea of what goes on in someone's head, how badly they need to scream, how it never seems loud enough. I never want to hear it again, this may have been the worst night of my life.

A story to pass the time

Jonathan looked hard at me from across the table and lit another cigarette. “You’re going to make an ass out of yerself,” he said, holding his smoke.
“You don’t think I know that? It’s a consequence that’s all.” I said. I reached across the table and took his pack of Camels. He’s stopped making smart assed comments, so when I inhaled I heard my cigarette burning.
“So you’re going over to his place, and you’re going to tell him you’re completely in love with him.?” Jonathan asked with slight condescension.
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” I pulled strong on my Camel, the dry, heavy smoke tumbling down my esophagus.
“But Trout’s’ with someone else aint he?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“He’s with a bouncer though, aint he?”
“I guess he is.”
“Youre a damn fool.”
“I’m a damn madman, and don’t call him Trout, his name is Vincent.”
“I known him longer than you have. Hell I introduced you two, set this whole damn thing in motion. I think I can call Vincent what ever the hell I want.”
“Touché my good man.”
Another long drag, a slight pause.
“you’re damn right, touché.”

A boys first nude beach

Yesterday Bob took me to the beach. It was technically on Fire Island but no where near the "interesting part". We arrived at around 1 o'clock, we would have gotten there sooner, but he and I got "distracted" when I showed up at his place at precisely 11:15 in the morning. As we drove we listened to NPR and I learned that Bob has no problems with talking back to the radio, this I find to be very cute. He briefly switched to Air America at my request but they were talking about something neither of us wanted to think about, gay marraige laws. So before we even left the city we went through 3 radio stations until we hit a dance music station. I, being from the midwest, know nothing about dance music, it all sounds the same to me. House, Deep house, free-style, I dont get it. But Bob clued me in, telling me about some of the songs he loved to listen to on his frequent trips to London. I dont know, maybe it will grow on me.

The roads were clear(for the L.I.E. anyway), I love car rides. I'm like a dog, I get really excited to go in the car and then look out the window the whole time. We talked about alot of things, like the argument we got into a couple of days ago, where things were going with us, and his invitation to take me with him to the "real" Fire Island. He's far to generous.

As we walked down the beach looking for a spot we started to approach a sign that said: "Now enter a clothing optional are".

"Bob," I said "I think we're going a little too far?" He turned and looked at me with this shitty little grin. "Ass," I said half-jokingly under my breath.

He shopped around for a spot for a while and the picked and purchased. We were calmly seated between one of the most beautiful couples I've ever seen, and a group of nudist who werent the most beautiful people Ive ever seen.

I refused to strip down to the buff, I couldnt. I kept thinking about how much my mother would kill me if she knew. Then again she would have killed me first if she found out how I met, and are acquainted. But Bob has his ways, after about 2 hours he convinced me to take the plunge. And so ladies and gentlemen, those from home who would never imagine me in buff, I was in the buff.

The only reason I was able to discard my clothes, the clincher, the "straw" so to speak, was the man I saw down the beach. Now I'm not one for making fun of the way a person looks, I appreciate physical beauty, and assume inner beauty in those who dont posses physical beauty. Mostly because I dont think I posses physical beauty but I know I'm intelligent. This man, I never spoke to him, dont know about his inner beauty; but I caught sight of him coming out of the Atlantic. He resembled something close to a Yak of a Water Buffalo. I saw this and thought, "if this man has no qualms about showing his bare ass to the world why do I?". A few seconds later I was nude, and it so....less than I expected.

Then terror struck me. The hottest man alive decided to plunk down right beside us. Bob was reading his New York magazine, looking for good restaurants, I was reading my book. And bam there he is. Probably mid to late twenties, brown, short hair nice muscles, and sunglasses that his his mostlikely Hazel eyes. Total hotty, but he would show the goods. I was lying on my stomach(Before he showed up) and I think he and I shared a moment of I contact. I eventually closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I awoke he was gone.

Later Bob took me to a diner in Astoria, Queens. While we were eating he says, "You know that guy that was sitting behind us with the white swim trunks?"
"yes?" I respond inquiringly and impatiently.
"His eyes were glued to your ass." A sly smile spread across my face.

Back in his apartment Bob and I said parting words and then kissed, for 20 minutes. In the elevator I could feel my lips tingle, I smiled another sly smile. My lips tingled all the way back to Brooklyn, the smile sneaking up on me randomly. I love days like this. I should be seeing Bob agian this weekend, possibly sooner.

writers block ended

i officially started le book. I hope. I think this "project" will stay afloat for more than 30 pages.

That slipping feeling

Anyone whose ever been depressed knows the feeling I'm feeling. I'm not currently depressed yet, not yet solem, lonely, or downtrodden. But I'm slipping. It happens, it always happens. When the days get a little longer, when the clouds get a little darker, and life seems a little harder than it really is. I had hoped that this wouldnt happen anymore, because New York is the center of happiness for me.

Maybe its a transitional thing, getting settled, getting started. Then again, maybe it just is what it is, the looming of depression. Yet gain. But I'll get past it, I always do.

My writing

There is an orange post-it on the bottom right hand corner of my laptop. On it is scrawled "No One is Going to Write Your Book for You!". And thus my currently blogging this shows that, no, no one is going to write my book for me. Not even me, apparently. So therefore I am still unmotivated, unemployed, and slightly lonely.

The story of me and a boy from home

His name is James, and I was completely in love with him. Part of me thinks I always will be. Even now if he were here with me, right next to me, I would be so.... God.

I never kissed him, not once, though I wanted to more than anything. I dont know if its because he's straight or I 'm not what he wants(if he's not straight) , or there was always miscomunitcation. He's the typical bad boy, drinks too much, smokes WAY too much, swears too much. But there were, are, moments when the dialogue between us seemed to open up, there were moments when the image us waking up together on Sunday morning seemed so...so perfect.

I would still do so many things for him. Is It wrong to love someone who hurt me so much? There's still things that he and I need to talk about, so much left unsaid. Too much, not enough. Broken hearts, first loves. I still wonder if he really was my first love. And if he was, will I ever stop loving him?

Story of he and I plays out a little bit like an episode of Degrassi(not that I ever watched Degrassi). There were things said, things done, regretable actions made, but his life and mine, seem to be linked and will be for a very long time. I dont know if its good or bad, but it is what it appears to be.

Caught in the Rain

So today....was wet. Its currently storming out here in East Flatbush. I didn't know it until I decided to go out to get some milk and O.J. (the juice not the "innocent" man). I stepped out into the hall and found myself in darkness. The hallway lights had gone out, the elevator wasnt working. This was a particular pain in the ass because I reside on the fourth floor. I went in to get my handy dandy umbrella and braved the harsh evening weather.

I thoroughly enjoy running errands. It a little ridiculous I know. I mean do people really enjoy dragging themselves to the laundry mat, through the grocery store, to the dry cleaners,..etc. Well, yes, there is such a person, and that person is me. I find it to be a sort of vindication of my new found independence.

Now to fund my independence I need to get my ass a job and pronto.

In other news, I was taken on a little tour of Park Slope today. My friend Michael(who lives there) took me for a walk around the area. We found a Barnes and Noble. While we were inside, enjoying making fun of Danielle Steele novels(who wants to read a Lifetime movie?) it began to rain very heavily. We camped out there for quite sometime, along with the other Park Slope parents. I confessed my fear of small children, he confessed the ringing of his biological clock.

Finally we braved the storm and he took me to lunch. This small sandwhich shop that I cant remember the name of. I had a very interesting sandwhich. I dont even remember what was on it exactly but its sitting in my fridge for later enjoyment.

Now I have to explore the rest of my borough, and find a damn job, and possibly find more time to write, because face it, New York is 40% writers. I'm not saying its the reason I moved here but the city is inspiring in alot of ways.

The Devil Wears Prada

My current situation is as such: I'm 18 years old, living in the most expensive city in the United States and am currently unemployed.

So today after I dragged my lazy ass out of bed I decided to hope the Q into the city and see a movie. As the title tells you, I chose The Devil Wears Prada. I heard it was great, I heard it was funny. It was a little of both.

Between buying my ticket and sitting in the very comfortable seat. I went to Jamba Juice for the first time. I liked it, my orange smoothy was defenitely amazing.

I like going to see movies by myself. Its a very personal experience. Back in MI it was possible to be literally be the only person in a movie theater seeing a film that 2 weeks ago had been #1 at the box office. I had a large realization while I was sitting in the back row eating my over priced and far too large medium popcorn and Cherry Coke: in New York City youre never alone. Even while I sit in my tiny studio apartment, I'm not really alone. The upstairs neighbors are arguing and the next door neightbors are playing their tejano music too loud.

On Monday I'm seriously getting at it and finding a job. The movie was good though, too bad I hate Tejano music.

Episode 1

So I guess that this is where I tell you about myself:

My name is Jesse and I'm and 18 year old gay man recently relocated to Brooklyn, New York. I'm all alone in the big city learning lots of life lessons and trying to pay my rent. I hope the my trials and tribulations are amusing to you fellow bloggers and habitual blog readers.

My interest include: Books(recomendations will be made and appreciated), Good films, writing, art, and exploring the metropolis that is New York City.