Back in the Saddle, Part II

July 16, 2004 - Friday

Back in the Saddle II

I have a home again!

Rewind a bit. After the fire I pretty much needed a roof and 4 walls, ASAP. I'd crashed with a friend for a few days but I had no intention of staying there. A few calls to ads in the Voice and I landed in Astoria, new territory for this wandering monkey. The price wasn't great but it was in a quiet, clean neighborhood. The catch? It was a share.

Now, I know some of you out there do the share thing and it works for you, and to some extent life was all roses and sunshine. Maybe I was just in the wrong share situation, maybe I was with the wrong roommate, but after a while I started to realize I had to get the hell out of Dodge. Why?

- no living room. It was a 3-story family house, and the family lived on the bottom 2 floors. I shared the top floor with a roomie. 2 rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. Try having friends over in that situation.

- the GF situation. It's a little hard having sex when you've got 2 teenage girls and their parents sleeping directly beneath you. Factor in a roommate next door with "weird" written all over him and you start wondering what he might be doing while you're in the middle of it...ugh.

- sharing space. Now, I lost damn near everything in the fire so I showed up with a few items and sack of clothes. That changed as I started getting new things. Suddenly the space I had became too small and I started feeling claustrophobic, trapped and cluttered. I also cook a lot, so splitting a fridge and cabinet space was less than ideal.

All this added up to an apartment hunt, which is a nightmare in today's NYC market. Holy crap, the rents people are asking for! I saw one on craigslist.org (highly recommend!) that was going for $1000 in the village, but dammit was the village! I ran there after work, saw there were 3 other people there with me to see the place, and went up to check it out. Nice space, perfect - then the bombshell. It's a share!! With 3 other people!!! WTF!!! $1000 for a room, in a tiny ass apartment in the village? Are you nuts?

So I looked high and wide, and lo and behold in the hills of the REAL Upper Upper West Side of Manhattan I found my home. A studio apartment in the hills of Inwood, 2 steps from the forested lands of Inwood Hill and overlooking Broadway. I've even got a back door leading to a patio; bbq anyone?

I love this damned city.

Chunky Monkey

July 15, 2004 - Thursday

Chunky Monkey

Damn, life is getting too hectic. I'm sitting here at work with 3:27 left in my official workday, browsing MySpace to kill the boredom and suddenly there's this flash of happiness that floods my synapses and has me eager to get the fuck home.

Why? Because I've been so damned busy for the past few weeks that I forgot I have a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream in the fridge. Now, I don't care how old you are, what sex you are, what makes your dick hard or your pussy wet - nothing says lovin' like a spoonful of Chunky Monkey!

I've got drama to deal with when I get off this shift and papers to sign (more to come, on both), but I gotta tell ya I'm looking forward to that goddamned ice cream!

- da Monkey out

Holy Moses, I'm A Patriot

July 9, 2004 - Friday

Holy Moses, I'm a patriot?!

Small one this time. Minor rant.

It's the 4th of Joo-lai, and I'm coming home late from the usual gathering of friends.

I hear chatter from across the street; the naybs had a little shindig, and the dying
remnants of their hen party is hanging around outside the house yacking it up and
gulping down cheap wine.

Now...I'm a native Noo-Yawker. This ain't shee-it to me. It ain't noise until
its 3am and you got the papa-chulos outside in their hoopties, blaring some salsa
and hiphop right outside your window while fire engine/police/ambulance sirens wail
a distress call in the background. Then - and only then - will I call it noise.
So the poor man's Dead Poet Society happening across from my window was no biggie.

What got my dick hard was their choice of decoration - union jacks, arrayed in a
nice little row hanging from their balcony and lit up so no one would miss them.
For those not in the know, the British flag is called the Union Jack.

So, here we are on the celebration of this country's birth, so to speak - celebrating
our goddamned independence from the United Fucking Kingdom, and these yahoos are
parading the one flag that would be considered the antithesis of that struggle!

The thing is, I appreciate the irony of it. I do. But oddly, this tiny little
friggin' Paul Revere that somehow found it's psychological self buried in my subconscious
decided that today was a good day to ring that gods-fucked bell and start yelling
"The British are Coming!"

So I was pissed. I glared at that house every morning for the next few days before
I finally let go of it.

Surprised the fuck out of me. Patriotism. Who knew?

I'd still kick George Jr's ass on national television, tho'. The fucker.