It is once again approaching 1am on a Sunday night/Monday morning and here I am just beginning to type this post, which I ostensibly was hoping to start on two albums ago, when I popped in my Japanese import copy of Joe Pernice’s Big Tobacco CD, before popping in a purloined promo copy of a Múm CD from 2007 that appeared in a box of used CD’s at my job.  Now it’s a promo Mercury Rev CD with radio sessions I got the same way.  None of this has anything to do with the post below or the weekend I just had (aside from Mercury Rev’s “Goddess On A Hiway” playing on my iPhone while driving home from the Hudson Valley this afternoon), but I like to ramble a lot in this space so that I feel like you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you smart shopper, you.

Apropos of this website and its side-effects, I spent the weekend driving up and down the New York Thruway so I could witness the union of two very happy and nerdy people.  It was the third wedding in three Saturdays I had been to, and all three of them were the kind of wedding that shows you that True Love may actually exist on this god-forsaken green ball hurtling through space just waiting to be swallowed up by a black hole.  The ceremony, on top of a mountain, was extremely short and sweet.  Luckily, nobody could see the little trickle of water from behind my Foster Grant shades.  To hear the story of how the couple had originally met at college and dated briefly between on-again-off-again relationships only to reconnect years later when aforementioned relationships finally turned off for good, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.  It’s incredibly heartwarming to hear and powerful to witness.  And if you don’t buy the nerdy part, let me just point out that all guests received multiple books from the newlyweds.  Mine were books referring to my college nickname of Crazy Pablo.  They might not hold up as fascinating reading, but I will read them nonetheless and get back to you.  The thoughtfulness was beyond expectations.  I was just bummed I missed the processional hike up the mountain because I managed to pass out in a rest stop with the radio on, killing my battery in the process and being forced to wander the parking lot begging for a jump.  Very thankful to the kids who helped me out and asked for nothing in return.  Proof that not everyone is a self-serving jerk.  Even more thankful that I was invited to, and made it to the wedding itself.

Also glad that none of these weddings were in “typical” wedding halls that churn out marriages like a factory showroom.  If you’re going to do it, do it right and be true to who you are as a couple.  This summer’s trifecta of weddings I was invited to proved this to be a good theory.  Would have been a better one if I had managed to hook up with someone at one of them.  Especially since I was DJing one of them.  Oh well.  A Wedding Crasher, I suppose I am not.  I’d probably do well at funerals, though.  That’s where I’m a Viking (get it, oh I’m so hilarious!  This is why I’m single, no, really).  I felt honored to get to share in these events, and as much as I hate weddings, I’m a big romantic, and my heart swells with happiness for these six friends whose lives have become three this summer.  I know I at least have one more wedding this year, luckily not until October, and definitely a unique one, as I know of nobody else being wed at the Knitting Factory in Brooklyn.

But this post was not meant to be about nuptials.  I am so far away from that happening in my life.  I have had a little trouble in getting to a second date in recent times, and I can’t imagine why (please see lame joke in preceding paragraph if you either have a bad short-term memory or just don’t get sarcasm).  This post is about trying to connect with someone via the series of tubes called the interweb, that runs underground and through the air, connecting us to millions of people but not really.  It’s the reason why we stay up past our bedtimes on Sunday nights when we have work the next morning, but we allow ourselves to be distracted by our friends who are also procrastinating on being productive before bed.

Once upon a time, I wrote the woman below, and was replied to, but yet I failed to return said volley.  I think I have an inkling as to why, and if I’m correct, it’s because I had a friend I was hung up on at the time (for a long time, really) and for some reason, I kept deluding myself into thinking eventually she would break down and have no choice but to admit that she couldn’t resist my charms any longer.  This never happened.  Instead, she moved to Austin, Texas, where despite (or maybe because of) not having found a job in three-plus years, she is having a wonderful go of it.  Her moving 1800 miles away was probably also a good thing for my already-tragic dating life.  Clearly, if this hadn’t been the case at the time, I would have followed up with this young lady, whose photo of being in a stockade is sadly no longer available, as she probably found a wonderful black albino midget to spend her life with while I was hoping to get my friend drunk enough to admit her feelings for me (which was another brilliant plan of mine that definitely did NOT backfire in any way and eventually leading to her phone being stolen on the Long Island Rail Road.  Nope, that never happened).

Anyhow, I could probably just go on and on about these mishaps (and should I, I would prefer to save such over-sharing for the book I’ve been writing for 9 1/2 years (it’s like the opposite of “9 1/2 Weeks” – there’s a lot of hemming and hawing, doomed romance and one scene with chocolate and fruit being used in the bedroom, but it was really sticky and gross and not at all sexy like in the film), which would hopefully lead to people paying me for the pleasure of reading about my ridiculous train-wreck love-life (or lack thereof), because everyone loves a little schadenfreude (translated, that means “a Sigmund Freud bobble-head that does coke lines off your baby bump” because that’s a thing that happens to everyone all the time), no?
And with that last paragraph comes proof that I might need to get some sleep because I have clearly gotten loopy.  That, or I found the key to inspiration in the Vitamin String Quartet’s Tribute To R.E.M. CD at 2am.  For all of you who are reading this on Monday, I will throw some hyper-link easter eggs onto this puppy sometime before Tuesday becomes real, but at this point it is 2:25am and I really need to try and sleep before work (although the 2 hour nap from 7:30 – 9:30pm really helped this post come alive).  So without further ado, I give you “Shakespeare and midgets and Haiku!”

Hey there!
I loved that line about walking past a midget and not turning around. It reminds me of the story a friend of mine told me about how awesome her day was when she was walking down the street and passed not just a sassy transvestite, but ALSO a black albino AND a dwarf! When I said “I wonder if the albino was this guy Victor I know?” she said “Don’t take this away from me!”

Anyways, the haiku was a nice touch, I thought, and you probably get messages from people who are like “Where’s the haiku?” And I’ve got to say I got a kick out of the Grace Adler joke, because my best friend Tiffany is a lesbian, and we make a lot of “indie rock reverse Will and Grace” jokes and then one day, my brother was like “You guys are like Will and Grace, but you’re Grace” and I was like “I know! Tiffany and I have said that before.” We also get into all sorts of crazy mischief.

And I can’t let the message go out into the ether of the internets without saying that if the photos are telling the truth, your eyes are amazing! And I like the big curly hair, too. But enough seriousness…that stockade photo is the best thing I’ve ever seen on this site.

I’ve been known to make Shakespeare jokes, and although I do own the complete works (and have for many moons), I still am too lazy to read it all…maybe someday on the subway I will lug one of the big volumes with me…though I fear that i may lose all feeling in whichever arm I am holding it up with.

take care,
j

Hey J,

I’ve had several people comment on the “walking past a midget” line, but you’re the first to find a “that reminds me of a time in my own life” segue. I guess that’s something to be proud of…

Actually, nobody’s ever asked where the haiku was…I think that anyone who doesn’t get it is too frightened by the rest of my profile to even bother messaging me. I mean, a girl who gets locked up in the stocks isn’t someone you wanna mess with…

Hope you’re stayin warm!