twenty-something

New Yorkers -- Check out Revival, a "new old play" by Greg Turner (of Tea fame), beginning this week as part of the Frigid New York festival. Get more info at donotdisturbtheatre.com.

I read the play over Christmas and I loved it. There's a diva character that's just fantastic and the play is extra-fun because of her -- as the tagline says, "The leading lady always gets her way." You know I'm a fan of Greg's work because, c'mon, he's my best friend and happens to be a brilliant writer. And, of course, this is a damn good play.

(And how about that design work? That's by yours truly.)

Greg tells nytheatre.com:

I wrote this play after hearing about a play that was being revived on Broadway for the first time after thirty years. The playwright had, according to legend, written the play about his first failed marriage. Well this got wheels in my head turning… what if a playwright wrote about his leading lady? And what if she went on to become a huge star and left him behind and they never met again until the Broadway revival thirty years later? And that right there is what Revival is.

So when we bill Revival as "a new old play" what we're really saying is that it's a play within a play and the play within the play is the revival of a fictional play. That sounds confusing, I know, but trust me it's not confusing on the stage. It's clever and charming. It's certainly the charmingest thing I've ever written… I mean there will still be beautiful young people making out in their underwear, but that only adds to the charm of it all, right?

It would be trite to say that Revival will be a breath of fresh air in this "crazy mixed-up world" and I don't know if that's the case or not. And Revival won't help people decide what they want to do with their lives or which candidate they should vote for in the next election. But Revival will make people laugh and have a good time. People will definitely relate to the characters in the show. And I did mention that there will be beautiful people making out in their underwear.

I'll be there next Saturday because I love Greg's stuff.

But you? You should go whenever you can because everybody loves a diva (and hot making-out-in-undies stage scenes).

TO: [Recipient List Undisclosed]
FROM: Patrick Raymond
DATE: Sep 11, 2006 4:11 PM

SUBJECT: 9/11/2006~ Landmarks

Hello there,

If you've received this email, you probably know me well enough to know that this isn't the kind of thing I usually do. A schmaltzy, nearly humorless mass email that doesn't include any mention of an address or phone number change isn't really my style. But this time of year I try to remember to step away from style and from myself.

This time of year... On the fifth anniversary of September 11, 2001, after five years of collective and personal ups and downs, I'm more reflective than usual.

Yesterday I happened to be at Ground Zero in New York with my two best friends in the whole world. It wasn't planned; as most know, I spent this summer living in Manhattan and I have moved to Boston this fall to start a new job, and I headed down this weekend to pick up the rest of my belongings from the city. Yesterday I was drawn to the lower part of the island inexplicably, to Battery Park, a short distance from the site. And then -- my friends and I found ourselves in the shadow of no towers, at the scar left after those attacks. And there I was, drawn there like hundreds of others, on a unspoken pilgrimage, with two of my favorite people whom have only been in the same room together once before. It was powerful. Overwhelming. Inspiring.

It was no coincidence.

Four years ago, on the first anniversary of the day that changed our world, I sent out these lyrics to those people who filled my life with love and, well, life. Today, though its some 2,628,000 or so minutes since that September day, they still feel as applicable.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure -- measure a year?
In daylights -- In sunsets
In midnights -- In cups of coffee
In inches -- In miles
In laughter -- In strife
In -- Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?
How about love?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died?

It's time now - to sing out
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends
Remember the love

Measure, measure your life in love

In case you don't know it, that's a truncated version of "Seasons of Love" from the musical RENT.

You've received this email, part of a select list, because you mean something to me. You've given me friendship, family, support, and love at some point in the past five years. So, to quote the one thing more frivolous than a Broadway musical -- "The Golden Girls" -- I'd just like to say, "Thank you for being a friend."

Today is another landmark in our world after that fateful day. May your next five years, and all years to follow, be safe, sane, and happy, filled with hope, love, and -- most of all -- life.

All My Best,
Patrick

In a flurry and a hurry, I left New York City. Summer is over and I'm back in Vermont for a short while, before I move to Boston. Even as I'm still processing my time in Manhattan, I'm already appreciating it more and more. I would have never imagined myself doing it -- quiting my job, leaving Burlington, living in NYC and then in Boston -- at the start of 2006 and I don't have a single regret about any of it. It's been an adventure that I desperately needed. And here comes the fall.

Good night, New York. Our affair was brief this time, and perhaps doomed from the start, but I'll always think of it fondly.

A five day visit north stretched into two weeks and a day and included a jaunt to Boston, but now I am back in Manhattan from my self-imposed Vermont exile.

The train and cab rides to my apartment were long today. But I've caught up with my roommates and with As The World Turns. I went to fill my bare cupboards with a trip the the Trader Joe's across the street. And though I'm completely, completely exhausted from the past two days of travel and little sleep, it's good to be back in the city.

For those wondering: I'm back for about two weeks. After careful consideration, I have decided to leave New York at the end of August. It's been a difficult decision. On one hand, I'm living in the East Village and, come on, how do you leave that? And, on the other, I've spent the summer here and I can check that off "The List of Things To Do Before I Die" before becoming totally broke. I could see myself back here, in a few years, with more success or stability or at least bigger bank accounts, living a more comfortable life and truly enjoying life here. And until that day, if it ever comes? Boston seems to, still, own my heart.

The future's a bit shaky and scary, but it's becoming clearer and continues to be exciting. So I plan to have fun during my last two weeks in NYC. And until I figure it all out -- life, I mean -- or age four years, I'll defer to the immortal lyrics of this blog's namesake, Jamie Cullum's "Twenty-Something":

Love ain't the answer nor is work,
The truth eludes me so much it hurts.
But I'm still having fun and I guess that's the key,
I'm a twenty something and I'll keep being me.

What, then, do celebrities make?

Here's some famous folk who live near me in New York. You can see more stars' residences at New York Magazine.

Who knew stalking was so easy? Apparently Josh & Josh, who are filling in for Andy over at towleroad, did.

Today I am unemployed again. My two-week-and-a-day temp job ended yesterday and, now, my ass is firmly planted on my couch, downing Smart Water in the A/C while watching Lifetime. I've missed my lazy days alone in my apartment, allegedly writing but really hiding out from the heat. I had big plans to go to Central Park today after running some errands, but now I'm thinking I might skip it all. It's too damn hot.

So I'm unemployed. I don't get paid until mid-August and I just paid rent. My savings dwindle, having been used quicker than I anticipated, and I have zero job prospects (even temporary ones) here in New York. Looks like the answer to my stay-or-go dilemma might not be mine to decide...

On the bright side: I have a phone interview tomorrow for a job in Boston. It wasn't very intentional -- I've only applied to two jobs in Beantown (and both in the past two weeks) compared to the 50+ here in the Apple -- this was the only employment "bite" I've gotten all summer. Sounds like a good job, so wish me luck.

Despite my uncertain future, particularly financially, I still have no regrets. Sure, I miss my old direct-deposited paychecks... my old office... heath insurance... But I'm glad I quit my job. I'm glad I left Vermont. I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Tomorrow I also head back to Vermont for a visit. Some have suggested that it's a bad idea, that I'm trying to escape -- but I'm just looking for some perspective, some space, some family and friend time. And, yes, a bit of an escape from this heat and all these people. It should be a nice trip -- at least cheaper than the day-to-day here.

(It's funny -- in views like this, Central Park feels as big as the whole state of Vermont.)

It's not often than someone writes such an articulate, thoughtful, and touching (not to mention long) comment on this blog. But the other day, I got a meaty surprise in the dusty comment desert.

So in case you missed it, here's some sage wisdom from the handsome and multi-talented (why did I rank "handsome" before "multi-talented"?) Mark from Absolut Barillius, commenting on this post:

It's like every gay boy dreams to move away from home and make it in the Big City. No, scratch that. It's not just gay boys -- it spans all people, I think, to some extent. But sometimes it just doesn't end up fitting, for whatever reason.

I know you don't need or want advice, I am the same in that respect; it just ends up making you feel a bit queasy (if it's the opposite of what your gut tells you) or a bit skeptical (if it's the same). But for what it's worth, I will give my two cents.

I think you're right about New York. I too feel it's a temporary destination. An absolutely fantastic temporary destination, but temporary nonetheless. Ultimately I see you someplace different -- there are so many other cities that aren't as overwhelmingly dense and fabled as New York.

I feel that New York is a place so many people have lived and called their own. It's almost as if, over the years, they've sucked the life out of it -- when I'm there I don't feel myself. Rather, I feel as if I'm trying to live up to someone else's song lyrics or prose or poetry or photographs. You can't even walk down the street without thinking about that. It's a great feeling, for a while, but ultimately you're left with this feeling of defeat. It's just so daunting to tackle the place -- not because of its physical size, but because of the collective power of the stuff that exists about it.

So I say go find another city that's a little less popular. Someplace with some more trees or a mountain or two close by. Maybe the west coast, maybe the south. But ultimately, one you are eventually able to call your very own, rather than having to live in the shadows of millions of others' definitions.

(And way to upstage me on my own damn blog. I keed, I keed.)

No, not the W Hotel in Union Square -- but here in Manhattan. Do I want to live here past the summer?

That's the question that's been hovering. I've been living here, here in New York City, for 46 days now. The summer is, essentially, past it's half-way mark and I am here on a trial basis, afterall. Soon, very soon, a decision will have to be made about the future.

I've done a lot of living here in 46 days. I've kept busy, perhaps a bit too busy, and had some good times. I've eaten well. Drank my share. I've watched a Red Sox game in a gay sports bar. I've been out a bunch. Been out for my birthday. Been on some dates. Walked many miles, met many new people. Seen some good theater, lots of random celebrities. Seen Superman in IMAX. Twice.

There's a lot to love here. But there's also a lot to hate.

I will say this -- the honeymoon is over. New York is kicking my ass. The concrete and flesh have gotten to me. To me, it's not the size of New York that's daunting, it's what's crammed into the space. And the people here -- not just the quantity, but the quality... I've met some very nice people here, but I've also encountered many, many not-so-nice people. Seen them do some not-so-nice things. Been the brunt of some of that, too. And I, of course, take it all to heart.

Just this morning my nose was assaulted by human urine, donuts, ammonia, and teriyaki sauce -- all while sitting in tiny Madison Square Park for about ten minutes before work.

I miss the smell of fresh-cut grass and cow shit. I'm so completely homesick it's beyond that, it's moved to heartbreak. I'm mourning the loss of so much, my old life, my old home, my old love...

But I am happy I am here. For now. I have absolutely no regrets. This is the experience I wanted, that I needed, and I've learned so much already. It's the start of a journey -- whether that's one here in New York, or in Boston, or elsewhere -- a journey that is not taking me back to Vermont, at least not yet. But the next step is my call and I'm not having fun making it.

Break out The Clash, baby. "Should I stay or should I go?"

I've had the sudden realization that this weekend is Gay Pride here in New York City. Fuck, that snuck right up on me...

Like everything here in the Big Apple, Pride is big and intimidating to yours truly. I mean, look at this list of Pride Weekend parties from New York magazine. That's a lot of shit to do! And some of it requires a lot of money to do it! I have no clue where to begin -- and I don't think I know anyone, at least not well, who's participating in any festivities. I don't even know when the parade is.

It's all a far cry from the last Pride I attended...

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm fishing for advice. Any suggestions for this non-scene guy's first NYC Pride Weekend?

"This city does sleep, but not soundly..."

Ugh. Scratch that. Yet another false start to writing about my new life in New York -- and yet another shining nugget of crap...

This is a new chapter and I'm at a loss for words to begin it -- at least any words that don't sound like the cliched start of a bad novel. It's all just enormous, overwhelming -- both the city and the task of documenting it. Where does one begin? How do you start a life here? How to you write about starting a life here? In Manhattan? This island is made of concrete and flesh. I suppose there's more to it, but all I see is pavement and people, for miles and miles. Each day I pass more strangers on the street than I met in the first ten years of my life total. The buildings are mountains here, castles really, and the buzz of trains and horns and sirens is always there. The sights. The sounds. The smells.

This is all new to me. And I kind of love it.

I am adjusting, settling in. My room feels lived in. My apartment begins to feel comfortable. I can navigate my street -- East 14th -- and our corner market (which I'm told is also called a "bodega," something I never learned on Sesame Street) and I've paid someone to pick up my dirty laundry and deliver it back, clean, neatly folded, and shrink-wrapped (for a small fee). I've casually clicked through craigslist for both cock and employment -- though no combination of the two, and with little luck for either cause. I've walked from 76th Street to 10th, then to Battery Park and back, and my feet don't have blisters. Well, not many, anyway.

Yes, I'm settling in -- but more importantly, things are sinking in. This isn't just a visit to the Big Apple. This is not a vacation. I live here now.

My time here has been busy and enjoyable, though not entirely productive. I've seen good friends and begun to make new ones. I've eaten extremely well. I've walked miles of concrete, exploring the many pieces of New York (and still fairly clueless as to how most of them connect). I've seen enough celebrities and cockroaches that the shock of either has already worn off. And I'm starting to get pissed at fools on the sidewalks or subway; at times my blood boils hot as the tar on the street. I've learned to walk offensively, just like a New Yorker.

But I'm not one. I don't think I'll ever be a New Yorker. I'm a visitor, a Vermonter, a country mouse -- and anyone here can tell that just with one look. Perhaps its my shaggy hair, lighter due to the summer, redder than it's been in years; or perhaps it's my beard, not quite stylishly trimmed nor bearishly wild; or is it the baggy cargo shorts and so-called "fratboy style" of Gap polo shirts and UVM t-shirts I sport every day; or maybe it's the Croc shoes, so practical and crunchy I'm told they're almost trendy here. Perhaps it's all these things -- but I know what people see when the look at me. I know how they know.

My eyes give me away.

So I now live in New York City...

That's all for now.

After a restless night of deliberation, I've decided to bite the bullet. I'm moving to New York this Friday, a week earlier than planned. This Friday. As in four days away.

So much to do...

My savings account is a bit lighter today. The check for first-and-last's rent in New York is in the mail. Yikes. I suppose this country mouse really is moving.

Twenty-five days and counting...

I am moving to New York City. For real.

Now, it may just be for the summer, from June until September, and I'm still headed to Boston whenever I leave the Big Apple -- but I'll be living in Union Square with my best bud Greg in a month or so. I don't know what I'll be doing besides living at this point, meaning I have no job (NYC readers, any leads?) -- but things will work out, as they tend to do, and this summer will rock.

Yee haw.

20sum has been quiet as I try to figure all this stuff out (thanks for missing me, Michael!). Life is busy here as the semester winds down and I struggle to stay engaged with work as I have one foot out the door... Once next week is over, things return to normal (somewhat) as I begin the process of packing and leaving, "graduating" and saying good-bye to Burlington.

Spring has sprung...

Looks like I'll be in New York this July 4th, and I'll be seeing Madonna (my second time) on July 2nd at Madison Square Garden for her Confessions Tour.

I fucking love Madonna. It's probably the gayest thing about me besides, you know, cocksucking and throwing a frisbee. And I fucking love Madonna live. Such a good show.

Greg writes of his "euphoria" (which I share with him) on his MySpace blog:

So I bought Madonna tickets this morning! There's a whole heroic crazy-mad story, but I don't feel like typing it all, and due to my state of utter euphoria, my head hurts and my hands and feet and tingly numb. Anyway I'm super-psyched, though they're not the best seats they are DEAD CENTER which is mainly what I was going for.

I'm partly embarassed to be typing this, but this will be the 4th time I've seen her in concert and the 5th time I've seen her life, having seen her dining with Gweneth Paltrow on that fateful day (October 13, 1999). Um yeah. So I'm a dork. But, when she's not touring or God-forbid dead, I will only regret all the times I didn't get up at 7am and spend $500 for tickets to see her, not the times I did.

(Yes I spent $500, but I bought 5 tickets, don't judge me).

Now I'm not the biggest theater fag at all so, really, I have no idea what I'm talking about. But I did like this show. A lot. It's the story of an up-and-coming Hollywood star who falls for a (straight) male hustler (with a girlfriend) while in New York to accept an award, a story as told by the star's hilarious agent and beard. I suppose the show says a lot about what it means to be a celebrity and/or a homosexual in the world today, but it really shines when it's about these two men -- the movie star and the hooker -- falling into something. For a play with such a superficial synopsis, there's a surprising amount of heart and humor.

The movie star is played by Neal Huff, whom I also saw (also naked) in Take Me Out a couple years back. I enjoy this guy -- he's got a good everyman sorta presence (even when playing a celebrity). Plus he's got a hot hairy chest and a cute butt. Speaking of naked -- the hustler is played by Johnny Galecki, best known for playing Darlene's boyfriend on Roseanne, and you get to see his (enormous) penis in this play. (Sadly, you don't get to see Neal's.) The nude scene comes after a lot of build up and it's titalating and well deserved. Even when these guys aren't naked, they're sparkling on stage, especially when together. They're both funny, (mostly) sweet, charming, sexy, and heart-breaking.

Aside from the love story here, the highlight of the play is Julie White (whom you may recall from Six Feet Under, or as Nadine from Grace Under Fire). She's the acid-tongued agent and would-be narrator. She's vicious and hilarious throughout the entire play, sometimes vulnerable, always spiteful, and often evil. She's amazing. Loved her! Forget the cock, I would see the play again just to see her.

The set is really well done and the music fits well (it's not a musical at all -- it's just like interludes between scenes). The play's only weak spots may be it's semi-quick finish, which would feel very contrived if we didn't live in a post-TomKat world. The end worked well, very well, but I would've liked another scene or two. And the actress who plays the hustler's girlfriend was cute and funny, but sort of paled compared to the rest of the cast (which probably isn't the actress' fault -- it could just be the character).

Second Stage is a cool theater, too. Very orange. And Randy Harrison, Justin on TV's Queer as Folk, was sitting a couple rows behind me.

What an exciting night at the theatre!

The Little Dog Laughed is at the Second Stage Theatre until January 29th. It's 20sum Approved -- so go see it if you can!

My New York visit draws to an end. This is my second-to-last night here and, thought it's been a long trip, though I'm excited to get back to my own bed, it's going to be hard to leave. The city's treated me well this week. It's been full of friends, good food, good booze, and more. Though everything, including New Year's, has been on the low-key side, it's been, well, a good thing. I'm having fun.

Yesterday it snowed. Of all the time I've spent here over the years, I don't think I've ever seen it snow in New York. It started as sleet and ended as rain, but for a few fleeting minutes, in Union Square, on the last day of the year, big clumps of snow decended. It was white, wet, and beautiful. It reminded me of Vermont, of home. I saw, perhaps for the first time, I really saw myself living here someday, thinking that maybe I could find a bit of home here in the city.

Who knows what 2006 will bring -- but I'm thinking it's going to be better and more exciting than the mess that '05 was.

Or at least I will be in about six hours.

I head down today for a whopping eight day stretch with my friend Greg. I'll going to be in New York until January 3rd. That's a long time...

Christmas was pretty good. Lots of food and family in Rutland. Nothing very note-worthy -- just Christmas. I did see Rumor Has It last night. I thought about writing up a review, but I decided not to waste any more time on the film. Needless to say, it wasn't very good -- almost Bewitched bad -- and you should not waste any money on it, no matter how much you love Jenn Aniston and her big, alien eyes.

So I'm both excited and nervous about this jaunt to the Big Apple. This is my first trip down since my ill-fated visit back in May. Last time there, I ended up doing very little because I fell ill. I am no fun when I am feverish. Here's to good health.

This is the first time I've taken the five-hour train ride to the city since I got trapped in one for nearly twenty-four hours, during Hurricane Phillip back in 1999. Today it's raining. Fingers are crossed.

And this is the first time I've been to New York since Duncan and I broke up during his five-week summer stay there. Not that I'm bitter. It's just that the city does have something else associated with now, for it this trip and probably all others from here on out.

Regardless of bad memories, I'm looking forward to this trip. Not sure what blogging will be like while I'm away. But New Yorkers out there, feel free to say hello. Perhaps I'll see you around.

Usually massive blisters on my feet are signs of a good trip to New York.

As I sit here in JFK, preparing to fly back to Vermont, unshowered, exhausted, throat sore, I'm realizing that isn't always the case.

It's not that I had a bad time. It's just that -- with a few notable exceptions -- the trip feels like a bust. Most of what I'd hoped to do here in the city didn't happen. I ended up wanting to kill my host by the time this morning rolled around. And I think I've fallen ill (been feverish and sick since Sunday).

This vacation has officially kicked my ass. I want to go home and sleep for two days, but can't (I have a work meeting at 2 and a friend's birthday celebration this eve). The trip gave me what I thought needed, at least -- a getaway.

Here's hoping that future trips to the city -- of which there's bound to be one or two this summer -- are less bust and more blast.

VACATION!

Off to New York City in the A.M. (well, late A.M.) and now need to pack. Was running around Burlington today getting ready for the trip -- laundry, errands and such, and seeing Kicking & Screaming (which was surprisingly good!) -- and now I'm fairly beat. Pack + Sleep = Good.

Not sure what the long weekend will hold, blog-wise and otherwise. If I'm not writing from the road, I'll be back on Tuesday for sure.

And lest I forget: BIG congrats to all of this year's graduates from the University of Vermont -- especially those I know and love. (PS -- I can't believe I've been out of college for two years!)

Can't seem to get my mind off of you
Back here at home there's nothin' to do
Now that I'm away
I wish I'd stayed
Tomorrow's a day of mine that you won't be in

When you looked at me I should've run
But I thought it was just for fun
I see I was wrong
And I'm not so strong
I should've known all along that time would tell

Another weekend's come and gone here in Vermont. I didn't do much of anything exciting, but I stayed up past 6AM on both nights (er, days?). Sadly, I wasn't doing anything besides lying awake in bed alone, sometimes writing, sometimes playing computer blackjack. I hate when insomnia sets it like this because it tends to be hard to shake. I'm hoping that since I only got 3 hours last night I'll crash soon.

During one of these wee small hours this weekend, I found myself sucked into Manhunt, browsing through the profiles of men in New York. (Yes, it's official -- I'll be venturing to the Big Apple this Friday for a long weekend.) It's always sort of a rush to browse through the profiles of so many men. On any given night in Vermont, there are maybe 40 guys online total, statewide, and most of them are people I know or aren't really worth clicking on. By contrast, there are currently 1049 men online from New York City -- at midnight on a Sunday. This country mouse is always as excited by the volume of gay guys in the city as he is by all the skyscrapers and Broadway shows -- though neither of those things usually do anything for my libido.

Now, hooking up isn't officially on agenda for the weekend, but since I am in a semi-open relationship (another post for another time), it's not necessarily out of the question. But as I browsed, I found myself increasingly intimidated by all the guys. I'm used to Vermont and all the trapping that come along with it. Looking at NYC online, through the Manhunt lens, and remembering my past experiences with the city's gay scene... this is a whole new ball game. There are just so many! And beyond that -- this is just a different caliber of gay guy.  In my Vermont P.O.V., they are perfect. Many of them have amazing pictures and hot profiles -- most are beautiful, muscular, and hung. And I just lay there, thinking... "Who the hell am I? And why do I think I am worthy of looking at these men without paying a monthly fee?"

I was just a wondering how I compare to all that. Should I get a haircut? Is it possible to drop twenty pounds before Friday? I'm just a tall, bearded guy from Vermont who's trying hard not to fall into bear/cub land, but perhaps destined for it. It just seems that all of these porn-star-lookin' guys on Manhunt seem to be more clear about what they aren't looking for than what they are -- and in my insecure self-view, some of those criteria stick out as things I might qualify for. Not only is it a blow to my fragile ego -- it's also a major turn off. 

I say all this because it's how I was feeling. I am so not trying to play the pity-party card. I'm not writing this fishing for compliments, sex offers, or supportive comments. (Although, sex offers = fun!) I know I'm no porn star, but I'm not chopped liver either. I've met cool guys on previous trips to the city, and I have no doubt I can again if so inclined. But I am intimidated by the prospect of sex and the city, perhaps more so than ever -- and I just wanted to say that for the record.

Can't you tell I'm exhausted?

This trip, I'm probably most excited at the prospect of meeting some of the guys I've gotten to "know" through my blog or theirs (especially after the recent, good experience of getting to know the guys of stereojoe offline). I am still open to meeting up with other readers or fellow bloggers, so drop a line if you're around. Not sure what time will permit, but as you can tell from my adventures in the 90s, I'm certainly not shy about meeting men off the Internet.

I'm also looking for suggestions of places to go out. Gay places. In New York, I've been to XL, Pieces, and something called Pop Rocks -- I think. I liked XL good enough (hey, it was on Sex & The City!), but wasn't impressed by the others. My best friend Greg, who I'm staying with, doesn't go out much, and when he goes, it's to really twinky places. So what's a boy from the country supposed to do? I really want to be Vadge of the Week -- so tell me where to go!

One last thing for this sleep-deprived Sunday night: I am currently obsessed with Ben Lee's new album, particularly this song. It's getting me worked up for my visit to the city -- and for the prospect of seeing him and Aimee Mann live in Burlington.

I'm walking down broadway
Each foot step is a new love letter
I'm trying to make eye contact
With each and every stranger that I pass
Thinking about the city
It's living proof people need to be together
I'm thinking about how I just want to open up
And give and give and give
And it's ok for you to care
Cause I can feel you in the air
And while you wonder "how's this gonna end?"
I only want it to begin

Ben Lee, "Begin"

I'm bummed I missed GB:NYC2. It sounds like it was fun.

But mark your calendars. If all goes according to plan, I will be in NYC next week, from Thursday MAY 19 through Tuesday MAY 24. (Geez, that snuck up fast.)

I'll be spending most of the time with my best buddy Greg -- but, ya know, if any Big Apple blog-buddies might like to show this country mouse a good time...

I'm contemplating a trip to New York City next week -- a short, sweet Wednesday-Saturday jaunt on JetBlue before Easter -- but I'm on the fence.

A good friend from Boise who I haven't seen in over two years will be in town, and NYC-based best bud Greg is planning a move to L.A. frighteningly soon. But I could use the downtime to catch up on work and sleep, and my pocketbook isn't be thrilled by the cost of the trip. And if I stay, I might be able to make a quick, and less expensive, overnight to Montreal. What's a sick Vermont boy to do?

What do you think, loyal readers (many of which are in the Big Apple)? Email, comment, or IM your opinion, pronto.