getting there

What a blur life has become. Was it only three days ago that we marveled at the fantastic Italian food my friend and co-worker’s husband cooked for us (not to mention their trilingual two and a half year old)? And laying flat on my stomach and cleaning up decades of filth under our claw-footed bathtub, my forehead mashed under the toilet and feet out the door and into the hall – that was yesterday, right? Yes, it was today that I lead a client presentation and, despite stammering my way through the beginning (still working on that whole “speaking in front of groups of people” thing), had the sudden realization that I was sitting in a room with seven other people (of varying degrees of importance and experience), discussing a concept I was largely responsible for creating.

Julia (37.5 weeks pregnant) and I met my father (in town for the day) and sister for an early dinner tonight, but I had a hard time relaxing enough to focus on the conversation. The seemingly never-ending apartment prep, guilt over the backlog of neglected friends and general “oh-my-god-we’re-really-having-a-child” stress of the last few weeks has reached a fever pitch. I suppose many expectant parents have to let go of unrealistic pre-baby goals, but at this point I’d settle for one night of live music and a couple of runs across the Brooklyn bridge and back at dusk. Probably should throw a trip to the chiropractor for that bad shoulder in there, too.

After putting my father (yet another person we won’t see again until we are three) in a cab, we hopped into one of our own and headed back to Brooklyn. Driving down Hudson and into the Village with the windows down, the air was the perfect temperature. As unknown and inviting restaurants and boutiques flew by, I felt that perfect and fleeting blend of possibility and fascination.

I used to feel like I could never quite get the right experience out of New York – a restlessness that made much of the last few years frustrating, but drove me to where I am now. Even though life as I know it is about to be shattered, even though every time my phone rings it really could be wife going into labor, even though I didn’t finish that first draft of my book, for a moment tonight I caught my breath and took the city in and things were O.K.

the conversation I have 5 - 10 times a day

well-meaning coworker: "When is your wife due?"

me: "May 16th."

well-meaning coworker: 'Wow! That's soon!"

me: [slowly nodding] "Yes. Yes it is."

"april is the cruelest month" - T.S. Eliot

bathroom graffiti

initial comment: "Jesus saves."

response: "But Moses invests."

mantrum

man·trum [man-truhm]
–noun

a violent demonstration of rage or frustration by a full-grown man in protest of or reaction to a difficult household chore or home-improvement project: "After throwing a mantrum, Justin finally calmed down and finished painting the shutters."

[Origin: 2007; guardedlyoptimistic.com]

overheard on the train this morning

"My cousin, Zane, is a Gemini also."

(It's obviously a good thing that I'm finally carrying a little notebook around.)

coffee and me

For about an hour every morning I am a genius. I have flashes of brilliance and creative inspiration. I see patterns and parallels that weren’t there before, and ingenuous comedic metaphors fly through my head so fast I sometimes lose them. It’s all so fascinating that at times I have a hard time keeping a straight face. But inevitably, the caffeine wears off.

Most addicts are doomed to forever attempt to recreate the feeling of that first high – a hopeless journey akin to the pursuit of infinity. But every morning, after I drink my first cup of coffee (provided it’s strong enough), I get that same rush, and for a little window of time, I’m Albert fucking Einstein with a little David Sedaris and Tito Puente thrown in.

The funny thing is, I always forget this. A few times a week I’ll get some grand idea and think to myself, "that is absolutely brilliant I am a genius I need to write that down NOW I hope I didn’t say it out loud because someone could totally steal that and make money off it." But then I’ll realize (damn), it’s just the coffee.

Some days it’s a musical idea, even though I haven’t made any music in ages. Often it’s the idea for some huge creative undertaking that will be abandoned (and most likely forgotten) by noon. But usually it’s just something I think is really funny.

You’d think this process would cater nicely to blogging, but often I’ll get distracted by reading other blogs, checking NBA box scores, deciding what music should accompany my writing, or doing actual work, and later that afternoon, the two paragraphs that were the beginning of my ascent to comedic genius (A.K.A. "Document 1") are not saved.

This week’s big discarded idea (which is still on life support) was to write a day in my (working) life as if I were the lead in a comic book – first-person detective noir kind of stuff. I even went so far as to ask my desk-mate, Michael, if his Mac had that photo-booth filter that makes pictures look like comic book frames (the project quickly becoming a collaborative effort). It did and he was happy to oblige me (or maybe he just felt sorry for me).

Michael is a senior designer and a power-blogger with an unwavering temperament who sleeps five hours a night and works out almost every morning. He is directly responsible for my current "coffee, Coke Zero, coffee" daily caffeine intake regimen, yet I often feel like the annoying little yippy dog that is either running wildly in circles around him (tangling the leash) or passed out on my little pillow. I don’t know how he does it – it’s like his body absorbs the caffeine on some divine time-release cycle engineered for maximum productivity.

Lately Michael has taken to writing down funny/bizarre things I say every now and then. I’m not quite sure what his motives are, but I suspect this will eventually result in some impressive side-project (most likely involving typography) that he will present at one of our weekly creative meetings. He even has a more stable grasp on my creative output.

Michael is also more confident (in a good way) and less insecure. I am constantly prodding him to tell me that something I just said or wrote was funny (I will definitely email him immediately after I post this). This puppy needs constant positive reinforcement.

Anyways, this whole comic-book idea lasted for a little over an hour. I had just written the following sentence (and had an unintentional meta-moment/realization):

"I’ve had enough coffee to [dramatic verb] a [physically imposing man or animal]."

But then I realized that:

1. The sentence didn’t fit the tone of what I had already written.
2. The sentence was much funnier than what I had already written.
3. Damn, it was just the coffee.

And then someone came by and asked me to do some actual work.

baby prep

julia at 33 weeks:



crib assembly (note that I am stuck inside):



baby jordans (hands-down best shower gift):