The Hover-Over links post. I hope this catches on.

I haven’t been ‘writing’ about my ‘life’ much lately. There are a multitude of reasons, the bulk of which I don’t really wanna get into, but I’ll say I’ve been fretting a lot and wearing one of my Four Tumblr Tee-Shirts almost daily. I had an encounter and that was cool. I drank a lot of beer that I didn’t buy at a party. Some babes from back home (b.f.b.h) came to NYC and were all like, “OMG, WASKOM, let’s hang out and partyyyy” and I was all like, re-tweet, of course we can party, but yeah, what did I do? I never met up, or even really made an effort because I’ve got no $$$ and they were going to Beauty Bar in Brooklyn, as if I’d go there.

Kris Payne came to town to work at some fancy/cool, cool/fancy photo thing and I’ve yet to hang out with him. Because I’m broke, partly due to my last roommate refusing to return my security deposit until the end of THIS month, even though I moved out LAST month, and so I’m ashamed of my brokenness and therefore draw away from everyone, feeling that I don’t deserve something or whatever. What that’s really like is a forced loneliness, punishment that’s self-applied in 2 easy steps.

So Aaron’s here now and I’ve yet to see him, but I’ll probably get to hang out with him on Friday after he gets his ears lowered, and yeah, ima have to hold back from being all fan-boy and asking crazy technical questions about filmmaking what it’s like to be a real, live Hollywood Director.

Finished up D.F.W’s A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again (loved it) and started Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s Nomad: From Islam to America (which so far is only OK).

You know how I do a lot of thinking about “what it all means”? Well lately I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what it all means in context to everything. That doesn’t make sense. Like, what doe anything mean? Yet, things that shouldn’t, or normally don’t have meaning, like a busy street that’s briefly empty or a song lyric that never before moved me to cry, suddenly move me to near tears. Tears that only come from some existentially desperate state of emotion. Maybe (and I’m just throwing this out here) like that scene where Szpilman plays Chopin’s Ballade in G minor for the German Officer towards the end of the Pianist. You know, that feeling? Like, after all that time of running hiding, starving here he finally is, at a piano, and it could be his last moments on earth and just the sheer overwhelming emotional moment of it all. Compelled to cry at the thought of your own death, or cry because you can finally do what you love again.

Whatever.