...and it was beautiful
3.28.2008
3.27.2008
peter and bug
she is a growing machine. her pashmina does not fit anymore. but she did look cute in it. for two days at least.
my hood
is becoming the east village - or union square. don't worry there is also a new acronym - BOCOCA (boerum Hill, cobble hill, carroll gardens).
via curbed:
Ah, Atlantic Avenue. Today, the Post's Max Gross weighs in with an ode to Atlantic Ave. gentrification that hits all the highlights: the eventual coming of Trader Joe's, the new Urban Outfitters, The Smith luxe condos and a whole bunch of shops and restaurants that have replaced some traditional Middle Eastern businesses and more recent funky antique and used furniture shops.
continue ...
via curbed:
Ah, Atlantic Avenue. Today, the Post's Max Gross weighs in with an ode to Atlantic Ave. gentrification that hits all the highlights: the eventual coming of Trader Joe's, the new Urban Outfitters, The Smith luxe condos and a whole bunch of shops and restaurants that have replaced some traditional Middle Eastern businesses and more recent funky antique and used furniture shops.
continue ...
from my old space
old post from constantly cruising, thought it appropriate to add ...
january 6th::song of the day::a man like me: beulah
new years and the other winter holidays, came and went. uneventful at most, distracting at best. i am back in the drudgery of work. meghan and her boyfriend drove up last weekend, it was brilliant. alexis, one of my oldest friends, and one of my dearest, is in town for the weekend. friends float in and out of your life. but i have a few, mostly female, that have been a steady presence for years. jennifer, jenessa, shannon and lex, i love you.
i fell asleep a few nights ago, and woke up with the address of the chelsea std clinic neatly places on the corner of my bed. it probably fell out of my bag, or slipped out of one of my pockets, but it was there, staring at me, like some evil omen. its presence sent chills down my neck. i immediately decided to get tested. this was two days before the transit strike, and with the mess of that, trying to get to work, leaving for the holidays and friends coming into town, i had been neglecting the clinic. this week i decided that i could not wait any longer.
this morning it was raining, cold, and bitter outside. i woke up at 6:30 (after staying out late with lex), and showered. walking to the subway, my heart almost beat itself out of my chest. i was hot, then cold, then nervous, distracted, and extremely alone.
when i finally made it up to 28th and 9th there was a line 20 people deep outside of the door.
i found my place, slipped on my headphones, and tried not to make eye contact with the people around me. afraid they might know i am a fag, a slut, someone who might be positive, the whole time knowing they are thinking the same about me.
when i finally made my way into the bleak clinic, the walls were white, the staff unfriendly, the atmosphere dirty. there was a homeless couple in front of me digging through their huge bags of belongings, the scars on their arms so deep, some fresh, some new. fresh blood seeped through the sleeves of their shirts.
i sat silent.
trying to focus on my music, my book, something. my legs bounced, my heart raced.
the following three hours were much of the same, and when i finally did get my results, i laughed hysterically, relieved to know what i had to do and ready to move forward with my life. i was prepared for whatever came my way.
this test, has become such a standard of life for people who are sexually active (or at least it should be).
sex is scary. sex is bad. sex is wrong. sex is beautiful, and yet we have to fear it in our society.
sex makes you sick.
sex makes you pregnant.
sex kills.
sex kills.
i am negative. a new lease on life.
song of the day::a man like me: beulah
january 6th::song of the day::a man like me: beulah
new years and the other winter holidays, came and went. uneventful at most, distracting at best. i am back in the drudgery of work. meghan and her boyfriend drove up last weekend, it was brilliant. alexis, one of my oldest friends, and one of my dearest, is in town for the weekend. friends float in and out of your life. but i have a few, mostly female, that have been a steady presence for years. jennifer, jenessa, shannon and lex, i love you.
i fell asleep a few nights ago, and woke up with the address of the chelsea std clinic neatly places on the corner of my bed. it probably fell out of my bag, or slipped out of one of my pockets, but it was there, staring at me, like some evil omen. its presence sent chills down my neck. i immediately decided to get tested. this was two days before the transit strike, and with the mess of that, trying to get to work, leaving for the holidays and friends coming into town, i had been neglecting the clinic. this week i decided that i could not wait any longer.
this morning it was raining, cold, and bitter outside. i woke up at 6:30 (after staying out late with lex), and showered. walking to the subway, my heart almost beat itself out of my chest. i was hot, then cold, then nervous, distracted, and extremely alone.
when i finally made it up to 28th and 9th there was a line 20 people deep outside of the door.
i found my place, slipped on my headphones, and tried not to make eye contact with the people around me. afraid they might know i am a fag, a slut, someone who might be positive, the whole time knowing they are thinking the same about me.
when i finally made my way into the bleak clinic, the walls were white, the staff unfriendly, the atmosphere dirty. there was a homeless couple in front of me digging through their huge bags of belongings, the scars on their arms so deep, some fresh, some new. fresh blood seeped through the sleeves of their shirts.
i sat silent.
trying to focus on my music, my book, something. my legs bounced, my heart raced.
the following three hours were much of the same, and when i finally did get my results, i laughed hysterically, relieved to know what i had to do and ready to move forward with my life. i was prepared for whatever came my way.
this test, has become such a standard of life for people who are sexually active (or at least it should be).
sex is scary. sex is bad. sex is wrong. sex is beautiful, and yet we have to fear it in our society.
sex makes you sick.
sex makes you pregnant.
sex kills.
sex kills.
i am negative. a new lease on life.
song of the day::a man like me: beulah
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