Getting Back at My Enemies

Starfucker, like my Daddy

2005-07-08T16:40:00.000-07:00

Well I’m a reflective mood today. It was a rather chaotic morning, with the markets still reeling somewhat from the London bombings, but it has become a quieter afternoon. I find myself without set plans for the evening, but I have a feeling that I will be going out and about…to wit, club-hopping/cristal popping…

In reference to the subject of this entry, I was walking to dinner last night w/ HI, her sister, and her mother who are all in town from Hot-lanta. We were going to Sushi Samba, and I was pontificating about the neo-con plans for Syria and being sort of a wise-ass about various apodictic truths (These Things I Believe), when HI pointed out someone she recognized. Turns out that the heavy, middle-aged white guy walking towards us was Jeff Garlin. Although HI’s sister recognized him from his appearance on Everybody Loves Raymond, I knew him far better as Jeff Green on my favorite show-of-show’s (props to Sid Caesar), Curb Your Enthusiasm. He plays Larry’s manager, and I am endless amused by his mollification of Larry and his battles with his tempestuous, and extremely foul-mouthed, wife Susie. In a somewhat uncharacteristic move for me, I decided to say hello to him. Since he was with a small group of people, I approached him politely, and told him how much of a fan I am, and how brilliant the show is. He was quite appreciative, and seemed mildly surprised at being recognized I think. I shook his hand, and we chatted briefly about how fun it is for him to play opposite Susie Essman. I was amused to hear that Larry David is quite true-to-form, character-wise; I guess I respond to his total misanthropy and lack of any mastery of social niceties…plus the show’s willingness to let Larry yell at the handicap, find humor in an incest-survivor meetings, etc. Being a tremendous starfucker, I really got-off on the meeting; it far eclipses my prior best anecdote; spilling a martini on Steve from 90210 in a bar in Las Vegas.

I finished the book I had been reading on the fall of the Shah of Iran, which was interesting both for its view on Carter Administration global-diplomacy vis-à-vis the Nixon/Kissinger Doctrine, and because the book was written from a psychoanalytic perspective of the Shah-as co-dependent to the enablement of US foreign policy/oil importation/exportation of military hardware. So I have started up reading Morphology/Semiotic of Language, because I have always been interested in the Hegelian notion of a priori word construction. And who hasn’t? Yeah, I do seem like a nerd, I admit that. Perhaps that’s why I choose to counter-balance that with my expansive and expensive/hideous collection of designer sunglasses. Or a sense of self-righteousness, with the mea cupla head-nod to my self-avowed catachresistic blogging.

Socially, things have been rather quiet. I had a date on Wednesday night; well to preface that, I took the step of posting on Craigslist. My post stuck out a bit, I think, because most everyone had posted rather explicit suppositions for sex, and so forth, while I just was looking for someone cute to make-out with. I had brought home a cute blond marine the prior weekend, with a rather charming anchor tattoo on his six-pack; I had presumed he was a marine based on the “high-and-tight.”, and he was amused when I joked that it was part of my sense of patriotism on the nation’s birthday. An attractive and shy college student replied to my Craigslist posting, and after some email exchange, we ended up hanging out and watching some Simpsons DVDs on my plasma tv. So I guess it was worth it; I was really more curious as to how such a personals platform worked. And it certainly still has the failings of other on-line exchanges, without getting into an analysis of “safe-space”, of reducing people to the component parts of age, ethnicity, hair colour, and so forth…although frankly I think that alterity is a watch-word of our “special club”, since the natural construction comes from the inclusion of those who by default have been excluded (on a sliding scale of social norms, granted). The one plus, in my opinion, is that the now-ubiquitous home computer allows one to interact with a cross-section of social backgrounds.

Ok lastly, I find myself pretty annoyed with Steve Jobs. Aside from the class-action lawsuit against Apple on behalf of various iPod nerds who found that the iPod batteries only last about 4-5 hours between charges, recently a kid in New York (or New Jersey?) was murdered for his iPod. To me that recalled the headlines of children being killed for their Air Jordans, Air Force Ones. At any rate, Jobs decides to call the parents of the victim and proffer his sympathies. To me this smacks of the most egregious bleeding-heart hand-wringing, and I find myself actually mildly angry that Jobs would dare to distract the attention of a grieving family with the obvious repercussions of a publicized call from a media mogul. Further, it is absurd hypocrisy to make a somewhat expensive product, and then be appalled that someone would go to insane lengths to acquire one. If someone stabs my yuppie ass and takes my Rolex, I don’t really expect Mother to get a call from some concerned Swiss executive.

Well, hope everyone has a nice weekend.

-PBS

How do I stay so skinny when I live so phat?

2005-07-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

I have been away from posting for a while; not for any specific reason, per se, but just busy with life. Also I found that when I would have the inclination to update my blog, it would pass quickly. And in some senses I felt almost overwhelmed; that I had too much to write and lacked the impetus to par it down, or let it be awash in specificities. So today seems like a good a day as any to update it; my colleagues have departed for a Cubs game, and I have the office to myself while I wait for a conference call from Australia. I was also mildly uncomfortable with leaving my prior post hanging there as the first one to be read...not that I am displeased with what I wrote, but that it gives a snapshot of a particular frame of mind that, thankfully, is not always representative. Lastly, after speaking to my good friend RG the other day (he has moved to Seattle with his boyfriend JD), I thought that a current blog would be a nice way to keep him informed of my life, since I will not be seeing him on a current basis.

Work has been very all-consuming, and I find myself repeatedly over-extended. I have been hesitant to explore my job much on this blog, since I do feel a certain fealty to the firm that precludes me from discussing anything that "should not be disclosed." At any rate, of late I have taken up several projects that have caused me to put in some very late evenings; the truth is that I truly enjoy the positive response that my over-achieving produces. My boss has, indirectly, called me out on it, diagnosing me with a tremendous desire to please people. And in many ways I agree with that; although too simplistic to say that I wish to mollify the childhood version of me that sought approval, often in vain, from my father, there may be a kernel of truth to that. When I was last in Geneva visiting my parents, my Mother took me to breakfast at the senior assisted-living center (Springfield Retirement Castle?) at which my Grandfather lives. Mother, carrying the sharp new Louis Vuitton bag I bought her and being the busy socialite, clearly drew a lot of pleasure from telling people that I worked as a bond arbitrageur, and I did not resent her that joy. The goal for me continues to be to please myself, in a spiritual way; although I did buy this tremendous pair of Dior sunglasses at Neiman Marcus.

I recently read a rather uninspired biography of Beria, the founder of the Soviet NKVD (the Soviet Secret Police), and later architect and commandant of the Soviet Gulag system (having read Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago in college). I just finished the very long biography of Henry Kissinger that I have been reading, and it seems to have piqued my interest in Cold War-era US-Soviet and Sino-Soviet arms control. I visited the awesome used book store near my apartment last night, and bought a few books on the subject: A book on SALT (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) I & II written by a Carter Administration defense expert, a biography of Herman Kahn (the RAND Institute game theorist...partly prompted by the article in the New Yorker), and a book on Zhoe Enlai and Deng Xiaoping. One fascinating part of the Kissinger book talked about a Soviet proposal to Kissinger in the mid-70's, in which the Soviet wanted to send fighter jets to destroy ALL of China's nuclear reactors, for which they desired US complicity and collusion. Kissinger, naturally, was aghast at the possibility of nuclear fallout decimating East Asia.

Kissinger is quite an intriguing figure; his shuttle diplomacy could be a case study for the "Great Man" - as Agent theory of history. I suppose I am a pretty non-plussed reader, but the somewhat dry account of the bombings of Cambodia and Hanoi prompted me, in a Po-Mo alternative-texts way, to simultaneously read a short book of first-hand accounts of the bombings and the subsequent destabilization that led to the power vacuum in Cambodia being filled by the insanity of the Khmer Rouge. When I mentioned my interest in Kissinger, my Mother responded with "ech, he's an awful man." Although this particular biography does not show Kissinger as one who is conflicted by the moral implications/ramifications, it seems to me that he was, and further that he did wrestle with the problem of being Henry Kissinger (capital H, capital K). His pursuit of private perfection, confronting the volatile contingent situation, vividly shows that without acquiescing to social demands in some way, he cannot sustain his absolute self-ideal; I guess the contingency of "social value" demands some flexibility of individual identity. His uneasy relation between the public sphere (including Nixon and his paranoia, which Kissinger did nothing to encumber) and his private perfection represent his difficulty in self-creation (or even self-recreation, since he distanced himself from his German birth and from Judaism, while still maintaining that thick Germanic accent); a tension between the demands of circumstance (such as propping up a tremendously corrupt government in South Vietnam) and of individual character. In a very end-justifies-the means manner, he, I believe, wanted to be judged by the efficacy of his actions, whereby the contingency of selfhood and social is subtly mixed. Lastly, through all of that, I could not help but think of Kissinger losing his glasses in the toiled on the Simpsons, and the article in The Onion about Kissinger getting kicked out of the US News & World Report Mansion (a play on the Playboy Mansion) and announcing that he is “More bombed than Cambodia in ‘73” which makes me laugh even though it is kind of horrible…ah meta-reference J

So, other than all of that, I have been partying like a rock star...just not in the mood to be at home on Friday/Saturday nights I suppose. MB and I have become quite close, although I have seen him a bit less since he is with his Easter European boyfriend now much of the time. But he did throw an awesome party last Friday, to which I brought my friend Mark. MB is happy to swim in many different social circles, and I admire him for the diversity of friends; one thing I would, at least in theory, like to improve upon. I'm not sure if it is a positive or negative, but when I go out, I end up running into scores of people I know now, due in part to me being more social, and in part to being exposed to MB's vast social net. Well back to work I suppose.

-PBS

Ben has a hard life

2005-05-12T14:34:00.000-07:00

Well yes, like most things, there is a certain amount of sarcasm, irony, and self-reference in that...in the meta-humor sense that I DO actually have a hard life - emotionally - while having the various trappings of success - money, education, ambition, intelligence, the cute shoes - that would not necessarily be a 1st-person association with living a hard life.

So here goes the usual can of worms. My friend JB was nice enough to accompany me for Mother's Day dinner out in Geneva. His take on my parents is that they are warm, welcoming, etc. I do appreciate JB's friendship, and his oft-stated concern for me, and wish for me to be happy. In fact, I believe he told me that I am his only unhappy friend...which I accept with a tinge of cynicism and a belief that perhaps some of friends are less open about it than I...

Nevertheless, and again with a quite altruistic bent, he recounted that great chestnut of how my parents are loving people who gave me everything ergo don't be so unhappy. Although I do not happen to believe that, for the vagaries of personal experience dictate other things, I do appreciate why he believes it...certainly it is logical enough on the surface. But that whole "my life is so much better than others...your parents gave you a Mercedes at 16 vs other people were raised in poverty and physical abuse" trope is inherently damning. Of course, how could I compete? So I am willing to take a stand for myself and reject that whole game of moral relativism...I mean, don't we see its failure enough in society....the wife of a bond trader killed on September 11th will receive a MUCH greater financial remuneration package than the wife of the firefighter that rushed in to save him. Is that right? And so forth...So yes the essence of the same subjective/objective chaos...

For a time, when I started therapy (well in earnest) I would have pangs of guilt and remorse after leaving a session in which I had broached some of my parental issues. And I found that I kept running up against the roadblock of "Ben you are so ungrateful and whiney, stop pouting"... So basically I could continue that dialogue that de-valued my emotions (with, I suppose, the theoretical goal of stamping them out all together...very Jungian I guess), or I could accept the validity and proceed as such. This is what I have chosen to do, as filled with emotional landmines as it may be.

Another person I know, name left-out for now, suggested that I am doubly cursed by having the time to ponder such things (in the sense that my job, although very consuming, does not involve a 12-hour shift at a factory that leaves me too tired physically to be quite so introspective) and having the sort of intelligence that produces that self-awareness…the later the reverse of the blissful-ignorance pairing. I seem to spend some intense time in my own head, and I’m not sure it is always good for my (immediate) mental health.

Well that is all a bit heavy. So to sample that sort of cultural detritus that I adore, I am rather keenly looking forward to the new UPN show about Mr and Mrs Spears…in a horrible horrible car-crash way…she has become so tragic, and although the downfall (in all of its Cool Ranch Doritos/Kools/watermelon bubble gum-way) is such a pointless cliché, I cannot help but enjoy it. Well I don’t really know if I can stomach watching it, but we shall see.

-PBS

Just another manic (depressive) Monday

2005-05-09T16:06:00.000-07:00

Current Mood: depressed
Current Music: Madonna “Beautiful Stranger”, Placebo
Current Like(s): a.) being sad, feeling sorry for myself b.) furries (like the people that dress up in furry costumes, and fetishize/sexualize that sort of anthropomorphic Bugs Bunny-type animal)
Current Object of Lust: la Colombiano
Current Book(s): “Deconstructionist Theory and the Decline of Paul de Mann” and "Beyond Greed: The Hunts and Their Would-be Corner of the Silver Market"

Hmmm. So GM and Ford are now junk bond credits…more than a thousand dollars from every car they make is used to pay healthcare costs for their hundreds-of-thousands of employees. Seems pretty absurd to me…remind me again why Hilary was so vilified for wanting to provide healthcare to everyone? The American populace amazes me sometimes…we have such a Horatio Alger, strike-it-rich, national mindset. Countless studies have shown that working-class folks routinely oppose things like estate taxes, even though they are unaffected by them. The reason seems to be that such a citizen believes he or she COULD or perhaps WILL be rich, and thus does not want to penalize that future, richer self. Somehow it seems to me that the chance for upward mobility in American society is rather low these days. The days of oil wildcatters finding a lake of oil in the Texas panhandle are long gone, new technologies come from companies with billion-dollar R&D departments…

This was nicely exemplified for me, recently, by my co-worker’s quest to get his bright/adorable/precocious daughter into the “right” kindergarten. I was at first kind of horrified that placing one’s child in a quality (aka “feeder”) kindergarten requires rounds and round of interviews, but that changed to amusement and understanding. Although I understand it, since I felt that even at the time of my own college selection that the whole thing was becoming more and more commodified…that parents felt attending a brand name school will translate into success for their children. Not to be hypocritical, since in the event that I have children, I know I would shell out $20k to buy them the best kindergarten experience possible. At that point, I assume, what is the trade-off otherwise? Like, no, I am gonna skimp on my children and use the money for a Mercedes? Not likely. Well not for me. I hope to provide them with everything, as I was, so that they, like me, may focus on why they are miserable ;)

I did have a very nice Mother’s Day; Mom was happy with the card I gave her, since I buckled (surprise surprise) and included a message indicating that her gift would be dinner at the restaurant of her choice. Happily, JB decided to accompany me, since I knew my parents’ would be pleased and entertained with him. Also, I did not have to specifically prep him for the event, since he and I share certain opinions on social niceties. He was actually sufficiently proactive for us to get our stories straight as to how we met; although I don’t really feel there is any attached stigma to having met someone online. I suppose the gist is that, although we are very good friends now, we met under the auspices of a date, which was more information than I felt my parents needed, just from a simplicity standpoint.

JB and I stopped by the new upscale outlet mall, if that is not an oxymoron…or tautology even, haha…but we were too late and it was closed. Since we were curious, we walked around and did a bit of window shopping…the Adidas store is enormous, so I really must make an effort to visit it next time I am in Geneva…although I did manage to pick up some cute shoes at the downtown store this weekend. At any rate, as we were leaving, I noticed to my horror that one of the earpieces for my Gucci sunglasses of-the-moment had fallen off. I was playing with them as we walked around, but retracing our steps failed to produce them…I may be annoyed enough to return to the store, although I cannot imagine that much will come of it. And JB did manage to get in a few hits about paying that much for sunglasses that then quickly broke, haha.

Peace,

-PBS

Can I be an emo scenester in a Gucci suit?

2005-05-02T14:40:00.000-07:00

Current Mood: Annoyed & somewhat horny
Current Music: Madonna "Die Another Day"
Current Like: drugs (in theory)
Current Object of Lust: sad & pretty emo boys: "lyk. omg. fall out boy. omg.so scene."
Current Book(s): "Worlds of Pain: Life in Working Class America" and "Tabboos in the Family Dynamic"

Well no, I really have no aspirations to be a scene kid; I mean, there is some appeal, mostly the cute clothes and the cute e-depressed boys and girls. Nothing like self-induced, or at least self-aggrandized, angst. I guess, for the sake of specificity, I was thinking a scenester of the Placebo/Donnie Darko/Heathers/Bukowski poetry/boys with makeup/Ayn Rand (Fountainhead but not Atlas Shrugged)/Sponge Bob/burgundy hair/Valley of the Dolls/booze & pills/poor-with-rich-parents variety. But, like many of the things that amuse me (in my mind), it would be a lovely charade. I really don't have strong music affinities or affiliations. I certainly enjoy listening to fun or silly music on my iPod, but attending a live concert of some unknown band in a cheap dive does not appear on my list of enjoyable activities. Hell, I don't even really enjoy concerts by famous and established musicians. Perhaps it can best be explained by saying that I can listen to music for an hour or more on my iPod whilst cleaning my room or doing laundry...or have it on the background, as now, while updating my blog. But I would literally never put on a new CD and sit back on the couch and listen to it with my full attention; of course, I can't think of many things, aside from, um, the whole self-pleasure thing, that get my full attention these days. Do any of you buy a new CD and proceed to listen to part or all of it while not doing anything else? Ok, I already know that GSJ will say that he does. And in some ways I envy him, to be able to connect to music in that way, to get a sustainable pleasure out of it. Maybe I just don't slow down enough to enjoy in that way.

I see that a private equity firm is buying Neiman Marcus. I am not a big buyer of Neiman Marcus, mostly because it is not a convenient or very enjoyable place to shop. Since I am of the high income/bad credit school of late 20's living, I rely solely on my Visa check card to make purchases. For some inane reason (well just being faux posh), NM only allows one to pay by cash or Amex. I mean, this is 2005 for Lord's sake...the era of horrible snobby sales people creating a tension-filled shopping experience is a relic of the 80's Barneys heyday. I have no problem waltzing into Prada in track pants and sneakers, and am always greeted by friendly people eager to show me this or that...even the ladies at Chanel have always been very sweet and helpful to me. NM is the only place I know of these days that still retains uppity sales people, and I don't shop there much partly because of that...definitely deserving of the "um, you only work in a shop you know, you can drop the attitude" reality-check. Because NM gets some different clothes than the Prada or Gucci stores or other varieties of Juicy Couture, I do sometimes check it out. If it disappeared from Michigan Avenue, I would not miss a beat, frankly.

On a more serious note, my friend Rob is making a serious life-choice, and is moving to Seattle. He and I have had some genuine and heartfelt conversations about it, and I hope that my advice was of some use to him in the whole process. The truth is that I will miss him very much, and probably more than I even realize now. He in many ways exemplifies the idea of having good people in one's life. At times during out friendship, I have been genuinely surprised at how giving and sefless a person he is, and I will always be grateful for his support during some of my troubled times. I don't mean to be writing about the friendship in a past tense, since I do not see it that way, but of course the nature of the friendship will change when I can no longer meet up with him and JD for a movie or dinner. I do envy the love and commitment that Rob and JD have; it is something that I want for myself, whether or not I pursue it correctly. In all honesty, I was for a time mad at JD for moving them out of my immediate life, but that was a short-term and immature emotion that has been replaced with an appreciation for our times together and a genuine hope for their success in this new stage of their life together. I wonder if I am strong enough to make a similar choice.

Socially, nothing too noteworthy. I had Mark over for pizza and beers last Tuesday. We had a fun time, and he was amused by the plasma tv. Since it is likely that my comments here will make it back to him, and since he expressed some concern the last time that happened (which I respect, and was embarrassed about), I will offer no further comments.

I did not go out again with Sean on Friday, which I feel good about. Aside from catching some flak for going on a date from an 18 year old, I really don’t know enough about Hilary Duff to keep up my end of a conversation. That, plus it would be more hypocritical than usual of me, since I do clearly devote time here to thinking about relationships.

Mother’s Day is approaching, and so I must come through with a card, flowers, and a gift for the woman who has literally everything. Sad to say, and I’m not sure how I got into this position, but Mother will be happy with what I buy her as long as it is expensive. It is some convoluted issue of her seeing an expensive gift as me expressing my love based on a perception of the money-love dynamic learned by me in my childhood from her and my Father. Thankfully, I no longer live at home (well, thankful about that fact for so, so many reasons, haha), so I am not asked to buy cards for my Father to give to my Mother. That was always difficult for me, and I can remember being reduced to tears at times in the aisles of Hallmark since I felt as if I were perpetuating some horrible scenario. Indeed, it took a long time of living on my own before I was able to buy my Father a card without suffering a rather unpleasant bout of guilt and remorse; somehow the sentiments of a card never seemed remotely appropriate…probably why I then usually went with a blank card. Thankfully my parents and I have been getting along very well lately, so I can expect a low-stress Mother’s Day dinner in Geneva.

Peace,

-PBS

Whatcha got on...is it Commes des Garcons?

2005-04-25T15:35:00.000-07:00

Jeez I am tired today...I cannot wait for the workday to end so that I can crash at home. I spent a good portion of Sunday at the office, and did not end up leaving until about 10 pm. I admit that part of the blame can be ascribed to my type-A/OCD nature, in this case applied to a portfolio presentation for an investor. I just had to satisfy myself that all the information was being presented in the most logical and transparent way. I was at work early this morning to finish things up before sending it off to the printers; at about 10:30, I received word that the client had opted for a conference call instead. To say that the change of plans took the wind out of my sails, so to speak, would be quite an understatement. I had been rolling along on a wave of stress and enthusiastic determination, and suddenly had the rug pulled out from under me. I also slept quite poorly last night; recently I have been suffering a spate of bad/scary dreams, which Hilary ascribes to my predilection for the gruesome shows on CourtTV.

To be fair, the scariest thing I watched recently was a show on MTV, the name of which escapes me, although it might be called Becoming. The gist is that people, predominantly young, white, and rather sad/desperate, embark on plastic surgery to "become" more like a particular celebrity. In this case, a rather pretty and busty Texas girl had aspirations of looking like Jennifer Aniston. She started out with a certain passing resemblance to the ex-Mrs. Pitt...a fact that was confirmed by her rather vacuous friends, and a drunken sunburned frat guy who told her that she looked like Jennifer, "aside from the body of course." So the girl underwent extensive liposuction and liposculpture, a nose job, breast lift, and maybe some other things that I was just too squeamish to watch. I guess what creeped me out the most was her consultation with the plastic surgeon, to which she brought several pictures of Jennifer from People and US Weekly. The surgeon was pleased with her initiative, whipped out his black pen, and began marking up her body with the procedures that would need to be done to achieve a "Jennifer." Pardon my naiveté, but I always thought that the sine qua non of cosmetic surgery was that one is supposed to have a specific area in mind to be changed, and that that change will bring a desired peace of mind...not that one is supposed to grotesquely submit one's body to any surgery needed to look like a celebrity. I have read case studies, perhaps dated, in which the desire to look like someone else was fertile grounds for dismissing a prospective plastic surgery candidate. This doctor's Hippocratic Oath seemed to have been on hiatus, since there was no talk of the girl "wanting to feel better about herself" or to "look the way I have felt inside", etc.

Not only was the doctor absent in providing any hint of caution, but her family was entirely supportive of her choice. The only sane voice seemed to come from her boyfriend, who professed to love her exactly as she is...but not enough to attempt to dissuade her. I was troubled by the idiocy of the naked syllogism of the sort: Jennifer Aniston is pretty therefore she is happy, hence if I look like Jennifer I too will be pretty, and thus conclude that I shall be happy too. She was drawn to a "safe" societally-determined and authenticated figure of beauty, reified by the likes of US Weekly and People. She is not risking the chances and vagaries of being uniquely beautiful, but instead opting for more of a rubber-stamp approach; a guaranteed and sanitized winner amongst a diverse pulchritude. Ok, lastly, isn't it pretty foolish to want to look exactly like a celebrity? What if that person, say, murders their spouse? Or becomes laughably uncool, along the lines of Vanilla Ice? Since the preview for next week's show involved a girl desperate to look like Brittany, I can only imagine.

I have likely given this more thought than I might otherwise because I am something of a proponent of plastic surgery. Well maybe that is too strong, but I can certainly see the positives, if one approaches it from something of a healthy place. I want the sub-mandibular augmentation, because it is a minor issue…I wouldn’t say that it has necessarily “bothered” me, lacking the forceful jaw line that I want, but it is something I have always wanted to improve, and being cognizant of the process for improving it, I know I would be personally comfortable in doing so. But I am not driven to do that in order to look like Josh Hartnett. From a social life perspective, things have been rather quiet for me. I met up with JB and some of his friends on Saturday night, which was very fun. He introduced me to the fellow that he is currently interested in, and I found said person to be quite charming and funny. I ended up chatting with a cute guy named Patrick, and proceeded to get his number, since he seemed very date-worthy. We eventually made our way to Berlin, where I had not been in some time, and which I always enjoy. The scene there is really unlike any other that I have experienced in Chicago, and is worth the minimal price of admission on its own. I had a great time dancing to the usual eclectic and progressive music, making my way home at about 3.

Earlier in the evening, on my way to meet JB et al, I found a set of keys on the sidewalk. Today, in the hopes of balancing out some of my massive karmic debt, for all those years of misbehaving, haha, I mailed the keys to the Lakeshore Athletic Club, since their swipe-card was the only distinguishing characteristic on the key ring. I'd like to think that someone would do the same for me. Except of course in my case, I would assume that the person had made a copy of the keys, and was planning on robbing me :)

I may attempt to go out with Mark this week, depending on various schedules.

peace out,

-PBS

“The Youth must unite and fight against the Class Enemies!!”

2005-04-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

Current Mood: Satiated
Current Music: Gwen Stafani “If I Was A Rich Girl”
Current Like: the weltshmertz of youthful idealism as expressed by vegan teens who describe themselves as anarchists/Leninist-Marxists (the profiles of members on the Social Angst! Website) http://www.socialnerve.org/members/

Lists of various profile interests from the Social Nerve websites: animal liberation, protest art, distrust of the World Bank/IMF, local activism, anti-Fascism, societal disruption, Outsider art, upsetting the social order

I am endlessly entertained by this website, especially how it is built with the “check boxes that apply” approach to profile creation; my favorite being the “My View on Money” section, and how one can choose “I exist on a system of barter and theft”…..I mean, how great is that?

Current Object(s) of Lust: rare Adidas sneakers with Che Guevara’s face on the tongue, and a Louis Vuitton messenger bag or a vintage Adidas running shoe bag
Current Book: Nine Scorpions in a Bottle: Activist Judges of the Supreme Court and Judicial Review as a Tool of Change
Level of Apathy: High

”To Fight, to Hunger, to Resist!”

I do not have very much to report in this blog, but then again I never have much “of substance” happening in my life. And I’m happier for it. I had a sleep-over date last night with Sean, an adorably earnest guy I met chatting at g.com. Since my social life has been reduced to nil, from a dating perspective, over the past week, I thought I would take a chance on meeting someone with whom I have chatted with and spoken to for a while. It was very low stress, since our lack of compatibility allowed me to relax without hyper-analyzing everything said and done. The lack of compatibility coming from the fact that Sean lives in the suburbs with his Mother, and has recently turned 18. My one concern is to ensure that he does not become infatuated with me, since that would be quite unfair to him. Hilary was very taken by him; part of being so young means that he is totally straightforward and honest, sometimes inappropriately so, but he does not hedge or over-analyze his speech. It is refreshing if not a bit startling.

I had hopes of developing a “friends with benefits” relationship with M, with whom I hooked up a few weeks ago. Sadly, his all-consuming job at CBS, in ways reminiscent of my own, has made meeting up again fairly difficult. I do get the feeling that he does not quite know how to handle me.

In other random news, Hilary was out doing some errands on Saturday afternoon, and was dressed casually with her hair up and no makeup. While walking down Milwaukee, she noticed Vince Vaughn and an unidentified friend walking towards her on the same side of the street. She decided to forego playing it cool, and openly stared at him as he approached. He responded by winking at her, and then reached out and grabbed her forearm as if to say that he understood that she was star-struck. I an pretty damn jealous that I wasn’t with her, since I totally get off on such celebrity encounters (i.e. my spilling a drink on Steve from 90210).

So that’s about all I know; I’m not in the mood to go off on some twisted verbiage tangent. I did discover a discount store called Filene’s Basement, which I have to recommend (thanks to RG and JD); they have a huge selection of cute underwear at great sale prices.

Lastly, I am tired of my friends all buying condos J Well, I mean I am proud of them for doing so, but it makes me feel lazy and irresponsible in response. I have very much of a Carrie-Sex in the City take on the whole matter…her $40,000 down payment spent on Manolo Blahniks, Christian Louboutins, and Jimmy Choos…and the “I’ll be a bag lady – a Fendi bag lady – but a bag lady nonetheless” trope.

Peace,

PBS

No. 3/No. 13 (Magenta, Black, Green on Orange)

2005-04-06T11:37:00.000-07:00

Current Mood: Indifferent
Current Music: Tori Amos (re)mixed by BT
Current Like: punk covers of cheesy 80's pop (esp. "99 Red Balloons" by Goldfinger)
Current Object of Lust: Chad Michael Murray
Current Book: The NeoCon Reader, having just finished DisneyWar, which JB had kindly lent
Level of Apathy: Moderately High

The weather is getting warmer and more spring-like, and I can feel myself becoming more open to happiness as an option. Well, the warmth of the sun is nice to feel again; I was actually too warm on the el platform this morning. I had a fairly quiet and chill weekend, which was exactly what I was in the mood for, after quite a tough week at the office. I had a nice dinner with JB and RG on Saturday night, along with a friend of JB’s; somehow I managed to avoid eating a big bowl of raw chicken, which is always my fear in any Mongolian BBBQ-type setting...um, that extra B stands for BYOBB, and that extra B is a typo ;)

Anyway, during dinner on Saturday, JB's friend made a few somewhat snide comments about the Louis Vuitton denim jacket and Chanel sunglasses that I had chosen, after much closet-based angst, as something I was comfortable in wearing. I opted for a rather nice confluence of dark denims, between the jacket and the dirty-style jeans, completing the outfit with a rather snug-fitting pink t-shirt and my new silver/blue Prada dress sneakers. I did not particularly appreciate his hating, and was further surprised, since I had been nothing but pleasant and affable. Perhaps there is a lesson in that, and I should have put him in his place, but somehow that seemed unnecessarily cruel, and not particularly challenging.

More interestingly, JB, RG, and I had a, at times drawn-out, conversation about the use/appropriation of slang in our "special club." JB used, although not I fear coined, the phrase "gay ghetto"; the intent being to describe a manner of speech and attendant vocabulary: using "girls" to refer to a group of guys, replacing boy with "boi", creating oddly-chosen and frankly pointless abbreviations…erm…plus others but you get the idea. To me, it conveys a sense of a identifying, and constructed, patois which on the surface may seen at first to be a bit of a low common-denominator and sexually-crude vernacular. It can also be used defiantly, perhaps in conjunction with an exaggeration of effeminate behavior, and at times may be paired with appropriated former words of hate that are now stripped of the negative. How about queer? That’s pretty much been taken in, like an ill-tempered neighborhood dog, revivified, and sent on its merry gay way, festooned with rainbow streamers and obligatory pink triangles. Hmm, what other words, formerly chosen by the majority to label and separate our little clique...well "fag" I guess, and “fairy” just seems silly nowadays. But clearly the use of certain words is defiance, and the banter of gay ghetto between two individuals can represent a sense of understanding and mutual comfort, which might go so far as to establish a feeling of "safe space" in which to have such a conversation.

People over-hearing such a conversation may make gendered assumptions about the speakers; this could play into the idea of defiance, refusing to be silenced or to fall in line for more acceptable speech choices, as obviously one could chose to self-select a pattern of speech that does not draw attention to one’s self and presumed gender orientation. As, historically, that attention has had a tendency to be negative, the use of a manner of speech that engages that attention would seem to be counterintuitive, but ultimately rather confrontational. Hmm…I don’t really know why I started down this path.

Well, there is certainly a litany of appropriated words across our culture; Queer, Nigger, and so forth. The original use of those 2 words was to dehumanize the “other”, but oppression of that form has actually created a radicalized other, who have snatched that wobbly moral compass, and co-opted the language of prejudice. Obviously these words need to be thoroughly contextualized; a white person using the word “nigger” must clearly broadcast the intent. So the use of slangy “gay speech” has the effect of identifying the user as specifically not “straight”, but does that include the desire for a black-and-white world view of gay/straight? Seems like the rather mythological binary of Church/State, creating an unnecessarily underlined polarity, implicit vs explicit, de jure vs de facto, etc. Is that word choice indicative of behavior designed to entice a radical response and counter-response, of the “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” trope?

Personally, I have tended to avoid confrontation in most aspects of my life, except in explicitly sanctioned conditions (the office, athletics). Hence, that is likely one reason that I do not pepper my speech with “gay ghetto” terms. Recently, however, I was shopping on a very crowded Michigan Ave with MAB, and for some reason I decided to reach for his hand. We ended up walking down the street, and into stores, holding hands, and I admit to getting a visceral thrill out of possibly shocking some tourists ;)

Peace to all,

PBS

Boo to all the haters

2005-03-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

Tonight as always, Hilary and I enjoyed our much-treasured mass-culture phenomenon: America's Next Top Model. The show is so brilliant for so many reasons, that I cannot possibly do it justice in this fairly limited format. Simply, the show takes a pool of women (between the ages of 18 and 25 or so) and whittles them down until one remains, to be crowned America's Next Top Model, with a modeling contract and the media exposure that provides. As the weeks pass (I believe there are a total of 12), the women learn the do's and don'ts of being a model, including walking runway in high-heels, vaseline on the gums for a frictionless smile, and the mysterious secrets of padding. The show has a very ethnically-diverse group of contestants, which is certainly refreshing in the usually lily-white world of prime time tv; they are also all quite thin (with the exception of one seemingly token plus size model) and tend to not be "conventionally beautiful." The second episode of each season is always amoung our favorites, as the women all undergo dramatic makeovers. So you get the whole ghastly brilliance of experts recutting their appearence from whole cloth, that is, the whole appeal of those make-over shows. Then, because they all live together in a posh manhattan town hose (or LA loft this season), you get all the pointless inter-personal drama you can eat, a la the Real World. Finally, the contestants are all rather cruelly judged by a panel of experts at the end of each episode, which is certainly thie highlight of each episode. One of the panelists is Janice Dickinson, and I would be willing to watch the show just to catch a glimpse of her. She is billed as "The World's First Supermodel", although one gets the impression that she can remember very little of the heady world of her Studio 54-supermodel life; certain indications include her much proffered charm bracelet from the last days of disco, made entirely of coke spoons. She is so caustic, and so clearly resentful of the young women and their youthful beautfy, that is makes for staggeringly good tv.

My cognitive dissonance vs DJ Thirsty Monk (remix)

2005-03-21T12:11:00.000-08:00

or: My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

I am continuing to enjoy my blogging efforts, even though it is, I fear, becoming weirder as it sits in an isolated cold-bath of cyberspace. I guess I've made a best-efforts approach to imposing some reductive structure to this, but I seem to constantly thwart it. It seems that the same unconscious cognitive dissonance that thwarts my feeble efforts at making/sticking to a budget is undermining my attempts to establish blog boundaries.

Ok, well more on that point, since it has been on my mind a lot. In fact, while doing my meditation yesterday (and yes I have taken it up, and yes it was at first in a funny 70's/EST/Me Generation /wife-swapping/pasta maker/Adidas tracksuit sorta way), I found it occupying my thoughts. And I've come to the conclusion that saying "my blog is ___" is a doomed exercise, because I don't have the restraint nor frankly the inclination to adhere to a cut-out format. So feeding off of that, I kept coming back to my initial thought of the blog as proof-positive of the Heisenberg Uncertainty principle. Simply put, if anything in word-whoring writing style can be simple or economical, my blog is influenced by my life which involves the readers of this blog. I can write something in the blog that will spark a conversation/exchange with a friend who reads this blog; that interaction may lead to actions that impact the narrative thrust of the blog, which in turn will become part of the big-M Me that is writing the blog...hence a circle that is bound to repeat ad infinitum.

Case in point, I have shared the link to this blog with MAB with whom I spent the majority of this weekend. If I write about our date/weekend, he may read it; and it is the thought thereof that causes me to self-censure. Further, writing about someone that I am dating would by necessity be a project with a short shelf-life; if things became serious with that person, I would not want to continue to share personal matters. Hmm, I think this is coming across terribly, but hopeful the germ of the idea is apparent.

Also, along the lines of having M read this, I have been writing this blog as something for myself, and for those of my friends that care to read it. I have not been editing it for someone I am/will/might/can date to read. Clearly, in a social interaction, I try to put my best foot forward in terms of my friendliness, manners, polite conversation, and so forth. This blog sets that entire worldview aside, because the audience of my friends does not need that buffer. So you might ask why I thought I should share the blog link with someone I am interested in, romantically. Basically, the blog is a very good way to understand who I am, how I think, and how I approach life and living. From that perspective, it is a great way to learn more about me.

Ok, so to bring this painfully-executed thought to a conclusion, I am going to continue to write about dates and so forth, but with the understanding that I may choose to curtail that at whim if things become serious with a guy, to the point that writing about dates becomes inappropriate.

So yes, I spent the weekend with M. He and I chatted a bit on g.com initially; I IM'd had at first because I was so taken with his profile and the genuineness that I felt from reading it. Basically, to borrow a phrase from investment banking, I felt that he "got the game." In i-banking, this is used to refer to someone who understands the mechanics of a particular type of security, including the nuances of its construction, and what impacts its value in the marketplace. In g.com parlance, it means, to me, someone who is bright, who understands the inherent failings of the meeting-someone-online trope, who is funny & clever, who brings a certain ironic detachment to the whole thing, and lastly who is not simply looking for sex in the immediacy that online chatting can clearly provide. On top of that, he is also quite attractive. That said, we went to a house party in Wicker Park, which was tremendous for its boho earnestness, and I enjoyed meeting some of his friends and coworkers. So what began as a date on Friday night turned into one of those wonderful and rare dates that goes on all weekend long, when you can't bear to separate yourself from the other person, because you are having too great a time in getting to know them, and where you don't want to challenge the as-yet fragile rapport that is being built. I just found myself really taken by his cute smile and very sunny personality...well and a few other things that discretion will preclude me mentioning ;)

So I've made a consultation with my plastic surgeon for Thursday afternoon; I am going to decide once and for all, yea or nay, to go ahead with getting my cheeks done. I am also mildly interested in preventative botox, but that's not foremost on my cosmetic surgery to-do list. At this point, the only factor holding me back is the absolute horror with which my beloved Mother would greet the news. I realize that is a weak reason to hold-off, but it is still, presently, a valid one. And no, I’m not playing my mother as rhetorical straw man (straw-woman?)

Lastly, shipping stuff overseas is a huge pain. What’s the deal with that anyway? I sent my girl Rachel a pretty-pink iPod, because she is a classy broad who needs an appropriately-colored iPod; I’ve become a huge buyer of the iPod, now that I managed to figure out my music/photo iPod, and I no longer suffer from iPod-envy on the el in the mornings. But I had to fill out like 3 forms at Fedex in order to send the damn things to her, including estimating the VAT or some crap. I thought we were living in the free market, not frickin communist bloody China here…since when should I be hassled by The Man when trying to send a gift to a friend? Did we lose a war or something? Well, aside from the war in the world court of public opinion (replete with the army of burning Uncle Sam effigies.) Also, is it weird that I dream of someday achieving a level of notoriety/infamy that would cause me to be burned in effigy? Hmmm.

Fair enough, I have indulged in this sufficiently for now.

-PBS

Post Script: M called while I was writing this to wish me a happy Monday; what a cutie

Genuflect, while I'm playing with your heart

2005-03-16T06:18:00.000-08:00

or: Rock on, in your Louis Vuitton

My life has been a bit out of control, well more so than usual. I spent the better part of Tuesday night attempting to force a sense of order…damn you entropy! I now have a clear sense of paid bills, money set aside to save/invest, and the fellas that I am in the process of dating. I do admit that it seems that I lead quite an active social life, at least from my blog’s perspective…and why not really? I am interested in meeting a nice guy, who happens to possess a supermajority of my desired attributes, and I see no reason to be lazy or half-assed in that pursuit. To that end, I seem to go on a fair number of first dates; and while I may not “click” with the person in question, I enjoy meeting new people, and there is always the chance to make a new friend. Or, better yet, and what I feel has become a gay currency of sorts, meeting someone cute who works at a store from which one wants a discount. Case in point, on my date with Tom on Saturday, I ran in to Scott, a cute guy I dated in 2002…at which time he was gainfully employed (with a 30% employee discount) at Ralph Lauren. Although he has moved on, career-wise, he is still cute and we are going out at some point in the near future.

I was dressed a bit provocatively on Saturday, the whole tight t-shirt routine, and from a modest perspective I was definitely looking rather cute…helped by my diligent attention to working the pecs, biceps, and triceps. There was a certain moment in the evening, apparent to me, when I could have cleanly ditched Tom and chatted up one of the guys with whom I had made eye contact. But I obviously did no such thing, because that would have been very rude, and I’m sure Tom would have been hurt by that. Now if he had been rude or a jerk or whatever, I would have had no compunctions with leaving him to move on. It seems that manners have been pushed to the side in this crazy gay world of ours. It has become quite acceptable, and I have been occasionally guilty of same, to go out with someone, and then instead of saying that you are not interested in a 2^nd date, just simply not calling. It’s so prolific, that it has become accepted behavior. Except of course, that it still smarts to be on the receiving end.

So I’m taking my parents and Hilary out to MK on Friday. It is sort of a quasi-celebration of my bonus, and also another futile attempt to fulfill the overwhelming debt I owe both of them, by writ of my having been born (kidding kidding). But I know that Mummy gets quite a kick out of playing the whole “proud mother” routine, and although we all know where that trope ends when played to its extreme, I am going along with it. And enabling, because I bought her a new handbag and wallet at Louis Vuitton…while picking up a sweet denim jacket there for myself. Fine, I realize no one is interested in my shopping exploits…well one friend, but she does not read my blog - lest she be too shocked by some of my very bad behavior ;)

I have been kicking around the idea of buying a car, because I always enjoy driving, and I do somewhat miss having one. My thought was to look at a used, maybe 10 year old, Mercedes or Lexus or something; a quality used car that would be fun to drive. Ultimately I decided not to; the insurance would be too much to justify for a car I would only use occasionally. As my Father pointed out, for the cost of insurance, I could rent a Jaguar for the few times I need a car, haha. I had a nice talk with my father, in which we discussed the car issue, among other things. He does amuse me; his brother and law partner, Roy Safanda, is purchasing a summer home in the Turks and Caicos Islands, because that part of my family quite enjoys diving and such. By contrast, far from buying a summer home, my Father never really goes on vacation, aside from the family summer home in Wisconsin. A creature of habits I suppose; and yet somehow he ended up with such a consumerist child (although a look in my Mommy Dearest’s shoe closet will indicate where I got that particular addiction). J

Well to wrap up this disparate blog entry, I will give my summary of my Watergate reading binge.

1). The Watergate break-in itself was Nixon’s fault, indirectly. He was so passionately determined to get information on his political enemies, and demanded results from his aides. As a result, Charles Colson, his go-to guy on political dirt, took it upon himself to setup the Watergate break-in, without Nixon’s advance knowledge (well that is what I have concluded, and I realize that some will disagree on that point), in order to tap phones and get inside information.

2).The break-in itself was doomed to fail, because the Democratic Party had advance knowledge that it would occur, and let it happen because of the obvious political fall-out. Likewise, the CIA observed the break-in, and had been tipped off well in advance by McCord, who was a current CIA operative at the time of his participation in the would-be burglary.

3). The subsequent cover-up was clearly what destroyed Nixon, and the reason it faired so poorly was that so many people were involved. While the cover-up actors all knew certain aspects, no one knew enough of the whole picture to orchestrate the effective plan to confuse, inveigle, and obfuscate that would have been required to protect the President.

4). Nixon himself did not know nearly enough about the break-in, and it was his lack of knowledge that doomed the cover-up. Nixon feared that Colson, and his Attorney General John Mitchell, were involved in the break-in, and he acted to protect them, without wanting to know any of the details.

5). There were steps along the way at which the cover-up could have been salvaged (i.e. if Nixon had offered John Dean immunity, allowing him to lie to the Senate Committee on Watergate), but it was again a lack of coherent and organized information. Nixon had tapped John Dean to accumulate all Watergate information and lead the cover-up, but once Dean figured out that his participation could likely land him in prison, and with no assurance from Nixon that he would be protected, he gave it all up to the Watergate prosecutors.

Hope everyone is doing well.

-PBS

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

2005-03-09T14:56:00.000-08:00

I think this will likey be a shorter post than some prior; re-reading some of my entries, they seem a bit disjointed and I wonder if it is self-indulgent of me to expect someone to read a multi paragraph entry; I myself really only commit to reading longer entries if they turn in to venom-laced diatribes, attacking one's real or perceived enemies. That said, I don't really have any enemies; well none that I am aware of. I am generally not comfortable knowing that someone is upset with me, and so I move Heaven and Earth in attempts at reconciliation. Perhaps that is due to my hyper-sensitivity to some nebulous sense of "karmic justice and/or realignment" (and yes RG, I know that karma can only be apportioned by the universe, haha).

In moments of reflection, I often find myself thinking about karmic justice and equality; some might ascribe it to the cliche of "fear of succeeding", but I do at times wonder if I deserve the success I have had so far in my young life. Well not that I question my talent or abilities, because I know that, for whatever reasons, I am quite well-suited for bond management...I guess it's more of an issue of material rewards incumbent in certain careers vs the tangentant - or parallel even - idea of "social betterment"...and the trade-offs that ensue. I mean, a person pursuing a career in teaching kindergaten has, really a priori, made the life choice to forego a "clear" path to financial renumeration...presumably having decided that the "rewards" of helping to grow and foster a child's development will outweigh the economic cost of such a job. And ,yes, I accept that this entire train of thought is endemic to the malaise of the late 20's, but I wonder if the sacrifices, either material or social-subjective, that are made when entering a career, are reconciled by those same people, say at age 40. Is that the root of the ever-explored "mid-life crisis", where the supposed crutches of money, in the instance of a money-centric career, begin to wear off, or the weaknesses of such begin to be unavoidable?

Well on a more gleefully ironic note, here are some website that I find to be TREE-MENDOUS:

1) ratemybody.com

Ok well this is definitely one of my not-very-guilty pleasures. Simply put, the dudes on here are fucking hot. No way around it. Nothing like a hot straight boy lifting up his polo (abercrombie-labeled and popped collar, natch) to show off his 6 or 8 pack. Damn. I have also become quite enthralled with a particular guy on here, who besides having the requisite absurdly chiseled abs and tight body, also describes his hobbies/interests as: nerd rock iconography, bourgeois materialism, and the New York Dolls. Ah, be still my PoMo heart :)

2) baconwhores.com

Well at first I had an internal debate as to the authenticity of this, but ultimately I decided that that is sort of irrelevant. It's just brilliant as it is, for so many reasons.

Ok, well I am going to post this now, because why not really, and will edit it later. Or perhaps not.

-PBS

My Chemical Romance

2005-03-08T09:14:00.000-08:00

This pace of blog-updating seems to be working well for me. I do tend to work very well under a deadline pressure, but because such a pressure would be totally self-induced in terms of blog timeliness, I don’t think it would have the same positive effect.

So, since the last blog entry, I have learned that essentially no one I know (not even Frerx) has even a modicum of sympathy for me about my bonus-based stress and anxiety. I just hate the idea of getting screwed over, from a financial perspective, natch. Well it will be all resolved Friday, and then I can find something else to obsess over. I’m thinking of choosing whitening my teeth as the new obsession de jour; well, of course continuing my fondness for cool footwear. Speaking of, maybe I’ll go to Adidas during lunch today…hmmm.

My other captivation has been Watergate, including the lead-up to and the aftershocks of. I can’t exactly explain where that interest has come from, but I find Nixon to be simply fascinating on so many levels. Of course there is the obvious Nixon-as-King-Lear, and the inherent tropological similarities, with Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Dean, et al, as the handmaidens of his destruction. And Nixon’s unbelievable overwhelming hubris, so prominent and intertwined with his scheming. So his fall is that of classic tragedy. Aside from reading Final Days, by Woodward & Bernstein, who are sort of the sine qua non of any proper Watergate analysis, I have also been reading: John W. Dean’s Blind Ambition, Richard Ben-Veniste’s Stonewall: the Watergate Prosecution, Ehrlichman’s book, Colson’s book, and transcripts of Nixon’s tapes. I was a bit amazed at Nixon’s extreme anti-Semitism that jumps out in many conversations, tied into his paranoia; he is always exhorting Dean to “get those Jews…those big Jews [big Democratic donors]”, and he used the power of the IRS and the Department of Justice to harass many of these people. In the end, it was the cover-up that destroyed Nixon’s presidency, not the actual break-in itself. But Nixon was conditioned to never admit culpability, so it was not part of his frame of reference. The insider perspective is definitely what I get off on; the debate about Nixon vs. the office of the Presidency; would Nixon’s resignation dilute the power of the office, etc? Although I’m sure it was unpopular at the time, I think Ford made the right decision in pardoning Nixon; this finally let the country begin to heal and to move forwards.

Well there’s not much else that’s new with me really. I have been rather diligently working out, and I can feel my pecs and biceps getting firmer and bigger. I enjoy the feeling of being sore after lifting, and I’m looking forward to getting big again; I’m aiming for softball-size bicep muscles, haha. It is kind of reassuring to see the progress I’m making, and to have a bit more confidence that comes from looking better, and having the extra physical strength. My body type allows me to put on beefy muscle pretty easily, but it’s not good at all at losing fat. Ah well, I suppose that is a fair trade-off.

When I did have a six-pack, it was thanks to a rather restricted diet, with some, um, chemical assistance.

I finally got around to updating my gay.com profile, and changing my status back to single, and removing the last traces of my psycho puppy-boy. Good times, good times, haha. Well at any rate, last night was the first time I had chatted on gay.com in many weeks. But it was fun to catch up with some friends, and to meet a few new people. Along those lines, I “met” Chris on gay.com last night…the usage of “met” I believe applies in this modern and distant and dislocated age of ours, and Frerx will have to put up with my righteous judgment modality on this issue J. But nonetheless we talked for about an hour or so, and he seems to be pretty cool, is finishing his training to be a nurse, etc. Plus he and I have a shared predilection for pink shirts, with the collars up (pop my collar, like Creflo Dollar), so I think that’s a good sign. We are having dinner early next week, so that’s all good.

Enough for now. I will be back with news of my bonus, although not explicit news lest it offend anyone. Not that such an offense would be the first or last time, to be sure ;)

-Ben

The Jet-set Life is Gonna Kill You

2005-03-02T06:44:00.000-08:00

Wrapped up in the dubative cloak that is my worldview (from my perspective or perspectives). Subjective vs. objective. Drop, drop it like it's hot on the normative trope. hmm. I think my mind is being warped by these legal docs...party A agrees to indemnify Party B...in the multi-party, credit-default and interest-rate hedge swaps with a euro-yen reverse-floating debenture...sometimes it is difficult to justify using my mind, such as it is, to tackle things like these.

I know that I have keen, razor-sharp analytical skills; I can cut up a stream of cash flows or the merits of dark denim. I can even, remotely and non-empathetically, take a whack at my faults and imperfect life choices. I can talk with JB about my amazing ability to identify the wrong sort of guy for me, and then steadfastly find myself attracted to Him - big H meta-him, in the heuristic sense of my bizzaro world poster boy. Well, the version of an "ideal him"...the pretty young blond boy with no job and no threat to my intellect or my apparent sense of self and perceived role/function in a relationship. I'm not going to delve into where my attraction comes from; doing so would no doubt lead down the prim rose path towards some A+B = blond of the reductio ad absurdum variety.

So yes, single again. And happily so it would seem. I enjoyed EP's visit quite a bit this weekend, as I knew I would. We have a certain unique rapport...I think partly derived from our syncretic exchanges of the simple life southern boy and the neurotic, OCD, free spending yuppie. Plus he's a cute guy, so it's all good.

Well I had the date with Mark last night. I imagine that everyone reading this blog already knows the details that led up to it, but I will provide some background, for history's sake. Months ago, JB and I met up with some of my high school friends, or "friends", at Roscoe’s one evening, for a quiet evening of discussing Wittgenstein over a game of snooker, or something. Or possibly because JB is one of the few people I know as unrelentingly boy-crazy as myself. Regardless, my friend BJ had brought Mark along; I was immediately struck by how attractive he was...rather tall and skinny with adorable pretty-boy features. Fast forward to EP's visit, and I ran into Mark again w/ BJ et al at Sidetrack, where I proceeded to get impressively lit up. I ended up spending the night at Mark's place that night, although sadly we just ended up making out for a bit before we passed out. And to top things off, I awoke to find myself stupendously hung-over.

Thankfully Mark looked past my stellar first impression, so we went to Mirai for some quality raw fish last night. Unfortunately, my traditional first date place let me down a bit, in that it was pretty loud, and there was an obnoxious dude at the table next to us basically yelling at his girlfriend. So that made talking a bit challenging. The sushi was great as always thankfully, and we had a pretty decent dinner. Mark was dressed very well, dark denim jeans and a black sweater with a black leather jacket; I myself went for dirty-style Diesel jeans and a black Prada dress shirt. Honestly, he looked damn hot, and I found it a bit off-putting. I am not the sort to normally be nervous around people, usually because I don't care enough to be, but I was a bit in this case.

After dinner, I invited him back to my place. He agreed, and I gave him the quick tour of the place; he was amused and gave me shit about the color-order of my shirt closet, and my predilection for Adidas sneakers. Is it my fault that they opened up an Adidas store next to Diesel? What is a guy to do? He commented on how neat my room was, and I replied that it left plenty of space for his clothes on the floor. So, after an OK dinner conversation, I wasn't sure how things would go. But we ended up talking for hours, and I was much more relaxed. We were sitting on my couch, and after a long time of chatting, I reached over to kiss him. Of course, just before I did, he turned his head to look at Vegas, who had jumped onto the armrest. So, my kiss missed, he turned back suddenly, and I ended up being totally embarrassed. Quite awkward, and another stellar performance on my part. So no kiss. Damn. So we talked some more, and he left around midnight. He told me had a great time, and we made tentative plans to do a movie date type-thing this weekend. So we shall see.

To add to my self-induced drama/crises, our CEO is flying out on March 14th with our bonus checks. I have no idea at all what it will be. Enough to take a nice vacation or to get plastic surgery or to get a car? I have no idea. And yes, I know that anything I get is great, and it should be looked on as such, but the size of the bonus also speaks to one's perceived value in/to the firm. So that is really the reason for my being nervous. Well that plus I'm crazy of course :) Oh, and y'all will have to deal with the fact that I have included, mostly, proper spelling and grammar. You can still get your punctuation jollies from reading li'l Zachary's blog, haha.

Later,

Ben

we young, hung, and famous, so

how can ya blame us

these ladies can't tame us

Never going to come back down again

2005-02-07T11:42:00.000-08:00

Well,

Here we go. I have decided to update my blog; various friends have urged me to do as much, but it's really something I am doing for myself. Without a doubt, part of the impetus to write again has come from my diligent loyalty in reading my boyfriend Zach's blog. Zach is able to write in a completely uninhibited and free-flowing manner...perhaps closest to the stream-of-consciousness genre; to be honest, I am envious of his raw and honest writing style. I tend to default to something a little more rigid, and though I like to think that I am comfortable with sharing personal issues, I realize that I tend to over-think my writing. Those of you who know me will of course not be surprised about that last point, given my OCD tendencies :)

Indeed, quite a bit has happened in my life since I last posted. I realize that most personal blogs end up taking one of two forms: either a recitation of one's life and events therein, or they tend to offer opinions about the world around us (in the case of my friend John BBankhurst, a blog which is a continuing diatribe and a weapon against those who have wronged him). I guess I'm not sure which of those I am more comfortable with; I think, heretofore, my blog has been something of a mélange of both of those stylistic choices, and I am pretty comfortable with that approach.

So, since I last posted, my personal life mostly involved me going on a series of first dates, ad absurdum. While I enjoyed meeting new people, and keeping myself engaged in a social scene, I was getting somewhat depressed that I had not met someone with whom I felt that special spark. So I was excited when I met Zach for the first time; we had first chatted in November, but had not met up until January. Our first date involved me bringing over soup and juice, since he was under the weather. Admittedly, I was first taken by how hot he is, but as we have dated more, that has been superceded by how kind and genuine and fun he is. He makes me very happy, and we have now been dating for over a month. I think a lot of the credit for that is due to our honest and open communication; neither of us is hesitant to bring up something that is bothering us, so there is no sublimation or repression of hurt feelings. At times I do feel a little scared, because I am opening my heart to him, and therefore exposing myself to getting hurt, but I know it's the right thing to do. Ok, I realize that I am probably annoying certain readers who have already heard plenty about how fond I am of Zach, haha.

Well other than that, I am still enjoying work. It remains challenging and invigorating, and it keeps my mind working, which is essential to me. Our firm is doing very well, and our platform is really kicking ass; I don't like to count my chickens before they've hatched, if you will, but I know that staying in this current job will be a very lucrative choice for me. And I suppose that is mostly good, but it may make me more complacent. I am certainly less likely to leave this job, and the investment banking field, knowing what I would be giving up. As always, in the back of my mind, is the fantasy of becoming a teacher. I am under no false pretense as to how hard a job that is, and that has been reinforced from my good friend Graham, who is currently teaching surly teenagers in the UK. I still find myself reading plenty of historical non-fiction, and I guess part of the dream is going back to get a Masters, and be allowed to fully immerse myself in historical studies. While I do enjoy my job, as I said, it's not as if I randomly pick up a book on bond math because it intrigues me, and I want to read it in my spare time.

Well I guess I should wrap up today's post. The fact that I have written today is not necessarily indicative of my future blog plans; I don't want to be locked in to some posting schedule or I will feel burned out. But check back now and again to see if I've updated.

Peace, and I'm Audi 5000

-Ben

Ghost

2004-08-16T14:07:00.000-07:00

I have a ghost, a spirit that I did not invite. In my case, it is depression that haunts me. It appears without warning, and stays without me wanting it to be there. It is horrible. It surprises me, because one minute I can be feeling just fine, and the next minute I feel like my legs have been cut out from underneath me. I do take anti-depressant medication, that works (in theory) to level my moods. And in truth, the bad times are fewer and further between. But there are still times where I feel the bottom has dropped out in my life. Those are the times that I sit on the el, going to work, and despise my fellow riders; despise them from being cheery and carefree, and not forcing themselves to go through the motions of life. Those are the bad times. I feel better already for having written this, as a means of catharsis. In the past, I might have a scotch, or buy a Prada shirt, or a fist full of pills, or something worse, to kill the pain. But I am meeting it head-on these days. I am doing what I can to get to the roots of some of the things that make me sad. I see a therapist, I talk to my parents about my formative years...and sometimes I sit and wonder at the choices I make and have made, and the person I am and the one I would like to become. I remember reading a biography of JP Morgan that spoke of his own crippling depression. This man was one of the wealthiest people in the US, and among the most powerful, but yet he had extreme depression. His solution was to take a cruise to Europe on his yacht, which sadly is not really an option fo me, but I do appreciate that depression can happen to anyone regardless of success.

So yes, today I am a very sad guy. There is no specific reason for that. I had a great weekend with my friend Rob and his friend E. In some aspects it was the best time I have ever had (still amazing to me), but I will opt for a bit of discretion given the tone of this post. Ok, enough for now. Hope all is well with you.

-PBS

Shoes A Go-Go

2004-08-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

So my sweet roomate, H.I., and I, are preparing for the dreaded move. The annoyance of packing, moving, and unpacking, is almost motivation enough to buy a damn apartment. Assuming, of course, that I had more than $87 in my savings account. I've been wondering at what age a person should no longer be living paycheck to paycheck. I won't be too gauche in discussing money, or at least I'll try not to be. Suffice it to say, my job comes with an ulcer, rampant homophobia and misogeny, and a six figure income. I am aware of people my age, who are married, and raising children, and have a modest income. And own their own house. Not only do I rent, and live paycheck to paycheck, but I also have crummy credit. It is ironic that I help to manage billions of dollars for all manners of companies and governments, but I cannot seem to get a grasp on my own finances. When did I last balance my checkbook you ask? That would be April, 1994. When we were together, my ex M.B. offered to draw up a budget and map out where the money went. I should have taken him up on it. I would do it myself, but I am a bit afraid to find out. That said, I think it's time to bite the bullet and start hashing out my finances.

Some time ago, I remember reading an article in the New York Times magazine about this fellow (straight) who was addicted to online pornography. When he finally added everything up, he was spending more than $400 a month on online porn. Now, I have no such pornographic spending habits. Sure I buy the occassional magazine (Freshman, Play Dude, Naked Straight Skater Boy Quarterly) and DVD (Bel Ami, vintage Falcon, amateur crap), but it can't ammount to more that one purchase a month. If that. But I have the same sense of having let things get out of control.

There was a time in my life, say back when I was 22 and 23, that I spent a lot of money on designer labels. I have always enjoyed nice clothes, and my parents were generous with me when I was kid. However, when I finally graduated and landed a high paying job, my closet exploded. Yes, the truth is that I found myself buying expensive designer clothes because I wanted people to know that I had A) style and B) money. This was driven by insecurities on my part. I have struggled with my self-esteem most of my life. I am much better now, but there was a time when I felt uncomfortable in crowds, or large social situations. Having expensive clothes, the Rolex watch, Gucci belt, and other crap did make me feel better about myself. Along the same lines, I got a silver BMW 330Ci in December 2000. I leased the car because it was amazingly fun to drive, and because I felt like "I had arrived", I liked the attention I got in the car, etc.

I only realized how strong my "addiction" to status had become when I was forced to go without. When the start-up investment firm I worked for began to go under, I was forced to cut way-back on my spending. Not only that, I had to liquidate my Gucci belts, Prada bags and shirts, the Bang & Olufsen stereo, etc. This was accompanied by a deep sense of shame, and a feeling of failure. It was scary to see how much I identified having money and things with being a "successful person." The "withdrawal" from money was intensely painful and uncomfortable. When I moved to my current job, my finances improved, but I found that I had little interest in resuming my high-spending ways. Though my job is quite stable, and I was recently made Partner, I still have this sense that financial troubles will return. Maybe that is just part of growing up.

Kiddy Porn - It's just not cool

2004-08-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

I reread my blog this morning. I am happy with the way it is shaping up, but I realize it has gotten quite serious; I am happy to share, but I think it's time for a break from the more emotional posting.

To that end, I am taking a stance against kiddy porn. A controversial stance you say? Well I stand by my decision. So let's take a look at my thoughts on the subject.

This subject was on my mind because some dude from my parent's quaint town was recently busted for the aforementioned crime. Now I consider child pornography to be vile, reprehensible, and horribly destructive to a poor child's psyche. That said, it seems that some patrons of kiddy porn are not very smart individuals. The person who was recently busted, let's call him Mr. Porn because I don't know his name, was arrested because he brought his computer in for servicing, and the pictures were found. Now if one is going to collect such illegal pictures, it seems to me that you might not want to have other people (such as a tech-savy computer repair type guy) look at your computer. Did he think the technician would not check the folders called "Aaron - Age 8" or whatever that contained memoery intensive graphic files?If your computer is broken, write it off man. Or back-up your files. Is that so hard? Who doesn't have a CD burner in this day and age. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that Mr. Porn was arrested, and that he will undoubtedly have a fun time in prison, where they don't take kindly to child molesters (according to what TV has taught me anyway.)

Now my own computer is getting on in years, and my mom asked me to donate it to the non-profit she runs. I think I am going to pass on that option, not because of any illegal pics obviously. But, like any healthy guy, I have tons and tons of pornography, mostly of the nude or semi-nude 20-something very fit dudes in all manners of friskiness, in both picture and video form. Obviously I would erase all of the porn before I gave it to her, but why run the chance that I miss something, and end up traumatizing my mother with two guys kissing while falling out of their jockstraps? As my friend G.J. and I joke, we both agree that we will simply have to burn our respective hard drives when we are done with the computers. Ah well. Apparently, it's not all that hard to restore erased files, so why take a chance?

Let's look at some other cases of child pornography. How about that guy from Ferris Bueller (Jeffrey Jones who played the principal, Ed Rooney)? He pled guilty to paying a 14 year old boy to take his clothes off, and let Mr. Jones take naughty pictures of him. Taking a brief and non-comprehensive survey, most people seem to think that, in the scale of things, paying a 14 year old for naked pics is not too terrible. After all, that is pretty close to the age of consent, I think, and there are certainly some fairly mature 14 year olds. It does seem somewhat less disgusting than forcing an 8 year old to disrobe and pose. Now, it is definitely sad and pathetic, and Mr. Jones obviously has a disease that he needs help with. It is depressing that he would throw away his career, such as it is (I did really like his performance in Amadeus), and destroy his family to get some horrible cheap thrill. It seems like a compulsion or addiction that he cannot control.

Next on my list of C-list celebrities is the Frugal Gourmet. I don't know if everyone knows who he is, so I will elaborate. His name was Jeff Smith, and he passed away recently. Basically, he had the most popular cooking show on PBS in the 1980s, and he was the kind of fussy guy who made fancy dishes. My mom and her friends loved the show, and often tried to replicate his complex recipes. Turns out that, besides complex foods, Jeffy also enjoyed fondling his young male staffers. Eventually allegations came out that he abused those young interns that worked for him on the show, and photographed some of them spread out, sometimes with salad tongs on their genitals, on his meticulously arranged kitchen counters. I guess they were old enough to not be considered kiddy porn, but it's in the same vein. Apparently, on breaks during taping, he would use the hands that he had just used to dice vegetables to reach in and play around with young mens' "meat and 2 veg" if you will. What a creepy old guy. Gives me the shivers. That abuse of young men, from a gross old guy in a position of power, is reprehensible. He was eventually forced off the air.

I guess British rocker Gary Glitter was arrested for having child pornography on his computer. Apparently he was also busted when he brought his computer in. I don't have all of the details, but I'm sure my friend G.J., the consummate anglophile who is now living in Normandy, or Shropshire, or something, will fill in the details.

Well this post is already plenty long, so I think it's time to call it quits. I could launch into a diatribe about Michael Jackson - Wacko Jacko- and his assorted craziness. I read an interesting article about his die hard fan base, who refuse to accept that he is in anyway guilty. Can you imagine what his kids will have to say when they grow up? I have a feeling that they will give Christina Crawford, of "Mommy Dearest" fame, a run for her money. I'm also curious to find out what Macaulay Culkin knows about Jacko's shenanigans. He had a ringside seat to the debaucheries at the Neverland Ranch, and I wonder why he doesn't come forward. Maybe he feels a certain loyalty to Jacko, who was his friend while Macaulay was dealing with his own insane stage-parent father.

OK, absolute last thing: http://www.usnews.com/usnews/tech/billgate/gates.htm

That's a 3-D tour of Bill Gates' enourmous house. It's not relevant, but I thought it was pretty cool.

Later,

Ben

Monday - Parental Recovery

2004-08-02T10:54:00.000-07:00

Well yes it is Monday. I spent the evening last night in the suburbs with my parents. They are supportive and loving, and I appreciate them for that. Unfortunately, there is the at-times painful period, called my childhood, that gets in the way of us being as close today as I would like. I am sure many of you can relate. Am I asking for too much? That is a question that I often contemplate. My ex, M.B., had little patience for my parental drama. Well, in fairnes, he was quite a practical and pragmatic guy, and felt that I should just sit down with my parents and tell it like it is. If only things were that simple. As always, the truth is far more complicated.

Yes, I am grateful to have a good relationship with my parents today. I have met a number of people, both on-line and in real life, who are cut off from one or more members of their family; this seems to be especially true after that person made the decision to come out. I myself cannot imagine the feelings of rejection, anger, bitterness, etc that would accompany that.

Well back to me. The truth is that my father and I really don't have the best relationship. I realize that is far from a black-and-white statement. I can only go with what I know. So yes, growing up, my father was a distant and often scary figure in my life. He worked obsessively building his law practice. Many times he would work all day, come home for dinner, and then go back to work in the evening. Now perhaps some of you will tell me how ungrateful I am being, given how hard he worked to provide a very comfortable life for his wife and child. Rest assured I have thought the same thing of myself many times. The result of his workaholism was that I did not see him often. When I did, he was often curt, and I had to do my best to avoid bringing out his powerful temper. No matter the comfort we lived in, I would argue that no child should live that way (under ideal conditions.) So we fell into a pattern, early on, of me trying to avoid him, working very hard in school to please him, and generally keeping a pretty business-like relationship going. He was always extremely generous with me, financially, such that I had the latest Transformers and Legos at age 8, to a used black Mercedes E-Class when I was 16. That was the sort of Faustian bargain that we had struck. Essentially, both of us would pretend that everything was fine, and then focus on other parts of our lives. But, like a smack addict who decides they can no longer live with that addiction, I one day (recently) decided I wanted a "real" relationship with my aging Father (he is in his early 60s.) So that is the quest I am on. I will likely post again on this subject. Thanks for your time.

Breaking the Ice

2004-07-31T15:49:00.000-07:00

Even though it has only been 2 days, I have become fond of this online journal format. I think I can probably make the most of it by using it to share whatever I want. So along those lines, I am going to start including crap about my dating life. I will stick with the initials, to provide a respectful amount of anonymity to my dating victims and/or perpetrators. Well I'm not sure what the proper way to come out to my blog is, though I guess I just did. So yes, all of the dates you will hear about are going to be (hopefully cute) guys. Well I'm glad we have cleared that up. I feel better already.

For the past 2 years I was more or less happily dating this adorable guy, M.B. He and I had some great times together, but in the end, those great times came fewer and further between. We met at Roscoes in February of 2002, and I was initially taken by his striking eyes, adorable blond hair, and his laugh, and a certian maturity that came with being several years older. Plus he is an excellent dancer, as opposed to the usual white guy dance of sort of swinging the arms and not moving. So, true to gay form, it was lust at first sight. After assuring each other that "we never do this", we decided that a one night stand was in order. Suffice it to say, that one night stand morphed into a 2 year relationship.

He believes that our relationship began to fall apart when we decided to move in together in September 2002. At that point, he was extremely stressed out and disaffected by his job in health care. Since I had been offered a $125k job at a start up investment firm, we decided together that he could quit his job and go to school for a different career, one that made use of his creative side. This plan began to backfire almost immediately. The new semester did not begin until January 2003, so he was at home in the apartment with nothing to do, while I was working. I think if he had started school immediately, things would have turned out differently. At any rate, he began chatting online, and I grew to be suspicious and a bit jealous, because I didn't really understand what online chatting entailed. Having now used gay.com quite a bit, I now know that one can use it to meet some cool friends; though of course you can also find easy sex, so maybe some of my concerns were justified. At the same time, the firm I joined was floundering, and I had all of the stresses of having the sole income combined with the anxieties about the future of my job. In addition, the fact that I had all of the money created an enormous imbalance of power in the relationship. I think he tried to change the balance of power by pulling away from me emotionally and physically.

So we continued with the relationship, though we broke up a number of times. Each time we broke up, he was the one to do it. I was always eager to reconcile, which we eventually did. Finally, we broke up for the last time, and for good, in March of this year. So that's the story.

-Ben

Rainy and Dreary Day

2004-07-30T07:34:00.000-07:00

Hello. As usual I did not sleep well last night. I have had trouble sleeping through the night for a long time now, so I am well-versed in all manners of late night/early morning infomercials. Also I've noticed that all of the ads on TV at 3:00 AM are for debt reduction help or bankruptcy advice. I didn't realize that everyone with bad credit is also an insomniac. I wonder what the connection is.

I also use my extra hours of being awake to watch the numerous DVD boxed sets I have acquired. I am a "user" of DVD boxed sets, by which I mean that when I get a new boxed set (which recently have included: the 3 seasons of CSI, the 4 seasons of The Simpsons, the 2 seasons of Futurama, the 1st season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, the 6th season of Sex In The City I bought for my roommate, etc) I tend to watch 5 or 6 episodes at one sitting. My roommate, H.I., is an adamant believer in only watching one or two episodes at a time, so that she doesn't "squander" the boxed set. I think that is a male/female perspective thing. Then again, I am happy to re-watch DVDs all the time; often times I will bring some work home with me to do on my laptop, and I will throw in a DVD to have something on in the background which I can half pay attention to.

So as my headline explained, the weather sucks here in Chicago today. My office view here on the 86th floor of the Sears Tower is not great...in fact I can't see anything at all out the window. Though I have a west and south view, which means I can't see Lake Michigan, the view is still usually pretty impressive. I am not a fan of heights at all, but the height of this building doesn't bother me at all anymore. We had a few investors in from out of town recently; they got up to the 66th floor and decided that they could not handle the height, so we had to have the meeting in the Starbucks in the lobby. All in all, the Sears Tower is a pretty cool place to have our office. On really windy days you can feel the building sway a bit, and if you have a cup of water or coffee, you can see little ripples appear from the wind. People always ask me if I am worried about terrorism given where I work. And honestly the answer is no. I really don't think that the next terrorist attack will be jet planes. The truth is, for better or worse, that the military will not be hesitant to shoot down a hijacked passenger jet. To get into the building, you have to go through a metal detector and have your bags scanned, like at the airport. I think the metal detectors are in place simply to give people here peace of mind.

-Ben

No Hugging, No Learning

2004-07-29T09:39:00.000-07:00

Well hello. I have a feeling that I am either going to update this faithfully, or totally slack off, because those are really the only 2 choices I make on anything in my life (as my parents, friends, employers, dates, etc. can attest.) I am someone who prefers to have most choices made for me, and when I do have to make a choice, I lie as few options as possible. My good friend G.J. and I joke that we want to own a restaurant where the wait-staff decides for you what you are going to eat. I think that's one of the reasons that having a personal shopper really appeals to me; well, that and the laziness of course.

Though I have arrived late to the Blogging game, I have been an avid reader of blogs on and off for several years. I like the idea of voyeuristically reading about other peoples' lives, no matter how mundane they seem to be. I can't promise that mine will be all that exciting, because frankly my life isn't that interesting. I am a 26 year old guy that works at an investment bank and lives in Chicago. I am single, and sort of re-entering the dating scene after an almost two year relationship with M.B. So if you are interested in reading about my dating misadventures, neuroses, self-induced crises, Machiavellian struggles at the office, and home life with my roomate Ms. H.I. and our 3 cats (which will, likely, largely entail her yelling at me for being a slob), then perhaps I have something to offer. I cannot really say what shape this blog space will take; I would guess that it will alternate between updates on my life, my personal thoughts and opinions (tentatively titled "This Things I Believe), and hopefully some slams against my enemies. Well I am kidding about the last one, though part of me wishes I had a nemesis that I could plot against. I have been trying to put together a personal Enemies List, a la Richard Nixon. We shall see how that turns out.

Ok I will try to not make this first post too long, since I don't know how long the average attention span is. So the next thing on my mind is about the word Blog itself. Is it just me, or is that a really horrible-sounding work. To me, it brings up the imagery of "bog", which would be muddy, wet, full of feld trees, tons of misquitos, etc. Also similar to the word "blah"; dull, dreary, depressing. Last is the world of Onomatopoeia (the spelling of which I had a devil of a time finding); onomatopoeia is a word that imitates the sound it represents such as: splash, wow, gush, kerplunk, etc. In that context, "blog" is almost like the sound one makes when throwing up. Well to me anyway.

Well ok, that is my first post. I hope you will check back in to see what is on my mind, and I promise to make an effort to keep you informed of the events or nonevents of my life.

-P.B.S. (Ben)