A Lesson in Popularity

I've been back in New York for a couple weeks, with an arduous week in Delaware thrown in for good measure. I say arduous only because Delaware is what it is, and although relaxing (more a function of a stimulus vacuum than a serene landscape), it was nice to return to the energy and organized chaos of New York City.

One thing I've learned in the past few weeks is that if ever you feel as though your popularity is flagging, all you need to do is disappear for six months, and then reappear with tales of adventure. It makes me wonder if Alan Johnston is also enjoying gratis lunches and rounds of Patron shots in honor of nothing more than his arrival back in the UK.

I'm sure he probably is, and I guess I can lay my head down at night knowing that he and I have more in common than just a retreating hairline and night terrors. [secretly hoping to get abducted by Islamic fundamentalists].

Also a function of popularity is the shortened return. The fact that my return to New York is of a finite duration, only adds to my appeal. If I were back for good, I'm sure I'd find myself with a lot more unreturned voicemails and as a result, a lot fewer friends to carry forward into 2008. I should probably consider that before I sign up for a cell plan when I get back.

The final, and probably most important function of my sudden spike in popularity, seems to be my exposure to ill-prepared seafood and Ukrainian cock. And given this revelation, I rest easy knowing that even if I die alone (as several exes have sworn), then at least I'll have more hits on my blog than all you married fags. If you want proof, then read Nino's blog and see if you don't have "qwerty" across your forehead when you finally come to.

With just a couple weeks being spent here in New York, people were forced to appreciate me (for once!!!). Although I'll footnote that last sentence with the fact that no matter how much love people show me, I'll always feel as though the people near me appreciate me far less than I appreciate myself. After all, I'm rewarding myself with 6+ months of vacation. A free lunch somewhat pales in comparison. (all those wishing to contribute to 6 more months can paypal me at my gmail account. you can feel free to send insider trading tips and NFL "locks of the week" as well).

In all seriousness, thanks to all who hunted me down (I admittedly didn't do much to go out of my way to "announce" my return to everyone in my address book) and showed me some love. In return for your collective generosity, I'll get back to work on this blog thing (once my head clears from a far-too-taxing weekend) and try to adhere to the once-weekly minimum I've been trying to set for myself. Although I guess I can blame those of you who kept me out until 5-6am the past few nights, I suppose I should take responsibility for the 16 hour binge my friend Brian and I logged on Saturday.

Actually, fuck that. Brunch at Extra Virgin was his idea.

I'll say that the brunch = ok, the bacon = delicious, the bloody mary's = frequent and generally unnecessary, and the hangover = epic.

I think you can probably gauge a hangover by the number of words you speak before dark the following day. Let's just say that Brian and I hung out in his apartment the entire day on Sunday, and spoke a total of 12 different words to each other. They were seven variations of the sentence "I feel _____" peppered with the occasional "I feel like killing myself." Good times.

Updates on Kiev, Lviv, and New York coming soon. I've got a long flight to Istanbul, so I'm hoping to get some catching up done then, when I'm once again outside the clutches of the familiar. Patience my pretties....