Sunday, October 08, 2006

They Like Me. They Really, Really Like Me!

I had a nice weekend. Saturday, I went for a long run and then to the Red Hook ballfields with my food blogger buddy Mike to graze on homemade Latin American delicacies such as pupusas, tamales, ceviche and sausages (I highly recommend a trip if you haven't been -- every Saturday May through October). Saturday night I hung out with my friend Kevin and his Basset hound, Doo. We drank Prosecco and watched an old Bette Davis movie, "Now, Voyager." This morning I went to church, where we sang nice songs and my pastor reminded me that God loves me even when I swear or am depressed or feel cheated or am, in general, a screwed up fucktard (which, typically, I am). I can pretend that I'm not, Big Guy, but both you and I know it, so there's no reason to lie. I'm trying though, I promise.

And yet, I still felt a little lonely. I've been feeling blue lately. I'm dealing with some family stuff that is grating on me. And there's some other stuff going on, too -- stuff that I probably won't want to bitch about for another six months or so, until it's really had time to marinate into a super-potent hate-o-rade. It's also the nature of things when you're ever-so-manic-depressive: I was bordering on super-happy for about a month. So it's not entirely surprising that my mood pendulum has swung back in the direction of "stay the fuck away from me/black hole."

Tonight, though, I felt a touch of my fellow man's kindness (or at least its unwarranted praise) when I opened my email and found this message from out of the blue (or, from Arkansas, as it were):

"Where did you go? I found your blog last year... I got a hit on one of your entries (the possible cancer post) and have been hooked ever since. I sent the address to all my friends; you now have fans spread from Arkansas to Rhode Island. One friend in Providence told me that when she couldn't find you, she wept. I myself just want to fly to NY so I can stand in the street and cry, "Where are you?" We are heartbroken."

Now, seriously. That is touching! I'm flattered.

So to my weeping, searching readers from from Arkansas to Rhode Island, here I am. You have me back. But I gotta tell you: let's not be so melodramatic. I do find the image of weeping, searching strangers publicly mourning my loss and crying my name out in the streets, amusing. Especially since the REAL people I know -- men I have recently dated, for instance -- are more likely to weep when they DO see me, shortly before high-tailing it in the opposite direction. They only WISH they couldn't find me on the streets of New York -- and that's why they hide behind poles on the F train.

But nevertheless, hey, I'm glad YOU missed me. And welcome back.

If anyone else feels like plumping my ego, email me at the little address you'll find on my profile. Haters, leave me alone -- I'm just not in the mood right now.

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