Priorities.

I'm sick of this Michael Vick bullshit. It was the lead story every radio news break I heard yesterday, and I don't get it. Yeah, he broke some laws, and some innocent dogs died, and his name conveniently rhymes with dick. But if we put a fraction of the energy we put into our outrage at Vick into confronting the countless HUMANS who get tortured and killed every day, maybe the world would be a little better for it.

On my desk tonight.

Yellow legal pad. Calculator. Pliers. Pen. Box cutter. Money order receipt. Seven inch ruler. Sharpie. Large flat-head screwdriver. Loupe. Bills. Various small screwdrivers. Center punch. Card and photo from Pattee. Bartender schedule. Flip video camera manual. Nikon FG manual. Used Amazon gift certificate. Napkins. Anti-static brush. Nail clippers. Plastic knife and spoon. Checkbook. Fortunes. Pennies.

Six.

You scared the hell out of me, and you really seemed to like me a lot, and that scared me even more. Early on, we would be in the van at night, and you would make clucking noises while I ate mcnuggets. Every time I would bite into one, you would squawk really loud. Later on, you set a table for us to have some sort of romantic dinner for two, even though we were in a dining hall full of our peers. You couldn't be embarrassed, or at least you pretended so, but I could, and that fear always got in the way when it came to a lot of things. I think the last time I saw you was the platform at Trenton train station. You ran up to me all excited, but I acted all cool. I'd probably be excited if it happened now.

Contact.

Saw a friend on a subway platform. I was in a train going one way, and she was waiting for the train headed back from where I came. After the doors closed, I felt so stupid for not getting off. I was just going home, and therefore didn't have any kind of schedule to keep. She was going to work, but a few minutes just to say hi and take care would have been a good thing. Can't let laziness get in the way of contact. That's how people disappear. One of the ways.

Five.

We would get thrown out of diners because we would stay for hours just talking and getting free refills. I would try to make it seem like I happened to be in the area, but you knew, and you'd be looking out the window for me when I'd look up as I approached your building. You liked when I'd run my fingers through your hair, and you were nice to everyone, almost to a fault. We kept each other warm under a sleeping bag on that floor in that freezing apartment while Brazil ran on a rented video cassette and the sun came up while people slept around us. We talked on the rocks under the moon surrounded by ocean. You finally got up the nerve to give me a peck on the cheek as you got out of that cab at Grand Central and got on a train back up to Lake George. Was that the last time we saw each other? No, I went to that Quaker boarding house you ended up in. We watched Thirtysomething, even though I hated that show, and then went up to your room and talked and listened to the Violent Femmes. You became the last friendship casualty I let my girlfriend take. I tracked you down years later, but your jealous boyfriend didn't like it, and I suppose it was a well deserved dose of my own medicine. I still consider you the one that got away.

Suggestion.

If you sneak a bottle of booze in with you to see a show, take the empty when you leave. When empty bottles are found after a show, the performer you came to see, the one who you are supposedly a fan of, will be labeled as having a "problem" crowd, and the venue will think twice about booking them again. Not very friendly, nor really supportive.

Four.

You were quiet and mysterious to me, but a lot of things were then. Somehow we started exchanging a pumpkin stem whenever we saw each other. We kept giving it to each other as a gift, and at one point you introduced a second stem into the mix, which made things a little confusing. I was always looking forward to giving or receiving a present every time I saw you.

New York to Atlantic City.