"And lo, the young lass did leave."

Oh my god, you guys.

Do you want to talk about beautiful boys? Oh, okay, great. Because I met a great one. A perfect one. Then I left him peacefully sleeping in my bed and got on a plane to Miami. Damnit.
This one really is perfect--Dark skin, dark hair, green eyes and Jewish. Perfect. And when I come home? Let's not even speculate on that yet.
For now, let's just look at these pics from The Deuce and The Abbey.

Rob, Brandon and I had the best time swilling Stellas at Deuce and then (in high Miami style, haha) refusing to walk to The Abbey and catching a cab the nine blocks instead. Guess who was there?
My third favorite bartender in the world, Aaron. I missed my second favorite, Dave, by 45 seconds. Damnit.

p.s.--I swear by all that is holy that I will not mess this one up, and by that I mean I'll try, because as I messaged Shaun earlier, we made the best sex ever.


All y'all ready?


I leave on Friday. Morning.

Get ready for me kiddos, Miami's never gonna be the same.


Check in, 2007.

Hi. Thanks for meeting me here.
Alan, come on. Let's cut the pleasantries, okay? Who called you?

Let's discuss that later. How's the new year treating you?
Oh. Yeah I get it. Here's the part where I'm supposed to be all like, "Omigod! I can't believe we made it another year!" and all that crap. I'm over it. New Year's is dead to me.

Those are strong words coming from you, the originator of New Year's CD. Plans for a release?
Yeah, I guess. I'm just not really in a fucking hurry. Not really into making a CD that takes uncountable numbers of hours not to mention the cost for a bunch of idots who may or may not even fucking matter.

You sound upset.
Oh you think so? Do you really think so? Oh, okay.

That's it?
No, that's not it. I mean, come on. My family is dead to me and from some side affects from my birth control, I've been largely unable to "do the deed" for almost a month. I mean, Jesus. This shit is getting fucking rediculous.

So you're unhappy with some recent circumstances.
That, my friend, is a goddamn understatement.

You haven't made fun of me once so far.
Yeah, I'm not in the mood. I have nothing to back up some witty quip I might make at your expense. Serously--I'm sick of this, all of this shit when people are always commenting how well I'm doing, and all I have to show for my supposed greatness is like...20,000 words of crappy new prose that'll take a grillion years to weed through and a list of my family members who don't seem to remember what I lost for them.

What did you lose for them? For Who?
Okay, Alan, I like you, and that is why I'm going to spare you what I actually feel like saying right now. The point is, we've been through this--the short version being everything-slash-everyone. Respectively.

I thought you mentioned recently that you had gotten this all back.
Well, yeah, but I also realized that it doesn't count if there's no one there to see it; meaning they will all still think that my only purpose here or anywhere is for them.

And it's not?
Fuck no. My new motto is "get mine and go home".

How is the new place?
Better than yours. You should get new sheets.

I recently did, now that you mention it. You should come see. I've been thinking about painting too; I could use your expertise.
That doesn't work on a lot of girls, Mr. Stevenson. That being said, Tuesdays are good for me.

It wasn't meant like that.
Oh, I'm sure it wasn't. Just like the last time when you invited me over to read some transcripts of interviews you had done with some other authors and my panties ended up on your bedroom floor. The worst part was that you had to sick that other moron on me from your publication. What an idiot. He wanted to meet at Starbucks.

Can we start over?
Why, so you can fuck me for the first time all over again?

No, so I can ask you what your resolutions are.
Right. I should have those.

And do you?
Yeah, and they all start with "don't" or "stop". For instance stop sleeping with people with girlfriends, and don't be anyone's goddamn sidekick, and quit trusting people dependant solely on how long you've known them.

Do you think you'll keep them?
Do you think you're getting lucky tonight?

Yes. Frankly I do. And frankly, I think you'll put up far less of a fight once this tape recorder is turned off.
Fine. You win. But answer me this, who called you?

Why are you so fixated on that?
That's what she said.


Bienvenido a Miami

Do you know how many veins I have in my legs?
I do.
Do you know why I know this?
Because San Francisco has made me clear. Clear.

This will soon be remedied for I will be going home for a week on the 26th. One week. That's more time than I've spent in Miami since I moved away.

During this trip, I will try and avoid sleeping with friends, smoking of the reefer, forgetting that the Oatmeal Stout @ The Abbey is 9.6%, and puking all over Rob's Bathroom. I promise.

Oh, and sorry about the Radio silence.

A few Shout outs:

Angelica--Happy now? I hope so. I promise, I won't make you wait this long ever again.
Hunts--Tag, you're it.
Mathisen--Got your twxt like...two days later. Was completely asleep when you sent it as Sunday is my office day.

Like the new header?
I do too.

p.s.--more soon.