Life & How To Live It

Quote of the Day: “We’re never gonna survive, unless…We get a little crazy…” – Seal, “Crazy”

As I sit in my Manhattan sublet, I’m listening to Roberta Flack’s beautiful and sad rendition of Janis Ian’s “Jesse” segue into Seal’s beautiful and sad “Whirlpool” and I’m wondering why I still live in NYC.

Am I really happy here in NYC? I’ve been here for a long time, since leaving college, since Brown spit me out onto the real world and said, “You go, boy, make something of your cranky, irresponsible self.” I’ve been here since college and I don’t go out to clubs anymore. I don’t go to museums like I used to. I don’t even go to Broadway shows like I used to. I do go to baseball games. I do go to the U.S. Open. But are those reasons enough to stay in this expensive, loud, crowded city? I’m beginning to think not. All my people say, “Yeh, Scott, why don’t you leave? It’s not like you got a job you’re tied to, that you gotta be at everyday.” And they’re right, I don’t. I should be in Chicago, right? Or full-time in Miami, right? Or L.A.? Uh, I think not. Unless, of course, I’ll get to be back in Malibu, on the ocean, waking up to the rush of waves every day. But it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

Then I think, maybe I should buy a place. Isn’t it time? Ain’t I grown now? Of course I talk to my pops about this. Of course I talk to my pops, real estate guy that he is, landlord guy that he is, with property all over Nassau County and some stuff in Virginia. And of course, he says, “You should have gotten a real job right outta college and saved some money and you’d have a place of your own right now. But you didn’t do that.” No, Dad. I didn’t. I followed my dream. You know the one, the one you encouraged me follow back in the day? Anyway, he offers to give me, no—because this is all about good business and teaching me something—sell me one of his properties. He even offers to sell me the huge place he owns in Norfolk, right on the water, a stately ole Southern home with a big porch out front. But is that that I want? To settle down like that? Out in the burbs? Or down VA way? I should be, but I’m not. But I sure as shit don’t want to buy something in Manhattan, do I? Isn’t it way too expensive? And would I get a mortgage anyway? Maybe I should buy a condo in Miami and stay down there year-round, through the heat and the hurricanes, rather than dashing back to NYC as soon as the Yankees end Spring Training?

Oh, I don’t know. Why am I even thinking this stuff anyway? I know why. Cause HUNG is about to drop. And I’ve been researching the next non-fiction project, and trying to finish this new screenplay, and putting the final touches on the novel. I’m thinking about this stuff because I’m feeling like there’s about to be some kind of shift in the soil beneath me. I look at the press stuff that my publicist has lined up for me and I realize I’m about to spend the next coupla months talking about black dick and its relationship to how we define ourselves and how others perceive us and how we perceive ourselves. I’m about to be signing books and reading aloud, after a long period of just signing checks to Con Ed and Verizon and Time Warner Cable and reading aloud to myself when a sentence doesn’t feel quite right. I’m about to be public again. And as soon as I start feeling public, my desire for privacy starts to rear it’s old head.

And I’m thinking about this stuff cause I’m going to Kevin’s wedding on Thursday, Kevin who I remember as this young kid who used to run around with my little sister and here he is, getting married. What? Married? Settling down? Of course, he is. Cause we’re grown. We’re not growing anymore, brothaman, we’re grown. Which means it’s time to come to grips with the gypsy in my soul. Stop fighting it. Enjoy the weddings and commiserate with those closings. But I gotta know that it’s time to come to grips with the fact that moving to Brazil or Australia or Amsterdam is still a possibility because I want it to be, because it’s who I am. Have laptop, will travel, baby…Or maybe I’ll just move to Williamsburg…That can be my base of operations. I did hear there are some nice affordable cribs out there…

Things to take my mind of all that stuff up above:
Great interview with Daniel Alarcon, author of the phenomenal story collection War By Candlelight. Man o man, you gotta love a writer dude who can name-check Cheever’s short stories and Jeter (as in Derek) and the fact that he re-reads Junot Diaz’s sublime Drown once a year. I knew there was a reason homeboy was creeping higher up my favorite writer list…

The fact that my Yanks are a game and half behind the trifling Boston Red Sox and leading the wild card like a muhfucka…

September is about to put me in the most orgiastic state of WB-ness a dude could ever be in. The second season of One Tree Hill comes out on DVD September 13, as will the DVD of the fourth season of Smallville…The DVD of the fourth season of The Gilmore Girls will be out on September 27…I don’t watch any of those shows first-run. I discovered them all on DVD and I’ve found there’s something truly fulfilling about gobbling up seven or eight commercial-free episodes at a time when I watch them on on my own schedule…

And, finally, I get to occupy my mind with what the hell I’m gonna wear to the HUNG pre-pub party on September 13 (hosted by my dope editor Clarence Haynes and my dope publisher, Doubleday prez Stephen Rubin, & sponsored by Courvoisier) and whether I can South Beach Diet my way down a pound or two before the big night….Should be a hot night, right smack-dab in the middle of Fashion Week.


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