Today’s soundtrack: even though I’m with somebody else right now
Today at 8:02pm: Trying (and failing) to do a full split. Not there yet.


Last week Mike the Player left for Japan, and my roommate Shady got a Mac-10 shoved in his face. I went to Hapkido four nights in a row and it felt great.

First Mike lands a huge fucking gig (Maybelline, ka-ching) then he jets off to Japan to shoot some beauty stuff for a Japanese hair salon. Back in a month. That guy’s got the fucking life.

Shady, his luck is up and down. Last Saturday he’s walking down Wooster Street alone in the wee hours, fairly drunk, and three homeys from Uptown or Brooklyn come out of a parking lot and zero in on him. The one with the burner points it at Shady and threatens to pull the trigger. “Run your shit motherfucker, run all your shit,” they said.

“Fuck you,” said Shady. “You’re in the parking lot--I got you. You gonna shoot me, fucking shoot me. Fuck you.”

The reason this doesn’t sound outrageous to me is because Shady recounted the story to me right after it happened and he was blind drunk. Shady is a belligerent fucking drunk, the type of guy who would totally goad a police officer or kidnapper into shooting him.

The kids got nervous and ran, which makes both Shady and me think it was a toy.

Still--Shady’s fucking crazy. You stick anything that looks even remotely like a firearm in my general direction and I’ll spew PIN numbers and tell you where to look under the mattress. In Hapkido they don’t teach you how to plug bullet holes in your torso and I’m not a gambling man.

The most shocking thing about this incident is not the weapon (“An illegal firearm in Manhattan? No way”) or Shady’s drunken response, but the fact that it happened on fucking Wooster Street.

Wooster Street is in fucking SoHo. What is this world coming to. Next they’ll start opening overpriced boutiques in East New York or putting cappucino machines in Riker’s.

Never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I think I’m using the word “fucking” too much.

The intensity level in Hapkido is really starting to ramp up. My Sabumnim is working us like he’s training us to fight a rival school or something. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was about to disappear.

Oh man I saw Betty today, her face is all fucked up. The lump was on her forehead but somehow the fluid seems to be slowly draining downwards--she’s got a dark purple ring around her eye and nose. Makes her look like a badass though.

I love that she’s in her mid-thirties. When I was in my twenties I never thought my contemporaries and I would be doing the things we are in our thirties. Not that we’re doing anything special, but I figured by this age we’d be boring and lame. Then again I do have a subscription to The Economist and I never go out on weekends.

Businessgirl is quite the party girl, I’m kind of surprised she’s even dating me. What must her friends think. Maybe the next time I meet them I should bring a sheaf of insurance documents I can pore over.

I’ve more to write but it’s 4:40am and I’m no longer lucid. The ashtray is full and I don’t remember filling it.