April 30

Yesterday, one of my friends at work was promoted. We had a little breakfast celebration for her. Nice words were said and she was quite pleased, in an almost innocent, wholesome way. At the same time, I felt nothing, like, in all that energy of happiness, I just felt ... nothing. It was weird. I am not jealous or envious of her, she earned the promotion, I just could not experience happiness in that moment. 

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April 29

Criticism is an interesting profession. I like critics, I think they are among the best writers in public life. But after watching last night's episode of Game of Thrones, which was an 82-minute tour-de-force that was sui generis in the annals of television, I was surprised to read The Ringer recap shitting on it as a lengthy piece of fan servicing that had a preordained ending that the writers wrapped the rest of the episode around. 

No one has ever attempted (much less pulled off) what was essentially a full-length movie that was one extended battle scene. It was a feat of cinematography unparalleled in the medium and yet, Alison Herman (and, I suspect others, I just haven't read them) argued that since not enough main characters died in the episode, it was a cheat. I do not buy it. I was shaking watching things unfold, ready to jump out of my skin with anticipation and fear. How do you not credit a TV show that can do that simply because the body count was not to your liking?

I am not sure I can even watch The Long Night again. It was exhausting and stressful in a way that made me toss and turn when I tried going to bed - too much adrenaline was still pumping through my body and even the following morning, I am still processing the episode. It is in a critic's DNA to find fault (it is part of what I love about their writing) but criticizing this episode was missing the forest for the trees.

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April 28

I went on two dates this weekend; neither was particularly memorable. Both women were perfectly fine. They were nice (I guess?) but the first one did not have a lot to say and the second said too much. I have been on SO MANY freaking first dates since I got divorced I have lost track. How many random coffee shops and restaurants have I been in since my ex-wife left? How much time have I wasted? 

I guess it is to be expected. You are essentially striking up a conversation with a total stranger. Some will not have the social grace to know how to let you into conversation (today's date), others will not have much to share (yesterday's date). The rule is not having that elusive spark, the exception is actually finding someone who you have some chemistry with. I guess that is why so many people say that is what they are seeking.

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April 27

I drove out to Holland Ridge Farm this morning for their annual tulip festival. The weather was TERRIBLE - really windy and cloudless - basically, the worst combination of elements for outdoor photography (short of rain, of course). It would have been a challenging shoot regardless, but added to that is that the farm is perfect for social media, so there are adults, teens, and children running around taking selfies, posed shots, and asking others to take photos of them. It is super annoying when you are trying to create ~art~ and ultimately, the combination got the best of me. I was not thrilled with the session, but I tried to use the sun as a backdrop and got a few decent shots.

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April 25

In pro wrestling argot, there are "heels" (bad guys) and "faces" (good guys). Before the internet, the suspension of disbelief about this foundational concept was much easier. You went to the arena and booed for the Russian or Iranian bad guy and cheered for the American hero. "Kayfabe" kept that illusion alive. You had to believe that these people were not only enemies in the ring but outside the ring too. It was only on those rare occasions when something weird would happen, like the good guy and the bad guy were pulled over while driving in the same car to the next show, that you realized it was all for show. 

Wrestling long ago broke down that fourth wall, with no adverse effect on its ratings or popularity. Which is fine - IT'S WRESTLING, but when it comes to politics, the breaking of the fourth wall is much more consequential and best illustrated at the White House Correspondent's Dinner, which is being held this weekend. There, the whole fraud of politics is shamelessly exposed. The pundits who viciously attack each other schmooze over hors d'oeuvres, the politicians who deride the "liberal media" hobnob with their supposed foes, and everyone gets a big laugh out the issues of the day. Like, literally, jokes have been made about, to take the most glaring example, George W. Bush's lie about Iraq's production of weapons of mass destruction. HILARIOUS.

The WHCD exposes the fraud of politics, a collective group of Neros fiddling while our country burns. Self-satisfied elites having a good laugh over canapés, walking a red carpet, literally going to something that the journalist Ana Marie Cox long-ago dubbed "Nerd Prom." Trump has snubbed the event twice, and is now directing his appointees to blow it off too. Reporters are having a sad, literally begging these people to show up in order to maintain relationships with the reporters they cover. It neatly exposes how much politics is like pro wrestling. Everyone relies on the facade that there is an adversarial relationship while they secretly work behind the scenes to help each other. And we, the public, are the dupes.

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April 24

I was watching All in with Chris Hayes last night with Joy Reid as guest host. She was doing a segment on some Trump scandal and made a really important (but depressing) point. She asked one of her guests why we should believe in the Constitution when a President can attempt to obstruct justice but pay no penalty because Congressional Republicans will not impeach him and there are five conservatives on the Supreme Court (not to mention dozens of newly minted lower court judges). 

Her guest (Chris Lu) went for a canned response that the Constitution has survived 230 years and it will survive this too. I am less sanguine. 

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April 22

Every now and again, there will be a story about an athlete who injures him (or her) self in some freak way. A guy trips over his kid's toy or slices his finger open on a can of something or other. This happened to me on Saturday. As I was lifting a bag of cat litter, my entire lower back froze up on me. Like, immobilized me. This happens every few months or so and usually lasts a week or so, but right now, I can barely bend over to tie my shoes or get in the car. I hate getting old.

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April 21

Easter Sunday or just "Sunday" as we Jews call today. Anyway, it was a nice relaxing day with not much to do. I took some photos, went to the grocery story, and then napped for a LOOOOONG time this afternoon. Afterwards, I toggled between various playoff games in hockey and basketball, quietly dreading going back to work tomorrow.

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April 20

I was supposed to meet a woman for coffee this morning. She bailed 45 minutes before we were planning to meet. Weird how many illnesses appear out of nowhere. Anyway, I took the opportunity to give myself a day off from everything. I did some light household chores (swapping out the sheets for the season), napped, and hung out with the cats. 

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April 19

When my ex-wife and I moved into our house (which I still live in), I was, like many middle class suburbanites, all about ~ yard work ~ It mattered to me that the lawn was mowed. I would admire my handiwork on a hot summer's day, willing myself to believe this life was the one I wanted. My ex-wife bought shrubs and trees that I dutifully planted at her direction. I pulled weeds. I fertilized. I seeded. The whole Home Depot wet dream. 

Now that my ex-wife is gone and I am nearing 50, I am SO NOT ABOUT YARD WORK anymore. Spring has arrived quickly here in New Jersey and there I was, pushing a mower in a backyard I no longer enjoy spending any time in. The grass is patchier, there are more muddy areas (there has been A TON of rain in the past year or so and my backyard does not drain well), and I no longer care if it looks perfect. If I was not so stubborn, I would pay someone to do the mowing for me, but I am stubborn, so there are probably a few more years of sweaty labor ahead of me before I finally give in.

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April 17

I did not get the job I interviewed for last month. The people I work for did not even have the courtesy to send a rejection letter or give me a heads up before they sent the firm-wide memo announcing the promotion of someone who did not deserve the job. 

To be honest, I am more furious over the tackiness than the fact I did not get the job. Some people have ZERO class. 

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April 16

Well, I am going to buy a new car. It is not the smartest financial decision, but not the dumbest one either. I am going to treat myself to something I do not need but want - I am not borrowing money to buy it and so, I do not feel *that* guilty. 

I do not like being in debt - I do not ask for favors or money from friends or family. I pay my credit card bill in full every month. I have never been late on a utility, phone, or cable bill. I do this because long ago (like my early 20s), I was in debt - student loans, credit cards - the whole nine for what you expect from someone young, unwise in the ways of the world and trying to get by. It was not a good feeling and it is one that lingers with me more than two decades later. 

The only debt I have is my home mortgage, which I am chiseling away at in chunks with the "found" money I received from my unexpected inheritance. Doing this does not afford me the ability to live a life of luxury, but it does allow me to go to bed at night not worrying about bill collectors. For me, that is a very fair tradeoff.

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April 15

I have been dreading this week for a while. Within the span of three days are two very emotional anniversaries for me that, if I am being honest (and why shouldn't I be, no one is reading this!), I still have not fully processed. The first comes on Wednesday, the third anniversary of the day Pumpkin almost died. I replay that day in my head a lot when a bite I did not even know she must have received days before got infected, abscessed and almost killed her. I replay her running away from the house, my frantic attempts to find her, her coming back to the house and my chasing her around to get her in the cat carrier even as she was dripping blood on the floor, her clawing my arm so deeply the scar took ten months to heal, and finally getting her to CARES, where the saints .. yes SAINTS who work there saved her. I think about getting home past 1 a.m. and not knowing if I was going to be able to treat her, the cone around her neck (that would stay on for three weeks). The second surgery she had to have the following Saturday because the stitches that ran the entire length of her right hind leg were splitting open because I didn't get her situated on the floor in the bedroom she was in. The constant pain I know she endured, the emotional toll it took on me. It was awful. Psychically scarring. It brought into stark relief how much I loved her and it still haunts me.

The other anniversary is Friday, the sixth anniversary of meeting Special Lady Friend. This year is particularly painful because it is not just the anniversary of the date, but the day of the week. I can replay that entire day - that entire weekend - in my head, the first words she ever said to me after I introduced myself ("someone from your office could have told us what this fucking meeting was about" <swoon>), the phone call I made late in the afternoon after we met, the five hours we spent at a bar talking that night, the email I sent when I got home telling her what a great time I had, the Saturday we spent emailing back and forth, the date we went on Sunday night (Winberie's) what she ordered there (salmon on a cedar plank), and at the Bent Spoon (pistachio ice cream), and how we kissed in the front seat of her car, and my being stunned I had met this incredible person. I have replayed those 72 hours (give or take), over and over, hundreds of times since it happened. As it slips further into the past and my inability to find someone since, it just solidifies in my head that she was the last person I will love. It is not great. 

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April 14

I blew off the gym this morning to take my first trip of the season to Prospect Garden on the Princeton University campus. I was not disappointed. The tulips are out and in a variety of colors and blooms. Although the weather was iffy (a little foggy, a little misty), I was able to get some nice photos.

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April 13

I had it planned perfectly. I had two dealers competing for my business over the same car (just in different colors). I was in line to negotiate myself a good deal right up until the moment I got an email from one of the dealers 20 minutes before I was going to test drive their car to tell me they had sold it. Bye bye negotiating leverage. I am now left with taking the other dealer's offer (which was good, but not great) or waiting a few months but I WANT A NEW CAR NOWWWWWW

Ugh. So frustrating.

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April 12

I am doing something very atypical. I am thinking about treating myself to something nice. I live a pretty frugal lifestyle -- I think I spend more on my cats than myself -- but after I was in my car accident last summer, I had to get a new car quickly. The one I bought is fine, in that it gets me from "a" to "b," but I bought it used, with about 32,000 miles on it and after eight or so months, the things I do not like about it are showing. And I know it is ridiculous to complain about a less-than-four-year-old car when a lot of people drive cars that are ten or more years old, but here we are.

So I am looking at buying a new car, the first new (like right off the factory line) car I have purchased since I was just out of college and bought a Honda that lasted until damn near my 40th birthday. I have the money to do it, I won't borrow money, I will pay for it out of pocket, but I am so unaccustomed to splurging on myself, it feels "wrong" in some way. I have a price in mind for what I want to spend and a little wiggle room if it is close, I just wonder whether, when push comes to shove, I will go through with it.

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April 11

The start of The Masters inevitably reminds me of the absolute nadir of my career. In 2003, I had been unemployed for nearly seven months when that year's tournament started. On that Thursday, I got a call from one of the legal temp agencies I had registered with and was told there was a short assignment - three days - starting the following day and going through the weekend. I jumped at it. Over the course of those 72 hours, I worked 36 of them. The pressure to get a paycheck was enormous. My wife at the time flat refused to work since she was laid off more than a year before that, and did not even bother to collect unemployment (yes, you are reading that right).

As it turned out, that weekend was a turning point. About a week after that assignment ended, I got a long-term assignment that lasted until we moved to New Jersey in early 2004 and I started a new career with a firm here, but I always remember that Masters weekend and what bottom looks like.

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April 9

Today is my half-birthday. I feel like my life has passed me by, that my best days are behind me, that I squandered the most precious thing you are given in life - time. Maybe it is because aches and pains are now a daily thing, that I rarely sleep through the night without having to get up and take a piss, that I cannot push myself as hard at the gym as I once did, that my life force, for lack of a better term, is flagging. I fear that I will never have sex ... ever ... again (and I did not have a ton to begin with). I wonder about what will happen when I am elderly, with no wife or kids, who will take care of me? Will I be one of those old people who dies alone and no one notices for three days until the smell fills the hallway? It is a miserable way to live, filled with regret for the things you did not do, the places you never visited, the people you never loved.

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April 8

I have a dentist's appointment today. I *hate* the dentist. It is not because things go badly - in fact, they usually go uneventfully, that is, I get my teeth cleaned, they hand me the little bag with the mini-toothpaste and the cheap toothbrush I use to scrub the toilet (I rock an electric toothbrush, it is *amazing*) and tell me they will see me in six months. It is the process - the sharp scraping of teeth, the sound of a drill in the next room, the saliva that accumulates and leaks out before the hygienist can swirl it up in that little vacuum. 

I should not complain, I am lucky enough to have health insurance that includes a dental plan but I would sooner get 10 prostate exams than spend 30 minutes in a dentist's chair.

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April 7

I had a lunch date scheduled for today and the woman I was supposed to meet "ghosted" me. I was more annoyed because I was STARVING (went to the gym this morning and did not eat anything after I got home) than the ghosting.

Ghosting is just part of the price of admission for dating in the internet age. I will not lie and say I have not done it a time or two myself, but the number of times I have *been* ghosted far outweighs (10:1? 15:1?) the number of time I have ghosted. It is impossible to get into the head of someone you have never met (or maybe only met once) and why they would not extend you the minor courtesy of making up an excuse to cancel but I do not really dwell on it anymore. I got a fried chicken sandwich and onion rings from "The Habit" and moved on with my day.

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April 6

I went out for my photography session of the season this morning. It was C-O-L-D and a little dreary (it had rained yesterday and was in the 40s). I am making a resolution to both take my photography more seriously this season (in terms of going out and doing more of it and in more places) while also taking my photography much *less* seriously (in terms of not feeling like I need to be the next Ansel Adams or Robert Mapplethorpe). Like, it's a hobby, not a career, so just have fun with it. Here are a few snaps I took ... 

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April 5

One of the many reasons I am single is because I am such a slave to my routine and when I get out of it, it is like the universe has been thrown off kilter. Last night is a perfect example. I went out to dinner (it was fine) and even though I got home around 9 p.m., I ate late and had dessert so even though I would ordinarily be heading to bed, I needed to decompress but was tired. Plus, the cats were all up in my shit because they usually shame me into some extra food after dinner (their own dessert) and I just was not having it. So I got a shitty night's sleep and woke up at like 4:30 a.m. and had to do stuff I ordinarily do the night before work (cutting up vegetables for lunch) and had extra treats to clean out of the litter box (because I was too tired to do one last pass before going to bed). Of course, I ran out of gas at work by like 3 p.m. 

All because I went on a dinner date on a Thursday night.

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April 4

It is roughly 7:30 in the morning and I have already (1) cleaned the litter boxes and fed the cats; (2) had breakfast; (3) spent 5 minutes photographing the next door neighbor's magnolia tree; (4) folded one load of laundry and ran a second; (5) changed the sheets on my bed; and (6) been to the grocery store. 

It is a lot, and I have not even been to work yet. After a full day at work, I am supposed to have dinner with a woman I met on Tinder. Yes, I'm that asshole who is actually trying to find someone to date, not just fuck, on Tinder. 

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April 3

When I was in college, I took a class on criminal law. The professor observed that people who had more to lose by committing crime are less likely to do so - that is, if you have a spouse, a mortgage, a good job, or kids, the risk of losing any/all of those things acts as a disincentive for you to break the law. The converse being that the less you perceive you have to lose, the more likely you are to commit a crime. 

I do not know if that is entirely true. I think rich people think they can get away with things other people cannot get away with and if they get caught, they can afford good lawyers to either plead them out or get them off. 

I am not a law breaker. I do value the things I have accumulated, but I do color a bit outside the lines of what is socially acceptable. Perhaps it is because I feel restricted - that the good job I have affords me the things I value but in exchange obligates me to basically live a lobotomized life where authority is not challenged, things are simply accepted as they are presented - that I need an outlet, be it here on the blog, on Twitter, or elsewhere in my private life. 

I also live with the risk of being discovered. I wonder a lot about what would happen if the world's collided - if IRL me and "Scary Lawyer Guy" me crashed. It seems reckless to risk all that middle class stability just because you don't like the people you work for or cannot share your unconventional dating habits, but here we are. 

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April 2

Most nights, I wake up at least once. This morning, I rolled over and saw the alarm clock (yes, I'm one of ~those people~ who still owns an alarm clock) flashing 1:06 (a.m.). I realized what had awoken me was the snoring of my cats, who were nestled on one side of the bed. My next thought was that having a lady friend would probably be pointless because there is just not enough room in the bed for me, Pumpkin, Ghost, and one other person. I am *not* telling Pumpkin or Ghost to leave.

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April 1

The feels-like-20-degrees outside (ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL!) chill is tempered by the fact that Duke lost last night. I know, sports as a general proposition are stupid (those 2 hours I spent watching the Nats scratch out their first win of the season is just *yesterday's* example - also, fuck Davey Martinez) but there was something truly gratifying in watching Coach K's perpetually pinched expression, like someone is waving a particularly noxious turd under his nose, transmogrify into his phony, after-the-game-gracious-face, which usually occurs after his team has won, be directed at a coach who bested him. 

Granted, Michigan State is not ~the best~ avatar for amateur sports (their athletic program has had, shall we say, some "issues" lately) but watching the last 10 minutes of that back-and-forth struggle fully expecting Duke to win (as they almost always do) and see them lose instead tasted pretty damn good.

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