I've been working diligently on short stories during some of my free time. I don't prefer to write about my life, myself, or my loved ones on the Internet anymore. There's nothing appealing about it to me at the current moment. I write on good old paper with a Bic pen. It's texturally pleasing.
I live in Massachusetts again for those who do not know. I'm playing poker at a leisurely pace and coaching only those that I feel can gain the most from me specifically.
Jamaica Plain is a beautiful part of the city.
I have a part time job for the first time in a long while. I'm a doorman at a downtown bar and I don't fit in very well, but I don't mind it one bit. The majority of my co-workers are first level thinkers with testosterone spewing in every direction. There are a few that I like, but most of them think that I'm gay, which is a deal-breaker for most hapless Boston natives. I don't mind. It shows Uncle Sam that I'm paying taxes.
Oh yeah. I got in trouble for not declaring my winnings in regard to poker. I don't know how serious my situation is. I chose to ignore it for the time being.
I live with my girlfriend Mandy who I met in San Francisco.
My primary means of transportation is my bicycle. Riding a bicycle during winter months in Boston is synonymous (for most people) with having a DUI or being certifiably insane. Riding is crack to me.
I gave up meat on 1/1/10.
I have recently read David Foster Wallace's "Consider the Lobster," Don Delillo's "White Noise," and Lethem's "Chronic City." The first two are highly recommended.
Although it is subject to change, loose plans to move to Portland, OR are currently in the works for September of this year. Of course this is contingent on many things out of my control but I'm keeping my fingers firmly crossed.
