Just when I think I've seen everything, Spring comes to NYC and a whole new specias of freak hits on the streets. It's like they spend all winter inside mutating and innovating on their acts. I remember the first time i saw the can guy in village. The can guy was a guy who wore a suit completely made of crushed cans while riding a unicycle and collecting more cans. I mean, to be a freak in nyc takes study and hard work. You can't just fall into that. I bet that guy was up nights thinking "I can't just collect the cans or wear them, that's so been done. What can I do to make it really interesting?"


I'm absolutely exhausted-the usual cycle of events continues. During the week, I get no work done as I am always online iming some one or updating the blog. I occassionally work on my story. (I need to get my ass in gear two weeks until deadline). But I never grade and I rarely find there energy to do normal things. I find that I don't have the energy to do the laundry or wash the dishes or put away my clothes. My apartment is a wreck because every friday or staurday I do some cleaning but by thursday its a mess again. I find that I don't want to get the mail. I'll put it off for a week. I'm afraid of it. Of having to take the time to go through it.Back when Eric was here the apartment was on its way to becomming great. Last night my friend T. asked me why I wanted a boyfriend. So many reasons I can't even name. I've been working on the open letter to Eric. I think what I'll do is post it here and send him a link. I'm sure many thinks that's a bad idea. How about I post the letter here and then you can let me know what you think (as most of you know who I am personally.) In other news I would be grateful, if you actually enjoy the blog and read the blog if you would share the joy with others so that bunniblog may achieve world domination. I mean, I do have that German heritage to live up to. (As they always say on metafiler, I hope you will welcome your new German bunny overlords-or in this case overlord-should it be overlordess? overlady?These are the things that keep me up nights.) The energy of doing these things on my own is overwhelming (let's remember that I'm very short and also disabled so that "normal" activities do take much more effort). I remember nights when I was too tired to move, eric would bring me a peanut butter sandiwch in bed. In fact he did that the last night we were together. even though he was leaving he still had sex with me twice that night. Sensitive guy.


I remember when I first graduated from college I was going out with a guy named Jim Turner. Let me say that a couple of times: Jim Turner, Jim Turner, Jim Turner. (There is a reason for that, you'll see later.) The whole Jim Turner story is pretty long, but well it's not like I should be vacuuming or grading or doing something else useful. When I was in my senior year I acted in the last play I would ever act in. It was awful, it was so bad that no one, NO ONE, in the cast told any one they were in a show. I used to walk to the theater a different way each night so that no one would see me, accidentally, go into the theater and discover I was in a show. So it was bad, but as a result the whole cast bonded with each other. I met a guy named Tony. Tony and his girlfriend of several years broke up. He was big into S and M and he knew I was depressed. He kept trying to tell me that spanking a couple of anonymous men would make me feel better. Well, I resisted. So the show ends and he calls me one night and asks what I am doing. I tell him nothing and he tells me to get dressed so that I can go to a party with him. So I do and its not till I get there that I find out it is an opening party for a dungeon. Now that may sound like a great gala event with red velvet walls and women walking around in wet leather and knee high boots. It actually was a large basement filled with people who looked like they would have been very comfortable at a Star Trek convention. (I could go into more detail here but I will jump to the important part.) There was a "house slave" and at one point I looked down and this guy was licking, LICKING, my shoes or the soles of my shoes. So I think to myself how bad can this reltionship go when it starts witha man licking your shoes. The answer to that is REALLY BAD. He was the most judgemental person. He openly admitted that he hated being wrong and did his best to try and bully me. Anyway, I discovered that I was often seriously depressed after I saw him, and initially I thought it was because I had such a good time when he around that the loss depressed me. But the truth was that I was depressed because every time this guy opened his mouth I wanted to throw a toaster at his head and I hated feeling like I HAD to date him because I couldn't do any better. Then he left me. Which sent me into a nearly homicidal rage. So I developed this theory I would tell everyone I knew about Jim Turner, and I would make the stories so amusing that these people would indeed tell their friends and so on and so forth. Eventually he wouldn't be able to walk up to a woman Norway without her saying "Jim Turner? Didn't you date ---- in NYC?" Of course I didn't really think it would work. Not then. I hadn't taken into account the power of the Internet. Now of course, I can malign to my hearts content, and hopefully that chick in Norway will not only have DSL and some patience but the intelligence to do a google search for his name. ( And wade through all the other results until she gets to mine-and then realize that her Jim Turner and my Jim Turner are the same Jim Turner) However with eric I've got a much better shot. You see I know not only his first and last name, Eric Kinsman, but I also know his middle name Petier. Where he is from (all around, he was an army brat, but he considers himself to be from Las Vegas where he has lived since he was nine. He has also lived in california, texas, and new jersey) His father was an ER doc and his mother is a hospital administrator. It does perhaps seem unfair that I can post all of this information about him and keep my own identity a secret. Well, if he was so concerned he can pick up and phone and call and ask me to take it down. After all I can at least pretend to be a reasonable person for short periods of time. Maybe he'll get me on a good day. Maybe.

Everything in New York City changes so quickly: the seasons, the people, the envirnoment. In other places the seasons change gradually, you go from thick sweaters to thin sweaters to long sleeved shirts to t shirts to tank tops. Here it goes from sweaters to tank tops without transition. Restaurants and stores that where tradmarks during all four years of college (like Bayamo and Everything Yogurt both located on Broadway which were lunch staples at my studio for four years- also the antique boutique even the statue in union square that i talked about in an earlier post) One day they are there, the next day they are empty, their windows soaped up waiting for the next renter. Relationships here are just as sudden. In two weeks Eric went from assuring me we would be married to telling me that he didn't love me and wanted to see other people. And yet like the empty stores on broadway, I am having trouble finding something to fill that empty space.