Hi, I'm Ken. I like cats and frozen blueberries.

Island Ferry

I took myself to Battery Park this afternoon because I’m assuming this will be the last weekend when it’s warm enough for me to leave the apartment. It’s getting awfully close to that Month of December and I’m nervous it will be even more painful than last year when I lived off of frozen burritos and delivered pizza.

Kidding. Sort of.

SML stayed at home because he’s become obsessed with going back to school to earn a Ph.D. With no one to correct my thinking and in conjunction with my new book about happiness, I spent $3.00 on a snacked-sized bag of gummy fruit. I was told that it would go towards the purchase of new music equipment at a Brooklyn high school, but I suspect it was for something much more sinister considering how many times I was blessed even after I haggled the price from $4.00 to $3.00.

Wait, did I just say SML was applying to get his Ph.D.? Where did this guy come from? It seems like it was just yesterday when he was graduating from BU and I was giggling in the corner with his parents about how it was so obvious that he was going to go back to school. “No, No, No!” was SML’s response to this but I mean, c’mon. When has SML not wanted to study instead of, um, for instance…watch reruns of the BBC The Vicar of Dibley.


5 on the Fifth

I’m participating in a series called, ‘5 on the Fifth’, in which you take five photos on the fifth, or days leading up to the fifth, of each month surrounding a theme. October’s theme is ‘Round’, a point I made clear to SML on Saturday morning; that I must find round things to take pictures of. We had made it to the west side of the city before he finally asked why, why I needed pictures of round things and I responded with, “I thought you’d never ask!”

It may be a tribute to our relationship that we never question each other’s motives, but I have a heavy feeling that’s it’s the cause of some of my problems. For example, this new wheat-free/gluten-free diet that I’m forcing myself onto, at some point I’m going to have to think of a reason for doing this that has nothing to do with my feelings.

SML first noticed the round television in this series, at an antique showplace guarded by a man with dreads in his hair. I most regret not taking a picture of a robot looking figurine made entirely of lighted spheres of glass, but I got too caught up in what my response would be if the guard asked what the hell I was doing.

Round Series

Round Series

Round Series

Round Series

The Fairy Parade

I was feeling particularly goofy when I took this picture, having just finished a walk on the High Line Park and before that, a tour of some antique shows showcasing vintage porn and expensive lighting equipment. SML kept a large sphere of personal space around himself when we visited the antique shops, citing ‘BED BUGS!’ and then often directed my attention away from any new interesting antique shops as we walked west on twenty-third street. By the time we had reached the meat packing district I had become giggly at the absurdities of New York just in time for the passing of the Fairy Parade.

Any other day I think this would have been frightening, but it so happened that I had heard about this parade. When I come to think of it, I’m not exactly sure how I had heard about this, but it goes without saying that this is probably the crowd I belong to.

Although based on the size of the red fairy’s bicep I would have to consider being rejected altogether by this group for my much smaller bicep and lack of provocative style. In fact they wouldn’t even stand still for this picture, let alone invite me into their parade, and as soon as the traffic lights had changed and the rest of the fairies had joined them, they disappeared inside a trendy restaurant leaving me alone with, shall I say, a much more handsome subject.

SML is Booging Out

Kissy Kissy

Times Square is an overwhelming place, if not for the mass of people, but for the mentally deranged who find it amusing to scream in your face. I think at some level I identify with that, the screaming at strangers just to see their reaction. Although there is some disagreement between SML and I, between the words “Identify” and “Connected.” So it is up to you whether or not I feel connected to the people who scream, or just identify with their desire to let it rip. Maybe it’s both.

I dragged SML into the square yesterday because I wanted to see this enormous statue of the famous World War II photo. They staged a “kiss-in” sometime later, but we left early since SML and I both felt apprehensive about the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz wandering the square, who just this last week is accused of stabbing someone with a screw driver.

Feeling the heat

I made my first trip to Washington Square this Sunday morning to see the arch, to take a couple of be tempted to jump into the fountain. I believe I would have jumped into the fountain had I not just this morning semi-successfully ironed the only shirt I own that will make SML exclaim, “You’re dressed cuter than me!”

This week hasn’t been particularly fantastic for me, mostly because of that obnoxious heat wave that shat upon the city early this week. I would have obsessed much more about the heat and humidity had I not been nervous about an upcoming appointment with my new doctor, what with all of the examining and questioning of my beverage choices.

Moving to new health insurance is always difficult because you deal with more expensive premiums, you don’t know your doctor or the clinic, and you have to explain to each new doctor that although it says very plainly in your records that you have mild asthma, that you do in fact have deadly asthma. I changed my story a little bit this time and added notes about cousins, moles, and cancer and “Look at how many moles I have, and that coin-sized one on my back? IT ITHCES.”

A couple of scenarios were going through my head at this time, like maybe he was going to laugh and say that my moles looked fine, that this was all in my head. And he sort of did, except that he mentioned he’d just take off the mole instead. “I’m going to do two things for you today: Steroids! And I will take off that mole!”

The steroid shot was fine. I think. I did question him about it as he got closer with the needle. “How exactly will this shot allow me to breathe on a four-mile run?” And as he was preparing another needle, a needle I presume to numb my coin-sized mole, I finally realized: HE’S GOING TO CUT ME.

It was in that moment of terror that I must have collapsed because the only thing I remember next was being startled awake by a man in a lab coat. It was an awkward moment or two before I realized where I was, and an even longer period of time having my pulse monitored and discussing my irrational fears. We mutually agreed to go our separate ways that day, but I suspect I’ll be back in four to six months with a self-diagnosed case of latrophobia.