Notes from the Weekend

--Fish Bar is not a great place, despite what the Internet (and certain friends) may tell you. Or perhaps, I was there too early on a strange not-very-bar-going night for New Yorkers. But, either way, no thanks.

--My friends Michael & Calvin, who have just begun the adoption process, are some of my most favorite people. If I won Golden Globe, I would thank them. They are like dads waiting to happen. They are already dads.

--I feel entirely at home in a roomful of lesbians. (Not so surprisingly, perhaps.) The intense processing, the huge salads, the impetus to tell all your deepest darkest fears. The cupcakes.

--Two years ago this week I was mugged/attacked/thugged-up by a kid who (maybe) didn't know what he was getting himself into. I'm a bigger guy than I look, perhaps. Or something. It's complicated. Even now I flinch sometimes when, at night, someone is walking too close behind me. I still think about how I hurt him. About how surprising that was--to both of us.

--The fish tacos at Miracle Grill are always as good as I remember them.

--One of my cats, The Bad Thing, has taken to having to sit in my lap while I am sitting at the computer. This makes writing somewhat difficult: the sad eyes, the chirping meows. The claws which so easily reach through my pajama bottoms into my thigh.

--It was the coldest it has been in NYC in the last three months--17 degrees, 22 degrees at times. 26 as I write this. Ironically, there was so much warmth in my life, that I hardly noticed it.