And then all-of-ao-sudden she shows up at my going-away drinkfest and starts talking to me, trying to dance with me, and somehow I find myself drawn into her eyes. It was very strange. She was drinking more and more and getting extremely friendly, physical-friendly. Two separate people came up to me and said the same eight words to me: "I think M------- has the hots for you." To which I replied: "I wouldn't know. I've never been able to sense those things." The truth. Honestly, I can never tell if a woman is "interested" in me or not. It probably goes back to high school, making the wrong call one-too-many times and making a fool out of my rejected self in the process.

At around 11, I needed to leave and pack, and I didn't wanna deal with the whole phone number thing, so I just wrote mine down on one of our band fliers and told her to call me if she ever wanted to get together for drinks. Somehow, I doubt I'll hear from her. I don't know if I care about that or not.

My parents met us at the airport, we grabbed a quick couple of hot dogs at Rutt's Hut (the best in the world) and headed back to the house. The weather was beautiful, about 70 degrees and clear. The trees were flowering, and it felt like spring in the way LA never could. I took Jen out for a tour of Northern New Jersey, my old stomping grounds: my high school, the town I grew up in, and then out towards Paramus, Hackensack, the Hudson River... we drove south along the Hudson, looking at the skyline, and I was blown away by all the new development that has replaced the barren docks that used to be there. We turned inland in Weehawken, drove past the Meadowlands, stopped at White Castle in Hasbrouck Heights for a quick couple of burgers (and later regretted it) and headed home. We sat in the kitchen talking to my mom, smoking and reminiscing, laughing until about 2am. I love my parents. I just need to reaffirm that every once in a while.

Yesterday morning I was dreaming of high school. It always happens when I sleep in my old bed. It was the dead of winter, I knew it was near dawn, and a whistle was blowing from a not-so-distant NJTransit commuter train, bound for Manhattan. I woke up in my dream, and I was late for school (my high school was right across the street, but I was consistently late for homeroom). It was snowing outside. Hard. Running out the front door and across the football field, my wet hair was freezing (that happened a lot back then too), and I ran my fingers through it, and a piece broke off. I saw myself in a not-quite-frozen puddle's reflecting, and my hair had gone, or gone to the point where it was today, fourteen years later. I looked at myself and realized I wasn't in high school, and had nothing to be late for, and a plethora of thoughts went through my head as I jumped awake.

Quite groggy, I rolled over and looked out the window. Disbelieving, I rubbed my eyes. Snow. White flakes everywhere. Saturday's spring had given way to sunday's winter. Our green front lawn was was a white blanket, and all I could say was "no fucking way."

I threw on my robe and walked down to the kitchen. Jen and my mom were already awake, talking over coffee. I'm glad they got along so well. We talked about the weather, hardly as mundane as it sounds, since it turned out the temperature dropped 50 degrees overnight. After breakfast, we piled into the car and drove through the mini-blizzard towards the George Washington Bridge. Thirty minutes later, we were parked in the garage of the American Museum of Natural History on Central Park West. The architects in Jen and I needed to see the new Rose Center and Hayden Sphere/Planetarium, which just opened last month. It's a giant glass box, the largest curtain-wall in the world, wrapped around the Sphere, which sits suspended in the middle of the cubical space, almost floating, like a star, or a planet, or a molecule, or a virus, depending on what the curator wanted you to think it was at any given moment.

Frankly, I was disappointed in the place, mostly because it seemed sloppy and unfinished, like they opened it too early in order to meet a deadline. I took much more pleasure in the older part of the museum, especially the dinosaur exhibit, which took me back to my youth, when the mere thought of seeing a Tyrannosaurus Rex jawbone had me giddy with anticipation for weeks. The dinosaurs were nostalgic for me in a good way ... the Stegosaurus had me laughing aloud with my parents in reminiscence, and the Triceratops nearly brought me to tears of youth-longing. Jen seemed to really enjoy the whole vibe as well.

We got back to the house around 3pm, and my brother was there, as scheduled, with my niece. It took her a while to recognize me again, but once she did, she became extremely friendly, playful, and loving. She's standing upright now, and walking a bit with something to hold on to. I could also swear she said the word "open" twice (once to me, once to Jen), but her parents thought otherwise. Jen and I still disagree.

Parenthetical Flashback: (band practice on thursday, we were running through my new song, which is "getting there" -- IceDog told Wamba to run tape on the final runthrough, and as I'm leaving, he hands me the tape, saying "I'm ok with doing this at the next gig, but I don't know if _you_ are yet. Listen to this over the weekend, and tell me _before_ rehearsal on monday whether you're ok with it." So I brought the tape home with me.)

I had told Jen, my parents, my brother and sis-in-law about the new tune. I told them I wanted their opinion as I stuck the tape in the deck. I included the obvious disclaimers "rough draft, not finished, bad recording.." I just wanted to know if they thought the band could get it down within two weeks. I hit the play button. And everyone listened.

I looked at my mom and dad. In their seventies. Are these the opinions I really want? They were bobbing their heads. Jen was nodding in approval. My brother and his wife were smiling. My niece: she had one arm on the coffee table, giggling, smiling, and I could swear she was dancing. I made up my mind then. We're playing the song at the next gig.

The snow stopped and melted, the sky cleared, and Jen and I headed back into Manhattan to meet Brutus for drinks and dinner. We started at the Whiskey Bar at the Paramount hotel, a small hipper-than-thou space crafted by the same money that built the Mondrian Hotel and SkyBar on Sunset Boulevard in LA. And for a while I actually thought I was in LA. It was an incredibly wrong feeling for 46th Street. The martinis were really good though....

Next was Peter Luger Steak House across the river. My favorite restaurant, and incredibly below par for the evening. My companions seemed to enjoy it though, so I didn't let the "best steak in the world but not as good as it could be" vibe ruin my evening. We were all carrying a nice buzz as we headed back to Manhattan and the Empire State Building.

We caught the last elevator up at 11:30, and it was an incredibly clear, if a bit chilly, night. Jen bought a little ESB statuette for her desk at work, and I just stood there and looked at the lights. There is nothing that compares to the view from the Empire State Building. It's something I feel compelled to do everytime I'm in the area. And it kills me, because I'm not one for touristy crap like that, but in this case, well, it's hard to put in words. There's nothing in LA quite like it.

Jen and I sat up and talked until the wee hours, and finally retreated to our respective bedrooms. Woke up this morning to a beautiful day, had a quick breakfast, and my parents drove us back to the airport for our flight to LAX.

Back in LA, Jen dropped me at band practice and we ran the set for the next show. With my approval, my new tune was _in_. And it sounded good, and it fit, and my voice had a confidence that it hadn't had before. Not a bad thing. It's gonna work. I know that now.

Back in the apartment now. No work tomorrow. Probably not until Wednesday. I'm not sure if that's a bad thing or not.

Just remembered the band is taping a cable tv show tomorrow night, and sure enough, a nice zit is beginning to materialize on my forehead. Figures. Must have been all the flying and weather changes. Guess I'm gonna wear a hat for the cameras. In fact, I think I'll put one on now. Oh well.

one year ago: untitled: is it right to change yourself for who you love?