For several years I kept fish tanks. I would tend to them at the homes of customers of The Pet Barn, the pet shop I managed with my girlfriend. In our small, second-story apartment, I maintained a striking 110=gallon saltwater reef tank, stocked with over 100 pounds of live Fiji rock, a deliberate combination of fish and coral, and a complimentary selection of shrimp, crab, snails, etc. Being an employee of the Pet Barn entitled me to certain advantages, so I was able to acquire, along with the best filters, lights, protein skimmers and other mechanical necessities, the healthiest, most beautiful captive-bred fish and corals. Every morning before school or work, I would spend up to an hour feeding, checking the water quality, and temperature, scraping algae, studying. Every morning and every evening I was up to my elbows, actively engaged with a living and breathing organism. It was stunning, and something I took pride in. It was something I had a meaningful relationship with...I loved those fucking fish.

Tending to the fish calmed me. Like any other form of gardening, it gave my limbs the opportunity to work out the stresses of the day. I don't have any fish anymore, and my limbs are suffocating! This is why I fucking hate T.V.

I do like Televsion, however.

I like things. Things create vistas, provide the stage dressing for affairs and heartbreak. The things you have, your shit...all of it reflects something fundamental about you. I like to keep my space clean, free of clutter; maybe to highlight those things I do choose to be with: several plants; just the right amount of condoms to suggest I may actually be having sex; some books; half a dozen ties draped over a flimsy wooden divider masquerading as a wall.

The just recently re-discovered painting of a handsome, young Shakespeare, the only thought to have been painted in his lifetime, had been in the home of the aristocratic Cobbe family for 300 years.


I believe the oldest things I have are some articles of clothing from each of my grandfathers. From one: an unblemished, cream polyester jacket with a wide, imitation mink collar, two sizes too big. From the other: a worn, pale blue terrycloth bathrobe. They're really the only way I know these men.

Candace Bergen, I wish we could be friends. I can be affable, and would contribute at dinner parties.

Reverend Billy of the Church of Stop Shopping has been nominated by the Green Party to be their representative in the upcoming New York mayoral race. Oh boy, this is going to be great!

It's 10:48 on the morning of March 1st, 2009. I just fell in love for the 3,647th time.