It is quite strange to be back "home" after spending the weekend in
New England. I’m completely flummoxed, confused, confounded and
cognitively dissonant over where home now is.

I guess I’ll go by the old rule of thumb — Home is where the bulk of
my undies is stored.

It doesn’t help that I’ve switched back and forth between time zones
and have almost successfully fucked three different meetings for the
bosserooni today trying to work out East and West Coast differences.=20
Damn, how do jetsetters, who spend weekend after weekend intoxicated
and jumping coasts, handle it? (I’m assuming the glittering allure of
coke becomes more glittery and attractive.)

Part of the weird dimentia about what would be home now, I think, is
due to Pat’s leaving the mortal coil. Every other time I’ve moved
away, her house anchored down that little corner of the universe.=20
Always at least a couch to sleep on and the larger abstract concept of
home stayed put.

Now, if I fly into town, I’m flying away from my own bed and could be
wandering the streets without phone calls and arrangements.

It doesn’t help that when I went "home" to the East Coast, I wasn’t
there long enough to meet up with any friends. The completely shiny
wonderfully bright side of that is I absolutely missed this year’s
Boston Comedy Festival.

Thank fucking Christ for that near miss, but successful miss just the
same. Reading a couple of weblogs and bulletin boards and what not
reminded me of all the impotent bitter anger that event engenders. On
paper, it’s a great idea, get some of the area’s best together and
maybe invite some others from around the country to make with the
merry of comedy hijinks.

But, in truth, the guy primarily responsible for setting the shindig
up is so vested deep into his own selfish self interests, comedy
suffers and travesties abound. It becomes hard to focus on the good
stuff — like night after night of foolish drinking and carousing and
blowing comedy philosophy smoke up each other’s orifices with a
critical mass of friends and fellow travelers. That really is the
only plus side left, I think.

Speaking of comedy (sort of) and public speaking (kind of), this
weekend was also a bit of a personal first for me — at the rehearsal
dinner I decided to get up and say a couple of words about the groom.=20
Despite a past of not at all being the one to stand up in a family
crowd, I decided to reveal what was in my heart to honor the guy who
has essentially been a little brother to me.

Sadly, what was in my heart was a hammy, hacky, crowd-pleasing turn
that included two different dick references and an ethnic slur.