I was born in New York City. I was raised elsewhere, but I'm a New Yorker. I have a 718 area code, my license plate is BXNYC. When I die, I'll be buried in New York City. Well, I don't want to be buried, I want to be blown up, but you get my meaning.

Yeah, so last August or September or something, I left my old job to become the Chief Technology Officer at a commercial lender and hedge fund in the city where I live, wherever that is.

The blacks and blues ain't nothin' but a shadow of a white man's frown, cast across a Black man's door. It lingers there, heavy and cold, keeping opportunity out and dreams locked in.

I love 15 year old girls. I always have. In fact, I'm kind of seeing a 15 year old girl right now (I say 'kind of' because she won't be 15 until the end of June).

This past Saturday night I went to go score. Ideally, it's best to do that through friends, but none of my friends do anything more than smoke a little herb from time to time, and that's not my scene.

Author's note: I was inspired to begin work on this terrible serial novel by a recent trip to the year 1934. This is part 1. I lost part 2.

In my mid-20's, I became good friends with a gang member named José. I didn't believe any of his claims at the time about being up there in the Latin Kings, about the attempts that had been made on his life, about the things he had done to other people. It sounded like self-aggrandizing bullshit. Later on, I had good cause to believe all of it.

Chess is a funny game.
I started playing when I was 4 or 5. I must have shown some aptitude, because my parents got me a tutor - he was the former champion of Sri Lanka - and off I went.

I saw this question on one of those dopey surveys a few months ago and I've been thinking about it ever since: Who would you like to meet, anyone, dead or alive?

Why? Because I'm not posting this from some list on the internet. I researched these in books, and verified them, made sure they were in context and checked the sources. It took fucking forever. You owe it to me to read them, and maybe think twice about your sacred cows.

I would like to discuss people who pissed it all away. These are my three favorites.

A lot of people believe that if you don't vote, you have no right to complain. I think it's just the opposite - anyone who does vote just validates the existence of the choices available - namely, two political parties who serve corporate interests first and are about as fundamentally different as two brands of breakfast cereal on the shelf. So, I don't vote, which makes this a theoretical exercise.

Here are a few meaningless phrases that I have compiled to throw into discussions. These just completely muddy the water and/or make you sound smarter:

One day in 2002 I was bored and wandered into an IRC chat room for Clay County, Kentucky, which happens to be the poorest county in the United States (four of the surrounding counties are in the top 10). I wound up staying for three years. I made some friends that I still have, and collected amsuing comments and insults and death threats that I still have as well. Pages and pages of threats, broken down by subcategory.

I had a brief discussion with my friend Loren about music the other day, and it was kind of a "my music is better than yours", until I realized the bands cited were all 90's bands. So it was really "my 90's music is better than yours". So why was 90's music so good? I'm going to make my case for the 10 best albums of 1990's.

I was in the mountains of northeastern Tennessee last year. It was around 6 o'clock on a Sunday and all the restaurants were closed, but I was really hungry and I drove around the hollers looking for anywhere I could get some food.

I spent September 2000 in Hong Kong for work. They put me up in The Peninsula right on Victoria Harbor, and comped me for room service. My first night there, I really didn't know what to do, so I took a long walk through Kowloon, taking the occasional photo and just sort of wandering around aimlessly through dingy side streets full of feral cats

I like computers and I like volunteering, so in early 2001 I started volunteering at the Elmsford Animal Shelter. Their computers were a mess, and they needed a lot of help with their central database. None of that is important.

It would be incorrect to say I was thrown out of my public high school. I was asked politely not to return - big difference. So I was shipped off to boarding school in upstate New York for 10th grade.

Yesterday was really hot and I haven't felt much like working lately, so I left work at about 2:30 and drove over to PS 95.