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The sun was just peaking over the treetops of the West Village as I struck out for the first of my two races this morning… The first starts in an hour, a NYRRC 10k, so I really should get into my racing tights and such (triple layers for sure — it’s wicked cold). Then I…

While what I’m drinking as I type may look like Pepto Bismo, in fact the beverage I’ve concocted is apple and orange juices, frozen strawberries and blueberries, a dash of Gatorade powder, frozen yogurt, and two Advil whipped up in the blender. It’s the perfect preemptive hangover remedy. So it’s Saturday morning. True: late Friday…

Walking home from the grocery story tonight (two apples, a six pack of Brooklyn Lager, raspberry vinaigrette dressing, oat bran pretzels), I saw a man on his knees begging for change on the corner of 56th & Tenth … just a few hundred feet from my doorstep. My first thoughts were of George Bush, and…

Today was just another ___(adjective)___ in a string of ___(adjective)___ days. Which is fine, I guess. I just never figured that ___(name)___ would ___(verb)___ me in the middle of the afternoon, right there in my office! Man, what a ___(noun)___ THAT turned out to be. See, I’m so exhausted in such a middle-of-winter, pop-culture-overload, too-much-work…

I was party to an interesting conversation tonight. It was kinda’ illuminating in its own little way. One buddy of mine was complaining about his job. He was so frustrated that no one else in his department gave a shit what happened to the company, and the company didn’t seem to care much either. But…

Walking home from work, stifling the rage that had been bubbling up in me as my most-anticipated dinner plans slipped away in lieu of corporate damage control, I could think of but one phrase: deep and simple. This is, now, what it takes to gain attention for one’s album cycle: partial nudity, faux-lesbianism, fetish gear,…

I’m the kind of guy who walks to the Hudson in the dead of winter to catch golden hour light. Last night’s was spectacular. I caught an afternoon screening of ‘The Station Agent.’ It’s a sweet little independent film about a dwarf (Peter Dinklage) and the people who are drawn to him (Patricia Clarkson most…

When the phone rings at 4:23 in the afternoon and caller ID indicates an Indiana area code for a number you don’t recognize, you know something’s up. It’s my dad’s wife on the line, and she starts with a drawn out, “Benjamin?” Sure enough, something’s up. My father’s in surgery for an emergency appendectomy. Not…