Missing Rich

Andy, periodically unwell, live from chapel hill — it's 2:48 am!

i miss rich. i also miss that space, 1369, as i had such good feelings there. walking to harvard every morning is a bit of a trek, and then walking back, and tatte is alway s disappointment — though i need not purchase anything, the coffee is probably as poor as the sludge from 1369.

i read today that drew barrymore disclosed in an interview that she hasn't had sex in years. a coke addict at age 5 — i can see the trajectory toward celebecy.

i also don't seem to like darwin's and i should. the peet's coffee in harvard is good — excellent seating — but the boy that i had a crush on for a couple of years ago is long gone, he impressively spoke french, probably a student at the big h. there is a tatte at kendall, which would be closer to me, east cambridge, but it is very small, even if the seating is optimal. never really gave it a shot.

My best course of action is to quit the barista fantasy and change this framework so that i have better luck, so that i can ask the guy out, with some conventionality to it. i'm thinking perhaps library (seems hard to see how i could whisper "i love you" there), or a bar, but i don't drink anymore and so it's not a hot spot for me. and someone like me — intellectual and funny, writing and reading — should really be at the coffeehouse, that's the natural place for me, just like the proper place for a hairless blond jock is my computer screen.

as for rich: i miss him. it's been a month since we broke up and, given his silence, his ghosting, i should quickly move on, as i can. andy warhol distinguished "fantasy love" from "real love," claiming that "fantasy love" was superior to "real love." Of course this aphorism explains Warhol's virginity — he didn't want to have sex though identified as gay — but what i think is notable is that he refers to fantasy as real love — rather than desire or pleasure (which are distinct). What this means is that the crush is (a form of) love, that's Warhol's point. Love, then, is inspired by distance, precisely the condition of the crush.

The kids in class chimed in that they had all been stuck on crushes in high school, the average interval being about 2 years. for this "crush" to be extended for 2 years can only mean that they were in "real love" (rather than fantasy love) — and the only strangeness is that they kept it quiet — a secret not to be disclosed to anyone, lest it get back to the object of the crush.

so i think that i was very much in love with rich, despite virtually no contact between the two of us. and rich was probably in love with me, as he read all of my books — and finished the entire match andy on the site). but being in love with one another became impossible in the space that we were situated in: i didn't feel comfortable asking out an employee during their work (did this once before, a disaster) and probably rich didn't think he could ask out as a patron. so our love was conquered by context, and we both, in our breakup, went home alone. but i'm certain that we were in love with each other, that would be the only explanation for our actions. it was excruciatingly painful (and pleasurable), just in the way that masochism would orient itself in relationship to patient waiting. i am sophisticated, tall, and imposing — but perhaps i was not hot enough. This is a real possibility. But then I wonder why he furtively checked me out while I was in the store. Why look? (This is the part where rich thinks that this entry is high drama.)

about 85% of pop songs are about finding love, having love, or losing love. love must speak to quite a set of kitchen utensils.

rich has managed to take down my web-stat app in wix, i'm not sure why. it bothers me a little, though i do still have visitor analytics, which is useful enough. but i want web-stat back, even if it is only a metonymy for the man himself.

i have since discovered web-stat on the site. i got it in some irregular way, but i got it. the problem there is i often visit my own site and so i am counted on the ledger of visitors, screwing up any sense of actual, real visitors.

in any case, i believe that no one reads this site, which is really a shame, most of the writing, even if the topics stray from the normal, is superior or, as I sometimes interject: "i am the most interesting person i know." there are certainly, in my circle, people who are smarter than me. but i do win the award for most interesting person.

the emerson and berklee students have wandered among the pages, not following the directions: click and scroll and click and scroll. undergrads are so knowing (elitist, insecure, loud, lazy, inflated, empowered, and so on). but some of them did check out the website, a couple even emailed to andy.pink at bleakswan dot (which is now defunct). i cherish those kids who visited, they are anonymous of course, but via web-site i was able to glimpse their ed domains

andrew pink is like an old man hottie — but only in metaphor.

love michael

i consider most of this text to be poem rather than prose.

when i was the football coach