A Work in Progress - Second Third

Chapter 2 – The Break Down

“Tomorrow night is nothing but one long, sleepless wrestle

with yesterday’s omissions and regrets.”

(William Faulkner)

Suitably Numbed
On the list of things that were probably not a good idea, this was probably not a good idea.

I was re-watching the premiere of “Bored to Death,” HBO’s series about a blocked Manhattan writer played by Jason Schwartzman. In the opening of the opening, his character is being dumped by his girlfriend outside the apartment they shared, now being quickly defenestrated of her goods by the movers.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks.

“You’re saying this now, after the truck is loaded?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Yes. I don’t know. Yes. I don’t want to lose you.”

“See this is the problem. It’s only because I’m out the door…you don’t take action until it’s too late.”

“I’m taking action now. Don’t go!”

Her ultimate rejoinder is that he did not live up to his end of the bargain to give up booze and weed.

“Pot is not healthy!” she says.

“They give it to cancer patients,” he argues.

“You don’t have cancer,” she replies. After a pause he says, “Not yet.” Very Woody Allen.

And In the end Nina and I broke up over…Zelig.

Yes, the movie. I had introduced Nina to the movie, which she loved. And thereafter she constantly made references to someone being Zelig-like. Except she never got it quite right. If someone told her about famous encounters or celebrity sightings she would squeeze my hand and say “Oh god this is like a Zelig moment!” And I would always remind her that Zelig was only in a small way about a person being present at scenes of renown; the real phenomena is that Zelig literally took on the identity of the person or audience he was with. He’s a human chameleon for god’s sake! Where is that anywhere else in literature or humor? She never got that. I mean, otherwise, it’s just a story about a guy who gets around.

Just like she never got my point about using “literally” in a literal way. She would say “Manny I literally shit in my pants” and I would say “No you didn’t, I was there and I know for a fact that you did not shit in your pants.” Or, “Oh my god I literally burst and turned purple” and I would say, “Not literally, no one can turn purple, except for dead people. Not to mention you are still standing so you could not have burst.” Zelig literally was a human chameleon. You get it, right? Of course you do. She never got it.

Which is what I explained to Anin because I knew Anin would understand.

And Anin is the guy who always understands me right away. No questions asked, never doubting me. One hundred percent loyal and understanding.

Anin is also the guy who had a breakup because his girlfriend misunderstood the word “shellfish” for selfish so I knew he could understand anything.

So I told him.

“You broke up with another one over that dumb Zelig thing? Can you please just let it go? This is literally like the millionth time.”

Ahem.

“Anin, this is it though, I can tell. She’s not coming back.”

“I assume you have already considered Anthropologizing,” Anin offered.

“To be honest, I thought about it, but I think we are just way beyond that at this point.”

For the benefit of you readers (both of you), “anthropologizing” is the act of buying your girlfriend or wife something sweet and pricey from Anthropologie to make up for some sort of offense. Sophisticated readers will know there is also the pre-emptive anthropologize, which is buying said item (or items) in advance of either a screw up that has already occurred in reality but has not yet reached her emotional shores, or, it can also be used as a salutary device to grease the coming request.

And Anin is also the guy who always has a Plan B. And in this case he knew instinctively that what I was really going to need was something more than just remembering the right dress size.

So he said to me, “You know you basically have two choices here. But at least you have choices. It’s like when I was being recruited in high school, remember. I went to all these schools and it basically came down to one of two speeches. It was either: “Son, you need to know that this is a school that also plays basketball” or “Son, this is a basketball school.” I didn’t necessarily like the stark choices but at least I had choices. You need to think about yours – you can either stand pat and let it fizzle, or do something to save the relationship…or yourself, whichever is more important.”

“You know what I really hate? I hate people who read a text or message on their cellphone thing and they look up, make eye contact with you and grin as if you somehow were able to share the message and were in on it. It’s like everything has to be a shared experience now. Nothing can just occur on its own for the sole benefit of a particular individual. You know how much time I am saving myself by not being on that myspacebook thing, or any of those others?”

“Ok…let’s take these one at a time. First, you don’t mean ‘you hate people’ who do that, you mean you hate it WHEN people do that. Don’t be a people hater. Second, it’s either Myspace or Facebook, not Myspacebook. And third, what does any of that have to do with what we’re talking about?”

“It’s a part of a bigger point, Anin. The bigger point being that why can’t everyone just be more like me?”

“And then Nina would still be with you, you mean?”

“In a manner.”

As I mentioned, I do rarely smile. When I am meeting people or walking into a room I always have to stop myself to remind myself to enter the scene with a smile, otherwise I will have to put up with all the feedback nonsense that I will then inevitably get about “What’s wrong with Manny?” But I can always smile at myself, if you know what I mean, including at a time like this when I say something infantile like that. I think that’s how I always know that I’m not actually, technically….literally, losing my mind. I think.

“Dude, let’s backtrack for a minute. Before you do anything else, I want you to tell me deep down, do you really miss Nina or do you miss the idea of Nina?”

I gave his question some serious thought. I’ve heard of that question before; I may have even have said the same thing to somebody else in this situation. I’ve not had to ponder that myself. I’ve basically been interested in two kinds of women. Those that I know I can have and those that I know that I can’t. That’s probably a pretty standard standard, right? We’re attracted to the women we know we can have because in life, you need some of those gimme putts. And then we’re attracted to the ones we can’t have because of the excitement of the chase.

Anin saw my pondering. “Let me put it another way, buddy. When you find yourself randomly thinking about Nina, do you find that you are drawn to memories that make you happy or events that make you sad about things? You know I’m not asking because there is a right or wrong answer. I’m just trying to understand.”

I smiled immediately. “Oh I know, I know.”

“Well, you’re smiling, so I guess that’s my answer.”

“Nah, it’s just the first thing that came to my mind just now was when she and I would watch football together. As a football fan, she was a great baseball fan.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. I remember she would say stuff like ‘Wow, watch that 18 guy,’ which meant she saw a great play by whoever it was wearing number 18.”

“Right, or, the way she would root for a player. ‘Go, go, go…keep on running 33. Just keep going. Oh, that other guy is trying to stop him! Now they’re all on top of him!’”

“Yes, and I’m sure she really appreciated it when you would shout ‘You’re like an immigrant!’ just because she didn’t know the rules.”

“Hey man, you have to admit, she was just so out of synch with, like, the rhythm and protocols of the game. It’s like the only time I ever saw her out of her element. It was fun for me!”

“Okay, so we’ve established she’s a baseball girl, not a football girl, which for you is a net-plus. So, what else?”

Side-bar note: The dirty secret about guys and their sports is that there is actually much more that we don’t know that we would never cop to. For instance, when a woman asks us about infield fly rule or the double switch, we will often just say “Wait until the next commercial” hoping their interest will just dissolve by then. Here’s another trick we use. Nina once asked me about play-action in football.

“What did the announcers just call that thing those guys did?” Ah, “those guys.” God love her.

“Sweetheart, that is called ‘play action, when the quarterback fakes a hand off to a running back and instead throws to a receiver.”

“Why would they fake something?”

“To catch the other team off-guard. It’s all part of the game.”

Thoughtful pause on her part. Then: “Well if they fake that handing off and then pass off why is it called ‘play action?’ They are always playing and there is always action. Why not call it what it is: ‘Fake hand-off throw.’”

And then the pause was all mine. I thought to myself. Really hard. I. Have. No. Idea. So I just did what every other guy does when he is stumped on something he should know. Rather than admit defeat, I simply shrugged, hoping that would make the itch go away.

I returned to Anin’s search for the source of my conflicted feelings. “So much of what happened at the end was a combination of everything,” I said. It’s like during Thanksgiving. The last time she made dinner for the both of us at her place. Remember? Everything was going well. We are on our best behavior. She went out of her way to make a dinner that was completely built around you and me. We were talking easily. Nice breeze through her place. The smell of California’s finest natural herbal ingredients.”

“Oh I remember, believe me. We all go to sit down after, and she says, ‘Manny would you rub my feet, I’ve been cooking all day for you guys.’ And you have to go and say: ’But you made dinner with your hands, why would I rub your feet?’ And this really smart, brilliant woman…god only knows why she would take the bait…says back in total earnestness, ‘Yes but I was on my feet all day’ and you have to say ‘Yeah, but you’re on your feet all day every day.’”

“I mean, dude. Really? Besides, how were you missing what we all saw. She was totally into you. Until you withdrew. She felt like you were slowly pulling the ground out from her. For what it’s worth, she’s not had it as easy as you may think.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s nothing earth-shattering. There’s just a lot of depth there. She wasn’t exactly captain of the high school cheerleading team. Her father was a minister, as I think you know.”

“Yes, remember? That explains the ‘good and Catholic’ thing I told you about?”

“Right. So, she actually led a pretty sheltered life in high school. As much as you would probably like to imagine in your invented back story that she was crushing the nuts of every jock and stud around, she was mostly a reader. Yes, a reader. Not only did she not run around a lot in the way you think she did, she had like one girlfriend and they spent most of their time together. She did not attract that much interest. So over the years she became selective herself. And actually, THAT’s why she was so interested in you. Because she was INTERESTED in you and because of the attention you paid her. At first.”

“How do you know all that stuff about her?”

“Because after you crashed that night – and by the way, you were very adorable curled up on the couch in the fetal position clutching the remote to your chest like it was your blankey – we stayed up and shot the bull. I’m not telling you any of this because you should change your mind about anything; I just thought you should know she’s probably not exactly how you envisioned her. And you KNOW that you do that. You create a person’s life-story based on…shall we say, oh I don’t know, a pastiche of small bits of information.”

“Is that today’s dictionary.com word alert today, my friend? How convenient.” Anin loved to try and throw me linguistic curveballs now and then, rarely getting one by me.

I knew where he was going though. There was a part of him (and okay, probably a part of me) speculating if perhaps I was pushing Nina just enough to test her limits, to see what it would take for her to push back for me…for the relationship.

“The damage has been done and I don’t like seeing you this way. Brother you need to tell me how much of this conversation you want me to regurgitate for you.”

“Well when you use that word, none. Blecch. I hate that word.”

“Mmm hmmm. Manny, I know she was looking for some clarity from me, but I didn’t know what to tell her. She basically said ‘I know technically I broke up with him but I don’t even know why other than he just seemed to lose interest.’ All she was after was some logical understanding about why you pulled away. Dude, at one time she was willing to fight for this thing but she didn’t know what she was fighting for. Obviously, everyone who cares about me has been asking and I have to admit, I’m not exactly sure what went down. I mean, it just seemed like you were launching a pre-emptive strike. None of my business, of course, but even I was kind of taken aback because it seemed liked you’d finally gotten what you wanted. You can tell me or not. I’m not going to hold it against you or judge, either way. I just hate that you threw something away that maybe you didn’t have to.”

I paid close attention to his tense. “At one time I was willing to fight…Threw away…” those are definitive terms. Those words were just hours old so they sure didn’t sound like she was opening the door at all. Yeah, she conducted the breakup but I perpetrated it. I kept waiting for him to give me a signal that she had given him a signal to give me a signal.

“Dude, you have to admit you don’t ever allow yourself to get close to anyone. Or anything. Not even animals. You’re the only guy I know who has never had a pet anything. Not even a gerbil or turtle. You got to admit deep down that on some level that’s got to have something to do with not having a father, right? I mean, that’s a no-brainer, right? To make sure no one leaves you again. “

He had a point about the animals. But that was irrespective of the other issue. But he’s right; I don’t want pets because at some point they die and I don’t want to deal with that. Am I alone?

I was not at all upset with what I said next. Just adamant. “Since you do know me as well as anyone, you know that he didn’t leave me, he left my mom. When have you ever heard me say anything at all bitter? Right. Because I’m not bitter and I’m not angry. I had great substitutes and you know that. You know that to be true.”

“That much is true. And of course one of the things I’ve always marveled about you, is your utter lack of self-loathing or self-pity around that deal. I have told Nina - and others over the years - as much. I mean, that’s a real special thing that both your mom and you navigated. Not something I could have done. But having said that, you don’t’ think there’s any room at all to consider that there is a connection in cutting someone out, even with Nina, who as you have said, defied all your expectations by being so non-threatening. No connection at all?”

“I’m just not seeing it. I know what you are saying is probably how they write it up in the psychology manuals but I just don’t feel it.”

“Then why the loss of interest? This was the girl of your dreams! Even I could tell that from a couple continents away.”

I watched him closely. I could always tell when his deep-thinking wheels were spinning. With the back of his hand he would scratch his neck a bit, rub his chin like he was trying to remove a hanging thread of cheese, and find a corner of the room to set his sights and center his thoughts. I like to think I can penetrate those thoughts. I created an imaginary conversation even as we sat there. He’s wondering if in my mind I felt over-matched in some way; insecure with my lack of material success…practically on the run from back east. Then he would ask if it was a case of fear of success or fear of failure. I know he was challenging me. Was this my way of asserting control of my destiny: rejecting before being rejected. I gave him no clues.

Here’s what I did not want to admit. I was mortified of being “found out.” Where I should have been worried about how anyone could possibly live up to my outsized expectations, instead I was fixated on how I could possibly sustain her interest. What else had I ever sustained? All my life I had been nervous about not living up to what my potential might be and I was increasingly nervous I had nothing to show for my efforts and no reasonable explanation. Besides that, what if she found that my infirmities, charming and humanizing as they may present themselves as we became familiar to each other, instead became a burden or something uncomfortable to be around. Worst-case scenario: What if she found out that there wasn’t even that much to find out? Now I’m starting to wonder if there was something about the old man that spooked him and made him run from my mom? And nothing churned my stomach more than contemplating the unknowable.

I grew frustrated as I came to grips with the outcome. It’s over. “Hey, man,” I sort of half-barked. “Why does she even need to know the reason? Why does anyone need to know. It’s over. That’s a fact so why focus on the unknown.”

“Well she sure cares. And hell, I care. Not about the facts, because, to your point, there’s nothing to further analyze or understand about what’s known. To be honest, what makes me a little nervous is that you actually seem so detached from it, as if this were all part of a plan and now the plan has been achieved. Don’t ever forget she genuinely felt for you. You cannot set yourself a trap that she did this to you.”

“Listen, Manny. Last thing. What I’m about to say I say with love so don’t go nuts on me but this much you have to admit: there’s a big part of you that likes the chase. Loves the chase. Don’t you think that was some of the deal here, except that this thing was just on such a level that it couldn’t possibly be sustained. You’re like one of those daredevil-on-the-edge-bungee-jumping-extreme-sports addicts.”

That broke me up. “Yeah, that’s me. The guy that has spent so much time prone on the couch that there is an outline of me on the cushions as plain as police chalk. And you know how I get those nose bleeds at high elevation...”

“You know what I mean. You need the juice. Listen, I hate to go here but…”

“A, please don’t do it. I don’t want to get into all that again.”

Ignoring me because he knows he can get away with it he dropped my least favorite bomb – my ex, Harp’s mom.

“Manny, I just don’t want to see you go through what you went through with that kid’s mother. Remember our deal about ‘The Swing Effect?’”

What Anin is referring to is the only other uppercase Break Up. You might recall that was the one subject I couldn’t really bear to go into detail with Nina that first night. Unlike the other “I had a girlfriend” riffs, this was not one I could ever joke about. It was such a topsy-turvy affair, owing to both of our mood-swinging behaviors, with far more than necessary liquid and pharmaceutical additives for good measure. That’s why Anin dubbed it “The Swing Effect.” She and I alternated being in and out of each other’s lives and ultimately it was the cheating that we both did that was the downfall. We conveniently used the excuse that we could never be sure when we were really together, but after a while that just turned into a joke. We each put up with a lot of bad behavior, but for me the breaking point was walking in on her….while she was borrowing my place because her roommate tossed her when that one’s boyfriend moved in.

But what Anin is really referring to is that a couple years ago, by pure chance, I ran into her at an airport while traveling for some research on a story I’d been assigned to at the paper. We were in parallel security lines at the airport and we probably set the record for the fastest double take in history. We stood there motionless to the point that the TSA were ready to peel out the tasers just to get us out of the way.

I can’t believe I’m copping to this but by the time we got to our respective gates we’d exchanged numbers, emails and agreed to meet in Miami for a weekend. I remember so exactly how it felt to see her again that weekend; my heart was racing so fast when I boarded for Miami that I really thought I’d need to be defibrillated. That weekend was pure physical and psychic chemistry. It was a weekend-long confessional, apologizing for all the ways we had wronged each other and granting absolution. Who knew that was the easy part. As we tried to build a scenario for one more try, wounds that we thought had just been healed soon lost their salve. And there we were, yet again…unbelievably, remarkably…in the same awful state of mind that we had left each other years before.

That was then. This was now. The Swing Effect was back in effect.

It was a hell of a lot to absorb for one night’s conversation. Anin knew where I was headed even before this conversation, and that an extended series of drunken Cheetos and Oreo binges while crashing at his place was not going to suffice this time.

And that’s how I came to be referred to Dr. Spanksky.

As usual I was late finding the place. I can never get anywhere the right way the first time.

So the first thing he did was check his watch when I walked in the door. “I give him two, three sessions, tops,” I thought to myself.

But when he extended his hand and motioned for me to sit down, his grip was comfortable, the lounger was comfortable, the lighting was comfortable, the artwork was comfortable. Don’t ask me to describe the artwork. I’m not being lazy. I just have no idea how to describe stuff like that. I know people who if you are talking about a tile you are choosing for the house can ask you a dozen questions about its properties, and all I can offer is “It’s square and reddish.”

“Let’s start at the beginning Manny. Tell me why you are here. I want to know what you feel. Do you know how you feel?”

You never want your shrink, or your proctologist for that matter, to be your age or younger, right? There’s just some things where you’d like to think there is an inherent trust because they’ve been doing this long enough that they are not trying this out on you but they are not as old that they are on autopilot. Trust me this isn’t about a daddy issue, it’s just that…it’s not, right?

Dr. Spanksky worked out of his bungalow which was good for me because the last thing I wanted was going in and out of some antiseptic medical building. Partly because of the antiseptic reason and partly because that would increase the odds of my running into someone.

There was no prevailing theme to the office although when I was able to peek into a side room I did see wall-to-wall black-and-white shots of the city. And although they were clearly his work they were of a Weegie and Robert Frank era. It might put someone else off but for me, it was a perfect setting for me. Oh, and yes, photography I do know a little something about. I worked at a newspaper remember? Ed Drater? The ‘40s?

Start at the beginning? Where the fuck is the beginning.

Just then my phone went off. I forgot to turn it off. Or change to vibrate. Or throw it out. I mean there are so many ways to be disturbed by that thing now. Calls. Emails. Texts. Texts about an email. Emails about a call. And always at inopportune moments. Like today. And tomorrow at some point to be determined. I apologized to Spanksky. Not so much for the disruption but for my embarrassment at the prospect of being lumped in with everyone who lives tethered to those things like an oxygen tank.

“Well, Doctor…” and at that point I wondered if I needed to say his last name the first time, every time, some of the time, or what. And he could clearly see I was looking for a signal so he just nodded for me to go on.

And so I did.

But first I thought it would help my case if he saw me as a centered, reasonable person so I started out by telling him that I am aware of my own contradictions and issues. Who can argue with someone as self-aware as me, right? So I told him how I’m an atheist but my favorite music is black gospel.

I told him that I’ve been making ends meet in L.A. as a cabbie even though I have no sense of direction. (When Nina did the math and said something to Anin about it, he said, “Yeah, I know. Worst sense of direction of any human being. It’s a miracle he found California in the first place when he drove out here. It’s like making Stevie Wonder the tour guide at Graceland.”).

I tell him about all the times that I gird myself for a tense interaction of conflict with either someone I know or someone I don’t and there is so much buildup that when no conflict materializes I don’t know what to do with my pent-up energy.

I told him that despite what my teachers, colleagues and friends all think, I get distracted not because I’m not paying attention, but because I’m paying so much attention to the passing traffic in my mind.

Dr. Spanksky said something that I did not quite follow about interior life. And then I began in earnest.

I told him I had a little problem with Nina’s previous relationship history. And when I say a little problem, I mean a huge problem.

I told him:

I loved smoking grass and following sports. She loved being fit and anyone else who represented fitness.

I fell in lust then in love. She fell in love. I don’t know if she fell in lust.

I was impetuous and liked to take risks. She liked to play it safe and know what to expect.

I loved water, she loved watermelon.

I liked oyster crackers but not oysters.

She looks forward to going to the gym, I look forward to leaving the gym.

She likes to shower. I like to watch her shower.

She lives a routine, ordered life and I am routinely bored.

She’s romantic, I’m nostalgic.

I liked to give her gifts. She liked to get gifts from me.

She was graceful, even balletic. I was clumsy.

I don’t like people but I get annoyed when I can’t get a live human being on the phone.

I’m inhibited verbally and she’s inhibited physically, at least when it comes to affection.

I sought ways to use words like quotidian and lugubrious. She was convinced that the word was “frigerate” not “refrigerate.”

I make what I believe are very insightful observations, like that you never really see a Hispanic or Asian person with the hiccups and she just doesn’t know how to respond.

And of course, as I’ve already introduced you to, I told him about “I’m sorry but I’m not going to apologize.”

Other than that, we were perfect together, I told him.

And yet.

When we were bickering about something she would say: “Manny, women just want…” or ”Women never….” It got to the point that I was pleading with her to just tell me what she wanted or liked or didn’t want or didn’t like. It’s hard enough keeping one person happy but I did not want to be responsible for an entire gender.

She would say to me that women just want guys to listen to them, not to solve their problems. Just empathize. But what’s the point of listening to a problem if you can’t help fix it?

“Dr. Spanksky, by the time of the breakup we were even arguing about death. She had her cremation speech ready and I had my burial speech ready. When you think about all the ways two people need to be compatible, I’m pretty sure that how you want to be disposed of at the end should never really come into play as a barometer, but when things are going badly everything is on the table I guess. As you might imagine, her point of view is that the spirit lives on and that’s all that matters, and she felt there was a kind of poetry to having her ashes shared among her friends and scattered at various places that were a part of her life.

“Me? I’m old school. I want to be buried in the very small chance, however remote that maybe by leaving my body intact I still have a chance to enjoy something after. Not that I believe in the hereafter. Certainly not thereafter. That’s partly why I am as intense as I am about my writing, my music, my women, and every other jones I have. Because you never know when it’s going to be taken away. In fact, when the time comes, all I really want is a little heads-up; a two-minute warning if you will, so that I have time to make my peace with everyone and close out my remaining ‘tabs,’ if you will.

“Here’s, the thing, doctor. I drove from one coast to another to leave another life behind me and instead of finding my mojo out here, I actually lost it somewhere between the Plains and the Southwest. I have had writer’s block which wouldn’t be such a big deal except I kind of need those words to do the only thing I’ve ever been paid to do. When my relationship with Nina took off, I thought for sure I would lose the block, not because I would be inspired but because I was liberated. I actually didn’t care anymore. I didn’t need to write because she was all I thought about and nothing else mattered and what if it did.”

I should have been a photographer instead of a writer. You don’t forgot how to aim a camera, right? Got a cousin in finance. You think he ever forgets how to count?

“Manny, I am very intrigued by the intensity you have for sensory experiences you describe. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to start writing for me. Lists. Lists of anything that come to your mind. Purely spontaneous and stream of consciousness. Like your friend Woody Allen in ‘Manhattan.’ You remember how that begins? When he is speaking into the tape recorder about all the things that make him happy? Do that for me. “

A shrink who’s a Woody Allen aficionado? Could I get any luckier? My god, the only other shrink I’d been to was always messing with me by asking ridiculously sublime questions that were meant to stimulate reflection. After some description of whatever episode I was describing, he says to me: “If there’s never something that’s true all the time, can there be something that is always wrong.”

I smiled at Dr. Spanksky. “So when should I come back?

He went on. “Remember the line at the end when Mariel Hemingway says to him, ‘Sometimes you just have to have a little faith in people’? Manny, you just have to have a little faith in yourself. I want you to have faith in yourself. And feel completely free to tell me everything you wish. If you aren’t comfortable with something right now, leave it out. But I want you start writing these down. At your own speed. You are a writer after all so put it down on paper instead of the recorder. And come back when you are ready, not because I tell you to come back.”

Deep down I really wanted to be communicative. So I really hated it that I couldn’t deliver the goods with Nina and so instead I had to open up to a professional. Probably even those who know me best would be surprised to learn that I have long longed for someone with whom I could be brutally, almost tearfully honest; share every last detail – or maybe just to feel like I could if I wanted to. But every time I inched to that precipice, I backed off and walked away.

So I guess he hit the right button when Spanksky said, “Manny, give it a try. I want to know your passions, I want to know what turns you off. And I want you to come up with anything that will help me understand you and help you understand you.

“So you can do that? You can recommend stuff to people because of something you saw in a movie?”

“Why not?”

“Well, it just doesn’t seem very….medical. Got it, doctor. Doctor, uh…”

“You can just call me Doctor if you prefer not to use a lot of words. Or Arthur. Or even a name that is not my own. Or Dr. S. Whatever you like.”

Whatever I like. I can never hear that often enough.

When Anin Met Nina, Part II

“Anin, meet Nina. Nina, meet Anin.”

I knew this day was inevitable, especially after the ghastly bathroom incident.

We were going to have our first formal hang. I chose, of course, the TomCat. Scene of the crime. She was already there in the outdoor reception area.

I watched them do the how-intimately-should-we-shake-vs-hug dance. “Oh god, just please hug and get it over with,” I said.

“I feel like I know you already,” Anin said. Or did Nina say it first.

I can’t even bear to tell you what happened next. All I know is there was an awful lot of foot shuffling under the table and I don’t think it was incidental contact. But I wasn’t upset with Anin about it. First of all, I could have predicted it. And secondly…

“Y’know Anin, sometimes I think you and Nina were better suited for each other than she and I. You just seem to get her in a way I will never be able to.”

Nina, ever direct, and playfully trying to break the ice asked Anin “What he saw in me.”

I started to laugh, but Anin jumped in with his Ted Baxter: “Well, if you really must know…”

I thought that was the end of it. Then he said again, but with utter plain-ness…

“Well, if you really must know. Manny saved my life one night.”

“He did? He said you saved his life. That night at the gym.”

“A, let’s not go there. Not necessary. It’s not even true. Let’s just drop it.”

“It’s cool. I don’t mind. Here’s the deal Nina. I know my man here occasionally idealizes….romanticizes, things about me.”

“Everyone’s got their cross to bear,” I said, hoping that a little friendly sarcasm would derail things. No.

“Soooo,” Anin continued, ignoring the ploy. “Ever have one of those ‘change of destiny’ moments? We were on a road trip a bunch of years ago. I think we were actually out here on vacation, driving to Baja. All of us were in the car. We’d all come out here for a kind of long, lost weekend. The two of us, plus Denny, Pedro and Niles. We were doing a lot of drinking. A lot of driving. At night. As the activities wore on, our judgment wore off and Manny got increasingly worried about maintaining control. We were falling out of one of the myriad joint stops that night and he pulled me aside and asked to take the keys from me. I refused. He started to get irritated. And I admit that I was using my physical advantages to make it difficult, which….well, I think that stirred it up even more.”

We were still waiting for our table when the hostess came to seat us. Nina likes her stories in rich detail, so she asked if we could have a few more minutes before being seated so as not to interrupt the moment.

“Okay but I can only hold the table for so long. I have people waiting like an hour tonight,” and she left us.

“Ah, fuck her,” Nina said, never caring for anyone’s limits. All I could think of was missing out on the appetizers. “Go on Anin.”

I know Anin was trying to meet each of our needs without insulting the other. Finally, I thought to myself, someone with a bigger problem than I have at the moment.

“Ok, anyway, I’ll finish. The back story is that, again, despite what Manny may have said about me, I have had my moments too. I had just been kicked to the curb by someone and wasn’t happy about it. In the least. Given my mood, Manny knew that he wasn’t going to straight-talk me out of the keys and it’s not like we were going to wrestle over it. So Manny being Manny, what do you think he did? He WROTE the solution. He rifled through his backpack looking for his notepad, and as per usual, can never find it when he wants it so also as per usual he finds some other scrap. Know that two-ton pile of scraps that he keeps with all his notes? So he grabbed some envelope out of his bag that was already full of notes – and he makes me write the following: ‘This is the night I changed my fate when I got out of the driver’s seat.’ Bizarre, right? I only kind of half knew what I was doing, what I was writing….and at the moment, half less than that aware of what was going on. But it worked. It was just a kind of diversion to short-circuit my ongoing obstinacy. And I just started laughing. Not consciously sure why but I think I understood subconsciously what had just occurred, and so my laughter was a kind of salute to his ingenuity. I really was in a rough way, and something really tragic and stupid could have happened that night. The next day I grabbed that envelope out of the car. I put it in my wallet and carry it around with me all the time. Still have it, right here.”

And he showed it to her. This is it here.

I cleared my throat. “So if there are no further questions…may we move on to our table?”

Much as I wished Anin had not brought up that story, I admit I was half-watching Nina’s reaction for purely selfish reasons – just trying to guess what she was thinking and was there a place, maybe even a small space in that place for rethinking our situation.

But as I said at the start, the breakup was a failure as a result of my failures. Or rather my failure to succeed, to be more precise, if to succeed means to see a venture to its complete vision or fruition or completion. I was great at starting things but terrible at finishing them. Including, apparently this relationship. I would like to tell you things ended differently, and for god’s sake I am the author so you’d think I could come up with something, but I can’t rewrite around this.

Which is why I really liked Spanksky. He didn’t try to create alternate realities, he was just trying to get me back to where I belong. That, and he didn’t insult my intelligence. I know this because he would occasionally say “Manny, I won’t insult your intelligence….because I know you’ve already figured that out.” I know that was also his way of making sure that I didn’t overtly skip past something that I needed to focus on. Like most recently he said “I don’t want to insult you by suggesting that the end of the relationship was a result of self-sabotage…”

In this case he offered that self-sabotage might be shorthand for doing it to her before she could do it to me. At some point does the terminology even matter? There is no question that had I tried harder (or in some cases, not tried so hard, that is, just relaxed), things might have ended differently.

I lost myself in Dr. Spansky’s assignment. Remember the one? The lists? I never even hesitated. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get home to start. I freaked about everything that started barreling in at me and worrying that I would forget things by the time I got home. I looked in the glove compartment and there was the map that I used for the drive to L.A. I started to jot things down. Yes, while I was driving. But I was WRITING AGAIN!

At first it was just the silliest of stuff.

· Eating at Dennys at sunrise. Five Guys, In N Out Burger.

· Choc chip cookies at Subway, chocolate-covered cake donuts at 7 -11 (never ever Krispy Kreme). Dunkin Donut holes, Poppy seed muffin tops.

And there was no logical flow. Completely random.

· Central Time zone. Where did that come from? But yes, the Central Time zone! Is there a better one? I think not.

· Watching football snow games (on TV. I would never get stuck outside in the cold WHEN THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO REASON TO BE THERE).

Then I started to get a little cute with the categories. Raisinets, Junior Mints and Good and Fruity. Hot Tamales (the movie theater kind). Chocolate-covered Joyva Halvah.

· Really good crushed ice

· Hebrew National Hot Dogs on the grill

· The first time I smelled bacon frying. Sunday NYT.

· Reading the New Yorker back to front.

· Typing in all lower case. No periods

· Hockey’s playoff beards, three stars of the game and post game handshake

· Bob Ryan, Dick Schaap, Shirley Povich, Red Smith George Vescey. Tom Boswell on baseball. Tony Kornheiser on radio, Mike Emrick doing hockey on TV, Gary Thorne doing hockey but not baseball, Ernie Harwell doing the Tigers on radio, Jon Miller doing baseball on TV and radio, Marv Albert doing football and basketball. Curt Gowdy on NBC baseball. TWIB Notes.

· A new pair of Skechers

· Quintessentially ‘70s movies like Serpico, Shampoo, Last Detail

· Great little movies of the ‘70s like Taking of Pelham 123

· John Lee Hooker getting soft, funky and growly. With Van Morrison to boot.

· John Mayall, Greg Allman, and Eric Burdon at their peaks.

· First album I ever bought. And still have.

· Halle Berry in Monsters Ball, Halle Berry in Catwoman, Halle Berry in Swordish even.

· Halle Berry in anything except her clothes.

· That Roxy music album cover

· That Carly Simon album cover

· Perfect albums like Every Picture Tells a Story

· Tim Russert (before he died.). Now there’s something that drives me nuts. How many times have you heard someone telling a story and it’s about someone doing something or saying something and they add – before he died. As if that conversation could possibly have happened AFTER the guy died.

· Lewis Black getting indignant

· Carlin, Cheech & Chong, Richard Pryor, Mitch Hedberg, Robert Klein, Rodney Daingerfield, Belushi, Mel Brooks

· Dennis Hopper (on screen). Any story about Dennis Hopper.

· Sports books by David Halberstam

· David Halberstam talking about his books (before he died).

· Interviews conducted by Charlie Rose (the part where he stops talking)

· Interviews conducted by Brian Lamb on C-SPAN

· Nike ads. “Italian” movies in high school and college

· Rocky and Bullwinkle Johnny Bravo, Doug, Toy story, Aladdin, Fantasia, All in the Family

· Ed Sullivan Show

· Curb Your Enthusiasm

· Seinfeld (the show not the stand up act)

· Get Smart

· Larry Sanders Show

· The first time I saw Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles

· Bogart, Paul Newman, Steve McQueen

· At their peak: Cadillac Eldorado, Ford T-Bird, Galaxy 500, MG, Boxster, Vette

· Nicholson before he got fat and lazy. Peter O’Toole in big movies like Lawrence of Arabia. Peter O’toole in small, quirky movies like My Favorite Year and Stuntman

· The word quirky. Also the word fusillade.

· Susan Sarandon at any age

· George Clooney (also at any age)

· ChrisTOpHer Walk-en

· Blaxploitation flicks

· Pam Grier

· Netflix

· Jack White, Jack Black

· Elvis Costello’s “Spectacle” on The Sundance Channel

· Graceland (the actual place, not the album)

· Lena Horne, Albert King’s “I’ll Play the Blues For You,” Bobby Blue Bland’s “Stormy Monday”

· Elvis 1956-1958 and 1968-1970

· TCB, SRV, B. B. King, Aretha, Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Van Morrison’s “Wavelength,” “Rave on John Donne” (live), “I Just Wanna Make Love to You” (live), every version of “Help Me,” from Sonny Boy Williamson to Van Morrison, Joan Osborne and Harry Manx

· “Chest Fever,” “The Weight” and “It Makes No Difference,” “Sympathy for the Devil,” “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’” and “Brown Sugar,” everything from “Let it Bleed,” Leon Russell’s Jumpin jack Flash/Youngblood” from Concert for Bangladesh, U2 with B.B. King. Clapton with B.B. King. Anyone with B.B. King.

· My own playlists (including several for my own funeral. Volume 1 is for a party to be hosted by Anin – don’t ask, I just happen to know I will go before him. I included Just Can’t Stop Me by J. Geils Band, O Mary Don’t You Weep by Sprinsgsteen, Take Me With U by Prince, Bring Back the Funk by Paul Weller, Smoke My Peace Pipe by The Wild Magnolias, Great Life by Goat, Sunny Daze by Eric Lindell, Treat Yo Mama by Jon Butler, Turn on Your Lovelight by Bonerama, Feelin’ Alright by Joe Cocker, Whatever Gets You Through the Night by John Lennon, I Love Music by The O’Jays, I Want To Take You Higher by Sly and the Family Stone, Wake up and Smell the Coffee by Lee Fields, Wavelength by Van Morrison, Too Drunk To Fuck by Nouvelle Vague, Short Skirt by Cake, and Revival by The Allman Brothers Band. Volume 2 is called “Words and Music to Live By.” I figured since I might not have my own opus to leave for people I would go back to the song lyrics that mean the most to me. The Healer and Don’t Look Back by John Lee Hooker, Long Line, by Peter Wolf, The Weight by The Band, Can’t Take it With You by the Allman Brothers Band, All Things Must Pass by George Harrison, The Neighborhood by Los Lobos, Ooh La La by The Faces, Love to Burn by Neil Young, You Get What You Give by New Radicals, Isn’t That What Friends are For by Bruce Cockburn, Will it Go Round in Circles by Billy Preston, The Road Goes On Forever by Joe Ely, Life is a One Way Ticket, by Dr. John, Save Some Time to Dream by John Mellencamp, Big Sweet Life by Jon Dee Graham. I also made one special for Harper but I won’t share that with you.

· Double albums. The River; Moonflower; White Album; Exile on Main Street, Quadrophenia.

· Going tieless

· The shot of the first moon landing

· Canvas Nikes; Converse All Stars

· My uncle’s Herb Albert album with the chick in the whipped cream

· ESPN Classic; Jimmy the Greek

· Joe Louis, Willie Mays, Jackie Robinson, Jim Brown, Hank Aaron’s 715^th, O.J.

· Jim Brown, Barry Sanders, Gale Sayers, Earl Campbell, Billy Sims running the ball

· Joe Namath, Dan Marino, and Johnny U throwing the ball

· Kenny Stabler scrambling, Fran Tarkenton moving

· Tough, iconic guys who played the game right, like Gordie Howe and Brett Favre (before everything)

· Ali vs Frazier match and re-matches; Tommy Hearns vs Sugar Ray Leonard match and re-match; Aaron Pryor and Alexis Arguello match and re-match

· Mike Tyson at the beginning, Ted Williams at the end

· Marv Albert doing basketball; Gary Thorne doing hockey; Don Cherry doing hockey

· Bryant Gumbel’s “Real Sports;” Tim Kurkjian baseball analysis

· The era when the U.S. Tennis Open was played on real grass

· Guys who looked best in the uniform. So, Mark Messier, not Wayne Gretzky. Magic Johnson, not Kareem or Larry Bird. Willie Mays and Lou Gehrig, not George Brett.

· Offbeat flicks like Being John Malkovich, the Hal Hartley stuff, and the Wes Anderson stuff T

· The heyday of Mad, Rolling Stone, SI, Esquire, SNL, National Lampoon magazine

· Soul Train; Every version of “Mystery Train”

· Team America Fuck Yeah, Festivus, Gale Sayers, Dean Smith (ahead of his time I found out).

· John Wooden; Bo; Woody; Paterno; Hank Stram; Weeb Ewbank;

· George Plimpton; Paper Lion

· Magic, Jordan, Pistol Pete, Walt Frazier, Cousy, Wilt

· The post-series handshake at center ice in NHL playoffs

· Van Gogh (and the museum in Amsterdam)

· Picasso (and the museum in Barcelona) Chagall Modigliani Henri Cartier Bresson Robert Mapplethorpe Weegee Diane Arbus JFK, RFK hagiography

· Character actors (especially Steve Buscemi, Jeff Goldblum, Harvey Keitel)

· Perfect movies like Casablanca, Manhattan and The Royal Tennenbaums, Raging Bull

· Chauncey Gardiner; “Does your dog bite?”; “Is that your minkey?

· Natalie wood

· NYC cabbies

· Republican sex scandals

· Rocky & Bullwinkle and The Way Back Machine; Tennessee Tuxedo

· Michael Jordan in his emerging NBA years

· Noam Pitlik but not Noam Chomsky

· Rockford Files; Hawaii Five-O; Harry-O

· McCloud; Barney Miller; Dick Van Dyke Show; Mary Tyler Moore Show

· Larry Sanders Show; “Taxi,” after Rev Jim came on

· Cheers; Mind of the Married Man

· First years of M*A*S*H until both Trapper and Henry were gone

· The Office (both versions)

· Mel Brooks; Albert Brooks; Brooks Robinson

· Plowing through a huge stack of leaves in the street

· Robert DeNiro’s “funny movies” and Bill Murray’s “serious movies”

· Gene Hackman (even his voice over for United Airlines)

· The chance that I might get to know what it’s like to survive a plane crash

· The chance that I might get to know what it’s like to survive getting shot

· Muddy Waters’ Mannish Boy; any version of Help Me

· Louis and Ella doing Summertime

· Herbie Hancock’s Cantaloupe Island

· Satellite radio

· The snap, crackle and pop of albums

· Cap’n Crunch, Lucky Charms, Honeycomb, Alpha Bits

· Lyle Lovett’s Large Band in music and Small Ball in baseball

· Vegas until the 1990s

· Chet Baker cool. Miles Davis cool. Clapton Cool.

· Hot Hendrix, Morrison, Buddy Holly, SRV, Santana.

And I Could Do Without

· Gwenneth Paltrow, Melanie Griffith

· Sheryl Crow, Jewel

· Just about every country album ever made

· Minnie Driver, Mira Sorvino (they’re two different people, right?)

· Simon and Garfunkel, Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffett, Michael McDonald

· Oprah, The View, Katie Couric

· Fine dining restaurants that change their menu. I don’t find that classy or au courant. I find that it interferes with my desire to know that exactly what I might want to have is still there.

· Bryant Gumbel doing anything other than “Real Sports”

· Whoopi Goldberg

· Mike Lupica

· Bobby Knight

· Leroy Neiman and Andy Warhol

· NBA scores on ESPN’s update crawl that are anything prior to the 4^th Quarter. There are usually 200 total points scored. Do I really need to see when the score is 8-2, 20-15, 35-35, 53-40 and on, and on, and on…

· Diane Keaton, Nicole Kidman, Julia Roberts, Debra Winger, Andie McDowell, Melanie Griffith, Drew Barrymore, Sandra Bullock

· Katherine Heigl, Renee Zellwegger, Anne Hathaway, Scarlett Johansson

· Ryan Reynolds, Matt Damon

· Streisand, Cher, Roseanne, Ellen, Rosie

· Asia (the group, not the continent); Byrds (the group not the flying things)

· Concerts where the audience sings in unison all the choruses to all the great songs, like at Al Green shows

· People at work who ask if you want tickets to a ballgame, concert or some other event because they can’t go (or even to go with) and they do not make it perfectly clear from the outset whether they expect you to pay or not.

· Geometry

· Calculus

· Reese’s Pieces, Oatmeal

· Paul Simon (the singer not the dead senator)

· James Taylor, Dwight Yoakam

· Russell Crowe, Andy Garcia, Kevin Costner

· Randy Newman

· Fox News (okay, goes without saying)

· When they show people IM'ing or emailing "in real time" in movie scenes, especially with the words materializing on screen; alternatively and even worse is when they have the typist mouthing - audibly or not - the words they are typing rather than show you the words appearing on screen. imagine your hearing me speak out the words you are reading....right....now.

· Any use of cellphones in movie scenes

· The militarization of the NFL

· Any fans in any stadium of any sport who use a home team player’s name like “Lou” or “Drew” or “Brubaker” or “Pruitt” that is elongated to sound as if it’s rhyming with “boo” as if they are the first fans to think of it. And then the TV announcers making it worse by having to notify us that they are not booing. As if we didn’t know.

· The second round of awful patriotic music at baseball games. even the first one is un-necessary

· People who mock the mock turtleneck

· GM's, players and coaches who dismiss their futility by saying they just need to execute better; conveniently absolving themselves of any blame for just plain sucking, or having devised a bad plan

· All – and I mean all – sideline interviews in football, but especially with the coaches on their way in and out from the half; and the ones with baseball managers between innings and NHL coaches/players between periods. Is there any more useless, fatuous exchange of meaningless questions and even less enlightening answers.

· The banjo (conversely, every song with a mandolin is better for it. And on a completely unrelated note, there are no bad versions of Bill Withers’ “Use Me.”

· Grateful Dead

· Drum solos. And that means everyone. Keith Moon, Charlie Watts, Jon Bonham and even Butch Trucks and Jaimoe.

· Jerry Jones going down to the sidelines in the 4^th quarter of games that Dallas is winning so that he can insinuate himself into playing arena and absorb the glory unto himself. Mark Cuban. Donald Trump. LeBron James.

· Live albums with gratuitously extended applause intros and outros. Goes double when said cut is desired to go on a tape mix

· When I am at a nightclub, and enjoying the music, perhaps visibly so by moving my head in rhythm to the music, that is not an invitation for some chick that I do not know who has eyeballed me, to extend her hand and forcibly move me in to dance with her.

Plus I just don’t get Ghostbusters. I love Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd and Harold Amis in just about anything separately and together. I don’t get that movie and why everyone else did.

Dr. S. and I talked a lot about that list. I didn’t get a lot of psychobabble. In fact I did not get any. I got what seemed to be just a lot of innate interest. Lots of questions and guffaws. No challenges, just queries. He actually seemed genuinely interested in me. Not the list per se, but me.

We continued to talk and I volunteered to him that the exercise had actually made me want to find other ways to express myself, since it was hard to just come in and ramble, and it probably helped fill the void from my…what is the word for that again…shit. Oh yeah, my writer’s block.

Jeez, I even started having these recurring dreams, the kind you have as a kid, when you are being chased and you’re running around corners and alleys, and turning around dead ends, and you might even see someone in the distance who can save you if you can just scream loud enough for help. And you open your mouth to yell out but nothing comes out. You try but you…cannot…find…your…voice. Paging Dr….Spanksky?

My block is so severe that I can sometimes not retrieve the word for the condition I have that keeps me from using words. Or did I mention that already? I tried writing poetry because it’s free form and that was the worst idea since New Coke. So I figured with my love of music I would do song lyrics because really, how many damn verses does it take to add up to a song, especially when you can replace actual, whole words with 2, B, 4, U and so on.

So I volunteered to bring a list I’d been working on for years. It was the kind of thing I’d kept in my scraps and notebooks when I had a reason to keep something other than lists. And originally it was just a way to potentially source content for my columns. Without realizing it, over time, I realized I was constructing my view of the world through the words of others. Truth is, everything you need to know about me you can find in the 10,000 songs I’ve selected from thousands of albums, that you will find in my playlists. Each one is there for a reason. But I wasn’t going to subject Spanksky to that. For one thing, at his hourly rate I could never afford it.

Back to that other list. Eventually I did more than just source my columns, it turned into an occasional column in itself that I called: “Wish I’d Said That.” Kind of lame, I know. But I kept doing it partly because I liked the threads and also because my editor – Guy Bonnafide – the dude I told you about with the comb-over from the back who taught me about obituaries, he told me to go with what feels right. He said a column is all about a kind of rhythm and he said column writing is not for everyone because you have to take risks and open yourself up, otherwise, it’s news writing, not column writing.

This got me into a nip of trouble itself but I’ll save that for the end.

Spanksky put the “manuscript” down. “Manny?”

“Yes?”

“Let me add one other saying to your list. ‘O na mea ku pono, malma. O na mea ku pono ‘ole ka pae’la.’ That’s a Hawaiian saying which means ‘Those things which feel right to you, keep. Those things which do not, set aside.’”

Why does everything always sound so much more profound in a foreign language?

“Manny, I find something curious. You talked about how you discussed with Nina your longing to find your place in the world. And I have also heard you use this expression often when someone has upset you – something like, ‘There ought to be a special place for those people.’ And I often agree with you about that! You know what else? Through these quotes you have created a special place…a world of your own, if you will. What did your English teachers instruct you from the very beginning, even as a teenager?”

“Write what you know about. Write about your world, whether it’s real or imagined.”

“Exactly. Your place in the world is up to you to create. And that’s what those columns were really about, right? Manny, you know you can write. You know you can write again. You KNOW you can write again. Don’t you? Manny, you don’t need me anymore, you need an agent. Now get to work! And remember, not everyone has to leave a mark. You can just be happy. And you can be while you still try to write your masterpiece.”

“So I’m a little confused, should I be writing what I know about or should I be making stuff up?”

“Manny…” and then there was a long dramatic pause as if he was about to deliver words of great profundity.

“Your question is also…”

“Doctor! Please…don’t.”

After he got his bearings from my unexpected outburst, Dr. S said, “One other thing. Manny, it strikes me that much of what you have told me – about your mother and absentee father, about Nina, about your friends, the stories in Ed Drater and in NUM – and much of what I read in those quotes that you kept track of…it strikes me that the common thread is a person in search of an identity. Could be an old identity or a new one but I think that is what remains so unresolved and that is what is contributing so much to your block. Sometimes we get very caught up in a definitive view of the world – be it your definition or one that someone else has designed. Try to embrace NOT KNOWING what happens next for a while. Sometimes I think if we all did that, more of us might have a chance. What I’m saying is it’s OK not to know. Tell me, have you spoken with your mother recently? I know she is very important to you, above everyone else.”

“If by recently you mean ‘much at all,’ then no,” I said, the sadness clear in my voice I’m sure. In fact, I hadn’t talked to her since about page 62 and I admit I was feeling quite guilty about it. That was the last thing Spanksky said to me during what turned out to be my last visit.

From “Walk Away” by Tom Waits

Hell the things I’ve done I can’t erase

I want to look in the mirror and see another face

I said never going to do it again

I want to walk away and start all over again

No more rain

No more roses

On my way

Shake my thirst

In a cool, cool park

There’s a will I’ll never replace

There’s a heart that’s beating in every page

When the beginning always starts all over again

A yellow dog knows when he’s sinned

You want to walk away and start all over again

I don’t actually know if that would be my last visit with Dr. S. I guess I was just hopeful that his final analysis was the breakthrough. But the more I thought about it the more I began to think that we were probably just starting.

He zeroed in on the relationship with my mother (what self-respecting, or at least certified shrink) could do otherwise, and the intensity of the bond I have with her seemed to have a gravitational pull on me.

So I waited until the 90-minute SportsCenter came on, muted it as usual, then gave mom a ring. Can’t stand to watch with sound anymore. They have hired every last former coach and player they can find that can tie a tie and put them on camera to share their brilliance in describing key moments in games, like, “This is a really key-third down play. That’s a pitch he’d like to have back. You just can’t play that kind of defense and expect to win.” And these “color” guys! They cannot mute themselves at any cost. Back in the day, the color guy existed to add….color, to how the game unfolded. Now they talk like they are paid by the word. What the heck – that’s why they have a broadcast partner called the play-by-play guy. That’s HIS job. And I’m the unemployed writer?

“Hi Mom, it’s Manny.”

“Hello my boy, how are you?” Can you beat being called with tenderness “my boy” at my age from your mom? I think not.

“The usual. How about you?”

“I’m perfect!” was her her stock response, said with glee, and she did not miss a beat. Don’t misunderstand me. She said it in the way that only she could get away with. Not obnoxiously or arrogantly of course but in the kind of self-respecting and self-deprecating way that was a kind of language that only she and I understood.

“Mom, I don’t actually have a lot of time…”

“Manny, you sound just like Pedro! How is that young man?”

And we had a good chuckle over that.

“No, I just meant I know it’s late and I didn’t want to bother you. Too much.”

“You are never a bother and you know that. What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Mom, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you that I probably should have asked a long time ago. There’s some things about my sperm father that I’d like to know.”

Someone other than mom might have created an uncomfortably awkward pause but I had long been referring to him that way on the few occasions a reference to him was called for.

“You can ask me anything you want; you know that,” she said right away.

“Why did he leave?”

That did, however, inspire an involuntary deep breath.

“Manny, he didn’t leave; I kicked him out.”

This I was not prepared for.

“You made him leave? You got rid of him knowing you’d have a very difficult life, especially financially and I’d have no father figure…I mean, no father? Why would you choose that life?”

“I kicked him out because he cheated on me while I was pregnant with you. I don’t want you to think I made the decision indiscriminately. I went back and forth for weeks. I was also trying to balance what would cause me the least amount of stress at that point. So while I may have been focused on the moment I was also thinking long term. It came down to integrity. I decided if I couldn’t trust a man to do the right thing in that scenario then I did not want to spend years and years having a part of my mind and emotional health blocked because of a fear that at any unforeseen moment he would abandon me. Honey, I know that must sound selfish to you but I was actually thinking of you. The only thing that makes a relationship last is integrity. I couldn’t betray myself just because he betrayed me. I know that was a mouthful. I’m sorry.”

My throat caught just a bit but not out of anger at her. If anything the revelation made me angry with myself for having not asked her years earlier. Maybe I would have been more helpful or sympathetic to her over the years if I had known the details.

Details. Funny that I used that word. Remember I said how much trouble I have recalling details. I have intense experiential moments with movies, concerts, relationships, etc., and I can tell you how much I loved or hated them but I cannot recapture the details of storylines, character names, and so on.

Can blockage be hereditary? I made a note to ask Dr. S. about it.

We talked for probably another hour. Mom spent the bulk of that time filling me in on their romance. The demise apparently happened quickly and there just wasn’t much to say. Whatever she said to him must have really packed a punch because he never came around (in fact I have to remember to ask her next time if he even saw me after I was born). He eventually moved away and she said she literally does not know if he is even in the States anymore.

Before we hung up I asked her to come visit. I told her if she came soon enough I could probably convince Anin to stay for her visit.

“And speaking of Anin, how is Nina?” she asked.

Flustered, I said, “What do you mean by that?” Oh honey, I was just being silly. You know, Anin…Nina. It’s the same name spelled differently. You mean to tell me you never noticed?”

“Jeez, I…no. I don’t even know what to make of that. That is so weird.”

“Oh it’s nothing, just a coincidence. I was just having fun. But back to my question, how are things with Nina?”

“Well I know this will shock you but it’s not going so well. In fact, it’s not going at all. We broke up.”

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that, Manny. Are you doing ok? Maybe it’ll be good that Anin’s there now.”

“Yeah, actually I wouldn’t have gotten through this without him. Actually, I introduced them to each other just the other day. I know you’re thinking that it was just an excuse to see her again but since we were all three connected in some way it just seemed like it felt like the right thing to do. The weird part is they really seemed to hit it off. Without even trying. I’m not sure what to do or if I should do anything.”

“Manny, I don’t know her at all obviously but I’m sure Anin would never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know. I’m sure of it too. But what I mean is, I don’t mind if something happens. I mean I guess I should be all worked up about it but I’m not.”

“Well my boy, you know you can trust Anin so why don’t you try to put it out of your mind and just make sure you focus on yourself.”

“You heard anything from Harp? I’ve only gotten a couple post cards.”

“No, everything is fine. She is looking forward to coming back from camp. I think it’s this Sunday so why don’t you make sure to call back then. She’ll be excited to hear from you.”

“Okay, mom. Listen, it’s really getting late there. I’ll let you go.”

“You can’t fool me. I know what that means…’I’ll let you go.’ That means YOU want to go. So go finish with the highlights and I’ll talk to you soon. You let me know if you need anything, right?”

“Yes, mom. Don’t worry.”

In case you are wondering, we don’t hang up by saying “I love you.” So much of how I was raised was untraditional, including our greetings and goodbyes. There was so much attention and affection that it wasn’t necessary and it never felt like a void.

Long phone calls make me hungry (so does shopping, attending ballgames, walking around randomly, waiting in line at the DMV, driving, train rides, plane rides, and sometimes even eating makes me hungry. Funerals make me hungry. Weddings do not make me hungry but bar mitzvahs do) so I tried tracking down Anin to see if he’d meet me at the deli. I didn’t hear from him for a while and when I finally did I got a text that he wanted to meet me too as it turned out, and by then the mood had passed.

“Meet in the a.m.” I wrote back. “There’s actually something I need to tell you.”

That was sure to get his attention. Maybe it got yours. I was not playing with him. I have left out one sordid detail from NinaWorld. I didn’t tell Dr. Spanksky, I could not bear to tell my mom, and Anin was the guy who needed to hear it from me.

Cheaters Never Prosper
We met at the elevator to go down to the restaurant level.

Anin had no idea what was on the agenda and I wasn’t sure how to broach it.

As the doors opened for us we both eyed a gorgeous woman already in the elevator. I stared; Anin smiled. My mind raced. His actually worked.

“Going down?” he said not with vulgarity but with charm.

“No, I’m getting off here,” she said softly as she smiled sweetly.

Anin and I eyeballed each other and had the kind of wordless conversations that I am pretty sure is restricted to men; you know the kind (though on the evolutionary scale we start out as teens not able to do so without leering and making loud comments. So technically, this is progress). Finally I said, “Why is it that when I say shit like that it comes out gross and cheap and maybe even creepy, and when you say it the universe all agrees that this is a gentleman at work and no one is offended?”

As we hit our floor he said “Your question is also your answer.“

I did a double take because I’d heard that expression from my mom and from Nina but not from him before. But I thought no more of it.

As we turned into the deli I wasn’t even sure if I should wait for the food or wait until after the meal. You’d think I was breaking up with him or something.

“Hello boys,” said the hostess with a friendly and familiar greeting as if she knew more about us than she did.

We took our booth and I waited for the pancakes and applewood-smoked bacon to arrive. There’s really nothing quite like being able to play with your food when it’s called for.

I started as any other normal guy would.

“Brother, why do you always wear that shirt to the deli?”

He pinched the top part of the shirt on either side of his chest. “Again with the shirt? What’s the problem?”

“First, I can never pronounce it. And second, what’s the point – you got four pockets there and you never got anything in any of them.”

“Wellllll, FIRST, for the hundredth time it’s a guayabera….sounds like Yogi Berra, as I’ve also said a hundred times. And second, it’s my heritage. Just because you don’t run around with a beanie doesn’t mean I can’t honor my people.”

“The ‘beanie,” as you so indelicately call it is a religious item, not a fashion statement. And I don’t ever remember Yogi Berra wearing one…” I was actually going nowhere with that one when it hit me: “DUDE! Guayabera. Yogi Berra. Bare-uh. That’s perfect. I got to write this down. That’s an idea right there. I have to figure out how to market the guayabera as endorsed by Yogi Berra. That’s gold, Anin. GOLD.” I had to admit it looked good on him. I could never pull that off.

“And that’s the reason you brought me here?”

“No. Obviously. Hey man, I need to talk to you about Nina.”

“Really? Shocker.” Even I had to admit that did not count as a cheap shot. Scarcely a day went by without a conversation about Nina.

“Man, I need to level with you about something. I think we should talk too. I know it must have seemed a little uncomfortable the other night and I wanted to explain that…”

“Anin…”and I paused. “Dude, I cheated on her.”

Time actually did stop because a long strip of hollandaise was dripping from Anin’s eggs Benedict and I was just staring at it waiting for the thing to hit the plate.

“You what?”

“Yeah I thought that might come as a bit of a surprise.”

“First of all, how in the world could you have had time to cheat? Granted, I was halfway around the world, but from everything you said, you were physically inseparable and when you weren’t together you were emotionally inseparable. You can tell me later who it was because that’s almost incidental. Just tell me, are you talking about literally cheating on her or that you happened to be banging someone around the time that everything fell into place with Nina?”

“No, this would have been the legal definition. When things were starting to fall apart. It was actually with someone I was interviewing with at the paper here. I know you’re just going to tell me that I did it to sabotage myself. And…”

“Wait a minute. As much as I do want to get the bottom of this, I can’t help myself. You slept with someone you were interviewing with. So not even your boss.” Thoughtful pause. “Not someone reporting to you.” Thoughtful pause. “Not someone you can even yet call a colleague. Dude, I think you actually just created a new category. I hope it was worth it.” And they pounded fists.

“Okay, back to reality. Did Nina ever find out?”

“No, not a chance. You know if I’m good at anything…”

“Don’t I know it. What about Spanksky. You bring it up with him?”

“No, I kind of figured that I had already given him plenty to work with and this might just complicate matters.”

“Okay, you know how dumb that part sounds, right?”

“Whatever. I was also kind of embarrassed about it.”

“Embarrassed? Do you have any idea what these shrinks hear day after day, one sick fuck after another?”

“No offense taken,” I said after a brief beat, thinking surely that Anin would add “no offense” right after the “one sick fuck after another” comment.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Anyway, I feel like on some strange level I had bonded with Spanksky and like I was almost letting him down after everything I’d copped to about my situation with her and the lengths I was going to in trying to save it, or recapture it. Alright, I’m done talking about this shit. Your turn. You said you were going to tell me something. What was it you wanted?”

‘What Was it You Wanted” by Bob Dylan

What was it you wanted? Tell me again so I’ll know
What’s happening in there, what’s going on in your show
What was it you wanted, could you say it again?
I’ll be back in a minute, you can get it together by then

What was it you wanted, you can tell me
I’m back, we can start it all over
Get it back on the track, you got my attention
Go ahead, speak, what was it you wanted
When you were kissing my cheek?

Was there somebody looking, when you give me that kiss
Someone there in the shadows, someone that I might have missed?
Is there something you needed, something I don’t understand

What was it you wanted, do I have it here in my hand?
Whatever you wanted, slipped out of my mind
Would you remind me again, if you’d be so kind
Has the record been breaking, did the needle just skip
Is there somebody waiting, was there a slip of the lip?

What was it you wanted, I ain’t keeping score
Are you the same person, that was here before?
Is it something important? Maybe not
What was it you wanted? Tell me again I forgot
Whatever you wanted, what could it be
Did somebody tell you, that you could get it from me

Is it something that comes natural, is it easy to say
Why do you want it, who are you anyway?
Is the scenery changing, am I getting it wrong
Is the whole thing going backwards, are they playing our song?
Where were you when it started, do you want it for free
What was it you wanted, are you talking to me?

“Manny, there are no words to get around this. Nina and I…have been…hanging out together.”

“Dude, please do not say another word.”

Anin began to freak because he knew the implication. This violates the gentleman’s code and everything they had ever agreed to and swore by.

“I, uh, I know that this could mean…”

“Seriously, man, you don’t have to say another word.” And there was no malice in my voice.

“Hell I probably knew before you knew.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that expression, ‘a mother knows’? A best friend knows. I could feel it when you two met and I could tell as much by what was not said in the intervening days and weeks.”

“Here’s the deal Manny. She is special. I get it. I know what you saw in her. But we do not need to be together. It’s not worth sacrificing you in the process.”

“Ah, you’re such a sweet old queer,” I said in a way that we both knew how it was intended.

“As far as I can tell, there is really only one problem now, Anin.”

“Hit me. No wait, let me try a different expression. Tell me.”

“So now I have to see her every time I see you? It’s like in a divorce with kids. As much as you live for every moment you get with the kids it means you got to talk and see the ex with every hand-off.”

“Well that’s why I’m sayin’…”

“Anin, I’m kidding. There are no hard feelings. Zero. I will get over it and move on. It would be one thing if I thought there was something mean-spirited behind it but I now that’s not you. And I don’t think that’s her either.”

“Tell me again how you knew?”

“Ah, I didn’t really know. I suspected.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all I’m not an idiot. And second of all, something my mom said about how you’d be perfect together connected with me. Plus, she’s never wrong about this stuff. By the way, I invited her out here for a visit. She really wants to see you again…and now HER too I guess!”

“Cool, I definitely want to see Mrs. F. It’s been way too long. She kind of kept me apprised of things over email, y’know. She LIVES for you..know what I’m sayin?”

Only Anin could get away with calling her Mrs. F since technically she never married my dad. It was a term of obvious affection and why let a little technicality get in the way.

Then the waitron comes by. There are two unfortunate things about this deli. The first is that it’s one of those places that tried to be cute by half with it’s name – DELIicious. As a result, I go out of my way not to refer to it by name. The second is they make the staff wear one of those “Life is Good” T-shirts, with the dogs fishing and the birds cycling or whatever. I stare at it for a minute and I’m thinking I’d like to start a clothing line that just says “Life is” and leave it at that. Anyway, she comes over and is so on auto-pilot she says “You two save any room for dessert?”

I think that is the most passive-aggressive question in all of society. “You save any room for dessert?” Just come out and ask does anybody want dessert. It’s like two people, each waiting for the other to break up so they can get on with banging someone else guilt-free that they’ve been plowing on the side anyway. Why are they so afraid of direct rejection? Over dessert!

I was scratching at his palms, and rubbing at his chin.

Anin knew the wheels were spinning.

“What’s up there? What are you thinking about?”

“Anin, I know you are going to think this is really weird but I think we should do a road trip.”

“Totally. I’m in.”

“No, I mean the three of us.”

“You think your mom is really going to want to road trip with us?”

“Try again. Me, you and Nina.”

“What the..”

“Seriously. Hear me out. I’ll have my mom visit when we get back. I think this is a good idea. We need to get it all out there. If this is going to work and we are going to keep it together we need to let it all hang out with no hidden agendas and no buried feelings. It can’t possibly make things any more complicated. It can only help. Even worst case scenario, at least we know what we’re all in for. Besides, I think we could all use some time away from this city.”

“Your mom always says that wherever you are you always want to be somewhere else. I don’t know, man. Don’t you think it’s a little soon. How do I even know if this thing is gonna last with her. I mean, I’ll do whatever you want but how in the world you gonna get Nina to agree?”

“I guess that’s part of the point. If you mean enough to her, she’ll do it.”

On the Road to Knowhere
I know what you’re thinking but if George Harrison and Eric Clapton found a way to make it work with Pattie Boyd between them (so to speak) the three of us could give it a try. So we set out for Catalina late in the afternoon. Bright sun. Anin with his straw fedora and aviator sunglasses, wife beater, jeans and flip flops. Nina with her oh-so-fashionable sunglasses, hair pulled back, tank top, capris, sandals and tasteful bra strap and cleavage reveals. We were in my Jeep because I like to ride high, and the roof comes off and because I prefer to drive. It’s what I do. And everybody should be good at something.

I reached over to the glove box to grab my sunglasses and found inside one of the sketches Anin had made of Nina.

You’re probably wondering about the seating arrangements. If I’m driving, then Option 1 is Anin riding shotgun and Nina in the back. Option 2 being the other way around. And we all know that ain’t happening. Option 3 is the two of them sit in the back and we know that ain’t happening. Option 1 was the only option. Besides, and I don’t say this lasciviously, it allowed me to look at her in the rearview mirror.

It’s not a half-bad drive if you’ve never done it. At day and at night with the sunroof opened and the windows down it is a pure drive where every sound and every silence is worth savoring. What I love about these drives is all the piss-ant towns you pass through that just can’t bear to embrace their comic uselessness so you happen upon these signs along the way.

--“Third-longest bridge in California.”

--“2^nd Biggest Cherry Festival in the Country.”

--“Original home to California’s only museum dedicated to lanyard.”

--Sister city to some other piss-ant town in Germany. Or Lebanon.

--“Home to the 1986 Babe Ruth League Champions.”

--“Birthplace of the inventor of whitewall tires.”

--“Largest free-standing World War I Memorial.”

--America’s Metallic Bolt Manufacturing Capital

--“Stop and visit Tom’s Beef Jerky, One of the Top 10 Beef Jerky Farms as Voted by Jerky Culinary Magazine.”

--“Come Celebrate with us every first Friday of the Month as we mark the 187^th anniversary of the founding of the Local national guard” [true, bizarre random capitalization]

When we set out it was basically me and Anin conversing and Nina reading a book. We weren’t covering anything of import just providing our usual array of opinions that no one would be interested in on subjects that are of only occasional interest to others.

Then it would get quiet for a while. I would hit the satellite radio, toggling, between Underground Garage, Soul Town, Bluesville, ESPN, CNN and that’s about it.

Finally, during one prolonged stretch of quiet between Anin and me, Nina put her book aside, slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose and said, “Okay, guys, still not sure why I agreed to this but here I am and I’m sure not sitting here in silence while you have your girl talk and then make me listen to radio that I don’t want to listen to” (she was kind of a ‘70s hits and Grateful Dead gal. Under normal and in fact historical precedent this would have disqualified her but, well, how to explain? I suppose the first 50 pages or so should have covered it.).

He and I exchanged glances. Anin shrugged.

“Seriously guys.”

“Ah, anyone need to stop? Anyone hungry?”

“Man-neeee,” she said stretching out my name as she always would when she got exasperated.

“Hey I’m just trying to be helpful. You wanted to have conversation so I started using these things called words. They have letters and stuff.” God I could be a smartass.

“Mmmm, so now the words come to you,” Nina said. I looked at her in the rearview mirror and she silently mouthed in an exaggerated way to make sure I could read her lips “I’m kidding.”

Ah, what the hell. She was right. Here was the woman I thought I’d always sought and when I had it right there in my hands I let her slip through. I didn’t need Dr. Spanksky to help me figure that out. It doesn’t matter whether I sabotaged consciously or unconsciously. I eventually did everything in my power to make sure she thought me unworthy of her time.

It was still a little hard to tell though if there was some natural or engineered tension. Some had to be inevitable, right? That said and speaking for myself, when it got quiet on the drive it wasn’t because I was sullen or sulking. I was just being introspective. Sometimes about “big things” and sometimes just because I liked to look off into space and let my mind take me places without a preordained destination. I know that’s not for everyone and it’s certainly not for everyone that’s going to be around me. As I would often to say to someone who was getting all over me about something, “Stop trying to make me like everyone else. I’m not like everyone else.” And then as if on scripted cue the response would come “Really?”

I can’t say exactly when I jumped the shark with Nina but I think maybe even worse than going through it was knowing it was coming, knowing I would precipitate it. I watched Anin and Nina together and they seemed so easygoing together, at peace, almost interlocking. No frustration, no tension, nothing forced. That was about as natural an affection as I have ever seen and I say that because even at the peak of my relationship with her I would have to admit that there was more than the usual allotment of hormones at work. It was out of control. And so, probably was I.

As I’m thinking about all of this in the car Nina breaks a silence with a random question. “Hey Manny how come you are so bad with remembering details but you are so good at trivia?”

I turned the radio volume down to think about it for a second. Plus I was trying to figure out what brought that on. At the outset of our relationship I would have grabbed the question and run with it to the point she would have had to stop my rambling conjecture. At the point she and I were going downhill I would have been bothered by the question and probably waved her off. At this moment I was stopped in my tracks, struggling to find an answer, not to mention the bigger meaning behind the answer. So I did what I did best. I bought some time.

“What made you think of that?”

“Nothing special. When you guys were talking before about some game you went to and you started rattling off such esoteric aspects of the players and managers and it just kind of hit me. You think it’s a matter of unconscious suppression?”

“Someone’s been seeing Dr. Spanksky besides me, I think! (which I was just making up to tease her). And besides, first of all it’s SUBconscious, not Unconscious because….”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“And what’s more,” you just knew I could not leave it alone. “What’s more, suppression is by definition subconscious. Repression is what’s knowingly forced.”

“Repression, suppression, whatever. Look Manny, I am happy for you that Spanksky was a good outlet for you, I really am. In fact, I found it both amusing and flattering that you would share all those quotes you’ve been saving with both of us. But my point is…Oh, and by the way…Dr. SPANKSKY? Really? That’s his real name? Sounds like a name you would have made up. Like that private investigator you told me about….what was it, oh yeah, Peter Israel.”

“What’s wrong with Peter Israel? He actually was very good.”

“Because his card read, Peter Israel, Private Investigator: PIPI.” I think that either you made up that name, not to mention the story, or if you really did hire him you only hired him so you could talk about your PIPI.” He liked to refer to himself as a private dick, and really, who wouldn’t? Why is it that his line of work has all the best nicknames. Besides your private dick you got your gumshoe, and you got your screws in the, uh, penal institutions. What field today is so enriched? HR? IT? I don’t think so.

“Nina, don’t be a name-hater,” I said with mock admonishment.

I probably should have said in the beginning that coming to L.A. wasn’t an entirely destination of chance. My mom’s brother, Stanley Pupik – Uncle Chick – lives here and I can’t remember if she encouraged me or I encouraged her to encourage him to invite me but I crashed with him until I got settled. Somewhere along the way he picked up the nickname Chick (one version I heard of was that he was part of the house band at a place called Chickie Wah Wah in New Orleans) but every time I asked about the origin of the nickname I got a different story, including who bestowed the name. I think it started as a game at first but I eventually lost the thrill of the pursuit and let it go.

He still has most of his hair though it’s like a pantene book of colors, all slicked straight back. Good looking guy in a rugged way, though. Neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard, suggesting he’s been around long enough and seen enough that he knows he can be both un-tethered to convention but also presentable. Always dressed in black. Always happy. Big smile. And a hugger. He’s so old school that when he’s telling you about finding something online he still calls out “W….W….W” as if there is some other website preamble (that’d be like if you inserted the words “social networking site” before your every reference to Facebook in conversation in case you were speaking to that guy who just woke up from a 10-year coma. Why not also refer to “my Ford Mustang…you know, the automobile”). And then, I don’t even know if he does this on purpose; I’m thinking it started out as an intentional joke and then I think it became second nature and he doesn’t even realize it. Whatever the subject, he’ll set up a comment with: “Manny: Three Words…” and then he’ll say two words. Like, “Manny, when it comes to betting on horses I have three words for you: ‘Completely rigged.” He also likes to give me advice and then a slap on the back and says, “But listen to me…whatever you do, don’t listen to me, what do I know.” When I was at my worst with Nina he old me, “Sonny boy, I’ve diagnosed your problem. You’ve got cancer of the soul. You got rip that thing out. The cancer I mean.” So y’know, some of these conversations were more helpful than others.

What I remember mostly about Uncle Chick were my mom’s stories about his travels around the world in a brass band. Pretty romantic stuff for a kid. When I got to town though I found out the other side of the romance. He rented a bungalow on a quiet street and didn’t really have a true second room for me but what he offered was generous considering his financial circumstances. Whenever someone new came to the house he’d always walk them in by saying “I know it’s not much from the outside, but once you get inside it’s really small.” He’d throw a hand over your shoulder, laugh a little laugh each time like he’d just thought of it and escort you in like you were the most welcomed guest he’d ever hosted.

We bonded quickly though and I really wanted to find a way to help him. I know he didn’t probably have many people to turn to and I gathered he wasn’t the kind of guy to ask for help anyway.

Despite Nina’s protestations there really was a private investigator named Peter Israel. My uncle’s place had been broken into and they swiped the only things of value – his horns. As I quickly learned about Uncle Chick, his lack of resources was matched by his dearth of resourcefulness. He was old school L.A., down to basically making his living at Santa Anita and Hollywood Park (Maybe he spent too much time there. When I confided in him about Nina he told me about how horses are like women. Once you get beyond the shock of that image his analogy actually made an impression on me. He was not dim or even lazy, just not that interested in proving anything to anyone). When he wasn’t at the track, or on the road playing, or giving music lessons he drove a cab. That’s how I got the gig. He set me up with the cab company. He gave me three basic rules for that job: 1) Never post a sign enumerating the amount of cash I’m carrying – it only encourages the thieves. They are in it for the challenge he told me. 2) Refuse any fare who gets in and says “step on it” or “follow that car” as if they are being funny. 3) Accept a fare from someone who ASKS to keep the car running rather than barks “keep the car running.” And for the record, I found PIPI’s card laying in the ashtray of the first cab I borrowed.

He’s still working on the case. Not by coincidence PIPI also owns a pawn shop on Wilshire. A lot of stolen goods come in and he told me that’s how he solves a lot of his cases; nails them shortly thereafter. But he was realistic with me that if Uncle Chick’s merchandise was going to come through his shop it probably would have by now. I was kind of dubious any way. “Wouldn’t word on the street get around eventually that you are also a private eye and thieves would stop bringing in stolen goods to your pawn shop?” I asked him. “There is a word on the street, right? That’s how it works?” He probably thought I was trying to be a wise-ass but I was just really trying to get him to open up. I don’t expect he’ll find anything but I’d like to at least find a way to get some insurance money for my uncle. Although my severance package doesn’t go a long way out here I’ve been able to cover most of PIPI out of what’s left.

Anin elbowed me. “Dude, you with us?” He pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose and re-settled himself in his chair.

Nina was stuck on Spanksky. “Hey Manny, if you don’t mind, and seriously, if you don’t want to do this you don’t have to. But can you tell me what Dr….Spanksky,” spitting it out one more time, “was most able to help you with?”

I coughed, cleared my thought, rolled down a couple of the windows. Buying time again.

“Well it wasn’t always all about you, for what it’s worth,” I said with more intensity than I had intended.

I made sure to dial it back a little.

“Actually I don’t mind. I just have to think about it. I usually tried to avoid dissecting too much for fear of getting lost in inconsequential fixations. THAT was never easy, but even he was the one that basically told me to just riff. Sometimes I couldn’t help but fixate days in advance what I was going to talk with him about. And other days I would walk in and start talking before the door was even closed behind me.”

“And why’d you stop?”

“For starters I felt a little like I was getting too reliant on him. You know as well as anyone that I like to handle my own problems; clean up my own messes.”

“Yeah but this is not a mess you created. It’s just life.”

On Bardoed Time
“I just meant it as an expression. Anyway, the other thing is that like I said I was starting to spend too much time thinking about what I was going to tell him and it even started to feel like I was being redundant. The only thing worse than overindulgently thinking to myself is overindulgently thinking to myself in duplicate.”

“So did you just stop going or did you let him know you weren’t coming back?”

At that, Anin, who was pretending to read the paper jumped in.

“Guess.”

And we all chuckled.

“Yeah I guess you could say I did to him what you did to me.”

Silence.

“Laugh, people!” I said and smiled big and wide.

“Why so much interest?”

“I really do love to listen to you talk, and learn your thought process. It’s part of what really attracted me to you that first night out. And I’d always wanted to mention this to you and am kind of kicking myself for not doing so. You know what a bardo is?”

“Uh, can’t say that I do,” having zero idea where she was going with this.

“A bardo is a Buddhist term for being in-between two states of being. I think you’re caught in a bardo, drifting between what you left behind and what you are looking for. In fact, there’s a lot about your life that could be described as a bardo.”

I still wasn’t sure if this was going to be a good thing or a bad thing. That’s when I started feeling around my pockets for my phone and realized I left it at Uncle Chick’s. As much as I hated the thing I also hated being separated from it. You never know when you’re going to want it. Nina could see I was a little distracted all of a sudden, and I’m sure she thought I was just tuning her out.

“Hey Manny. Do you want to hear about this?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Sorry. Just realized I lost something. Or forgot something I should say.”

“Well for instance, if you go all the way back to the beginning, there’s a bardo when it comes to your parents. I mean that’s a pretty extraordinary experience, Manny. I have friends from broken homes but this is different. It wasn’t even broken in the classical sense because you had the most loving environment a person could hope for; it just happened to be with a single parent. But still, the way your dad left….it’s still a void and even if you think you were never negatively affected, you had to be changed…you know…by suppression…the subconscious kind!” Then she nudged my shoulder playfully from behind.

“Think about that Ed Drater story you wrote. That story is all about that kid, that guy, not to mention those around him, who all thought they were living one kind of life and they were living another. You don’t think there wasn’t something subconscious going on there when you chose it? I mean, come on, it’s black and white! Besides, you’re not so special, Manny. “ Then, quickly stopping herself so as not to appear insensitive she says ”Well, you ARE special. I mean shit, look what you talked me into. But you’re not that different from everyone else – as much as you would like to think you are. We’re all constantly searching for our voice, our identity, our place in the world. That’s the journey, isn’t it?”

I could see without turning my head that Anin was giving me that look. That look that says, “smart broad, you better listen to her.”

I thought about their chemistry in the car on the way up. The kind some couples have when they are not even able to touch each other. Me and Anin used to say that you know you have yourself a winner when she volunteers to pick you up at the airport. I won’t lie. There was probably more than one occasion where I practically created a trip just to test the candidate in question. I never had the chance with Nina. Would she do it for Anin? I’m thinking so.

The sun was going to start its descent but it was still plenty warm to keep the windows down and roof open. The breeze was unbeatable. I even leaned my head back now and then just to feel the power of the blast.

“I’m with Nina,” Anin said.

Unintentional metaphor police, we have another victim.

We pulled into pier for the Catalina ferry and grabbed our bags for the night’s stay. The air was fresh and pure.

“That thing you do with all those quotes you collect? Don’t get me wrong. It’s cool and I love reading them. But don’t you think that’s a substitute for your own words? I mean assume it started when you started having difficulty finding your words. And look what happened ultimately. You got punished for using words that people didn’t like.”

“Not people. Editors.”

“I don’t want to get carried away. You could not find a soul who is more poles apart than the two poles of psychology and religion but I do think Nina’s on to something there. So I don’t know anything about this stuff but the way I’m hearing it, it’s not necessarily a negative, horrible thing. Granted you can look at it as being unanchored; a no man’s land. But seems like it can be kind of liberating too, if you recognize it, accept it, and deal with it appropriate.”

“Lee. Appropriately.”

“You ARE a handful sometimes, you know that buddy? My point is that it also creates endless space between two goal posts. I mean you can say there are no boundaries and no direction or you can say that the field is wide open to whatever direction you want to take. I guess the bottom line to me is that you may have misplaced your voice but it’s not lost. I am no one to be giving advice but if I were you I’d lay off the lists and the quote-shopping for a while. Get back to who you are based on what you think and feel, not others. But what do I know,” he said self-deprecatingly.

We boarded the ferry and it was the quietest stretch of our day. I don’t know if it was the chance to finally stretch or the sound of the smooth waters against the boat that was so calming but we all just seemed to mellow out as we watched the people and surroundings.

The ride is only about an hour. Maybe that’s why we soaked it in. It’s pretty hard these days to find moments of unplanned and unblemished serenity.

Nina spotted a couple of dolphins, which of course required pointing out. I was able to bite my tongue from saying something along the lines of “Yep, I get it. Dolphins. Jumping in and out of the water.” Serenity Now!

As we disembarked I remembered that Niles had told me that the two choices for running around Catalina are the city of Avalon and Two Harbors. He also pointed out that Two Harbors is where they filmed “Gilligan’s Island,” and asked if I would I make sure to send him some pictures of Two Harbors. So we took off for the Avalon shoreline.

Some folks were clearly headed for snorkeling and diving. My position when it comes to the water is that unless I am taking a shower or caught in the rain I prefer to go our separate ways. I once nearly drowned in a wave pool in Miami but I think I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay.

Walking along Avalon we found ourselves a B&B to stay in. I neglected to mention that part that occurred in the ride down. I don’t even remember how I lost the vote on that one. There is only one bad thing about a B&B and that’s the second “B.” After what we will assume had been a pleasant night’s sleep you then trudge downstairs and have to look at people you don’t know – IN THE MORNING – and have breakfast with them. I don’t think so.

A part of me died with every little private hotel we passed. After dropping off the bags we walked around the restaurants until we found one we liked, though we had to wait for a while.

“Can I have a name?” asked the hostess politely.

I backed off with my hands up basically to say, not me, find another volunteer. I could make a little home movie of all the expressions and reactions I get when I am checking into a hotel or at an airport gate or whatever and they are looking at my license and then me, and then my license and then me, hoping against hope that they don’t have to guess at my name out loud. And to think that if my mom had married the old man she would have been Eleanor Pupik-Fagut.

We sat outside and had a great view of the island. We stretched and relaxed at the table. I think we all needed this. It wasn’t long before the mood shifted to where we were all lighthearted (and probably lightheaded).

I immediately thought I spotted Gretchen Mol at another table. Or was it Kim Basinger? No, had to be Gretchen Mol if anyone.

Anin caught me staring.

“Dude,” he said, clearing his throat as if to admonish me like my schoolteachers trying to get me to turn around in my seat.

“I just thought maybe that was…”

“Doesn’t matter. Just don’t.”

Since I had moved to L.A. I fell into that trap of celebrity spotting. It’s kind of the local sport.

So I turned to a subject that I knew he couldn’t resist.

“Okay, but let’s agree that you cheat on Kim Basinger but not on Gretchen Mol.”

A half-second of thought and an approving nod. “Agreed,” he said.

Nina looked on in horror.

We were undeterred.

“I’m also offended by women that are put up as being attractive and they’re really not. Like Rachel McAdams.”

“Yeah, and Laura Dern.”

“Wait. You mean, Laura Dern or Juliette Lewis? I always get those two mixed up.”

“Your answer would be yes.”

“Ever notice that some people are photogenic and not necessarily attractive and some are naturally attractive but somehow not photogenic? This girl I used to date, Samantha Zane. Sexy name, right? She was really attractive but somehow not that photogenic. I don’t think I saved even one picture. But what I’ll remember most about her is our ‘blown away’ agreement. The only true open sexual relationship I ever had. The agreement was when she was away on travel I could still get blown, but nothing more.”

Then Anin picked back up on the cheat-no cheat thread. “How about Jessica Biel? Cheat or no cheat?”

“Mmmm, I’m saying cheat on Jessica Alba, but not on Jessica Biel. And I’m assuming that everyone who gets in Jessica Simpson cheats on her, so no harm done there.

“Just out of curiosity,” Nina started to ask, not at all out of curiosity but more like an awful kind of wondering, “Is there a bar? At all?”

She saw Anin and I share our blank looks with each other. “A bar?” If she wanted a drink….

“No, you nimrods, not THAT bar, I mean a bar as in how low can you go. If there is I would just like to know where it is so I recognize it when I see it, or hear it.”

“Ummm.”

“Guys, could you PLEASE stop? I’m sitting right here.” Then laughing sardonically at her own discovery she said “Being around you both is like being with Jerry Maguire. You complete each other.”

Nina went on to ask Anin about his adventures in Africa. I’d heard it all so I wasn’t really interested in hearing it again. Not that his stories were uninteresting. And Anin is an expansive storyteller. He can’t tell a story without stretching his long arms and big hands in all manner of gestures. I was probably just still toying around with everything that had been said at the end of the ride.

So I said, “Hey who do I have to talk to get people to stop wearing those awful passport security necklaces in the airport.”

“First of all…WHAT??? And second of all, correct me if I’m wrong but did you not have a little incident yourself with losing a passport. It wasn’t lost it was absconded with.”

“And anyway, that’s just me. I’m not like everyone else.”

“Really?” they said in unison.

“Okay, can we just order you guys.”

“I think we can all agree on that,” I said. “Driving…”

“I know,” said Anin. “Driving makes you hungry.” And don’t worry, we know you won’t split anything that has a seed, a bone, or squirts in your mouth.”

Nina perked up at that last one with a quizzical look. I’d been able to hide most of the food issues from her by carefully selecting restaurants and not allowing her to make any meals for me.

I was quietly assessing the physical environment and curious about any potential PDA and so with probably a little more edge than anyone expected, I said in protest, “So what? So big deal that I don’t like tomatoes and grapes and all that stuff that shoots off into your mouth. It’s not the least bit tasteful or refreshing. It’s almost like an assault.”

Anin looked over at Nina. “I think it’s actually a texture issue. Don’t let it bother you.”

“Oh it’s no bother. I just had no idea. Wow. The stuff you learn about people when you go on a road trip with your ex-boyfriend.”

Hated hearing that out loud.

“It’s like the dude’s got his own set of kosher rules,” Anin mumbled to himself.

“Hey,” I intoned, wagging my finger. “One man’s idiosyncracies are another man’s selective taste.”

“Maybe you should collect all of those, Manny, instead of the quotes. Write a book around that. Or maybe you could make a routine out of it and go to amateur night at The Improv.

“Hey Nina, you ever notice how Manny only buys products in clear containers. Milk, liquid soap, shampoo…even the deodorant.”

I started to feel like I had a defense team of one at this point. “What is so horrible about wanting to know exactly how much is left. Why should I have to guess? Who’s the better off in that situation, me or you and all the other fools who find yourself caught short? That’s just good planning.”

“Then why do you have like, six of everything in your closet? If you know exactly down to the last millimeter when you are running low so you can go out and replace it then why do you stockpile? I’m pretty sure you are safe from the apocalypse. You don’t have to warehouse half of Walgreens at your place.”

“There’s a very good reason for that. Because I don’t want to have to run to the store like you do every three days to replace one of this and one of that. The more you are out there in traffic the more susceptible you are to an accident or something.”

Pleading his case Anin said, “Yes but my way I never have to worry about heavy bags. Your way you are always schlepping all this junk around. Wait a minute…why I am having a contest with you on this? You are practically OCD, but I don’t care. I’m just pointing it out.”

“Kosher and schlep. Anin I don’t believe I ever recall you using two words like that within the space of five minutes. You run into some of the lost tribes out there in Africa? You considering converting now?

“Slow down you two,” Nina said, fearing the worst. But there was nothing to fear. This was standard conversation. Competitive, yes, but also playful. In an act of chivalry Anin decided to take the high road, not to mention as a way to reassure Nina that nothing personal was going on.

“Here’s the deal with him,” and Anin throwing a big arm affectionately over me. “There’s no denying he’s very picky about all sorts of these things but you just got to roll with it. He’s bigger than that stuff. Don’t define him by it. Trust me, I’ve learned. You just got to roll with it. He’s bigger than those things. Don’t define him by it,” he repeated. “Trust me it is outweighed a thousand times over by all the good stuff. Okey doke?”

Nina was a little taken aback because she didn’t feel like she was tormenting me, but she went along so as not to start any inadvertent disputes. “Okey doke, then,” which was kind of Anin’s trademark saying, so It was a little jarring hearing it come from her; that they were now adopting each other’s language and maybe mannerisms. But what the hell, these two were clearly more temperamentally suited for each other.

Since the sun was going to fade I asked the waitress to take a couple shots of the three of us. Anin handed over his phone and we moved our chairs in to each other. I was in the middle and draped an arm around the shoulders of each of them.

I always say there are two kinds of people in the world. And by that I mean, just give me a category and I will explain.

--There are people who love comedy clubs and people who don’t find anything funny about it.

--You are either instantly likeable or you grow on people.

--You are either a Robert or a Bob. You are Robert Plant and Bob Dylan and not ever the other way around (unless you are Robert Zimmerman. And then there are the name-dropping show-offs who refer to “Bobby DeNiro.” Yeah, okay).

--You either like to have attention lavished upon you or you just want to mix in with the almost unnoticed.

--You either know when an email or text thread has run its course, or you have no idea who is saying the final goodbye.

--You are either someone who likes and is accustomed to being checked out or you are the one always checking out somebody.

--You are either the type that can spend your time in the gym un-self consciously or you can never resist a shot at yourself in the mirror. On a related note, nothing bugs me more than a couple jogging loudly together to the point that I can follow their conversation. I said something about that one day to Nina as we were walking to breakfast and she said, “Really? Nothing bugs you more than that? Nothing?” She had a habit of taking me literally. But seriously, why do I have to be subjected to people who have to announce that they are running in public with great form and ardor. “Oh look at us, look at us! Come see the two self-indulgently attractive fit yuppies wearing chic workout gear and carrying non-disposable, non-one-time-use bottles. See us run. See us converse. See us bond. Blecch.

And there are also two kinds of people when it comes to relationships. There are those to whom you are instantly attracted to and then there are those that you can’t quite figure out, you don’t even see it coming and then one day you realize this person is totally growing on you. Clearly Nina was in the former category for me and I was in the latter category for her. Maybe that was part of the issue. Maybe not. You may even be surprised that I say this given the first night’s result. I always had it in the back of my mind that night was my “Miracle on Ice,” and I would never see her again, at least not that way. I don’t have to remind you how enthralled I was. The hormones, the endorphins, the adrenalin, you name it. For Nina, I was willing to accept that it was just something pleasantly surprising she fell into and that did not necessarily have to precipitate a relationship (I’m not saying she was a slut, Mom!).

Anyway, that’s my theory. If you think about it, based on what I told you, Anin and I became friends by my growing on him. And for whatever the reason I just think that’s what most people would say about me if you asked.

I asked those guys that if a cross-section of people who knew them well were asked to describe them would those folks all say roughly the same thing or would the answers be different. They both said that people would essentially say the same thing about each of them. I of course had the other answer for myself.

We were well into dinner by this point but in no rush to get anywhere.

“Well here’s the biggest difference between me and Anin, I said.”

“I don’t have the words but Anin doesn’t need them.”

“What does that mean?” asked Nina, “but I could tell that Anin was curious too.

“To give you an idea, in college when we had those stupid parties and dances, I could never find the right words to start or sustain a conversation. Like, Anin never had to ask anyone to dance. He would just look at them casually and based on the intensity of the mutual eye contact, nod and they reached the spot together. That’s pretty powerful. That’s charisma. It’s like that Donald Trump quote – ‘I nod and it’s done.’ And either you got it or you don’t. In my case? I’ve asked women out who seem so surprised that I would even think there could possibly be any interest that I’ve practically had to apologize for the right to be rejected. I can never win. They’re pissed when you ignore them and they’re pissed when you take a run at ‘em. So yeah, when I’m looking, it’s staring; when Anin does it, it’s like a scent.” We laughed because we all knew it wasn’t said in self-pity but as a compliment to Anin.

Nina gave me a long look.

“What’d I do? I said raising my shoulders.

“Like you’ve been staring at the waitress all night?”

“First of all, I wasn’t staring…”

I was a little put off because a) I WAS staring and I hate getting caught and b) because I thought she might bring up that I used to look at her in the gym. I was always uncomfortable when we dated that she might go there because there was no defending it. And I certainly didn’t need to have it brought up now.”

But she interrupted me with something else.

“First of all, you were staring. Second of all, I personally don’t care and in fact I don’t blame you. She’s smoking and if I were you I would not let the opportunity pass.”

“Bardo, man. Bardo,” said Anin.

“Thank you, Yoda. Or should I say Richard Gere.” But I don’t think so. That’s not how I do it and you know it. But if you really want to kill some time I can tell you all the different ways that Anin has met his girlfriends.”

Nina swiveled just a bit in her seat, not sure if I was just going to come out with it. Ordinarily you’d say this is something that’s going to make a woman of her quality uncomfortable but come on you have to admit based on what you know about Anin this is something you want to know, am I right?

“I think I’ll dispense with the obvious ones, like the intern, Niles’ kid’s nanny, the nurse from his knee surgery. Funny how that one started an in-home care business. Let’s see, one of my favorites was the time he went for a haircut and as he’s in the chair he’s actually able to make eye contact, via the mirror he is facing, with the hair cutting lady working on someone in the chair behind him who returns the eye contact and leaves her number with the register chick to give Anin when he pays. Let’s see…the step-mother of his girlfriend. There was the time he was driving and yapping on the phone, comes to a red light, turns his head for no reason and of course there idling in the next lane is a gorgeous red-head, who turns and locks eyes with him. Before they got to the next block they had pulled over and exchanged numbers. That night they exchanged the rest. Then there was the porn star. Although he always reminds me that she wasn’t technically a “star.” And then…this is my favorite. He was emailing someone that I’d actually introduced him to. And she wasn’t really into it until when spellchecking an email to her the program automatically changed the misspelling of ‘lear” which he meant as “learn” into “leer” and when he hit accept and send too soon she thought that it was so funny that she kept insisting that he “leer” at her so of course it wasn’t long before that bang-a-thon began. Shall I go on? Let me tell you sweetheart, I could have had as many as he did but I preferred not to just sleep with any girl who was drunk enough to be inhibited to go down on me. Believe it or not I actually want women to like me; to want to be with me for me.”

Anin was hoping I would either run out of breath or let the natural stages of embarrassment take over me. Those would be: Stage 1: I’m not sure how far to push this but what the hell. Stage 2: Is anyone else starting to feel like I do. Stage 3: I’m starting to feel pretty stupid. Stage 4: Yeah embarrassment has set in. Stage 5: Now how do I get out of this.

I guess I don’t need to tell you that this whole time I am not completely divorced from my feelings from Nina. She is just impossible not to be attracted to. But I know nothing’s happening again between the two of us and even if I were to have another three way (did I just say that) it’s not going to be with any chance of crossing swords and certainly not with Clutch Cargo to my right.

So I did what I do best, which is change the subject.

“Do you ever find yourself getting tired from eating? I don’t mean like with Chinese food when you always want a nap. I mean like you get physically tired from the constant repetitive motion of moving your hands to cut a meal and picking up your drink all the time and all the jaw muscles? No? Neither of you?”

“I sometimes find,” Anin said while lifting his glass and looking at Nina, “that it’s just better to let him finish his riff and create room for the next subject.”

“Okay, then let me ask you two a question, since you are now….whatever it is you are. What would you say you do best in a relationship.”

“Manny, I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Nina said.

I looked at Anin.

“Don’t look at me,” he said.

“Well I suppose I could just talk to myself.”

“That’s fine,” she said. I’d love to know what’s on your mind. As long as you can change the subject.”

Would You Ask For Something, Like Another Chance
It got really quiet after that. Like on the ferry, quiet. But for different reasons. I was actually now looking forward to that B&B just to change the scenery. There was an awesome front porch with a swing and there was a great deck out back.

“Where you guys want to hang?” I asked. The first unloaded question all night it seemed.

“I think I’ll let you two fight it out, I’m just going upstairs, open the window and read for a while,” said guess who.

“Hey, come on,” I pleaded with no agenda other than wanting to enjoy her company. Despite everything we’d been through, if one thing never changed it’s that I just enjoyed being in her company. I don’t even know a word for that feeling. It’s a kind of charisma I guess if you want to be with someone that much even when you can’t have what you had.

“Seriously Nina, no games. It’s just for the hang.”

“I know, I’m just ready. You guys have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”

If Anin and I knew one thing about her it’s not to push something on her. We gave her a simultaneous sweet wave of the hand.

And thus ensued the shortest conversation for the longest duration between us two.

“Manny…”

“Yeah…”

“We cool?”

“Always. No worries.” And I meant it and he knew it.

We embraced.

We then enjoyed some of California’s finest organic offerings and simply passed the time, listening for each new sound that the evening offered.

And then we fell asleep outside on the porch. No, we were not both on the swing.

The next morning I was able to talk them out of that whole awful breakfast with strangers fiasco-in-the-making. Instead we caught the next ferry back and by the time we got back in the Jeep the sharp blue sky replaced the previous night’s pitch-black background for the stars’ celestial map. I kept running a hand through my hair so it would catch as much breeze as possible.

I was looking for a light-hearted way to get the conversation rolling and I tried to keep the conversation going also while driving at a pace that wouldn’t bring attention to my overshooting the exit back home. Unconsciously, know what I mean?

“Funny you should be so eager to talk tonight, Manny. You never want to talk to anyone. There were times I felt like an emotional plumber to get you to open up.”

“As for the first attack, Nina, it’s not that I don’t want to talk to anyone it’s just that I hate small talk, which is 90 percent of daily conversation. Why do you think they call it SMALL talk. Yap, yap, yap.”

“And for my second point?”

“Your question is also your answer,” I said full of self-satisfaction even though I had this sinking feeling that it actually didn’t a) have the desired effect, because b) it didn’t make sense in this context.”

Anin gave me a little shake of the head that had a kind of Charlie Chaplin “Little Champ” swing of the mouth to indicate that I had whiffed. It was not the first time.

“Who’s ready for another subject,” I said. “Tell me what you’ll miss most when you’re gone.”

“That’s awfully morose, Manny. If we’re going to keep doing this can we do something different?” That was Nina.

“No, no, I know what he means. It’s not like that.” That was Anin. “He actually means it in a more positive way. He’s actually kind of misunderstood that way. Not nearly as fatalistic as you think. Except in the sense that he believes in fate. He’s more asking, like…mmm, like what do you really appreciate. What’s worth living for.”

“Then you go first,” she said, clearly dubious that either he or I could go through this without defaulting to the obvious.

“It’s cool. We do this all the time,” said Anin. “Let’s see, I could probably start with this evening,” and he let rip with a huge laugh: And then he went on.

--Nighttime playoff games at Chavez Ravine

--Hanging out at The Viper Room and Whiskey A Go-Go.

--When HBO reruns back to back in order an entire’s year of a series like “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”

--Intermission at a play. Especially if they have a good snack counter.

--Surfing cable at 2 a.m. and coming across a classic episode of Columbo or Mayberry RFD.

--The sound of a car’s wheels rolling up or down a gravel road.

--Frequent flyer mile upgrades.

--Van Gogh, Picasso, Gaugin.

--The line-up of chicks on “Deal or No Deal.” Hey, I had to have at least one gratuitous entry.

--The perfectly fitted pair of board shorts.

--Watching “Toy Story” again. And “Aladdin,” when I’m high.

--Being high.

--Running into a celebrity in L.A. and not being disappointed.

--The post game rants by football coaches at the press conferences right after a loss.

--When college teams from the deep South lose to teams from anywhere else.

--Movies that take you by surprise. Not necessarily surprise endings like “The Usual Suspects” but more like Lost In Translation that just grow on your during the film.

--The change from summer to fall and winter to spring.

--The feeling of knifing the water from the high dive.

“Hey can I throw in something that I won’t miss?

“You have the floor,” I said.

“I won’t miss ATM service charges. And Michael Strahan as TV pitchman. Also, any products by Under Armour. HATE that logo and the people who wear it as actual clothing rather than at the gym where it’s intended.”

“Oooookay,” that was really worth the special permission. “Go on.”

--Virgin America.

--Tearing through huge piles of street-lined leaves on a bike.

--Certain sensations. Like besides the obvious ones. Hey have I ever told you that I’d really like to know what it feels like to be shot? Only if I could be guaranteed to live. So, just for the sensation of it. I wonder where it’s safest to be shot. (I suggested Iowa).

--Those undershirts now that have the imprinted tag instead of the cloth tag sewn in. Those are cool. Major lifestyle upgrade.

--Waiting for the next Charlie Sheen meltdown to hit the tabloids.

--The perfect horn section.

--Throwing the football around with my old man.

--Dinner with Manny and Mrs. F….

“Oh, that’s sweet,” said Nina, and effectively cutting off Anin as she was finally comfortable enough to participate.

--Sales at Anthropologie.

That prompted me and Anin to exchange glances and clear their throats.

--The sound of my nieces and nephews laughing.

--A perfect candlelit meal.

--Stanford red.

--My annual sorority reunion.

I had no choice but to interrupt. I was only kind of half paying attention at this point. Even though I know Anin inside and out I was actually more interested in his list.

“You were in a sorority?!” Then I kind of swore to myself half under my breath. How could I have missed that, I thought to myself, as if that revelation alone explained everything.

--The weekend food co-op farmer’s market.

--“Grey’s Anatomy” and “House”.

--The Hawaii Triathlon.

--Dinner in Paris. Shopping in Italy. Sunbathing in Spain. No wait, Greece! Museums in Amsterdam….

I couldn’t help myself any longer. “You forgot comedy clubs in Germany.”

She shushed me.

And now, for the very first time I started to play with the idea that maybe Nina and I had no business being with each other in the first place. Or for the long term.

“Hey Manny I think we missed an exit way back there,” said Nina. “This doesn’t look right at all. Besides, I think it’s your turn by now.”

I know a lot of folks run from their flaws, quirks, and charred history like the way they buff out every last ding and dent to their car, to preserve its perfect sheen long after that is realistically possible on its own. I’m fine with the damage that’s been done because it’s okay, maybe even necessary to be defined by it. Spanksky talked to me a lot about how my dominant – dominant or developed?- interior life. Oh well, either way. Either way, I think I get it. And as long as the interior is humming I don’t really concern myself with what people think about the exterior.

Anin was still sitting to my right. By now Nina had slumped a bit in her seat in the back, stretching her long legs to the top of the compartment between me and Anin, who then instinctively reached over for her ankle and rubbed her foot gently. His hat tipped down over his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

I slowed down, made a U-turn and headed back in the right direction.

* * *

Talking Heads – “The Book I Read”

I'm writing 'bout the

Book I read

I have to sing about the

Book I read

I'm embarrassed to admit it hit the soft spot in my heart

When I found out you wrote the Book I read so

Take my shoulders as they touch your arms I've

Got little cold chills but I feel alright The

Book I Read was in your eyes oh oh

Oh...I'm living in the future.

I feel wonderful.

I'm tipping over backwards

I'm so ambitious

I'm looking back I'm

Running a race and you're the book I read so

Feel my fingers as they

touch your arms

I'm spinning around but I feel alright

The book I read was in your eyes

Oooooh...I'm living in the future

I feel wonderful

I'm tipping over backwards

I'm so ambitious

I'm looking back I'm

Running a race and you're the books I read so

Feel my fingers as they touch you arms I'm

Spinning around and I feel alright

The book I read was in your eyes

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