In the coming days I’m separating myself from Atlanta and all electronic devices. Call it a factory reset. I’ll be visiting my mom, the ocean and the blustery cliffs of my birth state.

Deepest apologies in advance for the withdraws you’ll no doubt have without my daily updates, but I promise to make it up to you upon my return. In the event that you’re wondering why I can’t update while I’m gone, take your pick from the following
~ I’ll be doing other things, are you fucking kidding me?
~ I, along with the rest of the world, am out to get you.
~ You have been very, very naughty and deserve to be punished.
~ Unlike others who use blogging tools like Blogger (and there is nothing wrong with that) I have some freakish need to keep it old school and write it out longhand.

Until then, read up on Intern Nick in this USA Today article and drink more water.

It was only a matter of time before I (or anyone, I’m not that egomeniacal) started having text-message wrong-numbers.

Yesterday morning, sitting at my desk I recieved “R U HAVIN FUN” from a number not programmed in my cell (404-512-2761…is this you?). I was recently discussing with a friend about wrong numbers and having half hour conversations with the person on the other end of the line. I very easily could have carried on the equivilent…alas…I did not. I fear the unknown.

In the bigger picture, everyone needs a little more Jackson Browne in their life. I myself, have tickets to enjoy him in person at Chastain this June and couldn’t be more thrilled. That’s a lie. I probably could be more thrilled, but Kyle and Steve can tell you my eyes actually watered when the sale was complete.

Before I forget, my sunburn said to say “hello”.

Saturday I went to the Eastman Gun Show with Kyle, Steve, Steve and Mark. Very exciting things to be seen there, bullets that do all sorts of fancy tricks, and bargains galore. Kyle went ahead and picked himself up an AK47 , while Steve-O treated himself to a plethora of bullets, Mark to some tracers and Steve K. nothing. I myself purchased some Pepper Spray, which was entertaining to me almost immediately, as Kyle presented a physical reaction to it as soon as the package was opened.

Saturday night the same crew (minus Mark plus Kelly and Tommy) went to see The Ladykillers. I’ll withold my review because by now we all know that I don’t like much of anything the first time I experience it. Following this there was dinner at Smokey Bones — which would have been great if I hadn’t gone there before the movie. Love that place. Mmmmm tasty.

And now, in an ode to Intern Nick (by special request): my weekend in pictures.

I remain in the comforting embrace of the endless streets, signs, people, buildings and breath of this city.

Tuesday evening found Leah and I wandering for countless blocks as we played catch with “what do you want for dinner?” –> “I don’t know, what do you want for dinner”. When we finally caught a cab, we took it to The West Village. What a terrific little area. So many shops and window candy and brilliant, hip, colorful inhabitants. It’s energy wasn’t unlike Haight-Ashbury.

A garlic craving of mine ultimately landed us, along with my old friend Alex and I ate a wretched little Italian place. The conversation and wine were good, even if the food wasn’t. Of course I got a bonus thrill out of the subway beneath us causing the floor to shake.

It’s been around 8 years since I saw Alex, he’s doing well. He’s starting at gig at Sirius after recently relocating from Cali. It was good to see someone who knew me when…and lived to tell about it.

Thursday was work, work, work, and getting lost, getting lost, getting lost. I’ll tell you what, that could quite possibly be my favorite pastime. I spent hours on the streets of Manhattan without a clue as to where I was and I loved it.

A casual observation: that city is lousy with iPods. At one point I decided to count the white headphones and when I realized how pointless it was (on account of I can’t go that high), I surrendered.

Jack’s press briefing went exceptionally well, and before long we (Leah, her boss, Jack and I) were on our way to dinner at the Manhattan Ocean Club where we met Jack’s friend Shelly and one of her coworkers. Champagne, lots of laughs and great stories by Shelly about her husband the “ass-doc”. Leah and I went back to her place for a bit after dinner since we knew Indy was doing the pee-pee dance. An episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm (I still don’t get it, sorry) I decided it was time to haul it back to the hotel. The walk from 71st and Columbus to 54th btwn 6th & 7th was a nice one — even at 11:00 at night. Plenty of people on the street, a walk past the Opera house and more kept my mind reeling. When I finally did arrive back at the hotel, I stayed only long enough to put on my tennies and walkin’ pants and head to Times Square a few short blocks from the hotel. Though it wasn’t everything I thought it might be, the walking around the perimeter and through it’s core kept me busy for over an hour.

All three major tourist spots I visited — Rockefeller, Empire and Times Square — were smaller than I thought they’d be. Not that it’s bad…just different.

It’s amazing where find you have expectations you were unaware of.

Just the same I had a beautiful time and was sorry to get up at 6:00am to catch the car back to the airport and come home. I believe I’ll find myself living in that mystical place one day in the not too distant future.

This city oozes with the spirit that brings your world brightness, that speeds your pulse, that makes you long for a youth that granted you endless energy and no need for sleep.

As is often the case with dear Leah as my guide, the evening was filled, a whirlwind of sights, tastes, sounds and smells…and a great deal of laughter. But the city? It’s powerful energy envelopes you and its people are vibrant.

Yesterday in the town car en route to the hotel I was teased with a view of Grand Central Station, the Public Library (and what was formerly Needle Park), the CNN set, the HBO edifice and other random buildings and addresses that would only be of interest and significance to me.

Following the journey to the center of the free world and a clumsy tip handoff issue that mimicked a plot line on Curb Your Enthusiasm last week, Leah arrived and whisked me into the night.

A cold evening meant short lines to contest with at tourist staples like the Empire State building, a destination whoms warm belly we arrived after a dozen or so blocks of brisk walking with the stragglers of the day shift wearily accompanying us.

The dark air was crystalline. The view was flawless and though the gusts of wind found a home in my soul atop that structure.

The city is magnificent and I am hypnotized by her dance.

Following dinner and a few glasses of wine in a pub off Gramercy Park, a cab back to Leah’s studio whisked us past Central Park, the new office and the street that saw John Lennon’s tragic demise.

More walking, a visit to The Fairway Market and piece of very decadent chocolate cake later, I passed Greg Allman following a concert at the Beacon Theatre, only three feet and a cab door separated us. His age reminded me of my own.

This morning, I took an unintentionally scenic route back to corporate America…walking a good bit out of my way in order to ultimately arrive at the office but seeing and smelling the meat of the city along the way.

The views are spectacular; the office perched just above Columbus Circle with a sweeping view of Central Park. The light that spills in the space is magical.

Imagine if you will, climbing into a Wrangler.

Now imagine doing it Dukes of Hazard Style, grabbing the frame and hurling yourself into the captians chair.

Now imagine nailing yourself with one of these (see below) smack in the middle of your ass cheek.

Thanks.

My tender and fleshy bootie was bruising within the hour, and it’s marked with a nice 4 in diameter tye-dye-ish blend of reds, purples, greens and blues. Yes, I considered posting a picture of the mark…but no one really wants to see that.

I often wonder how people in my parents generation managed before the internet. I remember my mother in the school office running copies of the newsletter she typed with ditto paper. Do you remember the mimeograph? You had to crank it by hand…and everything had to be on paper. Class directories, schedules, everything. Want the news? Wait until it comes on TV at 6:30 and if you miss it, tough shit. No CNN.com for instant gratification. Want to find a picture that resembles that bump on your chest to figure out if it’s an ingrown hair or leprosy? No-can-do. No WebMD. How do you research a company with whom you were going to interview? Where do you go to find recipes that don’t include potatoes as an ingredient? How long would it take to get directions or find a phone number? Who do you ask when you want to find good places to hike in the area or what others thought of the new restaurant down the street? How did you find a date or meet people?

These were the days of trial by fire. Of the mimeograph. Of blue fingers and child labor (that would be me cranking that stupid machine). These were the days when we spoke to our neighbors and held block parties. Before cable television and call waiting. This was a time when we didn’t know what we were missing. When we couldn’t possibly fathom the vastness and the interconnectedness.

Hell, I remember the family sitting around the tape recorder, each of the four of us kids taking our turn recording for family in California the song we learned in class that week or detailing how we did on our math test or what role we won in the school play. We’d snail-mail this tape to the relatives and a few weeks later we’d get one in return.

In recent months, several individuals I knew in my youth have managed to track me down via the wonders of cyberspace. How could that possibly have happened 20 years ago? I’ve moved several times and changed my name. A “WANTED” poster with pictures of me from 1989 would hardly have yielded results.

How times have changed.

That said…thanks to Tim Berners-Lee, for making it possible to reconnect with my past. For making it possible for me to record the mostly boring details of my life and throw them out here for consumption or…not. For freedom and endless possibilities. For helping humanity attempt to understand infinity.