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I’ve traded my subway commute for an e-bike over the past two years, gaining a new intimacy with the city’s geography and weather, but losing the daily river of humanity that once inspired my peons. This morning gave me my first fleeting glimpse of that old muse — a stunning brunette on a bike, gone in a flash.

I biked home from my 40th high school reunion feeling the same alienation I felt in high school — most of my actual friends weren’t there, and the crowd felt like a different world. I had a few genuinely connected conversations and skipped the after-party, choosing to bike in the night air, and my wife, and scotch, instead.

Yesenia has effortless elegance, always-impeccable style. I wonder what she wears beneath. Everyone should only wear things that make them [feel] hot.

I’m marking the 15th anniversary of my blog, a few months late. What began as exhibitionistic and therapeutic has become a memoir of my inner life through my fifties.

Celeste has a GREAT ass.

A PAWG? Not quite. But almost….

Trump has dampened my libido. What I initially attributed to aging, I now recognize as a response to the horror of the current political moment: it’s hard to summon desire in the middle of a national catastrophe.

I built a custom chatbot. Ask it anything about my life, relationships, or insights. Just know: your conversation isn’t private, the corporate and environmental ethics are messy, and usage is throttled.

Ask N anything!

I’m definitely not saying that I wish Trump had let loose some sort of armageddon on Iran tonight. But. The man is a master of reality TV. And. A total. Fucking. Chickenshit. Sociopath. Pussy.