London

I have this overwhelming feeling of guilt hanging over me like a wet blanket. I've been in London for five days, and I have done nothing but mostly stay in my friend Susie's flat, curled up in her couch, reading a trashy science fiction novel (aside from some business-related appointments, of course). Since I am here, shouldn't I be out traipsing around this wonderful city? I never can bring myself to explore London whenever I am here, for some reason. Perhaps it is the sheer size of the city - it's overwhelming. Perhaps it is because this is my first chance to enjoy a home that, while it is not mine, is my own space for a few days and is NOT a hotel room. Either way, I haven't even taken a picture since I've been here. Ridiculous.

Regardless of my sense of "should", which brings about this light wash of guilty emotion, I've really enjoyed my trip here. Simple pleasures, I guess. I finished my trashy sci-fi novel, and I have discovered that the third movement of Beethoven's String Quartet in a minor, Op.132 is one of my new favorite pieces of music.

I can't wait to head home tomorrow to sleep in my own bed and cook in my own kitchen for a week before I head off to Los Angeles.

Anniversary

Two years ago, I finally succeeded in my quest to convince a certain Jeremy to have a drink with me. He was one of the new pianists in the HGO studio that year, and I had developed an ever-so-slight crush on him after our first Studio meeting of the season at the beginning of September.

Since that meeting, I had asked him repeatedly to join for me for an adult beverage, but each time he declined. Unbeknownst to me, a friend of his who also worked at HGO had warned him to stay away from me. When later pressed for the reasons for his cautionary sentiment, he ominously said, “He eats other people’s food.”

One day at the end of September, Jeremy was riding his bicycle around 6:00 in the evening and was run off the road by a drunk driver. He flipped over his handle bars and landed hard, breaking his wrist and elbow. This knocked him out of commission for the next 12 weeks. Suddenly, he couldn’t hide behind the excuse that he needed to practice when I would invite him out. Seeing my prey in his weakened and vulnerable state, I dove in for the kill.

So, Jeremy finally relented one night, and we went out for a drink after a rehearsal. We went to JR’s and sipped on scotch out on the patio, which we miraculously had to ourselves. It was a slightly awkward but wonderful evening – both of us unsure as to what exactly it was. It proved to be our first date.

Two years later, I consider myself one lucky man to be with my sweet, adorable, brilliant Jeremy. I have never felt so loved or valued by anyone as him, and coming home to him is the most wonderful blessing I can imagine. He grounds me, he pushes me to grow in ways I never imagined I could, and is also one of the most fun people I know.

Happy Anniversary, my sweet.