MARCH 4, 2008 - THE ASPIRING OCEAN

I left the city of Odessa and the country of Ukraine last night with a mixed bag of dirty laundry, arthritic pills and emotions.

(Side note = something is truly wrong with our country when I paid over $200 a month of the best health insurance plan I could get and a $15 co-pay for a month's supply of medicine for my arthritis but can go to another country and get the same month's supply for $3). MOTHERFUCKING CONSERVATIVES.

There's something about Odessa that intrigues me. Though still cold, I actually came across a decent amount of interesting people. Maybe it's the plethora of universities, prevalence of BADASS coffee shops or the uprising of cheeks and promises strewn across the faces of this academic town. They're pretty progressive there -- progressive being a relative term and doing off-the-wall shit like smiling and not wearing pointy leather shoes. Odessa is a historically important port city to the Soviet Empire -- serving as an artery for Black Sea traders of what teh fuck I'm not here to talk about history or the Ottoman Empire or Catherine the Great; I'm here to talk about me, the food I eat, my emotions (how gay was that), and my paltry attempts at cross-cultural pollination (oogah boogah now, suckas).

You know, this whole meeting, forming and leaving friends thing is quite a phenomenon. It kind of reminds of when I was little, I loved the song, "With or Without You" by U2. The lyrics really fucked with my head (I was about 9 or 10) and I think that was when I truly recognized the complexities of human relationships.

"You mean, you can't live, with her, or without her? What does that mean, then? What does it equate to? Is this what I have to look forward to when I get older?"

Well, this trip served as a stark reminder of what I learned 20 years ago. I left the next and for the past month or so, resided in other people's nests, dens, burrows, even kitchens. Then what? Just move on and find the next perch? Ok, fine by me and I'm stoked about it and all, but with each departure there's always these traces of sadness in me. Leaving Ed and Aya were no exception to that phenomenon. In the past week, I've spent a lot of time with them == witnessing eh clarity that Odessan life can bring when the right people and the rigth time come together. You know, I"ve been happily single (am I telling you that or am I convincing myself that) for handful of years now and whenever I go out with my friends tat are in relationships, I always feel bad for them. We go out and they are the craziest, most rambunctious people -- always awanting to go buckwild and dance with chicks and get fecal-faced drunk. It's quite amusing, watching them try to condesnse 29 days of repression into one night of liberation. And the're always astonished by me and my mellow state of mind,

"Dude, go holler at her. Dude, you fucking lightweight, drink up. What?!?!? You're just chilling?!?!?!"

Usually, it's really the case that I'm more low key and in the cut because I already partied three nights earlier that week (and the day after, while they're nursing their hangovers, I"m out surfing for a few hours, smoking herb for some more, and partying some more).

Needless to say, often times I feel bad for my non-single friends; many times, even feeling pity for them. For a young, (rather) successful, (rather) interesting and (Dan Rather) good looking man in this modern time, being anyone's anything (let alone husband) kind of carries a kind of (rather) negative stigma. At times, seeking the constants (comfort, security and affection) that my boyfriend friends have in their relationships, I do get envious and jealous, but I just need to witness one argument and I get quickly grateful for my freedom and liberties.

Well, leaving Odessa, and leaving Ed and Anya, and watching the way they work and coexist, for the first time in my years of bachelorhood, I though to myself, "Man, that'd be cool." There are also a few other couples that I truly admire and aspire to achieve in my own pursuit -- should I ever decide to admit myself into that institution. They are an amazing couple and they're both really good to (which I think is more important than "for") each other. I think once I land in New York, get my creative gig, and sample what the beautiful, glorious city has to offer, I will plan to settle down; since it's New York, it would require about six years. Shit though, if I find myself in Nebraska it'd be like six months. Shitter though, if I find myself in Kiev, it'd be like sixty six years, and really though, that's only because the discotechs don't have wheelchair ramps.

Lesson I've learned: People don't get into relationships because they find their perfect mates; they get into them because they get bored of being single. It's the truth; swallow it.

Now, I've officially the country and I'm sitting on the sun drenched deck of a ferry (ferry must be Ukrainian for cruise ship because that's what they're calling it) somewhere in the middle of the Black Sea. I don't think I've ever been in a "sea" before but so far it's comforting and rather oceanic as far as my sight deceives me. I decided to opt for the first class cabin (first class must mean third class in American because I'd still bunk with a stranger). Luckily, they weren't sold out so I had the entire room to myself and was able to indulge in pouring ranch dressing all over my naked body and doing pilates. This was my first time in over a month where I got to sleep on a single piece of bedding material (as opposed to couches, futons and foldouts) so I felt a little Kingly and stuff. I also felt a little queezy -- I'm just getting over a stomach flu that severely drained me (pun intended) and the swaying of the boat threw off my equilibrium. At first, I was going to try to manage by getting drunk in the hopes that my own swaying would counterbalance that of the boat's and I'd be petrified in perfect harmony. But instead, I just threw on my iPod, tuned into reggae, closed my eyes, and was swept away by the island sounds; where blunts were being rolled, chicken was getting jerked and the palm tree pattern of boardshorts mimicked the surrounding landscape. No doubt, felt irie all night.

But again, I find myself in Black Sea -- somewhere between the Iron Curtain and a Persian Rug. Somewhere between leaving something great and discovering something greater. And I really couldn't wish for anything else.