Shades of Gray

Everytime I need a boost because I am a sulky bitch, I go read back issues of Ethan Gray's blog, especially the one's about his past relationships, books, and his general attitude on life. This is one of my favourites, mostly because I'm looking for the same guy he is-- and I'm young, I have time to find that guy... But I would like to start looking early.

Here's an excerpt from an entry titled "the One".

Somewhere on the island of Manhattan, in a dimly lit room is a man in his mid to late thirties. In his hands a copy of The Hours by Michael Cunningham. Sections of that morning’s New York Times are scattered on the floor, on the couch, in the bathroom, a trail of paper that bears witness to his day. It’s a cozy apartment, wooden floors, warm brown leather chairs, entire walls made of books, and a window, which if looked at from the street, flickers blue.

He’s been living there for years. He’s thought of moving, but he likes it where he is, it’s home.

Most of his accent is gone, dulled by a life lived in New York, like a kitchen knife after years of heavy use. But even today, hints of another place still come out as alcohol seeps in.

Handsome, quiet, he’s had a few serious relationships and at least one major heartbreak. It’s been a while since anyone’s managed to surprise him.

[...]

He’s a romantic. He’s the one who remembers birthdays and anniversaries, the one who spends hours finding the right present. He likes to see the surprised look on their face as they open it, a gift that says, “See? I’ve been listening.”

He likes to think the right guy’s out there, he’s just not sure.

Somewhere in Manhattan lives a man. He’s a bit of me, and a bit of whom I’d like to meet. An idea of a person that comes to mind whenever I get dumped, go on a bad date, or have sex of the ordinary kind. He has no clear features or name. He’s the one.

Okay, so maybe the not the part about the guy being gay, and thirty-something... But anyone who reads the Hours is worthy of my attention...

But anyhow, Ethan Gray is an amazing writer. I can't aspire to be him, as that would involve drastic gender change-- but I worship his writing nonetheless. He's so fucking candid. Best of the best of bloggers, I swear.