The boy was placed on suicide watch after an afternoon visit to the counseling center where, with glassy eyes, he told a woman in a cardigan that he was thinking that he just didn't want to live anymore.

"What is prompting you to think this way," she asked as she played with a pen cap in her left hand.

"I just don't want to be here anymore. It's always the same. I have the same conversations with the same people every day. Sometimes I don't think it would be so bad if I got hit by a bus while jaywalking."

She listened as he continued to talk. She asked about his plans, his goals. His sentences were disconnected and his eyebrows were bunched together. He had an inflamed pimple on his left temple and his cuticles were ragged and scabbed. After twenty minutes, she led him to the door and told him to come back if he wanted to talk later.

The RD called T that evening, told her there was a resident on the ninth floor who needed to be checked on periodically. Suicide prevention was above her pay-grade (not that she got paid to RA), but she went to the ninth floor anyway, knocked on the door to 9-13 and asked to see him. Like any other boy, he was on his computer when she came in . She introduced herself, gave him a limp handshake. "I just came to check-in, to see how you're doing," she said, unsure and hoping not to offend him. He nodded and looked at the floor. "There are a lot of people who are worried about you," she offered.

This prompted a response. He looked up quickly, scared, "Have you told my parents?"

"No, should we?" He shook his head. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Don't. My mom, she'd freak out. She'd start crying and wouldn't leave me alone. And my dad, he's a good man. He's busy. He'd get worried and distracted. I won't bother them. Don't bother them."

"But do you think they should know?"

"They'll know if I do it. But I probably won't. Not now, anyway. So what's the point?"

"Is there anyone you think we should tell? A sibling, a friend? Is there someone you know who could help you deal with your, uh, your emotions right now?"

"Oh, there are people I could call. But it's a Friday night. I don't want to bother them."

T stood next to his unmade bed, looked at his dirty clothes piled in the corner, his muddy shoes, the curling edges of his Weezer poster. If she were to kill herself, she wouldn't leave a mess.

"Do you have any plans for the evening?" she asked, remembering back to her training. Always ask a suicidal person if they have plans. If they don't, get them help (but wasn't that what she was doing- helping?).

"I'll probably do some laundry," he said, "Maybe get some pizza." He didn't look up again for almost an entire minute. "You can go. You don't have to just sit and watch me."

"I'll be back in an hour," she said on her way out.

"Don't worry if I'm gone." He turned back to his computer and she closed the door.

She was afraid he actually would be gone when she knocked on the door an hour later. What would she do if a boy she'd hardly just met killed himself on her watch?

He opened the door after the third knock, his laundry was still on the floor. "Surprise," he said, "I'm alive." But with no one for him to reach out to, she hardly believed it.

Fantastically Lazy

I haven't done anything even remotely interesting today besides watch the second episode of Jazz: A Film by Ken Burns.

It was wonderful, having nothing to do, but only until about 3:00, and then I started to get restless. If it weren't so miserable outside I'd go for a walk, but seeing as that is really not an option, I'm going to pour myself a glass of whiskey, crawl into bed and employ my mind in something worthwhile.

Before I loll off to bed, I'd like to share with you another one of my very talented friends: a Minnesotan displaced in New York who's making charming knitwear just for you- Black Capped Crafts.

Who wouldn't want a giant tundra cowl to help one get through this gusting spring? She makes customized pieces as well, so check out the etsy shop and get some comfy, chunky wool!

From Brooklyn to Brookline: phonetic stepping-stones

Tomorrow, I have this to look forward to:

Coming all the way from Brooklyn, NY just to play cribbage with me- Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce to you Angela-lalala, mon petit chou-fleur and most terrific friend! With her in town, weekend updates will be nonexistent (probably) and I'll see you back here on Monday.

Until then, be safe, be wise and don't compromise... Unless you absolutely have to.

Check this out

My best friend is engaged to a wonderful man named Nate Knox. He has a blog, and it's always a good read. He's creative and smart and, above all, a terrific fiance to Sarah Jean. Today, his blog is particularly good because he's on a week long hiatus and I took over.

Anyway, check him out- today and everyday.

(Christmas 2008- We're grainy and drunk and so, so happy!)

Perpetual Weekends

I live in a state of constant weekend. One day I will probably have a career that will necessitate that I stay in on weeknights and generally behave myself, but presently I'm free to sit at bars talking books and movies and Lady GaGa all night and then sleep until 9:00 (or later...) the next morning. It's almost gotten to the point where I don't know what people do if they stay in for the evening- watch TV, I suppose?

Anyway, last night I had a decadent evening at Ken Oringer's fantastic sashimi bar, Uni in the Eliot Hotel. A good friend of mine is moving to San Francisco and we took advantage of the occasion to feast like kings on our usual seaweed salad, tomato water martinis (they sound weird, but they're actually delicious and, surprisingly, non-alcoholic), vegetable tempura, roasted peppers and a plethora of other delicious foods, the names of which I'm uncertain. Generally I enjoy making decisions for myself, but when I'm at a good restaurant or am in the company of people whose palates I trust, I like my food to be ordered on my behalf. By practicing this method of ordering, I'm exposed to delicious meals that I never would have tried on my own, opting instead for something uncomplicated and familiar. Because my friend is a former employee of Uni we were sent plates of fresh chef-creations including thin strips of raw octopus partially cooked in a hot sesame oil that were just as good as they were beautiful. I just love that, having a chef decide what to feed me! Overall it was a fantastic Sunday night and I'm lucky to be able to sit and drink wine with good friends until midnight rather than tuck myself into bed and set my alarm.

Life, I love you!