Photo by Camilo, taken Dec 30, 2003

The weather here in New York is unspeakably unseasonal. It is colder than when I was last here, a month ago, in February. When I arrived at JFK last night, and the driver led me to the car, I was shocked by the frigid, searching wind that tore through the parking lot. Welcome back to New York.

I got into the city by around 9.30 and checked into the Marriott Marquis, my fourth hotel in four stays. I haven't liked any of the other three, but I had high hopes for the Marriott. It's spectactular inside, of course, with a vast thirty storey atrium. But it also has probably the best free hotel gym in the country, if not the world: a brand new complex spanning the entire width of the hotel, perched inside the atrium on the 23rd floor. The staff at the check-in desk were polite and attentive, unlike the surly, unpleasant creatures I'd experienced at the two Sheratons and the Hilton. And the room, looking out over Times Square from the 26th floor, was stylish and comfortable, with an armchair, a sofa and an ottoman. Looks like this hotel will become my home each trip from now on.

I'd called Chris and Phoenix during the week with the hope that they might want to go to the big Sunday night club, Avalon. And I was kind of surprised that they both were interested in going out on a Sunday night. I was still on West Coast time, so I had bundles of energy, of course. It turns out that this weekend was the weekend of the Black Party, New York's most infamous circuit party. So it was unlikely that Avalon would be much good. The other options were to pay $80 to go to Allegria, the Sunday night event of the Black Party. Or go to our old standby, The Park, which is free but might or might not have a dance floor tonight. We settled on The Park, after a drink at G, and got there around 12.30. The place was crowded with mostly younger men with more of an East Village/college look than you'd find at most other places in Chelsea. And the top floor had the dance floor going. We had a blast, because the music is always so good on the top floor; an eclectic mix of pop, rock and world music from the last two decades.

I got to bed around three thirty thinking that today, Monday, would be a write off. But that it was worth it. However, for some reason I haven't felt particularly tired today. I had a good day at work, and even went on the treadmill for forty minutes this evening, followed by a triceps work out. I've been working out very hard recently. I decided I'd make one last effort to develop serious pectoral muscles. After all if I don't do it when I'm still (just barely) hanging onto my thirties, I'm unlikely to be able to do it in my forties. Cecilia, my trainer, has long told me that the only way to get seriously buff is to eat more and suffer the indignities of temporarily losing your flat stomach. I've resisted this for years, but finally I decided to give it a whirl. So I've been stuffing myself for the past three weeks - mostly by increasing my protein intake, while forcing myself to push heavier weights. The results? Well, I've gained five pounds, and there's been some redistribution. My shoulders and chest do look more defined, but there's definitely a little bit of extra weight around my stomach.

I've been doing a lot of planning for my Summer trip. Ben and I will be spending some time together both before and after the cruise. I didn't really plan on that, it just sort of happened. I'm just a little bit nervous about it, and I'm not sure I think it's the best idea. We don't know each other very well. Normally, I'd put the brakes on more firmly when I'm just embarking on getting to know somebody. Yet here I'm going to be traveling with him for almost three weeks. I hope we're not at each other's throats by the time we arrive in Paris.