I Am A Strange Person

Example #709

Every time I put fresh sheets and pillowcases on my bed I "christen" them with a kiss...thanking them in advance for the peaceful slumber they will provide.

With my frequent dalliances with insomnia I need to cover all my bases.

Visual Madeleine

Last Saturday Cain and I were walking to Zakka to do some shopping (full disclosure...he was shopping I was looking/stealing graphic design ideas from their selection of books). As we were crossing Broadway at Grand St. and I looked over and noticed the homeless people that sell stuff on the Broadway from Grand to Houston St.

I am always intrigued at their selection of wares. One vendor may only have a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, an Atari videogame cartridge and baseball glove, while his neighboring vendor will be peddling a vast selection of out-dated cellphone antennae. There seems to be neither rhyme nor reason to the wares, and I wonder who the "target market" for such random items is.

Regardless, as we waited for the walk sign to turn in our favor I glanced over and noticed someone selling a navy blue quasi-velour kimono-style robe...very de riguer for suburban males circa 1979/1980. Instantly I was transported back to a circumstance I found myself in a couple of decades ago...

Cue dreamy memory sequence music...

When I was around 11 or 12 years old I "officially" inherited a paper route. I had helped my siblings deliver their newspapers for years, but then I took over a route from my brother Clay.

Other than having to get up at five in the morning to deliver the papers, the other huge downside to being a "paperboy" was having to collect the payments from the customers.

When I was around 13 I began delivering to a man named Mr. Robertson who lived about three blocks from my house. Mr. Robertson was recently divorced, his ex-wife and daughter (who was a grade ahead of me in school...ultra popular, pretty, and sweet) had moved out leaving him to become a born again bachelor at what I am guessing to be the age of 45.

While I was making my monthly rounds to collect money for the papers I had delivered, Mr. Robertson had always been very kind to me...which was not the case with many other of my clients. He was very friendly, and because I knew the situation with his departed family members I began to think sense that he was very lonely.

The first few times I entered his house I noticed that there were a few strategically placed Playboy magazines on the coffee table. A little bit odd I thought...but hey, now that he doesn't have a wife and daughter around...why not?

Then one month he answered the door wearing a navy blue quasi-velour kimono style robe. Kind of unusual for 6pm in the evening, but hey he is a "free-spirit"...

Mr. Robertson's look, I should note, was very low-rent Burt Reynolds. He was probably about 5'5" (about the same as me at the time) very skinny with a very hair chest. Maybe it was the new found bachelorhood, but his way of behaving around me was very amateur-swinger wannabe...Think Don Knotts as Ralph Furley on "Three's Company"

Anyway, so as I just mentioned he greets me at his front door wearing a robe...Then the next month he answers the door again in his robe, but this time as I enter the house his robe accidentally-on-purpose comes undone revealing Mr. Robertson in his tight bikini underwear. He makes no attempt cover himself up and I obviously not doing a very good job of hiding my curiousity...very awkward, but I am soon on my way...

The next month the exact same scenario happens regarding the accidental opening of his robe, but this time there is no tight bikini underwear seperating me from his manhood in all it's glory...

Needless to say, but one thing leads to another and....Oh, I should probably end the story right here and save some of the tawdry further details for my future memoirs (think of this post as a "teaser" for a book to be published several decades from now.)

Suffice it to say, the mere glancing in my peripheral vision on a street corner in New York City in 2007 tripped the wires in my brain to go way back in time. A simpler and sexier time.

Coincidence...Me Thinks Not

Is it just chance that six days after Geoff and I get our cocktail on at Pravda, the legends at
Paper Magazine declare it Bar of The Week. Damn I hate being so cutting edge.

Fighting The Wrong Battle

Am about 50 pages into this book and it is pretty damn awesome. Basically the author is suggesting that the political Left has abandoned the fight against economic inequality in favor of a toothless fight against "prejudice", racism and political incorrectness.

Maybe it is my working class roots, but this totally resonates with me. I am so tired of hearing that anything related to issues of class is tantamount to asking for class warfare. I am not ashamed to admit that I believe that class warfare is exactly what we need right now.

Another Product Endorsement

For Christmas last year, my sister gave me some of this cleanser as a gift. Normally I buy fragrance-free products as I do not want any scent to interfere with the Comme des Garcons odeur du jour. But this line of products is absolutely amazing.

My sister loaded me up with more products for my birthday and they are just as incredible. Totally "non-chemically" feeling...just super fresh feeling.

Due to the pricing of the product, and the fact that I am not yet a Rockefeller, I have had to resolve to only treat myself to actually using the products on my days off from work...an indulgence to take me away from the day to day struggle and nasally stimulate my mental freedom from the job.

My Dilemmas

Perfect...The day after I verbally agree to become a work-a-holic for my boss (assuming that it will pay off financially and career-wise) I find out about this party.

How am I supposed to kick-ass on Monday morning after tearing up the dancefloor on Sunday night?

I guess I will have to figure out a solution as an evening with these two gigantic talents is just too juicy to pass up. I always justify my temporary post-night-out fatigue with the fact that the spiritual benefit is so long term.

The Only Redeeming Quality of Mondays

...finding a new hard copy issue of The New Yorker in my mailbox. The antidote for the internet.

Can't Lie...

I really did nothing this weekend. After seven solid days of work and this retarded weather, I did nothing but chill out.

I had a laundry list of projects but I guess they will have to wait until next weekend. Super Doppler 3000 is already forecasting 65 degree temperatures for next Saturday, so I will probably want to be outside enjoying spring...and the tasks may still be left undone.

Roots Are Necessary

Had drinks with Geoff last night at Pravda. Wonderful conversation with a truly interesting and awesome friend...what more could a person want?

Due to both of us working too much, I rarely get to hang out with Geoff that often, which is a shame as he is rad and we always have mucho laughs.

Craziness

My 'hood is still reeling from the murder spree the other night. Thankfully I was seven floors above the fray...

My boy Jeremy who lives one block away, over on Sullivan Street, was unfortunate enough to look out his first floor apartment window and see the shooter firing ten feet outside his window. I can't imagine being that near to victimhood.

...Be About It

Some time ago I came across a bit of commentary regarding the difference between Europeans and Americans. The commentator said that when a European looks at a homeless person they think "...There but for the grace of God go I" whereas an American will think "...Tough luck, sucker".

While these statements are, of course, gross generalizations there was something about them that really affected me. Whenever I saw a homeless person or a person with a physical disability I began to concsciously think "...there but for the grace of God go I"

In doing this I hoped to curb the cold-hearted tendencies that I sometimes give in to. In a sense it had the desired effect as I seemed to soften my mental approach or acknowlegement of the seemingly increasing homeless presence in New York.

The other day I was at work. I looked out the window and I saw a man who was limping due to a severe deformity of his legs. As a matter of habit, I thought "...there but for the grace of God go I" but this time the true meaning of those words hit me like a bullet. God/The Universe/The Cosmos has truly blessed me. Although I struggle, as everyone does, my burdens are relatively light compared to a multitude of my fellow humans.

Why my struggles are different or less cumbersome than others is a mystery that will never be solved...As I have mentioned in a previous post, I need to perpetually remind myself that there is no shame in whatever burdens appear on any of our shoulders.

Still Legendary

Hard to believe it has been ten years since Notorious B.I.G. was murdered. Although I wasn't a B.I.G. fan at the time (Thanks to Ethan for turning me on to him years later), I have nothing but true respect for his talent now.

It is so crazy that he was only 25 at the time of his death.

Let Love Rule

In anticipation of his future tour of duty in Iraq, my nephew Cody married his girlfriend Stacy at the courthouse in Lincoln yesterday.

If I hadn't had such a mature conversation with Cody while shooting hoops last Christmas I might have condemned his decision. I mean a 23 year old is too young to get married right? But I guess my current attitude (especially regarding matters of the heart) is "Why not?"

My peeples Brian and Carol got hitched at about the same age and they have one of the sanest relationships I have ever seen...

End Of An Era

I will probably not attend the closing party of the Roxy tomorrow night. But I must admit that there is a part of me that is sentimental to see it's demise.

Steve Travolta spun there a few times a couple of years ago and tore it to shreds, but other than that the DJs they had were slaves to that overdone "tribal" sounds that only severe drug addicts really enjoy and does nothing to unite a dancefloor.

(In fact the last time I was at Roxy Saturdays, I almost got into a fight, a first at a gay club, but some young punk got upset that his boyfriend was grinding his butt into my crotchal region...don't hate me 'cuz you can't satisfy your man!)

I guess I am mostly melancholy because Roxy was one of the first big clubs in NYC I witnessed when I visited here 15 years ago...and it definitely made an impression on a smalltown boy.

Although Roxy has been a staple for the Chelsea Boy scene, it means one less superclub in the city. I think it also shows the declining importance of the gays in clubland and mainstream culture. At it's inception in 1991, Roxy Saturdays were a circus, a haven for go-for-broke partiers. Now that the gays have been commodified into Abercrombie+Fitch acceptability, a place like Roxy no longer has the same impact.

Corporate Art Can Still Be Cool

While over by Eyebeam yesterday, decided to stop into the Matthew Marks gallery to see this show by Darren Almond. This piece was in the front room.

It is a 12 foot high and 25 foot wide "digital" clock. The "L.E.D" effect was created by the metal flaps that would open and close every minute showing the new time. Very clean, modern and yet primitive at the same time...

Open City Opened Mind

Went over to EyeBeam for the Open City show. It was totally inspiring. So many different approaches to taking back "public space" and making it truly public.

Some of the creations on display (and in video documentation) really made me appreciate the level of creativity that can exist in our day and age. People are reappropriating technology for uses that were never intended.

If you have even the slightest interest in the possibilities of street art, you MUST check out this show.

Don't Hate Me 'Cuz I'm Beautiful

Two clients in a row complimented my on my latest haircut. Better not let this get out or Betty will start charging me more...

Just By Chance

Ran into my girl Heather at the CVS on Christopher St. Have not seen her in forever. She is rehearsing for this play. Can't wait to see it as she is a pretty brilliant performer (and human)

On A Future PBS Schedule

Saw Ken Burns on Broadway, then a couple of days later he was following me into my gym. The only conclusion I could draw was that he was attempting to get footage for his new documentary on the gorgeousness of my well-toned ass.

That Child Is Crazy

Stopped into Casa Magazines yesterday to do some periodical browsing. There was a woman buying a literal stack of fashion magazines. She was obviously buying these for "work" as she reminded the man behind the counter numerous times that she needed a receipt.

The man behind the counter was attempting to get her to buy more as he was pointing out various issues that were absent from her stack..."...but you are not even at the $200 mark" he implored. "I know, I know" she jokingly responded "but I don't want to spend all weekend reading magazines!"

Yeah, I couldn't believe such a comment coming from another human being either...

Product Endorsement

Since I can't track down my favorite "New Energy" incense, I have had to resort to the awesomeness of this candle. I am normally not a huge fan of musk, but it works so well with the vanilla to create a truly intoxicating aroma.

England Appreciates "the Force"

Came across this article in The Guardian. A brief view of the Disco moment and what it meant/means.

I love one of the guy's quotes about the dancefloor of the Paradise Garage being a "blueprint for the future". That is what I feel everytime the dancefloor explodes in communal exultation.

Today's Message

As I passed Judson Memorial Church today, they had the following quote by the front door...

The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.- Marcel Proust

How true is that?

The Countdown Has Begun

Only three and a half days until the planet Mercury goes "direct". Hopefully some sanity will return to my life.

Thankfully I am not alone in my disdain for the disruptive mercurial power. My boy Andrew voices his opinion on the matter here.

The bad news is that after Merecury goes direct...Andrew can no longer use that as an excuse for his lateness issues...

Survival

I somehow survived last nights festivities. I was planning on only having a couple of mild cocktails then walking the 67 footsteps to my front door, but Sisha showed up and began a tab on his credit card. Basically an open bar for the rest of the evening. Very dangerous indeed.

Ben, Jose, and Alyssa also made appearances. I think Ben had had a couple of drinks beforehand as his lips were very loose...which is great because he is normally so reserved and careful with his words. There is a reason why alcohol is America's number one social lubricant...

The Knife

On Cain's recommendation I picked up this album at Other Music. I listened to a few songs but couldn't really get "into" it.

Today, due to the 62 degree temperature I decided to go on one of my New York visionquests. Basically I just leave my apt. and start walking with no specific destination in mind. This album was my iPod soundtrack and I truly "got" the genius of these kids...it is kind of brutal yet has a light-heartedness to it. It is funny without being a novelty record. It is truly retrofuturistic. It is awesome.

Buy or download immediately.

Official Confirmation

In this article the Times officially sanctions my holier-than-thou attitude to the rest of humanity. Please note this excerpt:

Both art and fashion speak in a densely encoded visual language to a certain status, knowledge and taste. Roughly translated, that means an elitism that makes those who know the difference between, say, James Turrell and Olafur Eliasson (or, for that matter, between Prada and Lanvin) feel secure in their defense of social Darwinism.

Yes, I am at the top of the social Darwinist ladder due to my knowledge of this shit which means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

(Yet as noted in a previous post I am still going to see the Olafur Eliasson show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.)

Will The Dove Give Love?

Going to meet Jeremy and Scott for drinks at The Dove tonight. Will be my first alcohol-fuelled "night out" since my notorious LiverMassacre of last December. The fact that this place is literally 67 steps from the front door of my apartment building will either be a blessing or a curse....details later.