During the summer of 1989, I paid a visit to my older sister's house in Sacramento. Ann had moved to California about eight years before. This was my first time visiting her without any other family member around, so I was basking in a situation that let me have her full attention.
At some point during my vacation, Ann decided we should drive up to Lake Tahoe. Before we left the city we packed some snacks and bought some beverages to tide us over on our day-trip adventure.
We began to ascend the mountains surrounding Tahoe when traffic came to a near standstill. Road construction...the bane of the summer driver across the nation. It was a particularly hot day and we had yet to reach altitudes necessary for a cooling off of temperatures.
As we crept along the road, we slowly approached a worker holding a caution sign. As we neared him, my sister told me to reach in the cooler and offer him a bottle of water. In my head I was thinking she was crazy..."This is our water..it's hot, and you want me to give it to a complete stranger?!"
While mentally I was complaining about sacrificing a precious, precious liquid, in actuality I was just nervous about interacting (albeit in a completely benevolent fashion) with a stranger. At the age of twenty my shyness hung around me like an albatross. This was diametrically opposite of my sister who was and still is extremely deliciously extroverted.
Perhaps she could read my apprehension. "Just give it to him" she quietly commanded.
I lowered the window and passed the bottle to the slightly startled worker. "Thanks" he responded politely as we slowly moved forward.
In an instant my consciousness was beautifully rattled. That was soooo awesome. It felt liberating to just do a nice thing for an absolute stranger who would never ever return the favor. In that moment I learned more about the concept of karma, than if I had memorized the entire Bhagavad-Gita.
So, why do I bring this up? Now, obviously it shows how awesome my sister is and what an impact she has had on my life...I mean I am relaying a story of giving a bottle of water to a stranger almost twenty years after the fact. Lately I have been thinking about the subtle quiet ways that we can make an impact on our fellow humans.
While making withdrawls from my memory bank I recalled someone who had made a similar impact on my worldview...
Growing up my family attended Havelock Christian Church. We went every Sunday, and with my mom teaching Sunday School and my dad serving as an elder and board member, I guess you could say that we were pretty involved in the workings of the church.
The person who I most closely associate with the church was not even a member. His name was Mr. Rice and my memories of are from when I was probably five to seven years old.
Mr. Rice was in his early nineties at the time. He seemed very frail, as if you could just see that he had led a difficult life in the way he moved his body.
Every Sunday in our Sunday School classroom the teacher would take donations from the students. Although the weekly total may have never exceeded a dollar or two, it was a cute way to make the kids feel involved in making a contribution to the church by way of a nickel or dime that their parents had given them before class.
Probably about once a month Mr. Rice would show up at our classroom and, as we gathered our coins, he would add in a couple of quarters, which never failed to astound the easily impressed youngsters. His contribution would dramatically increase our donation total, much to our pleasure. He would stand amongst us, make a minute or two of small-talk with the teacher and then move on to a couple of the other classrooms to make similar donations. He would then leave the building, walking to his nearby home before the regular Sunday service began.
Even at such a young age I could tell that Mr. Rice was not very financially well off. The decades-old suit was a visual cue, but there was also a humility in the way that he carried himself that alluded to it as well. There was the unspoken joy that was expressed in his mannerisms when he dropped his small contribution in our collection plate. There was the way that he quickly exited the building before the service, as if because he could not afford the latest fashions or have a nice automobile in the church parking lot, he did not deserve to be in a house of God.
The quietness of his generosity spoke louder to me than any sermon I heard within the confines of that building. My worldview was permanently altered by seeing his demonstration of altruism. A kindness that was not motivated by a desire for a spotlight or recognition but out of pure selflessness.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
Easy Theory Leading To Bliss
I guess there is now a simple formula leading one to happiness. If someone contributes content to NPR, then they write a book, that book is going to be awesome.
The latest proof of this simple equation is the most recent book by David Rakoff. Like his co-horts David Sedaris, Sarah Vowell, et al. Rakoff is unimaginably funny. He is able to meld social observation and personal revelation in a consistently witty fashion.
These essays are great because Rakoff takes very simple yet unique scenarios and then puts a comic twist on them. For example he attends a three day seminar sponsored by the Alcor Corporation. The seminar is set up to "sell" cyrogenic freezing to the public. I will not divulge Rakoff's bon mots on this topic except to say that he casually exposes the folly of anyone hoping to be reanimated in the far-distance future.
The latest proof of this simple equation is the most recent book by David Rakoff. Like his co-horts David Sedaris, Sarah Vowell, et al. Rakoff is unimaginably funny. He is able to meld social observation and personal revelation in a consistently witty fashion.
These essays are great because Rakoff takes very simple yet unique scenarios and then puts a comic twist on them. For example he attends a three day seminar sponsored by the Alcor Corporation. The seminar is set up to "sell" cyrogenic freezing to the public. I will not divulge Rakoff's bon mots on this topic except to say that he casually exposes the folly of anyone hoping to be reanimated in the far-distance future.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Anything Is Possible...
My girl Jody called from DC today. She believes that we used to work with one of the Powerball winners. I think she may be grasping at straws in order to get some of the loot...but then again most of my memories of Nebraska are clouded by an alcohol-induced fog, so she may be right.
Manifestation
Getting ready to go out to dinner with Brian, Carol and Calla. I unpack my suit and begin to get dressed. Then I realize that I forgot to pack my cufflinks. I ask Brian if he has a pair to spare and unfortunately he doesn't. Damn French people, why can't they put a god-forsaken button at the end of the damn sleeve.
How in the hell am I going to secure the cuff. My crackpot mind tells me that if I had a paperclip I could jerry-rig a "cufflink". Can I get more ghetto? By chance, Calla has some blue paperclips...hey, blue shirt...blue paperclips...I am definitely on the right track. They didn't teach this guerilla fashion technique in the Lincoln Public School system I can tell you that....
In my typical "life gives you lemons, make lemonade" mindset, I convince myself that I will single-handedly make the paperclip the hot fashion accessory for Spring 2006....
Three days later I am back in New York. I am walking east on Prince St. when I look up from the sidewalk to see a faggy twenty-something walk toward me. His belt buckle is a 3x4 inch piece of sterling silver in the shape of....you guessed it, a paperclip. How did this child cross the space-time continuum and steal my idea?...Is it possible to just set up an account with the U.S. patent office and just shoot them an e-mail everytime I have a brilliant idea?
How in the hell am I going to secure the cuff. My crackpot mind tells me that if I had a paperclip I could jerry-rig a "cufflink". Can I get more ghetto? By chance, Calla has some blue paperclips...hey, blue shirt...blue paperclips...I am definitely on the right track. They didn't teach this guerilla fashion technique in the Lincoln Public School system I can tell you that....
In my typical "life gives you lemons, make lemonade" mindset, I convince myself that I will single-handedly make the paperclip the hot fashion accessory for Spring 2006....
Three days later I am back in New York. I am walking east on Prince St. when I look up from the sidewalk to see a faggy twenty-something walk toward me. His belt buckle is a 3x4 inch piece of sterling silver in the shape of....you guessed it, a paperclip. How did this child cross the space-time continuum and steal my idea?...Is it possible to just set up an account with the U.S. patent office and just shoot them an e-mail everytime I have a brilliant idea?
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
If Only I Could Make This Up...
So while compiling anecdotes for my book on the complete insanity of my current job...the Universe drops in my lap this overheard comment from my boss:
"...that's why I don't trust people who come in here and offer common sense advice...to me this is a business that is not run by common sense."
Thursday, February 09, 2006
True
One of my favorite films is Bruce Weber's "A Letter To True". If you have not seen it, it is an interesting melange of documentary footage, story fragments and seemingly unrelated topics. In short, it is "all over the place" and that is one of the reasons that I love it. It mirrors my own scatter-shot thought process.
There is one segment that always shakes me up emotionally. It is footage of Martin Luther King Jr. giving a speech...here are some of his words:
There is one segment that always shakes me up emotionally. It is footage of Martin Luther King Jr. giving a speech...here are some of his words:
....Every now and then I think about my own death, and I think about my own funeral. And I don't think of it in a morbid sense. Every now and then I ask myself, "What is it that I would want said?" And I leave the word to you this morning....I'd like somebody to mention that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others. I'd like for somebody to say that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody. I want you to say that day, that I tried to be right on the war question. I want you to be able to say that day, that I did try, in my life, to clothe those who were naked. I want you to say, on that day, that I did try, in my life, to visit those who were in prison. I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.Yes, if you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice; say that I was a drum major for peace; I was a drum major for righteousness.
The footage is even more powerful...which is saying something considering just reading the text makes me tear up. It blows me away that such simple words and concepts can set such an empoweringly high standard for living. A standard that I often fail at.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Prepare For Future Illness
Just watch this clip from newly ordained minority leader John Boehner and I think you will see the talking point that the Republicans are going to use in November midterm elections.
Basically, I predict that the Republicans are going to try to sell the American public the idea that, although Iraq appears to be a catastrophe...now, in some undefined future the project will be a success and will be worth all of the sacrifice we have to endure currently. Now, let's disregard the fact that Bush has not asked the American public as a whole to make a single sacrifice for this debacle, that's the Machiavellian beauty of this political strategy....You sell the electorate the idea that their sacrifice (praying for the American combatants, slapping a Chinese made "support the troops" ribbon on their SUV, etc.) is actually a "gift" to future generations. Everybody gets to feel that they are a part of "struggle against tyranny" without any effort at all.
Now every generation gets to be the "Greatest Generation" without expending any energy.
I still have not figured out how the Republicans are going to market our record budget deficit as beneficial, but I trust Karl Rove has. I will let you know when my tea leaves reveal this bit of insanity.
Basically, I predict that the Republicans are going to try to sell the American public the idea that, although Iraq appears to be a catastrophe...now, in some undefined future the project will be a success and will be worth all of the sacrifice we have to endure currently. Now, let's disregard the fact that Bush has not asked the American public as a whole to make a single sacrifice for this debacle, that's the Machiavellian beauty of this political strategy....You sell the electorate the idea that their sacrifice (praying for the American combatants, slapping a Chinese made "support the troops" ribbon on their SUV, etc.) is actually a "gift" to future generations. Everybody gets to feel that they are a part of "struggle against tyranny" without any effort at all.
Now every generation gets to be the "Greatest Generation" without expending any energy.
I still have not figured out how the Republicans are going to market our record budget deficit as beneficial, but I trust Karl Rove has. I will let you know when my tea leaves reveal this bit of insanity.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Three Second Audience With The King
Last Friday I was walking up First Avenue. Around Sixth Street I looked up and walking towards me was none other than Elvis Costello and his wife Diana Krall. Of course I played it cool and did not acknowledge his celebrity. Inside, I must admit, my heart did begin racing a bit.
Although I have not followed his career over the past few years, Elvis Costello will always hold a very special place in my heart. Imperial Bedroom is in my top ten of all-time favorite albums. I swear when I was a sophmore in high school I listened to that album everyday before I went to school. On many occaisions I was almost late for class as I wanted to hear certain songs again and again. It had the perfect blend of bitterness and wit.
In an early interview Costello said that his only motivations were revenge and guilt. While it is understandable that those were similar instincts to me at age 15...is it wrong if those motivations still appeal to me?
Elvis Costello
Although I have not followed his career over the past few years, Elvis Costello will always hold a very special place in my heart. Imperial Bedroom is in my top ten of all-time favorite albums. I swear when I was a sophmore in high school I listened to that album everyday before I went to school. On many occaisions I was almost late for class as I wanted to hear certain songs again and again. It had the perfect blend of bitterness and wit.
In an early interview Costello said that his only motivations were revenge and guilt. While it is understandable that those were similar instincts to me at age 15...is it wrong if those motivations still appeal to me?
Elvis Costello
Past And Present...Together
It must have been the Christmas of 1977. Someone in my family received "The Book of Lists" as a Christmas present. The book was a catalog of completely random trivia. Despite being a mere lad, I fell instantly in love with the arcane information that the book presented. Without this book it is doubtful that I would have known that a flock of crows can accurately be described as a "murder of crows"...and was I the only 4th grader that needed to know that Judy Garland's birth name was Frances Gumm?
In the intervening years I have amassed a vast storehouse of certifiably useless trivia. Because of that, reading Jim Hodgman's "The Areas of My Expertise" was even more pleasurable. Hodgman, now a "resident expert" on The Daily Show, creates a fictional body of knowledge that is so funny, several times I was literally in tears. I challenge anyone to read his list of 700 Hobo Names without needing to take a break to regain their composure.
This is easily the most laugh-outloud book I have read since the David Sedaris Era began.
Jim Hodgman
In the intervening years I have amassed a vast storehouse of certifiably useless trivia. Because of that, reading Jim Hodgman's "The Areas of My Expertise" was even more pleasurable. Hodgman, now a "resident expert" on The Daily Show, creates a fictional body of knowledge that is so funny, several times I was literally in tears. I challenge anyone to read his list of 700 Hobo Names without needing to take a break to regain their composure.
This is easily the most laugh-outloud book I have read since the David Sedaris Era began.
Jim Hodgman
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Perspectivizing
Yesterday I stopped by the Ricky's on Broadway and Houston to pick up some shampoo. While looking over their selection I came across this bottle. No, you are not reading the info on the website incorrectly that is $50 for an eight ounce bottle of shampoo...and if you look at the list of ingredients you will notice that the precious white truffle oil is not even listed.
When I saw this bottle in store I was uncharacteristically outraged at the price (although outrage is definitely a characteristic in most non-shampoo related matters). I mean come on, are there really that many people that literally have money to waste. Apparently in Manhattan the answer is "Yes!"
Now, truth be told, I must admit that in the not so distant past I have overpaid for beauty products based on the miracles that are promised in the packaging copy. But hey, I am in customer service...I have to look good at all times. My public demands it.
When I got home I had to check out the Philip B. website to make sure that some rogue associate at Ricky's did not mislabel the product. Nope, fifty dollars was correct. Then my cynical nature kicked in...maybe this is not even the most expensive shampoo. In less than a minute the good folks at google directed me to this. Yes, this one is $66 dollars for 10.1 ounces.
Because I couldn't drop the topic right there, the voices in my head forced me to calculate the cost per ounce. Philip B. clocks in at $6.25 per ounce with Alterna posting $6.54 per ounce.
Now clearly this is ridiculous, and I am justifiably filled with some bizarre version of righteous indignation. But then I began to think about the number of times that I have bought shots of rare scotch that, trust me, would have been a steal at $6.54 per ounce...and that the scotch is going to annihilate liver and brain cells without giving my hair the lustrous sheen it so clearly deserves.
I guess it all depends on how you want to waste your money.
When I saw this bottle in store I was uncharacteristically outraged at the price (although outrage is definitely a characteristic in most non-shampoo related matters). I mean come on, are there really that many people that literally have money to waste. Apparently in Manhattan the answer is "Yes!"
Now, truth be told, I must admit that in the not so distant past I have overpaid for beauty products based on the miracles that are promised in the packaging copy. But hey, I am in customer service...I have to look good at all times. My public demands it.
When I got home I had to check out the Philip B. website to make sure that some rogue associate at Ricky's did not mislabel the product. Nope, fifty dollars was correct. Then my cynical nature kicked in...maybe this is not even the most expensive shampoo. In less than a minute the good folks at google directed me to this. Yes, this one is $66 dollars for 10.1 ounces.
Because I couldn't drop the topic right there, the voices in my head forced me to calculate the cost per ounce. Philip B. clocks in at $6.25 per ounce with Alterna posting $6.54 per ounce.
Now clearly this is ridiculous, and I am justifiably filled with some bizarre version of righteous indignation. But then I began to think about the number of times that I have bought shots of rare scotch that, trust me, would have been a steal at $6.54 per ounce...and that the scotch is going to annihilate liver and brain cells without giving my hair the lustrous sheen it so clearly deserves.
I guess it all depends on how you want to waste your money.
One City's Trash...
As someone who spent a great deal of his childhood in Salvation Army and Goodwill thrift stores, and as an adult who has items in his home that are literally found on the street, it should come as no surprise that I am currently enamored with this site.
Now I can scavenge the detrius of my fair city from the comfort of my own home. I love the 21st century.
Now I can scavenge the detrius of my fair city from the comfort of my own home. I love the 21st century.
Glutton For Punishment
Despite my continuing ever-morphing illness I got my ass to the gym today. That should be enough punishment for the day, but as I get on the treadmill I noticed that the President's press conference was on. My better judgment said I should switch the channel, but because I do have a masochistic side to my personality I decided to watch.
After five years in office what else can be said about this guy. The lies and the "folksiness" are so forced that I can't possibly fathom how even his most ardent supporters can't see through his condescension.
Back in the day Jesse Jackson had a quote in reference to presidential candidate Gary Hart. Jackson said "Gary Hart has a superiority complex...without the superiority". Just substitute the name Bush for Gary Hart and you have my opinion on our current president.
I swear, if Bush had been born with the same personality and mannerisms, but without the Bush name or money or privilege, you would find him at the bar at TGIFridays trying to impress his buddies from OfficeMax over a platter of jalepeno poppers.
Unfortunately fate would not be so just...
After five years in office what else can be said about this guy. The lies and the "folksiness" are so forced that I can't possibly fathom how even his most ardent supporters can't see through his condescension.
Back in the day Jesse Jackson had a quote in reference to presidential candidate Gary Hart. Jackson said "Gary Hart has a superiority complex...without the superiority". Just substitute the name Bush for Gary Hart and you have my opinion on our current president.
I swear, if Bush had been born with the same personality and mannerisms, but without the Bush name or money or privilege, you would find him at the bar at TGIFridays trying to impress his buddies from OfficeMax over a platter of jalepeno poppers.
Unfortunately fate would not be so just...
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The Message
"Maybe he's asleep or something..."
"He just said his name and his phone number and then said nothing"
"Hi...please come to my birthday party...bye Matt"
These are the shards of thoughts that my girl, Calla Merritt left as a message on my home phone answering machine. Carol left a follow-up message informing me that Calla has not yet mastered the concept of voicemail...in Calla's mind I had been sleeping, then when the phone rang I picked up but instantly fell back to sleep before a real conversation could begin. God, I wish I were that narcoleptic.
Later in the evening I talked to Calla on the phone and was officially invited to her 5th birthday party. I cannot wait to get to DC to hang out with Brian, Carol and Calla...good times are guaranteed.
"He just said his name and his phone number and then said nothing"
"Hi...please come to my birthday party...bye Matt"
These are the shards of thoughts that my girl, Calla Merritt left as a message on my home phone answering machine. Carol left a follow-up message informing me that Calla has not yet mastered the concept of voicemail...in Calla's mind I had been sleeping, then when the phone rang I picked up but instantly fell back to sleep before a real conversation could begin. God, I wish I were that narcoleptic.
Later in the evening I talked to Calla on the phone and was officially invited to her 5th birthday party. I cannot wait to get to DC to hang out with Brian, Carol and Calla...good times are guaranteed.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Rooftop Phoenix
I believe it was the summer of 2002. For about five months I had had a severe case of "artist's block". I could not execute any creative idea, even if one had entered my head.
On a particularly hot day, I was up on my roof. Why I thought that getting 19 feet closer to the Sun would be cooler I don't know, but that was my belief. As I stood gazing at the stairwell structures that lead to the roof I was instantly cosmically inspired...I ran back down to my apartment to grab a yellow China marker. In a blur of a vision of a heat-induced delerium I realized how awesome the yellow of the China marker would look on the black paint/tar/sealant surface of the stairwell structure.
I began an intricate abstract design. Soon my hands and arms were black from the residue of the paint/tar/sealant surface. I had no idea what the final design would look like. The design flowed out of my wrist as though I were merely a conduit for the creation of...of...of... something.
In about ten minutes the design had been completed. It looked incredible. I stepped back and admired it from many different angles. Flawless.
To the best of my knowledge I have never been hit by a literal lightening bolt, but in this instance I had experienced the same effect. I had been jarred, shocked, jolted by some force to allow this creation to come out of me. Etched in my mind is the visual of returning to my apartment with pretty much my entire upper torso covered in a dusty blackness. Although it is kind of a cliche to say these days, in that moment I truly "felt alive". The creative blockage I had previously experienced disappeared. Washed away as I scrubbed my body free of the blackness.
--------
When my sister was in town last November, I took her and my brother Stan up to the roof to take a look at the gorgeous skyline view on display. When we got to the roof I discovered that, unbeknownst to me, the building super had recently "resealed" the entire roof in with a fresh coat of silver paint/tar/sealant. My design was gone. Like most of my artwork, it now "belonged to the ages"
While I cannot say that I was not disturbed by the loss of a familiar visual element of my own doing, the feeling of loss and mourning was short-lived. In a flash it hit me. The fresh coat of paint/tar/sealant had destroyed my artwork, but it provided an unblemished new canvas for a new creation.
The first day the mercury reaches 75 degrees you will know where to find me. Up on my roof creating something bigger and better...I cannot be stopped.
Art
On a particularly hot day, I was up on my roof. Why I thought that getting 19 feet closer to the Sun would be cooler I don't know, but that was my belief. As I stood gazing at the stairwell structures that lead to the roof I was instantly cosmically inspired...I ran back down to my apartment to grab a yellow China marker. In a blur of a vision of a heat-induced delerium I realized how awesome the yellow of the China marker would look on the black paint/tar/sealant surface of the stairwell structure.
I began an intricate abstract design. Soon my hands and arms were black from the residue of the paint/tar/sealant surface. I had no idea what the final design would look like. The design flowed out of my wrist as though I were merely a conduit for the creation of...of...of... something.
In about ten minutes the design had been completed. It looked incredible. I stepped back and admired it from many different angles. Flawless.
To the best of my knowledge I have never been hit by a literal lightening bolt, but in this instance I had experienced the same effect. I had been jarred, shocked, jolted by some force to allow this creation to come out of me. Etched in my mind is the visual of returning to my apartment with pretty much my entire upper torso covered in a dusty blackness. Although it is kind of a cliche to say these days, in that moment I truly "felt alive". The creative blockage I had previously experienced disappeared. Washed away as I scrubbed my body free of the blackness.
--------
When my sister was in town last November, I took her and my brother Stan up to the roof to take a look at the gorgeous skyline view on display. When we got to the roof I discovered that, unbeknownst to me, the building super had recently "resealed" the entire roof in with a fresh coat of silver paint/tar/sealant. My design was gone. Like most of my artwork, it now "belonged to the ages"
While I cannot say that I was not disturbed by the loss of a familiar visual element of my own doing, the feeling of loss and mourning was short-lived. In a flash it hit me. The fresh coat of paint/tar/sealant had destroyed my artwork, but it provided an unblemished new canvas for a new creation.
The first day the mercury reaches 75 degrees you will know where to find me. Up on my roof creating something bigger and better...I cannot be stopped.
Art
Return Of A Friend
A little over two years ago my sister passed this book along to me. She did not like it and did not finish it but, nonetheless, put it on my radar. I instantly fell in love with it. "Running With Scissors" was one of those books that you truly, desperately do not want to end as it is so enjoyable.
After reading a great book, my first instinct is to read everything by that author. In this case I picked up Burrough's "Dry". As far as drug recovery memoirs by an urban gay goes it was okay. But it contained little of the magic that made "Running With Scissors" so hysterically funny.
Not suprisingly I ended the Burroughs reading series and chalked him as a one-hit wonder. When his book
"Magical Thinking" came out in 2004 I paid it no mind as I did not want to disappointed again (and the reviews were not as glowing)
Inexplicably I decided to begin reading "Magical Thinking" this week and it is absolutely awesome. Reading it feels like reuniting with an old friend who for some reason you have lost contact, and then you kick yourself for letting the relationship not get your attention...
Augusten...please forgive me.
After reading a great book, my first instinct is to read everything by that author. In this case I picked up Burrough's "Dry". As far as drug recovery memoirs by an urban gay goes it was okay. But it contained little of the magic that made "Running With Scissors" so hysterically funny.
Not suprisingly I ended the Burroughs reading series and chalked him as a one-hit wonder. When his book
"Magical Thinking" came out in 2004 I paid it no mind as I did not want to disappointed again (and the reviews were not as glowing)
Inexplicably I decided to begin reading "Magical Thinking" this week and it is absolutely awesome. Reading it feels like reuniting with an old friend who for some reason you have lost contact, and then you kick yourself for letting the relationship not get your attention...
Augusten...please forgive me.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
What Have I Done To Deserve This...
Like most people I appreciate positive input regardless of the source. One place I look for such input is horoscope columns. Yeah, yeah, I know they are usually so general that they could apply to any person or situation. I do not care as I will take a positive jolt regardless.
Rob Brezny's Freewill Astrology stands head and shoulders above any other column. It does so not because of it's accuracy for predicting the future but because, as Mr. Brezny has said in previous interviews, his horoscopes are a vehicle for injecting poetry into otherwise poetry-deprived lives. In addition they are always extremely positive, funny and empowering.
Last night, like a lot of nights lately, I have not been able to sleep. I inevitably wake around 3:30-ish and toss and turn for hours. I fight the temptation to just get up and watch TV or engage in any other bright diversion. After about an hour and a half of sleeplessness I gave up and said I might as well just get on my computer....anything to take my mind off of not being able to slumber.
So I decide to visit the aforementioned Freewill Astrology and this is what I am greeted with as a forecast for the new week:
Rob Brezny's Freewill Astrology stands head and shoulders above any other column. It does so not because of it's accuracy for predicting the future but because, as Mr. Brezny has said in previous interviews, his horoscopes are a vehicle for injecting poetry into otherwise poetry-deprived lives. In addition they are always extremely positive, funny and empowering.
Last night, like a lot of nights lately, I have not been able to sleep. I inevitably wake around 3:30-ish and toss and turn for hours. I fight the temptation to just get up and watch TV or engage in any other bright diversion. After about an hour and a half of sleeplessness I gave up and said I might as well just get on my computer....anything to take my mind off of not being able to slumber.
So I decide to visit the aforementioned Freewill Astrology and this is what I am greeted with as a forecast for the new week:
German scientist Juergen Zulley specializes in research about the hours we spend unconscious lying in our beds every night. He has come to the conclusion that a lack of sleep can make you stupid, fat, and sick. It weakens your memory, decreases a hormone that helps control your cravings for food, and undermines the healthy function of your heart, digestive system, and circulation. I would add that sleep deprivation reduces the time you spend dreaming, which compromises your mental hygiene. All of these consequences would be major problems for you in the next two weeks, Aquarius. If anything, you need to sleep more than usual. I implore you to get at least eight hours a night. More would be better
How cruel can the Universe be...
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Human Resource Quiz
Let's say you own a business that, for financial reasons, needs to be open and operating on a holiday. Your presence is not necessary on said holiday as your employees are more than capable of handling the business...and, if truth be told your presence is never necessary as you literally will not lift a finger to help any of your employees.
What is the most productive way to deal with your employees who are not spending the holiday with their friends and family?
A) Call your employees by phone and tell them you appreciate their sacrificing their holiday for the sake of the business...enjoy the rest of your day knowing that your employees are aware of your appreciation.
B) Neither call nor enter the business on the holiday, lest you remind your employees that you can have the holiday off while they have to work...
C) Come to the business on the holiday and point out the flaws of the employees performance during one of the busiest days in recent memory...while literally not lifting a finger to help them out.
D) Come to the business and in the midst of the most chaotic (and financially lucrative) periods of the day, go to your office put your feet on your desk and take a nap...when you wake from slumber tell your employees what a great nap you just had.
If you answered C and D then "Congratulations!" you are a co-worker of mine.
What is the most productive way to deal with your employees who are not spending the holiday with their friends and family?
A) Call your employees by phone and tell them you appreciate their sacrificing their holiday for the sake of the business...enjoy the rest of your day knowing that your employees are aware of your appreciation.
B) Neither call nor enter the business on the holiday, lest you remind your employees that you can have the holiday off while they have to work...
C) Come to the business on the holiday and point out the flaws of the employees performance during one of the busiest days in recent memory...while literally not lifting a finger to help them out.
D) Come to the business and in the midst of the most chaotic (and financially lucrative) periods of the day, go to your office put your feet on your desk and take a nap...when you wake from slumber tell your employees what a great nap you just had.
If you answered C and D then "Congratulations!" you are a co-worker of mine.
Starting 2006 With High Dose Of Positive Energy
Started my new year off with at workout to this CD. Totally one of my favorite discs ever....Have only had the good fortune to hear Farley&Heller spin live once and they tore the roof off the place. Those kids need to move to NYC so that the Children can hear them more frequently.
Friday, December 30, 2005
My Future?
As I was reading a horoscope for Aquarians I came across this quote:
Being self-centered is no crime—especially when you're as fascinating as you are—but it's kind of a well-researched topic by now.
Jesus, could anything hit closer to home. That is exactly how I am perceiving my personality right now.
While I won't be giving up my self-centered-ness anytime in the near future, I feel like the time has come to remove myself from the microscope that I perpetually place my personality. My behavior is my behavior and beating myself up for my flaws is not worth the time or effort.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Life Gets More Easier
Last night I went to pick up food at Freshco Burrito Taco...(a rather straight-forward name for a Chinese run Tex-Mex place)
When I went in the woman behind the counter immediately asked if I wanted my usual ( a spinach burrito and two guacamole tacos). I replied yes and I was instantly filled with joy. Add another establishment in my neighborhood where I do not have to verbalize my desires....they recognize me when I walk in the door.
In a perfect world I would never have to speak inside another business. I walk in...get handed my food, dry cleaning, etc...give my money and leave. Someday I tell you, someday...
When I went in the woman behind the counter immediately asked if I wanted my usual ( a spinach burrito and two guacamole tacos). I replied yes and I was instantly filled with joy. Add another establishment in my neighborhood where I do not have to verbalize my desires....they recognize me when I walk in the door.
In a perfect world I would never have to speak inside another business. I walk in...get handed my food, dry cleaning, etc...give my money and leave. Someday I tell you, someday...
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Positive Energy Is The Real Glitter
After I had my knee surgery a little over two years ago, not only did I have to go to physical therapy, but I also had to get back into the gym. My knee injury kept me out of the gym for probably two or three months. Not only did I put on a few pounds, but I also got out of the habit of going to the gym.
After such a long absence, and not having 100% strength in my knee, it was tough to get motivated on a day-to-day basis. Improvements were very, very slow. However, I perservered and eventually redeveloped my near neurotic daily workout regimen. I wish I could chalk it up to my indomitable spirit, but at that point in my life...well, my spirit was pretty domitable.
I perpetually draw strength from the music in my life. During this recovery period my soundtrack was almost exclusively remixes by one performer...Miss Mariah Carey. This revelation may come as a shock to those who only know Mariah from her songs on the radio or the MTV or saw Glitter. To anyone who has heard her music mixed by legends like David Morales or Clivilles&Cole will not be surprised. The remixes are stellar and I swear I listened to nothing else during my post-surgery workouts.
While at the gym today "Anytime You Need A Friend" came on my iPod and it hit me that I needed to throw a little cosmic love Mariah's way. Without her talents, my recovery would not have been nearly as empowering as it was with her vocal companionship
After such a long absence, and not having 100% strength in my knee, it was tough to get motivated on a day-to-day basis. Improvements were very, very slow. However, I perservered and eventually redeveloped my near neurotic daily workout regimen. I wish I could chalk it up to my indomitable spirit, but at that point in my life...well, my spirit was pretty domitable.
I perpetually draw strength from the music in my life. During this recovery period my soundtrack was almost exclusively remixes by one performer...Miss Mariah Carey. This revelation may come as a shock to those who only know Mariah from her songs on the radio or the MTV or saw Glitter. To anyone who has heard her music mixed by legends like David Morales or Clivilles&Cole will not be surprised. The remixes are stellar and I swear I listened to nothing else during my post-surgery workouts.
While at the gym today "Anytime You Need A Friend" came on my iPod and it hit me that I needed to throw a little cosmic love Mariah's way. Without her talents, my recovery would not have been nearly as empowering as it was with her vocal companionship
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Words To Do Something By
I am about half way through this book and it is quietly rocking my world. The author includes an excerpt of a letter written by Sol LeWitt to the artist Eva Hesse. Although it is quite long it has become my new mantra.
"Learn to say 'Fuck You' to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, gasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, rumbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose-sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eying, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding grinding grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO."
Opener
If I had some stage time tonight I would open with the following true story/joke:
"So I went to the Nickel Spa for Men today and had a massage and a facial...then I went to the West Side Club and had a massage and a facial"
Ba-dum-bum.
"So I went to the Nickel Spa for Men today and had a massage and a facial...then I went to the West Side Club and had a massage and a facial"
Ba-dum-bum.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Unoriginal Thought
I was looking through the iPod instruction manual the other day. One of the graphics they have shows a songlist as it would appear on the iPod. One of the songs listed is "Girlfriend In Sonoma".
Needless to say I thought it was strange that they would put a "fake" song instead listing the original Smiths song "Girlfriend In A Coma"....I mean it is not like Morrissey has that much time on his hands that he would sue Steve Jobs over copyright infringement.
Just to satisfy my curiosity I decided to google "Girlfriend In Sonoma". I came across this link.
Damn, beaten to the punch, someone else was more observant than me.
Needless to say I thought it was strange that they would put a "fake" song instead listing the original Smiths song "Girlfriend In A Coma"....I mean it is not like Morrissey has that much time on his hands that he would sue Steve Jobs over copyright infringement.
Just to satisfy my curiosity I decided to google "Girlfriend In Sonoma". I came across this link.
Damn, beaten to the punch, someone else was more observant than me.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
1000% True
The deli on the corner of West 3rd and Thompson is offering a brand-new sandwich. I swear to baby Jesus I am not making this up.
The ingredients are:
Grill Chicken
Bacon
Mozzerella
Oregano
Low-fat Ranch Dressing
The obvious name for such a delicacy: Angel Dust
The ingredients are:
Grill Chicken
Bacon
Mozzerella
Oregano
Low-fat Ranch Dressing
The obvious name for such a delicacy: Angel Dust
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
All I Want...
Stopped by Deitch today to see this show.
Jim Drain and Ara Peterson are a couple of the founding members of Forcefield, so basically I knew I was going to be slobbering over the artwork before I even entered the door.
Needless to say I was not disappointed. The show had movement, color and simplicity which when you boil it down is all I really want from a work of art.
While being extraordinary simple, the stuff on display was obviously put together by people who knew exactly how to pare down the vision in their minds-eye to the simplest forms and then execute it. One of the great things about the show was the high production values and quality of the art work. It so refreshing to see young artists rebuke the idea that amateurishness is a sign of talent.
Jim Drain and Ara Peterson are a couple of the founding members of Forcefield, so basically I knew I was going to be slobbering over the artwork before I even entered the door.
Needless to say I was not disappointed. The show had movement, color and simplicity which when you boil it down is all I really want from a work of art.
While being extraordinary simple, the stuff on display was obviously put together by people who knew exactly how to pare down the vision in their minds-eye to the simplest forms and then execute it. One of the great things about the show was the high production values and quality of the art work. It so refreshing to see young artists rebuke the idea that amateurishness is a sign of talent.
Again With The Mercury
Anyone who has spent more than five minutes with me during the last 20 years knows that I cannot shut up about the planet Mercury going retrograde.
(For a brief refresher course on what the hell I am talking about and a handy Mercury calendar click here)
We are currently in one of these periods and I vowed to myself that I would not bring it up in conversations or in my own thought process as I believe that the power of suggestion can alter the perception of actual events. Or more accurately that my mention of it may be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
That being said, in the past few days I have been forced to acknowledge Mercury's influence. The number of miscommunications has been ridiculous. I don't think I am alone in saying that my level of mental clarity has been especially low. Want proof? Just look at the incoherence of this post
(For a brief refresher course on what the hell I am talking about and a handy Mercury calendar click here)
We are currently in one of these periods and I vowed to myself that I would not bring it up in conversations or in my own thought process as I believe that the power of suggestion can alter the perception of actual events. Or more accurately that my mention of it may be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
That being said, in the past few days I have been forced to acknowledge Mercury's influence. The number of miscommunications has been ridiculous. I don't think I am alone in saying that my level of mental clarity has been especially low. Want proof? Just look at the incoherence of this post
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
What I Am Working On
One of my focal points for 2006 is to mentally get over the idea that "the grass is greener on the other side of the fence".
Although I don't consider myself a particularly covetous or envious person, I often find myself thinking that other people have it "easy". The only basis I have for these thoughts is that the person in question seems to have an easier station in life...I might perceive them as having a better financial, emotional, intellectual circumstances and therefore, in my head, they are "better off" than I am.
Somewhere, some one is needlessly envying me right now.
Although I don't consider myself a particularly covetous or envious person, I often find myself thinking that other people have it "easy". The only basis I have for these thoughts is that the person in question seems to have an easier station in life...I might perceive them as having a better financial, emotional, intellectual circumstances and therefore, in my head, they are "better off" than I am.
Somewhere, some one is needlessly envying me right now.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Littlest Things
One of the most profound realizations I have had over the past few years is the idea that while grand gestures are important in life, it is frequently the "little things" that we hold most dear to our hearts...
A couple of years ago I was travelling back to Lincoln to be with my mom while she was in the hospital. Considering the circumstance I was not exactly looking forward to the trip.
After I made my travel arrangements I e-mailled my family in Lincoln to let them know that I would be renting a car at the airport and would therefore not need to picked up after my flight. I knew everyone would be stressed out by the situation at hand and did not want to require any of my siblings to make an airport run. Also, you need a vehicle at your disposal in order to get from point A to point B....no subways available.
My flights to Lincoln were, as usual, quite draining. Couple that with the concept of travelling to Nebraska in the wintertime, and my mom's health issues and needless to say I was not in the best of moods when I de-planed.
As I left the gate and was approaching the baggage claim area I saw that my dad was waiting for me on the concourse. As I approached him I smiled, began to embrace him in a hug, and I stated the obvious "Dad, you didn't have to come and meet me I told you I rented a car". His light-hearted response was "Oh I had to come and meet the Captain at the airport!"
In a split second my mind and heart were blown away. As a kid my dad for some completely inexplicable reason, nicknamed me Captain. At the very least it had been 25 years since he had called me that. So long, in fact, that as an adult I began to second guess my childhood memories "Had he every called me that or did I just dream it up" I frequently wondered. Although I was curious, I never brought the topic up for fear of looking like an idiot if I had created the nickname in my head.
"Oh I had to come and meet the Captain at the airport!"
When those words were spoken I cannot describe the warmth I felt in my heart, in my soul. As an understatement I will say that my dad and I have not seen eye-to-eye on a lot of topics. But in that instant I was transported way back to a much simpler time in my life. An amazingly innocent time in my life. A period where neither my dad nor I was harshly judging the flaws of the other. A point in my existence with significantly less manufactured bullshit in my relationship with my father.
A time when all that mattered was that he was my dad and I was his "Captain".
A couple of years ago I was travelling back to Lincoln to be with my mom while she was in the hospital. Considering the circumstance I was not exactly looking forward to the trip.
After I made my travel arrangements I e-mailled my family in Lincoln to let them know that I would be renting a car at the airport and would therefore not need to picked up after my flight. I knew everyone would be stressed out by the situation at hand and did not want to require any of my siblings to make an airport run. Also, you need a vehicle at your disposal in order to get from point A to point B....no subways available.
My flights to Lincoln were, as usual, quite draining. Couple that with the concept of travelling to Nebraska in the wintertime, and my mom's health issues and needless to say I was not in the best of moods when I de-planed.
As I left the gate and was approaching the baggage claim area I saw that my dad was waiting for me on the concourse. As I approached him I smiled, began to embrace him in a hug, and I stated the obvious "Dad, you didn't have to come and meet me I told you I rented a car". His light-hearted response was "Oh I had to come and meet the Captain at the airport!"
In a split second my mind and heart were blown away. As a kid my dad for some completely inexplicable reason, nicknamed me Captain. At the very least it had been 25 years since he had called me that. So long, in fact, that as an adult I began to second guess my childhood memories "Had he every called me that or did I just dream it up" I frequently wondered. Although I was curious, I never brought the topic up for fear of looking like an idiot if I had created the nickname in my head.
"Oh I had to come and meet the Captain at the airport!"
When those words were spoken I cannot describe the warmth I felt in my heart, in my soul. As an understatement I will say that my dad and I have not seen eye-to-eye on a lot of topics. But in that instant I was transported way back to a much simpler time in my life. An amazingly innocent time in my life. A period where neither my dad nor I was harshly judging the flaws of the other. A point in my existence with significantly less manufactured bullshit in my relationship with my father.
A time when all that mattered was that he was my dad and I was his "Captain".
The Way It Used To Be
As a Halloween gift my parents sent me about a dozen Nebraska grown apples and some caramel for dipping said apples. They also included a print version of this article. Which is a pretty good read and makes you realize that due to the ever so slow "dumbing down" of the red delicious apple, what was once great tasting is now mediocre.
The red delicious apples were the authentic kind, not the factory grown kind that you find in every supermarket and fruitstand. The taste was refreshingly eye-opening...exactly how an apple should taste. But for me the best part of these orchard grown apples was that they did not have that annoying white PLU sticker on them. You know the sticker that you have to gouge a fingernail into in order to get it off the skin of the apple.
It made feel bad for today's kids who don't know there was a time when fruit did not have words or numbers stamped on them.
The red delicious apples were the authentic kind, not the factory grown kind that you find in every supermarket and fruitstand. The taste was refreshingly eye-opening...exactly how an apple should taste. But for me the best part of these orchard grown apples was that they did not have that annoying white PLU sticker on them. You know the sticker that you have to gouge a fingernail into in order to get it off the skin of the apple.
It made feel bad for today's kids who don't know there was a time when fruit did not have words or numbers stamped on them.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
More Things I Love...
Corner slices of Sicilian Pizza from Bleecker St. Pizza...getting a haircut...listening to Randi Rhodes...merely the thought of a fresh pair of Vans...when my friend Ana uses Arial in lieu of another font...new issues of Vice magazine... sleeping with an absurd number of pillows and blankets...the latest obscure but hilariously insightful thoughts from Mr. Mickey...
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Out Of Control
I am currrently in the middle of no less than three books on the topic of Iraq.
Couple this my incessant attention to Americablog and other internet and cable news sources and you will realize that I have no life outside of "researching" this completely unnecessary mess that our president has made. A mess that every single day yields a phone call or field visit to a family informing them that their son, daughter, husband, wife or parent is dead.
Couple this my incessant attention to Americablog and other internet and cable news sources and you will realize that I have no life outside of "researching" this completely unnecessary mess that our president has made. A mess that every single day yields a phone call or field visit to a family informing them that their son, daughter, husband, wife or parent is dead.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Bad Engrish
The other day I sent an e-mail to my brother Dave who is currently stationed in Djibouti. In the e-mail I included this Satan's Laundromat link. I love seeing mangled english and apparently I am not the only one.
After I sent the e-mail, for some reason I began thinking that making light of non-English speakers inadvertantly twisting the language might be a tad culturally imperialistic (can you tell I took political science classes in college...years of debt just to be able to drop the term like culturally imperialistic into a sentence!)
I felt bad for about eleven minutes and then I realize that everyone in every culture would make fun of a non-native speaker destroying their beloved language. For instance, I know that every Spanish-speaking person I encounter will likely mock me when I describe everything as "mas fina"...pantalones mas fina, cerveza mas fina, el diablo mas fina. Trust me if I could master a second adjective I would gladly apply that to every spanish noun in lieu of "mas fina"...maybe someday.
I began trying to mentally investigate where I developped this appreciation for mangled english. Ironically, I saw as one of the major influences in this direction was my brother Dave...
My brother Dave is thirteen years older than me, so when he was a young adult I was still very much an impressionable kid.
If I remember correctly, Dave was in his mid-twenties when in addition to grad school and full-time job he signed up to be a door-to-door advertisement distributor. When he could not fit this part-time job into his schedule, or had a particulary large route to deliver, he would sub-contract his duties to his younger brothers.
As a way to make a little money, I was seduced into helping out.
The basic concept of the job was to go to every house in particular neighborhood and hang a plastic envelope that had an advertisement for a local business held within it. For city-dwellers, imagine the guy standing on the street corner handing out fliers...now imagine him coming to your front door to hang the advertisement you have no interest in on your doorknob...now imagine that it is a punky eleven year old who may potentially step on your well-manicured front lawn.
The job was a dream for anyone who had a future in sociology. You definitely got to see human behavior in relation to their "personal space" being invaded. When you went into the wealthy neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you might defile one of their precious blades of grass or steal some of their property. When you went into the poor neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you were going to steal some of their property. Best of both worlds.
One day Dave and I were delivering ads in the poor neighborhood called Belmont. When I was on my section of the route I came across house with a doorknob that, in barely legible hand-written pencil, said "Hang No Ads". I immediately started laughing hysterically. I got such great satisfaction because, other than being obviously retarded and funny, I knew that when I described it to my brother he would get a kick out of it as well.
When I reconnected with Dave I told him about the doorknob, and as expected, he thought it was a riot. I swear that for the rest of the day we repeated the phrase "Hang No Ads" back to each other about forty times. From that day forward, whenever we would come across a particularly shady residence I would just say "Hang No Ads" and we would begin laughing about it as if it were the first time we encountered it...
After I sent the e-mail, for some reason I began thinking that making light of non-English speakers inadvertantly twisting the language might be a tad culturally imperialistic (can you tell I took political science classes in college...years of debt just to be able to drop the term like culturally imperialistic into a sentence!)
I felt bad for about eleven minutes and then I realize that everyone in every culture would make fun of a non-native speaker destroying their beloved language. For instance, I know that every Spanish-speaking person I encounter will likely mock me when I describe everything as "mas fina"...pantalones mas fina, cerveza mas fina, el diablo mas fina. Trust me if I could master a second adjective I would gladly apply that to every spanish noun in lieu of "mas fina"...maybe someday.
I began trying to mentally investigate where I developped this appreciation for mangled english. Ironically, I saw as one of the major influences in this direction was my brother Dave...
My brother Dave is thirteen years older than me, so when he was a young adult I was still very much an impressionable kid.
If I remember correctly, Dave was in his mid-twenties when in addition to grad school and full-time job he signed up to be a door-to-door advertisement distributor. When he could not fit this part-time job into his schedule, or had a particulary large route to deliver, he would sub-contract his duties to his younger brothers.
As a way to make a little money, I was seduced into helping out.
The basic concept of the job was to go to every house in particular neighborhood and hang a plastic envelope that had an advertisement for a local business held within it. For city-dwellers, imagine the guy standing on the street corner handing out fliers...now imagine him coming to your front door to hang the advertisement you have no interest in on your doorknob...now imagine that it is a punky eleven year old who may potentially step on your well-manicured front lawn.
The job was a dream for anyone who had a future in sociology. You definitely got to see human behavior in relation to their "personal space" being invaded. When you went into the wealthy neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you might defile one of their precious blades of grass or steal some of their property. When you went into the poor neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you were going to steal some of their property. Best of both worlds.
One day Dave and I were delivering ads in the poor neighborhood called Belmont. When I was on my section of the route I came across house with a doorknob that, in barely legible hand-written pencil, said "Hang No Ads". I immediately started laughing hysterically. I got such great satisfaction because, other than being obviously retarded and funny, I knew that when I described it to my brother he would get a kick out of it as well.
When I reconnected with Dave I told him about the doorknob, and as expected, he thought it was a riot. I swear that for the rest of the day we repeated the phrase "Hang No Ads" back to each other about forty times. From that day forward, whenever we would come across a particularly shady residence I would just say "Hang No Ads" and we would begin laughing about it as if it were the first time we encountered it...
Sunday, October 23, 2005
The Greatest Actor Of Our Generation
I have come to the conclusion that I am the greatest actor of our generation. How have I determined this you ask?
Well, the fact that I can keep a straight face while, on more than one occaision, my boss verbally mangles the phrases "...fall on deaf ears" and "...turn a blind eye" into "...fall on deaf eyes" proves my prowess.
Let's see Phillip Seymour Hoffman do that.
Well, the fact that I can keep a straight face while, on more than one occaision, my boss verbally mangles the phrases "...fall on deaf ears" and "...turn a blind eye" into "...fall on deaf eyes" proves my prowess.
Let's see Phillip Seymour Hoffman do that.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Off The Wagon
Got an e-mail today from my friend Geoff telling me to pick up the current issue of Metropolis. The architectural firm he works at did the interiors at the new Bloomberg building...and the interiors got a cover story.
Now having someone suggest I go into a magazine store is equivalent to urging a crackhead to go to the crackhouse and buy one crackrock...I mean it is just plain dangerous.
Lately I have been pretty good with my magazine addiction. I strongly question every purchase ("Am I just buying this for one article that I could read online?")...If I am forced to buy one of those ridiculously overpriced fashion/art/design/architecture magazines I always scour the homeless magazine sellers on Sixth Avenue to see if they have a copy "in stock".
So I decide I am going to go to a magazine store and buy ONLY the issue of Metropolis that was suggested. I went to three stores and no one had the November issue. It was raining and I was in a hurry to get home but I decided to try this tiny storefront magazine stand on West 3rd between Sixth and Macdougal. This stand has some sort of tie to the street kiosk magazine stand just down the block from me on Thompson St...I don't know if the same family owns both...or if the a group of Pakistani friends trade shifts working at either location...I have never pinpointed the connection.
Tonight, when I walk into the storefront I look up at the cashier and I recognize him from working at the other location years ago. The first words out of his mouth were "Long time, no see". Great...I was such a free-spending customer back in the day that years later he is able to recognize me.
Instead of being embarassed at over-the-top-ness of my magazine addiction, I should be delighted that he still recognizes a valued customer...after all, I probably pumped enough money into his business over the years to send his children to Harvard....
Now having someone suggest I go into a magazine store is equivalent to urging a crackhead to go to the crackhouse and buy one crackrock...I mean it is just plain dangerous.
Lately I have been pretty good with my magazine addiction. I strongly question every purchase ("Am I just buying this for one article that I could read online?")...If I am forced to buy one of those ridiculously overpriced fashion/art/design/architecture magazines I always scour the homeless magazine sellers on Sixth Avenue to see if they have a copy "in stock".
So I decide I am going to go to a magazine store and buy ONLY the issue of Metropolis that was suggested. I went to three stores and no one had the November issue. It was raining and I was in a hurry to get home but I decided to try this tiny storefront magazine stand on West 3rd between Sixth and Macdougal. This stand has some sort of tie to the street kiosk magazine stand just down the block from me on Thompson St...I don't know if the same family owns both...or if the a group of Pakistani friends trade shifts working at either location...I have never pinpointed the connection.
Tonight, when I walk into the storefront I look up at the cashier and I recognize him from working at the other location years ago. The first words out of his mouth were "Long time, no see". Great...I was such a free-spending customer back in the day that years later he is able to recognize me.
Instead of being embarassed at over-the-top-ness of my magazine addiction, I should be delighted that he still recognizes a valued customer...after all, I probably pumped enough money into his business over the years to send his children to Harvard....
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Word Of The Day
Nacreous
Came across this word in a display at the Center for Architecture around the corner from my apt. Not only did I not know it's meaning, I had never heard it before. Rest assured I will be dropping it in to any and all conversations going forward.
Came across this word in a display at the Center for Architecture around the corner from my apt. Not only did I not know it's meaning, I had never heard it before. Rest assured I will be dropping it in to any and all conversations going forward.
Random Brightness
I was out running errands today. When I was about a block from my apartment building I look up and see my friend Timmy. Nothing strange about that, except for the fact that it had at least been 3 years since I had seen him.
That is one of the downsides of living in this city. It seems like it is too easy for relationships to drift apart. People are busy trying to make enough money to afford living here that human connections suffer...couple of missed dates...a few phonecalls go unreturned ...and then all of the sudden it has been years since you have talked to a friend.
While this is definitely the situation regarding me and Timmy, I am choosing to look at the bright side of the situation...the fact that within 4 seconds of making eye-contact with each other we were hugging and kissing and "carrying on" as if the 3 year absence had never happened...
That is one of the downsides of living in this city. It seems like it is too easy for relationships to drift apart. People are busy trying to make enough money to afford living here that human connections suffer...couple of missed dates...a few phonecalls go unreturned ...and then all of the sudden it has been years since you have talked to a friend.
While this is definitely the situation regarding me and Timmy, I am choosing to look at the bright side of the situation...the fact that within 4 seconds of making eye-contact with each other we were hugging and kissing and "carrying on" as if the 3 year absence had never happened...
Monday, October 17, 2005
School Is In Session
Went to Cielo last night for a new party called Master Class. The promoters are billing the party as a chance for legendary DJs to be in a small environment and go to the roots of House music.
It doesn't get much more legendary than the inaugural DJ... Junior Vasquez. While "chatting up" a cute boy in line to get in I determined that it had been at least a couple of years since I heard Junior. After last night it certainly won't be that long before I hear him again.
He punished the Children last night..."Get Your Hands Off My Man","Plastic Dreams", "X", "So Get Up", "Your Child"...just some of the Sound Factory gems he brought out. The crowd was very much there to hear this music...an amazing vibe. It was the type of party that, when I was about to pick up my jacket at the Coat Check and call it a night, I heard the opening chords of DJ Pierre's "Atom Bomb" and I knew I had to get out of line and return to the dancefloor. Scorching...
It doesn't get much more legendary than the inaugural DJ... Junior Vasquez. While "chatting up" a cute boy in line to get in I determined that it had been at least a couple of years since I heard Junior. After last night it certainly won't be that long before I hear him again.
He punished the Children last night..."Get Your Hands Off My Man","Plastic Dreams", "X", "So Get Up", "Your Child"...just some of the Sound Factory gems he brought out. The crowd was very much there to hear this music...an amazing vibe. It was the type of party that, when I was about to pick up my jacket at the Coat Check and call it a night, I heard the opening chords of DJ Pierre's "Atom Bomb" and I knew I had to get out of line and return to the dancefloor. Scorching...
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
The Fastest Slowest Day
Due to the ridiculously rainy weather, lack of sleep, and the inept staff at the Apple store I got very little accomplished today.
Can't even summon the energy for an interesting blog entry.
There is always tomorrow.
Can't even summon the energy for an interesting blog entry.
There is always tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Things I Call "Bullshit" On...(Partial List)
Lactose Intolerance and 98% of all "food allergies"...Recycling...Anti-biotics..."Designer" T-shirts, "Designer" Jeans, basically anything with the word "Designer" attached to it...Transexualism
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Defending Icons
A couple of weeks ago I saw this twenty-something guy wearing a black t-shirt with the cover of Joy Division's "Unknown Pleasures" printed on it. There were two strange things about it...first, the guy did not look like the "typical" Joy Division fan and secondly, the t-shirt just had the graphic on it without having any of the text.
After passing the guy I began to develop a conspiracy theory that someone was printing the shirt to sell to trendy people.
A few days later, a young woman came into work wearing the same shirt except it was even more "fashion-ized"...cut for a wider neckline and cinched at the shoulders.
To test my theory and to be a jerk I asked her if she was a Joy Division fan. She looked a bit perplexed while I pointed to the graphic on her shirt. Her befuddled response was "...oh, I am kind of dumb about things like that". As a living public service announcement I informed her that Joy Division was a band.
I wonder if 50 years from now you will be able to sell a t-shirt with a swastika to trendy youth who know none of the history, but just think it "looks cool".
After passing the guy I began to develop a conspiracy theory that someone was printing the shirt to sell to trendy people.
A few days later, a young woman came into work wearing the same shirt except it was even more "fashion-ized"...cut for a wider neckline and cinched at the shoulders.
To test my theory and to be a jerk I asked her if she was a Joy Division fan. She looked a bit perplexed while I pointed to the graphic on her shirt. Her befuddled response was "...oh, I am kind of dumb about things like that". As a living public service announcement I informed her that Joy Division was a band.
I wonder if 50 years from now you will be able to sell a t-shirt with a swastika to trendy youth who know none of the history, but just think it "looks cool".
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Reason #844 Why I Love New York
I was watching this documentary the other day. About ten minutes in they show Derrida walking by the Silver Towers about two blocks from my apt.
It still blows me away that I live in this city.
It still blows me away that I live in this city.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
New Favorite
So I have a new favorite character that goes to my gym. Replacing the wannabe-Brazilian who would not take off his sunglasses (even in the shower) and the aging art teacher who wears Yamamoto and vintage Sergio Tacchini, this new character is amazing. Whatever this man's workout...lifting weights or doing cardio he is constantly talking to himself.
First off, I can't relate how refreshing it is to see someone legitimately talking to themselves instead of vocalizing into a miniscule cell phone. This particular gentleman is literally talking to himself constantly. I would love to share his name with you but it is impossible for me to introduce myself to him as I cannot get a word in edgewise...I am completely serious.
First off, I can't relate how refreshing it is to see someone legitimately talking to themselves instead of vocalizing into a miniscule cell phone. This particular gentleman is literally talking to himself constantly. I would love to share his name with you but it is impossible for me to introduce myself to him as I cannot get a word in edgewise...I am completely serious.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Word Association
You know how there are certain words or phrases that when you hear them your mind immediatedly takes you to a mental reference that your mind has associated with that word or phrase, but has nothing to do with what that word or phrase means.
What follows is the mental association I make whenever I hear or read the name Alfred Hitchcock.
When I was around 10 or 11 years old, my friend Kevin Fisher was always talking about watching
"Alfred Hitchcock Presents" on late night cable television. Since the Buell household did not have cable, I had no actual experience viewing the show.
One Friday night Kevin invited me to spend the night at his house which would allow us to watch "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" together, instead of him having to describe the entire episode in detail the following morning. In hindsight it is very strange that Kevin would hype this show so much as it really was not in keeping with his very mainstream tastes. Part of me thinks that he knew I would like it and was being mildly cruel in reminding me that I didn't have access to it...whereas he had access to it, but didn't really get into it.
Regardless, all arrangements were in place for me to spend the night. If memory serves me correctly the program was to begin at midnight. So Kevin and I were sitting on his couch watching his TV in his basement, patiently waiting for the show to start. Around ten minutes to midnight we hear this huge explosion and all of the sudden all the electricity goes out.
Although we did not want to go upstairs and potentially wake up Kevin's parents...thereby spoiling our fun, we quickly came to the conclusion that even if they were asleep before, they were probably awakened by the same loud noise we heard 30 seconds previous.
When we got upstairs Kevin's dad was walking out of his bedroom carrying a flashlight...a completely reasonable action except for the fact that he was completely naked. Any normal prepubescent boy would be curious to look at the completely naked body of his friend's father....Let's just say I had a healthy level of curiousity, which was heightened by the fact that Mr. Fisher was, how shall I say...extremely well endowed. I would later learn that the apple does not fall far from the tree...but in that moment I was absolutely transfixed, and did not have the ability disguise my interest in the glow of the now much-appreciated flashlight.
Mr. Fisher suggested that an electrical transformer on the power lines had most likely exploded resulting in the loss of electricity. We heard another loud noise outdoors and decided to check it out. I just assumed that Mr. Fisher would step back into his bedroom and put on some clothes before heading out to the porch. Interestingly enough he did not. So I find myself standing with my friend and his naked father on their front porch.
Obviously this left an indelible mark on my consciousness as I am able to recall it a couple of decades later...as I do every time I hear the name Alfred Hitchcock
What follows is the mental association I make whenever I hear or read the name Alfred Hitchcock.
When I was around 10 or 11 years old, my friend Kevin Fisher was always talking about watching
"Alfred Hitchcock Presents" on late night cable television. Since the Buell household did not have cable, I had no actual experience viewing the show.
One Friday night Kevin invited me to spend the night at his house which would allow us to watch "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" together, instead of him having to describe the entire episode in detail the following morning. In hindsight it is very strange that Kevin would hype this show so much as it really was not in keeping with his very mainstream tastes. Part of me thinks that he knew I would like it and was being mildly cruel in reminding me that I didn't have access to it...whereas he had access to it, but didn't really get into it.
Regardless, all arrangements were in place for me to spend the night. If memory serves me correctly the program was to begin at midnight. So Kevin and I were sitting on his couch watching his TV in his basement, patiently waiting for the show to start. Around ten minutes to midnight we hear this huge explosion and all of the sudden all the electricity goes out.
Although we did not want to go upstairs and potentially wake up Kevin's parents...thereby spoiling our fun, we quickly came to the conclusion that even if they were asleep before, they were probably awakened by the same loud noise we heard 30 seconds previous.
When we got upstairs Kevin's dad was walking out of his bedroom carrying a flashlight...a completely reasonable action except for the fact that he was completely naked. Any normal prepubescent boy would be curious to look at the completely naked body of his friend's father....Let's just say I had a healthy level of curiousity, which was heightened by the fact that Mr. Fisher was, how shall I say...extremely well endowed. I would later learn that the apple does not fall far from the tree...but in that moment I was absolutely transfixed, and did not have the ability disguise my interest in the glow of the now much-appreciated flashlight.
Mr. Fisher suggested that an electrical transformer on the power lines had most likely exploded resulting in the loss of electricity. We heard another loud noise outdoors and decided to check it out. I just assumed that Mr. Fisher would step back into his bedroom and put on some clothes before heading out to the porch. Interestingly enough he did not. So I find myself standing with my friend and his naked father on their front porch.
Obviously this left an indelible mark on my consciousness as I am able to recall it a couple of decades later...as I do every time I hear the name Alfred Hitchcock
Monday, September 05, 2005
Beauty
Randomly I came across this book cover. It totally reminds me of every textbook from my elementary school years...beautiful simple geometry and two of my favorite colors paired together. Visual heaven.Hero Of The Week
My Hero Of The Week is my co-worker Jessica. For months she has been asking my boss for a well deserved raise. He proposed that he would pay her slightly more if she went from hourly employee to salaried employee. Needless to say she used her common sense to see that this was a bullshit deal...a little more money for a lot more work. She turned down this ridiculous offer cold...Awesome!
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Partial Karmic Payback
Today at the gym I decided to splurge and buy one of the overpriced sportsdrinks they have in the vending machine there. Since the vending machine dispenses all sorts of bottled beverages including some that come in glass bottles, there is padding at the bottom so the glass will not break when it falls down to the consumer. Unfortunately this safety feature caused the drink I had just paid a ridiculous amount for to get stuck in the machine. I spent about five minutes, an eternity when you are thirsty, shaking the machine in a futile attempt to dislodge the bottle.
After giving up I realized that the situation was part of an elaborate karmic payback plan that I was being forced into...
When I was around 11 or 12 years old my friend Todd developed this method of reaching his arm up into soda vending machines...tapping the cans and having them released into his hand without paying a dime. While I could never get the method done myself...I don't know if my hand was too big or what...but I was his accomplice in acting as a lookout for authority figures...and carting away and enjoying the refreshing taste of the pilferred goods. We would literally walk away with a sixpack of soda each. Apparently we weren't the only ones participating in this activity, as soon the vending machines were reconfigured with a piece of metal that prevented a human arm to penetrate the inner workings of the machine.
After giving up I realized that the situation was part of an elaborate karmic payback plan that I was being forced into...
When I was around 11 or 12 years old my friend Todd developed this method of reaching his arm up into soda vending machines...tapping the cans and having them released into his hand without paying a dime. While I could never get the method done myself...I don't know if my hand was too big or what...but I was his accomplice in acting as a lookout for authority figures...and carting away and enjoying the refreshing taste of the pilferred goods. We would literally walk away with a sixpack of soda each. Apparently we weren't the only ones participating in this activity, as soon the vending machines were reconfigured with a piece of metal that prevented a human arm to penetrate the inner workings of the machine.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Come On...
How does something like this slip under my radar...Just started reading this book. It is so totally awesome. The writing is intelligent and kind of "Sedaris-Lite"...That is not meant as an insult. Sometimes when I really think about David Sedaris' writing it becomes intimidating because you don't think anyone can match his talent/wit. Ms Vowell is in the same vein humor-wise, but is more down-to-earth and accessible...You feel like you have met her a thousand times in the course of your life.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Brief But Powerful
Last week I had a moment that pretty much sums up my life right now...
I was leaving my apartment, I clicked on my iPod and selected "Da Rockwilder" by Method Man and Redman. It is definitely one of my all-time favorite hip hop tracks and it never fails to put me into a delightful badasss mood. So, I am walking down my staircase and I have this total "attitude" going on in my head, best summed up by Ice Cube's classic line "...fuck wit me, I'll put a foot up 'ya ass"...
I get to the bottom of the stairs and I see this elderly woman named Marie who lives in my building. She has a couple of large bags in her hands along with her cane. I ask her if she needs any assistance and she says that it would be helpful if I just carried the bags up to her apartment door and then she would more easily walk up the stairs herself. I said "No problem" and quickly jetted back up the stairs to drop the bags off in front of her door.
When I came back downstairs she was completely appreciative and thanked me profusely. Again I said that it was no big deal and I was happy to help. It was not an act that would merit a Nobel Prize...but it just felt nice to help someone out...I just got a nice "warm fuzzy" as we used to say.
As I left my building I re-clicked on "Da Rockwilder" and was back in street thug mindset...except that I was smiling at the gorgeous beauty of being able to go from badass to nice guy in about a millisecond. I can't explain how much I prize this ability...
I was leaving my apartment, I clicked on my iPod and selected "Da Rockwilder" by Method Man and Redman. It is definitely one of my all-time favorite hip hop tracks and it never fails to put me into a delightful badasss mood. So, I am walking down my staircase and I have this total "attitude" going on in my head, best summed up by Ice Cube's classic line "...fuck wit me, I'll put a foot up 'ya ass"...
I get to the bottom of the stairs and I see this elderly woman named Marie who lives in my building. She has a couple of large bags in her hands along with her cane. I ask her if she needs any assistance and she says that it would be helpful if I just carried the bags up to her apartment door and then she would more easily walk up the stairs herself. I said "No problem" and quickly jetted back up the stairs to drop the bags off in front of her door.
When I came back downstairs she was completely appreciative and thanked me profusely. Again I said that it was no big deal and I was happy to help. It was not an act that would merit a Nobel Prize...but it just felt nice to help someone out...I just got a nice "warm fuzzy" as we used to say.
As I left my building I re-clicked on "Da Rockwilder" and was back in street thug mindset...except that I was smiling at the gorgeous beauty of being able to go from badass to nice guy in about a millisecond. I can't explain how much I prize this ability...
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
My Peace Of Heaven
I just woke up from one of the most gorgeous dreams.... Since I guess I have come to terms that you can never really truly describe a dream accurately...conveying the "feeling" you have while it is happening, I have decided that I will not drive myself crazy that the description below does not match what was in my head.
Basically, I was headed to a small town "Fourth of July" celebration. My Aunt Shirley was in charge of the celebration...which is not that different from real life. The small town was very desolate, but in a serene way. There was a large lesbian contingent that lived very peacefully with the "townies".
My Aunt Shirley "curated" the evening fireworks which were awesome because the exploding shells were not very "crisp"...the colors were very muted and sort of muddled around the edges...kind of like an aurora borealis. In addition, there were a lights on the ground that coordinated with the fireworks to create a very different look.
After the fireworks, there were these spontaneous parties that arose. You could just sort of walk around and come across these attitude-free parties.
As morning approached it got very quiet with just an occaisional Techno song playing. Everyone was talking about how Techno was going to make a come-back in America...and the songs playing were genuinely awesome. Diesel was sponsoring ads pushing Techno...but it was done very well.
Came across Silke and exchanged addresses...surrounded by a very good vibe.
The small town had built these "novelty buildings" specifically for the 4th of July celebration. One was a UFO...another was a dry-docked sailing ship. The UFO doubled as a 1970's cheesy-beautiful disco. It opened up and was completely silent which made sense since it was the end of the night, but everyone demanded that they start playing music...the music they started playing was this delicious deep deep deep house music...as I walked around further I came across Justin Timberlake sitting at a stool...he was bobbing his head and crying because the music was so beautiful...which it was.
Cain was pouring drinks behind the bar...it was so great because he was "working" the party but only because it was essential to the good vibe...not out of obligation or as if it were a job...
If I were to create a waking life soundtrack that would describe the feel of this dream it would definitely include KLF "Chill Out" and Beth Orton's "Daybreaker"
Basically, I was headed to a small town "Fourth of July" celebration. My Aunt Shirley was in charge of the celebration...which is not that different from real life. The small town was very desolate, but in a serene way. There was a large lesbian contingent that lived very peacefully with the "townies".
My Aunt Shirley "curated" the evening fireworks which were awesome because the exploding shells were not very "crisp"...the colors were very muted and sort of muddled around the edges...kind of like an aurora borealis. In addition, there were a lights on the ground that coordinated with the fireworks to create a very different look.
After the fireworks, there were these spontaneous parties that arose. You could just sort of walk around and come across these attitude-free parties.
As morning approached it got very quiet with just an occaisional Techno song playing. Everyone was talking about how Techno was going to make a come-back in America...and the songs playing were genuinely awesome. Diesel was sponsoring ads pushing Techno...but it was done very well.
Came across Silke and exchanged addresses...surrounded by a very good vibe.
The small town had built these "novelty buildings" specifically for the 4th of July celebration. One was a UFO...another was a dry-docked sailing ship. The UFO doubled as a 1970's cheesy-beautiful disco. It opened up and was completely silent which made sense since it was the end of the night, but everyone demanded that they start playing music...the music they started playing was this delicious deep deep deep house music...as I walked around further I came across Justin Timberlake sitting at a stool...he was bobbing his head and crying because the music was so beautiful...which it was.
Cain was pouring drinks behind the bar...it was so great because he was "working" the party but only because it was essential to the good vibe...not out of obligation or as if it were a job...
If I were to create a waking life soundtrack that would describe the feel of this dream it would definitely include KLF "Chill Out" and Beth Orton's "Daybreaker"
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Massive Swelling
I am about a third of the way through this book. Even though the topic is pop culture and the book is five years old it is still amazingly relevant. Ms. Wilson's writing is bitter, venomous, and completely hilarious. The bitchiness is so great because all of her targets deserve to be spat upon...
Friday, July 29, 2005
Moments
Based on a recommendation from Brian I started reading this book the other day. I am really getting into it as Ms. Lamott has a great way of mingling the sacred and the profane in her essays. She writes a lot about the difficulty of being a writer. She also uses a lot of quotes and cultural references to flesh out the topic at hand, which also appeals to me.
In many of the essays she talks about her "up and down" relationship with her teenage son. Her descriptions of her son Sam have really triggered a flood of memories regarding my nephew Cody.
While reading this afternoon I was reminded of a really awesome memory involving Cody.
In many of the essays she talks about her "up and down" relationship with her teenage son. Her descriptions of her son Sam have really triggered a flood of memories regarding my nephew Cody.
While reading this afternoon I was reminded of a really awesome memory involving Cody.
I could probably write an entire book of great memories with Cody and maybe in the future I will. For now, I should probably give a ridiculously brief history of how Cody came into my life...
My brother Paul began dating Cody's mom Julie 20 years ago this summer. Cody was a little less than a year old when they began dating and I vividly remember Cody being carted up to our family house on Knox Street. Paul and Julie married a couple of years later officially cementing Cody's induction into the Buell clan, but he was welcomed with open arms from day one.
My parents were happy to have their first grandchild to shower with gifts and attention. The fact that Cody was not biologically related to any Buell had zero effect on our affection for him.
I was sixteen when Cody came into my life and in the intervening years he has been my nephew, my "little brother", my student, my partner-in-crime...
I could go on for days relaying stories of the fun we have had...baseball games in his backyard, singing "Pump Up The Jam" in unison when he was 6, daytrips to Omaha to have Zio's Pizza when he was a teen...
One of the toughest parts of moving to New York City was leaving Cody and my nieces behind, especially since I had grown so much closer to them in my last few years in Lincoln.
For Christmas 2003 the Buell's hung out at this bed and breakfast in Lincoln. We had a great time chillin' in a beautiful old house and having nothing to do but enjoy each other's company (something that probably would not have had a few years previous).
On Christmas Eve, Cody and his sister Halsey, my dad and I were playing cards...we were having a great time...just hanging out. My dad got up from the card table momentarily, as he exited the room Cody piped up and said "Grandpa...can you get me a Coke?" It was literally nothing out of the ordinary, but in the split-second that Cody asked this question I was overcome by emotion. It was as if the Universe were giving me this intense view of the beauty of the world...
I had this instant moment of clarity on how there could have been all these obstacles to prevent this situation from happening...Paul could have never asked Julie out for a date, our family could have been less than welcoming to this outsider named Cody, etc. etc....But none of those obstacles did happen, instead the Universe had put in place a course of events that lead to the circumstance where this kid named Cody Williams was calling a man named George Buell "Grandpa".
Even thinking about this interaction brings great joy. As I grow older it seems to happen more and more often that the Universe opens up to reveal shards of gorgeousness in the most simple of situations. You just have to be in the right place at the right time and be open to the experience...
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Stalked
Two times in two days in two different parts of the city...Savion Glover is obviously stalking me. Child, I didn't even see "Bring In 'Da Noise, Bring In Da Funk"...just leave me alone.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Portals
I began a rough draft of a post about my previous post about "passing" as straight the other night. That rough draft was deleted as it was even more obscure and tangential than my normally obscure and tangential thought process. But I do have some further thoughts on this encounter with this woman named Abby, which may or may not be any clearer.
By itself, passing as straight is not that extraordinary. The reason why this interaction resonated with me is that was a very strong example of a phenomenon that has reared it's head in my life. I really don't have the words to describe this phenomenon other that to say that over the past month or so I have had a few of these experiences where it feels like I am in a "portal" to another human's life, as experienced through my eyes and consciousness.
Yea, yea, I know shades of "Being John Malkovich". But the strange feeling I experience when this has happened has been quite profound.
In the interaction with Abby it "felt" like I was a typical "guy" flirting with her flirty comments. My comments to her were not fake or disingenuous, in fact they were quite natural. It felt like I was in the interaction, but the experience was not part of "my life story"...almost as if I had walked onto the set of a film and I was acting a part...
Just a few evenings previous to this, I was passing a nearly empty bar around the corner from my apartment. Looking through the front door I saw an older man who was sitting at a barstool with his back to me (so I wasn't even seeing his face). In the moment I saw this man, a thought zoomed into my head..."Oh! there's my dad...This is the bar where I was supposed to meet him for a drink"...and then I felt this strong compulsion to go in the bar and interact with my "Dad".
Other than having gray hair, the man bore no physical resemblance to my dad. Couple that with the fact that my dad has never had an alcoholic beverage in his life and that makes for a very strange scenario. With this experience I again felt like it was a "scene" from someone else's life that I had, somehow, inadvertently stepped into.
I guess the easy psychological analysis of this phenomenon would be that I subconsciously "want" these experiences to be true... that I have unresolved feelings about my sexuality, about my relationship with my father, about my relationship with cocktails. etc, etc...
Normally I love easy psychological analysis, but I swear that has nothing to do with the intensity that I experienced in association with these vignettes. I believe that in most social interactions we all present "personas" to the world. Most times these personas are true representations of differing facets of our personality...but in these experiences, not only was it not my "mask" that I was showing the world...it was a different body, mind and spirit as well.
...Boy, I am glad I cleared that up!
By itself, passing as straight is not that extraordinary. The reason why this interaction resonated with me is that was a very strong example of a phenomenon that has reared it's head in my life. I really don't have the words to describe this phenomenon other that to say that over the past month or so I have had a few of these experiences where it feels like I am in a "portal" to another human's life, as experienced through my eyes and consciousness.
Yea, yea, I know shades of "Being John Malkovich". But the strange feeling I experience when this has happened has been quite profound.
In the interaction with Abby it "felt" like I was a typical "guy" flirting with her flirty comments. My comments to her were not fake or disingenuous, in fact they were quite natural. It felt like I was in the interaction, but the experience was not part of "my life story"...almost as if I had walked onto the set of a film and I was acting a part...
Just a few evenings previous to this, I was passing a nearly empty bar around the corner from my apartment. Looking through the front door I saw an older man who was sitting at a barstool with his back to me (so I wasn't even seeing his face). In the moment I saw this man, a thought zoomed into my head..."Oh! there's my dad...This is the bar where I was supposed to meet him for a drink"...and then I felt this strong compulsion to go in the bar and interact with my "Dad".
Other than having gray hair, the man bore no physical resemblance to my dad. Couple that with the fact that my dad has never had an alcoholic beverage in his life and that makes for a very strange scenario. With this experience I again felt like it was a "scene" from someone else's life that I had, somehow, inadvertently stepped into.
I guess the easy psychological analysis of this phenomenon would be that I subconsciously "want" these experiences to be true... that I have unresolved feelings about my sexuality, about my relationship with my father, about my relationship with cocktails. etc, etc...
Normally I love easy psychological analysis, but I swear that has nothing to do with the intensity that I experienced in association with these vignettes. I believe that in most social interactions we all present "personas" to the world. Most times these personas are true representations of differing facets of our personality...but in these experiences, not only was it not my "mask" that I was showing the world...it was a different body, mind and spirit as well.
...Boy, I am glad I cleared that up!
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Gone In 60 Seconds...
After having had three awesome days off in a row, I returned to work today. My days off were so good that on my walk to work I was thinking that I was so relaxed and stress-free that I actually didn't mind returning to the job. Part of that was that I knew I would be seeing Ana and Heather. I always look forward to catching up with and kvetching with Ana, and Heather is such a diligent worker and a pleasure to converse with on the job.
So I get to work and things are going well for about 11 minutes until I find out that, unbeknownst to me, I would be training a new employee today...
One of my hugest pet peeves is being "unprepared" in social/ job-related situations. So here I am looking like a complete idiot when the new employee, whom I am thinking is a complete stranger, is telling me she was told to come in for her first day of training...Okay, no problem, I can think on my feet, so I get a paperwork file (I-9, W-4, etc.) for her to fill out.
While filling out her documents I realize that she is not legal to work in the States...which is annoying enough, but then I am confronted with the fact that my boss has explicitly told her that this is no problem...in fact, he suggests to her that she should just bring a fake social security number. Nothing but "pure class" in this operation...
Then, just when I think I can't get more stupefied..."New Employee" gets rattled when I inform her that, despite the shadiness that my boss has just revealed to her, we will be taking taxes out of her paycheck. After giving her the option to back out at stage one, she decides she will continue with the job. Which means that we will spend valuble time and money training her, then after she gets her first couple of paychecks, experience tells me she will quit. Which means that we will have completely wasted everyones time and effort.
All that to say that I was pissed off at not having a leisurely day with Ana and Heather...
So I get to work and things are going well for about 11 minutes until I find out that, unbeknownst to me, I would be training a new employee today...
One of my hugest pet peeves is being "unprepared" in social/ job-related situations. So here I am looking like a complete idiot when the new employee, whom I am thinking is a complete stranger, is telling me she was told to come in for her first day of training...Okay, no problem, I can think on my feet, so I get a paperwork file (I-9, W-4, etc.) for her to fill out.
While filling out her documents I realize that she is not legal to work in the States...which is annoying enough, but then I am confronted with the fact that my boss has explicitly told her that this is no problem...in fact, he suggests to her that she should just bring a fake social security number. Nothing but "pure class" in this operation...
Then, just when I think I can't get more stupefied..."New Employee" gets rattled when I inform her that, despite the shadiness that my boss has just revealed to her, we will be taking taxes out of her paycheck. After giving her the option to back out at stage one, she decides she will continue with the job. Which means that we will spend valuble time and money training her, then after she gets her first couple of paychecks, experience tells me she will quit. Which means that we will have completely wasted everyones time and effort.
All that to say that I was pissed off at not having a leisurely day with Ana and Heather...
Friday, July 22, 2005
Passing
On Friday night I went to this party at the Cooper Hewitt. Last year's event with Steve Travolta was amazing...and Steve turned it out again for this summer's edition. Despite having to actively avoid running into this guy Jeremy that was there I had an absolute blast.
Among other top-notch jams Steve brought out "Love and Happiness" and Inner City's "Big Fun"...I don't think the crowd was ready for 1989 deepness.
It was great hearing excellent house music in a garden-ish setting in the middle of the city. Trust it, most clubs do not have fireflies for lighting.
The party was going great, but I have this "thing" about leaving a party when I deem it right to leave a party...not a second before or a second after.
I was getting ready to leave and walking towards the exit when I stopped for a split-second to take in one last beat. In that split-second this woman came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance...
She was maybe 24 years old and cute...in J.Crew-ish sorority sister-ish kind of way.
Since I was about ready to leave I told her "thanks" but I was leaving so I couldn't take her up on her offer. She started making these flirty joking remarks about how I was "blowing her off". Not wanting to be rude and dismissive, I started conversing with her. She introduced herself as "Abby"and we started talking...about the party, the museum, the Upper East Side, etc.
About every 30 seconds she would make another funny reference about how I was dissing her by not accepting her invitation to dance. Slowly it started sinking in that this woman thinks I am straight or else she would not keep bringing this up in a decidedly flirty fashion.
I realized that other than my hot ass...there was no visual cue telling her I was gay. My wardrobe was very non-descript so I guess she just made an incorrect assumption.
I tried to think of a way to get out of the conversation without stating the obvious..."I'm gay", as she would probably take it as the lamest excuse I could come up to end the encounter. I could only imagine having to "prove" my homosexuality to her...
In the end I decided to politely end the conversation by saying that I simply had to go. I don't know why I thought it was more polite to let her think I was an uninterested straight than asserting what I assumed was plainly obvious to the whole world.
Among other top-notch jams Steve brought out "Love and Happiness" and Inner City's "Big Fun"...I don't think the crowd was ready for 1989 deepness.
It was great hearing excellent house music in a garden-ish setting in the middle of the city. Trust it, most clubs do not have fireflies for lighting.
The party was going great, but I have this "thing" about leaving a party when I deem it right to leave a party...not a second before or a second after.
I was getting ready to leave and walking towards the exit when I stopped for a split-second to take in one last beat. In that split-second this woman came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance...
She was maybe 24 years old and cute...in J.Crew-ish sorority sister-ish kind of way.
Since I was about ready to leave I told her "thanks" but I was leaving so I couldn't take her up on her offer. She started making these flirty joking remarks about how I was "blowing her off". Not wanting to be rude and dismissive, I started conversing with her. She introduced herself as "Abby"and we started talking...about the party, the museum, the Upper East Side, etc.
About every 30 seconds she would make another funny reference about how I was dissing her by not accepting her invitation to dance. Slowly it started sinking in that this woman thinks I am straight or else she would not keep bringing this up in a decidedly flirty fashion.
I realized that other than my hot ass...there was no visual cue telling her I was gay. My wardrobe was very non-descript so I guess she just made an incorrect assumption.
I tried to think of a way to get out of the conversation without stating the obvious..."I'm gay", as she would probably take it as the lamest excuse I could come up to end the encounter. I could only imagine having to "prove" my homosexuality to her...
In the end I decided to politely end the conversation by saying that I simply had to go. I don't know why I thought it was more polite to let her think I was an uninterested straight than asserting what I assumed was plainly obvious to the whole world.
Return To Paradise
Went to the Larry Levan birthday party at Spirit last night. DJs David Depino and Joey Llanos were playing some serious shit. One segment was "Love Is The Message" into "Star Love" into "There But For The Grace Of God Go I" into "Shame"...that should tell you what kind of evening it was.
Other gems included "Walking On Thin Ice", "Situation", "White Horse" "Music Is The Answer", and "You Don't Know".
The song that killed me was "Voodoo Ray". This track has been on auto-repeat in my mental soundtrack for months, I never really thought of it as a Garage track, but in hindsight it makes perfect sense.
Other gems included "Walking On Thin Ice", "Situation", "White Horse" "Music Is The Answer", and "You Don't Know".
The song that killed me was "Voodoo Ray". This track has been on auto-repeat in my mental soundtrack for months, I never really thought of it as a Garage track, but in hindsight it makes perfect sense.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Withdrawl
So my styliste Betty has selfishly decided to spend the month of July in Italy. Therefore I am left in New York City without instant access to a haircut.
Before she left she gave me an extra short cut to "tide me over" until her return. It seemed like a good idea at the time but now I have that awkward "in between haircuts" look really disturbs me. My life is so self-centered that I have the brain capacity to literally count the days until she returns and I can get back to looking normal (gorgeous).
Before she left she gave me an extra short cut to "tide me over" until her return. It seemed like a good idea at the time but now I have that awkward "in between haircuts" look really disturbs me. My life is so self-centered that I have the brain capacity to literally count the days until she returns and I can get back to looking normal (gorgeous).
Saturday, July 16, 2005
International Hillbilly
Noel made dinner for me last night...Falafel and black cherry soda...for some reason that is the most ridiculous combination of food that I can imagine. It was delicious though....
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Buell Syndrome
I am currently suffering from a severe case of Buell Syndrome. This malady is characterized by the unceasing obsession with current political events...in the attempt to acquire so much information that you can destroy anyone in an arguement.
It goes without saying that the trigger for this outbreak is Rove-gate, Traitor-gate, or whatever you choose to call it. If I could get paid for reading AmericaBlog and following up on the countless links referred to in the articles, I would be as rich as a Rockefeller.
Until Rove is featured in a perp-walk, do not expect to hear from me...
It goes without saying that the trigger for this outbreak is Rove-gate, Traitor-gate, or whatever you choose to call it. If I could get paid for reading AmericaBlog and following up on the countless links referred to in the articles, I would be as rich as a Rockefeller.
Until Rove is featured in a perp-walk, do not expect to hear from me...
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Nocturnal Soundtrack
...Here is the playlist for my current urban beautification projects...
"Da Rockwilder"...Method Man and Redman
"Ace of Spades"...Motorhead
"Digital"...Joy Division
"It Wasn't Us"...Ludacris w/ I-20
"What We Do"...Freeway w/ Jay-Z and Beanie Siegal
"Death or Glory"...The Clash
"Ezy Rider"...Jimi Hendrix
"Money Ain't A Thang"...Jermaine Dupree w/ Jay-Z
"Full Moon"...Armand Van Helden
"Long Way Back From Hell"...Danzig
"The Bridge Is Over"...Boogie Down Productions
"We Gonna Make It"...Jadakiss w/ Styles P
"Dracula Mountain"...Lightning Bolt
"Heading Out To The Highway"...Judas Priest
"Silver Rocket"...Sonic Youth
"Da Rockwilder"...Method Man and Redman
"Ace of Spades"...Motorhead
"Digital"...Joy Division
"It Wasn't Us"...Ludacris w/ I-20
"What We Do"...Freeway w/ Jay-Z and Beanie Siegal
"Death or Glory"...The Clash
"Ezy Rider"...Jimi Hendrix
"Money Ain't A Thang"...Jermaine Dupree w/ Jay-Z
"Full Moon"...Armand Van Helden
"Long Way Back From Hell"...Danzig
"The Bridge Is Over"...Boogie Down Productions
"We Gonna Make It"...Jadakiss w/ Styles P
"Dracula Mountain"...Lightning Bolt
"Heading Out To The Highway"...Judas Priest
"Silver Rocket"...Sonic Youth
Monday, July 04, 2005
The Night I Became My Father
A couple of weeks ago I had a discussion with Cain about my work-related anger issues. He suggested that I should only allow myself to "destroy" five customers per shift. That would force me to decide if a particular customer was "worth" using one of my self-described HatePoints on them.
I employed the method immediately with the addendum that any HatePoints that I didn't use in a shift could be carried over...in effect creating an account from which I could draw upon in the future. My reasoning for this addendum was that if I had an incentive to save HatePoints I would not be as quick to dole them out needlessly.
From the get-go this plan had it's desired effect. I had to scrutinize customer interactions in order to determine the value of spending a HatePoint. I believe on day one I spent only 4 HatePoints and since then my average daily usage has been around 2 or 3. In the process I have built up a healthy HatePoint bank account and have used that growing account as a source of personal pride...I am challenging myself to rein in the anger and frustration of this job.
Today, however, I thought I was going to go on a spending spree that would empty out my HatePoint account. A group of two or three families came en masse. There were three adults and around seven or eight children...all of them were out of control. The children, ranging in age from probably 6 to 14 were loud, rude, and demanding. The parents did nothing to curb the children's behavior and, in fact, seemed to be encouraging it.
Obviously, having been in the customer service game for many years, I have come across quite a few obnoxious families. The truly disturbing part of this group was the appearance and behavior of the young girls in this group.
Being an aquarian, I am a pretty laid-back, open-minded person. "Live and let live" is part of my philosophy. Having said that, I must add that I have rarely been more shocked than I was at these young girls...I am trying to think of a diplomatic way of describing these pre-pubesent females...
Since I can't think of a politically correct way I will just say the first description that came to mind...these young girls were dressed as "sluts". I am aware that girls are interested in make-up...hell, I was interested in make-up at age 8 or 9. I am also aware that there is the concept of "stage make-up"...anyone who has seen "Sportskids Moms and Dads" on Bravo knows that kids wear excessive make-up on stage whether it is for cheerleading, ballet, or acting. Trust me, these girls had not just come from a performance.
The make-up was over-the-top and let's just say that their wardrobe was that of an adult female. An adult female who works the pole at Flashdancers. The youngest girl, who was probably about six years old, had a mini-mini skirt and an American flag halter top (Happy Fourth of July!)
Needless to say, they instantly became "the talk" of me and my co-workers...when one employee noted the girl's were singing "Like A Virgin", I rolled my eyes and said "Yeah, right..". I mean that would just be "too perfect" for the scenario. Five minutes later I walked passed the group and I swear to God, the girls were singing "Like A Virgin"...without a single eyebrow being raised by the parents who were standing right beside them.
Over the past half decade or so I have become accustomed to joking about becoming an "old man". I would say "...Kids these days!" with emphasis on the irony of it. After this encounter the irony has dropped.
I guess the most disturbing aspect of this is not the children's dress and manner, but the parent's who stood idly by and allowed their children to look and behave this way. I mean, seriously, do you really not care if your daughter turns out like Britney or Christina...
I employed the method immediately with the addendum that any HatePoints that I didn't use in a shift could be carried over...in effect creating an account from which I could draw upon in the future. My reasoning for this addendum was that if I had an incentive to save HatePoints I would not be as quick to dole them out needlessly.
From the get-go this plan had it's desired effect. I had to scrutinize customer interactions in order to determine the value of spending a HatePoint. I believe on day one I spent only 4 HatePoints and since then my average daily usage has been around 2 or 3. In the process I have built up a healthy HatePoint bank account and have used that growing account as a source of personal pride...I am challenging myself to rein in the anger and frustration of this job.
Today, however, I thought I was going to go on a spending spree that would empty out my HatePoint account. A group of two or three families came en masse. There were three adults and around seven or eight children...all of them were out of control. The children, ranging in age from probably 6 to 14 were loud, rude, and demanding. The parents did nothing to curb the children's behavior and, in fact, seemed to be encouraging it.
Obviously, having been in the customer service game for many years, I have come across quite a few obnoxious families. The truly disturbing part of this group was the appearance and behavior of the young girls in this group.
Being an aquarian, I am a pretty laid-back, open-minded person. "Live and let live" is part of my philosophy. Having said that, I must add that I have rarely been more shocked than I was at these young girls...I am trying to think of a diplomatic way of describing these pre-pubesent females...
Since I can't think of a politically correct way I will just say the first description that came to mind...these young girls were dressed as "sluts". I am aware that girls are interested in make-up...hell, I was interested in make-up at age 8 or 9. I am also aware that there is the concept of "stage make-up"...anyone who has seen "Sportskids Moms and Dads" on Bravo knows that kids wear excessive make-up on stage whether it is for cheerleading, ballet, or acting. Trust me, these girls had not just come from a performance.
The make-up was over-the-top and let's just say that their wardrobe was that of an adult female. An adult female who works the pole at Flashdancers. The youngest girl, who was probably about six years old, had a mini-mini skirt and an American flag halter top (Happy Fourth of July!)
Needless to say, they instantly became "the talk" of me and my co-workers...when one employee noted the girl's were singing "Like A Virgin", I rolled my eyes and said "Yeah, right..". I mean that would just be "too perfect" for the scenario. Five minutes later I walked passed the group and I swear to God, the girls were singing "Like A Virgin"...without a single eyebrow being raised by the parents who were standing right beside them.
Over the past half decade or so I have become accustomed to joking about becoming an "old man". I would say "...Kids these days!" with emphasis on the irony of it. After this encounter the irony has dropped.
I guess the most disturbing aspect of this is not the children's dress and manner, but the parent's who stood idly by and allowed their children to look and behave this way. I mean, seriously, do you really not care if your daughter turns out like Britney or Christina...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
