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.

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...

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.

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!

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...

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.

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.

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).

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....

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...

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

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...

One Thing Leads To Another...

I love how the human mind works...or at least how my human mind works.

After coming in from the rain, I was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I thought about the song "I Love A Rainy Night" by Eddie Rabbit. I have put a lot of intoxicants in my body over the years in the hope that this song would be erased from my consciousness...but alas, it is still there.

No big surprise in coming out of the rain and thinking about that particularly titled song...but after I was reminded of Mr. Rabbit's existence I instantaneously flashbacked to a seemingly insignificant memory from my youth.

When I was probably 12 years old I was riding in the backseat of a Ford Mustang with my friend Kyle. His wicked step-mother Val was driving and "I Love A Rainy Night" was on the radio. On this evening she was driving us home from a Lincoln Northeast football game. She was perpetually trying to catch Kyle doing something wrong in the hopes that his father would punish him.

This time she was claiming that Kyle and I were on drugs that we apparently picked up at the football game. Unfortunately nothing could be further from the truth...and fact that my brain still acknowledges Mr. Rabbit is a sad testament to my sobriety.

She dropped us at their home, then Kyle walked the four blocks to my house. On the way there he devised a scheme to be executed following the football game next week that was to have us passing a baggie full off baby powder to one another, be caught accidentally on purpose by Val, then have a laugh at her expense at having caught us with "coke"...

Thankfully wiser heads prevailed (mine) and the plan was aborted. God knows what punishment would have been meted out if we had demonstrated what an idiot bitch Val was...enrollment at a military school was a distinct possibility...I would have had to take drastic measures if anything on that scale happened. I can trace about 72% of my current sexual fetishes to my relationship with Kyle...needless to say that kind of source would not have been given up without an apocalyptic fight.

...All that from a stupid '70's country-pop song.

Here It Is...

...A list of the nation's top retards.

Names Of Actual People That I Perpetually Think Of

1. Teofilo Stevenson

2. World B. Free

3. Wonder Monds

4. Renaldo "Skeets" Nehemiah

5. Baskerville Holmes

6. Tree Rollins

7. Rolf Benirschke

8. Rafael Septien

Enjoy The Silence

On Saturday night I took the 6 train to the Upper East Side to go to Jazz's party. When I got off the train at 77th street, there was a group of 20-30 teenagers who were exiting the station ahead of me. My quick assessment was that they had to be tourists, judging by the way they were walking spread out on the subway platform...oblivious to the fact that others (i.e. Me) would want to pass them in order to get out of the station.

I noticed that about 5 or 6 of the kids were wearing identical yellow t-shirts. In my glance of the t-shirt I saw some text reading "Together In Christ" or something along those lines. I hardly believe Jesus would approve of preventing people from a swift egress from a subway station...but I will admit it has been a while since I've read the bible.

Making my way THROUGH this entourage I read the fine print on one of the yellow t-shirts. It noted that the group was from Westminster Presbyterian - Lincoln Nebraska. What were the odds?

My immediate thought was that I should channel my Mom and point out the fact that I was from Lincoln to someone in the group. I tried to think of an appropriate/funny way to bring up the subject to the group who, a moment previous, had been subject to my patented eyeball roll/sigh combination.

Rapidly going over scripts in my head, I tried to think of a way make these impressionable teens aware that it was possible to get out of Lincoln and move to the Big City...Hell I was living breathing walking proof.

My window of opportunity was passing. Every comment running through my head seemed forced, seemed designed to pat myself on the back for being an EX-Lincolnite.

En masse we climbed the stairs to the street. Outside I turned on to Lexington Ave. and walked away saying absolutely nothing. I don't know why I said nothing, but that's what I did, for some reason it made sense.

As I walked away I felt a wierd sense of accomplishment/fulfillment, not that it is an unheard of feat to move away from your hometown to New York, but that I had "passed" as a New Yorker. There was no tell-tale sign on my person that pointed out that I was from the midwest. My years in Lincoln were fact known only to me. It was my secret to tell and I could choose to release that information or not. I savored the fact that I chose not to...I was the person I was choosing to be. The Matthew Buell that I had created.

Together Again For The First Time

Spent Friday and Saturday night with my friend Joyce Loc and her boyfriend Jazz who were in town from Chicago by way of Japan (long story).

Joyce is one of those people who puts up with/understands my erratic behavior...especially in the area of communication. Sometimes months pass between our conversations, but there is an underlying sense that we are "on the same page" as far as life goes.

I am lucky to have her in my life.

Out Of Leftfield And Hilarious

Lately I have been in the unfortunate habit of not having a real meal most of the day...just snacking throughout the day. By early evening I am famished and must devour a ton of food.

Today I decided my gorging would be a couple of delicious veggie hot dogs at Crif Dogs. The place is usually pretty loud, crowded and rockin'. Today, however, the restaurant was near empty and as I entered one song on the sound system was ending and there was a split-second pause before the next song began. Immediately after the new song began and I approached the counter, the woman behind the counter glanced up at me and without missing a beat exclaimed "Hey, it's YOUR song!"

The song that had just began was "Legs" by ZZ Top. I was almost in tears from laughing at the gorgeous absurdity of her completely off the cuff remark. It takes massive cojones to make a joke at the expense of a complete stranger and the subtle style with which she made her comment blew me away...trust me you don't get this sort of interaction at Wal-mart.

Beautifulness

Went shopping for a gift for Uma at Kid O today....I am pretty sure this is the first time I have ever been in a kid's store with a sound system playing "Cemetary Gates" by the Smiths.

Beautiful.

Another Social Theory

My latest crackpot theory asserts:

Some adults act out because they were beaten during childhood. Other adults act out because they were not beaten ENOUGH during childhood.

"You Can't Handle The Truth..."

This is absolutely amazing. I love the quote from government lawyer Lane saying that publishing the photos would violate the prisoner's Geneva Convention privileges.

So let me get this straight...It is fine to actually torture the prisoner, but showing evidence of the torture violates the rights that our Attorney General and President contend that they do not have...

Some Great Reward

When I was a sophmore in high school my friend Zach invited me to go to a weekend church retreat in Grand Island, Nebraska. Honestly, I have no idea why I agreed.

At the tender age of 15 I was already "over" christianity. My parents subtly pressured me to attend every Sunday with them...and I politely obliged, but I am sure that they could read the writing on the wall. Not too long before, my bedroom walls were covered with images of Adam Ant. Surely they realized at that point that their messiah had a long way to go in order to compete with a pop star who mixed indian and pirate imagery in his stage persona.

Based on the fact that this function was church-related, my parents agreed to allow me to travel half-way across the state with a newly-licensed driver.

Unlike the liberal Disciples of Christ church that I was raised in, Zach's family attended an Assemblies of God church. Let's just say that on the spectrum of christian beliefs, the Assemblies of God inched a little closer to the "snake-handling" edge of christianity than my experiences.

While the Assemblies of God were preaching a fundamentalist philosphy, including a good deal of explicit homophobia, it was not enough to prevent Zach from being one of the biggest queens I have ever met. In order to maintain his position as "the good son", he had to live exclusively in the closet. Apparently he was "cool enough" when away from his church that I could forgive him for being associated with his retarded church.

I don't quite know what I was expecting from a church retreat when he invited me, but understandibly I needed to escape the hustle and bustle of Lincoln, and if I had to stay in a Holiday Inn surrounded by other christians so be it.

Travelling to Grand Island was boring, but thanks to Zach's car cassette player, we were surrounded by the lilting melodies of Depeche Mode and Yaz. Time moved quickly.

After arriving at our room at the Holiday Inn, we went to one of the large conference rooms for the Welcoming Rally. I am sure that the expression on my face was one of complete smugness. Enduring bad Praise Rock was a small price to pay for some time away from home.

Later on that evening there was a second service. To someone accustomed to going to church once per week, twice in a single night seemed just a touch excessive.

Little did I know what I was in for. If the opening ceremony was intended to "welcome" everyone, the second was intended to "welcome" only those-that-accepted-Jesus-Christ-as-their-personal-Lord-and-savior-therefore-renouncing-all-sinful-ways. Needless to say I did not fit into the second category. I guess I shouldn't have been suprised that they were going to push the concept of becoming "born again" but I was.

In a split second the tone went from "Hooray for Everything!" to "If You Are Not 'Saved' You ARE Satan". I tried to maintain the role of social anthropologist, quiet and detached, but after literally 4 hours of hearing people confessing about their Devil-filled lives I knew that this fun-filled evening would not end until every single soul in the crowd of 150 had been saved.

At around two in the morning I was surrounded by a group of fellow teenagers demanding that I accept God into my heart. I relented. Rather than being rebellious I took the easy way out. With my friend Zach suspiciously nowhere in sight, I revealed about 36% of my sins and said I wanted God's forgiveness. Instantly I was welcomed into the community of believers and a burden was lifted from my shoulders.

It was not the burden of my sinful ways as much as the burden of being the only free-thinking hold-out preventing the evening from concluding. After all, everyone needed to head back to their rooms in order to get a good night sleep in anticipation for another full day of praising God's name.

On the way back to our room I had to politely kill Zach's buzz regarding my "saving". While I didn't explicitly state that I was faking my conversion, I did suggest that if our relationship was to continue we had to get the hell away from this scene.

Zach relented and agreed that we would return to Lincoln in the morning. On the way home there was no mention of the events of the previous evening. "Some Great Reward" was in the tape deck and we would be back in Lincoln soon.

In hindsight I believe Zach thought his parents would be less suspicious of me sleeping over at his house if I was a christian...thus explaining his invite to the retreat. And come to think of it he was probably right. They would have rather had a son that was a hypocrite than one that was honest.

Betrayal

I have been so looking forward to Fantastic Man hitting the newstands. You just know that a rag mag from the children at Butt Magazine is going to be fierce....and it is, but $19.99 for a cover price...Are you kidding me? At that price I may have to go all teenager on it and re-begin shoplifting.

Getting Closer To God

There is a scene in Pilot Season where entertainment lawyer Ken Fold asserts that being a lawyer is the profession closest to God. He claims that law is more worthwhile than medicine because lawyers can "help people AND destroy people"

I think this quote is so apt to anyone who has ever worked in customer service. Speaking for myself, I can honestly say that I enjoy interacting and helping friendly polite people....I will bust my ass in order to make sure they are satisfied. But I must add that I have given up on any semblance of "caring" about the interests of self-centered rude customers. I actively try to destroy them with "eye-rolls", sarcasm and inefficiency.

Having spent over a decade in customer service I can say that politeness level of the American public is plummeting rapidly. I would love to know exactly where these people have interactions where being a condescending prick elicits a speedy and warm response from a customer service rep...

Black or white, gay or straight, rich or poor...you really cannot accurately predict someone's behavior. I always try to give everyone the "benefit of the doubt" at the beginning of an interaction. I assume that they are going to behave as a mature citizen, and if so I will accord them the respect that they deserve. However if they come at me with disrespect, trust it, the gloves WILL come off.

Things I Love...

...lemon merengue pie...brand new underwear...Jorge Posada...when JR calls me "Matty"...letters from my Aunt Shirley...Anne Slater's eyeglasses...

The Look For Summer 2005

I've decided that "The Look" for this summer is "1950's Greaser vs. Suburban Soccer Dad"...Photos to follow, once all the kinks are worked out.

Dreaming of Pele

So I woke up at 5 in the morning having had a terrifying dream. I was wandering in a plush suburban neighborhood circa 1964. The day was rainy and all the vegetation was lushly green.

In the dream I learn that there is a Mexican family in the neighborhood that is being harassed by someone nearby. The harrassment consists of mocking the soccer playing ability of the Mexican family's young son. They are calling him "Pele" which leads the boy to believe that the harrassment is actually a compliment.

All of the sudden I begin running very fast in the neighborhood...I am not running away from anything or anyone...just running very fast and efficiently. I then come around a corner and I see the Mexican family's house which has been painted with amateurish graffitti. In the dream I get an incredibly sick feeling in my stomach and find myself running through a thorn bush. I am able to pull most of the thorns out effortlessly, but there is one thorn under my fingernail that will not come out. I pull on it hard and the pain is so intense that I wake myself up.

I rarely have nightmares and I will admit that this was not the most terrifying on record, but for some reason when I woke up I was "haunted"...It felt like my ego had "burst" and all self-esteem had been sucked out of me.

Before Frankie (B.F.) and After Frankie (A.F.)

Today I am celebrating the 10th anniversary of a night that changed my life. On May 19th 1995, on the suggestion of my brother Stan, Cain and I went to Sound Factory Bar to dance to Frankie Knuckles. We were vacationing in NYC at the time and I had never heard the Godfather of House before.

I did not know what I was in for when I walked through the doors of 12 west 21st. The music was so refreshingly clean and positive I instantly had perma-grin. The beats were relentlessly awesome. Then at 3:45am (yes I know, technically the 20th of May) Frankie dropped what I later learned was "Satisfied (Take It Higher)" by H20 feat. Billie.

I am the first to admit that I overuse the phrase "mind-blowing"...but at that moment my mind was blown. In that moment I glimpsed my future. I needed to move to NYC. I needed to have access to a dancefloor with Frankie behind the decks.

The power and gorgeous positivity of the music opened up possibilities in my mind and my heart.

My move to NYC did not happen for two years. But I must say that I was propelled to make the difficult concrete decision to move here by the idea that I would be able to return to Frankie's dancefloor on a regular basis. That was my motivator.

In May of 1997 I took an exploratory vacation to the city before my eventual, permanent move in October. Frankie was playing a club on 28th between 7th and 8th (can't remember the name of the short-lived place) and I got a chance to meet the legend. He could not have been more sweet and genuine to a complete stranger such as myself who was prattling on like a madman about how my life had been changed by my exposure to his talent.

Ten years later, I still think about that moment every time I hit the dancefloor when Frankie is spinning. Every time Frankie spins it is magic. It is a gift of positive energy from the universe...Thank you Frankie and all the people who turn it out on the dancefloor....You ARE the party.

A Gentle Reminder...

...To Bill Frist, the republican leadership and the 12% of the americans who want the "nucular option" to go forward:

Payback Is A Bitch!

Contact High

A couple of months ago I noticed on the DefMix website that Frankie Knuckles was going to play the End Up in San Francisco. Half seriously I suggested to my sister Ann that she would soon be visited by the Godfather of House and she should try to make it to the party.

After all she has had to hear me praise Mr. Knuckles for years and since she has a pied-a-terre in San Francisco, there was no reason she shouldn't expose herself to the master.

Needless to say, I had my doubts that she would make it happen...not to say that she is not a woman of her word, just that I wouldn't have expected her to go out of her way in order to feed into my obsession with Frankie...

I won't soon forget her phone call on Saturday afternoon telling me about the awesomeness of the party. It is not everyday that a 52 year old woman will be at the club until 5am dancing to the Legend himself, (in fact my sister guesstimates that it has been 2 decades since she has been in a club)...but it is a testament to the positive vibes that are created when Frankie is behind the wheels. EVERYONE is welcome on the dancefloor

Some Of The Things I Believe...

...I believe humility and modesty are sexy...I believe our nation is "on the wrong course"...I believe in the power of obsessions...I believe in destiny...I believe there is a bit of humor in every situation...I believe art education should be as important as math in our schools...I believe in reincarnation...I believe people are inherently good...I believe daydreaming is a valuable activity...I believe in Rupaul's quote "we are born naked...the rest is drag"...I believe a civilized nation does not have capital punishment...I believe in "live and let live"...I believe regret can be toxic...I believe the most important thing you can teach a child is to be curious...I believe in minimalism in everything except emotions...I believe that anyone who thinks they have "good taste" is wrong...I believe there was calculated voter fraud in Ohio...I believe in rooting for the underdog...I believe you can get spiritual enlightenment on a dancefloor...I believe there is an element of truth in every stereotype...I believe good design can alleviate stress...I believe in gut feelings...I believe you can judge a person's character by what they DON'T say as much as by what they DO say...I believe in exfoliating the skin and the soul...I believe

High School Jesus

TRIO just had an old David Letterman rerun from Oct '86. One of the guest was John Waters promoting his book Crackpot. I was instantly reminded of how I devoured that book when it came out. I remember sitting in social studies class and reading Crackpot in lieu of the required text.

I remember my friend Brian and I trading quotes back and forth from the book and laughing hysterically. It is no understatement to say that that is one of the books that truly changed my life. John Water's attitude and skewed perspective were manna from heaven to a teenager who was afraid of suffocating from the boredom and bullshit that was/is high school in a small midwestern city.

Andy Warhol Was Wrong

I have had the last two days off from work...I was going to write that they were undelightfully unproductive, but a quick mental review revealed my time off as being very worthwhile yet having little materially to show for it. Got to a couple of galleries, talked to my friend Joyce in Chicago, had some cocktails with Jessica (plus some very necessary kvetching time with her), caught up on some e-mail, picked up some books at the library...damn, now that I think about it my time was very productive, even if it wasn't in the direction I intended.


Just had dinner with Cain around the corner at Baluchi's. We had a very worthwhile conversation coupled with some suprisingly good saag paneer. The initial question du jour was "What barriers are there in your life?" That lead to topics such as "destiny vs. freewill" and "fantasy vs. reality" plus other important issues such as contemporary furniture design and the wardrobes of teenagers who play D&D...(still trying to scour that last one from my brain)

I was reminded again of a couple of ideas that I sometimes "forget". First it is really valuable for me to verbalize ideas. So often I get caught up with thoughts marinating in my head. The simple act of talking about a concept gives a necessary perspective shift that allows me to decide the merit of my thoughts and opinions. I get to evaluate if things make sense outside of my brain.

Also I was reminded that when you have a "deep" conversation with someone, there is no bottom on the well of "deepness". No matter how well you know a person you can always be suprised by their personhood...how it evolves, morphs, adapts. Andy Warhol's quote about HIS persona comes to mind...he said that "if you scratch the surface, there is just more surface." Obviously this is not applicable to most people. If you dig into the depths of who they are...there is just more depth

A Translator?

The boy who works at the front desk at my gym is always flirting with me. Today's interaction was surprising. After asking me if I spoke any foreign languages he then stated that "You look like you could be a translator at the UN." How someone could look like a translator is far beyond me...but I am not going to turn down a compliment...and trust me "Meet me in the steamroom" is understood in any language.

KRS-ONE Lyric Of The Day

"...I just laugh, 'cause no one can defeat me."

My New Favorite Band Name...

...Corn On Macabre

Reconnecting

Yesterday I hung out with my friend Nicci and her husband Chris. I knew Nicci back in Nebraska and she was making her first appearance in NYC.

I had met Chris momentarily a couple of years ago...not even long enough to make an impression. Although I don't know his exact title, he works in some capacity with the Air Force. It is so awesome when you spend time with someone who, on the surface, you have very little in common with but you still have a great interaction . Chris, I discovered, has a quality that is increasingly rare these days...he is "decent". I know that sounds like an underwhelming compliment, but as anyone who works in customer service will tell you there are tons of petty, rude, oblivious people out there.

As for Nicci, it was wonderful spending a couple of hours with her. Our conversation had a great balance between delightful nostalgia and delightful current topics in our lives. Her sense of humor just blows me away...she can literally make me cackle.

Ma Vie En Rose

I was just reviewing my profile. I noticed that I put "Ma Vie en Rose" as one of my favorite movies and indeed it is. Now that I think about it, it has probably been 3 years since I last saw it.

When it first came out I had just moved to New York. I was still living with Stan and Jim at the time. It was playing at the Quad and in the first week it played there I saw it 5 times (yes five paid movie admissions at New York City prices). I hate it when people brag about how many times they have seen a movie in a theater as if it is some sort of badge of courage...

From the first time I saw it I could not get enough of it...it so totally spoke to me regarding that feeling of being "an outsider". Couple that with the candy-colored visuals and I was hooked. I often have to "check myself" regarding that "outsider" feeling, it is kind of a theme running through my life, and yet I have to work hard not to associate that feeling with a sense of "specialness" or self-worth. Being an outsider is no better or worse than being, for lack of a better term, an insider...it is only one of a variety of ways to look at your relationship to society.

That being said, my (real or imagined) sense of not fitting in has created some great opportunities in my life. It got me out of Nebraska, plus it made me curious about marginalized people/things/ideas. For that I am grateful.

Message to "7th Avenue": Quit Biting My Style

About three years ago I bought a second-hand Champion hooded sweatshirt at Alice Underground on lower Broadway. Champion sweatshirts have been a "guilty pleasure" since college. You can have the ability to discuss the merits of the Antwerp Six or Junya Watanabe's real role at Comme des Garcons all you want...but the 24 year old F.I.T. fag you are trying to seduce at Charm School is going to question your fashion forwardness if you wearing a run-of-the-mill Champion sweatshirt. (A hypothetical scenario...of course)

Anyway, the ridiculously gorgeous blue color and inherent "Reverse Weave" warmth of the sweatshirt renders all other considerations obsolete.

Lately I have had to come to terms with the fact that due to over wear my beloved sweatshirt has some pretty major wear-and-tear. Specifically a part of the collar is torn in such a way that the sweatshirt now has a "V-neck". I thought about retiring this piece of clothing...but like most dilemmas in my life, I eventually said "fuck it"...I am going to continue to wear it until it fully disintegrates.

On Wednesday I went shopping/looking at Famous Friends. Amidst the pretty boring T-shirt selection and the overpriced Nudie jeans that I uncharacteristically covet there was an artificially distressed Rogan hooded sweatshirt of the exact same color as my beloved Champion. Upon closer examination I discover that the sweatshirt comes with a complimentary tear at the collar giving it a V-neck...I swear to Jesus I am not making this up. Needless to say I scoffed at the 250 dollar pricetag and demanded some answers from the slightly shocked store clerk. Come on, this is the most egregious biting of my style since Dolce and/or Gabbana personally ripped off my idea for accessorizing one's neck with colored rosary beads.

Why won't these biters leave me alone, or at least put me on the payroll as a consultant.

Subtle

I kind of had a flashback earlier today.

Out of the blue I began thinking about playing basketball on my junior high school team. I was not the best player on the team, but the combination of pretty average talent and slightly above average height put me in the mix.

Other than designing the team uniform (i.e. convincing our coach Dan that a 13 year old that spent a little too much time thinking about the "look" of professional team uniforms knew what to have as "iron-on" lettering for our yellow tank tops and shorts), my major contribution was as the team pep squad. Any time spent on the bench (more frequent than I would have liked) I devoted myself to shouting encouragement to my teammates on the court. Part of it was just my passion for the game in general, but also I felt that my verbal support of the other players translated into better performance from them and therefore, more points on the board.

Needless to say after having this flashback I made an immediate connection to my current job situation. A great deal of my frustration is that I am not in an environment where my skills as a cheerleader are valued. I make my attempts to create a positive environment, but there is so much negativity emanating from a certain business owner, that I feel my attempts are futile.

I need a job situation where my natural tendency to want the best for my co-workers is actively supported.

Optimistic Social Theory

Now I might just be writing this because I need a dose of optimism, but that does not mean that the following social theory is not true...

When I was at the gym this morning I noticed a man in his 40s also working out. He looked like a "meat and potatoes" kind of guy, in other words an "average joe". What caught my eye was that he had shaved his legs. I have noticed the straight man shaving his legs thing more and more lately. Yes, I am aware of the media-generated phenomenom known as "metrosexuality", but if that exists at all, it can probably be assumed that it is occurring amongst 20 and 30somethings. For a straight man in his 40s to have caught this trend says something to me....It says to me that you cannot stop the influence of homosexuals.

Despite the fact that a very very small percentage of Americans want to turn back the clock on gay rights, you cannot put the genie back in the bottle. We are approaching the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots which, in addition to the fact that there are two full generations of non-homosexuals "used to" the concept of homosexuality being out in the open, but you will soon have an entire new generation of gays who have NEVER been in the closet. Try telling them about the rightness of antiquated sodomy laws...

I Realize...

It is lame to mention TV shows, but what an awesome day for those of us who literally (yes, literally not figuratively) worship Amy Sedaris.

First she was the star of a sketch on Oprah with guest Jon Stewart. Her Starbucks employee character, although only on screen for a couple of minutes, had me in tears.

Then she appears on my new favorite show Wonder Showzen as "Miss Amy" and again destroys me. I love her screaming "baby killer" at a group of children gathered for story time.

She is soooo awesome and inspirational. I think her skill is a sincere down-to-earth persona crashing head on into a craziness that the rest of us can only aspire to.

Bipolarity

Although I usually lack the necessary energy, I get a perverse pleasure from going out and dancing after a day of work. When I leave work I am full of cynicism and hatred and when I get on the dancefloor I completely release all of that negative energy and an irreplaceable smile comes over my face.

Despite still being sick, last night with Steve Travolta and Frankie Knuckles was awesome. Highlights for me were "I Get Lifted" , "Took My Life", "Strings Of Life", "Back To Basics" and "Can You See The Light?"...plus Frankie diggin' in the crates for "Mighty Real" was ridiculous.

Deitch

As a treat for not dying last night (see previous post) I decided to venture to Deitch Projects for Michael Bevilacqua's latest. The press release describes the new stuff as "painterly" which I take as code word for "sloppy".

While there is a certain sloppiness to some of the paintings...it is really well balanced with some highly detailed imagery. The familiar pop cultural icons are there but there is also further abstraction of some of those references into something pleasantly indecipherable. Perhaps they are not as "over the top" in beating you over the head with references as the last show (which is not an insult), but the subtlety adds a bit of mystery to the paintings.

All in all, very awesome and I will be stealing many ideas from Mr. Bevilacqua...the highest form of praise, indeed.

Six Days

Apparently it has been six days since my last entry. This is due to the fact that I have been sick, which I fucking hate. This cold, or whatever it is, is amazingly annoying. I am doing all the positive visualization of my white blood cells destroying the virus and praying that it takes hold.

Reason #816 Why I Love New York

The past few weeks I have seen ads in TimeOut that one of my favorite comedians, Patton Oswalt was going to be at Caroline's this weekend. I knew there was no way I could justify an outrageous cover charge and two (overpriced) drink minimum.

On Wednesday, while thinking about how I was not going to go to Caroline's, I decided to check Patton's website. On the site I learned that he was going to be at Cinema Classics performing Wednesday night. Within the hour I was at the show which cost a mere $5. As icing on the cake, after Patton's set, Yo La Tengo came on and did about five songs and they were totally great.

"On Hold"

You know how sometimes you will phone a business and will be put "on hold". You know how sometimes when put "on hold" the music in the background may be a song that you really really like and even though you hate being placed "on hold" you really enjoy listening to that particular song and almost kind of want to hear the rest of the song instead of having your call responded to in a timely fashion.

That scenario is the perfect analogy for how my life has been for the past year or so. Over this time period I have been working less than at any time in my adult life. This has been rewarding in the aspect that I have had a great deal of free time to relax, and for lack of a better term, breathe. The free time has allowed me to read more, to entertain myself more, to get into a solid routine of gym-going which have all been tremendously positive. However, there is an overarching sense that I have been "wasting time".

Part of this may be that our culture puts "workaholism" on a pedestal. To admit to not having your job as priority one in your life is tantamount to treason. This is definitely a factor in my sense of time wasting, but also there is my own personal sense that I have not been motivating myself in a career direction.

Circle of Death

Last night Stan and I went to the latest edition of "How To Kick People" www.howtokickpeople.com . The theme of the monologues was "best friends". Host Todd Levin did a piece about his group friends at age 13 and the attempt by one of them to get them all to urinate in an empty beer bottle. The beer bottle, through an elaborate plan, would then be given to a hated girl in the neighborhood.

The piece was hilarious and drew memories of my own youth. I started to think about the Silver Street Hawks. This was the street gang I was a member of around the age of 10 or 11. Membership was limited to my older brother Clay, next door neighbors Dave and Rob Reibel, and my best friend Todd Nieman. We were based out of a makeshift "treehouse" located in our backyard.

Like any streetgang, our focus was on creating t-shirts with a menacing SSH logo using only a black magic marker. Our rivals were a gang comprised of next door neighbors Jeff and Dave Finke and Todd and Shaun Carlisle. The name of their gang escapes but I know it was lame.

Karl

Just saw Karl Lagerfeld walking in front of the offices of one Helmut Lang on Greene Street. Please don't tell me she is going to hijack another label.

My Andy

Last night my friend Thomas connected us with seats at a reading for a new play called "My Andy". It was kind of biography of Andy Warhol told through the eyes of his mother. Kathleen Chalfant played Julia Warhola and she was absolutely amazing. Having never seen her before, she is one of those performers who I can say going forward I will want to see her in any production she is associated with.

The play itself was very very good. It was a new and humanizing perspective on a figure that I have been pretty burnt out on for years.

Village Voice columnist/ Disco historian Vince Aletti was in the audience and I was tempted to sucker-punch him and demand that he tell me legendary stories about the Gallery, the Loft, and Paradise Garage.

In The Mail

Just picked up my mail today. My friend Jesse sent me a copy of Blue Bell Knoll by Cocteau Twins. I have not heard this album in years and it is so totally refreshing. By coincidence I read earlier this morning that the Twins have cancelled the tour they had planned for this spring. In hindsight I am kind of glad to hear that they had cancelled the shows as I don't really think you should milk your creative past. Maybe it is because I have such warm affection/memories for the music and I kind of want it to remain in a clear-cut past. I want the nostalgia to be pure and unaffected by a "different" present.

101 Things About Me...

I totally stole this idea from Miss Ana Gallo, so here goes... 101 things about me:

1. I am an aquarius
2. I have worn glasses since mid junior high, then got contacts my first year in college.
3. I can recite the lyrics to every song on Public Enemy's "It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back"
4. I have never seen "Citizen Kane"
5. If pressed, I would say that my favorite book is "A Confederacy Of Dunces"
6. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people wear sunglasses indoors or at night.
7. I spend too much time memorizing dialogue from "Arrested Development" and "Strangers With Candy"
8. I have been in 33 of the 50 states in the country.
9. As a lad I had a shrine to Julius "Dr. J" Erving
10. I plan on living in New York City the rest of my life.
11. I have the mouth of a trucker...or a sailor...whichever "swears" more.
12. I was in the 7th grade the first time I ever got drunk... my friends were smoking pot in 6th grade...late bloomer.
13. I do not take photos while on vacation.
14. I subscribe to the phrase..."Good artists imitate, great artists steal"
15. I must have access to a Pilot Precise Extra Fine pen at all times...part of my OCD
16. I know nothing about wine.
17. I cannot stand John Travolta.
18. In high school I worked on Helen Boosalis's failed bid to become Nebraska's 1st female governor.
19. My official drag name is Chaka DaNeu
20. I use the word "awesome" way too frequently.
21. Regrettably, I let relationships suffer due to my lack of communication.
22. I only wear Comme des Garcons fragrances.
23. If I could be any TV character I would be James Garner as Jim Rockford in "The Rockford Files"
24. Therapists have said I have "safety issues"
25. Like the idea that something can be so unfunny that it is funny...I believe something can be so unsexy that it becomes sexy.
26. At age 18 I thought I wanted to be a lawyer.
27. As a child I mistakenly thought the word "ass" referred to penises...this might explain some of my sexual behavior.
28. I cannot wait until all of my hair turns gray...I pray it looks pure white like my dad's does.
29. I have a ridiculous sweet tooth...I must have at least one sugar rush per day.
30. In college my friend Lisa paid me $50 to write a term paper for her...it was on Yugoslavian leader Josip Tito (so I probably would have done it for free...)
31. I like to get my "work" done before I "play"...I hate having things or tasks hanging over my head.
32. I believe I am polite...others may not see this in my behavior
33. I have a one inch scar on my left foot from where a bicycle gear cut me as a youth.
34. In ninth grade I was named "Best Dressed Male"...this tells you something about my competition.
35. I would be perfectly happy if my last meal on this planet were a baguette with brie from Ceci-Cela.
36. When I sleep at night I can't allow my knees or ankles to touch...for some reason it freaks me out.
37. As a child I was repulsed by taking a pill in capsule form.
38. In ninth grade my parents drove me and friends Todd, Jim, and Bryan to Hastings Nebraska for a Thompson Twins concert
39. When I was a kid my favorite food was Swanson's Chicken Pot Pie.
40. I usually have one fiction and one non-fiction book that I read concurrently.
41. I have never been to an opera.
42. When I was 15 my brother Paul and I motorcycled from Nebraska to California on his Honda GoldWing
43. Although I hate weather extremes, I would rather be it be "too hot" than "too cold"
44. My first concert experience was Hall&Oates in 1981.
45. I have had a 5 minute conversation with Gwyneth Paltrow.
46. If forced to choose, I would say my favorite visual artist of all time is Ellsworth Kelly.
47. The only car I have owned was a red Honda Civic SI.
48. I always overtip.
49. I got my first pair of Vans in 8th grade...I have had at least 50 pairs since.
50. I have a pre-emptive cure for hangovers that involves eating a Big Mac made with Veggie burgers.
51. I want to be cremated...after I die.
52. From 1982 to 1993 I watched "As The World Turns" pretty much everyday...still see the "stars" on the streets of NYC.
53. My least favorite household chore is doing laundry.
54. 99% of the time I say "bless you" when someone sneezes.
55. In general I am an optimist.
56. In 5th grade I played saxophone, but had no discipline as far as practicing went so I gave it up.
57. I am going to live to be 93 years old.
58. I was raised in the Disciples of Christ church.
59. When stressed my "mantra" is "The Universe is challenging you AND taking care of you".
60. I am horribly addicted to caffeine.
61. I am learning that simple pleasures are the best.
62. I go back and forth between being an introvert and an extrovert.
63. Although I wouldn't say I was scared of them, I don't like touching snakes or lizards.
64. If I am in a "funk" a haircut always makes me feel better.
65. I would love to go skydiving.
66. I am often a "smart-ass"
67. I see one or two movies a year in the theater.
68. I cannot live without the New York Times and The New Yorker.
69. I never leave the house without my iPod.
70. I love making soup in the fall and winter.
71. I am in a perpetual battle with cynicism.
72. I have never been outside the United States.
73. I love fog.
74. I am registered as an independent...if I had to define my political beliefs it would be Libertarian.
75. I love when people tell me about dreams in which I make an appearance.
76. I have the most energy in the morning and late at night.
77. I have a pretty good sense of humor about myself.
78. I am sentimental about the past.
79. If I could have a pet, it would be a Shiba Inu.
80. I spend too much time concerned about my appearance.
81. I am afraid of mediocrity.
82. I always have some food immediately after I get out of bed in the morning.
83. I worry about having enough money for retirement.
84. My favorite number is 6.
85. I was overweight as a child.
86. The first broadway show I saw was "A Chorus Line" in 1987.
87. I took a career aptitude test in high school that revealed that I should train to become an elevator repairman.
88. I still miss Sundays at "Body&Soul"
89. My dream dinner party would have John Waters, Fran Lebowitz, and Amy Sedaris as guests of honor.
90. I have never had a broken bone.
91. I will cry if The Simpsons ever goes off the air.
92. I love watching fireworks from my rooftop.
93. I am trying to force myself to dress like an adult.
94. I give people "the benefit of the doubt" in most situations.
95. I am not superstitious...but I believe in "signs" or "omens"
96. I became more patriotic after 9/11 and less patriotic after 11/2/2004.
97. I am a closet exhibitionist.
98. I eat guacamole at least 4 times per week.
99. I hold grudges.
100. I always have to have an event or activity to look forward to.
101. One of my greatest strengths is my curiousity.

Robot Rock

...So I have been talking with everyone about the new song "Robot Rock" by Daft Punk. The song is so ridiculously simple, memorable, catchy it is, in short, amazing. From the moment I first played the song on my ipod I was hooked.

When I first moved to NYC I was enamoured with the anonymous nature of the city. It was a revelation to walk down the street with my headphones on, music blasting and not give a shit about what others thought about my rhythmic walking/gyrations...I was in my zone.

Slowly over the years I went more and more "in my head". Few could probably tell that I was listening to an amazing house track on my headphones...my movements became less obvious...my walking down the street (although still at a brisk pace) became more "normal". I was no longer dancing in the street.

That is the great thing about "Robot Rock"...it is impossible for me to be walking with my ipod and not break out some moves. People look. People stare. People mock. But it is so wonderful not to give a shit. I am back in my zone.

In the afternoon...

Just got done re-connecting with my friend Jason in Seattle. We haven't had an in-depth conversation in about a year. It is so strange being close to someone, then because of a cross-country move, having no contact for so long...then re-connecting.

Jason and I are on the "same page" on so many topics...Our senses of humor are so totally in sync it is crazy. More accurately Jason taught me how to get in touch with my politically incorrect side...and I have never turned back...

Back to Normal...

Watching news coverage of the president's press conference yesterday...I am literally feeling sick because of it. How is it that Elizabeth Bumiller of The Times can ask one provacative question and the rest of the press act like she just called his mother a whore...the shock and horror of an actual non-softball question.

It pushes my pessimistic buttons...it feels like the whole political game is OVER...the american public gets fed an amazing amount of bullshit and the MSM does absolutely nothing to question even the minor details they are fed....

Out of the gate...

The world has waited with bated breath and now it has finally happened....I have begun blogging. Now armageddon can occurr and we will all die satiated...