BLOG ENTRY
+++TV that rules:
...The Colbert Report is the funniest show I have ever seen in my life. three times as funny as the Daily Show which was already five times as funny as anything else, ever. A letter from Stephen, to you, the true American heroes (for watching his show) may illuminate why he is my new god of comedy.
...the Daily Show, I've long said, should be REQUIRED VIEWING for American citizenship.
...Extras is as funny as the original Office, maybe moreso. Ricky Gervais is at the very least, a patron saint of comedy.
...Curb Your Enthusiasm is still funny as all get up. how can being annoying be so funny?
...Lost came back swinging but lost a bit of stamina over the past two weeks. Oh well. They're all still really really really ridiculously good looking. (bastards!)
...The Office - the American Office, is funny, but in a more American way. ie. it's rude, caustic and fat, it's not as inventive, but it's still highly highly entertaining.
...My Name Is Earl - if you love Kevin Smith like I love Kevin Smith, you probably love Jason Lee too. My fear is they're making him too unlikeable for the show despite the repentant ways.
+++Books I did done readed goodly:
...The Shroud of the Thwacker - by Chris Elliott (of Get a Life and Letterman fame) has already made me laugh out loud a dozen times on the train. And I'm only 15 pages in. And I genuinely mean "laugh out loud" - I'm not talkin' any ol' "LOL" exageration people type to you, I'm talkin' the kind where people look at you like you're crazy and then try to see what you're reading. If I could recommend just one of the following books, ....well, it'd be Revelation Space 'cause what I'm talking about right now is technically a preceeding book, not a following one... ok, so that's cheating, whatever. read them all! except for the Tom Robbins one... wait for his next novel.
...The Colossus of New York - amazing prose/poetry that sums up the city to a "T".
...The Intuitionist - pretty, pretty, pretty.. darned good. I'm a bit envious of his writing style. ok, very envious. (bastard!) check the 2nd paragraph of the editorial review for a quick synopsis.
...Gridlinked - a poor man's Altered Carbon. readable for sure, but I'm suprised it was so highly "recommended by others who've read ____".
...Broken Angels - the second novel (after Altered Carbon) - amazing though just short of Altered Carbon. In fact, I'm not sure that Richard Morgan can ever reach the super-amazing-ocity of his first novel.
...Market Forces - ok, so I was wrong. he could. and did. Though it could be that I liked it so much because it had all the elements that normally I wouldn't love: Morgan extrapolates a world where commodities trading reaches a brutal pitch and the outcomes of banana republic uprisings are the new market. ... the brokers of the new economy compete for status and promotions via road rage on the freeways of new London. .. at once an anti-globalization treatise and anime fantasy meets The Road Warrior... employ[ing] the graphic-novel imagery of his two previous novels to create a disturbingly brutal picture of slash-and-burn capitalism run amok.
...Redemption Ark - If I haven't gone on and on yet about this trilogy, just... just pretend that I just made you read about seven pages of me loving this trilogy of gloriously delicious sci-fi. Revelation Space is one of the best books I've ever read. Redemption Ark is damn damn near just as good.
...Absolution Gap - is the 3rd in the series and does a fine fine job of wrapping things up. If you've read the other two, you must, under penalty of eternal lameness, read Absolution Gap.
...Wild Ducks Flying Backward - I'm as big of a Tom Robbins fan as they come but sadly, the editorial review puts it perfectly: Publishers Weekly -The author of Even Cowgirls Get the Blues and Still Life with Woodpecker has regularly published shorter pieces in Esquire, Playboy, the New York Times and elsewhere. The whimsical, quixotic nature of that work comes through in this hit-and-miss affair—one that remains woefully short on fiction, focusing mostly on the author's travel writing, essays, celebrity profiles and poetry. The best travel piece, "The Day the Earth Spit Wart Hogs," finds Robbins traversing a big game park in Tanzania. His commentary on the '60s, the legacy of burger mogul Ray Kroc and the prose of Thomas Pynchon remains trenchant and provocative; other pieces are dated to the point of irrelevance (his foreword to Terrance McKenna's 1992 The Archaic Revival). As a poet, Robbins is obvious and heavy-handed, but occasionally he hits the kind of mystical note that characterizes "Catch 28" and makes his florid imagery work. The fiction is brief and mostly forgettable. But an essay called "In Defiance of Gravity" starts as a riff on an obscure club and winds up being an ode to the combination of unconventionality and humor that define Robbins's career as a writer.
+++ Movies that ruled... or didn't:
...Land of the Dead - no I will NOT stop watching zombie films. Not now. Not ever. George Romero is the Hugh Hefner of zombie world.
...Unleashed - Jet Li and Bob Hoskins? Really? Yes - in a strange way, it actually worked. like a pregnant lady craving for pickles and ice cream.
...Kicking and Screaming - warning! Alert! Abort! AVOID at all costs. do not let your love of Will Ferrell blind you from the great wall of crap you will walk into if you rent this. You've been warned.
...Suicide Girls: The First Tour - ahem. ya, so I rented this. the book is amaaazing. take a discreet peek at your local book store. the DVD however, is beyond lame.
...The Interpreter - when will I stop loving Nicole Kidman? The answer, again, is never. I've been trying to shake my love for her for years so... avoid the movie unless you share my Kidman-love. Or you harbor a secret Sean Penn love in which case, you're still out of luck, he looks like he got mauled by a very cruel bear.
...The Thirteenth Floor - it's rare (and by rare I mean 'never') that I turn off a movie half way through. 'nuff said.
...Da Ali G Show: Season 2: Disc 1 - You either love Sasha Baron Cohen or you are too old to know about him (not that there's anything wrong with that) or you are brain dead and have no sense of humor. Ali, Borat and Bruno stay one step over the line of tear inducing laugh-making.
...Robots - When did Hollywood start making kids flicks that adults enjoy? Robin Williams (voice) is only mildly annoying. oh, who am I kidding, he's annoying as hell, but the movie more than makes up for it.
...The Longest Yard - Adam Sandler is no Burt Reynolds. Yes. I just put those words in print, which I think is like saying a marmot is not a groundhog. wait, a marmot IS a groundhog! Still, no one cares. know what I mean?
...The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - All in all, I thought it was true to the spirit of the book with only minorly annoying deviations. How can you avoid a movie with a depressed robot?
...Sahara - Neeeext!
...Crash - Amazing. kudos, kudos and more kudos to the makers and stars.
...Sin City - Beauuuutiful. Excellent. Amazing. not for the squeemish. heavily played noir never looked so good. best movie so far this year, I say.
...The Motorcycle Diaries - Eh. decent foreign flick. not great, but good.
...Oldboy - Wow. definitely recommended.
...Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior - muy impressive. ha ha. get it? muy thai ...? ok, bad. I know.
...Born Into Brothels - Good lord. another amazing documentary. check the description.
...Riding Giants - Yep. that filled my seeing-big-waves-movie-fill for the year.
...Kung Fu Hustle - MOST excellent. assuming you like the kung fu films too.
...Groove Armada: Best of Live at the Brixton Academy - So amazing, I bought it.
...Downfall - another good foreign flick. not super duper. ok, maybe duper.
...XXX: State of the Union - ok, just 'cause I like Ice Cube and liked the Vin Diesel XXX movies doesn't mean they're all going to be good.
...Constantine - swear to bajesus, the best thing about this film was the song in the closing credits.
...Ocean's Twelve, 2004 - Eh. did they really need to make this?
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Dead Can Dance @ Radio City Music Hall
BLOG ENTRY
Saturday saw the NY appearance of Dead Can Dance at NY's famous Radio City Music Hall.
America's most popular entertainers have thrilled audiences at Radio City Music Hall since its doors opened December 27, 1932. Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Sammy Davis Jr. and Tony Bennett to mention only a few .... More than 300 million people have come to the Music Hall to enjoy stage shows, movies, concerts and special events. ... Radio City Music Hall is the largest indoor theatre in the world.
Ok, I'm lazy,... and sleep deprived today. I'm not going to review the show except to say it was A-ma-zing - emphasis on "zing". Everything I could have hoped for from seeing one of my favorite bands from my goth / dark & scary / high school / college days. Here's what a vegan said about the show (some good concert pics, too) And a good review by a Seattle-ite of their Seattle show, the only differences being that our NY show had a full orchestra and they served drinks. well... not Dead Can Dance serving drinks, or the orchestra.. that'd be some show... no.. Radio City Music Hall has several bars that serve drinks.
Saturday saw the NY appearance of Dead Can Dance at NY's famous Radio City Music Hall.
America's most popular entertainers have thrilled audiences at Radio City Music Hall since its doors opened December 27, 1932. Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Sammy Davis Jr. and Tony Bennett to mention only a few .... More than 300 million people have come to the Music Hall to enjoy stage shows, movies, concerts and special events. ... Radio City Music Hall is the largest indoor theatre in the world.
Ok, I'm lazy,... and sleep deprived today. I'm not going to review the show except to say it was A-ma-zing - emphasis on "zing". Everything I could have hoped for from seeing one of my favorite bands from my goth / dark & scary / high school / college days. Here's what a vegan said about the show (some good concert pics, too) And a good review by a Seattle-ite of their Seattle show, the only differences being that our NY show had a full orchestra and they served drinks. well... not Dead Can Dance serving drinks, or the orchestra.. that'd be some show... no.. Radio City Music Hall has several bars that serve drinks.
Friday, October 07, 2005
ALERT! alert! aler... hey, look, something distracting!
JOURNAL ENTRY / RANT:
"Most specific terror threat ever" says the papers.
-----Yeah, ok, that was kinda scary. or Is. or ....Would Be, if it weren't for our wonderful human propensity to dampen the perception of danger and keep in check the reactionary tendency to say "oh yeah? well then I just wont do _blank_" Whether blank is "ride the subway" or "fly in a plane" or "ride that roller coaster" or even "play potentially knee damaging sports" - people hear of life's dangers - big and small, process the information, have a moment of fear, or dont, imagining the consequences and then... then they start their tried and true trudge towards accepting, and then ignorning, a statistically improbable danger. - "what are the odds?", the saying goes.
-----Maybe I shouldn't walk down city streets - Thirteen people a year die in NYC from air conditioners falling out of apartment windows. Or maybe I shouldn't eat at food carts - I heard someone got sick from one last week. Maybe I should talk my friend-who-is-a-girl (word jumble, strike 3 words) into moving into a safer neighborhood - 3rd St and Ave D is a little sketchy at night. Or maybe... maybe we should all just leave this city. It's far too dangerous, I hear. Just a big ol' bulls-eye for the terror-lympics. "If they are going to target somewhere, it'll be" this 'Capital of the World', our 'Metropolis', Gotham.
-----"Whaduya gunna do, riight? ..riight?" is what I imagine the collective New York spirit to be saying right now. Yeah, that's right - I hear the collective New York spirit in the voice of a saucy, Brooklyn-beauty Italian girl - you know you do too, dont kid yourself. She's right though. Do we all move? Stop taking the subway? Have faith in our police to stop potential terrorists? Ok, now that would make me laugh, if it weren't such a grave subject. In the past few months, I have definitely seen an increased police presence on the streets, in the subways, on subway cars... but doing what? Standing around? talking to eachother? watching people with backpacks and briefcases and satchels and big plastic bags breeze on by them without a second glance? The NY Metro had a quote yesterday from a straphanger that said that the only thing he's doing differently lately is not making eye contact with police so they wont stop him and search his bag. If I could say just four words to that guy, it'd be "what are the odds??" Have you ever seen anyone stopped and searched in the NY subway system? I haven't. It makes me think of Tracy Morgan sketch (below) on racial profiling. I'm not advocating racial profiling and I'm not saying that getting a "shake down" doesn't happen, but I haven't seen it. Not once. That worries me a bit. Doesn't it seem to confirm the theory that if someone wants to do something, they will, and there's little that I myself or the police, can (or will) do about it?
-----Yes, ...the gods forbid, if anything happens I hope and pray for a quick reaction time, an orderly evacuation, a competent handling of crisis. Anyone would, but why all this pretense towards prevention if the only real training, the only real action that'll be taken is towards reaction to an event that has already happened?? Right now, I hear a siren. Is that the first reaction on the scene of tragedy? Every time I see a plane fly over this city, I wonder if it's on a final approach to not-so-neatly hole-punching a building. Morbid? Unfeeling? I would say "yes" perhaps, if I didn't think about planes striking buildings Every Time I Looked Up to watch a low flying plane. What would that do to 8 million urban psyches? Can you imagine? For me, it's instilled a faintly reassuring notion of "well if something's gonna happen, it's gonna happen" but it's also perpetuating a culture of daily ingrained fear countered only by "oh, it'll happen to someone else".
-----Wondering what might fall from the sky is one thing, but now the subway? yeah, that's just great. I already get a little sketched out on subway trains when they stop for minutes at a time between stations - (as much as I fight and accept "not being able to do anything about something", I still want the option to be able to go where I want to, do what I want to). So now I'll get to wonder if we're stopped because today was the day for their 'coordinated strike' and did I just happen to be on the wrong train? "Just happened to be..", "..the odds", "..at the time", "..wrong place, wrong time.." - it'll always be the "other guy"... or it'll be "me" and unless I plan on turning New York into a subway-less world, I'll need to gamble on Zero and Double Zero spinning on by me. "Whaduya gunna do, riiight?" - right.
** Tracy Morgan: I know in the past, I've popped a lot of jokes about the police and how they get down. And I'll be driving in my lavender-colored Jaguar with the hip-hop blaring, and they pulled me over for no reason. And I would be pissed off, you know? But never again. I'm here to set the record straight - I like racial profiling. I got new eyes! Racial profiling is a good thing! Officers, I support you. And I don’t care if the dude is white, black, green, blue, whatever. If something doesn’t look right, shake him down. Now, I'm not saying to beat his ass, or nothing like that.. but just shake him down! See what's happening. You working at the airport, and someone looks suspicious? Shake him down! He got a long ZZ Top beard? Shake him down! You see a pasty-faced white dude with a "Jesus Saves" backpack wrapped in the Confederate flag? Shake him down? The dude got his head all wrapped up, and he ain't Erika Badyu? Shake him down! Hey! They probably ain't even guilty, but shake them down! They'll get over it. Look at me, I have! [ laughs ] So, law enforecement officers, Tracy Morgan completely understands racial profiling. I support you. And remember - if a guy's got a little bit of weed in his car, and he ain't hurting nobody, don't make me throw it out.
Saturday Night Live
"Most specific terror threat ever" says the papers.
-----Yeah, ok, that was kinda scary. or Is. or ....Would Be, if it weren't for our wonderful human propensity to dampen the perception of danger and keep in check the reactionary tendency to say "oh yeah? well then I just wont do _blank_" Whether blank is "ride the subway" or "fly in a plane" or "ride that roller coaster" or even "play potentially knee damaging sports" - people hear of life's dangers - big and small, process the information, have a moment of fear, or dont, imagining the consequences and then... then they start their tried and true trudge towards accepting, and then ignorning, a statistically improbable danger. - "what are the odds?", the saying goes.
-----Maybe I shouldn't walk down city streets - Thirteen people a year die in NYC from air conditioners falling out of apartment windows. Or maybe I shouldn't eat at food carts - I heard someone got sick from one last week. Maybe I should talk my friend-who-is-a-girl (word jumble, strike 3 words) into moving into a safer neighborhood - 3rd St and Ave D is a little sketchy at night. Or maybe... maybe we should all just leave this city. It's far too dangerous, I hear. Just a big ol' bulls-eye for the terror-lympics. "If they are going to target somewhere, it'll be" this 'Capital of the World', our 'Metropolis', Gotham.
-----"Whaduya gunna do, riight? ..riight?" is what I imagine the collective New York spirit to be saying right now. Yeah, that's right - I hear the collective New York spirit in the voice of a saucy, Brooklyn-beauty Italian girl - you know you do too, dont kid yourself. She's right though. Do we all move? Stop taking the subway? Have faith in our police to stop potential terrorists? Ok, now that would make me laugh, if it weren't such a grave subject. In the past few months, I have definitely seen an increased police presence on the streets, in the subways, on subway cars... but doing what? Standing around? talking to eachother? watching people with backpacks and briefcases and satchels and big plastic bags breeze on by them without a second glance? The NY Metro had a quote yesterday from a straphanger that said that the only thing he's doing differently lately is not making eye contact with police so they wont stop him and search his bag. If I could say just four words to that guy, it'd be "what are the odds??" Have you ever seen anyone stopped and searched in the NY subway system? I haven't. It makes me think of Tracy Morgan sketch (below) on racial profiling. I'm not advocating racial profiling and I'm not saying that getting a "shake down" doesn't happen, but I haven't seen it. Not once. That worries me a bit. Doesn't it seem to confirm the theory that if someone wants to do something, they will, and there's little that I myself or the police, can (or will) do about it?
-----Yes, ...the gods forbid, if anything happens I hope and pray for a quick reaction time, an orderly evacuation, a competent handling of crisis. Anyone would, but why all this pretense towards prevention if the only real training, the only real action that'll be taken is towards reaction to an event that has already happened?? Right now, I hear a siren. Is that the first reaction on the scene of tragedy? Every time I see a plane fly over this city, I wonder if it's on a final approach to not-so-neatly hole-punching a building. Morbid? Unfeeling? I would say "yes" perhaps, if I didn't think about planes striking buildings Every Time I Looked Up to watch a low flying plane. What would that do to 8 million urban psyches? Can you imagine? For me, it's instilled a faintly reassuring notion of "well if something's gonna happen, it's gonna happen" but it's also perpetuating a culture of daily ingrained fear countered only by "oh, it'll happen to someone else".
-----Wondering what might fall from the sky is one thing, but now the subway? yeah, that's just great. I already get a little sketched out on subway trains when they stop for minutes at a time between stations - (as much as I fight and accept "not being able to do anything about something", I still want the option to be able to go where I want to, do what I want to). So now I'll get to wonder if we're stopped because today was the day for their 'coordinated strike' and did I just happen to be on the wrong train? "Just happened to be..", "..the odds", "..at the time", "..wrong place, wrong time.." - it'll always be the "other guy"... or it'll be "me" and unless I plan on turning New York into a subway-less world, I'll need to gamble on Zero and Double Zero spinning on by me. "Whaduya gunna do, riiight?" - right.
** Tracy Morgan: I know in the past, I've popped a lot of jokes about the police and how they get down. And I'll be driving in my lavender-colored Jaguar with the hip-hop blaring, and they pulled me over for no reason. And I would be pissed off, you know? But never again. I'm here to set the record straight - I like racial profiling. I got new eyes! Racial profiling is a good thing! Officers, I support you. And I don’t care if the dude is white, black, green, blue, whatever. If something doesn’t look right, shake him down. Now, I'm not saying to beat his ass, or nothing like that.. but just shake him down! See what's happening. You working at the airport, and someone looks suspicious? Shake him down! He got a long ZZ Top beard? Shake him down! You see a pasty-faced white dude with a "Jesus Saves" backpack wrapped in the Confederate flag? Shake him down? The dude got his head all wrapped up, and he ain't Erika Badyu? Shake him down! Hey! They probably ain't even guilty, but shake them down! They'll get over it. Look at me, I have! [ laughs ] So, law enforecement officers, Tracy Morgan completely understands racial profiling. I support you. And remember - if a guy's got a little bit of weed in his car, and he ain't hurting nobody, don't make me throw it out.
Saturday Night Live
Monday, October 03, 2005
Park to Park through time
JOURNAL ENTRY
---Central Park begins with Washington Square Park. As a road to elsewhere; as an appetizer for city-nature to come, as a barometer of weather and the amount of clothes people will be wearing. It can predict crowd density. I pass through, scanning the circle, somehow still assuming that someday, someone will call out my name, some long lost friend or acquaintance. someone from high school. an old teacher, a relative perhaps.
---Passing through.. faces.. faces. bodies and faces. and babies. Babies in strollers with mothers on cell phones who pause to listen to the punch line of an "oh my god, did you hear?". I pass on walkways that have carried and carry history. history and more. People. People who've known their slight slivers of history, though never as well as we imagine they could have. People with no written reference to the march of time, or.. those with reference - how many of the same exact steps have I traced that P.T. Barnum walked first? He'd be my neighbor if time wasn't so linear. Living at the end of Washington Place, he and his family would indubitably say "excuse me" as they caused me to pause on my exiting the building. On to the park. And through. The fountain's circle has moved slightly since then. It's moving again, or so they say - "they" meaning the city powers that be, "say" meaning 'force'. A few paths in the park have never changed though. I walk on these. Through. On up to the Astor Place # 6 subway stop - the East side's lone arterial friend. I love the walk there. I love it, except for the fact that it's still Summer. just barely. Summer sweat. Oh how Summer trains us to love good ol' subway A/C. When the trains come, that is. It always seems like cars won’t come until you give up on hoping for quick relief. Train to train. local, express. Your stop comes in a flash when you've got an engaging book. 86th Street. Over to Central Park East. I pass the overflow and afterflow of a Germany parade. ...trying to recall ....if I've ever seen so much lederhosen. And earth tones. Green. clothes, they're just clothes of course - but now they're costumes. proud badges of national identities. The older folk amongst them, I understand. The days of parades and dress up seem naturally ingrained for those of 'their' time. It's the young in costume I'm trying to get. Hasn't anyone taught them that a prerequisite to coolness is being overly-self-conscious? I pass one group of happy Germans then two more groups, three, five, eight then... and then I pass... a civil war regiment of Union soldiers. Muskets in felt sheaths, walking and talking with easy weekend abandon. I blink a few times. Look away, look back. There's no sign from them or anyone else on the street that they are the square pegs meandering down round street. Blues and grays, muskets and field caps, followed immediately by... yes, more happy Germans. I haven't passed a quote-unquote-New-Yorker in a block or two. I love this city. Turn onto Central Park East, oompah-pah bands give way to a bagpipes' amazing grace. In. Into the park. Past the Met. Past joggers carelessly enjoying carless park roads. Past more babies in strollers. Leading lazy mothers for their daily walkabout. And finally....
---the volleyball courts. What's this? 7 people. 4 vs. 3. Well that's just asking for me to start my weekend fun, now isn't it? I get on. I play. I play remarkably well. As I've mentioned, volleyball is a constant battle against embarrassing yourself. It's a game of self-fulfilling prophecy. You do well, you'll be fed the ball often and with trust. Start out bad? Forget it, pariah. You may as well leave, now that you've sullied your good name. So I play well and keep playing well but here come.. [insert suspenseful music here]...the gay Spanish speakers. Not that they speak gay-spanish. Frankly, I dont know what that is. No, they're gay and they're spanish speakers and if you've never been around a group of them, you are missing out. Normally they're really fun to play against (in that amusing talk-to-the-hand-/-head-rolling-sassy-"No-you-di'nt!" kinda way) - unfortunately they are anything but fun to play vollebayll with. Forming a rich stew of nationalities: Puerto Rican, Cuban, Dominican and probably Spain-spanish, Mexican-Spanish, Central American Spanish, you name it, this is New York after all - they are truly and sadly the most insular, self-focused, self-serving, self important pillars of everything to be hated about competitive volleyball. I curse the bad timing of their arrival that landed me on their team and try to weigh my desire to keep playing longer with the misfortunate comedy of errors that playing with them will surely descend into. We play a few games but.. As predicted, despite my excellent play, I quickly realize that I might as well be invisible. Despite my consistency and reliability, I reap no praise. Despite my being in the obvious "right spot" for the ball to be set to, the setters go out of their way to make a harder set to a less skilled player. This is when I need to be careful. Showing anger or displeasure just intensifies the invisibility. Annnd.. there it is. My first mistake ... a bump pass that sails far wide of my intended target. Eyes roll. Someone says something. Something in Spanish. It starts with "Ayyyye..." and in my mind, ends with a finger snap and more rolled eyes. I am dying to say something to the effect of "you're right! my one bad pass this game must mean that I suck! and all your bad passes were... just you goofing around I guess!" but I don’t. The game continues. I grow more & more invisible. More frustrated. I just want it to end. I make a blocking error. Now something in English. I say something back - Something innocuous but with a tone and look on my face that conveys the following: "I am five words away from killing you and eating your liver. right here. right now. you'll want to watch what you say". No one expected that. Hey, I didn't expect that. I get a little giddy at how well that shut him up. And.. interesting... I gain a little bit of respect from the rest of the team for it, but I've obviously made an enemy, at least for the rest of the game. And so it goes. A few more points. more frustration. I'm just taking up space on the court at this point. And then it's over. I change shoes, grab my bag and head for
---the Great Lawn. I walk out into the middle. Normally, this would be the outfield's for up to any three softball fields, but maybe everyone's season is over? Balls and frisbees, footballs fly and... so... do parrots. Parrots? Two African parrots, full plumage spread wide, chasing each other in wide circles. Around the center of the field - sometimes exploring the outer fringes and treetops. People watch. mouth's agape. Parrots. for real. Parrots in the city, flying free. I sit. How often do you see parrots stretching wings fully to fly, to chase each other? Playing. I'll tell you - never. Not even at the zoo. They land and test the grass. Talons to nature. I watch them watch their talons pierce the ground. The setting sun turning red plumage orange as the light hits their heads and the leading edges of wings. Photos. People take photos. Parents keep short invisible leashes on their waddling offspring. Tiny hands. Hands outstretched, eyes locked on nothing but these park anomalies. "No touching, Caleb". "Uh-uh Karen, we don’t touch the pretty birdies". And then, as if to give the parents relief, the birds take flight again.---And here I am. Sitting on a blanket, watching forest birds pretend they're free, volleyball behind me, soreness ahead. Anything is possible. I could do anything right now. Anything but write more. I cant believe this was the only way to write, for years. Years and years. My writing hand as had its fill.
---Central Park begins with Washington Square Park. As a road to elsewhere; as an appetizer for city-nature to come, as a barometer of weather and the amount of clothes people will be wearing. It can predict crowd density. I pass through, scanning the circle, somehow still assuming that someday, someone will call out my name, some long lost friend or acquaintance. someone from high school. an old teacher, a relative perhaps.
---Passing through.. faces.. faces. bodies and faces. and babies. Babies in strollers with mothers on cell phones who pause to listen to the punch line of an "oh my god, did you hear?". I pass on walkways that have carried and carry history. history and more. People. People who've known their slight slivers of history, though never as well as we imagine they could have. People with no written reference to the march of time, or.. those with reference - how many of the same exact steps have I traced that P.T. Barnum walked first? He'd be my neighbor if time wasn't so linear. Living at the end of Washington Place, he and his family would indubitably say "excuse me" as they caused me to pause on my exiting the building. On to the park. And through. The fountain's circle has moved slightly since then. It's moving again, or so they say - "they" meaning the city powers that be, "say" meaning 'force'. A few paths in the park have never changed though. I walk on these. Through. On up to the Astor Place # 6 subway stop - the East side's lone arterial friend. I love the walk there. I love it, except for the fact that it's still Summer. just barely. Summer sweat. Oh how Summer trains us to love good ol' subway A/C. When the trains come, that is. It always seems like cars won’t come until you give up on hoping for quick relief. Train to train. local, express. Your stop comes in a flash when you've got an engaging book. 86th Street. Over to Central Park East. I pass the overflow and afterflow of a Germany parade. ...trying to recall ....if I've ever seen so much lederhosen. And earth tones. Green. clothes, they're just clothes of course - but now they're costumes. proud badges of national identities. The older folk amongst them, I understand. The days of parades and dress up seem naturally ingrained for those of 'their' time. It's the young in costume I'm trying to get. Hasn't anyone taught them that a prerequisite to coolness is being overly-self-conscious? I pass one group of happy Germans then two more groups, three, five, eight then... and then I pass... a civil war regiment of Union soldiers. Muskets in felt sheaths, walking and talking with easy weekend abandon. I blink a few times. Look away, look back. There's no sign from them or anyone else on the street that they are the square pegs meandering down round street. Blues and grays, muskets and field caps, followed immediately by... yes, more happy Germans. I haven't passed a quote-unquote-New-Yorker in a block or two. I love this city. Turn onto Central Park East, oompah-pah bands give way to a bagpipes' amazing grace. In. Into the park. Past the Met. Past joggers carelessly enjoying carless park roads. Past more babies in strollers. Leading lazy mothers for their daily walkabout. And finally....
---the volleyball courts. What's this? 7 people. 4 vs. 3. Well that's just asking for me to start my weekend fun, now isn't it? I get on. I play. I play remarkably well. As I've mentioned, volleyball is a constant battle against embarrassing yourself. It's a game of self-fulfilling prophecy. You do well, you'll be fed the ball often and with trust. Start out bad? Forget it, pariah. You may as well leave, now that you've sullied your good name. So I play well and keep playing well but here come.. [insert suspenseful music here]...the gay Spanish speakers. Not that they speak gay-spanish. Frankly, I dont know what that is. No, they're gay and they're spanish speakers and if you've never been around a group of them, you are missing out. Normally they're really fun to play against (in that amusing talk-to-the-hand-/-head-rolling-sassy-"No-you-di'nt!" kinda way) - unfortunately they are anything but fun to play vollebayll with. Forming a rich stew of nationalities: Puerto Rican, Cuban, Dominican and probably Spain-spanish, Mexican-Spanish, Central American Spanish, you name it, this is New York after all - they are truly and sadly the most insular, self-focused, self-serving, self important pillars of everything to be hated about competitive volleyball. I curse the bad timing of their arrival that landed me on their team and try to weigh my desire to keep playing longer with the misfortunate comedy of errors that playing with them will surely descend into. We play a few games but.. As predicted, despite my excellent play, I quickly realize that I might as well be invisible. Despite my consistency and reliability, I reap no praise. Despite my being in the obvious "right spot" for the ball to be set to, the setters go out of their way to make a harder set to a less skilled player. This is when I need to be careful. Showing anger or displeasure just intensifies the invisibility. Annnd.. there it is. My first mistake ... a bump pass that sails far wide of my intended target. Eyes roll. Someone says something. Something in Spanish. It starts with "Ayyyye..." and in my mind, ends with a finger snap and more rolled eyes. I am dying to say something to the effect of "you're right! my one bad pass this game must mean that I suck! and all your bad passes were... just you goofing around I guess!" but I don’t. The game continues. I grow more & more invisible. More frustrated. I just want it to end. I make a blocking error. Now something in English. I say something back - Something innocuous but with a tone and look on my face that conveys the following: "I am five words away from killing you and eating your liver. right here. right now. you'll want to watch what you say". No one expected that. Hey, I didn't expect that. I get a little giddy at how well that shut him up. And.. interesting... I gain a little bit of respect from the rest of the team for it, but I've obviously made an enemy, at least for the rest of the game. And so it goes. A few more points. more frustration. I'm just taking up space on the court at this point. And then it's over. I change shoes, grab my bag and head for
---the Great Lawn. I walk out into the middle. Normally, this would be the outfield's for up to any three softball fields, but maybe everyone's season is over? Balls and frisbees, footballs fly and... so... do parrots. Parrots? Two African parrots, full plumage spread wide, chasing each other in wide circles. Around the center of the field - sometimes exploring the outer fringes and treetops. People watch. mouth's agape. Parrots. for real. Parrots in the city, flying free. I sit. How often do you see parrots stretching wings fully to fly, to chase each other? Playing. I'll tell you - never. Not even at the zoo. They land and test the grass. Talons to nature. I watch them watch their talons pierce the ground. The setting sun turning red plumage orange as the light hits their heads and the leading edges of wings. Photos. People take photos. Parents keep short invisible leashes on their waddling offspring. Tiny hands. Hands outstretched, eyes locked on nothing but these park anomalies. "No touching, Caleb". "Uh-uh Karen, we don’t touch the pretty birdies". And then, as if to give the parents relief, the birds take flight again.---And here I am. Sitting on a blanket, watching forest birds pretend they're free, volleyball behind me, soreness ahead. Anything is possible. I could do anything right now. Anything but write more. I cant believe this was the only way to write, for years. Years and years. My writing hand as had its fill.
Friday, September 30, 2005
MG's Verbal Shock Therapy
JOURNAL ENTRY
MG's Verbal Shock Therapy
..[two ladies are talking about something gossipy]
..MG walks up to them
MG: y'know, I could really go for a soda pop!
-----------------------------
a customer kept calling MG asking sales related questions that a sales rep should have been handling. Instead of politely asking the customer to call the sales rep for those sorts of questions, MG exasperatedly ("I'm at my wits end!") gets her manager involved so her manager can get our boss involved so our boss can get the sales rep involved telling the sales rep to call the customer to tell them that the customer should call the sales rep the next time. the "he" to follow is the customer.
MG: he's on me like flies on pot roast!
..[I see her in peripheral vision looking around for someone to laugh at her "joke"]
MG: hee hee heee!!! like flies on .. HA!! like flies on pot roast!!
..[no one acknowledges what she's said]
MG: heee hee heee...!
..[pause]
MG: well I thought it was funny
--------------------------------------
..[two ladies talking to eachother, MG walks up to them]
MG: hey DD, do you ever get sausage fingers?
dd: ....sausage fingers?
MG: yeah, you know.. like when..
dd: I dont know, no
MG: you know, when it's really humid out and your fingers feel all fat, I call 'em sausage fingers
dd: ohhhh
MG: yeah, now I just need some eggs and hash browns to go with it! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
dd: ....cant say I ever get sausage fingers
MG: hey MC, you ever get sausage fingers?!
mc: nah, but I had a heck of a time buttoning up my shirt this morning, I dont know what it was, I guess I was just really tired.
MG: sounds like you had sausage fingers
mc: yeah, maybe. I just couldn't wake up this morning.
MG: hey, MC, what train do you take to get here?
mc: the 1 normally but today I took the
MG: oh, I see
..[pause]
mc: ...but I took the 7 to Penn Station 'cause of some congestion of trains somewhere
MG: oh my friend said she saw some Arab jump a turnstyle and the cops chased him
mc: oh ya?
MG: yeah, I dont know what that was about.
----------------------
MG: hee hee hee!! like flies on a pot roast!!
..[pause]
MG: hee HEE!! HEE!!! like flies on a pot roast!
----------------------
MG: hey DC, wanna get some [makes stupid chicken clucking sounds]
..[in my mind, I see DC's eyes roll]
..[silence]
MG: I guess that's a 'no'.
-----------------------
dd: no, I'm sick! ...and I think Kory's the host..!
me: what? no! "I dont get sick" (my personal 4-word-shield-against-sickness)
dd: no, I know.. you're the host, you brought it in!
me: HA! you're probably ri--
--[interrupting]
MG: Oh my god, do you know who I ran into on the bus today??!
..[pause]
MG: this guy, he works at channel 11. it was sooo interesting!
..[pause]
MG: yeah, he had all these stories.. working at a tv station, just so interes..
dd: oh yeah? some bus flirtations, eh?
MG: no, it wasn't like that. we just started talking. I told him my knee wasn't hurting so bad today and the weather.. we talked about. And then he was telling me all these things about working at a tv station. sooo interesting!
POST-SCRIPT: $10 to the first person who correctly identifies MG's brand of neuroses. $15 to the person who cures her.
MG's Verbal Shock Therapy
..[two ladies are talking about something gossipy]
..MG walks up to them
MG: y'know, I could really go for a soda pop!
-----------------------------
a customer kept calling MG asking sales related questions that a sales rep should have been handling. Instead of politely asking the customer to call the sales rep for those sorts of questions, MG exasperatedly ("I'm at my wits end!") gets her manager involved so her manager can get our boss involved so our boss can get the sales rep involved telling the sales rep to call the customer to tell them that the customer should call the sales rep the next time. the "he" to follow is the customer.
MG: he's on me like flies on pot roast!
..[I see her in peripheral vision looking around for someone to laugh at her "joke"]
MG: hee hee heee!!! like flies on .. HA!! like flies on pot roast!!
..[no one acknowledges what she's said]
MG: heee hee heee...!
..[pause]
MG: well I thought it was funny
--------------------------------------
..[two ladies talking to eachother, MG walks up to them]
MG: hey DD, do you ever get sausage fingers?
dd: ....sausage fingers?
MG: yeah, you know.. like when..
dd: I dont know, no
MG: you know, when it's really humid out and your fingers feel all fat, I call 'em sausage fingers
dd: ohhhh
MG: yeah, now I just need some eggs and hash browns to go with it! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
dd: ....cant say I ever get sausage fingers
MG: hey MC, you ever get sausage fingers?!
mc: nah, but I had a heck of a time buttoning up my shirt this morning, I dont know what it was, I guess I was just really tired.
MG: sounds like you had sausage fingers
mc: yeah, maybe. I just couldn't wake up this morning.
MG: hey, MC, what train do you take to get here?
mc: the 1 normally but today I took the
MG: oh, I see
..[pause]
mc: ...but I took the 7 to Penn Station 'cause of some congestion of trains somewhere
MG: oh my friend said she saw some Arab jump a turnstyle and the cops chased him
mc: oh ya?
MG: yeah, I dont know what that was about.
----------------------
MG: hee hee hee!! like flies on a pot roast!!
..[pause]
MG: hee HEE!! HEE!!! like flies on a pot roast!
----------------------
MG: hey DC, wanna get some [makes stupid chicken clucking sounds]
..[in my mind, I see DC's eyes roll]
..[silence]
MG: I guess that's a 'no'.
-----------------------
dd: no, I'm sick! ...and I think Kory's the host..!
me: what? no! "I dont get sick" (my personal 4-word-shield-against-sickness)
dd: no, I know.. you're the host, you brought it in!
me: HA! you're probably ri--
--[interrupting]
MG: Oh my god, do you know who I ran into on the bus today??!
..[pause]
MG: this guy, he works at channel 11. it was sooo interesting!
..[pause]
MG: yeah, he had all these stories.. working at a tv station, just so interes..
dd: oh yeah? some bus flirtations, eh?
MG: no, it wasn't like that. we just started talking. I told him my knee wasn't hurting so bad today and the weather.. we talked about. And then he was telling me all these things about working at a tv station. sooo interesting!
POST-SCRIPT: $10 to the first person who correctly identifies MG's brand of neuroses. $15 to the person who cures her.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
MG - Comedienne Extraordinaire
BLOG ENTRY
MG - Comedienne Extraordinaire
Well.. you asked for it. Or.. I'm pretending you asked for it: A compendium of inanity, an accounting of pedantry, a syllabus of the supercilious.. ok, that last one was a stretch. How about just "Stupid Sh!t A Certain Someone In My Office Says"..? No? ok, I'll keep working on a title.
--
MG: dd, I meant to ask you... are you french?
dd: oh, you mean my last name, yes, it's french.
MG: Oh, I was wondering
dd: yeah, my husband is Haitian
MG: oh, it's french... then you must like Au Bon Pain, Ha ha ha ha ha.
..[silence]
----------------------------------
MG: did you see the Martha Stewart movie last night?
mn: no
..[pause]
mn: oh, DD did you see Desperate Housewives last night?
..[MG answers even though DD was addressed]
MG: no, you know,.. is that show good?
..[mn frustrated by conversation hijacking by MG]
mn: yeah, it's good
MG: yeah, I really feel I should watch it 'cause it gets such good ratings!
mn: yeah, it's really good.
MG: huh, interesting. I would have watched it but I was watching that other movie.
mn: other movie?
MG: yeah, the Martha Stewart movie..
..[pause]
MG: I think I'll watch that Desperate Housewives... was that like... the last .. episode?
mn: huh?
MG: are there more of them, or was that it? is it on ... every week like?
mn: yeah, every Sunday
MG: oh, ok. so.. yeah, maybe I'll watch that then. I would have watched it last night but the Martha Stewart movie was on.
----------------------------------
dd: what do you have over there, DC?
DC: I've got Raisinettes, you want some?
dd: ooh, I like Raisinettes
..[pause]
dd: but do you have Goobers?
DC: no, no Goobers, I dont like those so much
..[pause]
..[pause]
MG: what, have you been watching too much Andy Griffith?
sadly... so so sadly.. i got her joke. (<--- #12) ....making it all the more painfully un-funny.
----------------------------------
today...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
yesterday...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
day before yesterday...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
..the set up: in the telecom world, there are circuits called "hoot and holler's" - dont ask why, like most things in telecom, it's not important or interesting why they're called that.
MG: so.. DD, I was going to ask you...
..[pause]
dd: ..... ...yeah?
MG: yeah, I was going to ask you, do you give a ..hoot... about your hoot and holler circuits?
..[pause]
..[pause]
..[collective office cringe]
..[pause]
dd: no
----------------------------------
MG: oh, what is it "Rosh huh shunuh?" - Ohhh, maybe that's why the freeways weren't so crowded.
----------------------------------
dc: that army private lady got sentenced. Mmhhmm. 3 years.
dd: 3 years????
MG: you know... you know... I dont even think she should have been sentenced at all.
..[pause - no one wants to touch this one]
MG: yeah.. I mean, they behead our people and blow us up and..
me: so.. we should humiliate them? physically and mentally and mock their religion to their faces and..
MG: no, well no.. you're right, I just mean..
me: isn't our military supposed to be better than that? U.S. as world police, right?
MG: yeah, they should be.. they are, what she did was definitely wrong.
me: so she should be punished, dontcha think?
MG: well.... yeah.
----------------------------------
Triscuit Watch 2000:
MG's thing for the past few weeks has been Triscuits. she brings them. she offers them to everyone. no one takes any, except to occassionally be polite for her constant offering.
9/12/05
MG: hey, I brought some Triscuits... aren't they just so good? Would anyone like some Triscuits?
..[no one says anything]
MG: well if anyone wants any, let me know
9/13/05
MG: hey MN, want some Triscuits?
mn: huh? oh. um.. sure, I'll try one.
MG: good, huh?
mn: yeah,.. they're good with melted ch...
MG: I love Triscuits, I eat them all the time. well, not all the time.
mn: I have them sometimes with melted gruyere and red p..
MG: oh yeah?? that sounds good! Yeah, I like them better than Wheat Thins.
9/15/05
MG: ohhh, I forgot to bring Triscuits. shucks. what will I eat now?
9/20/05
MG: hey, DD?!! I brought some Triscuits!!
dd: oh.. yeah?
MG: yeah!! want some?
dd: no thanks.
MG: hey MN, I brought Triscuits! one sec..
..[she walks over to MN to force Triscuits on her]
MG: Kory, you want Triscuits?
me: no,.. thank you though
MG: what's the matter, you dont like Triscuits?
me: no, I like 'em just fine - just not wanting one right now, thanks though
MG: ok, well if you change your mind
me: thanks
MG: I've always got 'em, feel free to come get some whenever
9/23/05:
..[badly singing the 50's Triscuits jingle]
MG: a Triscuit, ..a trasket, ..a da da da dum da da, I ..la la la da da da da
9/26/05:
MG: God, I forgot to bring in Triscuits again! I know - I'll go to Duane Reade at lunch.
9/28/05:
MG: Hey, DD, want some Triscuits?!??! MN, want some Triscuits?
----------------------------------
MG: hey MC!! ....MC! hey. ... hey MC, you want some Triscuits?
mc: oh. I do love those, but no, thanks though
MG: I love them too. I got the cheddar kind this time, but I dont know if I like them
mc: I usually just get the regular
MG: me too, but I got the cheddar this time
mc: oh yeah?
MG: yeah. I'm not sure if I like them.
MG - Comedienne Extraordinaire
Well.. you asked for it. Or.. I'm pretending you asked for it: A compendium of inanity, an accounting of pedantry, a syllabus of the supercilious.. ok, that last one was a stretch. How about just "Stupid Sh!t A Certain Someone In My Office Says"..? No? ok, I'll keep working on a title.
--
MG: dd, I meant to ask you... are you french?
dd: oh, you mean my last name, yes, it's french.
MG: Oh, I was wondering
dd: yeah, my husband is Haitian
MG: oh, it's french... then you must like Au Bon Pain, Ha ha ha ha ha.
..[silence]
----------------------------------
MG: did you see the Martha Stewart movie last night?
mn: no
..[pause]
mn: oh, DD did you see Desperate Housewives last night?
..[MG answers even though DD was addressed]
MG: no, you know,.. is that show good?
..[mn frustrated by conversation hijacking by MG]
mn: yeah, it's good
MG: yeah, I really feel I should watch it 'cause it gets such good ratings!
mn: yeah, it's really good.
MG: huh, interesting. I would have watched it but I was watching that other movie.
mn: other movie?
MG: yeah, the Martha Stewart movie..
..[pause]
MG: I think I'll watch that Desperate Housewives... was that like... the last .. episode?
mn: huh?
MG: are there more of them, or was that it? is it on ... every week like?
mn: yeah, every Sunday
MG: oh, ok. so.. yeah, maybe I'll watch that then. I would have watched it last night but the Martha Stewart movie was on.
----------------------------------
dd: what do you have over there, DC?
DC: I've got Raisinettes, you want some?
dd: ooh, I like Raisinettes
..[pause]
dd: but do you have Goobers?
DC: no, no Goobers, I dont like those so much
..[pause]
..[pause]
MG: what, have you been watching too much Andy Griffith?
sadly... so so sadly.. i got her joke. (<--- #12) ....making it all the more painfully un-funny.
----------------------------------
today...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
yesterday...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
day before yesterday...
MG: why do we keep getting all these hurricanes?
..[no one answers her]
----------------------------------
..the set up: in the telecom world, there are circuits called "hoot and holler's" - dont ask why, like most things in telecom, it's not important or interesting why they're called that.
MG: so.. DD, I was going to ask you...
..[pause]
dd: ..... ...yeah?
MG: yeah, I was going to ask you, do you give a ..hoot... about your hoot and holler circuits?
..[pause]
..[pause]
..[collective office cringe]
..[pause]
dd: no
----------------------------------
MG: oh, what is it "Rosh huh shunuh?" - Ohhh, maybe that's why the freeways weren't so crowded.
----------------------------------
dc: that army private lady got sentenced. Mmhhmm. 3 years.
dd: 3 years????
MG: you know... you know... I dont even think she should have been sentenced at all.
..[pause - no one wants to touch this one]
MG: yeah.. I mean, they behead our people and blow us up and..
me: so.. we should humiliate them? physically and mentally and mock their religion to their faces and..
MG: no, well no.. you're right, I just mean..
me: isn't our military supposed to be better than that? U.S. as world police, right?
MG: yeah, they should be.. they are, what she did was definitely wrong.
me: so she should be punished, dontcha think?
MG: well.... yeah.
----------------------------------
Triscuit Watch 2000:
MG's thing for the past few weeks has been Triscuits. she brings them. she offers them to everyone. no one takes any, except to occassionally be polite for her constant offering.
9/12/05
MG: hey, I brought some Triscuits... aren't they just so good? Would anyone like some Triscuits?
..[no one says anything]
MG: well if anyone wants any, let me know
9/13/05
MG: hey MN, want some Triscuits?
mn: huh? oh. um.. sure, I'll try one.
MG: good, huh?
mn: yeah,.. they're good with melted ch...
MG: I love Triscuits, I eat them all the time. well, not all the time.
mn: I have them sometimes with melted gruyere and red p..
MG: oh yeah?? that sounds good! Yeah, I like them better than Wheat Thins.
9/15/05
MG: ohhh, I forgot to bring Triscuits. shucks. what will I eat now?
9/20/05
MG: hey, DD?!! I brought some Triscuits!!
dd: oh.. yeah?
MG: yeah!! want some?
dd: no thanks.
MG: hey MN, I brought Triscuits! one sec..
..[she walks over to MN to force Triscuits on her]
MG: Kory, you want Triscuits?
me: no,.. thank you though
MG: what's the matter, you dont like Triscuits?
me: no, I like 'em just fine - just not wanting one right now, thanks though
MG: ok, well if you change your mind
me: thanks
MG: I've always got 'em, feel free to come get some whenever
9/23/05:
..[badly singing the 50's Triscuits jingle]
MG: a Triscuit, ..a trasket, ..a da da da dum da da, I ..la la la da da da da
9/26/05:
MG: God, I forgot to bring in Triscuits again! I know - I'll go to Duane Reade at lunch.
9/28/05:
MG: Hey, DD, want some Triscuits?!??! MN, want some Triscuits?
----------------------------------
MG: hey MC!! ....MC! hey. ... hey MC, you want some Triscuits?
mc: oh. I do love those, but no, thanks though
MG: I love them too. I got the cheddar kind this time, but I dont know if I like them
mc: I usually just get the regular
MG: me too, but I got the cheddar this time
mc: oh yeah?
MG: yeah. I'm not sure if I like them.
Monday, September 19, 2005
vball / saturday 9-10-05
I sat on the Great Lawn, Central Park after v-ball (below) and hand wrote a more detailed Journal entry (people still write by hand?? craziness) but I keep forgetting to bring it into work to transcribe here. It'll most likely be the first entry of the next journal distro.
JOURNAL ENTRY
volleyball was ... about as frustrating as volleyball ever gets. i played really well for all but maybe 5 plays. my defensive play was phenomenal, as if i were an actor playing the role of some olympic caliber defense-specialist. sadly, it was those 5 plays that my all-spanish-speaking-/-all-gay-/-all-the-time teammates chose to focus on as somehow representative of my play for the entire day. Ok. - actually, that was really only the last game of the day that was like that. everything up to then was me being the only non-spanish-speaker on the team watching uber-flamboyant, mostly-entertaining-sassyness ... play with itself, let's say. In other words, spanish-speaking-gay-guys stick together and set eachother almost exclusively and talk to eachother in spanish-only and pretty much subject the white man (or half-white-man) to what the white-man has undoubtedly subjected the spanish-speaking-gay-man to in various all-white-man settings, for years.
JOURNAL ENTRY
volleyball was ... about as frustrating as volleyball ever gets. i played really well for all but maybe 5 plays. my defensive play was phenomenal, as if i were an actor playing the role of some olympic caliber defense-specialist. sadly, it was those 5 plays that my all-spanish-speaking-/-all-gay-/-all-the-time teammates chose to focus on as somehow representative of my play for the entire day. Ok. - actually, that was really only the last game of the day that was like that. everything up to then was me being the only non-spanish-speaker on the team watching uber-flamboyant, mostly-entertaining-sassyness ... play with itself, let's say. In other words, spanish-speaking-gay-guys stick together and set eachother almost exclusively and talk to eachother in spanish-only and pretty much subject the white man (or half-white-man) to what the white-man has undoubtedly subjected the spanish-speaking-gay-man to in various all-white-man settings, for years.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Links & things
BLOG ENTRY
---driving L.A. to NY in a few time lapsed minutes.
-------A must for days in need of a smile.
---still the best site in the universe, ...as rated by me.
-------how i feel after lunch and after work.
---I am at a loss for how to describe this.
-------I am internet famous. except that, aside from my initials being used, it's anonymous. They manipulated the "overheard" though.. to give it more zing I suppose. guy # 1 was a straight guy, guy # 2 was his out-of-town visiting gay friend.
---Sarah Jessica Parker stalked me all throughout Gourmet Garage last night. she was very sly about it, pretending to shop the whole time. She didn't fool me in the slightest.
---driving L.A. to NY in a few time lapsed minutes.
-------A must for days in need of a smile.
---still the best site in the universe, ...as rated by me.
-------how i feel after lunch and after work.
---I am at a loss for how to describe this.
-------I am internet famous. except that, aside from my initials being used, it's anonymous. They manipulated the "overheard" though.. to give it more zing I suppose. guy # 1 was a straight guy, guy # 2 was his out-of-town visiting gay friend.
---Sarah Jessica Parker stalked me all throughout Gourmet Garage last night. she was very sly about it, pretending to shop the whole time. She didn't fool me in the slightest.
Unsolicited Music Reviews.. all up in your business!
BLOG ENTRY
Baby Dayliner
I cant stop thinkin of this guy as a gothic (music) staple born 20 years too late. and he doesn't even KNOW it.
f'n genius!!
---a cross between new order, joy division, the smiths, japan, peter murphy and probably a few others. it's almost disturbing how addictive this song is. and the video is just so damn happy (ok, and mega-gay, but i think that's for a semi-unintentional comedic 80's-retro effect)
-------the video:
http://www.brassland.org/video/raid.mov
-------the m.p.3:
http://www.brassland.org/sound/babydayliner_raid.mp3--------
...yet ANOTHER amazing band that New York Noise has exposed me to.
-----others include:
Eltro - Motorboat - (now one of my fav songs ever)
Le Tigre (and other videos by them)
Enon - Daughter in the House of Fools
LCD Soundsystem (and other videos by them)
that oughta keep you busy for a while.
seriously... dont make me say it:
("dont be a loser, ..download or watch the videos!")
Baby Dayliner
I cant stop thinkin of this guy as a gothic (music) staple born 20 years too late. and he doesn't even KNOW it.
f'n genius!!
---a cross between new order, joy division, the smiths, japan, peter murphy and probably a few others. it's almost disturbing how addictive this song is. and the video is just so damn happy (ok, and mega-gay, but i think that's for a semi-unintentional comedic 80's-retro effect)
-------the video:
http://www.brassland.org/video/raid.mov
-------the m.p.3:
http://www.brassland.org/sound/babydayliner_raid.mp3--------
...yet ANOTHER amazing band that New York Noise has exposed me to.
-----others include:
Eltro - Motorboat - (now one of my fav songs ever)
Le Tigre (and other videos by them)
Enon - Daughter in the House of Fools
LCD Soundsystem (and other videos by them)
that oughta keep you busy for a while.
seriously... dont make me say it:
("dont be a loser, ..download or watch the videos!")
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
End of an Empire
JOURNAL ENTRY
DM was let go about a month ago. I know. I'm sorry.
--I didn't have the heart to tell you.
----Turns out she'd fallen a bit behind in her work. Her HR claim against 'napoleon' for just generally being an abusive boss probably didn't help either. Not that she was all sweetness and light of course. Anyway, it's sad. Sad for no more classic DM overheards, sad 'cause she could be kinda funny and was as quintissentially NY as they come, sad because the woman who replaced her is pretty much a female version of Temp Guy. This new lady is not quite as self-eye-gougingly stupid as Temp Guy but she more than makes up for it by talking all the time. Oh yeah. it's true. All the time... about things no one could ever really care about. including her. Not quite Energizer-Bunny-mouth, but close. It's more the content of what she says that disturbs everybody. Questions for questions sake. Questions where the question is a shot at gaining respect through asking the right questions, but they all come off as suck-up, attention-starved, interact-with-me! type desperate grabs for acceptance. Yes I feel bad talking about her this way. YES, you would understand and say the same things if you had to sit through hours and days and weeks of this also. I'm at a loss for a cool nickname for her, so I'll stick with initials for now, MG.
----Case in point - there's a new frustrating contact at one of our customer locations, Wilson Lee. All the provisioners who've dealt with him are being driven mad by his rude and uninformed way of doing business (rude + uninformed is always the best to deal with, right?) - so every once in a while, you'll hear someone grumble angrily and say "blah blah blah that Wilson!!" to which, MG -just now answered- "Wilson?? are you talking about the basketball? ha Ha heh" See what I mean? If this happened in your office, no one would be laughing or someone would make the polite "heh" laugh... or MAYBE... maybe you'd hear a "heh heh", which would be extremely generous. Are you beginning to get the picture? No? Fine, a MG Chronicles it is then... stay tuned.
----And yes, I know I've got an E ticket for Hell for all this talking about people the way I do - truth is, I've got two tickets and I'm taking you with me.
----But I DIGRESS...! I know! I never do that, right?? Yeah, ok, shut up. - Soo... a few days before DM was let go, they moved me to a new cubicle so that a new provisioner could sit in my cube, thereby keeping all the provisioners in the same space. No problem, I figured. Sure, I'd be away from my precious DM but I'd be out from under the occassional scrutiny and chit-chat and overheard-ness of the rest of the office monkeys and I'd be nearer to the kitchen, the front door and .. Mmmmm.. a view. So I loaded up my truck and I moved to Beverley.. orrrrrr, the other side of the office, as I like to call it. I threw everything into a box, did a rolly-chair move across the office & set up shop in my new, more spacious digs. Everything was going smashingly.. no three-conversations-going-on-at-once, no printers printing, staplers stapling, phones a ringing or ladies gabbing. I was damned close to heaven, as far as office jobs go. Until... until I became aware... of.... a low,.. thrumming sound... Which i quickly determined was coming from the building's air conditioner vent overhead. 'No problem', I thought - 'it must just be cycling on or working overtime being that it's a hot summer day. Ignore it. Turn your music up. There... no worries... back to work'.
--Four minutes later... a slight tinge of vertigo from within my chest, as if I've walked through a revolving door into a highly pressurized room and then walked right back out into normal pressure. Ok, that was weird. The thrumming bass rumble of the A/C, almost sub-sonic, reverberating in slow rhythmic waves... straight into my chest... and now my skull. Great. Yeah, this is going to work out just fine. 'It's probably only a .. summer thing or.. maybe just a mid-day thing.. I'll see what it's like in the morning' I tell myself.
--The next morning, there's the noise again. Except to call it a noise is to describe the least maddening aspect of the experience. Truly, the ... phenomenon? .. was more felt from the inside of my body outwards ..than it was something I heard. I felt as if I was being microwaved by sound - and honestly, that's probably not far, scientifically, from what was actually happening. And yet, whatever was happening, it was driving me insane. Or trying to. I fought it, or tried to... for days. I asked people if they heard the noise... 9 out of 10 couldn't. Thank the gods that two others in the office could. I was not losing my mind. (not for the subsonic sound reason at least) I understood why they wanted to move me, but where they'd moved me to was quickly becoming a torture device.. almost.. as if.. it had been planned. Hmm.. conspiracy theories swirled. 'Nah. Just tell someone who can move you, something will get done' - So I tell napoleon's right hand (wo)man that it's driving me crazy and can we get a building technician to take a look at the A/C. Long story .. long... two days later, an A/C repairman comes, takes a look & says there's nothing he can do because the A/C for THE WHOLE 34 FLOOR BUILDING is a 15 by 15 foot box and is sitting one floor up, right above the cubicle I was in. Two days later, I was at my wits end .. to the point where I was almost at my jobs end. I was feeling helicopters coming in to land.. charlie in the bush, my platoon bloody and tired - "you're never too young for a Vietnam flashback" * (see below)
----So I told DL (napoleon's right hand woman) that I was extremely sorry but I either needed to take a sick day or I needed to move cubicles. She finally saw that I was serious about the noise/reverb-effect and even remarked that if -I- was complaining about something, it must be serious. Obviously, she's never read my writing. And so.. another painful day later, I was told I could move into DM's old spot. Yesssss... full circle, you see? Sometimes I -am- actually capable of talking about something, digressing and then coming back to topic.
----And so here I am. Sitting in DM's cube. The very cube that spawned such classic, loud-mouthed, foul-mouthed, mouth-offing's to any who dared cross her path. I feel... as if I have a duty to uphold. Like Luke in Empire Strikes Back, I weild the right hand .. or.. um.. cubicle spot.. of what I thought was a former foe.. who turned out to be... my.. father? Yeah, ok.. so that analogy doesn't quite work. I feel like I should sass-mouth at least one person a day, just for sitting here. I hope I'm up to the challenge.
BLOG ENTRY
"you're never too young to have a Vietnam flashback" * as quoted from Wonder Showzen (best - show - ever) - click on VIDEOS, scroll down to VIETNAM FLASHBACK. Also watch any of the BEAT KIDS clips and any of the clips with the blue guy with the googly eyes, like WILL YOU ACCEPT JESUS, POLITENESS, WHAT ARE YOU RUNNING FROM, etc. The show is ridiculously irreverent, sometimes... ok, -almost always- it goes too far, if there is such thing as too far. And yet it's the best television I have seen in... Too too too many years. I cry laughing at Every Episode. if you do not cry laughing, there is something wrong with you. please have your funny bone checked for fractures.
--
"With Wonder Shozen (airing Fridays at 9:30pm on MTV2), a new Dadaist spoof of Sesame Street and its progeny, Vernon Chatman and John Lee have found a way to unsettle jaded viewers by employing a device that most purveyors of 'alternative' comedy wouldn't touch with a ten-foot boom: live human children, who take part in gonzo interview segments that are juxtaposed with raunchy puppet shenanigans."
- TimeOut New York, April 21-27 Issue No. 499
--
"In one segment, a 6-year-old confronts a stunned Wall Street broker with: 'Who did you exploit today?' "
- Daily News, Wednesday, April 27, 2005
--
" 'Wonder Shozen' is a messy mix of animation and live action, part 'Sesame Street' parody, part stoner indulgence, part lazy censor-baiting, part pure inspiration."
- The New York Times, Thursday, March 31, 2005
--
" 9:30-10pm Wonder Shozen (MTV2, TV-MA)- Why does MTV bury this hilariously twisted Sesame Street parody on its bastard son of a network? Because numbers and letters rumble while a Jewish J and an Arab 8 have puppet sex that would make Triumph the Insult Comic Dog blush? Or because an angelic tot reporter asks Wall Streeters, 'When the revolution comes, where will you hide?' Sure this show, as dark as the bottom of Oscar the Grouch's trash can, will give your inner child nightmares, but it's the only way he'll learn.
- Josh Wolk, Entertainment Weekly
DM was let go about a month ago. I know. I'm sorry.
--I didn't have the heart to tell you.
----Turns out she'd fallen a bit behind in her work. Her HR claim against 'napoleon' for just generally being an abusive boss probably didn't help either. Not that she was all sweetness and light of course. Anyway, it's sad. Sad for no more classic DM overheards, sad 'cause she could be kinda funny and was as quintissentially NY as they come, sad because the woman who replaced her is pretty much a female version of Temp Guy. This new lady is not quite as self-eye-gougingly stupid as Temp Guy but she more than makes up for it by talking all the time. Oh yeah. it's true. All the time... about things no one could ever really care about. including her. Not quite Energizer-Bunny-mouth, but close. It's more the content of what she says that disturbs everybody. Questions for questions sake. Questions where the question is a shot at gaining respect through asking the right questions, but they all come off as suck-up, attention-starved, interact-with-me! type desperate grabs for acceptance. Yes I feel bad talking about her this way. YES, you would understand and say the same things if you had to sit through hours and days and weeks of this also. I'm at a loss for a cool nickname for her, so I'll stick with initials for now, MG.
----Case in point - there's a new frustrating contact at one of our customer locations, Wilson Lee. All the provisioners who've dealt with him are being driven mad by his rude and uninformed way of doing business (rude + uninformed is always the best to deal with, right?) - so every once in a while, you'll hear someone grumble angrily and say "blah blah blah that Wilson!!" to which, MG -just now answered- "Wilson?? are you talking about the basketball? ha Ha heh" See what I mean? If this happened in your office, no one would be laughing or someone would make the polite "heh" laugh... or MAYBE... maybe you'd hear a "heh heh", which would be extremely generous. Are you beginning to get the picture? No? Fine, a MG Chronicles it is then... stay tuned.
----And yes, I know I've got an E ticket for Hell for all this talking about people the way I do - truth is, I've got two tickets and I'm taking you with me.
----But I DIGRESS...! I know! I never do that, right?? Yeah, ok, shut up. - Soo... a few days before DM was let go, they moved me to a new cubicle so that a new provisioner could sit in my cube, thereby keeping all the provisioners in the same space. No problem, I figured. Sure, I'd be away from my precious DM but I'd be out from under the occassional scrutiny and chit-chat and overheard-ness of the rest of the office monkeys and I'd be nearer to the kitchen, the front door and .. Mmmmm.. a view. So I loaded up my truck and I moved to Beverley.. orrrrrr, the other side of the office, as I like to call it. I threw everything into a box, did a rolly-chair move across the office & set up shop in my new, more spacious digs. Everything was going smashingly.. no three-conversations-going-on-at-once, no printers printing, staplers stapling, phones a ringing or ladies gabbing. I was damned close to heaven, as far as office jobs go. Until... until I became aware... of.... a low,.. thrumming sound... Which i quickly determined was coming from the building's air conditioner vent overhead. 'No problem', I thought - 'it must just be cycling on or working overtime being that it's a hot summer day. Ignore it. Turn your music up. There... no worries... back to work'.
--Four minutes later... a slight tinge of vertigo from within my chest, as if I've walked through a revolving door into a highly pressurized room and then walked right back out into normal pressure. Ok, that was weird. The thrumming bass rumble of the A/C, almost sub-sonic, reverberating in slow rhythmic waves... straight into my chest... and now my skull. Great. Yeah, this is going to work out just fine. 'It's probably only a .. summer thing or.. maybe just a mid-day thing.. I'll see what it's like in the morning' I tell myself.
--The next morning, there's the noise again. Except to call it a noise is to describe the least maddening aspect of the experience. Truly, the ... phenomenon? .. was more felt from the inside of my body outwards ..than it was something I heard. I felt as if I was being microwaved by sound - and honestly, that's probably not far, scientifically, from what was actually happening. And yet, whatever was happening, it was driving me insane. Or trying to. I fought it, or tried to... for days. I asked people if they heard the noise... 9 out of 10 couldn't. Thank the gods that two others in the office could. I was not losing my mind. (not for the subsonic sound reason at least) I understood why they wanted to move me, but where they'd moved me to was quickly becoming a torture device.. almost.. as if.. it had been planned. Hmm.. conspiracy theories swirled. 'Nah. Just tell someone who can move you, something will get done' - So I tell napoleon's right hand (wo)man that it's driving me crazy and can we get a building technician to take a look at the A/C. Long story .. long... two days later, an A/C repairman comes, takes a look & says there's nothing he can do because the A/C for THE WHOLE 34 FLOOR BUILDING is a 15 by 15 foot box and is sitting one floor up, right above the cubicle I was in. Two days later, I was at my wits end .. to the point where I was almost at my jobs end. I was feeling helicopters coming in to land.. charlie in the bush, my platoon bloody and tired - "you're never too young for a Vietnam flashback" * (see below)
----So I told DL (napoleon's right hand woman) that I was extremely sorry but I either needed to take a sick day or I needed to move cubicles. She finally saw that I was serious about the noise/reverb-effect and even remarked that if -I- was complaining about something, it must be serious. Obviously, she's never read my writing. And so.. another painful day later, I was told I could move into DM's old spot. Yesssss... full circle, you see? Sometimes I -am- actually capable of talking about something, digressing and then coming back to topic.
----And so here I am. Sitting in DM's cube. The very cube that spawned such classic, loud-mouthed, foul-mouthed, mouth-offing's to any who dared cross her path. I feel... as if I have a duty to uphold. Like Luke in Empire Strikes Back, I weild the right hand .. or.. um.. cubicle spot.. of what I thought was a former foe.. who turned out to be... my.. father? Yeah, ok.. so that analogy doesn't quite work. I feel like I should sass-mouth at least one person a day, just for sitting here. I hope I'm up to the challenge.
BLOG ENTRY
"you're never too young to have a Vietnam flashback" * as quoted from Wonder Showzen (best - show - ever) - click on VIDEOS, scroll down to VIETNAM FLASHBACK. Also watch any of the BEAT KIDS clips and any of the clips with the blue guy with the googly eyes, like WILL YOU ACCEPT JESUS, POLITENESS, WHAT ARE YOU RUNNING FROM, etc. The show is ridiculously irreverent, sometimes... ok, -almost always- it goes too far, if there is such thing as too far. And yet it's the best television I have seen in... Too too too many years. I cry laughing at Every Episode. if you do not cry laughing, there is something wrong with you. please have your funny bone checked for fractures.
--
"With Wonder Shozen (airing Fridays at 9:30pm on MTV2), a new Dadaist spoof of Sesame Street and its progeny, Vernon Chatman and John Lee have found a way to unsettle jaded viewers by employing a device that most purveyors of 'alternative' comedy wouldn't touch with a ten-foot boom: live human children, who take part in gonzo interview segments that are juxtaposed with raunchy puppet shenanigans."
- TimeOut New York, April 21-27 Issue No. 499
--
"In one segment, a 6-year-old confronts a stunned Wall Street broker with: 'Who did you exploit today?' "
- Daily News, Wednesday, April 27, 2005
--
" 'Wonder Shozen' is a messy mix of animation and live action, part 'Sesame Street' parody, part stoner indulgence, part lazy censor-baiting, part pure inspiration."
- The New York Times, Thursday, March 31, 2005
--
" 9:30-10pm Wonder Shozen (MTV2, TV-MA)- Why does MTV bury this hilariously twisted Sesame Street parody on its bastard son of a network? Because numbers and letters rumble while a Jewish J and an Arab 8 have puppet sex that would make Triumph the Insult Comic Dog blush? Or because an angelic tot reporter asks Wall Streeters, 'When the revolution comes, where will you hide?' Sure this show, as dark as the bottom of Oscar the Grouch's trash can, will give your inner child nightmares, but it's the only way he'll learn.
- Josh Wolk, Entertainment Weekly
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
home away from home - otherwise known as 'work'
JOURNAL ENTRY
I like to say I work in Manhattan's southernmost building. It's not exactly true, of course. I could work for the Staten Island Ferry or for the Coast Guard or I could work at a hot dog cart. For that and other reasons, I think I'm ok not being Manhattan's southernmost worker though I do like being pretty darned close. I like working down here because it's an easy map point to give people in need of a mental reference to where I work, but mostly, I love the unique NY-ness of the neighborhood:
-
1/9 Subway train - 5 stops, 16 minutes door-to-door. Clean cars, good A/C. Bitchy train operators chastising non-English speaking tourists for not being in the first five cars. Does it get any better?
-=-
South Ferry (and subway) Station -
This is what the station used to look like. And an in-construction picture of the new terminal. For about two months, people travelled to and from on the N ISLAND (FERRY) as the STATE in "Staten" I guess are very difficult letters to make . Since then, an ever changing array of new paths in and out of the new building point to what must be the fun puzzle game of balancing the traffic flow in and out with the construction that needs to take place. Here's entirely too much information on the renovations taking place. Info such as: 65,000 people travel to & from Staten Island each day. And yes, in case you were wondering, they all somehow manage to get in my way on exiting the station. And they all seem to want a damn AM New York or Metro paper immediately after exiting the station.
-=-
AM New York / Metro - NY's two free daily tabloids. Trashy, gossipy, sensationalistic, 16 page time wasters handed out by an army of .. paper-persons at most major subway entrances. Seriously - they must be making bazillions on advertising if they can keep thousands of paper.. persons employed handing out free papers. Did I mention what crap they are? For reals. They make the NY Post look like the Wall St Journal.
-=-
Bowling Green - Bowling Green was NY's first public park. Today, it's my lunch and reading spot. And a damn fine one at that. True, it's loud as hell (Broadway and Whitehall branch off around it) and it's often crowded at lunch time and sure, there's one arsehole homeless guy who does his best Angry-Homeless-Guy routine when the Parks people come around to ask him not to lie down on the benches or upon waking up from one of his drunken naps, to sit up, take a leak and then lie back down again - (the police sometimes come but cant force him to leave)... grr. ..dont get me started. Annnyway, aside from all these things - it's a great place for sun.. or for shade.. for eating lunch and reading for an hour, for people watching and more people watching. It's ideal for spotting Law and Order being shot in the neighborhood (I think the use the Native American Museum, formerly the Maritime Museum as their "courthouse") and the dozens of other commercials and movies and tv shows shooting in the area... It's great for the Tues & Thurs farmer's market that keeps my love of blueberry cornbread alive... for the banks and restaraunts and shops in the area... for the grass and flower ring around yet another beautiful city fountain.. For all these things and maybe more.. but mostly for the escape from the duldrums of work it provides.
-=-
The Wall St. "Bull" - Ohh, the Bull. You've seen the Bull. Everyone's seen the Bull. The Bull sits at the north end of Bowling Green park. It's big and stupid and people LOVE to take pictures with it. Oh god, how they love to take pictures with it. I dont blame them, it is a NY landmark I suppose. I can, however, blame the constant stream of people who take posed pictures with the Bull's balls. No matter how much I'm minding my own business, sitting in the park eating or reading.. Every Time I look up, I see someone posing the the bull's balls - cupping them, kissing them, pretending to lick them, posing & smiling next to them - Every Single Time. The beauty part of course is that they all think they've come up with this joke. I see them walk around the Bull, marvelling at it's impressive bronze form. Invariably, they get to the rear of the thing and look down and then... Eureka! Photo Op! "hey, hey hey! get a picture of this!" "oh my god, wont this be so funny??!?!" - No. the answer is No. it was so funny the first time the guy who made the sculpture did it for his friends.
-=-
Battery Park - Hmm.. how to describe Battery Park? Well... as it affects me of course! It's a fine park... or it would be were it not the tourist superhighway to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island ferries. Along the main walkway is the sphere that sat between the Trade Center towers and now is a photo op on the way to and from other city photo ops. Groups use it as a meeting point before or after their Statue of Liberty / Ellis Island trips and are usually all hepped up with touristy energy from having just gone on their ferry trip to the islands or because they're about to - which again, is understandable - but lends an aire of irreverence to the sole surviving symbol of Sept 11th. And yet.. every time I see the groups doing their group thing, there's always one or two people who stand near the back of their group and.. 'get it'. Or so it seems. I like those people.
--The park itself is inhabitted by throngs of a yet to be determined nationality of Africans who sell watches and glasses and purses in one of two ways: straight out of a briefcase. straight off a blanket that had minutes before been bunched up and placed in a 3ft by 3ft box being rolled around on a dolly. Seriously, it is either one or the other: Briefcase-guy or Big-box-carrying-a-blanket-full-of-stuff-guys. They set up their wares along the walkways and draw tourists in with an atmosphere of bargains and haggling.
--But back to me (ahem.. as it should be) - It's actually one of the best places for a sunny afternoon nap when you get away from the cattle-run walkways.
Monday, September 12, 2005
I have nothing interesting to say
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Sadly, I've felt this way for a few weeks now. Everything's going fine, I just dont want to talk about it. Maybe I dont feel like talking because things are going so well. Yes, partly for my fear of jinxes but also because my life seems mostly fulfilling these days and my time seems better occupied living it than writing about it. And here am writing about it.... 'it' being my life. 'about' meaning things that pass before my eyes, such as:
-=-
-Candy. A new coworker in the office is pretty obsessed with the stuff. Sweets, chocolates, mints, caramels, swedish fish, you name it, she'll ask you "what you got?" & then eat it. She has no qualms about asking you point blank if you have candy and then taking it without asking but while making small talk, as if the taking of candy is part of a common social handshake system between coworkers.
--I'll admit, I've gone through phases of candy binging at work, but for the past few years I've steered mostly clear of the stuff. Lately though, with our new candy monster urging me on to buy more & more candy so she can eat all my candy... well.. I've been buying some candy. Mostly, I stick to old-timey favorites like Nips and Jolly Ranchers but sometimes branch out into the (still old-timey) craziness of Now & Laters. Now & Laters, while Highly Highly Delicious are for all practical purposes, a brutal 'Spanish Inquisition' to the soft fleshy tissue of your inner cheeks. Really, I think they make their candy this way to aid you in self-control, lest we all burn straight through 7 pounds of Now & Laters in one sitting. Despite their best efforts, it isn't really working. I want this candy gone from my desk drawer. No, I cant give it away or throw it away - are you crazy?? I must eat it, .. I must. It's too good. And too painful. Yea tho I walk through the valley of candy, I will fear no candy. I think that's how the line goes.
--So you see? I have no choice. take my candy, please. or dont complain when I complain to you about my sore cheeks.
-=-
friend who is a girl - jumble those words around and then discard the three shortest words. Ya. I think I have one. more later if I haven't already jinxed things all to hell.
-=-
touch football - Our touch football league kicked off on Sunday. Lordy, lordy is that fun. I played quarterback the whole game and needless to say, I am destined for the touch football quarterback hall of fame. The details: 5 guys, 3 girls on each team, 23 minute half's, 2 completions for a first down plus a first down for crossing the 50 yard line, every 3rd play must be a "girl [involved] play", no "picking" or blocking, pass rush on 5 mississippi's. I just lost about half of you, didn't I? Dont worry about it. It's football, you can sort of imagine how it might go. One thing I could not imagine is how sore I'd be the day after, considering that I was running around like crazy on defense only.
-=-
Volleyball league(s) - One league/team ends... umm.. two more begin. Why two? because I've come to terms with the fact that I would rather have too much volleyball (and sport in general) in my life than too little. One volleyball game per week was not even close to enough. Lately, I'd added outdoor (asphalt) court volleyball in Central Park to my v-ball doings but even that plus my league night wasn't enough. So now it'll be touch football on Sunday + 2 weeknights of volleyball and if that isn't enough sport for me, I will.. yes, be seeking counseling. Not to mention a masseuse.
--The season that's ending, as I may have mentioned, is the league where one of our teammates who's been playing for years in our league has never won with whatever team he was on and I believe, secretly talked league officials into putting our team into a lesser skill level which is great for easy wins but sucks for enjoying the game. We're almost assured a winner's t-shirt (Oooh!) but at what cost? Well, almost at the cost of my ankles, as inexperienced players often go flying around the court and under the net.
--This current team has generally been a little hard to deal with... with two bad-attituders, one sulky when he's not playing well & the other gets bitchy/complain'y when others make errors (she gets that way when she makes errors too but it comes out as bitchy/complain'y about everyone else's errors somehow). Co-ed sports in general is an interesting cross-sectional window into the disfunctional personalities people in metropolitan areas try unsuccessfully to hide. For the most part, people are quite normal and fun, but volleyball is prone to one of the extremest forms of covert narcissism, of holier-than-thou-ness, of elitism, classism, outright snobbery, whatever you want to call it. In other sports, people of varying skill levels intermingle and enjoy a game together, hardly aware at times of the shortcomings of teammates or opponents - not so in volleyball. Every point is a judgment of skill and consistency, every bad bump or hit into the net is that much less your teammates will trust you with the ball - it's kind of sick, actually. And yet it drives everyone on and makes them better. Maybe that's where the disfunctional personalities come from - a constant fear of looking stupid in front of your peers. Yeah, that sounds healthy.
--One of the teams I'm going to be playing with this coming season, on the other hand, is thankfully short of any kind of snobbery like that. They're all wonderfully nice and funny people who kick ass at volleyball but will never flaunt it. In exchange for lacking the snobbery disfunction, they've chosen instead: functional alcoholism. Yeah. they drink like fishes. Or drink with gusto, ...like fishes. Half of them are from my softball team, so I've seen them drink. Jaegermeister is not an evil word to them. In fact that word "jaeger", plus the word "bomb" is a commonly used term after games, it seems. Crazy kids! If we all had a car, I'd be the designated driver by default since there's no way I could keep up with them.
--My other volleyball team is yet to be determined. I'm going to the open gym scrimmage night to "pick up" a team from scratch. Yes, "pick up" in quotes because open gym night ends up feeling like some sort of forced dating scenario where you have to pick up on 5 to 7 people within half an hour, half of which also happen to be guys. Yeah, it's kinda creepy.
-=-
Summer winds down - praise be to all the major deities, Summer is coming to an end. Ohhh sure, I'll miss the short skirts and low tops, the see-through blouses and short shorts, sundresses and bikini tops... and that's just in MY closet! ("HAY-OWWW!") So many things to miss and so so soooo SO many things NOT to miss. Like sweating. A Lot. All the time. Everywhere. Muggy, steamy, smelly heat you can almost see and touch. No thank you.
Sadly, I've felt this way for a few weeks now. Everything's going fine, I just dont want to talk about it. Maybe I dont feel like talking because things are going so well. Yes, partly for my fear of jinxes but also because my life seems mostly fulfilling these days and my time seems better occupied living it than writing about it. And here am writing about it.... 'it' being my life. 'about' meaning things that pass before my eyes, such as:
-=-
-Candy. A new coworker in the office is pretty obsessed with the stuff. Sweets, chocolates, mints, caramels, swedish fish, you name it, she'll ask you "what you got?" & then eat it. She has no qualms about asking you point blank if you have candy and then taking it without asking but while making small talk, as if the taking of candy is part of a common social handshake system between coworkers.
--I'll admit, I've gone through phases of candy binging at work, but for the past few years I've steered mostly clear of the stuff. Lately though, with our new candy monster urging me on to buy more & more candy so she can eat all my candy... well.. I've been buying some candy. Mostly, I stick to old-timey favorites like Nips and Jolly Ranchers but sometimes branch out into the (still old-timey) craziness of Now & Laters. Now & Laters, while Highly Highly Delicious are for all practical purposes, a brutal 'Spanish Inquisition' to the soft fleshy tissue of your inner cheeks. Really, I think they make their candy this way to aid you in self-control, lest we all burn straight through 7 pounds of Now & Laters in one sitting. Despite their best efforts, it isn't really working. I want this candy gone from my desk drawer. No, I cant give it away or throw it away - are you crazy?? I must eat it, .. I must. It's too good. And too painful. Yea tho I walk through the valley of candy, I will fear no candy. I think that's how the line goes.
--So you see? I have no choice. take my candy, please. or dont complain when I complain to you about my sore cheeks.
-=-
friend who is a girl - jumble those words around and then discard the three shortest words. Ya. I think I have one. more later if I haven't already jinxed things all to hell.
-=-
touch football - Our touch football league kicked off on Sunday. Lordy, lordy is that fun. I played quarterback the whole game and needless to say, I am destined for the touch football quarterback hall of fame. The details: 5 guys, 3 girls on each team, 23 minute half's, 2 completions for a first down plus a first down for crossing the 50 yard line, every 3rd play must be a "girl [involved] play", no "picking" or blocking, pass rush on 5 mississippi's. I just lost about half of you, didn't I? Dont worry about it. It's football, you can sort of imagine how it might go. One thing I could not imagine is how sore I'd be the day after, considering that I was running around like crazy on defense only.
-=-
Volleyball league(s) - One league/team ends... umm.. two more begin. Why two? because I've come to terms with the fact that I would rather have too much volleyball (and sport in general) in my life than too little. One volleyball game per week was not even close to enough. Lately, I'd added outdoor (asphalt) court volleyball in Central Park to my v-ball doings but even that plus my league night wasn't enough. So now it'll be touch football on Sunday + 2 weeknights of volleyball and if that isn't enough sport for me, I will.. yes, be seeking counseling. Not to mention a masseuse.
--The season that's ending, as I may have mentioned, is the league where one of our teammates who's been playing for years in our league has never won with whatever team he was on and I believe, secretly talked league officials into putting our team into a lesser skill level which is great for easy wins but sucks for enjoying the game. We're almost assured a winner's t-shirt (Oooh!) but at what cost? Well, almost at the cost of my ankles, as inexperienced players often go flying around the court and under the net.
--This current team has generally been a little hard to deal with... with two bad-attituders, one sulky when he's not playing well & the other gets bitchy/complain'y when others make errors (she gets that way when she makes errors too but it comes out as bitchy/complain'y about everyone else's errors somehow). Co-ed sports in general is an interesting cross-sectional window into the disfunctional personalities people in metropolitan areas try unsuccessfully to hide. For the most part, people are quite normal and fun, but volleyball is prone to one of the extremest forms of covert narcissism, of holier-than-thou-ness, of elitism, classism, outright snobbery, whatever you want to call it. In other sports, people of varying skill levels intermingle and enjoy a game together, hardly aware at times of the shortcomings of teammates or opponents - not so in volleyball. Every point is a judgment of skill and consistency, every bad bump or hit into the net is that much less your teammates will trust you with the ball - it's kind of sick, actually. And yet it drives everyone on and makes them better. Maybe that's where the disfunctional personalities come from - a constant fear of looking stupid in front of your peers. Yeah, that sounds healthy.
--One of the teams I'm going to be playing with this coming season, on the other hand, is thankfully short of any kind of snobbery like that. They're all wonderfully nice and funny people who kick ass at volleyball but will never flaunt it. In exchange for lacking the snobbery disfunction, they've chosen instead: functional alcoholism. Yeah. they drink like fishes. Or drink with gusto, ...like fishes. Half of them are from my softball team, so I've seen them drink. Jaegermeister is not an evil word to them. In fact that word "jaeger", plus the word "bomb" is a commonly used term after games, it seems. Crazy kids! If we all had a car, I'd be the designated driver by default since there's no way I could keep up with them.
--My other volleyball team is yet to be determined. I'm going to the open gym scrimmage night to "pick up" a team from scratch. Yes, "pick up" in quotes because open gym night ends up feeling like some sort of forced dating scenario where you have to pick up on 5 to 7 people within half an hour, half of which also happen to be guys. Yeah, it's kinda creepy.
-=-
Summer winds down - praise be to all the major deities, Summer is coming to an end. Ohhh sure, I'll miss the short skirts and low tops, the see-through blouses and short shorts, sundresses and bikini tops... and that's just in MY closet! ("HAY-OWWW!") So many things to miss and so so soooo SO many things NOT to miss. Like sweating. A Lot. All the time. Everywhere. Muggy, steamy, smelly heat you can almost see and touch. No thank you.
Friday, August 26, 2005
the belt game
JOURNAL ENTRY
-----Hambone and I play a game every morning. He looks forward to it. I look forward to it. I end up winning everytime we play, but that's sort of out of this totally selfish need I have to get out of the house eventually. The game is this:
-----In my ever vigilant attempts to avoid arrest for public indecency, I wear a belt. Pretty much every day. This belt goes on in the morning after I'm fully dressed. I know this. Hambone now knows this. Hambone watches me get dressed while I try to avoid being creeped out by Hambone watching me get dressed... and waits. He waits patiently for the belt to come down off of the back of the bedroom door coat rack and watches as it splays itself across the bed. I've always done this morning ritual, tossing a belt out on the bed to make sure I'm not putting it on backwards. I know, I know.. this is all very interesting, right? Yeah, well it is to Hambone.
-----Once the belt hits the bed, the game is on. Hambone's whole body tenses, as if he's just spotted a mouse sitting inches away. His head ducks slightly as he goes into stealth mode. Stealth, to hide, I guess... from the "belt creature of morning bed-ness". He inches slightly towards the belt and then with a brimming cup of potential energy finally spilling over, attacks. Attacks may be the wrong word actually. I dont often see 'attacks' wherein the attacker gnaws playfully on it's prey while furiously swiping all four limbs in uncoordinated ectasy, rolling back & forth on his back. It is so freakin' cute, I dont even know what to do sometimes.
As I slowly put the belt on, it draws its way up off the bed.. Hambone following it and attacking, the whole way up. Once it's fully on and buckled, he still swipes at the belt end before I tuck it into the last loop or two. The intensity of his focus is truly amazing and just as intense, every morning. Once the belt is on, he gives me a look that says "same time next morning, then?". Pssh. Yeah, as if I could deprive him of the pleasure.
The ridiculousness of it all makes me smile... Every. Single. Morning.
-----Hambone and I play a game every morning. He looks forward to it. I look forward to it. I end up winning everytime we play, but that's sort of out of this totally selfish need I have to get out of the house eventually. The game is this:
-----In my ever vigilant attempts to avoid arrest for public indecency, I wear a belt. Pretty much every day. This belt goes on in the morning after I'm fully dressed. I know this. Hambone now knows this. Hambone watches me get dressed while I try to avoid being creeped out by Hambone watching me get dressed... and waits. He waits patiently for the belt to come down off of the back of the bedroom door coat rack and watches as it splays itself across the bed. I've always done this morning ritual, tossing a belt out on the bed to make sure I'm not putting it on backwards. I know, I know.. this is all very interesting, right? Yeah, well it is to Hambone.
-----Once the belt hits the bed, the game is on. Hambone's whole body tenses, as if he's just spotted a mouse sitting inches away. His head ducks slightly as he goes into stealth mode. Stealth, to hide, I guess... from the "belt creature of morning bed-ness". He inches slightly towards the belt and then with a brimming cup of potential energy finally spilling over, attacks. Attacks may be the wrong word actually. I dont often see 'attacks' wherein the attacker gnaws playfully on it's prey while furiously swiping all four limbs in uncoordinated ectasy, rolling back & forth on his back. It is so freakin' cute, I dont even know what to do sometimes.
As I slowly put the belt on, it draws its way up off the bed.. Hambone following it and attacking, the whole way up. Once it's fully on and buckled, he still swipes at the belt end before I tuck it into the last loop or two. The intensity of his focus is truly amazing and just as intense, every morning. Once the belt is on, he gives me a look that says "same time next morning, then?". Pssh. Yeah, as if I could deprive him of the pleasure.
The ridiculousness of it all makes me smile... Every. Single. Morning.
Monday, August 15, 2005
insert flying themed song lyric here
JOURNAL ENTRY
----Saturday was my day to live or die. More probably 'live'. Since most people do.
The day Matt and I had talked about for a month or two had finally arrived. Matt's dad was in town and Saturday would be our day. Our day for flying.
----Matt's dad has been a pilot since 1969, coincidentally, the year of my birth and as I clung to any number of superstitious signs from above, the '1969' coincidence seemed like either a really good omen for my safety, or the closing bookmark for my death.
----The plan was this: The three of us would take a bus from the Port Authority to New Jersey, get picked up by a small van from the small airport, Matt and his dad would fly around for an hour to burn off enough excess fuel to make it safe, weight-wise, for the three of us to fly and on their return, I'd then join them for another spin around the tri-state area. While Matt and his dad flew the first flight, I would check out the literature on flight schools since getting my pilot license has been a dream of mine since I was 11. That was the plan anyway.
----What happened was this: Matt and his dad took off. I went to the "pilot's lounge" - basically a large, darkened room with barco-lounger chairs and a tv, for traveling pilots to get some sleep on longer flights or layovers - and.... and I.. well, I slept. And by sleeping, entered the brotherhood of sleeping pilots, forever to mingle my tales of aeronautical acumen with the likes of Lindberg, Earhart and Snoopy. what am I talking about? I have no idea.
The next thing I knew, Matt had entered the pilot's lounge and before I could say "Hey, pilot's only!", I realized it was him and asked him how it went. He said he'd had a blast, but the turbulence and yawing had kind of gotten to him and he'd be staying on the ground while his dad & I went up for a while.
----Great. I'll die without my roommate then. Thanks Matt. Or not. In fact, probably not. In fact, almost surely not. I mean, who's the last person who died taking off from this airfield anyway? JFK Jr? really? ok.. that's creepy. And fine, people die. But mostly, they dont. They go up in airplanes, they fly around, they come back to earth at safe velocities. Safest form of transportation, right?? RIGHT??? And so it went... me, psyching myself up for my first flight in a small plane. Truth be told, it's also why I took a nap instead of keeping the brain active & running on thoughts of flying. I was either going to die or I wasn't & I probably wasn't so why not nap & then just walk out to that plane & do it? I'd be back in an hour or more, giddy & rambling on about how great it'd been. And so it went.
----The 'checklist' - If driving a car were like flying a plane, checklists would be relegated to history books and jokes amongst friends about the unimportance of safety. Do you remember how when you learned to drive you were told you had to check your tires for nearby sharp objects? Do you ever check your tires before driving? Thankfully, flight's addition of a 3rd dimension of travel requires a reassuring checklist of about 30-40 different switches & gauges to be checked & crosschecked. If I had thought about it more at the time, I suppose I could have viewed it as 30-40 more things that could have gone wrong - instead, I viewed them as support for flying being the safest form of travel. My job was to read off the items of the checklist as Bruce (Matt's dad) did the actual checking of switches & gauges. Done with that, I had only two other responsibilities: call out the CB frequencies of the ground control operator (directing taxiing planes on the ground) and that of the traffic control operator (directing planes in flight, near the airport) when asked for them and .. my other job... watch for other airplanes when we up.
----"Watch for airplanes" - three little words. so simple. almost fun, right? I was being asked to look for things. I assumed I'd be rather good at it since I look at things all the time. It's what I do. I can spot a thing from a long ways away or even a short distance. Easy? No. Not it Is Not. How... to describe... why... hmm.. - spot a fly crawling on someone's camoflage pants from 20 feet away. It's not the size or color of the thing to be spotted, it's the movement. Planes flying above the horizon can be spotted by how they stand out from the blue sky. Planes flying slightly below your altitude, despite often having white wing tops, blend into the roof's of houses, parking lots, malls, etc. It's the motion, and only the motion you have to train yourself to look for. Despite it being "my job" to spot other airplanes, Bruce pointed out the first 5. And out of 10 or more that we saw, I only first spotted 2 to his 8.
----The flying itself was truly great. There definitely was some yawing, some up & down turbulence, dipping of wings left to right.. pretty much any direction you can imagine a place bouncing - we did. The thing that most made it ok, aside from my continually reminding myself that people do this every day, was my having been up in helicopters twice before. The motion is remarkably similar - smooth flight with occasional bouncy-bouncies. (I believe that is the technical flight term for turbulence)
----We flew North East, over White Plains, NY & then out over the Hudson towards Stamford, CT. A light haze kept Manhattan slightly hidden, like looking through water-smudged glasses but ended up burning off almost completely after we'd banked around and started heading back. Sadly.. so sadly.. I had raced through the rest of the shots in my disposable camera and only got shots of the hazy Manhattan skyline as seen down the Hudson. With nothing left to take pictures of and no planes in sight, I studied surface details and as I try to do on any plane of any size I've ever flown in, I tried to spot people. At 2,500 feet, it can actually be done. Not just ant sized specs of dark on light concrete, but actual swinging arms & legs of people walking. Why do I do this? I'm not sure - perhaps it's the singular moment when the unreality of me somehow being thousands of feet in the air regains hold on the rest of the world.
----As we neared the airport, we switched over to traffic control and listened as the tower called out the whereabouts of the two planes in the sky with us. One, we'd had spotted, the other was well behind us but due to the tower's location fix on it, we could then spot it as well. We half-circled the airport, waited for the closer plane to land and then came in for our own landing. Landings are another unique moment I find intensely interesting. If anything is going to go wrong on a flight, it will almost surely be during the landing. And yet, I am -always- at my calmest for landings. Other people mention feeling the same way. I find that odd. As for myself, I often think to myself some variation of "well, I've come this far, if I'm going to die, I'm going to die and if I do... damn it, it's going to look pretty cool from where I'm sitting". So we swooped in over runway 4, Bruce slowed the engines to about 1/4th the rpm's they'd just been spinning at & we lined up perfectly with the centerline of the runway. A slight crosswind yawed us a little to the left but we kept the centerline dead ahead. 300 feet.. the relative silence is beautiful. 200 feet.. some slight corrections, a wing dips a touch and then rises. 100 feet.. despite what seems like a glide, our speed now becomes apparent. 50 feet.. the familiarity of runways is comforting. 15 feet, every pilot's dream... 5 and... touchdown.
----We coasted the length of the runway and powered up & around to our parking spot. We parked, ran through a short shutdown checklist and deplaned. Yes, I just wanted to say "deplaned". We headed back to the airport offices and sat outside for a while where the guy who had driven us to the aiport came out & started talking with us for a while. He chose then to tell us about the student pilot who "slammed his plane into the runway after a botched takeoff" - both wings sheared away, propellor ends bent to right angles, gas spilled everywhere but no fire, luckily. We went & looked at the plane, parked behind one of the hangars (smart - park it out of sight) and it looked -bad-. Quite bad. And yet, the body of the plane was intact, having the same sort of roll bar cages as dune buggies do, it's body kept it's shape and the pilot walked away with a scraped thumb. Granted, not everyone is so lucky, and still.. as far as numbers go it's the... yes.. sing it with me... "the safest form of travel".
[click on images to see larger versions if larger version of my sexyness are desired]
The day Matt and I had talked about for a month or two had finally arrived. Matt's dad was in town and Saturday would be our day. Our day for flying.
----Matt's dad has been a pilot since 1969, coincidentally, the year of my birth and as I clung to any number of superstitious signs from above, the '1969' coincidence seemed like either a really good omen for my safety, or the closing bookmark for my death.
----The plan was this: The three of us would take a bus from the Port Authority to New Jersey, get picked up by a small van from the small airport, Matt and his dad would fly around for an hour to burn off enough excess fuel to make it safe, weight-wise, for the three of us to fly and on their return, I'd then join them for another spin around the tri-state area. While Matt and his dad flew the first flight, I would check out the literature on flight schools since getting my pilot license has been a dream of mine since I was 11. That was the plan anyway.
----What happened was this: Matt and his dad took off. I went to the "pilot's lounge" - basically a large, darkened room with barco-lounger chairs and a tv, for traveling pilots to get some sleep on longer flights or layovers - and.... and I.. well, I slept. And by sleeping, entered the brotherhood of sleeping pilots, forever to mingle my tales of aeronautical acumen with the likes of Lindberg, Earhart and Snoopy. what am I talking about? I have no idea.
The next thing I knew, Matt had entered the pilot's lounge and before I could say "Hey, pilot's only!", I realized it was him and asked him how it went. He said he'd had a blast, but the turbulence and yawing had kind of gotten to him and he'd be staying on the ground while his dad & I went up for a while.
----Great. I'll die without my roommate then. Thanks Matt. Or not. In fact, probably not. In fact, almost surely not. I mean, who's the last person who died taking off from this airfield anyway? JFK Jr? really? ok.. that's creepy. And fine, people die. But mostly, they dont. They go up in airplanes, they fly around, they come back to earth at safe velocities. Safest form of transportation, right?? RIGHT??? And so it went... me, psyching myself up for my first flight in a small plane. Truth be told, it's also why I took a nap instead of keeping the brain active & running on thoughts of flying. I was either going to die or I wasn't & I probably wasn't so why not nap & then just walk out to that plane & do it? I'd be back in an hour or more, giddy & rambling on about how great it'd been. And so it went.
----The 'checklist' - If driving a car were like flying a plane, checklists would be relegated to history books and jokes amongst friends about the unimportance of safety. Do you remember how when you learned to drive you were told you had to check your tires for nearby sharp objects? Do you ever check your tires before driving? Thankfully, flight's addition of a 3rd dimension of travel requires a reassuring checklist of about 30-40 different switches & gauges to be checked & crosschecked. If I had thought about it more at the time, I suppose I could have viewed it as 30-40 more things that could have gone wrong - instead, I viewed them as support for flying being the safest form of travel. My job was to read off the items of the checklist as Bruce (Matt's dad) did the actual checking of switches & gauges. Done with that, I had only two other responsibilities: call out the CB frequencies of the ground control operator (directing taxiing planes on the ground) and that of the traffic control operator (directing planes in flight, near the airport) when asked for them and .. my other job... watch for other airplanes when we up.
----"Watch for airplanes" - three little words. so simple. almost fun, right? I was being asked to look for things. I assumed I'd be rather good at it since I look at things all the time. It's what I do. I can spot a thing from a long ways away or even a short distance. Easy? No. Not it Is Not. How... to describe... why... hmm.. - spot a fly crawling on someone's camoflage pants from 20 feet away. It's not the size or color of the thing to be spotted, it's the movement. Planes flying above the horizon can be spotted by how they stand out from the blue sky. Planes flying slightly below your altitude, despite often having white wing tops, blend into the roof's of houses, parking lots, malls, etc. It's the motion, and only the motion you have to train yourself to look for. Despite it being "my job" to spot other airplanes, Bruce pointed out the first 5. And out of 10 or more that we saw, I only first spotted 2 to his 8.
----The flying itself was truly great. There definitely was some yawing, some up & down turbulence, dipping of wings left to right.. pretty much any direction you can imagine a place bouncing - we did. The thing that most made it ok, aside from my continually reminding myself that people do this every day, was my having been up in helicopters twice before. The motion is remarkably similar - smooth flight with occasional bouncy-bouncies. (I believe that is the technical flight term for turbulence)
----We flew North East, over White Plains, NY & then out over the Hudson towards Stamford, CT. A light haze kept Manhattan slightly hidden, like looking through water-smudged glasses but ended up burning off almost completely after we'd banked around and started heading back. Sadly.. so sadly.. I had raced through the rest of the shots in my disposable camera and only got shots of the hazy Manhattan skyline as seen down the Hudson. With nothing left to take pictures of and no planes in sight, I studied surface details and as I try to do on any plane of any size I've ever flown in, I tried to spot people. At 2,500 feet, it can actually be done. Not just ant sized specs of dark on light concrete, but actual swinging arms & legs of people walking. Why do I do this? I'm not sure - perhaps it's the singular moment when the unreality of me somehow being thousands of feet in the air regains hold on the rest of the world.
----As we neared the airport, we switched over to traffic control and listened as the tower called out the whereabouts of the two planes in the sky with us. One, we'd had spotted, the other was well behind us but due to the tower's location fix on it, we could then spot it as well. We half-circled the airport, waited for the closer plane to land and then came in for our own landing. Landings are another unique moment I find intensely interesting. If anything is going to go wrong on a flight, it will almost surely be during the landing. And yet, I am -always- at my calmest for landings. Other people mention feeling the same way. I find that odd. As for myself, I often think to myself some variation of "well, I've come this far, if I'm going to die, I'm going to die and if I do... damn it, it's going to look pretty cool from where I'm sitting". So we swooped in over runway 4, Bruce slowed the engines to about 1/4th the rpm's they'd just been spinning at & we lined up perfectly with the centerline of the runway. A slight crosswind yawed us a little to the left but we kept the centerline dead ahead. 300 feet.. the relative silence is beautiful. 200 feet.. some slight corrections, a wing dips a touch and then rises. 100 feet.. despite what seems like a glide, our speed now becomes apparent. 50 feet.. the familiarity of runways is comforting. 15 feet, every pilot's dream... 5 and... touchdown.
----We coasted the length of the runway and powered up & around to our parking spot. We parked, ran through a short shutdown checklist and deplaned. Yes, I just wanted to say "deplaned". We headed back to the airport offices and sat outside for a while where the guy who had driven us to the aiport came out & started talking with us for a while. He chose then to tell us about the student pilot who "slammed his plane into the runway after a botched takeoff" - both wings sheared away, propellor ends bent to right angles, gas spilled everywhere but no fire, luckily. We went & looked at the plane, parked behind one of the hangars (smart - park it out of sight) and it looked -bad-. Quite bad. And yet, the body of the plane was intact, having the same sort of roll bar cages as dune buggies do, it's body kept it's shape and the pilot walked away with a scraped thumb. Granted, not everyone is so lucky, and still.. as far as numbers go it's the... yes.. sing it with me... "the safest form of travel".
[click on images to see larger versions if larger version of my sexyness are desired]
Thursday, August 04, 2005
revisiting past history, revisited
BLOG ENTRY
Some things just need repeating, like how:
- OverheardInNY is the best site e-v-e-r.
- Rudyard Kipling's "If" - is still one of the most powerful spoken word pieces ever.
- this is a perfect Monday song. or any day song.
- this is a good anytime song.
- if you're still eating fast food, you must still see Super Size Me.
- Belle and Sebastian - If She Wants Me is still better than your favorite song.
Did I mention?
- that I saw Conan O'Brien? his show, I mean. well I did. it was great. I was on tv. well my head was - all 4 pixels of it. So was Matt's head. his head got 5 pixels which is kinda suprising 'cause I've got a bigger head than he does.
- that girls have cooties? or maybe I do. I love dating and I'm sick of dating.
- that in my second softball game, I hit a triple, a single, another triple and then... and THEN.. a double to drive in two runs to win the game? Did I mention that? I didnt? Can I mention it again? no? ok. well, I did. I am a softball superstar. You know I am, dont deny it.
- my volleyball team is now 12-0. Last night we played our only real competition so far, a team that beat us 2 games to 1 last season, and we still kicked ass. In game 2 last night, we were losing 12-9 (we all took pause to realize it was the first time we'd been trailing in a game this season - that's how sad our league is this summer season) but came back to win 15-13 - much to our opponents seething and barely masked hatred. Remember how I said I hated the super tall guy on the team that beat us in the finals last season? Yeah. that's how our opponents last night were looking at us. Whatever - suck on second place, suckers!!!
- that I went to Tompkins Sq Park, sat down, opened my book, heard a familiar voice, looked up and saw David Cross sitting with friends, 10 feet away from me. My second favorite living comedian, eating cold cuts and hummus, just hangin' out with friends in the park, 10 feet away. Did I mention I can be a star-struck 14 year old girl at times?
- David Byrne rode by me on a bicycle. I still dont like him.
- Matthew Broderick walked by me on his way to Tasti-D-lite
25 years later, this line still cracks me up:
Steve McCroskey : And I can sum it all up in just one word: courage, dedication, daring, pride, pluck, spirit, grit, mettle, and G-U-T-S, *guts*. Why, Ted Striker's got more guts in his little finger than most of us have in our large intestine, including the colon!
Some things just need repeating, like how:
- OverheardInNY is the best site e-v-e-r.
- Rudyard Kipling's "If" - is still one of the most powerful spoken word pieces ever.
- this is a perfect Monday song. or any day song.
- this is a good anytime song.
- if you're still eating fast food, you must still see Super Size Me.
- Belle and Sebastian - If She Wants Me is still better than your favorite song.
Did I mention?
- that I saw Conan O'Brien? his show, I mean. well I did. it was great. I was on tv. well my head was - all 4 pixels of it. So was Matt's head. his head got 5 pixels which is kinda suprising 'cause I've got a bigger head than he does.
- that girls have cooties? or maybe I do. I love dating and I'm sick of dating.
- that in my second softball game, I hit a triple, a single, another triple and then... and THEN.. a double to drive in two runs to win the game? Did I mention that? I didnt? Can I mention it again? no? ok. well, I did. I am a softball superstar. You know I am, dont deny it.
- my volleyball team is now 12-0. Last night we played our only real competition so far, a team that beat us 2 games to 1 last season, and we still kicked ass. In game 2 last night, we were losing 12-9 (we all took pause to realize it was the first time we'd been trailing in a game this season - that's how sad our league is this summer season) but came back to win 15-13 - much to our opponents seething and barely masked hatred. Remember how I said I hated the super tall guy on the team that beat us in the finals last season? Yeah. that's how our opponents last night were looking at us. Whatever - suck on second place, suckers!!!
- that I went to Tompkins Sq Park, sat down, opened my book, heard a familiar voice, looked up and saw David Cross sitting with friends, 10 feet away from me. My second favorite living comedian, eating cold cuts and hummus, just hangin' out with friends in the park, 10 feet away. Did I mention I can be a star-struck 14 year old girl at times?
- David Byrne rode by me on a bicycle. I still dont like him.
- Matthew Broderick walked by me on his way to Tasti-D-lite
25 years later, this line still cracks me up:
Steve McCroskey : And I can sum it all up in just one word: courage, dedication, daring, pride, pluck, spirit, grit, mettle, and G-U-T-S, *guts*. Why, Ted Striker's got more guts in his little finger than most of us have in our large intestine, including the colon!
Friday, July 22, 2005
Outlining.... the fuuuuture!!!
BLOG ENTRY
So many happenings, so little writing about it... I'm in one of my slacker not-writing-about-anything phases it seems. sad.. so sad. What's happening, you ask?
I. not much.
II. that's a lie, there's a few things, they are as follows:
---A. the girl I'd talked about, Sarah, and I are not dating anymore.
------1. I wont go into why, except to say that it involved an orangutan, bank robbery and a wild trucker convoy run from the law. enough said.
------2. in a lot of very specific areas, she was the most amazing person ever. in other areas... not so much.
------3. oh well. life goes on.
----B. I've been dating since then but I'm not going to be talking about it since it turns out that I am a retard who believes in superstition and I fear the almighty jinx by talking about things that aren't confirmed. I'm waiting until I have at least two kids to say anything about me and anyone, from now on.
III. My volleyball team made the finals
----A. In the semi-finals, we won 2-1 games, beating a team that had previously kicked out arses.
------1. we advanced to the finals.
----B. we promptly lost.
------1. the team we lost to was comprised of seven nobodies and one 6'8" Goliath.
--------a. David does not always win against Goliath.
IV. My volleyball team started it's Summer season.
----A. due to the fact that less people play in summer leagues, the schmoes who organize our league seem to have either dropped us down a skill level or consolidated a lower skill level into our level.
------1. this has made our team kick crazy amounts of ass, we're undefeated, 6-0.
------2. this has also made play a little less interesting.
--------a. it's hard to feel good about your team's great play and feel sorry for the other team at the same time.
V. I joined a softball league.
----A. I know, I know... I hate baseball.
------1. I know!
------2. I know, I hate it A LOT. I might have even made you hate how much I talk about hating it a lot. Sometimes I wont shut up about how much I hate it. I hate it that much.
--------a. seriously... I know! I hate baseball. it's true. let it go already.
------2. softball isn't baseball.
--------a. even baseball, I would play, I just will not watch. not even a little bit.
----B. we had our first game last night
------1. we were losing 19-3 until the last inning, where we scored 7 runs to lose 19-10.
------2. on my first "at bat" in at least 10 years, I hit a triple.
------3. on my second at bat, I got a single.
------4. on my 3rd & last at bat, I popped the ball up to an outfielder who literally did not have to move his feet at all to catch the ball. he could have been doing a headstand and still have caught the ball. it was kinda beautiful how accurately.. or.. uh.. inaccurately, I hit the ball.
----C. everybody on my team seems to be super cool... not hipster-cool, just cool.
------1. three of the five girls are frustratingly beautiful, making concentration difficult for the six guys on the team.
----D. Our first game was on Randalls Island, the rest I think are in Central Park.
------1. I can think of a LOT worse ways to spend a few hours after work.
VI. OverHeardInNY.com is the best site in the universe. ok, at least 'my new favorite'.
----A. Next to my journal, of course.
----B. It's like my DM overheard's but incorporates the rest of the wonderfully mindless stupidity that's overheard all over this town.
VII. Places I'm dying to go:
----A. LaCaverna. come to NY, we'll go.
----B. free kayaking - down a river - IN NEW YORK.
----C. An arcade -slash- bar in Brooklyn with all the old-school games we grew up with.
----D. Ethiopian food is the best. come, we'll go.
VIII. I've been hired on as permanent at my job.
----A. Oh yeah.
----B. health insurance rules!
------1. kick ass health insurances rules even harder.
----C. Job security is good too.
------1. Job security must not become complacency.
So many happenings, so little writing about it... I'm in one of my slacker not-writing-about-anything phases it seems. sad.. so sad. What's happening, you ask?
I. not much.
II. that's a lie, there's a few things, they are as follows:
---A. the girl I'd talked about, Sarah, and I are not dating anymore.
------1. I wont go into why, except to say that it involved an orangutan, bank robbery and a wild trucker convoy run from the law. enough said.
------2. in a lot of very specific areas, she was the most amazing person ever. in other areas... not so much.
------3. oh well. life goes on.
----B. I've been dating since then but I'm not going to be talking about it since it turns out that I am a retard who believes in superstition and I fear the almighty jinx by talking about things that aren't confirmed. I'm waiting until I have at least two kids to say anything about me and anyone, from now on.
III. My volleyball team made the finals
----A. In the semi-finals, we won 2-1 games, beating a team that had previously kicked out arses.
------1. we advanced to the finals.
----B. we promptly lost.
------1. the team we lost to was comprised of seven nobodies and one 6'8" Goliath.
--------a. David does not always win against Goliath.
IV. My volleyball team started it's Summer season.
----A. due to the fact that less people play in summer leagues, the schmoes who organize our league seem to have either dropped us down a skill level or consolidated a lower skill level into our level.
------1. this has made our team kick crazy amounts of ass, we're undefeated, 6-0.
------2. this has also made play a little less interesting.
--------a. it's hard to feel good about your team's great play and feel sorry for the other team at the same time.
V. I joined a softball league.
----A. I know, I know... I hate baseball.
------1. I know!
------2. I know, I hate it A LOT. I might have even made you hate how much I talk about hating it a lot. Sometimes I wont shut up about how much I hate it. I hate it that much.
--------a. seriously... I know! I hate baseball. it's true. let it go already.
------2. softball isn't baseball.
--------a. even baseball, I would play, I just will not watch. not even a little bit.
----B. we had our first game last night
------1. we were losing 19-3 until the last inning, where we scored 7 runs to lose 19-10.
------2. on my first "at bat" in at least 10 years, I hit a triple.
------3. on my second at bat, I got a single.
------4. on my 3rd & last at bat, I popped the ball up to an outfielder who literally did not have to move his feet at all to catch the ball. he could have been doing a headstand and still have caught the ball. it was kinda beautiful how accurately.. or.. uh.. inaccurately, I hit the ball.
----C. everybody on my team seems to be super cool... not hipster-cool, just cool.
------1. three of the five girls are frustratingly beautiful, making concentration difficult for the six guys on the team.
----D. Our first game was on Randalls Island, the rest I think are in Central Park.
------1. I can think of a LOT worse ways to spend a few hours after work.
VI. OverHeardInNY.com is the best site in the universe. ok, at least 'my new favorite'.
----A. Next to my journal, of course.
----B. It's like my DM overheard's but incorporates the rest of the wonderfully mindless stupidity that's overheard all over this town.
VII. Places I'm dying to go:
----A. LaCaverna. come to NY, we'll go.
----B. free kayaking - down a river - IN NEW YORK.
----C. An arcade -slash- bar in Brooklyn with all the old-school games we grew up with.
----D. Ethiopian food is the best. come, we'll go.
VIII. I've been hired on as permanent at my job.
----A. Oh yeah.
----B. health insurance rules!
------1. kick ass health insurances rules even harder.
----C. Job security is good too.
------1. Job security must not become complacency.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Just Overheard, Baby...
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Just Overheard, Baby...
++ did you name her yet? Excuse me? really? You know what you're doin' to your daughter, right? JC? like the initials..? oh. Jay-Cee? oh... Jaysie... oh, s-e-y. Wow, where'd you get that name? y'know she's not gonna like you when she grows up.
++ It's alright, I didn't know what I was gonna name my daughter until two weeks before she was born. Her name's Lauren Ashley.. I wanted to name her Ashley but my husband said it was too preppy. So I'm sittin' there one night, watchin' films on tv and like two movies with Lauren Bacall come on.. then one with Lauren Hutton.. then one with some other Lauren... I was like.. Ow-Kay - guess I know what I'm namin' my daughter.
++ I saw she had red hair and I said "I'm done". It's all over for me. I'm stoppin' at one kid. Sure enough, she turned out to be the devil.
++ [to her husband] Your daughter is joining gyms, getting credit cards...
Just Overheard, Baby...
++ did you name her yet? Excuse me? really? You know what you're doin' to your daughter, right? JC? like the initials..? oh. Jay-Cee? oh... Jaysie... oh, s-e-y. Wow, where'd you get that name? y'know she's not gonna like you when she grows up.
++ It's alright, I didn't know what I was gonna name my daughter until two weeks before she was born. Her name's Lauren Ashley.. I wanted to name her Ashley but my husband said it was too preppy. So I'm sittin' there one night, watchin' films on tv and like two movies with Lauren Bacall come on.. then one with Lauren Hutton.. then one with some other Lauren... I was like.. Ow-Kay - guess I know what I'm namin' my daughter.
++ I saw she had red hair and I said "I'm done". It's all over for me. I'm stoppin' at one kid. Sure enough, she turned out to be the devil.
++ [to her husband] Your daughter is joining gyms, getting credit cards...
Friday, July 01, 2005
Overhea... what?
JOURNAL ENTRY
Y'know... I never claimed that anything DM says actually makes sense... Seriously, I wish I knew what she was talking about today. Sadly, she's losing her voice again. Why? C'mon, you know her well enough by now to guess why.
++ I really need to start drinking.
++ I had the police at my house last night. Y'wanna know why? 'cause one of her friends.. this guy calls this girl and rapes her.. so the police trace the call and it came from our house. Yeah, they were there for an hour. I said do NOT let anyone use this phone, you see what happens? yeah.
++ [Lauren says] you know ma, i feel pretty good. I go to school, I have a good boyfriend. I haven't gone out..
++ she's about to get blown away by my sister, Ralph, Nate...
++ nobody's gonna stop until they get her, she can run but she cant hide
++ and I have David in between me screaming...
++ you know what I was doing, I was calling over and over. I'd call, get no answer, hang up, redial. For. One. Hour.
++ if my daughter would pick up the phone but my daughter will NOT pick up the phone, TRUST me.
++ you can ask anyone, I will throw my daughter to. the. wolves. you dont do that to anybody.
++ you're 23. what I see in you, Mike.. you can do anything... she will only get more focussed and better around you. I'm so glad she's with you. you can be anything you wanna be, and you will.
++ Lauren, ya, no suprise that you're not picking up. you NEED to call me. we need to talk about last night. I'm serious. if you want to keep seeing Mike, you NEED to call me.
++ [3 minutes later] you NEED to give. me. a. call. Your future with this guy is hanging in the balance. We need to talk about last night. I'm serious. Do not fuck with me Lauren.
++ [1 minute later] You've got one hour before I have your phone shut off. you WILL start answering your phone when I call.
++ I have to give you a call back, that's Lauren calling.
++ What were you and Sarah doing last night? what did you do? what did you say to Mike? did you know he got a call from some guy from Abby's phone. Mike was crying telling me this. the guy says to him "how's your penis?" you boyfriend was crying, talking to me.
++ you and mike are finished??? what? were you gonna have a conversation with mike and tell him?? you have to owe up to what you do.
++ Kathy, my daughter is a piece. of. shit.
++ I gave birth to Satan. Her and Abby together are NOT a good pair. they are evil.
++ Yeah. She wont answer my calls. This guy Sal picks up my daughter's phone.. I hear her in the background going "who's that on the phone, why'd you answer the phone, dont answer the phone, who's on the phone??"
++ I am going to torture her all day long. I am going to blow up. Like, huge. I am going to make her feel like a lowlife piece of garbage.
Y'know... I never claimed that anything DM says actually makes sense... Seriously, I wish I knew what she was talking about today. Sadly, she's losing her voice again. Why? C'mon, you know her well enough by now to guess why.
++ I really need to start drinking.
++ I had the police at my house last night. Y'wanna know why? 'cause one of her friends.. this guy calls this girl and rapes her.. so the police trace the call and it came from our house. Yeah, they were there for an hour. I said do NOT let anyone use this phone, you see what happens? yeah.
++ [Lauren says] you know ma, i feel pretty good. I go to school, I have a good boyfriend. I haven't gone out..
++ she's about to get blown away by my sister, Ralph, Nate...
++ nobody's gonna stop until they get her, she can run but she cant hide
++ and I have David in between me screaming...
++ you know what I was doing, I was calling over and over. I'd call, get no answer, hang up, redial. For. One. Hour.
++ if my daughter would pick up the phone but my daughter will NOT pick up the phone, TRUST me.
++ you can ask anyone, I will throw my daughter to. the. wolves. you dont do that to anybody.
++ you're 23. what I see in you, Mike.. you can do anything... she will only get more focussed and better around you. I'm so glad she's with you. you can be anything you wanna be, and you will.
++ Lauren, ya, no suprise that you're not picking up. you NEED to call me. we need to talk about last night. I'm serious. if you want to keep seeing Mike, you NEED to call me.
++ [3 minutes later] you NEED to give. me. a. call. Your future with this guy is hanging in the balance. We need to talk about last night. I'm serious. Do not fuck with me Lauren.
++ [1 minute later] You've got one hour before I have your phone shut off. you WILL start answering your phone when I call.
++ I have to give you a call back, that's Lauren calling.
++ What were you and Sarah doing last night? what did you do? what did you say to Mike? did you know he got a call from some guy from Abby's phone. Mike was crying telling me this. the guy says to him "how's your penis?" you boyfriend was crying, talking to me.
++ you and mike are finished??? what? were you gonna have a conversation with mike and tell him?? you have to owe up to what you do.
++ Kathy, my daughter is a piece. of. shit.
++ I gave birth to Satan. Her and Abby together are NOT a good pair. they are evil.
++ Yeah. She wont answer my calls. This guy Sal picks up my daughter's phone.. I hear her in the background going "who's that on the phone, why'd you answer the phone, dont answer the phone, who's on the phone??"
++ I am going to torture her all day long. I am going to blow up. Like, huge. I am going to make her feel like a lowlife piece of garbage.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
X-Rated Overheard
JOURNAL ENTRY
Seriously.
DO NOT READ the below if you are easily offended or dont like dirty words.
So I'm comin' back from Opera in the Park in Brooklyn the other night (more on that later) and as Matt and I exit the West 4th Street station, there's a happy, skinny, saucy, gay black man jogging down the steps as we go up them. As we near him, we hear him saying:
Liiiiick some puuuuuussy,
Suck some cunt
And then as he passes us, he looks our way and says:
MMMM-HHmmm - I love me some white boys
they've got BIIIIIIG dicks.
Seriously.
DO NOT READ the below if you are easily offended or dont like dirty words.
So I'm comin' back from Opera in the Park in Brooklyn the other night (more on that later) and as Matt and I exit the West 4th Street station, there's a happy, skinny, saucy, gay black man jogging down the steps as we go up them. As we near him, we hear him saying:
Liiiiick some puuuuuussy,
Suck some cunt
And then as he passes us, he looks our way and says:
MMMM-HHmmm - I love me some white boys
they've got BIIIIIIG dicks.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Richard Cheese concert
Saturday saw the musical stylings of the illustrious Richard Cheese.
Ok. Saturday didn't see him, so much as Matt and Karen and Chris and I did. I'd hazard to say that we got more enjoyment out of his concert than Saturday would have, had Saturday been a person and not a day of the week.
----T'was my first visit to the Bowery Ballroom - a hell of a place to see a show, it turns out... Recommended by everyone I've talked to so far and truly, it had great sound, great stage vision and just generally, a great feel to the whole place.
----Richard Cheese himself was ON. as in on fire. not literally smart-ass, though I wouldn't have been surprised had he caught fire at some point. yeah. like I said... he was ON.
----He played a great selection of his best songs which the crowd went crazy for... why? because he was On. on what? right. On fire. good, you're listening.
----As with all things in my life, there's what's going on in front of me and then there's what's going on directly in front of that, distracting me, most often in a good way, from what's going on. During the concert, it was Conan Bob, Tina and WhyAmIHereFrank. What? Not their real names? good catch. you're getting good at this.... Although I think WhyAmIHereFrank's name really was Frank, but that's besides the point:
----So we're near the front, standing against the wall (my new favorite place to watch live music - the benefits of a wall to lean against and no one to back up into really shouldn't be underestimated) but the spot we're in is near the stairs leading downstairs to the bar & bathroom so there's a little bit of traffic passing by.. never enough to obscure the view of the stage though. Enter Conan Bob - named such for the fact that I thought he was Conan O'Brien at first glance. As in, tall, very.. 6'6" or 6'8"... same boxy Irish face, same smile... except that he was a good 10-15 yrs older than Conan. So OK, he's not Conan. Following him in was Tina. Again, her name was probably not Tina but she was TINY, as in... VERY... as in.. 4'6" to 4'8" tops. Conan Bob and Tina were together. Over the course of the next hour or so, as they stood sometimes frustratingly close to me, directly in front of me but not blocking my view (I was always able to look over Tina's head) I was able to determine that they were probably on a first date... or maybe a second. And that WhyAmIHereFrank was either a friend-type chaperone that Tina had brought along or he was some agreed upon friend that Conan Bob would bring to make Tina more comfortable about going out on this date to a show of a band she'd never seen or heard about. They all appear to have origins in Texas. or maybe Oklahoma. are there shit-kickers in Oklahoma? Ya? then ya. Oklahoma too.
----Tina and WhyAmIHereFrank know nothing of the Cheese. They look around and gauge the reaction of the audience.. watch for laughs, try to catch lyrics to make sense of why they're funny but having no reference to the pop songs Richard is covering, they dont know why it's funny. Frankly, (no, not WhyAmIHereFrankly) I'm not sure if Conan Bob knew why they were funny. That.. Enjoyably enough (for me) didn't seem to be too important to him. He laughed and hooted and looked to Tina and WhyAmIHereFrank for reaction and approval and sign that they were enjoying themselves, at least a fraction as much as he was trying to show that he did.
----Conan Bob has a catch phrase. Conan Bob shared this catch phrase. He shared it no less than.. let's say 100 times that evening. His catch phrase was "HAY-OHhhh!!!" as made popular by Ed McMahon on the Johnny Carson Show. He repeated and repeated and good god he repeated it whenever he made out a good chunk of lyrics... never really in time with some moment that would call for a reaction like that.. moreso to get Tina and WhyAmIHereFrank enthused. Which didn't seem to work with Frank. Tina, yes. Tina looked up (straight up) at Conan Bob with a huge smile, danced around a bit & generally seemed to be having a great time. I think she would have had a great time being with Conan Bob if they were standing in line at the supermarket so... well.. Richard Cheese cant be expected to make everyone's time better. Everyone-people like WhyAmIHereFrank. Man, that guy just would not loosen up.
----Another great thing for me to watch was how they had come and stood in what was, basically, the walkway that lead from the stairs to the back of the ballroom. It had formerly been an open walkway.. just enough room for people to walk in front of me and behind the people in front of me but... I guess in Texas, that is considered prime standing area. So they stood there. And of course had people jostling them, nudging, prodding, sometimes shoving them out of the way. Conan Bob acted the role of oversized shield for Tina, while WhyAmIHereFrank just made confused "sorry" looks and shuffled his portly form out of the way of concert goers & security alike. Like I said, they stayed in front of me for over an hour so I got to see a lot of great traffic jams.
----It's amazing what you can take in with just overhearing and split second glances at the people in front of you. I was, of course, watching Richard Cheese about 98.5% of the time and yet I took in this whole side-story being played out in front of me. God bless yee, freaky tall guy / short girl couples! and their friends who dont want to be where they are but get dragged along anyway!! HAY-OHhhhh!!!!
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