More Overheard

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More DM Overheard's
++ DM: Lauren, you've already missed... 1.. 2.. 3, 4 ... NO, I'm just SAYING. no YOU listen to ME. Lauren, it's amazing they haven't kicked you out already. Yeah,.. you got lucky. they're pretty stupid for not noticing, dontcha think?
++ DM: I dont know Lauren, I need to see how much I have. Fine, use it all for your dress, I told you, I dont care. Besides - I need to go to the pawn shop to pick up your heart ring, your name place, your bracelet. you dont want to lose THAT stuff, do you? NO, i didn't think so. God I hope you learned a lesson. I know you probably didn't, though.
++ DM: Yeah & I gotta go buy you another Metrocard 'cause you took mine, remember? Yeah, I dont have one. You took it but where did it go, Lauren?? You just dont think.

Monday, monday / zombie, zombie

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The perfect Monday song: Postal Service: We Will Become Silhouettes

I listen to it at least every Monday. I think it may have supernatural recuperative powers, ideally suited for Mondays. The video (above) is how I first saw/heard the song. Quite a great video, actually.
And this song of course - Sea and Cake - Sound and Vision - will be one of my favorite songs until the universe comes to an end. It goes with Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays ... not Thursdays, .. Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. On second thought, it does go with Thursdays.

Sooo... back when I wrote about my love of zombies, I had considered writing up a Zombie Surivival Guide of sorts. Silly, silly me. How naiive to think that it hadn't already been done a million times! Granted, mine would be way funnier, but still.... these folks did up a good website for our survival needs.

Office Chatter

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Office Chatter:
Large Marge: does anyone have a dictionary?
me: no, but m-w.com is the Merriam Webster website
Large Marge: nah, i dont want to go through that much trouble
me: I say nothing. daggers fly out of my eyes, though - puncturing her large ass. she flies off like a balloon.

WashSqPk toe massager

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A toe massage.. sexual?? Oh NYU girl, you are so naiive.

So I'm sitting in the Washington Square Park circle after work yesterday, reading.
Next to me, is a pretty, young brunette reading a textbook and highlighting occassional passages. She's wearing a light sweater, capri pants and flip flops with little toe rings on two toes. The circle is filled with it's usual assortment of students, neighborhood locals, tourists and crazy people - refreshingly, nothing's changed too much from last year.
Enter: my new favorite crazy person. He's a dark skinned, slightly big boned, black guy wearing a loose track suit and basketball jersey. He's not a bad looking guy but he's all too obviously scoping, there's no question about it - almost predatorily looking around for a girl to sit down next to and chat up. Sure enough, he picks NYU-girl next to me.
And so he begins... I truly admire the ease with which he starts, the conversation flow he generates and the friendly and lively response he gets out of her. How is it not at all hard for him and obviously so friggin' difficult for me to start up conversations out of the blue with girls?? Grr. whatever. So, I'm eavesdropping a little, getting some pointers maybe, when I hear little bits of coversation that go something like this: "have you ever had your ........ ......." --"Noooo, I'm not really ...... I dont like ...." -- "really? you should... it's great, you'll like it... let me show you" -- "Nooo, that's ok, really, I ..." -- "no, really... you Will like it, trust me"
At this point, I look over. What the hell is he talking about? I look over, to see him... moving in to touch her toes. "Nooo! really... I ... really dont like it when people touch my toes" -- "no, it's not like that... it's not sexual at all... here, I'll show you" -- "nooo, no really... thanks, I'm sure it feels really good, but..." -- "really, you're confusing this. it's not sexual or sensual, it'll make you feel good. it releases tension ........ ....here, I'll show" -- "nnooo, that's ok, I ... really... just dont let people touch my" -- "ok... I'm sorry, that's cool". And he stops.
I look up a bit, check out the scene... she's trying to play it cool... he's Definitely trying to play it cool, looking around the circle nonchalantly. She goes back to reading her textbook, the sound of kids chasing eachother and squeeling fades in a Doppler effect as they zig zag their way away from the circle. I go back to reading. I then hear a loud squeel. Not kids. the NYU girl. Crazy toe massager has reached over while she was reading and touched her toes. "Noooo!! HEEE! Really, please... I dont like that" -- "how do you know you dont like it, if you haven't felt it?" -- "really, I just know, my toes are really sensitive" -- "but it's not sexual, you think I'm trying to be sexual" -- "nooo, it's not that, I just..." -- "here, I'll show you" -- "nooo, really, I.." -- "ok, ok.. it's alright. I was just trying to help" -- "thanks. really.. I just... " -- "it's ok".
At this point, I'm thinking 'great, I'm going to have to intervene and speak up for her - then the guy is going to get all chest-puffy and tell me to mind my own business - then I'm going to have to insist that the girl said "no" and please respect that - then the guy is going to tell me to shut the F up and go back to reading - then I'm going to say "I will, just leave her alone... please" - then he's going to tell me to shut up before he shuts me up - etc, etc - all the while, the girl is going to think I'm standing up for her 'cause I want to maybe sleep with her or perhaps I have my own secret plans to touch her toes - when really, I'm just trying to be a nice guy who stands up for someone in need of a little help.
So I'm weighing my options and the gravity of the situation - trying to determine when I should say something and evisioning the wrath of all the park crazies being called in like Tarzan calls his animal friends, forever branding myself as that guy who's going to get his ass handed to him when he gets caught alone in some dark alley.
NYU girl fishes her phone out of her bag and makes a call to a friend. Phew... she's now busy, he's Got To leave her alone now, right? I go back to reading. Squeeeeel! "Nooo! oh nooo, nooo, really..." -- "you'll really like it... I just .. need to show you" -- "no, it's ok" -- "I know... you will like it once I show you, it Is ok" -- "no, I mean... really. my toes, I..." -- "ok, ok... but you should really let me show you" -- "thanks! I... maybe someone else would.." -- "ok, ok. I wont, it's ok" and she goes back to her phone call, nervously avoiding eye contact or any move in his direction. I look over - he's sneaking a long stare at her toes.
Wow. Owwwkay. what do I say... what should I say to him... I should.. say... hmm... what's something difussing yet cool enough to keep my awesome street cred and not provoke a violent response ... and... let's see.... I could say..... He gets up.
He walks off.. slowly. He looks around the circle a bit, but then walks up the few stairs and steps over the circle edge. And then he's gone.....
Not two minutes later, NYU-girl's friends show up and she hurriedly tells them the story. Everyone is shocked and repulsed but fighting back a bit of uncomfortable laughter. One of her friends says "oh my god, that's sooo creepy. That sorta reminds me of that girl who took a nap in the park last week and woke up with some guy massaging her feet!" - 1 second pause. Four girls in unison "AAAAH!! No Way!! EYEWWW!"
Meanwhile, I'm thinking 'wait, that REMINDS YOU of the girl who took a nap' - you mean.. you THINK they might be related?!??! DO You, little miss Smart Cookie?!?! ya think?? you must be studying to be a lawyer!
Needless to say, this guy is my new favorite WSPk crazy person - The Crazy Toe Massager. I need to keep an eye on him of course, and an ear open in case, god forbid, he tries anything more than toe massaging. I'll gladly add corroboration or line-up spotting if it's needed in the future, but for now... as far as crazy people go... he seems moderately harmless.

Lest you think NY has lost it's crazy-guy luster.....................

Overheards and sightings

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When Overheards Become Depressing and Scary:
++ DM: ya, she didn't come home last night. I dont even know what to do. He's 28. ya. Twenty Eight Years Old. Ya. and not just that but he's gotta ... checkered past.. let's say.
++ DM: Mary Magdelane was the biggest trrrramp.

Sightings:
++ Saw Tim Robbins rollerblading in Tribeca- 98% sure it wasn't him. If it wasn't, it was different 6'5"-good-lookin'-older-guy-hockey-nut slowly skating home. (for some reason, Karen knew Tim Robbins lives in Tribeca)
++ Saw Abe Vigoda (no, he's not dead) crossing Canal on Broadway. Abe (who is still not dead as of this last sentence) looked like he was walking on a planet with 5 times our gravity. If you would like to keep up on Abe's aliveness - abevigoda.com
++ Saw Mario Batali in the W Village. AGAIN. I swear, that guy needs to get up out of my face before I.... ..before I... ...what? eat at his restaraunt finally?
++ Saw Charlie Rose in his high end convertible (top down) on 7th avenue near Greenwich. Had a younger looking Asian woman in the passenger seat wearing sunglasses. He seemed tan, tall and slightly lecherous.
++ Saw Nicole Kidman speed reading Ralph Waldo Emerson and typing away furiously on a 10 year old laptop. Also on the table were How To Break Into Documentary Film and Bionic SuperCollectors. I looked over her shoulder at what she'd been typing and it turned out to be a blog about stalking me. this happened in the vicinity of... In My Dreams.

How to:

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How to tell people your life story, by my coworker, Dianna M:
- Step 1. talk.
- Step 2. keep talking.
- Step 3. do not stop talking.
- Step 4. repeat.
- Step 5. keep repeating.
- Step 6. ignore attempts by listeners to get away.
Seriously. she has a problem. I wish I was exagerating a little. There's just no need to:

--The Last Highly Annoying 30 Minutes of My Life
- A play, in one act.
--CAST:
- Dianna M
- 'Napoleon' - our department manager
- Visiting Suit Lady
- Visiting Suit Man # 1
- Visiting Suit Man # 2
--SCENE: {there is actually no scene to set. this all takes place 7 feet behind my back. I do not turn around to look at any of them. I have to listen to all of them. Why? Because they're 7 frickin' feet behind me, talking like there isn't anyone trying to work 7 frickin' feet away.}
-------------------------
Napoleon: Dianna, hey, this is Visiting Suit Lady and Visiting Suit Man # 1 and 2 from Partner-Telecom-Company-So&So, they're going to be working with us doing blah-blah-blah
DM: Hiiiii... it's sooo nice to meet you! how are you?
[insert 5 minutes of mutual ass-kissing here. smooch smooch smooch]
Visiting Suit Lady: [hears phone ringing] Oh, I'll let you get that call, it was really great to meet you, I'm sure we'll see eacho....
DM: Oh, dont worry about it, it's just my husband
Visiting Suit Lady: you're sure? I...
DM: trust me. he can wait. He's calling to tell me my daughter missed school again.
Visiting Suit Man # 1: [uncomfortable chuckle] Ha! I... miss those days. I wish I could miss school too.
DM: Oh she's great at it. she does it all the time. she's about to flunk out of school because of it.
Visiting Suit Lady: really?? oh no...
DM: ya, she's a wreck. I keep calling her school to smooth things over and she keeps digging a deeper hole for herself. I'm at my wits end with her.
[uncomfortable silence]
Visiting Suit Lady: [talking about picture on DM's desk] Oh, is that your daughter? she's really pret..
DM: [interrupts] Ya, that's her. and her cat.
Visiting Suit Lady: So cute, I had a cat like tha..
DM: [interrupts] That cat has cancer. We just found out a few weeks ago.
Visiting Suit Lady: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear tha..
DM: [interrupts] Ya. what are ya gonna do? we may have to put it down, I dont know. My daughter's had the cat forever. It's 8 years old. something in it's shoulder.
[uncomfortable silence]
Visiting Suit Lady: that's so sad... it's such a tragedy when pets get sick.
DM: tell me about it. I've got 5. cats. Not that I'm some crazy cat lady or nothin'.
[pause]
Visiting Suit Man # 2: ya, like those women with 20 cats.
DM: Right. I'm not like that, at all. I dont understand people like that.

... .. . . .. this all continues for another 20 to 30 minutes, with DM basically cornering them and talking and talking with no breaks in the conversation where they can move along and either meet the other provisioners or just leave the office - they've obviously just come for a pop-by-meet-and-greet - a practice all too sickeningly common in the telecom world.
DM somehow manages to cover the following topics: cats. cats with cancer. other sick animals she's taken care of. the animals of friends of hers who need temporary or permanent boarding. her daughter. her daughter missing endless amounts of school. her daughter being a slacker all through high school. her daughter's promiscuity with ever-changing boyfriends who DM can not keep track of. her husband. her husband being a loser. I am actually Very suprised that she does Not mention her husband being a raging alcoholic and how he gashed a huge hole in his back by falling into a speaker two days ago. I guess some things are sacred. (he actually called yesterday morning and accusingly quized DM as to why he had a huge cut on his back and did she do something to him like cut him or beat him with something). It's getting .... pretty sad, actually. I .. wish I didn't have to hear all of it but due to our proximity, everyone in this office is basically subjected to a forced voyeurism... or .. auyerism? is that a word? audio voyeur?

Overheard's Who's Sick? and 'Sightings'

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More Overheard
DM leaving voicemail for her daughter: "I have to stay late at work, so have your boyfriend pick you up" [click - hangs up, then says] "whoever he may be this week"
DM leaving voicemail for her daughter: "Lauren, you had BETTER be at school right now. Swear to god, if you are asleep......" [click]
DM to daughter: "Lauren... Lauren. stop screaming. Lauren.. I'm not listening.. Lauren... Lauren... ...Lauren. stop screaming. Lauren. Lauren. Because I told him to. Why? because YOU NEED TO BE IN SCHOOL. I -told- him to wake you. Yes. I did."
DM leaving voicemail for her daughter: "Lauren, you had BETTER be in school"
DM to daughter: "Lauren... WHY are you NOT in school? No, that was not a reason the past 100 times you told me it, it's not now. We're gonna have a talk when I get home"
DM leaving voicemail for her daughter: "Lauren.. oh Lauren, you had BETTER be in school. Swear to god I'm gonna have words for you if you are not." [hangs up, then says] "swear to god.. I swear, I will kill that girl"
DM to husband: "Dave. stop your crying, you baby. He wants to borrow your car, he's not asking for a kidney. Then tell him NO. you're hysterical Dave. Dave, calm down. Tell him No if you dont want him to borrow it. Dave... Dave, I'm not having this conversation with you."
DM leaving voicemail for her daughter: "you had better call me back. If you dont call me back, I'm going to assume you're not at school."

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Who??? What? Huh?
Sadly, DM's cat has cancer. From the 20 or so conversations about it that I've heard so far, it turns out her vet gave the cat it's first rabies shot, years ago, in "deep muscle tissue" instead of "just under the skin" and this new diagnosing vet has told her that sometimes that causes the rabies vaccine to "fester and become cancer". I honestly have no idea if that's true or not, but she is convinced to the point where "if I ever see that vet again, I am going to kick his ass, swear to god, I am going to. He wont know what hit him"
The almost-funny part of this story is that for the first 7 or so times she talked about it on the phone, I could have sworn she was talking about her husband. And that he was in surgery and possibly, was going to have to have his "arm" removed because of it. WHAT??!! Oh, AND that he had a "20% chance of survival". Ok, they're possibly removing your husband's arm... and he has a 20% chance of survival... and you're sitting here at work talking about it??!!?
The good news is that cat (and husband) are doing fine. Amputation was not necessary and everyone is recovering nicely. Lauren however, has missed another day of school.

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Sightings:
+ Saw Lindsay Lohan outside of the 1/9 Christopher Street station. I do believe I saw her moments after her paparazzi-famous ankle twist accident. She didn't look nearly as good in person, all dolled up, Upper East Side style. Beautiful in Mean Girls and hosting SNL... not so lovely looking like daughter-to-daddy-war-bucks.
+ Saw the redhead from Sex In The City on 14th, Union Square. Blue baseball cap, North Face jacket - very nondescript, but still seemingly wanting to be noticed. I think she smiled a bit, thankful when I did a double-take, wondering if it was really her.
+ Saw Patti Smith finally, at my mailbox / PO box / mafia hang out. She's # 253, I'm 263. I always think her packages are mine. Still haven't seen Ad Rock of the Beastie Boys, Teri Hatcher or Sarah Jessica Parker, though I do see her packages all the time (SJParker-package sightings!!)
+ Saw the Olson twins near Washington Square Park. I didn't actually see it happen, but I imagined children starting to cry as they passed. And flowers wilting.

Football's Fabulous Females

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http://www.raiders.com/raiderettes/appearances.jsp

let's see, if we all chip in.......
it would still be like drumrolling the Delete button on your bank account.
....and ok, fine. it'd be like going to the softest-core christian stripper camp you could imagine.
and OK already.. there'd be ABSOLUTELY no stripping.
and YA, I GET IT ALREADY, we'd have to pay for airfare, airport/hotel/event transportation, hotel accommodations, and meals. Not to mention a skirted table or booth with chairs and a sound system, with a CD player. - Oh, and "Please provide water."
AND what the hell? each one must receive a 30-minute paid meal break and two ten (10) minute rest periods????? what, they EAT, TOO??
-AND- we've gotta supply parking and a secure area for their belongings???
Oh wait, here we go: Please escort the Raiderettes to and from their cars for added security. OHHHWW YEEEAAAAHHhhh.... NOW we're talkin'....
wait, what are we talking about?

Reimbursement for incurred parking fees is required at time of event.
- Oh FOR CHRIS'SAKES!! FORGET IT! THAT is just RIDICULOUS!! We will NEVER reimburse for incurred parking fees AT TIME OF EVENT, what kind of idiots do you think we are???

[my comments inserted] MORE ON “Football’s Fabulous Females”:
The Raiderettes, “Football’s Fabulous Females”, are known for their terrific performances on the sidelines [terrific means bouncy, right?] but do you know why they are so ‘fabulous’? [it's not the bouncy thing?] These beautiful [a few maybe], personable [huh?] and energetic [ok] ladies make over 300 appearances throughout the year at corporate, community and charity events. [fact: NFL cheerleaders do not get paid by their team. this is the only way they make money for being cheerleaders] They are wonderful working with children [what? horny children?] and the elderly [horny elderly?] bringing warmth, [ahem] caring [bouncy caring?] and fun [ahem] to everyone they meet [who is male]. As ambassadors for the Raiders [sorry, were they nominated by committee or appointed by the President?], they are dynamic representatives [dynamic means bouncy, right?] of our community reaching out to bring people together. [so now they're missionaries? insert missionary joke here] People from all walks of life [who are male] who meet the Raiderettes say they are simply…fabulous! [I'm sorry, did gay men added the 'fabulous' part]
The Raiderettes are the most widely recognized professional cheerleaders in the league. [take THAT Cowboy cheerleaders!!] The exciting Raiderette image [things that... things that are bouncy!!] extends from local communities, to cities throughout California and many other states [how many others? DETAILS people!] and international venues as well. [right.] From entertainment at a convention or expo, to raising funds for a worthy cause, the Raiderettes will help make any event a fabulous success! [seriously? that sounds like a promise.]
The following information is designed to assist [assist means forward to the FBI, right?] you in making a request to include the Oakland Raiderettes in your upcoming event or program. Each request will receive fair [they're nothing if not fair] and consistent consideration [I have no idea what that means] and will be confirmed based on availability and team policies. Please note that submitting a request does not guarantee an appearance. [I dont understand. Where ARE those Raiderettes?? the 2005 Fat Guy Nudist Convention needs to get started RIGHT!]
All requests must be submitted in writing [there goes half your audience] using the Appearance Request Form. [I request a SEXY appearance!] Requests should be received at least three (3) weeks [three 3? is that thirty three weeks or six?] prior to the event. Please furnish as much detail as possible. [pictures of your penis, optional] Please allow 5–7 business days to receive a written response to your request. [and then please allow the rest of your life to recover from the fact that you tried to pay the Raiderettes to show up somewhere... and were denied]

Iran films, more zombies, hot wings

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I'm going to see these two films next Tuesday, check them out if they play in your town:
--Nusrat: A Voice from Heaven 2000. Giuseppe Asaro. 78 min. English. Nusrat brings us the greatest modern interpreter of mystical Qawwali music, the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. What emerges, through interviews with Nusrat himself, and with the musicians who helped bring his work to Western audiences, is more than just the portrait of one man. Nusrat is also a probing exploration of the philosophy underlying the Sufi music of Pakistan. A performance by Nusrat’s son, Rahat provides eloquent testimonial to the endurance of that legacy.
--The Voice of Iran: Mohammad Reza Shajarian 2002. Christian Braad Thomsen. 98 min. U.S. Premier! A spotlight on the great classical singer Mohammad Reza Shajarian, whose music reaches 800 years back into Persian history. Shajarian is a master of improvised ornament, whose deeply rooted spirituality, and sensitivity to the mood of the moment, creates music of astounding beauty. To be in Shajarian’s audience is to be transported back to Persian courts of old, ruled once more by the wit and poignance of the greatest Iranian poets – Rumi, Sadi and Hafez. Between songs, Shajarian talks about his inspiration, explains the meaning of the songs and discusses the poets behind them.

In the spirit of Easter, DO NOT see this film (warning, this may be the most sacreligious thing you'll wish you never looked at) . My friends, they know I love the zombies so....

Yet another reason to come to New York.

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sometimes, I think I think too much about food:
++ I just typed this in an IM to Elizabeth: do they have sushi boats [restaraunts] in seattle? i still haven't found any here. and i've broadened my search to all the boroughs even. what the F? how could over 12 million people NOT know the importance of food that FLOATS in front of you!
++ In preparation for some Atomic [hot] Wings tonight, I just typed this sentence in an IM to my roommate: must get lunch to suitably prepare stomach for maximum hot wing attack. [air raid sirens!] Maximum Hot Wing Attack Comencing!! Ya. ok. I love hot wings. almost as much as zombies love brains.
++ I'm also price comparison shopping Nutella prices at various stores in the area. 'Cause, you know.. if I spend an extra 40 cents for Nutella, it wont taste as good, I guess.

neck cricks ...

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I have a neck crick. Ya. it sucks bigtime. it's not the cant-turn-left-or-right kind, it's the cant-tilt-head-back kind. it's not even massage-able, it feels like it's been alien-implanted directly into the vertebrae of my spine.

my friend Johanna theorized that maybe neck cricks suck more than ..say, injured legs 'cause it's closer to the head ...
to which, in my usual genius observation style, I said:
i know whatcha mean.. the neck being closer to the head & all but i also get the impression it has something to do with old caveman tendencies, like if i had to fight a bear right now? i couldn't. i would totally get eaten by a bear.

- it may just be my genius mental delivery that makes that so kick-ass awesome. orrrrr I may have struck on the fact that getting eaten by a bear is hilarious.
---- who knew?

OVERHEARD (for the DMChronicles)
+ Louise, hellllo! what do you think?? my daughter doesn't go on booty calls??? HELLO?!??! Hi, I'm not stupid!

two cover letters for jobs

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I've been going through some past emails, looking for examples of my absolute unrivalled genius and maybe some inspiration for more writings. Needless to say, it's all amazing, but I'll be including a piece here & there going forward.

I wish I still had the link to the writing job listing 'cause it was hilarious. Which is why I sent them the following... They tongue-in-cheek said they were seeking well travelled, career driven freaks into ladder climbing and monosyllabic writing.


Hi Hello...

I should start off by saying that I'm not career-driven nor freakish in my ladder climbing, so that would make me 0 for 2 however, I -would- love to write for Gawker Media's urban travel blog, Gridskipper. As proof of my mastery of monosyllabic communication, take this: I write well, you will see. and this: Well is how I write, uh-huh. and some of this: I am so the one who writes well, you dont even know. You're blown away, aren't you? It's ok, I have that effect on people. I travel, I will admit, moderately. If paid to travel, I travel on command. Faster, even. I am ridiculously urban obsessed to the point of stalking urbanity in only a raincoat. I not only work in my pajamas, I sleep in them - among other things I might or might not do in pajamas. I know my way around the web like I know the palm of my hand... and trust me, I kno... ahem.. ya.
My style is unorthodox but definitely has a voice. Or so I've been told. Which could useful to your site. Or not. Sadly, I lack professional experience but with a good editor, I believe I could
serve your slave needs quite well.

A few urban pieces from my blog:
- [sent them a link to some of my preferred journal entries]

they're all a bit antiseptic so as not to greatly offend parents and relatives but I can most certainly drop the self-editing, if needed.

Let me know what you think....
-Kory Dayani

strange, but I never heard back.
(still, it was fun typing that up)

Here's another cover letter I wrote. Really, whether it's successful or not, I highly recommend doing the absolute-honesty-approach from time to time. You feel so much better about yourself having done it:

Hello there...

I am interested in being a part of the 1iota team, it's true. Depending on the position(s) available, that is. Can you let me know what is? available, I mean.

I've attached my resume but feel free to delete it without reviewing it and simply know that I will be perfect for the job you're trying to fill. Because I will. You dont even know. But I'll show
you. Ohw ya. I went to school for documentary film, using an American Studies major as a vehicle to learn film skills... so it of course makes sense that I've been working in the telecommunications world for the past 7 years.

If I made you smile at all with any of the above, it was worth not kissing ass with a boring emailed cover letter.
-Kory-

Real world Raider Shouldering / FJ & HB's webpages

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Various Random Things to Think About While Thinking About Things:

*Raider shoulders arent just for shouldering:
http://tinyurl.com/69oaa
- it's going to make you log in to view the article, enter freenyt as both username and password.

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*Flapjack and Hambone designed webpages for themselves while I was at work. They are flippin' LIARS, I tell you. but good ones, I guess.
Flapjack's webpage - http://www.catster.com/?118147
Hambone's webpage - http://www.catster.com/?118152

-- That's all. I seem to not be in much of a writing mood lately. One of my phases, I reckon.

snow/ice, DavidCross, zombies, nutella, the Gates

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A few things about things:
+ I haven't written for a while.
+ We had another great blizzard on Monday. a total white-out. At least I think it was a white out. It was white ... out. that makes it a white-out, I think. I was in heaven, everyone else was in hell. chilly hell. Honestly, there were moments that even -I- did not enjoy it. Mostly those moments centered around ultra-miniature icicles slamming into my face and eyeballs at 55 miles per hour.
+ I slipped and fell on the ice. finally. My first time this season. In front of a girl I was on a date with, even! Wow, that was awesome. To make it even better, I spilled a full glass of wine all over myself. "All" over, you ask? yes. "all". Actually, it was pretty hilarious. I really dont think I got a single drop anywhere except on my jacket and pants. It turns out that the snowfall on my roof melts slightly during the day then freezes at night. If it were thicker, we'd have a rooftop ice rink.
+ David Cross' cd made me cry laughing last night. I dare you not to do the same listening to it.
+ I've recently come to terms with the fact that I love zombie movies. A lot. They're hilarious, they're not at all scary, they're entertaining and they're formulaic to a T. In the past year I've seen (in order of awesomeness): Shaun of the Dead, Dawn of the Dead (remake of the 1978 classic), 28 Days Later, Resident Evil and Resident Evil 2 - if you only see one of the above, see Shaun of the Dead - it is abso-f'n-lutely hilarious.
+ I bought a sandwich press. And I am pressing sandwiches like nobody's business. Savory, sweet - whatever. It can make two sandwiches at a time, it presses them, sealing the edges and crosssecting them into little triangle sandwiches. I wont even describe the savory ones 'cause I make them so often and with widely varying ingredients (usually involving at least: carmelized onion, roasted red pepper, one type of white cheese (mozzerella, parmesan, feta, gruyere, etc)) but the sweet ones... or sweet ONE I should say is... hold on, I just started drooling (see next item)
+ I have discovered Nutella. Not 'discovered' like Marie Curie and her experiments with radiation... more like .. Christopher Columbus 'discovery' of a land already inhabitted by a race of people. Except that I wont be claiming Nutella for Spain. I -will- be claiming Nutella to be delicious. Because it is. And a curious thing has happened... I had previously never really understood people's fascination with chocolate. I could always take it or leave it (usually leaving it) and never understood that mental "click" that happens, that starry-eyed, eyes-rolling-back-in-your-head kind of tasty-goodness-pleasure that I've experienced with, say... a perfectly ripe kiwi or a great piece of dehydrated mango, where they hit all the right buttons in your mouth and send you into a moment of exctasy. Nutella pressed sandwiches are now added to the list. I put a half of a banana, sliced thin in between the two Nutella'd pieces of bread and press the sandwich for 5-6 minutes but banana isn't necessary to get the Nutella-goodness. Nutella, where have you been all my life?
+ The Gates were pretty cool. I guess. Mostly, it was a spectacle of artsy-fartsy artists with too much money getting to do what they want, where they want. Which in a strange way, I kind of respect. And in another very real way, I dont respect. Like when I was walking through Central Park and I saw the "Christos" (even though it's Christo (M) and Jean-Claude (F)) driving around the park, waving at people like they were the friggin' King and Queen. I overheard the red-haired-freaky-lady say that they'd driven the full 23 miles of curtains 26 times. That's 26 laps of ego-stroking. Sadly, I could not flip them off in time and they drove away, very much un-flipped off.

Snow pics

JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Snow, glorious snow..... and Pictures of... finally. These were from the last blizzard/snowstorm we had but they could just as easily be applied to this on we had the past few days.

¤ mouse over the images to see descriptions
¤ click on the images to see the full size pic

NY Journal # 27

Wednesday, February 09, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
as I exited from the South Ferry station this morning, I thought this: Yikes, What an unfortunate birth mark on that guy... ...and wooah, wait... someone ELSE with a birthmark in the same place?? what are the odds? they must... be related, I guess. jeez, right in the middle of the forehead, even... that's gotta suck. what the..?!? no way... ANOTHER person with the same... Ohhhhhh...... wait. it's Wednesday, isn't it? Ash Wednesday.
Ya. I hadn't had coffee yet. In pre-caffinated states, 2 + 2 sometimes equals "something-more-than-3-i-think"

Is Ash Wednesday even observed anywhere else? I think I've seen a grand total of 5 people in my life, outside of NYC, with the ash mark on their forehead. Seriously... what is it with NYers that they're all Catholic-holiday-observant? It seems more like that once a year blind obligation of paying taxes than it does any kind of devout adherence to religion. Catholics, Jews, whatever - everyone just seems way more into the calendarized formalities of their religion here. I think it's awesome. These are the things us agnostics and athiests are often jealous of. Everyone's familiar with the stereotype that Jews envy Christmas, but for those opting for faith in the demonstratable, we miss out. Then again, maybe a big ash mark on your forehead isn't really something to envy.


Thursday, February 10, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Overheard things D.M. has said lately:
(actually - I should mention that over the past few weeks, I've grown to really like DM 'cause she's hilarious-by-accident, her NY accent is "un-fuggin-be-lieeev-able", she's shockingly generous in that New Yorker kinda way, but mostly I've gained oodles of respect for her because she is the ringmaster of the scariest freakshow house full of malcontents you would ever be misfortunate enough to meet (a totally irresponsible, constantly rebounding alcoholic husband and a rebellious, back-talking daughter who, and this is just a guess, is a very thin condom away from pregnancy. - and of course... 6 cats)

- [on the phone] my cousin just told me about a great wine she just had... she said it's a fruity red wine [pause] No, it's not sangria....
- [on the phone] ya, they threw Lauren (DM's daughter) off the bus today [pause] because her MetroCard was empty. [pause] ya, well they did. [pause] I'm telling you, they Did. [pause] her MetroCard ran out. [pause] yes. it ran out.. they've done it to her twice already. [pause] what did i just tell you? Her MetroCard Ran Out. [pause] ya [pause] it ran out, she said.
- [to me] I love mythology... it's everywhere in ... like, our world today... [pauses, thinks] ... like Poseidon... like they name ships after him. or Hermes, you know.. the FTD logo? THAT's Hermes.
- [to me] my daughter had this guy friend years ago, you know, they're in school and such... this guy is failing his mythology class or whateva.. I sit him down, I say... watch this [makes motion signifying pushing a VHS tape into player] ... I turn it on, he starts watchin'... boom... all of a sudden, he knows all the gods of mythology! He's like "thank you, oh my god, i would have totally failed that class!" it made me feel great. [I ask what movies she gave him to watch - she gets pensive look, stares at floor trying to remember... i know.. I KNOW she is going to say Clash of the Titans, but I dont want to believe it... i then ask:] "...Clash of the Titans?" [she gets Eureka!-look on her face, points at me forcefully] That's IT!! That's the one!! what else..? i dunno... Jason and the Argonauts? things like that, you know.



Wednesday, February 16, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
I thought this only happened in commercials.....
Oh, the gods, why. Why? Sick. again... a cold, or flu maybe? Why cant I ever tell which type of sickness I have? All I ever know is that I get shivers, a fever, stuffed up and miserable. No, this is not what happens in commercials.. although, of course it does.. but that's not what I'm talking about.
Friday, I was set to fly out to Irvine for a memorial service for my mom. Or, about my mom. Or in commemoration of my mom. My dad has arranged the ticket with his frequent flyer miles so everything was set. For the first time, maybe ever, I had packed appropriately. Two days worth of clothes, a book and my first ever book on tape (though it was actually a 3 cd set). I was sick as hell but prepared to ride out the misery in coach, hopefully unbeknownst to my fellow passengers and then, family and friends on the California side. I got out of work at 3pm, walked up to the A train, rode it with delirium to the Air-Train at Howard Beach and boarded that for JFK. I sat on the train, half asleep, thinking about how much I hate connecting flights. There's not an 'arrival' to look forward to, it feels like there's only more travel. As we approached JFK, I figured I should double check that I would be flying on American Airlines and perhaps the print out I had brought might even list the gate I should be going to. I unfolded the paper, turned it right side up to view it, and promptly saw, right next to the date, the letters "L" "G" "A". 'odd, my returning flight must be coming back to LaGuardia' - read it. d-e-p-a-r-t-i-n-g. Under "departing". Departing flight FROM LaGuardia TO Chicago TO Irvine. 'wait.. I'm sick, my eyes may be messing with me'. LGA. no. please no. 'ok wait... close your eyes... open them.. it'll say JFK.. it will, really'. LGA. great. this is... so so soooo something that would happen to me. Time: 4:17pm Flight time: 5:00pm departing from .... check again.... yep, LGA.
I get into the American Airlines line, hoping they'll be able to get me to Chicago in time for the connecting flight. The line is 30 people deep. I talk to the first ID-screener person standing in the lines, who checks to schedule to see what flights are going to Chicago or LA. the earliest departure is a 6pm flight going to Chicago which will not put me there in time for the connecting flight, and an 8pm flight to LA that might be sold out or an available 10pm flight. I call my dad from the line. How do you explain such a thing? How do you possibly justify not looking at the print-out BEFORE going TO the airport? (these would the same questions that answer why it's taken me almost a week to write about it). I somehow explain to my dad what happened and mention my cold/flu which I know as I'm saying it, is a really weak rationalization for why I've gone to the wrong airport. My dad, somewhat in shock, suggests I see what arrangements can be made by the airline but suggests that since I'm sick, if I want to cancel the trip, that it's ok. I tell him thanks, but I'll see what I can do and call him back. I wait in the line. I inch my way forward in the line. It's getting later and later. I feel no better. None. I still cant believe I'm at the wrong airport. I call my dad back. I feel very small. Smaller than a bread box. Smaller than a mouse in a bread box. Smaller than the bread the mouse who's in the breadbox ate. Maybe smaller. I tell him what the lady told me and begrudgingly ask if it's ok if I take him up on the offer to not go. I feel like an ass. I cant believe I'm not going. I know I need to be there for this memorial. this absolutely sucks, I feel like I'm letting everyone down. My dad says it's ok, but I dont feel absolved. I am guilt incarnate.
I leave the airport. I get on the Air-Train. I leave the Air-Train. I get on the A train. I leave the A train. I get to my door, I open the door. Flapjack is staring at me. As if he knows. He gives me that look. He knows. I know he knows.
I swear,... I really thought that only happened in commercials.



Tuesday, March 01, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Snow, glorious snow..... and Pictures of... finally. These were from the last blizzard / snowstorm we had but they could just as easily be applied to this one we had the past few days.

¤ mouse over the images to see descriptions
¤ click on the images to see the full size pic

NY Journal # 26

Friday, January 21, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
One of the other #%$^'s in this office (we'll call her Large Marge) just said:
+ Did you watch the Apprentice last night? oh my god. those three street people?? they beat those three college kids. yes they did. do you know that they make three times what those college kids make? it's disgusting.
+ I said dont burn the toast. he burnt the toast. I asked for extra mayonaise, there's no extra mayonaise. I said maybe you should stop talking and pay attention to what you're doing... well, I -should- have said that, I mean really. I said it's cold out here, c'mon... this other guy just wanted a coffee, it's freezing, I mean how hard is it to make a sandwich right, you see the problem is ... (5 minutes later she was STILL talking)

And I wonder why I walk out of here hating humanity.

JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Large Marge is the new bane of my existence. I swear my brain shrivels up slightly when I hear her voice. The ominous shadow she casts makes me cold and squint for proper lighting. Her perfume disipates airborne illness and suppresses alergens... and my appetite. my appetite wanes, hers seems to be strangely unaffected by just about anything.
Did I mention the time when she stood behind me, asking about some order, with her breasts-bigger-than-my-head brushing against me no matter how much I tried to inch forward..? OH MY GOD, she's STILL talking about her sandwich!
And NO, I'm not making fun of fat people - save your PC "yellow card". I'm accurately derogating the reprehensibility of a person who happens to be fat. You can however yellow card me for using 'derogating' and 'reprehensibility' if you like.

post script - 15 minutes later, she brought up her sandwich again

JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
In news of the-not-so-annoying:
Volleyball last night was... how shall I say this... all about how much I still rule at volleyball. Kory? How awesome are you? Here, let me show you, KA-BLAM!! Oh No, our team is losing! No worries, KA-BOOM! [insert image of girls on the other team swooning over my magnificence] Who can step in to play every position because we need help at setting? No problem, here's a perfect 20 foot back set! FFFFT!! Who's the black private dick that's a sex machine to all the chicks? Well, that would be(Shaft!) right on. Who is the man that would risk his neck for his brother man? that would be me and (Shaft!) can ya dig it?
Seriously, it was amazing. I was in the zone. A zone of pure zoneness, at one with my zoneitude and prepared to share zoneosity with anyone prepared to zonify. It's been over two years since I've played (not counting last weeks most boring and inactive scrimmage) so to come back swingin' (ha ha) like I did... felt damn good. daaaaamn good.


Tuesday, January 25, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
Hello, my name is Kory, and .. wow... this is hard to admit... I .... think I'm.. addicted to snow. (yes, I'm also addicted to punctuation: and over punctuation; ... and "over"-'pun'-ctu-a-tion)
Addicted? surely that's too harsh of a term... It is. And it isn't.
While I definitely experience the ecstatic rush of fresh falling snow and then the high of a uniformly snow covered city and .. I suppose the 'high' wearing off as the snow will eventually melt.. I know I wont be experiencing a craving or 'jones' to... 'go out and score some more snow'. That's where the analogy breaks down. Or does it? If you told me I had to move to a state that doesn't get snow.. having now revelled in the glory of that great 'White Out' from above..? I dont think I could. My skin would crawl, my nerves would tingle with anxiety laden discomfort and I'd be perpetually irritable with the knowledge that I'd been artificially removed from, among other things, a much needed seasonal marker to my biological clock. Unless I fall on my arse and break something or get a leak in my oh-so-awesome snow stomping boots and get frostbite requiring amputation... I'm sorry, I'm not seeing any downside to this addiction.
I simply dont know how else to explain away the affect snow has on me. Judging by how ridiculously giddy the snow makes me, it must be a drug - it just must. There's no other reason I should be turned into such a single-minded simpleton at the sight of the stuff. I'm at a constant state of barely controlled hyperactivity ... barely contained spasticity... sometimes I fear I'm a few IQ points and some drool away from mental retardation when I step outside my building and see sidewalks lined with untrampled snow that I get to tromp through. Higher brain functions seem to shut down, time slows and all I want to do is run full speed, take a flying leap, and Pete-Rose-belly-slide into the proverbial first base of pillowy, wintery delight.

So... our blizzard on Saturday was great. - by 'great' I actually mean 'orgasmic'. Heavy snow fell throughout the whole day. Heavy, thick, constant snow that built up quickly and fell without too much wind, which only added to it's beauty and the degree to which everyone seemed to enjoy it, if apparent smiles and boyfriend/girlfriend snowball fights were any evidence of enjoyment. In Washington Square Park, the three fenced off concrete berms I named "take-me-to-the-hospital!-skate-park" for it's so-so-poorly-planned and litigiously dangerous design were over-run with kids with sleds and parents who seemed more than on edge by the amount of playful screaming and chaotic activity they were forced to supervise. Mind you, these concrete berms amount to, what would be a three foot wave in the ocean that would take it's riders... seriously, not more than twelve feet. Did these kids care? Did I mention the joyous screaming and the fence they had to knock down?
The whole park was just too damn beautiful so I went to Duane Reade, bought a disposable camera and took many a picture back at the park. Matt and I then hiked it up to 23rd street for some house-sundries-shopping and winter boots for Matt, then up to Times Square... just to be walking around. The streets were mostly empty of cars, fairly empty of people. The few who were out seemed either to be unprepared tourists, city dwellers on their way somewhere or diehard snow lovers, also just out for a walk. Walk really is a misnomer - trudge is far more accurate, even if it sounds unpleasant. to walk or march.. ..usually laboriously.. That sounds unpleasant, there's no denying. Walking or jogging on treadmills is also laborious, and yet my gym always seems to be filled with treadmillers who, in hindsight at least, would say they enjoy treadmilling immensely. (treadmillers, treadmilling not words? And that's stopped me in the past, when exactly?) From Times Sq., Matt went to Karen's and I started back towards home. Initially, I was just going to walk to the subway but though "eh.. why not go to 34th and subway it from there?" - at 34th I thought "eh, why not 23rd?" - from 23rd it was 14th and at 14th... well, taking the subway one stop is kinda ridiculous so... hey... another 100 block round trip day - in the snow, even. That would be how I define Awesome.

Wow. it seems that ice is falling off of the roof of this 48 story building - the wind or air currents carry it a few feet out and then some of it comes smashing back into the windows as it makes it's way down. It sounds like fast pitched softballs or suicidal birds slamming into the glass. I'd hate to be on the receiving end, down below. Maybe it's time I break out my kevlar coated, army missile nose cone I've been saving for headgear for such an occasion. And everyone just laughed when I went to that military auction. Who's laughing now, huh? who's laughing now!!! Wh... No ... no one's .. laughing? sorry, I .. thought I heard laughing.



Wednesday, January 26, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
In Other News of Things I Think I am Thinking:
¤ Flapjack is one crafty son of a gun. A great military strategist, on par with Alexander the Great or Ghengis Khan. His ability to feign an open front and then attack from the flanks when least expected is truly impressive. I had thought that I had won our famed bath mat war. I had been shown evidence that I had. I hadn't even won the battle. not even a skirmish. It's game on and FJ leads, 17 to 0.
¤ "President" Bush requests that you bend over and cough ... up... another $80 billion. for a grand total of $427 billion budget deficit. that makes $300 billion for this war alone!. I wont even mention our next war with Iran already in the planning. I could do so much shopping at the $.99 cent store with $300 billion! you dont even know! and still live like a king on the change.
¤ speaking of change - Commerce Bank rules for putting "penny arcades" in their banks to gouge out the deep pockets of coinstar's gouging of our change pockets. No more .09 cents on the dollar surcharge for turning your change into dollars at local supermarkets. you dont have to be a commerce bank member to use the service. Big thanks out to Karen for the heads up!
¤ I think I'm going to outfit Flapjack and Hambone with proximity shock collars so they stay the frack away from my closet while I sleep. I swear to bajesus they think it's a fun factory when the lights go out.
¤ On the southbound 1/9 subway line to South Ferry, there are constant announcements by the train conductor that only the first five cars' doors will open due to the station being so short. It's mostly annoying because they repeat it at each of the 6 stations between Christopher and Rector, urging everyone to move forward so they can get off when the train reaches the end of the line. Maybe one out of every three times though, the conductor gets noticeably aggravated and starts talking in that slow, loud way some people do when trying to talk to deaf people: "you will NOT be ABLE to GET OFF the TRAIN ... IF YOU DO NOT MOVE UP. you will BE STUCK on the TRAIN and will NOT be ABLE to EXIT, MOVE UP NOW. YOU.. in the back of the TRAIN... you MUST move UP to one of the FIRST FIVE CARS", etc, etc. It's obvious ... well, to me at least, that the people they are speaking to probably dont speak English. which is sad, I feel sorry for them, I do. But I cant help but smile and almost laugh at how frustrated the train conductors get. They're, of course, doing everything they can to keep these people from getting stuck - I swear you can almost hear the anguish in their voice, like some mama bear trying to urge on an orphaned dog it's adopted, but in the end, the mama bear has to just say "stupid dog, fend for yourself, then". this, all happening in a world where bears can talk and regularly adopt other animals.
¤ How awesome is this? With all the 8-10 foot high snow banks retailers are shovelling together into the streets, -all- over the city, there could be thousands of igloos made. I'm going to go tonight to see if it's still there and if it's not ridiculously expensive or crowded, might eat there. Report to follow (or a report on why there'll be no report)


Friday, January 28, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Wow. No, seriously.. Wow. A co-worker just made THEE best personal call, ON speakerphone, I may have ever heard,..... at any job.
and it goes a little something like this:
"You have reached the red light photo monitoring offender system hotline. For English, press one.. Para Esp.. [beeep] ... If you would like to contest your ticket, you must do so in person at [courthouse address]"
That's cajones. I mean, why dont you just go all the way and call a Russian-Brides dating service from work? or maybe detailed calls with your doctor about rectal problems? then again, DM runs her entire household from 10 feet behind me, so I'm not sure why I'm suprised by anything. I know more about her husband's Urologist appointments than I really should.
Come to think of it, calling to contest motor vehicle tickets on speakerphone from work is even better than the Oscar Meyer Weiner hotline we used to call at MediaTel in to listen to the Oscar Meyer theme song being sung by children. The calls I hear here aren't nearly as refreshing as that.


Wednesday, February 02, 2005
JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
I'm having one of those days where I want to punch everyone in the uterus. Is that a crime? is that so wrong? what's tha... it... it is? it's illegal? you're sure? ok.
Work sucks - I'm getting temp wages for permanent employee work which hmmm... has this strange negative effect on one's motivation to do a job... Imagine that! My boss is supposedly talking to his higher-ups about getting me and my coworker permanent positions. or more temp money. or it's possible he's working to get us replaced by desperate temps who wont ask for more money - and maybe even start them off with less. Probably not, but I wouldn't put it past him. In fact, I might even admire the pure evil of something like that.
Volleyball is going well... my team sucks but I'm playing well and somehow, that is ok with me. I want to join another league that plays on a different night, just to have two nights of volleyball but it' not worth the extra money now that it's a few games into the season.
Please make my coworkers stop talking about American Idol and made-for-tv movies. I swear to you, that is almost all they talk about. crap-tv and complaints, allll-daaaay-long. The voices... behind me... are like... having your jaw ripped open and all your teeth scraped down a huge glass window. make it stop. please.
The snow has almost completely melted, though big piles have turned into pedestrian traffic barricades really, and still stand slowly melting on curbs and sidewalks where they were shovelled to last week. The slow melt is kind of fascinating in a time-lapse-photography kind of way.. each day you revisit a spot brings new, slightly lower formations.. The slush color really isn't as gross as some people say it is. Especially when you imagine it to be delicious root beer Slushie mix that's spilled from some 7-11 Slushie machine in the sky..
It's warmed up considerably, as well. By warm, I mean 25-35°. The human body is really remarkable when it comes to that. Operant Conditioning. (And -I- am remarkable for remembering "operant conditioning" from my psychology classes in 1990!) You get used to 6-14° weather and a biting, cold wind and all of a sudden 35° feels like summer and you find yourself sitting in Bowling Green park, soaking up some sun like it's summer.

Friday, February 04, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
I am Clint Eastwood in Fist Full of Dollars. I am Gary Cooper in High Noon. I am John Wayne in The Shootist. And I have stood for what is mine.
Yes, I just had an oh-so smoothly played, totally nonchalant, Raider-shoulder-firm, high-noon stand off with my boss over whether I was going to be made a permanent employee or if that is to be delayed, made into an independent contractor and paid what is being paid now to the temp agency. OR, barring any of that, I'd have to of course start looking for more permanent work. In a Western world, it might have gone like this:
The sun stands high, too high - as if swaying from a noose thrown over the remaining limb of a tall, long dead tree. Tumbleweeds roll in a loose formation across the dusty road. A silence as complete as a thousand conversations all stopping in unison, casts itself over the unseen spectators who anxiously peek from behind store front curtains. A dog stands, circles itself in the shade of the porch overhang and again, lies down.
The treble ring of spurs echoes quickly as boots strike earth, slowly, calmly, toward the center of the street. Then, standing firm, unshaken. Silent, valiant, ready. Facing the imposing stranger, the middle manager's lip twitches, sweat beads at his left temple.. an unconscious tremble in his right forearm exposes the fear he'd fought to hide. 'I'm just a middle manager with a Napoleon complex" he cried out, though only in his mind. "I wasn't made for showdowns like this - his... his cool is just too... cool. .. I've .. lost already'. He was right, of course. The air charged with tension, the potential energy of the scene fought to contain itself. At least until something would set off the cascading destiny about to unfold.
A whirlwind blur, seemingly remembered by the middle manager - and yet, he knew it wasn't memory. It had happened. So fast. Too fast. Spotlighted under a dead-eye aim, targeted, without knowing if he had really seen the strangers arm raise. His hand twitched in resigned defeat, knowing the showdown was over before it had begun. He stood, staring at the stranger, waiting. The thought of pleading for life crossed his mind in a dozen different ways, but couldn't find his now frozen lips, in any form.
"Go. tell your vice president of sales" voiced the shadowed stranger. "Permanent employee or independent contractor, getting the temp agency out of the pay loop - however it needs to work. I hate to say it because I enjoy working here, but I'll need to start looking for permanent work soon if things wont be changing within a .. short while". There it was. the shot fired. Not to the forehead. Not to the heart. To the left thigh.. the middle manager crumpled to the ground. Now begging, pleading for life - for the life of his order accuracy, for the life of not having to train another employee, for the life of having a competent employee on which he could count. "Ok. I hear you. I do. It is definitely on my radar and I'll be pushing it with Paul (sales vp) and also looking into what it would take to get out of our contract with the temp agency and do an independent contractor deal instead"
Turning without aparent effort, the wind casting coat tails aside, his weapon, somehow, now holstered - the strangers spurs again crack the near silence of the slight breeze with their staccato jangle as he saunters serenely away.

wow. that was fun. maybe I'll write Western novels.

"I dont have a very conscious creative process at all. It doesn't .. books dont happen because.. i think about them. I'm more and more conscious that they happen, books happen because I write them and the genuinely creative parts emerge from the actual procees of putting one word after another. The bits that I enjoy, which are bits that suprised me, that i didn't expect, they come out of the actual process of writing. they dont come out of a process of cogitating or being visionary or trying to imagine."
--William Gibson on writing, in the DVD No Maps for These Territories

That quote is what inspired my above attempt at writing fiction. He also said, I'll have to paraphrase, that 'writing fiction is most like... well, it probably uses the same areas in the brain as day dreaming or masturbation fantasies... in the amount of narrative detail you invent... the story you tell yourself... or like imagining scenes of high anxiety... imagining some event that would make you really nervous, something at work maybe or a conflict with a loved one, a family member... the details that create the anxiety come from the same place that writing fiction comes from...'

My problem has always been that I've felt I'm better at commentary than invention... re-action over action. Something happens? excellent, I can probably write about it. Someone needs describing, I'll go to work. But the idea of writing a novel... seems.. absolutely overwhelming. Like being asked to step into an auto repair shop and just start fixing cars. I haven't felt like I'm equiped with the tools, the knowledge of how to invent from scratch. And then I heard Gibson's 1st quote above. While I still dont think I could write a novel, it's at least reassuring to know that I can piece together some semblance of an invented narrative - if I can base it on enough factual (or imagined, it seems) reality. And this is the best part - it was damn fun putting that little Western scene together. Far more than I could have imagined.

NY Journal # 25

Wednesday, January 12, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
Laughs In Translation -
in the email trail of an order request I received:
---We work at Telefonica and as carrier providers we need to know some technicals aspects to reech a succesfully and opertionally upgrade of the line your customer leased to us.
---I apoligize if my english redaction is not pretty well, but I think you'll understand the meaning of the questions. If there is any doubt, please let me know.
---We'll appreciatte to get your answers as soon as you can send it back to us.
Yours, faithfully. Instalaciones - Puesta en Marcha

still no snow. insert pouty face here.
ok, so it snowed a little bit yesterday. but while it snowed, ..it rained. it would have made for ideal snow enjoyment since the temperature was around 40° - which in East Coast winter thinking translates to "warm". rain during snow also means that none sticks to the ground. insert picture of me shaking fists and cursing Jupiter, Roman god of weather.
I heard on the news that last year we had 20 inches by this date. We've had three so far this year. Jupiter!!! wake up, you.. drunken Roman... gas .. giant.. what?

JOURNAL ENTRY
The first rule of Raider-shoulder club is.. tell everyone about Raider-Shoulder club.
Have I talked about "Raider shoulders" in previous journals? I probably have. If so... pardon my elaborations on the same:
What is a Raider shoulder? Ohhh, I'll explain... at length probably.

The "Raider shoulder" as .. not-at-all-defined by Merriam-Webster is: a walking, shoulder nudge to someone who, most often through general absent-mindedness or intentional A-hole-ness, moved themself into your way or after you say 'excuse me', is then not getting out of your way. Since it is basically for people "not playing by the rules" of general walking traffic, it must be done in a way wherein it is obvious to the person being bumped into that they were at fault.
Originally, the name "Raider shoulder" derived from the viscious tackles of Oakland Raider Hall of Fame safety, Jack Tatum. I have seen dozens of his tackles where four things happened, almost instantaneously: 1. a fast moving blur of Jack Tatum is seen coming in for a hard hit. 2. a massive collision occurs. 3. the player tackled goes flying, limbs flailing like a ragdoll. 4. Jack Tatum remains standing, nonchalantly looking down at his victim, as if he had calculated the physics needed to crush someone AND remain standing.
In practice however, the Raider shoulder isn't at all so viscious but actually refers to keeping your momentum going regardless of what absent-minded people around you are doing. I hate to romanticize it (who am I kidding, I love nothing more than romanticizing it!) but it is very Zen in it's cycle of maintaining your own (paying attention) harmonic motion while disrupting the disharmonic motion that people who dont pay attention exude. Walk through the obstacles placed before you. Bruce Lee would often say "do not strike a target, strike through your target". Bruce would have given a masterful Raider shoulder.
Why is this necessary? Well, because we all have common sense. We all know when someone around us is holding us up or causing a traffic jam for others. We even realize in hindsight that we have done that to others. That's fine. If you've done that, you deserved a Raider shoulder. I'm sorry, you did. I'm not above this, by any means. I have literally congratulated people on the fine Raider shoulders they've delivered to me ("good one!" i say). I seriously take No offense at this,.. whatsoever. I messed up. I'm adult enough to admit it. I needed to be taught a lesson about awareness. In turn, I shoulder (ha ha) the task of returning the favor to others who are caught up in their own heads when they should be paying attention to what they're doing. Your day should not be disrupted by the self-involvement of others. You shouldn't be dodging out of the way of people. You have your own space and agenda. Respect it enough to maintain it.
For example:
- when a bottleneck of people form so that opposing traffic can only pass eachother one at a time in either direction BUT two conversing people coming at you STILL insist on walking side by side... you definitely have to give a Raider shoulder to the one nearest you.
- when you're walking down the street and someone, or a group of people, just stop. right in front of you. without considering who might be walking right behind them... rrring-rrring ... who's there? Raider-shoulder!!
- when a group of three or more people walk side by side and you're walking at them... gaze straight through them.. Raider shoulder if needed (often they'll part to let you through... if they dont - bon apetit! deeelicious Raider shoulder!)
- when you've been holding a door open for people to enter a building and as you go to enter after them, some corporate meathead on a cellphone tries to barrel out of the building without a look or word of thanks for holding the door open... 'Ello Gov'Nah! Raida' shoulda' fo' ya'!!
- when people crowd a subway train door and dont let people off? Ohh there's a whole lotta Raider shoulder about to be dished out!

Am I describing some sort of individual, vigilante justice? maybe. Is it my job to teach people lessons? well... probably not. Am I suggesting we create an almost 'fight-club' type atmosphere by suggesting that everyone should take personal responsibility for enforcing the rules of public common sense and then accept accountability for when you've broken those rules, accident or not? why yes, it would seem that I am. Is asking questions and then answering them myself annoying? You bet it is. Will I stop? probably not. Why not? dont know... kinda dont feel like it. Ok, really, ...am I done now? ........yes.

Think about it. How many times in life can you exact miniscule amounts of justice on the dumb people around you? I mean, really. These are not things you can do in a car... not without getting your insurance company or the police involved at least. You cant punch your boss in the neck for being an idiot. You cant reach across a counter and backhand a cocky salesclerk. You cant slap the cigars out the mouth's of yuppies. You just cant. I know you want to. I feel your pain. I share it. Trust me.
I know this all comes off with an aire of condescension but honestly, that is part of it. it has to be part of it. You are doing something right. And someone else is doing something wrong. Need an official mandate? Fine. I hereby deputize you as autonomous instruments of justice in the interest of maintaining order. Vigilantes dole out justice, that's what they do. If I were advocating knocking people to the ground or punching people in the kidneys, sure.. I'd be crazy, worthy of being locked up. I'm talking about a simple shoulder bump. A not-too-hard and not-too-weak reminder to the self-involved that their self-involvement burdens others. What I'm advocating is turning your back on timidity. "Do something about it" when saying "excuse me" isn't enough. "Do something" instead of doing nothing. Do it so you dont go home and bitch about what you could have done or could have said to some rude person. Think about how much better it will feel to go home and tell a friend or loved one about a nice hit you laid down on some idiot who blocked the heavy flow of exiting traffic so he could light a cigarette while still inside the building.
Tell a tale of how you stood up for yourself. How you may have added to the global common sense of the people around you. How maybe one person will be a little more aware the next time and not stop to tie their shoes in the middle of a crowded street.
There are varying degrees of the strength of the Raider hits you should be delivering, of course. And different strengths for different offenders. Mean old ladies might need a slight nudge - you really dont want to be the person everyone's staring at for knocking an old lady down. Try not to lay hits on children either - generally, your shoulders will be above their head height anyway. Basically, make the punishment fit the crime. Also, dont Raider shoulder roving gangs of hooligans.... or psychotic, crazy people. I haven't had reason to try, but I'm gonna guess that it'd be a good idea to not Raider shoulder the police. or body builders. what about people with knives? good, you're catching on - off limits. safety first.
If you're not using common sense with who you Raider shoulder... well... maybe you need a Raider shoulder. chances are, if you Raider shoulder inappropriately, you'll be lucky to get off with just a shoulder back.
In the right hands and used properly, the Raider shoulder will be your friend. It will love and protect you. It will instill a feeling of self-reliance and assuredness. It will administer small bits of justice in small enough doses to small time offenders. It will make your food taste better and your hair luxuriously soft.

One last point. or three. Once you Raider shoulder, never look back. always smile to yourself as you walk away. never apologize (unless you accidentally shouldered too hard to fit the 'crime'). You will feel better, they will have learned a lesson .. . . or not. in which case, someone else will teach them again, later.

And lastly - use your shoulders for good, never for evil.

Thursday, January 13, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
DMChronicles -
(to a tech at MCI) - "they laugh at me here, the way I talk. like I'm talkin' to a deaf person or retarded"

BLOG ENTRY
Super Size Me
if you eat fast food, at all, ever - see Super Size Me
if you have kids, or plan to, ever - see Super Size Me
if you teach kids, please.. - see Super Size Me
*and please oh-god-please.. make them see Super Size Me
if you're watching your weight, or have, ever - see Super Size Me
if you eat food at all, ever - see Super Size Me
in fact.... just see Super Size Me

in other movies-I've-seen news:
¤ i think.... that Elizabeth and I are in the background of the first Joe's pizza scene in Spiderman 2 Elizabeth's in a burgundy jacket & I'm in a white jacket. I know for a fact that we saw that scene being filmed.
¤ Shaolin Soccer is most, most excellent. hilarious and visually stylistic. there's a few scenes though where it's Airplane humor will make you want to kill yourself. be warned.
¤ Anchorman is so damn funny it hurts. Will Ferrell is walking genius.
¤ Hero is no Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
¤ Elf is appropriate movie watching material, any time of year.
¤ Shaun of the Dead is without a doubt one of the best movies I've seen in a year or more.
¤ as is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind


Wednesday, January 19, 2005
JOURNAL ENTRY
Cold, cold, cold. finally. but no snow. No. freakin'. snow.
how cold? below zero with the windchill. 9° without windchill, but c'mon, unless you're standing in an elevator shaft, there's windchill everywhere.
So what's the point of all this cold without snow? aside from the fact that people look so darned cute all bundled up in heavy jackets with furry hoods, colorful scarves, leather gloves and mittens, I'd say there's no point. No one goes out much it seems, except to coffee shops that get overcrowded and loud, kinda defeating the whole purpose of "reading at a coffee shop", right? right. I'm glad you agree. What about skiing? I dont ski. Ice skating? ehhh... no. thanks for asking though... it's more of a group activity. or for couples.
So when it comes down to it, a winter without snow is.. well.... it's an absolute bore beyond compare. If it were snowing, I could and would easily entertain myself with walks in it. Maybe an occassional snowball throw at stop signs or SUV's. Even just sitting on a bench or chair in the middle of a pristine, snowy field, reading, would be great. (I did actually do that a few days ago, at Bryant Park, though it wasn't actively snowing at the time, snow was all over the field)
So without much to do, I thank the gods for the company of kittens who in all honesty, have been doing a marvelous job of entertaining me, without much effort on my part. A plastic, bendy stick with a string leading to a tassle of leather pieces provides inexhaustible hours of play. That, mixed with chase-and-tackle runs up & down the hallway, through the living room, up & over my bed then back the other way is enough to make anyone smile. or scream. They sooo want to be tigers or mountain lions, it's ridiculous.

mid-post script - I am so awesome. I am. it's true. I talk about how there's no snow and what starts happening? no, not 'rain'. seriously, that's your guess??? guess again. Yess! snow! and now I hear from the office ladies that this is just the beginning - "we're gonna get hit big this weekend" says DM.
Bring. It. ON.

JOURNAL ENTRY
In other news:
¤ On Saturday, I shaved my head for the first time, ever. I hadn't initiially intended to - I'd tried out the buzz-cutter on it's lowest level, which... umm... ended up being so short that I figured I might as well go all the way with it, or I maybe never would. So I did.
Wow. it is quite the experience. Even with the M3 battery powered razor (which I swear by and recommend highly) shaving one's head is a substantially scary ordeal involving a necessary balance of wanting to be thorough and wanting to not slice your head open. It's ... a strange feeling, to say the least. The ingrained self-defense mechanism to do no bodily harm to yourself stands in the face of such an obvious flirtation with danger. Having said that.... ... it's also kinda fun.
and then your head is shiney!
And then... days later... prickly-sticky. like you wouldn' believe. like sandpaper. as in, it's difficult to put on beanie hats or sweater hoods. very sticky. almost frustratingly so. but still.... kinda fun. Basically, I've just been having fun with non-style hair styles since cutting off the long hair. It's -still- amazingly liberating... I wish I'd have cut the long hair years ago. Sadly, I did not take any pictures so I'm guessing I will shave it at least once more to get some pics. maybe this weekend.
¤ I'll be in Irvine in February for my mom's wake. Well... "memorial service" is what I was told it was. I wish it were an Irish style wake, full of tipsy laughter and joyous rememberance. Somehow I think it'll be more on the sad, lamenting side. Hmm. I may have to do something about that.
¤ There are film trucks all up & down Whitehall Street in front of my office building. The actor's trailers have about 12 doors on them, the only two with plastic placards printed with character names (as opposed to the handwritten ones you see for the lesser characters) say: Lucy and Desi. my guess is that they're not making some sort of I Love Lucy movie but that they name the lead actor and actress "Lucy" and "Desi" for fun. or to not give away what the movie is to passerby's. OR - and this may be too clever, even for them, Lucy and Desi are the producers/directors AND the lead actor/actress ala Alec Baldwin & Kim Bassinger or some other acting/producing duo like that.

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¤ In tv news (since I'm inside too often these days) - Battlestar Galactica is back on the air and flippin' amaaaazingly good. If you saw the miniseries last year or even if you didn't... watch it. LOST is also quite, quite good. Very well written and everyone on the damn island is droolingly beautiful... I'm convinced the name of the show is actually short for Lost Island of Super Good Looking People. I haven't seen it yet but Strange Love looks hilariously addictive - Flava Flav and Brigette Nielson?? dating eachother?? yes, please. Significant Others may be the best show ever made. I found out after having watched a few of them that it's mostly improvised - which would make the actors Absolute Geniuses. Scrubs, as it always has, makes me cry laughing at least once per episode.