Vermont is Forever

We went to our niece’s graduation on Sunday. Had a great meal in N. Adams at Mass MOCA. Go eat there, total slow food thing: Gramercy Bistro. Best meal in weeks.

Sunday was the graduation at Marlboro College in Vermont. You know, it’s hard to graduate. Life nipped. I couldn’t wait to get out of college. I ran up a tree trunk sideways after my last final. I was so happy to no longer have to do assignments of any kind.

But after you graduate, the world does get slippery. You’ve been in school since you were five years old and now, suddenly, you are supposed to know how to live this whole new life? No wonder people go insane at this age.

Big time of transition.

But some things are eternal. Like nature. And staying at this farm house in Vermont is really what one wants to do if one wants that. Thrills the young, medium or old soul to the core.

Mountains from the farmhouse. Not a single manmade thing in site.



Old Stone fencepost, no longer in use.



Lilacs. Yes. Eternally grateful.



The Barn.



And what likes to live in barns (for the rodent treats)?
Milk Snakes.



What a face!

Another Little Way to Save Your Computer From Viral Damnation

On a PC, open Adobe Reader. Click Edit>>Preferences. Select Trust Manager from the menu on the left. Look for the PDF File Attachments heading. Uncheck the box labeled, "Allow opening of non-PDF file attachments with external applications." Click OK.

That is is, it is fast and easy to fix.

This will "block" any malware viruses that could be included in pdf files that are sent around.

Similar in Mac.

Guys---I'm just trying to save you time. Better to do this thing now then to wake up in a Koobface nightmare later.

Yours in Hard-Drive purity,

Don

Late Night It Is

There’s this thing I have had to face for about sixteen years. I stay up late. And then I sleep in. And I feel guilty. I usually sleep eight or eight and a half hours. The rest of the day is pretty much busy. But I get to bed so late and it’s supposed to be sort of bad for you. And sometimes, not being in synch with the sun, you end up with problems.

Why do I do it?

It’s simple. Because during the day it’s nothing but people people everywhere. Calling. Texting. Emailing. Throwing rocks through my window with notes attached. It’s completely fantastic and I would not want it to be any other way.

But when you’re a writer, you need time when you are completely alone and quiet. I find the only time of day for such a thing is after midnight. (I know, some people get up at 6 AM and write for a few hours before the day begins. I don’t even understand what it is to be an organism at that time of day.)

So, I get my four hours in at the end. After all the calls and meetings and shenanigans. After the pork chops. After the one or two glasses of wine followed by the three or four cups of tea with just one aching tea bag. After the exercise that never happened. After the bills. After the cleaning. After the facebooking. After the paper. After the emails. After the show. After the whole damn shebang.

Living is very important. Writing comes second. If writing came first, I bet I would not have much to write about.

They Say

In your wiring, you either lean more toward autism or schizophrenia. Apparently, there’s a choice here (or a condition here). Based on my flights of internal dialogue, the ability to feel anything as if it happened yesterday and a hint of paranoia I believe I am more schizophrenic than autistic. For me, human interactions become larger and last longer than they actually are whereas someone who leans more toward autism the reverse would be true.

How do you lean?

The Neanderthal is Back

Hello friends. No, I wasn’t in my cave painting, I was traveling. The blog entries grew fewer. People stood on their digital stoops waiting yet nothing arrived. Forgive me.

But I am back! And more Neanderthal than ever!

I love that we Human Beings interloped with the Neanderthals and that anywhere between 1 and 4 percent of my Euro (or Asian) DNA is Neanderthal. I am sure I am more like 4 percent. You can sort of smell it on me.

In case you have not been reading about it, they have discovered, by comparing DNA, that earlier humans had sexual relations with Neanderthals. So here we are.

I wonder what those sexual relations were like. Were Neanderthals invited over to Cro-Magnon houses for truffles and sherry and the next thing you know, someone’s in the upper cave making the two different beasts with two different backs?

Or was it something much less dignified? Like inter sub-species rape? And these rapes went in either specie direction depending upon size and fleetness? It remains a mystery. Though, one hopes in the future that DNA shows markings of all history to its minutest detail. That would be great. “According to this DNA, his great-great grandfather ate three potatoes three days before his death, listened too much to Puccini (when he should have been listening to his own heart) and rarely bathed.”

I love my inner Neanderthal. I feel him. He is the loser who somehow won.

 

Blogger's Weekend

I’m a bit on holiday. Are you? There is something about just letting it go and such. Pressure: nah.

Pay Attention

The longer you wait, the longer it takes. But what is interesting is---you have to wait for some things and not push. So one figures out when to wait, when to take action, when to rest and let it firm up, when to go full steam ahead. It’s good to pay attention to all that.

Well Well Well, Or...

BP: Better Pollution

Friends, it is cheap to keep doing the same thing, we all know this. It is expensive to change. And people are so naturally cheap. (What, give up my McMansion so a bunch of people can have clean air and water? Fuck you man.)

Even after this clean up, how many more cleanups will we have to do before we get over this oil thing? Think forward, friends. I know, I know, the sun, the wind, a joke, right? Not really. They’re forever. And they don’t cover the ducks and beaches with grease.

Why can’t we have less now and more later?


 

Hi Friends

I simply want to say this at this time. I love all people no matter what color they are or where they come from. I mean, I have this super fucking WASP boyfriend with a ginger beard and ridiculously blue eyes and I think it’s lovely and all, but really, it’s only because the neighbor boy growing up looked like that and I was imprinted. Boys are weird. We are sexually told what’s what at a young age. I am just so grateful mine had nothing to do with a spatula.

But forgetting sex and love and imprinting, I think everyone is so lovely and beautiful and I don’t care if you crawl across the Sonora Desert, come on in. Do what you must. I know I do. Give it a try. If they deport you, well, they deport you, but in the meantime, they might give you a Green Card because they will be handing them out, and maybe you can get your hands on one of those.

I have been to Mexico many times. And I do think the United States has more to offer in the opportunity department. So if you want to come here for that, I completely understand. Just work, keep your nose clean, educate those kids, don’t throw garbage on your lawn, keep the radio down and rock to it. At least, that’s my preference.

Do what you must. I would do exactly what you are doing if I was in your shoes. Maybe the U.S. will keep an eye on all this and make it a nicer transition for you. Maybe not. But know that I am so glad you are here. It’s so interesting.

New York Is

Sometimes when I walk these streets while listening to all the sirens and the honking, I witness people from all walks of life dressed in their chosen socio-economic drag in order to solidify their place in this concrete pile of a city, some of them who only know the word Fuck, some of them with frozen faces of hostile greed, many of them bewildered and in various states of urban desire, I come to the conclusion that this big apple of a town is just like Colonial Williamsburg and the people in it are just acting their parts for the entertainment pleasure of the tourists.

 

Tonight's Blog is Brought to You by Nyquil

 

Walking Makes You Think

Hiding out in my apartment as the pollen count climbs to ten-zswadrillion particles per milliliter, one’s mind slows down.

There is something about walking outside that really shakes things up. You get the new ideas, the new connections. It makes you understand that there is really almost never a reason to sit-and-think. In fact, sitting and thinking probably brings you tired answers. Being engaged in activity is zippy and gives rise to original thought, at least for me.

Also, talking to others.

Taking a shower.

In fact, anything in the bathroom seems to give rise to new ideas.

Drugs and booze do this, too---but you don’t want to rely on that.

Sitting in a different spot can help. Although it can be scary.

It is strange when the pollen takes over. I have no choice but to respect Momma Nature when this is going on. (And mold in October on the leaves). It always gives me a different perspective and a slightly different way of thinking.

I love trees so much. Apparently, they planted too many of just a few types in cities, this is why people are more allergic than ever.

Like anyone else with a handicap, I experience limitation. But luckily it is seasonal. But it makes you think about thinking. Maybe here is the gratitude: all things that change you for better or for worse do something to your personality. And maybe that’s not a bad thing. Slowing down is interesting. But I do prefer my faster thoughts.

Promises Promises

So many reviews of Promises Promises out there, none of them great. There seems to be a feeling that the show is lacking in wattage. I have to say, I thought the proceedings were quite lively, the design quite beautiful and the acting and singing, for the most part, quite wonderful. What is it with critics? I guess they have a preconceived notion about how things should go. My biggest beef was that Sean Hayes didn't sing all that well---but no one else shared my opinion, so it was probably just jealousy on my part, having never starred in a Broadway play or nuttin. Ms. Chenoweth sang amazingly and yes, she was a bit long in the toothies to be up there as the ingenue. Whatever.

It's always good to hear Burt Bacharach live. And it was fun to go to opening night, Neil Simon and Burt up on stage for the curtain call, the apres party at The Plaza Hotel, star studded in a very homey way, people yacking and mingling and eating and drinking.

Go see the play. It's schnazzy. And the opening scene of Act II is so funny, a rough pickup on Christmas Eve, it is worth the price of admission. Brilliant.

But back to the party.

I realized something about New York City last night. It really is colonial Williamsburg. All tarted up in its special way and people acting accordingly to make it seem authentic. The rococo style of the grand ballroom of the Plaza is so silly. Our good friend Chrissy calls the style, "Hungarian Whorehouse."


 

New Muslim Target

We've been researching neighborhoods in New York. Went down to northern Battery Park City which calls itself Tribeca. We walked by the new World Trade Center iron going up. This is the new single tower they are building to replace the two towers that pancaked into a cloud after those Isalmic lunatics destroyed them with their planes they hijacked.

This construction looks solid and old fashioned to me. Good luck.

 

More Volcanic Activity

I have a play that is in development here in New York. It is called A GOOD SMOKE. New York producers like to have readings, lots of them.

We put together a reading starring a couple of Broadway actors. But one of them is in a show right now, La Cage aux Folles. But wait. That pesky volcano spurted more lava my way.

Many of the London producers and the legendary Jerry Herman were stuck in New York when they should have been in London, southeast of Iceland and unfortunately shrouded in ash.

They had nothing to do so they decided to call a special rehearsal and notes session for La Cage and so my actor who was free today was plucked away from me by bored volcano victims.

But luckily, my grand reading producer, KS, jumped right up there and took the role and he was brilliant. It was like a modern Mother Earth plot of All About Eve.

But with a happier ending.

KS was brill. The day was an enjoyable success. Though I did tuck my bunchy button down shirt into my underwear to keep it smooth and in place and after everyone had left, Adam pointed to my lower back and said, “Did you know the band of your underwear is showing in the back?”

Which, of course, had nothing to do with the volcano.

Public Service Announcement

I just have to write it every couple of months for all my Open Trenchers to Read:

1)Update your anti-virus software and do a full scan.

2)Go into your web browser under Internet Options and Delete your history, cookies, etc.

3)BACK UP YOUR DAMN HARD DRIVE. Summer’s coming. Electrical storms are near. Volcanoes are erupting. Bunnies are chewing everything. Back it up. Pictures, Music, Videos, Web faves, Data bases, Everything.

Volcanic Panic

While walking back to my apartment on this beautiful clear sky evening, I saw two men talking, one was tall and lost and sounded and looked German, the other one was an average height Queens guy. The German was asking for help and the Queens guy didn’t understand him, got frustrated and fled. I decided to turn around and help…Hell, I took one semester of German.

I asked the guy what language he spoke and he said German and I said, “Ich kanne ein bichen Deutsche sprechen.” After that he spoke rapidly and with some distress and I didn’t understand a word he said, unless he massacred a little English, which he did. Something about his son in Miami. Then, he showed me his cell phone and was asking if the number displayed was a Miami number. His son lives in Miami. This man had just left Miami, “Where it was nice and warm and the people were nice.” He was unhappy with being in New York. Had no plans to be here. And he asked me three different times if, “This is Chelsea.” I said, sadly, “No. Queens.”

He was staying in an apartment in our building with two women with a small common area, which distressed him. Sounds like they got on some sort of help-and-we’ll-give-you-cash list by some airline. We do not live far from LaGuardia. We are also close-ish to JFK.

So this German guy (from Frankfurt) left his son in Miami, flew to New York and was on his way to Frankfurt when the plane turned around and dropped him back at the airport. Volcanic ash trouble.

But I still did not understand what he wanted. At first, I thought his son was on some sort of lam and this man was trying to figure out, by looking at the area codes, where his son was hiding. But that was not the case as I realized not only had he been to Miami looking for his son, but he actually had been with his son. But what was the deal about this Miami phone number? Basically, it was all about this area code problem and I was trying to look up the area codes on my cell phone web browser but my not-state-of-the-art Samsung Blackjack phone had trouble, so clearly we needed to get to a computer so I could check out this area code, though my phone did show on a googled site, for a second, that it was Miami. But we needed confirmation even though I had no idea why.

So I invited Mr. Deutschland up to my apartment. He was Euro-polite and did not want to intrude and also maybe afraid I was going to chop him up in the bathtub. But we proceeded. I fired up the computer and I looked up the area code and sure enough it was Miami. Then we got to the heart of the trouble. He showed me his phone and he showed me what he had been doing---sometimes placing a 0 in front of the number, sometimes a 1, sometimes a 01. He indicated by deleting numerals that he did not know if these other digits should be there in order to make the dialing go through. Ah! He needed to stop all that. So by miming, I told him to delete the 0 and the 1 and just dial with the area code and phone number and that would work. (Attention all international travelers. Usually when you go to another country your cell phone gets zapped into the local cell system. So dial as if you live there. When in Rome…)

Anyway, he dialed just the area code and phone number and started to hear a ring on the other end and was pleasantly surprised. His son answered, the German language flew, I got every thirtieth word…and I started putting away the day’s stuff, mail, paper, etc. Clearly, there was much talk about flugs, which are flights or planes. His son and he were figuring it all out. The deal: This man had just been in Miami with his son, had left Miami to fly through NYC to go to Frankfurt, came here, got stuck here, got stuck in a small apartment, and wanted to get the hell out of here but could not and so he had to speak to his son in Miami, using the right phone number, who is fluent in German and English to take care of all this.

In the middle of his German conversation on the phone, he shook my hand so as to say goodbye and Danke. And he was out the door and into the elevator.

Volcanoes. Affecting the streets of Queens.

April List

1. I like to find people on Facebook who share my name. It’s a completely shallow connection, but it is fun.

2. Most people with my name are accountants, bankers, insurance men with MBA’s. I see a bit of music in there, too.

3. This spring has been beautiful. The tree flower season is very long.

4. Having a reading this week of my play, A GOOD SMOKE, one mo’ time for the fellas with the producing cred. Development. They call it that. I’m open.

5. Obama is still crafty.

6. The United States is simply changing. Well, I think it is. I remember when Reagan was first elected. I felt like I was hit in the face with a skillet.

7. There are lots of skillets. So get ready.

8. If France is so great, why don’t I live there?

9. Why on earth must I buy a new cell phone every two years?

10. To be alive is pretty simple. You just have to pay attention. And when people try to convince you to not pay attention, pay attention to that.

My Republican Friends

I have Republican friends. It’s funny!

What I like about all of them, and I do mean all of them, is they have this wry detachment about the human condition. And why not?

I mean, you might as well consider yourself separate from the crowd because humanity is, ultimately, a big frigging mess.

We all see the rare outstanding things human beings do and we applaud. Great for us! But most actions we witness are simply common. And much human discourse is nothing special, at best, or really stupid and harmful at the worst. So why not have wry detachment and say, “Fuck it! I just want to take care of my own time, my own stack of cash? Okay? Take care of the military and the roads and just leave me alone with all those other people I do not want to have anything to do with. Government, go away, I can take care of myself, and take all those needy frigging brown people with you.”

And I kind of agree. I grew up in a comfy suburb. My life has been weirdly stressful but also incredibly easy.

So I like my Republicans. They are cynical and funny and you can still make an insensitive off-color joke with them and they laugh and no one feels bad for having had a good laugh at someone else’s expense.

Cool. Sure. People are mean. But they don’t really mean it.

But I still want universal health care for all, including all illegal immigrants, fantastic free education for all, through graduate school, extreme government oversight over the markets, with, yes, a world government putting the brakes on things whenever possible.

So I am, of course, a liberal. But I still like to laugh with my harsh, hard working, humorous Republican friends. But we all know my collectivey-touchy-I-love-everyone-man idealistic soul is a rock of forever. But we all get along, my Repubs and me. It isn’t that hard.

Not to be all narcissistic, but why can’t congress do this, too? Everyone has become way too serious and combative. Does anyone laugh at themselves, the human condition, any of it anymore? I believe it is time to get friendly. Stop being so serious about your point of view. It’s only your point of view and you’re just one person and you’re not right, you’re just part of being right. It’s collective, man. But that’s my point of view. Not to button this thing up…

Obama Giving a Gay Hoot

I do not want to write about Obama giving directive health care rights to gay people. But I guess I have to.

Sort of.

Thank you.

I am so tired of it all. A week or so ago, I blogged about incremental change being just fine. And I believe, functionally, it is still the way to go.

However, this slog is a long one. And I will be so old before it is close to over.

Why are rights not automatic?

We keep moving.

Obama Forward

This guy is moving fast. From Health Care to Securing Nukes, he has a To Do list and he expects people to fall in line. And they do.

If you are a registered Democrat and/or Obama supporter, do you keep getting all the emails of the videos of President Obama doing this and that, selling his line, letting you know what it’s all about? Even I, a supporter, feel like I am being bombarded by a wild propaganda machine. It is smart. The administration, along with the sympathetic left-wing media elite, have this country in a choke hold. The opposing tea party, its voice shrinking into racist grumbling, can barely be heard under the Center-Lefty din. “What’s that noise? Three of the last little deranged leftover tea children acting up in the school yard over being afraid to share their dollies with anyone else?” Cannot compare. Might is making right. Lefty might.

Which is to say, I am disgusted. Sure, it is pleasurable that “my side” is winning right now. But in order for that to happen, my president has to present himself as a school teacher/car salesman? To teach and to sell?

What is the other way? There must be one? Maybe not.

I was reading Marx quotes today. They say Marx got a few things wrong but he leaves me as academically excited in my brain as other brilliant philosopher circus barkers with a well thought out point of view crossed with the witty Mark Twain. It sounds and feels so great, all that. I love totalitarianism, especially when it is witty. It is slicing and bold. It attempts to slash and burn the past in order to build Utopia. It comes from a wonderful, positive impulse. But then you need a dark plan for its administration. Always the trouble.

I am not saying Obama is a Marxist or a Utopian or a man with a dark plan. But he is tricky and he has a biggish plan and he is following through, witty and purposeful. The Right is clearly annoyed by all this in addition to opposing what he is selling. How dare he get the upper hand? Because he has the talent for it. In recent memory I cannot think of a Republican as clever and smooth as our man. Rove had a certain something, but it sure was not smooth. Obama is a star, bigger than our first black president, Clinton. I am sure these tea party people want to lynch him.

To Live

So with the recession and the mid-life career strategizing and everything else, it has become clear that we need better living arrangements in New York or else we are going to end up killing each other out here in Queens in this tiny apartment.

Using the livability calculator, one ends up in Park Slope. Where do you end up?

The Livability Calculator

The calculator was found in this article:

Most Livable Neighborhoods in New York

Of course, all I want is my yellow California bungalow, my swarm of upbeat California friends and my old dog back.

But until that can be arranged, we need to figure this out.

New York is an odd place. Because I grew up very close to the city, it always seems so past tense to me. It is hard to feel like this is the present. Not to mention the strange way that people clump into their old timey groups---socioeconomically, creatively, ethnically, you name it. Just seems so frigging old world to me. Why are people still doing this?

In addition, as I have stated, the idea of having a house in the country in order to get your fix of greenery seems outsized and downright annoying. Though a car is prudent. I never feel more normal than when I am banging over that Triborough Bridge to the mainland of the United States in search of suburbia, woods, streams, small towns, mountains, apples, what-have-you.

The geography of the east coast is simply fantastic---because of all these chunks of crazy shaped landmasses sticking into the Atlantic in all sorts of directions. You cannot get bored looking at the maps, even.

But something sticks in my craw here. It is the old world thing. I am not much for separation-identity-history. I am more of a futurist. And this place feels much attached to the past.

I even experience Paris as being more in than present than this place.

Over time, I will figure out if it is me or if it is the city or, most likely, the combination.

One does want to break through this feeling.

Fun As Hell

I have been thinking about having fun lately. I don’t know what it is. Oh yes I do! It’s the weather. It is so nice out these days with cherry blossoms everywhere, you just want to scream with delight.

But instead, since screaming and being delighted are both a bit fagotz, I go on these walks to both increase the joy and dissipate it all at once. I have been attempting to write during the day instead of the vampire shift and when I am done, I reward myself with a monster walk. It feels so right.

But there is something else going on, well, two other things.

One, the economy IS getting better. This decreases anxiety. There is one way out of this economic mess and it is UP. But what about the soon-to-be expansion? I always wonder…but it is probably necessary, a reflection of the constant growth in population. But it scares me. But so what? Okay, so the economy is getting better. I will stop thinking about what that all means except for my present relief.

And I have decided something else. Two. If you are going to be a writer, you will make some big chunks of money here and there in your life with periods of time when the money is not so large. So you better calm down about it.

Calming down means you get to feel for yourself, firsthand, who you really are. And when you are doing that, you cannot help but notice the things that make you happy and so you just have to set aside time to do more of those things. For me, it is very simple: Long walks, playing music, spending time with friends, traveling and going to movies and plays. I mean, you could chuckle with how common that all is. A list like that--it sounds like I am looking for a very average date.

But then I think---there is comfort in being average. I mean, I once enjoyed watching The Preacher’s Wife on a cross country flight. Was it the Ativan? I do not know.

But happiness is underrated, and mostly by the very serious. I have decided I would rather be happy than serious. This may lower others’ opinion of me. But frankly, if I am worried about that then I am an ego-dude and that just makes me unhappy, too.

If it is not fun then it is not for me.

Those Counties Up There

Funny, you get in the car, you drive upstate to check out a bunch of cute towns and you come back and you think, “So what is this second home thing?”

I imagine myself sitting in a redone old house, obsessing on book cases and rugs. Managing Netflix becomes more difficult. And then, clichés be damned---there’s the roof. Always the roof.

I don’t know.

And Dutchess and Columbia Counties ain’t no Napa and Sonoma. Not even close.

Will tool around Litchfield County…but have been there before. Nice houses, an inn or two, nothing else.

Trees. It’s all about the trees. And the kettle ponds. And the brooks. But to go sit there?

Next Fall

Sometimes, you get to see a play on Broadway and there are not movie stars in it and the play is well written, extremely well directed and acted and there is no mention of Greek tragedy or Shakespeare and it is not a remake or a retake on something else, it is a new play, and it is good and you sigh, “Okay, finally.”

Next Fall, if you do not know, deals with the short four year history of a gay couple going back in forth in time between the development of the relationship and a waiting room in a hospital after a car accident.

One guy is an atheist, the other a true praying Christian who feels he will not go to hell, even though he is a gay sinner, because he has accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior. The couple struggles with their opposing world views but not so much that they break up, though they do get close to that. In any event, a careening taxi cab changes things for everyone.

I do not know how timely this play is or if it is the timeliest play of the day. I personally feel this is twenty year old news, but then I realize, shit, it is actually tomorrow’s news. Slow slow rows the boat.

This is one of those lovely success stories where a well established smaller theater company (Naked Angels) gets their play onto the big boards. I hope they make money. I mean, it is absurd what the theater owners charge for rent. But it is not in the hugest theater, the lovely Helen Hayes on 44th, so hopefully they will meet their costs and expectations. Hate to get all businessy about it, but since I am in this dreaded business where 70% of all plays do not make their money back, well, I get concerned.

So, with this I will say this. You could go see this play and you would enjoy it for its smart, comedic yet serious experience. And in doing so, you would be sending a message to the world, “We want to see new plays! We’ll do it! Star free ones! Bring them on!”
And you will get to hear Geoffrey Nauffts’ great natural dialogue and you will get to watch Maddie Corman’s, Sean Dugan’s, Connie Ray’s, Cotter Smith’s, Patrick Breen’s and Patrick Heusinger’s fantastic unforced acting all put together by the wonderful director, Sheryl Kaller. I mean, isn’t that enough? Is it?

Bravo.

 

The Gay Agenda

You know what? I think they might slip in all sorts of gay agenda stuff, our Dems…but I do not believe it will be for marriage. And you know why I think that’s just fine? I will tell you.

Because of Abortion.

I believe that Roe V. Wade did more to calcify the divide between left and right than anything else in this country.

And I think the divide is silly and I am exhausted.

Look, I am pro-choice. And I am pro-Gay-marriage. But let’s face two things. The first is, we really do not know when life begins (though I am still pro-choice). And second, I am against marriage for everyone. I believe states should only recognize domestic partnerships and marriage should be something left for religious outfits.

But until that day (which is probably never), when marriage is off the table, I believe we might just let this gay thing go state by state. At least, that’s what the go-along-to-get-along part of me thinks, while the quiet schemer in me knows that this is the better strategy anyway.

If we go on the real numbers it appears we have to wait for the in-favor number to be about fifty-five percent. Right now it’s at forty-four percent. All growth points toward a majority in the near future. If about three or four more states turn, surely within a few years that national majority will get up to fifty-five percent. When the peanut crunching crowd finally accepts that states have much bigger fish to fry than to worry about same sex couples having the same rights as their straight brothers and sisters, they will give up their resistance to marriage equality. It will help to add just a few more states to the marriage equality roster and then the dominoes fall rationally all the way to Washington D.C.

Pushing for marriage equality in places like Oregon, Washington and New Mexico seem to make a lot of sense. And Nevada. Certainly New Jersey and California. If these six states go, it’s basically a done deal. And if it goes this way, we will not have to listen to the anti-choice type people screaming loud and crazy like they have since ’73.

Which brings me to this---Why do we not make birth control the first thing that is taught on day one of the Seventh Grade? I mean really? I think everyone can agree that abortion is not an easy thing to face, personally, politically, eternally. So why do we not simply get way into birth control? I mean, way way into it? I simply do not understand the resistance. Because we cannot bear the thought of our teenage citizens having sex? But they do in that wheelchair, Blanche, they do!

Cherry Blossoms

It is simply that time of year and you do get sort of freaky about it: The Cherry Blossoms

 

Near the Reservoir

Uncle Charlie

I would like to say goodbye to my Uncle Charlie who died tonight. He was a very cool guy. He was in WWII, though I don’t know what he did. He once popped a balloon of mine with his cigarette.

He was wry and a great friend to my parents. He was earthy and worldly and a rogue.
He had a hard bitten but light hearted bead on life. He was an Irishman with the best of them.

R.I.P. or Have a good time Uncle Charlie.

Recurring Dream: Sex with Bush?

During the Bush administration, I was terrified of this guy. He seemed like an out of control freak to me. And I do not like tension.

So how did my psyche solve this problem?

I had a recurring dream that I was Bush’s advisor. Truly. He would have me down to D.C. from New York…and he liked to call me D.C. since those are my initials. He always had a pet name for everyone.

George had a soft spot. He actually wanted the other side to like him. So he took me on, knowing I was from the other side, but also thinking I was a true moderate who “got him” and what he was trying to do. It might have even been possible to convert me to the neodoxy, but it was better for him to leave me just as I was, part advisor, part spy.

In my dream, Bush was right. I did get him. I could allow my mind to understand his point of view. I was happy to be near his power. And I felt bad for him that no one would ever tell him the truth: that he was actually hated. (And I was one of the few people who could look at him, let him know by my expression that he was hated and that being hated is not an enjoyable experience and that there might be a way out of this.)

But more importantly, I would come up with little ideas to push him away from waging war, toward helping the “homeland” to create jobs, to give people a sense that they could maybe crawl into the middle class.

He liked my ideas. We got along.

And there was a sexual element to it, too. But George and I never talked about it. He acknowledged it in his own way, but he had a country to lead.

 

Facing the Forever

When I was a kid I was mostly alone. It wasn’t because I was ugly or anything. It was because I was shy (truly), bookish (fun), into music (alone), did not like getting hurt (not brave) and I was generally afraid of things. I landed in a coma when I was four (truly) and I think I became afraid of the outdoors because of that. I was stung by a bee and there was no way to know I was allergic before the experience and I went into shock. I recovered, obviously. (I am no longer allergic to bee stings.) But I have this hunch that I was traumatized---this thing happened, I had no control over it, I almost died, I was at a violently impressionable age, and well there it is. Of course, deciding the root of undesirable behavior (my fear of the outdoors and tendency toward aloneness) is caused by some trauma could be a bunch of cod wollop, but in my case it feels like truthy cod wollop. And my father, who is not prone to mythologies did say to me recently, “You weren’t the same after the bee sting.”

But I got over it. But not for a long time and because of that I had a strong relationship with self protection and aloneness.

I remember taking extreme mental note-memories of times when I was completely alone---sitting by the Ramapo River in the woods by a muddy bank at a place where a bunch of us used to sit and smoke, but the group had broken up and no one was friends the way they used to be so I was there, alone, remembering it, wishing it would come back, but it did not.

Or sitting on a leather chair in the clubhouse at our place in the Poconos and my parents were talking with some so-and-so and I was bored but I was also excited because there was a fire going. The fire held my attention. It was very natural. I wanted to remember it.

Then there is this that struck me. I remember walking home from elementary school. I would always walk to school with my brother and the neighbor across the street, always. It took about ten minutes. But on the way home I would often walk alone. I do not remember why, but it might have had something to do with, “School’s out, I’m outta here,” for the others, not so much for me. I remember hating walking home because that was the time when other kids would like to bully you. I was not extensively bullied, but others were and I kind of knew I was next.

About five houses from the school was a standard issue development house with railroad ties to hold up the soil. The ties made terraces and it was well planted. Lots of things that we never had. And I used to stop there, alone, and while other kids were passing by, I would stand there and just stare at the plants and the oak tree and the acorns and the coleus and the junipers and the flowers, all of it. I was a bit put off by the railroad ties, thinking it would be so much better if they were something else, but they weren’t so I came to accept them. But it was the plants that I loved. They were alive. I was alive. They knew it (?) and I knew it and we were so happy together. The kids would walk by and maybe they thought I was weird standing there, alone, staring, but for some reason I knew what I was doing was about the best thing you could do. Somehow, I knew it was powerful and brave to take the chance to enjoy nature, even coiffed suburban nature. And because of that, I knew no one would touch me. And they didn’t. I did not feel less alone. I did feel thrilled by the plants. So maybe that gave me some connection. I knew it was the essence of living.

Today, I walked through Astoria to get some exercise. Here is a lovely flowering ornamental fruit tree. The spirit is lifted so high.

 

A Renovation

Hello friends. I have had a To Do entry in my calendar for months which had a very low priority. But I have taken this rainy evening to give my Blog a face lift. You know, if you don’t attend to things they tend to molder.

I like it. Forgive the AdSense if you are able to. Or click on the ads as often as possible, as it brings me revenue, so they say. But don't click if clicks make you queasy. They do make me sick. I wouldn't do it.

Which brings me to two suggestions:

1) Always do a complete virus scan at least once each week.

And

2) Clear your cookies! I suggest clearing your cookies every single day. This speeds up your computer. To do this in Internet Explorer, go to Tools>Internet Options>General Tab, then, click the delete button in Browsing history. When the box pops up, make sure all the boxes are checked including, naturally, cookies.

In addition, you will delete the history of all that kiddy porn you’ve been surfing. No sense spending time in jail. Of course, you will need to sweep even deeper than that if you are under surveillance.

I am sure it is similar in other browsers.

But back to the blog-lift. I wanted to add some things, to bring on the ads, to make it current with twitter and facebook, etc.

In ten years, won’t Google, Twitter, Facebook and Blogger just be one big thing?

I like a unifying theory, always have. (In the early years, I never understood why Word, Excel, Outlook and Filemaker Pro weren’t just one big lumpy program.)

Enjoy the blog. Come back often. And for those of you who are on the East Coast, what about this endless rain?

The Golden Age

My seriously talented friend in LA continues to amaze me. He’s young and he’s from New England and he can do all sorts of shit…even the technical stuff. Which is amazing. He wrote this musical mockumentary. And it’s eerie and funny and well shot and, you know, completely creative. So, get with it.


Watch The Trailer.

Read About it.

Become a fan.

Feeling Time

Lately, I am experiencing time differently. It goes by so quickly, it is hard to imagine that a day is a full day. It feels like fifteen minutes.

When I drove from New York to Boston last week and back, each leg felt like a few minutes.

Your powers of concentration increase as you get older, it seems. Perhaps what makes time seem so interminable when you are young is that you are so bored. And perhaps you are so bored because you have so little control over what you choose to put your attention on.

As an adult, you pretty much choose what you are doing which makes for a deeper form of engagement. Then, of course, time flies.

I think it is wonderful, but I would love to be bored for a few days, truly bored, and feel time crawl at a snail’s pace. I probably should do it in Costa Rica or Iceland. But then, I would get so involved, it would fly by.

So, maybe Lawrence, Kansas is the thing to do. A Motel 6 with a Denny’s nearby.

Exhausted Blogger Changes his Focus

I love a light rain. An early spring rain is hitting the window panes. And why not?!

We deserve it.

Peaceful, really.

I hope you feel great.

Accept and Adjust

I feel for my friends on the Right. I do. They just feel, in absolute value, like I felt when we invaded Iraq.

But this whole “Repeal and Replace” thing sounds very immature to me. It’s a tantrum.

Why the tantrum?

Move forward. Accept what is happening to you. Like many times before in life, you simply lose. You just do. And then, you pick up from that spot and you adjust.

Why go backward?

This new law is so imperfect. It will not work as it is. It is a starting point and like everything else ON EARTH, it will transmute into something else---like HBO or The Internet.

As I have written, months ago, I do believe this is the thin edge of the wedge that will lead to a single payer system. More and more people will join Medicaid. We will have to increase taxes to pay for it. Eventually, Medicaid will become so large that nothing will be able to compete with it and so there will be a collapse of insurance companies. But is this so bad? All those incredibly savvy business people can then go do something else. The world can always use a bunch of smart, hard working folks in exciting new ventures. Or perhaps one or two insurance companies will end up with most of the market share and they will become the “ATT and Verizon” of healthcare, and well, fine.

The call from the Right, endlessly, is less government. This is no surprise. And I kind of get it. I mean, I would be a libertarian if I were taller, more beautiful, more confident and rich. Then, it would serve me well. But I’m a bit of a stay-at-home, romantic type, easy prey for any strong random enslaver who might come along so I rather not live in a completely free society. The idea of a semi-Nanny-state is appealing to me. It makes me feel cared for, much like I feel when I am on a train and someone else is the conductor and I can just read my book, knowing I will get to my destination with little effort.

I like that.

Why can’t we have some of that in our lives? Must we all be responsible for every single transaction we ever do from now until death? I mean, I really do not mind handing over some of my personal responsibility so that I might be freed up to have a more inward life. This is enjoyable to me.

I like to drive, too. Sometimes, I really like to drive. I like to be in charge. I like to be aggressive. I like to be a frigging wild animal directing my every movement. But when it comes to healthcare? (And what if I am, like, dying? Then, too?)—do I really want to be an aggressive animal around that? Always shopping? Forever haggling? Worrying? Really?

No, I don’t.

Basically, healthcare is a shitty business---your product-service is the care of the human body which is in a state of decay, heading toward death. To turn that into a business has proven to be a horrible thing, especially in the get-rich-or-else atmosphere we've been living in for thirty years. To have the government run it is incredibly burdensome. In the end, fat, uniformed Americans are a losing bunch. This is sad. Is there really any winning with this? It is such a hard call. Something had to give. Pelosi and Reid went hog wild.

I now must suggest to my Republican friends, of which I have many, instead of chanting Repeal and Replace, why not chant Accept and Adjust? Get in on the process. Stop this all-or-nothing Super bowl mentality. Show Democrats some respect for what they have achieved. It is not perfect. Not at all. Yes, taxes will increase, they will. And perhaps government is not the answer. But corporations clearly were not the answer either. (And now, it’s a combo of the two, blech.) I suggest we all exercise a lot, eat very little, stay positive and engaged and meditate on the following idea: "I will be most healthy if I move forward and remain open to new ideas. I trust that we are all moving toward greater wellness."

Stop with the bullying. Calm down with the doomsday paranoia. Get in with the process.

And

Wash your hands.

My Response to College

I haven’t seen my college in over fifteen years. It was strange to see it again. It looked small and empty. Well, it was empty because it was Spring Break.

I do not think you realize how young you are when you go away to school. You think you’re pretty damn mature. But you’re not. You do wild things. You have wacked sex. You smoke too many cigarettes. You compete with your vocabulary (at least I did).

So there I was on campus on Monday---and since I have not had the emotional memory reinforcement that happens when you see a place quite often, I felt pretty open and almost blank. I had specific fact memories, like, “That building is new…that’s where they used to sell the used records…oh, I lived in that dorm freshman year…” But I did not have any big feelings come up, nothing super cozy. I just felt the general feeling of what it was like to be very young and to be very open to anything that life had to offer. It was a positive feeling. I think, overall, I have a positive feeling about Tufts because I was wide open and it was a place where that was encouraged. A good thing, a liberal arts education. But if I had to do it over again? I would have gone to a larger school in the middle of some giant city. By the time I did the junior year in Paris thing, I was completely ready to blow out of that Boston suburb. It was a romantic time. It was exciting. I moved to New York—went back to Boston to visit a couple of times but really, you just gotta keep moving. You need the new.

Which brings me to my hair. My thinning graying hair. I just had to shave it off tonight.

What a List! and Reviews

Friends, this was a big weekend.

1) Healthcare. Love it or hate it---it’s a big deal, a game changer, the thing I have been waiting for (not in this exact form) and, well, we got something through. The Republicans are acting like this is the end of the world. I wonder why Republicans even run for government office since they hate government so much. It’s like--I would never try to get a job in Football. Why do they take jobs in Washington D.C. when they hate the idea of government doing anything? I do not understand it. I am thrilled that Obama got this through. And let’s face it—Nancy Pelosi is a wild animal. All the fears that this is going to hurt the Dems in November are unfounded for two reasons. A) November is a long time away and B) People are going to like this once they get used to the idea. Congratulations. CHANGE has happened. Now the President can focus on jobs. Here he goes.

2)Rain coming.

3)I saw a few things. Here are the small reviews.

Greenberg, a film by Noah Baumbach, is kind of good. I like the LA-ness of it. It shows LA to be a sweet city, which it is. Oddly, LA can be a very tender place. Ben Stiller is enjoyable. This movie isn’t for everyone. You can rent it soon enough, I am sure.


Clybourne Park by Bruce Norris, directed by Pam MacKinnon, is a brilliant play. Too bad it closed today because you really should see it. Smart and hilarious, about the same house in a neighborhood that is turning White to Black in 1959 and now Black to White in 2010. It’s about race, sure, but it’s also about how slow people are to change, ever. Smart smart funny. Two great lines: “Why is a tampon like a White woman? Because they’re both stuck up cunts.” And “What’s long and hard on a black man? The First Grade.” No one comes out unscathed. Bruce Norris, you’re a dog! If this goes to Broadway, or shows up at a regional theater near you, go see it. It’s a satire, certainly, but with a great amount of flesh and blood.


The Temperamentals, by Jon Marans, is a bit of an academic slog through the machinations of The Mattachine Society, the first gay political organization in the United States formed in the late 1940’s. It was interesting, but very presentational—“Then this happened, then that happened, etc.” Never my favorite form for a play. But you have to give it to these guys---they put their necks out there, in Los Angeles, forging the first group for the rights of gay people. So, you know, hats (and sometimes frilly ones at that) off to The Mattachine Society and Jon Marans and everyone involved in the production, especially the very talented and eyeful Michael Urie from Ugly Betty.

4)Heading to Boston tomorrow for an overnighter to show Tufts to one of my oldest friends’ daughter. Okay, we’re old now. Fine. Great school. I enjoyed it. Kind of like if Dartmouth and B.U. had a baby together.

5)People in Los Angeles are not as pushy and greedy as New Yorkers because they are already in a more Garden-of-Eden setting. Why push when you’re already there?

6)New York is covered with daffodils. Lovely.

7)Piss. It warms up in New York and you start to smell the piss.

8)I need a haircut, like a serious one.

9)I haven’t had a drink or any weed in three weeks. It’s incredible. I’ve lost weight and my head is very clear. Once in a while I get a little blue and I think, “Sure wouldn’t mind a drink or something—“ but then, it passes and there I am. Just decided to stop for thirty days. Wanted to hit the reset button. It was a hard winter and wine is cheap in Queens. It’s really not a Lent thing. But maybe it should be even though I don’t care about Lent. Maybe we should do Lent things like two or three times every year. Gives you perspective. Call it Lentil. I love lentils.

10)I wish all my friends a very healthy mind and body. There is going to be so much more attack from the Right about this healthcare thing. I have friends on the Right, oh yes I do. And I keep asking them to calm down. We Lefties got through the Iraq War, they can get through a little bit o’ Health Care for all. It’s all going to be fine. When did the United States of America become such a land-o-drama-queens? The good news for everyone? That pendulum just keeps swinging. As of the last fifty years, the Republicans take care of the wars and the Democrats take care of the domestic issues. This is how we do it and apparently, both things need attention. As for me, I look forward to a world with many fewer wars and many fewer Republicans. Unless, of course, these Republicans are really interesting thinkers, give lots of money to the arts and never vote.

Just Waiting

I want this health care bill to pass. However, I have to NOT focus on it. We must wait.
I am, optimistically, in a state of trust.

And if it passes and we move forward, great.

But if we don’t pass it, that might be fine, too…because so many people will go uninsured, the government will have no choice but to pass universal health care. And maybe that’s the best thing that could happen.

If it does not pass, in order to speed things up I do believe the best thing for everyone to do will be to simply stop paying for health insurance, or to opt out of the plan provided by your employer. To simply say, “No to health care,” as it is. Chances are, we’ll get universal coverage after that.

I Happened Upon the Parade

Call it the Luck of the Irish, I happened upon the St. Patrick's Day Parade today on Fifth Avenue. I was on the Upper East Side, heading over to the park when, Faith and Begorrah, there it was!

It was almost six o'clock. I found that to be sort of strange. But I guess they do it toward the end of the day if it's during the week. I called me Da and wished him a good one.

This country is loaded with the Irish, we just have to celebrate. And though to look at me you'd never know I was 3/8 Irish, the truth is I am and I love the whole idea.

I especially love the bagpipes. Joyful and sad at once? Yes, that's Ireland.

Hope you had a big dish of corned beef and cabbage. We ate at an Italian restaurant and saw the play A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Angela Lansbury. Diverting but not essential.

May the wind always be at your back...etc., etc.

 

Happy Irish Flags

 

Announcement

I believe in V.A.T.

Value Added Tax

Really?

There is a quote, and I will have to paraphrase. It was something Jackie Coogan said after he was cast as Uncle Fester on The Adam's Family. For those who do not know, Jackie Coogan was a child star in the 20's. He had the largest box office draw of the era. Anyway, he was that, and then later on, he was cast as Uncle Fester. And when he got the role, in a state of shamed exasperation he said, "I was the most beautiful child in America. Now, I'm a hideous monster."

I brought this up to Adam, because you know how you get when you're in your forties and you're just feeling fucking puffy-- and he said, "Well, you weren't the cutest child but you also aren't a hideous monster."

Oh, to be in the middle, surrounded by sane people...

And at almost five years old, I could guess my future and all I could say was, "Really?"

 

Happy 70th Birthday to my Mother

We came to Florida this weekend to celebrate my mother's 70th Birthday. It was completely enjoyable. Janet Rita Porcello Cummings. Born in 1940. Now, 70 years old. Can you imagine? This picture is from before I was born.

Spent the weekend scanning every old picture I could get my hands on, watched the ancient home movies (partially water damaged. Friends---transfer your stuff to DVD today)...and just had a generally enjoyable time in very pleasant weather.

I was talking to Adam and I said, "Life is incredible, but time passing is very sad to me."

He does not have that experience.

Probably because I'm Irish--

Happy Birthday Mom.

 

I Remember the Blender

Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, and I are traveling to Florida in the morning to spend a longish weekend with my parents for my mother’s 70th birthday.

I remember when my mother turned 29 and we all chipped in and bought her a blender. Chop, liquefy, stir, etc.—those colorful buttons.

I thought it was weird. It felt so impersonal. Like, why would anyone want a blender for their birthday? Also, it was the first blender we ever had, so I was kind of excited. But it did seem like the wrong gift at the wrong time.

We had it for years.

I often think of my mother’s 29th birthday whenever March 14 rolls around. We were all so incredibly young. I was just getting a little bit of life’s understanding into my head.

What probably stuck most of all was how my mother opened the gift and on some level was disappointed but she put on a cheery response so we would not be disappointed. A very generous thing to do.

This year, we’re giving her money.

The Easter Myth?

 

You see this after three months of hellish winter and you totally begin to believe in the resurrection. There are no atheists in foxholes. There are no nonbelievers in Queens.

Look at gorgeous life slamming through fetid brown death.

I am grateful. Let's rise.

Inwood Hill Park

 

I would have loved to have spotted lynx or fox or black bear. But it was mostly squirrels, dogs and people. This park, if you haven't been, is quite something. It's at the northern tip of Manhattan, the only original forest on the island and it's a mountain of a place. This is where the Harlem River meets the majestic Hudson. Across the rail bridge is The Bronx. That's the Amtrak line to Montreal. The Palisades on the other side of the Hudson River, that's the eastern edge of New Jersey.

Why do I post this? Because I like nature, okay? Okay. Fabulous that this huge park exists.

Veal Oscar

I love the Oscars. I love movies. I am completely unoriginal.

And being a Hollywood person, of sorts, I know some of the people in the audience, and some of the people working there, too. All of it. So it feels like the yearly homecoming, though I admit that is a stretch.

But this year, we watched the broadcast in NEW JERSEY! The damn thing wasn’t over until midnight! How can this be?!

I have memories of my younger days (when they called me Delta Dawn?)—I remember not making it to the end, the best part. You would hear about the winners the next morning. Of course, this was on the east coast, too.

Or is it East Coast?

I have a bit of a German take on Nouns and their Modifiers.

But back to the Oscars. The title of this piece is Veal Oscar because it’s a little bit fun, a non sequitur, certainly (an homage to Steve Martin’s quick wit) and I do eat veal. Sorry, I eat veal, I just do. It’s wrong, but I do it.

Oscars: I don’t care about dresses and things like that. But this event is our American pomp and glamour. It’s our yearly parade of some sort of Royalty. People crave it—something to do with the pecking order. Most of us are Beta dogs and we need the Alphas out there. And in these modern times, since machines are doing most of the work, our Alphas are the graceful, pretty animals who look good doing things. It’s Biology (stop judging it as vapid, you New York Times, you!)—we are doggies.

I do not watch the Grammys or the Emmys. I sometimes catch the Tonys because I like how homespun they are.

But I would never miss the Oscars.

The worst one was when poor Chris Rock hosted a Survivor-style show in 2005, with “contestants” standing on strange far flung platforms and they were basically voted off. Grotesque.

I liked the Oscar shows when they were hosted by Steve Martin, alone, the most.

But tonight, overall, was a fine one. No surprises, really. That strange red-headed producer woman, Elinor Burkett, was a sad case of horrible manners, interrupting the director of the best documentary short. Meds? Low on Meds? Or just plain rough and tumble?

Sandra Bullock, we went to the same acting school, though I think she is a better actor than I ever was. Don’t you? She gave a funny, smart speech. I would give her the award for, “Really a fantastic performance in a movie I don’t think I would ever naturally see unless I was tied down with toothpicks in my eyelids while someone rolled the DVD---unless I had heard how great she was in it and she was and so the Veal Oscar happily goes to spunky, right-on Sandra.”

Oscars---can’t wait ‘til next year.

Wheat and Corn

Change is extremely important and we need it now more than ever.

At one time, there was a need to subsidize farmers so they could get through the lean years. Now, farms are corporate and they do not need help from the government. But the government is slow to change. And the corporate farms act like corporations, naturally, so they only care about the bottom line. And what is cheaper to grow? Rows and rows of Wheat and Corn? Or green, leafy, healthy vegetables?

Okay, there is your answer. And the nation gets fatter and fatter on bread and corn syrup. And the government abets this rotundity. We are basically a nation of hogs eating freshly toasted frozen waffles covered with Log Cabin imitation syrup. The corporations are making money and they are killing us.

Oddly, it’s the worst side of communism. The peasants are being fed by cheap, collective government controlled farms.

But in our case, these government subsidized corporations are keeping people barely alive on grain so they can be enslaved and any extra money the slaves make is used to buy plastic shit from China from which American corporations profit (at least at the retail level) mightily.

Yes, it’s The Matrix.

Vote with your mouth. Stop eating wheat and corn. Steam that spinach. Go for a walk.

Ideas and a mini-Review: The White Ribbon

If you like your German movies oppressive and gorgeous (like I do), you’ll love The White Ribbon. This is the big foreign language movie of the American Oscar Season. It’s a bit heavy handed, but hell, it’s Germany! Just before WWI. Victoriana is giving over to the modern era. The moral code is still based on God and farming, but the modern souls are trying to break out. It’s like Spring Awakening, without the music. The cinematography is outrageously stark. Loved it. Many characters---the baron, the steward, the priest, the doctor, all of them mean. Either they’re berating someone or fingering their daughter. But what has really changed? Lots of weird crimes going on in the town and the adults can’t figure out who the hell is the perpetrator. Could it be the kids?
For my Deutsch Marks, though, I would rent I’m Not Scared. It is also gorgeous, but the story is clearer and the children, yep, they are getting pounded on, too. Plus, it’s Italian. But The White Ribbon is worth seeing if you really love movies that are visually in the top 1% and you have a love for discipline.

On Iraq becoming a democracy: I always thought the Bushies were onto something parading into Iraq for regime change. I mean, sure, have your big wet Neo-con dream. But why lie to us about the WMD in the trucks? It’s still so insulting. Patriarchal monsters, those guys were.

A friend of mine was talking about making cool films, you know, arty shit. I say, fuck arty shit, give me Arty Johnson.

Quote that I want to throw away: I hold onto my disappointment like a lover.

Tea. It’s all about tea right now.

List of Spring

1. There have been well over 125,000 flights canceled so far this year. YAY! Isn’t this Mother Nature’s way of setting things a little bit straight? Less flights, less pollution, less global warming. It’s a homeostasis thing. Momma Nature lives! (Slow Down people. Look at each other.)

2. Google is taking over the planet. Let it. WiFi from Google, coming to you soon.

3. I drink too much. I stopped. I don’t want to think I’m an alcoholic, but if I am, well, I wouldn’t be the first. Imagine that? A writer-drunk. How original. But, I have to say, not drinking is easy, too. It’s the damn pot and cigarettes I start to grab after the wine. Where there’s no wine, there’s no smoke. And healthy feelings reign. Clear head. Good memory. Light on the hill. Less bloat. More natural feelings. Truth is---the real deal is---I’m probably on the cusp of something bad, but I have pulled back. Let’s see if I can be adult about this.

4. New York City is loaded with financiers, bankers, etc. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, really doesn’t matter. I just don’t get ‘em. I mean, I like numbers and all. But I imagine these people pulling levers all day long (okay, pressing buttons…okay, I don’t know how they do it)—and they get a new sofa or car while some kid dies in a diamond mine. It seems that simple to me. They have that trout-on-ice look, too. What’s wrong with being middle class and having it be supported by local living? And isn’t it strange that the little island of Manhattan (below 86th Street) is perfectly small so it creates incredible competition? What a geographical manifestation.

5. How about that bury-able toilet bag someone invented? It’s good for fertilizer. I was shocked to learn that 40% of the world’s population has no access to a toilet. Luckily, the same 40% cannot afford Mexican food. Ba dump bump. We’re here all week. How’s your fajitas?

6. I need a dog. But I don’t have to have one.

7. Blogging is better than many other things.

8. I still think Valerie Harper needs more viewers. Go see LOOPED.

9. I need new shoes. I have plenty of money to go buy them. Why don’t I? Am I waiting for my feet to get bigger? Or smaller? What is it with shoes and me? In fact, why do I hate to shop for clothes so much? I am just a total guy about this. I feel so not-gay when it comes to clothes and shoes. But I do feel better in nice, working clothes. I need a push.

10. #10 is for you. What is it?

This blog entry, and others like it, is from www.opentrench.blogspot.com

Los Angeles It's Rough

Friends--early March in New York here. And I bring you:

Looped

Valerie Harper as Tallulah Bankhead? Really?

Looped

You guys! It was completely enjoyable and I highly recommend it. People are tough on the simple fun of something like this.

First of all, did you know Valerie Harper can act? It’s disgusting that I ever questioned it. Or even more disgusting, never even questioned it at all! I was in a state of total dismissal. Why? Because I am as prone to media mood as anyone else. Worse than being talked about, she was just, sort of, not taken seriously.

Well…how wrong.

The play, written by Matthew Lambardo, was simply hilarious, smart and human. What’s wrong with that? There was a little maudlin dip in Act II (about the editor in the room) and you sort of go, “Eh, whatever. Pasted on for effect.”
But it’s all worth the ride no matter what the partially cheesy sentiment that invades at the end.

Plus, there is a hard edge thing going on (death, lonliness, addiction) that almost makes you go, “Okay, a little cheese is okay. It’s sort of post-modern winky to have all this negative stuff going on with a little bit of optimism thrown in—or forgiveness—at some point. Hell, why not?”

If you are in New York, see it. My gut accounting guts have this feeling that it is losing money. So, help that. Spend some money. You can get halfies, whatever. Dump your cash in this direction. There is something going on here: and it’s alive and it’s funny and it’s smart and it’s frothy. Jump in. Why not have an enjoyable night?

Looped

Blizzard Hurricane '10

It began as a wet flocking. This picture is early morning when it was warmer. Now, the temperature has dropped and it is blizzarding. There's this sense of Nome, Alaska armageddon. It's wild and completely unnatural. It is Global Weirding.

However, I enjoy it. The aggressive attack is a reminder. Of something. But I am past it. But I am not.

 

Back Up

Every now and then I like to offer an important public service announcement:

PLEASE BACK UP YOUR COMPUTER

Your job might soon be eliminated. Your food stamps might be late coming in. But you can control whether or not you have backed up your computer.

So please, get down that bulky external drive or stick in that monster USB Flash drive and get it all on there. Then store in a cool, dry place far from your computer.

He Very Well May Be Sacking It

Obama is taking charge of health care, finally. Because he knows it is time to MOVE ON.

And doesn’t it just make sense that he stand there, all tall and handsome and strong, and put it out something like this:

“These are the health care points. We are finishing this up right now because we have to get going on jobs. Anyone who obstructs this obstructs our economic future.”

An indictment of the Republican No-machine.

Fight hard, Obie-Am-Ma-Bama. Be the force of goodness.

This blog entry, and others like it, is from www.opentrench.blogspot.com

A Mathy Writer Am I

When I was a kid, I was not an advanced reader. I read comic books. Lots of Peanuts…I had about 32 Peanuts books. I would read them all, and when finished, start over. I liked the melancholic jokes. I was a bit of a sensitive stay-in-my-room type.

As a kid, too, I was years ahead in math. Well, about two years ahead of the other kids. Math just worked. It came to me quickly. And I liked it, mostly because it came to me quickly.

Then, Science came to me, extremely quickly. And then, well---there I was, all Science and Math. It was all so concrete and more importantly, it was FAST. I liked that I got it so fast and I was so facile. Got me a Biology degree.

Then, there was writing. I was not a good writer in high school. I was not a good writer in college. Simply put, I just did not understand it. I mean, I could spell and my grammar was fine. I could write a letter. I could write a paper if I had to. (But more often than not, if I had to write a research paper I would pretty much “borrow” someone’s old one from a few years before. I never understood why you would go to a card catalogue, footnote other peoples’ ideas to support your idea. Why couldn’t you just write, “The Great Leap Forward was neither great nor a leap. So they say…” ) But really, I never understood the fuss. Why were there so many books? And why were they all so dull?

It was all about being fast for me. And writing (and reading) was slow.

And then, slowly, I became a writer. And it is slow. And that is the worst part about it. Well, actually, that’s the best part about it. Because when you are writing, you slow down. You just do. And you catch thoughts and images and you think and you stir. And time stands still and all that “flow” stuff.

And then the math comes in. I set goals, which are numerical by nature. Time, number of pages, days. I have a deadline and I basically stick to it…and it keeps me from becoming a complete pothead drunkard.

(I once read about creative people in a self-help bookstore on Ocean Blvd. in Venice: You really only have two choices, you either create or you become an addict.)

So---I set my schedule and for days and days I write. I am in the middle of editing a screenplay right now. It’s taking twice as long as I had planned. Fine. My math is stretchy.

But it is the math, somehow, the math that keeps me a bit sane. It structures my time. It’s very grounding, while words are often simply wild.

This blog entry, and others like it, is from www.opentrench.blogspot.com

Beasts

From space, it must all look the same.

Beasts, human beasts compete and some lose and some win. Seems to be. No matter the system, democracy, theocracy, tribal, socialist, no system, you see the same thing.

So this is how it is. For many of us it is good. For many of us it is okay. For some it is awful. It goes.

I don’t know what to do about it. And righteousness is silly. Pet the fur as it goes by?

Four Day Work Week

China is a mess.

The U.S. is a mess.

Greece, a mess.

Why do I feel so happy?

Because it’s supposed to be forty-two fucking degrees tomorrow and that’s gonna feel like Hawaii.

As one walks along the sidewalks of Manhattan and Queens, framed by filth-crunch, that frozen snow and dirt that hardens in hillocks along the edges of roads and Toyotas, one wonders, “Could this really be how people live?”

Okay, I know it isn’t Lagos with people sleeping slumped over their bicycles in 110% humidity.

And it isn’t frigid Yellowknife or Barrow, Alaska.

But still. Filth-crunch is Mother Nature’s little way of saying, “You are a dirty people. And you live in frozen garbage.”

But why do I feel so happy?

Because tomorrow, it is going to be forty-two fucking degrees and that’s gonna feel like the inner thigh of a twenty year old girl in a Hula skirt.

This blog entry, and others like it, is from www.opentrench.blogspot.com

Tea Parties...

Look, it’s simply too early in the election cycle for tea parties.

But what is interesting to me is this---they’re really just hippies in their own strange way. Albeit, not communal types. But counter culture nihilists for sure.

Why are these conservatives (Okay, libertarians) always decades behind?

Look at Sarah Palin’s glasses. Didn’t your groovy aunt wear those fifteen years ago?

I do not take them seriously, these celebrators of caffeine. In fact, I welcome them since they are going to split the Republican party into jittery pieces.

But let’s not be dismissive of this movement. These people are screaming about the government getting out of their lives because the government, from their point of view, is simply not working. They have a point. But, the government is not working because, well, you heard Evan Bayh—our government is completely dysfunctional.

Now, I am not a complete critic. I am a problem solver. But solving this mess? I think there is only one way to do it: Our president must sack up, become a bit of a tyrant, and stop this mamby-pamby consensus stuff and lead. Hard.

In any organization I have ever had the fortune and misfortune to be a part of, there are always strong differences of opinion. And these opinions are heard—and felt---as ripples. But the main thrust, the main energy, comes from the top. And that is the stabilizing force.

So let the tea party dress up and run around and have their own version of The Summer of Love. And let the super lefties get all righteous and cry in their milk. And let the regular Republicans fart on and on about lowering taxes. And let the Democrats quibble about policy until the God of Tedium decides enough is enough.

But let the president look at all of this and see it for the folly that it is and start smacking down. If that lunatic Bush could smack us down into insane actions, surely, this cool, smart man can smack us into sanity. Sack up and smack down, Obama.

TO OZ!

I would like to introduce you to my friend Jeff's Dog....OZ.

What a pooch! What a punim! What a collar...

Nothing like a brown dog. A plain brown dog. Okay, there's a tidge of the bull in there. But mostly some sort of other-terrier-who-knows-what.

Brown dogs. They need homes. We hear this dog is exceptionally sweet.

AH! Doggies!

Enjoy him, Jeff.

 

What Does Friday Feel Like to You?

Friday is my favorite day of the week. I am unoriginal. But there are big, distinct reasons why I like Friday. It’s the day when I would never try to conduct any business. It is the day for doing some errands and writing. That’s it.

No great decisions are ever made on Fridays. Some big decision, yes (like firing people), but not great decisions.

On Friday, you can feel your humanity seeping in. Any of that work-a-day alienation or getting-ahead self propulsion, they can take a rest on Friday.

And isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? To feel like yourself, without being ramped up? To just be.

I feel more in the moment on Friday. I feel like it is the golden hour, all day long, as if the sun started to set at 10AM and hung right about there until midnight.

I am all for Friday, Freitag, Vendredi. How do you feel about Friday?

This blog entry, and others like it, is from www.opentrench.blogspot.com

Winter From Our Window, "Blizzard" '10

Greetings from "Blizzard '10- NYC"---

It was a pussy blizzard. I had a feeling the hype was just that. It was a wet warm one. So really, it was more messy than anything else.

However, it was worth the walk in Central Park. Kids and dogs were out-of-their-minds with happiness.

It is nice when mother nature takes over anything at all.

I hope you are enjoying your weather wherever you are.


 

The Church Yard

 

The Lake