Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Talking Tom Goes to France
Hello friends. I'm going to Paris for five days. Come with me and revisit some French lessons. See you soon.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
A/C + D/C
I usually keep my cool around celebrities because I kind of have to because I kind of deal with them in the entertainment business. Plus, no one likes a braying Santa.
And I kept it down tonight. But there I was in one of those places that people go to that does not have a sign on the door because it's one of those places that does not want people to know it's there so that a certain type of clientel will come that does not include Texans in town who have arrived in search of Wicked.
And who was there? My damn boyfriend, Anderson Cooper. He looks even more like my this-must-be-my-true boyfriend in real life. Every other man and woman in that sort-of-private-theatre-shack felt the same way.
Lineage, looks, ability and cash. And the boyish grin. My man.
As I typed this I just choked down a huge bowl of macaroni and cheese.
And I kept it down tonight. But there I was in one of those places that people go to that does not have a sign on the door because it's one of those places that does not want people to know it's there so that a certain type of clientel will come that does not include Texans in town who have arrived in search of Wicked.
And who was there? My damn boyfriend, Anderson Cooper. He looks even more like my this-must-be-my-true boyfriend in real life. Every other man and woman in that sort-of-private-theatre-shack felt the same way.
Lineage, looks, ability and cash. And the boyish grin. My man.
As I typed this I just choked down a huge bowl of macaroni and cheese.
Normative Pain
It does feel good to be part of a large group that is working in sync. Look at the opening of the Beijing Olympics. China is exciting in that way. But we did not see the rehearsals.
Normative pressure, which pushes people into behaving according to the rules of the primary group of any culture, in our case, Conservative White Men, is always a painful process for those in the nut screw. Look what they did to women, Jews and African Americans in the past.
The Chinese continued to take over that middle-kingdom-area until they were stopped by a resistance that was strong enough to stop them. And the only strong enough resistance to stop any primary group is usually solid weaponry.
Women and Jews had no armies. Africans had inferior technology. None of these people could win.
Gays do have weapons. They are in the military. And they are subjected to this pressure. But they obviously cannot use their weapons to force people to “accept them.”
What is so disappointing and so infuriating is that if enough strong, self-serving people get together and take leave of their natural compassion, they will bully others into either being exactly like them or they will tell the “offending others” to SHUT THEIR MOUTHS.
This Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell law is a law written to appease bullies (in the name of cohesion). It is a strong finger of the two hands of anti-enlightenment and normative pressure. We are not Chinese. We will never have an opening ceremony that is that cohesive. Not being in sync in society makes for a certain kind of loneliness. But this is the price we all pay for being Westerners, brave individualists, Jews, Brown-Black-White-Red-whatever people, Women, Male Nurses and mano-a-mano sex dudes. You cannot be for individual freedom and for oppressing others at the same time. I mean, you can be---but then, you are a bully. What is that doing for you?
I found the opening ceremony of the Beijing games to be exciting and dull at the same time.
Normative pressure, which pushes people into behaving according to the rules of the primary group of any culture, in our case, Conservative White Men, is always a painful process for those in the nut screw. Look what they did to women, Jews and African Americans in the past.
The Chinese continued to take over that middle-kingdom-area until they were stopped by a resistance that was strong enough to stop them. And the only strong enough resistance to stop any primary group is usually solid weaponry.
Women and Jews had no armies. Africans had inferior technology. None of these people could win.
Gays do have weapons. They are in the military. And they are subjected to this pressure. But they obviously cannot use their weapons to force people to “accept them.”
What is so disappointing and so infuriating is that if enough strong, self-serving people get together and take leave of their natural compassion, they will bully others into either being exactly like them or they will tell the “offending others” to SHUT THEIR MOUTHS.
This Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell law is a law written to appease bullies (in the name of cohesion). It is a strong finger of the two hands of anti-enlightenment and normative pressure. We are not Chinese. We will never have an opening ceremony that is that cohesive. Not being in sync in society makes for a certain kind of loneliness. But this is the price we all pay for being Westerners, brave individualists, Jews, Brown-Black-White-Red-whatever people, Women, Male Nurses and mano-a-mano sex dudes. You cannot be for individual freedom and for oppressing others at the same time. I mean, you can be---but then, you are a bully. What is that doing for you?
I found the opening ceremony of the Beijing games to be exciting and dull at the same time.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
These Were My Choices
It was either Fair Game or the movie where James Franco cuts off his own arm. So we went to see Fair Game.
I was very concerned about getting Sean Penned in my face. He only did it one and a half times. He has this 11:59 monologue about Democracy that’ll make you want to eat your empty Goobers box…otherwise, he goes straight forward.
Naomi Watts was full on direct, clear headed, an almost flat affect smart girl forever.
They found “the family story” in all this. Which makes sense. Makes it human. The other way would have been to go really deep into the Washington side of it, all those characters, but even doing that a little, which they had to do, was sort of silly. Karl Rove stand-in and the like. That stuff is always a bit wax-museumy-SNL-freakish.
So, best to stick with Wilson and Plame, the lesser known and of course, victimized ones. And they did. Doug Liman, whom we all know is a great director, directed this beautifully. Somehow, though, the whole thing comes off a bit over important and well, yeah, sermonic.
Not that the Plame case was any small deal. I mean, it was the excrescence of the lie that was lanced. But when it comes to entertainment, well, you have a lot of journalistic truth here. And as I read recently, written by some journalist, “Journalism isn’t art.”---Not that we need art so much in this area. Oh, I don’t know. Let’s get out of this paragraph.
I despised the WMD lies. Plus, I had this egotistical feeling that if I really needed to lie to get into a war, I would have come up with something so much more fanciful and complicated. They went for the simple lie---like, There’s a flesh eating monster under your bed or NAIR really will remove that hair on your back, and you believed it because you needed to so badly.
I would say, honestly, you can wait for Netflix. I hate to do that to a movie. But maybe I can help the economics of Hollywood along by offering a mild time sensitive suggestion. If a movie isn’t doing well after ten or fourteen days, let it hit Netflix by day twenty-one so the movie can still ride on some of the marketing budget already laid out for the plexes or in this case aht houses.
Wilson and Plame now live in Santa Fe. They should. It’s really nice there. And it’s a much more sensitive town to the feelings of human humans. Oh, wink. Do I need to? Damn.
I was very concerned about getting Sean Penned in my face. He only did it one and a half times. He has this 11:59 monologue about Democracy that’ll make you want to eat your empty Goobers box…otherwise, he goes straight forward.
Naomi Watts was full on direct, clear headed, an almost flat affect smart girl forever.
They found “the family story” in all this. Which makes sense. Makes it human. The other way would have been to go really deep into the Washington side of it, all those characters, but even doing that a little, which they had to do, was sort of silly. Karl Rove stand-in and the like. That stuff is always a bit wax-museumy-SNL-freakish.
So, best to stick with Wilson and Plame, the lesser known and of course, victimized ones. And they did. Doug Liman, whom we all know is a great director, directed this beautifully. Somehow, though, the whole thing comes off a bit over important and well, yeah, sermonic.
Not that the Plame case was any small deal. I mean, it was the excrescence of the lie that was lanced. But when it comes to entertainment, well, you have a lot of journalistic truth here. And as I read recently, written by some journalist, “Journalism isn’t art.”---Not that we need art so much in this area. Oh, I don’t know. Let’s get out of this paragraph.
I despised the WMD lies. Plus, I had this egotistical feeling that if I really needed to lie to get into a war, I would have come up with something so much more fanciful and complicated. They went for the simple lie---like, There’s a flesh eating monster under your bed or NAIR really will remove that hair on your back, and you believed it because you needed to so badly.
I would say, honestly, you can wait for Netflix. I hate to do that to a movie. But maybe I can help the economics of Hollywood along by offering a mild time sensitive suggestion. If a movie isn’t doing well after ten or fourteen days, let it hit Netflix by day twenty-one so the movie can still ride on some of the marketing budget already laid out for the plexes or in this case aht houses.
Wilson and Plame now live in Santa Fe. They should. It’s really nice there. And it’s a much more sensitive town to the feelings of human humans. Oh, wink. Do I need to? Damn.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Natural Thoughts
Darwinian thought might be a perception more than a truth. In other words, there may well be a bigger picture we have not seen yet.
We all want abandon. Finding healthy abandon is the key.
I have been very thankful for the street I have been living on this year. It is loaded with old trees and gardens. At the end of the street is a church yard with old apple and cherry trees and Japanese maples and others. Big trees really matter.
Dogs.
Separating off in order to distinguish yourself is what one does. But it does not necessarily make one happy. In other words, it can disturb you. But in this culture, it is necessary to some extent.
If you are a sound person, you can ground your nervous system by spending time working on seeing. And vice versa.
It is easier to be snarky than it is to take notice. You can always be snarky later.
After a big depression often comes a big relief. After a big expenditure, often comes a big let down. After, after, after. It waves. No sense in standing in the way.
We all want abandon. Finding healthy abandon is the key.
I have been very thankful for the street I have been living on this year. It is loaded with old trees and gardens. At the end of the street is a church yard with old apple and cherry trees and Japanese maples and others. Big trees really matter.
Dogs.
Separating off in order to distinguish yourself is what one does. But it does not necessarily make one happy. In other words, it can disturb you. But in this culture, it is necessary to some extent.
If you are a sound person, you can ground your nervous system by spending time working on seeing. And vice versa.
It is easier to be snarky than it is to take notice. You can always be snarky later.
After a big depression often comes a big relief. After a big expenditure, often comes a big let down. After, after, after. It waves. No sense in standing in the way.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Pass Me the Lotus
In this poorly run real estate environment of Coop sales in New York City, we finally got our hands on signed contracts today from the buyers of our Queens nest.
How did we do it? Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, had to walk over to the buyer’s lawyer’s office to pick up the contract. Because for some reason, that law office never heard of the Post Office.
The lawyer took on a high and mighty act and added a rider and since he is a litigator, made everyone feel uncomfortable with his attitude. But after all that, the contract just sat on his desk because neither he nor his assistant felt like following through on the last step of delivery? What kind of people are they?
So right now, sitting on my Yamaha Keyboard is an envelope with the contracts and the deposit checks. Everyone acts so professional and scary, but then are just fine when we, the sellers, turn into a messenger service.
It is absurd.
The worst thing about transactional reality in New York City is its angry ego and excessive greed. Los Angeles has its vanity and lies. But those seem so much less harmful. Or at least less brutal. Pass me the lotus.
How did we do it? Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, had to walk over to the buyer’s lawyer’s office to pick up the contract. Because for some reason, that law office never heard of the Post Office.
The lawyer took on a high and mighty act and added a rider and since he is a litigator, made everyone feel uncomfortable with his attitude. But after all that, the contract just sat on his desk because neither he nor his assistant felt like following through on the last step of delivery? What kind of people are they?
So right now, sitting on my Yamaha Keyboard is an envelope with the contracts and the deposit checks. Everyone acts so professional and scary, but then are just fine when we, the sellers, turn into a messenger service.
It is absurd.
The worst thing about transactional reality in New York City is its angry ego and excessive greed. Los Angeles has its vanity and lies. But those seem so much less harmful. Or at least less brutal. Pass me the lotus.
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
God Is Love
There is reason to be optimistic. Though the Republicans now have a House Majority, they still cannot pass legislation without Democrats. So this is really not the end of the world.
Plus, Obama will now have people to play against. He can respond to them rattling their sabers. He needs that. People who live more in their heads than in their hearts (thank Goodness) need a little punching to get moving.
Nancy Pelosi is still my Queen.
Look---this is going to get interesting. And let us not forget for a minute how much Obama has done during his first two years with his Democrat majority. It was a sight to behold. This nation moves incrementally. Like a snail in molasses going uphill. We made some big strides, faster than the usual mollusk pace, and let us not forget it.
Sure, the Republicans want to keep Bush’s tax cuts until we colonize Mars…but they will not get it. I insist.
Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, believes Republicans and Democrats are an object lesson in speciation. We are separating off from each other and eventually, if we would simply stop interbreeding, we would become two separate animals. Probably.
My simple notion is the brain can be trained to become almost anything. And parents train their children to be just like them.
I believe in the power of love. Just like the song. And I believe Democrats have more love in them than Republicans. And love always wins. Call me a cheese ball---but please, make sure it’s the one with the nuts on the outside.
Plus, Obama will now have people to play against. He can respond to them rattling their sabers. He needs that. People who live more in their heads than in their hearts (thank Goodness) need a little punching to get moving.
Nancy Pelosi is still my Queen.
Look---this is going to get interesting. And let us not forget for a minute how much Obama has done during his first two years with his Democrat majority. It was a sight to behold. This nation moves incrementally. Like a snail in molasses going uphill. We made some big strides, faster than the usual mollusk pace, and let us not forget it.
Sure, the Republicans want to keep Bush’s tax cuts until we colonize Mars…but they will not get it. I insist.
Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, believes Republicans and Democrats are an object lesson in speciation. We are separating off from each other and eventually, if we would simply stop interbreeding, we would become two separate animals. Probably.
My simple notion is the brain can be trained to become almost anything. And parents train their children to be just like them.
I believe in the power of love. Just like the song. And I believe Democrats have more love in them than Republicans. And love always wins. Call me a cheese ball---but please, make sure it’s the one with the nuts on the outside.
Monday, November 01, 2010
The Rolling Bread Maker
I Really Tried.
Just spent a longish weekend in Los Angeles and rented a SMART CAR. I don't know. Every bump in the road feels a bit like getting that long overdue colonoscopy. It goes very fast on the highway--but if you were to run over a piece of plywood or a shredded truck tire, Allah help you.
It is roomy. And there is plenty of storage for something this size. I hauled a few large boxes around.
And it is good on gas, but not great. The car acts as if it is a manual, taking you through each gear change, and you feel it. Parking--yes--parking is amazing.
I would buy one as a second car, used, to zip around the neighborhood for groceries and flowers. But therein lies the end of that.
Just spent a longish weekend in Los Angeles and rented a SMART CAR. I don't know. Every bump in the road feels a bit like getting that long overdue colonoscopy. It goes very fast on the highway--but if you were to run over a piece of plywood or a shredded truck tire, Allah help you.
It is roomy. And there is plenty of storage for something this size. I hauled a few large boxes around.
And it is good on gas, but not great. The car acts as if it is a manual, taking you through each gear change, and you feel it. Parking--yes--parking is amazing.
I would buy one as a second car, used, to zip around the neighborhood for groceries and flowers. But therein lies the end of that.
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Mall Does What It's Supposed to Do
A comforting day was spent in Los Angeles. House stuff. Storage room stuff. Friends. At the mall. I understand why malls are popular. They are safe zones. And they are mild. But what is even better---and it's so cliche---is the weather. WTF with this Southern California weather? It's like, it's so nice out, how can't you simply be completely happy? And it's going to be nice out again, immediately? Damn.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Burbank: It's Easy Here
The best thing about Burbank is it is not fancy. When you are eating the meatloaf sandwich at the Corral Cafe you know you are having an existential okayness. And onion rings. Look, I don't want to be fancy. And Burbank is the perfect place not to be fancy. Plus, have you heard about the weather in Southern California? Yeah, they're not kidding.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
To Fight
Our apartment in Queens has gone into contract. This means---we have sold the apartment and now we shoot toward closing.
What held it up was the buyer’s lawyer. A litigator (and why our buyer chose an old litigator instead of a real estate lawyer is just silly)---held things up for a bit.
Fighters like to fight. What I have learned from my entire East Coast experience is that I really have no interest in fighting. Frankly, I think it’s stupid.
And really, when it comes to closing out a deal, it always happens when people are NOT fighting.
Why all this fighting? Everyone comes out ahead in this transaction. There truly is no need to fight.
What an old world aesthetic.
Silly.
When do people let go of all that?
Onward. The world is opening up.
What held it up was the buyer’s lawyer. A litigator (and why our buyer chose an old litigator instead of a real estate lawyer is just silly)---held things up for a bit.
Fighters like to fight. What I have learned from my entire East Coast experience is that I really have no interest in fighting. Frankly, I think it’s stupid.
And really, when it comes to closing out a deal, it always happens when people are NOT fighting.
Why all this fighting? Everyone comes out ahead in this transaction. There truly is no need to fight.
What an old world aesthetic.
Silly.
When do people let go of all that?
Onward. The world is opening up.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Apartimento
Limbo.
It is very strange to live somewhere that you know you will be leaving. You tend to not want to clean it. You feel “no future” toward the place. You simply want to let it go.
We have sold our coop in Queens. Though, the rate of movement of paperwork multiplied by the rate of decisive action in the borough of Queens is inversely proportional to the amplitude of my desire to get the hell out of here.
She’s a fine burgh. “The sports and transportation borough.” Real Estate is easy to grab here. It is in fact cheap. But with the cheap comes the problems of the cheap. Slow paperwork, as we now know. People with a different idea of what a café is. Computer illiterates. Slow energy, overall. And an overall utilitarianism that is at once appealingly naive and spiritually stifling. The best three things about this neighborhood of Jackson Heights are 1. Great apartment stock. 2. Great old trees everywhere. 3. Just a fifteen minute subway ride to midtown.
And those were great things.
But then, you just sort of get sick of having to zip into Manhattan every time you want a decent meal or to hear English being spoken or to go to a book store or movie theatre.
So, we wait for “the apartment to close” which could take a month or four. And we keep living. In limbo. It is unpleasant. I am trying to find a way to make it pleasant. Like that feeling when you do not have to feel too weighed down. Or the feeling that anything is possible and the future is exciting. Or the feeling that you are handing over your finely appointed space to someone else who will be getting a whole new lease on life---an act of generosity. Or something.
I admire people who do things, cross them off their list, and do not feel them too much. Or if they do feel them, it is only that little “pop of completion” that gives them a hit of happiness. I feel the births and deaths of things a little larger than the average bear. And the state of Limbo seems to stretch that all out.
It is very strange to live somewhere that you know you will be leaving. You tend to not want to clean it. You feel “no future” toward the place. You simply want to let it go.
We have sold our coop in Queens. Though, the rate of movement of paperwork multiplied by the rate of decisive action in the borough of Queens is inversely proportional to the amplitude of my desire to get the hell out of here.
She’s a fine burgh. “The sports and transportation borough.” Real Estate is easy to grab here. It is in fact cheap. But with the cheap comes the problems of the cheap. Slow paperwork, as we now know. People with a different idea of what a café is. Computer illiterates. Slow energy, overall. And an overall utilitarianism that is at once appealingly naive and spiritually stifling. The best three things about this neighborhood of Jackson Heights are 1. Great apartment stock. 2. Great old trees everywhere. 3. Just a fifteen minute subway ride to midtown.
And those were great things.
But then, you just sort of get sick of having to zip into Manhattan every time you want a decent meal or to hear English being spoken or to go to a book store or movie theatre.
So, we wait for “the apartment to close” which could take a month or four. And we keep living. In limbo. It is unpleasant. I am trying to find a way to make it pleasant. Like that feeling when you do not have to feel too weighed down. Or the feeling that anything is possible and the future is exciting. Or the feeling that you are handing over your finely appointed space to someone else who will be getting a whole new lease on life---an act of generosity. Or something.
I admire people who do things, cross them off their list, and do not feel them too much. Or if they do feel them, it is only that little “pop of completion” that gives them a hit of happiness. I feel the births and deaths of things a little larger than the average bear. And the state of Limbo seems to stretch that all out.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson
A musical.
A clowning.
A history lesson.
A romp.
A rock show.
A bunch of improv turned into script, or something.
A Broadway theater tricked out with chandeliers and colored lights, like an 80’s video.
Some very funny cartooning of men-from-history.
Gay men jokes.
Childish antics.
Aesthetic ideology professed in the program that this is the kind of work this company does.
Songs.
Comedy front loaded.
On the nose.
Nothing new.
Nothing too human, nothing too smart.
Great load of insane senators.
Timely. But why do that for this for that?
A romp?
Yes.
This is the list I should use to write the review.
A clowning.
A history lesson.
A romp.
A rock show.
A bunch of improv turned into script, or something.
A Broadway theater tricked out with chandeliers and colored lights, like an 80’s video.
Some very funny cartooning of men-from-history.
Gay men jokes.
Childish antics.
Aesthetic ideology professed in the program that this is the kind of work this company does.
Songs.
Comedy front loaded.
On the nose.
Nothing new.
Nothing too human, nothing too smart.
Great load of insane senators.
Timely. But why do that for this for that?
A romp?
Yes.
This is the list I should use to write the review.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Social Network
We got around to seeing The Social Network tonight.
Look, it was fine. It was sort of television on a movie screen. Aaron Sorkin is good at getting a bunch of people to talk in a sort of believable way that is heightened, clever, etc. I don’t know. I find it quite distant from really being human.
Maybe he is drawn to writing about powerful people because it takes a certain removal of humanity to be powerful and he understands this for some reason or likes it for some reason.
It rubs me the wrong way. But I was engrossed. Like watching crinkly aluminum foil.
I experienced some nostalgia while watching this movie. I used to do some theatre stuff at Harvard in my early college days. Harvard was right down the street from my college and we had this cross arts thing going on. Harvard really was a clubby place filled with desperate nerds. I remember being in a play (Okay, Hair) and I had this strong feeling that every single woman in it wanted to be my girlfriend. They were a desperate bunch. Their ability to be subtle, socially, was simply not on the menu. It was almost as if one went after social encounters like one dove into everything else---full on with nothing in the way. It is actually kind of refreshing to think about it now. At the time, it was a complete turnoff. And not only because they were women.
It is fascinating that complete social retardation led to Facebook.
But that makes sense, too. A vacuum existed in this guy’s soul. So he filled it.
The movie kind of rambled on and on. It was the nerd-who-would-be-king story. Justin Timberlake, as the creator of Napster and Facebook seeder, came off as an odd duck and he wore too much makeup. Jesse Eisenberg, the lead, was basically a jerk, full-on, but in many ways played the true depiction of the on-the-edge-of-Aspergers types we have all known and loved. He did it very well.
The supporting cast was just fine. The twins were weird. Andrew Garfield was cute.
Fincher directed well.
You could watch this on television. Do so.
Look, it was fine. It was sort of television on a movie screen. Aaron Sorkin is good at getting a bunch of people to talk in a sort of believable way that is heightened, clever, etc. I don’t know. I find it quite distant from really being human.
Maybe he is drawn to writing about powerful people because it takes a certain removal of humanity to be powerful and he understands this for some reason or likes it for some reason.
It rubs me the wrong way. But I was engrossed. Like watching crinkly aluminum foil.
I experienced some nostalgia while watching this movie. I used to do some theatre stuff at Harvard in my early college days. Harvard was right down the street from my college and we had this cross arts thing going on. Harvard really was a clubby place filled with desperate nerds. I remember being in a play (Okay, Hair) and I had this strong feeling that every single woman in it wanted to be my girlfriend. They were a desperate bunch. Their ability to be subtle, socially, was simply not on the menu. It was almost as if one went after social encounters like one dove into everything else---full on with nothing in the way. It is actually kind of refreshing to think about it now. At the time, it was a complete turnoff. And not only because they were women.
It is fascinating that complete social retardation led to Facebook.
But that makes sense, too. A vacuum existed in this guy’s soul. So he filled it.
The movie kind of rambled on and on. It was the nerd-who-would-be-king story. Justin Timberlake, as the creator of Napster and Facebook seeder, came off as an odd duck and he wore too much makeup. Jesse Eisenberg, the lead, was basically a jerk, full-on, but in many ways played the true depiction of the on-the-edge-of-Aspergers types we have all known and loved. He did it very well.
The supporting cast was just fine. The twins were weird. Andrew Garfield was cute.
Fincher directed well.
You could watch this on television. Do so.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
American Idiot
I finally got to see American Idiot, the musical that uses the Green Day music from, you know, American Idiot.
It’s a great concert musical. But something about a musical on Broadway automatically takes the edge off the original intent of the source material. No matter how well done. Watching performers up there performing is very performy.
However, it was good for an older dude like me to hear this music since, of course, I have not heard it before because I am still mostly listening to Joni Mitchell and Muskrat Love.
The three main characters are sketchily defined as follows: The guy who has to stay back because he knocked up his girlfriend, the guy who leaves town and becomes a heroin addict, and the guy who goes to war and loses a leg. Sadly, that’s all I can say about any of them.
The three main guys are surly, hurt and fucked up. They have lots of feelings and act on understandable intention to get out of the bad lives they were born into. However, they exhibit no native intelligence and it is up to the street smart women to teach them a tiny bit, but this is, truly, ever so tiny.
They are redeemed by the end by the simple act of living and learning and “By the strength of a good woman.” Old trope. Kind of lazy.
The play, really, is not a play. But as a live music video it is fabulous. And the talent, as always, is top drawer.
Michael Mayer, director and book writer, is a biz friend of mine. And as a friend, I say to him: Next time you put a play together, think more deeply about the characters. Or hire Bjork to write the book, or me. The idea is fun. But one could use a bit more meat on those bones. Additionally, the lower middle class is hard to get right without it seeming all angsty or silly.
I do not exactly relate to the lower middle class. I understand the choices are limited for these people and they are pissed off and are naturally drawn to angry punk music. Hell, I’m pissed off about my limited choices and I’ve been to college and every few years take a trip to Paris. But what always surprises me about the lower middle class is this: since one in that class truly is getting completely fucked over and enslaved, why not figure out a way to foment change? And then I realize it. They are Republicans. And really, the only way they will ever have better lives is if they were to live in a socialist society. Or something approaching it. So they are the victims of our market economy, yet they have completely bought into the myth of the market economy. Sad. They choose exactly what causes them pain. Not that I’m promoting socialism here… ;) But I do not understand people who have such a load of angst, yet do not see they are actually the cause of much of it. This blind spot, to me, renders them immature, very reactive and poor.
I liked the ballads most of all. I always do. I like an easy guitar chord sequence and a lyrical melody line. Why not? It is so pleasing.
Overall, I would say go see it. You can get halfies at TKTS or TDF. It is worth it. It is always good to hear talented singers singing good music. And visually, well, it's all TV screens and ladders and wires and circus. Everyone likes a circus.
It’s a great concert musical. But something about a musical on Broadway automatically takes the edge off the original intent of the source material. No matter how well done. Watching performers up there performing is very performy.
However, it was good for an older dude like me to hear this music since, of course, I have not heard it before because I am still mostly listening to Joni Mitchell and Muskrat Love.
The three main characters are sketchily defined as follows: The guy who has to stay back because he knocked up his girlfriend, the guy who leaves town and becomes a heroin addict, and the guy who goes to war and loses a leg. Sadly, that’s all I can say about any of them.
The three main guys are surly, hurt and fucked up. They have lots of feelings and act on understandable intention to get out of the bad lives they were born into. However, they exhibit no native intelligence and it is up to the street smart women to teach them a tiny bit, but this is, truly, ever so tiny.
They are redeemed by the end by the simple act of living and learning and “By the strength of a good woman.” Old trope. Kind of lazy.
The play, really, is not a play. But as a live music video it is fabulous. And the talent, as always, is top drawer.
Michael Mayer, director and book writer, is a biz friend of mine. And as a friend, I say to him: Next time you put a play together, think more deeply about the characters. Or hire Bjork to write the book, or me. The idea is fun. But one could use a bit more meat on those bones. Additionally, the lower middle class is hard to get right without it seeming all angsty or silly.
I do not exactly relate to the lower middle class. I understand the choices are limited for these people and they are pissed off and are naturally drawn to angry punk music. Hell, I’m pissed off about my limited choices and I’ve been to college and every few years take a trip to Paris. But what always surprises me about the lower middle class is this: since one in that class truly is getting completely fucked over and enslaved, why not figure out a way to foment change? And then I realize it. They are Republicans. And really, the only way they will ever have better lives is if they were to live in a socialist society. Or something approaching it. So they are the victims of our market economy, yet they have completely bought into the myth of the market economy. Sad. They choose exactly what causes them pain. Not that I’m promoting socialism here… ;) But I do not understand people who have such a load of angst, yet do not see they are actually the cause of much of it. This blind spot, to me, renders them immature, very reactive and poor.
I liked the ballads most of all. I always do. I like an easy guitar chord sequence and a lyrical melody line. Why not? It is so pleasing.
Overall, I would say go see it. You can get halfies at TKTS or TDF. It is worth it. It is always good to hear talented singers singing good music. And visually, well, it's all TV screens and ladders and wires and circus. Everyone likes a circus.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
This Is What I'm Talking About
It is moving. It really is. But then, why wait so long to have these feelings? Is it a gay ham thing? (Lord knows, I have one of those in me.)
Help the children! Help the gay children! Gay Kiddies: It does get better.
Help the children! Help the gay children! Gay Kiddies: It does get better.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Is It Me?
Is it just me, or does anyone else have a problem with watching grown gay men cry while saying it gets better?
I have nothing against crying, but if you are going to be a public leader---would it not be better to be past the crying stage about being bullied as a gay kid?
Look—I’ve cried plenty. But when you sit in front of kids and tell them, “Don’t Worry, It Gets Better…” But you’re still a heap of sopping tears, well, what the hell kind of signal is that?
When I was a kid and I saw an adult crying, I thought one of two things---someone died or someone was about to.
I thought the crying Texan councilman was certainly cute and sweet and honest. And I was moved. Truly. But I do not believe that all forms of public crying lead to the greatest good for our kids.
That was a peer speech. Not a kid speech. As a peer, I related. But if I had been a gay kid---I would have looked at that youtuber and thought, It Gets Better? How? You’re crying at work.
So---yes, kids, it gets better. But I think it best that we cry at home and then go out there, happy, because, yes, it got better.
I have nothing against crying, but if you are going to be a public leader---would it not be better to be past the crying stage about being bullied as a gay kid?
Look—I’ve cried plenty. But when you sit in front of kids and tell them, “Don’t Worry, It Gets Better…” But you’re still a heap of sopping tears, well, what the hell kind of signal is that?
When I was a kid and I saw an adult crying, I thought one of two things---someone died or someone was about to.
I thought the crying Texan councilman was certainly cute and sweet and honest. And I was moved. Truly. But I do not believe that all forms of public crying lead to the greatest good for our kids.
That was a peer speech. Not a kid speech. As a peer, I related. But if I had been a gay kid---I would have looked at that youtuber and thought, It Gets Better? How? You’re crying at work.
So---yes, kids, it gets better. But I think it best that we cry at home and then go out there, happy, because, yes, it got better.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Android Freak and Gimme
I did it, I bought it, I love it, why did I wait so long?
Because I’m cheap!
But more than that, really. I do not like to run out and buy something right away. I hate Beta anything. And there is always a part of me that thinks, “Is this really the way things are going? Let’s just hold on a second here.”
That thinking makes me a little conservative. But add onto that, I hate landfill. Proudly, I can say that I have never thrown out an old electronic. I always sell the suckers on Ebay. Sure, they end up in some horrific landfill of concentrated-heavy-metals-child-cancer-causing heap, eventually. But, hell, at least I postponed one little hunk of garbage for a little while.
I shouldn’t be so precious. I’m hard on my electronics. For every 0 times my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner’s hard drive has crashed, mine has crashed at least 5.
And phones---well, they never last more than two years, right? They just don’t. And you drop them. And eventually, they just don’t have the technology or the gumption to carry on.
So this Android phone---I got the one by Samsung---the Samsung Captivate (what a horrible name!) is sleek and amazing and I sort of can’t believe what is happening to me. I know all you crackberry people have been up to the very last second with your email and shit forever. But I was always set up like this: Do I want to click that check email button right now? Nah. I’ll wait ‘til I get home. But now, well, I just let the emails fly in like everyone else. Hell, you can let the Facebook posts fly in, all the comments that your friends make, all day long. Who needs a job or a relationship when your phone won’t stop gurgling and bleeping?
I usually do disconnect the updating thing. It really is too distracting. And novelties do wear off. (Oh we monkey minded people love the new! It’s a side effect of our opportunity seeking.)
I do love the seamlessness. Now I never have to worry if my stuff is all in sync, because it IS all in sync just by connecting to the cloud. Hi clouds! And I have GSyncit synching my Outlook and my Google stuff. So, you know, it’s all good, all over the place, the same. Yay! (I like folders and the alphabet.)
So now, I am asking you. What is your favorite Android Ap? Just tell me. I like travel, the card game Hearts, memory things, French-English dictionaries, organizer things, solitaire, knowledge stuff, music news, art-search type whatevs, you name it. So gimme what you got!
Because I’m cheap!
But more than that, really. I do not like to run out and buy something right away. I hate Beta anything. And there is always a part of me that thinks, “Is this really the way things are going? Let’s just hold on a second here.”
That thinking makes me a little conservative. But add onto that, I hate landfill. Proudly, I can say that I have never thrown out an old electronic. I always sell the suckers on Ebay. Sure, they end up in some horrific landfill of concentrated-heavy-metals-child-cancer-causing heap, eventually. But, hell, at least I postponed one little hunk of garbage for a little while.
I shouldn’t be so precious. I’m hard on my electronics. For every 0 times my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner’s hard drive has crashed, mine has crashed at least 5.
And phones---well, they never last more than two years, right? They just don’t. And you drop them. And eventually, they just don’t have the technology or the gumption to carry on.
So this Android phone---I got the one by Samsung---the Samsung Captivate (what a horrible name!) is sleek and amazing and I sort of can’t believe what is happening to me. I know all you crackberry people have been up to the very last second with your email and shit forever. But I was always set up like this: Do I want to click that check email button right now? Nah. I’ll wait ‘til I get home. But now, well, I just let the emails fly in like everyone else. Hell, you can let the Facebook posts fly in, all the comments that your friends make, all day long. Who needs a job or a relationship when your phone won’t stop gurgling and bleeping?
I usually do disconnect the updating thing. It really is too distracting. And novelties do wear off. (Oh we monkey minded people love the new! It’s a side effect of our opportunity seeking.)
I do love the seamlessness. Now I never have to worry if my stuff is all in sync, because it IS all in sync just by connecting to the cloud. Hi clouds! And I have GSyncit synching my Outlook and my Google stuff. So, you know, it’s all good, all over the place, the same. Yay! (I like folders and the alphabet.)
So now, I am asking you. What is your favorite Android Ap? Just tell me. I like travel, the card game Hearts, memory things, French-English dictionaries, organizer things, solitaire, knowledge stuff, music news, art-search type whatevs, you name it. So gimme what you got!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Through the Night
Go see it. At the Union Square Theatre. ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT. It is written by and stars Daniel Beaty. Yes, it’s a one-man show, one guy, doing many characters that are all connected by a health food store, a church and a record company. All black characters as Daniel is black and has some things to say about that very thing. And it is about rising up into empowerment in a society that traditionally kept you down. And it is about stopping the bullshit of being on the down-low and getting your scared black ass out of the closet.
The snarkier part of me wants to say, “Yeah, and?”
But the better part of me, the one who sat at the theatre and watched it (with some great kids who loved it!) cried. Not stupid crying. Just deep attentive crying. In response to what was going on, really.
Look---you don’t know what it’s like to be a black gay man (unless you do). And you don’t know what it’s like to be black, in general (unless you do). And really---rising up is not easy for anyone. It just isn’t.
And let’s ask this. What is it about black culture that brings them so much great use of language, poetry and music? Really, you hate to be all stereotyping…but this guy was out of control in that department in this way that is just not-white. He is so lucky, to be allowed to be an artist who is allowed to tap into his most-natural-best-self. I am envious. Okay, I’ll do it, too. Tomorrow. No now.
Great direction and design. Clear and crisp and visually sharp.
Go see THROUGH THE NIGHT. I think the title is bland. I can barely remember it. But the show is anything but. The Union Square Theatre is at 17th and Park Avenue.
The snarkier part of me wants to say, “Yeah, and?”
But the better part of me, the one who sat at the theatre and watched it (with some great kids who loved it!) cried. Not stupid crying. Just deep attentive crying. In response to what was going on, really.
Look---you don’t know what it’s like to be a black gay man (unless you do). And you don’t know what it’s like to be black, in general (unless you do). And really---rising up is not easy for anyone. It just isn’t.
And let’s ask this. What is it about black culture that brings them so much great use of language, poetry and music? Really, you hate to be all stereotyping…but this guy was out of control in that department in this way that is just not-white. He is so lucky, to be allowed to be an artist who is allowed to tap into his most-natural-best-self. I am envious. Okay, I’ll do it, too. Tomorrow. No now.
Great direction and design. Clear and crisp and visually sharp.
Go see THROUGH THE NIGHT. I think the title is bland. I can barely remember it. But the show is anything but. The Union Square Theatre is at 17th and Park Avenue.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Henry Wolfe
Friends! Get onto iTunes and buy the complete works of Henry Wolfe. He is a great musician with a great voice.
Now look---I know there’s a lot of “nouvelle carnival music” out there. But his is a cut above…because he has humanity. It’s not just show. He’s hooked up. And he is a great song writer.
I particular like Buzzards. But there are so many others. The Blue House on iTunes, get it.
Tonight, I saw and heard Henry play at JOE’s PUB. His band is solid. Look---the way the DIY musicians do it is by getting bloggers like me to stand up and say THIS ONE, here!
He opened for April Smith and the Last Picture Show. She’s great, and also a bit carnival-beat, but more show, less truth. Big voice.
Henry is more subtle, which I always like.
Now look---I know there’s a lot of “nouvelle carnival music” out there. But his is a cut above…because he has humanity. It’s not just show. He’s hooked up. And he is a great song writer.
I particular like Buzzards. But there are so many others. The Blue House on iTunes, get it.
Tonight, I saw and heard Henry play at JOE’s PUB. His band is solid. Look---the way the DIY musicians do it is by getting bloggers like me to stand up and say THIS ONE, here!
He opened for April Smith and the Last Picture Show. She’s great, and also a bit carnival-beat, but more show, less truth. Big voice.
Henry is more subtle, which I always like.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Russian Whores
It’s not like I want to disparage an entire country and its former satellites…it is intellectually unsound and aesthetically beat.
But this New York City has a Eastern Euro, dare I say, Russian vibe that entices bar owners and restaurateurs to gild their businesses with large suburban tile, overly dramatic lighting and large screen televisions.
Highly made up woman trawling the streets of Soho in pashminas, people making out at the bar, all of it, makes me a bit queasy.
But who am I to judge? Should everything be a mirror of my existence? Gap cotton clothing and uninspired shoes?
But I beg of you. Why can’t it all be like Yountville or Vence?
I ask you.
But this New York City has a Eastern Euro, dare I say, Russian vibe that entices bar owners and restaurateurs to gild their businesses with large suburban tile, overly dramatic lighting and large screen televisions.
Highly made up woman trawling the streets of Soho in pashminas, people making out at the bar, all of it, makes me a bit queasy.
But who am I to judge? Should everything be a mirror of my existence? Gap cotton clothing and uninspired shoes?
But I beg of you. Why can’t it all be like Yountville or Vence?
I ask you.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Local Sycamore Does No Wrong
Still, the only thing I care about: trees. This is a sycamore at night just down leafy 81st Street here in Jackson Heights, Queens, New York. Clearly, I only had my bad phone camera. But still, look at it! Strong. With a serious scar that is completely healed. This is the greatness of sycamores. You can hack off a very thick branch and the tree won't mind. It just goes, "Uh-huh, I'll have that covered over in a few years."
People want to come back as this or that. I'd be a tree any day.
People want to come back as this or that. I'd be a tree any day.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Sales Time
After listing our apartment in Queens online (Craigslist) this is the amount of inquiries that we have received to see the apartment: 0
So it is high time we call a realtor, which I did, the one who got us two bids in one week the last time we listed the apartment.
Here she comes.
She takes 6% of the sale, which sort of makes my white flesh crawl. On the other hand, 94% is not a bad amount as long as she pushes this donkey high up the ladder.
I hate to be so crass, but I am.
If anyone wants to buy this groovin’ pad before 12PM East Coast Time, do come forward. It will be cheaper than when the realtor posts it.
Until then, I hope everyone is living the life they want to live in the space they want to live it in surrounded by mammals they feel are perfect at this time.
So it is high time we call a realtor, which I did, the one who got us two bids in one week the last time we listed the apartment.
Here she comes.
She takes 6% of the sale, which sort of makes my white flesh crawl. On the other hand, 94% is not a bad amount as long as she pushes this donkey high up the ladder.
I hate to be so crass, but I am.
If anyone wants to buy this groovin’ pad before 12PM East Coast Time, do come forward. It will be cheaper than when the realtor posts it.
Until then, I hope everyone is living the life they want to live in the space they want to live it in surrounded by mammals they feel are perfect at this time.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Sun
I like the clouds. I like the way everything is underneath them. I like how the light is. I like how blue everything looks. I am happy for the cover.
I like the sun, too. But I’ve never liked direct sunlight. I love Los Angeles, but mostly when the sun is setting. Midday, I always found it to be too much.
We are tree primates who gradually made our way onto the plains. But we were hairier back then.
Sometimes, I wish I was that hairy, though, having had a little doggy for years that was very hairy, and having to get it cut all the time, you wonder what the evolutionary advantage of that mop was.
I wonder why dogs don’t get rickets. Maybe they get their vitamin D another way.
I like the sun, too. But I’ve never liked direct sunlight. I love Los Angeles, but mostly when the sun is setting. Midday, I always found it to be too much.
We are tree primates who gradually made our way onto the plains. But we were hairier back then.
Sometimes, I wish I was that hairy, though, having had a little doggy for years that was very hairy, and having to get it cut all the time, you wonder what the evolutionary advantage of that mop was.
I wonder why dogs don’t get rickets. Maybe they get their vitamin D another way.
Monday, October 04, 2010
Fag Killers
I went to the Suffern Free Library when I was in high school to look for books about gay people. I was feeling kind of gay and I was concerned.
Among the stacks was this fabulous book from Denmark about gay men who were living happy lives, with pictures, all of it. They were black and white photos. The guys were, you know, Danish, so they were mostly tall and blond and seemed more foreign than gay. The thrust of the book was, “Being gay is cool. These guys are doing it. So can you.” It was the 70’s.
I cannot remember if I checked the book out and brought it home or not. I don’t think I did. But I do remember thinking this as I walked down a little street we called ONE WAY because the only marker was a one way sign, “Sure, they can be gay. They live in Scandinavia!”
I was not amused, in fact, the book further depressed me. There was something so macho, so football, so aggressive about the United States, reading about greasy haired Danish men with a predilection for cock was not going to change any of that.
But hear this---I was not going to kill myself for being bullied. And I will tell you why. Because I’m a badass.
Now, I was lucky because I was semi to very popular growing up at different periods of time. I was friendly and I truly liked people. I was very shy in elementary school but that kind of flew open in the Fifth Grade and I never looked back. (Though I do still prefer to spend hours alone every day.) But none of that could change the fact that underneath it all, I was very depressed.
Of course, I soldiered on, went to college and kind of blew it big time---too many drugs kind of thing---but again, I survived because I was a badass. I just felt this enormous desire to live and to live well.
But what about all these kids who are NOT badasses? There were days when I felt so shitty about myself, and was SO WORRIED about what would happen to me, that suicide would come into my mind. But again, since I was a badass, I would say, “Fuck you suicide. I want to go to Paris again.”
So this is what I suggest we teach young gay people. This is based on a sample of one: me. Teach your gay kids some anger. They do not have to fight. They do not have to carry weapons. They do not have to scream or curse. But let them know they can be badasses. If someone starts to bully them, let them know they can use their anger to stand up, walk away and find an adult (or cool friends) who will stand by their side.
Also---let your gay kid know that even though they feel horrendously isolated--and gay kids are. It’s awful—there will always be a very funny clever girl who is a little bit overweight who will be happy to have them for a friend.
I do not believe harassment causes suicide. I think keeping things under wraps does.
The advantage of being gay is you get to learn at a very young age that from a distance, people are fearful and treacherous. Being an outsider is a great way to learn about the human race. And there are other outsiders you can hang with who will have a similar bead on things. There is strength to be gained from learning about human nature at a young age. Plus, being a minority falls into the category of “adversity” and we know that adversity is a necessary ingredient for creativity and success.
When I was a senior in high school, I went into a bathroom stall (nervous stomach always---‘cause I was so upset about who I was) and there I saw scratched into the metal divider of the dark blue paint (I can still smell that bathroom) was the following:
“For a great blow job, call Donald Cummings. 357-3651”
That was my real phone number. And I was called Donald. I got on the bus to go home and I was so depressed. But you know what? I cannot remember if I scratched it out. I may have. But I may have also left it there. Because it was true.
To all the people who ever harassed me as a kid for being “light in the loafers,” “a faggot,” “a sissy,” “a bad ball player,” “a singer,” any of it…all I have to say is this: Go shoot or hang YOURSELF but before you do, tell your awful children to leave my fabulous children alone…or I will flatten them. ‘Cause I’m a badass.
Among the stacks was this fabulous book from Denmark about gay men who were living happy lives, with pictures, all of it. They were black and white photos. The guys were, you know, Danish, so they were mostly tall and blond and seemed more foreign than gay. The thrust of the book was, “Being gay is cool. These guys are doing it. So can you.” It was the 70’s.
I cannot remember if I checked the book out and brought it home or not. I don’t think I did. But I do remember thinking this as I walked down a little street we called ONE WAY because the only marker was a one way sign, “Sure, they can be gay. They live in Scandinavia!”
I was not amused, in fact, the book further depressed me. There was something so macho, so football, so aggressive about the United States, reading about greasy haired Danish men with a predilection for cock was not going to change any of that.
But hear this---I was not going to kill myself for being bullied. And I will tell you why. Because I’m a badass.
Now, I was lucky because I was semi to very popular growing up at different periods of time. I was friendly and I truly liked people. I was very shy in elementary school but that kind of flew open in the Fifth Grade and I never looked back. (Though I do still prefer to spend hours alone every day.) But none of that could change the fact that underneath it all, I was very depressed.
Of course, I soldiered on, went to college and kind of blew it big time---too many drugs kind of thing---but again, I survived because I was a badass. I just felt this enormous desire to live and to live well.
But what about all these kids who are NOT badasses? There were days when I felt so shitty about myself, and was SO WORRIED about what would happen to me, that suicide would come into my mind. But again, since I was a badass, I would say, “Fuck you suicide. I want to go to Paris again.”
So this is what I suggest we teach young gay people. This is based on a sample of one: me. Teach your gay kids some anger. They do not have to fight. They do not have to carry weapons. They do not have to scream or curse. But let them know they can be badasses. If someone starts to bully them, let them know they can use their anger to stand up, walk away and find an adult (or cool friends) who will stand by their side.
Also---let your gay kid know that even though they feel horrendously isolated--and gay kids are. It’s awful—there will always be a very funny clever girl who is a little bit overweight who will be happy to have them for a friend.
I do not believe harassment causes suicide. I think keeping things under wraps does.
The advantage of being gay is you get to learn at a very young age that from a distance, people are fearful and treacherous. Being an outsider is a great way to learn about the human race. And there are other outsiders you can hang with who will have a similar bead on things. There is strength to be gained from learning about human nature at a young age. Plus, being a minority falls into the category of “adversity” and we know that adversity is a necessary ingredient for creativity and success.
When I was a senior in high school, I went into a bathroom stall (nervous stomach always---‘cause I was so upset about who I was) and there I saw scratched into the metal divider of the dark blue paint (I can still smell that bathroom) was the following:
“For a great blow job, call Donald Cummings. 357-3651”
That was my real phone number. And I was called Donald. I got on the bus to go home and I was so depressed. But you know what? I cannot remember if I scratched it out. I may have. But I may have also left it there. Because it was true.
To all the people who ever harassed me as a kid for being “light in the loafers,” “a faggot,” “a sissy,” “a bad ball player,” “a singer,” any of it…all I have to say is this: Go shoot or hang YOURSELF but before you do, tell your awful children to leave my fabulous children alone…or I will flatten them. ‘Cause I’m a badass.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
The Hunt Continues
Saturday, we went apartment hunting in Manhattan, that little island off the coast of New Jersey. It was a series of grotesque actions followed by a large EUREKA! Followed by a bad meal and a relinquishing.
First of all---why would someone show you an apartment for 2100 bucks a month that is on the first floor with views of nothing but garbage cans and in order to get into the kitchen, you have to suck yourself in, flat as a planaria, in order to slither past the suburban sized refrigerator sticking two and half feet into the doorway?
Then, why would someone bring you to an apartment that was already rented out?
Then, why would someone bring you to another apartment that you couldn’t get into?
Lastly, why would someone show you an apartment that is, truly, a tomb, that no Paxil lick, no matter how big enough, could ever bring you back to joyful life?
After all those, we looked at a huge place, with plenty of light, on way upper Broadway and 102 Street. Nice neighborhood. But strollers, like packs of wild coyotes, come at you with a ravenous lope that is almost impossible to second guess. We decided we had to take this apartment anyway, that we would never see anything like it that large again for the price offered. But after some serious thought, we thought, nope. Too far, too straight, too Who Cares?
So, we are technically not at all homeless, but it sort of feels that way.
It was good to get back to the easy-sage-and-pink of our Queens manse of 400 square feet.
Tune in tomorrow when you may here me say, “Are those mice from the lab next door?”
or “I love this bathroom, now stop with the gag and show me the real one.” Or, “Okay, all I need is 750K for this co-op and I can forever live like a college student but never again have to worry about my rent going up, just the maintenance fees?” And then perhaps, “If Los Angeles is so awful, why is everyone there so happy? Or is that only the cashiers at Tranny Rite-Aid?”
First of all---why would someone show you an apartment for 2100 bucks a month that is on the first floor with views of nothing but garbage cans and in order to get into the kitchen, you have to suck yourself in, flat as a planaria, in order to slither past the suburban sized refrigerator sticking two and half feet into the doorway?
Then, why would someone bring you to an apartment that was already rented out?
Then, why would someone bring you to another apartment that you couldn’t get into?
Lastly, why would someone show you an apartment that is, truly, a tomb, that no Paxil lick, no matter how big enough, could ever bring you back to joyful life?
After all those, we looked at a huge place, with plenty of light, on way upper Broadway and 102 Street. Nice neighborhood. But strollers, like packs of wild coyotes, come at you with a ravenous lope that is almost impossible to second guess. We decided we had to take this apartment anyway, that we would never see anything like it that large again for the price offered. But after some serious thought, we thought, nope. Too far, too straight, too Who Cares?
So, we are technically not at all homeless, but it sort of feels that way.
It was good to get back to the easy-sage-and-pink of our Queens manse of 400 square feet.
Tune in tomorrow when you may here me say, “Are those mice from the lab next door?”
or “I love this bathroom, now stop with the gag and show me the real one.” Or, “Okay, all I need is 750K for this co-op and I can forever live like a college student but never again have to worry about my rent going up, just the maintenance fees?” And then perhaps, “If Los Angeles is so awful, why is everyone there so happy? Or is that only the cashiers at Tranny Rite-Aid?”
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Buy This Apartment for a Friend!
Loveliest Apartment in Queens for Sale
You guys--it's a great first timer or part timer apartment. A bit of a hike to the subway, otherwise, it's brill!
Pass it on.
You guys--it's a great first timer or part timer apartment. A bit of a hike to the subway, otherwise, it's brill!
Pass it on.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
More Specifically Why I Love Anderson Cooper
Click the CNN link below.
Anderson Cooper is on it.
You know, I think I had sex with Andrew Shirvell the last time I was in Michigan…
Or was that an alien badger on Risperdal?
Who ARE these avowed Christians? I have to say, and I am not being facetious, I almost feel bad for these crazy people. It’s like something happened to them. They are traumatized. And there needs to be something WRONG in the world for them to send their trauma energy. See how separate he is from himself? He’s like a creature with the same DNA as a person, but rearranged. He’s on his way to becoming some other species.
Why doesn’t he use the part of his brain that needs something to be wrong to focus on something that really is wrong? Like rape. That’s wrong. Or murder. Wrong again. Or poverty, lack of affordable healthcare, or zebra on donkey abuse?
Anderson, of course, is gay (and my soon-to-be manfriend, as we all know). He held up the offense very well. He was on the attack in a beautiful way. Of course Anderson has an agenda. To impress me into taking his calls.
I think even Sarah Palin would watch that clip and agree with Anderson. If she could speak English, she would probably tell us so!
Anderson Cooper is on it.
You know, I think I had sex with Andrew Shirvell the last time I was in Michigan…
Or was that an alien badger on Risperdal?
Who ARE these avowed Christians? I have to say, and I am not being facetious, I almost feel bad for these crazy people. It’s like something happened to them. They are traumatized. And there needs to be something WRONG in the world for them to send their trauma energy. See how separate he is from himself? He’s like a creature with the same DNA as a person, but rearranged. He’s on his way to becoming some other species.
Why doesn’t he use the part of his brain that needs something to be wrong to focus on something that really is wrong? Like rape. That’s wrong. Or murder. Wrong again. Or poverty, lack of affordable healthcare, or zebra on donkey abuse?
Anderson, of course, is gay (and my soon-to-be manfriend, as we all know). He held up the offense very well. He was on the attack in a beautiful way. Of course Anderson has an agenda. To impress me into taking his calls.
I think even Sarah Palin would watch that clip and agree with Anderson. If she could speak English, she would probably tell us so!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wet Like a Rain Forest
It feels like the rain forest of Hawaii in New York City. Or the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State.
You know, writing about the weather is probably not such an interesting thing to do.
On the other hand, one does get wet and greasy.
I do not remember it being like this growing up on the East Coast, but then again, I was not living right in New York City (which is naturally a beaver and snapping turtle swamp) and I was not lugging around the weight I must lug now.
Kids slice through weather more readily. Adults sort of have it just stick to them. It is one of the disadvantages of age.
Extremely moist weather is, quite simply, a bummer. On the other hand, the sinuses are grateful.
I am, too. And when the big storm blows through on Thursday, a dry cooling will follow. Thank goodness.
Which means it will be time to talk about taxes. Friends---let’s be generous. It won’t kill us to be a little more collective.
You know, writing about the weather is probably not such an interesting thing to do.
On the other hand, one does get wet and greasy.
I do not remember it being like this growing up on the East Coast, but then again, I was not living right in New York City (which is naturally a beaver and snapping turtle swamp) and I was not lugging around the weight I must lug now.
Kids slice through weather more readily. Adults sort of have it just stick to them. It is one of the disadvantages of age.
Extremely moist weather is, quite simply, a bummer. On the other hand, the sinuses are grateful.
I am, too. And when the big storm blows through on Thursday, a dry cooling will follow. Thank goodness.
Which means it will be time to talk about taxes. Friends---let’s be generous. It won’t kill us to be a little more collective.
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Hunt--NYC
We have had our Eureka moment. It happened Friday night while eating burgers in World Wide Plaza, that democratic space filled with revelers.
We are selling the Queens apartment and moving into Manhattan. So we shall rent.
We figured, Let’s go to the new big rental towers that are swankola and see if we would like them.
Hilarious.
First, we went to Ohm. Their sales pitch is There’s No Place like Ohm.
I immediately found the place overwhelming. It was like a huge hotel with hanging sky lobbies and purple up-lighting. The apartments were kind of cool with the floor to ceiling windows that make you feel like you have lots of space. Nice kitchens. And very spare. The views were mostly of the NJ transit railway yard which is actually kind of great. But also, the Hudson River and the metropolis.
And it has a gym, etc. etc. The apartments are overpriced because you are paying for the marketing. A very well dressed, very tall, very handsome black guy showed us around. Why do some people get to be so slim?
Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, was very direct with the questions. I was sort of hemming and hawing and getting confused. I think it was my reaction to not wanting to live there. When it was all over, Adam pointed out that the place is marketed to Singles. It’s the Club Med of Northern Chelsea! Can you imagine living there? It was an Austin Powers joke.
Onward.
We went to another tower. 505 w 37. This one mostly had views of the feeder streets into the Lincoln Tunnel. The apartments were better than the ones at Ohm, but more expensive. But horrendously, like Ohm, only two tiny closets. Their roof deck had 360 degree views of New York City. Unreal.
The woman who showed us around wore a purple scarfy-pashmina thing, had a name that started with the letter V that I could not pronounce, was clearly from Russia and was a complete bitch. I made the leap that Russian mob money financed this tower and that this tart was guaranteed a job. I think she looked at us in our t-shirts and mall walker sneakers and found us to be grotesques. I looked at her and couldn’t believe how condescending she was. She kept taunting us saying, “And how much do you want to spend? What’s your maximum?” And then laughing at us derisively when we fell short of what she knew to be the current rents.
I wanted to throw her off a balcony.
Needless to say, we will not be living in either of these places. But it is fun to start hunting around.
Queens is so sweet. And there are so many trees. But our little apartment is too little to live in any longer. I love the non-pretention of the people here. It is a high immigrant density borough. And these people work like complete dogs and with a smile. They are true heroes on earth. And my heart is large and wide for them.
But to have to zip in and out of Manhattan on clackety-clack subways every time you have an appointment, it gets old, especially since our apartment is a solid fifteen minute walk from the subway.
So, onward!
I will occasionally write about this.
We are selling the Queens apartment and moving into Manhattan. So we shall rent.
We figured, Let’s go to the new big rental towers that are swankola and see if we would like them.
Hilarious.
First, we went to Ohm. Their sales pitch is There’s No Place like Ohm.
I immediately found the place overwhelming. It was like a huge hotel with hanging sky lobbies and purple up-lighting. The apartments were kind of cool with the floor to ceiling windows that make you feel like you have lots of space. Nice kitchens. And very spare. The views were mostly of the NJ transit railway yard which is actually kind of great. But also, the Hudson River and the metropolis.
And it has a gym, etc. etc. The apartments are overpriced because you are paying for the marketing. A very well dressed, very tall, very handsome black guy showed us around. Why do some people get to be so slim?
Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner, was very direct with the questions. I was sort of hemming and hawing and getting confused. I think it was my reaction to not wanting to live there. When it was all over, Adam pointed out that the place is marketed to Singles. It’s the Club Med of Northern Chelsea! Can you imagine living there? It was an Austin Powers joke.
Onward.
We went to another tower. 505 w 37. This one mostly had views of the feeder streets into the Lincoln Tunnel. The apartments were better than the ones at Ohm, but more expensive. But horrendously, like Ohm, only two tiny closets. Their roof deck had 360 degree views of New York City. Unreal.
The woman who showed us around wore a purple scarfy-pashmina thing, had a name that started with the letter V that I could not pronounce, was clearly from Russia and was a complete bitch. I made the leap that Russian mob money financed this tower and that this tart was guaranteed a job. I think she looked at us in our t-shirts and mall walker sneakers and found us to be grotesques. I looked at her and couldn’t believe how condescending she was. She kept taunting us saying, “And how much do you want to spend? What’s your maximum?” And then laughing at us derisively when we fell short of what she knew to be the current rents.
I wanted to throw her off a balcony.
Needless to say, we will not be living in either of these places. But it is fun to start hunting around.
Queens is so sweet. And there are so many trees. But our little apartment is too little to live in any longer. I love the non-pretention of the people here. It is a high immigrant density borough. And these people work like complete dogs and with a smile. They are true heroes on earth. And my heart is large and wide for them.
But to have to zip in and out of Manhattan on clackety-clack subways every time you have an appointment, it gets old, especially since our apartment is a solid fifteen minute walk from the subway.
So, onward!
I will occasionally write about this.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
French-English Love
When I was a child I took for evidence that since France and England (yes, England) were our allies in WWII, that they had been friends forever.
Of course later on I learned they engaged in centuries of bloody wars.
But is it possible that this is how they got to know each other so well? Furthermore, is war, in some perverse way, how men develop intimacy?
And could we be developing intimacy with the Islamic world by being at war with them?
Could war be, in fact, an act of love?
Of course later on I learned they engaged in centuries of bloody wars.
But is it possible that this is how they got to know each other so well? Furthermore, is war, in some perverse way, how men develop intimacy?
And could we be developing intimacy with the Islamic world by being at war with them?
Could war be, in fact, an act of love?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
In the Bush in NYC
Everyone who comes to New York was shot out of a cannon.
I would rather not be flying so fast.
I took this long walk tonight in my neighborhood. Luckily or not, I live in Queens and my neighborhood has these huge sycamore trees everywhere. It’s a sycamore forest. And this is very appealing.
I like to do one of those walking meditations when you walk super slow and just try to notice everything around you. I mostly notice the trees. I look at doors, too. Trees, mostly, then doors. Sometimes, I catch a window or a bush.
There is something to be said for living in a place that has an enormous amount of trees.
We are arboreal, after all.
I would rather not be flying so fast.
I took this long walk tonight in my neighborhood. Luckily or not, I live in Queens and my neighborhood has these huge sycamore trees everywhere. It’s a sycamore forest. And this is very appealing.
I like to do one of those walking meditations when you walk super slow and just try to notice everything around you. I mostly notice the trees. I look at doors, too. Trees, mostly, then doors. Sometimes, I catch a window or a bush.
There is something to be said for living in a place that has an enormous amount of trees.
We are arboreal, after all.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Obama's Sleeves
I wonder what Obama is going to pull out of his sleeve. He needs to do it soon. Not just because of the upcoming elections, but because people need things to change.
Now---it could be perfect for him. Things might simply swing around during the next year and by the next presidential election, voilá pour lui.
Mais, maintenant?
Okay, enough with the French. And I like France. I like the easy healthcare and the free tuition. I benefited from it once upon a time.
If there were enough people in this country, if the percentage was high enough, we could have the easy free healthcare and the easy free college tuition. Wouldn’t that be great?
Is Obama, on some level, happy to let things get bad enough economically so that people will ultimately be screaming for more government intervention?
Just asking.
And I would be fine with more government. But just as Bushface lied about W.M.D., I do not want to be lied to about the larger economic plan of this administration. Not that I’m a conspiracy theorist, mind you.
Now, President B. O. might simply understand that what smells bad today will easily clear out for fresher, richer days ahead. And he is just smiling, with that winning smile, waiting for the natural tide to turn. I hope so.
Now---it could be perfect for him. Things might simply swing around during the next year and by the next presidential election, voilá pour lui.
Mais, maintenant?
Okay, enough with the French. And I like France. I like the easy healthcare and the free tuition. I benefited from it once upon a time.
If there were enough people in this country, if the percentage was high enough, we could have the easy free healthcare and the easy free college tuition. Wouldn’t that be great?
Is Obama, on some level, happy to let things get bad enough economically so that people will ultimately be screaming for more government intervention?
Just asking.
And I would be fine with more government. But just as Bushface lied about W.M.D., I do not want to be lied to about the larger economic plan of this administration. Not that I’m a conspiracy theorist, mind you.
Now, President B. O. might simply understand that what smells bad today will easily clear out for fresher, richer days ahead. And he is just smiling, with that winning smile, waiting for the natural tide to turn. I hope so.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The End
I am almost finished with this screenplay I have been writing for the wonderful guys who made the movie E______.
I love it and I am so ready to get the hell out of this chair! My lower back, all of it!
I do get up and walk around, but clearly, not enough.
This is a saying I’ve heard about creating something:
“You never really finish. You just abandon it.”
So, I am ready to abandon it, soon enough.
Like mothers from Sloatsburg, NY who can’t wait for their children to go off to college so they can get their nails done in peace, I, too, would like my screenplay to go off to some place better so I can beautify.
I love it and I am so ready to get the hell out of this chair! My lower back, all of it!
I do get up and walk around, but clearly, not enough.
This is a saying I’ve heard about creating something:
“You never really finish. You just abandon it.”
So, I am ready to abandon it, soon enough.
Like mothers from Sloatsburg, NY who can’t wait for their children to go off to college so they can get their nails done in peace, I, too, would like my screenplay to go off to some place better so I can beautify.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
You Say Tornaydo
Today was a day when you realize people are a “learning species.”
My apartment windows in Queens all face due west, so I have this fun view of Northwestern Queens overlooking trees, onto the upper East Side of Manhattan. So I see all the storms coming in from the West.
Today was no exception. There was a very dark line heading toward me. I could also see where the white line was past that. Looked like a squall. Thunder and lightning were in the distance. But it all sounded so far away and I thought, “This is one of those storms that is going to pass right by. I can hear it but I’ll never see it. It’s probably up in the Bronx.”
Where did I learn this? In California, where storms just pass right over and most likely go dump their wrath up in the mountains. I thought this was the same thing. Based on just the thinnest similarity. Bad monkey!
So I put on my shorts and headed out to the gym. Still, nothing much, thunder in the distance, then a few rain drops. So I just kept walking.
Alas, some sort of tornado thing came through and a huge bolt of lightning struck and was followed by thunder almost instantaneously. I thought I was hit. I guess I was not. But I still haven’t felt right since. (Probably got psychically shaken.) It was so strong and I’ve never been that close before.
I hid out on the edge of a building when the rain and wind became ferocious. Not enough protection, so I ran around the corner and stood in front of another building’s entryway. A man and his son were there, too. The little boy was screaming and crying. It really was a nutty situation.
Then it passed. And I went to the gym.
I think the trajectory was this: Park Slope, Bushwick, Glendale-Ridgewood Queens, Middle Village, Flushing, Great Neck. At least, that was most likely the exact center of it. But Jackson Heights is triangled right into Middle Village and Flushing. It was pretty scary and strange.
I’ve never been in a tornado before. And though this was not the classic thin funnel cloud, it was definitely a tornado. A fat one. Strange. Did not like it at all. And once I read about this stuff online, they say if you hear thunder, stay indoors until you don’t hear it any longer for at least thirty minutes.
“Dorothy, I don’t think you’re in California anymore.”
My apartment windows in Queens all face due west, so I have this fun view of Northwestern Queens overlooking trees, onto the upper East Side of Manhattan. So I see all the storms coming in from the West.
Today was no exception. There was a very dark line heading toward me. I could also see where the white line was past that. Looked like a squall. Thunder and lightning were in the distance. But it all sounded so far away and I thought, “This is one of those storms that is going to pass right by. I can hear it but I’ll never see it. It’s probably up in the Bronx.”
Where did I learn this? In California, where storms just pass right over and most likely go dump their wrath up in the mountains. I thought this was the same thing. Based on just the thinnest similarity. Bad monkey!
So I put on my shorts and headed out to the gym. Still, nothing much, thunder in the distance, then a few rain drops. So I just kept walking.
Alas, some sort of tornado thing came through and a huge bolt of lightning struck and was followed by thunder almost instantaneously. I thought I was hit. I guess I was not. But I still haven’t felt right since. (Probably got psychically shaken.) It was so strong and I’ve never been that close before.
I hid out on the edge of a building when the rain and wind became ferocious. Not enough protection, so I ran around the corner and stood in front of another building’s entryway. A man and his son were there, too. The little boy was screaming and crying. It really was a nutty situation.
Then it passed. And I went to the gym.
I think the trajectory was this: Park Slope, Bushwick, Glendale-Ridgewood Queens, Middle Village, Flushing, Great Neck. At least, that was most likely the exact center of it. But Jackson Heights is triangled right into Middle Village and Flushing. It was pretty scary and strange.
I’ve never been in a tornado before. And though this was not the classic thin funnel cloud, it was definitely a tornado. A fat one. Strange. Did not like it at all. And once I read about this stuff online, they say if you hear thunder, stay indoors until you don’t hear it any longer for at least thirty minutes.
“Dorothy, I don’t think you’re in California anymore.”
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Not to Be All Eugenixy...
This is what gets me. Why is genetic difference considered a bad thing? Apparently, human beings who hail from Europe and Asia have anywhere between one and four percent Neanderthal DNA (the Cro-Magnons mated with them, true) but people of pure African blood have none of this. So let’s face it, there’s a genetic difference. If this is true, and it seems to be so, then Africans who have never left Africa share between 96% and 99% of the human genome with everyone else on earth.
Women and men have one chromosomal difference. The XX and XY. So of the forty-six chromosomes we each carry, well, one of them is always a Y in men and woman do not have this at all. That’s pretty different.
So forget equality for a second…I think reasonable people can assume there are genetic differences, some pretty major ones, between at least full-on Africans and Euro-Asians, and between men and women.
How this could not make differences in people is beyond Biological reality.
But let’s face it! Who cares! It does not mean anyone is better or worse than anyone else. It just means there are differences. Why are people so obsessed with saying that everyone is the same? I say, let’s enjoy our chromosomal varietals and have a big celebration and really find out exactly what the differences are and maximize the fun of all that.
Women and men have one chromosomal difference. The XX and XY. So of the forty-six chromosomes we each carry, well, one of them is always a Y in men and woman do not have this at all. That’s pretty different.
So forget equality for a second…I think reasonable people can assume there are genetic differences, some pretty major ones, between at least full-on Africans and Euro-Asians, and between men and women.
How this could not make differences in people is beyond Biological reality.
But let’s face it! Who cares! It does not mean anyone is better or worse than anyone else. It just means there are differences. Why are people so obsessed with saying that everyone is the same? I say, let’s enjoy our chromosomal varietals and have a big celebration and really find out exactly what the differences are and maximize the fun of all that.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Hillary: Good Luck!
When I was a lad, I lived for a bit of time in Spring Valley, New York, in an area called Hillcrest which was predominantly Jewish and is now predominantly Orthodox Hasidic Jewish.
My family was DNA Catholic, and by no means religious. Basically, we were suburban existentialists with a soupcon of greedy arriviste tendencies. So when D., in my class, got up to do her report on the Israeli wars of the 60’s and 70’s, and she had such a reverent sadness about her, I could only wonder, “Why is this Israel situation so insane? I hate war. And why is this girl, who is my age, already consumed with some sort of righteous purpose to claim its essential existence?”
Furthermore, I had no idea there had already been so many wars. Her report was enlightening. She was very upset by all of it…but even at a young age, I could tell she was merely parroting her parents. Had she been born into a Muslim family, she would have been parroting that stuff, too. It was clear to me.
Well, on a positive note, there are fewer wars in those parts. And people who live there are truly sick of it. So maybe Hillary Clinton can help shepherd in a two-state promise. If she does, I’ll eat hummus every day for a year. (I hate hummus.)
But I always end up with the same question, and I know the answer, but I have to ask it anyway. Why doesn’t Israel just give that damn West Bank to Jordan with a thin road over to Gaza, hand that off, too---and be done with it? (Come on Jordanians and Palestinians, surely YOU can all hang together? Oh, that’s right. The answer is no.)
What a mess-world. I’ve been listening to it since that oral report in grade school by somber D.
(And years later, I would have a reoccurring dream that she lifts up her plaid skirt to reveal man bits. What could that mean? Additionally, it almost always took place in the middle seat of the beige station wagon of my youth. I was in the way back.)
My family was DNA Catholic, and by no means religious. Basically, we were suburban existentialists with a soupcon of greedy arriviste tendencies. So when D., in my class, got up to do her report on the Israeli wars of the 60’s and 70’s, and she had such a reverent sadness about her, I could only wonder, “Why is this Israel situation so insane? I hate war. And why is this girl, who is my age, already consumed with some sort of righteous purpose to claim its essential existence?”
Furthermore, I had no idea there had already been so many wars. Her report was enlightening. She was very upset by all of it…but even at a young age, I could tell she was merely parroting her parents. Had she been born into a Muslim family, she would have been parroting that stuff, too. It was clear to me.
Well, on a positive note, there are fewer wars in those parts. And people who live there are truly sick of it. So maybe Hillary Clinton can help shepherd in a two-state promise. If she does, I’ll eat hummus every day for a year. (I hate hummus.)
But I always end up with the same question, and I know the answer, but I have to ask it anyway. Why doesn’t Israel just give that damn West Bank to Jordan with a thin road over to Gaza, hand that off, too---and be done with it? (Come on Jordanians and Palestinians, surely YOU can all hang together? Oh, that’s right. The answer is no.)
What a mess-world. I’ve been listening to it since that oral report in grade school by somber D.
(And years later, I would have a reoccurring dream that she lifts up her plaid skirt to reveal man bits. What could that mean? Additionally, it almost always took place in the middle seat of the beige station wagon of my youth. I was in the way back.)
Monday, September 13, 2010
Iceland
I am happy to share my happiness about having visited Iceland.
It’s a world in reverse. The air is cold but you go swimming in heated rivers and pools.
The people are lovely and beautiful, but also insular and somewhat dorky.
(There’s nothing more fun than watching an Icelandic guy laugh---while his soul resists it—so the herking and jerking of the body gets a full work out.)
The food is horrendous outside of the capitol, but inside city limits, it’s pretty great.
Iceland is a cold Hawaii. It’s a volcanic experience.
Saw the big scar of the huge volcano that delayed the planes.
Notice how I am not typing anything in the language of Iceland?
What is fun is they have a few letters in their alphabet that we don’t have. A strange looking “p” that sounds like the th of thick. And a curled up “d” with a little tail that sounds like the th in the. And a bunch of vowel things. Of course, when you see something that looks like Porsmork---you call it Porsmork (or Porsmindy) or in my final naming, Porksmear. But really, it sounds something like Thorsmurk.
There is so much beauty in Iceland, you just cannot believe it.
The people are sturdy, extremely egalitarian, but also a bit superior in their attitude of their country (not so much their culture).
Their water is, truly, the best I’ve ever tasted.
Sometimes there, you see someone who is so attractive, you just cannot believe it. Like a driver or a cashier or anything at all. Shocking.
Sheep. Lots of sheep.
Iceland has the highest literacy rate of any country on earth: 100%.
Also, the longest life expectancy.
The flight is shorter than any other flight to Europe, but it’s still longish, much of it over Canada.
Reykjavik is a young town. If you are olderish, hang out at Café Rosenberg. Great music.
I also suggest the 1PM daily, free walking tour that meets near the main Info booth.
I love the holes and vents and gurgling mud and spitting water and all that. Makes me happy to know that our planet is still fuming.
Spending hours in a huge lake of hot water is always a great time. It is so relaxing. Can’t wait to return.
Really, go. You must.
It’s a world in reverse. The air is cold but you go swimming in heated rivers and pools.
The people are lovely and beautiful, but also insular and somewhat dorky.
(There’s nothing more fun than watching an Icelandic guy laugh---while his soul resists it—so the herking and jerking of the body gets a full work out.)
The food is horrendous outside of the capitol, but inside city limits, it’s pretty great.
Iceland is a cold Hawaii. It’s a volcanic experience.
Saw the big scar of the huge volcano that delayed the planes.
Notice how I am not typing anything in the language of Iceland?
What is fun is they have a few letters in their alphabet that we don’t have. A strange looking “p” that sounds like the th of thick. And a curled up “d” with a little tail that sounds like the th in the. And a bunch of vowel things. Of course, when you see something that looks like Porsmork---you call it Porsmork (or Porsmindy) or in my final naming, Porksmear. But really, it sounds something like Thorsmurk.
There is so much beauty in Iceland, you just cannot believe it.
The people are sturdy, extremely egalitarian, but also a bit superior in their attitude of their country (not so much their culture).
Their water is, truly, the best I’ve ever tasted.
Sometimes there, you see someone who is so attractive, you just cannot believe it. Like a driver or a cashier or anything at all. Shocking.
Sheep. Lots of sheep.
Iceland has the highest literacy rate of any country on earth: 100%.
Also, the longest life expectancy.
The flight is shorter than any other flight to Europe, but it’s still longish, much of it over Canada.
Reykjavik is a young town. If you are olderish, hang out at Café Rosenberg. Great music.
I also suggest the 1PM daily, free walking tour that meets near the main Info booth.
I love the holes and vents and gurgling mud and spitting water and all that. Makes me happy to know that our planet is still fuming.
Spending hours in a huge lake of hot water is always a great time. It is so relaxing. Can’t wait to return.
Really, go. You must.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
The Atlantic Rift: Judy's Cream of Wheat
We are heading to Iceland for the week. It sits right on the rift of the North American Plate and the European Plate. While we are there, enjoy this bit of Americana.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
How Did They Know
That people in Queens walk so slow---you could kill them?
Thanks, Jeff.
New York: It’s a hot beaver swamp. We just have to wait three weeks and all will be much more enjoyable. Until then--
Read and laugh:
We’re Getting the Hell Out of this Sewer
Thanks, Jeff.
New York: It’s a hot beaver swamp. We just have to wait three weeks and all will be much more enjoyable. Until then--
Read and laugh:
We’re Getting the Hell Out of this Sewer
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Hump Day Happenings
No more Iraq war. And people are less than grateful with their response.
Of course there’s still violence there.
Hurricane Earl, don’t you get near the airports on Monday, please.
Hot enough in New York? I’m so use to it. Strange.
I don’t understand the expression use-to-it.
I still have trouble with garlic.
I still like cults and serial killers. The plasticity of the monkey mind, you know…
Big news---today is S’s birthday.
And K arrives in New York tomorrow for three months of TV toil. Fun!
Isn’t it awful when people use initials only?
I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love. Don’t ask me why.
I should write the shadow version: Hog, Beg, Fuck.
Has anyone else besides me had enough viewing time of Grandin Temple online?
Where DO the children play?
September 1 is still summer. Don’t let the “ber” part fool you.
Dogs. People love their dogs. And they should.
I have no problem with Spanish---I just wish people wanted to speak English at my gym.
It’s only because I get sweaty and lonely there.
If horses were beggars, riders would wish.
Remember geometry proofs? I was always bad at them. Shook my confidence.
Puppets are something we should know more about.
Of course there’s still violence there.
Hurricane Earl, don’t you get near the airports on Monday, please.
Hot enough in New York? I’m so use to it. Strange.
I don’t understand the expression use-to-it.
I still have trouble with garlic.
I still like cults and serial killers. The plasticity of the monkey mind, you know…
Big news---today is S’s birthday.
And K arrives in New York tomorrow for three months of TV toil. Fun!
Isn’t it awful when people use initials only?
I’m reading Eat, Pray, Love. Don’t ask me why.
I should write the shadow version: Hog, Beg, Fuck.
Has anyone else besides me had enough viewing time of Grandin Temple online?
Where DO the children play?
September 1 is still summer. Don’t let the “ber” part fool you.
Dogs. People love their dogs. And they should.
I have no problem with Spanish---I just wish people wanted to speak English at my gym.
It’s only because I get sweaty and lonely there.
If horses were beggars, riders would wish.
Remember geometry proofs? I was always bad at them. Shook my confidence.
Puppets are something we should know more about.
Monday, August 30, 2010
TIME
Strange thing, time. You want to feel like you have a mountain of it so you can be relaxed when you are doing something.
But you want to feel the pressure of it, too, so you feel motivated.
We have figured it out, sort of, as a group of animals. Though, lately I have been experiencing that old adage, TIME IS MONEY. Which, of course, it is not, but can be.
Time can also be Love.
Or Time is well spent sleeping.
Or
Time for dinner
Time is on our side
Time for a new fence
Time machine
It’s a commodity, it seems. You get older and you feel you have less of it, which makes you speed up, which then lessens the time you have.
So what is the answer?
I feel like, collectively, we middle aged people are happy to count things, to mark it up, to register all of it. I do not believe this helps creativity.
But without the pulse of time, there would be no creativity at all.
If I ever figure out the balance, I will let you know. In the mean time…
But you want to feel the pressure of it, too, so you feel motivated.
We have figured it out, sort of, as a group of animals. Though, lately I have been experiencing that old adage, TIME IS MONEY. Which, of course, it is not, but can be.
Time can also be Love.
Or Time is well spent sleeping.
Or
Time for dinner
Time is on our side
Time for a new fence
Time machine
It’s a commodity, it seems. You get older and you feel you have less of it, which makes you speed up, which then lessens the time you have.
So what is the answer?
I feel like, collectively, we middle aged people are happy to count things, to mark it up, to register all of it. I do not believe this helps creativity.
But without the pulse of time, there would be no creativity at all.
If I ever figure out the balance, I will let you know. In the mean time…
Sunday, August 29, 2010
ALL ABOUT EVIL
This is mostly for my LA friends for the near future.
Go see ALL ABOUT EVIL on October 8 at Landmark’s Nuart Theatre. I just saw it this weekend in Baltimore, introduced by and including my funny Mink Stole.
Party!
It’s intelligent horror camp. Hilarious. Starring Natasha Lyonne (Welcome back from the drugs, girl! You did a great job.) And Cassandra Peterson (Elvira), Thomas Dekker and of course, Mink Stole.
Peaches Christ is a midnight horror queen drag performance staple in San Francisco and has made a bunch of shorts. This is her (his—Joshua Grannell) first full length feature that (s)he has directed. It’s pretty amazing. This crazed killer, well----I don’t want to spoil it because it’s all so surprising and funny. Even the set up. So you’re just going to have to go see it.
There are other dates: September 4 in Atlanta, September 17 in Phoenix, October 8 in LA as above, October 21-24 in San Francisco. And November 13 in Minneapolis. Yay!
You’ll laugh a lot if you go see it. Great spirit. And very funny. I wish I could tell you more. But, well---Boo!
Go see ALL ABOUT EVIL on October 8 at Landmark’s Nuart Theatre. I just saw it this weekend in Baltimore, introduced by and including my funny Mink Stole.
Party!
It’s intelligent horror camp. Hilarious. Starring Natasha Lyonne (Welcome back from the drugs, girl! You did a great job.) And Cassandra Peterson (Elvira), Thomas Dekker and of course, Mink Stole.
Peaches Christ is a midnight horror queen drag performance staple in San Francisco and has made a bunch of shorts. This is her (his—Joshua Grannell) first full length feature that (s)he has directed. It’s pretty amazing. This crazed killer, well----I don’t want to spoil it because it’s all so surprising and funny. Even the set up. So you’re just going to have to go see it.
There are other dates: September 4 in Atlanta, September 17 in Phoenix, October 8 in LA as above, October 21-24 in San Francisco. And November 13 in Minneapolis. Yay!
You’ll laugh a lot if you go see it. Great spirit. And very funny. I wish I could tell you more. But, well---Boo!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Writing Question
Why do I try to write like I’m from France when I’m from Rockland County?
There is ego. There is a reach. Why the reach?
I just finished a big rewrite of a screenplay that I felt had the promise of Rohmer complexity-simplicity-tone. But really, it’s a mall thing that I wrote, hopefully a fun one.
Why do we ape when we are mere gibbons?
There is ego. There is a reach. Why the reach?
I just finished a big rewrite of a screenplay that I felt had the promise of Rohmer complexity-simplicity-tone. But really, it’s a mall thing that I wrote, hopefully a fun one.
Why do we ape when we are mere gibbons?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Has Everyone Gone Gay?
Another Republican Homosexual
You guys, you can smell the musky crotches coming together.
Gays want to get married, even conservative ones.
The time is here, nigh, now, and well, happening.
"Less government, more gay marriage?"
Or, “Don’t tread on me, but please sanction Bill and Bob with their love for each other?”
Or, “No future V.A.T. on the shiny new bikes that those dykes just rode in on.”
Something like that.
I give it a year…
You guys, you can smell the musky crotches coming together.
Gays want to get married, even conservative ones.
The time is here, nigh, now, and well, happening.
"Less government, more gay marriage?"
Or, “Don’t tread on me, but please sanction Bill and Bob with their love for each other?”
Or, “No future V.A.T. on the shiny new bikes that those dykes just rode in on.”
Something like that.
I give it a year…
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Dollars Out
As I was walking along Roosevelt Boulevard I realized that so much of the money from small businesses that is made in the United States is sent overseas.
And so many of the corporations make their money overseas.
The United States is SUCH A GREAT BUSINESS country. Set up for that.
But the money goes outside its borders. And the rest of the developed world has the cash for national health care and education.
And us? We want our pizza pockets.
And so many of the corporations make their money overseas.
The United States is SUCH A GREAT BUSINESS country. Set up for that.
But the money goes outside its borders. And the rest of the developed world has the cash for national health care and education.
And us? We want our pizza pockets.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Addiction: An Oversimplification
Though I have been lucky enough to have never been a true addict (other than to cigarettes) I have seen it in full force around me and I have felt myself heading in that direction at times (pot and wine) but never really got there because I have a weak system and cannot develop tolerance to almost anything…
Luckily, this means that after three glasses of wine, I am tanked.
But then, if I am tanked after three why wouldn’t I just stop at two?
And this is my oversimplification of addiction (or at least the edge of addiction):
Addiction to simple things (like wine, food, sex, pot) is really nothing more than the normal appetite being allowed satiation with abandon, without controls.
Now, I know my 12 stepper friends have a much more evolved understanding of this. And perhaps because I never became a full fledged drunk or pothead, I do not really understand these things. And perhaps I am only speaking for myself as it relates to, “Sure did get too tanked at that party last month,” or, “Yeah, no one smokes cigarettes, until someone shows up with a pack of them,” etc., as I see myself behaving not much differently than most people on a Saturday night.
So the big question is---why do some people have control and others simply do not? People with food and sex addictions learn how to dial it back with effort.
I believe, with awareness, one could dial back almost anything. I also believe, with awareness, one could sense the drugs that are basically going to kill you if you get too involved with them.
I’ve plowed into cocaine about a dozen times. The stuff just feels like it will kill you. So, no need for that. (And so, no need ever to try Meth.)
Had a terrible trip on hallucinogens in college. Well, strike that off the list. Once that happened, I never saw any reason for any strong substance in that category.
And there it is.
Perhaps some people have exceptionally strong constitutions and they can take the abuse. I have trouble with cheese and beans.
Addiction was once probably a monkey saver. Evolutionarily, if you are insatiable, you probably got your hands on a lot more bananas than anyone else.
Being aware of that grabbiness---could that not be enough to stop the grab?
Luckily, this means that after three glasses of wine, I am tanked.
But then, if I am tanked after three why wouldn’t I just stop at two?
And this is my oversimplification of addiction (or at least the edge of addiction):
Addiction to simple things (like wine, food, sex, pot) is really nothing more than the normal appetite being allowed satiation with abandon, without controls.
Now, I know my 12 stepper friends have a much more evolved understanding of this. And perhaps because I never became a full fledged drunk or pothead, I do not really understand these things. And perhaps I am only speaking for myself as it relates to, “Sure did get too tanked at that party last month,” or, “Yeah, no one smokes cigarettes, until someone shows up with a pack of them,” etc., as I see myself behaving not much differently than most people on a Saturday night.
So the big question is---why do some people have control and others simply do not? People with food and sex addictions learn how to dial it back with effort.
I believe, with awareness, one could dial back almost anything. I also believe, with awareness, one could sense the drugs that are basically going to kill you if you get too involved with them.
I’ve plowed into cocaine about a dozen times. The stuff just feels like it will kill you. So, no need for that. (And so, no need ever to try Meth.)
Had a terrible trip on hallucinogens in college. Well, strike that off the list. Once that happened, I never saw any reason for any strong substance in that category.
And there it is.
Perhaps some people have exceptionally strong constitutions and they can take the abuse. I have trouble with cheese and beans.
Addiction was once probably a monkey saver. Evolutionarily, if you are insatiable, you probably got your hands on a lot more bananas than anyone else.
Being aware of that grabbiness---could that not be enough to stop the grab?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Men Who Hate Women)
Go see The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
Lucky for me, I have an insistent and good tasted Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner-sister-in-law, who chided us into attendance.
Good that she chided!
Friends, it’s so interesting, this Swedish movie. And I didn’t even read those books.
Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salinger, COME ON! She’s fantastic and no American gum chomper will ever come close.
Why won’t Americans sit through subtitles?
I understand. They’re annoying. It isn’t as enjoyable.
Go see this before it leaves the theatres. Or netfilx it, etc. Completely worth it.
Sure, it’s a whodunit at the end of the day, so we’re not looking at a new kind of story. But at least there’s a push into good characters.
Friends, these are trying times for entertainment. Catch this one.
Lucky for me, I have an insistent and good tasted Recognized-by-the-State-of-California-Domestic-Partner-sister-in-law, who chided us into attendance.
Good that she chided!
Friends, it’s so interesting, this Swedish movie. And I didn’t even read those books.
Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salinger, COME ON! She’s fantastic and no American gum chomper will ever come close.
Why won’t Americans sit through subtitles?
I understand. They’re annoying. It isn’t as enjoyable.
Go see this before it leaves the theatres. Or netfilx it, etc. Completely worth it.
Sure, it’s a whodunit at the end of the day, so we’re not looking at a new kind of story. But at least there’s a push into good characters.
Friends, these are trying times for entertainment. Catch this one.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Fried Chicken and Shallowness
I need to write about two very different things.
First of all, fried chicken. We ate in a big noisy box of a restaurant tonight in Chelsea, okay, Cafeteria. Seventh Avenue. The whole thing.
I went ahead and ordered the fried chicken because why shouldn’t I, right? I’m not afraid of a bunch of greasy bird pieces.
It’s a killer. Don’t ever do it. It’s not worth it. I don’t know how people survive these things.
Next, on the subject of being shallow, I have come to this conclusion. I think the reason why people are so upset when they perceive someone to be shallow is not so much that this perceived person is wrong or morally in the basement, it’s more because there is a loss of potential love. Someone who is shallow, who is committed to their own pleasures and vices above all else, does not have the space or time to love you. And people feel this. Even if they do not admit it.
First of all, fried chicken. We ate in a big noisy box of a restaurant tonight in Chelsea, okay, Cafeteria. Seventh Avenue. The whole thing.
I went ahead and ordered the fried chicken because why shouldn’t I, right? I’m not afraid of a bunch of greasy bird pieces.
It’s a killer. Don’t ever do it. It’s not worth it. I don’t know how people survive these things.
Next, on the subject of being shallow, I have come to this conclusion. I think the reason why people are so upset when they perceive someone to be shallow is not so much that this perceived person is wrong or morally in the basement, it’s more because there is a loss of potential love. Someone who is shallow, who is committed to their own pleasures and vices above all else, does not have the space or time to love you. And people feel this. Even if they do not admit it.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)