Tuesday, November 29, 2011

How Much do You Agree with Michael Moore on OWS?

Michael Moore on Occupy Wall Street

Do you agree with any of this?

I only agree with numbers 1 – 10. ;)

Apparently, this is going to be a big winter of planning. I imagine in 2012 we will experience a "Summer of Shove."

Get ready. I especially want the single payer health plan thing. Of course, once you do that (the thin edge of the wedge), you're heading toward socialism. And that has hurt Scandinavia, France, Germany and New Zealand how?

Greed. It's so boring. Especially when it kills people. Which it does. All the time.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Fakemas Tree

A week ago, at Lee’s Art Supply on West 57th Street, I bought a fake Christmas tree. Six feet tall. Fifty-nine dollars. About the same price you would pay for a real one on the street.

It’s kind of great. The trunk is wood. The branches do look like branches, but spaced a little extra wide for that good ornament spacing hang. I think the tree is cute. Adam, my Recognized-by-the-State-of-New-York-Husband, thinks it looks like a cell tower.

At least he did before it was covered with ornaments.

And now to the good part. I love Christmas trees. The ornaments. The lights. The whole cheesy deal. When I was a kid and we would have the Christmas tree plugged in, and my favorite television show was on, I would rather look at the tree than watch the T.V.
I know. No big surprise. However, I do live a life of decorator spareness, so I feel this guilty pleasure, allowing myself to froth out on a Christmas tree, is an aberration in an otherwise brown-beige-a-touch-of-corral lifestyle we’ve been poking around in. Our spare living has been informed by our personalities and our personal histories. Adam is a lapsed Quaker and I have always been basically neat and do not like to shop. So we live uncluttered and open. And we like it that way. But when it comes to Christmas? Bring on the motley mess of lights and colors. I am all for it.

Each ornament has a story. I have these hanging guitars from my grandmother---lutes and cellos really—that are from the 1940’s or earlier. Heavy glass, they have been dropped many times and do not break. I have a few from the 1960s that my dad bought. Groovy shaped elongated spheroids with pointy tips at the bottom, frosted in white with glued on tiny stars, a white bell with curly gold sparkling twirls and tiny fake rubies. And then there are all the ornaments from all the vacations. Middle Europa wooden carved things, a Maryland crab in a crab trap, a great long hanging thing made out of Redwood from Northern California, a wooly sheep from Iceland, Mexicrap, a pepper from Santa Fe with Santa painted on it, a golden walnut from Idaho. And then all around California, there was always the chance to pick up some schnazoids along the way, you know how it can get…

Every ornament means something. I guess I am extra excited because we haven’t had a tree in a few years with this California-New York-Storage-Unit-where-the-hell-is-all-my-stuff-sort of thing.

My gushing joy, it embarrasses me. I don’t know why I think I should be so serious and unhappy.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Feeling Greasy?

Posted by Picasa

I thought so.

Just keep moving.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Three Years Late and Worth it: Synecdoche New York

Finally, about three years late, I sat down and watched Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York . (Thanks Anne E.)

It takes some doing, and then you let yourself go with it and then, well, it’s a complete romp of brutal acceptance and sadness.

You can figure out the narrative by the end. But basically…well, I don’t even want to talk about what it is because if I do it will sound so trivial.

He made this movie based on the definition, sort of, of the word synecdoche. Look it up. But really, it’s about living-connection.

Jon Brion, movie music (and other music) genius is in attendance making it even more suspended.

Outrageous cast of talented wonders. Hoffman, Watson, Keener, Davis, Williams, Wiest.

Years ago, I was at one of those summer pool parties in Brentwood or Bel Air or some sort of town that started with the letter B. Charlie Kaufman was there, friend of close friends. And he was so kind and he had just come off his success of Being John Malkovich, a big fluke, really, and he was so grateful. A spec script that saw the sun. He was physically unassuming and bashful and fantastic.

(Is it completely tacky to mention this superficial connection? Fuck it. I’m tacky.)

And then to this…

I was sort of blubberpussing on the sofa. But then, I don’t experience time linearly, so this movie was for me, exactly. Because, really, everything is happening at once and he got that and he shot that. Balls to do it. Smart, sad and right. We’re all dead. He doesn’t even say we should live well because of that. Maybe nods to it, a bit.

After you see it, you might need to read about it. Or maybe, read about it before you see it. You got the Google.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Finally: Blood in the Streets

You know, I’m seeing pictures of bloodied and battered protesters.

I was wondering when the kids were going to wake up and get out there and make a fuss. It’s happening.

Thanks, kids. No sarcasm here. I mean it. Thank you.

Blood in the streets. This is when it gets interesting. (Also a great time to buy stocks and real estate. Oh, the irony. Yet I do get sucked into self interest. Baby, I was born this way…oh wait, no---I was made this way by my society.)

Look, kids who protest and get a little battered make for great photo ops. They’re young and they will heal. It is easy to imagine that some of these kids want to get beaten. It’s the ones who can take it. The strong ones who get right in the face of the fuzz and say, “No, pig. You are not going to stop us.”

Funny, the world only understands pain. Even after Western enlightenment, reason is not held in great esteem. You concentrate wealth and then lie to everyone about some sort of “all boats” or “trickle down” theory, as if they hold any water or give any water, well, you are going to raise the ire of the many. This is just obvious. And yet—the greedy still want to concentrate the wealth.

Bad way to go.

The kids can take some physical abuse. And they are doing it. But why must it come to this? Maybe it’s because it’s just how it’s been done for a very long time…kids are the ones who also go out and do Righties’ wars. It’s tradition. Physical strength at its zenith is used.

Fight, kids…so maybe no one ever has to fight again. But maybe that’s a very optimistic thought.

Maybe the fight is what people want. Better to beat the kids into understanding what capitalism is all about (it’s good for them?) than to have peace and togetherness. Because Socialism, apparently, is evil. Ask any Dane. They’ll tell you. ;) Wink.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Magazine Trouble

As if it isn’t enough that I have to smell the Dolce and Gabbana cologne in the sample horror of a magazine, I have to look at Matthew McConaughey’s airbrushed titties, too?

Why don’t they make magazines and newspapers on your computer that you just leaf through, like, uh, a magazine or a newspaper, in page order? All this clicking forward and back is a waste of time.

Lastly, and this has little to do with magazines, when I hear someone complaining about how expensive something is, I think they are actually congratulating themselves that they can afford it.

Bonus Round: Don’t eat prunes after you eat a dill pickle. Your tongue cannot make sense of any of it. Note: No picture of food included in this description.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Busy Busy Busy

I was walking in Central Park today after a busy bunch of stuff and I thought, “This just walking around is a good way to think up some new things.” Not that that was a new thought.

New York City is a wild distraction. On any given night you can go see 5,000 shows/whatnots. Really. I almost did the research. Okay, I did not. It just feels like that might be the right number, if you include every small club and movie theater and art shebang.

In order to get your stuff done, your internal stuff, you have to ignore these things. And you have to find a way to get into nature so you can slow down and have a thought that is not on the To Do list.

So, this is part of the discipline. To ignore the millions of bright flowers yelling, “Smell me! Pick me!”

What really feels primary to me is nature. This is not corny sentiment or a romanticizing of the bark beetle. If you are made of the same thing as water and rock and tree and squirrel, and you are, then you might as well go sit with them and calm down.

Usually, when the mind clears and you think about how you’ve been thinking, you think, “Man, that was a lot of chatter.”

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Middle Stage Tonight at Dixon Place

Tonight is it. Going to be a good crowd. Party after at InterstateNYC. Probably not a good idea to show up without buying tix first.

Get to the Lower East Side…have someone wheel you there in their hipster pushcart. When was the last time you took a chance?


Marian Fontana and Don Cummings, lunatics of life and stage explore what life means from dating to doctors with music, mayhem and a bassoon.

Multi-flutist Robert Dick and visual improviser Joshue Ott create an immersive, improvised experience, unabashedly journeying from maelstrom to serenity via spontaneous emotional ports of call.

written and performed by: Heidi Schreck
A story of one high school girl's baffling encounter with a Very Important Document.

created & performed by: David E. Johnston
with Brian Wolfe, Elizabeth Pupo-Walker and Emiliano Valerio. on drums and percussion
Performance artist David E Johnston and his electro-percussive band "Gift of Tongues" debut music from his dark new collection called "Songs of My People".

written by Felipe Ossa
directed by Jeremy Bloom
with Celeste Arias, Sandie Luna& Ruben Ortiz
Karen is interviewed for a position that might just be a perfect fit. But her would-be employers, Maria and Simón, are ill equipped to assess her true value. And Karen herself might have a thing or two learn about the human marketplace.

Monday, November 14, 2011 — 7:30 pm @ the new Dixon Place
161A Chrystie btw. Delancey & Rivington (F/V 2nd Ave; 6 Bleecker; JMZ Bowery)

Tickets $15.00 @ the door
but just $10.00 online, in advance GET TIX
1st come, 1st served, no reservations ('less you buy yr. tix online)

For more information, call (212) 219-0736, or browse www.dixonplace.org

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Monday Night Show and More


Come see my show Monday night. You’ll have a good time. Or you won’t. But at least you’ll have done something you usually don’t do. These sort of outings can wake you up.

I believe in corporations because I like centralization. Let Williams-Sonoma make everything for my house under the guise of different companies. Trick is, just don’t let the king of Williams-Sonoma get so damn rich. How many houses full of silicon pot holders does he need?

I have an idea for a book: Lose weight like a chain smoker! (Without the smoking).
If you do what chain smokers do…which is something besides eating…in other words, keep yourself very distracted, and stay sort of obsessed and driven while denying yourself calories, you will lose weight. It works. Just make sure your meals are healthy, small and consistent.

I believe women rape, sexually, too. It’s a different kind of rape. They’ll do it for the power. Distant. Controlling. I’ve heard some talk about it--came from the horse’s mouth. Everyone gets their turn at destroying others. And then they pretend they don’t?

You’ll love this play. See it. It’s so well done.
The performance of the main guy is truly amazing.

Snow in October. Spring in November. This weather sure is entertaining! Variety is the spice, and perhaps the lunacy, of life.
Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Facebook, Why?

Facebook, complicated Facebook, almost powder blue Facebook, why? Why are you still here?

I thought Google+ would do you in. I was wrong.

I thought people would get so bored. I was wrong again. They just got way into their food and started posting greasy pictures of their daily slop.

Then, I thought there would be an uprising as the pages became increasingly difficult to use, especially with the privacy levels, then the subscribing levels, which are different than friend levels and the lists and what the hell else?

But it sticks and sticks.

I used to love being a blogger because almost no one had the discipline to keep at it. And you put yourself out there. And it felt kind of courageous. Blogging, of course, is the online equivalent of ancient sea sponges. And the next leg up, you know, would have been the coelenterates, but Facebook went all the way to vertebrates and maybe even beyond. Why?

Why doesn’t something simpler replace it? Would it really be so hard to bail (bale?) and start over? I mean, almost everyone on earth dropped AOL.

I’m ready. Hale-Bop, take me to another world.

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

She Cain Forward

Sharon Bialek, in looking to find another job or regain the one she lost, got a whole lot of Cain hand up her skirt, her head pulled down toward Cain’s crotch, and the demand, “You want a job, right?” At least that’s what she said.

It will be interesting to see if she is speaking with forked tongue or not.

I suspect she is telling the truth. But only because of math and anti-conspiracy sentiments. I do not believe that so many women would come forward, women who do not know each other, living in different places. It would take quite a cabal to get that going on.

And then the Right wingers, yet again whenever there is something inconvenient brought forth, attempt to believe it is media distortion. What on earth does the media get out of this? And if the media makes stuff up, why don’t they make up better stuff? Because they are too busy reporting what’s actually going on.

Monday, November 07, 2011


Liberals maintaining that racism is what drives most social discourse is actually a conservative position if you define a conservative position as one where you hold onto the way things have always been done.

Why calcify?

Liberals, undig, please.

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

The Suburbs: Is it Safe for Dogs, Even?

Two catastrophes happened within three days of each other.

Our cute pooch had to leave our apartment to live differently and otherwise, forever. It was a yapping-in-an-apartment issue that was causing insanity to both those in the apartment and those nearby. So, Connie, now back to Molli, has moved to New Jersey to live with my sister and her family. It is working out. Go Molli, go!

Not long after, there was the pre-Halloween snowstorm that was so freakish and devastating, that my sister’s little burgh of Cresskill, New Jersey is still without power, five days later. All sorts of things crushed. Messy messy world.

Will the dog survive under such conditions? Apparently, yes. It’s just dry kibble and water that propels her. So my sister’s family must trudge through dark nights and refrigerator-free days, training a dog to do its business outside, under the stress of television-free evenings.

It makes you wonder how long people will continue to live out in the woods with or without their dogs. It’s all tornadoes and crazy snow storms and freakish winds in the northeast. When I was a kid, we had about four blizzards the whole time, a couple of floody summers. Things truly have violently changed. What must my Republican appurtenances in the suburbs and country think about all this?

Or, do they not have time to think about all this since they must pass their days busily with their chain saws, making logs out of the trunks that have crushed their roofs, blown out the windows of their S.U.V.s?

As harsh as this sounds, you do wonder how many Escalades have to be pounded before someone admits to Global Warming/Severe Climate Change.

Homeostasis can be gentle. Or, it can be meted out. Right now, it is meted. It’s all physics and math, this mess. Why is this so hard to understand?

I wish the population of the great northern woods much strength in the oncoming years. But hell, what am I smugging about? The next super virus that hits the big cities, opportunistically rampant due to the population bulge, I will be running across that G.W. Bridge to New Jersey to go sit in the dark with my sister’s family and my former pooch, Molli, who, hopefully, will be house trained by then.