Eat My Bullets

I had never been on The Intrepid before. What a boat.

Now that there is a reasonable guy as president, the thought of war is not so scary to me. It has returned to something akin to, "It's over there, somewhere, vague, but I have stuff to do."

So--big nasty machinery, removed from the threat of reality, is pretty powerful looking stuff. You can feel the need to climb right into this helicopter and parade around like you are the most powerful badass mofo who ever zipped through...Oh who am I kidding? I'd never do that. I was in a helicopter over Kaui with my Recognized-by-the-State-of-California Domestic Partner and his parents, and I just closed my eyes and couldn't wait for it to be over.

But let's say I wasn't me for a minute. I get the power.

But let's say I am me for a minute...and this is true. I think I am crazy enough to lay fifteen nuclear warheads along the Afghani-Paki border. If nothing else, make the place inhospitable for those upstarts.

Bet there'd be less meetings after that.


 

Bullies on the High Seas

I love dead pirates. Especially when they are shot by snipers.

Bullies are awful.

Perhaps this killing will send a signal back to the would-be pirates currently struggling in Somalia.

It is very sad that a country is so awful that many of its young turn to crime, of some nature, in order to survive.

I am not so naïve to believe the rich West can solve all these problems for unfortunate people in unlucky nations. And sometimes, you just have to shoot them.

Sticks. Carrots. Shaming. Appeasement. Killing. Allowing. Bending. Standing straight up. Raising the bar. Acceptance. Punishing. Rewarding.

All these ways? Yes. And so few of them, almost none of them can solve the problem.

You pick one or two---mix them up---measure. Adjust. Try again. Measure. Adjust.

And while you are measuring, things change. Keep an eye out.

And carry guns.

Les Temps

Speaking with R.K., an actor friend we ran into from Los Angeles who actually lives in New York, we got on the subject, the endlessly dull subject of the differences between NY and LA.

He went on about the superiority of NY because of the abundant culture, the mixing of people and the inherent greater morality the city's citizens have to offer. Especially, one appreciates this environment for raising kids. Sure, there is more tradition and guilt here.

I added, "But LA...the weather!"

And he responded, "Shame on you if you live somewhere for the weather."

He is right. Shame on me.

But spring is maybe finally fucking hitting New York and I have to say, I would rather not be walking around when the streets of Queens and Mahattan are howling winter at me. It really makes a difference.

Central Park today:
(YES!)


 

reasons to be pretty

I’ve always been a fan of Neil LaBute. I loved In the Company of Men. Cynical, truthful, shot so flat and real, harsh and honest.

He and Solondz, they were the men for me.

He kept on. I’ve seen much. By the time he got to FAT PIG, I thought, “Fat pig? Really?”

Felt like a whole lot of shark jumping to me.

Then, yesterday, we saw reasons to be pretty. I am many degrees wrong.

reasons to be pretty is very smart, fantastic to listen to, straight out and flat to watch, sad and honest.

I hope it does very well.

Acting is pitched right. Deep enough. But also, the language is handled musically and pedestrian at the same time. Actors (and I saw one understudy) were: Thomas Sadoski, Anne Bowles, Steven Pasquale and Piper Perabo.

Direction is muscular and smooth. Economized and adult. By Terry Kinney. No slouch.

Set design is sad—palettes of big box store items framing the stage. Much of the play takes place in the break room. Pathetic, slave location. Needing to break out. David Gallo here.

I think the title is misleading. Perhaps this is purposeful. This play is really about a weak guy learning how to grow up, to be brave, to tell the truth. Even with the chosen lower casing of the title...

But then what would you call it? “The Break Room?”

I don’t know.

Rarely have I been to a play where I have enjoyed the language so much. You ride it in this one. It is a unique sound.

The difficulty of men and women getting along? Yes, a DNA problem. But also, facing off on differences of world view, ambition and bravery between any two people is always a cause for conflict and drama. Growing up. Paying attention.

See it.

Good Friday

I have this weird thing about Jesus. I would like to say that I am ambivalent, but I’m not. I mostly feel that Jesus was a mad man, like so many other mad men who thought they were the son of God. Asylums are full of them. Jesus’ great trick was that he was also highly functional, a carpenter and must have also been a brilliant narcissist, hiding it well.

Now this might sound a little hostile. However, I do not believe that a case of mild, strongly regulated schizophrenia mixed with high grade narcissism is necessarily a bad thing.

I could be wrong. Maybe he really was the son of some god. Okay. Sure. Have a nice day.

But this is the thing. Christianity codified a lot of human behavior. Right and wrong. And the system was a little simpler than the former codified systems…even the Jews’ monotheistic system was more complicated what with all the arguing over interpretation. I think I still hear them arguing.

A bunch of mortals needed rallying. They got it. They chose this guy to be the symbol of it. It was an evolution of culture. It keeps going.

Maybe the unifying goat God will bring things together—and we’ll go back to worshipping nature, but simply. That would be the next evolution. We are of it. We are it. No need to dissociate and then project.

Enjoy your peeps, ham and eggs. Those are eternal.

And I am Afraid

You watch this video—and you just have to laugh. Or think about it.

The third person, the young black woman in glasses, “And I am afraid.”

Come on! They couldn’t even get good actors!

You know, this little vidiot has the tone and feel of a Scientology promotion. I once went to the Scientology Center to do some research and they showed me a kind of orientation thing that was so silly and had that same feeling of “big earth doom” going on.

It makes you want to say that all conservatives and religious people have bad taste and are stupid.

But you don’t say that, because you want to be decent.

But it is hard to be decent when confronted with such hatred.

But then, you realize the hatred is not really hatred, it’s just fear.

And then you note, simply, that natural selection chooses against fearful primates.

So, these people who produced this vidiot and the actors who actually performed in it…I wish them well. They should not suffer. But they must also understand that a shrinking, fearful soul is a shrinking, fearful organism. In retreat. Bye bye.

Moonlight in Vermont

Friends, there is no stopping it. Homos and Lezzies are running around like freaks---getting married, raising children, getting divorced, changing careers, grocery shopping, moving into houses, driving, eating peanut butter, taking walks, having sex, drinking wine, returning things to the store, buying books, walking dogs, taking Paxil, singing in the shower, flossing, calling their mothers, vacuuming, getting on Facebook, you name it!
They’re doing it. It’s wild.

Let’s hear it for Vermont.

Come on California, you’re next. You can do it. We know you can. Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa and Vermont are lisping, “JOIN US!”

The Inlaws

Someday, soon, I will have honest inlaws---as in, "Getting married will make an honest man out of me."

Now, usually, you want to be careful posting pictures of friends and family. I tend to post funny pictures from the past or decent pictures from the present.

I would say this is a beautiful picture from the present. These blondy WASP ladies are my family. Bottom left is Mother Judith, then, we go clockwise to the sisters. Ann, Sarah and Rebecca. Yes, Biblical names, Old Testament, all.

Maybe a trip to Iowa is the way to make it honest. I don't know.

Until then, I will continue to think of these people as my family-by-marriage, even though right now they are only my family-by-Domestic-Partnership.

Oh, people.


 

You Ought to Give Iowa a Try

Thank you Iowa.

As a kid, I knew you as "Iowa Test" Seemed like a smart place.

Though I really don't know you, Iowa, I am proud of you and you made me a cry a little.

Had to go You Tube Dipping. Found this. If You've ever been in Music Man...

So We Keep Printing Money

How wild. We just keep printing it and Obama keeps handing it out.

What on earth is happening here?

I have never lived through anything like this. I have recall about things I’ve read. The Weimar, mostly. People pushing wheelbarrows of cash to buy a loaf of bread.

I don’t mind if the dollar collapses along with all the other currencies. But then you have to ask, “What IS the modern currency?”

Or, “What WILL BE the currency of next year?’

I just do not know. Maybe the currency will be experience. Or openness. Or pebbles. Or corn?

Loose, meaningless dollars out there.

Perhaps what will need to happen is a huge sigh of debt erasure. Like the day the earth stood still. We all just agree: DO OVER!

And all debt is forgiven.

Then fashion a One World currency. Come up with a new name and a new symbol. The I. As in Roman Numeral 1… Could be a good unit. Just call them ONES. Every language has a word for one. Use I and call it One. Maybe we’ll feel like one big part of it, together.

Start over.

Obama and friends…you’re freaking me out. And I’m a Democrat. Big one.

The Devil's Staircase

As China rolls the electric cars off the assembly line while Americans sit around still wondering, “When do I get to be rich like they said?”—

I think of the Autistic children. So many now.

The rate of occurrence of Autism has not changed, as many have proffered, it is only that we are better able to count them.

Perhaps, true. But even if there has always been this density of Autistic beings, (1 in 150 eight year olds, to 1 in 5,000 eight year olds, depending on the study), you have to wonder, why so many Autistic kids? Are they speciating?

Or are these kids, simply, the future of all mankind? A twisting inward of a species living in its own filth?

Where are we going?

My Decreasing Readership

I receive the report each week about my blog readership. It’s tanking downward.

When did I lose my appeal?

Was it all that garlic I ate at the Indian place?

Or maybe I haven’t been digging deep enough…not enough truth coming out.

I know what it is. It’s the recession. People don’t have the time to read my blog---too many pencils and apples to sell.

No more frivolity. Not me. I’m only going to write about the important stuff.

Like:

When my mother-in-law sent that bottle of pine tar (for itching) did she not realize that her son would put it on his spider bites and then smell like a janitor’s closet?

When will I ever settle down and get a new dog?

The nature of butter on the thighs.

Gas made from grass.

Princes of Lichtenstein and their boring afternoons.

Stickley.

The loss of innocence, the rise of Socialism.

The best place for a teeth cleaning.

Race politics? What are they? Really—

Is England a country or a county?

Where were you when Karl Rove was put in jail?

Why hospice when you have an oven?

Fear and Stupidity: A truthful reflection of the self.

Sex after forty and before fifty.

Little killings and deaths.

Do people really mean it?

How you were once young and beautiful and now you are old and ugly?

The Rapture as a pop element.

Scoring at bowling could be what you are best equipped to handle?

If green is really the color, then why so much complaining?

Goat capture.

The things you hated that you still hate that never go away.

Toilet maintenance.

If you could, would you ever date a child?

The littlest reasons to love your past.

How is it that you never made a good stack of pancakes?

Will all the people who have ever bought a field book of amphibians ever get together?

Where does your sense of taste land after a lot of salt?

Goldfish

Similar ideas across long periods of time.

The Coasts

Sometimes, when I am in New York, I do crave California…and mostly, (in addition to my friends---Hi everyone), it is because of the climate. I tell people this in New York, “I really like the weather,” and I hear retorts, “You can’t live somewhere just because of the weather.”

Sure, you can’t. But it’s not just the weather. It’s the plants. The air. The way it all makes you feel. Look at this hill behind Mary’s backyard.



Now, get off the subway at 75th and Roosevelt Avenue in Queens and walk by this building every day. The only thing that recommends it, at all, is that it is the ugliest building in The United States of America.



There is a difference. Face it, California (though so marred) has far more natural beauty simply because of its climate.

There is no lack of hideous architecture in California, either. We all know this. But when you can’t take the hideousness another minute, you can find a hillside covered in wild mustard.

Of course, I probably need to get out of Queens…away from tower-o-satellite-dishes, and I will have a change of heart.

The Debt

While spending time with some Republican relatives yesterday (and we all have some), the subject turned to the BAILOUT! Eeek!

Look, I am a moderate Democrat. And basically, I want health care…universal for all. Everything else---open to discussion.

So, when my relatives were going off on all this government spending, I did see their point. I didn’t agree with the finer points of their indignation: Debt for the grandkids! (Didn’t Bush do that, too?), I don’t want to help people who can’t help themselves! (Not even the autistic?), Government is too big! (Is it?), etc. But, I do have a foreboding feeling about this bailout, too. I feel like Obama and friends will be happy to hand out money until the cows come home, or, until the cows don’t have any home to come home to if absolutely everything collapses under this Weimar-esque money printing scenario.

But then, the closest Republican relative of all said, “Well, if you take a trillion bucks and divide by 300, 000, 000 people,” (I calculated it), “Then if everyone just pays $3,333.00 we can pay it off. It doesn’t seem that hard to pay that off.”

So, even the Republicans had different points of view about all this.

Of course, not everyone can afford to pay off $3,333.00 so it won’t happen that way…but rich people and businesses could pull a bigger load of it. And it could be done. (Obama’s plan, basically.)

Money.

Handing out cash like candy freaks me out. It makes me want to pull in the reigns.

But it is hard to understand the Republican cry against big government and huge spending when that is exactly what George Bush was up to. Why when our man does the same thing is it suddenly criminal?

It seems to me that Republicans are cool with enormous amounts of money spent on war but not on anything else.

Or something.

Or Democrats simply make them nauseous.

But I have to agree with their fear about this spending a little bit. It seems wildly monstrous.

I am a math man. Just show me the math---get on television, and show me the math of all this. I’ll even swallow projections. And then, we’ll just do it.

Jersey

It's mythical. It's filthy. It's beautiful. It's Jersey.

I grew up in New York State just a few feet from the New Jersey border. Though we were officially New Yorkers, we did most everything (okay, retail) in New Jersey.

I am here now, visiting my brother who hopped seven blocks--from the New York end of the neighborhood into the New Jersey end. I have to say, the New Jersey end is nicer. More upscale for sure. And certainly loaded with trees and birds.

There is a thrill about taking a train out of Manhattan. You know, everyone loves New York...but secretly, what everyone REALLY loves about New York is how easy it is to GET THE FUCK OUT when you need to and to GET THE FUCK IN when you've had enough of suburbia.

It's a thrill...New Jersey. There are real people here who plant trees for a living. I drank a whole bottle of home made wine. Sure, the grapes come from California...but these Jersey freaks make wine every year in their garage...I am all for it.

Look, we all know New Jersey has its own sense of cool. It's a grounded place. It's industrial as hell. There are some pretty fabulous suburbs. And the people are ready to rumble.

But really, what it's all about...it's about these trains.

It Gets So Late

Something about being in New York but still sort of living in California that makes a man unclear about his time zone.

I don’t mind so much. I’ve always been a night person. Actually, in New York, I am even more nighty because it gets real quiet and that’s how I like it.

Funny, I am so sound sensitive and it has little to do with my ears. It’s the larger problem of taking in energy. Whatever is happening outside of me, I simply take it in and it resonates in me. I guess this is my “artistic sensitivity.” But one would like a little more control over when that kind of thing comes in.

I actually don’t want to shut off this inflow. And I don’t want to control it. But it gets to be a bit much at times. So the best I can do is to limit the volume coming at me. Staying up late helps.

And if you don’t drink, you can get a lot done.

I am back at my book. (Thanks Noel and Moose Purse).

So much traveling around, lately. It feels great to sit and focus. To construct and edit.

Time expands. Experience is full and very internal and grounding.

Things become clear.

Crocuses

 

Don't be alarmed. It's just a church yard. Simple. It is Spring in New York. We just need the winter wind to go away.

Visiting Blogger: On British Pop, Daniel Kaufman

I was listening to some Lily Allen and I formulated a question that I sent to my good friend, Dan Kaufman, who used to live in Great Britain.

The question was this:

Why is Great Britain the only country in Europe that really understands pop (I refer mostly to music, but other forms of pop as examples are welcome)?

Discuss in terms of cultural history
Island geography
Imperialism, including its relation to the birth of The United States
Superior aesthetic compared with France, Germany, Italy and Spain
Paganism, local natural forces, resistance to the church
The class system
Etc.

And now, a few words from Daniel Kaufman:

Brit blacks.

The blacks who brought their music to the UK did it by way of Jamaica. Jamaican pop music was their version of what they heard from the American radio they were able to pick up on the island.

There was no interesting pop music in the UK until Jamaicans got there in the 50s. You need a folk culture that isn't constrained by the need to remain pure and black people to reinterpret it through their African lens.

In fact, American/English folk, like our language and culture, always sought to appropriate what is best about societies we encountered by whatever means.

I remember being at a festival in Strassburg listening to a brass band. They had the same instruments, or similar variations, of the ones played by Duke Ellington's group, but the music that came out was incredibly stale polka. It had no swing, no soul singing rhythm, no crotch grabbing beat. It probably sounded the same for the past 200 years.

The Cool Woods

I have never seen an episode of Jay Leno before tonight. There, I admit it.

I’ve walked by and the television was on and he would be talking and I didn’t care too much.

But I wanted to see my furor.

So I hauled out the little television here in Queens and set it up on the little table and I propped the rabbit ears on the sill and I sat there and watched.

Jay Leno was funny, sometimes. Which was pleasing. A 99 cent store roast, parading out silly products, tickled some.

And then out came our literate guy, the man with the answers, the Health Care/Energy/Education president. A very cool customer.

A smart guy. Right?

I thought, “Oh yeah, he’s like all of our friends except if he was in our group, he’d be the smartest one.”

I am so glad he’s the smartest one.

He stays on point. But his smile, his talking about the silliness of his motorcade, his daughter’s love of candy on the plane, the future dog, all of it, was pretty much perfect smooth television. No wonder this guy won. He’s our Havel. He’s actually creative.

And Jay Leno, a righty, was completely gracious and only cut Obama off (not allowing positive applause to last too long) when a conversational topic had a whiff of government spending about it. ---One wonders why Jay Leno cares---Hard wired?

Obama is a great big story teller and perfect little story teller. He is forest and trees. Fresh.

My Question to any Republicans about Obama

How can you remain so unexcited about someone with such a huge stimulus package?

We’ll be here all week…

The Class

The French movie, The Class, if you can find it playing, go see it.


All the best intentions cannot move the immovable.

Some can change.

Some cannot.

Is change possible or is it even right to try to help someone change?

Who is stupid, but not really?

Bromance

It’s homosexuality? Let’s face it. This Bromance is.

Even I, a card carrying gay guy, would never sidle up to some guy who is not my boyfriend.

I mean, I have very strong friendships with straight guys. And we even hug hello. It’s lovely. It’s no different than saying hello to a female friend and giving her a peck on the cheek.

But this whole bonding and deep loving thing between two grown men? If it isn’t twisted homosexuality, then I don’t know what it is.

Except for this:

Years ago, when I was the tin man in the Wizard of Oz in this children’s theatre truck show (Oh man), my roommate was the scarecrow. We were excellent friends. Every night in a Day’s Inn.

Then: The wrestling in our underwear began. Which usually ended with us sitting in the bed together, holding hands, watching T.V. I imagined one simple thing: Gay gay this is gay, gay. Take off those drawers.

But it wasn’t? The guy said he looked up to me. He thought I was cool. He said he wasn’t gay but if he was, it was me who he’d be gay for. He said his father was real old and he never got to really bond with him. Ultimately, he lacked male camaraderie, love, affection and he was working that out, underwear wrestling, in a Day’s Inn. And he swore that’s all it was. People.

After a couple of weeks of this carrying on, he had a full blown relationship with the freaky woman who was in love with me who I was in no position to be in love with and told her so.

So perhaps, perhaps, my wrestler really was just a guy looking for a Bromance. It could be true. We were in our twenties and it all felt a little bit like we were twelve and he was working something out. It was sweet and I guess harmless.

So maybe men, all men, need man love. I don’t know. It’s so confusing.

You go to a gay bar in West Hollywood, you used to get a hunky gay guy who waited on you. Now, it’s a sweet Guatemalan woman named Cleritze. There’s no order any longer.

It’s all turned on its ear.

So let whoever wants to have their Bromance. I just find it all a little confusing. I don’t understand what it’s about.

Obama is Up to Something

I believe the president is warning against optimism for a quick recovery for the economy because he knows it will take a few years to switch to our green economy with greater affordable health care.

Sure, we could have another bubble, I guess, in something…and pretend the economy/culture is thriving, but bubbles run out. And when they do, that just means we’ve exhausted the bubble possibilities. Time to change things.

When the economy starts taking off in three years, just in time for the next election, President Obama will be well situated for reelection.

He is up to something.

Queens is the Future

From the window of my apartment in New York you can see the sign, "Queens is the Future."

Adam, my Recognized-by-the-state-of-California-Domestic-Partner, made a tuber about it.

Separate but What?

I think of Ann Coulter, Rush, the others…and I say, sure, the gimmick used to work…

The problem with the howlings of the right is the judgmental brimstone.

They don’t see it as fervor, but that’s all it is. An addiction to adrenalin.

A very large fear danced very large.

People, especially black and white thinking people, want to feel separate and better. I understand it. I want to feel separate and better, too. But I fight it. Strive all, sure. But why not give other people health care, too, while you go after your mania? Or understand people who are not as strong or as smart as you are? Or as thin or as energetic or as assertive. Or as greedy.

You are not better. Get off the fear wagon and join us. We’ll have you. Jump in. Use your intelligence to solve problems. Do not to run away from challenges with your smiling chime, “The free market will take care of it.”

You’re smart people. Help out. Join us. Make it all work better. Get in there and figure out some efficient ways to do things. And we’ll grow on that.

Central European Ball Cutters

I was reading in the newspaper tonight about legal castration in The Czech Republic for sex offenders.

Sure, why not?

A couple of years ago, traveling around Germany, we went to a medieval punishment museum. I thought the punishments were equal to the crimes. Big masks with waggy tongues for those who talk too much, stockades for thieves, a cage here and there for the morally repugnant…

Is corporal punishment crueler than living in a cell? I don’t think so.

If I had to choose between thirty days in a cage in the town square having people throw garbage at me or three years in a dark cell, I’d take the cage and the garbage.

Now, if I was a sex offender (and I am so grateful that I don’t find anyone under twenty-five years old attractive), but if I was a sex offender…and I just could not control myself, I guess I would just ask to fix it. Just do it. Fast. Cut them. Dice them. Call it a day.

The Cabin Life

Strangely, living in New York City in a studio apartment, is like a trek back in time. No dishwasher. Laundry in the basement. Not so much space. You know, the rough life.

I wonder why we shy away from small labors. They make you feel very in control of your life.

Though I am completely more comfortable with house living, this small apartment living is worth mentioning. It forces you to be very introspective. Spare. Almost Japanese. I feel less crass, yet oddly downscale, too.

But purer. Closer to the bone.

Am I shallow to respond so much to my surroundings?

Or young.

Bring on the Socialism

What’s all this talk about Obama being a Socialist? I wish it were true!

I think Obama wants to be liked by everyone, so I imagine a very moderate guy, making some smart moves, getting some things in place to regulate this and that, getting more uninsured people insured…hardly Socialist. I see an incremental leader making up for many of the increments that were not touched over the past eight years. But a revolutionary? Hardly.

Please, health care. Get to it.

This is my Greenpoint

You can walk from our apartment in Queens to Brooklyn. Sure, it's a long walk, through Jackson Heights, Woodside, Sunnyside, Hunter's Point, over the Pulaski Bridge into Greenpoint...but you can do it. And we did. Our reward? A large Polish meal at Christina's. Great Polish food at 1981 prices. The Warka beer went with it correctly. I doubled up on the pierogies. Greenpoint. Yes.

 

God of Carnage

God of Carnage, by Yasmina Reza, is one of those plays where you know something awful is going to go down and you just can’t wait for it to blow up.

The cast, get ready: Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis, James Gandolfini and Marcia Gay Harden (as the Beaver).

You guys—if you are in New York, zip right down to see it (Jacobs Theatre, West 45th Street). It you are not in New York, by all means, jump on a plane (big sales right now) and see it.

Look, Yasmina Reza is really smart and really funny. She understands the worst nature of human beings. However, she treats it lightly. She is indicting and forgiving at once, something I aspire to be.

The play is simple: One kid breaks two teeth of another kid in a playground. We never meet the kids. We just watch the two sets of parents talk about it. Jeff Daniels is a nasty lawyer, completely honest about his me-first lifestyle. Hope Davis plays his wife. She attempts to smoothe things over. And is a bit of a puker.

Marcia Gay Harden, the conscience in heels, devolves incredibly beautifully as the mother of the child victim who lost his teeth. James Gandolfini, her long suffering and depressed hardware wholesaler, is wise beyond his station.

All four of the actors are outrageously spot on.

The direction, by Matthew Warchus, is as smooth and deep as Y. Reza’s writing. The set design, grotesquely overstated and understated at once, that is to say, a minimalist apartment-loft in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn expanded to a grotesque size, sets you into rage and quease.

The play is a bit like Albee’s The Goat or Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? But who cares! What play isn’t?

The translation from the French by Christopher Hampton is another stroke of brilliance. He replaces all precious-parent Parisian references with precious-parent Brooklyn references, so much so, that one understands my friend Megan’s lament about the place, “The borough that is dead to me.”

Look, once in a while a great play comes along (Let’s remember, she also wrote Art), and when that happens, and you want to be thrilled, you should just do it. Jump over.

Don Has Facebook Ass

I finally did it. I made a folder and a rule in Outlook. So whenever the Facebook notifications come, they go into my Facebook folder, where they can sit.

I know, you say I can turn off notifications on Facebook and stop this madness…with no need to filter out those pesky messages into their own folder.

But it is good to read them as they come in willy nilly. Then, push them to the side for a while.

How long can a person sit at a computer and work?

To spend your life at a terminal? Really? Because you like sciatic pain?

Up and off, push back, go outside.

Greetings from New York City

Click the pic and make it big.

 

The Fizzle of Adrenalin: A Depression

Talking fiscally with my agent, and steering him away from, “This is the toughest year…” toward something more optimistic like, “My play is so cheap to produce!” we stumbled upon something, or rather, my agent did and I noticed it.

He said, “No regulation is fun. It’s exciting. Capitalism is exciting. You feel like anything can happen. But it doesn’t work.”

Nice work.

Could it be that libertarians and conservatives and all sorts of Republican types are simply addicts who are addicted to the thrill of the hunt? After all, they do acquire much and then they want to acquire more, so it can’t really be the acquisition that is satisfying. It must be the hunt. And they don’t want us to muck with that. Why? Because it’s the only thing that might be keeping THEM from falling into a miserable depression.

Ever notice when you are in a manic state that what lurks beneath is a desperate despair you are trying to avoid?

Could a fiscal environment that lacks regulation be the propitious arena where depressed and hungry monkeys can assuage their dipping brain chemistry by rampant hunting? Thus, revving up their dopamine? And who knows what other neurotransmitters!?

It has been proven, or at least shown in a study, that liberals are a gloomy bunch. Liberals foresee problems before they happen, worry more in general, think more about others and do tend toward pessimism. Sure. I’ll buy that. So, a world that is more depressed might seem more normal to the liberal soul.

A world that is more depressed disgusts the conservative fighter. And I understand why. I prefer to be a prospector. Joyful. On the hunt. But too much of that and what do you get? This.

The Line

It's a great opportunity to practice love and acceptance: The line at Trader Joe's in Union Square.

The place is popular. As the scrum of New York digs in to buy their capers and creams, one is bumped and cajoled into possible irritation. But not me! I decided to stand there and say to myself, "All these people love Trader Joes as much as I do, so this is just a festival of love."

And so it was.

New York City is a great place to practice serenity. In fact, it's a better place than almost anywhere else because the challenge is right in front of you for the taking.

You know--I love New York. I wish I had a house here. So I could spread out my bags of nuts and boxes of tea.

 

Yard Birds

The birds have found our two day old feeder. Here they come.

It's also jasmine season in Los Angeles. You should consider a trip.

LA---sure, it has way too many cars. But if you hole up in a nice spot, you're in good shape.


 

L.D.F.

How comforting to have such an intelligent man as the President of the United States.

And: Energy, Health Care and Education? Certainly. Let’s do it. It is so clear.

While I was watching and listening to B. Obama’s speech, I felt exhilarated about our future and dismally resentful of the past eight years. However, I am working on being less judgmental and less stuck in the past these days. So I clicked into that, which pretty much relaxes me into a state of curious openness with a lack of resistance to absurdity followed by a self protective wave of comforting Dadaism.

So when the camera came in close on our fine senator from California, I could only say,
“Look, it’s Lobster Diane Feinstein.”

Until the improvement, and afterward, you will find me open, curious and ready to turn anyone into a dish of stewed shellfish.

Past Dollar Days

I’m growing my hair out into a huge 1970’s recession bush.

Keeping with the times.

I am one of earth’s decent bookkeepers. I have an instinctive sense about money. I am not strategic and am more of a responder than a generator at this point. I aspire to generate greater income. Mostly for the sake of my freedom. But in order for the freedom to be truly free, the greater income must come from freedom-inspired activity. No cynics here.

Cycles. Always the cycles. My parents were very nervous about money throughout the 1970’s. Because I was a kid I had other interests, like math, music, mud piles. Money moaning bored me.

I guess it has been imprinted. Because now, money moaning still bores me.

I am very happy with the focus of our current federal administration, with the intelligent President B. Obama at the head of the table. The Republicans, some of them governors, threatening to refuse assistance, are ludicrous.

But I would like to set my sights on future days, when this is not happening. I feel like I’ve seen this movie. It ends terribly. Reagan gets elected, the music gets stupid, the clothes get awful and the gum chewing gets louder.

Time to go inward. Come out with something. The material world, friends…it is on the mend. And the fear about money? No need to worry. All boats are sinking. You are not being thrown out of the pack. And as long as you are in the pack, you’re pretty safe.

Focusing on the doom is not interesting to me. Focusing on what is alive and vital right now? That’s something to look at.

Sean Penn My Hero

Sean Penn has always been a hero. Mostly because he is such a good actor. There are not many actors who are capable of complete submergence. Always in awe.

Then, tonight, on the Oscars, making the clearest statement for equal rights for all Americans, specifically the gay ones.

And you just had to say, “Thanks, Sean.”

Thanks, Sean.

Talking About Misundestood Lyrics

Sometimes, you substitute the wrong lyrics in a song. Your ear does not hear them correctly. The accent of the singer or lack of diction might make it impossible to discern what is being sung.

Or, you have hundreds of phrases stored in your head and you project one outward that sounds like the one being listened to, your brain choosing the one in your head over what is actually out there in the world. The brain loves short cuts.

When I was a wee thing, in the song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, I thought the lyric, “A girl with kaleidoscope eyes,” was “A girl with colitis goes by.”

One can only imagine the amount of colitis in my family that brought that one to the fore.

On a slightly related note, I have a new rule:

“Never eat a hot open turkey sandwich at a junky diner before taking a transcontinental flight.”

Poke This!

My, What a Large Package!

Though I am inclined to enjoy a very large package, I am also aware that something this big has the potential to be quite painful unless one relaxes into it. I don’t think anyone is relaxed.

I applaud the breadth of this thing. I assume blending tax cuts with cash infusion might be a winning mixture. Of course, I especially love the investment-in-renewables component.

Now, I want to talk about these salary caps. So let’s say the government puts a cap on the top salaries of bailed out banks, which they have. Won’t this make the competition for high up executives lopsided and thus send the greediest (and maybe best) executives to the not-bailed-out banks? I do think so. Half measures make me see red---and I specifically mean the red circle on the Japanese flag. Remember how their half measures went? Or didn’t?

Perhaps, there needs to be cap laws on ALL businesses. Then the competition can’t lean. That’s what I’m offering up. They do it in so many other countries.

I know some people who resent this whole OBAMA-AS-KING-CAN-DO-NO-WRONG thing. I understand it. I am all for Obama. However, I am disgusted by half measures.

It’s like eradicating those non-indigenous wild cats and not thinking about the horrible uptick in the rabbit population. And bunnies like to eat. The big picture. The big picture!

So as much as I like big packages, I like big pictures more. Especially at my age.

But I am not an economist, just a guy with a hunch about money, and I welcome ALL comments. The floor is open.

What do you think about this huge package? And will you go work on one of those rusting hulks we use for bridges? Do you think infusing here, saving there and ignoring other parts is a winning strategy? Do you feel any more relaxed by all this? What about health care?

Is It Porn? Watch her blow it out her nose and mouth.

This weekend, I got to talking about serious sinus issues with a fellow sinus sufferer.

He does way too many antibiotics in my opinion. So I educated him in the fine art of nasal douching.

Then, I said I’d send him the link to my favorite nasal douche product which is the Neilmed system. It’s great because it’s HIGH VOLUME and LOW PRESSURE.
But maybe you knew that already. In any event, I highly recommend it, not just for allergic people, but for anyone who wants to clean out their heads. Especially during cold and flu season. You blow in a load of salty liquid, you kill it all.

So, I compiled an email with hyperlinks to send to my friend about this product. And to my fabulous surprise, there was a video! Complete with demonstration. And the expelled waste.

Watch this thin, blond woman blow liquid through her head. It’s really some sort of nerdy healthcare porn. She spits.

Nose Porn

Crisis of Closeness

Note to self: Don’t feel yourself to be separate from others. It causes pain.

How Will They Say It?

After the banks are sort of nationalized and the automobile industry is sort of nationalized and healthcare is sort of nationalized, and they all presumably function, how will the conservatives wrestle everything back so they can profit from these businesses?

You know, there is the old post office thing pushed around by Righties. “Government doesn’t work. Just look at the Post Office.” I never understood this since I have never held anything but complete respect and gratitude for the Post Office. I have never had anything lost, ever. And I ship and receive all sorts of things.

So, I think the new saying could be and should have always been, “Government works. Just look at the Post Office.”

So maybe you have to wait on line a little bit. Maybe you’ll make a new friend or fall in love. Anytime spent away from Facebook is good for you!

It’s all about The Post Office. The second ounce is just seventeen cents. A bargain!

February Spring

I think it might have been warmer in New York today than it was in Los Angeles. Or close.

I love a moist day, in the forties.

New York is a funky town. I grew up here, but since living in Los Angeles, I have gotten used to a pretty unchanging climate.

Here, in the apple gigante, the weather changes every few hours it seems. From my apartment window, looking out over Queens to the Upper East Side of Manhattan, I get a full view of Mother Nature and her shenanigans.

It’s pretty exciting.

I think I am allowed one weather blog entry every three years. This is it.

Facebook Frenzy

Facebook is not face time.

One of my alters came out last night and started looking at the pictures of people on Facebook and I wrote comments on their walls, “Get your hand off your chin!” And, “Boy, you’re pretty…” Fake obscenities, etc.

Clearly, I am acting out.

Let’s figure out what it is.

I must be mad.

Why am I mad?

Because I want people to be how they used to be. People. Not pictures.

When I was in college, you gave your picture to the student guidebook people and they put it in a quickly published book and everyone on campus got it. It was called The Pig Book.

Why?

It was the really sweet way the men would refer to the women in the book. The men wanted to route out the pigs on campus.

Facebook is just one huge Pig Book to me.

As my good friend Bradford recently said, “It’s going to be funny, that day, when we say, ‘Remember when there was Facebook?’”

One of the joys of being young, I mean under twenty, maybe up to twenty-two, was you were really connected to your body. And you felt cool. Sure, it was just the sex talking. But nevertheless, you separated yourself from the somewhat-deadened adults by this coolness, this connectedness to your body. Adults planned and were alienated from experience. YOU were OF THE MOMENT and very much alive.

But now? Everyone, even the kids, everyone is dead, on machines.

I say, push back from the keyboard and go to the post office and help people fill out all those confusing forms. Anything.

And I’ll grow up. I won’t write on your wall, “Nice bangs, cocky duty” or worse when you post your picture. I will say a little prayer for you that you are NOT at your computer. That you ARE physically engaged with another real person.

Freedom Fried

When right wing governments fly in, they do it on a liberty broom. They pretend that all constraint upon humanity is evil.

And then they constrain humanity.

The only thing that is given true liberty is the freedom to make/steal as much money as you can get your hands on.

Though this is not peculiar to The United States, we seem to have a particularly violent strain of this disease. The tired, poor, huddled masses who came to these shores, who still do come, really are poor. And they are sick of it. And they want some serious fucking pie.

They want to be kings. Just like the kings who oppressed them.

Of course, not everyone can be the king. Not everyone can have mountains of stuff. We know this doesn’t work. It simply doesn’t work. And we will get clobbered again and again until we learn this lesson.

It’s like, you know that friend who always cancels because they’re sick? They’re not really sick. Their knees don’t hurt. Their asthma isn’t completely debilitating. They just, simply enough, don’t want to leave the house enough to see you. Fine…but then you keep calling them? Haven’t you learned?

People are slow to figure things out. I don’t know why. I think I am fast, but really, in the areas I don’t want things to change, my mind holds onto faulty, old information. Especially if that information has a golden-sunshine-rainbow around it. I want my crack.

Everyone wants their crack. And in our culture, money is the ultimate crack. And righty wants your ass addicted...because then, he can get you on the Jones and you will do ANYTHING to get that Jones taken care of. And you will go into a state of not-noticing the deleterious effects as long as you can get your crack. Stupid monkey.

It’s all denial and addiction. What on earth are you going to do with a gold bathtub anyway?

It’s ultimately tacky. And who on earth knows how to clean it?

Red Ants, Black Ants, Red Wine

Tax and Spend.

Reduce taxes and grow private prosperity.


Nothing works.

And the fight is on. Same fight that has been going on forever. We are a species in conflict. Maybe we are trying to split off? Become two different species? Homo Togetherus and Homo Itsallaboutmeus. Maybe, like red and black ants, we should just go to war and get it over with.

But the fight goes on and on. Aren’t we bored with it? What is the third way? Was it Bill Clinton? And if so, why are we not going right back to Bill’s way?

It’s all so measurable and also impossible to measure.

And those of us on the ground? We just react.

Side note: Red Wine Incident, 2009.

I had a feeling I should not have my little juice glass of red wine anywhere near the keyboard. I flailed and spilled…all over the cream carpet. Quickly, my waiter instinct came out. I threw a bucket of water on it, followed by a box of salt. It worked. Club soda would have been better. Salt really has a way of drawing things to it. Thank you salt.

The Cold

I am taking an extended stay in New York. Having lived in Los Angeles for fifteen years, I had two trepidations:

1) Noise in apartment buildings
2) The weather

As I walked from the subway to my apartment, wheeling my wheely bag without gloves on, the tips of my right fingers all went to numbness and pain. Otherwise, I held up pretty well. I certainly did not get frost bite. Furthermore, the cold air was bracing.

Upon entering the apartment, the guy above me was running on his treadmill so my entire living area was shaking and bouncing. It was truly awful. Of course, it eventually subsided. Right now, at 3 AM, it is bone quiet.

In Los Angeles, one can go for months without experiencing any physical discomfort (other than poor air and wretched traffic problems). As long as one stays at home, providing the home is lovely, then living in Los Angeles is, simply, lovely. Though, it can get smallish, hiding out on 5,000 square feet of property.

In New York, there is much discomfort, but it is all short lived. Irritants, really. Good place to practice patience. Zen. Acceptance.

A Surprise?

Really? I was walking down the street in Beverly Hills today, heading toward my allergist, when I thought, “Really, there was nothing wrong with George Bush. He was just being who he was. It was all those idiots who voted for him who are the problem.”

Okay, maybe I’m doing a kind of wide shift thing in order to spread my judgment around, but really, it WAS all those millions of people who CHOSE the guy!

The United States of America is a dream state…it churns by PR. People buy that PR. And they get motivated. That works a bit.

And then there was Bush’s PR which was severe and strong. Which seemed nuts to me. Completely. But there were enough people, a voting majority, who did not think he was nuts. So Bush tapped into some great consciousness. So the state we are in now, was truly chosen by the people: War, poverty, low energy. We chose that. (Well, many of us didn’t, but the majority did.) Disaster of our own making.

But I see an upside to this. No, I DO! Since we chose the nut, and since, now, we’ve chosen someone else and since every day we are always in a state of choosing, well, we can choose a new reality.

Let’s simply do that.

Let’s not whine in 20-09.

Let’s choose the new, better thing, get behind it, make it strong.

1972: The Year of the Maxi?

In case anyone needs proof, I have to believe that 1972 was the exact year of the maxiskirt.

My mother is in the plaid one. My sister, pouting in her shocking pink. Great Aunt Rose is way to the left. Great Aunt Angelica is way to the right. The woman looking down is Aunt Joanne. And the woman in her prime, looking straight ahead, hair parted in the middle, is Cousin Mickey.

Every year that my great grandmother lived (she died in 1973), there would be a huge birthday celebration at Don's 21 in Jersey down on Route 17. Everyone would dress up. I remember my sister hating that dress. And I remember how freakish it was that every single woman had to wear the same mandated style. "Who," I wondered, "is telling everyone what to do? And why do they do it? It feels so big-hand-in-the-sky-reaching-down." I think my poor sister was feeling the pain of conformity. Also, I thought I would have liked to try one on, if only because everyone was so excited about their maxi and couldn't wait to show it off. I wanted something to show off. But, frankly, and calmly, I was happy that boy's clothes didn't change much over the years. I didn't like huge surprises as a kid. And some huge maxi skirt thrust upon me might have been more than I could bear.

More pictures to follow. Though it is hard to imagine anything will beat this maximum impression. Click on the photo to get the bigger version.

And get ready. Maxis are coming back.


 

Revenge of Crack Den

Friends,
So many of you have stayed in "The Crack Den" over the years, our modest little guest room in the back yard.
It has been remodeled, cleaned up, vinyl faux-wood floored, painted, termite tented, made larger by pulling out the back wall that formed the storage closet, and simply made cleaner, brighter, bigger and better.

We have a new mammal pet staying in there for a while. Human. Since all the cats and the dog died, we felt it necessary to have SOMETHING living in our back yard. Why not a human?

The crack den: it's not just for breakfast anymore.


 

Noblesse Oblige: Forgotten

Over eighteen billion bucks in bonuses! Now that’s rich.

I have always felt that if you have a huge job with huge prestige and huge perks, why do you need so much damn money? Isn’t the position enough?

Of course, I’m a peasant and don’t really understand the full-on greed thing.

I guess these guys and gals who have the huge places on earth with huge responsibilities take most of their pleasure from the cash gift-thieving.

Everyone talks about this lack of reasonable self-waging. It’s out of control. We keep hearing it. But why do they feel no shame? And what can we do to stop them? Really?

Do they have any sense of responsibility for the common good? It’s Russia out there, friends. And it’s so fucking tacky.

Is Facebook Killing Blogs?

Forget newspapers,

If everyone is tooling around Facebook, who is reading blogs?

The Recession is a Retooling, I REPEAT

I have said it before and I am saying it again because people are flipping out.

The recession is a retooling. Nothing more.

And though we could look backward, (Love to impeach that bastard), or look forward (I’m going to be in so much pain, SOON!), it is essential to remember that right now, it is time to live RIGHT NOW.

Look, so many of us have lived through poorer times. Didn’t so many of you go to college? I don’t know about you, but I remember having to really think about how many quarters I was going to pump into the pinball machine in the lounge. I would go down to Bay Bank and take out twenty dollars, buy a carton of cigarettes and whatever was left, that’s what I spent for the rest of the week…on entertainment, only, but still.

I remember making five bucks an hour.

And, we have all lived with three or four other roommates at some point.

Furthermore, focusing less on material wealth and more on, “Whose turn is it to use the bathroom?” might do a person some good.

Most people do not die during economic downturns like these. Unless they kill themselves. My suggestion: Don’t kill yourself.

Go take a walk. You have legs.

A Short Story at 3:11 AM

A man and a woman who had never met before, but who were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a trans-continental train.

Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room,
they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.

At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,.......... 'Ma'am,

I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket?

I'm awfully cold.'

'I have a better idea,' she replied 'Just for tonight,...... let's pretend that we're married.'

'Wow!...................... That's a great idea!', he exclaimed.

'Good,' she replied. .............'Get your own damn blanket.'

After a moment of silence, ......................he farted.

The End

--Courtesy of kivinen1.

Nasty Pendulum

I understand the possible need to nationalize the banks. I certainly agree with changing emissions regulations for car exhaust to the standards set by California, agreed upon by thirteen other states. I completely agree with giving foreign aid to organizations in poor countries who offer information about safe, legal abortion. And for goodness’ sake, I agree it is time to close down the prison at Guantanamo.

But what I wonder is, HOW can it be this simple? How is it that we elect someone and within days, the rules change. Completely. I am ALL FOR THE NEW RULES, let me say this. But what is it about a government system that allows the executive branch to wield so much power? Has it always been this way? Am I seeing a huge pendulum swing from out-of-control-conservative-in-name-only-greed-freaks to intelligent-responsible-repair? Perhaps the swing isn’t so huge? It’s just my perception?

It just seems so huge.

Could it be that we, like chickens, just pick our leader and slide into the pecking order and simply live it? How can the switch be so severe? And if GWB was so wrong, why isn’t our system set up to stop such destructive behavior?

I am thrilled that B.O. can get in there and make all the exact changes I would make. Great. But why does one guy get so much power? Is it our collective dream? Everyone wants such power, so we let one guy have it? I fear for the next GWB type that comes along. I don’t want him to have the ability to answer to “his higher purpose” or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing…and then dole it out followed by us all just eating it.

Art, for the next few years, is going to be mostly sad. We are in mourning.

Time's Up

What, four days now? And nothing’s solved?

Damn, this Barak Obama is slow.

I know he said it wasn’t going to be easy and that it would take some time. But I REALLY thought it was a case of him under promising so he could over perform. I guess I was wrong?

The bottom is getting even bottomyer. The unemployed are running at me IN THE AISLES at Home Depot. (Wasn’t it enough I had to run them over in the parking lot?)
My pets are all dead and he hasn’t brought any of them back to life. My retirement account is good for one free hot dog.

Less and less. Less and less. The clock is ticking.

It would be great if I could still eat. But then again, look at me! I have the body of a poor person: fat! Used to be, if things were tight, people ate less. Not us! We’re all eating like hogs. Or maybe it’s the gallons of wine? We look at our cash-on-hand and all we see is skin.

I want this thing fixed by Monday. I’ve had enough.

And Bush? Dead by Tuesday.

Cheney? Taxidermed by Wednesday.

Condi and Rummy? Starting Thursday, forced to perform in the sauerkraut wrestling side show at all the malls in this country named The Galleria.

And B.O.? Make me green. Make me rich. Make it yesterday.

My patience has worn out. Retribution and prosperity, right now.

Like Something Out of Mame

We need a little Christmas?

Like in the scene from Mame, we fired our maid today. Partially because we no longer need her since all the dirty pets are dead, partially because I will be spending much more time in New York and mostly because we don’t want to spend the money. I hope she does not end up like Agnes Gooch, Mame’s maid, pregnant from a one night stand in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.

She has been with us for fourteen years.

We all cried. She knew something was up when she came into the house.

We like her so much. We’ll just have to have her come over and hang out. You think that will happen? Can that happen? Can you just be friends with your former maid?


Here’s Lucille Ball, turning her freshly fired maid into a Christmas tree.

Plus Que Ca Change

My favorite inauguration speech quote:

“The world has changed and we must change with it.”

But what I mostly felt was 1933 and 1960.

1933 for the economy

and

1960 for a shift in spirit and intellect.

I imagine fat cats from the 1920’s running around, not caring, greedily consuming everything in their paths.

I imagine Black Americans in Newark in the early 1960’s waiting for the great times to come.

Change is cyclical but it is also linear. So yes, the world has changed and WE MUST change with it. It’s all about the effluent and the affluent. We must diminish our pollution, all of it, so living things may grow. We must spread the riches more evenly, so the system can thrive.

The world has changed and we must change with it. The thinking in our country has changed. It is evolution.

A New Era. Finally.

The inauguration of B.O.: A Re-Enlightenment.

What is Science?

President Obama is literate, too.

Welcome to the White House. Please wear Kevlar.

Garage Sale 2009: Televisions with Big Asses

They went for five bucks each. Glad to keep them out of the trash and in a house for a few more years.

 

Garbage? Certainly

The vultures came forty-five minutes early.

 

From a Distance: The Garage Sale Hits a Lull

This was long after more than half of everything was sold. Wish I had a picture of the start. Couldn't, too busy selling.


 

The Last Beast to Leave

 

Garage Sale, The Album---in stores Today

 

The Ugliest Thing at the Garage Sale Award Goes To:

Margot's plastic sunflowers.


 

We made about five-hundred bucks. On garbage. We spent the book sales money on Bloody Marys. Right away. Early morning, as usual, was best. The CD vulture guy was there, like always, before we were half set up. TV's flew off the grass shelves. The old turntable we've been keeping wrapped in a pillow case up in termite dropping land high in the garage, gone. The endless dishes and mismatched glasses and dog gates and boombox and clothing and a dog that dances when you plug your ipod into him and books and CD's (and even some of my mixed tapes from 1993-lesbian couple cooing over the hilarity), the baked goods by Anne, Karen's place mats in brown wonder, Bradford's candlesticks and stylish shoes, Margot's tiny whore house lamps, very smelly soap, canvas, pictures, picture frames, baskets, flower pots, a teddy bear, throw pillows for the common man, a poker table, Adam's Z gallery table lamp attempting an ode to the treble Clef, Sarah's grand dishware, the clock radio, the little toys and sippy straws and pencil sharpeners and umbrellas and pedestal sink and coffee tables and book shelves and nine-ton black office file cabinets and jewelery, the finger eating circular saw, the vases, the rollerblades, the whole mess, almost.


By the end of the day, we were posting on Craig's List and LAFreecycle, "Come and take anything you want for free!" (Thank goodness we did or that huge orange laminate book shelf with the low convenient cabinet might have never left, thankfully hauled off on the roof of a van)---So there we were surrounded by our for-free stuff and the people rummaging through the remains (like anorexic Dark Lady) were being choosy, picking things up and replacing them on the table in revulsion. The quote of the day, from Bradford, which will ring in my ears and make me laugh every day until the next one in 2010: "For years, we have been living with all this stuff we can't even give away at the garage sale."

There may have been one thing more repulsive than Margot's sun flowers. And that was probably the torquoise kidney shaped plastic hospital receptacle that is used to hold small unwanted body parts during a procedure. It was mine. I ended up putting it in the blue recyling can.

The Garage Sale

CRAIGS LIST POSTING FOR THE GARAGE SALE


BEST GARAGE SALE SATURDAY the 17th HOLLYWOOD (Hollywood)
________________________________________


THIS is the BIGGEST Garage Sale this SIDE of PARIS!

MULTI FAMILY.

Most CONVENIENT location: Melrose/Highland

PEOPLE WITH GREAT TASTE Offering up their GREAT THINGS for sale.

RECESSION PRICES with GRAND EPOCH FLAVOR.

635 N. Mansfield Avenue Los Angeles CA 90036
Three Blocks East of La Brea, Just South of Melrose

8AM – 3PM
(No Early Vultures. If anyone arrives before 8AM, the security guard will whisk you off to Cudahy)

THIS IS THE ONE!!

What YOU’ll FIND, AND SO MUCH MORE:

FURNITURE, Clothing for all sizes and shapes, KITCHEN SUPPLIES, wonderfully working electronics, LAMPS, Books, LARGE OFFICE FILE CABINETS, Pet Supplies, A nearly new PET AIRLINE BAG, Fire Pit, BEAUTIFUL NOTIONS, Jewelry, Vacuum Cleaner, RYOBI Circular Saw used once, WATCHES, Vacuum Cleaner, glasses, SHOES, GAMES, Rollerblades, TELEVISIONS,Book shelves, tape deck, Boom box, a hose, A beautiful coffee Table, Flower pots, PEDESTAL SINK with FIXTURE, CD’s, DVD’s, and so much MORE with BAKED GOODS.

The Last Eight Years Have Been the Swedish

As we count the seconds until George Bush moves back to Texas, forever, I would like to take a moment to admit something completely awful.

I had dreams during the eight years of GWB’s reign that I was actually friends with him, that he confided in me, that he saw me as a right wing spy in the left wing camp and in the dreams that’s kind of what I was.

We would go out with the other important people, have pizza, tell jokes. GWB took my opinions very seriously. He would listen to me more than he would listen to almost anyone. He trusted me to be completely honest with him. And I felt proud to know that I was liked by this guy, who I found, honestly, to be kind of fun, grounded and pretty clear headed about what was right and wrong.

I JUST WANTED TO FEEL LIKE I WOULD SURVIVE! And not only survive, but be close to the center of the ultimate power in our culture. And to be liked.

I had, simply, Stockholm Syndrome.

I only had the dream three times. We were like best buddies, joking, Bush et moi. He was my boss, sort of, and I was his smart guy who told him what was what. What a team. He was charming, I was charming, everything was possible. Then I’d wake up. After each time, I would feel disgusted. I wondered, what on earth is wrong with me?

Stockholm Syndrome.

I was identifying with my captor.

These Bush dreams were so different than the dreams I had about Bill Clinton when he was president, but that was back in the day when I still had an outsized libido.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Boredom

I knew the slog that it was going to be, but did two-thirds of the movie have to be in sepia tone?

The most exciting thing was watching Brad Pitt grow younger and more beautiful with each grinding hour.

I must say by the end of the movie, when Benjamin becomes a kid and is going to die, I was overcome with great sadness. It is another take on the pondering dolorousness that life is a trajectory toward death and that all things are impermanent and perhaps even fated. But pointed up is that the natural order of aging is actually no so tragic, that enduring the isolation of reverse aging, becoming a confused child and then dying in your old wife’s arms, as another alternative encompasses much greater sadness. So, cheer up, things could be worse. One must live life on its own terms. Maybe not joyously, but certainly without freaking out too much about it.

It was an etude. A forever etude.

The acting was simply fine by everyone. No complaints. The directing, heavy handed.

I always want to think great things about Brad Pitt. First of all, I have written checks for him through a Japanese commercial company I work for and so I have this one degree of separation thing going on, though I have never met him, and so feel like we’re “Working in the same office”. Secondly, he really spends enormous amounts of money to help other people. And lastly, I have about eight pairs of his leftover Edwin jeans from a commercial shoot and I am very grateful to own such fancy pants. So a soft spot to the Pittster is in me.

But this movie--It was like watching paint dry.

No, it was like watching dry paint slowly get wetter and wetter.

Circus in Town?

 

Cristo installation?

No! We're murdering termites!

It's a pleasure to listen to them squeal.

Nasty munchers.

A Paper Free Life

It can be done and I know we are not the first.

Our goal is to achieve an empty mailbox.

A year ago, we read about the website Catalogchoice.org. We signed up and stopped all the unwanted catalogues from entering our lives. It takes some doing. I have blogged about it before. Basically, you collect your catalogues that are streaming, unwanted, into your life and you go to this web site and put in your exact name as it appears on the catalogue, which catalogue it is, and click BYE-BYE!

We now only get about two catalogues, the ones we want.

Please do it. It’s not too hard. Just collect those catalogues and put them in a pile—and one relaxing day, jump online and KILL THOSE PUPPIES!

Cancel your newspaper subscription and read the New York Times online.

Next, and it costs a bit but is worth it, you can sign up for electronic payments for all your bills. It costs 9.95 per month at Wells Fargo, truly more expensive than checkbooks and stamps, but worth it. Pay all your bills online and opt for Ebills for any vendor they have listed.

Log onto your phone bills and internet bills and choose the paperless option.

You can get all your credit card statements and bank statements online. Just go to the websites of your bank and your credit cards. It takes just a minute. Sign in and opt out of paper statements. You will receive statements by email.

Almost all corporations have this option. It saves them money so they make it pretty easy for you to do.

Make your email inbox your mailbox. Make a folder called “Bills” or “Accounting” or “Money” or whatever and as the emails come in, just throw them into the folder. And instead of that weekly or biweekly or monthly stack of mess you usually have laying about the house that you have to attend to, just go to your Money folder and pay those things, reconcile those things, get that stuff done. WITHOUT KILLING ONE SINGLE OXYGEN GIVING TREE!

Then, just save these digital bills and statements in a folder for the year. And file. Done. No bulky paper all over your house and no paper production waste in your streams.

Come on. You know you want to. Obama Commands It!

Happy new epoch, everyone. Get online with the big green retooling.

Another way to help out the earth: Tell your boss you are working from home one day each week. If everyone does this, it would unclog the streets by 20%! Decrease automobile effluent by 20%! This is huge. Try it. And if your boss balks, then offer to work only four days each week for only four day’s pay. Could keep unemployment down.

And on your first four day week, with your extra free day, do something completely enjoyable.

The second week on your day off, KILL ALL THAT PAPER!

You know you want to.

Wet Wood

Watering your lawn is so stupid. You just have to get plants that thrive in whatever climate you are living, with no extra water. It just doesn’t make sense.

Plus, if you live in a climate that doesn’t freeze, you get pools of water from the sprinklers and if those sprinklers are anywhere near your garage building, you end up with wet wood and if that wet wood is on a slab of cement and not raised, you get termites.


Billions of them.

And then you have to tent the building. Spend 1400 bucks. So, you spent all that money watering all that environment so you could grow termites and then you have to spend money to get rid of them.

What am I? A termite farmer?

Basta with the irrigation.

Keep the Evil Off Your Box

Corporations do not have the money in their budgets to worry too much about your safety right now. (OY! The cross continental flights.)

But what gets me most is the computer stuff. I actually do like Internet Explorer and even though this is the most vulnerable browser on earth, I want to keep using it.

But strange back door things can do what strange back door things do—which is poke around in your junk and find your passwords, etc.

So do this one thing---all the time, whenever you can. After you are done browsing around (and especially after you have gone to your banking or credit card sites), go to Tools>Internet Options>Browsing History>Delete>Delete all.

This kills all cookies, all history, all form data and all passwords. All the time.

This simple action, taken after a heavy period of surfing will delete the spies, will keep your wife from knowing what porn sites you go to and most importantly removes all your stored personal information and passwords. Keep your browser clean and empty.

Also, for 2009: Have you backed up this year’s pictures onto disks?

And your files, all your files, are they backed up to an external hard drive? Please do it, today.

Happy, healthy computer days to all. And a brilliant, bold, well supported and donkey kicking 2009 to everyone.

As Gregory Corso Said

“Out the Window with the Window!”

We are having a garage sale on January 17. We scan the premises, gather things into piles and scurry them out to the shelves, tables and drawers in the garage.

There is a huge amount of junk laying around the property. We do what we can to keep the garbage down over the years, but it does collect.

Witness: a teddy bear, books, CD’s, shelves, a dorm fridge, two pairs of rollerblades, cups, baskets on end, a television, a boom box, a tape deck, tons of canvasses, framed prints, pet-phenalia including a dog carrier, pet bowls, leash, collar, shampoo, door gates, bowls, clippers, clothes, shoes, sparkles, party poppers, a plastic yellow egg, a glass bird, a big clay bird, a coffee press, silverware, an ashtray, linens, a pillow, shelves, tennis rackets, Trivial Pursuit, Clue, a circular saw, lawn furniture, 11-cup Cuisinart food processor, sunglasses, old cassettes, alarm clock radio, a couple of land telephones, a Styrofoam cooler and so much more to collect.

It’s ridiculous. How did we end up with all this stuff?

Much of it we bought. And much of it was from well meaning gift givers over the years.

It’s a party. Nice to lighten the load. I suggest it.

The Whole Mess ... Almost

BY GREGORY CORSO

I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life

First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink:
“Don’t! I’ll tell awful things about you!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve nothing to hide ... OUT!”
Then went God, glowering & whimpering in amazement:
“It’s not my fault! I’m not the cause of it all!” “OUT!”
Then Love, cooing bribes: “You’ll never know impotency!
All the girls on Vogue covers, all yours!”
I pushed her fat ass out and screamed:
“You always end up a bummer!”
I picked up Faith Hope Charity
all three clinging together:
“Without us you’ll surely die!”
“With you I’m going nuts! Goodbye!”

Then Beauty ... ah, Beauty—
As I led her to the window
I told her: “You I loved best in life
... but you’re a killer; Beauty kills!”
Not really meaning to drop her
I immediately ran downstairs
getting there just in time to catch her
“You saved me!” she cried
I put her down and told her: “Move on.”

Went back up those six flights
went to the money
there was no money to throw out.
The only thing left in the room was Death
hiding beneath the kitchen sink:
“I’m not real!” It cried
“I’m just a rumor spread by life ... ”
Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all
and suddenly realized Humor
was all that was left—
All I could do with Humor was to say:
“Out the window with the window!”

Corio's This is Burlesque

Next time you are planning a trip to Soho, make plans to see Corio’s This is Burlesque.

I had never seen a Burlesque show before. A friend of mine had always wanted to go and I’m certainly game…so on Saturday night we walked over (with prepurchased seats, very important. It does get sold out).

It was hilarious. And extremely well done. First of all, these women really are dancers. The near nudity at the end of each number is really no big deal. In fact, the whole thing seemed more innocent than most commercial movies. Some of it was absolutely hilarious. There was a fan dance number with a lot of contortions by the dancer, while being supported by a man in a monkey outfit, the “Evil hate monkey.” The strength of the monkey and the supple moves of the fan dancer made me just as proud of our species as witnessing any Olympic event.

There was tap dancing.

Joyful tap dancing.

In general, a great celebration of glittery outfits and the complete fun fun fun of being almost naked dancing around the stage, with a theme. I am sure it was titillating for some. But for me it was mostly fun, affirming and let’s face it, recession proof.

I also liked how it came off with just seven performers, had a low vibe lesbian tone and remained light hearted throughout.

Check it out. 25 bucks with a two drink minimum. You can also have dinner there. The food looked good.

Welcome Back Muffin Tops!

Just call me Shamu?

Anyone else besides me bigger than a heifer?

How many roasts did YOU eat?

It’s disgusting. I have to say, my favorite of all was a boiled ham we had up in the Berkshires. It was so tender and smoky.

We have been on the east coast for a couple of weeks, driving to ancient states like New Jersey and Maryland and Massachusetts. Say what you want about this dirty ol’ industrial corner of the U.S., it certainly has a lot of variety. No, it isn’t like driving through France, Switzerland and Austria in one day, but it does have a bit of that feel going on.

All the old bricks.

And it is cold. Sure.

But the visual cortex gets a workout here as you poke around. Which is stimulating. Now…time to drop the tonnage so I can keep moving.

A Wish

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Please return in the new year for much more commentary and some new forms of expression, like maybe a singing squid.

May 2009 leave 2008 way behind.

And after the correction is corrected (swiftly, I might add), may you find yourself completely flush with the joys of all that you have ever wanted to do, to see, to give. And then some.

And please, recycle.

Namaste.

My Alma Mater: Suckered

It should be well noted that P.T. Barnum was a large donor of my college. In fact, I majored in Biology, taking most of my classes in Barnum Hall. "There's a sucker born every minute."

And now this:

December 19, 2008


Dear Friends:

I have promised to keep you informed when the economic news of these extraordinary times has special significance for Tufts. The news this past week has been dominated by a financial scandal of unprecedented scale and scope. I am sorry to report that Tufts is one of a growing number of victims of the crimes allegedly committed by Bernard Madoff.

In 2005, the university’s Investment Committee authorized an investment with Ascot Partners, which in turn invested the entire sum with Madoff Securities. We have written off the value of this investment, which totaled $20 million, or slightly less than 2 percent of our endowment. This write-off will not significantly affect our operations. We will cooperate with any investigations of this fraud and will work to recoup as much of our investment as possible.

It is personally painful for me to communicate this information to you. We deeply appreciate the trust and confidence that each donor places in the university. We also have an obligation to our students and faculty to manage these resources wisely for their benefit. You have my word that we will look closely at our experience in this case so that we can strengthen our investment process for the future.

I will continue to keep you informed as we work our way through these difficult times. For now, I send all the members of the Tufts community my very best wishes for the holiday season ahead.

Sincerely,

Lawrence S. Bacow
President

Epiteth for the Loss of a Beloved Pet

They say

Time heals everything.

But for some things, it simply kills.