"[the developed world] would do well to remember that there are many kinds of paternalism, including the assumption that for poor people only material things matter. Meat and alcohol and stuffed animals and health care are useful goals, but they're not the only things. Just like us, people in the developing world need dignity, security, identity. Some of these can be achieved through economic growth, and some of them can be undermined by it. Negotiating modernity requires creativity."
- Bill McKibben "Deep Economy"
The book's pretty sobering. Reading it, I oscillate between despair at how fucked our future might be - to a hopefulness in reading about communities and organizations that are trying to create and choose different paths and go against the prevailing tide of our Walmartized world - to a painful awareness of my own hypocrisy in having an awareness of the problem and not actively doing something about it (I had a cheeseburger deluxe platter at the diner yesterday with a soda while I read this book. I suppose it could be worse ... I could have walked out to my SUV and drove 20 miles through city traffic to my McMansion.)
Essentially, fossil fuels represent the concentration of centuries worth of energy captured from the sun. And some of us have used it to liberate ourselves from sweat and toil and to create wealth and plenty.
Our lives, our food, our water, our possessions, our culture sits on coal and floats on oil. More is Better. More stuff. More growth. More freedom. More individuality.
Bill McKibben would agree that up to a point More is Better. But at some point he argues that there are diminishing returns:
1) With growth and greater scale there has been a drive towards consolidation leading to "more inequality than prosperity, more insecurity than progress." A small percentage of the rich are getting obscenely rich and the rest are getting much poorer.
2) There is the thought that having the entire planet live as North Americans currently do is unsustainable from the vantage of the resources required and the implications of the amount of pollution and environmental damage that would ensue.
That's a staggering number of SUVs, flat screen TV's, McMansions, sodas, and cheeseburgers. (You corporate types, stop salivating!)
3) There is the argument that at some point growth no longer increases a person's happiness. McKibben uses the example that a few beers makes you feel pretty good but it doesn't necessarily follow that 5 (or 10 or 20) more will make you feel way better.
Our growth-centric utility driven hyperindividualist economic fixations might not have much to offer in the category of the best things in life that are free. In fact, the former might have a lot to do with curtailing our time and capacity to enjoy the latter. The very fact that they are free is part of the problem, y'see.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
You know what they say ...
"In general, researchers report that money consistely buys happiness right up to about $10,000 per capital income, that after that point the correlation disappears." Bill McKibben Deep Economy
Seems hard to believe.
Seems hard to believe.
Friday, April 20, 2007
What you get and what you pay for
I just finished reading "The Wal-Mart Effect" by Charles Fishman. Good times.
Tell you what, read this book in NYC and people will come up to you to ask about it or share a Wal-Mart related tidbit with you.
It's a fast and engaging read. Fishman is careful to give Wal-Mart their props and perhaps the occasional benefit of the doubt and then just lays it all out there to the best of his ability. There are a lot of things that we don't know because Wal-Mart won't tell us. There are a lot of stories that people won't tell because Wal-Mart won't let them or they are afraid of the retribution that Wal-Mart might exact.
The discipline of Wal-Mart is truly amazing. And the ways they wield pressure to lower prices and cut costs is both wonderous and frightening to read about. The path from wonderous to frightening - Fishman would argue that it is all a matter of degree or of the scale of a thing. Too much of what you believe to be a good thing can yield unintended consequences that effect everything when writ large on the world.
There's a lot in this books that is just mind-boggling. I will probably have to reread it focusing on the numbers and trying to get a better grasp on their implications.
" ... Wal-Mart's total profit comes to $3 an hour over a typical year. So although there may be some dispute about whether the average Wal-Mart store associate earns $8 an hour or $9 an hour, Wal-Mart could not afford to pay those people $12 an hour. There isn't enough money - at least not without raising process." -Charles Fishman
That's the kind of thing that I have always wondered about. The margins are at times so narrow and the difference of a few pennies spread out over selling astronomical amounts of products is where the profit or the savings come from or the threat of bankrupcy.
"No company has more discipline or focus than Wal-Mart, but all that discipline and focus are designed to wring costs out and bring prices down." -CF
And this is not without a cost to the environment, a cost in labor conditions, in the wealth or poverty of communities world-wide, in the quality of our lives, in the quality of merchandise we buy and in the shift in reliability of the brands that we love. Costs that are passed on to governments, to the environment, to the customer, to manufacturers and suppliers.
"This is who we are! We bring truckloads of great stuff whole convoys of great stuff, to a Wal-Mart near you! What's not to love?
It is a moment worthy of Greek literature, a moment of soaring ambition and potentially crippling lack of self-knowledge. The problem is not that we don't adequately shower Wal-Mart with gratitude, kindness and acknowledgments, it's that Wal-Mart doesn't understand why we don't. Two months worth of disaster relief [After Hurricane Katrina] cannot undo a half-century's worth of other damaging Wal-Mart effects." - CF
Plus apparently while it is true that we save a lot of money by shopping at Wal-Mart it's a bit of a mystery to ponder what we do with that money. Clearly we are not saving or investing it. Where does it go? To buy more cheaply manufactured socks? To buy soon to be obsolete electronic products.
"Misperception isn't always perception - sometimes it's reality. Sometimes the way others see you is, in fact the way you are." -CF
Fishman says this of Wal-Mart could the same not be said for anyone or group?
There has been much talk of the potential for Wal-Mart to do good. At some point they might want to get out of the bargain discount game or they might want to take some of that considerable clout and control that they have a use it as a lever to change the world for the better.
"If cost isn't the ultimate question anymore, what are the important questions?" - CF
"There is no human adjustment harder to make than to abandon the very principles that have been the source of your success and adopt their opposites as the path to continued success." - CF
Change is hard for us all. Probably the bigger you are, the more successful you are - the more inertia you have. And the harder it is to see far enough ahead of you to the point of diminishing returns. The point where Wal-Mart might wring all the efficiency that it can out of retail. The point where they run out of room to grow. The point where their effect is of a mgnitude and seriousness that someone or something demands that they be held accountable. Will Wal-Mart be able to adapt or will they eventually hollow themselves out in the way they have hollowed out so many of the companies they like to call their manufacturing and distributing "partners?"
Charles Fishman rightly points out that in the 45 years is not a lot of time and the kinds of enormous corporations that exist today, Wal-Mart being the ultimate example, did not exist in the way they do today. Totally new animal. They are not a part of the free market. They in many ways own and control it. And we as human animals that share the planet with them need to figure out what can be done to help a company like Wal-Mart identify what "the important questions are," demand that they put significant resources into finding answers, and hold them accountable.
Tell you what, read this book in NYC and people will come up to you to ask about it or share a Wal-Mart related tidbit with you.
It's a fast and engaging read. Fishman is careful to give Wal-Mart their props and perhaps the occasional benefit of the doubt and then just lays it all out there to the best of his ability. There are a lot of things that we don't know because Wal-Mart won't tell us. There are a lot of stories that people won't tell because Wal-Mart won't let them or they are afraid of the retribution that Wal-Mart might exact.
The discipline of Wal-Mart is truly amazing. And the ways they wield pressure to lower prices and cut costs is both wonderous and frightening to read about. The path from wonderous to frightening - Fishman would argue that it is all a matter of degree or of the scale of a thing. Too much of what you believe to be a good thing can yield unintended consequences that effect everything when writ large on the world.
There's a lot in this books that is just mind-boggling. I will probably have to reread it focusing on the numbers and trying to get a better grasp on their implications.
" ... Wal-Mart's total profit comes to $3 an hour over a typical year. So although there may be some dispute about whether the average Wal-Mart store associate earns $8 an hour or $9 an hour, Wal-Mart could not afford to pay those people $12 an hour. There isn't enough money - at least not without raising process." -Charles Fishman
That's the kind of thing that I have always wondered about. The margins are at times so narrow and the difference of a few pennies spread out over selling astronomical amounts of products is where the profit or the savings come from or the threat of bankrupcy.
"No company has more discipline or focus than Wal-Mart, but all that discipline and focus are designed to wring costs out and bring prices down." -CF
And this is not without a cost to the environment, a cost in labor conditions, in the wealth or poverty of communities world-wide, in the quality of our lives, in the quality of merchandise we buy and in the shift in reliability of the brands that we love. Costs that are passed on to governments, to the environment, to the customer, to manufacturers and suppliers.
"This is who we are! We bring truckloads of great stuff whole convoys of great stuff, to a Wal-Mart near you! What's not to love?
It is a moment worthy of Greek literature, a moment of soaring ambition and potentially crippling lack of self-knowledge. The problem is not that we don't adequately shower Wal-Mart with gratitude, kindness and acknowledgments, it's that Wal-Mart doesn't understand why we don't. Two months worth of disaster relief [After Hurricane Katrina] cannot undo a half-century's worth of other damaging Wal-Mart effects." - CF
Plus apparently while it is true that we save a lot of money by shopping at Wal-Mart it's a bit of a mystery to ponder what we do with that money. Clearly we are not saving or investing it. Where does it go? To buy more cheaply manufactured socks? To buy soon to be obsolete electronic products.
"Misperception isn't always perception - sometimes it's reality. Sometimes the way others see you is, in fact the way you are." -CF
Fishman says this of Wal-Mart could the same not be said for anyone or group?
There has been much talk of the potential for Wal-Mart to do good. At some point they might want to get out of the bargain discount game or they might want to take some of that considerable clout and control that they have a use it as a lever to change the world for the better.
"If cost isn't the ultimate question anymore, what are the important questions?" - CF
"There is no human adjustment harder to make than to abandon the very principles that have been the source of your success and adopt their opposites as the path to continued success." - CF
Change is hard for us all. Probably the bigger you are, the more successful you are - the more inertia you have. And the harder it is to see far enough ahead of you to the point of diminishing returns. The point where Wal-Mart might wring all the efficiency that it can out of retail. The point where they run out of room to grow. The point where their effect is of a mgnitude and seriousness that someone or something demands that they be held accountable. Will Wal-Mart be able to adapt or will they eventually hollow themselves out in the way they have hollowed out so many of the companies they like to call their manufacturing and distributing "partners?"
Charles Fishman rightly points out that in the 45 years is not a lot of time and the kinds of enormous corporations that exist today, Wal-Mart being the ultimate example, did not exist in the way they do today. Totally new animal. They are not a part of the free market. They in many ways own and control it. And we as human animals that share the planet with them need to figure out what can be done to help a company like Wal-Mart identify what "the important questions are," demand that they put significant resources into finding answers, and hold them accountable.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
don't you, don't you
I am not a fan of the Pussycat Dolls.
That song where they ask whether "you wish your girlfriend was a freak like" them is not a sentiment that I can get behind.
That being said and publicly risking my Feminist street cred, for whatever reason I have been totally engrossed in the reality TV show "Who wants to be the next [Pussycat] Doll?"
When no one is home I try to pick up a dance move or a come hither look causing much trauma to the RM's cat.
At the conclusion of this last episode I am very surprised at the outcome. Don't get me wrong, I like Chelsea a whole lot. But I am a little bummed that Chelsea is staying and Melissa S. (who I really don't like at all) got cut. I am bummed because I think Chelsea such an amazing singer and so likeable and endearing that she could have a real career as a performer in her own right. She's been on the show long enough to get some decent exposure and she's got the chops to really go somewhere.
Whereas Melissa S. - it's pretty much Pussycat Dolls or bust unless someone decides to recreate the Solid Gold Dancers.
While I do like Melissa R. I think Asia will take it.
That song where they ask whether "you wish your girlfriend was a freak like" them is not a sentiment that I can get behind.
That being said and publicly risking my Feminist street cred, for whatever reason I have been totally engrossed in the reality TV show "Who wants to be the next [Pussycat] Doll?"
When no one is home I try to pick up a dance move or a come hither look causing much trauma to the RM's cat.
At the conclusion of this last episode I am very surprised at the outcome. Don't get me wrong, I like Chelsea a whole lot. But I am a little bummed that Chelsea is staying and Melissa S. (who I really don't like at all) got cut. I am bummed because I think Chelsea such an amazing singer and so likeable and endearing that she could have a real career as a performer in her own right. She's been on the show long enough to get some decent exposure and she's got the chops to really go somewhere.
Whereas Melissa S. - it's pretty much Pussycat Dolls or bust unless someone decides to recreate the Solid Gold Dancers.
While I do like Melissa R. I think Asia will take it.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Makes you smile in the pouring rain
The other night I was trying to catch up on my emailing. I ended up trying to chat with three different people simultaneously while replying to emails. Still not a good multi-tasker. To those of you who received unintelligible emails sent late on Sunday evening. My apologies.
To those of you have are waiting on unintelligible late night emails, fear not, you'll get yours.
The tall young man at the Rite Aid did me an act of kindness today. He peeled the coupons off of my boxes of Ziploc sandwich bags and entered the discount for me. I didn't even register that these boxes had coupons much less that it would serve my fiscal interests to use them. And he did this over the protestations of his co-cashier. What a sweetie.
To those of you have are waiting on unintelligible late night emails, fear not, you'll get yours.
The tall young man at the Rite Aid did me an act of kindness today. He peeled the coupons off of my boxes of Ziploc sandwich bags and entered the discount for me. I didn't even register that these boxes had coupons much less that it would serve my fiscal interests to use them. And he did this over the protestations of his co-cashier. What a sweetie.
Monday, April 16, 2007
It's good enough for me
Cookie Monster |
 |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Your SESAME STREET Persona Test written by greencowsgomoo on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Friday, April 13, 2007
It turns out
That I'm a mean girl. At least compared to those around me.
You'd have thought.
CKE may be right. Spend enough time in NYC and I will come out of it a heartless, manipulative, vicious ball-buster.
So much to look forward to!
You'd have thought.
CKE may be right. Spend enough time in NYC and I will come out of it a heartless, manipulative, vicious ball-buster.
So much to look forward to!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
RIP Kurt Vonnegut
Apparently he never gave that speech at MIT - the one about sunscreen. Which only leads me to wonder if he had ever been invited to speak at a graduation. I have no doubt that it would have been amazing.
But he did say this:
"What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured."
And a lot of other things.
Among my favorites is this:
"We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane."
And in the silence he leaves behind, he will be missed.
But he did say this:
"What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured."
And a lot of other things.
Among my favorites is this:
"We are healthy only to the extent that our ideas are humane."
And in the silence he leaves behind, he will be missed.
braaaains!
Yahoo tells me:
"Yes, physical attraction is hot, but what's even hotter is some of that plus an intellectual connection that totally sizzles. Sometimes the latter can even cause the former. Are you ready for some brain-on-brain action?"
Makes me think of "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off" by Jermaine Stewart:
"Not a word, from your lips
You just took for granted that I want to skinny dip.
A quick hit, that's your game.
But I'm not a piece of meat, still you like my brain."
Well, I always thought the lyrics went "But I'm not a piece of meat stimulate my brain"
*damn you www.project80s.com*
*song brought back to me by e23*
I have my doubts that I could go from an intellectual connection to a physical one. Mostly it's my experience that when it's the ick, it's the ick and when it's an attraction, it's there from the start. I like a nice steak as much as the next gal.
Mind you, I am speaking of chemistry not merely aesthetics.
That being said, a starter of brain-on-brain action is pretty hot.
"Yes, physical attraction is hot, but what's even hotter is some of that plus an intellectual connection that totally sizzles. Sometimes the latter can even cause the former. Are you ready for some brain-on-brain action?"
Makes me think of "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off" by Jermaine Stewart:
"Not a word, from your lips
You just took for granted that I want to skinny dip.
A quick hit, that's your game.
But I'm not a piece of meat, still you like my brain."
Well, I always thought the lyrics went "But I'm not a piece of meat stimulate my brain"
*damn you www.project80s.com*
*song brought back to me by e23*
I have my doubts that I could go from an intellectual connection to a physical one. Mostly it's my experience that when it's the ick, it's the ick and when it's an attraction, it's there from the start. I like a nice steak as much as the next gal.
Mind you, I am speaking of chemistry not merely aesthetics.
That being said, a starter of brain-on-brain action is pretty hot.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
bunnies and boilermakers at b-easter
The South was up in Boston last week depriving our office of his excessively total awesomeness and his loose interpretations of business casual.
To make up for this deficit the RM and I took the Fung-Wah Bus from Chinatown to Boston to hang with him for the weekend up in Bah-stn.
My second time on a Chinatown bus and despite everyone warnings of possible automotive death, I am growing fond of this mode of travel.
I asked Someone At the Office over email what was cool to do or see in Boston. Because I wanted to give it one last try before leaving him be and because he is up there with some frequency. His response was: "The T."
The T.
The T is a more enjoyable mass transit experience. It's cleaner, it's prettier, it's wider and roomier. There's a lot to be said for the T. But it closes at about 12:45am. What good is that? Pffft.
I was lonely without all the New Yorkers. I even missed the dirt a little. The sheer human density of NYC has become so familiar to me.
On the other hand on the T, they have adverts for the AAAS on their trains and the Kendall Square/MIT stop has chimes. There are giant chimes that hang between the tracks. And on each side there is a handle set in the wall. If you tug the handle back and forth it slowly causes hammers between the chimes to sway. With each tug the hammers sway wider until they make contact with a few and then a few more and eventually all of the chimes. And it builds into something into a wall of chimes low and high. The trick is to persuade someone on the other side of the tracks to do the same. Sadly, I had no luck with this and only half the chimes in the station were heard.
Next time perhaps.
We drank at the People's Republik. Irish Car Bomb, how I do love thee, though inevitably you do wrong by me. The locals were amused that we would come up to Boston to celebrate B-easter. (Bostonians seem to be very fond of their puns and wordplay. "Finagle a Bagle" "Prints Charming" I could go on and on.) There we ran into many biophysicists (the mass spec kind), a microbiologist, an aspiring Blue Man, and a mass of people wearing bunny ears participating in the 3rd Annual Boston Bunny Bar Hop. Burning Man people? Or something? I am not sure. I got hugged a lot and invited to the afterparty. The bars close at 2am and apparently it's important to find out what you are doing after. Cambridge is full of B-easter spirit.
The next day we got up very late and tried to find a diner. Greasy foods were in order. However there was not a diner to be found, in our locale. Guess it's a Jersey / ROW thing.
We walked by this wacky building at the start of our quest:
Very Wacky:
It was decided that we would see the sights in the category of history. We walked the Freedom Trail all the way to Bunker Hill.
Walking the Freedom Trail you follow a red line:
or brick line:
There were graveyards
and churches and homes of historical people and places where historical people had meetings. (I could use a refresher course in American History.)
However even with a limited knowledge of the specifics, it does give one a chance to think about:
Nation
Government
... and Politics (donkey photos courtesy of the RM)
It's funny to think of Boston as a hotbed of rebellion, revolution, and dissent. A place where well educated farmers, merchants, and silversmiths decided that they were sick of this being a colony crap and they weren't going to take anymore. Hell No!
Looking up from the trail:
Along the trail we came across the New England Holocaust Memorial
There was a quote inscribed in part of the memorial about a girl who found a red raspberry while out in the fields forced by the Nazis to work. She hid it in her pocket and carried it with her all day. When she was brought back to the concentration camp she gave it to her friend. It was all that she had in the entire world. And she gave it to another person. To think about how a girl committing this simple act of human kindness in the face of the staggering horror around her overwhelms me.
We saw an old boat:
We walked a lot. And took pictures:
It was a long cold walk but we made it!
According to the RM and the plaque installed there, we didn't win the battle at Bunker Hill. But on the other hand we did them significant damage and beat them up a plenty as they made their way south. One of those situations in which you lose the battle and that helps you win the war.
And here's a picture of a fish:
To make up for this deficit the RM and I took the Fung-Wah Bus from Chinatown to Boston to hang with him for the weekend up in Bah-stn.
My second time on a Chinatown bus and despite everyone warnings of possible automotive death, I am growing fond of this mode of travel.
I asked Someone At the Office over email what was cool to do or see in Boston. Because I wanted to give it one last try before leaving him be and because he is up there with some frequency. His response was: "The T."
The T.
The T is a more enjoyable mass transit experience. It's cleaner, it's prettier, it's wider and roomier. There's a lot to be said for the T. But it closes at about 12:45am. What good is that? Pffft.
I was lonely without all the New Yorkers. I even missed the dirt a little. The sheer human density of NYC has become so familiar to me.
On the other hand on the T, they have adverts for the AAAS on their trains and the Kendall Square/MIT stop has chimes. There are giant chimes that hang between the tracks. And on each side there is a handle set in the wall. If you tug the handle back and forth it slowly causes hammers between the chimes to sway. With each tug the hammers sway wider until they make contact with a few and then a few more and eventually all of the chimes. And it builds into something into a wall of chimes low and high. The trick is to persuade someone on the other side of the tracks to do the same. Sadly, I had no luck with this and only half the chimes in the station were heard.
Next time perhaps.
We drank at the People's Republik. Irish Car Bomb, how I do love thee, though inevitably you do wrong by me. The locals were amused that we would come up to Boston to celebrate B-easter. (Bostonians seem to be very fond of their puns and wordplay. "Finagle a Bagle" "Prints Charming" I could go on and on.) There we ran into many biophysicists (the mass spec kind), a microbiologist, an aspiring Blue Man, and a mass of people wearing bunny ears participating in the 3rd Annual Boston Bunny Bar Hop. Burning Man people? Or something? I am not sure. I got hugged a lot and invited to the afterparty. The bars close at 2am and apparently it's important to find out what you are doing after. Cambridge is full of B-easter spirit.
The next day we got up very late and tried to find a diner. Greasy foods were in order. However there was not a diner to be found, in our locale. Guess it's a Jersey / ROW thing.
We walked by this wacky building at the start of our quest:
Very Wacky:
It was decided that we would see the sights in the category of history. We walked the Freedom Trail all the way to Bunker Hill.
Walking the Freedom Trail you follow a red line:
or brick line:
There were graveyards
and churches and homes of historical people and places where historical people had meetings. (I could use a refresher course in American History.)
However even with a limited knowledge of the specifics, it does give one a chance to think about:
Nation
Government
... and Politics (donkey photos courtesy of the RM)
It's funny to think of Boston as a hotbed of rebellion, revolution, and dissent. A place where well educated farmers, merchants, and silversmiths decided that they were sick of this being a colony crap and they weren't going to take anymore. Hell No!
Looking up from the trail:
Along the trail we came across the New England Holocaust Memorial
There was a quote inscribed in part of the memorial about a girl who found a red raspberry while out in the fields forced by the Nazis to work. She hid it in her pocket and carried it with her all day. When she was brought back to the concentration camp she gave it to her friend. It was all that she had in the entire world. And she gave it to another person. To think about how a girl committing this simple act of human kindness in the face of the staggering horror around her overwhelms me.
We saw an old boat:
We walked a lot. And took pictures:
It was a long cold walk but we made it!
According to the RM and the plaque installed there, we didn't win the battle at Bunker Hill. But on the other hand we did them significant damage and beat them up a plenty as they made their way south. One of those situations in which you lose the battle and that helps you win the war.
And here's a picture of a fish:
definitely not a multi-tasker
I have spent the evening since arriving home trying to:
upload pictures to Flickr,
blog,
shop for boys online,
reply to messages on myspace,
reply to emails,
plot the overthrow of the world,
finish writing a song,
learn the lyrics and chord progression to another song,
build an altar devoted to the worship of Mose Giganticus,
contemplate writing an essay,
chat online,
antagonize friends and ex'es,
identify venues in NYC,
contemplate my life,
and tweeze.
All of this to avoid doing my taxes.
upload pictures to Flickr,
blog,
shop for boys online,
reply to messages on myspace,
reply to emails,
plot the overthrow of the world,
finish writing a song,
learn the lyrics and chord progression to another song,
build an altar devoted to the worship of Mose Giganticus,
contemplate writing an essay,
chat online,
antagonize friends and ex'es,
identify venues in NYC,
contemplate my life,
and tweeze.
All of this to avoid doing my taxes.
bill-yuds
The South and I beat TBW in a game of pool yesterday. I consider this to be a historic moment in my life. I actually made the winning shot.
"They'd never believe it, if my friends could see me now."
Particularly historic considering that TBW is a pretty good pool player. I owe it all to one vodka gimlet and the wise coaching of The South who apparently counts among his many talents being a pool hall Yoda.
"They'd never believe it, if my friends could see me now."
Particularly historic considering that TBW is a pretty good pool player. I owe it all to one vodka gimlet and the wise coaching of The South who apparently counts among his many talents being a pool hall Yoda.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
on getting what you ask for
The Universe has seen fit to have a laugh at my expense. More than once of late.
I have a lot of trouble making decisions. I find making decisions very stressful, misery inducing, and near impossible. I make decisions when pushed to make them.
I like to think that this is evidence of how extremely Libran I am.
However, when put in situations where I don't make decisions, when that stress, misery, and difficulty is taken from me, I am miserable in an entirely different way.
Happens in relationships. I know that most folks like different things from me and I hate watching them mope and bitch and be miserable. When they do it in my presence, it spoils my pleasure. So I tend to just go with the flow.
But when I am too agreeable for too long and it gets to a point where I don't get to choose, I start to feel crowded. I start to feel like an extra in the movie of my own life. Like I am not the main character of my own story. I get tired of being someone else's audience, someone else's lovely assistant, someone else's little helper.
I start to feel suffocated and I have to get away. I have to duck out and do my own thing for a while. If I don't, I get extremely nasty and difficult. Sometimes, apparently, downright vicious.
It starts to feel like a fight or flight situation. Me against them and for once I want to win or at least break free. I might flip out or at least struggle violently. Sometimes railing at nothing. Pretty passive aggressive, eh?
I think part of my need to spend copious amounts of time alone stems from an inability to exert my will or exercise any powers of persuasion over other people.
Right now, I spend my days in a situation that requires me to not make decisions. All I do all day is ask other people to make decisions. Remind other people to make decisions. One would think that this is ideal for me. Perfectly in keeping with my nature. I am surprised to report that it's pretty far from ideal. It started off okay. But it's starting to grate. A lot. And my response to this has been to do less and do it poorly which really doesn't help.
Crap like this is probably why I am terrible at relationships, a poor candidate for motherhood, and I am scarcely employable. Of course if someone was to ask me to make a decision or tell them what I want, my immediate and initial response would be to say, "I don't know." So clearly I am no help to myself.
Obviously we can't always get what we want. When you do it's important to take a miinute and relish it, who knows when it will happen again. Despite what all will tell you there is an element of chance to things, y'know?
What is a worse tragedy not getting what you want or not wanting anything?
What is a worse tragedy not getting what you want or getting it and finding that it's not what you thought?
Getting it and immediately losing interest and wanting something else?
I guess it's different for everyone. You-today might say something different than you-tomorrow. And of course we know what the Buddhist would say about what's causing your misery.
Maybe that's part of the seduction of materialism/consumerism. You can always get what you want out of life but with enough money you can always buy something you want at the store. And then you can buy another one in a slightly different color.
I have a lot of trouble making decisions. I find making decisions very stressful, misery inducing, and near impossible. I make decisions when pushed to make them.
I like to think that this is evidence of how extremely Libran I am.
However, when put in situations where I don't make decisions, when that stress, misery, and difficulty is taken from me, I am miserable in an entirely different way.
Happens in relationships. I know that most folks like different things from me and I hate watching them mope and bitch and be miserable. When they do it in my presence, it spoils my pleasure. So I tend to just go with the flow.
But when I am too agreeable for too long and it gets to a point where I don't get to choose, I start to feel crowded. I start to feel like an extra in the movie of my own life. Like I am not the main character of my own story. I get tired of being someone else's audience, someone else's lovely assistant, someone else's little helper.
I start to feel suffocated and I have to get away. I have to duck out and do my own thing for a while. If I don't, I get extremely nasty and difficult. Sometimes, apparently, downright vicious.
It starts to feel like a fight or flight situation. Me against them and for once I want to win or at least break free. I might flip out or at least struggle violently. Sometimes railing at nothing. Pretty passive aggressive, eh?
I think part of my need to spend copious amounts of time alone stems from an inability to exert my will or exercise any powers of persuasion over other people.
Right now, I spend my days in a situation that requires me to not make decisions. All I do all day is ask other people to make decisions. Remind other people to make decisions. One would think that this is ideal for me. Perfectly in keeping with my nature. I am surprised to report that it's pretty far from ideal. It started off okay. But it's starting to grate. A lot. And my response to this has been to do less and do it poorly which really doesn't help.
Crap like this is probably why I am terrible at relationships, a poor candidate for motherhood, and I am scarcely employable. Of course if someone was to ask me to make a decision or tell them what I want, my immediate and initial response would be to say, "I don't know." So clearly I am no help to myself.
Obviously we can't always get what we want. When you do it's important to take a miinute and relish it, who knows when it will happen again. Despite what all will tell you there is an element of chance to things, y'know?
What is a worse tragedy not getting what you want or not wanting anything?
What is a worse tragedy not getting what you want or getting it and finding that it's not what you thought?
Getting it and immediately losing interest and wanting something else?
I guess it's different for everyone. You-today might say something different than you-tomorrow. And of course we know what the Buddhist would say about what's causing your misery.
Maybe that's part of the seduction of materialism/consumerism. You can always get what you want out of life but with enough money you can always buy something you want at the store. And then you can buy another one in a slightly different color.
Friday, April 06, 2007
poisons, addictions, and electronics
" ... the actions and habits of America's consumers threaten to flood the world with toxins, just as surely as do the misguided priorities of multinational corporations. Now more than ever, end-users of new technology need to pursue higher levels of technological literacy in order to negotiate the complex interactions among technology, society, and the environment."
-Giles Slade "Made to Break"
Lots of electronics are made with nasty chemicals, heavy metals, and toxic plastics that when burned release poisonous noxiousness and when buried leach poisonous shit into the groundwater - a fair amount of it is nasty stuff that doesn't break down.
While they are made to last usually for about 5 years. We the people tend to buy new stuff, more frequently. Much more frequenstly. We buy new stuff before our old stuff breaks because we want a new design or color or new features. And what happens to the old stuff? If not burned or buried, given away, stored, reused as a paperweight, or resold ... a decent amount of it gets exported to foreign countries where very very poor people destroy their health and their local environment melting stuff down to extract metals for resale.
Greenpeace is particularly concerned about Apple computer products which are apparently among the worst with respect to being made with very nasty and toxic compounds and with no interest in reducing or replacing that which is bad.
wikipedia on e-waste
-Giles Slade "Made to Break"
Lots of electronics are made with nasty chemicals, heavy metals, and toxic plastics that when burned release poisonous noxiousness and when buried leach poisonous shit into the groundwater - a fair amount of it is nasty stuff that doesn't break down.
While they are made to last usually for about 5 years. We the people tend to buy new stuff, more frequently. Much more frequenstly. We buy new stuff before our old stuff breaks because we want a new design or color or new features. And what happens to the old stuff? If not burned or buried, given away, stored, reused as a paperweight, or resold ... a decent amount of it gets exported to foreign countries where very very poor people destroy their health and their local environment melting stuff down to extract metals for resale.
Greenpeace is particularly concerned about Apple computer products which are apparently among the worst with respect to being made with very nasty and toxic compounds and with no interest in reducing or replacing that which is bad.
wikipedia on e-waste
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
neuroses in small doses #1
"I have crossed some line somewhere I am starting to repel people I am trying to seduce." -Holly Hunter in Broadcast News
I used to love this quote and laughed whenever I thought of it. I still do. And now it encapsulates my ability to interact with the other gender. I briefly flirted with the idea of flirting with Someone At The Office. And my opening gambits reveal that my flirting skills are - pretty sad. Now Someone At The Office will not make eye contact with me in passing at the coffee machine.
Might have better luck relying on my bowstaff skills. Knock them unconscious and drag them to the restaurant with a bottle of smelling salts.
I used to love this quote and laughed whenever I thought of it. I still do. And now it encapsulates my ability to interact with the other gender. I briefly flirted with the idea of flirting with Someone At The Office. And my opening gambits reveal that my flirting skills are - pretty sad. Now Someone At The Office will not make eye contact with me in passing at the coffee machine.
Might have better luck relying on my bowstaff skills. Knock them unconscious and drag them to the restaurant with a bottle of smelling salts.
Monday, April 02, 2007
We live our lives as if tomorrow will closely resemble today
Because it is a thing that grown ups do and because I am lucky to have a benefit such as this, I am looking through the 401k info for my job. There is a worksheet that I am recommended to fill out and the first question is:
In approximately how many years to you plan to retire?
My options are:
In 4 to 6 years
In 7 to 10 years
In 11 to 16 years
More than 16 years
Based on my age and my current lack of independent wealth, I suppose I'll be working for more than 16 years.
*sigh*
In approximately how many years to you plan to retire?
My options are:
In 4 to 6 years
In 7 to 10 years
In 11 to 16 years
More than 16 years
Based on my age and my current lack of independent wealth, I suppose I'll be working for more than 16 years.
*sigh*
Monday, March 26, 2007
Funeral for the Album?
Apparently (according to the NYTimes) no one listens to Albums anymore what with the iTunes and the ability to create your own playlists. More importantly, no one is buying them. The record industry is not happy about this. They don't seem to be happy about anything these days. They have started to sign acts to 2 song deals. Kinda like the old days of 45 records and B-sides, only there are no B-sides here - only hits or misses.
I have thought a bit about the difference between a greatest hits album / compilation and buying an album with a hit on it. Most times all you want are the songs that you know you are going to like. The rest of the album is pretty mediocre.
But sometimes an artist will sneak one by you - gem, something really special. And sometimes an artist puts out a really really solid album or even an amazing album. The kind of album where every track is strong. Where you just have to listen to the whole thing from start to finish - to do otherwise would be a crime. Sometimes you get a really amazing and cohesive album in which every song a part of the story or a piece of the picture.
After I bought "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" (on Cassette) I was afraid to buy any other albums by Elton John because GYBR was soooo good. Every track was stunning. How could anything else live up to this?
Obviously there's the Beatles' "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club"
Other great albums:
(Entirely subjective and unscientific list that demonstrates my age and level of shlocky cheesiness.)
The Counting Crows' "August and Everything After" is just gorgeous.
Joni Mitchell's album "Blue."
Marc Cohn's self-titled first album.
The Shin's "Chutes Too Narrow."
Tracy Chapman's self titled first album.
Peter Gabriel (1980), "So," "Us"
Tori Amos "Little Earthquakes"
U2 "Joshua Tree"
Sting "Nothing Like the Sun"
Pearl Jam "Ten"
Enya "Watermark"
Yes "90125"
Fleetwood Mac "Rumours"
Green Day "Dookie"
Indigo Girls - for me they have done this four times:
The self titled, "Nomads Indians Saints," "Swamp Ophelia," and " Rites of Passage"
Mentioned today by DG on his LJ - Paul Simon "Graceland"
To that I would add his album "Hearts and Bones"
And maybe, Michael Jackson's "Thriller"
This is the tip of the iceberg. I know I have overlooked a lot here. What are your favs?
My hope is that reports of the death of the album are premature. That there are artists in popular music with the talent, the vision, and the ambition to reach beyond the 3 minute song. To conceive of the album as more than a collection of songs. To conceive of the album as having potential as a form worth exploring. And that there is an audience of listeners hungry for what they have to offer.
I have thought a bit about the difference between a greatest hits album / compilation and buying an album with a hit on it. Most times all you want are the songs that you know you are going to like. The rest of the album is pretty mediocre.
But sometimes an artist will sneak one by you - gem, something really special. And sometimes an artist puts out a really really solid album or even an amazing album. The kind of album where every track is strong. Where you just have to listen to the whole thing from start to finish - to do otherwise would be a crime. Sometimes you get a really amazing and cohesive album in which every song a part of the story or a piece of the picture.
After I bought "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" (on Cassette) I was afraid to buy any other albums by Elton John because GYBR was soooo good. Every track was stunning. How could anything else live up to this?
Obviously there's the Beatles' "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club"
Other great albums:
(Entirely subjective and unscientific list that demonstrates my age and level of shlocky cheesiness.)
The Counting Crows' "August and Everything After" is just gorgeous.
Joni Mitchell's album "Blue."
Marc Cohn's self-titled first album.
The Shin's "Chutes Too Narrow."
Tracy Chapman's self titled first album.
Peter Gabriel (1980), "So," "Us"
Tori Amos "Little Earthquakes"
U2 "Joshua Tree"
Sting "Nothing Like the Sun"
Pearl Jam "Ten"
Enya "Watermark"
Yes "90125"
Fleetwood Mac "Rumours"
Green Day "Dookie"
Indigo Girls - for me they have done this four times:
The self titled, "Nomads Indians Saints," "Swamp Ophelia," and " Rites of Passage"
Mentioned today by DG on his LJ - Paul Simon "Graceland"
To that I would add his album "Hearts and Bones"
And maybe, Michael Jackson's "Thriller"
This is the tip of the iceberg. I know I have overlooked a lot here. What are your favs?
My hope is that reports of the death of the album are premature. That there are artists in popular music with the talent, the vision, and the ambition to reach beyond the 3 minute song. To conceive of the album as more than a collection of songs. To conceive of the album as having potential as a form worth exploring. And that there is an audience of listeners hungry for what they have to offer.
the co-opting of counterculture
Increasing numbers of Americans bought products like Volkswagens and, later, much more expensive Volvos "to demonstrate that they were wise to the game" and, ironically, "to express their revulsion with the artifice and conformity of consumerism."[from Thomas Frank, The Conquest of Cool] In this way, Madison Avenue cleverly made the values of the counterculture accessible and acceptable to middle America, and then pressed them into the service of consumerism.
- Giles Slade "Made to Break"
This he wrote in reference to the marketing campaign that led to the rise in popularity of the Volksvagen Beetle in the 60's.
This seems to happen over and over again. There is genius in marketing and capitalism in its ability to take symbols and imagery of whatever revolution might be happening and use them to sell you stuff like t-shirts and computers, deodorant and cigarettes. I wonder if those who struggle to change the world and the way that people think about it find themselves in an ongoing struggle to continually create new images and labels and words and symbols to race ahead of the ad copy or find themselves trying to fight fire with fire using the very same techniques to spread their word for their own purposes.
I suspect that my fascination with a book about the history of planned obsolescence is proof positive that I have grown up to be exceptionally dull. Literally, this book has caused me to miss my subway transfer on the way to work in the morning.
- Giles Slade "Made to Break"
This he wrote in reference to the marketing campaign that led to the rise in popularity of the Volksvagen Beetle in the 60's.
This seems to happen over and over again. There is genius in marketing and capitalism in its ability to take symbols and imagery of whatever revolution might be happening and use them to sell you stuff like t-shirts and computers, deodorant and cigarettes. I wonder if those who struggle to change the world and the way that people think about it find themselves in an ongoing struggle to continually create new images and labels and words and symbols to race ahead of the ad copy or find themselves trying to fight fire with fire using the very same techniques to spread their word for their own purposes.
I suspect that my fascination with a book about the history of planned obsolescence is proof positive that I have grown up to be exceptionally dull. Literally, this book has caused me to miss my subway transfer on the way to work in the morning.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
All those lines and circles
Riding the train late at night when I am tired I notice things that I might not normally. I set by a man today who couldn't read. He was sitting there with a magazine and he was staring at each page but his eyes didn't move across like reading. He stared at the center of the page. He stared at the page on the right and then at the page on the left and then turned to the previous page. He did this a few times. The expression on his face was so lost. And I really really wanted to sit down next to him and ask him what he was reading about and whether he found it interesting and then got through with a pen and circle all of the words that he recognized and have him sound out the ones that he didn't. Pick a sentence and go through it together slowly.
But I didn't because maybe I'm wrong. If I was wrong that would be insulting. And if I was right confronting him like that would be really really embarrassing. And really the truth of every person's story is beyond anything that I could imagine for them.
In this case I would really like to be wrong. I could go on about literacy. I will save that for a later date - in the near future, promise.
Seeing that man holding the magazine hurt my heart. I shut my book and hugged it close to me, closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep. If I didn't, I would have been staring at him which wouldn't help either.
LJL has declared that 2007 is a year of completion. There are things that I have left unfinished. And now that I have laid stakes to New York soil, maybe it's time that I turn my attention to them.
But I didn't because maybe I'm wrong. If I was wrong that would be insulting. And if I was right confronting him like that would be really really embarrassing. And really the truth of every person's story is beyond anything that I could imagine for them.
In this case I would really like to be wrong. I could go on about literacy. I will save that for a later date - in the near future, promise.
Seeing that man holding the magazine hurt my heart. I shut my book and hugged it close to me, closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep. If I didn't, I would have been staring at him which wouldn't help either.
LJL has declared that 2007 is a year of completion. There are things that I have left unfinished. And now that I have laid stakes to New York soil, maybe it's time that I turn my attention to them.
Friday, March 23, 2007
this post is half-baked: Sometimes I do wonder ...
"[Vance] Packard saw the hypermaterialism of American consumer culture as a compensation offered by successful capitalists to the middle and lower classes, whose postindustrial jobs were becoming increasingly meaningless. Motivated by greed born of advertising, Americans conspired with market researchers to transform themselves into 'voracious, wasteful, compulsive consumers.'"
- Giles Slade from "Made To Break"
Don't get me wrong, I am as happy to have a J-O-B as the next working slob. And working can offer certain rewards and satisfactions beyond matters financial.
But some days I think that this is a job that a stick could do. Certainly i try to do it with friendliness, humor and panache, but seriously, a few versions of Microsoft Office from now - this job will cease to exist.
And when I look around I see a lot of other people who stand around with their eyes glazed over for the very same reason. The other day I was at the grocery store checkout aisle and right as it was my turn to check out, the girl behind the counter said that she had to use the restroom and needed someone to replace her. As she rushed off the manager said, "Now, don't fall in!"
The manager turned to me and said that the last time this particular girl had needed to use the restroom, she had vanished for over an hour. And when they tracked her down she was hanging out in the back room of the store chatting with the boys. the manager went on to complain that she had this problem with so many of the checkout girls. They were talking on the cell phone and ignored the customers. They were always taking long breaks. She had to send a lot of them home early during the day because they were not getting any work done.
I can't say as I blame any of them. Swiping barcodes across a laser, calling for price checks, making change and putting things in bags does not sound like my idea of challenging, meaningful work either. And I image that we customers are a pain to deal with.
I run in to people all the time who are bored stiff by their jobs who probably have talents and passions and ambitions that are not realized in the thing they do to make money. A lot of people.
Y'know, You gotta pay rent, you gotta buy food, you gotta pay those taxes and the electric/internet bill. You gotta pay that credit card bill from all the purchases that you made of all that goofy stuff that you want and think that you can't live without.
You end up in jobs that try very hard to standardize you and everything that you do so that you are replaceable and your work has the kind of blandness, anonymity, and interchangeability that allows others to take your work and fit it into any framework.
And that standardization enforced through bureaucracy might over time evolve from being something that you do for a 1/3 of the day to something that becomes an intrinsic part of you.
PJ used to shake his fist and say in a tiny voice: "The Man is keeping me down, I should live rent free." We thought that this statement was hilarious. And now I do wonder - there is so much effort put into making things faster, making them cheaper, and more efficient, making them better and more functional. Could we make things that made our work more interesting?
Like how about a numeric pad that you could use to tap out numbers with your feet?
Or Nerf launchers that you can use to send messages to co-workers?
Or a scooter lane in the hallway at work? (helmets required of course.)
I am actually the wrong person to be coming up with this stuff. My idea of fun is blogging. And I really like NPR.
=P
- Giles Slade from "Made To Break"
Don't get me wrong, I am as happy to have a J-O-B as the next working slob. And working can offer certain rewards and satisfactions beyond matters financial.
But some days I think that this is a job that a stick could do. Certainly i try to do it with friendliness, humor and panache, but seriously, a few versions of Microsoft Office from now - this job will cease to exist.
And when I look around I see a lot of other people who stand around with their eyes glazed over for the very same reason. The other day I was at the grocery store checkout aisle and right as it was my turn to check out, the girl behind the counter said that she had to use the restroom and needed someone to replace her. As she rushed off the manager said, "Now, don't fall in!"
The manager turned to me and said that the last time this particular girl had needed to use the restroom, she had vanished for over an hour. And when they tracked her down she was hanging out in the back room of the store chatting with the boys. the manager went on to complain that she had this problem with so many of the checkout girls. They were talking on the cell phone and ignored the customers. They were always taking long breaks. She had to send a lot of them home early during the day because they were not getting any work done.
I can't say as I blame any of them. Swiping barcodes across a laser, calling for price checks, making change and putting things in bags does not sound like my idea of challenging, meaningful work either. And I image that we customers are a pain to deal with.
I run in to people all the time who are bored stiff by their jobs who probably have talents and passions and ambitions that are not realized in the thing they do to make money. A lot of people.
Y'know, You gotta pay rent, you gotta buy food, you gotta pay those taxes and the electric/internet bill. You gotta pay that credit card bill from all the purchases that you made of all that goofy stuff that you want and think that you can't live without.
You end up in jobs that try very hard to standardize you and everything that you do so that you are replaceable and your work has the kind of blandness, anonymity, and interchangeability that allows others to take your work and fit it into any framework.
And that standardization enforced through bureaucracy might over time evolve from being something that you do for a 1/3 of the day to something that becomes an intrinsic part of you.
PJ used to shake his fist and say in a tiny voice: "The Man is keeping me down, I should live rent free." We thought that this statement was hilarious. And now I do wonder - there is so much effort put into making things faster, making them cheaper, and more efficient, making them better and more functional. Could we make things that made our work more interesting?
Like how about a numeric pad that you could use to tap out numbers with your feet?
Or Nerf launchers that you can use to send messages to co-workers?
Or a scooter lane in the hallway at work? (helmets required of course.)
I am actually the wrong person to be coming up with this stuff. My idea of fun is blogging. And I really like NPR.
=P
Do they?
The RM went on a baking spree last week and as a result there was a new carton of eggs in the fridge. It was one of those fancy plastic cartons of fancy eggs.
Pricey, Cage Free, Organic, Brown Shelled, Fresh, Grade AA, Large, Omega 3 supplemented, clearly from the mountains where the best chickens thrive.
And the company tag line is: "Happy chickens lay better eggs."
Cute. They like their chickens.
I lift the top of the carton there a little profile of:
Estelle, a happy chicken.
And there's more.
They seem to really like their chickens. Which is good for someone in the chicken and egg business. I certainly was taken with Horizon's happy cow marketing, although I have since heard that the cows there may not be nearly as happy as I imagined. In the case of these chickens ... I am feeling a bit uncomfortable knowing that much about those that I am buying eggs from.
It just makes me think of how lots of food represents digested potential. Eggs are potential chickens. Grains are potential grasses. Fruits are potential trees. Nuts - same deal. Seeds are potential plants. Tubers and roots are plant parts that can beget more plants.
I might was well be wearing a giant sign on my chest that says: I eat babies.
I suppose the way to avoid baby eating would be to eat celery stalks, aspartame, milk based products (that is if it's okay to take milk from baby cows), and of course eating adult animals.
But really unless you photosynthesize you're going to end up eating something that was alive and a baby at one time in its life.
Yeah. Bon appetit.
Pricey, Cage Free, Organic, Brown Shelled, Fresh, Grade AA, Large, Omega 3 supplemented, clearly from the mountains where the best chickens thrive.
And the company tag line is: "Happy chickens lay better eggs."
Cute. They like their chickens.
I lift the top of the carton there a little profile of:
Estelle, a happy chicken.
And there's more.
They seem to really like their chickens. Which is good for someone in the chicken and egg business. I certainly was taken with Horizon's happy cow marketing, although I have since heard that the cows there may not be nearly as happy as I imagined. In the case of these chickens ... I am feeling a bit uncomfortable knowing that much about those that I am buying eggs from.
It just makes me think of how lots of food represents digested potential. Eggs are potential chickens. Grains are potential grasses. Fruits are potential trees. Nuts - same deal. Seeds are potential plants. Tubers and roots are plant parts that can beget more plants.
I might was well be wearing a giant sign on my chest that says: I eat babies.
I suppose the way to avoid baby eating would be to eat celery stalks, aspartame, milk based products (that is if it's okay to take milk from baby cows), and of course eating adult animals.
But really unless you photosynthesize you're going to end up eating something that was alive and a baby at one time in its life.
Yeah. Bon appetit.
Vah-vah-vah-vaaaaaaaahhhh
Susan Sarandon playing Annie Savoy in a little movie called "Bull Durham" which has had an unnatural influence on my life quoted William Blake from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell saying: "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."
A statement which is surely not true but I took very much to heart today and went back to the Laughing Lotus for another yoga class. I figured if CKE could spend 6-8 hours in a day doing yoga, I could do two classes in two days. Despite feeling tired and sore all over. Every minute of today I discovered a new muscle that was not happy about the fact that I did yoga yesterday.
Went back, signed in, and walked into the wrong class. Instead of the Yoga Basics class I had wandered into the Lotus Flow 2 class which is a Vinyasa class - more motion and breathing. More strenuous poses and transitions. The instructor smiled and said that parking myself in her class and rolling out the mat was an auspicious thing and that I should stay and try it.
So I did. Out of my element, huffing and sweating, trying to keep up. There were people doing these crazy binds and beautiful transitions. Wow. At one point we were on the mat doing the alligator pose. I was pretty tired by this point and the song "Purple Rain" by Prince came over the sound system as I was reaching and lifting my limbs off the mat. And when I came to rest periodically from the pose I pressed my whole body into the mat and felt a passionate love for the floor - this deep, intense appreciation for a solid surface on which to rest my forehead.
It was "ridikerus" as The South would say.
And now I am unspeakably sore. I don't think I'll do another class at the Lotus until next week. I am debating as to whether to have that class be Basic or Lotus Flow.
A statement which is surely not true but I took very much to heart today and went back to the Laughing Lotus for another yoga class. I figured if CKE could spend 6-8 hours in a day doing yoga, I could do two classes in two days. Despite feeling tired and sore all over. Every minute of today I discovered a new muscle that was not happy about the fact that I did yoga yesterday.
Went back, signed in, and walked into the wrong class. Instead of the Yoga Basics class I had wandered into the Lotus Flow 2 class which is a Vinyasa class - more motion and breathing. More strenuous poses and transitions. The instructor smiled and said that parking myself in her class and rolling out the mat was an auspicious thing and that I should stay and try it.
So I did. Out of my element, huffing and sweating, trying to keep up. There were people doing these crazy binds and beautiful transitions. Wow. At one point we were on the mat doing the alligator pose. I was pretty tired by this point and the song "Purple Rain" by Prince came over the sound system as I was reaching and lifting my limbs off the mat. And when I came to rest periodically from the pose I pressed my whole body into the mat and felt a passionate love for the floor - this deep, intense appreciation for a solid surface on which to rest my forehead.
It was "ridikerus" as The South would say.
And now I am unspeakably sore. I don't think I'll do another class at the Lotus until next week. I am debating as to whether to have that class be Basic or Lotus Flow.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Oooooommmmm
Went to a yoga class today. My fifth yoga class in NYC and my fourth studio. It's been a very long time. My body feels unfamiliar to me in yoga practice. There are twinges and tugs in different places. Like my body has been storing different kinds of tension and unfamiliar energies in unexpected places.
At some point during the motion, the breathing and the sweating it occurred to me that I have missed this connection with my body, my yoga body. And I have missed being in a warm friendly yoga environment.
the Laughing Lotus Yoga Center
At some point during the motion, the breathing and the sweating it occurred to me that I have missed this connection with my body, my yoga body. And I have missed being in a warm friendly yoga environment.
the Laughing Lotus Yoga Center
Sunday, March 18, 2007
This post is really too long to read, y'know?
This post comes out of sitting at home in a stupor trying to remember what the hell happened to me over the last week+ besides feeding a serious cereal craving. Bowl after bowl after bowl of crispix and life cereal were consumed in this week.
Friday
My plan was to go see two shows in Williamsburg. One that Acid Canyon was playing at the Luna Lounge and another that Chairlift was playing at The Galapagos Art Space. But I did not get my act together until it was too late to catch Acid Canyon's set so I opted to meet up with co-workers for dinner at the Waverly Diner. It was crowded and noisy and fun. Afterwards some of us went to a bar called the Slaughtered Lamb for a drink. The Slaughtered Lamb has a basement that is decked out like a dungeon with skeletons displayed behind bars all over the place. We played pool on a table with no cue ball in a room that smelled like a backed up toilet. TBW kicked our asses roundly at pool. I think having long fingers helps to steady the cue. The place was rocking out to 80's music. It was the second time that The South, IRN, and TBW and I have been out to a place that was busting the 80's music.
Truth be told I am a little offended by this. Don't get me wrong there's a lot to love about the 80's but there are amazing songs that have been written since then and there are all kinds of starving artists that are worthy of our attention creating music that ought to be the soundtrack of our lives in this particular slice of life.
After that drink The South and I took the train to Willie-B and got ourselves to the show. The Galapagos Art Space is this groovy four space place that has tons of event apparently happening all the time. As you walk in the front room has a significant section of the floor cut out and devoted to a reflecting pool. As you walk in there is a bar in the back with the exposed brick post industrial look. A nice touch to that is that there are tiny candle holders spaced pretty close together and attached to the wall behind the bar and the opposite side. Giving the whole place a warm cosy industrial feel. On stage as we came in were the Bridesmaids. We barely heard half of one song, sadly.
Then Chairlift. The sound was kind of fuzzy and unbalanced. I curbed an impulse to walk back there and tell the sound guy how to do his job. As a former sound girl I recall how annoying that is. Still to see them was delightful and fun. The South would later refer to them as the Postal Service. Which I can see but would disagree with due to the lack of sequenced beats and the presence of the strummy guitar.
After Chairlift's set the South and I had an argument about whether The Pixies were a way underground underground band (The South's opinion) or a band that achieved moderate commercial success (I remember that them getting some radio play while I was in college). We did an unsophisticated poll of those around us. No one was sure. But they had all heard the song "Where is my mind." Which The South said didn't count as it was in the movie "Fight Club." Whatev, try telling the Pixies that.
We also decided that we needed to buy CD's (merch victims, are we). They were very nice kids who for a brief moment mistook us for a band as we were standing next to a stack of free promotional CD's.
Then the Hylozoists from Canada. They are a rock chamber music outfit that plays instrumental music featuring xylophones (vibraphones?). They have the usual full rock band line up along with two drum kits, a violinist, and a keyboard player. I was told by one of the members that their numbers can inflate up even higher. I think there were 15-18 of them on the album. It was the music of the spheres the kind of thing you would hear during a dream where you visit Jupiter and float through its gassy clouds.
I bought the CD.
Then a band from called Pink Noise known to The South as Sonic Youth part II. He was very much digging them. I felt that they were very good at their angsty sludgy serious rock thing but somehow they sounded kind of conventional compared to the rest of the lineup. He went up after their set to get an CD.
The closing band was X-Wife from Portugal. They were the Portuguese Killers. Having been awake for 25 hours and playing their second gig of the day, they didn't seem all that happy to be there. The lead singer in particular seemed very unhappy with his vocals. And when the room is empty and the band is cranky the best thing to do is rock out on the dance floor.
The DJ's that spun between sets that evening were pretty fun too. DJ Oil, DJ Toby Rascal and DJ Gerald.
It was 3am when we got out of there. The South and I went to Oasis and had food. They will put beet salad and pickles in your kabob pita there. It was yum.
And then the L train ride back to Manhattan and again crashed Chez Du Sud. I was too tired to anything. Y'know? The South apparently made it through "the night" in one piece, but got sick in the morning. Poor fella.
Saturday
I had a big bowl of noodles with Beef broth at a Vietnamese place. It was delightful. Bought a headband on the streets on the way to the subway. The vendor kept speaking with me in Mandarin, which I can't speak. I said the few things that I can: Good. Sorry. Korean person. Thank you. Good-bye.
Came home and despite my best intentions didn't make it out to S's birthday party. Instead I watched "Logan's Run" with the RM. We laughed at the stupid costumes and were slightly shocked at some of its futuristic raciness. I even took a shower and made motions intended to get me out of the house but found that my ass was lodged into the floor of the living room. I was not going to make it.
Sunday
I took a Chinatown bus to Philly. Slept and listened to music and spilled a leaky BLT all over myself. Met up with e23 and went to the Art Museum to see the Silk Road Dance Company perform. Lots of colorful embroidered costumes and dances that seemed like a combination of what CKE would often demonstrate for me from Belly Dance class and a variety of motions and figures that re-enact daily tasks and celebrate life. Making silk, gathering the harvest, the blooming of tulip with the coming of spring, the expression of flirty mystery. The occasion for this was to celebrate Noruz - the Persian New Year.
The dancing confirmed to me that I need to take some Belly Dance classes or a Persian Dance class to work on my flirting skills. It occurred to me that maybe the Pussycat Dolls should consider learning on of the routines. Just to mix things up a little.
e23 gave me a tour of the city and we walked back to the home of his mother (!?) to hang out. I got to meet his mother and step father. (?!) We got groceries and made a spinach quiche and we tried to make a fruit pie with out tapioca. Good luck with that. At this point I had lost track of time and missed the last bus back and stayed the night in Philly.
Monday
I caught the 7:30am bus back to NYC. The Chinatown bus makes a stop right near my office. *whee* So I got out and dragged my carcass into work. It was a day without joy. I went home and fell asleep on the couch for 4 hours with my laptop closed and clutched to my chest and then crawled into bed for more sleep.
Tuesday
I was almost as dead as Monday.
Wednesday
I had dinner with my Cuz. He was wrestling with the question of school or work. We had vietnamese food (Different Vietnamese place) and chatted about stuff. On the way home he decided in favor of school. I am so pleased for him.
I downloaded Mozilla and I am using it now as I write this post. Having a web browser with tabs rocks my socks. I considered trying to figure out which celebrities I resemble on MyHeritage.com but I got weirded out by the part of their terms and conditions where they say that for any content that you upload to their site you grant them the right to use for whatever they want.
Meanwhile wordpress.com says in their terms and conditions that they will use your content to promote your blog.
Maybe by this time next year my computer will be running 100% opensource and I will be one of those internet utopians that I barely understand right now.
Thursday
I had tea with LJL. She was trying to get me to articulate and identify some goals in my life but I was evasive as always. I love that she does not seem to give up on me despite this.
After work I went to a farewell dinner for a co-worker who is leaving Big Scienceville for a really neato nonprofit job helping people in poor villages in Peru. Which is so groovy. She's, like, really really cool. And it was interesting talking to her about her life in New York and how it has shaped who she is and about this new chapter of her life. She says that life in New York has given her the confidence to face anything. Perhaps it will do the same for me. Who knows.
I ate a third of a cow and evaded a night of Karaoke in favor of meeting up with RBe, DBe, and He. Two vegans and a pesca-vegetarian dug into a plate of Ethopian food while I sat there, made exceptionally awkward conversation and tried not to belch cow fumes or moo loudly in their presence. Turns out we share little in common. Besides sitting on the opposite side of the meat eating divide it turns out that they (two of them) are anti-bubble tea, whilst I am pro. Could it be that these two facts are deal breakers in this social circle? Don't know. What I do know is that "they all moved away from me on the bench, there ..." We all came out into the rain to which I said, "Yes!' while others said, "Eww!"
More likely it was me, not them. Wasn't in the most convivial of moods.
Friday
Hung out again with LJL. We had sushi in the Village and had a few drinks at a place with a 3 drink maxiumum. No joke. There is the magic number at which they will stop serving you alcohol. During the course of the evening she made a point that only resonated with me later. She asked me what I want, what are my goals. And I can only articulate them in the vaguest of ways. I would define a good life for me as a life that is useful and a life that is meaningful. I try to tell myself that it will happen someday - that perhaps it is happening right now and I just don't realize it. I try to tell myself a lot of things. I am a glass-half-empty kind of girl struggling to think my way into seeing things in a glass-half full way.
At this point she asked me what I believe in. She said that believing in something would help me accomplish what I want. And the next day I realized that she had hit at the core of my problem. Something so obvious that I am amazed that I never saw it before. You have to believe in something to live a meaningful life. Your life is meaningful when lived in accordance with and as an expression of what you believe.
So me not believing or at least not knowing what it is that I believe in ... of course I feel lost and I don't know what it is that I should be doing. I can't bring myself to believe. I don't know what I believe and that is key to the equation. LJL, she is very wise, y'know?
Saturday
The RM and I got decked out in green clothing, green makeup, and green hair coloring, and went to the St. Patrick's Day Parade. There are two things of note about the Parade: lots of white people and men in skirts.
Two other things: lots of police officers marching and lots of fire fighters as well. It was strangely emotional seeing all of those uniforms marching along. Especially the fire fighters. Added to that there are some really handsome men in the FDNY. Wow.
It was cold and we stood on packed chunks of snow to get a better view of the parade. At some point who should walk by us exiting the parade? None other than Mayor Bloomberg. Small world, no? He walked right by me. I could have reached out and patted his head. I imagine that his body guards would have taken me down for that but I could have.
We had this conversation on the train ride up about whether the presence of policemen made us feel safe. The RM feels safer when there is a uniformed officer around. Me, I guess I feel a little uncomfortable with individuals in authority who might shoot you for running away from them (depending on the laws of the state). Why would I run away from them? I don't know? Maybe a yellow jacket gets caught in my sweatshirt or something. Maybe the movie "Crash" just made too much of an impression on me. The conversation was pretty serious and we missed our agreed upon parade stop and opted for one near the end of the parade.
We went to a pub that was super packed. We were crushed like sardines in there and accidentally got two beers at once. So we drank our beers double fisted and received amny a compliment from the crowd around us. Then on to another one and then another one. Where we stayed because we paid a $10 cover to get in there. I danced with a couple of fellas. One of them called me "shady" I have no idea why. (Did my hand graze by his wallet or something in the midst of turn or something?) The other was probably my age. (Momentous moment of momentousness) The RM chatted with this older Irish couple who were visiting the States. I think in the end all of us ended up chatting with the Irish couple. The best part of that was when the DJ started to play some Motown and then some Neil Diamond ... they got up and tore it up on the dance floor. Drunk kids came out of the woodwork to dance with the cute old Irish couple. It was strangely wholesome.
Along the way we met up with CKE's cousin CP who once studied to be a priest and now lives a life deeply influenced by Ayn Rand. This fact leaves me a bit speechless. It is rare to meet a serious and full blown objectivist after the age of 25. Although recently, I think that I have run into more than one of them. He actually told me that he doesn't believe in non-profits because actions that are not based in self-interest are fruitless. Actions taken to make others happy will not bring you happiness. They are bad.
My reply was that a good deed is done for the doer. When a good deed is done with the expectation of praise or recognition there will be disappointment. But I think in many cases having the opportunity to give is in itself an immense gift. If for no other reason that the way it makes you realize how much you have and can open a place of gratitude for that. Some of those who set out to save the world are probably trying to save themselves in the process.
For me the evening ended with a bowl of Korean noodle soup and late night train ride home. I did not puke on a red head or any other type of person.
Sunday
I brimmed with good intentions. Intentions to seek adventure in the city. I made it out of the house to get a big bowl of cheese grits. And then I crawled back into bed and passed out again. The best part of Sunday was discovering that I had a big bag of tater tots in the freezer. That's right it was not a dream. I actually did go out and buy them at some point. And then I forgot and started craving them all over again.
At last, my tater tots have come along
My fried then baked potato cravings are over
And life is like a song.
Friday
My plan was to go see two shows in Williamsburg. One that Acid Canyon was playing at the Luna Lounge and another that Chairlift was playing at The Galapagos Art Space. But I did not get my act together until it was too late to catch Acid Canyon's set so I opted to meet up with co-workers for dinner at the Waverly Diner. It was crowded and noisy and fun. Afterwards some of us went to a bar called the Slaughtered Lamb for a drink. The Slaughtered Lamb has a basement that is decked out like a dungeon with skeletons displayed behind bars all over the place. We played pool on a table with no cue ball in a room that smelled like a backed up toilet. TBW kicked our asses roundly at pool. I think having long fingers helps to steady the cue. The place was rocking out to 80's music. It was the second time that The South, IRN, and TBW and I have been out to a place that was busting the 80's music.
Truth be told I am a little offended by this. Don't get me wrong there's a lot to love about the 80's but there are amazing songs that have been written since then and there are all kinds of starving artists that are worthy of our attention creating music that ought to be the soundtrack of our lives in this particular slice of life.
After that drink The South and I took the train to Willie-B and got ourselves to the show. The Galapagos Art Space is this groovy four space place that has tons of event apparently happening all the time. As you walk in the front room has a significant section of the floor cut out and devoted to a reflecting pool. As you walk in there is a bar in the back with the exposed brick post industrial look. A nice touch to that is that there are tiny candle holders spaced pretty close together and attached to the wall behind the bar and the opposite side. Giving the whole place a warm cosy industrial feel. On stage as we came in were the Bridesmaids. We barely heard half of one song, sadly.
Then Chairlift. The sound was kind of fuzzy and unbalanced. I curbed an impulse to walk back there and tell the sound guy how to do his job. As a former sound girl I recall how annoying that is. Still to see them was delightful and fun. The South would later refer to them as the Postal Service. Which I can see but would disagree with due to the lack of sequenced beats and the presence of the strummy guitar.
After Chairlift's set the South and I had an argument about whether The Pixies were a way underground underground band (The South's opinion) or a band that achieved moderate commercial success (I remember that them getting some radio play while I was in college). We did an unsophisticated poll of those around us. No one was sure. But they had all heard the song "Where is my mind." Which The South said didn't count as it was in the movie "Fight Club." Whatev, try telling the Pixies that.
We also decided that we needed to buy CD's (merch victims, are we). They were very nice kids who for a brief moment mistook us for a band as we were standing next to a stack of free promotional CD's.
Then the Hylozoists from Canada. They are a rock chamber music outfit that plays instrumental music featuring xylophones (vibraphones?). They have the usual full rock band line up along with two drum kits, a violinist, and a keyboard player. I was told by one of the members that their numbers can inflate up even higher. I think there were 15-18 of them on the album. It was the music of the spheres the kind of thing you would hear during a dream where you visit Jupiter and float through its gassy clouds.
I bought the CD.
Then a band from called Pink Noise known to The South as Sonic Youth part II. He was very much digging them. I felt that they were very good at their angsty sludgy serious rock thing but somehow they sounded kind of conventional compared to the rest of the lineup. He went up after their set to get an CD.
The closing band was X-Wife from Portugal. They were the Portuguese Killers. Having been awake for 25 hours and playing their second gig of the day, they didn't seem all that happy to be there. The lead singer in particular seemed very unhappy with his vocals. And when the room is empty and the band is cranky the best thing to do is rock out on the dance floor.
The DJ's that spun between sets that evening were pretty fun too. DJ Oil, DJ Toby Rascal and DJ Gerald.
It was 3am when we got out of there. The South and I went to Oasis and had food. They will put beet salad and pickles in your kabob pita there. It was yum.
And then the L train ride back to Manhattan and again crashed Chez Du Sud. I was too tired to anything. Y'know? The South apparently made it through "the night" in one piece, but got sick in the morning. Poor fella.
Saturday
I had a big bowl of noodles with Beef broth at a Vietnamese place. It was delightful. Bought a headband on the streets on the way to the subway. The vendor kept speaking with me in Mandarin, which I can't speak. I said the few things that I can: Good. Sorry. Korean person. Thank you. Good-bye.
Came home and despite my best intentions didn't make it out to S's birthday party. Instead I watched "Logan's Run" with the RM. We laughed at the stupid costumes and were slightly shocked at some of its futuristic raciness. I even took a shower and made motions intended to get me out of the house but found that my ass was lodged into the floor of the living room. I was not going to make it.
Sunday
I took a Chinatown bus to Philly. Slept and listened to music and spilled a leaky BLT all over myself. Met up with e23 and went to the Art Museum to see the Silk Road Dance Company perform. Lots of colorful embroidered costumes and dances that seemed like a combination of what CKE would often demonstrate for me from Belly Dance class and a variety of motions and figures that re-enact daily tasks and celebrate life. Making silk, gathering the harvest, the blooming of tulip with the coming of spring, the expression of flirty mystery. The occasion for this was to celebrate Noruz - the Persian New Year.
The dancing confirmed to me that I need to take some Belly Dance classes or a Persian Dance class to work on my flirting skills. It occurred to me that maybe the Pussycat Dolls should consider learning on of the routines. Just to mix things up a little.
e23 gave me a tour of the city and we walked back to the home of his mother (!?) to hang out. I got to meet his mother and step father. (?!) We got groceries and made a spinach quiche and we tried to make a fruit pie with out tapioca. Good luck with that. At this point I had lost track of time and missed the last bus back and stayed the night in Philly.
Monday
I caught the 7:30am bus back to NYC. The Chinatown bus makes a stop right near my office. *whee* So I got out and dragged my carcass into work. It was a day without joy. I went home and fell asleep on the couch for 4 hours with my laptop closed and clutched to my chest and then crawled into bed for more sleep.
Tuesday
I was almost as dead as Monday.
Wednesday
I had dinner with my Cuz. He was wrestling with the question of school or work. We had vietnamese food (Different Vietnamese place) and chatted about stuff. On the way home he decided in favor of school. I am so pleased for him.
I downloaded Mozilla and I am using it now as I write this post. Having a web browser with tabs rocks my socks. I considered trying to figure out which celebrities I resemble on MyHeritage.com but I got weirded out by the part of their terms and conditions where they say that for any content that you upload to their site you grant them the right to use for whatever they want.
Meanwhile wordpress.com says in their terms and conditions that they will use your content to promote your blog.
Maybe by this time next year my computer will be running 100% opensource and I will be one of those internet utopians that I barely understand right now.
Thursday
I had tea with LJL. She was trying to get me to articulate and identify some goals in my life but I was evasive as always. I love that she does not seem to give up on me despite this.
After work I went to a farewell dinner for a co-worker who is leaving Big Scienceville for a really neato nonprofit job helping people in poor villages in Peru. Which is so groovy. She's, like, really really cool. And it was interesting talking to her about her life in New York and how it has shaped who she is and about this new chapter of her life. She says that life in New York has given her the confidence to face anything. Perhaps it will do the same for me. Who knows.
I ate a third of a cow and evaded a night of Karaoke in favor of meeting up with RBe, DBe, and He. Two vegans and a pesca-vegetarian dug into a plate of Ethopian food while I sat there, made exceptionally awkward conversation and tried not to belch cow fumes or moo loudly in their presence. Turns out we share little in common. Besides sitting on the opposite side of the meat eating divide it turns out that they (two of them) are anti-bubble tea, whilst I am pro. Could it be that these two facts are deal breakers in this social circle? Don't know. What I do know is that "they all moved away from me on the bench, there ..." We all came out into the rain to which I said, "Yes!' while others said, "Eww!"
More likely it was me, not them. Wasn't in the most convivial of moods.
Friday
Hung out again with LJL. We had sushi in the Village and had a few drinks at a place with a 3 drink maxiumum. No joke. There is the magic number at which they will stop serving you alcohol. During the course of the evening she made a point that only resonated with me later. She asked me what I want, what are my goals. And I can only articulate them in the vaguest of ways. I would define a good life for me as a life that is useful and a life that is meaningful. I try to tell myself that it will happen someday - that perhaps it is happening right now and I just don't realize it. I try to tell myself a lot of things. I am a glass-half-empty kind of girl struggling to think my way into seeing things in a glass-half full way.
At this point she asked me what I believe in. She said that believing in something would help me accomplish what I want. And the next day I realized that she had hit at the core of my problem. Something so obvious that I am amazed that I never saw it before. You have to believe in something to live a meaningful life. Your life is meaningful when lived in accordance with and as an expression of what you believe.
So me not believing or at least not knowing what it is that I believe in ... of course I feel lost and I don't know what it is that I should be doing. I can't bring myself to believe. I don't know what I believe and that is key to the equation. LJL, she is very wise, y'know?
Saturday
The RM and I got decked out in green clothing, green makeup, and green hair coloring, and went to the St. Patrick's Day Parade. There are two things of note about the Parade: lots of white people and men in skirts.
Two other things: lots of police officers marching and lots of fire fighters as well. It was strangely emotional seeing all of those uniforms marching along. Especially the fire fighters. Added to that there are some really handsome men in the FDNY. Wow.
It was cold and we stood on packed chunks of snow to get a better view of the parade. At some point who should walk by us exiting the parade? None other than Mayor Bloomberg. Small world, no? He walked right by me. I could have reached out and patted his head. I imagine that his body guards would have taken me down for that but I could have.
We had this conversation on the train ride up about whether the presence of policemen made us feel safe. The RM feels safer when there is a uniformed officer around. Me, I guess I feel a little uncomfortable with individuals in authority who might shoot you for running away from them (depending on the laws of the state). Why would I run away from them? I don't know? Maybe a yellow jacket gets caught in my sweatshirt or something. Maybe the movie "Crash" just made too much of an impression on me. The conversation was pretty serious and we missed our agreed upon parade stop and opted for one near the end of the parade.
We went to a pub that was super packed. We were crushed like sardines in there and accidentally got two beers at once. So we drank our beers double fisted and received amny a compliment from the crowd around us. Then on to another one and then another one. Where we stayed because we paid a $10 cover to get in there. I danced with a couple of fellas. One of them called me "shady" I have no idea why. (Did my hand graze by his wallet or something in the midst of turn or something?) The other was probably my age. (Momentous moment of momentousness) The RM chatted with this older Irish couple who were visiting the States. I think in the end all of us ended up chatting with the Irish couple. The best part of that was when the DJ started to play some Motown and then some Neil Diamond ... they got up and tore it up on the dance floor. Drunk kids came out of the woodwork to dance with the cute old Irish couple. It was strangely wholesome.
Along the way we met up with CKE's cousin CP who once studied to be a priest and now lives a life deeply influenced by Ayn Rand. This fact leaves me a bit speechless. It is rare to meet a serious and full blown objectivist after the age of 25. Although recently, I think that I have run into more than one of them. He actually told me that he doesn't believe in non-profits because actions that are not based in self-interest are fruitless. Actions taken to make others happy will not bring you happiness. They are bad.
My reply was that a good deed is done for the doer. When a good deed is done with the expectation of praise or recognition there will be disappointment. But I think in many cases having the opportunity to give is in itself an immense gift. If for no other reason that the way it makes you realize how much you have and can open a place of gratitude for that. Some of those who set out to save the world are probably trying to save themselves in the process.
For me the evening ended with a bowl of Korean noodle soup and late night train ride home. I did not puke on a red head or any other type of person.
Sunday
I brimmed with good intentions. Intentions to seek adventure in the city. I made it out of the house to get a big bowl of cheese grits. And then I crawled back into bed and passed out again. The best part of Sunday was discovering that I had a big bag of tater tots in the freezer. That's right it was not a dream. I actually did go out and buy them at some point. And then I forgot and started craving them all over again.
At last, my tater tots have come along
My fried then baked potato cravings are over
And life is like a song.
To Ze, With Love
The South remarked before embarking on his journey home that I have not posted anything in an eon. I have heard that an eon is the amount of time that it would take you to take feather and brush away every particle of the himalayan mountains resulting in a flat area at sea level. At least, that's how I heard it.
Y'all know that I bear great love for The Show with Ze Frank. When Ze Frank started doing the Show he said that he would do it for exactly a year. Five days a week for one year. That year came to a close this past Friday. *sniff* And I have wanted to put together a list of some of my favorite episodes of the show.
Me being obsessive.
Some have the formal titles. Some have titles of my making. I am hoping that the archive does not disappear tomorrow. That would make me cranky after putting this list together. They are in nostly chronological order.
5-15-06 Hindsight is 20-20
5-16-06 The Earth Sandwich
6-06-06 Adult
6-21-06 Institutional Recourse
7-05-06 hot dog, culture
7-07-06 gerrymandering
7-10-06 (the girls do it all the time part)
7-11-06 Where the fuck do ideas come from
7-14-06 Ugly myspace and the means of artistic production
7-21-06 Youtube terms and conditions
7-27-06 YouTube and Copyright
7-28-06 Complicated? Just start playin' with it
8-08-06 the 100th episode
8-10-06 "Now, the way I see it, you can't have terrorism without the terror."
8-11-06 Terrorism, Chimeras, and ReallyReady.org
8-15-06 Baseball
8-17-06 Illness Communication Exaggeration Curve
8-25-06 Pluto
8-28-06 Information
9-14-06 non lethal weapons domestically
9-19-06 make someone happy
9-25-06 Battle of "The Show"'s
10-10-06 narrated show
11-02-06 Endorse Your Fruit
11-28-06 new perspective - Braingasms and That makes me think of
12-06-06 study then sleep
12-13-06 Running Through Syrup
12-19-06 Baseline
1-02-07 Champagne Fairies
1-08-07 melancholy
1-09-07 how to make lasagna
1-18-07 you missed
1-22-07 Beans
1-31-07 80 percent
2-05-07 waves
2-06-07 mean by mean
2-07-07 pro-cra
2-13-07 "The concept was cool-Make the earth spikey" LOAI
2-15-07 appreciation
2-20-07 adjective noun
2-22-07 couldabin
2-28-07 ray
3-01-07 euripides
3-08-07 the debt
3-12-07 bittersweet
3-14-07 a bit heavy
3-15-07 loyalty
3-17-07 the last one
12-20-06 MomVee's fav about the true meaning of Xmas
Favorite Zefrank Quotes:
"believe it or not making out is just one of many things you can do with another person." from 7-26-06
"And remember, be yourself. Unless you're an asshole." from 8-21.06
"Not all science is about makin' dough and gettin' chicks." from 6-20-06
"Edwards seen here welcoming the kittens of heaven" from 4-09-07
The favorite quotes of others
There's a whole favorite show project on the zefrank wiki that I am too shy to participate in.
I never got to the point where I became an active member of that community. I lurked on the forums and I visited the ORG once. But I never took part in the groovy community that was built around this project. Just never quite got there.
Still, for five days a week for a year. It was a part of my day. And I will miss it.
I hope that whatever expressions of awesomeness that Ze moves on to I get to witness at least a few of them.
Y'all know that I bear great love for The Show with Ze Frank. When Ze Frank started doing the Show he said that he would do it for exactly a year. Five days a week for one year. That year came to a close this past Friday. *sniff* And I have wanted to put together a list of some of my favorite episodes of the show.
Me being obsessive.
Some have the formal titles. Some have titles of my making. I am hoping that the archive does not disappear tomorrow. That would make me cranky after putting this list together. They are in nostly chronological order.
5-15-06 Hindsight is 20-20
5-16-06 The Earth Sandwich
6-06-06 Adult
6-21-06 Institutional Recourse
7-05-06 hot dog, culture
7-07-06 gerrymandering
7-10-06 (the girls do it all the time part)
7-11-06 Where the fuck do ideas come from
7-14-06 Ugly myspace and the means of artistic production
7-21-06 Youtube terms and conditions
7-27-06 YouTube and Copyright
7-28-06 Complicated? Just start playin' with it
8-08-06 the 100th episode
8-10-06 "Now, the way I see it, you can't have terrorism without the terror."
8-11-06 Terrorism, Chimeras, and ReallyReady.org
8-15-06 Baseball
8-17-06 Illness Communication Exaggeration Curve
8-25-06 Pluto
8-28-06 Information
9-14-06 non lethal weapons domestically
9-19-06 make someone happy
9-25-06 Battle of "The Show"'s
10-10-06 narrated show
11-02-06 Endorse Your Fruit
11-28-06 new perspective - Braingasms and That makes me think of
12-06-06 study then sleep
12-13-06 Running Through Syrup
12-19-06 Baseline
1-02-07 Champagne Fairies
1-08-07 melancholy
1-09-07 how to make lasagna
1-18-07 you missed
1-22-07 Beans
1-31-07 80 percent
2-05-07 waves
2-06-07 mean by mean
2-07-07 pro-cra
2-13-07 "The concept was cool-Make the earth spikey" LOAI
2-15-07 appreciation
2-20-07 adjective noun
2-22-07 couldabin
2-28-07 ray
3-01-07 euripides
3-08-07 the debt
3-12-07 bittersweet
3-14-07 a bit heavy
3-15-07 loyalty
3-17-07 the last one
12-20-06 MomVee's fav about the true meaning of Xmas
Favorite Zefrank Quotes:
"believe it or not making out is just one of many things you can do with another person." from 7-26-06
"And remember, be yourself. Unless you're an asshole." from 8-21.06
"Not all science is about makin' dough and gettin' chicks." from 6-20-06
"Edwards seen here welcoming the kittens of heaven" from 4-09-07
The favorite quotes of others
There's a whole favorite show project on the zefrank wiki that I am too shy to participate in.
I never got to the point where I became an active member of that community. I lurked on the forums and I visited the ORG once. But I never took part in the groovy community that was built around this project. Just never quite got there.
Still, for five days a week for a year. It was a part of my day. And I will miss it.
I hope that whatever expressions of awesomeness that Ze moves on to I get to witness at least a few of them.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
good news is in the eye of the beholder
The guy who used to be mine just called to let me know that he met someone and that he is engaged to be married.
When I found out that we were broken up, I started wishing that he would get hit by a bus.
And then I calmed down and we got back in touch and became friendly. In that way that you are not exactly friends but more like you share a bond created out of surviving the same war.
He is the guy who sent me a text that made me cry this past New Year's Eve. I was riding the train above ground and listening Prince wail his version of the song "When U Were Mine" when I got the text. That was when it occurred to me then that maybe I have not moved as far along as I thought.
He is the only guy who has ever asked me to marry him. He didn't mean it. And when he asked I knew he didn't mean it ... but he did ask. And I did say yes.
It was a piece of crap ring with a blue flower and a wire that hung a yellow butterfly over it. It was fragile and lovely.
I broke the thing in about two weeks. First the butterfly, then the flower, then the whole ring. Prescient.
He asked if I would come to the wedding.
I said no.
Attending the weddings of your ex-boyfriends while dateless (Done it three times) is the absolute pits.
Unless Ze Frank sweeps me off my feet in the next few weeks, declaring his undying love, and agrees to be my date to the thing - I think I will take a pass on my ex-boyfriend's wedding.
The compound word of the day: petty-mean-spirited. Use it in a sentence.
When I found out that we were broken up, I started wishing that he would get hit by a bus.
And then I calmed down and we got back in touch and became friendly. In that way that you are not exactly friends but more like you share a bond created out of surviving the same war.
He is the guy who sent me a text that made me cry this past New Year's Eve. I was riding the train above ground and listening Prince wail his version of the song "When U Were Mine" when I got the text. That was when it occurred to me then that maybe I have not moved as far along as I thought.
He is the only guy who has ever asked me to marry him. He didn't mean it. And when he asked I knew he didn't mean it ... but he did ask. And I did say yes.
It was a piece of crap ring with a blue flower and a wire that hung a yellow butterfly over it. It was fragile and lovely.
I broke the thing in about two weeks. First the butterfly, then the flower, then the whole ring. Prescient.
He asked if I would come to the wedding.
I said no.
Attending the weddings of your ex-boyfriends while dateless (Done it three times) is the absolute pits.
Unless Ze Frank sweeps me off my feet in the next few weeks, declaring his undying love, and agrees to be my date to the thing - I think I will take a pass on my ex-boyfriend's wedding.
The compound word of the day: petty-mean-spirited. Use it in a sentence.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Not Angry Anymore
"she taught me how to wage cold war with quiet charm
but i just want to walk through my life unarmed.
to accept, and just get by like my father learned to do,
but without all the acceptance of getting by that got my father through
i just want you to understand that i know what all the fighting was for
and i just want you to understand that i'm not angry anymore.
no, i'm not angry anymore."
-
Ani DiFranco
My subconscious runs circles around me mocking me out of the corner of my mind.
2005 was a bitterly hard, traumatic and torturous year. I was glad to see it go. But it cast a long shadow and left wounds that were tender and scars slow to heal.
At some point in 2006 I realized that I was incredibly angry and so bitter. I realized that I hated someone. Really for the first time in my life I hated someone in a deep and utterly engrossing way. Any reminder would set me off. And there were any number of reminders that I could not help but run into.
I couldn't bring myself to forgive this person. I could barely stand to lay eyes on this person's friends. I was holding tight to the pain. I could not let go. And I realized that this hurt no one but me. But there it was. I knew that it impeded my life and my growth, even my capacity to love. And I stayed there for months and months. I didn't have anywhere constructive to put it.
And just this week I realized that a weight lifted off of me and somewhere in the midst of moving here and trying to make heads or tails of the working world and this nutty city - I let go. I don't know when it happened. But I had to move here to do it. My heart seems to have healed back crooked. The hinges don't open as widely or as easily as they used to. And I don't think I have entirely moved forward.
But I don't actively wish this person harm anymore which is a positive step. And I think I owe New York a debt of gratitude for that.
but i just want to walk through my life unarmed.
to accept, and just get by like my father learned to do,
but without all the acceptance of getting by that got my father through
i just want you to understand that i know what all the fighting was for
and i just want you to understand that i'm not angry anymore.
no, i'm not angry anymore."
-
Ani DiFranco
My subconscious runs circles around me mocking me out of the corner of my mind.
2005 was a bitterly hard, traumatic and torturous year. I was glad to see it go. But it cast a long shadow and left wounds that were tender and scars slow to heal.
At some point in 2006 I realized that I was incredibly angry and so bitter. I realized that I hated someone. Really for the first time in my life I hated someone in a deep and utterly engrossing way. Any reminder would set me off. And there were any number of reminders that I could not help but run into.
I couldn't bring myself to forgive this person. I could barely stand to lay eyes on this person's friends. I was holding tight to the pain. I could not let go. And I realized that this hurt no one but me. But there it was. I knew that it impeded my life and my growth, even my capacity to love. And I stayed there for months and months. I didn't have anywhere constructive to put it.
And just this week I realized that a weight lifted off of me and somewhere in the midst of moving here and trying to make heads or tails of the working world and this nutty city - I let go. I don't know when it happened. But I had to move here to do it. My heart seems to have healed back crooked. The hinges don't open as widely or as easily as they used to. And I don't think I have entirely moved forward.
But I don't actively wish this person harm anymore which is a positive step. And I think I owe New York a debt of gratitude for that.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Closing Time
The laudromat that the RM and I frequent has closed its doors. They have finally gone out of business. I think we all knew that it was coming. Every time I went in there W was yelling at me that different washers were broken. Some wouldn't run hot, others wouldn't run cold. In others the water smelled ... swampy.
There were very few dryers that were working. There were 9, then 7, then 5. Sometimes there were fewer. Sometimes it seemed like the dryers would only work if W was the one who turned the handle.
Sometimes it seemed like she was the only one who could get the door slammed tight enough so that the washer would start.
So I guess it was time. Though, I have grown so accustomed to W that I don't know what it will be like laundering with out her.
There were very few dryers that were working. There were 9, then 7, then 5. Sometimes there were fewer. Sometimes it seemed like the dryers would only work if W was the one who turned the handle.
Sometimes it seemed like she was the only one who could get the door slammed tight enough so that the washer would start.
So I guess it was time. Though, I have grown so accustomed to W that I don't know what it will be like laundering with out her.
International Women's Day
Today is International Women's Day. I fact that I would not have known had it not been for kenyc who has taken it upon himself to celebrate this day with gusto.
There are apparently events happening all over the world in observance. And you can surf over and find one happening near you.
If you are currently chained to your internet connection you could mosey over to Amnesty International's website and get involved in the Women's Human Rights & Stop Violence Against Women Campaign.
The action that I received today is a campaign to urge the US government to ratify the UN Conventions on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW). It is a treaty that has been ratified by over 182 countries. To date the United States is not one of them. Which is disappointing.
You might think that signing a piece of paper that says you believe in something is not that important. But I would beg to differ. What do you think the Declaration of Independence was?
There are apparently events happening all over the world in observance. And you can surf over and find one happening near you.
If you are currently chained to your internet connection you could mosey over to Amnesty International's website and get involved in the Women's Human Rights & Stop Violence Against Women Campaign.
The action that I received today is a campaign to urge the US government to ratify the UN Conventions on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW). It is a treaty that has been ratified by over 182 countries. To date the United States is not one of them. Which is disappointing.
You might think that signing a piece of paper that says you believe in something is not that important. But I would beg to differ. What do you think the Declaration of Independence was?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
machines that travel through time
Well, not exactly. At least not yet. But in the brief time that I have been blogging I have seen bloggers close up shop and take down their sites. Really cool sites vanish forever. The less romantic term for this emphemerality is link rot.
I can actually sift through my own blog and see instances of rot. Pictures disappear. Site become riddled with broken links and outdated information. They are retired and then deleted. News stories transition from being free content to being part of an archive you must pay for.
And I admit there are some blogs and pages that I miss. Which is why I was psyched to find that the internet archive has something they like to call the Way Back Machine.
At points its coverage is spotty. Hey, it ain't easy trying to archive the whole internet and yes, at points it suffers from link rot as well. There are pages listed that can't be found. But where listed many of the pages exist and with their links of the time in tact and also archived. Interestingly, when I search for my old blog I find that before me, someone else, Meghan the Lizard Queen had a blog with the same url. It was entitled: "Confessions to a Certain Spongecake."
One blog dies and another is born with the same url.
Sometimes I wonder how long I will do this. And now after a whirl on the Wayback Machine I wonder what this site will be like when it is reborn after I am done.
I can actually sift through my own blog and see instances of rot. Pictures disappear. Site become riddled with broken links and outdated information. They are retired and then deleted. News stories transition from being free content to being part of an archive you must pay for.
And I admit there are some blogs and pages that I miss. Which is why I was psyched to find that the internet archive has something they like to call the Way Back Machine.
At points its coverage is spotty. Hey, it ain't easy trying to archive the whole internet and yes, at points it suffers from link rot as well. There are pages listed that can't be found. But where listed many of the pages exist and with their links of the time in tact and also archived. Interestingly, when I search for my old blog I find that before me, someone else, Meghan the Lizard Queen had a blog with the same url. It was entitled: "Confessions to a Certain Spongecake."
One blog dies and another is born with the same url.
Sometimes I wonder how long I will do this. And now after a whirl on the Wayback Machine I wonder what this site will be like when it is reborn after I am done.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Love Autopsy
Friday, G came in on the redeye from SF and arrived at my door around 6:40am. *yawn* We met up in the pm and had dinner at Il Baggato a place that we managed to revist on instinct and accident just like the last time. And then we had drinks with her friends and the friends of her friends on the empty West side of town. It was interesting to see her with one of her classmates being all engineer-like. She’s gettin’ to be all growed up. I was impressed. And it is always good to see G.
On Saturday I lazed around the house. Slept late. Went to the Library. Ran a few errands. And then the RM and I went into the city to meet up with The South. The plan was to sit on his roof and drink beers by the light of the lunar eclipse.
Due to my inability to measure time and a powerful craving for dumplings, we missed watching the moon go into total eclipse but did see the tail end of the moon coming out of it. It was cold up there. But it was cool nonetheless to watch a partially darkened moon gradually become a full moon over the course of an hour plus over beers on a chilly March evening. And the view, otherwise, was spectacular.
Then we came in a watched part of the movie "Footloose" on cable in the kitchen. As an adolescent, I watched that movie ... four or five times in the theater. I was dismayed to find that it's a dorkier and goofier movie than I remember. Additionally, I don't remember it being so violent. But there it is. Still, my favorite scene in the movie is where Kevin Bacon is teaching his buddy how to dance. Love that scene. We all mocked the movie over beers and dumplings. I think there might have been a little dancing at some point in the kitchen there. I think tried to demonstrate the “cabbage patch”.
And then I dragged everyone to a show. 'cause it feels like forever since last I saw a live band. The destination was Sin-e and the band to see was Flying. Mike, the drummer, is also a coffee jock at a favorite haunt of the RM and I. We were late and missed Flying, we also missed Robert Stillman’s Horses, but decided to stay for the rest of the lineup:
The Subjects, The End of the World, and Luke Temple.
The bands were all very different but each rocked out in their own way. The End of the World was an indie rock band in the classic sense and that thing they do, they do really well. I was waiting for the big rocker to blast out from their setlist. I was left hanging. Still, they were in fine form.
The Subjects were alternately angular and melodic, cute and scrappy, and a little bit odd, with a charming creeky voiced singer who phrases and then yowls. I say this understanding that these are not really juxtapositions. I laughed during their first number which was all about the group la-la’s, was charmed and then entirely won over at some point from the second song on. There is something beautiful about the way the chords change in their songs, I found myself remarking on it to no one in particular, frequently.
Added to their curious musical mayhem they had a device on stage that they called: The Electric Rainbow Machine. It was a propeller device with colored lights running along each blade, when spinning, it transformed into a circular rainbow explosion.
Luke Temple was one long lush lullaby. As if a high crooner had spent a few years immersed in flamenco and chansons and emerged ready to start a band with no drum kit. It could lull me into deep sleep and dreams about marshmallow mattresses with big bounce.
The crowd was gorgeous. The women of New York declare that at 31 degrees it is time to wear those cute summer tops again. A personal annoyance of my evening came in the form of the girl with sharp elbows standing to my left. I am sure that she referred to me as that thick short annoying girl that was in the way to her right.
A friendly girl who might just be the biggest Subjects fan on the planet turned to me and said "This is the best therapy that money can buy" while getting her groove on.
For me, a therapeutic rock show would be a different kind of music but to each her own.
The South got a button and a poster, I bought a CD, and the RM met someone really nice.
I would like to point out here that all of the acts that performed that night were Brooklyn bands. Represent!
After a whole day of playing phone and text tag I didn’t manage to meet up with G. Such is how it goes. Meeting up with your friends is doable. Meeting up with your friends, their friends, friends of your friends, and friends of their friends is well nigh impossible. There is always someone who will make the whole thing too difficult and intractable. That person is frequently, me.
Sadly, I got to a point in the night where I could party no more. Promises of late night drinks, exciting new locales, and hotel pool parties could not keep me going. I could not even navigate the late night subway system and TS was kind enough to let me crash Chez du Sud after a super greasy slice of pie.
The next morning was flooded with righteous sunshine and gorgeousness. And I departed Chez du Sud to step into it. I wandered through his new neighb (or as G would say his new hood): Chinatown. Walking back towards the train I passed by a Mahayana Buddhist temple and decided to stop in.
It was decorated red and gold and yellow. Incense wafts through the area, there is a long table of elder Chinese folks chanting, and a string of people coming through with offerings of oranges and other food for the buddah and the ancestors. They bowed and kneeled and prayed. There is an enormous Buddah statue in the back of the room serene and seated. I walked over to one of the red folding chairs against the wall to the left and sat down taking it all in. The chanting was strange and beautiful and soothing. Though I entered the temple empty handed and clueless I felt somehow welcome.
You can get a fortune with a dollar donation mine read:
"Probability of success: Excellent
May the sick be healed and the hungry fed.
May the chained be freed and the lonely wed.
By great leaders may the nation be led.
And on sensible grounds may we all tread."
Whatever that means.
After a bit I walked out and wandered around part of Chinatown. There was a man fixing shoes outside and an old woman playing a traditional stringed instrument. I passed salons where you can get your hair cut for $17 and get your hair permed for $60. Many vendors were out hawking pajamas and produce, trinkets and gadgets.
I bought a bag of grapes and meandered on across town and caught the train home. Met up with G and went to J and her fiancee A's house for some brunch. They have a lovely place in Brooklyn, and a pushy, friendly puppy, and were most hospitable.
After frantically looking to flag a cab with G and then seeing her ride off to the airport suddenly I was alone on the streets of Brooklyn with a little time on my hands. So I bought a coat on sale in the color aubergine (aka: eggplant) and then curled up at home with a comic book that I checked out from the library
The RM came back from her second weekend adventure and the two of us went to see went to see "Music and Lyrics”. We have been talking about seeing it since like forever and were happy to catch it while still in the theaters. And it was cheesey, hilarious, romantic and delightful.
The song "Pop Goes My Heart" is going to be the soundtrack to my life for many days to come. I am sure of it.
It occurs to me now that culturally my weekend was an inverted cheese sandwich with a piece of bread between two pieces of cheese.
Cheesy 80’s (footloose), Current Indie (the Sin-e show), and Cheesy 80’s nostalgia. But in a good way.
*** update ***
And for those who were looking for something very specific and had the patience to scan all the way down to here, Dude, I miss Olga too. And it's possible that I have them in the wrong key b/c my geetar is out of tune.
part A (repeat many times)
G A Bm D
transition (you are gold...)
G A F#
chorus
G A D Bm
G A (just can't...)
And parts of the other one.
in the wrong key
part A
A F#m A F#m
D E D E
Chr
A F#m D A
the change?
E D (E maybe?)
... and stuff
Outro
E D E D A (this part I can't vouch for)
A F#m
Now go fake your way through it.
As for you title seekers, sorry I can't help ya.
*addition on Jan 6, 2008*
Since there are a number of people who have come here and walked away disappointed I'd like to offer you googleheads a little something purely for educational purposes. In the wrong key.
On Saturday I lazed around the house. Slept late. Went to the Library. Ran a few errands. And then the RM and I went into the city to meet up with The South. The plan was to sit on his roof and drink beers by the light of the lunar eclipse.
Due to my inability to measure time and a powerful craving for dumplings, we missed watching the moon go into total eclipse but did see the tail end of the moon coming out of it. It was cold up there. But it was cool nonetheless to watch a partially darkened moon gradually become a full moon over the course of an hour plus over beers on a chilly March evening. And the view, otherwise, was spectacular.
Then we came in a watched part of the movie "Footloose" on cable in the kitchen. As an adolescent, I watched that movie ... four or five times in the theater. I was dismayed to find that it's a dorkier and goofier movie than I remember. Additionally, I don't remember it being so violent. But there it is. Still, my favorite scene in the movie is where Kevin Bacon is teaching his buddy how to dance. Love that scene. We all mocked the movie over beers and dumplings. I think there might have been a little dancing at some point in the kitchen there. I think tried to demonstrate the “cabbage patch”.
And then I dragged everyone to a show. 'cause it feels like forever since last I saw a live band. The destination was Sin-e and the band to see was Flying. Mike, the drummer, is also a coffee jock at a favorite haunt of the RM and I. We were late and missed Flying, we also missed Robert Stillman’s Horses, but decided to stay for the rest of the lineup:
The Subjects, The End of the World, and Luke Temple.
The bands were all very different but each rocked out in their own way. The End of the World was an indie rock band in the classic sense and that thing they do, they do really well. I was waiting for the big rocker to blast out from their setlist. I was left hanging. Still, they were in fine form.
The Subjects were alternately angular and melodic, cute and scrappy, and a little bit odd, with a charming creeky voiced singer who phrases and then yowls. I say this understanding that these are not really juxtapositions. I laughed during their first number which was all about the group la-la’s, was charmed and then entirely won over at some point from the second song on. There is something beautiful about the way the chords change in their songs, I found myself remarking on it to no one in particular, frequently.
Added to their curious musical mayhem they had a device on stage that they called: The Electric Rainbow Machine. It was a propeller device with colored lights running along each blade, when spinning, it transformed into a circular rainbow explosion.
Luke Temple was one long lush lullaby. As if a high crooner had spent a few years immersed in flamenco and chansons and emerged ready to start a band with no drum kit. It could lull me into deep sleep and dreams about marshmallow mattresses with big bounce.
The crowd was gorgeous. The women of New York declare that at 31 degrees it is time to wear those cute summer tops again. A personal annoyance of my evening came in the form of the girl with sharp elbows standing to my left. I am sure that she referred to me as that thick short annoying girl that was in the way to her right.
A friendly girl who might just be the biggest Subjects fan on the planet turned to me and said "This is the best therapy that money can buy" while getting her groove on.
For me, a therapeutic rock show would be a different kind of music but to each her own.
The South got a button and a poster, I bought a CD, and the RM met someone really nice.
I would like to point out here that all of the acts that performed that night were Brooklyn bands. Represent!
After a whole day of playing phone and text tag I didn’t manage to meet up with G. Such is how it goes. Meeting up with your friends is doable. Meeting up with your friends, their friends, friends of your friends, and friends of their friends is well nigh impossible. There is always someone who will make the whole thing too difficult and intractable. That person is frequently, me.
Sadly, I got to a point in the night where I could party no more. Promises of late night drinks, exciting new locales, and hotel pool parties could not keep me going. I could not even navigate the late night subway system and TS was kind enough to let me crash Chez du Sud after a super greasy slice of pie.
The next morning was flooded with righteous sunshine and gorgeousness. And I departed Chez du Sud to step into it. I wandered through his new neighb (or as G would say his new hood): Chinatown. Walking back towards the train I passed by a Mahayana Buddhist temple and decided to stop in.
It was decorated red and gold and yellow. Incense wafts through the area, there is a long table of elder Chinese folks chanting, and a string of people coming through with offerings of oranges and other food for the buddah and the ancestors. They bowed and kneeled and prayed. There is an enormous Buddah statue in the back of the room serene and seated. I walked over to one of the red folding chairs against the wall to the left and sat down taking it all in. The chanting was strange and beautiful and soothing. Though I entered the temple empty handed and clueless I felt somehow welcome.
You can get a fortune with a dollar donation mine read:
"Probability of success: Excellent
May the sick be healed and the hungry fed.
May the chained be freed and the lonely wed.
By great leaders may the nation be led.
And on sensible grounds may we all tread."
Whatever that means.
After a bit I walked out and wandered around part of Chinatown. There was a man fixing shoes outside and an old woman playing a traditional stringed instrument. I passed salons where you can get your hair cut for $17 and get your hair permed for $60. Many vendors were out hawking pajamas and produce, trinkets and gadgets.
I bought a bag of grapes and meandered on across town and caught the train home. Met up with G and went to J and her fiancee A's house for some brunch. They have a lovely place in Brooklyn, and a pushy, friendly puppy, and were most hospitable.
After frantically looking to flag a cab with G and then seeing her ride off to the airport suddenly I was alone on the streets of Brooklyn with a little time on my hands. So I bought a coat on sale in the color aubergine (aka: eggplant) and then curled up at home with a comic book that I checked out from the library
The RM came back from her second weekend adventure and the two of us went to see went to see "Music and Lyrics”. We have been talking about seeing it since like forever and were happy to catch it while still in the theaters. And it was cheesey, hilarious, romantic and delightful.
The song "Pop Goes My Heart" is going to be the soundtrack to my life for many days to come. I am sure of it.
It occurs to me now that culturally my weekend was an inverted cheese sandwich with a piece of bread between two pieces of cheese.
Cheesy 80’s (footloose), Current Indie (the Sin-e show), and Cheesy 80’s nostalgia. But in a good way.
*** update ***
And for those who were looking for something very specific and had the patience to scan all the way down to here, Dude, I miss Olga too. And it's possible that I have them in the wrong key b/c my geetar is out of tune.
part A (repeat many times)
G A Bm D
transition (you are gold...)
G A F#
chorus
G A D Bm
G A (just can't...)
And parts of the other one.
in the wrong key
part A
A F#m A F#m
D E D E
Chr
A F#m D A
the change?
E D (E maybe?)
... and stuff
Outro
E D E D A (this part I can't vouch for)
A F#m
Now go fake your way through it.
As for you title seekers, sorry I can't help ya.
*addition on Jan 6, 2008*
Since there are a number of people who have come here and walked away disappointed I'd like to offer you googleheads a little something purely for educational purposes. In the wrong key.
[G]Figuring out you and me
is [C]like doing a [D]love autopsy
[G]They could operate all day long
and [C]never figure out [D]what went wrong
[C]love [G]autopsy [C]love [G]autopsy
[C]ah [G]ah [C]ah [D]ah
what went [G]wrong
Should I stay or should I go
I have been wrestling with a decision for several weeks. To stay in New York or take a job in Boston? I have a whole post written during the throes of my personal agony which it seems silly to post now. Now that I think of it there is a whole episode of the first season of “Felicity” that was devoted to this question as well. For different reasons of course.
Somewhere over the last month or two I fell in love with this place. I don't know what happened. I just know that it did. PS sighs when I tell her this and says that it's a clear case of stockholm syndrome.
I called everyone I know to talk to them about it. I asked everyone who called me about it. And finally last Thursday night I came to a decision. I almost backed out the next day but with a pep talk from the RM, I steeled myself, walked into the office and told them that I wanted to stay in New York.
Up to now I have been letting myself drift on the currents allowing them to take me wherever they may. Bending to the will of fate and the demands of others. But on Friday I planted my feet on the ground and made a decision. One decision. New York. I am not passing through. I am here.
I promise myself that it is the first of many decisions. Now is as good a time as any. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
Somewhere over the last month or two I fell in love with this place. I don't know what happened. I just know that it did. PS sighs when I tell her this and says that it's a clear case of stockholm syndrome.
I called everyone I know to talk to them about it. I asked everyone who called me about it. And finally last Thursday night I came to a decision. I almost backed out the next day but with a pep talk from the RM, I steeled myself, walked into the office and told them that I wanted to stay in New York.
Up to now I have been letting myself drift on the currents allowing them to take me wherever they may. Bending to the will of fate and the demands of others. But on Friday I planted my feet on the ground and made a decision. One decision. New York. I am not passing through. I am here.
I promise myself that it is the first of many decisions. Now is as good a time as any. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
Friday, March 02, 2007
refuse from reading "the Cluetrain Manifesto"
It's a book about the internet written back in 2000. It's not a technical books about coding or routing or what have you. Rather, it is a romantic meditation on how the internet changes the market and business and how the internet changes the world. In parts the language and the vision is quite beautiful. Cutting, funny, poetic, even.
"The problem, of course, is that life is anti-formulaic, anti-institutional ... Life can't be shrink-wrapped, caged, dissected, analyzed, or owned. Life is free." - Christopher locke
"Imagine a world where everyone was constantly learning, a world where what you wondered was more interesting than what you knew, and curiosity counted for more than certain knowledge. Imagine a world where what you gave away was more valuable than what you held back, where joy was not a dirty word, where play was not forbidden after your eleventh birthday. Imagine a world in which the business of business was to imagine worlds people might actually want to live in someday. Imagine a world created by the people, for the people not perishing from the earth forever." -Christopher Locke
"TechnoLatin takes perfectly meaningful words and empties them ...Today we no longer make chips, circuit boards, computers, monitors, or printers. We don't even make products. Instead we make solutions, ...
Equally vague and common are platform, open, environment, and support when used as a verb. A veterinarian using TechnoLatin might say that a dog serves as a platform for sniffing, is an open environment for fleas, and that it supports barking.
This isn't language. It's camouflage" - Doc Searls
The way David Weinberg sees it, the Web is different from the internet. The web is documents, hyperlinks, and the human voice. The internet was merely okay. When the web was added to it that's when things really started to cook.
Seven years after this book was first published, I wonder to what degree their dreams and predictions have become a reality. As far as I can tell corporations are as they ever were. We just spend more time at work in front of computers.
What happened to this revolution? Does the fight continue?
"The problem, of course, is that life is anti-formulaic, anti-institutional ... Life can't be shrink-wrapped, caged, dissected, analyzed, or owned. Life is free." - Christopher locke
"Imagine a world where everyone was constantly learning, a world where what you wondered was more interesting than what you knew, and curiosity counted for more than certain knowledge. Imagine a world where what you gave away was more valuable than what you held back, where joy was not a dirty word, where play was not forbidden after your eleventh birthday. Imagine a world in which the business of business was to imagine worlds people might actually want to live in someday. Imagine a world created by the people, for the people not perishing from the earth forever." -Christopher Locke
"TechnoLatin takes perfectly meaningful words and empties them ...Today we no longer make chips, circuit boards, computers, monitors, or printers. We don't even make products. Instead we make solutions, ...
Equally vague and common are platform, open, environment, and support when used as a verb. A veterinarian using TechnoLatin might say that a dog serves as a platform for sniffing, is an open environment for fleas, and that it supports barking.
This isn't language. It's camouflage" - Doc Searls
The way David Weinberg sees it, the Web is different from the internet. The web is documents, hyperlinks, and the human voice. The internet was merely okay. When the web was added to it that's when things really started to cook.
Seven years after this book was first published, I wonder to what degree their dreams and predictions have become a reality. As far as I can tell corporations are as they ever were. We just spend more time at work in front of computers.
What happened to this revolution? Does the fight continue?
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Ain't no cure for the uncertain of copyright violation blues
Recently I made up my very first knock, knock joke:
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Olive.
-Olive, who?
Olive the leaves are brown.
I posted it on that online dating site I've been lurking on and someone left me a knock knock joke as a comment:
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Andy.
-Andy who?
Andy sky is grey.
Which I found to be pure genius. And in thinking about these two knock knock jokes in juxtaposition I thought of a third:
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Ivan.
-Ivan, who?
Ivan for a walk.
So heady with the thrill of authorship and group inspiration I tried to propose a project on the ORG based on this exchange. Except that I don't know what I am doing on the ORG. I thought I could post text and invite other ORG members to post their own knock knock jokes. And apparently the project section is all about the sharing of photos, video, and audio. There doesn't seem to be a way to share snippets of text.
Errr...
Ok. So, I recorded myself saying all three of these knock knocks. I sang the last line of each one. Adjusted the amplification levels, Converted the file to MP3 and ... well that's where I got kinda stuck.
Uhhh...
See ... if you want to upload and share a movie you can do it at YouTube. If you want to upload and share a photo you can do it at Flickr or Photobucket or something.
If you want to upload and share an MP3 ... there's not obvious place to do it. I mean, you can put your stuff up on myspace and play it on their player. You can put your stuff up on purevolume and play it on their player.
I had a thought, maybe I could upload it to a yahoo briefcase and link to there. No such luck. If you want to upload a file to yahoo briefcase you can for free. If the darn thing will recognize you file. Yahoo briefcase doesn't like knock knock jokes.
And if you want to share your files publicly, you have to pay for that privilege.
So I turned to the google oracle to see what she might tell me.
Boomp3.com? I must guarantee that I am not violating a copyright by throwing audio of myself telling knock knock jokes.
Which got me thinking about the fact that i do not have a lawyer on retainer in case I get slapped with an injunction for telling knock knock jokes.
mp3-host.com? Same thing.
Archive.org and www.ourmedia.org? You need to put it up there with a creative commons license.
And frankly I don't know if I am able to post someone else's knock knock joke without permission.
I don't know if a series of knock knock jokes that are lousy puns based "California Dreamin" by the Mamas and the Papas is kosher from an intellectual property point of view.
*sigh*
What I mean to say is that I am
too miserly
too cowardly
too neurotic
and too lazy to post 27 second piece of incredibly dorky audio.
******edit**********
In case you are not the sort to read the comments. This is a correction: JD Lasica was kind enough to stop by and set me straight.
"Feel free to post it at ourmedia.org. We've never required a Creative Commons license -- you can choose any variation of copyright you want, including full copyright."
Straight from one of the founders, my friends.
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Olive.
-Olive, who?
Olive the leaves are brown.
I posted it on that online dating site I've been lurking on and someone left me a knock knock joke as a comment:
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Andy.
-Andy who?
Andy sky is grey.
Which I found to be pure genius. And in thinking about these two knock knock jokes in juxtaposition I thought of a third:
Knock, knock
-Who's there?
Ivan.
-Ivan, who?
Ivan for a walk.
So heady with the thrill of authorship and group inspiration I tried to propose a project on the ORG based on this exchange. Except that I don't know what I am doing on the ORG. I thought I could post text and invite other ORG members to post their own knock knock jokes. And apparently the project section is all about the sharing of photos, video, and audio. There doesn't seem to be a way to share snippets of text.
Errr...
Ok. So, I recorded myself saying all three of these knock knocks. I sang the last line of each one. Adjusted the amplification levels, Converted the file to MP3 and ... well that's where I got kinda stuck.
Uhhh...
See ... if you want to upload and share a movie you can do it at YouTube. If you want to upload and share a photo you can do it at Flickr or Photobucket or something.
If you want to upload and share an MP3 ... there's not obvious place to do it. I mean, you can put your stuff up on myspace and play it on their player. You can put your stuff up on purevolume and play it on their player.
I had a thought, maybe I could upload it to a yahoo briefcase and link to there. No such luck. If you want to upload a file to yahoo briefcase you can for free. If the darn thing will recognize you file. Yahoo briefcase doesn't like knock knock jokes.
And if you want to share your files publicly, you have to pay for that privilege.
So I turned to the google oracle to see what she might tell me.
Boomp3.com? I must guarantee that I am not violating a copyright by throwing audio of myself telling knock knock jokes.
Which got me thinking about the fact that i do not have a lawyer on retainer in case I get slapped with an injunction for telling knock knock jokes.
mp3-host.com? Same thing.
Archive.org and www.ourmedia.org? You need to put it up there with a creative commons license.
And frankly I don't know if I am able to post someone else's knock knock joke without permission.
I don't know if a series of knock knock jokes that are lousy puns based "California Dreamin" by the Mamas and the Papas is kosher from an intellectual property point of view.
*sigh*
What I mean to say is that I am
too miserly
too cowardly
too neurotic
and too lazy to post 27 second piece of incredibly dorky audio.
******edit**********
In case you are not the sort to read the comments. This is a correction: JD Lasica was kind enough to stop by and set me straight.
"Feel free to post it at ourmedia.org. We've never required a Creative Commons license -- you can choose any variation of copyright you want, including full copyright."
Straight from one of the founders, my friends.
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