A few things that have been bouncing around my head recently:
I think there could be a market for a 'Purple Rain' themed wedding. The groom could dress up as Prince, the bride could dress up as Appollonia, the minister could dress up as Morris Day, the groom's party could be the Revolution, and the bridesmaids could be Girl 6. After the ceremony they could drive away on a big motorcycle while minister Morris Day leads the choir (the Time?) in a stirring rendition of 'Purple Rain'. And then they all jump in a lake. I'm serious about this! It wouldn't be a traditional wedding per se, but it would be campy and memorable and you could get married in a jheri curl wig. I'm thinking I could pitch this in Vegas or at least Atlantic City and make a few bucks.
I'm working on the outline for a short story about a guy who has a mental problem that causes him to only be able to think and speak in riddles. I have no idea what the story would be about or how the hell I'd be able to tell it, let alone would I be able to create a bunch of mundane yet intriguing riddles for his day to day life. It's a work in progress. Or maybe someone should just get Neil Gaiman on the phone.
Over the past couple of weeks I've won $75 in an NFL picks pool one of my friends runs. Boys and girls, Adam doesn't encourage gambling, but it helps if you're well informed and knowledgeable. The best I can tell, luck has absolutely nothing to do with gambling. The truth of the matter is if I ever found myself in Vegas and camped out at a craps table I'd probably end up dead or in jail by the end of the week. However, 75 bucks is 75 bucks.
I'm increasing my pie intake to at least one a week. This is independent of Thanksgiving, where my family typically has a one-to-one pie-to-person ratio. I'm trying to add a protective layer for the winter.
I finally took myself off morning shifts! I've been going in to work at either 4 or 5 in the morning since the second week of January and it had been getting kind of old. I might go back after a few weeks of increased exposure to customers during the holiday eating season, or I might get fired for punching someone in the face. But starting nest week, I won't be going to bed at 8 pm anymore!
I'm totally geeking out about what's going on with DC comics this fall and winter. I'll spare you a geek rant, but let's just say I'm very excited. I'll also spare you the details of my proposed sitcom, 'Everybody Loves Darkseid'. (If you don't understand that, just move along. It's OK, I don't hold it against you. If you do understand, just imagine for yourself.)
My poor kitty had his balls chopped off last weekend. He doesn't seem too put out about it; I doubt he knew they were there in the first place. Still, I felt bad. On the other hand, I went to the ASPCA's mobile vet service (conveniently located three blocks down the street from me last Saturday) and stood outside for a total of about 5 hours (both dropping off and picking up) in 40 degree weather and caught a cold, so he got me back. A little.
The world-famous Candy Cane Joe Joes are back in stock at Trader Joes. For those of you not in the know, they are TJs' version of Oreos, but with crushed up chunks of candy canes mixed into the filling. Imagine a peppermint Oreo and you'll be pretty close. They are absoludicrous. I can pound an entire box in half an hour if I put my mind to it. We only carry them for a few months around the holidays and people go batshit crazy over them. Rumor has it a box(!) sold for $35 on eBay earlier this year. I believe it. I was crunching numbers with one of my like-minded co-workers and decided that a case of these (24 boxes) would be a little under $54 after our employee discount (each box is $2.49). That ain't half bad. I'm seriously considering buying an entire case just for myself and either a) eating all of them immediately or b) eating some of them and selling the rest on eBay in April.
Also, speaking of Trader Joes, I've decided that if I'm still with the company in a year's time or so or whenever the Brooklyn store is opened, I'll transfer there and become a manager. I don't want to do it at the Manhattan store because there would be at least a 60% chance I'd go on a three state killing spree, and I don't think anyone would want that. However, I think I'd be able to do it in a new store and I think I'd be pretty good at it. I'd work there for another couple of years, save up some dough, and then work on finishing my degree (finally). There. Long term plans. Who knew?tunes: Eric B. and Rakim - As the Rhyme Goes On |
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the seventh full length Radiohead studio album, In Rainbows, available for download for a pittance on their website.
Let me say a few things first: I love Radiohead. Love them unconditionally. I think The Bends, OK Computer, and Kid A are three of the most perfect albums of the past twenty years, although none of them really sound alike when you get right down to it. I wore out my tape of OK Computer in three months because I listened to it so damn much. I always forget how fucking awesome The Bends is until I listen to it again. Every time I listen to Kid A, I love it more and more. With all that said, I didn't spend very much time with Amnesiac and I've only listened to Hail to the Thief a few times. I believe that their most beautiful song is True Love Waits, which they only play live. I blame them for the demise in the quality of popular music in the past ten years. My reasoning is thus: once OK Computer came out, everyone looked around and said "shit. We can't compete with this. Now what?" and reverted back to bubblegum pop and cheap rehashes of 80s punk and 90s alterna-rock with predictably depressing results.
With all that said, let's get down to brass tacks here. In Rainbows, lovingly crafted by Thom Yorke, Ed O'Brien, Johnny Greenwood, Colin Greenwood, and Phil Selway.
Last year I had heard rumors that the new Radiohead album would be their most rock-oriented since The Bends. As much as I was hoping for another stunning display of Brit Rock that would finally shut U2 up once and for all, it appears this is not to be. The album contains significantly more guitar than its predecessors, but very little straightforward song structures. The verse-chorus-verse model appears to once again be MIA and the various studio effects and electronic mayhem are still out in force. Not that this is a bad thing. A few tasteful vocal overdubs here, a string section there, a slight drum loop and some keyboards - the album doesn't sound as lush as their previous work. The sound is still full, but the arrangements sound sparser and more restrained. It appears that Mr. Yorke decided to push the majority of his drum and bass impulses onto his solo record from last year, The Eraser. I hear the influence of The Eraser all over In Rainbows, particularly in the overall sound of the album. The Eraser spent much more time in the major key than any of Radiohead's previous albums, creating a much more upbeat feel. I hear this all over In Rainbows, making for a happier sounding album than anything since Pablo Honey.
To be perfectly honest, I have always had trouble discerning Thom Yorke's voice. It is partially his fault, as his singing style is so subdued and his enunciation often questionable at best, combined with the abstract nature of many of his identifiable lyrics. It is also due to the fact that he uses his voice like an instrument in an ensemble, using it to create a mood with the rest of the band. With that said, each band member is given time to shine, especially the criminally underrated and overlooked Phil Selway on drums. He is given more time to shine on this album, as the band eschews many of the drum loops and machines employed on their last three albums. Johnny Greenwood and Ed O'Brien are also given more to work with. Radiohead has always been a guitar band at heart, I believe, but they choose to use their guitars in a more subdued manner than many other bands. There are no wailing solos and anthemic riffs are often non-existent, but guitars remain as indispensable to their sound as Yorke's vocals. Neither is a showy player but their chops are evident, especially on 'Bodysnatchers' and 'Jigsaw Falling Into Place', the latter featuring an almost Stones-like acoustic guitar accompaniment. That song sounds almost more like Wilco than Wilco, if you catch my drift. Slow it down a little bit and Jeff Tweedy will probably be kicking himself for not writing it.
The interesting thing about the album to me is how often I found myself thinking of their previous work while listening to it. '15 Step' would have fit into The Eraser, 'Jigsaw Falling Into Place' sounds like an inversion of 'Street Spirit', 'House of Cards' sounds like a sped-up 'Treefingers', 'All I Need' channels 'Lucky', etc. This is not a bad thing - it sounds more like the band revisiting and reexamining their history and reflecting upon their career. It's almost like the approach Trent Reznor took to With Teeth, only the exact opposite. Instead of resting on their laurels and making an album that is merely a regurgitation of what got them here in the first place, Radiohead chooses to build on their body of work. Through all this, the only thing I could find myself thinking was what their NEXT album will sound like. Very few bands or acts have been able to reinvent themselves so fully and convincingly with each release - Beck and the Roots come to mind, but that's about it - and still find success.
No one in a million years would have predicted back in 1993 that the band that made 'Creep' would have put out anything like The Bends, let alone OK Computer and everything that has come since. With the exception of Kid A and Amnesiac (which were recorded at the same time), no two Radiohead albums have sounded the same. And even then, Kid A and Amnesiac don't really sound the same, either. To be sure, there have been similarities between albums, and the leap from Amnesiac to Hail to the Thief wasn't as great as that from OK Computer to Kid A, but we can't penalize them for that. After 15 years, Radiohead remains at the forefront of modern rock music, having successfully ushered in the 21st century and daring other acts to follow. Their legacy, both critically and commercially, has been secure for almost a decade, but that hasn't stopped them from moving forward and re-imagining themselves. As much as I hate to say it, they might just be this generation's answer to the Beatles, in terms of their level of success and their level of audacity.
In Rainbows may not quite stand as tall as The Bends, OK Computer, or Kid A. It isn't groundbreaking, but it is beautiful. It presents the world with a band that still appears to be figuring itself out, honing its strengths, and still searching for its ceiling. The race for Album of the Year has officially been handicapped (sorry, LCD Soundsystem, Brother Ali, and Wilco, but this if fucking RADIOHEAD we're talking about). Will I grow tired of praising and extolling the virtues of Radiohead? Not bloody likely. As far as I'm concerned, they'll be turning water into wine in three years' time, or however long it will take them to put out another album. In the meantime, the world will have to make do with In Rainbows. Would that I could always make do with something so satisfying.how you doin:  enthralled tunes: Radiohead (duh) |
Another weekly bout of insomnia. ho-hum.
The other day one of my co-workers who is an equally serious Steely Dan-oholic tipped me off to some more of YouTube's pure gold - a documentary about the recording of their landmark album 'Aja' split into 6-10 minute segments detailing the recording process for each of the seven songs. For a fan of the Dan or just a fan of studio craftsmanship, they cannot be missed. Among other things, you get to see the Hitmaker, Bernard "Pretty" Purdie at work rocking one of the three or four best Cosby sweaters I have ever seen while demonstrating the difference between his shuffle beat and everyone else's shuffle beat, Rick Marotta (the drummer on "Peg") looking like Rasputin in 1976, hearing a couple of the myriad of rejected guitar solos for the same song (at one point Donald Fagen switches one off after a few bars, saying "well, that really just speaks for itself, doesn't it?") and Denny Dias talking about how the guitar part for "Aja" is literally impossible to play on a guitar. For a geek like me, this was all like a large pile of Reese's peanut butter cups. I spent the better part of an hour plowing through them, then got baked and listened to the album again while espousing its virtues to a slightly bewildered Jon Pomeroy.
I had an idea for a comic book with one of my co-workers about a vampire grizzly bear named Count Chomps. It is currently a work in progress but I am certain that it will be twelve shades of awesome. Maybe even thirteen shades of awesome. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Either way, it's either remarkably brilliant or remarkably stupid. Like the Public Enemy comic book that's currently out. Anything that involves Flavor Flav kicking a SWAT Team member in the head and shouting "Don't believe the hype!" has me hooked.
Well it only took more than six months since I moved up here but I'm spending more time hanging out with my co-workers outside of work. Say what you will about the store itself, but it least there are some interesting and agreeable people that work there. Playing Risk, getting Korean food, comic book shopping, entertaining my kitty, tossing around a baseball, getting blunted on my rooftop, etc. It usually takes me a while to open up to people, and it probably takes others longer to get used to my eccentricities (although some would say just overall straight up crazy) so it's not like I'm surprised. I can be a bit much at times, I'll admit that much. With all that said, I feel like I'm carving out more of a niche and giving myself more opportunities to spend time in and around this crazy city with equally crazy cats. And that's a good thing.how you doin: awake tunes: Uncle Tupelo - The Long Cut |
I've posted some pictures of my kitty on facebook. I have no idea how to post images on LJ, so you'll have to bear with me. In the meantime, swing over there and check 'em out. Prepare to be dazzled by cute.
With the release of the last Harry Potter book, I finally decided to see what all the fuss was about. I've been meaning to read the books for a while, but just never got around to it. Well, to make a long story short, I read all seven in about a week. They're a very quick read. Tom was right when he described them as "good books for pooping" - ie they're easily digestible and can be plowed through whilst sitting on the can. This was not my method of choice, but what's done is done and I have to say I enjoyed them all quite thoroughly. I'm not gonna be devolving into some sort of rabid fanboy, but I have no regrets nonetheless.
I was going to see TV On the Radio play a free show at McCarren Pool in Williamsburg Sunday afternoon after work...until it started raining. Heavily. And an outdoor show in a swimming pool is not where you want to be during a thunderstorm. Alas and alack, no TV and no Radio makes Adam sad.how you doin: awake tunes: Dave Alvin - 4th of July |
I guess today was my semiannual culture day. I just finished reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez' magnum opus One Hundred Years of Solitude and it's just as good as I remembered it from my senior year of high school. Whenever I think about it I remember my last visit to Oberlin in April of 2000, sitting under a tree in the bowl behind South finishing the last one hundred pages while watching people play frisbee. It calls up an idealized idyllic image of Oberlin, full of wonder and possibility, before I found out exactly what it had in store for me. Hindsight has not diminished the memory of that day, nor of the book. As I read it over the past couple of weeks it reminded me of everything I initially loved about Oberlin. The fragility and humanity of the characters hadn't changed as they lived out their tragically doomed lives as the passage of time slowed to a crawl as anarchy festered in their house. Much like my time in Oberlin.
I'm currently listening to Paolo Pandolfo's recording of the Bach cello suites played on a viol da gamba, further deepening my immersion in culture (it won't last). They are excellent if you're into that sort of thing. The voicing of the instrument is unique - it is quieter than a cello, with more resonant strings. There are also more strings, giving ample room for chords that don't exist on a cello. The third suite has always been my favorite, although I couldn't tell you why when I first discovered the suites during Sunday brunches when my father would play them over the kitchen stereo while my family ate eggs and cantaloupe. Then I remember Theresa playing the third suite on her guitar in the basement of South, with the sounds reverberating off the cinder block walls and the cement floor as I listened intently. She was preparing for a recital and wanted an impartial observer to offer criticism - someone who knew the piece but wasn't a musician to give her performance notes. I happened to fit the bill. A love of the cello suites has always been something we've shared and I look back on that evening as one of my happier memories of my first year (of which there are few, for various reasons). Sitting in rapt attention while a beautiful girl played beautiful music...doesn't happen very often.
Speaking of Oberlin...I had an interesting epiphany this evening. I was at a training session for mentors downtown, talking about mentors and mentees and relationships and teaching and such when the subject of loss and mistrust, especially with adoptees or people in foster care came up. Many of these kids are wary of people entering their lives because so many have left them behind. I got to wondering - even though I grew up in a very stable and loving household and have a good stable of close friends who I care about and stay in touch with, do I still have separation issues stemming from my adoption? One time Zach marveled at how I've been able to maintain relationships with people from high school and college, some of whom I haven't seen in years and some of whom I likely won't see for a long time. Perhaps I am so dedicated and loyal to my friends and past friendships because I don't want to lose people from my life. I put a great deal of value in interpersonal relationships and I always say that I'll do anything for my friends. Maybe now I know why.how you doin:  contemplative tunes: Paolo Pandolfo - Suite for Solo Cello in C Major - Bourree |
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Jul. 8th, 2007 @ 06:43 pm
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a couple of weeks ago, I decided to affirm my affiliation to the Bushwick part of my neighborhood. In other words, I shaved my head and got some wife beaters. It was a hot one today, so I was sporting a wife beater tucked into my pants, as is the fashion. While walking around in this fashion whilst listening to Bad Brains, I was trying to figure out what percentage was badass and what percentage was poseur. I think it was 55/45.
There's some graffiti on a sidewalk near my building. "Bushwick" is written in blue paint with "Obamawick" underneath it. I think it's kinda awesome.
In other news, I'm 25 now. People keep telling me either a) you're a quarter of a century or b) almost 30! I think they both mean the same thing.
I watched the East River fireworks from Dave's office on the 55th floor of the Empire State Building. It was awesome.
Also, I got a kitty! He's an orange tabby, about two months old, and kinda looks like Thom Yorke. So his name is Li'l Thom Yorke. I snorgle him mercilessly at every opportunity. One of these days I'll get around to posting pictures.
Recently I've been immersing myself in music, specifically Wilco, Soulive, LCD Soundsystem, and J Dilla (aka Jay Dee). Good shit.how you doin:  happy tunes: LCD Soundsystem - Someone Great |
I've had a long month.
With that said, here is today's essay question.
Do the Beastie Boys legitimize upper middle class suburban ennui as a form of artistic expression, or do they problematize it through elements of satire and mockery? Discuss.
extra credit - who would win in a fight, a bear or a puma?
My insomnia has been back with a vengeance and these are the things that keep me up at night. |
With that said, we're gonna need one before too long. Or I'll at least need a fan in my room.
I spent yesterday afternoon up in a park in Harlem with a bunch of kids in the city foster care system. I've been involved in a mentoring program up there for the past couple of months. A friend of mine from work told me about it after she found out I was adopted. It's been a great experience so far. The weather was nice, so we headed out with a basketball, football, frisbee, etc. to enjoy the weather. One of the kids is really into baseball, so I brought my glove and a ball with me to toss around. I taught him how to throw a slider (he needs some practice, but then again, so do I) and was happy that a)I can still get the ball to break a few inches down and away, b)I can keep it in the strike zone, and c)I can still lift my arm today. It's been almost a year since I last threw a baseball for real and I'm glad my arm is still in decent shape. I wasn't winging it full strength or throwing more than 60 feet (at most), so it's not like I was breaking myself. At the same time, I'm glad to know that I haven't completely broken down yet.
It amazes me how many different ways you can make a baseball move. Hell, putting spin on anything still fascinates me, and I haven't been able to roll a bowling ball straight in almost five years. But with a bowling ball, the physics make sense, because of the friction created between the surface of the ball and the wood on the lanes. A ball moving through the air at 50 mph or so, or greater speeds? Completely different. There are about a dozen different types of pitches people can throw. Some of them behave similarly, but the fact of the matter is you can get a six ounce sphere to go in just about any direction and just about any speed. The key? the laces. Mind you, I almost failed physics in high school, it's something to do with the air resistance and the slight...irregularities...in the...air flow...hell, I have no idea. It still fascinates me. And how people actually HIT pitches? I have no idea about that either. A pitch thrown by a major league pitcher, from the point where it leaves his hand, travels about 55 feet to the plate. It is descending about two feet, sometimes more, to the middle of the strike zone. A pitch traveling 90 miles per hour will reach the plate in about three tenths of a second. Even if it's a John Parrish 50 mph looping curveball, it'll still get there in about half a second. In that time, a batter has to judge the spin of the ball, whether it's a ball or a strike, where it's going, how it'll get there, and what will happen once it gets there. It boils down to a great deal of hand and eye coordination and some guesswork. Then you have to actually hit the damn thing, after processing this all in about as much time as it takes you to blink. I guess this is why people always say that hitting a baseball is about as difficult a task as there is in sports.
In the meantime, I was home for a wedding over the past weekend and now my sleep schedule is still fucked up. Instead of waking up at 3 am, I was going to bed at 3 am. Then Jeanne rolled into town and crashed at my place for a couple of nights, getting in late, and staying up chatting more or less until I had to go to work. I think there was a 72 hour period where I slept no more than 10-12 hours. Just like college. It was great to see her though. She's going to teach English in Korea for a year in the fall, so who knows when I'll see her again? She wants me to come visit, but I'm not sure how likely that will be.how you doin:  confused tunes: Jurassic 5 - In the Flesh |
A few random thoughts.
When did the Gin Blossoms become the centerpiece of modern adult-oriented rock radio? I hear them all the time on "adult contemporary" XM stations and on the piped-in "muzak" that grocery stores play to lull customers into a brain-dead stupor and thus be more likely to buy a lot of stuff (my store included). I'm just wondering...when did they supplant the Goo Goo Dolls, Rob Thomas, and Jewel? Last I checked, New Miserable Experience came out in 1993. Maybe even 1992. I don't know, fifteen years ago. At the same time, I still hear at least one of their songs every day at work, whether it be Allison Road, Found Out About You, Hey Jealousy, Until I Fall Away, or whatever. And no, I didn't have to look those songs up, they're all burned into my head. OK, I will admit to purchasing the album when I was in sixth grade (I was young, I was foolish) and I guess a few other people did too, but it wasn't a smashing runaway success like Matchbox 20's first album was (however the hell that happened) nor a mini-phenomenon like the Goo Goo Dolls' soundttrack for that Meg Ryan/Nic Cage movie (y'know, the American ripoff of a classic Wim Wenders film...ok, I lost you, right?) that blew them up and made something of an idol of their lead singer with too many Zs in his last name for about three minutes. My point is, when did a bunch of suits sitting around decide "hey, I know what a bunch of people in their 30s and 40s want to hear that's pleasant and non-threatening - THE GIN BLOSSOMS!" while all of his associates nodded and snapped their fingers. Who said this was ok?! And why weren't 4 Non Blondes involved in the conversation?! The Gin Blossoms fell into well-deserved obscurity immediately after that album came out - I think I heard reports that their tour bus had crashed or something a couple of years later and that was it until I heard Allison Road on the store radio last year and popped my head up saying "Gin Blossoms? What the fuck?" It drives me crazy go nuts!
Yesterday I needed to do laundry but only had seven quarters when I needed eight. My backup plan was to use two dollar bills to buy a soda out of the vending machine in the basement laundry room in my apartment building and use the change for the dryer. So I put the money in the machine and hit Coke. Sold out. Sprite. Sold out. Dr. Pepper. Sold out. Sunkist. Sold out. Seagram's Ginger Ale. Sold out. Nestea. Sold out. Fresca. Sold out. Barq's. Sold out. I'm down to Diet Coke and Diet Sprite and getting increasingly antsy. Finally I sucked it up and got a Diet Coke. I just couldn't sink to Diet Sprite. I just couldn't.
I was sitting outside the office the other day smoking in a cigarette when a woman walking past scowled at me and said in a thick Jamaican patois "Doncha know you be killin' yoself?!" Then there was a time when I was in the same position (sitting outside the office smoking a cigarette) when a stumbling middle age woman immediately clapped her hand over her mouth and nose, veered another ten feet closer the street, and then proceeded another fifty feet frantically waving her hand in front of her face to get the idea of cigarette smoke out of her head. It makes me wonder - do these people react like this every time they see someone smoking? I mean, this is a big ass city with a big ass number of people in it, many of whom smoke. That high-handedness has got to be tiring after a while.how you doin:  amused tunes: Nas - We Will Survive |
Whew, whirlwind weekend. Quick recap:
The Official Parents came up to visit for the day last Friday. They saw the apartment, a little of the neighborhood, and the office. They got a bit of an idea of what my job is like (i.e. how crazy the workplace environment is - and it wasn't even a busy day!). We had lunch in Koreatown and wandered up to Times Square so Mom could go watch shopping. They got a little slice of the New York experience - they saw mariachis on the L train, a crazy guy shouting profanities on 14th street, got turned around in the Union Square subway station, braved the crowds in Times Square, and got worn out going up and down all those stairs to the train stations. Dad referred to Mom and himself as "country bumpkins" at one point. I shrugged it all off, saying "it's not that bad once you get used to it." All in all a good time.
Friday morning Sam called me up, letting me know that the bachelor party/shindig for his brother Will (one of my best friends, getting married in less than two weeks, I'm in the wedding) was scheduled for Saturday night in Philly. My thoughts? "Fuck." I had to work 5 am to 1 pm on Saturday and again on Sunday. In fact, I had told one of my managers that I would be coming in at 4 on Sunday to rearrange the frozen dessert section of the freezer (is that redundant?), making a potential trip to Philadelphia for the evening highly problematic. After a bit of cajoling by Zach, I consented on Friday night. I got about 5 hours of sleep Friday, worked a normal day on Saturday, came home, got a bite to eat, then left with Zach around 3:15 to catch a 4:15 Jersey Transit train to Trenton, picking up the SEPTA from there to Philly. We got into 30th Street Station around 6:30, met up with Tom and Sam, and went to fetch Will. Saturday also happened to be Will's birthday. We went to a Tapas bar and restaurant and proceeded to wolf down plate after plate of dazzlingly tasty treats, half of which I have no idea what they were. All I can be sure of is that I had Apple Foam at one point. I also can say for certain now that if God (or any deity for that matter) had a bar, Marcona Almonds would be the bar nuts. Sweet merciful crap it was good. It was also the first time that the old gang - me, Will, Tom, and Zach - had all been together in at least a couple of years, I think. It was great to spend an evening sitting around and talking, making fun of each other, and occasionally delving into heated political arguments again. Just like old times. We were also chatted up a couple of times by an extremely drunk woman outside smoking cigarettes (we were outside, despite the rain, underneath an overhang) who somehow managed to keep herself from falling over and claimed to be the cousin of a member of the Arcade Fire. Afterwards we went bowling. Neither Tom nor I had either our balls or our shoes (Tom didn't even have socks...fucking hippie) but we weren't overly concerned. I couldn't find a ball that fit my thumb however, and after two games it was swelling up something awful (my thumb, not the ball) and beginning to hurt like hell. At that point I had to leave, anyways - I was due to catch a 12:15 train back to New York. Which I did. I got back to Penn Station around 2, got home around 2:45, took a shower, got dressed, then headed into work. Lets just say I was a little sluggish Sunday morning - but I made it through the day. It was touch and go for a while, but I got out alive. I promptly went home and slept for twelve hours.
One of my roommates had borrowed my copy of Final Fantasy VII months ago, well before she moved in. I found it lying around last week and began playing it where I had left off my last run through like a year ago. I was at a point where I wasn't paying any attention to the story, instead making the game my total bitch. I have spent an inordinate amount of spare time the past week running my little guys around and beating the crap out of anything that happens to come my way, cackling maniacally the whole time. Livvy and Zach seem to be a little wary of it all. I don't blame them. But in all honesty, it's quite a bit of fun to completely destroy something every now and then, if only to get it out of your system. And I mean that in the most constructively destructive way possible.
Also, when I woke up this morning I had Rod Stewart singing "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" stuck in my head. It wasn't playing on anything like a radio or a stereo, it was just there bouncing around when I woke up. It's been driving me completely bonkers. Seriously, of all possible songs why that one? I just don't understand myself sometimes.how you doin: confused tunes: Daft Punk - Veridis Quo |
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I remember back in 10th or 11th grade, Pat Sprehe signed my yearbook with this couplet:
"the spring has sprung, the grasses riz',
I wonder where the birdies iz."
Every time I go outside into the glorious sunshine this runs through my mind, particularly after an unseasonably cold (apparently) and damp April. Granted, this followed a temperate (apparently) winter, so I guess they cancel each other out. Either way, it's been beautiful recently. I've spent a few of my days off just wandering around the city with friends, lounging in parks, braving Chinatown, gazing at street art, and eating mini cheesecakes. There was some sort of street fair/yard sale around 2nd and 3rd avenues on Saturday featuring funnel cake, mango flowers, used clothing, and a giant wall hanging featuring Ganesh which I was this close to buying. I was also this close to buying a crude acrylic portrait of Mr. T from some guy in Union Square but resisted temptation.
Tomorrow is the end of a six day work week and I'm planning on spending the afternoon up on the roof of my building with its glorious view of the Manhattan skyline across the river with a good book and my hookah.
May. 7th, 2007 @ 06:41 pm
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Last Wednesday Zach and I decided to capitalize on the nice weather by going up to central park and tossing around a frisbee for the afternoon. To do so required a frisbee. Luckily, the toy store we went to a) sold frisbees for three dollars (cheap!) and b) was located in midtown right next to what passes for Koreatown in Manhattan. By this I mean roughly two blocks of restaurants and karaoke bars. After a delicious meal at a buffet-cafeteria style place (all you can eat for $6.49 a pound, plus they sell these cans of grape juice with little peeled grapes floating in the can, which I am obsessed with for no good reason), we proceeded to the park. We tossed the disc around for a while, joined some high school kids in a game of hotbox (not what you're thinking, I'm sure), and wandered around exploring parts of the park. It is really a remarkable place - larger than some towns, so spread out it could take months to explore it fully, and apparently quite unsafe after dark. We reminisced about high school, discussed college commencement ceremonies, and argued about the scene in the original Manchurian Candidate where Lawrence Harvey follows a bartender's advice and jumps in a lake.
The next day I could barely move.
All that running - which I am not used to - did a number on my system. I spend a lot of my time on my feet every day, but I do not frequently spend it sprinting for short distances and stopping and changing direction suddenly. While engaged in said activity I was thinking to myself "boy, I'm gonna feel this in my knees tomorrow." Turns out it wasn't just my knees - also my hips and my thighs. On the plus side, my hamstrings and calves were ok. However, it hurt like hell to walk around and go up and down stairs. Hell, it hurt to cross my legs, sit down, or stand up. I guess it just goes to show how I'm really not in anywhere near as good shape as I thought I was. On the other hand, my shoulders and arms were fine, while Zach confessed that his were hurting the next day. Well, I'm the one who's slinging around forty pound boxes of chicken every morning, so I guess that makes sense.
In a related news item, I ate almost an entire blueberry pie yesterday for lunch. I mean, what was I to do? Someone handed me a pie. When that happens, it's gonna get eaten. What can I say?
Apr. 30th, 2007 @ 06:06 pm
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| » it's still beautiful outside |
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Hot damn it's about time spring sprung. what kept it? I just kinda wish I wasn't so damn tired after getting off work so I could go out and really appreciate it. But no, me and my crazy sleep patterns haven't been able to get outside too much because I kinda just want to come home and either pass out or lounge around in my jammies. It's hard to be active when you're waking up at 2 am five days a week (and 6 am the other two days).
So I think I need a hobby or at least some new sort of regular activity. With that said, I'm thinking about starting up a book club. I'm thinking it would meet once a month or maybe once every three weeks at a coffee shop or someone's apartment and people would sit around and talk about a book. Y'know, discuss themes and imagery, analyze prose passages, etc. Whoever is moderating the discussion will come prepared with a set of discussion questions to get people started and we'll go from there. Different people could select books to read, and whoever is selecting the next book can give a short background on it - information about the author, when it was written, why it was written, any other relevant information - as kind of a heads-up before reading it. The things that are giving me pause are finding a time that would fit my schedule and other people's, figuring out where to meet (although my apartment could accommodate twenty people or more, it would just be a matter of finding seating), and keeping the enrollment down. Ideally it would be like ten people, although 15-20 could also work. I'm kind of excited about the prospect.
I need to mix up my witty sayings/cultural catchphrases more. I've been relying on the same handful for too long:
"nothing is fucked, dude" and "well, that's, just, like, your opinion, man"
"that sounds like a personal problem"
*various Zoidberg sounds*
"death or glory!"
and so on. On the other hand, there's no better way to express yourself when you're playing Super Monkey Ball on the Wii, sending a careening monkey down a pathway in a magic bubble, bouncing off bumpers, trees, ramps, and mole people at fifty miles per hour, and launching yourself into the void than shouting "Death or Glory!" (become just another story. I've been listening to a lot of the Clash lately...again)
I've also had that Gorillaz song "Dare" and the creepy image of Shaun Ryder's head in Noodles' closet from the video stuck in my head for like a week.
Apr. 24th, 2007 @ 07:06 am
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| » what time is it? |
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When I think about my current work schedule, an old message from the Wheel of Morality (from Animaniacs) comes to mind:
"Early to rise, early to bed, makes a man healthy, but socially dead"
Since I have to work at 4 am, I typically wake up around 2. It takes me about half an hour or so to actually get out of bed after my alarm goes off, going through the motions of hitting snooze a few times or so before actually standing up. I spend half an hour or so checking email, baseball scores, etc, shower, and am out of the house in time to catch a train at 3:25. The flipside is since I wake up at 2, I usually go to bed anywhere between 6 and 10 pm. Now, exactly how is one expected to be able to go out and spend time with friends after they are done with their work? Answer: one isn't, unless he/she is willing to completely fuck up any semblance of a sleeping schedule he/she may or may not have. This weekend an old friend from college is coming into town tonight and another friend has a birthday celebration planned for Saturday night. Of course, I have to work at 4 am all through the weekend. So what can I do? I suppose I'll have to engage in a complex system of naps. The whole "stay up all night and go through the motions the next day" routine I continuously pulled in college doesn't cut it any more, since I am throwing around forty pound boxes of frozen chicken and being nice to people (rumored) instead of falling asleep in the back of a classroom. It's a bit more difficult to pull off. And I've never been a very good napper. However, I've never let sleep adversity get me down in the past, and my history of insomnia/idiocy has trained my body and mind to be able to function almost normally with little to no sleep regardless of the situation. So I have that going for me, which is nice.
Now for a slight digression - but first a disclaimer. I do not care one bit about American Idol, nor have I watched any episode of it. However, it is nigh on impossible to shield yourself from its near-continuous presence in all forms of media. This is particularly true if you read or at least glance through either the New York Post or the Daily News on a regular basis. With that being said, I suppose I have been following the Sanjaya saga peripherally. What amuses me about the whole to-do is that the American public has been making a mockery of a program whose very nature seems to make a mockery of the American public. This I am in favor of. One morning the office was playing the XM top 20 station, which at the time was airing calls from listeners complaining about Sanjaya. They complained about his voice, his song selection, his clothes, his hair, his shoes, etc. While listening to these callers, I had the following thoughts - "I can't believe how much these people care about this", "I can't believe this is considered news", and "these people are serious!". It got me thinking about how the cult of celebrity has seemingly taken over American society in the past couple of decades. Not just how public figures - actors, sports stars, politicians, musicians, and the like - are perceived and talked about, but how the media can create celebrity out of nothing. From heiresses to reality shows to the Naked Cowboy (still going strong in Times Square), we are inundated by a constant stream of people screaming "look at me!" and cameras swooping at them. I still can't quite wrap my head around someone being famous just for being famous. Andy Warhol was remarkably prescient, it seems.
In the meantime, where's the media love for Brother Ali? He's the best rapper no one has ever heard of, he's overshadowed by Atmosphere, he's a 200+ lb Muslim albino with a lazy eye, and he just released his second album. It's phenomenal. It's not quite as good as his first, although that's not being fair because 'Shadows on the Sun' is a masterpiece. He'll never be commercially viable because he's big and funny looking and he's too damn brutally honest. He's playing a club down in Nolita in two weeks and there's no way in hell I'm missing it.
Apr. 20th, 2007 @ 01:45 am
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| » what? |
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It's been what, six months? I just remembered I had this thing. To the three or four people who might have read this on a semi-regular basis, uh, I'm back, I guess.
So I've been living in Brooklyn for over six months now. I've settled into a quiet little routine built around sleeping, working, and sarcasm. It's more or less the same as before except in a different city, sans cat, and more expensive.
What is there to say about the job? It's the same as before, but quite different given the circumstances, if that makes any sense. I won't elaborate on the differences between the Union Square TJs and the other ones I've worked at, since it will hold nothing of interest to anyone who hasn't worked in the grocery store industry. Let's just say it's barely controlled chaos that somehow works, despite all the ways in which things go wrong on a daily basis. I'm happy to say that I am usually not to blame for any mishaps. Oh sure, occasionally things fall on my head, but I'm not the one breaking the elevator.
I'm in charge of the freezer now. I order pretty much all of the frozen food that the store sells, which is something of a big deal, because I'm the one who says when and if we'll have any lemongrass chicken sticks in stock. I'm happy that I've made enough of an impression in my time there that they trust me with that kind of responsibility, but then again I've been doing this for years and it's not like it's that difficult of a job. I've always said, it's just a matter of common sense, prioritizing, stress management, and not being an idiot.
I've been working 4am shifts since early January and it's been a bit of an adjustment. For the past eight years of my life or so, 4 am has been about the time I'd been going to bed. I had suspicions at first (mind you, this switch was my decision, although I really can't tell you exactly why, as it runs counter to years and years of empirical evidence) but I've kinda gotten used to it. That doesn't make it any easier to get my ass out of bed at 2 am, but I've learned to deal.
I'm glad I have a lot of friends from home and college who are in the city and a decent number of people who pass through town. Theresa and I have been meeting up for dinner every couple of weeks or so, each time choosing a different neighborhood to explore. We wander around until we find a place to eat and then wander around some more until we find a pastry shop or a bookstore. We've covered almost every neighborhood in Manhattan in this fashion. It's a good way to learn the city.
The other night my roommates and a few friends and I were discussing music, as we are wont to do, and were trying to come up with a list of the best albums of the decade. We were all struggling, which just goes to show how mediocre music has been this century. Here's a partial list of what we came up with:
The Postal Service - Give Up
Brother Ali - Shadows on the Sun
Tool - Lateralus
System of a Down - Toxicity
Modest Mouse - Good News For People Who Love Bad News
J-Live - All of the Above
Outkast - Speakerboxx/The Love Below
D'Angelo - Voodoo
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication
Queens of the Stone Age - Songs For the Deaf
Beck - Sea Change
The Gorillaz - Demon Dayz
Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
Deltron - Deltron 3030
Radiohead - Kid A
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Green Day - American Idiot
Mind you, not all of these choices are mine, and two of the strongest albums on this list (in my opinion) were released in 2000, and I'm not sure if that counts. There are a few years left to this decade and you never know what might be on the horizon, but we've seen a whole lot of shitty, shitty music over the last 7-8 years. We were struggling to come up with stuff and more than a few of the albums listed are a reach (let the record show, I did not list the Chili Peppers or Modest Mouse). Compare these to any list of the greatest albums of the 90s and you see what I mean. Try coming up with just 10. Some of my choices, in no particular order:
Nas - Illmatic
The Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
Nirvana - In Utero
Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
Radiohead - OK Computer
Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
Uncle Tupelo - Anodyne
The Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
The Wu-Tang Clan - Enter the 36 Chambers
Richard Thompson - You?Me?Us?
The point is, I had no trouble coming up with possible albums for the latter list. Zach points out that the main difference is that a lot of great music in the 90s came out of the mainstream and was immediately accesible to a wide range of people, while a lot of the great stuff today is on the fringes of popular recognition, stuff that you can't find unless you're already in the know. But why is that? Why has mainstream music become so polluted and bogged down? I mean, besides the resurrection of bubblegum pop and the perversion of new jack swing and the artistically bankrupt level of copycatting that goes on. Or the general lack of originality. Music is cyclical to an extent, the way alternative music subverts the mainstream and becomes the dominant sound, eventually giving way to a sound that had been popular previously that has since gone underground and evolved - for example, follow the trends of rock: the Stones and Led Zepplin ruled the early 70s with a heavy blues based sound. They gave way to the arena-rock bombast of Boston, who were overtaken by the bracing metal of Guns 'n' Roses and Metallica. Enter grunge, which was born out of a love of punk (Nirvana) and arena rock (Pearl Jam, the Smashing Pumpkins). Punk music was never as commercially appealing as arena rock or metal, but it was still a major player in between the two. Nowadays "modern rock" is a bastardized hybrid of the sound that was once considered "punk" (aggressive guitars and vocals, simple arrangements, stripped down three or four piece bands) minus the anarchic sensibility (which was the whole point) and studio manufactured pop music, where the producers take a sound or an idea that is currently popular and replicate it as closely as possible without copying it entirely. I don't even know what to call it. Post-punk? About 25 years too late with almost nothing in common with the original punk movement. Indie rock? In sound, maybe, with the under-produced DIY aesthetic, but I guess bands that are signed to major labels can't be called "indie" anymore. No one has coined a term like "grunge" or "metal" yet. Maybe mini-rock? I don't even know what that means. We can't call it modern rock, because what will it be in ten years?
In the meantime, don't even get me started on the state of rap music. Ugh. When Nas said "Hip-Hop is dead" he wasn't joking.
Apr. 13th, 2007 @ 07:04 pm
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| » AUGH |
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I've been intermittently packing up my life and investigating the various online communities I belong to. Nothing much to report on either front.
So it's still sinking in that I'll be living in Brooklyn in approximately two days. I've got a laundry list of things to accomplish before then, but most of them have been checked off. The last few things involve money, finishing packing, tying up loose ends, saying a few more goodbyes, and figuring out how the hell I'm going to actually get up to New York. My original plans fell through, though this is no fault of the party in question as he recently had his abs ripped open (by licensed and accredited professionals under the auspices of federal regulations, I might add). Zach mentioned some sort of crazy half-baked scheme involving one of the rental trucks he uses on his PA gigs and driving down to collect me, but I'd put the overall feasability of this plan at 10-15%. Looks like I'll probably hoof it up via train on Saturday with as much as I can carry and have Tom come up the following weekend with everything else. I would just take the essentials - clothes, toiletries, maybe the PS2, maybe my computer (depending on whether or not it would fit in a suitcase and be deemed safe or not - to be determined late tomorrow night/early Saturday morning) - and leave all my media and guitars to follow. Which brings up another point - I have an ungodly amount of media. I must have close to 12 feet of DVDs, a few hundred CDs, and a sizeable library. Granted, most of the books are primarily pictures, but they still count. They take up space and are heavy. then there's the matter of speakers, pillows, weighing the pros and cons (and the weight) of my amp, etc. And what to do with all my boxcutters. Then there's pictures, posters, a bowling trophy, random assorted knick knacks, tchochkes, detritus, this and that, and bric a brac. What to do, what to do. I think I'll put aside a small box, label it "other", and just chuck everything I can think of into it. by "everything I can think of" I mean "stuff I remember at the last minute". I don't think I'm taking my printer, which gives me another box to fill!
...and what am I going to do with my suit?
Side note - for anyone out there who reads this and has access to a PS2, I strongly advise picking up the new game Okami. It's kinda like the most pleasantly logical acid trip imaginable in video game form, and it lasts 30-40 hours.
Today was my last day of work at the Rockville Trader Joes. At the end of the night, we got pizza and they gave me an Oreo cake (pretty sweet!), and the managers asked me if I had anything I'd like to say to the crew. My response: "Fuck y'all, I'm leaving!" Of course, I also said the usual things (it's been a pleasure, good night and good luck, etc.) I kinda broke the mold of people working their last day in that I actually did a lot of work and didn't give out my usual amount of lip. I think it was mostly because, well, we were busy for a good part of the day, and I'm simply transferring, not leaving the company entirely, so I still had something to lose. It didn't seem particularly special, to be honest. I'm happy to be leaving that place. I'll miss some individuals, to be sure, and I'm sure I'll miss being the bee's knees to the management in a month or two (unless I take the Union Square store by storm) and getting priviledged treatment as such, but overall, it just isn't that great of a store. Since I've worked at other stores, I know what the other side is like. I know that Trader Joes can be a fun place to work at with competent management and a crew that isn't full of knuckleheads. Here's hoping the New York store is better. If it ain't, it might just explode during the holidays, and it probably won't be pretty. I'm definately looking for a new challenge, and I'm actually really looking forward to working there.
It's been a little bittersweet saying goodbye to some people. There are those who I know I'll see again, old friends and such who'll be around when I come back to visit and who might visit New York, and then there are those who I'll probably never see again unless they somehow end up working with me in New York or elsewhere. The latter category applies mostly to my managers, who for the most part are great people and fun to work for/with. Then there's Lisa and Miriam, a pair of wholly batshit crazy flakes and wonderfully invigorating and amusing ladies who I love dearly and are apparently moving to Oregon in January. So unless they haul their asses up to Brooklyn in the next few months, chances are good that I'll never see them again, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's kinda like when people graduated from Oberlin or when I dropped out - how many of those people will I ever see again? It's tough to say and a little sobering, to just have someone cut loose from your life. Oh well, we all have to move forward at times. Lisa keeps telling me how she makes promises to stay in touch with her co-workers as they leave for bigger and better things and somehow things don't work out. I keep saying that she could just call them and/or return their phone calls, but as I stated earlier, she's kind of a wholly batshit crazy flake. But in a good way. You need to have a few of those in your life, y'know?
My big boss told me the other day that one of the highlights of the past year was when he (and by extension, the entire store) found out that I wasn't going back to Oberlin. My response? "Me too." I think it's safe to say that my bitterness gauge is still in the red. I'm still trying to figure out how I became such a crumudgeon at the ripe old age of 24. Don't you have to be past middle age for that to apply?
Sep. 29th, 2006 @ 02:37 am
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| » long time travelling |
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So I guess it's time for my monthly update. I suppose that's a testament to how boring my life seems to be, although that's not entirely true, I just don't really have anything to say. I've been sitting on my annual baseball rant all summer but haven't felt the need to unleash it on the unsuspecting. Or the suspecting, for that matter. A football rant will have to wait until I can actually watch a game, and given the fact that I work every sunday and do not get cable, the scenario seems less and less likely.
First the big news: I'm moving to Brooklyn in less than two weeks.
Eep.
I was up there last month on vacation, had all sorts of adventures, saw some old friends who I hadn't seen in what seemed like ages (some I hadn't seen for days, some months, and some years), and left with a renewed appreciation for the city, the information that one of Zach's roommates was probably moving out soon, and some of my money still in my bank account. A couple of weeks later, Zach lets me know the apartment is open, and a few days after that, the apartment is mine. I talked to all the necessary parties and got a transfer to the Trader Joes in Union Square set up and I'm basically good to go. I put in my two weeks at work and am currently counting down the days (9, bitches!). I have a rack of stuff to pack up and move and a laundry list of errands to do and dozens of goodbyes to say. I'm a little nervous and extremely excited. I can't wait.
Now, the smaller and less momentous stuff. Among other things, I have recently marched on Washington, renewed old friendships, relocated lost literature, and broken my thumb.
I kinda feel like my life is in a little more order and I'm hoping I've grown up a little more. I recently got a mailing from Sallie Mae telling me to start paying my student loans off Or Else. So I guess that means I really am done with college. Hanging out with Savanna again brought into some things into perspective, like growing up, dreaming big and small, using failure to move forward, etc, so on and so forth. Cheesy sounding things but important nonetheless. We talked for hours, as we always have, expressing trepidation over the new lives we are about to embark on, bitterness over higher education, questioning the meaning of college and assimilation, and the glory of Roy Orbison. I feel as excited about moving to New York as I did right before I went away to Oberlin the first time - the realization that I'm about to completely change my environment, my comforts, my touchstones, my associations, my routine, everything. It's the wonder of chance and possibility, the feeling that anything can happen. Simplistic, I know, but still true. I'm mentally steeling myself for the rigors and vibrations of the city and the TJs I'll be working at. It'll most likely be completely fucking off the wall batshit psycho crazy, but I know I can handle it. I've been looking forward to it, actually. I'm eager for a new challenge and hopefully a store with a decent number of competent employees. I'm also excited about the number of good friends who will be living in the various reaches of the city, people I'll be able to see on a regular basis. It'll be an adventure.
Sep. 19th, 2006 @ 02:20 am
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| » same shit different day? |
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Had an eventful day today. Ran into a girl I knew in high school in downtown Bethesda on my way to the bank, ran into a girl I knew in college in downtown Silver Spring on my way back from dinner. The former was not so surprising as it seems I have spent most of my summer running into people from the past and beyond. The latter more surprising because I don't really run into Obies unless I am trying to run into Obies. In both cases, I chatted with them for a bit before breaking away to do whatever else it was I had intended on doing.
Had a slightly underwhelming meal at a "crab shack" in downtown Silver Spring with Michelle, Lisa, and Miriam. After we ate, we got ice cream, and then Lisa and I were standing outside a Borders smoking cigarettes while M&M were using the facilities. We were in the middle of a conversation when Lisa just blurted out "me and Miriam are dating" and gave me a big smile. I just shrugged and said OK. I think she was more surprised by my non-chalance than I was by her pronouncement. The thought had occured to me - I knew they both were attracted to other girls from time to time and I knew they were very close - but I never quite said to myself "I bet they're dating". I have occasionally thought "I wonder if they've ever considered it?" but, as I told Lisa, the bottom line is it really isn't my business, and if it ain't my business, then it ain't my business. Apparently they've been a couple for several months now, had been tip-toeing around the subject around me, and I am one of the last people they've told. Why? I don't know (I mean why I was one of the last ones). Were they concerned my mind would be blown, or that my world would turn upside down? I'm not trying to get into either of their pants (anymore) and they're both friends of mine, so if they're happy, I'm happy, and I think that's all that matters. They shouldn't need the approval of other people. It was interesting though, Lisa seemed almost taken aback or surprised at my lack of reaction other than a shrug and an "ok, good for you". Honestly, that was it. She did a bit of a double take and asked me if I was surprised. I said no, not really. As I stated previously, I try not to concern myself with other people's business if it doesn't concern me. I try not to stir shit up if I can help it, I keep secrets, I don't gossip, I try to stay tactful and civil, and I'm pretty unflappable. I'm pretty good at keeping a straight face, mostly because my expression doesn't change very readily. So in other words, something has to be really, REALLY outrageous to make me flip my shit, and if it does, it's usually something like someone doing a double backflip over a pickup truck while playing a recorder and engulfed in flames...or something like that. You get the idea. I try not to flip my shit over the details of someone else's life that are really not my concern.
With all that said, and the cat out of the bag, soon afterwards while the four of us were walking, Lisa jumped on Miriam and planted a big kiss on her lips. I saw them out of the corner of my eye and kept walking. Miriam stopped and said "wait, did Adam see that?" I smiled and said "yeah, so?" and kept walking. Since Miriam didn't know that I knew that she and Lisa were together, Lisa had decided to fuck with her a little. I was a bit of a party pooper and didn't act my part as the horror-stricken and scandalized Friend Who Had Been Kept In The Dark Who Apparently Was Unfamiliar With Girls Kissing Each Other, but ultimately I think it worked out well because it just made Miriam more confused. One interesting side effect of this was that for the rest of the evening, Lisa and Miriam were unabashed in their shows of affection, hugging, cuddling, kissing, etc. presumably to make up for lost time, now that they knew I knew about their relationship and was not scandalized. It was kind of like they had finally been able to stop living a lie, so that's good that I wasn't holding them back anymore, I guess. But what I'm wondering is why they felt it necessary to keep their relationship from me? I can't remember if I asked Lisa or not, and if I did, I can't remember what she said. I'll ask her again tomorrow. However, I did give her some shit for telling me over the past few months that she doesn't really believe in relationships or "dating" or see their necessity or importance, despite the fact that she's been in one for several months. Oh well. I never said she wasn't complicated, confusing, or at times infuriating. Also pretty freakin' awesome at times, so that balances it all out. She's a good friend when I don't feel the urge to punch her in the face.
Anyways, after dropping Lisa off at "camp", we embarked on an odyssey across Silver Spring, Wheaton, and Rockville to get Miriam a pet rat. Exactly how the idea got into her head I'm really not sure, because she's more or less completely batshit crazy, but it was some time during dinner. We were eventually successful, acquring a small slate grey male rat which Miriam decided to name "Ratty Big Balls", which pretty much sums it up. My sister's pet rodents were always female, so I never really noticed how freakin' huge a rodent's testicles are. I mean, it's like someone stuck some tomatoes on a croissant. It's comically ridiculous. Regardless, after we collected Lisa again, I asked to hold the rat, which promptly proceeded to relieve itself all over my hands. For some reason, which I cannot for the life of me explain, I have a strange effect on small rodent-like animals: they all pee in my hands. Just about every mouse, rat, hamster, gerbil, what have you, that I've held has peed on me. I must just have that effect on some critters. Who knows.
I got a pair of new shoes. They're black Vans, they're comfy, they were in my size, and they weren't too pricey. This was probably the least exciting yet noteworthy part of my day. I wasn't too crazy about the off-white-ish "Vans" logo on the outside of each shoe, so I colored them in with a black sharpie. They're now kinda charcol-y grey and I think they look a lot better.
After all this we went to see Talladega Nights etc. All in all, not cinematic gold, but Sweet Baby Jesus, it was pretty funny. I especially liked the Andy Richter, Mos Def, and Elvis Costello cameos. (on that note, just about the only thing I can remember liking about the second Austin Powers movie was Elvis Costello's appearance) There are some really great lines, some hilarious sight gags, Will Ferrell running around in his underwear multiple times, and Ali G doing The World's Most Ridiculous French Accent. Good times. Of course, there were about as many failed jokes as there were good ones, several gags/plot points you could see coming a mile away (example: at one point Ferrell sends a woman and her shopping cart flying when he backs his truck into them. Cut to a cop giving him a ticket. You just knew that when he drove off, he was going to hit something else. I put the mental odds thusly: another shopping cart 2:1, the policeman 3:1, a small dog 5:1, a large dog 12:1, Luke Wilson 100:1, Ben Stiller 500:1, Tim Robbins 5000:1, Susan Sarandon 5001:1. It ended up being the cop.) The race scenes were surprisingly well filmed, with all the necessary swoops, pans, in-car views, and close-ups to convey the sense of speed. Then again, it's pretty hard to fuck up showing speed with cars that are going 150 mph or so. All in all, I think it was worth seeing for $8.50. I was definately amused.
By the way, during the shoe-shopping and the movie-watching, Ratty Big Balls was tagging along in Lisa's purse. We freaked out a lady because we were playing with him outside the theatre before the movie. Hey, I don't see no laws about playing with rats outside. Move along, nothing to see here.
Like I said, eventful day.
Aug. 16th, 2006 @ 02:10 am
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| » ouchies |
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I woke up early this morning with a very sore left shoulder. it felt like something had been digging into my back all night. I sat up, scratching my head, trying to determine the cause of the discomfort, when I felt something next to me. Turns out I had fallen asleep...
...on a baseball.
I told this to one of my co-workers today when I was at the "office". They asked me how the baseball ended up a) in my bed and b) under me, to which I replied "I don't know! that's most of the problem!" To be quite honest, I am still most perplexed. I was tired, but stone cold sober last night. it's a mystery.
Jul. 31st, 2006 @ 02:40 am
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| » Life is what you make it |
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Well, it's been a helluva past few days.
On Monday I got another raise. Once again, it was the max, and I am happy to report that my "has a positive attitude" score improved greatly, although I'm not quite sure how. The manager who gave me the review said "basically, I've got nothing to say to you except go full time", to which I flipped him off. And an injury update - I did a carry out of two cases of water out to a customer's car - a '65 popcorn-butter-yellow Mustang - on Monday night when, after placing one of the cases in the back seat, brought my head out swiftly and whacked the back of my noggin on the door frame. Cars back then were pretty much all solid steel frames, so it had no give, and I hit a nerve cluster directly behind my left ear - it's still sore - and was feeling dizzy/lightheaded for about an hour afterwards. Fine now. It had been a while since I had bonked my head on something, so I guess I'm glad I got that out of the way.
On Tuesday I got a new tattoo. It's based on the Northern Orange Bordered Blue, a subspecies of which was named and identified by Vladimir Nabokov, one of my favorite writers and an amateur lepidopterist. It's about 2.5"x2.5" at the base of the inside of my left bicep, right above the joint. It'll be partially visible depending on what kind of shirt I'm wearing, and I'm cool with that. In the evening I joined some of my co-workers down in DuPont for Drag Bingo at some gay nightclub. No, you don't have to dress in drag, that's for the drag queen/MCs who make fun of everyone and try to get you to have a good time. Some of the prizes? a very large black dildo, a CD player, a grill kit (skewers, tongs, etc.) and gay porn - The Postman Always Comes Twice. It was rather silly, and at one point I got groped by one of the drag queens. He/she was walking around the room during a break between bingo rounds, and apparently you are supposed to give him/her money to stay away from you. I was leaning up against the bar while offering him/her a dollar bill when he/she stopped, looked my up and down, and brushed his/her fingers up my package. It really didn't bother me, because I'm comfortable with my sexuality, and I went to Oberlin. Needless to say, my co-workers were terribly amused and word has likely spread around the store and I'll hear no end of it tomorrow. On my way back to the metro from the club, I ran into a guy I went to elementary and some middle school with, who I don't think I've seen (or really thought/cared about) in ten years. He recognized me, we chatted awkwardly for a few minutes, and then went our separate ways. I must say, of all the people I expected to encounter that evening, he was very low on the list. To be honest I'm kinda surprised he recognized me.
Tonight I went out with Lizzie and Chloe down to Adams Morgan to see Ann Horwitz one last time before she goes off to Indonesia for a year to teach English on a Fulbright scholarship. On our way to the bar, I happened to see Gage hanging off a stop sign. Turns out Alex (Ann's older brother) and Ellery, both who I hadn't seen in several years, were in an ice cream shop on the corner. I was excited to see Ann, but had no idea Alex would also be nearby. The bar was carding at the door and wouldn't let me in (another reason why I need to get my license back). I didn't want to put a damper on Lizzie and Chloe's evening, so I told them to go on in and to call me when they were ready to leave. I looked up and down the street for Alex and Ellery to no avail for a few minutes before saying fuck it and going to a hookah bar down the street from the other bar. I sat down with a mango lesi, a beef kebab, and a hookah of double apple shisha to pass the time. I spent some time talking about DC and hookah bars to the couple sitting next to me, some guy named Kiwi and an Australian woman. Right after I finished smoking Alex, Ellery, and Gage were ready to leave so they gave me a ride home. All in all, an interesting couple of evenings. Sure as hell beats sitting around scratching my ass. If only all my days off could be so entertaining.
Jul. 27th, 2006 @ 03:21 am
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