for some reason, the common definition for duplicity has a bad connotation. but having duality does not necessarily mean you have ill intentions.
my life has always been a dichotomy. i like the i balance of not saying no to something because it seems to be the polar opposite of the majority of your personality. i find this to be a key to staying happy. how else do you temper a long, complicated day at the office then with a few hours of heavy duty partying?
thursday night was able to even turn my partying into a duplicitious event. after work i attended a reception honoring the iranian photographer/filmmaker shirin neshat. this woman has been endlessly praised for her questioning portrayal of women in islamic society, and her films, which they showed a few clips, were so visually powerful. i met her very briefly and even in her petite stature she was auspicious. i only knew a few other people there (and truth be told only liked one!) so, fueled by expensive champagne, i let the night carry me and had some lovely conversation with some interesting, avant-garde strangers. i spoke for a while with a very pregnant women who was half iranian and half french, she glowed in the proverbial way of those with child, with an accent so beautiful, her pronunciation of "camembert" sounded sexual. the reception was very refined, the kind of party which causes you to stand up straight and keep your head held high, and as i worked the room, sipping my veuve, i spotted a familiar shock of red hair across the room. no, not ms. BA miale, but someone about 30 years older, the saffron hue matching the exact shade of the fabric she had used in the gates in central park she and her husband had configured last year. it was christo and jean claude, who had so famously wrapped, curtained and screened landscapes all of the world and made millions of trillions of dollars doing it. i had to at least introduce myself.** christo was mute, but jean-claude of the bright red hair was gracious and fascinating. i actually said to her, "your achievement in central park was stunning, you must be quite proud"
yes, i can be quite refined when i chose to be. which is why my duplicity seems to be an asset.
i left the reception, got on a train to go back to brooklyn, where i had plans with yet another christo. quite the opposite of refined, we intended to watch the rangers game and play video games. ever since i saw the previews for "dead rising," where you play photojournalist trapped in a shopping mall for 72 hours with zombies, i have been dying (pun intended) to play.
you can kill the zombies with anything you can pick up. which is everything. my personal favorites have to be the chainsaw and dumbell, although the teddy bear and plastic food court chair were great fun. christo knew i was psyched for the game and we had planned to get together once he bought it and xbox 360-it up. we drank 16oz budwiser cans and watched hockey and played zombies. he also picked up NHY 2K7, so with the big screen playing the live game, we had our own little devils/rangers face off. he kicked my ass, but i didn't take that much offense, considering he has been playing for 15 years and i had been playing for 15 minutes.
as i was on my way home, the duplicity of my evening hit me. the transition from champagne to bud was blissfully easy. yet i had thoroughly enjoyed both. wasn't this the equivalent of having it all? fancy and lowbrow? high falutain and chill? with this sort of all encompassing viewpoint of life, how could duplicity be a bad thing.
this makes me recall one of my favorite days in new york city ever. for my friend chris bellotti's birthday, the two of went to dinner at three star restaurant mesa grill, followed by 7th row seats for World Wrestling Federation at the garden (where some 10 year old kid yelled at triple h that he was "hung like a mouse" which the stunned wrestler actually paused and you could see plain as day on his face how torn he was whether to go off on this peanut or not!) after screaming at the ring for two hours, chris went home and i preceeded to a cocktail party at alley sheedy's apartment, and finally to the wetlands for a friends concert. i remember not only being so happy for fitting it all in, but being happy i hadn't left anything, ANYTHING out. high brow/low brow/high brow/low brow suits me just fine.
i was actually most proud that i was able to find one single outfit to transcend all of those situations..
** the two people who i texted to excited tell i had met christo and jean-claude both responded with the same "our friend and van damme?" confused response. i love my friends.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Thursday, October 05, 2006 - when i wasn't looking
when i was like 8, i refused to eat cauliflower. i suffered through every other vegetable there was, in fact i even liked brussel sprouts. but cauliflower, i vividly remember sitting at the diner table for at least two hours (though it seemed WAY longer at the time) to out last my parents, who couldn't police the kitchen anymore and finally let me just not eat it. it was the only vegetable i hated enough to walk away from vindicated.
but then twenty years later, i worked for a chef who was astounded by that. "how could you not like cauliflower", she asked, astonished. it was an order of priority to make me a soup of cauliflower. it was delicious. i couldn't believe this vegetable which had been my adversary in youth was, gasp, enjoyable.
after the soup she served it to me as a side dish, roasted with curry. i was in love. it was this unbelievable complex flavor. a few weeks after that, this other avant-garde client served me a spoon filed with cauliflower puree and white chocolate. it was delicious; the chocolate took the funk out of the cauliflower.
as amazed as i was, i was hooked. this is good? good?
i had a few friends over for dinner last week. we were all pretty broke ass, in fact, no one could even bring wine, we resorted to drinking the bottle of persecco i perpetually have in my fridge for occasions just like this. the cheapest meal i could make was a cauliflower ($2.79 at key foods) risotto (rice and saffron in the house) and a pork loin had in the freezer. christo came over early, to ostensibly help me cook. he helped me by eating the raw cauliflower i had broken up into popcorn size pieces like, well, popcorn. i actually had to take out the rest of head of cauliflower and ask him to break off some more. another new concept, cauliflower eaten, gulp, raw? he made me taste it, and not only was it palatable; it was in fact, scrumptious.
the pork loin, although good, was almost ignored as we all went sick over the risotto.
the bane of my childhood had transcended at last. not only do i like cauliflower, but also I liked it enough to serve it to others. is it possible? i think this may be a sign of maturity.
yikes.
but then twenty years later, i worked for a chef who was astounded by that. "how could you not like cauliflower", she asked, astonished. it was an order of priority to make me a soup of cauliflower. it was delicious. i couldn't believe this vegetable which had been my adversary in youth was, gasp, enjoyable.
after the soup she served it to me as a side dish, roasted with curry. i was in love. it was this unbelievable complex flavor. a few weeks after that, this other avant-garde client served me a spoon filed with cauliflower puree and white chocolate. it was delicious; the chocolate took the funk out of the cauliflower.
as amazed as i was, i was hooked. this is good? good?
i had a few friends over for dinner last week. we were all pretty broke ass, in fact, no one could even bring wine, we resorted to drinking the bottle of persecco i perpetually have in my fridge for occasions just like this. the cheapest meal i could make was a cauliflower ($2.79 at key foods) risotto (rice and saffron in the house) and a pork loin had in the freezer. christo came over early, to ostensibly help me cook. he helped me by eating the raw cauliflower i had broken up into popcorn size pieces like, well, popcorn. i actually had to take out the rest of head of cauliflower and ask him to break off some more. another new concept, cauliflower eaten, gulp, raw? he made me taste it, and not only was it palatable; it was in fact, scrumptious.
the pork loin, although good, was almost ignored as we all went sick over the risotto.
the bane of my childhood had transcended at last. not only do i like cauliflower, but also I liked it enough to serve it to others. is it possible? i think this may be a sign of maturity.
yikes.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 - worth
i found out today my company bills out my time at over $200 per hour to clients...
WOWZA.
now, i indeed work my ass off on the job, and am at this very moment creeping up on hour 12 today. clients are billed incrementally in accordance to how much time exactly i spend on each one a day. although putting a price on my mental acuity seems a bit weird, it's not unjustified considering what i do.
but it got me thinking, i may be living up to this tremendous sum in the office, but am i really getting that much out of my personal hours?
did i get at least $200 value of partying in on each hour of saturday night? the last time i danced, was i dancing $200 of my heart out? hanging out last night, was my conversation worth $200, or was i slackin and too high and only mustered up $105? when i was picking out the players for my fantasy hockey team, did i put $200 of effort into my research?
i am going to make a concerted effort to live up to the potential they expect at work in my own day to day. $200 per hour worth of fun this weekend, here i come...
how wonderful would it be if my salary was $200 an hour? although that would probably require a radical career change and most likely, a pimp.
WOWZA.
now, i indeed work my ass off on the job, and am at this very moment creeping up on hour 12 today. clients are billed incrementally in accordance to how much time exactly i spend on each one a day. although putting a price on my mental acuity seems a bit weird, it's not unjustified considering what i do.
but it got me thinking, i may be living up to this tremendous sum in the office, but am i really getting that much out of my personal hours?
did i get at least $200 value of partying in on each hour of saturday night? the last time i danced, was i dancing $200 of my heart out? hanging out last night, was my conversation worth $200, or was i slackin and too high and only mustered up $105? when i was picking out the players for my fantasy hockey team, did i put $200 of effort into my research?
i am going to make a concerted effort to live up to the potential they expect at work in my own day to day. $200 per hour worth of fun this weekend, here i come...
how wonderful would it be if my salary was $200 an hour? although that would probably require a radical career change and most likely, a pimp.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006 - knoxie is coming back to town!!
i just found out this morning that my friend Sarah is moving to Washington DC! this is monumentally awesome news, because this means she moving back to the US after a little under two years in Sydney!
Sarah
and i can't wait to go down there and visit. Sarah is unarguable the loudest girl i had ever known (until i met Laurenn, now it's a standoff). she went home to Syndey to work on creating the first known ligament substitute, and i am sure whatever biochemistry marvel shes coming to DC to create will be just as earth shattering. yet, with all those brains, she is still knows how to have a blast, and she has got amazing taste in music. something tells me when she moves to DC, especially since my friends Blythe and Carl have just moved there as well, i'm finally going to realize my dream of going to see a show at the 9:30 club.
Sarah and i once went to a Rocket From The Crypt, arguably my favorite band of all time, show at bowery ballroom. the opening act was this old school punk dude Sonny Vincent, and he played pretty well, it was an enjoyable appetizer. but after the amazing RFTC show, as Knoxie and i were making our way down to the bathroom, we run smack into him. Vincent was wearing more makeup then the both of us combined, including sparkly blue eyeshadow. Sarah doesn't miss a beat, she slapped him heartily on the back, "great show mate," she bellows, "outstanding!" Vincent, who also happen to be about 6' 5" and reedy as a rail leans down to thank us and before our alcohol addled brain knew what was happening, kissed us both on the lips. again, more lipstick then either of us...
Jim and Sarah
those are the kind of things that seem to happen around Sarah, and i am getting excited at the prospect of more shenanagins!! she inspires me to pronounce "minn-a-sota" the correct way. her sister was in New York this past spring and joined me for Career Club's first show ever. she was pretty quiet and i assumed not having a good time, it was a small show and everyone knew everyone else, but she went back to Sydney telling Sarah she was, "absolutely moving to New York." the email where she recounted this to me, Sarah shot back, "not before i bloody move back first!" now they both can have their wish.
Toddy, Sarah and super drunk me
i am brimming with excitement over this news, and hope for more memories like this with Sarah, seen here with drunken Canadian Will, at the infamous after-party of Eric and Colleen's wedding.
Sarah
and i can't wait to go down there and visit. Sarah is unarguable the loudest girl i had ever known (until i met Laurenn, now it's a standoff). she went home to Syndey to work on creating the first known ligament substitute, and i am sure whatever biochemistry marvel shes coming to DC to create will be just as earth shattering. yet, with all those brains, she is still knows how to have a blast, and she has got amazing taste in music. something tells me when she moves to DC, especially since my friends Blythe and Carl have just moved there as well, i'm finally going to realize my dream of going to see a show at the 9:30 club.
Sarah and i once went to a Rocket From The Crypt, arguably my favorite band of all time, show at bowery ballroom. the opening act was this old school punk dude Sonny Vincent, and he played pretty well, it was an enjoyable appetizer. but after the amazing RFTC show, as Knoxie and i were making our way down to the bathroom, we run smack into him. Vincent was wearing more makeup then the both of us combined, including sparkly blue eyeshadow. Sarah doesn't miss a beat, she slapped him heartily on the back, "great show mate," she bellows, "outstanding!" Vincent, who also happen to be about 6' 5" and reedy as a rail leans down to thank us and before our alcohol addled brain knew what was happening, kissed us both on the lips. again, more lipstick then either of us...
Jim and Sarah
those are the kind of things that seem to happen around Sarah, and i am getting excited at the prospect of more shenanagins!! she inspires me to pronounce "minn-a-sota" the correct way. her sister was in New York this past spring and joined me for Career Club's first show ever. she was pretty quiet and i assumed not having a good time, it was a small show and everyone knew everyone else, but she went back to Sydney telling Sarah she was, "absolutely moving to New York." the email where she recounted this to me, Sarah shot back, "not before i bloody move back first!" now they both can have their wish.
Toddy, Sarah and super drunk me
i am brimming with excitement over this news, and hope for more memories like this with Sarah, seen here with drunken Canadian Will, at the infamous after-party of Eric and Colleen's wedding.
Sunday, July 16, 2006 - hello g'vner
I went to Governors Island with Red yesterday, and our time spent there was a totally carefree two and a half hours away from new york city!
Like field trip from the grind. The free ferry ride (which thanks to the MTA, I almost missed, and had to run down South Street to catch) lands you in this weird antiquated land, where an entire subculture actually several entire subcultures thrived.
Seven minutes from Manhattan by boat. This former navel base, army base, prison, coast guard unit, is in a state of flux once again. Its next identity is currently being decided. As it stands now, literally, there is an entire town, and I am talking fancy college/military town, built on this island. Apartments, houses, mansions, hospital, football fields, a church, playgrounds, an ice-skating rink, two castles, prison cells, and even a mayors house -- all available and looking pretty un-dilapidated to be out of use. And out of this entire island, us city dwellers (non-park ranger/military types) are allowed to visit only 1/4 of it. Yet the entire island is supposed to be unpopulated. Red thinks this is purposively and they are doing secret government work there and only *say* no one is there (wink wink). Its kinda eerie, in a Disneyworld ghost town kinda way (maybe thats why Red and I were talking about the Magic Kingdom). We walked up and looked in the window of one of the smaller houses, which in Queens, would be the biggest house in a five-block radius and cost over a million dollars. What we could see in the inside of the house through the window, looked preserved, nice and kinda historical. There was not a single thing in it but the walls had really nice work and the wood floors were better then the ones in my apartment. The entire landscaping of the island, including the unused houses and buildings, was gorgeous with lush grass and flowers.
It alarmed me that all these beautiful places exist but werent used for anything, and we ruminated about what functions they could fulfill. This place would make a great summer camp, or science retreat. It would actually make a ridiculously amazing college. Even in its present state, it makes an awesome accessible place to hold a large, fun picnic. Currently, the city wants to knock down almost all of the unused (in better shape, mind you, then at least 1/2 of the apartment buildings in the poorer parts of new york city) buildings and make the island into a large, unblemished sea of green grass. Larger then central park, a place where you can hang out and not be right on top of people near you.
As we strolled through the sprawling grounds, we passed the band (they apparently have live free music every weekend too) and we surprised that the electric violin foursome didnt suck. It actually kind of added to the mood, and we were both pretty psyched it wasnt just Americana (which Red heard the band would be). But as we tried to decide our next move on the map, the bass guitar started playing this familiar beat. Bah bam-bam, bah, ba-bump bump.. I mused out loud, that sounds like a violent femms song as the park rangers nodded along and the families happily ate their picnics. Then the singer starts singing, just last night, I was reminded of, just how bad, it had gotten, and just how sick, I had become.
Holy shit.
They were singing a violent femms song! Of course they censored the word shit to load or something pg-13 but otherwise, it was, "prove my love," the same song I had been rocking out to since I was 13. I sung along (inaudibly, of course, since my voice sucks) and smiled at the significance.
Although I wouldnt feel comfortable if New York City spent my tax dollars to build an unsightly gondola to bring people across to Governors Island from both Manhattan and Brooklyn, as has been proposed, I still will be curious to follow what the next life of this island will be. And what the next major band of my life will be covered there. Hopefully gigantic, with electric violin.
PS. One of the sillier points of the day, right after we missed the ferry we wanted to take back to NYC (which wound up being awesome, we killed time chillin on the grass) and on our way to find a place to pop a squat, we walked by a group of junior high kids taking pictures in front of a flowered hedge in bloom. One girl was lying on her side - elbow cocked, head in hand posing for her friend taking the picture, yelling, this could be my myspace picture! As she tried to pose, one of the guys with them was purposely messing around with her pose, sitting in the shot, leaning on her legs, which caused her to dramatically yell and make a fuss totally necessary when you are 14 and believe you are acting cool.
Amusing to witness, speaking volumes, cracking us up, this sun-drenched moment referenced something that made me think about our own friends and smile. And I am more then happy to report, this girl actually dressed for her age, instead of say, Christina Aguilera. Governors Island = a good thing.
Like field trip from the grind. The free ferry ride (which thanks to the MTA, I almost missed, and had to run down South Street to catch) lands you in this weird antiquated land, where an entire subculture actually several entire subcultures thrived.
Seven minutes from Manhattan by boat. This former navel base, army base, prison, coast guard unit, is in a state of flux once again. Its next identity is currently being decided. As it stands now, literally, there is an entire town, and I am talking fancy college/military town, built on this island. Apartments, houses, mansions, hospital, football fields, a church, playgrounds, an ice-skating rink, two castles, prison cells, and even a mayors house -- all available and looking pretty un-dilapidated to be out of use. And out of this entire island, us city dwellers (non-park ranger/military types) are allowed to visit only 1/4 of it. Yet the entire island is supposed to be unpopulated. Red thinks this is purposively and they are doing secret government work there and only *say* no one is there (wink wink). Its kinda eerie, in a Disneyworld ghost town kinda way (maybe thats why Red and I were talking about the Magic Kingdom). We walked up and looked in the window of one of the smaller houses, which in Queens, would be the biggest house in a five-block radius and cost over a million dollars. What we could see in the inside of the house through the window, looked preserved, nice and kinda historical. There was not a single thing in it but the walls had really nice work and the wood floors were better then the ones in my apartment. The entire landscaping of the island, including the unused houses and buildings, was gorgeous with lush grass and flowers.
It alarmed me that all these beautiful places exist but werent used for anything, and we ruminated about what functions they could fulfill. This place would make a great summer camp, or science retreat. It would actually make a ridiculously amazing college. Even in its present state, it makes an awesome accessible place to hold a large, fun picnic. Currently, the city wants to knock down almost all of the unused (in better shape, mind you, then at least 1/2 of the apartment buildings in the poorer parts of new york city) buildings and make the island into a large, unblemished sea of green grass. Larger then central park, a place where you can hang out and not be right on top of people near you.
As we strolled through the sprawling grounds, we passed the band (they apparently have live free music every weekend too) and we surprised that the electric violin foursome didnt suck. It actually kind of added to the mood, and we were both pretty psyched it wasnt just Americana (which Red heard the band would be). But as we tried to decide our next move on the map, the bass guitar started playing this familiar beat. Bah bam-bam, bah, ba-bump bump.. I mused out loud, that sounds like a violent femms song as the park rangers nodded along and the families happily ate their picnics. Then the singer starts singing, just last night, I was reminded of, just how bad, it had gotten, and just how sick, I had become.
Holy shit.
They were singing a violent femms song! Of course they censored the word shit to load or something pg-13 but otherwise, it was, "prove my love," the same song I had been rocking out to since I was 13. I sung along (inaudibly, of course, since my voice sucks) and smiled at the significance.
Although I wouldnt feel comfortable if New York City spent my tax dollars to build an unsightly gondola to bring people across to Governors Island from both Manhattan and Brooklyn, as has been proposed, I still will be curious to follow what the next life of this island will be. And what the next major band of my life will be covered there. Hopefully gigantic, with electric violin.
PS. One of the sillier points of the day, right after we missed the ferry we wanted to take back to NYC (which wound up being awesome, we killed time chillin on the grass) and on our way to find a place to pop a squat, we walked by a group of junior high kids taking pictures in front of a flowered hedge in bloom. One girl was lying on her side - elbow cocked, head in hand posing for her friend taking the picture, yelling, this could be my myspace picture! As she tried to pose, one of the guys with them was purposely messing around with her pose, sitting in the shot, leaning on her legs, which caused her to dramatically yell and make a fuss totally necessary when you are 14 and believe you are acting cool.
Amusing to witness, speaking volumes, cracking us up, this sun-drenched moment referenced something that made me think about our own friends and smile. And I am more then happy to report, this girl actually dressed for her age, instead of say, Christina Aguilera. Governors Island = a good thing.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006 - the other 1%
considering how freakish logical i am 99% the time, it is almost frightening how irrational i can be about so many things.
like the following:
- i am convinced there is an egg sack of some mutant strand of city bugs somewhere in my house that will eventually hatch into something of outbreak sci-fi movie proportion -
- every time i have a sore throat, i am totally dying -
- i am forever (and have always) assumed that i am doing a bad job and will get fired tomorrow -
- that whatever city bus i get on, even if i check the number thrice, is the wrong bus and an express that will not let me off and take me far, far away -
- every bump i ever hear in the middle of the night is someone, probably a crackhead, breaking into my apartment -
- or a vampire -
this is why i am not allowed to watch scary movies, i have enough crazy thoughts in my head without someone putting more in there.
the worst part is, i am totally conscious of the fact that these far-fetched, ridiculous paranoid thoughts are just that. but i cant stop thinking them. or believing them. especially the vampires. i know i am already pale as shit, if i ever start only showing up after dark...
i mean, seriously, have you *seen* the shadows in my bedroom? it may be the chimmy on the roof next door but in a strong wind, it looks like it could be a very large monster...
like the following:
- i am convinced there is an egg sack of some mutant strand of city bugs somewhere in my house that will eventually hatch into something of outbreak sci-fi movie proportion -
- every time i have a sore throat, i am totally dying -
- i am forever (and have always) assumed that i am doing a bad job and will get fired tomorrow -
- that whatever city bus i get on, even if i check the number thrice, is the wrong bus and an express that will not let me off and take me far, far away -
- every bump i ever hear in the middle of the night is someone, probably a crackhead, breaking into my apartment -
- or a vampire -
this is why i am not allowed to watch scary movies, i have enough crazy thoughts in my head without someone putting more in there.
the worst part is, i am totally conscious of the fact that these far-fetched, ridiculous paranoid thoughts are just that. but i cant stop thinking them. or believing them. especially the vampires. i know i am already pale as shit, if i ever start only showing up after dark...
i mean, seriously, have you *seen* the shadows in my bedroom? it may be the chimmy on the roof next door but in a strong wind, it looks like it could be a very large monster...
Thursday, June 22, 2006 - i really do love my friends, i swear
you just have to really define what a "friend" is
i am at a point in my life where i have no qualms cutting people off. i can remember leaving high school, or moving from california to new york, or leaving college, where i felt this fierce need to remain tight with the people who were important to me in my life.
i have benefited from this, of course, because i do have such wonderful friends in my life, even the ones who live on other coasts or i do not see as frequently, the important ones still mean a lot.
but there comes a time when you have to sit down and admit, as an adult, that you no longer have anything in common. school especially. a social life that revolved around a limited amount of bars and parties, not to mention a "grind" of classes with the same people, formed bonds that no longer have any real relevance. other people who had more in common with you and connected at a deeper level, well, people change. most for the better, but those common denominators don't necessarily stay intact.
so i don't get this holding on to reunions and get together in an obligatory sense. isn't that what family is for? plus, i have enough mandatory social obligations for work. if i wanted to commit to an event where my choices in life would garner pity while listening to inane prattle about people who are "successful" because they can afford a house with curb appeal and pop out a few young'uns, i will attend one of the two aforementioned occasions.
am i impossibly callous because i no longer want to spend time with these people who only want to be a part of my life at meticulously scheduled intervals. even if we have nothing at all in common but a shared sense of pity for each others life choices?
if you can't be bothered to call once in awhile to see what's up, or, in these enlightened technological times, drop me an email to catch me up on your life, why must i feel i should drop everything going on in my hemisphere because you have decided to host a chistmas social. is it imperative that i etch the party you are planning four months from now into my calendar, and then stick to that event no matter what, forsaking people i see on a weekly basis, to fulfill this obligation.
its not a matter of how often you speak, people are busy, hell, i'm busy. i have a friend from rancho palos verdes who i have not seen in person since 1997, who i speak to over email not more then four times a year, who i still feel super close too. we've managed to stay on the same page as she got married, had two children and moved to orange county. in fact, there are a lot of people in my life who have been an important part for years and will continue to be an important part for years to come, regardless of their marital status or their proximity to me geographically. these are the people who should remain friends.
but this imperative to keep in touch, just because we had a moment, makes me physically ill. get on with your life, we all have. i cant understand why me not wanting to spend two hours on a train to hang out with your whiny brats and boring husband makes me a bad person. or maybe it does.
i might be going to hell, but i am taking the most fun and important people with me.
"my demons and i are closer then ever.. next year were going on a tour of baseball parks". homer j. simpson
Currently listening :
Most People Are a Waste of Time
By Hard-Ons
Release date: By 27 March, 2006
i am at a point in my life where i have no qualms cutting people off. i can remember leaving high school, or moving from california to new york, or leaving college, where i felt this fierce need to remain tight with the people who were important to me in my life.
i have benefited from this, of course, because i do have such wonderful friends in my life, even the ones who live on other coasts or i do not see as frequently, the important ones still mean a lot.
but there comes a time when you have to sit down and admit, as an adult, that you no longer have anything in common. school especially. a social life that revolved around a limited amount of bars and parties, not to mention a "grind" of classes with the same people, formed bonds that no longer have any real relevance. other people who had more in common with you and connected at a deeper level, well, people change. most for the better, but those common denominators don't necessarily stay intact.
so i don't get this holding on to reunions and get together in an obligatory sense. isn't that what family is for? plus, i have enough mandatory social obligations for work. if i wanted to commit to an event where my choices in life would garner pity while listening to inane prattle about people who are "successful" because they can afford a house with curb appeal and pop out a few young'uns, i will attend one of the two aforementioned occasions.
am i impossibly callous because i no longer want to spend time with these people who only want to be a part of my life at meticulously scheduled intervals. even if we have nothing at all in common but a shared sense of pity for each others life choices?
if you can't be bothered to call once in awhile to see what's up, or, in these enlightened technological times, drop me an email to catch me up on your life, why must i feel i should drop everything going on in my hemisphere because you have decided to host a chistmas social. is it imperative that i etch the party you are planning four months from now into my calendar, and then stick to that event no matter what, forsaking people i see on a weekly basis, to fulfill this obligation.
its not a matter of how often you speak, people are busy, hell, i'm busy. i have a friend from rancho palos verdes who i have not seen in person since 1997, who i speak to over email not more then four times a year, who i still feel super close too. we've managed to stay on the same page as she got married, had two children and moved to orange county. in fact, there are a lot of people in my life who have been an important part for years and will continue to be an important part for years to come, regardless of their marital status or their proximity to me geographically. these are the people who should remain friends.
but this imperative to keep in touch, just because we had a moment, makes me physically ill. get on with your life, we all have. i cant understand why me not wanting to spend two hours on a train to hang out with your whiny brats and boring husband makes me a bad person. or maybe it does.
i might be going to hell, but i am taking the most fun and important people with me.
"my demons and i are closer then ever.. next year were going on a tour of baseball parks". homer j. simpson
Currently listening :
Most People Are a Waste of Time
By Hard-Ons
Release date: By 27 March, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006 - derisive, derisive, derisive...
i had a conversation with jax on friday about hating random people who yell things at you on the street, and i loudly vocalized how much i hate when some person on the street tells you to "smile." obviously, i don't want to smile, otherwise i'd be smiling. maybe my cat just died. or i have tuberculousis. maybe i just got fired. DON'T FUCKIN TELL ME TO SMILE.
i think this blind hatred of people who tell me to smile has been usurped by office cleaning ladies who tell me i am working too late. twice in two days, both office clearning ladies have told me that. again, besides stateing the obvious, DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE HERE ON PURPOSE?!
watch, someone is going to tell me now that they are only trying to be polite or "don't harsh on the person with a menial job" or some hippie crap like that. go ahead. as you can see, i'm in a great mood.
make my day hippie.
i think this blind hatred of people who tell me to smile has been usurped by office cleaning ladies who tell me i am working too late. twice in two days, both office clearning ladies have told me that. again, besides stateing the obvious, DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE HERE ON PURPOSE?!
watch, someone is going to tell me now that they are only trying to be polite or "don't harsh on the person with a menial job" or some hippie crap like that. go ahead. as you can see, i'm in a great mood.
make my day hippie.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006 - You actually asked me the question: "Are you taking any steps to keep shit real?"
there is bloc party song i really like in a new car commercial
i can't decide how i feel about this. its a good song, and they don't use the majority of the song, just one guitar part (its a mellower song) and a line or two. so its not that i'm going to get sick of it the way i did when they started using death cab for cutie on the commercials for gray's anatomy. after hearing it like seven times in three days i wanted to saw off my ears. and i actually liked that song before that.
but this trend towards using obscure parts of indie rock songs in commercials, especially car commercials (aqueduct, franz ferdinand, postal service -- damn! ben gibbard, sell the farm why doncha!) is freakin me out.
i've always been a stanch advocate of musicians making money from their music however they can. "selling out" is a concept held by people who care too much about unimportant things. as long as an artist stays creative, who's to say its not their prerogative to play on the gilmore girls? lord knows that getting signed to a record company only guarantees any sort of fiscal mother load to a small few. if you can sell beer cozies with your band name on it, or license a song to a popular movie, good for you! if its a way for you to gain popularity, play big crap venues, thus allowing you to stay together and write more music, bravo. i still love radiohead and am breathless for a new album, regardless of how i feel about going to see them at madison square garden. (i'm not)
so its not the fact that the hipsters who make commercials "know" about these bands that bug me so much. i'm sure it is only me and a couple of other music nerds that realize these snippets of songs are actually songs recorded elsewhere, not just as background for a commercial. and *should* i be complaining about that, since they are using, well, if not *quality* music, interesting music, instead of something generic? although it should be said that when modest mouse's gravity defies everything was used in a minivan commercial, it made me smile every time.
so maybe its the fact that these songs just don't have enough of a shelf life to be played over and over again. and it only annoys me that their worth as a song seems to diminish when i'm forced to listen to them constantly?
and how about that julia marvel song "summertown" that was on the mercury/jeep/chrystler commercials back around christmas. weird. and, it held up..
thoughts?
dave eggers has a good point here: AN INTERVIEW WITH DAVE EGGERS
In 1993 Dave Eggers founded the now defunct Gen-X sneer of Might magazine. After a brief stint at Esquire, Eggers returned in 1998 to the avant-garde of the magazine world with the eccentric banality of Timothy McSweeney's Quarterly Concern (www.mcsweeneys.net). Eggers' first book, the bestselling memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, was published in February of this year by Simon & Schuster to rave reviews. The following is an email transcript of a Q&A exchange with Eggers in which he is prompted to "rant" by the mention of the phrase "selling out."
(scroll down to blog title)
i can't decide how i feel about this. its a good song, and they don't use the majority of the song, just one guitar part (its a mellower song) and a line or two. so its not that i'm going to get sick of it the way i did when they started using death cab for cutie on the commercials for gray's anatomy. after hearing it like seven times in three days i wanted to saw off my ears. and i actually liked that song before that.
but this trend towards using obscure parts of indie rock songs in commercials, especially car commercials (aqueduct, franz ferdinand, postal service -- damn! ben gibbard, sell the farm why doncha!) is freakin me out.
i've always been a stanch advocate of musicians making money from their music however they can. "selling out" is a concept held by people who care too much about unimportant things. as long as an artist stays creative, who's to say its not their prerogative to play on the gilmore girls? lord knows that getting signed to a record company only guarantees any sort of fiscal mother load to a small few. if you can sell beer cozies with your band name on it, or license a song to a popular movie, good for you! if its a way for you to gain popularity, play big crap venues, thus allowing you to stay together and write more music, bravo. i still love radiohead and am breathless for a new album, regardless of how i feel about going to see them at madison square garden. (i'm not)
so its not the fact that the hipsters who make commercials "know" about these bands that bug me so much. i'm sure it is only me and a couple of other music nerds that realize these snippets of songs are actually songs recorded elsewhere, not just as background for a commercial. and *should* i be complaining about that, since they are using, well, if not *quality* music, interesting music, instead of something generic? although it should be said that when modest mouse's gravity defies everything was used in a minivan commercial, it made me smile every time.
so maybe its the fact that these songs just don't have enough of a shelf life to be played over and over again. and it only annoys me that their worth as a song seems to diminish when i'm forced to listen to them constantly?
and how about that julia marvel song "summertown" that was on the mercury/jeep/chrystler commercials back around christmas. weird. and, it held up..
thoughts?
dave eggers has a good point here: AN INTERVIEW WITH DAVE EGGERS
In 1993 Dave Eggers founded the now defunct Gen-X sneer of Might magazine. After a brief stint at Esquire, Eggers returned in 1998 to the avant-garde of the magazine world with the eccentric banality of Timothy McSweeney's Quarterly Concern (www.mcsweeneys.net). Eggers' first book, the bestselling memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, was published in February of this year by Simon & Schuster to rave reviews. The following is an email transcript of a Q&A exchange with Eggers in which he is prompted to "rant" by the mention of the phrase "selling out."
(scroll down to blog title)
Saturday, May 06, 2006 - disappointing music makes me mean and jaded
i just listened to the new minus the bear album again, very originally titled "menso el oso" which translates into "minus the bear" and realized, i don't, in fact, like it.
now i have admitted that i didn't think it was their best work, but after seeing them live in concert last night, i don't like it. its not very interesting, what had turned me on to them in the first place were guitar riffs that haunted you with their novelty. when i first heard minus the bear at eric and colleens old place on avenue b, at one of our mammoth music sessions, i had to have it. plus, their albums had what i had felt, next to guided by voices, the best song titles ever*
this album is pretty mundane.
but that didn't stop the 200 seventeen-year-old kids that were there from singing along to every word. listen, if i wanted to hear karaoke i'd go to BA's house, or alligator lounge, i paid $20 to see the band dammit, SHUTTHEFUCKUP. i love seeing people caught up in unmitigated joy at a live show (i.e. robert pollard two weeks ago) but when it seems more like making sure that everyone around you knows how INTO the band you are, i just get annoyed. or amused. like the dude standing next to matt who kept trying to get a "mine-us-the-bear" chant going. or the people up front who kept throwing up one hand with peace signs and fists, as if on video, which totally cracked chewy up.
luckily i was with two people who could appreciate the crowd watching/mocking - chewy and matt - and we had a grand time pointing out interesting haircuts and snickering at dumb clothing/behavior. we even had our own silent chant going, "play-old-songs, play-old-songs" and were rewarded at the end of the show with a few, although the guy next to us trying to guess which song they were going to play next dampened it a little bit ("come on ninja, play ninja, i can feel it, ninja, ninja" - i swear this came out of his mouth).
the only thing that would have been worse then the entire minus the bear show would have been having to put up with the opening bands. although the russian circles instrumental metal sounded pretty cool, its not the kind of thing i would want to hear in concert, and the last band that was on before minus the bear, i have no idea what they were called but to say they sucked donkey dick would be an understatement. the lead singer was super chatty, and would tell stupid soliloquies between each song, at one point imploring the audience to "really listen closely to the lyrics of the next song" to which he then donned a hoodie and stood in a crucification pose and screamed about "wine into water, blood into wine" while the crowd booed and groaned. he made the lead singer of elfant look like less of a douche. which is pretty hard to do.
just like the guys who were busy proving they knew the band better then i did, a lot of the girls there were on a mission to make sure people surrounding them were privy to all the intimate details of their lives they felt made them infinitesimally cool. shrieking about zanex and loudly recounting tales of making out with boys loud enough for everyone in the bathroom to hear your story does not make me think to myself, "wow, so cool, wish i was cool enough to do that/be them/know them." it provokes pity.
i'm not saying i was never like that. i totally did the same thing when i was 16, but in my advanced years now, it was quite distracting and pretty depressing to watch. i just wanted to shush them all, in their identical chuck taylors and 80s fashions, and tell them it was ok not care what other people thought about you. but i guess i can do that to all their clones at kickball sunday.
who am i kidding, i'm going to be standing there with chewy re-visiting the mock-itude, throwing around snide comments in "bitch fest two: electric booglaloo"
hopefully there will be better music playing.
*MINUS THE BEAR SONG TITLES
Hey, Wanna Throw Up? Get Me Naked
Lemurs, Man, Lemurs
Just Kickin' It Like A Wild Donkey
Potato Juice & Liquid Bread
Pantsuit... Uggghhh
Let's Play Clowns
Dog Park
I'm Totally Not Down With Rob's Alien
Hey! Is That A Ninja Up There?
Thanks For The Killer Game Of Crisco Twister
Monkey!!! Knife!!! Fight!!!
Absinthe Party At The Fly Honey Warehouse
Hey, Wanna Throw Up?
Get Me Naked 2: Electric Boogaloo
We Are Not A Football Team
You Kill Bus Good, Man
Spritz!!! Spritz!!!
Women We Haven't Met Yet
Damn Bugs Whacked Him, Johnny
I Lost All My Money At The Cock Fights
Let's Play Guitar In A Five Guitar Band
Booyah Achieved
You're Some Sort of Big, Fat, Smart-Bug, Aren't You?
now i have admitted that i didn't think it was their best work, but after seeing them live in concert last night, i don't like it. its not very interesting, what had turned me on to them in the first place were guitar riffs that haunted you with their novelty. when i first heard minus the bear at eric and colleens old place on avenue b, at one of our mammoth music sessions, i had to have it. plus, their albums had what i had felt, next to guided by voices, the best song titles ever*
this album is pretty mundane.
but that didn't stop the 200 seventeen-year-old kids that were there from singing along to every word. listen, if i wanted to hear karaoke i'd go to BA's house, or alligator lounge, i paid $20 to see the band dammit, SHUTTHEFUCKUP. i love seeing people caught up in unmitigated joy at a live show (i.e. robert pollard two weeks ago) but when it seems more like making sure that everyone around you knows how INTO the band you are, i just get annoyed. or amused. like the dude standing next to matt who kept trying to get a "mine-us-the-bear" chant going. or the people up front who kept throwing up one hand with peace signs and fists, as if on video, which totally cracked chewy up.
luckily i was with two people who could appreciate the crowd watching/mocking - chewy and matt - and we had a grand time pointing out interesting haircuts and snickering at dumb clothing/behavior. we even had our own silent chant going, "play-old-songs, play-old-songs" and were rewarded at the end of the show with a few, although the guy next to us trying to guess which song they were going to play next dampened it a little bit ("come on ninja, play ninja, i can feel it, ninja, ninja" - i swear this came out of his mouth).
the only thing that would have been worse then the entire minus the bear show would have been having to put up with the opening bands. although the russian circles instrumental metal sounded pretty cool, its not the kind of thing i would want to hear in concert, and the last band that was on before minus the bear, i have no idea what they were called but to say they sucked donkey dick would be an understatement. the lead singer was super chatty, and would tell stupid soliloquies between each song, at one point imploring the audience to "really listen closely to the lyrics of the next song" to which he then donned a hoodie and stood in a crucification pose and screamed about "wine into water, blood into wine" while the crowd booed and groaned. he made the lead singer of elfant look like less of a douche. which is pretty hard to do.
just like the guys who were busy proving they knew the band better then i did, a lot of the girls there were on a mission to make sure people surrounding them were privy to all the intimate details of their lives they felt made them infinitesimally cool. shrieking about zanex and loudly recounting tales of making out with boys loud enough for everyone in the bathroom to hear your story does not make me think to myself, "wow, so cool, wish i was cool enough to do that/be them/know them." it provokes pity.
i'm not saying i was never like that. i totally did the same thing when i was 16, but in my advanced years now, it was quite distracting and pretty depressing to watch. i just wanted to shush them all, in their identical chuck taylors and 80s fashions, and tell them it was ok not care what other people thought about you. but i guess i can do that to all their clones at kickball sunday.
who am i kidding, i'm going to be standing there with chewy re-visiting the mock-itude, throwing around snide comments in "bitch fest two: electric booglaloo"
hopefully there will be better music playing.
*MINUS THE BEAR SONG TITLES
Hey, Wanna Throw Up? Get Me Naked
Lemurs, Man, Lemurs
Just Kickin' It Like A Wild Donkey
Potato Juice & Liquid Bread
Pantsuit... Uggghhh
Let's Play Clowns
Dog Park
I'm Totally Not Down With Rob's Alien
Hey! Is That A Ninja Up There?
Thanks For The Killer Game Of Crisco Twister
Monkey!!! Knife!!! Fight!!!
Absinthe Party At The Fly Honey Warehouse
Hey, Wanna Throw Up?
Get Me Naked 2: Electric Boogaloo
We Are Not A Football Team
You Kill Bus Good, Man
Spritz!!! Spritz!!!
Women We Haven't Met Yet
Damn Bugs Whacked Him, Johnny
I Lost All My Money At The Cock Fights
Let's Play Guitar In A Five Guitar Band
Booyah Achieved
You're Some Sort of Big, Fat, Smart-Bug, Aren't You?
Friday, April 28, 2006 - the evil powers of rock and roll
i love the supersuckers
tonight i got to see the scacrilicious sounds of the supersuckers in the same church i first saw them at in 1995. eleven years later, they are still rockin the fuck out.
i mean, please
these guys are older then i am. its the least you could do but join them... tonight janna and i got to listen to some of the best guitar playing i have heard in a while, not to mention some insane drumming by the agent orange drummer. the venue avalon, nee limelight, was the site of my first supersuckers concert ever, in 1995. i had not seem them live since may 2005. two weeks later (in 05) i met janna, and it was our first bonding to talk about that insane concert. we meant to go to two shows after that but it never worked out, tonight it was on. not the best show the 'suckers have ever put on (the shitty levels, the poor drummer {that was not the guest drummer} and my broke toes hampered that) but it was still more fun then anything else.
dan "thunder" bolton
a crap day at work was instantly melted away when the guitars started to rock. even standing in the back (which was hard when i *knew*, even without knowing firsthand they would be there, that bill dolan and cpt john o'conner were up front) to keep my foot from being rocked was ok. they played new stuff, eased into "motherfucker be trippin" tracks and then progressed older and older. yehhhhh.
i loved "evil powers of rock and roll" more then i should, it was a later, poppier album. hardcore fans swear by "musta be high" which is without doubt my least favorite. i only dig it when they keep the country vibe tempered by punk rock and roll. so when they broke into the song "fisticuffs" i pretty much went nuts. of course, so did most of the rest of the crowd, which makes the show all the more fun.
to digress, when i saw the pixies in camden, nj, we were about four rows away from the back of the huge arena. but the entire crowd had driven from near and far to see that band, and they loved the shit out of being there. when i saw the pixies again two weeks later in manhattan, even though DAVID BOWIE was there, the crowd was too cool to love it. plus, they were playing eight nights, so if you sorta thought you liked the pixies, you could have gone. totally different expericnce, and even though i was four times as close (like 30 ft) from the stage, it was not as good.
every supersuckers show is populated with people who just love the shit out of being there
they didn't play my favorite song, but they played a lot more i love, and true to form, they rock around the stage changing it all around and up and down tempo-ing the songs. lots of stage kicks and playing over the top of their heads, some really talented guitarists. not to mention eddie spaghetti letting the fans play the axe.
i will never forget my last night (2 mths before demise) at tramps... hellacopters/supersuckers double bill, they threw giant foam devils hands (instead of the big foam 'we're number one' fingers) out at the crowd (everyone was no less then 10 ft away minds you, god LOVED tramps) and after about 5 minutes the crowd tore the fingers into pieces and pelted them back at the band.
the band loved it and played harder.
as long as they keep playing... i'll keep going. long live the self proclaimed "greatest rock and roll band in the world"
tonight i got to see the scacrilicious sounds of the supersuckers in the same church i first saw them at in 1995. eleven years later, they are still rockin the fuck out.
i mean, please
these guys are older then i am. its the least you could do but join them... tonight janna and i got to listen to some of the best guitar playing i have heard in a while, not to mention some insane drumming by the agent orange drummer. the venue avalon, nee limelight, was the site of my first supersuckers concert ever, in 1995. i had not seem them live since may 2005. two weeks later (in 05) i met janna, and it was our first bonding to talk about that insane concert. we meant to go to two shows after that but it never worked out, tonight it was on. not the best show the 'suckers have ever put on (the shitty levels, the poor drummer {that was not the guest drummer} and my broke toes hampered that) but it was still more fun then anything else.
dan "thunder" bolton
a crap day at work was instantly melted away when the guitars started to rock. even standing in the back (which was hard when i *knew*, even without knowing firsthand they would be there, that bill dolan and cpt john o'conner were up front) to keep my foot from being rocked was ok. they played new stuff, eased into "motherfucker be trippin" tracks and then progressed older and older. yehhhhh.
i loved "evil powers of rock and roll" more then i should, it was a later, poppier album. hardcore fans swear by "musta be high" which is without doubt my least favorite. i only dig it when they keep the country vibe tempered by punk rock and roll. so when they broke into the song "fisticuffs" i pretty much went nuts. of course, so did most of the rest of the crowd, which makes the show all the more fun.
to digress, when i saw the pixies in camden, nj, we were about four rows away from the back of the huge arena. but the entire crowd had driven from near and far to see that band, and they loved the shit out of being there. when i saw the pixies again two weeks later in manhattan, even though DAVID BOWIE was there, the crowd was too cool to love it. plus, they were playing eight nights, so if you sorta thought you liked the pixies, you could have gone. totally different expericnce, and even though i was four times as close (like 30 ft) from the stage, it was not as good.
every supersuckers show is populated with people who just love the shit out of being there
they didn't play my favorite song, but they played a lot more i love, and true to form, they rock around the stage changing it all around and up and down tempo-ing the songs. lots of stage kicks and playing over the top of their heads, some really talented guitarists. not to mention eddie spaghetti letting the fans play the axe.
i will never forget my last night (2 mths before demise) at tramps... hellacopters/supersuckers double bill, they threw giant foam devils hands (instead of the big foam 'we're number one' fingers) out at the crowd (everyone was no less then 10 ft away minds you, god LOVED tramps) and after about 5 minutes the crowd tore the fingers into pieces and pelted them back at the band.
the band loved it and played harder.
as long as they keep playing... i'll keep going. long live the self proclaimed "greatest rock and roll band in the world"
Sunday, March 12, 2006 - lack of chemistry
a lack of chemistry
there is a standardized new york requirement for high school graduation, known as the "regent diploma." basically, there is a curriculum for each year of school, and every student in that grade, in the entire state of new york, and regardless of what the teacher teaches you in, say, "american history" or biology" during the year, you would have to take a standardized test in order to gain "regents" credit on the class. you needed a certain amount of regents credit in order to get a regents diploma from the state of new york.
since my first year of high school was in california, my curriculum was so screwed up. i almost didn't get a regents diploma. i think i had to take an extra year of spanish and some advanced history class to fulfill the number of credits i needed.
but my junior year, there was a huge controversy with one if the regents i had to take that year. it seems two students at the private yeshiva school in manhattan had broken into their school office and stolen the answers to the chemistry regents, and either started selling them or just passing them around. the new york post got a hold of a copy and printed the answer key on the front page of its paper. by the time i got to school that morning to take the sequential math three (aka, advanced algebra) a few kids had the post on them. halfway through the exam there was an announcement - the chemistry regents had been cancelled.
cancelled. everyone looks around at each other for a moment in wonderment. could this be possible? the test just, wasn't an issue anymore? it was true. and my teacher, in testament to his coolness (after such experiments such as lighting a pickle and creating a colored smoke bomb) decided he would just average up our test grades and labs and call it a day.
now not only is this every students dream, at least in high school, but this was my salvation. i had struggled through that class all year (were classes on high school a full year or a semester, i can not believe i can not remember....?) failed tons of quizzes, a test or two, struggled through a lot of my labs. there was just something about chemistry i could not understand. i read my chapters, came in once or twice a week for extra help early in the mornings, i was genuinely trying. but i was not remotely confidant going into that test, in fact, i was pretty nervous i was going to fail.
as soon as the sequential three regents was over, i booked over to the chemistry classroom and sought out my teacher. he was there and told me that he planned on averaging out everyone's year (half year?) long grades. i held my breath. good lord, would i pass?
in fact, only because of all my effort, the teacher passed me with a D. i can still clearly remember the blood rushing to my head when i realized i was finished and i had passed. i was kind of floating when i walked out the door of the classroom, and i have a vivid mental picture of how the early afternoon sun was hitting the orange lockers in front of the room. so even though i never really learned chemistry, i managed to squeak by and pass.
actually, i guess that explains a lot in my life lately, no chemistry...
there is a standardized new york requirement for high school graduation, known as the "regent diploma." basically, there is a curriculum for each year of school, and every student in that grade, in the entire state of new york, and regardless of what the teacher teaches you in, say, "american history" or biology" during the year, you would have to take a standardized test in order to gain "regents" credit on the class. you needed a certain amount of regents credit in order to get a regents diploma from the state of new york.
since my first year of high school was in california, my curriculum was so screwed up. i almost didn't get a regents diploma. i think i had to take an extra year of spanish and some advanced history class to fulfill the number of credits i needed.
but my junior year, there was a huge controversy with one if the regents i had to take that year. it seems two students at the private yeshiva school in manhattan had broken into their school office and stolen the answers to the chemistry regents, and either started selling them or just passing them around. the new york post got a hold of a copy and printed the answer key on the front page of its paper. by the time i got to school that morning to take the sequential math three (aka, advanced algebra) a few kids had the post on them. halfway through the exam there was an announcement - the chemistry regents had been cancelled.
cancelled. everyone looks around at each other for a moment in wonderment. could this be possible? the test just, wasn't an issue anymore? it was true. and my teacher, in testament to his coolness (after such experiments such as lighting a pickle and creating a colored smoke bomb) decided he would just average up our test grades and labs and call it a day.
now not only is this every students dream, at least in high school, but this was my salvation. i had struggled through that class all year (were classes on high school a full year or a semester, i can not believe i can not remember....?) failed tons of quizzes, a test or two, struggled through a lot of my labs. there was just something about chemistry i could not understand. i read my chapters, came in once or twice a week for extra help early in the mornings, i was genuinely trying. but i was not remotely confidant going into that test, in fact, i was pretty nervous i was going to fail.
as soon as the sequential three regents was over, i booked over to the chemistry classroom and sought out my teacher. he was there and told me that he planned on averaging out everyone's year (half year?) long grades. i held my breath. good lord, would i pass?
in fact, only because of all my effort, the teacher passed me with a D. i can still clearly remember the blood rushing to my head when i realized i was finished and i had passed. i was kind of floating when i walked out the door of the classroom, and i have a vivid mental picture of how the early afternoon sun was hitting the orange lockers in front of the room. so even though i never really learned chemistry, i managed to squeak by and pass.
actually, i guess that explains a lot in my life lately, no chemistry...
Sunday, February 26, 2006 - scary-aoke
last night i went to one of those korean karaoke bars with private rooms on 32nd street, which was a fun but somewhat unsettling experience. the controls were all in korean, so a couple of times when we tried to program songs in or try to get applause (they had an applause button!) we would shut down the system. instead of the typical cheesy "plot goes along with the lyrics" background video they usually have, there were vacation videos, a lot of them looking homemade, some of korea but others of london, paris and hawaii? (the funniest being a bunch of poylensian men in skirts dancing on a beach) after every song a fast-talking female korean disembodied voice gave you a "score" but since all the text that went along with the number, which was always between 84 and 92, was in korean, it was impossible to decipher what exactly determined the scoring.
what i found most peculiar was the fact that songs which were so clearly remakes, were listed under the artists that remade them. for example, "hallelujah" was credited to "shrek," rather then leonard cohen, or even more recently, jeff buckley. but perhaps the biggest travesty, "you can't hurry love' was credited to PHIL COLLINS.
it should be said that back in 2000 i could not stop listening to the supreme's greatest hits (a ginourmous 21 song cd) for a few months straight. my friend tim had brought it with us on a three day weekend trip that 10 of us took to vermont. it was a three hour road trip to a ski cabin in the middle of august for a good friend's wedding, and we made the most of the time we had there. it felts like a mini-vacation, complete with big family style dinners, table "surfing," trivial pursuit, and lots of beer. the supremes provided the soundtrack for the whole trip. i was obsessed with that cd after that weekend, and still have intense emotions over those songs.
so to hear diana ross's heartfelt life lessons (disguised as an r&b song) credited to phil collins, who i think covered it for a bad movie soundtrack, was inexcusable. from now on i'm sticking to the miale's carefully organized (by artist, song and genre) list, i am certain mrs.miale knows her motown.
cause as long as you know who really sings it, its a great karaoke song: The Supremes You Can't Hurry Love Lyrics
ps. i also learned that judas priest's "you got another thing comin..." although total fun played on guitar hero, does not go over as well sung with giggly sorority girls who favor songs from disney movies and "grease".
what i found most peculiar was the fact that songs which were so clearly remakes, were listed under the artists that remade them. for example, "hallelujah" was credited to "shrek," rather then leonard cohen, or even more recently, jeff buckley. but perhaps the biggest travesty, "you can't hurry love' was credited to PHIL COLLINS.
it should be said that back in 2000 i could not stop listening to the supreme's greatest hits (a ginourmous 21 song cd) for a few months straight. my friend tim had brought it with us on a three day weekend trip that 10 of us took to vermont. it was a three hour road trip to a ski cabin in the middle of august for a good friend's wedding, and we made the most of the time we had there. it felts like a mini-vacation, complete with big family style dinners, table "surfing," trivial pursuit, and lots of beer. the supremes provided the soundtrack for the whole trip. i was obsessed with that cd after that weekend, and still have intense emotions over those songs.
so to hear diana ross's heartfelt life lessons (disguised as an r&b song) credited to phil collins, who i think covered it for a bad movie soundtrack, was inexcusable. from now on i'm sticking to the miale's carefully organized (by artist, song and genre) list, i am certain mrs.miale knows her motown.
cause as long as you know who really sings it, its a great karaoke song: The Supremes You Can't Hurry Love Lyrics
ps. i also learned that judas priest's "you got another thing comin..." although total fun played on guitar hero, does not go over as well sung with giggly sorority girls who favor songs from disney movies and "grease".
Monday, February 20, 2006 - pretty weak
"... the guy wouldn't confront me. i like confrontation. if i've offended you, let me know. don't call it in and not leave your name. i just think that's pretty weak." - henry rollins
it seems that lately, honest behavior is very hard to find. and that saddens me, because i would rather hear something unpleasant then be lied to.
i'm not talking little white lies, like telling someone you like their shirt even though its ugly, but the full on, honest-to-god-truth-when-it-counts is becoming a scarcity.
i'd like to think i'm honest, i'm not perfect, but i try to be honest with myself and others. it doesn't always happen, perhaps because sometimes it's just easier not to say anything or to be a little false then to say something hurtful. but lately it seems like everywhere i turn there is "friend" is not being honest with me about how they feel towards me, or a situation that effects me. there is a lot of propaganda out there, and most of the time, it is someone else trying to make themselves feel better about something that is going on, and these lies are something they are not only telling themselves (and believing) but others.
i function on a very logical level, and can handle bad news very well, and process it into my life. if i am sincere to you, i expect sincerity back. if i treat you with respect, i expect to be respected in return. if i don't like you or your actions very much, i might keep it to myself, but i certainly would not say something to anyone else that i would not say to your face. whether you be my best friend or my worst enemy.
it seems to me that people don't always understand that actions speak louder then words. words are cheap, it's only the weight you put behind words that carries any validity. you can tell someone what you think they want to hear from you, but if you can't back it up, it's a lie. you can tell other people what your take on a situation is, and skew your opinion to make yourself look better (maybe even to yourself) but that's still a lie. if you are nice to someone's face but then say not nice things about them behind his or her back, that's lying. when you tell yourself that something is true only because you want your actions to be perceived in a certain light, when your true motivation for those actions are veiled, that indeed is still a lie.
kinda like passive aggressive myspacing. kinda like having a conversation with someone, ostensibly to get your "feelings" out, but actually just wanting to pointedly insinuate something. kinda like projecting your insecurities on someone else at his or her expense to make yourself feel better. kinda like getting entangled with other people's business so you don't have to worry so much about your own. kinda like emoting through this self-referential bullshit blog....
i soothe myself with the fact that i have many more non-bullshit, honest people in my life then i do lying liars. as that old clich goes, "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me."
meet the old boss, the same as the new boss..
it seems that lately, honest behavior is very hard to find. and that saddens me, because i would rather hear something unpleasant then be lied to.
i'm not talking little white lies, like telling someone you like their shirt even though its ugly, but the full on, honest-to-god-truth-when-it-counts is becoming a scarcity.
i'd like to think i'm honest, i'm not perfect, but i try to be honest with myself and others. it doesn't always happen, perhaps because sometimes it's just easier not to say anything or to be a little false then to say something hurtful. but lately it seems like everywhere i turn there is "friend" is not being honest with me about how they feel towards me, or a situation that effects me. there is a lot of propaganda out there, and most of the time, it is someone else trying to make themselves feel better about something that is going on, and these lies are something they are not only telling themselves (and believing) but others.
i function on a very logical level, and can handle bad news very well, and process it into my life. if i am sincere to you, i expect sincerity back. if i treat you with respect, i expect to be respected in return. if i don't like you or your actions very much, i might keep it to myself, but i certainly would not say something to anyone else that i would not say to your face. whether you be my best friend or my worst enemy.
it seems to me that people don't always understand that actions speak louder then words. words are cheap, it's only the weight you put behind words that carries any validity. you can tell someone what you think they want to hear from you, but if you can't back it up, it's a lie. you can tell other people what your take on a situation is, and skew your opinion to make yourself look better (maybe even to yourself) but that's still a lie. if you are nice to someone's face but then say not nice things about them behind his or her back, that's lying. when you tell yourself that something is true only because you want your actions to be perceived in a certain light, when your true motivation for those actions are veiled, that indeed is still a lie.
kinda like passive aggressive myspacing. kinda like having a conversation with someone, ostensibly to get your "feelings" out, but actually just wanting to pointedly insinuate something. kinda like projecting your insecurities on someone else at his or her expense to make yourself feel better. kinda like getting entangled with other people's business so you don't have to worry so much about your own. kinda like emoting through this self-referential bullshit blog....
i soothe myself with the fact that i have many more non-bullshit, honest people in my life then i do lying liars. as that old clich goes, "fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me."
meet the old boss, the same as the new boss..
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 - this one is for Franz...HARD ROCK ZOMBIES
i hate really intense scary movies, i am a big chicken, but for some reason i LOVE so-bad-that-its-good early era "scary" movies. my ex knew this, and was as down on v-day as i was for the stupidity of the holiday, and in a romantic gesture five years ago, got "the wicker man" a truly superb "scary" movie about pagen cults and a "scary" movie filmed in esperanto staring william shatner for us to watch on valentines day. and thus a tradition was started.
this year, the zombie/cult movies i watched were awesomly "scary" and fantastic.
for franz, a review of HARD ROCK ZOMBIES which, as you will see, lived up to its title, here are all the reason this movie rocked (pun intented)
SPOILERS - IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THIS DO NOT READ MORE
- on the guitar lick that drives the movie - "what's that guitar lick man?" "I got it from a book" "a who?"
- the mosquitos are zombies too
- the "redneck" town so obviously has palm trees
- the first song by the "hard rockers" sounds like billy ocean
- one of the heavy metal band members (pre-zombification) does mime in their video
- in a backless teal shirt, no less!
- foreshadowing - "the only way you are going to miss this concert is if you are dead" "even dead, i can feel it"
- german sex manics who let their mutatated grandchildren watch
- everyones "southern" accent is different and bad
- lead singer to 16 year old groupie "i thought about you all day, i wrote a song about you, the least you can do is tell me your name..."
- in the next scene, he sings this song and all the other band members know the words/music
- on the mutant grandchild - "did you see that guy with ugly all over his face?"
- the sheriff is fat, greasy and wears sunglasses inside and at night
- on the scary dude - "he looks like he munches babies"
- disembodied hand in a jar plays bass chords
- on heavy metal- "my national enquirer said that musicians can't play a note unless they eat drugs
- on masterbation - "they visualiz in non-curicular fantasies and proceed to self-abuse!" "self abuse, i remember that, i remember when we had that goat, that BIG goat"
- total skinamax shower scene
- on the shower scene "you are so romantic...you must go to movies a lot"
- great motage of killing/destroying rock and roll/video vixen zombie
- instead of a chainsaw, they get chased with a weed wacker
- in a night scene, they forget to use a filter and its light out
- the zombie/rockers were jesse, tommy, robby and chuck
- hitler is in this movie. seriously. hitler
- when the rockers turn into zombies they change into cooler rock star outfits
- for no reason at all, they have an old man come out to give exposition, and he is wearing robes and carrying a staff.. in the south?
- when the band finally plays the infamous concert, the song sounds like chicago
- on killing the zombies - "no, its true, it happened in los angeles" "come on! where did they find a virgin in la?
- you can practically hear the director shouting "slower boys, do it slower, you're supposed to be zombies!"
- on self-deprication - "that sounds like a cheap movie" "this whole day seems like a cheap movie"
- good blocking just counts for so much in fight scenes
- zombie humor - "i mean, don't bite my head off, but.... oh"
- midget nazi zombies
- midget nazi zombie chase scene
- midget nazi zombie chase scene set to bennie hill type music
- rednecks on zombies - "they feed off live flesh" "uh yeh, we noticed that..."
- agent on phone, upon hearing the rocker zombies - "get me four class-a contracts right away, you dig? i don't care if you're in jail, you're always in jail...listen, you're my lawyer, you draw up those contracts if i have to bust you out of jail"
- the last song "straight edge hell" was actually pretty awesome
- the video vixen zombie gets really annoying
- virginal 16 year song is dead-icated too (ha ha) ends the movie holding hands with zombie lead singer... a hand sticking out of his grave
- in the credits there is an actor credited as "hitler"
TWO THUMBS UP! a true v-day classic
this year, the zombie/cult movies i watched were awesomly "scary" and fantastic.
for franz, a review of HARD ROCK ZOMBIES which, as you will see, lived up to its title, here are all the reason this movie rocked (pun intented)
SPOILERS - IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THIS DO NOT READ MORE
- on the guitar lick that drives the movie - "what's that guitar lick man?" "I got it from a book" "a who?"
- the mosquitos are zombies too
- the "redneck" town so obviously has palm trees
- the first song by the "hard rockers" sounds like billy ocean
- one of the heavy metal band members (pre-zombification) does mime in their video
- in a backless teal shirt, no less!
- foreshadowing - "the only way you are going to miss this concert is if you are dead" "even dead, i can feel it"
- german sex manics who let their mutatated grandchildren watch
- everyones "southern" accent is different and bad
- lead singer to 16 year old groupie "i thought about you all day, i wrote a song about you, the least you can do is tell me your name..."
- in the next scene, he sings this song and all the other band members know the words/music
- on the mutant grandchild - "did you see that guy with ugly all over his face?"
- the sheriff is fat, greasy and wears sunglasses inside and at night
- on the scary dude - "he looks like he munches babies"
- disembodied hand in a jar plays bass chords
- on heavy metal- "my national enquirer said that musicians can't play a note unless they eat drugs
- on masterbation - "they visualiz in non-curicular fantasies and proceed to self-abuse!" "self abuse, i remember that, i remember when we had that goat, that BIG goat"
- total skinamax shower scene
- on the shower scene "you are so romantic...you must go to movies a lot"
- great motage of killing/destroying rock and roll/video vixen zombie
- instead of a chainsaw, they get chased with a weed wacker
- in a night scene, they forget to use a filter and its light out
- the zombie/rockers were jesse, tommy, robby and chuck
- hitler is in this movie. seriously. hitler
- when the rockers turn into zombies they change into cooler rock star outfits
- for no reason at all, they have an old man come out to give exposition, and he is wearing robes and carrying a staff.. in the south?
- when the band finally plays the infamous concert, the song sounds like chicago
- on killing the zombies - "no, its true, it happened in los angeles" "come on! where did they find a virgin in la?
- you can practically hear the director shouting "slower boys, do it slower, you're supposed to be zombies!"
- on self-deprication - "that sounds like a cheap movie" "this whole day seems like a cheap movie"
- good blocking just counts for so much in fight scenes
- zombie humor - "i mean, don't bite my head off, but.... oh"
- midget nazi zombies
- midget nazi zombie chase scene
- midget nazi zombie chase scene set to bennie hill type music
- rednecks on zombies - "they feed off live flesh" "uh yeh, we noticed that..."
- agent on phone, upon hearing the rocker zombies - "get me four class-a contracts right away, you dig? i don't care if you're in jail, you're always in jail...listen, you're my lawyer, you draw up those contracts if i have to bust you out of jail"
- the last song "straight edge hell" was actually pretty awesome
- the video vixen zombie gets really annoying
- virginal 16 year song is dead-icated too (ha ha) ends the movie holding hands with zombie lead singer... a hand sticking out of his grave
- in the credits there is an actor credited as "hitler"
TWO THUMBS UP! a true v-day classic
Wednesday, February 08, 2006 - 'the electric company' pinball machine failed me
i have a group of friends who live out in NJ (ok, there are some city stragglers in the mix, but 95 percent this group is in the garden state) that seem to know me pretty well. we've known each other for years, some for 10plus , others for just a few, but by nature of the fact that we all share common interests, as well as the fact that a lot of the times we see each other are on sanctioned, three to ten days trips together, we're mad close.
its a well documented fact that no one is perfect, and if you know me well, you probably are aware of my many imperfections. one of the worst is my inability to do math. i'm not talking about tearing up in the checkout line cause i don't know the value of the bills in my hand, but next time we're at a restaurant, watch me just wait for someone else to figure out the check. it always seemed kinda of pathetic that no red flags were ever raised when i was reading two grade levels ahead but in remedial math.
so, although i was able to struggle through school, taking three times as long as everyone else on my math problems, memorizing the times tables editecally, so as to have no real idea of their meaning beyond flashcards, struggling, until finally reaching geometry and algebra, which blessedly had more to do with logic then counting, i was done.
but this hinders me in certain areas of life, the aforementioned restaurant check avoidance, trying to bet at the horse track, and in the most sanctioned of card games, 99
card games play a big part of this crew in nj's social atmosphere, and 99 is the king of card games to which all others must bow. if you are not familiar with the game (we just explained the principals to an amused/amazed smitty last weekend) it revolves primarily around counting. each number card stands for its own value, ace can be either one or eleven, kings are zero, jacks reverse and queens are automatic 69.
the idea of the game is to count up to 99, and the person that breaks 99 "wins" which means they have the distinction of finishing a beer before the next "winner" is crowned. you can play it very strategically, if you choose, or just for laughs, or as an official tournament, all of which have a time and place. but 99 is always played. a lot. and counting is an essential component. i shunned 99 for years, it not that i couldn't figure out 78 plus 6 in my head (84, see, i got it, it just took me numerous seconds and then i double checked my math on my fingers) but when you are slapping down cards at a furious pace, trying to thwart "winner" number one by crowning a second "winner" before they are done with their "prize," you need to count fast.
since i do not enjoy counting for fun, well, at all, this does not seem to be the game for me. in fact, i resisted for an awfully long time because it just didn't make sense that i would spend time doing something that requires me to count on purpose for fun. but i was enticed to play years ago with the allowance that whomever sits to my left counts my cards for me. its been remarked that you can tell i've been playing awhile if i try to count for myself. but my lack of swiftness on the count, the fact that if i do attempt i'm usually wrong and otherwise, have to rely on someone else to play has never really endeared 99 to me like my other friends.
i had the opportunity on monday night to play cards, and when i saw 99 was on the menu, i was somewhat reluctant, but thanks to a shitty day at work, the need for a cocktail and the lure of a friend to commiserate with, i decided to pop in. not only was 99 nowhere in site, i learned what must quite possibly be one of the most entertaining card games i've encountered - Spanish Popeye. (yes, it deserves capitals)
invented by jesse f., a man who has impressed me immediately, Spanish Popeye is based on the ruling that porn shops have to have at least 60 percent material other then porn in order to operate as a legitimate business, and there was a shop up in harlem which just kept the requisite amount of non-porn in the form of multiple copies of spanish popeye.
i am loath to reveal the details of this ridiculously fun and crafty game, as it is still in "beta-testing" and since i did not invent it, it's really not my place. but this game, i feel, is worthy of usurping 99, and involves absolutely no counting whatsoever.
that being said, 4 x 9 = 36
FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER
1. monty python and the holy grail
2. mallrats
3. party girl
4. wet hot american summer
FOUR CITIES YOU'VE LIVED IN:
1. the 'burg
2. dix hills
3. beautiful downtown poughkeepsie
4. rancho palos verdes
FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE
1. market research in a mall
2. publicist
3. fill-in secretary
4. waitress at a catering hall
FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH
1. lost
2. veronica mars
3. 24
4. family guy
FOUR PLACES YOU'VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. aspen, colorado
2. park city, utah
3. lake tahoe, california
4. juneau, alaska
FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
1. yahoosports.com
2. gofugyourself.com
3. wwtdd.com
4. mail.yahoo.com
FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
1. french fries
2. sevruga caviar
3. stinky cheese
4. grilled cheeseburger
FOUR SCHOOLS YOU'VE ATTENDED:
1. marist college
2. rolling hills high school
3. pamenok elementary school
4. lou ekus media training school
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. a tall, snow covered mountain
2. a warm, sunny beach
3. The Compound
4. playing Spanish Popeye with friends
its a well documented fact that no one is perfect, and if you know me well, you probably are aware of my many imperfections. one of the worst is my inability to do math. i'm not talking about tearing up in the checkout line cause i don't know the value of the bills in my hand, but next time we're at a restaurant, watch me just wait for someone else to figure out the check. it always seemed kinda of pathetic that no red flags were ever raised when i was reading two grade levels ahead but in remedial math.
so, although i was able to struggle through school, taking three times as long as everyone else on my math problems, memorizing the times tables editecally, so as to have no real idea of their meaning beyond flashcards, struggling, until finally reaching geometry and algebra, which blessedly had more to do with logic then counting, i was done.
but this hinders me in certain areas of life, the aforementioned restaurant check avoidance, trying to bet at the horse track, and in the most sanctioned of card games, 99
card games play a big part of this crew in nj's social atmosphere, and 99 is the king of card games to which all others must bow. if you are not familiar with the game (we just explained the principals to an amused/amazed smitty last weekend) it revolves primarily around counting. each number card stands for its own value, ace can be either one or eleven, kings are zero, jacks reverse and queens are automatic 69.
the idea of the game is to count up to 99, and the person that breaks 99 "wins" which means they have the distinction of finishing a beer before the next "winner" is crowned. you can play it very strategically, if you choose, or just for laughs, or as an official tournament, all of which have a time and place. but 99 is always played. a lot. and counting is an essential component. i shunned 99 for years, it not that i couldn't figure out 78 plus 6 in my head (84, see, i got it, it just took me numerous seconds and then i double checked my math on my fingers) but when you are slapping down cards at a furious pace, trying to thwart "winner" number one by crowning a second "winner" before they are done with their "prize," you need to count fast.
since i do not enjoy counting for fun, well, at all, this does not seem to be the game for me. in fact, i resisted for an awfully long time because it just didn't make sense that i would spend time doing something that requires me to count on purpose for fun. but i was enticed to play years ago with the allowance that whomever sits to my left counts my cards for me. its been remarked that you can tell i've been playing awhile if i try to count for myself. but my lack of swiftness on the count, the fact that if i do attempt i'm usually wrong and otherwise, have to rely on someone else to play has never really endeared 99 to me like my other friends.
i had the opportunity on monday night to play cards, and when i saw 99 was on the menu, i was somewhat reluctant, but thanks to a shitty day at work, the need for a cocktail and the lure of a friend to commiserate with, i decided to pop in. not only was 99 nowhere in site, i learned what must quite possibly be one of the most entertaining card games i've encountered - Spanish Popeye. (yes, it deserves capitals)
invented by jesse f., a man who has impressed me immediately, Spanish Popeye is based on the ruling that porn shops have to have at least 60 percent material other then porn in order to operate as a legitimate business, and there was a shop up in harlem which just kept the requisite amount of non-porn in the form of multiple copies of spanish popeye.
i am loath to reveal the details of this ridiculously fun and crafty game, as it is still in "beta-testing" and since i did not invent it, it's really not my place. but this game, i feel, is worthy of usurping 99, and involves absolutely no counting whatsoever.
that being said, 4 x 9 = 36
FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER
1. monty python and the holy grail
2. mallrats
3. party girl
4. wet hot american summer
FOUR CITIES YOU'VE LIVED IN:
1. the 'burg
2. dix hills
3. beautiful downtown poughkeepsie
4. rancho palos verdes
FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE
1. market research in a mall
2. publicist
3. fill-in secretary
4. waitress at a catering hall
FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH
1. lost
2. veronica mars
3. 24
4. family guy
FOUR PLACES YOU'VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. aspen, colorado
2. park city, utah
3. lake tahoe, california
4. juneau, alaska
FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
1. yahoosports.com
2. gofugyourself.com
3. wwtdd.com
4. mail.yahoo.com
FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
1. french fries
2. sevruga caviar
3. stinky cheese
4. grilled cheeseburger
FOUR SCHOOLS YOU'VE ATTENDED:
1. marist college
2. rolling hills high school
3. pamenok elementary school
4. lou ekus media training school
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. a tall, snow covered mountain
2. a warm, sunny beach
3. The Compound
4. playing Spanish Popeye with friends
Friday, December 30, 2005 - aw nuts
aw nuts
i have been home now for almost 24 stir-crazy hours, because of an allergic reaction which caused my lips to swell in direct proportion to my vanity. its gross. it hurts as well, a picture of it is even gross
this hideousness is a direct effect from the fact that I am allergic to nuts. very very very allergic, which is why almost a day later i am still swelled up from only eating lettuce that touched a nut... had i eaten the actual nut the consequences would have been worse then a minor deformity. think shots of adrenaline and uma thurman in pulp fiction
i'm only allergic to tree nuts, not peanuts, (which are not actually nuts but legumes, which are beans) and i'm not allergic to coconut, which is a fruit, but i find it hideously disgusting.
i am, in fact, so deathly allergic, if i actually eat nuts, i die.
franz has already taken this into consideration and on his birthday tried to bribe a waiter to put nuts in my food to try and take me out of the running for the failed death pact between me, franz, hans, lil d and laurenn (we were to each put $1k into a secret account and the last person alive would get the jackpot) but rescinded when he realized i hadn't yet put my money into the account.
once, a chef client of mine served me this dish that was drizzled with the oil of some obscure nut from southeast asia, which is fed to goats, expressed, cleaned, and made in to oil. (wow, just yesterday i had to answer what the weirdest thing i've ever eaten was, and i totally forgot about eating what was basically goat shit oil...) i had one bite, started having a reaction, asked him what was in it, he tells me it was that nut oil. He actually seemed surprised when i freaked out, and casually said, "well, i didn't know you were allergic to *that* kind of nut..." (he was pretty famous, and therefore, a bit of a pompous ass) ironically enough i was dining with an editor who had been with me two years early when a similar "misunderstanding" had taken place. the editor later remarked i was "dangerous to know" which i thought was a gross overstatement, considering my dying would not put him into any danger.
when i traveled around campania, i had a really hard time, for someone reason the consequences of an allergy didn't translate into italian, and restaurants did not take me seriously. (weirdest non-translation, pine nuts, the essential ingredient to pesto, translates into pignoli, dropping the "nut" from the word, rendering it dangerous for someone trying very hard to avoid it) after a close call on the second night, where a waiter swore up and down that there were no nuts in my meal, but another person at my table bit into the main dish first to find it swimming with walnuts (i was too busy drinking, which saved my life), the aforementioned person decided they were going to be my official taster for the remained of the 10 days in Italy. no food was to pass my lips until he had tried it first and declared it safe. i trusted him because he was a chef, and well, i had no other choice. it was not until i returned home and was recounting my luck at his generosity that i found out he was not just *a* chef, he was *the* chef, basically the final word in Italian cuisine on the east coast. let it be said that all famous chefs are not pompous asses, with roberto, i was able to relax and actually enjoy the food knowing i got the thumbs up that it was ok.
one final note on the nut allergy: i have heard all the jokes equating male genitalia and crazy people to nuts, i've been on the planet a few decades, they are no longer original, just do yourself a favor, stop before you embarrass yourself.
although those fake cans of nuts which really have spring loaded fabric snakes in them are still pretty funny
i have been home now for almost 24 stir-crazy hours, because of an allergic reaction which caused my lips to swell in direct proportion to my vanity. its gross. it hurts as well, a picture of it is even gross
this hideousness is a direct effect from the fact that I am allergic to nuts. very very very allergic, which is why almost a day later i am still swelled up from only eating lettuce that touched a nut... had i eaten the actual nut the consequences would have been worse then a minor deformity. think shots of adrenaline and uma thurman in pulp fiction
i'm only allergic to tree nuts, not peanuts, (which are not actually nuts but legumes, which are beans) and i'm not allergic to coconut, which is a fruit, but i find it hideously disgusting.
i am, in fact, so deathly allergic, if i actually eat nuts, i die.
franz has already taken this into consideration and on his birthday tried to bribe a waiter to put nuts in my food to try and take me out of the running for the failed death pact between me, franz, hans, lil d and laurenn (we were to each put $1k into a secret account and the last person alive would get the jackpot) but rescinded when he realized i hadn't yet put my money into the account.
once, a chef client of mine served me this dish that was drizzled with the oil of some obscure nut from southeast asia, which is fed to goats, expressed, cleaned, and made in to oil. (wow, just yesterday i had to answer what the weirdest thing i've ever eaten was, and i totally forgot about eating what was basically goat shit oil...) i had one bite, started having a reaction, asked him what was in it, he tells me it was that nut oil. He actually seemed surprised when i freaked out, and casually said, "well, i didn't know you were allergic to *that* kind of nut..." (he was pretty famous, and therefore, a bit of a pompous ass) ironically enough i was dining with an editor who had been with me two years early when a similar "misunderstanding" had taken place. the editor later remarked i was "dangerous to know" which i thought was a gross overstatement, considering my dying would not put him into any danger.
when i traveled around campania, i had a really hard time, for someone reason the consequences of an allergy didn't translate into italian, and restaurants did not take me seriously. (weirdest non-translation, pine nuts, the essential ingredient to pesto, translates into pignoli, dropping the "nut" from the word, rendering it dangerous for someone trying very hard to avoid it) after a close call on the second night, where a waiter swore up and down that there were no nuts in my meal, but another person at my table bit into the main dish first to find it swimming with walnuts (i was too busy drinking, which saved my life), the aforementioned person decided they were going to be my official taster for the remained of the 10 days in Italy. no food was to pass my lips until he had tried it first and declared it safe. i trusted him because he was a chef, and well, i had no other choice. it was not until i returned home and was recounting my luck at his generosity that i found out he was not just *a* chef, he was *the* chef, basically the final word in Italian cuisine on the east coast. let it be said that all famous chefs are not pompous asses, with roberto, i was able to relax and actually enjoy the food knowing i got the thumbs up that it was ok.
one final note on the nut allergy: i have heard all the jokes equating male genitalia and crazy people to nuts, i've been on the planet a few decades, they are no longer original, just do yourself a favor, stop before you embarrass yourself.
although those fake cans of nuts which really have spring loaded fabric snakes in them are still pretty funny
Tuesday, December 27, 2005 - 2005 in notes
Thanks to Brandon for the format, which I ammended a tad, here is 2005 as heard through my ears....
TOP 10 ALBUMS OF 2005 - not necessarily all released in 2005, but this is the year I got into them
1. Spoon – Gimmie Fiction
2. Of Montreal - Sundatlantic Twins
3. National - Alligator
4. Beck – Guerro
5. Wilco - Ghost is Born
6. And You Will... - Worlds Apart
7. Brendon Benson - Alternative to Love
8. Black Keys - Rubber Factory
9. Starflyer 59 - Leave Here a Stranger
10. Rogue Wave – Descended Like Vultures
BEST ALBUM THAT DOESN'T ACTUALLY EXIST
Mellowdrone - singles from their unreleased and upcoming albums
SINGLE OF YEAR
First Day of my Life - Bright Eyes
BIGGEST DISSAPOINTMENT
Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah - I just don't get it, I don't like it, and damn, they are every freaking everywhere! (note: today, 12/28/05, i just got timeoutny in the mail and guess who is on the cover... who the hell does this band know?)
FAVORITE MINOR LABEL NYC BANDS
The Swedes
Ceramic
GUILTY PLEASURE
Ryan Adams - Cold Roses - I did not want to like this album, but damn, it just gets stuck in your head...
BANDS REALLY DIG THAT I KNOW THE MEMBERS
Fuzzplug
Julia Marvel
Breakup Breakdown (formerly The Breakup)
FIVE BEST LIVE SHOWS
1. And you will... - Irving Plaza
2. Murphy's Law/Supersuckers - Webster Hall
3. Hot Snakes - Bowery Ballroom
4. National - Maxwell's
5. The Black Keys - Warsaw
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Kaiser Chiefs - Employment
Inouk - No Danger
Hold Steady - Separation Sunday
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene
Minus the Bear - Menso El Oso
Marah - If You Didn't Laugh You'd Cry
James Blunt - Back to Bedlam
The Doves - Some Cities
Mates of State - Team Boo
Looking forward to new releases and lots of great shows in 2006! Starting with Act Local fundraiser January 15, mark your calendars people!!!
TOP 10 ALBUMS OF 2005 - not necessarily all released in 2005, but this is the year I got into them
1. Spoon – Gimmie Fiction
2. Of Montreal - Sundatlantic Twins
3. National - Alligator
4. Beck – Guerro
5. Wilco - Ghost is Born
6. And You Will... - Worlds Apart
7. Brendon Benson - Alternative to Love
8. Black Keys - Rubber Factory
9. Starflyer 59 - Leave Here a Stranger
10. Rogue Wave – Descended Like Vultures
BEST ALBUM THAT DOESN'T ACTUALLY EXIST
Mellowdrone - singles from their unreleased and upcoming albums
SINGLE OF YEAR
First Day of my Life - Bright Eyes
BIGGEST DISSAPOINTMENT
Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah - I just don't get it, I don't like it, and damn, they are every freaking everywhere! (note: today, 12/28/05, i just got timeoutny in the mail and guess who is on the cover... who the hell does this band know?)
FAVORITE MINOR LABEL NYC BANDS
The Swedes
Ceramic
GUILTY PLEASURE
Ryan Adams - Cold Roses - I did not want to like this album, but damn, it just gets stuck in your head...
BANDS REALLY DIG THAT I KNOW THE MEMBERS
Fuzzplug
Julia Marvel
Breakup Breakdown (formerly The Breakup)
FIVE BEST LIVE SHOWS
1. And you will... - Irving Plaza
2. Murphy's Law/Supersuckers - Webster Hall
3. Hot Snakes - Bowery Ballroom
4. National - Maxwell's
5. The Black Keys - Warsaw
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Kaiser Chiefs - Employment
Inouk - No Danger
Hold Steady - Separation Sunday
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
Broken Social Scene - Broken Social Scene
Minus the Bear - Menso El Oso
Marah - If You Didn't Laugh You'd Cry
James Blunt - Back to Bedlam
The Doves - Some Cities
Mates of State - Team Boo
Looking forward to new releases and lots of great shows in 2006! Starting with Act Local fundraiser January 15, mark your calendars people!!!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005 - holy mary, mother of ch$@.%!
I feel very virtuous
It has nothing to do with my lifestyle as of late, its the holidays and damn, its about as debaucherous as any.... parties, dinners, catching up with old friends, basically its like all the vices rolled into one. Just think of it as sex, drugs and rock and roll personified.
But today there is a revelation; apparently, rock and roll is a religion. It started with an offhand conversation with Mikki discussing the holiday/slash religion party costume party at Hot Rocks, and she mentioned that she was going to dress up like a rocker because that was her religion.
I thought it was humorous until I realized every online survey or profile I've ever filled out when it asks for religion I write a quote from Kurt Vonnegut jr., which reads, "music proves the existence of God."
When people usually ask/joke/make fun of me for the fact that I can talk, read and listen to music incessantly and without provocation, I usually just joke back its my "hobby" or "obsession."
Of course, most obsessions have evangelistic overtones.
This was proved when today, in my walk over back over the Williamsburg Bridge to my house, I needed to stop by Kmart to purchase a $20 CD player because the thought of walking home without good music seemed impossible. And the only CD I had in my office (everything else is on the hard drive) was the new Starflyer 59. (thx Hans and Michelle!!)
Great album (except for the electric drums) but Starflyer 59... total Jesus freaks. They sing about him in at least four songs.
So I get over the bridge, start wrapping my head around the fact that God is rock and roll, and I am much more religious then I ever thought I was.
At the Hot Rocks party (tangent: LauRenn and Sheri, damn girls, good times!), the house band, LauRenn's friends, were called Sin Destroyer...
Sin Destroyer, with a "priest" as a lead singer and three elves on guitar, along with having the most kick ass heavy metal guitar I have heard in awhile, also loves Jesus. Too much. So much, that I didn't realize it was a joke at first and thought that they were serious and felt bad for laughing, which I confided in Nipple who informed me they were, in fact a concept band. Choruses like, "what would Jesus do, he would rock (rock!)" and "it took you seven days to make the world (and one day for me to love you)" drove home the point that yes, I am a worshiper. At least of very talented fingers.
With any luck, this has saved me from going to hell. Or at least bought me some time. Maybe I'm only getting a few years in purgatory for drinking with Murphy's Law, wasting years hanging out with American Standard, going to Dave Weston's house and not being to get up for church on Sunday cause I was out too late at thousands of concerts including Tommy Rockstar's 30th birthday festival. Maybe that is why the only time of year I find myself in a catholic church is when my mother *sings* at midnight mass. I also find it very comforting that Mikki went to St. John Fisher too.
Long live rock and roll, Christ be praised!
(Wait-- does worshiping Frank Black constitute a false idol?)
It has nothing to do with my lifestyle as of late, its the holidays and damn, its about as debaucherous as any.... parties, dinners, catching up with old friends, basically its like all the vices rolled into one. Just think of it as sex, drugs and rock and roll personified.
But today there is a revelation; apparently, rock and roll is a religion. It started with an offhand conversation with Mikki discussing the holiday/slash religion party costume party at Hot Rocks, and she mentioned that she was going to dress up like a rocker because that was her religion.
I thought it was humorous until I realized every online survey or profile I've ever filled out when it asks for religion I write a quote from Kurt Vonnegut jr., which reads, "music proves the existence of God."
When people usually ask/joke/make fun of me for the fact that I can talk, read and listen to music incessantly and without provocation, I usually just joke back its my "hobby" or "obsession."
Of course, most obsessions have evangelistic overtones.
This was proved when today, in my walk over back over the Williamsburg Bridge to my house, I needed to stop by Kmart to purchase a $20 CD player because the thought of walking home without good music seemed impossible. And the only CD I had in my office (everything else is on the hard drive) was the new Starflyer 59. (thx Hans and Michelle!!)
Great album (except for the electric drums) but Starflyer 59... total Jesus freaks. They sing about him in at least four songs.
So I get over the bridge, start wrapping my head around the fact that God is rock and roll, and I am much more religious then I ever thought I was.
At the Hot Rocks party (tangent: LauRenn and Sheri, damn girls, good times!), the house band, LauRenn's friends, were called Sin Destroyer...
Sin Destroyer, with a "priest" as a lead singer and three elves on guitar, along with having the most kick ass heavy metal guitar I have heard in awhile, also loves Jesus. Too much. So much, that I didn't realize it was a joke at first and thought that they were serious and felt bad for laughing, which I confided in Nipple who informed me they were, in fact a concept band. Choruses like, "what would Jesus do, he would rock (rock!)" and "it took you seven days to make the world (and one day for me to love you)" drove home the point that yes, I am a worshiper. At least of very talented fingers.
With any luck, this has saved me from going to hell. Or at least bought me some time. Maybe I'm only getting a few years in purgatory for drinking with Murphy's Law, wasting years hanging out with American Standard, going to Dave Weston's house and not being to get up for church on Sunday cause I was out too late at thousands of concerts including Tommy Rockstar's 30th birthday festival. Maybe that is why the only time of year I find myself in a catholic church is when my mother *sings* at midnight mass. I also find it very comforting that Mikki went to St. John Fisher too.
Long live rock and roll, Christ be praised!
(Wait-- does worshiping Frank Black constitute a false idol?)
Sunday, December 18, 2005 - boo hoo
After a discussion with Jackie Ro. yesterday about how it is impossible not to cry at the end of Home Alone (trigger for me, when he first sees his Mom), it made me think about more movies that by all accounts I should not sob like a 14 year old girl when I watch them, but always do. Withholding the obvious "I'm dying of a terminal illness at the end" movies, which are designed to make you cry, here are a few that turn me into a weepy mess.
- Jerry McGuire - all those men being so emotional gets to me
- The Princess Diaries - I just can't believe her transformation and then, she gets the good guy in the end!
- Chasing Amy - when he declares his love for her in the rainstorm and then when they dissolve so unhappily
- Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - technically not a movie but every time the family sees its house for the first time I cry with them out of joy
- Spy Kids - when they are reunited with their parents
- Mayor of the Sunset Strip - poor, poor, Rodney Bingenheimer
- Center Stage - but, she's (sniff) she's such a good dancer
- Rollerblade (2004 version) - because it was so bad, and so unfaithful to the original
- 61* - Oh that Roger Maris...!
- Dancer in the Dark - what about this movie *didn't* make me cry?
I'm sure that's not all but off the top of my head, there's ten good reasons to call me a sap! What are the movies that make you cry against your better judgement?
- Jerry McGuire - all those men being so emotional gets to me
- The Princess Diaries - I just can't believe her transformation and then, she gets the good guy in the end!
- Chasing Amy - when he declares his love for her in the rainstorm and then when they dissolve so unhappily
- Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - technically not a movie but every time the family sees its house for the first time I cry with them out of joy
- Spy Kids - when they are reunited with their parents
- Mayor of the Sunset Strip - poor, poor, Rodney Bingenheimer
- Center Stage - but, she's (sniff) she's such a good dancer
- Rollerblade (2004 version) - because it was so bad, and so unfaithful to the original
- 61* - Oh that Roger Maris...!
- Dancer in the Dark - what about this movie *didn't* make me cry?
I'm sure that's not all but off the top of my head, there's ten good reasons to call me a sap! What are the movies that make you cry against your better judgement?
Tuesday, November 08, 2005 - "I wish that I believed in fate, I wish I didn't sleep so late...**"
thursday night i went to see The National play at Maxwell's in slowboken, nj
i love the national, and i had been mildly disappointed when i saw them play back in june, they just didn't seem to be feeling it. i knew i would give them another shot, (especially since their new album "alligator" keeps getting better and better with each listen, those guitars, ahhh, and man, they are artists with the lyrics; melancholy, thoughtful, truthful, mildly nonsensical in a poetic way, and perfectly delivered with matt beringer's soothing growl) and boy am i glad i did. they fed off the crowd and the crowd played off them, girls throwing themselves at the band were only superceded by guy fans yelling in man crushes for them. but i swear part of their charm was the fact that *they* were enjoying playing at Maxwell's...
yeh, that was my view of the stage, this picture is taken with a crappy "objects appear much farther away then they actually are" camera phone, my view was that good, about two feet away on a riser so i could actually watch the harmonic guitar playing of bryan devendorf and the dessner brothers, not to mention catalog matt beringer's every move, it was something to feed off of, and i loved it...
and what's not to love, i've been enjoying shows at Maxwell's since i first moved to hoboken in 1994. at the time i lived across the street from sonic youth's drummer, steve shelly and when we had approached him to tell him how much we enjoyed his appearance on The Simpsons he asked if we had made it there yet. he told us it was the best part about living in hoboken, he was right.
i saw rocket from the crypt there on new years eve, easily one of my favorite shows of all time. i saw the shins there four years ago and had the "life-changing experience" discussed in garden state *in* the garden state (way before zach braft popularized them). the boys in american standard played there numerous times. ted leo has never rocked harder then when playing so close to his hometown. earimart was at their most lyric. every time i've ever trekked from manhatten to "joisey" it has been worth the trip... well, almost ever time. the one exception being when we went to see hot hot heat two years ago (when i was obsessed with makeup the breakdown) and after suffering through a generic punk band for what seems like hours, hot hot heat took the stage and played eight songs. EIGHT! they were just warming up for bowery the next day, fuckers didn't know this was the real deal... it still pisses me off.
although, the opening band were these kids called washington social club, and they were incredible, a chick bassist, which is always cool, a lead singer wailing away like iggy pop. they were powerful and great, we hung out with them afterwards and they gave us a cd, which i still listen too. the opening bands are always good at Maxwell's; midnight movies, longwave, john vanderslice, beachwood sparks, i discovered all of them opening up for other bands there.
and it isn't only the opening bands that hang out, there is something about the atmosphere at Maxwell's that encourages every band to chill. james mercer patiently waited for a beer at the bar right next to my friend kat. ted leo sat around drinking with his friends before ducking in to see the bands opening up for *him*. just thursday night we were sitting on a couch across from matt beringer (in the front room which once held copper kettles in Maxwell's failed, brief foray into microbrewing), and were able to stop by the bar after the show tell bryce dessner how much we enjoyed it.
that 300 square foot room is a blessing to that abjectly commercial town built on the ruins of brando's "on the waterfront." the sound is always great, the levels are always perfect, you can smoke cigarettes and someone in the band inevitably asks someone in the audience to grab them a drink from the inside bar. next time you see a band you really want to check out live, don't perfunctorily buy a ticket for the venue in the city, take a chance on Maxwell's, the personal, play-in-your-living-room experience and $2.50 16oz yinglings will lubricate you enough for the long path/subway ride home.
in fact, ba and myself going there to see elfpower on november 20th in lieu of their show at knitting factory, yay!
(** The National, Alligator, "Mr. November" read all the serious great lyrics at http://www.americanmary.com/music/)
i love the national, and i had been mildly disappointed when i saw them play back in june, they just didn't seem to be feeling it. i knew i would give them another shot, (especially since their new album "alligator" keeps getting better and better with each listen, those guitars, ahhh, and man, they are artists with the lyrics; melancholy, thoughtful, truthful, mildly nonsensical in a poetic way, and perfectly delivered with matt beringer's soothing growl) and boy am i glad i did. they fed off the crowd and the crowd played off them, girls throwing themselves at the band were only superceded by guy fans yelling in man crushes for them. but i swear part of their charm was the fact that *they* were enjoying playing at Maxwell's...
yeh, that was my view of the stage, this picture is taken with a crappy "objects appear much farther away then they actually are" camera phone, my view was that good, about two feet away on a riser so i could actually watch the harmonic guitar playing of bryan devendorf and the dessner brothers, not to mention catalog matt beringer's every move, it was something to feed off of, and i loved it...
and what's not to love, i've been enjoying shows at Maxwell's since i first moved to hoboken in 1994. at the time i lived across the street from sonic youth's drummer, steve shelly and when we had approached him to tell him how much we enjoyed his appearance on The Simpsons he asked if we had made it there yet. he told us it was the best part about living in hoboken, he was right.
i saw rocket from the crypt there on new years eve, easily one of my favorite shows of all time. i saw the shins there four years ago and had the "life-changing experience" discussed in garden state *in* the garden state (way before zach braft popularized them). the boys in american standard played there numerous times. ted leo has never rocked harder then when playing so close to his hometown. earimart was at their most lyric. every time i've ever trekked from manhatten to "joisey" it has been worth the trip... well, almost ever time. the one exception being when we went to see hot hot heat two years ago (when i was obsessed with makeup the breakdown) and after suffering through a generic punk band for what seems like hours, hot hot heat took the stage and played eight songs. EIGHT! they were just warming up for bowery the next day, fuckers didn't know this was the real deal... it still pisses me off.
although, the opening band were these kids called washington social club, and they were incredible, a chick bassist, which is always cool, a lead singer wailing away like iggy pop. they were powerful and great, we hung out with them afterwards and they gave us a cd, which i still listen too. the opening bands are always good at Maxwell's; midnight movies, longwave, john vanderslice, beachwood sparks, i discovered all of them opening up for other bands there.
and it isn't only the opening bands that hang out, there is something about the atmosphere at Maxwell's that encourages every band to chill. james mercer patiently waited for a beer at the bar right next to my friend kat. ted leo sat around drinking with his friends before ducking in to see the bands opening up for *him*. just thursday night we were sitting on a couch across from matt beringer (in the front room which once held copper kettles in Maxwell's failed, brief foray into microbrewing), and were able to stop by the bar after the show tell bryce dessner how much we enjoyed it.
that 300 square foot room is a blessing to that abjectly commercial town built on the ruins of brando's "on the waterfront." the sound is always great, the levels are always perfect, you can smoke cigarettes and someone in the band inevitably asks someone in the audience to grab them a drink from the inside bar. next time you see a band you really want to check out live, don't perfunctorily buy a ticket for the venue in the city, take a chance on Maxwell's, the personal, play-in-your-living-room experience and $2.50 16oz yinglings will lubricate you enough for the long path/subway ride home.
in fact, ba and myself going there to see elfpower on november 20th in lieu of their show at knitting factory, yay!
(** The National, Alligator, "Mr. November" read all the serious great lyrics at http://www.americanmary.com/music/)
Saturday, November 05, 2005 - but its so hard to keep living the way you live...
this week it will be three months since mike weinberg was tragically killed and it seems so unbelievable to me that missing him can hurt even more now then when we first lost him. at least a few times every day it hits me like a freight train that i am never going to be able to spend time with him again. since its all i can think about, it seemed appropriate to post the article which appeared in the local paper after he passed, because it explains a little better then i can right now, just what kind of person he was, and why it sucks to miss him so much...
August 15, 2005, BYRAM - This past Sunday, a kid, probably about 10, came flying down a driveway on his bicycle and turned a corner, riding with reckless abandon toward the Lake Lackawanna Country Club. The young boy was wearing a silver protective helmet, plaid short-sleeve shirt and black pants, something no one had any business wearing on a stifling hot afternoon unless they were headed to a funeral. He dropped his bike at the bottom of the steps and hurried inside.
People remembered Michael Weinberg riding his bike with that same enthusiasm while growing up in the Lake Lackawanna section of Byram, where residents boast about discovering their little piece of heaven on earth.
Some 30 years later, Weinberg, a lifelong member of this close-knit community, got on his motorcycle and never came back. People around the lake were still shaking their heads the other day in disbelief, most admitting the young man "who loved everybody" took a little bit of their paradise with him.
Weinberg, 31, was killed Wednesday night when his motorcycle struck a loose tire, forcing him to lose control and fall to the pavement along Route 80 near Fairfield. He was taken to Saint Clare's Hospital in Denville, where he was pronounced dead.
Weinberg leaves behind his father, Marc; his mother, Donna; his brother, Douglas; and sister, Deborah.
Friends spoke fondly of Weinberg, the way most do when someone close dies so unexpectedly. But those sitting outside the Lackawanna Country Club knew Weinberg was altogether different. Sure, he stood out. He was a black kid in an all-white neighborhood. But no one could see that despite the dreadlocks. And he was adopted. His brother, Douglas, for a long time, couldn't see that either. One summer day, his older brother told him, "My parents aren't your parents."
"I thought that meant my parents weren't really my parents," said Douglas, who ran screaming and crying to his parents, who told them the truth about his adopted brother.
"He was a neat kid, as in really nice," said David Comue, one of the many men who watched Mike grow up in the neighborhood. "I saw Mike and I didn't see anything else."
Weinberg started skiing about the time he learned to walk. Mike Ashton, who accompanied him on many ski trips to Colorado, Utah, and California, recalled how Weinberg could talk to anyone -- any age, any time.
"Mike could talk a mother's ear off," he said. "He was comfortable with everyone. And you could see at the service, there were guys you would expect to see in a biker bar near frail old ladies who were talking to guys in polo shirts. That's the kind of person Mike was."
Weinberg, they said, was colorful, and very creative. He loved fireworks, his calling. Weinberg even formed a pseudo-company with his brother and his friends, Eric Burt and Michael Burt, which they called "Weinburt Aerial Destruction and Pretty Color Company." They would put on enormous displays for everyone along the banks of the lake to see. The other night, "Weinburt" put on another show, this one for their late partner to see. Weinberg Aerial Destruction Page
"They had it down to a science," said his friend, J.V. Alonzo, "Mike was the most charismatic guy I knew. He was ‘Sir Mike of the Lake.' "
And Weinberg served as CEO as well to the mostly 20-something crowd that who knew him as "JFK" and found their way back for his service. Today, they said, would have been a Michael Weinberg "sanctioned" event, much like the camping and ski trips, or lazy floats along the calm waters of Lake Lackawanna that their friend would organize.
"Mike was the fairest person I've ever met," said Alonzo "He never judged anyone."
Weinberg graduated from Lenape Valley High School and attended Rutgers-Newark. He never finished college, but instead became a senior partner in the family business, Bevinco Corp., which manages liquor inventories for restaurants and lounges.
"You didn't see anything different in Mike, other than he was special," said Ed Klingener, a retired policeman from the neighborhood. "He drew other people around him."
Weinberg was also a bass player, lead singer and manager of, the Flying Fish Sandwich. His friends laughed about his love of "salty breakfast meats" especially Sizzlelean, which he called "the Cadillac of breakfast meals."
Three years ago, Weinberg bought the Suzuki 1000R sport bike that he fell was riding last week. He had begun riding dirt bikes at the age of 6.
Andy Kmec, 30, lived across the lake from Weinberg. They rode bikes together the way all kids are supposed to when they are growing up, just like all kids do in Lake Lackawanna.
"You can't stop living the way you live because something happens," said Kmec. "Mike would be pretty upset if we did."
August 15, 2005, BYRAM - This past Sunday, a kid, probably about 10, came flying down a driveway on his bicycle and turned a corner, riding with reckless abandon toward the Lake Lackawanna Country Club. The young boy was wearing a silver protective helmet, plaid short-sleeve shirt and black pants, something no one had any business wearing on a stifling hot afternoon unless they were headed to a funeral. He dropped his bike at the bottom of the steps and hurried inside.
People remembered Michael Weinberg riding his bike with that same enthusiasm while growing up in the Lake Lackawanna section of Byram, where residents boast about discovering their little piece of heaven on earth.
Some 30 years later, Weinberg, a lifelong member of this close-knit community, got on his motorcycle and never came back. People around the lake were still shaking their heads the other day in disbelief, most admitting the young man "who loved everybody" took a little bit of their paradise with him.
Weinberg, 31, was killed Wednesday night when his motorcycle struck a loose tire, forcing him to lose control and fall to the pavement along Route 80 near Fairfield. He was taken to Saint Clare's Hospital in Denville, where he was pronounced dead.
Weinberg leaves behind his father, Marc; his mother, Donna; his brother, Douglas; and sister, Deborah.
Friends spoke fondly of Weinberg, the way most do when someone close dies so unexpectedly. But those sitting outside the Lackawanna Country Club knew Weinberg was altogether different. Sure, he stood out. He was a black kid in an all-white neighborhood. But no one could see that despite the dreadlocks. And he was adopted. His brother, Douglas, for a long time, couldn't see that either. One summer day, his older brother told him, "My parents aren't your parents."
"I thought that meant my parents weren't really my parents," said Douglas, who ran screaming and crying to his parents, who told them the truth about his adopted brother.
"He was a neat kid, as in really nice," said David Comue, one of the many men who watched Mike grow up in the neighborhood. "I saw Mike and I didn't see anything else."
Weinberg started skiing about the time he learned to walk. Mike Ashton, who accompanied him on many ski trips to Colorado, Utah, and California, recalled how Weinberg could talk to anyone -- any age, any time.
"Mike could talk a mother's ear off," he said. "He was comfortable with everyone. And you could see at the service, there were guys you would expect to see in a biker bar near frail old ladies who were talking to guys in polo shirts. That's the kind of person Mike was."
Weinberg, they said, was colorful, and very creative. He loved fireworks, his calling. Weinberg even formed a pseudo-company with his brother and his friends, Eric Burt and Michael Burt, which they called "Weinburt Aerial Destruction and Pretty Color Company." They would put on enormous displays for everyone along the banks of the lake to see. The other night, "Weinburt" put on another show, this one for their late partner to see. Weinberg Aerial Destruction Page
"They had it down to a science," said his friend, J.V. Alonzo, "Mike was the most charismatic guy I knew. He was ‘Sir Mike of the Lake.' "
And Weinberg served as CEO as well to the mostly 20-something crowd that who knew him as "JFK" and found their way back for his service. Today, they said, would have been a Michael Weinberg "sanctioned" event, much like the camping and ski trips, or lazy floats along the calm waters of Lake Lackawanna that their friend would organize.
"Mike was the fairest person I've ever met," said Alonzo "He never judged anyone."
Weinberg graduated from Lenape Valley High School and attended Rutgers-Newark. He never finished college, but instead became a senior partner in the family business, Bevinco Corp., which manages liquor inventories for restaurants and lounges.
"You didn't see anything different in Mike, other than he was special," said Ed Klingener, a retired policeman from the neighborhood. "He drew other people around him."
Weinberg was also a bass player, lead singer and manager of, the Flying Fish Sandwich. His friends laughed about his love of "salty breakfast meats" especially Sizzlelean, which he called "the Cadillac of breakfast meals."
Three years ago, Weinberg bought the Suzuki 1000R sport bike that he fell was riding last week. He had begun riding dirt bikes at the age of 6.
Andy Kmec, 30, lived across the lake from Weinberg. They rode bikes together the way all kids are supposed to when they are growing up, just like all kids do in Lake Lackawanna.
"You can't stop living the way you live because something happens," said Kmec. "Mike would be pretty upset if we did."
Monday, October 31, 2005 - my own personal halloween scare
my own personal halloween scare
i usually toggle with the snooze button for at least 40 minutes in the morning, sometimes listening to NPR for a few minutes half asleep... somewhat paying attention to the news as i try to figure out what i need to do that day...
but i was shocked out of my bed, wide awake this morning, when i couldn't believe my ears that bush had nominated JUDGJE ITO as a candidate for the supreme court of our country! as i bolted upright, thinking the president had finally lost his marbles (i mean, schwarzenegger as governer is bad enough but judge lance ito as a justice!) i turned up the volume to hear that in fact it was a judge samuel ALITO...
sigh, now i don't know enough about Alito to make a call yet, but i am happy to find out that the guy who became infamous for failing to lock up OJ will not in fact be weighing in on decisions which will affect my life...
at least not yet, after all, ronald regan was president...
i usually toggle with the snooze button for at least 40 minutes in the morning, sometimes listening to NPR for a few minutes half asleep... somewhat paying attention to the news as i try to figure out what i need to do that day...
but i was shocked out of my bed, wide awake this morning, when i couldn't believe my ears that bush had nominated JUDGJE ITO as a candidate for the supreme court of our country! as i bolted upright, thinking the president had finally lost his marbles (i mean, schwarzenegger as governer is bad enough but judge lance ito as a justice!) i turned up the volume to hear that in fact it was a judge samuel ALITO...
sigh, now i don't know enough about Alito to make a call yet, but i am happy to find out that the guy who became infamous for failing to lock up OJ will not in fact be weighing in on decisions which will affect my life...
at least not yet, after all, ronald regan was president...
Thursday, October 20, 2005 - vicoden is not a crutch
after finding out yesterday that woodhull hospital set my fingers wrong, and they had to be re-broken and re-set, i am sitting here irritated as all hell, jacked up on vicoden, which has dulled the pain but semi-crippled me mentally...
and it has really started to irk me after the 1000 gagillionth person asked... never in my life have i been approached so many times by random strangers demanding to know the details of the cast on my arm. not even counting my friends, casual acquaintances, work colleagues -- everyone person within ear shot feels entitled to know just how the break occurred!
i broke my foot last may, and i swear that although people were curious, nowhere near the same number of people inquired into the cause of the break.
(although that could have stemmed from the fact that i was one of the most miserable people trying to crutch around manhattan, muttering to myself like a crazy, i took to calling the people stealing my cabs and refusing to move on the sidewalk so I would have to crutch around their able bodies "fuckin cunts" which is pretty bad, and i used it several dozen times a day, and it must be noted until last summer i hated the "c-word" more then any other explicative and avoided using it at all costs, but i digress)
but with the arm cast, I guess I look just pitiful enough for people to ask... and ask... and ask....
The real, but expurgated story is such:
- i was walking to the groom's house after the donnelly wedding after party with drunken canadian will norcross (aka rex porncross)
- a 25 minute walk turns into a 2 hour debacle, as will, who supposedly knew where we were going, got lost
- it started pouring
- i am 5'2", will is 6'4"
- will decides we'd move faster if he carries me... on his shoulders
- i think riding on will's shoulders is a bad idea
- he convinces me that i should just try it, and if i don't like it after 10 feet he will put me down
- i don't like it after 10 feet
- he puts me down... jolting into me with his head
- i fall forward on to a grass slope, on my left hand
- pop, crack, cast
that is the last time that story will be told... there may be variations thrown out there under the guise of the truth, but i think i'm going to start going with the most quipped question people sarcastically ask me, "bar fight?" instead of chuckling, from now on I'm saying, "yes."
the best part (and i say that sardonically) about having a cast is the fact that i can basically not feel bad about lying to people's faces about what happened.
so far i've run with "skateboard accident" "circus try-outs" "getting pushed down stairs" and, my favorite, "bar fight" will probably stand.... as the huge Italian guy in the mobbed up pizza place by my house said last night, "what does the other guy look like?"
i just read this over and this is quite possibly the dumbest blog i have ever written, i guess i could blame it on my vicoden-addled brain, but hey kids, drugs are not a crutch! i'll take the full blame for this spew...
or maybe i'll displace a little of this blame on canada and woodhull!!
and it has really started to irk me after the 1000 gagillionth person asked... never in my life have i been approached so many times by random strangers demanding to know the details of the cast on my arm. not even counting my friends, casual acquaintances, work colleagues -- everyone person within ear shot feels entitled to know just how the break occurred!
i broke my foot last may, and i swear that although people were curious, nowhere near the same number of people inquired into the cause of the break.
(although that could have stemmed from the fact that i was one of the most miserable people trying to crutch around manhattan, muttering to myself like a crazy, i took to calling the people stealing my cabs and refusing to move on the sidewalk so I would have to crutch around their able bodies "fuckin cunts" which is pretty bad, and i used it several dozen times a day, and it must be noted until last summer i hated the "c-word" more then any other explicative and avoided using it at all costs, but i digress)
but with the arm cast, I guess I look just pitiful enough for people to ask... and ask... and ask....
The real, but expurgated story is such:
- i was walking to the groom's house after the donnelly wedding after party with drunken canadian will norcross (aka rex porncross)
- a 25 minute walk turns into a 2 hour debacle, as will, who supposedly knew where we were going, got lost
- it started pouring
- i am 5'2", will is 6'4"
- will decides we'd move faster if he carries me... on his shoulders
- i think riding on will's shoulders is a bad idea
- he convinces me that i should just try it, and if i don't like it after 10 feet he will put me down
- i don't like it after 10 feet
- he puts me down... jolting into me with his head
- i fall forward on to a grass slope, on my left hand
- pop, crack, cast
that is the last time that story will be told... there may be variations thrown out there under the guise of the truth, but i think i'm going to start going with the most quipped question people sarcastically ask me, "bar fight?" instead of chuckling, from now on I'm saying, "yes."
the best part (and i say that sardonically) about having a cast is the fact that i can basically not feel bad about lying to people's faces about what happened.
so far i've run with "skateboard accident" "circus try-outs" "getting pushed down stairs" and, my favorite, "bar fight" will probably stand.... as the huge Italian guy in the mobbed up pizza place by my house said last night, "what does the other guy look like?"
i just read this over and this is quite possibly the dumbest blog i have ever written, i guess i could blame it on my vicoden-addled brain, but hey kids, drugs are not a crutch! i'll take the full blame for this spew...
or maybe i'll displace a little of this blame on canada and woodhull!!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005 - Lights will guide you home...
i've been really reluctant to get into the new coldplay, even though i enjoyed the first two albums. somewhere between the gwyneth baby and proclamations of getting "bigger the u2," they lost me. i got the album from a friend a few weeks before it came out, and i listened and dismissed it as, "it sounds like coldplay." (which, what was i expecting it to sound like, marilyn manson?)
which is so against my principles for not hating bands for gaining popularity, but i was just not into this album
but since the musical tastes in my office have shifted as all the indie boys moved upstairs to the creative department, i've tried to accommodate the girls who put up with my more obscure choices like tom vek and lucero, not to mention my obsession with david bowie, and play more "mainstream" stuff they like that i can stand. so x&y has been on constant rotation... and therefore creeped from my subconscious to actually recognizing, and dare i say, liking, certain songs.
somehow my whole emotional mechanic thing never clued me into the song "fix me" until i heard it five times in a row on saturday, with someone using my left shoulder as the guitar neck and my right forearm as a stand-in for the guitar body... having it sang to me in this manner by someone who self-admittedly needs a little fixin, it really made the lyrics hit home for me.
having recently (2 months yesterday) lost someone who was really important to me, who will never be replaced, it hit home. seems like the only thing that has helped has been to spend time around people who loved him just as much. spending time with people whom you care about and care about you can really fix so many things. knowing you have the support of good people makes you stronger, more prepared for things, since you know you have their affection and guidance to fall back on...
so however you feel about this band, the lyrics are worth reading, and remember kids, if you ask, i will try to fix you...
...they don't call me the mechanic for nothing!
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.
which is so against my principles for not hating bands for gaining popularity, but i was just not into this album
but since the musical tastes in my office have shifted as all the indie boys moved upstairs to the creative department, i've tried to accommodate the girls who put up with my more obscure choices like tom vek and lucero, not to mention my obsession with david bowie, and play more "mainstream" stuff they like that i can stand. so x&y has been on constant rotation... and therefore creeped from my subconscious to actually recognizing, and dare i say, liking, certain songs.
somehow my whole emotional mechanic thing never clued me into the song "fix me" until i heard it five times in a row on saturday, with someone using my left shoulder as the guitar neck and my right forearm as a stand-in for the guitar body... having it sang to me in this manner by someone who self-admittedly needs a little fixin, it really made the lyrics hit home for me.
having recently (2 months yesterday) lost someone who was really important to me, who will never be replaced, it hit home. seems like the only thing that has helped has been to spend time around people who loved him just as much. spending time with people whom you care about and care about you can really fix so many things. knowing you have the support of good people makes you stronger, more prepared for things, since you know you have their affection and guidance to fall back on...
so however you feel about this band, the lyrics are worth reading, and remember kids, if you ask, i will try to fix you...
...they don't call me the mechanic for nothing!
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I
Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.
Friday, September 02, 2005 - a solid whack on the head
I have this bump on the back of my head from early 2001, I was living in a studio in Manhattan that was roughly the size of my current living room, only smaller, so my kitchen/living room/bedroom combo made for interesting times. I got up one night to go to the bathroom, slightly intoxicated, dark, the kitchen sink was right next to the bathroom and when I had washed dishes, the drying dishes had spilled water onto the wood floor.
I get up, half asleep and slip on the water, tried to catch myself on the bathroom door, which was closed... but not shut. The door opens, spilling me into the bathroom where I whacked my head incredibly hard on the cast iron bathtub. I must have blacked out for a minute, but I never turned on the lights, I went to the bathroom and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, with a splitting headache, I was shocked to see that my apartment was apparently the setting of a murder, as there was blood absolutely everywhere -- my blood was thin from the alcohol and also scalp wounds bled a lot. My bed was covered in blood, the floors, the bathroom, it was like something out of "Memento."
The worst part was that I was completely dumbfounded, like mentally deficiant, stupid even. I ran into a co worker on my way to work (yes, that dumb, I went to work) and was trying to explain to her that I had hit my head on something, but I couldn’t remember the word for “bathtub” which is when I realized I should have someone check on my head, but I couldn’t remember who (uh, doctor?) and knew I had a problem. It took me a few days to begin functioning at my normal IQ, which my friends found hilarious, but I was truthfully a little frightened.
I think of this time a lot, typically when I am confronted with someone behaving like such an utter idiot you wonder how they can possibly live with themselves. I have to remind myself that when you are dumb, you can’t find the words to describe things which should seem so obvious. Behavior has no recourse when you can't see how it figures into the rest of the world. Your actions, in a sense, won’t make sense, because the lack of brain capacity makes rational thought, reason and logic null and void.
Lately I’ve been feeling like the whole world, or at least a signficant number of people, have hit their heads on the proverbial bathtub. What kind of moron fires shots at a doctor trying to save someone’s life? How stupid do you have to be to turn away forgien aid when our own is unfortunatly sadly lacking? How is it possible that people are turning on each other instead of giving each a hand in a life or death situation?
My head hurts. So, actually, does my heart.
“Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul”
I get up, half asleep and slip on the water, tried to catch myself on the bathroom door, which was closed... but not shut. The door opens, spilling me into the bathroom where I whacked my head incredibly hard on the cast iron bathtub. I must have blacked out for a minute, but I never turned on the lights, I went to the bathroom and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, with a splitting headache, I was shocked to see that my apartment was apparently the setting of a murder, as there was blood absolutely everywhere -- my blood was thin from the alcohol and also scalp wounds bled a lot. My bed was covered in blood, the floors, the bathroom, it was like something out of "Memento."
The worst part was that I was completely dumbfounded, like mentally deficiant, stupid even. I ran into a co worker on my way to work (yes, that dumb, I went to work) and was trying to explain to her that I had hit my head on something, but I couldn’t remember the word for “bathtub” which is when I realized I should have someone check on my head, but I couldn’t remember who (uh, doctor?) and knew I had a problem. It took me a few days to begin functioning at my normal IQ, which my friends found hilarious, but I was truthfully a little frightened.
I think of this time a lot, typically when I am confronted with someone behaving like such an utter idiot you wonder how they can possibly live with themselves. I have to remind myself that when you are dumb, you can’t find the words to describe things which should seem so obvious. Behavior has no recourse when you can't see how it figures into the rest of the world. Your actions, in a sense, won’t make sense, because the lack of brain capacity makes rational thought, reason and logic null and void.
Lately I’ve been feeling like the whole world, or at least a signficant number of people, have hit their heads on the proverbial bathtub. What kind of moron fires shots at a doctor trying to save someone’s life? How stupid do you have to be to turn away forgien aid when our own is unfortunatly sadly lacking? How is it possible that people are turning on each other instead of giving each a hand in a life or death situation?
My head hurts. So, actually, does my heart.
“Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul”
Monday, August 22, 2005 - Admiring how one Individual can have an Impact
unfortunately it often takes the loss of something very valuable to you that you stop and take note of the world around you in a different way. often we go around thinking of the world in terms of only ourselves and how it affects us and the immediate people around us. It's a natural inclination and somewhat of a progressive influence to the world, but an attitude like that doesn't contribute to the more profound aspects of a life worth living.
More people would be better served by a few individuals behaving more selflessly, perhaps not all of the time, but in moments of life when greatness doesn't seem like it should matter.
It follows, than, that by virtue of particular traits of their character, individuals can influence the fate of society. Sometimes it is the most unexpected people who can make the biggest impact, the person who by demeanor or appearance does not seem destine to be catalyst for change. Its for that reason it is often argued that quirks of your personality, the inclinations that you have which make you stand out from the masses are in fact a detriment to society. It you get rid of the dissimilarities there is a more equal playing field, with no wandering differences to keep different "kinds" of people separate.
But your individuality should not create your own insular world around you that then irrevocably separates you from the general masses. Rather, you should be opening up those aspects that make you different from society, to the rest of society, instead of pitting yourself against them. An individual who doesn't necessarily use the same tools to pass judgment on the world around him accepts that which is society and opens up your eyes to another way of understanding the world and society around you.
Mike "Buttercup" Weinberg, lived life with such vivacity and color, he constantly pushed his own limits, questioned conventionality, but he never strove for "greatness" in the historical terms of the word. Because he was all about taking the biggest bite of life, there was nothing you could do that would make him pass judgment on who you were, what your lifestyle was, your beliefs, your taste, nothing mattered, cause he probably had tried it first and would at least admire you for trying...
When you encounter someone who uses their differences to accept people for theirs, rather then alienate them, therefore creating a cohesive unit around themselves, they DO have the ability to impact society. And are you not, for the impact they had on your life, obligated to further create positive change in society? MBW in his singular vision has often caused me to take a look at the world me in a different light, now, in his absence more then ever. In deference to socialism, it IS possible for one individual to impact the fate of society in a positive way, even if those ripples aren't on a global scale, but just affect the people reading this right now.
this is the same kid who was once approached by a guy who had a business card that said, "guru maker" and he laughed, shrugged and said "dude, I'm already a guru..."
More people would be better served by a few individuals behaving more selflessly, perhaps not all of the time, but in moments of life when greatness doesn't seem like it should matter.
It follows, than, that by virtue of particular traits of their character, individuals can influence the fate of society. Sometimes it is the most unexpected people who can make the biggest impact, the person who by demeanor or appearance does not seem destine to be catalyst for change. Its for that reason it is often argued that quirks of your personality, the inclinations that you have which make you stand out from the masses are in fact a detriment to society. It you get rid of the dissimilarities there is a more equal playing field, with no wandering differences to keep different "kinds" of people separate.
But your individuality should not create your own insular world around you that then irrevocably separates you from the general masses. Rather, you should be opening up those aspects that make you different from society, to the rest of society, instead of pitting yourself against them. An individual who doesn't necessarily use the same tools to pass judgment on the world around him accepts that which is society and opens up your eyes to another way of understanding the world and society around you.
Mike "Buttercup" Weinberg, lived life with such vivacity and color, he constantly pushed his own limits, questioned conventionality, but he never strove for "greatness" in the historical terms of the word. Because he was all about taking the biggest bite of life, there was nothing you could do that would make him pass judgment on who you were, what your lifestyle was, your beliefs, your taste, nothing mattered, cause he probably had tried it first and would at least admire you for trying...
When you encounter someone who uses their differences to accept people for theirs, rather then alienate them, therefore creating a cohesive unit around themselves, they DO have the ability to impact society. And are you not, for the impact they had on your life, obligated to further create positive change in society? MBW in his singular vision has often caused me to take a look at the world me in a different light, now, in his absence more then ever. In deference to socialism, it IS possible for one individual to impact the fate of society in a positive way, even if those ripples aren't on a global scale, but just affect the people reading this right now.
this is the same kid who was once approached by a guy who had a business card that said, "guru maker" and he laughed, shrugged and said "dude, I'm already a guru..."
Monday, August 15, 2005 - just a few of the many great things about mike weinberg
great things about mike, or basically, the most fecund points of a really profound guy's life (or what stupid things I will cherish)
- at mike's 30th birthday, his parents threw him a surprise party and he was really surprised, although he tried to play it off later like he knew about it, he didn't... he was speechless, and when he regained his speech I gave him a bottle of Jim Beam, and i got a personalized, embossed thank you note...
- for my 30th birthday, mike gave me the most hysterical present i have ever got. ask me about it...
- he made jambalaya, which was really good, and he would even make it "spicy" and "not spicy" so everyone could eat it
- (this I heard second hand, but it is so totally perfect) at Andy Kmec's bachelor party, he rolled up to the breakfast buffet and asked the chef, "What can you show me in the way of salty meat?"
- mike's snored the loudest, anything else you think you've heard, he was louder. when we went out to Utah, we shared a bed and I had to sleep with earplugs. After the Brooklyn beer dinner at my house (7 fancy courses, all paired with Brooklyn beer) mike, Jim and Brooke stayed over. mike in my bed, Jim and Brooke on the couch. as soon as Jim and Brooke sobered up, they had to leave. mike's snoring drove them out from the other room, meanwhile, i was curled up next to him in a little ball, not even hearing it.
- he always worked the pinstripes
- he coined the phrase, "coming in hot" for rolling into Falconers, the bar across the lake from his house, and sousing people with lake water, often he would arrive "without slacks" and stroll in the bar like he owned the place wearing nothing but his boxer briefs
- he sanctioned things - events (Dippikill, our annual camping trip is a sanctioned event), games, (sanctioned game of 99 or bocce), and concerts. if something was "sanctioned" you better damn well show up. mike had a way of making sure he could surround himself with people he cared about
- winter of 2001, his witty banter across Aspen highlands via the walkie-talkies -- nicknaming everyone, talking about the trip, his morning shower, your balls -- he slayed walkie-talkie radio so dead, anyone who used it for non-rescue purposes after that was a tool
- he worked the one-piece white and black ski suit better then Suzy Chapstick
- he was a Heisman trophy Halloween last year, and painted himself, his football uniform, his hair, everything GOLD. I was wiping gold glitter off my stuff for like 2 months. when we got back from the bar we changed into regular clothes, but the two of us wound up sitting out on the deck watching the fog roll on and off the lake until 6am, talking about dogs we liked and what we liked about dogs
- chicks loved mike, i don't think i have ever been out to him at a non-sanctioned event at a bar without seeing him get mad hit on... i probably cock-blocked him at least 50 times. not intentionally, but because we always wound up deep in conversation
- when we were skiing in aspen, we used a punch-code to open the garage door, and then left the garage door to the house open. one day someone accidentally forgot to unlock the door and we were locked out of the house, so we are searching around the garage for a spare key, everyone looking everywhere, but our crew tends to roll a little on the below average height range, so no one, except mike, thinks to look on top of this space heater attached to the ceiling, in fact, no one else could have reached it, he stuck his hand up there, felt around, and a key materialized. we would still be out in the cold if it were not for him.
- he started calling his parents' house in Lake Lackawanna "the compound" -- things were often sanctioned there, he was JFK of the compound, also know as "Sir Mike of the Lake"
- he was in charge of the mortars for Weinburt Aerial Destruction and Pretty Color Company
- at Vin and Joanna's wedding mike was king of the dance floor, if he didn't dance with every girl in the place, he at least danced with every single one he knew
- he played guitar and sang in a band called Flying Fish Sanwhich, but he aspired to start a concept band called The Silk Furnace, which would be "raincoat required" to view
- he stared in Jason Rice's short film for the Tribecca film festival which was picked for the top five out of 500 http://www.amazon.com/gp/film-festival/screening-room.html/104-6576922-1615968?_encoding=UTF8&rate=0&moreFilmsTab=1&movieID=9995 (go to Tribecca Shorts, click on the contest shorts, its called, "Street Therapy" and he is the homeless guy)
- at the pre-party the night before Eric and Colleen's wedding, after having Marie apply her sparkly lip gloss to him, he in-avertedly said something to me that my drunk ass thought was a put down, and I got all upset and told him i thought he was mean. he was so hurt by that he spent two months explaining away his comment, which i had totally taken the wrong way anyway
- at the post-party after Eric and colleen's wedding, he threw a banana at Todd and Todd ducked and it missed him and hit me in the ear
- he and Todd Donnelly once stayed up with me drinking jack and coke until the wee hours of the morning, telling such vivid tag-team stories about growing up together in Stanhope/Netcong/Sparta area that i felt like i knew all their friends from growing up. to this day when i meet people for the first time, I'm all, "hey, you're the kid that..." and so forth
- he once brought bocce balls all the way from the compound to my roof in Brooklyn, expecting it would be no problem to play. why couldn't you throw heavy, weighted balls onto a tar roof of an old building which cants down to the gutters so the roof doesn't turn into a lake every time it rains? i don't see a problem.
- we tried our first Rheingold together. they were $2 at the Deli magazine premiere party John Schaeffer's band was playing at Sin-e, so we tried it. blech. we tried it with lime, worse. we tried it with lemon, hmmm, slight improvement. we tried it again, plain, to see if it was really all that bad. it was. we sucked it up and bought Amstel lights
- he called cigarettes "smoky treats" like, "hey, ya got a smoky treat for me?" which would then be lit with a "hot rat heater"
- when mike was a baby, his parents taught him to growl instead of cry
- mike got really into Harry Potter and started calling everyone muggles, which if anyone else had started doing that it would be so dumb, but mike made it work, so much that I found myself calling him a muggle right back, never having picked up a Harry potter book in my life
- we always used to call each other really late at night, esp. hammered, but not always so, esp. when one of us was supposed to be at whatever the other had plans for that evening, like if everyone came out to the compound and i stayed home sick. 3:30am, my phone rang, "Steph! What are you doing?" "watching Babe, I love this movie" "are you serious, I was helping Eric back his truck out of the driveway tonight and told him ,'that'll do pig, that'll do'" this happen quite often (not watching babe, but being on the same wavelength no matter how obscure)
- when entering anywhere, bar, party, sporting event, etc, his two opening lines were always, "let's sack this place" and/or "giddi-yup"
- when dawn and i had the Cuban Christmas party two years ago, i made a 16lb leg of pork, cubano style. after we ate some of it and carved the rest, Toddy shoved the bone in Mike's face and we took a picture of him biting it. i still have it on my fridge to this day
- he once volunteer to join my friend amber's vegan motorcycle club just to be nice, mike was the original carnivore,
- he did things "ninja style"
- he once came over after he Doug, Marie and Blythe had gone to see blues traveler at PMC art center, the show sucked so they left early, because they preferred to be hanging out on my roof in Brooklyn. mike hid his ticket stub on my fridge (which is so completely covered with ticket stubs from games, concerts, museums, basically, anything I do, as well as novelty magnets, postcards and pictures) and didn't tell me for two weeks to see if i would notice, i didn't.. then had to do a where's waldo trying to find it, it was stuck in their good
- he has gotten ridiculously lost trying to get from my house to the 24 hour gyro cart on the Manhattan side of the 59th street bridge, on several occasions, and spent 45 minutes extra time fixing his mistake to get to that gyro cart. he would buy two, one for the ride and one for the morning.. or later that night
- on fourth of July this year, he proposed to me, twice in the backyard, and once at Falconers, and got mad cause I wouldn't propose back, ostensibly because he lived with his parents. because of that I did get to tell him even though i wouldn't propose back, "you know I love you" and he said, "i know, I love you too!" and we hugged for a few minutes, and I am so happy I got those words out
**A Quote from Mike's Journal, March 12, 1987 ** "It is getting late and I am tired, therefore I shall close with the comment that I think life is an adventure if you want it to be."
In loving memory of
Michael Benjamin Weinberg
December 1, 1973 - August 10, 2005
"(my middle name is) either Benjamin or Trouble, depending who you ask" - MBW 1/4/03
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived... This is to have succeeded. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
- at mike's 30th birthday, his parents threw him a surprise party and he was really surprised, although he tried to play it off later like he knew about it, he didn't... he was speechless, and when he regained his speech I gave him a bottle of Jim Beam, and i got a personalized, embossed thank you note...
- for my 30th birthday, mike gave me the most hysterical present i have ever got. ask me about it...
- he made jambalaya, which was really good, and he would even make it "spicy" and "not spicy" so everyone could eat it
- (this I heard second hand, but it is so totally perfect) at Andy Kmec's bachelor party, he rolled up to the breakfast buffet and asked the chef, "What can you show me in the way of salty meat?"
- mike's snored the loudest, anything else you think you've heard, he was louder. when we went out to Utah, we shared a bed and I had to sleep with earplugs. After the Brooklyn beer dinner at my house (7 fancy courses, all paired with Brooklyn beer) mike, Jim and Brooke stayed over. mike in my bed, Jim and Brooke on the couch. as soon as Jim and Brooke sobered up, they had to leave. mike's snoring drove them out from the other room, meanwhile, i was curled up next to him in a little ball, not even hearing it.
- he always worked the pinstripes
- he coined the phrase, "coming in hot" for rolling into Falconers, the bar across the lake from his house, and sousing people with lake water, often he would arrive "without slacks" and stroll in the bar like he owned the place wearing nothing but his boxer briefs
- he sanctioned things - events (Dippikill, our annual camping trip is a sanctioned event), games, (sanctioned game of 99 or bocce), and concerts. if something was "sanctioned" you better damn well show up. mike had a way of making sure he could surround himself with people he cared about
- winter of 2001, his witty banter across Aspen highlands via the walkie-talkies -- nicknaming everyone, talking about the trip, his morning shower, your balls -- he slayed walkie-talkie radio so dead, anyone who used it for non-rescue purposes after that was a tool
- he worked the one-piece white and black ski suit better then Suzy Chapstick
- he was a Heisman trophy Halloween last year, and painted himself, his football uniform, his hair, everything GOLD. I was wiping gold glitter off my stuff for like 2 months. when we got back from the bar we changed into regular clothes, but the two of us wound up sitting out on the deck watching the fog roll on and off the lake until 6am, talking about dogs we liked and what we liked about dogs
- chicks loved mike, i don't think i have ever been out to him at a non-sanctioned event at a bar without seeing him get mad hit on... i probably cock-blocked him at least 50 times. not intentionally, but because we always wound up deep in conversation
- when we were skiing in aspen, we used a punch-code to open the garage door, and then left the garage door to the house open. one day someone accidentally forgot to unlock the door and we were locked out of the house, so we are searching around the garage for a spare key, everyone looking everywhere, but our crew tends to roll a little on the below average height range, so no one, except mike, thinks to look on top of this space heater attached to the ceiling, in fact, no one else could have reached it, he stuck his hand up there, felt around, and a key materialized. we would still be out in the cold if it were not for him.
- he started calling his parents' house in Lake Lackawanna "the compound" -- things were often sanctioned there, he was JFK of the compound, also know as "Sir Mike of the Lake"
- he was in charge of the mortars for Weinburt Aerial Destruction and Pretty Color Company
- at Vin and Joanna's wedding mike was king of the dance floor, if he didn't dance with every girl in the place, he at least danced with every single one he knew
- he played guitar and sang in a band called Flying Fish Sanwhich, but he aspired to start a concept band called The Silk Furnace, which would be "raincoat required" to view
- he stared in Jason Rice's short film for the Tribecca film festival which was picked for the top five out of 500 http://www.amazon.com/gp/film-festival/screening-room.html/104-6576922-1615968?_encoding=UTF8&rate=0&moreFilmsTab=1&movieID=9995 (go to Tribecca Shorts, click on the contest shorts, its called, "Street Therapy" and he is the homeless guy)
- at the pre-party the night before Eric and Colleen's wedding, after having Marie apply her sparkly lip gloss to him, he in-avertedly said something to me that my drunk ass thought was a put down, and I got all upset and told him i thought he was mean. he was so hurt by that he spent two months explaining away his comment, which i had totally taken the wrong way anyway
- at the post-party after Eric and colleen's wedding, he threw a banana at Todd and Todd ducked and it missed him and hit me in the ear
- he and Todd Donnelly once stayed up with me drinking jack and coke until the wee hours of the morning, telling such vivid tag-team stories about growing up together in Stanhope/Netcong/Sparta area that i felt like i knew all their friends from growing up. to this day when i meet people for the first time, I'm all, "hey, you're the kid that..." and so forth
- he once brought bocce balls all the way from the compound to my roof in Brooklyn, expecting it would be no problem to play. why couldn't you throw heavy, weighted balls onto a tar roof of an old building which cants down to the gutters so the roof doesn't turn into a lake every time it rains? i don't see a problem.
- we tried our first Rheingold together. they were $2 at the Deli magazine premiere party John Schaeffer's band was playing at Sin-e, so we tried it. blech. we tried it with lime, worse. we tried it with lemon, hmmm, slight improvement. we tried it again, plain, to see if it was really all that bad. it was. we sucked it up and bought Amstel lights
- he called cigarettes "smoky treats" like, "hey, ya got a smoky treat for me?" which would then be lit with a "hot rat heater"
- when mike was a baby, his parents taught him to growl instead of cry
- mike got really into Harry Potter and started calling everyone muggles, which if anyone else had started doing that it would be so dumb, but mike made it work, so much that I found myself calling him a muggle right back, never having picked up a Harry potter book in my life
- we always used to call each other really late at night, esp. hammered, but not always so, esp. when one of us was supposed to be at whatever the other had plans for that evening, like if everyone came out to the compound and i stayed home sick. 3:30am, my phone rang, "Steph! What are you doing?" "watching Babe, I love this movie" "are you serious, I was helping Eric back his truck out of the driveway tonight and told him ,'that'll do pig, that'll do'" this happen quite often (not watching babe, but being on the same wavelength no matter how obscure)
- when entering anywhere, bar, party, sporting event, etc, his two opening lines were always, "let's sack this place" and/or "giddi-yup"
- when dawn and i had the Cuban Christmas party two years ago, i made a 16lb leg of pork, cubano style. after we ate some of it and carved the rest, Toddy shoved the bone in Mike's face and we took a picture of him biting it. i still have it on my fridge to this day
- he once volunteer to join my friend amber's vegan motorcycle club just to be nice, mike was the original carnivore,
- he did things "ninja style"
- he once came over after he Doug, Marie and Blythe had gone to see blues traveler at PMC art center, the show sucked so they left early, because they preferred to be hanging out on my roof in Brooklyn. mike hid his ticket stub on my fridge (which is so completely covered with ticket stubs from games, concerts, museums, basically, anything I do, as well as novelty magnets, postcards and pictures) and didn't tell me for two weeks to see if i would notice, i didn't.. then had to do a where's waldo trying to find it, it was stuck in their good
- he has gotten ridiculously lost trying to get from my house to the 24 hour gyro cart on the Manhattan side of the 59th street bridge, on several occasions, and spent 45 minutes extra time fixing his mistake to get to that gyro cart. he would buy two, one for the ride and one for the morning.. or later that night
- on fourth of July this year, he proposed to me, twice in the backyard, and once at Falconers, and got mad cause I wouldn't propose back, ostensibly because he lived with his parents. because of that I did get to tell him even though i wouldn't propose back, "you know I love you" and he said, "i know, I love you too!" and we hugged for a few minutes, and I am so happy I got those words out
**A Quote from Mike's Journal, March 12, 1987 ** "It is getting late and I am tired, therefore I shall close with the comment that I think life is an adventure if you want it to be."
In loving memory of
Michael Benjamin Weinberg
December 1, 1973 - August 10, 2005
"(my middle name is) either Benjamin or Trouble, depending who you ask" - MBW 1/4/03
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived... This is to have succeeded. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
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