Thanksgiving '07 presented me with a quagmire of sorts. However thoughtful it may have been to wonder if that predicament was whether to eat a turkey or donate one, that was not the case - but a special 'thank you' to those of you who thought that of me. The real question was should I go to the comfortable setting of the Grand Canyon State which afforded me opportunity to rest, enjoy nice weather and spend time with my extended family - OR remain in the Land of Lincoln for my 10 year high school reunion.
Not one to pass up opportunities, I chose them both. I planned my trip so that I would arrive at Phoenix's Sky Harbor International Airport (PHX for those avid players of the airport code game. Don't knock it till you try it.) and be back in Chi Friday evening just prior to the commencement of the festivities. It was tough - I rarely see my aunts, uncles and grandparents...but just the same, a ten year reunion probably doesn't happen too often. After emailing a few of my closest friends to confirm that at least a handful of people would recognize me, I began to get excited for the reunion. This feeling was put on a scale as I've had many vacillating thoughts as to what my plans 'should' be. It is necessary to appreciate two things: that friends and family are very important to me and that "hearts and thoughts they fade away" (...a quintessential line from "Elderly Woman Behind A Counter In A Small Town," a Pearl Jam classic) and thus I wanted to keep both connections as strong as modern transportation would allow.
I had a short, yet great time with my relatives and was dropped off at PHX by my uncle and aunt just about an hour before my flight was scheduled to take off. Down to the wire. Already checked-in, I went to the security checkpoint and took advantage of the security line for 'elite' travelers. It didn't matter that no one was in line - period. I had earned the elite status through United's frequent flier program and love reaping the benefits - sometimes, like this time, just to take advantage of the perks on principle because I am able.
Going through security one of the TSA agents pulled one of my bags aside and took out an unopened bottle of water I forgot to discard. Ah shit - the water policy. Can't forget that the Bush administration's main effort to boost our nation's economy is to force consumers to re-purchase items in Price-Gouging Approved Airport Stores (PGAAS). But wait - my 'un-secure terrorist water' was just tossed into a bin alongside the security officers. Whaaaaa? or as some would say: WTF!? Maybe it takes specialized training and a knowledgeable security officer to make water like mine safe, but if I didn't know any better I would think that the potentially explosive material in my designer water bottle should be contained in an explosives-safe receptacle. As I was putting my bomb-free NBs back on, I asked the TSA woman a "what if" about my water. She got what I meant right away (admittedly a bit of a shocker, but kudos to her) and simply said that her kids would be really rich if something happened to her like what I was alluding to, thereby agreeing with my premise that if the water was truly threatening it should be handled as such and not like it was still just drinking water!
Other oddities include the announcement by our purser on the flight that, due to security guidelines, a minimum of one person could be waiting for the lavatory by the cockpit. Hmm - a requirement that someone is always there and possibly encouraging gatherings? I also always got a kick out of the safety video when it says "bee-bee" as in, "your nearest exit may be behind you." By the way, the purser is basically the chief flight attendant in case you ever wondered.
One's neighbor in the adjacent seat might present opportunities for more tales: a woman next to me on a long haul flight to Nairobi (NBO) years ago decided it was quite appropriate to take her shoes and socks off and put her feet up on the seat separating us. Thinking of spending my life in jail, I did not want to act on my instinct and instead let it pass. It was horrendous though. On my flight from PHX to ORD returning for the reunion extravaganza, there was a huge Bulgarian (for the sake of anonymity and unsurety) guy whose hands were just extensions of his arms - no wrists! He was very possessive of his Styrofoam cup containing his iced drink and stubbornly let out grunts and held it tight as the flight attendant attempted to exchange it with the airline's plastic cup. Next to him, and me, was his wife. It seems that she thought that the iron curtain of personal space starts on my side of the armrest. Yet she didn't give pause to rummaging through my magazines. I wanted to be like: "bitch, that's my seatback pocket!" I never get the hot, single chicks next to me...Yet one time on a different flight to AZ I sat next to a lawyeress who told me about how she would smuggle pot on flights. I was baffled - I asked her how she brought the drugs aboard a flight passed security, especially with tighter restrictions. She explained that she put the pot in a little baggie and stuffed that in her, well, vagina. Hmm...a strain President Clinton would appreciate perhaps.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Strengthgiving: An Ode To Live
I can picture the conversation moving from person to person sitting around a dinner table in what could be thought of as the Thanksgiving version of "A Christmas Story" with each family member recounting what he or she is thankful for that year. I can guess what others may be thankful for based on some of my own past appreciations: friends, family, opportunities to travel, health, presents. The list could go on of course.
Something I have witnessed recently is the uncanny strength of a woman I know. Her name is Gretchen; she is my aunt. What is not visible in the musculature of her figure is quite apparent in the stamina of her psyche. True, she is fighting a difficult battle which definitely presents its tough days and challenges. The pain is hard to deal with and the emotions she expresses are not unlike a winding road with an uncertain future. Yet she personifies hope and strength more than anyone else I have known.
Hers is a story that has the potential to make others strive to do better - it has already rubbed off on me. Gretchen knows the value of life, she recognizes the importance of family. She is a mother of a thirteen year old son who thinks the world of her. Her determination to live is constantly encouraged by her will to provide for and support her son, Justin, and to see him grow up. It makes the average person's desires, mine included, for a new digital camera or music player rather paltry. Moreover, after learning about a new staph infection she contracted, my frustration with not getting accepted to one of the business schools to which I applied was immediately erased. I would much rather never go to business school if it meant that my aunt could live longer days. And of course my plans for what may come next fall pale in comparison to my interest in Gretchen's health. Her voice is soft and her body frail - but the words that exit her mouth are only "great," "cool" and "real nice" spoken in a mellow drawl when I talk to her about feeling better and paying her visits.
Gretchen, something that stuck with me through the years is when you told one of my sisters as she celebrated her bat mitzva to always know who she was and to not feel compelled to paint her face. This mentality demonstrates the depth of your character and truly represents the meaningful lessons you have passed on to us. I always thought it was so admirable that you put yourself above the commonplace notions that society places on girls my sister's age. With that remark you taught us to be individuals and to think on our own. Perhaps that is part of what influenced your decision to shave your head (and though you might have heard this many times already, I think it looks so great and presents a very new you! I really like how it has grown in.). I respect that so much and attribute it to the strength of the person you are.
Seeing what you have been going through makes me appreciate the small things in life that we often take for granted. I want to be more considerate and less cynical; I want to enjoy the simple pleasures that can zip by if you're not looking. I want to not worry about missing the next bus or train, knowing full well that there are far more difficult obstacles in life. You have certainly had your share of obstacles and have made such strides in concurring them. We believe in you and support you and love you incredibly much - and hopefully with this powerful support network and your own determination, we can beat this.
...So what are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?
Something I have witnessed recently is the uncanny strength of a woman I know. Her name is Gretchen; she is my aunt. What is not visible in the musculature of her figure is quite apparent in the stamina of her psyche. True, she is fighting a difficult battle which definitely presents its tough days and challenges. The pain is hard to deal with and the emotions she expresses are not unlike a winding road with an uncertain future. Yet she personifies hope and strength more than anyone else I have known.
Hers is a story that has the potential to make others strive to do better - it has already rubbed off on me. Gretchen knows the value of life, she recognizes the importance of family. She is a mother of a thirteen year old son who thinks the world of her. Her determination to live is constantly encouraged by her will to provide for and support her son, Justin, and to see him grow up. It makes the average person's desires, mine included, for a new digital camera or music player rather paltry. Moreover, after learning about a new staph infection she contracted, my frustration with not getting accepted to one of the business schools to which I applied was immediately erased. I would much rather never go to business school if it meant that my aunt could live longer days. And of course my plans for what may come next fall pale in comparison to my interest in Gretchen's health. Her voice is soft and her body frail - but the words that exit her mouth are only "great," "cool" and "real nice" spoken in a mellow drawl when I talk to her about feeling better and paying her visits.
Gretchen, something that stuck with me through the years is when you told one of my sisters as she celebrated her bat mitzva to always know who she was and to not feel compelled to paint her face. This mentality demonstrates the depth of your character and truly represents the meaningful lessons you have passed on to us. I always thought it was so admirable that you put yourself above the commonplace notions that society places on girls my sister's age. With that remark you taught us to be individuals and to think on our own. Perhaps that is part of what influenced your decision to shave your head (and though you might have heard this many times already, I think it looks so great and presents a very new you! I really like how it has grown in.). I respect that so much and attribute it to the strength of the person you are.
Seeing what you have been going through makes me appreciate the small things in life that we often take for granted. I want to be more considerate and less cynical; I want to enjoy the simple pleasures that can zip by if you're not looking. I want to not worry about missing the next bus or train, knowing full well that there are far more difficult obstacles in life. You have certainly had your share of obstacles and have made such strides in concurring them. We believe in you and support you and love you incredibly much - and hopefully with this powerful support network and your own determination, we can beat this.
...So what are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?
Friday, August 31, 2007
not understanding the words coming out of my mouf
I suppose a basic lesson of economics is the demonstration of supply and demand and the proportional relationship between the two. this is not going to turn into a lesson in economics. but what this will hopefully turn into is a lesson on how we the people can fight for the right. for what? for everything.
you may have seen a viral video on yahoonews of a woman paging through (and through and through) 300 pages of her first iPhone bill (see video below) from Asinine Tales and Tribulations (AT&T). pretty crazy. though my bill wasn't quite as long as Yoshimi's (perhaps the name of the blond-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian American featured in the video since that's the name I will use for anyone who battles evil machines, courtesy of The Flaming Lips), it probably was just as expensive. why? I'm not sure...but the programmed auto-matrons who conspire with the Lex Luther types at AT&T would probably point to Section B (for Bullshit, I think that might be my translation though) for the number of daytime minutes.
here's where the fun begins. though I am certainly an exception, at what time does one normally have dinner? ding! ding! ding! If you answered between 5pm and 7pm, you are a winner! and for 100 more points, dinner is considered what part of the day? wow, for all you who thought 'evening,' you thought right. however, since the prizes for answering correctly are no longer available, we will need to take more money from you in order to sustain the health of our lucrative corporation and personal summer homes and weekend getaways from those summer homes. if you were smart enough to answer that you eat dinner with your family from the end of your school/work day through 9pm you will be luck enough to go home with a lower cell phone bill today! congratulations!
so basically customers are charged premium rates for talking between the hours of 7 and 9pm - hours that are generally considered the evening part of the day. on the contrary, if you were to try to visit an AT&T location just before 9pm I would think that they would be long gone. why? well...it's after business hours of course and they don't work then. but not quite evening hours. maybe twilight, shall we call it? is that what the Twilight Zone is based on? the hours between 7-9pm because there isn't a concrete definition of what period of the day that is?
you may have seen a viral video on yahoonews of a woman paging through (and through and through) 300 pages of her first iPhone bill (see video below) from Asinine Tales and Tribulations (AT&T). pretty crazy. though my bill wasn't quite as long as Yoshimi's (perhaps the name of the blond-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian American featured in the video since that's the name I will use for anyone who battles evil machines, courtesy of The Flaming Lips), it probably was just as expensive. why? I'm not sure...but the programmed auto-matrons who conspire with the Lex Luther types at AT&T would probably point to Section B (for Bullshit, I think that might be my translation though) for the number of daytime minutes.
here's where the fun begins. though I am certainly an exception, at what time does one normally have dinner? ding! ding! ding! If you answered between 5pm and 7pm, you are a winner! and for 100 more points, dinner is considered what part of the day? wow, for all you who thought 'evening,' you thought right. however, since the prizes for answering correctly are no longer available, we will need to take more money from you in order to sustain the health of our lucrative corporation and personal summer homes and weekend getaways from those summer homes. if you were smart enough to answer that you eat dinner with your family from the end of your school/work day through 9pm you will be luck enough to go home with a lower cell phone bill today! congratulations!
so basically customers are charged premium rates for talking between the hours of 7 and 9pm - hours that are generally considered the evening part of the day. on the contrary, if you were to try to visit an AT&T location just before 9pm I would think that they would be long gone. why? well...it's after business hours of course and they don't work then. but not quite evening hours. maybe twilight, shall we call it? is that what the Twilight Zone is based on? the hours between 7-9pm because there isn't a concrete definition of what period of the day that is?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Lakeview explored
as a forum useful for open discussion, pointing out ironies in life and relating crazy stories and experiences among other tools I'm sure, there are a few funny things that I've noticed since living here.
I live in Lake View. but I like it to write it as Lakeview. within Lakeview there are many smaller subdivisions, if you will. overall it's a pretty homogeneous neighborhood but differs slightly in the number of trees, type of housing and amount of sidewalk space. it's a fun, young place to be.
the Southport area is a pretty cool strip populated by hip bars, restaurants, boutiques. definitely the alternative crowd. on Clark there are a lot of the same, but substitute smoke shops for the boutiques. and also add the throngs of people (read: frat boys) that patron its bars ad nauseum. Clark is, for those of you dedicated to the Chicago Cubs, a bordering street of the Friendly Confines, a nickname ascribed to Wrigley Field. the alternative handle for the ballpark is perhaps a good descriptor of Cubs fans, but maybe for the area in which its foundation stands. or both. this area of Lakeview is known as Wrigleyville for obvious reasons and walking down its streets and alleyways on a summer or fall day one can witness numerous games of corn hole, basically a bean bag-turned-drinking game themed after the sports team of the appropriate season. along the 'inner Drive' are the high rises overlooking...yes, the lake. Lake Michigan for all you fans in Jakarta. then there's the southern end of the neighborhood which encompasses the area by DePaul and therefore has a stockpile of college kids. on the northern border is a nice place that is a bit quieter and less commercial than some of the aforementioned bustling places.
so actually, I was totally wrong when I said that Lakeview is homogeneous. not in the least. but to my credit ('cause I'm in charge here) it is a friendly, young residential area.
I'm in East Lakeview. my friends would try to convince you that I live in Boys Town...it is true that it is possible to see Boys Town from my place. but it's really in a separate part of the city. with that established as fact, I will continue. often, I do walk through Boys Town, a gay-friendly neighborhood decorated with phallus-type posts and sex toy shops, on my way to the grocery store, the lake or restaurants. walking by the bars, the same music floods the street as people enter and exit. it's always either techno or Madonna - and sometimes a combination of the two. I have always been curious - why does this group love techno so much? sure, it's definitely stereotypical of me to make a sweeping generalization like that. but so too is it a stereotype of the disc jockeys to always play that music for their audiences. maybe it's the chicken and the egg question relived. and is Madonna really that generous in her donations to the gay community? or perhaps she is popular in the gay community because of her own sexual experiences...or maybe gay people empathize with her with the whole adoption thing. I have no idea.
also, when someone asks what your favorite color is, don't answer: rainbow. just pick one! doing some research (very little), I found that the rainbow colors flag are representative of the struggle, diversity and hopes of the different streams of the gay community. ok fine - but it was a funny thought in an attempt to be ignorant. at least will you please consider shuffle play on your stereos?
moving on, some of my favorite places are in Lakeview. Matilda's, of course, is the best hangout spot in town. Philly's Best has a great veggie grinder sandwich (basically a much better version of a sub sando with a bunch of melted cheese, which really makes anything good) but not-so-great service. and there is also Mama Desta's, offering awesome Ethiopian platters. I also really dig the fried egg sandwich at Twisted Spoke, a biker bar. soo good. I usually keep things pretty simple and go to what I know to be good and fun.
another attraction where the sole purpose is removed from food and drink is the Lake Shore Path. it's a great bike path stretching about 324 miles along the lake. actually I don't know the exact mileage. but it is a lot. a big plus about the neighborhood and Chicago in general. to the right is a view of the skyline where the path spills into the beach.
though just scratching at the surface of the neighborhood, we'll make sure to delve into everything deeper in the form of Chi fests and summer re-cap (is it really over already?)...
I live in Lake View. but I like it to write it as Lakeview. within Lakeview there are many smaller subdivisions, if you will. overall it's a pretty homogeneous neighborhood but differs slightly in the number of trees, type of housing and amount of sidewalk space. it's a fun, young place to be.
the Southport area is a pretty cool strip populated by hip bars, restaurants, boutiques. definitely the alternative crowd. on Clark there are a lot of the same, but substitute smoke shops for the boutiques. and also add the throngs of people (read: frat boys) that patron its bars ad nauseum. Clark is, for those of you dedicated to the Chicago Cubs, a bordering street of the Friendly Confines, a nickname ascribed to Wrigley Field. the alternative handle for the ballpark is perhaps a good descriptor of Cubs fans, but maybe for the area in which its foundation stands. or both. this area of Lakeview is known as Wrigleyville for obvious reasons and walking down its streets and alleyways on a summer or fall day one can witness numerous games of corn hole, basically a bean bag-turned-drinking game themed after the sports team of the appropriate season. along the 'inner Drive' are the high rises overlooking...yes, the lake. Lake Michigan for all you fans in Jakarta. then there's the southern end of the neighborhood which encompasses the area by DePaul and therefore has a stockpile of college kids. on the northern border is a nice place that is a bit quieter and less commercial than some of the aforementioned bustling places.
so actually, I was totally wrong when I said that Lakeview is homogeneous. not in the least. but to my credit ('cause I'm in charge here) it is a friendly, young residential area.
I'm in East Lakeview. my friends would try to convince you that I live in Boys Town...it is true that it is possible to see Boys Town from my place. but it's really in a separate part of the city. with that established as fact, I will continue. often, I do walk through Boys Town, a gay-friendly neighborhood decorated with phallus-type posts and sex toy shops, on my way to the grocery store, the lake or restaurants. walking by the bars, the same music floods the street as people enter and exit. it's always either techno or Madonna - and sometimes a combination of the two. I have always been curious - why does this group love techno so much? sure, it's definitely stereotypical of me to make a sweeping generalization like that. but so too is it a stereotype of the disc jockeys to always play that music for their audiences. maybe it's the chicken and the egg question relived. and is Madonna really that generous in her donations to the gay community? or perhaps she is popular in the gay community because of her own sexual experiences...or maybe gay people empathize with her with the whole adoption thing. I have no idea.
also, when someone asks what your favorite color is, don't answer: rainbow. just pick one! doing some research (very little), I found that the rainbow colors flag are representative of the struggle, diversity and hopes of the different streams of the gay community. ok fine - but it was a funny thought in an attempt to be ignorant. at least will you please consider shuffle play on your stereos?
moving on, some of my favorite places are in Lakeview. Matilda's, of course, is the best hangout spot in town. Philly's Best has a great veggie grinder sandwich (basically a much better version of a sub sando with a bunch of melted cheese, which really makes anything good) but not-so-great service. and there is also Mama Desta's, offering awesome Ethiopian platters. I also really dig the fried egg sandwich at Twisted Spoke, a biker bar. soo good. I usually keep things pretty simple and go to what I know to be good and fun.
another attraction where the sole purpose is removed from food and drink is the Lake Shore Path. it's a great bike path stretching about 324 miles along the lake. actually I don't know the exact mileage. but it is a lot. a big plus about the neighborhood and Chicago in general. to the right is a view of the skyline where the path spills into the beach.
though just scratching at the surface of the neighborhood, we'll make sure to delve into everything deeper in the form of Chi fests and summer re-cap (is it really over already?)...
Friday, August 24, 2007
Hawai'ian inspired messanging
who are the creators behind things we take for granted? who is the 'they' that operates in the shadows of our world? and, not that we take this for granted but actually would rather eradicate altogether (I'm speaking here on behalf of the world), I want to know who spends their time sending spam emails!?
among the 1,075 spam messages in my junk folder, I picked one out that sounds so absurd. it is from Ivan Caldwell (supposedly) and the subject is simply "Hey" followed by this message: "difficult happen aallowed, sense king truly arm reference arms. Safe & Effective..." another email from Ken Terry has pretty much the same message beginning. do these people hire some tech nerds from Taiwan to write algorithms that pick random words, sometimes, as referenced above, not even spelled correctly, and string them together? if so...damn that job has to suck! your messages aren't even read much less opened by the vast majority of their intended recipients. and why do they think I am a strong candidate for lawn fertilizer or new Rolex watches or e-greeting cards or Cialis? of course, I know this stuff is all some crap auto-pilot system...but just take out the frustration at all the mess in your spam folder for a moment if you would. maybe it's poetry of the '00s (pronounced "ohhz").
and let's just suppose I was interested in these inane offers. I have thought much about opening up an email account that I would only use to contact spam companies. what if I really do want that Viagra/Cialis cocktail!? will they sell it to me? there must have been countless firings from these companies as the marketing managers probably never live up to their sales goals. morale must be at record lows as the spoets (spam poets, of course) cannot figure out why the American public is so resistant to reading the wisdoms they try to inform us of. I'm sure these spoets get paid based on click-through rates. I wonder at least if they get a base salary and then work off of commission. is it a 9-5er? or is the best spoetry usually generated late at night? I wonder if there is a company in some far off land that can answer these questions on an odd jobs kind of show...maybe they can offer us a spoetry lesson or actually sign us up for one of those premium work-from-home job offers they advertise - but doing spoetry instead! and we can see the Spoetry Algorithm Capacitor. possibilities...maybe tours of these facilities can be arranged through various business schools.
and as a potential customer of these crazy deals, who do I contact if my shipment doesn't arrive on time? I'm sure it would surprise the fuck out of the mysterious They behind the spam if we all started replying and complaining about the services or lack thereof...
kind of a funny thing to think about how all this stuff started...
so prolific is spam today that gmail offers different recipes that include the infamous ingredient. the smell, if you are ever unlucky enough to be sitting next to someone opening a can, is putrid. but I really can't remember the last time that happened to me. just the idea of it is nasty: canned meat! are you serious!? the Spam website reports that the 6 billionth - that's 6,000,000,000! - can 'o Spam was sold in 2002. who eats that stuff? oohhhh - I know. probably the same people who are busy composing crafty spoetry messages for us all.
this video offers an explanation into how we might receive some of these messages. and next time you're annoyed at an extra email or hundreds of emails, keep in mind that this could be the ticket to a better life for a spoet in another country. take a deep breath and realize that spoetry is the new haiku of the '00s. I'm sure people were like WTF when they saw a 3 line quip from Japan. it took time to appreciate the nature and beauty of haikus. give spoetry a chance.
enjoy.
among the 1,075 spam messages in my junk folder, I picked one out that sounds so absurd. it is from Ivan Caldwell (supposedly) and the subject is simply "Hey" followed by this message: "difficult happen aallowed, sense king truly arm reference arms. Safe & Effective..." another email from Ken Terry has pretty much the same message beginning. do these people hire some tech nerds from Taiwan to write algorithms that pick random words, sometimes, as referenced above, not even spelled correctly, and string them together? if so...damn that job has to suck! your messages aren't even read much less opened by the vast majority of their intended recipients. and why do they think I am a strong candidate for lawn fertilizer or new Rolex watches or e-greeting cards or Cialis? of course, I know this stuff is all some crap auto-pilot system...but just take out the frustration at all the mess in your spam folder for a moment if you would. maybe it's poetry of the '00s (pronounced "ohhz").
and let's just suppose I was interested in these inane offers. I have thought much about opening up an email account that I would only use to contact spam companies. what if I really do want that Viagra/Cialis cocktail!? will they sell it to me? there must have been countless firings from these companies as the marketing managers probably never live up to their sales goals. morale must be at record lows as the spoets (spam poets, of course) cannot figure out why the American public is so resistant to reading the wisdoms they try to inform us of. I'm sure these spoets get paid based on click-through rates. I wonder at least if they get a base salary and then work off of commission. is it a 9-5er? or is the best spoetry usually generated late at night? I wonder if there is a company in some far off land that can answer these questions on an odd jobs kind of show...maybe they can offer us a spoetry lesson or actually sign us up for one of those premium work-from-home job offers they advertise - but doing spoetry instead! and we can see the Spoetry Algorithm Capacitor. possibilities...maybe tours of these facilities can be arranged through various business schools.
and as a potential customer of these crazy deals, who do I contact if my shipment doesn't arrive on time? I'm sure it would surprise the fuck out of the mysterious They behind the spam if we all started replying and complaining about the services or lack thereof...
kind of a funny thing to think about how all this stuff started...
so prolific is spam today that gmail offers different recipes that include the infamous ingredient. the smell, if you are ever unlucky enough to be sitting next to someone opening a can, is putrid. but I really can't remember the last time that happened to me. just the idea of it is nasty: canned meat! are you serious!? the Spam website reports that the 6 billionth - that's 6,000,000,000! - can 'o Spam was sold in 2002. who eats that stuff? oohhhh - I know. probably the same people who are busy composing crafty spoetry messages for us all.
this video offers an explanation into how we might receive some of these messages. and next time you're annoyed at an extra email or hundreds of emails, keep in mind that this could be the ticket to a better life for a spoet in another country. take a deep breath and realize that spoetry is the new haiku of the '00s. I'm sure people were like WTF when they saw a 3 line quip from Japan. it took time to appreciate the nature and beauty of haikus. give spoetry a chance.
enjoy.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Dedication
This story started back on the afternoon of July 24, '07. it was an ordinary day at work...until I got an email that made my eyes do a computer double-take (I think that means that they just widened and made sure the screen had been refreshed) because of an email I just received: the Ten Club, Pearl Jam's fan club - also known as 10c, sent a message announcing a pre-Lollapalooza show. in Chicago. in Lake View, at The Vic! could it get any better? let me spell it out again for y'all: pre-concert concert, my home town, my neighborhood, great venue next to my favorite hangout. wow. and all just a 5 minute walk from my place.
tickets would be sold on the 10c site two days after the email announcement (so on the 26th of July for all of you taking copious notes) for a show just a few days before their upcoming Lolla headliner. I knew what had to be done.
Preparations Checklist:
All checks have been processed and systems are a go
The run-through has been completed successfully
Clear your calendar - Advance to stand-by position
my friend Dan and I made a mini-pact that entailed that in case one of us was not able to buy a pair of tickets, the other could have the spare ticket from the person who did get the tickets. nice. we're going to see Pearl Jam baby!
The morning of July 26th was calm. almost too calm. the mildew left an uneasy sense in the air. people knew. tickets were to go on sale at 11am PDT - 1pm Central. at noon I started prepping, dancing through the steps once more. clockwork baby, we got this. there was a twinge of nervousness in me, but I was driven that morning by adrenaline and excitement of almost incomparable proportions.
I put aside all real-world obligations like eating, drinking and...oh yeah - working to make sure that I could get tickets for this show. my anxiety was high. at 1250pm CDT I logged in to my 10c account and began the CCCP routine, but applied towards ticket sales instead of email. I had been doing this for about 10 minutes to be sure I would be among the first to click in...1pm came and went - still no link with the Chicago tickets. ok, maybe the guys & gals at the 10c in Seattle needed to get more coffee or whatever. 101, 102, 105pm - still nothing. I began what was to become an incessant email barrage with Dan to see if his experience was similar. someone else in my office called me - he couldn't get the tickets either. shit! I had been clicking and double-clicking and re-clicking and re-loading and opening new tabs and windows and every combination thereof to figure out what was wrong. 130pm strolled along and it was around then that I first saw the link for the Chicago show. phew! ok let's do it....or not! for what turned out to be the next few hours to come, the only thing that would appear on screens of many, or realistically most, fan club members was text that said 'Temporarily Out of Stock.' noooooo - say it ain't so! this was my chance to make it happen and the site was bombing out, not able to handle all of the volume it received. two things came to mind here: first, would one really think that, since the concert was open only to fan club members, so many people would be interested in a Chicago show? there are way more fan club members in the NYC area and I didn't anticipate such a huge draw to a small place in Chi. but I ended up meeting a ton of people who traveled for the shows for this weekend. secondly, the Ten Club staff would have to anticipate this frenzy for tickets. I even complained last summer when their site failed me for tickets then. my right arm was so sore from literally clicking on the mouse for a plethora of hours - pretty much solidly through the rest of the day. I became very sullen and angry. I felt that I deserved a ticket.
After work I headed down to the Vic with my camera and some guarded optimism. apparently
there were quite a lot of others who shared the same thoughts. we all were big fans and we all wanted in. I stood around and talked to a few people for about an hour before walking away empty-handed. before I left, this guy (pictured) was a trooper and seemed of the cool sort. better luck next time, you and me pal, right?
Then, as is ritual for many nights, whether sweet or sour, I naturally headed to Matilda's. not only is it my favorite bar in Chicago, but Matilda's is also my 'spot.' it's a Cheers type of place that has a unique setting, crowd and offers an enormous comfort-zone above what any other bar could. I got a burger and mashed potatoes, which are a resident token of the bar along with the stomach-ache inducing nachos - but only because they are that good...or that cheesy, along with a Point draught. I sat at the bar and chatted a bit with the bar tenders. at first I was complacent. say "oh well" and move on, right? then I became really bitter and angry, realizing that I knew the words to all of the songs playing on the jukebox - all Pearl Jam, all night. it drove home the FACT that I was not going to the concert that I thought was meant for me. it was then that I felt an incredible feeling of emptiness and of being let down.
A few days passed; the anger subsided. Pearl Jam and I would try to be friends again. so I got some earplugs and two liters of water (this was a borderline fiasco: I quickly ran into the CVS at Clark/Halsted to get the earplugs and water, but they didn't have water. ok - we're in the middle of 90+ degree, humid-as-hell {ignore that oxymoron} weather and they had no water! so I took a few bottles of Dasani from a bulk package. the clerkess wouldn't accept it. so I asked them to check their inventory in 'the back' as if it were some magical kingdom with all the supplies customers wanted but weren't put out front. no luck. they had two one liter bottles of Smart water I think. but one of the bottles didn't even have a label of any kind on it. so I told this clerkess, by now full of way too much attitude, that I would buy the earplugs and water - but the second water would be half price because of the inconvenience and lack of proper packaging. the manager agreed. nice. kinda like my version of a David y Goliath victory. or Roger & Me, but I still haven't seen that so I don't know how it ends. shh!) and brought along a light back-pack thing I picked up from one of the previous summer festivals and headed out to Grant Park, which was transformed into the epicenter of living music the first weekend of August 2007.
I walked in and immediately got a large beer in a Lollapalooza collector cup. sure, it was a bit
of hoopla, but it carried more beer. I headed through the crowds with a direct path to the southern end of the park where Pearl Jam would play. I squeezed my way pretty far forward until I thought that I would have trouble a) keeping my own space and b) not annoying every other person if I pressed even further. the crowd was alive all around me and very ready. admittedly, I wasn't looking forward to hearing My Morning Jacket at all, but they ended up playing an amazing set. during this time I managed to make friends with a group of Canadians by me (Vinnie and Ashley pictured to the left). they were pretty fun. then later on two guys from Guam joined up with us. everyone had a blast.
Pearl Jam came on pretty hard. it was so great to hear them, though for me it was only a hiatus of a year. (could have been only 3 days. hey - we moved on, remember?) check out the set list for the show. pretty energetic. the pain and sincere aggravation of missing that fan club show, where many rarities were performed, was all but erased. Pearl Jam, as always, played a spectacular show.
there are many who don't follow them and/or picture the band as very over-ripe from their early '90s prime, but I strongly disagree. Pearl Jam still has the creativity and the talent and plays better than most musicians I've ever heard perform. no show is shy of two hours and most approach three. I remember being in New York at Madison Square Garden for a show and Ed made mention of how many fan club members were in attendance, recognizing and appreciating the audience. at that show, the group continued playing past their max end time, incurring a fine. why? just so everyone could continue the vibe and enjoy the special night of music. now I was on an adrenaline rush - not the kind you get when you're sitting impatiently in front of a computer to buy tickets. it was the kind of rush from just drinking and...enjoying the greatness of the spirit of the night by myself but very much not alone in celebration of the band and the love of music.
tickets would be sold on the 10c site two days after the email announcement (so on the 26th of July for all of you taking copious notes) for a show just a few days before their upcoming Lolla headliner. I knew what had to be done.
Preparations Checklist:
- is my membership up to date? check.
- does my log-in/password work? check.
- does my computer have its cookies enabled? (weird, but required by the site) check.
- am I familiar with navigating the site and finding the area for ticket sales? check & check.
- does my billing info match my credit card number? check.
All checks have been processed and systems are a go
The run-through has been completed successfully
Clear your calendar - Advance to stand-by position
my friend Dan and I made a mini-pact that entailed that in case one of us was not able to buy a pair of tickets, the other could have the spare ticket from the person who did get the tickets. nice. we're going to see Pearl Jam baby!
The morning of July 26th was calm. almost too calm. the mildew left an uneasy sense in the air. people knew. tickets were to go on sale at 11am PDT - 1pm Central. at noon I started prepping, dancing through the steps once more. clockwork baby, we got this. there was a twinge of nervousness in me, but I was driven that morning by adrenaline and excitement of almost incomparable proportions.
I put aside all real-world obligations like eating, drinking and...oh yeah - working to make sure that I could get tickets for this show. my anxiety was high. at 1250pm CDT I logged in to my 10c account and began the CCCP routine, but applied towards ticket sales instead of email. I had been doing this for about 10 minutes to be sure I would be among the first to click in...1pm came and went - still no link with the Chicago tickets. ok, maybe the guys & gals at the 10c in Seattle needed to get more coffee or whatever. 101, 102, 105pm - still nothing. I began what was to become an incessant email barrage with Dan to see if his experience was similar. someone else in my office called me - he couldn't get the tickets either. shit! I had been clicking and double-clicking and re-clicking and re-loading and opening new tabs and windows and every combination thereof to figure out what was wrong. 130pm strolled along and it was around then that I first saw the link for the Chicago show. phew! ok let's do it....or not! for what turned out to be the next few hours to come, the only thing that would appear on screens of many, or realistically most, fan club members was text that said 'Temporarily Out of Stock.' noooooo - say it ain't so! this was my chance to make it happen and the site was bombing out, not able to handle all of the volume it received. two things came to mind here: first, would one really think that, since the concert was open only to fan club members, so many people would be interested in a Chicago show? there are way more fan club members in the NYC area and I didn't anticipate such a huge draw to a small place in Chi. but I ended up meeting a ton of people who traveled for the shows for this weekend. secondly, the Ten Club staff would have to anticipate this frenzy for tickets. I even complained last summer when their site failed me for tickets then. my right arm was so sore from literally clicking on the mouse for a plethora of hours - pretty much solidly through the rest of the day. I became very sullen and angry. I felt that I deserved a ticket.
After work I headed down to the Vic with my camera and some guarded optimism. apparently
there were quite a lot of others who shared the same thoughts. we all were big fans and we all wanted in. I stood around and talked to a few people for about an hour before walking away empty-handed. before I left, this guy (pictured) was a trooper and seemed of the cool sort. better luck next time, you and me pal, right?Then, as is ritual for many nights, whether sweet or sour, I naturally headed to Matilda's. not only is it my favorite bar in Chicago, but Matilda's is also my 'spot.' it's a Cheers type of place that has a unique setting, crowd and offers an enormous comfort-zone above what any other bar could. I got a burger and mashed potatoes, which are a resident token of the bar along with the stomach-ache inducing nachos - but only because they are that good...or that cheesy, along with a Point draught. I sat at the bar and chatted a bit with the bar tenders. at first I was complacent. say "oh well" and move on, right? then I became really bitter and angry, realizing that I knew the words to all of the songs playing on the jukebox - all Pearl Jam, all night. it drove home the FACT that I was not going to the concert that I thought was meant for me. it was then that I felt an incredible feeling of emptiness and of being let down.
A few days passed; the anger subsided. Pearl Jam and I would try to be friends again. so I got some earplugs and two liters of water (this was a borderline fiasco: I quickly ran into the CVS at Clark/Halsted to get the earplugs and water, but they didn't have water. ok - we're in the middle of 90+ degree, humid-as-hell {ignore that oxymoron} weather and they had no water! so I took a few bottles of Dasani from a bulk package. the clerkess wouldn't accept it. so I asked them to check their inventory in 'the back' as if it were some magical kingdom with all the supplies customers wanted but weren't put out front. no luck. they had two one liter bottles of Smart water I think. but one of the bottles didn't even have a label of any kind on it. so I told this clerkess, by now full of way too much attitude, that I would buy the earplugs and water - but the second water would be half price because of the inconvenience and lack of proper packaging. the manager agreed. nice. kinda like my version of a David y Goliath victory. or Roger & Me, but I still haven't seen that so I don't know how it ends. shh!) and brought along a light back-pack thing I picked up from one of the previous summer festivals and headed out to Grant Park, which was transformed into the epicenter of living music the first weekend of August 2007.
I walked in and immediately got a large beer in a Lollapalooza collector cup. sure, it was a bit
of hoopla, but it carried more beer. I headed through the crowds with a direct path to the southern end of the park where Pearl Jam would play. I squeezed my way pretty far forward until I thought that I would have trouble a) keeping my own space and b) not annoying every other person if I pressed even further. the crowd was alive all around me and very ready. admittedly, I wasn't looking forward to hearing My Morning Jacket at all, but they ended up playing an amazing set. during this time I managed to make friends with a group of Canadians by me (Vinnie and Ashley pictured to the left). they were pretty fun. then later on two guys from Guam joined up with us. everyone had a blast.Pearl Jam came on pretty hard. it was so great to hear them, though for me it was only a hiatus of a year. (could have been only 3 days. hey - we moved on, remember?) check out the set list for the show. pretty energetic. the pain and sincere aggravation of missing that fan club show, where many rarities were performed, was all but erased. Pearl Jam, as always, played a spectacular show.
there are many who don't follow them and/or picture the band as very over-ripe from their early '90s prime, but I strongly disagree. Pearl Jam still has the creativity and the talent and plays better than most musicians I've ever heard perform. no show is shy of two hours and most approach three. I remember being in New York at Madison Square Garden for a show and Ed made mention of how many fan club members were in attendance, recognizing and appreciating the audience. at that show, the group continued playing past their max end time, incurring a fine. why? just so everyone could continue the vibe and enjoy the special night of music. now I was on an adrenaline rush - not the kind you get when you're sitting impatiently in front of a computer to buy tickets. it was the kind of rush from just drinking and...enjoying the greatness of the spirit of the night by myself but very much not alone in celebration of the band and the love of music.Pearl Jam caters to what a fan would want in a band. they just need to work out some kinks in their website.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
where am I!?
Something we all probably despise is trying to calculate at what point, let's call her x, a train leaving Los Angeles heading East (hopefully for the sake of the passengers and would-be rescuers) will meet a bus driving from Savannah, Georgia on a Northwest path. obviously, my first question is:
a) why are you leaving LA? followed shortly thereafter by
b) if you are leaving Savannah, why take the slowest method of transportation possible?
it is obvious to me that this question is flawed in so many ways. and AHA!
c) how do we even know that the train tracks will cross the road the bus is on?
does math not have its theories and principles? I would argue - "Aye! 'tis true." and are not some of these principles based on a higher level of applied mathematics? I think we (I will include you in my successes) can understand that using applied math we are able to compute such things as engineering, shipping and aviation to name a few. we can also use math to figure out why people love LA. but more on that another day...
along comes the exploration of quantum physics. ish. or just a crazy misunderstanding of place and time.
I began my day today as many others preceding it: waking up with a stiff neck and headache from what I refer to as the Hops Effect (often when I drink beer (or, in this case, dinner) and neglect to have a decent amount of water before retiring for the evening, I find that my neck and brain have been warring in some fashion, leaving me as a whole as a true victim of war the next morning. no Purple Heart yet though...), I noticed that it was a bit on the later side of 8am. hmm. Enter the Hamlet Complex: [in Brit speak] to shave or not to shave. that is the question. whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the consequences of arriving late to work, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles - namely to suck it up and shave to not appear a peasant among men. I chose that latter and made it in to have a productive day. notice, I did not say that I strolled in late, because that would imply a haphazard, nonchalantness for which my humility does not allow.
jump to 530pm. the 'bell' rings, we're dismissed. nice. now I can go study math. I found a weird guy online (I promise, this is the only story I will ever tell with that beginning!) as a math tutor. he's about 60ish, medium build and pure dork. I had a decent session studying the previous week and wanted to cram some more lessons in before the big test. (as an aside, after the first math lesson I didn't save his info and had to look him up online again to schedule for tonight. I did a google search for his name, which registered countless articles about someone else, hopefully, who was a CIA operative convicted of trying to extort $1m+ from the agency. Check out this article in Time for an example. kind of similar to the person named Charles Manson who placed an order at my office a few months ago. a bit strange when that stuff happens. it would be great to be confused with someone slightly well-known and respected so that it's not totally implausible and whereby perks might be bestowed...not sure that the leader of the Manson Family is what I'm looking for though. not to delve into the bizarre macabre of that business too much, but did you know that Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys and Manson were good friends for a while? not quite what you'd think of as good vibrations...) he was supposed to be at my place between 645-715pm this evening.
when I got home, I was fully occupied with CCCP (see iMyDayster) and talked to a friend for a bit. when I got off the phone, I was already in bed and just wanted to 'relax' for a bit. famous last words. relaxing turned into a very deep slumber - think Ron Livingston's hypnotized character in the popular documentary Office Space. this sleep was that deep. that ended up being the problem.
Suddenly I wake up! Spy Tutor called my cell - in the few seconds it took me to come back from near hibernation and muster a groggy 'hello,' I saw flashes of fear. on my phone the time displayed as 1855. not recognizing the '1' and seeing that it was bright outside, I thought it was 855 in the morning and that I was about to be really f*ing late to work! shit! what happened!? and hey - why am I wearing the same clothes as I was yesterday? and who is this on the phone with me? what is happening? where am I!? these questions raced through my head at the speed at which I hoped to complete the soon-to-come math problems. perhaps even faster. it was one of those weird moments in life where, despite all of the complex faculties with which we are blessed as humans, you can't tell your hand from your ass. aside from the whole opposable thumb thing. when my math studying was completed for the night, I didn't have to wonder why someone would want to leave LA or process any quantum physics. I arose from the same bed on which I rested and continue to hope not to be late for work tomorrow.
a) why are you leaving LA? followed shortly thereafter by
b) if you are leaving Savannah, why take the slowest method of transportation possible?
it is obvious to me that this question is flawed in so many ways. and AHA!
c) how do we even know that the train tracks will cross the road the bus is on?
does math not have its theories and principles? I would argue - "Aye! 'tis true." and are not some of these principles based on a higher level of applied mathematics? I think we (I will include you in my successes) can understand that using applied math we are able to compute such things as engineering, shipping and aviation to name a few. we can also use math to figure out why people love LA. but more on that another day...
along comes the exploration of quantum physics. ish. or just a crazy misunderstanding of place and time.
I began my day today as many others preceding it: waking up with a stiff neck and headache from what I refer to as the Hops Effect (often when I drink beer (or, in this case, dinner) and neglect to have a decent amount of water before retiring for the evening, I find that my neck and brain have been warring in some fashion, leaving me as a whole as a true victim of war the next morning. no Purple Heart yet though...), I noticed that it was a bit on the later side of 8am. hmm. Enter the Hamlet Complex: [in Brit speak] to shave or not to shave. that is the question. whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the consequences of arriving late to work, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles - namely to suck it up and shave to not appear a peasant among men. I chose that latter and made it in to have a productive day. notice, I did not say that I strolled in late, because that would imply a haphazard, nonchalantness for which my humility does not allow.
jump to 530pm. the 'bell' rings, we're dismissed. nice. now I can go study math. I found a weird guy online (I promise, this is the only story I will ever tell with that beginning!) as a math tutor. he's about 60ish, medium build and pure dork. I had a decent session studying the previous week and wanted to cram some more lessons in before the big test. (as an aside, after the first math lesson I didn't save his info and had to look him up online again to schedule for tonight. I did a google search for his name, which registered countless articles about someone else, hopefully, who was a CIA operative convicted of trying to extort $1m+ from the agency. Check out this article in Time for an example. kind of similar to the person named Charles Manson who placed an order at my office a few months ago. a bit strange when that stuff happens. it would be great to be confused with someone slightly well-known and respected so that it's not totally implausible and whereby perks might be bestowed...not sure that the leader of the Manson Family is what I'm looking for though. not to delve into the bizarre macabre of that business too much, but did you know that Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys and Manson were good friends for a while? not quite what you'd think of as good vibrations...) he was supposed to be at my place between 645-715pm this evening.
when I got home, I was fully occupied with CCCP (see iMyDayster) and talked to a friend for a bit. when I got off the phone, I was already in bed and just wanted to 'relax' for a bit. famous last words. relaxing turned into a very deep slumber - think Ron Livingston's hypnotized character in the popular documentary Office Space. this sleep was that deep. that ended up being the problem.
Suddenly I wake up! Spy Tutor called my cell - in the few seconds it took me to come back from near hibernation and muster a groggy 'hello,' I saw flashes of fear. on my phone the time displayed as 1855. not recognizing the '1' and seeing that it was bright outside, I thought it was 855 in the morning and that I was about to be really f*ing late to work! shit! what happened!? and hey - why am I wearing the same clothes as I was yesterday? and who is this on the phone with me? what is happening? where am I!? these questions raced through my head at the speed at which I hoped to complete the soon-to-come math problems. perhaps even faster. it was one of those weird moments in life where, despite all of the complex faculties with which we are blessed as humans, you can't tell your hand from your ass. aside from the whole opposable thumb thing. when my math studying was completed for the night, I didn't have to wonder why someone would want to leave LA or process any quantum physics. I arose from the same bed on which I rested and continue to hope not to be late for work tomorrow.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Bring it home...
The Government of Israel, the elected parliamentarians who are supposed to be a 'light unto all other nations,' well she acts in mysterious ways. that's putting it lightly. recently there has been a ruckus of commotion regarding the Israeli prime minister's decision to grant Holocaust survivors a whopping 83 NIS (New Israeli Shekel) stipend per month. for those of you who do not regularly trade in foreign currencies, the going rate for one shekel is just a tad better than $0.23. this brings the monthly benefit to a not-so-grand total of $19.60 for these survivors of genocidal nightmares. many of these victims still relive their horrors with emotional, mental and physical scars. others have no one to care for them and live in squalor. some suffer from a combination of both and probably other situations that we on the periphery might not be well-equipped to comment on, given the unique nature and circumstances in which these beings were degraded in our not-too-distant history. an article I found today at haaretz.com said the Prime Minister's Office and a group representing Holocaust survivors finally agreed, after weeks of unsuccessful negotiations, on a monthly stipend of 1,200 NIS. hopefully the increased amount will bring some much-needed relief to those slated to receive it, even if the way in which the Government decided to handle and appropriate the funds illustrates the embarrassing neglect and denial of civility for the survivors of the worst calamity to come upon the Jewish people for centuries. the situation begs the question: if Israel obviously casts her own people to the wayside, the very people who were the subject of the hatred and ignorance that the Zionist pilgrims stood up against in order to found the State of Israel herself so that she may be a pinnacle of light, hope and most importantly a homeland and protectorate for the Jewish Diaspora, what does it say to all the peoples of all other nations? they might think, and properly so, that if Israel does not care to act to strengthen the victims of the Holocaust, then surely we should not either. it shows that, frankly, it's not that big of a deal. here's $20 - enjoy your chicken schnitzel.
Juxtapose the Israeli government's lack of concern for Holocaust survivors to the immediate pledge of $20,000 to Peru for earthquake assistance. that spells to me the ingredients of an unhealthy family relationship where one family member pays deference to his/her friends and even friends' families more than their own family. oh wait - there is another example from which we can illustrate how the situation is so absurd.
reading yet another article from haaretz.com, I found that the EU is delaying funding for fuel transfers to Gaza. interesting enough, so I read on...what I learned was humiliating and increased my frustration with the hypocrisy of politics that seems to have slyly snuck on to the agenda of Olmert's government. the article stated that the EU was still debating whether to resume funding for transferring fuel from Israel to the authorities at a certain power plant in Gaza. their concern, and what is ultimately responsible for the halt in their operations, is the involvement of Hamas with the power plant. after lobbying for years that Hamas should be listed as a terrorist organization, it seems that Israel convinced those in the European Union so much so that the EU is committed to keep funding for power away from anything associated with this terror group. not Israel though. fully aware of Hamas' control of the Gaza Generating Company in question, Israel has still been transferring fuel as part of her commitment to humanitarian aid and services.
Israel is Catch 22'd here. it is important for a country in Israel's position (a position that is certainly, by the nature of the country itself and everything surrounding it, one of a kind) to maintain a higher moral level and lead by example. the principal of a light unto the nations is again in mind. yet again we ask ourselves about the humanitarian aid due the Israelis who survived the Holocaust. it is preposterous to think that Israel extends herself and her reputation at the negotiating table in actions such as dealing with Hamas-run authorities while neglecting her home-front needs, politically, security-wise, economically and morally.
I'm proud of Israel and the opportunistic ideals it represents. I do not think any other country exists that would supply tax money and fuel, and I'm sure quite a lot more, to an entity with which it is warring for the humanity of the civilians who dwell within that entity's borders. the show of support for Peru is admirable. Israel does not have much in terms of resources, manpower or finances, yet examples like the monetary contribution to Peru in the wake of a disaster and sending relief teams to Somalia make Israel's small shadow on the map stand out on top of its neighbors and fellow countries. these positives just scratch at the surface of the strength of character and leadership that embodies Israel. I've been told by Israelis on numerous occasions that Israel is not as idyllic as I would like to believe. I disagree. there are problems with the country like every other. many reasons are due to the semi-religious nature of the state; since Israel bases many of its laws and certainly its traditions on religion, perhaps we look to Israel with higher expectations. nonetheless, I do expect that those who lived through the dark period of Nazi Germany should live with the honor and respect they deserve, especially from the people and Government of Israel. So hopefully when the Prime Minister reads this op-ed he will recall that the obligations of Israel are great and extend his efforts accordingly so that the results of his mission are greater.
Juxtapose the Israeli government's lack of concern for Holocaust survivors to the immediate pledge of $20,000 to Peru for earthquake assistance. that spells to me the ingredients of an unhealthy family relationship where one family member pays deference to his/her friends and even friends' families more than their own family. oh wait - there is another example from which we can illustrate how the situation is so absurd.
reading yet another article from haaretz.com, I found that the EU is delaying funding for fuel transfers to Gaza. interesting enough, so I read on...what I learned was humiliating and increased my frustration with the hypocrisy of politics that seems to have slyly snuck on to the agenda of Olmert's government. the article stated that the EU was still debating whether to resume funding for transferring fuel from Israel to the authorities at a certain power plant in Gaza. their concern, and what is ultimately responsible for the halt in their operations, is the involvement of Hamas with the power plant. after lobbying for years that Hamas should be listed as a terrorist organization, it seems that Israel convinced those in the European Union so much so that the EU is committed to keep funding for power away from anything associated with this terror group. not Israel though. fully aware of Hamas' control of the Gaza Generating Company in question, Israel has still been transferring fuel as part of her commitment to humanitarian aid and services.
Israel is Catch 22'd here. it is important for a country in Israel's position (a position that is certainly, by the nature of the country itself and everything surrounding it, one of a kind) to maintain a higher moral level and lead by example. the principal of a light unto the nations is again in mind. yet again we ask ourselves about the humanitarian aid due the Israelis who survived the Holocaust. it is preposterous to think that Israel extends herself and her reputation at the negotiating table in actions such as dealing with Hamas-run authorities while neglecting her home-front needs, politically, security-wise, economically and morally.
I'm proud of Israel and the opportunistic ideals it represents. I do not think any other country exists that would supply tax money and fuel, and I'm sure quite a lot more, to an entity with which it is warring for the humanity of the civilians who dwell within that entity's borders. the show of support for Peru is admirable. Israel does not have much in terms of resources, manpower or finances, yet examples like the monetary contribution to Peru in the wake of a disaster and sending relief teams to Somalia make Israel's small shadow on the map stand out on top of its neighbors and fellow countries. these positives just scratch at the surface of the strength of character and leadership that embodies Israel. I've been told by Israelis on numerous occasions that Israel is not as idyllic as I would like to believe. I disagree. there are problems with the country like every other. many reasons are due to the semi-religious nature of the state; since Israel bases many of its laws and certainly its traditions on religion, perhaps we look to Israel with higher expectations. nonetheless, I do expect that those who lived through the dark period of Nazi Germany should live with the honor and respect they deserve, especially from the people and Government of Israel. So hopefully when the Prime Minister reads this op-ed he will recall that the obligations of Israel are great and extend his efforts accordingly so that the results of his mission are greater.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
iMyDayster
For all of you fans who subscribe in the FSU areas (it's crazy, I have a big following both in the Former Soviet Union Republics as well as Florida State University), this pays a bit of homage to you, but not as much as you might think...Something that has become almost a disease is what I have simply referred to as the CCCP System. not quite a direct link to the ideas that emanated from the Союз Советских Социалистических Республик (transliterated as Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik) necessarily...though perhaps in an '80s Cold War-fashioned movie pitting the US vs Big Red in anything from hockey to espionage and back to boxing they might have been responsible for the common day CCCP from which I suffer, or escape in depending on your perspective, to undermine the capitalist Americano laborer.
It doesn't actually stand for the fancy Russian speak that sounds like alliteration with 's' but is somehow instead spelled in its native tongue with 'c.' (on a slightly somewhat related note, I think it is crazy how a behemoth of a company has made it difficult for me to accept the word 'singular' spelled with an 's'). Rather, this acronym I coined is a function - essential function, I should add - for my day, whether beginning, middle, later than middle, a bit after that and whatever time in between then and the end of said day - that stands for Check-Check-Check-Pause.
a few years since the cognizance of the system, I know it as both wonderful and detrimental. simply put, it is a description of how I occupy myself, usually at work, on slow, lethargic days. I check my email consistently, three times. then pause. then repeat.
It usually starts with gmail, then hotmail, yahoo...yahoonews.
hmm. what else can I do now? Eureka! CCCP - that was so much fun let's do it again! this time I might actually check my work email too.
in the process of my semi-Russo-inspired system I find some funny pieces along the way. for instance, on yahoonews this evening there were two asinine things. on a list of Today's Top [Ten] Searches, none other than Chelsea Clinton was listed at number 10. hmm. is this a Letterman list? could be. did some desperate guy convince himself that Miss Chelsea is now hot in her post-subject of SNL tv years and want to obsessively track her down? maybe so. number 9 on the list was Fast Times at Ridgemont High. but by contrast, more people were interested in 'pesto,' ranked at the night's number eight spot, than either of the aforementioned subjects. to give Chelsea credit though, I cannot say that many people in their high school/early college years are at the peak of their attractiveness as they grow into their bodies and sport braces. to indulge you all a bit, and admittedly myself too, I clicked on her name which brought me to page of links for more info on the famous former First Daughter. perhaps as a compliment in camouflage, the first link on the top of the new page suggested: "Also try Chelsea Clinton weight loss." ouch. I did find a picture of her and it's not too bad. so maybe it gives testament to the 'if I can do it, you can do it' mentality...but at the same time, maybe she didn't have lots of weight to shed, contrary to what the search engine suggested and only was successful at aging well in her 20s...
one of the other links for an article caught my interest as well. it was something about how air travel can possibly alter world climate change. I like anything related to air travel and planes, kind of. the experience of flying and reaching your destination is always fun and exhilarating. seeing the jumbo jets (remember that term?) in the skies make me think of the next trip overseas I'll take...
The first quote of the article made me laugh aloud, perhaps commonly known in these circles as an instance of LOL. it explained that, according to protesters at London's Heathrow airport, the only way to reduce the carbon print of air travel is to altogether stop flying. I would want to tell the protesters' union chief guy - 'Dude, Gandhi would disagree with you!'. maybe not. but honestly how many people a) even know about carbon prints, much less carbon dating - or just carbon in general! (I certainly am not as educated about such matters as I'd like to be) and b) how many people who fly are aware or become aware of the environmental hazards of aviation will really stop their jet-setting? We can't even get a properly functioning recycling program in Chicago. so how can these protesters expect that many of the same people who leave their A/C, televisions and lights blaring all day can actually cease traveling? the remainder of the article did raise interesting points. I am a big fan of alternate energy. I think that it would be great to not pollute the earth and conserve at the same time as buying Rolls Royces from the Saudis at prices less than Yugos at their foreclosure sales.
Maybe I can add pictures or info to my MySpace, Friendster and Facebook accounts...? The day continues. what's happening in celebrity news? anything going on CNN? NY Times? oh wait, I almost forgot about LinkedIn. maybe there's a good fare on United's site. other sites I like include allmusic.com to read up on discography of artists, Wikipedia to check to see if something so bizarre is actually listed there and anything else that might come my way. it's the old tale of procrastination that ruins an otherwise fine day - or, with nothing else to do gives us an interesting way in which to occupy our time.
wow I should be going - feels like I haven't checked my email in, like, forever and I have to get started with my day already.
It doesn't actually stand for the fancy Russian speak that sounds like alliteration with 's' but is somehow instead spelled in its native tongue with 'c.' (on a slightly somewhat related note, I think it is crazy how a behemoth of a company has made it difficult for me to accept the word 'singular' spelled with an 's'). Rather, this acronym I coined is a function - essential function, I should add - for my day, whether beginning, middle, later than middle, a bit after that and whatever time in between then and the end of said day - that stands for Check-Check-Check-Pause.
a few years since the cognizance of the system, I know it as both wonderful and detrimental. simply put, it is a description of how I occupy myself, usually at work, on slow, lethargic days. I check my email consistently, three times. then pause. then repeat.
It usually starts with gmail, then hotmail, yahoo...yahoonews.
hmm. what else can I do now? Eureka! CCCP - that was so much fun let's do it again! this time I might actually check my work email too.
in the process of my semi-Russo-inspired system I find some funny pieces along the way. for instance, on yahoonews this evening there were two asinine things. on a list of Today's Top [Ten] Searches, none other than Chelsea Clinton was listed at number 10. hmm. is this a Letterman list? could be. did some desperate guy convince himself that Miss Chelsea is now hot in her post-subject of SNL tv years and want to obsessively track her down? maybe so. number 9 on the list was Fast Times at Ridgemont High. but by contrast, more people were interested in 'pesto,' ranked at the night's number eight spot, than either of the aforementioned subjects. to give Chelsea credit though, I cannot say that many people in their high school/early college years are at the peak of their attractiveness as they grow into their bodies and sport braces. to indulge you all a bit, and admittedly myself too, I clicked on her name which brought me to page of links for more info on the famous former First Daughter. perhaps as a compliment in camouflage, the first link on the top of the new page suggested: "Also try Chelsea Clinton weight loss." ouch. I did find a picture of her and it's not too bad. so maybe it gives testament to the 'if I can do it, you can do it' mentality...but at the same time, maybe she didn't have lots of weight to shed, contrary to what the search engine suggested and only was successful at aging well in her 20s...
one of the other links for an article caught my interest as well. it was something about how air travel can possibly alter world climate change. I like anything related to air travel and planes, kind of. the experience of flying and reaching your destination is always fun and exhilarating. seeing the jumbo jets (remember that term?) in the skies make me think of the next trip overseas I'll take...
The first quote of the article made me laugh aloud, perhaps commonly known in these circles as an instance of LOL. it explained that, according to protesters at London's Heathrow airport, the only way to reduce the carbon print of air travel is to altogether stop flying. I would want to tell the protesters' union chief guy - 'Dude, Gandhi would disagree with you!'. maybe not. but honestly how many people a) even know about carbon prints, much less carbon dating - or just carbon in general! (I certainly am not as educated about such matters as I'd like to be) and b) how many people who fly are aware or become aware of the environmental hazards of aviation will really stop their jet-setting? We can't even get a properly functioning recycling program in Chicago. so how can these protesters expect that many of the same people who leave their A/C, televisions and lights blaring all day can actually cease traveling? the remainder of the article did raise interesting points. I am a big fan of alternate energy. I think that it would be great to not pollute the earth and conserve at the same time as buying Rolls Royces from the Saudis at prices less than Yugos at their foreclosure sales.
Maybe I can add pictures or info to my MySpace, Friendster and Facebook accounts...? The day continues. what's happening in celebrity news? anything going on CNN? NY Times? oh wait, I almost forgot about LinkedIn. maybe there's a good fare on United's site. other sites I like include allmusic.com to read up on discography of artists, Wikipedia to check to see if something so bizarre is actually listed there and anything else that might come my way. it's the old tale of procrastination that ruins an otherwise fine day - or, with nothing else to do gives us an interesting way in which to occupy our time.
wow I should be going - feels like I haven't checked my email in, like, forever and I have to get started with my day already.
Monday, July 30, 2007
too voluptuous is bad?
Turning the pages of any magazine, there are countless models who I'd like to talk to. (Some magazines more than others...) Why? Well isn't it obvious? They are such great salespeople and represent their respective brands with such conviction and in such believable ways. I'd really like to talk to them to find out how they got to be so good at it. It's a tough business and it would be meaningful for me to have mentors and role models. Even their job title contains the word model itself! And of course their breasts and perfectly silhouetted figures speak volumes to me - but those are secondary for sure.
So basically to give you the short story of what I'm getting at...I have had neck/back pain for a bunch of years. I think it began in the early '00s. I'm not sure how it started exactly, but I do recall a particularly unpleasant episode of 'bad pain,' for lack of a better phrase. (If you do have a better phrase, please chime in.) I woke up one morning to go play tennis in Morningside Heights with my good friend Evan. Every time I swung my racket I would have such excruciating pain travel all throughout my body. I just wasn't sure what was going on. So we stopped playing a bit early; I think I might have won regardless. When I woke up that morning my neck was pretty sore and uncomfortable. After tennis, it was way worse, which by the way is not listed as a condition in the Physician's Desk Reference Handbook. I had some sort of muscle spasm and my neck's range of motion was drastically limited. I could barely move and every time I did I experienced a tremendous amount of discomfort. Adjectives aside, it sucked.
I think the root of the continuous years of neck pain can ultimately be blamed on an ex-girlfriend of mine. Not that it was her fault, unless a conspiracy about my neck was concocted, but Julie got me in the habit of sleeping with two pillows under my head. That's quite a feat, to give her due credit. This is coming from a guy who used to sleep on a pillow so thin my friends at camp would refer to it as a 'feather' or 'sheet.' Admittedly, it really didn't consist of much. But maybe it was my version of a stuffed animal or blanky that I never had. In any case, picture my neck level with my body when using the pillow I had grown accustomed to. With two over-stuffed pillows, I think my neck was crooning far beyond its intended croon capacity. And there it began.
I went to work one day and felt like Frankenstein. (As an aside, ask me to do a rendition of Phil Hartman's SNL Frankenstein character. I think I have the 'fire....baaaaad!' down pretty well.) I couldn't move and resorted to slugging around like the green monster with bolts in his neck. I felt like I had bolts, but none were present after double-checking. So I left work and went to get what I refer to as a medical massage, but really minus the medical science behind it. Yes! You guessed right - I took my first trip to a doctor of chiropractic. Perhaps my doubts about that field begin with questioning that title. It doesn't even sound like a complete word...
After a few treatments at a couple of different chiropractors in the East Village, I threw in the towel and decided I was ok. Or at least that they were not. In Chicago a few years later I ended up having another bad spasm, which led to an even worse decision. I went to a local chiropractor on the North Shore. After dropping me off for my appointment, my mom went to fill her car with gas. She was called back to the office before even getting to the gas station and arrived to see emergency personnel from the Winnetka Fire Department at my service. The 'doctor' seemed more freaked out than anyone. In the brief period when mommy left my Frankenstein'd side, the chiro managed to affix electrodes on various parts of my neck, back and chest and began the electrical stimulation of my muscles. The only thing that was stimulated was my vegas nerve (think something in the nervous system, don't think my wild side) which was affected so negatively that it rendered me unconscious. I woke up nauseous, unaware and weak in a cold sweat with this guy nervously hovering in front of me; he had put a pen in between my teeth to keep me from clenching down and biting my tongue. The paramedics loaded me up into their company-issue vehicle against my protest - after regaining my consciousness and having some water I really felt fine, aside from my neck pain. In the back of the ambulance they had their newbie recruit try to find my vein. Usually my veins are ripe for needles, but having been unconscious my blood pressure was a tad lower than usual and he was almost digging for China...or my grave, whichever came first. Uncomfortable part of my day, part two. After some tests in the ER, they said I was fine. "What about my neck pain!?" I asked eagerly. I guess only one symptom can be treated per visit.
That episode brings us to today, still experiencing frequent pain. The only thing that seems to help it is going to the gym. Back in the beginning of June I kicked off my summer festival attendance at the Belmont-Sheffield Music Fest. Wow - what a great time. Partially because of the no-notice downpour, maybe out of slight curiosity, I stopped by to visit a chiropractic booth and signed up for some stupid deal to pay them $20 for a consultation, x-rays and a post-x-ray consultation and summary. I don't know why. Well it's actually a great deal. But so is bridge jumping for only $5. Today was the follow-up consultation, after putting it off for over a month. Clarification: the doctor canceled on me previously without notice - as in when I arrived to the appointment. I told the receptionist that I have a 24-hour notice required or there is a $50 cancellation fee. Since he said that they don't do that for their patients, I decided to be courteous and waived mine as well.
After relaying the above story about being knocked out, he said that I might have been knocked out regardless even without the muscle stim. Riiiiight. Like just by walking my Frankenstein'd self down the street and going my merry way I might have fallen unconscious. I felt like I was arguing with a girlfriend and there was no concern for reality and everything was based on theoreticals. He slyly added that, though he could definitely understand not wanting to proceed, since I was only unconscious once from this treatment I should probably do it again because it wouldn't happen again. I wish I could have just broken up with him right then and there. What b.s.
He went on to explain a chart in his office that I read while waiting. After hearing about how the curvature of my spine is not good and that there is deterioration on several of my vertebrae and discs, I knew I needed a second opinion. Truthfully, I was hesitant from the get-go and plan to consult with a few medical specialists before moving forward with anything. So this chart was basically a summary of what will happen to you if you do not sign up for chiropractic care. Right away. He continued and told me yada yada about how things were misaligned, out of whack and cause for concern. After listening to all of this you would think that your body was just mis-formed in Play-Doh. Honestly - this guy could have convinced a knowledgeable person that your solar plexis is inebriated. Thankfully I was a bit more skeptical. The clincher is that in order to prevent further decay into the 'level whatever danger zone' I would have to be a regular (read: very regular) patient of his for 6-8 months at least. Nice guy, but the right thing to do for your body shouldn't be based on a sales pitch. Albeit one that employs scare tactics.
So basically to give you the short story of what I'm getting at...I have had neck/back pain for a bunch of years. I think it began in the early '00s. I'm not sure how it started exactly, but I do recall a particularly unpleasant episode of 'bad pain,' for lack of a better phrase. (If you do have a better phrase, please chime in.) I woke up one morning to go play tennis in Morningside Heights with my good friend Evan. Every time I swung my racket I would have such excruciating pain travel all throughout my body. I just wasn't sure what was going on. So we stopped playing a bit early; I think I might have won regardless. When I woke up that morning my neck was pretty sore and uncomfortable. After tennis, it was way worse, which by the way is not listed as a condition in the Physician's Desk Reference Handbook. I had some sort of muscle spasm and my neck's range of motion was drastically limited. I could barely move and every time I did I experienced a tremendous amount of discomfort. Adjectives aside, it sucked.
I think the root of the continuous years of neck pain can ultimately be blamed on an ex-girlfriend of mine. Not that it was her fault, unless a conspiracy about my neck was concocted, but Julie got me in the habit of sleeping with two pillows under my head. That's quite a feat, to give her due credit. This is coming from a guy who used to sleep on a pillow so thin my friends at camp would refer to it as a 'feather' or 'sheet.' Admittedly, it really didn't consist of much. But maybe it was my version of a stuffed animal or blanky that I never had. In any case, picture my neck level with my body when using the pillow I had grown accustomed to. With two over-stuffed pillows, I think my neck was crooning far beyond its intended croon capacity. And there it began.
I went to work one day and felt like Frankenstein. (As an aside, ask me to do a rendition of Phil Hartman's SNL Frankenstein character. I think I have the 'fire....baaaaad!' down pretty well.) I couldn't move and resorted to slugging around like the green monster with bolts in his neck. I felt like I had bolts, but none were present after double-checking. So I left work and went to get what I refer to as a medical massage, but really minus the medical science behind it. Yes! You guessed right - I took my first trip to a doctor of chiropractic. Perhaps my doubts about that field begin with questioning that title. It doesn't even sound like a complete word...
After a few treatments at a couple of different chiropractors in the East Village, I threw in the towel and decided I was ok. Or at least that they were not. In Chicago a few years later I ended up having another bad spasm, which led to an even worse decision. I went to a local chiropractor on the North Shore. After dropping me off for my appointment, my mom went to fill her car with gas. She was called back to the office before even getting to the gas station and arrived to see emergency personnel from the Winnetka Fire Department at my service. The 'doctor' seemed more freaked out than anyone. In the brief period when mommy left my Frankenstein'd side, the chiro managed to affix electrodes on various parts of my neck, back and chest and began the electrical stimulation of my muscles. The only thing that was stimulated was my vegas nerve (think something in the nervous system, don't think my wild side) which was affected so negatively that it rendered me unconscious. I woke up nauseous, unaware and weak in a cold sweat with this guy nervously hovering in front of me; he had put a pen in between my teeth to keep me from clenching down and biting my tongue. The paramedics loaded me up into their company-issue vehicle against my protest - after regaining my consciousness and having some water I really felt fine, aside from my neck pain. In the back of the ambulance they had their newbie recruit try to find my vein. Usually my veins are ripe for needles, but having been unconscious my blood pressure was a tad lower than usual and he was almost digging for China...or my grave, whichever came first. Uncomfortable part of my day, part two. After some tests in the ER, they said I was fine. "What about my neck pain!?" I asked eagerly. I guess only one symptom can be treated per visit.
That episode brings us to today, still experiencing frequent pain. The only thing that seems to help it is going to the gym. Back in the beginning of June I kicked off my summer festival attendance at the Belmont-Sheffield Music Fest. Wow - what a great time. Partially because of the no-notice downpour, maybe out of slight curiosity, I stopped by to visit a chiropractic booth and signed up for some stupid deal to pay them $20 for a consultation, x-rays and a post-x-ray consultation and summary. I don't know why. Well it's actually a great deal. But so is bridge jumping for only $5. Today was the follow-up consultation, after putting it off for over a month. Clarification: the doctor canceled on me previously without notice - as in when I arrived to the appointment. I told the receptionist that I have a 24-hour notice required or there is a $50 cancellation fee. Since he said that they don't do that for their patients, I decided to be courteous and waived mine as well.
After relaying the above story about being knocked out, he said that I might have been knocked out regardless even without the muscle stim. Riiiiight. Like just by walking my Frankenstein'd self down the street and going my merry way I might have fallen unconscious. I felt like I was arguing with a girlfriend and there was no concern for reality and everything was based on theoreticals. He slyly added that, though he could definitely understand not wanting to proceed, since I was only unconscious once from this treatment I should probably do it again because it wouldn't happen again. I wish I could have just broken up with him right then and there. What b.s.
He went on to explain a chart in his office that I read while waiting. After hearing about how the curvature of my spine is not good and that there is deterioration on several of my vertebrae and discs, I knew I needed a second opinion. Truthfully, I was hesitant from the get-go and plan to consult with a few medical specialists before moving forward with anything. So this chart was basically a summary of what will happen to you if you do not sign up for chiropractic care. Right away. He continued and told me yada yada about how things were misaligned, out of whack and cause for concern. After listening to all of this you would think that your body was just mis-formed in Play-Doh. Honestly - this guy could have convinced a knowledgeable person that your solar plexis is inebriated. Thankfully I was a bit more skeptical. The clincher is that in order to prevent further decay into the 'level whatever danger zone' I would have to be a regular (read: very regular) patient of his for 6-8 months at least. Nice guy, but the right thing to do for your body shouldn't be based on a sales pitch. Albeit one that employs scare tactics.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
110/60
I had a friend Daliah in high school who told me one day that she planned on having a triple major in college. She had always been ambitious, but this time I was just like - there's no way. I couldn't fathom that, though admittedly at that point I had only seen college pretty much from the movies and all the folklore around the common-day fireside gatherings known as the kitchen/dining room combo complete with smallish tv for family dining entertainment. But it seemed tough to me, outside of the Belushi keggers and Porky's parties...
How do you have time to go to class, do homework, study for mid-terms and finals, participate in extra-curriculars and maintain any semblance of a social life?
That's probably the quintessential thought every teenager in America thinks at some point while cursing the nature of how things are in the world. Fast-forward ten or so years later and then you have bills, rent/mortgage, health insurance letters every two weeks - the list goes on.
But people find ways.
I run into people who have such a busy career and then it turns out that they are also the head of some organization that you'd think by all the time required for their volunteer post would in itself be a full-time commitment. There's a lady at my office who works full-time with us and in talking to her I found out that she has a second job - not waiting tables or baby-sitting - but as an inventory manager at a grocery store. She wakes up three mornings each week to be at work at 4am for four hours before she commutes to our office. How?
In my case I'm fortunate enough not to have car payments or car insurance since, well, I don't have an automobile...nor do I have loans of any sort...but I do have shit that fills the air with so much to do in life. And I'm no executive flying Lear jets to make appointments in LA at 3 so I can catch the 5 o'clock flight to Shanghai. Yet. Taking one class - albeit a test prep course - is still a huge demand on my time and difficult to squeeze in with all the homework and the like.
Sometimes I look at my calendar and start jotting down girls' names to fill up the next week's schedule. A date each night is a fun thing. Mixes it up. You meet new people, have a good time, go out drinking every night. No downside. But then you can't neglect your friends and you want to hang out with your family and the new dog. And it's nice to see the same friend more than once a month...
And summer in Chicago is so explosive with the amount of things to do and concerts to go to and street festivals to attend and revel at/in/there (I'm supposed to know the correct idiom since I'm studying for the GMAT, forgive me).
Then you begin to lose yourself...
Now I need to concentrate on two things. G & G. No, not gundeons and gragons. Gym & GMAT. (Just for a slight un-necessary clarification: I was never, nor will ever be, one who participates in any Dungeons & Dragons game or similar kind of thing...While that is a solid, undoubted truth, I am noticing that though I need to concentrate on the G&G combo, this narrative is somehow sneaking a place into the craziness of the void that I am trying to null.)
Hopefully this G&G duo will be dynamic enough that they recycle each other. Meaning that after the gym I'll be fresh enough to study and in turn after studying I'll need a break to go to the gym. Sounds like it'll work. But so does nuclear fusion and I'm really not quite sure why we don't have ridiculously cheap power since I know they can make fusion happen. I'll let it slide for now - but remind me that I want to talk about energy matters another day. I'm sure I'll forget otherwise.
Taking all the stuff I have going on with my life (remember, I'm not the Lear jet flying exec and thus not assuming my load is any more difficult that anyone else's) there must be a point of reckoning. Where does it end? Where does it begin? I don't really know the answers to those questions. All I do know is that I keep accepting new things to add to my calendar whether that thing is a concert or a family engagement or something totally different. With all of the clutter in one's life, it becomes necessary to look beyond what is going on and sort out the necessary from all else. Of course concerts are fun and hell yeah I love to go to them. But I can't choose every concert every day. Then Mon - Weds is full and I still have more things to accomplish for the rest of the week.
It got to be so crazy that at some point in college or shortly thereafter I would create a word document I called 'Calendar of Events Because I Can't Remember Anything Anymore.' It was, and still is to the present day, a great way for me to organize my days and weeks on an easy-to-access piece of paper that is specially tailored to print seven columns for the days of the week and however many rows (weeks) that can fit on one side of an 81/2 x 11 inch piece of paper. It even prints with space on the bottom margin on which I can take notes on books/movies/wines I want to check out...My parents got me a nice Palm Pilot for my college graduation. I politely returned it and have been content with the bi-monthly print-outs. Sure my friends joke about it as something quirky I do. But man does it help! It's such a great reference tool.
I have great blood pressure, so says my md. But I think he would recommend a break from everything in life if he saw all of my wants piling on - you need to detox and save time for yourself. Rest, go to the park, don't over-commit. If it were money, I'd be doing well. These activities and things that I want to do are sort of compounding in the same way that money in a bank does. They add up pretty fast, give a pleasurable return, but end up being pretty taxing. If for nothing else, I need to sign up for a new account plan to ensure my sanity remains a healthy constant for my age and that the color of my hair remains the rich brown that I have always wanted girls to compliment me on.
How do you have time to go to class, do homework, study for mid-terms and finals, participate in extra-curriculars and maintain any semblance of a social life?
That's probably the quintessential thought every teenager in America thinks at some point while cursing the nature of how things are in the world. Fast-forward ten or so years later and then you have bills, rent/mortgage, health insurance letters every two weeks - the list goes on.
But people find ways.
I run into people who have such a busy career and then it turns out that they are also the head of some organization that you'd think by all the time required for their volunteer post would in itself be a full-time commitment. There's a lady at my office who works full-time with us and in talking to her I found out that she has a second job - not waiting tables or baby-sitting - but as an inventory manager at a grocery store. She wakes up three mornings each week to be at work at 4am for four hours before she commutes to our office. How?
In my case I'm fortunate enough not to have car payments or car insurance since, well, I don't have an automobile...nor do I have loans of any sort...but I do have shit that fills the air with so much to do in life. And I'm no executive flying Lear jets to make appointments in LA at 3 so I can catch the 5 o'clock flight to Shanghai. Yet. Taking one class - albeit a test prep course - is still a huge demand on my time and difficult to squeeze in with all the homework and the like.
Sometimes I look at my calendar and start jotting down girls' names to fill up the next week's schedule. A date each night is a fun thing. Mixes it up. You meet new people, have a good time, go out drinking every night. No downside. But then you can't neglect your friends and you want to hang out with your family and the new dog. And it's nice to see the same friend more than once a month...
And summer in Chicago is so explosive with the amount of things to do and concerts to go to and street festivals to attend and revel at/in/there (I'm supposed to know the correct idiom since I'm studying for the GMAT, forgive me).
Then you begin to lose yourself...
Now I need to concentrate on two things. G & G. No, not gundeons and gragons. Gym & GMAT. (Just for a slight un-necessary clarification: I was never, nor will ever be, one who participates in any Dungeons & Dragons game or similar kind of thing...While that is a solid, undoubted truth, I am noticing that though I need to concentrate on the G&G combo, this narrative is somehow sneaking a place into the craziness of the void that I am trying to null.)
Hopefully this G&G duo will be dynamic enough that they recycle each other. Meaning that after the gym I'll be fresh enough to study and in turn after studying I'll need a break to go to the gym. Sounds like it'll work. But so does nuclear fusion and I'm really not quite sure why we don't have ridiculously cheap power since I know they can make fusion happen. I'll let it slide for now - but remind me that I want to talk about energy matters another day. I'm sure I'll forget otherwise.
Taking all the stuff I have going on with my life (remember, I'm not the Lear jet flying exec and thus not assuming my load is any more difficult that anyone else's) there must be a point of reckoning. Where does it end? Where does it begin? I don't really know the answers to those questions. All I do know is that I keep accepting new things to add to my calendar whether that thing is a concert or a family engagement or something totally different. With all of the clutter in one's life, it becomes necessary to look beyond what is going on and sort out the necessary from all else. Of course concerts are fun and hell yeah I love to go to them. But I can't choose every concert every day. Then Mon - Weds is full and I still have more things to accomplish for the rest of the week.
It got to be so crazy that at some point in college or shortly thereafter I would create a word document I called 'Calendar of Events Because I Can't Remember Anything Anymore.' It was, and still is to the present day, a great way for me to organize my days and weeks on an easy-to-access piece of paper that is specially tailored to print seven columns for the days of the week and however many rows (weeks) that can fit on one side of an 81/2 x 11 inch piece of paper. It even prints with space on the bottom margin on which I can take notes on books/movies/wines I want to check out...My parents got me a nice Palm Pilot for my college graduation. I politely returned it and have been content with the bi-monthly print-outs. Sure my friends joke about it as something quirky I do. But man does it help! It's such a great reference tool.
I have great blood pressure, so says my md. But I think he would recommend a break from everything in life if he saw all of my wants piling on - you need to detox and save time for yourself. Rest, go to the park, don't over-commit. If it were money, I'd be doing well. These activities and things that I want to do are sort of compounding in the same way that money in a bank does. They add up pretty fast, give a pleasurable return, but end up being pretty taxing. If for nothing else, I need to sign up for a new account plan to ensure my sanity remains a healthy constant for my age and that the color of my hair remains the rich brown that I have always wanted girls to compliment me on.
hey, so hi
In this life you're bound to meet a lot of people day to day. Sometimes more than you can handle. Sometimes not enough. It's great to meet people (read: girls) in whatever way you can.
Through friends. At a bar. House parties are always a favorite. Sometimes a park. In line at the corner store. After experiencing the same crazy thing together. At different events. Weddings for sure. Not so much funerals, however this is probably an under-explored venue for such introductions. Just think: everyone there is sad that the dearly departed has departed and you all wish that you could hold that person that you love...if...only...you could find that special someone. Ala kazam! Sure it's the 'cry on my shoulder' technique, but no reason why it can't be applied. For many cultures funerals are a celebration of life. Jews tend to display their smorgasboard of chocolates, cream cheeses and salmon delicacies; Irish tend to re-confirm their taste to act out their displays with a few Guinness pints. So why not find that special lass with whom to celebrate this life?
Another way to find the love of your life, or night, is online. There are lots of online 'bars' from which to choose, depending on the lifestyle, or promotional offer, that appeals to you. LavaLife, True, Match, Jdate.
There are a lot of things that could be said about dating in general and also more specifically about experiences had with online dating. Just today, for instance, while waiting for a girl by the Belmont El station who I had only seen from a few plausibly similar thumbnail-sized pictures, thoughts of uneasiness and anxiety filled my head. Ooh - this one has a nice rack, but she kept walking on. Please no, please no, please no - was another thought as I saw a very short lady with an abnormally smushed-in face. Hmm, could she be a Vietnamese nail salon girl? Sure, of course it's terrible to make these judgements of [mostly] normal people who could definitely make their soulmate happy [or absolute value of happy]. But you have an expectation that is set by your imagination of what the reality of that person's pictures tell you. In essence, you imagine your blind date to be what you want her to be. It's crazy.
Since online dating can become a hobby of sorts, so too a language is developed to keep up with the addiction. 'The Service' is what the online network is referred to. Thus, a 'Service Girl' is a girl you are talking to/dating from The Service. Just some beginner lingo to become familiar with...
Something that is definitely overlooked as a genre of literature, or even while immersed in the dating world, is the reading of online dating profiles purely for the comedic pleasure that you can draw from them. So many girls write the same cliched phrases. What gets me is the anti-polarization factor. These same 'prospects' seem to have a fear of isolating possible mates and will therefore not take a grounded position on anything that they say. "I definitely enjoy doing x, but often just appreciate doing opposite of x."
So this is my take on writing a profile from a girl's perspective, as their online template seems to go...
Please note: This summary is pretty accurate, though will not contain the frequent grammatical or spelling mistakes often found in the aforedescribed profiles.
About Me
"Well let's see...my friends say I'm a great catch! I love going out for a fun night on the town, but also enjoy a cozy night on the couch and making it a Blockbuster night. I like the Bulls, Bears and the Cubs! Overall, I'm a huge Cubs fan! Family is extremely important to me! So it's important for me to find a guy who is close to his family as well.
I am (this will be like a choose your adventure novella - be sure to choose your stereotype wisely!) ...
A) a teacher and absolutely love what I do. I love being around kids and seeing the difference I make in their lives every day.
B) in school for a master's in social work and love Chicago in the summer.
C) in sales and love having a night out on the town. Just a warning to all you boys - I live by the motto work hard, play hard so if you want to contact me be sure you can keep up!
My Perfect First Date
Anything is fine with me. It's more the company than the place. You know it's a great time if sparks are flying and there are butterflies in your stomach. The night ends with the anticipation of a first kiss and you both look forward to a second date.
My Ideal Relationship
A) There is no ideal relationship. You just have to balance things and appreciate your time together. I don't play games, so if that's what you're looking for keep looking.
B) Where my boyfriend is my best friend. We have our own friends. He has game night with his boys and I have a night out with my girls. But in the end we can't wait to see each other and share our stories. One in which we trust each other and have good communication.
I am looking for a
Nice Jewish boy! I want someone who will compliment me in every way - someone who I can be proud to take home to my family. I want someone who knows where he is going with his career and who can teach me new things. He should be confident, but not cocky and know how to treat a lady. Extra points if you can make me laugh!
So you can definitely get a flavor for the flavorless girls who paint their aimless, bland portraits on the land of the internet in hopes of getting a free drink, meal or home. Jaded? Not at all. Take the cliche 'there are many fish in the sea.' Very true - it's just hard to swim through seaweed is my point. And these words above are accurate - it's what they write. So you have to find the few who don't use the online anti-polarization template and actually create something to tell you what they are like through words.
These are the Revolutionaries...
Through friends. At a bar. House parties are always a favorite. Sometimes a park. In line at the corner store. After experiencing the same crazy thing together. At different events. Weddings for sure. Not so much funerals, however this is probably an under-explored venue for such introductions. Just think: everyone there is sad that the dearly departed has departed and you all wish that you could hold that person that you love...if...only...you could find that special someone. Ala kazam! Sure it's the 'cry on my shoulder' technique, but no reason why it can't be applied. For many cultures funerals are a celebration of life. Jews tend to display their smorgasboard of chocolates, cream cheeses and salmon delicacies; Irish tend to re-confirm their taste to act out their displays with a few Guinness pints. So why not find that special lass with whom to celebrate this life?
Another way to find the love of your life, or night, is online. There are lots of online 'bars' from which to choose, depending on the lifestyle, or promotional offer, that appeals to you. LavaLife, True, Match, Jdate.
There are a lot of things that could be said about dating in general and also more specifically about experiences had with online dating. Just today, for instance, while waiting for a girl by the Belmont El station who I had only seen from a few plausibly similar thumbnail-sized pictures, thoughts of uneasiness and anxiety filled my head. Ooh - this one has a nice rack, but she kept walking on. Please no, please no, please no - was another thought as I saw a very short lady with an abnormally smushed-in face. Hmm, could she be a Vietnamese nail salon girl? Sure, of course it's terrible to make these judgements of [mostly] normal people who could definitely make their soulmate happy [or absolute value of happy]. But you have an expectation that is set by your imagination of what the reality of that person's pictures tell you. In essence, you imagine your blind date to be what you want her to be. It's crazy.
Since online dating can become a hobby of sorts, so too a language is developed to keep up with the addiction. 'The Service' is what the online network is referred to. Thus, a 'Service Girl' is a girl you are talking to/dating from The Service. Just some beginner lingo to become familiar with...
Something that is definitely overlooked as a genre of literature, or even while immersed in the dating world, is the reading of online dating profiles purely for the comedic pleasure that you can draw from them. So many girls write the same cliched phrases. What gets me is the anti-polarization factor. These same 'prospects' seem to have a fear of isolating possible mates and will therefore not take a grounded position on anything that they say. "I definitely enjoy doing x, but often just appreciate doing opposite of x."
So this is my take on writing a profile from a girl's perspective, as their online template seems to go...
Please note: This summary is pretty accurate, though will not contain the frequent grammatical or spelling mistakes often found in the aforedescribed profiles.
About Me
"Well let's see...my friends say I'm a great catch! I love going out for a fun night on the town, but also enjoy a cozy night on the couch and making it a Blockbuster night. I like the Bulls, Bears and the Cubs! Overall, I'm a huge Cubs fan! Family is extremely important to me! So it's important for me to find a guy who is close to his family as well.
I am (this will be like a choose your adventure novella - be sure to choose your stereotype wisely!) ...
A) a teacher and absolutely love what I do. I love being around kids and seeing the difference I make in their lives every day.
B) in school for a master's in social work and love Chicago in the summer.
C) in sales and love having a night out on the town. Just a warning to all you boys - I live by the motto work hard, play hard so if you want to contact me be sure you can keep up!
My Perfect First Date
Anything is fine with me. It's more the company than the place. You know it's a great time if sparks are flying and there are butterflies in your stomach. The night ends with the anticipation of a first kiss and you both look forward to a second date.
My Ideal Relationship
A) There is no ideal relationship. You just have to balance things and appreciate your time together. I don't play games, so if that's what you're looking for keep looking.
B) Where my boyfriend is my best friend. We have our own friends. He has game night with his boys and I have a night out with my girls. But in the end we can't wait to see each other and share our stories. One in which we trust each other and have good communication.
I am looking for a
Nice Jewish boy! I want someone who will compliment me in every way - someone who I can be proud to take home to my family. I want someone who knows where he is going with his career and who can teach me new things. He should be confident, but not cocky and know how to treat a lady. Extra points if you can make me laugh!
So you can definitely get a flavor for the flavorless girls who paint their aimless, bland portraits on the land of the internet in hopes of getting a free drink, meal or home. Jaded? Not at all. Take the cliche 'there are many fish in the sea.' Very true - it's just hard to swim through seaweed is my point. And these words above are accurate - it's what they write. So you have to find the few who don't use the online anti-polarization template and actually create something to tell you what they are like through words.
These are the Revolutionaries...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
nyc
perhaps the cool part about Tompkins Square Park is that it was featured in cut-away scenes on NYPD Blue. or that it is found in a corner of town in the Alphabet City neighborhood. or even that it is just a park to sit down in for a respite from everything else in the city. for me it is all of the above. plus the crowd. with everything in a vacuum, the people most certainly differentiate nyc from any other place on earth. I think that's their tourism board's tagline...or at least it should be. but it is pretty true. at least they don't try to lure tourists with false hope and promise of great shows at reasonable prices - neither of which exist on that whole island.
that said, Tompkins has a unique make-up of people who frequent its benches and walkways.
I couldn't possibly tell you every type of individual there...partially because the resident schizophrenics recycle personalities too often. but also because there are more types of people in nyc than anywhere else in the world. true, it sounds hard to believe. but once you see it for yourself, then begin to accept that that statement is fathomable - well, the truth is really self-evident at that point.
an old college roommate of mine, Dave, once said something that I whole-heartedly believe: everyone in new york is an exhibitionist.
just start to comprehend that thought and blend into it the mix of cultures, despair, hope, anger and a lot of sexual tension and you will begin to grasp it like words from the Sages that you were told of from childhood. back to that another day.
so I'm sitting in the park on a sunny Saturday morning enjoying the beginning of my jaunt to my old turf. quite a good feeling that was to be back, basking in the glory days when I occupied a small piece of real estate for an unreal rate.
there's a line of all types of people. literally - people lined up single file in the park. [another note about the populace: nyc is not a melting pot. in a melting pot you'd have a bunch of different people's cultures and ethnicities melded together as one in a grotesque display of the extreme possibilities of a special effects studio that would result in the completed product of 'amalgamation man' (or at least that is how I'd think upon it if given the visual leaway, which you all have so graciously allowed me to do). the city is actually a multi-cultured blob of cultures living on top of each other. again, more on that later.] there's a youngish woman about 30 or so sitting with a shopping cart who was outfitted in not the cleanest looking attire which was complimented by what I could tell was a single tooth protruding from the grin on her face that came from the conversation she was having on her cell phone. I usually like to live by the motto 'simple pleasures,' but here she was beating me to simplicity. good for her. next are the random joggers with their dogs who make in a week what the common folk of the park need in a year. then I see some others who are sitting around gazing, much like myself. there are a bunch of homeless-looking people, too. and then there are the Chinamen. or peoples descending from the People's Republic of China, whichever is the preferred nomenclature, depending on where and when you're reading this. so there was a decent-sized family, or families, of Chinese right in front of me. it was pretty amusing: the kids were playing games with each other as their family(ies) waited in the line that was amassing in front of us along the row of benches on the central avenue in the park. what got to me the most was that the eldest boy, perhaps 7 years old, kept play-fighting his female comrades, daunting them with a pair of kindergarten plastic scissors. SCISSORS!? where are your parents? oh yeah - in that long line of people waiting. for something. such a riot. so this is what pops in my head: when a Jewish boy is transformed into a man during his bar mitzvah, it is customary for his family's congregation to present him with various coming-of-age presents. a prayers book, a prayer shawl, a ceremonial wine glass. So in the same vein, when a Chinese boy is confirmed in the doctrines of...Christ, Confucious, Mao, you name it...does he receive a set of Halloween PJs, starter scissors and karate slippers? 'cause this is what this kid had and it seemed like he knew how to move too. all that was missing was his beta tape of Enter The Dragon, which was probably cued up in his family's moving slideshow machine. now, I'm not the most racist person by any means (well, I should probably say the least at this point) but these cultural observations are funny to me. why does this boy grow up with the prowess of Bruce Lee's magic ballet-like death moves instilled in his heart? maybe all boys grow up in a Pekin fighting stance...I dunno.
so I turn to the old Chinaman on the bench adjacent to mine and ask him what the line is for, my curiousity finally catching up to my vocal chords. he doesn't hear me. no turning back though.
"hey man - excuse me! sir! hey buddy!" he finally turns slowly, obviously on his own clock.
so I repeat my question and he says: "Fi meenut to twel"
greeeaaat. I almost began to repeat the question yet again, but then realized that it was to no avail.
I guess that's the best I was going to do.
that said, Tompkins has a unique make-up of people who frequent its benches and walkways.
I couldn't possibly tell you every type of individual there...partially because the resident schizophrenics recycle personalities too often. but also because there are more types of people in nyc than anywhere else in the world. true, it sounds hard to believe. but once you see it for yourself, then begin to accept that that statement is fathomable - well, the truth is really self-evident at that point.
an old college roommate of mine, Dave, once said something that I whole-heartedly believe: everyone in new york is an exhibitionist.
just start to comprehend that thought and blend into it the mix of cultures, despair, hope, anger and a lot of sexual tension and you will begin to grasp it like words from the Sages that you were told of from childhood. back to that another day.
so I'm sitting in the park on a sunny Saturday morning enjoying the beginning of my jaunt to my old turf. quite a good feeling that was to be back, basking in the glory days when I occupied a small piece of real estate for an unreal rate.
there's a line of all types of people. literally - people lined up single file in the park. [another note about the populace: nyc is not a melting pot. in a melting pot you'd have a bunch of different people's cultures and ethnicities melded together as one in a grotesque display of the extreme possibilities of a special effects studio that would result in the completed product of 'amalgamation man' (or at least that is how I'd think upon it if given the visual leaway, which you all have so graciously allowed me to do). the city is actually a multi-cultured blob of cultures living on top of each other. again, more on that later.] there's a youngish woman about 30 or so sitting with a shopping cart who was outfitted in not the cleanest looking attire which was complimented by what I could tell was a single tooth protruding from the grin on her face that came from the conversation she was having on her cell phone. I usually like to live by the motto 'simple pleasures,' but here she was beating me to simplicity. good for her. next are the random joggers with their dogs who make in a week what the common folk of the park need in a year. then I see some others who are sitting around gazing, much like myself. there are a bunch of homeless-looking people, too. and then there are the Chinamen. or peoples descending from the People's Republic of China, whichever is the preferred nomenclature, depending on where and when you're reading this. so there was a decent-sized family, or families, of Chinese right in front of me. it was pretty amusing: the kids were playing games with each other as their family(ies) waited in the line that was amassing in front of us along the row of benches on the central avenue in the park. what got to me the most was that the eldest boy, perhaps 7 years old, kept play-fighting his female comrades, daunting them with a pair of kindergarten plastic scissors. SCISSORS!? where are your parents? oh yeah - in that long line of people waiting. for something. such a riot. so this is what pops in my head: when a Jewish boy is transformed into a man during his bar mitzvah, it is customary for his family's congregation to present him with various coming-of-age presents. a prayers book, a prayer shawl, a ceremonial wine glass. So in the same vein, when a Chinese boy is confirmed in the doctrines of...Christ, Confucious, Mao, you name it...does he receive a set of Halloween PJs, starter scissors and karate slippers? 'cause this is what this kid had and it seemed like he knew how to move too. all that was missing was his beta tape of Enter The Dragon, which was probably cued up in his family's moving slideshow machine. now, I'm not the most racist person by any means (well, I should probably say the least at this point) but these cultural observations are funny to me. why does this boy grow up with the prowess of Bruce Lee's magic ballet-like death moves instilled in his heart? maybe all boys grow up in a Pekin fighting stance...I dunno.
so I turn to the old Chinaman on the bench adjacent to mine and ask him what the line is for, my curiousity finally catching up to my vocal chords. he doesn't hear me. no turning back though.
"hey man - excuse me! sir! hey buddy!" he finally turns slowly, obviously on his own clock.
so I repeat my question and he says: "Fi meenut to twel"
greeeaaat. I almost began to repeat the question yet again, but then realized that it was to no avail.
I guess that's the best I was going to do.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
nasties
ok so I'm on the phone with a pest control company and they tell me the worst news yet of 2007:
spiders are the most resilient creatures. not good.
worst yet, the pest control experts said that there is no guarantee for the destruction of any living spiders or (possibly even worse) the unborn. that means that future generations can comfortably spawn and increase their strength against the wannabe potency of the companies that we hire for the very purpose of their eradication from our homes. and walkways. and restaurants. and stuff.
I offered to pay them an extra $5 to get rid of their lairs and eggs and other things I want gone but won't do myself.
I simply cannot have them around.
when asked if I was really afraid, I simply responded that (grouping spiders together with the centipedes that have been known to visit me) I don't want to come home to see something nasty in my place that runs faster than I do.
I don't think that's too much to ask, quite frankly.
gotta gather up the money and support from my fellow condo dwellers to enforce the law of the bipeds.
spiders are the most resilient creatures. not good.
worst yet, the pest control experts said that there is no guarantee for the destruction of any living spiders or (possibly even worse) the unborn. that means that future generations can comfortably spawn and increase their strength against the wannabe potency of the companies that we hire for the very purpose of their eradication from our homes. and walkways. and restaurants. and stuff.
I offered to pay them an extra $5 to get rid of their lairs and eggs and other things I want gone but won't do myself.
I simply cannot have them around.
when asked if I was really afraid, I simply responded that (grouping spiders together with the centipedes that have been known to visit me) I don't want to come home to see something nasty in my place that runs faster than I do.
I don't think that's too much to ask, quite frankly.
gotta gather up the money and support from my fellow condo dwellers to enforce the law of the bipeds.
album info
just some notes on music:
my band, if I ever had/have one, will/might be called The Smow Kings. but probably that name will wear out after the cutesy draw to it is discovered and wanes soon thereafter. so maybe that's just our practice name before we start the tour circuit.
track three could be an ode to something. perhaps titled 'Jasper Tells All'.
track six is more of a ballad
of course, the first two tracks would have to get the album going and incite and excite people to listen to it and spread the word.
no secret tracks, 'cause they just suck. who wants to listen to music only to find a 10 minute gap in the song that's playing until you get to the treasure song. what a waste.
no intro tracks with rap guys calling each other and leaving dumb voicemails about their producers or girlfriends or drugs. because of course those things are sacred to the individual and also irrelevant to the music-listening populace unless it has some sort of tune/beat/etc. music doesn't include your voicemails or phone calls or the like.
something else that's crazy and should be avoided is when you have artist titles that end up on your ipod or similar, yet crappier, mobile music device as such:
X Artist
X Artist feat. Beyonce
X Artist feat. Jay-Z and Talib Kweli
music producer dudes of the world! I do not need more than one listing for each artist
just put all your 'shout outs' on the track names so that you don't clog the artist roster, man.
my proposal would shake up how we do things.
just have the listing like 'X Artist', song = 'It's hard on the street for a pimp, feat Gwen Stefani'
my band, if I ever had/have one, will/might be called The Smow Kings. but probably that name will wear out after the cutesy draw to it is discovered and wanes soon thereafter. so maybe that's just our practice name before we start the tour circuit.
track three could be an ode to something. perhaps titled 'Jasper Tells All'.
track six is more of a ballad
of course, the first two tracks would have to get the album going and incite and excite people to listen to it and spread the word.
no secret tracks, 'cause they just suck. who wants to listen to music only to find a 10 minute gap in the song that's playing until you get to the treasure song. what a waste.
no intro tracks with rap guys calling each other and leaving dumb voicemails about their producers or girlfriends or drugs. because of course those things are sacred to the individual and also irrelevant to the music-listening populace unless it has some sort of tune/beat/etc. music doesn't include your voicemails or phone calls or the like.
something else that's crazy and should be avoided is when you have artist titles that end up on your ipod or similar, yet crappier, mobile music device as such:
X Artist
X Artist feat. Beyonce
X Artist feat. Jay-Z and Talib Kweli
music producer dudes of the world! I do not need more than one listing for each artist
just put all your 'shout outs' on the track names so that you don't clog the artist roster, man.
my proposal would shake up how we do things.
just have the listing like 'X Artist', song = 'It's hard on the street for a pimp, feat Gwen Stefani'
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