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.
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