tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30498662024-02-28T08:02:48.547-05:00Texting: Urban Depressive SignalsCultural ruminations of a NY performance artist.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1151203151250572872006-06-24T22:07:00.000-04:002006-06-24T22:42:37.393-04:00 Only in New York Sometimes I remember why I came here. Today: the crowds spilling out of that annoying restaurant on 7th and A that isn't 7A; What is their cuisine? What is their concept? All types of people, riveted to a screen. I ducked in a dark bar a bit beyond to see what the game was: Mexico versus Argentine. By Houston they were celebrating: boys came out of nowhere, wearing Argentinian Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1139116534508336242006-02-04T19:29:00.001-05:002012-03-20T17:00:13.083-04:00 The Louis Quatorze Song Tin Pan Alley-ish, think "Yes, we have no bananas" Intro: (sung-said over a piano vamp using one note except for last few syllables) He was a large black securities analyst in a tailor-made suit She was a sweet young blonde from Solomon Smith Barney They met on the Louis Rukeyser show. She looked at him with her big blue eyes and said There's just one thing I'd like Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1114178338856461932005-04-22T09:06:00.000-04:002005-12-01T17:39:07.406-05:00Earth to YouEarth Day -- April 22nd Finding yourself at a loss about how best to celebrate Earth Day? If you’re not much for rallies and agit-prop theater, but you’ve got a gnawing worry that the world is going to hell in a handbasket, here are practically pain-free ways to become part of the solution.Cancel those catalogues You thought you might start knitting during your downtime, bought some Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1096989731940183752004-10-05T10:58:00.000-04:002005-12-01T17:47:18.903-05:00Strange dreams. Last night, I beat Ken Jennings at Jeopardy and he was so distraught, I wished I'd answered wrong. The previous night, I was at a private party at an overstylized estate, scarfing hors d'oeuvres, when, from the back of the couch poured insects, larger and larger, in torrents, until, like a morphing cartoon, large rats were pouring from behind the walls, up the stairs, and the restUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1082140576369887232004-04-16T14:36:00.000-04:002005-12-01T17:57:00.456-05:00Yesterday was one of those good news/bad news days.I was phenomenally organized for meeting Emil, the accountant, in midtown.I had backup data, I had extra forms printed from the IRS and NYS tax sites, I had mailing envelopes, large and small, I had scissors and a stapler and tape and a checkbook and ID and cash. I had a scarf should it get chilly and a book should I get bored. I had my trash andUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-1074451251196985232004-01-18T13:40:00.000-05:002005-12-01T18:06:14.673-05:00Fat fluffy flakes of snow outside, Sinatra on the radio, brunch plans soon.How I'd love to be on top of things. A redesign of this site. A cheaper ISP than AOL. A functional date and address book. Clothes mended and shipshape. Multiple lists dovetailed. Income flow steady and growing. Laughter and love and all that. Delicious, nutritious food, dance class and bodywork. No smoking! No Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-912125872003-03-23T00:39:00.000-05:002005-12-01T18:18:38.013-05:00What can one say? The war's on tv. Even journalists in Baghdad who know the basic plan, have heard the hype about precision bombing, have forewarning from their networks when bombing sorties take off, and know the US would prefer viewers not hear them being blown to bits...don't feel safe. The ABC guy could hardly get a sentence out, he was hyperventilating and freaking while studio commentators Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-907779112003-03-15T16:55:00.000-05:002005-12-01T18:23:03.200-05:00It's a gorgeous day here in New York. Sunny and warm, peaceful. I feel sad to be tied to my computer. Since November I've had incessent work. I'm lucky to have work instead of spending the same time and energy drumming up work. But I've not yet aquire the knack of getting the *right* work. I've been writing some historical overviews for 10 cents a word. This would make sense if I could write a Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-907198432003-03-14T12:43:00.000-05:002013-07-05T17:40:24.282-04:00Freedom Fries
Fredom Fry Martyrdom
I had one of my long, egocentric daydreams yesterday. As usual, it combined poignant self-sacrifice with It's a Wonderful Life redemption. It opens with President Bush addressing the nation. He's addressing the nation because I've been attacked. I couldn't decide whether to kill myself off or if the fantasy would work if I lived. I've been attacked because I decried in my Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-902861252003-03-07T01:00:00.000-05:002015-05-20T12:39:16.873-04:00more exciting pre-possible-war verbiage. (in the form of notes to myself from which to some day Write Something of Actual Note. or maybe just make a few bux writing for a late-night comic. who knows)
questions I predict the media will be asking in three months:
Where is Hussein?
Where are the WMDs?
Where is the democracy?
How many died?
How much does this cost?
What's happening to the Kurds?
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-901242362003-03-04T13:25:00.000-05:002015-05-20T12:38:32.943-04:00
I have a friend who opposes war with Iraq on pragmatic grounds. It will not be effective. It will not achieve the stated goals of disarmament, increased security, lessening terrorism, regime change, and Pax Americana throughout the Middle East. He tells me that his bottom line is the course of action that results in the least suffering. And ours is not that course of action.
A long time ago, Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-898095732003-02-26T20:54:00.000-05:002003-02-27T22:58:28.000-05:002/27 addendum:
my new favorite thing
a discussion I've spent more time on than this work that's due tomorrow (starts out dumb, gets better)
I just caught Bush's speech at the American Enterprise Institute. More on them.
What struck me quite forcibly is how the rhetoric has crept. We cried for disarmament. We pressed for inspections. But the clear objective, no longer veiled, is regime change Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-891996272003-02-16T15:27:00.000-05:002003-02-16T15:27:57.316-05:00 The New York Protest and Rally
I present my experience and my take on the news coverage I saw and read at home.
My mom's bus was to get in to Shea Stadium at 10 am. She'd left Worcester with four busloads of people at 6:30 am, just two hours after I'd finally fallen asleep after consuming most of a bottle of Pinot Grigio and writing an ambitious "things I'm gonna do as soon as I finish this Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-890663322003-02-13T21:13:00.000-05:002003-02-13T21:13:34.673-05:00Why Do I March?
I march because I love my country.
I march because I refuse to believe it's futile.
I march because this is a government by the people and for the people and of the people and we are the people. I refuse to believe representative government is dead.
I march because I refuse to be marginalized as someone "exercising my right to free speech" as if that's some precious acting-outUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-815241192002-09-12T17:45:00.000-04:002002-09-12T17:45:12.970-04:00 I feel relieved that September 11th has passed. It actually gave me much the same restless anxiety that my birthday last Friday did: wanting to be caught up in something larger than me, wanting community and not knowing the "right" thing, something looming which I was bound to fail to adequately mark, some unfulfilled expectation. I decided to not go down to Ground Zero, as, again, it was a Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-814136552002-09-10T14:01:00.000-04:002004-07-15T16:50:35.646-04:00 I have a book to copyedit and man, am I procrastinating. The September 11th Anniversary is not just a media event. I'm having real, visceral memories and flashback feelings.
I had written a piece on my compulsive attraction to Ground Zero, but not gotten it published at the various places I sent it out, so it languished in my computer. Friday morning, the editor of the Villager called Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-796974512002-08-01T14:20:00.001-04:002012-03-20T17:16:36.298-04:00Sent this to the Times::This is in response to Safire's most recent "On Language" column, "Blog." I've always respected Safire's etymological, if not political, expertise. In fact, I wrote him a letter when I was 11 or so, protesting the grammar of Tom Petty's "I Need a Lover that Won't Drive Me Crazy." (I argued it should be "who" as the lover was probably a person and not a thing.) Safire did Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-784055932002-07-01T00:57:00.000-04:002002-07-01T16:17:28.000-04:00 Addendum 7-1: Searched Google for "household hints stain remov*" and got this academic essay on little known women poets of the Renaissance.
Other recent absorbing surfing included:
Memo to Media Monopolists (echoes that excellent NY Times magazine article on the dinosaur thinking of the music industry, was in a special issue devoted to music.)
Information Monopolies (by Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-781892202002-06-25T15:18:00.000-04:002002-06-25T15:18:56.523-04:00 My close friend Suzanne was in town for just a weekend to attend the funeral of our friend John. John had been a surrogate parent for Suzanne for the decade (mid '80s to '90s) she spent based in New York, with side journeys to get married (in St. Paul, 2 years) and live with a crazy dancer-choreographer (Mexico, 1 year). John and his partner Bill were the anchors of a group house in Park Slope Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-773502862002-06-04T19:23:00.000-04:002002-06-04T19:23:34.946-04:00 What's with the abundance of gerund-plus-name punny titles: Judging Amy, Crossing Jordan, Watching Ellie. They resemble but are grammatically dissimilar to, say, Leaving Las Vegas, Saving Private Ryan, Punishing Kiss, Enduring Freedom, sparkling water, or wanting out. While wearying, the list is hardly exhaustive. Why not Losing Patience (a bittersweet comedy about a wandering Alzheimer's Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-103775332002-03-04T16:01:00.000-05:002002-03-04T16:01:26.630-05:00
Artspost: First, I went to see both nights of "69 Love Songs"; the Magnetic Fields at Lincoln Center. They played them through in order, with simple orchestration. Everyone was hoarse by the end of the second night. The audience was warm, there was a lot of breakage of the fourth wall and informal byplay that broke the stiffness of a concert-hall venue. It was quite a treat.
Two Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-94310182002-02-06T02:42:00.000-05:002002-02-06T02:42:30.233-05:00It's February, a time of rest and preparation, according to the wise and wonderful Nathan Whiting.
"DISTURBED
I'm lost in the dark,
lost in many colors.
Confusion grabs
a searchlight's phantom flashes.
Lost in blue
a bat would scream
and measure dotted answers.
A silent owl slips
through maples
without bottom. Who searches?
Whatever I am
won't find a way easy.
I turn again.
Insects scatter. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-92705832002-02-01T10:07:00.000-05:002002-02-06T02:20:37.000-05:00
In the spirit of not posting only demanding text, I offer the following relaxing links:
Feminist Stripper, recommended by Lily Burana, whose writing I like and who turns out to be a character from my past.
Satire wire's Mo Bettah Evil Axes, um, satire
While I liked the list of (odd) results I got on google when I typed spiral jetty salt shower coin, I was looking for this page, part of TemporamaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-83499472002-01-02T14:32:00.000-05:002005-12-08T18:17:48.146-05:00The holidays felt like a 2-week vacation for the U.S.; everyone seemed to take the Friday before Christmas off for a five-day weekend; last Wednesday through Friday were skeletal workdays, and then another 4-day weekend through New Years'. The time passed very quickly; went to Macy's the day after Christmas... total mayhem, absolute plunderage, racks overturned, shoe department looked like peopleUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3049866.post-80521182001-12-19T15:13:00.000-05:002002-04-01T20:48:01.000-05:00 I'm learning a bit about the frustrations of journalism. Without strong contacts to expedite publication, I've been unable to get out this article, which I think is an important and underrepresented facet of post-September 11 New York. It's especially frustrating in light of the time and emotional honesty that the people I interviewed (both cops and civilians) shared with me, all trusting me toUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0