randomness personified

welcome to my island

My pals Bruce and Cathy from Atlanta will be keeping me busy this weekend. They're in the city to attend a Zappa program at Carnegie Hall. I'm going to tag along, too, even though I'm not really a Zappa fan. Should be interesting at the very least.

Other than that, it sounds like we're going to be livin' large doing all of the NYC touristy things as Bruce has never been to Manhattan. I can't wait! I miss them muchly and the tourist things are always good for a once-a-year refresher. Besides, when you live here it's fun to see things from a newbie's perspective.

hmv

The latest trend with the blogarazzi? Audio blogs. I've seen a handful of them now. I'm not sure if I like the idea or not. Several reasons come to mind.

First, my blog helps my polish my writing skills. I know how to speak. It's one of my better skills. Award-winning, in fact!! ;)

Second, do you really want to listen to me ramble every day? I know people who would pay not to have to hear that. I tend to be long-winded. Besides, you can skip around and only read what you're interested in. That would be harder with an audio journal.

Third, would you really want to hear me say "a really cool link is at, write this down, aach tee tee pee colon slash slash..."

Finally, you really don't want to hear what I sound like. Isn't it more fun to imagine what a guy who was born in Michigan and has lived in England, Georgia and Connecticut sounds like?

Thoughts?

only in america

"A singer accused of child pornography shoves a former crack dealer out of the No. 1 spot."

joe blow

So, Fox is planning a second dose of "Joe Millionaire." Joy. Obviously, though, they have to make some changes to the format. Either that or put Joe in a château with a flock of fine lookin' Amish gals.

I think I have the perfect solution, though... "Joe Ex-Con"

Tell the unsuspecting ladies that Joe is a white collar manager. A banker, perhaps. In actuality, though, he's an ex-con. He's just finshed serving time for something really vile. Maybe an ax-murderer. Would the ladies still love the charmer when they find out that he is a hardened felon? Wouldn't that be a hoot?

Sadly, I'm sure that exact idea is being pitched somewhere in the hell-hole that is Fox. We'll always have "The Simpsons..."

my daddy could whup your daddy

There is a whole genre of writing comparing NYC to other cities. The fact of the matter is that pretty much anyone who chooses to call NYC home wouldn't ever dream of ever living anywhere else. We have a chip on our shoulder, though. We see our city constantly maligned by those who really don't understand. Yeah, it's grimy. Yeah, it's insanely urban. Yeah, it's huge and arcane. It takes a certain person to love the city. Those of us who do wouldn't change a damn thing.

In the latest entry in that genre, Clay from the Morning News takes on the subway and compares it to D.C.'s Metro. The grit, the character, the attitude. I wouldn't change a thing, either.

too cheeky

How were these not all the rage last week for Fashion Week? Read carefully. It's not what it looks like. It is, however, retarded...

plugging the gaps

Okay. I've ripped and ripped and ripped. I still have about two gig of space left on the ol' Nomad. Here's what I'm carrying about now.

Help me out. What am I forgetting? What's not on my Nomad that you, my beloved readers, couldn't live without?

Now, if you say Billy Joel or Jimmy Buffett you should plan in advance for my retort :-)

ain't that america

So I watched "Boston Public" tonight. As I've mentioned before, it's a guilty pleasure. I lingered too long on the preview for the "Joe Millionaire: The Aftermath" and saw the audition tape guy who wanted to be Joe. He told this joke

Women are like parking spaces. All the good ones are taken and the rest are handicapped!

Ha ha ha. Isn't that funny? Fucker.

Has everyone heard this joke and I have somehow avoided it? A quick Google search for "women are like parking spaces" came up with thirty hits. "Men are like parking spaces" culled over 100 hits.

And I wonder why my dating options seem so bleak these days.

artsy fartsy

I went to see "Gerry" yesterday. I'm still not sure what I was supposed to get out of it (other than a nap). There's no plot to speak of so there's really not much to discuss here. It was pretty to look at for about twenty minutes. It's the other ninety minutes that could have done without.

So will somebody go see it so we can discuss it? Warning -- it's not for everyone. About 25% of the people at the Angelika walked out yesterday.

I didn't hate it, I just didn't think the whole film was necessary. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood to be visually soothed. Van Sant sees it as some sort of cinematic meditation. To me meditation is more than seeing how long you can hold a shot before the audience just gives up. Maybe I just didn't allow myself to be moved. I dunno.

building a better internet

We're probably all aware of big, user-created databases on the internet. IMDB is probably the most known example. Well, there are a couple of others that are great and could use your help.

Wired on Wheels is a phenomenal idea. You probably never think about it, but restaurants are oftentimes difficult for crips. This is especially true in Manhattan where many, many restaurants have a slew of steps or are so narrow that most people in chairs couldn't get through. If you know me, I'm pretty aggressive. I can get most anywhere. I can't, however, deal with more than a couple of steps. This site allows you to rate restaurants for access so there are no surprises when someone in a chair arrives. A great idea and much better than calling the restaurant because they really have no clue most of the time. So, if you go to a restaurant why not spend .2 seconds thinking about steps and whatnot and then update this page. They need a lot of help and you certainly don't have to be disabled to lend them some opinions.

The Covers Project is a pretty cool idea that I just stumbled onto this afternoon. Basically they're trying to cross-reference artists with artists who have covered their work. I added a couple of Steve Earle covers but, for the most part, they're pretty complete. I'm sure some obscure artists aren't represented very well. See if you can help them, too.

not carrying the banner

So, is nobody seeing this banner on the page?! It worked fine from home but here at work it's not showing up. Weird?!

grammy el grande

When I was a kid I used to get all worked up for the Grammy Awards. I haven't watched a single minute of the last few shows. This year, however, they're in NYC and I walked by The Garden earlier this afternoon while things were getting geared up. Limos were pulling up, people were jammed to see the red carpet arrivals, cops were everywhere.

I got a bit excited, too! Wow! The Grammys! Ok, maybe not.

I'm going to force myself to sit through them, damn it. And I'm going to give you a play-by-play. Kind of like a tape delayed Mystery Science Theater. How 'bout that?!

It's going to be hella long. Click more if you care to read. It should be fun, at least...

(Ed. The extended entry format is all screwed up and I don't have time to fix it right away. So... Here it be.)

8:01 - Simon & Garfunkel. oh... my... god... Paul Simon is so unhappy and so half dead. Art Garfunkel's once proud curly locks now look like Eraserhead. His once warbling falsetto now sounds like me in the shower. That was one of the most lackluster performances imaginable.

8:10 - "Bruce Springstreet." Tootsie's drunk, kids.

8:11 - No Doubt. They're a guilty pleasure but this ballad version of "Underneath It All" is a disaster. Oh, wait... Okay. I'm hating myself for watching this already. Gwen. You're built like a twelve year-old boy. Put some clothes on fer chrissake.

8:15 - The first band I've never heard of but certainly not the last. Bowling For Soup?

8:16 - Gwen's wearing one glove. Lovely. Clearly she's got MJ Fever just like the rest of America. Jimmy Iovine is the devil. Don't thank him.

8:17 - Norah Jones really does have an amazingly timeless voice. It's just, well, boring. Poor thing looks like she's about to pee herself, though.

8:26 - Somebody shoot Kylie. Please? And please let Brittany win.

8:27 - Gosh. It's shocking. People perform and then win? What are the odds? Norah's not gonna thank her Dad, is she? Nope.

8:28 - Declan in the haaaaaus.

8:30 - Faith Hill is about as country as Ted Nugent. Is that a dress or a cocktail napkin?

8:39 - I still refuse to believe that Paul Schaffer has produced offspring.

8:40 - Wait, wait, wait. This is Vanessa Carlton? I thought this was Michelle Branch. She's like a adolescent Tori Amos.

8:42 - John Mayer makes me violent. I swear he's the evil spawn of Dave Matthews and David Grey. Does he speak English? "You bitachlish wonderland?" Ich bin ein sick.

8:45 - I'm starting to appreciate James Taylor in my old age. Maybe it's only because sooner or later my hairline will match his. Yo Yo Ma is a whore, though.

8:49 - Okay. I seriously had no clue that he was saying "your body is a wonderland." Wait. He just thanked Michael McDonald. That explains everything. "Ya Mo Be There." The prosecution rests.

8:52 - Ha! P. was diddled that Eminem won, wasn't he? Who's the lost ponytail dude behind the Em posse? His accountant, perhaps? Bruce White?

8:58 - There's is no way in hell that Stevie Nicks is Queen Latifah's "girl."

8:59 - I'll say it again. The short Dixie Chick is shrinking. Only her hair is growing. What the hell is around the mandolin player's neck?

9:03 - How I love you, Herbie Hancock.

9:05 - Performance = win yet again. Go figure. There really was no chance that Willie was going to win, was there?

9:06 - Ha!!! Elvis did come with Diana Krall. You go, Declan!

9:12 - Nice work, John Leguizamo. Compound mispronouncing Leonard Bernstein's name with some really offensive Jewish impersonations.

9:20 - Quick! Chris Martin from Coldplay's having a seizure!! You do have to love that he still was behind his rickety Yamaha upright in front of the Philharmonic, don't ya?

9:28 - Rod Stewart, a drag queen and a dog. Isn't this an urban legend?

9:29 - There's a world where Robin Williams is actually funny. Unfortunately only he lives there.

9:37 - Well, Doc Watson won but Johnny, Steve Earle, Patti Griffith and the Chieftans lost to fucking Nickle Creek's pop bluegrass. Sigh...

9:45 - Is it possible that the Band-Aid interferes in some way with Nelly's ability to enunciate? You got to hand it to him, though. Anybody who could have a huge hit with this dreck has to know something that I don't.

9:49 - Fred Durst, eloquent diplomat for peace.

9:58 - Robin yet again on his own planet.

10:00 - I love Springsteen, I love "The Rising." All I want to know is when do I get my invite to join the E Street Band. What's he got now? Eight guitarists? Poor Clarence has the horn there but it's just a prop. One of these days I swear Little Steven is just gonna plant a big one on the Boss. Has anybody ever seen Kathy Griffin and Patti in the same place?

I really wanted to see this tour. He's coming back to the area. Three nights at Giants Stadium. I think not...

10:05 - SWEEEEEET hair! I always wondered what was under Erykah Badu's hair wrap thing. I figured that it was her lunch or something. Little did I know...

10:07 - Bruce was robbed, man. "Don't Know Why" is a nice song. It's not Song of the Year caliber. Then again, the fact that Alan Jackson was nominated for his jingoistic theme says volumes about the Grammys.

10:17 - Making fun of Ashanti seems really mean. Only one problem. She sounds awful.

10:20 - Cyndi Lauper still goes to the Grammys? Never give up on your dreams, Cyndi. Time after time...

10:22 - I'm getting delirious and not in a good way...

10:24 - Ed Bradley?! The Bee Gees? 'N Sync? Wow. Now this is a train wreck with teeth!! Justin as Barry! Lance as Robin! Everyone deliciously awful and off key!

10:39 - Em with the Roots. Clearly he's not comfortable fronting a band. This song is so awful. What's his shirt say? Free Yayo? I don't think I even want to know...

10:44 - Oh my god. Oh my god. What's Aretha wrapped up in?

10:47 - Is it just me or was the "you just watch her" comment about Norah creepy?

10:55 - I must be getting really delirious. I'm almost enjoying this Sheryl Crow/Kid Rock disaster.

10:58 - Alicia Keys appears to be going to Keith Richards' hairstylist. Grammy appears to have choosen Norah Jones to have a Santana and Bonnie Raitt-like landslide. Boring twits...

11:02 - Now I'm drinking.

11:08 - I seriously still can't believe that Michael Bloomberg is the major of NYC.

11:09 - I can die happy now. EC. Bruce. "London Calling." I have no words.

Well, that's not entirely true. I have a few words. I always have a few words. I thought EC and the Boss sounded amazing. I thought Dave Grohl was a fine addition. I wanted to put a muzzle firmly in the yap of Little Steven. Talk about out of place. Wait! I just remembered that Pete Thomas was supposed to be on drums but I didn't even notice! Was that him? Crap!

11:24 - EC always looks so uncomfortable presenting, doesn't he? Springsteen better win, damn it.

11:25 - Grammy has no imagination. Seriously. There has to a chosen one every year. Shoulda been Bruce. It was Norah. Boring.

Well, thus ends this little experiment. Hopefully it was at least a bit amusing. Don't count on it happening again. The Grammys suck.

8:01 - Simon & Garfunkel. oh... my... god... Paul Simon is so unhappy and so half dead. Art Garfunkel's once proud curly locks now look like Eraserhead. His once warbling falsetto now sounds like me in the shower. That was one of the most lackluster performances imaginable.

8:10 - "Bruce Springstreet." Tootsie's drunk, kids.

8:11 - No Doubt. They're a guilty pleasure but this ballad version of "Underneath It All" is a disaster. Oh, wait... Okay. I'm hating myself for watching this already. Gwen. You're built like a twelve year-old boy. Put some clothes on fer chrissake.

8:15 - The first band I've never heard of but certainly not the last. Bowling For Soup?

8:16 - Gwen's wearing one glove. Lovely. Clearly she's got MJ Fever just like the rest of America. Jimmy Iovine is the devil. Don't thank him.

8:17 - Norah Jones really does have an amazingly timeless voice. It's just, well, boring. Poor thing looks like she's about to pee herself, though.

8:26 - Somebody shoot Kylie. Please? And please let Brittany win.

8:27 - Gosh. It's shocking. People perform and then win? What are the odds? Norah's not gonna thank her Dad, is she? Nope.

8:28 - Declan in the haaaaaus.

8:30 - Faith Hill is about as country as Ted Nugent. Is that a dress or a cocktail napkin?

8:39 - I still refuse to believe that Paul Schaffer has produced offspring.

8:40 - Wait, wait, wait. This is Vanessa Carlton? I thought this was Michelle Branch. She's like a adolescent Tori Amos.

8:42 - John Mayer makes me violent. I swear he's the evil spawn of Dave Matthews and David Grey. Does he speak English? "You bitachlish wonderland?" Ich bin ein sick.

8:45 - I'm starting to appreciate James Taylor in my old age. Maybe it's only because sooner or later my hairline will match his. Yo Yo Ma is a whore, though.

8:49 - Okay. I seriously had no clue that he was saying "your body is a wonderland." Wait. He just thanked Michael McDonald. That explains everything. "Ya Mo Be There." The prosecution rests.

8:52 - Ha! P. was diddled that Eminem won, wasn't he? Who's the lost ponytail dude behind the Em posse? His accountant, perhaps? Bruce White?

8:58 - There's is no way in hell that Stevie Nicks is Queen Latifah's "girl."

8:59 - I'll say it again. The short Dixie Chick is shrinking. Only her hair is growing. What the hell is around the mandolin player's neck?

9:03 - How I love you, Herbie Hancock.

9:05 - Performance = win yet again. Go figure. There really was no chance that Willie was going to win, was there?

9:06 - Ha!!! Elvis did come with Diana Krall. You go, Declan!

9:12 - Nice work, John Leguizamo. Compound mispronouncing Leonard Bernstein's name with some really offensive Jewish impersonations.

9:20 - Quick! Chris Martin from Coldplay's having a seizure!! You do have to love that he still was behind his rickety Yamaha upright in front of the Philharmonic, don't ya?

9:28 - Rod Stewart, a drag queen and a dog. Isn't this an urban legend?

9:29 - There's a world where Robin Williams is actually funny. Unfortunately only he lives there.

9:37 - Well, Doc Watson won but Johnny, Steve Earle, Patti Griffith and the Chieftans lost to fucking Nickle Creek's pop bluegrass. Sigh...

9:45 - Is it possible that the Band-Aid interferes in some way with Nelly's ability to enunciate? You got to hand it to him, though. Anybody who could have a huge hit with this dreck has to know something that I don't.

9:49 - Fred Durst, eloquent diplomat for peace.

9:58 - Robin yet again on his own planet.

10:00 - I love Springsteen, I love "The Rising." All I want to know is when do I get my invite to join the E Street Band. What's he got now? Eight guitarists? Poor Clarence has the horn there but it's just a prop. One of these days I swear Little Steven is just gonna plant a big one on the Boss. Has anybody ever seen Kathy Griffin and Patti in the same place?

I really wanted to see this tour. He's coming back to the area. Three nights at Giants Stadium. I think not...

10:05 - SWEEEEEET hair! I always wondered what was under Erykah Badu's hair wrap thing. I figured that it was her lunch or something. Little did I know...

10:07 - Bruce was robbed, man. "Don't Know Why" is a nice song. It's not Song of the Year caliber. Then again, the fact that Alan Jackson was nominated for his jingoistic theme says volumes about the Grammys.

10:17 - Making fun of Ashanti seems really mean. Only one problem. She sounds awful.

10:20 - Cyndi Lauper still goes to the Grammys? Never give up on your dreams, Cyndi. Time after time...

10:22 - I'm getting delirious and not in a good way...

10:24 - Ed Bradley?! The Bee Gees? 'N Sync? Wow. Now this is a train wreck with teeth!! Justin as Barry! Lance as Robin! Everyone deliciously awful and off key!

10:39 - Em with the Roots. Clearly he's not comfortable fronting a band. This song is so awful. What's his shirt say? Free Yayo? I don't think I even want to know...

10:44 - Oh my god. Oh my god. What's Aretha wrapped up in?

10:47 - Is it just me or was the "you just watch her" comment about Norah creepy?

10:55 - I must be getting really delirious. I'm almost enjoying this Sheryl Crow/Kid Rock disaster.

10:58 - Alicia Keys appears to be going to Keith Richards' hairstylist. Grammy appears to have choosen Norah Jones to have a Santana and Bonnie Raitt-like landslide. Boring twits...

11:02 - Now I'm drinking.

11:08 - I seriously still can't believe that Michael Bloomberg is the major of NYC.

11:09 - I can die happy now. EC. Bruce. "London Calling." I have no words.

Well, that's not entirely true. I have a few words. I always have a few words. I thought EC and the Boss sounded amazing. I thought Dave Grohl was a fine addition. I wanted to put a muzzle firmly in the yap of Little Steven. Talk about out of place. Wait! I just remembered that Pete Thomas was supposed to be on drums but I didn't even notice! Was that him? Crap!

11:24 - EC always looks so uncomfortable presenting, doesn't he? Springsteen better win, damn it.

11:25 - Grammy has no imagination. Seriously. There has to a chosen one every year. Shoulda been Bruce. It was Norah. Boring.

Well, thus ends this little experiment. Hopefully it was at least a bit amusing. Don't count on it happening again. The Grammys suck.

opposite ends of the spectrum

As it rained pretty much all day, I decided to spend some time watching a couple of movies on cable. I don't think I could have come up with two more disparate films - "The Rookie" and Jim Jarmusch's "Mystery Train."

"The Rookie" intrigued me a bit when it was in the theaters. I mean, how can you go wrong with a baseball flick featuring music from Steve Earle, Allison Moorer and Guy Clark? The "G" rating and Dennis Quaid scared me off, though, despite pretty good reviews. Eh. It wasn't so bad. A bit schmaltzy but that was certainly expected. Quaid did a pretty good job playing the real-life heartwarmer Jim Morris even though he looked disturbingly like Jim Palmer rather than Morris. Did anybody else see this? Was I the only one made violent by his too cute son? Ugh.

What can I say about "Mystery Train?" It's one-third my favorite film ever. What does that mean, you say? The opening chapter of the triptych, "Far From Yokohama," contains some of my absolute favorite cinematic moments. The silent chemistry between Jun and Mitsuko despite Jun's Carl Perkins toughness and Mitsuko's contagious zaniness, the sweeping crane shots of the wrong-side-of-the tracks Memphis, the crazy banter between Screamin' Jay Hawkins and Cinqué Lee (Spike's brother). It's brilliantly breathtaking. The rest of the film is damn good. However, it never holds up to the first thirty minutes.

This is America...

off kilter

So, is that banner off-center to most of you peeps? Look, I'm just a consultant. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. My "Align=Middle" didn't seem to work so I padded the graphic with some blank space. If you're running at a resolution other than 1280x1024 it's gonna look all screwed up, I'm afraid.

So, who can lend me a hand?

I'm not done yet but I need a break. Do you like the colors? I was bored with the grey/red scheme. Thoughts?

but at least i wasn't a fat kid

For those of you who don't know, I was born with Spina Bifida. It's the most prevalent birth defect in the world and effects different people in different ways. I'm pretty lucky, my developed nerves end in my mid-thigh. Some people are born in a vegetative state while others, such as former MLB pitcher Orel Herschiser and tragic country songwriter Hank Williams, are barely effected.

When I was born in 1969 Spina Bifida was real mystery to most physicians. Treatments and surgeries were in their literal infancies. Many things that were done to me as a child would never been done today. I was a guinea pig for SB and I'm proud of that.

One of the mysteries of my youth was a twitching leg. It seemed that the nerves weren't very well developed but they were constantly sending out impulses. Throughout my pre-teen years the doctors tried all kinds of drugs to control it. Nothing seemed to work really well until they tried a drug that was usually used as, of all things, a really heavy-duty decongestant. It worked like a charm and, as far as my family knew, had very little side effects. This was, of course, in the days before those handy printouts that come with your prescriptions and long before RXList. The medication? Ephederine.

That's right. As a kid I was on straight ephederine for several years and took lots of it. I don't know if that should serve as evidence that the risks are being blown out of proportion these days by the media or the naivety of doctors in the 1980's. Somehow I think I was probably pretty lucky that I suffered no ill effects.

art phags

So I skipped school today to be an art geek. The lovely Maria and I attended the Matthew Barney show at the Guggenheim and it was simply splendiferously surreal. I've seen all of the Cremaster films in dribs and drabs but this was pure art film nirvana. Our only complaint? We only had five hours to spend there and we saw less than half of the pieces. Perhaps a return trip tomorrow if it doesn't rain torrents as promised.

We had to leave in order to trek over to Queens to see the Picasso/Matisse exhibit at MoMA QNS. It, too, was amazing. I always love to take my art geek friends (namely Maria and Dennis) to NYC museums because they tolerate my lingering pace and they know more than I could ever hope to garner. Maria gave me all sorts of insights that I wouldn't have picked up at MoMA.

Further review will be forthcoming. However, the poll over there <---- is neck-and-neck so I don't know where to put my musings. Vote once, vote often, just be sure to vote.

current obsession

Holy hell. I'm now completely obsessed with Badly Draw Boy's "Silent Sigh" from the "About A Boy" soundtrack.

That's all. As you were.

found money

I worked for this man for eight years and I have very mixed feelings about this announcement.

On one hand, you all know that I'm a huge patron of the arts. I think it's great that Atlanta is trying to do something with the High Museum. In recent years it has attracted some very good traveling installations and was the home of the much lauded "Rings" installation during the 1996 Summer Olympics. The Wieland's are avid collectors, filling their home and offices with art that is usually geared toward homes and construction. They've always been very generous with their art, as well, lending several Finsters to the High for their permanent collection. The permanent collection, or the lack thereof, has been the problem at the High. It's very, very lacking. Perhaps John and Sue's gift will help correct that.

However, John is the cheapest man in history. The stories of his penny-pinching are legendary. Seriously. I could entertain you for hours but his hard-working attorneys would probably but the kibash on that. His cost-cutting also seems to extend to his employees. Some of my readers can give me the exact figures, but at about the time that this $12 million was promised (2001)John Wieland Homes, a company privately owned by John, was laying-off a quarter of their employees (ed. - It was actually 10%).

I love the arts, but I love my friends even more. I don't know. Just seems wrong.

warms your very soul

Anybody need a new jacket?

coming clean

Okay. Okay. I'll come completely clean. When I was in seventh grade I owned this jacket. It still gives me nightmares but, damn it, I was 11 or 12.

Anybody here witness to it? Joel? Tiffany? Brad? Anyone? Go ahead. Let 'er rip and then

beat it... beat it...

mandatory improvements

So some things look a little different around here, eh? Well, it's because I'm a moron and started chopping when I didn't know what I was hacking at. Nice. Thanks to my pal Homer for straightening me out.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Oh, and please vote in the poll in left-hand column. Remember, you can't bitch if you don't vote...

did i miss something?

It has been my well-formed opinion that Michael Jackson is a freakazoid pedophile for the last, oh, decade or so. Why is it, then, that you can't turn on a television for the last few weeks without seeing someone's version of his insanity? Were some people still on the fence when it comes to the Gloved One? I can't imagine why.

another evening getting ripped

I never realized how time consuming ripping 20 gigs of MP3s from my CD collection would be. I've been working on it every evening and all day today and I'm still barely halfway there. So far the discs I've ripped have been the meat and potatoes, if you will. The weird and hipster stuff come next.

If you're really curious as to what I'll be carrying about (and I'm concerned for your well-being if you truly are) here's a list of what I've loaded so far.

courtesy of democracymeansyou.com

courtesy of democracymeansyou.com

required randomness reading

Please spend some time reading this article from the NYT Magazine. I've taken the liberty of downloading it so that you don't have to have a NYT account to read it.

As you might expect, as a animal rights activist and a disabled person I have several thoughts regarding it. However, I'd like to hear what other people think. Don't worry about offending me. It can't be done. I'll have a slew of comments later but want you kids to go first.

Okay? Go...

batten down

It's probably not a good sign when they've already stopped referring to the impending blizzard as a "record snowfall" and are now using terms like "historical," "impassable" and "crippling" is it?

late for the ball and other ramblings

I really wanted to go to the anti-war protest today. However, when I heard that they weren't going to let people in NYC march, only stand on 1st Ave, I decided that I shouldn't. I would have gotten crushed in the crowd. I did, however, go later in the afternoon. It still was pretty crazed. All the streets were closed and there were police vans everywhere. I took some photos of the aftermath.

Some crazy guy gave me a sticker that says "Free Medical Marijuana!!!" C'mon, kids. Let's stay on topic here. Much cooler and more bizarre was the "No Blood For Oil" button that a girl gave me. The bizarre aspect is that it is literally identical to the button that I wore 12 years ago. Pretty depressing, actually.

I decided that I needed a little pick-me-up after that and wanted to take in a film. Taking my cue from the large Viva La France!! sign I saw, I decided to head for the Paris Theatre. Okay. You caught me. I was really going to see my beloved Audrey Tautou in "À la folie... pas du tout." It was a really interesting film. A French twist (groan) on "Fatal Attraction." I can't say too much without spoilers so I shan't. I'm sure it's not going to get wide release, but it's playing at Paris and the Angelika for my Gotham readers and I recommend if for no other reason than 90 minutes to stare at Audrey.

Upon my return to Grand Central, I noticed the whole place was swarming with a show of force. There were police officers, SWAT guys with rifles and National Guard with automatic weapons all over the place. I found it to be really unnerving. When security was obvious after 9/11 it was very comforting to me. Now I thought it really creepy and frightening. Brave new world, it's not.

So. Is it really going to snow another 6 - 12" tomorrow? That's fukt.

the camera never lies

At long last, photographic evidence from the BABB.

Interesting stuff including, but not limited to, various people staring at and shining light on Eric's crotch. Also the Zapruder Film, if you will, of the BABB - the bouncer helping our beloved Atheist.

these are the people in your neighborhood

You'll note a bunch of new links in the "blogs i dig" section. Please pay them a visit. Most are people that I had the good fortune to meet at the Blogger Bash. All have great stuff. All inspire me to be a better blogger.

You'll also notice a bunch of changes around here this weekend. Watch yer head!!!

my so-called valentine's day

Weird things have been happening in my little life as of late. Weird things that I need to somehow sort out but really have no clue as to how to do so. I seem to be lacking the will to figure things out, too. Sort of a male Scarlett O'Hara Syndrome. I'll deal with that tomorrow...

With that in mind I planned yet another in a seemingly endless string of lackluster St. Valentine's Days. I ordered Chinese. I put in a DVD ("My So-Called Life" disc 3). I drank. Alone. All by myself. Just me, the telly, a bottle of vodka and a straw.

Okay, okay. That's not true. I never use a straw.

as if I needed another reason...

Guys with beards die young and have less sex. Yeah. That seems to wrap up my experience in such matters...

my 15 digital minutes

At the aforementioned BABB I met some great people (really good pictures to follow at some point this weekend) including MSNBC's own Will Femia. Well, it seems as though I got a little mention on MSNBC's Weblog Central page yesterday evening. Scroll down. It's near the end of the entry.

For the record, I remember the conversation but don't remember offering to write it down. Am I that much of a suck-up? Shite. I was, however, well into my cups so I may very well have done so.

Mike Wolf. Blog Whore.

booked solid

Because I love smutty gossip just as much as you do, I present the following from the ever entertaining Gawker...

How to fuck Colin Farrell
(Because I know all of you are sitting on the edge of your seats wondering...) According to Someone Who Would Know, you have your agent call Colin's agent and say, "----ney would like to fuck Colin. Can we schedule a time?" Unfortunately for ----ney, Colin is on location shooting a movie. He is, however, available between the hours of, say, 3PM and 4PM in his trailer. If Miss ----ney, would like to meet Mr. Farrell between the hours of 3PM and 4PM, she is welcome to do so. We're pencilling her in, so to speak. ----ney, arrives at the trailer, which has been thoughtfully equipped with lit candles by Mr. Farrell's staff. We're not saying this actually happened, but...okay, maybe we are saying this actually happened. Or not.

friday hysteria

This is too funny for words...

and boy are my arms tired...

Made it home from the hell that was a trade show of 20,000 in San Diego. It was alternately boring, annoying, wet, boring, insane, crowded, boring and boring.

More entertaining and enlightening details tomorrow. Now, I must sleep...

will you still love me tomorrow? how 'bout friday?

So I'm off to San Diego in a little bit. Bad timing. I was enjoying meeting new blog friends and goofing off with the long-time pals. Sigh. I'll be back. I can assure you of that.

It's an IT show so I should be able to get access some place at some point. You never know, though, and it sounds like I'm going to be kept busy by my boss. Get this, I was showing him the demo I wrote on Friday and he says "Wow. That's great! You're going to have to 'keyboard,' though, because I'll never figure that out." It's document management, kids. It ain't rocket science.

Anyhow, be good. Play nice. I'll see ya in a bit.

where's my razor?

By the way, three (three!) people pulled the Chris Elliott card last night. Maybe it's time I shave.

My face. Shave my face.

Pervs.

no longer unexpected

I'm spending a Saturday evening at the Stamford abode as I still nurse the emptystomachvodkayumyumyum hangover of BABB and getting packed for my San Diego trek.

I don't know what wrong with me, though. You'll recall that last week John R. Cash's world weary video for "Hurt" had me blubbering like an idiot. Now I had the bonus disc for Elvis Costello's tragically underrated "Mighty Like A Rose" on and stopped in my tracks and shed more than a couple of tears listening to his live reading of "Couldn't Call It Unexpected #4 (right-click save as)."

I don't know if it's due to the lack of sleep, the throbbing headache, the packing frenzy or the still silently lurking ruminations of last week. Whatever it was, it got me.

I saw a girl who'd found her consolation
She said "One day my Prince of Peace will come"
Above her head a portrait of her father
The wilted favour that he gave her still fastened to the frame
"They've got his bones and everything he owns
I've got his name"

Well you can laugh at this sentimental story
But in time you'll have to make amends
The sudden chill where lovers doubt their immortality
As the clouds cover the sky the evening ends
Describing a picture of eyes finally closing
As you sometimes glimpse terrible faces in the fire
We'll I'm the lucky goon
Who composed this tune
from birds arranged on the high wire

Who on earth is tapping at the window?
Does that face still linger at the pane?
I saw you shiver though the room was like a furnace
A shadow of regret across a young mother's face
So toll the bell or rock the cradle
Please don't let me fear anything I cannot explain
I can't believe, I'll never believe in anything again
-Declan MacManus

picture pages, picture pages

Because I'm too busy to upload my pics right now, I'll point you to Paul's. He's a much better photographer than I, anyway. Enjoy. Ignore the awful one of me. Wow...

random bitching

* Hangovers suck.

* My ATM card seems to be on its last legs. Why, I don't know. It works about 1 out of 10 times. Being hungover and unable to operate basic technology sucks even more.

* Sunny San Diego is going to be rainy San Diego next week. How does that happen?

* Snow in NYC is no big deal. I had no problem getting around last night. Snow in downtown Stamford sucks. There may be a bit more here and that extra bit seems to get piled on the cutouts on the corners that make it nearly impossible for me to get around.

* I have to wear a tie next week. I so don't want a tie-enabled job.

Thus concludes today's bitching. Thanks for caring. Oh? What's that? Okay. I understand. Thanks for listening, perhaps?

lovely impressions

So I had a truly groovy time last night at the 14th Annual Big Apple Blogger Bash. Truly.

Only problem, Mikey-Poo had too much of the vodka. Yeah, old story, I know. I hope I didn't make a bunch of really bad impressions. I wasn't bumbling or out of control, one or two of my fellow bloggers who shall remain nameless certainly were. I just came straight from work and imbided on an empty stomach. And imbibed. And imbibed.

I hope that some new hep cats might stumble this way over the next few days because that would be, as the kids say, hella cool. Of course this all coincides with my impeding exodus to the Left Coast for a week. Figures...

I know that I met some great people who write great stuff that I need to visit on a more regular basis. People like Alex, Krissa (whom I already adore daily), Paul (another daily), Brian, GI Jane, Ken and others that I'm surely forgetting.

hello? mr. merrick?

So, who watched the Michael Jackson documentary on ABC tonight? I'm not ashamed to admit that I was riveted by it.

It really did take you through a wringer of emotions. At points I truly felt sorry for him. He really has had a fucked up life and is stuck in some sort of childlike fantasy. At other moments I was angered by him. The way he treats his children like playthings is wrong beyond words. More often, though, I was disgusted by him. He really seems to see no wrong with sharing his life and his bedroom with pre-pubescent boys and tries to guise it as "loving all children." Wacko, indeed.

And the no surgery bit is too absurd to even acknowledge...

you can check out any time you like

So next week I'll be going on my first extended trip for my still newish job. I'll be spending almost all week in San Diego with my boss. Now on the surface this might sound like a good trip. It's not.

We'll be attending a really bizarre trade show for the medical industry. Keep in mind, I don't work in the medical field and I live on the East Coast. Why we'd want to find medical customers in California is beyond me. Business back east isn't exactly bustling but I can't imagine that it's worth it for us to try find some customers three time zones away.

Also, my boss isn't exactly the best traveling partner. I like him. He's a nice guy. It's just that he's really uptight and, well, not too bright. His favorite phrase is "whadya mean?" The guys asked me to count how many times he says it in the span of a week. I'm guessing it's going to be nearly 200, if not more.

So, combine all that with my absolute loathing of all things California and it's not looking like a fun time.

We'll always have the weather...

bow down before the one you serve

Everything I need for my preparations for world domination. I wonder if they have gift certificates?

retail therapy

So last night I decided to partake in a bit of retail therapy. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, my MP3 player died. I liked it quite a bit because it was teeny. It was a Bantam BA350. The only problem with it was its capacity. It had a 128 meg native and I'd added an additional 256 meg SD card. That's about enough for 80-90 songs depending on bitrate. A lot, yes, but as the Bantam has no way to folder or sort it was a bit cumbersome.

I've wanted an iPod for some time. It just seems to me that, as someone who listens to a ton of music, MP3 storage needs to be measured in gigabytes and not megabytes. The iPod is sleek and sexy and has a huge capacity. It also is ridiculously pricey and still primarily geared to the Mac world.

So instead I opted for a Nomad Jukebox 3. I love it. It's a bit bigger than the iPod but it holds 20 gig for $100 less than a iPod with half the capacity. It also ports nicely with my Audigy soundcard's Firewire jack. I get great throughput. Finally, there are a lot of user groups full of hacks for it.

I love it. I don't think I've ever really appreciated how many MP3s will fit in 20 gig, though. Rawk.

deep blue something

I'm not going to lie. I'm in a funk. A deep blue funk. Despite my best attempts to ignore it, run away from it or hope that it's just going to pass it's not getting a whole lot better. Today I was cranky with my cow orkers and those of you who know me know that I'm really never grumpy.

It's just that milestones often force you to reflect on the past. Mistakes of the past, missing pieces of the past and the pain of the past. They also make you peer into the future. Don't get me wrong. My status quo is pretty damn happy. It's just that I don't see it progressing or changing any time soon. I'm in a rut and I'm not sure how to get out it. I love my job but, really, knowing only the people I work with and working long hours is weighing me down. I'm good people, if I don't say so myself, but I'm having a hard time meeting people who aren't of the binary variety.

It's not all relationship stuff, really. That really does get to me, though. I've generally had a significant other of one degree or another for most of my post-adolescent life. Now not only is that not in the picture, it isn't even in the crystal ball. All of this had led to crip boy thoughts for the first time in years. I don't normally allow that sort of thinking to even enter my pea-sized brain. As of late, though, I'm starting to accept some of it as reality.

So, if I'm a bit quiet or a bit cranky, I apologize. I'll pull out of it. Just bear with me.

sentiments

i've come to wish you an unhappy birthday
i've come to wish you an unhappy birthday
'cause you're evil
and you lie
-morrissey/marr

no fun zone

So do the peeps hate it when I talk politics? Just askin' cuz I notice that the comments go down exponentially when I do so. More than one person has told me that they don't like it when I get all liberal and whatnot. So I'm just askin'.

After all, I say this place is for speaking my mind but when push comes to shove I'm just a simple whore for your comments. I mean, really...

I'm really pissed off that Earthlink's wunderbar Pop-up Blocker now requires you to use their useless interface software which I flat-out refuse to do. So, I'm shutting down and heading to Chinatown. See ya tomorrow!

Oh, and read this. Surprise!! Iraqis are people, too. Sorry. Can't help myself.

my thoughts exactly

Kudos to the reporter who asked W this question the other day...

Mr. President, Bob Woodward's account of the White House after Sept. 11 says that you ordered invasion plans for Iraq six days after Sept. 11. Isn't it the case that you have always intended war on Iraq, and that international diplomacy is a charade in this case?

He, of course, danced around and never answered the question.

tragic perspective

The news tonight is all quite grim. We're on the verge of war and we've lost seven courageous astronauts. I mourn for the families and friends of Rick Husband, William McCool, Michael Anderson, David Brown, Kalpana Chawla, Laurel Clark and Ilan Ramon. They died on the job. They died in pursuit of scientific gain.

Space exploration has always been a risky business. We lost another crew of seven in 1986 when the Challenger exploded on takeoff. My parents' generation remember where they were when they heard that JFK had been assassinated. My generation has the Challenger disaster as its touchstone. We lost three more space pioneers in 1967 when Apollo 1 caught fire during testing. Courageous lot, those astronauts. They have to be.

So let us mourn. Let us remember. But let us also not lose sight. The aggression we're about to unleash will kill far more than we lost today. Americans and Iraqis alike. Today was a tragedy, one I don't want to make light of. However, unless we reverse the tides of war there will be many more tragedies to come.

random jaunt

Well, the weather wasn't exactly what I hoped for today. It was a bit chilly but it was one of those spectacular New York days where nothing really happened but plenty of wackiness ensued. You know, those days where Manhattan is your very own "Seinfeld" episode. These are the best days one can imagine for blog fodder. Some highlights, if you will allow...

I got to the train station to see everyone huddled around the television watching CNN's coverage of the Columbia disaster. Some crazed woman was literally screaming "It was a missle! It was a missle!" An interesting start...

I hopped on the train and the conductor quickly came into the car. The conversation was insane.

Conductor - "What are you doing?"
mrw - "Uh. What do you mean?"
Conductor - "What are you doing? Did you call ahead?"
mrw - "Call ahead? What?"
Conductor - "Yeah. You need to call ahead to let us know where you're going."
mrw - "What?! I take the train almost every day."
Conductor - "That doesn't matter. You need to call ahead."
mrw - "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't need to do that."
Conductor (screaming) - "Yes you do! I'll be back."

This is even more bizarre than the woman a few months who wouldn't sell me my ticket at the disabled rate. It also really pissed me off.

The conductor came back a bit later to collect tickets. I was still pissed. This exchange was even more bizarre.

mrw - "So what if I did call ahead. How would you find out?"
Conductor - "They would tell me."
mrw - "Who?"
Conductor - "I would find out."
mrw - "Tell me how."

He then stormed off without taking my ticket. I had to deal with an asshole but at least my trip was free. I gave him a little smartass wave when we arrived at Grand Central.

I then went to see "Lost in La Mancha" at Lincoln Plaza Cinemas. I often end up seeing films there as they program pretty good fare. However, I simply despise the place. The screens are absurdly small and the wheelchair spots are partially behind a pillar. That's not really a big deal as I normally jump out of my chair, it's just that there's no place to put my chair in this place. The theater that "La Mancha" was showing in had a screen that was smaller than anything at Film Forum.

The film, however, was great. A really interesting and tragic insight into a cursed project. I think that Gilliam has some amazing ideas for it. Somehow, though, I don't think that it will ever come to fruition. Supposedly he's going to work on a couple of Hollywood projects and then try to bank on those deals to get this one financed. I'm not holding my breath. We do, at least, have some amazing footage from "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" in this documentary. I realized after watching this that I have never read Quixote. I should pick up a copy.

On the way back to street level some guy in the elevator was talking to his companion about how his brother was the guarantor on "Baron Munchausen." Damn. I love this city.

After stopping for coffee I decided to soldier on to the Met. For those of you who have never been to NYC, pedestrian walk/don't walk signals are merely suggestions. The lights are timed so that there is almost always no traffic for a few seconds before the light changes. Any non-tourist will walk before the little white sign appears. So I'm heading uptown on Broadway. I must have been at about 71st and I creep into the road to get ready to go. Now, I have a tiny little chair. One of the fringe benefits of small chair is that it doesn't have handles that people can use to push you around. There's just one little crossbar on the back of the seat to pull it around when you're not in it and to use to fold the back down. As I'm creeping into the intersection I'm suddenly stopped and pulled backward. It was a couple seconds before I could get my bearings and figure out what was going on. Yep. Some old guy was pulling me back to the sidewalk. He was some crazy Eastern European guy with a big fur hat and was muttering to me in what I think was Russian. I pushed forward and he kept pulling. I didn't know what to do next. The dude was clearly either insane or drunk. So I hit his arm lightly. Still he kept pulling and muttering. He then started to point at the crossing light. It changed to "walk" and he let go but continued to mutter. Needless to say I sped off before he could corner me again.

I'm a member of the Met because it's simply the most amazing art museum on the planet. I go to other museums and galleries to see installations that interest me. I've seen the permanent collection at the Whitney and the Guggenheim, for example, but go back a few times a year just to see what's new. At the Met, on the otherhand, I can find something new to look at in their permanent collection even though I've been there dozens of times. It was really packed this afternoon so I decided to find a quiet spot in, of all places, the art of Oceania. I spent some time looking at these poles that were used in headhunters' funeral ceremonies. It was an impressively macabre way to spend an afternoon.

I schlepped back to Grand Central after making a few stops to buy things I don't need like some fancypants loose-leaf green tea and a couple of bottles of wine.

Those are the highlights. I won't bore you with the details. Tomorrow I think I'm going to go to Chinatown for Chinese New Year. I figure the New Year is the best way to celebrate M.'s birthday. Out with the old, in with the new...

presidential coma

Um. Was W stoned when he made his little speech about the Columbia disaster? Seriously. What the hell was with that?