I miss you.
Photo By VanishingJames
Friday, May 13, 2005
Conjecture
Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl" seems to owe a lot to Snoop's "Drop it Like it's Hot".
Listen to both of em and tell me if I'm right.
I just wonder if the similarities are on purpose or if Snoop just rubbed off on Gwen and her crew of Harajukus. Or maybe its just the emergence, at least to me in my own little world, of a new "hit song" structure, akin to the minor 6-4-1-5 structure John Mayer explains in June's Esquire.
Why the hell this might be of any importance is beyond me, but its what's going through my mind now and I'm grateful for it and any other non career worrying non technology implementing thoughts that might float by.
Listen to both of em and tell me if I'm right.
I just wonder if the similarities are on purpose or if Snoop just rubbed off on Gwen and her crew of Harajukus. Or maybe its just the emergence, at least to me in my own little world, of a new "hit song" structure, akin to the minor 6-4-1-5 structure John Mayer explains in June's Esquire.
Why the hell this might be of any importance is beyond me, but its what's going through my mind now and I'm grateful for it and any other non career worrying non technology implementing thoughts that might float by.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
The Not Exciting Vacation Post.
Prior to the near fisticuffs recounted in my last post, the vacation was going really, really well. Lots of R&R and doing stuff and seeing stuff I had never seen before.
Four Wheeling
On Monday of that week, Matt and "The Dick" Arlyn loaded up Matt's supercharged turbo V8 truck of doom, hitched a trailer loaded with 4x4's and took off for the fireroads above the Shasta Dam. The mountains are only about 20 or so minutes outside of Redding, so its just a bit of a drive and then all of a sudden, every turn of the road is a vista. 199 from Redding to Eureka is like that. Just beautiful. Now, I love the Catskills and New England, but I get a bigger sense of vitality out of there. Like I was saying, we went 4 wheeling. I'd gone once before with Clarisa and Matt on a short trip, but this was a loooong ass trip. Gone in the morning, back in evening, 60 miles over fire trails type of trip.
Driving the damn thing was a pain in the ass. For some reason, I thought I should sit back on it with my legs out in front of me slightly. Well, the damn thing is drifted on me and the steering was all light. I could not imagine these things being so hard to control. As luck would have it, we hit a couple of downhill slopes that pulled me forward into more of a motorcycle position that I kept when I finally came off the very steep slope that I locked the rear brake up on and slid sideways toward the cliff on (not a fun moment, but definitely memorable). Once I found that position, things were so much easier.
Anyhow as we made our way up, it just got prettier and prettier. At our furthest destination, we were on the top of some peak, and as best I could tell, Shasta lake was southeast of us and waaaay down and to the west were what Matt called the Trinity Alps. Not sure if that's a local name or not, but they were huge and far away and half covered in snow. Where we were, there was just a smidge of snow here and there - and we were high up, around six thousand feet. On the way back we had to turn on our reserve tanks with about an hours worth of riding left. The quote of the day came from Matt, "I'm almost 50% confident that we will make it back." But we did, probably by the skin of our teeth too.
To the Coast
Two days later we headed out for the coast, driving along 199 from Redding to Eureka. Vista. Vista. Vista. Vista. About 10 miles or so from the actual coast, the skies grew overcast and you could smell moisture in the air. As we came out of the mountains a few farms appeared. Cows were grazing in lush long grass and a light fog covered everything, especially along Arcata Bay. Once in town, the first thing we did was head to the Samoa CookHouse, an old lumbermill chow hall that's been converted into a familty style dining place. Its the type of place where the food is brown, hot, and there is lots of it. The waitress who served us was overweight, weathered and cheerful. I had the feeling she had not seen a lot, but what she had seen, she'd seen a lot of. A few diners in NY near here have her type, but not many.
Belly's full, we drove Matt's truck out onto the beach. Coming from NY, this was a real novelty. Anywhere I have ever been, trucks on the beach aren't allowed. Or if they are, its a college type crazy thing. Out there though, there were a few trucks here and there, none very close to each other. The tide was coming in and pushing piles of kelp up the beach. I was not going not go into the water after coming all this way. It would be a waste, freezing ass cold or not. For starters I just kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pants and strode in.
Oh shit was that cold. No swimming for JimmyBoy, no matter how far he'd come. Still though, there were surfers out there. They were down the beach to north a half mile or so. Right in front of me and to my left was a huge jetty built to protect the bay entrance. At the end of it there was a pile of huge cement structures that looked like God had scattered some of his jacks there. The opposing jetty to the south was covered with the same structures, but from a distance they looked like a huge grave site.
While we puttered around there I saw a sea lion and a bunch of starfish while I walked out onto the jetty, beyond the chain and sign that was spray painted, "LA FAGS GO HOME". Anyhoo, undeterred by the sign, not being from LA or a fag, I ventured out more. Eventually I found a starfish on top of the jetty, half dead. It must have been a big ass wave that hit to have brought it that far in and that high. Not really wanting to see it bake in the hazy sun, I pried it off the cement and tossed it back in. Either it lived or it died and became a meal. Either way I figure I helped something out.
Another curious site on the beach in Eureka were the small sand dunes, covered in flowers and plants and overtaking the WWII bunkers that had been installed there. You don't think about it much, and laugh at it in the movie "1941", but California was really terrified and serious about protecting itself and the nation from a Japanese invasion. From what I read on the plaques out there, lots of subs were spotted and destroyed. In NY, if you tried riding a 4 wheeler through the dunes in the Hamptons, I think you might get lynched. Things are definitely more relaxed out there.
The strangest site while out there - Arlyn pissing on a WWII bunker. Freaking surreal.
Once done with the coast, we drove up it. We got to see the "Goonies" rocks and more gorgeious views as we made our way up the coast into Crescent City and into the Redwood Forest.
Redwoods
Big. Trees. Wow. I had no idea. And aside from genetics, I guess the fog that's always there really nourishes them and lets them get big. They can live to be 2000 years old. Wow. Thank god we protected them, or at least most of them.
The big surprise came when we hit the coast drive in the Redwood National Forest. Aside from seeing this just absoloutely stunning view of the Pacific coast with its primordial forest, high bluffs, rocks and beach...we saw whales. About 6 or so of them. Huge black and mottled with spots making there way up the coast about 300 yards offshore. A little Internet research makes me think they were Gray whales, but they might have been Humpbacks. Regardless, I'd never seen a whale in the wild, and for just us to see them right then and there was striking.
I remember looking at the whales, looking to the south down the coast and seeing just one of the most spectular views I'd ever seen and just waiting. I just stood there for a bit, soaking it all in and waiting. Waiting for some sort of intimation. A further sign. Nothing came though. Just me and that view for just right then. A place I could not stay but will forever stay with me.
From there we drove up into Oregon to meet up with I-5 in Grants pass. I guess we were not too far from Portland. Maybe another trip.
Four Wheeling
On Monday of that week, Matt and "The Dick" Arlyn loaded up Matt's supercharged turbo V8 truck of doom, hitched a trailer loaded with 4x4's and took off for the fireroads above the Shasta Dam. The mountains are only about 20 or so minutes outside of Redding, so its just a bit of a drive and then all of a sudden, every turn of the road is a vista. 199 from Redding to Eureka is like that. Just beautiful. Now, I love the Catskills and New England, but I get a bigger sense of vitality out of there. Like I was saying, we went 4 wheeling. I'd gone once before with Clarisa and Matt on a short trip, but this was a loooong ass trip. Gone in the morning, back in evening, 60 miles over fire trails type of trip.
Driving the damn thing was a pain in the ass. For some reason, I thought I should sit back on it with my legs out in front of me slightly. Well, the damn thing is drifted on me and the steering was all light. I could not imagine these things being so hard to control. As luck would have it, we hit a couple of downhill slopes that pulled me forward into more of a motorcycle position that I kept when I finally came off the very steep slope that I locked the rear brake up on and slid sideways toward the cliff on (not a fun moment, but definitely memorable). Once I found that position, things were so much easier.
Anyhow as we made our way up, it just got prettier and prettier. At our furthest destination, we were on the top of some peak, and as best I could tell, Shasta lake was southeast of us and waaaay down and to the west were what Matt called the Trinity Alps. Not sure if that's a local name or not, but they were huge and far away and half covered in snow. Where we were, there was just a smidge of snow here and there - and we were high up, around six thousand feet. On the way back we had to turn on our reserve tanks with about an hours worth of riding left. The quote of the day came from Matt, "I'm almost 50% confident that we will make it back." But we did, probably by the skin of our teeth too.
To the Coast
Two days later we headed out for the coast, driving along 199 from Redding to Eureka. Vista. Vista. Vista. Vista. About 10 miles or so from the actual coast, the skies grew overcast and you could smell moisture in the air. As we came out of the mountains a few farms appeared. Cows were grazing in lush long grass and a light fog covered everything, especially along Arcata Bay. Once in town, the first thing we did was head to the Samoa CookHouse, an old lumbermill chow hall that's been converted into a familty style dining place. Its the type of place where the food is brown, hot, and there is lots of it. The waitress who served us was overweight, weathered and cheerful. I had the feeling she had not seen a lot, but what she had seen, she'd seen a lot of. A few diners in NY near here have her type, but not many.
Belly's full, we drove Matt's truck out onto the beach. Coming from NY, this was a real novelty. Anywhere I have ever been, trucks on the beach aren't allowed. Or if they are, its a college type crazy thing. Out there though, there were a few trucks here and there, none very close to each other. The tide was coming in and pushing piles of kelp up the beach. I was not going not go into the water after coming all this way. It would be a waste, freezing ass cold or not. For starters I just kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pants and strode in.
Oh shit was that cold. No swimming for JimmyBoy, no matter how far he'd come. Still though, there were surfers out there. They were down the beach to north a half mile or so. Right in front of me and to my left was a huge jetty built to protect the bay entrance. At the end of it there was a pile of huge cement structures that looked like God had scattered some of his jacks there. The opposing jetty to the south was covered with the same structures, but from a distance they looked like a huge grave site.
While we puttered around there I saw a sea lion and a bunch of starfish while I walked out onto the jetty, beyond the chain and sign that was spray painted, "LA FAGS GO HOME". Anyhoo, undeterred by the sign, not being from LA or a fag, I ventured out more. Eventually I found a starfish on top of the jetty, half dead. It must have been a big ass wave that hit to have brought it that far in and that high. Not really wanting to see it bake in the hazy sun, I pried it off the cement and tossed it back in. Either it lived or it died and became a meal. Either way I figure I helped something out.
Another curious site on the beach in Eureka were the small sand dunes, covered in flowers and plants and overtaking the WWII bunkers that had been installed there. You don't think about it much, and laugh at it in the movie "1941", but California was really terrified and serious about protecting itself and the nation from a Japanese invasion. From what I read on the plaques out there, lots of subs were spotted and destroyed. In NY, if you tried riding a 4 wheeler through the dunes in the Hamptons, I think you might get lynched. Things are definitely more relaxed out there.
The strangest site while out there - Arlyn pissing on a WWII bunker. Freaking surreal.
Once done with the coast, we drove up it. We got to see the "Goonies" rocks and more gorgeious views as we made our way up the coast into Crescent City and into the Redwood Forest.
Redwoods
Big. Trees. Wow. I had no idea. And aside from genetics, I guess the fog that's always there really nourishes them and lets them get big. They can live to be 2000 years old. Wow. Thank god we protected them, or at least most of them.
The big surprise came when we hit the coast drive in the Redwood National Forest. Aside from seeing this just absoloutely stunning view of the Pacific coast with its primordial forest, high bluffs, rocks and beach...we saw whales. About 6 or so of them. Huge black and mottled with spots making there way up the coast about 300 yards offshore. A little Internet research makes me think they were Gray whales, but they might have been Humpbacks. Regardless, I'd never seen a whale in the wild, and for just us to see them right then and there was striking.
I remember looking at the whales, looking to the south down the coast and seeing just one of the most spectular views I'd ever seen and just waiting. I just stood there for a bit, soaking it all in and waiting. Waiting for some sort of intimation. A further sign. Nothing came though. Just me and that view for just right then. A place I could not stay but will forever stay with me.
From there we drove up into Oregon to meet up with I-5 in Grants pass. I guess we were not too far from Portland. Maybe another trip.
Friday, May 06, 2005
My Vacation, In which I do not appear on COPS
Since Clarisa’s mother died in November 2002, we’ve taken to traveling out to Redding, CA for vacation to see the some of her family. Last time we went it was a last minute decision because one of a great many hurricanes that year was busy beating the crap out of Florida and ruining our trip to Universal. This trip, though, was planned.
We left on Friday, April 22nd. Clarisa picked me up in hired car on 36th and Broadway a little after 4pm. It was cool cloudy and drizzling. Traffic on the way to JFK was slow, but we made it in plenty of time for our flight at 7:05, thus proving my father’s concerns about leaving Manhattan three hours before departure baseless. Score one for the kids.
On the plane, some of our fellow passengers could not get it together enough to find their seat and stow their shit in a timely fashion. While we waited, a zillion other planes packed the flight line. The pilot called the plane-jam he saw “impressive”. So we waited an hour on the tarmac to take off, but hey, there was that 6”x 4” TV with 36 channels on it. Six+ plus hours of TV. Oy.
Thought it was just my third trip out there, it was all very familiar. The night flight, the long drive north up I-5 through the Sacramento River valley past miles of nothing. Sacramento receding. The glow of San Francisco behind the shadowed mountains to the west following us for a bit. Denny’s. RV Park. Motels. Nothing. Nothing. Grain deal of some sort. Denny’s. RV Park. Car Dealership. Straight driving at 80mph. Never any traffic. A late hotel check in. A hard bed. Amazement in the morning as I step outside and see the mountains again. Mt. Shasta to the north, Mount Lassen to the East. They seem close, but I know they are far.
This time though, it started to rain like Hell about halfway to Redding. Actually it was more of a deluge. Not fun. Not fun especially when your wife is driving and you are nodding out constantly and waking up with the false sensation that your car is hydroplaning and you are zooming sideways across the road. In other words, totally fucked up. Muchos kudos to the missus for maintaining her composure has I jolted awake each time with a "Gaaaah!".
Rain and relatively cooler temperatures would punctuate the vacation, but overall it was a great relaxing time and I got to do and see things I’d never done or seen before. Highlights of the trip include racing RC buggies on an indoor dirt track, a pizza party with Hannah and a bunch of her friends, 4 wheeling through the mountains above Lake Shasta, a 531 mile road trip out to Eureka on the coast, up to Crescent City and into the Redwood Forest and then northeast into Oregon and back down I-5 from Grants Pass. Those were all great things to do. Really. Fun. Stuff. However, I will get to those things later. Now, I want to jump ahead to Saturday and my aborted appearance on COPS.
Saturday. Afternoon light. Sunny skies. The air is warm and a slight breeze is blowing. We can see a little windmill set up in the backyard turning at a relaxed pace. There are kids playing basketball in the park beyond the backyard. My brother in law, Matt, and I are chilling out on the back deck of his place. Clarisa is inside and so is her stepfather, Arlyn. In our house, he is often lovingly referred to as “Fucking Asshole”, or “Dick”.
The two of them don’t really get along. Actually its more one sided than that. Clarisa hates him with a furious passion, and with good reason. Arlyn, on the other hand is just too blocked, stupid or in denial to recognize why she hates him. Let’s just put it this way, a lot of the shit that would get you put in jail or your kids taken away today was just business as usual for Arlyn back then. Family accounts corroborate it.
So why are we there? Well, Clarisa wants to see her family out there and have a relationship with her brother. To have that she is willing to tolerate being around her step-father. To her credit there has not been an altercation. We do this dance. She tolerates him, I try to buffer things and just be polite.
Until this time.
Just after the thought, “She’s been in there a while…she should not really be left alone with him…” enters my head we hear an angry shout and then a loud sound of something falling or being slammed. Right away Matt and I know it’s on.
We come in the through the screen door to the dining room and Clarisa is on the left, screaming at Arlyn and he’s saying something back to her but I can’t quite tell what at first. Then I hear him hurl some insults at her. Words like whore and bitch are being used and Clarisa is trying to tear into Arlyn but Matt’s holding her back. She’s raging. Among other things, I hear!”
“I may be a bitch but I’m no child molester!” she screams. She’s clawing at Matt, trying to throw him aside. But Matt’s a big and he’s got her contained.
Arlyn really doesn’t like what she said. Things escalate. He calls her a fucking whore. She wants a piece of him.
The dog, Max, an eighty pound shepherd mix, is freaking out and jumping up on the two of them and barking like mad. For what seems like a long time I look at the three of them there to my left and keep Arlyn to my right. I see that the dog is not biting and that Clarisa isn’t being hurt so I turn my attention to Arlyn. I step in front of him. I get close.
“You better just shut your mouth. Shut the fuck up right now. Don’t. Talk. To. Her. Like. THAT.”
He’s hardly paying any attention to me though and is saying something about “This is my house!” and “I’ll show you.” He heads over to the kitchen phone.
The guy is going to call the cops! What a pussy. This is just a screaming match and he’s losing. I guess the rules change when you aren’t the one doing the screaming or beating or molesting.
Matt manages to fend off Clarisa and get the phone out of Arlyn’s hands. More screaming. Clarisa is letting him know how he ruined her life, how he took her childhood away from her. She is unloading a lifetimes worth of pent up anger. Arlyn is heading toward the garage door in the kitchen and I’m behind him, pissed off now myself, saying mean shit to him. He’s yelling that Clarisa’s told everyone he fucked her. He’s also restating the claim that its his house. Those are both lies. I respond sarcastically.
“Shut the fuck up. You rent. You mother-fucking scumbag. You piece of shit. She is so much better than you.”
Now he is pullng something out of his pocket and saying “I’ll show you!” (again). At first I think it’s a knife and I contemplate what I think I need to do. Jump him? Run?
It’s a phone. Again. He’s going to call the cops. Again. Unbelievable.
I go back inside and tell Matt. Matt comes into the garage and takes the phone away from Arlyn. He’s telling us just to leave, which is a good idea at this point, and that he’ll call us in a bit.
Even as we leave though, I’m trying to goad Arlyn into a fight. I really want a piece of this guy, seventy years old or not. I keep hurling the insults. He charges at me when I call him a fucking scumbag again but stops short. Its all show. Things are different when it’s not a helpless kid.
Then we are in our rental and Clarisa is still screaming and giving him dual birds. My knees are feeling a bit weak from the fight or flight dump of adrenaline I’ve got coursing through me. We pull out and I know I will never see that house again until Arlyn is on the wrong side of the grass.
Once we are down the street, I ask Clarisa, “What the hell happened?” All of this went down without me knowing why, but the answer was not too surprising. Clarisa had gone into the garage to pick up her vacation cigarettes (she only smokes with other smokers and whilst on vacation) and Aryln was out there too. He asked angrily “What do you have against me?”. She said she did not want to fight with him and asked him to drop it. He said she’d always been a fucking bitch as she went up the stairs. I guess he thought she’d let it go?
Anyhow that’s what set it all off. She finally got to tell him what and why and where to go.
She calmed down really fast in the car. We went to a nearby mall and sat at a table outside. Matt called and met us out there after closing the garage door and giving his father a piece of his own mind first.
All in all it was pretty cathartic. I know the two of us have been a lot closer since it happened.
We left on Friday, April 22nd. Clarisa picked me up in hired car on 36th and Broadway a little after 4pm. It was cool cloudy and drizzling. Traffic on the way to JFK was slow, but we made it in plenty of time for our flight at 7:05, thus proving my father’s concerns about leaving Manhattan three hours before departure baseless. Score one for the kids.
On the plane, some of our fellow passengers could not get it together enough to find their seat and stow their shit in a timely fashion. While we waited, a zillion other planes packed the flight line. The pilot called the plane-jam he saw “impressive”. So we waited an hour on the tarmac to take off, but hey, there was that 6”x 4” TV with 36 channels on it. Six+ plus hours of TV. Oy.
Thought it was just my third trip out there, it was all very familiar. The night flight, the long drive north up I-5 through the Sacramento River valley past miles of nothing. Sacramento receding. The glow of San Francisco behind the shadowed mountains to the west following us for a bit. Denny’s. RV Park. Motels. Nothing. Nothing. Grain deal of some sort. Denny’s. RV Park. Car Dealership. Straight driving at 80mph. Never any traffic. A late hotel check in. A hard bed. Amazement in the morning as I step outside and see the mountains again. Mt. Shasta to the north, Mount Lassen to the East. They seem close, but I know they are far.
This time though, it started to rain like Hell about halfway to Redding. Actually it was more of a deluge. Not fun. Not fun especially when your wife is driving and you are nodding out constantly and waking up with the false sensation that your car is hydroplaning and you are zooming sideways across the road. In other words, totally fucked up. Muchos kudos to the missus for maintaining her composure has I jolted awake each time with a "Gaaaah!".
Rain and relatively cooler temperatures would punctuate the vacation, but overall it was a great relaxing time and I got to do and see things I’d never done or seen before. Highlights of the trip include racing RC buggies on an indoor dirt track, a pizza party with Hannah and a bunch of her friends, 4 wheeling through the mountains above Lake Shasta, a 531 mile road trip out to Eureka on the coast, up to Crescent City and into the Redwood Forest and then northeast into Oregon and back down I-5 from Grants Pass. Those were all great things to do. Really. Fun. Stuff. However, I will get to those things later. Now, I want to jump ahead to Saturday and my aborted appearance on COPS.
Saturday. Afternoon light. Sunny skies. The air is warm and a slight breeze is blowing. We can see a little windmill set up in the backyard turning at a relaxed pace. There are kids playing basketball in the park beyond the backyard. My brother in law, Matt, and I are chilling out on the back deck of his place. Clarisa is inside and so is her stepfather, Arlyn. In our house, he is often lovingly referred to as “Fucking Asshole”, or “Dick”.
The two of them don’t really get along. Actually its more one sided than that. Clarisa hates him with a furious passion, and with good reason. Arlyn, on the other hand is just too blocked, stupid or in denial to recognize why she hates him. Let’s just put it this way, a lot of the shit that would get you put in jail or your kids taken away today was just business as usual for Arlyn back then. Family accounts corroborate it.
So why are we there? Well, Clarisa wants to see her family out there and have a relationship with her brother. To have that she is willing to tolerate being around her step-father. To her credit there has not been an altercation. We do this dance. She tolerates him, I try to buffer things and just be polite.
Until this time.
Just after the thought, “She’s been in there a while…she should not really be left alone with him…” enters my head we hear an angry shout and then a loud sound of something falling or being slammed. Right away Matt and I know it’s on.
We come in the through the screen door to the dining room and Clarisa is on the left, screaming at Arlyn and he’s saying something back to her but I can’t quite tell what at first. Then I hear him hurl some insults at her. Words like whore and bitch are being used and Clarisa is trying to tear into Arlyn but Matt’s holding her back. She’s raging. Among other things, I hear!”
“I may be a bitch but I’m no child molester!” she screams. She’s clawing at Matt, trying to throw him aside. But Matt’s a big and he’s got her contained.
Arlyn really doesn’t like what she said. Things escalate. He calls her a fucking whore. She wants a piece of him.
The dog, Max, an eighty pound shepherd mix, is freaking out and jumping up on the two of them and barking like mad. For what seems like a long time I look at the three of them there to my left and keep Arlyn to my right. I see that the dog is not biting and that Clarisa isn’t being hurt so I turn my attention to Arlyn. I step in front of him. I get close.
“You better just shut your mouth. Shut the fuck up right now. Don’t. Talk. To. Her. Like. THAT.”
He’s hardly paying any attention to me though and is saying something about “This is my house!” and “I’ll show you.” He heads over to the kitchen phone.
The guy is going to call the cops! What a pussy. This is just a screaming match and he’s losing. I guess the rules change when you aren’t the one doing the screaming or beating or molesting.
Matt manages to fend off Clarisa and get the phone out of Arlyn’s hands. More screaming. Clarisa is letting him know how he ruined her life, how he took her childhood away from her. She is unloading a lifetimes worth of pent up anger. Arlyn is heading toward the garage door in the kitchen and I’m behind him, pissed off now myself, saying mean shit to him. He’s yelling that Clarisa’s told everyone he fucked her. He’s also restating the claim that its his house. Those are both lies. I respond sarcastically.
“Shut the fuck up. You rent. You mother-fucking scumbag. You piece of shit. She is so much better than you.”
Now he is pullng something out of his pocket and saying “I’ll show you!” (again). At first I think it’s a knife and I contemplate what I think I need to do. Jump him? Run?
It’s a phone. Again. He’s going to call the cops. Again. Unbelievable.
I go back inside and tell Matt. Matt comes into the garage and takes the phone away from Arlyn. He’s telling us just to leave, which is a good idea at this point, and that he’ll call us in a bit.
Even as we leave though, I’m trying to goad Arlyn into a fight. I really want a piece of this guy, seventy years old or not. I keep hurling the insults. He charges at me when I call him a fucking scumbag again but stops short. Its all show. Things are different when it’s not a helpless kid.
Then we are in our rental and Clarisa is still screaming and giving him dual birds. My knees are feeling a bit weak from the fight or flight dump of adrenaline I’ve got coursing through me. We pull out and I know I will never see that house again until Arlyn is on the wrong side of the grass.
Once we are down the street, I ask Clarisa, “What the hell happened?” All of this went down without me knowing why, but the answer was not too surprising. Clarisa had gone into the garage to pick up her vacation cigarettes (she only smokes with other smokers and whilst on vacation) and Aryln was out there too. He asked angrily “What do you have against me?”. She said she did not want to fight with him and asked him to drop it. He said she’d always been a fucking bitch as she went up the stairs. I guess he thought she’d let it go?
Anyhow that’s what set it all off. She finally got to tell him what and why and where to go.
She calmed down really fast in the car. We went to a nearby mall and sat at a table outside. Matt called and met us out there after closing the garage door and giving his father a piece of his own mind first.
All in all it was pretty cathartic. I know the two of us have been a lot closer since it happened.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
UFC Highlights - better late than never...
It's a little late to be topical, but I just have to put some thoughts down about the Ulitmate Fighter show and the UFC matches this past Saturday.
How happy was I (and thousands of other viewers) that Forrest kicked the crap out of Sam and made it to the light heavyweight final against Bonnar? Man, that was just about the best goddamn fight I've ever seen. Bonnar and Griffin went at for three long ass five minute rounds at a pace that matched Hagler vs Hearns with both taking and dishing wicked shots. Personally, I would have given the fight to Bonnar with him taking the 2nd round and a split between the 1st and 3rd. For one of those guys to go home without a contract for the UFC, to say that one was worthy of it but the other was not would have been a real mistake. My opinion is they both have a good future in the UFC and of course there is the possible drama of one or both of them fighting Liddell or Couture at some time.
I think Diego Chavez has a good future - but he better cut some fat and bulk up a bit if he wants to roll with Matt Hughes and or St. Pierre. I just can't see him at middleweight and competing. Of course, I could be wrong - the kid has a ton of heart. Speaking of which, how sick is Matt Hughes? In the UFC welterweight championship match against Frank Trigg, he showed tremendous grit and skill. About midway through the first round, Hughes has his back to the cage and is clinched up with Trigg, who then knees Hughes right in his groin. Hughes manages to break out of the clinch and moves to his left along the cage and looks at the referee for some help with the low blow, but none comes and Trigg follows up on Hughes and smokes him a few good ones and winds up taking his back sinking a rear naked choke. Hughes defends, gets out of it and winds up picking up Trigg and carrying him across the octagon like a bag of peat-moss and then does an WWE-riffic body slam, takes Trigg's back and sinks a rear-naked on Trigg to end it in the first round. Fucking great.
I give the best quote of the night to Renato "Babalu" Sobral, when asked by Joe Rogan to describe how he finished off Travis Wiuff with an armbar:
How great is that?
All in all it was a great night of fights with a good number of submissions. As for the big match of Couture vs. Liddell, well it ended too fast when Liddell just smoked Couture with a right a little over two minutes into the first round. Kudos to Liddell, but so much for the great fight I was looking forward to.
How happy was I (and thousands of other viewers) that Forrest kicked the crap out of Sam and made it to the light heavyweight final against Bonnar? Man, that was just about the best goddamn fight I've ever seen. Bonnar and Griffin went at for three long ass five minute rounds at a pace that matched Hagler vs Hearns with both taking and dishing wicked shots. Personally, I would have given the fight to Bonnar with him taking the 2nd round and a split between the 1st and 3rd. For one of those guys to go home without a contract for the UFC, to say that one was worthy of it but the other was not would have been a real mistake. My opinion is they both have a good future in the UFC and of course there is the possible drama of one or both of them fighting Liddell or Couture at some time.
I think Diego Chavez has a good future - but he better cut some fat and bulk up a bit if he wants to roll with Matt Hughes and or St. Pierre. I just can't see him at middleweight and competing. Of course, I could be wrong - the kid has a ton of heart. Speaking of which, how sick is Matt Hughes? In the UFC welterweight championship match against Frank Trigg, he showed tremendous grit and skill. About midway through the first round, Hughes has his back to the cage and is clinched up with Trigg, who then knees Hughes right in his groin. Hughes manages to break out of the clinch and moves to his left along the cage and looks at the referee for some help with the low blow, but none comes and Trigg follows up on Hughes and smokes him a few good ones and winds up taking his back sinking a rear naked choke. Hughes defends, gets out of it and winds up picking up Trigg and carrying him across the octagon like a bag of peat-moss and then does an WWE-riffic body slam, takes Trigg's back and sinks a rear-naked on Trigg to end it in the first round. Fucking great.
I give the best quote of the night to Renato "Babalu" Sobral, when asked by Joe Rogan to describe how he finished off Travis Wiuff with an armbar:
Gracie Jiu Jitsu
How great is that?
All in all it was a great night of fights with a good number of submissions. As for the big match of Couture vs. Liddell, well it ended too fast when Liddell just smoked Couture with a right a little over two minutes into the first round. Kudos to Liddell, but so much for the great fight I was looking forward to.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Back in the Day...
In a little while I am going to tool up the Taconic to see my good friend and buddy, Mr. Dennis of http://www.d2stuff.com, for some beers, some barbecue and to watch the UFC PPV matches tonight.
What a great way to spend an evening.
Of course, the big highlight match is Liddell vs Couture. It seems Den is routing for Couture because of his age and his demeanor. Me -- I have no idea who I'd like to see win, in fact I'm pretty sure it does not matter to me. I know both guys are great fighters -- I just want to see a great fight. Its pretty disappointing to see someone just get taken down and get beat on till the ref stops it, especially when you are paying cash on the barrel for your blood sport.
Anyhow, Den's gotten all into MMA since I've started BJJ. He's actually probably into it a bit more than I am. If his schedule ever allows it, I think he just might wind up at the NYMAG in Poughkeepsie and getting his roll on. That'd be cool. That would mean that I'd finally have someone to Mountain Bike and BJJ train with.
We met about 6 years ago whilst working as contractors for Texaco. I'd originally been hired as an Admin Asst. and managed to transition to doing some intranet web stuff for a few departments there. I really had no idea what I was doing, but welcomed the opportunity to learn some skills create some sort of a career path. A month or so into treading water and trying to figure out what the department wanted and how the hell I was supposed to do it, they brought on Dennis to help out.
Of course, at first I ignored him. It just seemed the Texaco way. Plus he was inching in on my turf and that pissed me off. I guess he got tired of lonely office life because one day he just came over and said "Let's get some lunch". I have to mention that they gave him an office. But, the powers that be made it clear that it was not his office. He was just in it. The staff would go out of their way to reference / reinforce the relationship between Den and the office. If there was a meeting they would say: "I'll be in a meeting with Dennis in the office that he is in." It was freaking odd. But hey, that odd bunch paid him and me a ton of cash just to do exactly what they wanted for their website, no matter how fucked the requests were. We were contractors, and as such were kind of like guns. They'd just point us and fire and we'd execute the disaster they had designed.
Suffice to say that we did not get a whole lot done, but what we did do we did a whole lot of. Towards the end, when Texaco had been bought by Chevron and we knew our days were numbered, we'd just take off for a hours at a time and walk the huge campus. There was an apple tree with apples to make a stop at, a beaver pond to sit and stare at along with, and I shit you not, the occasional Coyote. Ostensibly we were in the "server room" which was far far away from our department in the first place, and a place our boss did not have access to, so it was a perfect place to "be".
Ahh, those were the days. The people there were great, we had every other Friday off and for the most part, we could do what we wanted. Plus, I cut my teeth in tech there and learned all important workplace rules of thumb like the 3x rule - that is a person needs to ask you three times to do something before you do it. Otherwise, its just a bullshit pipedream request they are not serious about and you should not waste your time. The other all important rule is Perceived Work + Actual Work = Real Work. In other words, yeah you know that you can do what's needed in about 5 minutes, but they don't know that. Why fuck yourself into increased expectations?
Of course these were lessons Mr. Den helped me learn. Oh the looks of consternation I’d get when our boss would ask for something and I’d turn it around in no time like a good Boy Scout. I learned though.
Amazingly, though, it seems I've perfected things too far because this latest job is a purgatory of productivity. I’m still dying for stuff to do. Not the worst of job fates and waaay better than having to wash a car outside in the summer in a suit. Well, nothings forever and I'm sure that at some point I'll be chalking this all up to a transitional period.
Alrighty then -- its off to beers, bbq and choke outs.
What a great way to spend an evening.
Of course, the big highlight match is Liddell vs Couture. It seems Den is routing for Couture because of his age and his demeanor. Me -- I have no idea who I'd like to see win, in fact I'm pretty sure it does not matter to me. I know both guys are great fighters -- I just want to see a great fight. Its pretty disappointing to see someone just get taken down and get beat on till the ref stops it, especially when you are paying cash on the barrel for your blood sport.
Anyhow, Den's gotten all into MMA since I've started BJJ. He's actually probably into it a bit more than I am. If his schedule ever allows it, I think he just might wind up at the NYMAG in Poughkeepsie and getting his roll on. That'd be cool. That would mean that I'd finally have someone to Mountain Bike and BJJ train with.
We met about 6 years ago whilst working as contractors for Texaco. I'd originally been hired as an Admin Asst. and managed to transition to doing some intranet web stuff for a few departments there. I really had no idea what I was doing, but welcomed the opportunity to learn some skills create some sort of a career path. A month or so into treading water and trying to figure out what the department wanted and how the hell I was supposed to do it, they brought on Dennis to help out.
Of course, at first I ignored him. It just seemed the Texaco way. Plus he was inching in on my turf and that pissed me off. I guess he got tired of lonely office life because one day he just came over and said "Let's get some lunch". I have to mention that they gave him an office. But, the powers that be made it clear that it was not his office. He was just in it. The staff would go out of their way to reference / reinforce the relationship between Den and the office. If there was a meeting they would say: "I'll be in a meeting with Dennis in the office that he is in." It was freaking odd. But hey, that odd bunch paid him and me a ton of cash just to do exactly what they wanted for their website, no matter how fucked the requests were. We were contractors, and as such were kind of like guns. They'd just point us and fire and we'd execute the disaster they had designed.
Suffice to say that we did not get a whole lot done, but what we did do we did a whole lot of. Towards the end, when Texaco had been bought by Chevron and we knew our days were numbered, we'd just take off for a hours at a time and walk the huge campus. There was an apple tree with apples to make a stop at, a beaver pond to sit and stare at along with, and I shit you not, the occasional Coyote. Ostensibly we were in the "server room" which was far far away from our department in the first place, and a place our boss did not have access to, so it was a perfect place to "be".
Ahh, those were the days. The people there were great, we had every other Friday off and for the most part, we could do what we wanted. Plus, I cut my teeth in tech there and learned all important workplace rules of thumb like the 3x rule - that is a person needs to ask you three times to do something before you do it. Otherwise, its just a bullshit pipedream request they are not serious about and you should not waste your time. The other all important rule is Perceived Work + Actual Work = Real Work. In other words, yeah you know that you can do what's needed in about 5 minutes, but they don't know that. Why fuck yourself into increased expectations?
Of course these were lessons Mr. Den helped me learn. Oh the looks of consternation I’d get when our boss would ask for something and I’d turn it around in no time like a good Boy Scout. I learned though.
Amazingly, though, it seems I've perfected things too far because this latest job is a purgatory of productivity. I’m still dying for stuff to do. Not the worst of job fates and waaay better than having to wash a car outside in the summer in a suit. Well, nothings forever and I'm sure that at some point I'll be chalking this all up to a transitional period.
Alrighty then -- its off to beers, bbq and choke outs.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Ramblings from a fevered mind...
I'm sick and on top of that I'm hurt.
Being that I ride the train to work everyday and work with people that do not stay home when they are sick, its no surprise that I'm nursing another head cold. Stay home people! On the other hand, whatever the hell went wrong with my left hip flexor is beyond me. I was fine all day yesterday but when I got up to leave at around 6PM my left hip felt stiff and when I walked my leg felt locked up and a little numb. Once I got home, it got worse and gave me a hell of a time getting to sleep. It still hurts right now, but at least my fever, sore throat and runny nose seem to be in check and I don't feel as drained as I did earlier.
So, I stayed home today and just slept and blew my nose and slept. Of course this happens just when I'm feeling a bit better about things and came up with a weekly diet and exercise plan. I get a little bit of a rhythm going and boom, something always seems to happen. Its not our problems that are so important as how we respond to them, right? Well, right now I'm having one hell of a time, and though I really try to respond positively to challenges like this little bit of discomfort among other things, there is a part of me that wants curl up and take a bath in my frustration, pain and self pity. If you read Death of Salesman or Notes from Underground you'll note its not an uncommon condition in the author's eyes. Like the characters in those works, you play it safe, you observe, you bide your time thinking that there is always tomorrow, or maybe you get hung up on something you can't let go or maybe theres always some excuse not to act. Ultimately, you paralyze yourself.
What a shitty way to go through life.
Fuck Willy Lohman and fuck Dostoevsky's Underground Man. I have things to do and people that count on me.
Being that I ride the train to work everyday and work with people that do not stay home when they are sick, its no surprise that I'm nursing another head cold. Stay home people! On the other hand, whatever the hell went wrong with my left hip flexor is beyond me. I was fine all day yesterday but when I got up to leave at around 6PM my left hip felt stiff and when I walked my leg felt locked up and a little numb. Once I got home, it got worse and gave me a hell of a time getting to sleep. It still hurts right now, but at least my fever, sore throat and runny nose seem to be in check and I don't feel as drained as I did earlier.
So, I stayed home today and just slept and blew my nose and slept. Of course this happens just when I'm feeling a bit better about things and came up with a weekly diet and exercise plan. I get a little bit of a rhythm going and boom, something always seems to happen. Its not our problems that are so important as how we respond to them, right? Well, right now I'm having one hell of a time, and though I really try to respond positively to challenges like this little bit of discomfort among other things, there is a part of me that wants curl up and take a bath in my frustration, pain and self pity. If you read Death of Salesman or Notes from Underground you'll note its not an uncommon condition in the author's eyes. Like the characters in those works, you play it safe, you observe, you bide your time thinking that there is always tomorrow, or maybe you get hung up on something you can't let go or maybe theres always some excuse not to act. Ultimately, you paralyze yourself.
What a shitty way to go through life.
Fuck Willy Lohman and fuck Dostoevsky's Underground Man. I have things to do and people that count on me.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Choked Out
Last week, a six-foot tall, one-hundred-ninety pound purple belt taught me what a cross collar choke is really all about. I waited too long to tap and passed out for a second or two after he’d let go. What a very strange experience. My vision went all white and I went deaf and I went out. Poof! It was very “floaty” and I think my mind was still working but the outside world had just, for a moment, ceased to exist. A “release” is another way of putting it I guess. I came to on my own and the guy was asking me if I was ok and I just had to lay there face down on the mat and grasp for a second where the hell I was. I got up, rested a bit, we shook hands and went at it again. About 30 seconds later he took my back and gave me a rear naked choke.
I thought to myself, “This is ‘Make James Your Bitch Day'.” I also thought, “You’re learning from this, so its good.”
The next day in no gi I arm barred an experienced blue belt. I’ll take it.
I thought to myself, “This is ‘Make James Your Bitch Day'.” I also thought, “You’re learning from this, so its good.”
The next day in no gi I arm barred an experienced blue belt. I’ll take it.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Herald Square Hilarity
Its finally nice here in NYC today, so I took the opportunity to have a quick bit of nosh in Herald Square Park and do some people watching. I wound up on a little chair on the outside of the park facing north near 6th with, of all things, a very computerized pay to use public toilet directly ahead of me. So I’m sitting and noshing on my overpriced Roman Lemon Chicken when a commotion of embarrassed shrieking and laughter kick in from near the toilet. The door is open and the woman inside is hiking up her skirt and a friend / brother / cousin (not boyfriend, no sane boyfriend would laugh at this) is laughing his ass off while being lightly shushed by a girlfriend / sister /cousin. He puts fifty cents in again, the door closes…and about 5 seconds later, for whatever reason, opens up again and the woman is jumping up again and now the guy is just howling. He steps inside to check out the scene and comes out a few seconds later but with a 4 foot strand of toilet paper stuck to his shoe, so now girlfriend is laughing, but the lady inside thinks she’s laughing at her…
And so it went for about three minutes while they tried to get the HAL the toilet to work and HAL turning on every light but “occupied” and opening the door just when you thought it would stay closed. Finally they gave up and I alerted the guy to the toilet paper streamer attached to his right shoe. Last I saw they were wandering toward Macy’s. Man, Jay Leno should get crew down here to film all the bladder challenged folk struggling with this contraption.
Anyhoo, I took a moment to look up the manufacturer of this toilet and by the press and the design of these things, you would really thing that the future is here now! These toilets play you music, self clean after every use, cleaned 3 times a day and are supposedly monitored via a central server. Now if the door would just stay closed. Oh yeah, there is also a 15 minute time-limit to how long the door will stay closed with someone inside, ostensibly to deter people from doing drugs in it, having sex in it, moving in et cetera. Come on now, not that I’m bragging here but 15 minutes is plenty of time to do some drugs AND have some wild sex if you just focus!
And so it went for about three minutes while they tried to get the HAL the toilet to work and HAL turning on every light but “occupied” and opening the door just when you thought it would stay closed. Finally they gave up and I alerted the guy to the toilet paper streamer attached to his right shoe. Last I saw they were wandering toward Macy’s. Man, Jay Leno should get crew down here to film all the bladder challenged folk struggling with this contraption.
Anyhoo, I took a moment to look up the manufacturer of this toilet and by the press and the design of these things, you would really thing that the future is here now! These toilets play you music, self clean after every use, cleaned 3 times a day and are supposedly monitored via a central server. Now if the door would just stay closed. Oh yeah, there is also a 15 minute time-limit to how long the door will stay closed with someone inside, ostensibly to deter people from doing drugs in it, having sex in it, moving in et cetera. Come on now, not that I’m bragging here but 15 minutes is plenty of time to do some drugs AND have some wild sex if you just focus!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Harper's Classified Weirdness
I picked up Harper's on a lark at Hudson's newsstand in Grand Central last night and casually flipped through it on the train, managing an article or two before hitting White Plains. Nothing great. Basically I'm finding it a bit boring. Not willing to just trash my $5.95, I gave it a second chance this morning. Right away I found myself at the classifieds, since I tend to flip through magazines backwards looking for items of interest. Now I know any news or lit rag with classifieds always attracts a few racy odds and ends and my attention span is short short first thing in the morning, so I stop to take a look. Harper's classifieds do not disappoint, though they are missing that sex position foam pad ad that's everywhere these days. First, I notice:
FEMINIST PIN UPS: Powerwomen, Soldier, Policewomen etc.
Not bad. Somehow fitting for Harper's. I catch myself wondering if the Army's mud wrestling enlisted women are featured... Then I get to the education section to find this little ad with a Yahoo email as the only contact information:
DEPT OF EDUC. GESTAPO TACTICS: Scaring elderly, low income citizens into paying on bogus, non-verifiable loans.
Wow. That's pretty ballzy. Either its recruiting people to scare elderly people or this guy thinks that the Dept. of Education is like the Gestapo and scaring the elderly into paying on loans. Who knows, maybe Harper's classified is a sordid underbelly of recruitment for grifters? Then we slip into the truly oddly disturbing an inch or so over in the next column. This ditty appears under the heading of Human Rights:
RACISM-GAINESVILLE, FLORIDA! Strange Fruit hanging from the Gainesville Poplar Trees. Contact (same guy as the preceding ad!)
My knee jerk reaction is that a white supremacist org is recruiting in Harper's of all things and looking to fund itself by ripping off old people! What the hell?! On the other hand, maybe someone knows about racist attacks in Gainesville and heavy handed tactics by the Dept. of Ed.? Either way, though a bit disturbing, those classifieds proved way more intriguing so far than the sleep inducing abstract trippiness of Daniel Mason's story entitled "A Registry of My Passage Upon The Earth" which has a kind of a The Sound and The Fury point of view thing going in on it. I'm too tired to figure it out.
The same classifieds are not on Harper's online. Perhaps they removed them and the intern that missed them the first time around has been properly disciplined and relegated to loading the stapler for the on-staff post modernist deconstructionist critic?
Oh yeah, one more ad, this one right after someone pimping a philosophically slanted baseball rag and before another selling remote viewing tips:
PROVACTIVE SPANKING EROTICA: Our "Prep-School Punishments" feature both a rebellious co-ed and a sophisticated female teacher being spanked by handsome faculty members
Imagine that! A rebellious co-ed AND a sophisticated female teacher! How the hell does that work? You finish up some articles about strip mining in West Virginia, Social Security and peruse a few Readings and then...well you must just feel like getting your spank on? That has to be it or the ads wouldn't be there. Luv it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Palm Sunday
Last year, all the Brooklyn family that could make it came over for dinner. It was our first family event. I was married, had a house, two cats and a dog and suddenly I was hosting a holiday dinner. How the hell did this happen? Despite my misgivings, I managed a ham, pork roast and garlic roasted potatoes along with some appetizers. Dinner was a success and everyone had a good noisy time. People just stayed at our huge dining room table and ate and joked and laughed.
So one year ago I was in my kitchen with my sister by my side to guide and supervise me. We laughed, talked about food and just were together. It was great. It was moments like that that made me want to go to the FCI and somehow, eventually, work together. What a difference a year makes. This Palm Sunday she's gone and I'm sick with some sort of cold / sinus infection and cooking is something I tend to avoid these days. I guess its part self punishment and part pain avoidance. If I just make eggs I want to go to cooking school and all it takes is that bit of cooking to make me think of Jenn and her missed opportunities. She knew I wanted to go, but I know she also felt that the reality of the industry might be too much what with the low starting salary and tough hours. It takes a lot of sacrifice to be a chef. If you want to learn more about it, read Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America. There is one incident in the book I am indirectly involved in - back in 1996 there was one hella blizzard and the author describes trying to get to class from Poughkeepsie to Hyde Park. At the same time back then I was trying to make it from Hartsdale to Peekskill. A 20 min trip to 4hours that night. The author actually gets taken to task for not showing up to class in a blizzard that had already dumped around 4 feet of snow. That's the type of industry it is and that's the expectation. Jenn excelled there. She'd found her calling. That's more than I can say.
Anyway, this week is a week of healing and redemption and mercy and though my faith is hardly what it once was I find myself humbled and praying for her.
So one year ago I was in my kitchen with my sister by my side to guide and supervise me. We laughed, talked about food and just were together. It was great. It was moments like that that made me want to go to the FCI and somehow, eventually, work together. What a difference a year makes. This Palm Sunday she's gone and I'm sick with some sort of cold / sinus infection and cooking is something I tend to avoid these days. I guess its part self punishment and part pain avoidance. If I just make eggs I want to go to cooking school and all it takes is that bit of cooking to make me think of Jenn and her missed opportunities. She knew I wanted to go, but I know she also felt that the reality of the industry might be too much what with the low starting salary and tough hours. It takes a lot of sacrifice to be a chef. If you want to learn more about it, read Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America. There is one incident in the book I am indirectly involved in - back in 1996 there was one hella blizzard and the author describes trying to get to class from Poughkeepsie to Hyde Park. At the same time back then I was trying to make it from Hartsdale to Peekskill. A 20 min trip to 4hours that night. The author actually gets taken to task for not showing up to class in a blizzard that had already dumped around 4 feet of snow. That's the type of industry it is and that's the expectation. Jenn excelled there. She'd found her calling. That's more than I can say.
Anyway, this week is a week of healing and redemption and mercy and though my faith is hardly what it once was I find myself humbled and praying for her.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Strat and The Ultimate Fighter
I was at Sfumato's last night to play our first Strat series . We lost, 3 games to 4 but all things considered it was a good showing. Our team is crap and we have to manage each game like a World Series game in order to give ourselves a chance. If we even come close to contending, the season will be a brilliant success. More than the game though, I enjoy hanging out with Sfumato. Strat is merely an excuse to get together and BS and just put life on hold for few hours and concentrate on weighty issues like whether to bring in Bruce Chen or play Alex Sanchez in CF against a lefty or consider the merits of bunting with Matt Lawton.
After the series was over we BS'd about a few things for a while - a long while actually. Long enough to catch the midnite showing of the Ultimate Fighter on Spike.
I have two comments on the episode:
After the series was over we BS'd about a few things for a while - a long while actually. Long enough to catch the midnite showing of the Ultimate Fighter on Spike.
I have two comments on the episode:
- Sam needs to get whacked around. Granted, editing can make anyone look bad on camera, but even so.... Sam has to get a beat down. That fake smile fake good guy look of his grates on me.
- I'm still amazed how fast the tide can turn in one of these fights. Underdog Beard Guy came out throwing and opened a nice cut on Bald Crazy Guy but could not capitalize on it. If he had managed to go down in the center of the octogon or been able to throw some more strikes at that big cut, things might have turned out better for him. Instead he got taken down, put into side control and mounted in a hearbeat. Then the pummeling begins. It just goes to reinforce the scoring sytem in BJJ - the mount is a good place to be in a real fight.
Misery
I'm sick and I'm freaking miserable. My right eye and nostril are running like finely tuned high performance Italian engines. Just the right side though. The left eye and nostril live now in constant fear wondering when the germ gestapo is going to bang the door down. Trapped they sit there and quiver in fear.
The dastardly sickness started creeping up on Friday afternoon. By the evening it was looking to get a superior position and score some points before trying to sink in a wicked face flood hold. No sleep last night except for maybe 30 min here and 30 min there. Things really started to look great when my tissues were pink with blood around 3:45AM.
Oh yeah - this is great. Love it.
The dastardly sickness started creeping up on Friday afternoon. By the evening it was looking to get a superior position and score some points before trying to sink in a wicked face flood hold. No sleep last night except for maybe 30 min here and 30 min there. Things really started to look great when my tissues were pink with blood around 3:45AM.
Oh yeah - this is great. Love it.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Jedi Philosophy and CSS Image Replacement
About two hours ago I hung up on a friend. Just clicked end because I was pissed off and frustrated.
Did he bang my wife? Drink my liquor? Wreck my car? Steal my stereo? Tell me I was a amoral crazed libertine? Were we arguing over social security? The Iraq war?
Nope.
The crux of the debate centered around CSS image replacement techniques. Yeah -- "What the hell is that?" you might be thinking. Well its a geek thing and the argument we had / are having is about as divided as you can get. Like North Vs. South divided. It might seem stupid outside of IT, but you should just see how hostile things can get between say, an open source unix guy and well, anyone not using that platform. It gets ugly folks. Who knew, right?
We (my friend and I) just see things differently. There really is no right or wrong - its what works for you and what works for your clients. Still though, I get tired of having to defend shit. Every new technique that comes out on the web is not a hack. Not all old techniques are hacks either but time and progress does march on.
I guess my problem stems from the word hack - to me it has a derogatory connotation. I prefer the terms "method" or solution for my side of things. My buddy views image replacement techniques as a hack because he thinks they use the background property in CSS for a purpose other than which it was intended, namely to display an image which itself displays text or something like Britney Spears in a see through top or some such. A background, he thinks, should be just that, an abstract thing sitting behind the element like a color or a gradient pattern. If it has meaning of somesort, he wants it in an image tag. If its a spacer GIF, that's ok too. Moreover he sees it as hypocritical - because the same crowd, in general, that espouses this technique as capital G Good, and which he sees as a hack, decries the use of tables for anything other than a debit credit ledger or a phone list. See, tables were not meant to be layout elements, but people adapted them to it. Now people are using the background of elements to do funny things with image replacement and that's just crazy talk.
Me, I'm a bit of a tech crow. I like shiny sites. I like nice fonts and good design and clean crisp images and strong use of photography (within limits of the site objective, of course). To me the image replacement techniques are great. You get to have your cake and eat it too. In the end the site looks better, is accessible and indexable. Win Win Win. Moreover I like things modularized. I like the idea of markup that is ready to go anywhere and can be styled however it needs to be and still stay presentation free.
Still though, its a silly thing to be getting into a fight with a friend with. Of course, I really don't think he even thought we were having a fight. He wasn't. Me on the other hand...I was., I was just getting more and more pissed off and frustrated. Frustration leads to anger and anger leads to the Dark Side and bad dialogue that sounds like it was translated to German and back to English. Silly Silly.
Side bar -
Other 'hacks" (usage of something for other than what it was intended):
Ultimately, it seems man just does what he can with what he's got and we all do the best we can. What more can we ask of ourselves?
Did he bang my wife? Drink my liquor? Wreck my car? Steal my stereo? Tell me I was a amoral crazed libertine? Were we arguing over social security? The Iraq war?
Nope.
The crux of the debate centered around CSS image replacement techniques. Yeah -- "What the hell is that?" you might be thinking. Well its a geek thing and the argument we had / are having is about as divided as you can get. Like North Vs. South divided. It might seem stupid outside of IT, but you should just see how hostile things can get between say, an open source unix guy and well, anyone not using that platform. It gets ugly folks. Who knew, right?
We (my friend and I) just see things differently. There really is no right or wrong - its what works for you and what works for your clients. Still though, I get tired of having to defend shit. Every new technique that comes out on the web is not a hack. Not all old techniques are hacks either but time and progress does march on.
I guess my problem stems from the word hack - to me it has a derogatory connotation. I prefer the terms "method" or solution for my side of things. My buddy views image replacement techniques as a hack because he thinks they use the background property in CSS for a purpose other than which it was intended, namely to display an image which itself displays text or something like Britney Spears in a see through top or some such. A background, he thinks, should be just that, an abstract thing sitting behind the element like a color or a gradient pattern. If it has meaning of somesort, he wants it in an image tag. If its a spacer GIF, that's ok too. Moreover he sees it as hypocritical - because the same crowd, in general, that espouses this technique as capital G Good, and which he sees as a hack, decries the use of tables for anything other than a debit credit ledger or a phone list. See, tables were not meant to be layout elements, but people adapted them to it. Now people are using the background of elements to do funny things with image replacement and that's just crazy talk.
Me, I'm a bit of a tech crow. I like shiny sites. I like nice fonts and good design and clean crisp images and strong use of photography (within limits of the site objective, of course). To me the image replacement techniques are great. You get to have your cake and eat it too. In the end the site looks better, is accessible and indexable. Win Win Win. Moreover I like things modularized. I like the idea of markup that is ready to go anywhere and can be styled however it needs to be and still stay presentation free.
Still though, its a silly thing to be getting into a fight with a friend with. Of course, I really don't think he even thought we were having a fight. He wasn't. Me on the other hand...I was., I was just getting more and more pissed off and frustrated. Frustration leads to anger and anger leads to the Dark Side and bad dialogue that sounds like it was translated to German and back to English. Silly Silly.
Side bar -
Other 'hacks" (usage of something for other than what it was intended):
- The Wright Brothers Airflow Technique (man was not meant to fly -- but we do FALL really well)
- The Cousteau Drowning Negation Method (we do drown very well)
- The Commuter Lap Beverage Implementation (hey look a place for this 200 degree cup of coffee!)
- The Angry Wife Rolling Pin / Frying Pan Kinetic Solution (eh heh).
Ultimately, it seems man just does what he can with what he's got and we all do the best we can. What more can we ask of ourselves?
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
On the mat
3 keylocks and an armbar for submissions tonight. Granted the guy is newer than me and has been missing class lately too. He's strong though, and close to me in weight.
What the hell though. For now, I'll take it. Its when I start holding my own / submitting most of the other white belts that I'll be ready to test for Blue. Its not happening yet -- but barring another injury that time is right around the corner. I'm feeling my Wheaties.
What the hell though. For now, I'll take it. Its when I start holding my own / submitting most of the other white belts that I'll be ready to test for Blue. Its not happening yet -- but barring another injury that time is right around the corner. I'm feeling my Wheaties.
The Token Boarder
I took up snowboarding about 4 years ago after a long respite from winter sports. In my younger years as a pre-teen and teen I skied fairly often and with pretty decent finesse. Of course, having family on the ski patrol to teach me and follow down the mountain really helped. To me skiing was always a lot like skating but with just really long skates. But at some point I just lost interest and stopped. From about 20 or so to 33 there was no skiing and no snowboarding. So typical of me to stop something like that.
Anyhoo - fat and out of shape I just decided to give it a try. Plus I needed an outlet for the frustration of being jobless at the time - Texaco had let me go in November. The first day was brutal and I landed on my ass and face planted more times than I could count. Toward the end of that first day though I strung together a bit of a run here and there - managed to link a turn or two and, man, what a great feeling. I was hooked and immediately got the vibe of it. My enthusiasm for it intrigued my friend Paul and he was hooked soon too. I remember on our first day together at Hunter sitting in the lodge with him and talking about how much we missed by just staying on campus so much at Fordham. Sure it was great, but we were like -- man what a scene we missed!
I've gotten better since that first day and always board, for a while at least, with my uncle Tommy, the now retired ski patroler. He's really good and if I can keep up even a little on my slow ass board its a good thing.
This past weekend we were up in the Catskills visiting the three bears (Eileen, Tommy, Christine) at their weekend ski chalet in Hensonville. The idea was to drive up on Friday, hit the mountain on Saturday and then go to a beach party at some friend of The Bears and then either hit the mountain again on Sunday or just recuperate.
Well, we managed to make it up on Friday in the middle of a snowstorm that miraculously did not stick at all to the ground while we made our way up from Westchester. We hung out and chatted a little bit and watched Riley the bunny jump around a bit. Yeah, that's right - Riley the bunny. Christine wanted a pet, knew she'd get killed for a dog so she got a bunny instead. At first, Riley was Hunny Bunny but then Hunny's ballz dropped and voila - Riley. Don't ask me why. No idea.
Saturday morning comes and Tommy and I head out to the mountain, but not after a bit of confusion as to how we were getting there. Tommy thought we would take my car, I thought we would take their car, since Clarisa was going shopping with Christine and Eileen thought we were going to go with a friend of theirs, Spencer. After a bit of consternation it all works out and we hit the mountain and I get to board for the first time all year (thanks to the sprained foot back in December). No one is on the mountain and its fresh snow. Not powder really, but Eastern Powder and mostly undisturbed. We go right to the top and after a few runs I'm following Tommy and Spencer down some black diamond trails and even hit a trail on Hunter's west side. Did I bomb down, no. But at this point I'm not just turning my board into a big snowplow either. Eventually Tommy ditched me (the token boarder) so he could make some runs on his own at his own pace of 9.81 meters per second squared and spend some time with his large crew of Hunter friends. I make a few runs on my own, get a coffee at the Skytop cafe and head down to chill out on a deck chair because the sun has come out and my legs are asking for a break.
We meet up and get a little nosh afterward and head over around 5pm for the beach party. Man, talk about a party crew. These people dance, drink and just "party" like the 70's never ended. So a fun time with them is always guaranteed. And since we've been hanging out with Tommy and Eileen more, we are starting to get to know their other friends and can actually mingle a bit now. Its really nice. It makes me hope that our crew can get it together like this someday. That would be nice too.
Anyhoo - fat and out of shape I just decided to give it a try. Plus I needed an outlet for the frustration of being jobless at the time - Texaco had let me go in November. The first day was brutal and I landed on my ass and face planted more times than I could count. Toward the end of that first day though I strung together a bit of a run here and there - managed to link a turn or two and, man, what a great feeling. I was hooked and immediately got the vibe of it. My enthusiasm for it intrigued my friend Paul and he was hooked soon too. I remember on our first day together at Hunter sitting in the lodge with him and talking about how much we missed by just staying on campus so much at Fordham. Sure it was great, but we were like -- man what a scene we missed!
I've gotten better since that first day and always board, for a while at least, with my uncle Tommy, the now retired ski patroler. He's really good and if I can keep up even a little on my slow ass board its a good thing.
This past weekend we were up in the Catskills visiting the three bears (Eileen, Tommy, Christine) at their weekend ski chalet in Hensonville. The idea was to drive up on Friday, hit the mountain on Saturday and then go to a beach party at some friend of The Bears and then either hit the mountain again on Sunday or just recuperate.
Well, we managed to make it up on Friday in the middle of a snowstorm that miraculously did not stick at all to the ground while we made our way up from Westchester. We hung out and chatted a little bit and watched Riley the bunny jump around a bit. Yeah, that's right - Riley the bunny. Christine wanted a pet, knew she'd get killed for a dog so she got a bunny instead. At first, Riley was Hunny Bunny but then Hunny's ballz dropped and voila - Riley. Don't ask me why. No idea.
Saturday morning comes and Tommy and I head out to the mountain, but not after a bit of confusion as to how we were getting there. Tommy thought we would take my car, I thought we would take their car, since Clarisa was going shopping with Christine and Eileen thought we were going to go with a friend of theirs, Spencer. After a bit of consternation it all works out and we hit the mountain and I get to board for the first time all year (thanks to the sprained foot back in December). No one is on the mountain and its fresh snow. Not powder really, but Eastern Powder and mostly undisturbed. We go right to the top and after a few runs I'm following Tommy and Spencer down some black diamond trails and even hit a trail on Hunter's west side. Did I bomb down, no. But at this point I'm not just turning my board into a big snowplow either. Eventually Tommy ditched me (the token boarder) so he could make some runs on his own at his own pace of 9.81 meters per second squared and spend some time with his large crew of Hunter friends. I make a few runs on my own, get a coffee at the Skytop cafe and head down to chill out on a deck chair because the sun has come out and my legs are asking for a break.
We meet up and get a little nosh afterward and head over around 5pm for the beach party. Man, talk about a party crew. These people dance, drink and just "party" like the 70's never ended. So a fun time with them is always guaranteed. And since we've been hanging out with Tommy and Eileen more, we are starting to get to know their other friends and can actually mingle a bit now. Its really nice. It makes me hope that our crew can get it together like this someday. That would be nice too.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Good Achey Feeling
While no camel clutches or figure 4 leg locks were applied, as one commenter hilariously suggested, I did manage to make it to 2 (count 'em) BJJ classes in a row. While there was no fanfare or big group hug -- I could tell the guys I know there were happy to see me and it was great to see the familiar faces of my BJJ boudreaus. The workouts were not too bad either, mainly because of the classes I chose to go to. Tuesday nights tend to be medium intensity and the Weds early class is about the same or a bit lower. Fortunately, on the first day I got to work out with Alan, a really big blue belt that put up a fight but let me work at the same time. Its cool when someone is willing to coach you a little bit rather than just crush you. Lets face it, at this point I need coaching.
I ache today, but its a good type of ache that comes from honest effort. Its the thank you your body gives you for actually using it. It could be worse. I could be a massive pile of quivering torn muscle, but I'm not. I guess the time I put in at Crunch helped. Also, in a way, the worst is over because I've overcome the inertia of not going to BJJ / exercising and replaced it with activities (my wife will swear to you they do) make me happy.
Plus, a part of me just loves to kick ass.
I ache today, but its a good type of ache that comes from honest effort. Its the thank you your body gives you for actually using it. It could be worse. I could be a massive pile of quivering torn muscle, but I'm not. I guess the time I put in at Crunch helped. Also, in a way, the worst is over because I've overcome the inertia of not going to BJJ / exercising and replaced it with activities (my wife will swear to you they do) make me happy.
Plus, a part of me just loves to kick ass.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Going back to the mat.
Tomorrow I'm going back to BJJ for the first time since my injury back on December 18th. That's about 2 and a half months, yeah? I've been working out at Crunch and running and all of that and doing the Abs Diet thing -- but nothing really works you out like BJJ and a part of me is dreading my body's reaction.
I know my heart is going to feel like its going to explode in my chest sometime tomorrow. I know I'm out of shape still despite working out at Crunch. I know my body is going to ache and I realize that this is probably not the last time I'm going to be injured doing this. I realize that I'm probably going to tap out a bunch of times. But I need to go back because I love it, and I know that in a few weeks my heart will not want to explode anymore and I'll be back in the groove.
Bottom line - I love to compete. And while BJJ is competition against others to an extent, it really comes down to a competition with yourself. How hard are you willing to work?
I know my heart is going to feel like its going to explode in my chest sometime tomorrow. I know I'm out of shape still despite working out at Crunch. I know my body is going to ache and I realize that this is probably not the last time I'm going to be injured doing this. I realize that I'm probably going to tap out a bunch of times. But I need to go back because I love it, and I know that in a few weeks my heart will not want to explode anymore and I'll be back in the groove.
Bottom line - I love to compete. And while BJJ is competition against others to an extent, it really comes down to a competition with yourself. How hard are you willing to work?
Saturday, February 26, 2005
The Catch Up
Well, seeing as how I'm behind a bit, lets start with last weekend...
The long holiday weekend was spent doing nothing and doing it very well. Well, not nothing mind you - but nothing mentally or physically taxing. Nothing. Its the new slacking. The nothing consisted of:
Friday: A fine dinner at Zanaro's, a new Italian restaurant in White Plains NY. The service was great, the food was good and its just kind of cool eating in the old atrium of a huge 1930's bank. Leaving the place, we noted that Trump is putting up a building right across the street from it. While part of me thinks it would be financially smart and sound to buy a place in there sight unseen, I think we would never be able to pay for it. :-P Its friggen White Plains!!
Saturday: A matinee of Million Dollar Baby. Yep, that's right. I finally wore Clarisa down and we saw it. The bonus was that I managed not to hear about its big plot twist by avoiding all reviews and articles and shutting down any conversations about it. As for the movie itself -- Its a Movie. A Film and as such carries with it the gravitas only Eastwood seems to be bringing these days. Like most great drama's (aka "life issues" movie) MDB is imbued with the complexity, beauty
and strain of relationships. Its amazing how much you can learn about characters in a short time when the filmmaker knows what they are doing. MDB stands in stark contrast to Sunday's fare....
Sunday: We saw Constantine. Somehow, I think the Mad magazine parody of it might be better. Like Clarisa said, "I like this movie better when it was called The Prophecy", specifically referring to Satan's cameo in both those films that elevated them slightly. The thing that makes comic books / graphic novels great issue after issue is not so much the art and not so much the special effects (and face it, there can be TONS - its just extra ink and imagination vs. a roomful of programmers) but the characters. Readers come back for the characters and the style of the art -- which can be likened to a film's cinematography, I guess. A lot of times, it seems that comic based film's can't do the characters justice. Everything is rushed, the exposition is awkward and too long and generally, they just suck. And I hate having to say that.
Monday: Alias DVD viewing interspersed with Desert Combat Blasting -- ah the joys of leaving a game for a bit and coming back to it to find that while there is a new release out, the game has about 1/8th of the servers hosting it that it used to. DC seems to be on the shnide. Regardless, you can't play on all of the servers at once anyway -- so if there's just one available with a good mix of guys that's good enough for me!. The new maps are interesting and added some new twists to things.
So, yeah, the Alias DVD quest continues (just finished season 2!)...Ever since we caught the two hour premier of the Alias this year, we got hooked and decided to get caught up by Netflixing all the previous shows. So now during on any idle block of time that happens to be non Gilmour Girls / One Tree Hill / CSI /Deadwood (you need to watch this just for Al Sweraangen, played with moxie by Ian McShane)/Dead Like Me (another must see) time, we race through season after season and episode after episode trying to catch up with the very active Bristow family. Some odd things happen when you concentrate episodes that are supposed to be a week or weeks apart. One, you start to see all the plot devices revealed in stark Groundhog Day clarity. Lets just say I really did not want to see Sidney and Vaughn meet in that cyclone fence cage again, for one thing. Two, its possible to OD on Jennifer Garner. You just can't take anymore. After three episodes in a row, we get to the point where Clarisa is like a marathon runner unable to stop and I have double over and puke on the side of the Alias DVD highway. Generally, the only solution to an Alias OD is to blast something in Desert Combat. A more productive thing might be to play guitar I guess...
Anyhoo, that was the weekend. The work week was actually a little interesting this time around. I've been helping out one of the programmers with the CSS for some basic layouts. He is resistant to change, but he's getting it and most importantly he's letting me work on it because he knows I'm climbing the walls there. Thing is, when the pages are done...its back to a big case of ennui.
Last night Clarisa came down into the city and we went to see Billy Connolly at The Town Hall. The seats were close up, but way over to the left side so we had a bit of a hard time hearing him at points over the laughter. I guess the sound waves had a hard time making a right angle turn out of the speaker. Regardless, he was funny as hell. He did some bits on getting older and how he pays his kids to tell him if they catch him doing typical old people moves. "Here's 5 quid -- now you tell me if I smell of piss!" He did another bit bemoaning the fate of American cars. "They're all beige! Or, you know, like some beigeish color. You used to have Big Red Cadillacs, Blue ThunderBirds and we loved them. What the fuck did you do to them!?" Stuff like that. Well IT WAS FUNNY WHEN HE SAID IT! After the show we walked around Times Square and checked out the Virgin Megastore for a little while. We came out empty handed because every CD we looked we thought "ah - lets just get what we want on iTunes" and for every DVD we saw, we thought 'We can get it on eBay cheaper". So take that Branson.
Oh and on a side note, yesterday I was in the Suncoast in the Manhattan Mall and saw a Detroit Red Wing Best Of DVD that has games going back from 1996 or so -- and includes the fantastic March 1997 game where all hell breaks loose as Darren McCarty goes after Claude Lemieux for injuring Chris Draper months earlier in the season. I saw that game live and remember screaming and whooping at the TV in bloodthirsty glee as the Wings and the 'Lanche mixed it up old school style. The 40 bucks or so for the DVD is worth it just for that intense game which cemented Detroit vs Colorado as one of the biggest sports rivalries. Man, what a great team Detroit fielded over the years since 1996. And what a shame Stevie Y is probably done for and never got the farewell from the fans he deserved. Here's to you Steve. And while I'm here let me just say,
Bettman you can go fuck yourself for destroying hockey..you SOB!
The long holiday weekend was spent doing nothing and doing it very well. Well, not nothing mind you - but nothing mentally or physically taxing. Nothing. Its the new slacking. The nothing consisted of:
Friday: A fine dinner at Zanaro's, a new Italian restaurant in White Plains NY. The service was great, the food was good and its just kind of cool eating in the old atrium of a huge 1930's bank. Leaving the place, we noted that Trump is putting up a building right across the street from it. While part of me thinks it would be financially smart and sound to buy a place in there sight unseen, I think we would never be able to pay for it. :-P Its friggen White Plains!!
Saturday: A matinee of Million Dollar Baby. Yep, that's right. I finally wore Clarisa down and we saw it. The bonus was that I managed not to hear about its big plot twist by avoiding all reviews and articles and shutting down any conversations about it. As for the movie itself -- Its a Movie. A Film and as such carries with it the gravitas only Eastwood seems to be bringing these days. Like most great drama's (aka "life issues" movie) MDB is imbued with the complexity, beauty
and strain of relationships. Its amazing how much you can learn about characters in a short time when the filmmaker knows what they are doing. MDB stands in stark contrast to Sunday's fare....
Sunday: We saw Constantine. Somehow, I think the Mad magazine parody of it might be better. Like Clarisa said, "I like this movie better when it was called The Prophecy", specifically referring to Satan's cameo in both those films that elevated them slightly. The thing that makes comic books / graphic novels great issue after issue is not so much the art and not so much the special effects (and face it, there can be TONS - its just extra ink and imagination vs. a roomful of programmers) but the characters. Readers come back for the characters and the style of the art -- which can be likened to a film's cinematography, I guess. A lot of times, it seems that comic based film's can't do the characters justice. Everything is rushed, the exposition is awkward and too long and generally, they just suck. And I hate having to say that.
Monday: Alias DVD viewing interspersed with Desert Combat Blasting -- ah the joys of leaving a game for a bit and coming back to it to find that while there is a new release out, the game has about 1/8th of the servers hosting it that it used to. DC seems to be on the shnide. Regardless, you can't play on all of the servers at once anyway -- so if there's just one available with a good mix of guys that's good enough for me!. The new maps are interesting and added some new twists to things.
So, yeah, the Alias DVD quest continues (just finished season 2!)...Ever since we caught the two hour premier of the Alias this year, we got hooked and decided to get caught up by Netflixing all the previous shows. So now during on any idle block of time that happens to be non Gilmour Girls / One Tree Hill / CSI /Deadwood (you need to watch this just for Al Sweraangen, played with moxie by Ian McShane)/Dead Like Me (another must see) time, we race through season after season and episode after episode trying to catch up with the very active Bristow family. Some odd things happen when you concentrate episodes that are supposed to be a week or weeks apart. One, you start to see all the plot devices revealed in stark Groundhog Day clarity. Lets just say I really did not want to see Sidney and Vaughn meet in that cyclone fence cage again, for one thing. Two, its possible to OD on Jennifer Garner. You just can't take anymore. After three episodes in a row, we get to the point where Clarisa is like a marathon runner unable to stop and I have double over and puke on the side of the Alias DVD highway. Generally, the only solution to an Alias OD is to blast something in Desert Combat. A more productive thing might be to play guitar I guess...
Anyhoo, that was the weekend. The work week was actually a little interesting this time around. I've been helping out one of the programmers with the CSS for some basic layouts. He is resistant to change, but he's getting it and most importantly he's letting me work on it because he knows I'm climbing the walls there. Thing is, when the pages are done...its back to a big case of ennui.
Last night Clarisa came down into the city and we went to see Billy Connolly at The Town Hall. The seats were close up, but way over to the left side so we had a bit of a hard time hearing him at points over the laughter. I guess the sound waves had a hard time making a right angle turn out of the speaker. Regardless, he was funny as hell. He did some bits on getting older and how he pays his kids to tell him if they catch him doing typical old people moves. "Here's 5 quid -- now you tell me if I smell of piss!" He did another bit bemoaning the fate of American cars. "They're all beige! Or, you know, like some beigeish color. You used to have Big Red Cadillacs, Blue ThunderBirds and we loved them. What the fuck did you do to them!?" Stuff like that. Well IT WAS FUNNY WHEN HE SAID IT! After the show we walked around Times Square and checked out the Virgin Megastore for a little while. We came out empty handed because every CD we looked we thought "ah - lets just get what we want on iTunes" and for every DVD we saw, we thought 'We can get it on eBay cheaper". So take that Branson.
Oh and on a side note, yesterday I was in the Suncoast in the Manhattan Mall and saw a Detroit Red Wing Best Of DVD that has games going back from 1996 or so -- and includes the fantastic March 1997 game where all hell breaks loose as Darren McCarty goes after Claude Lemieux for injuring Chris Draper months earlier in the season. I saw that game live and remember screaming and whooping at the TV in bloodthirsty glee as the Wings and the 'Lanche mixed it up old school style. The 40 bucks or so for the DVD is worth it just for that intense game which cemented Detroit vs Colorado as one of the biggest sports rivalries. Man, what a great team Detroit fielded over the years since 1996. And what a shame Stevie Y is probably done for and never got the farewell from the fans he deserved. Here's to you Steve. And while I'm here let me just say,
Bettman you can go fuck yourself for destroying hockey..you SOB!
Monday, February 21, 2005
Correction
In my last post, I said I did not condone what Hunter did. While letting that remark stand, I'd also like to clarify what I meant without getting to deep into a very emotionally charged subject with vast religious and philosophical overtones.
In general, I don't condone suicide. I'm pretty sure I'm in agreement with a lot of people when I say that. Its a bad thing and the language we use to talk about it reflects that. Often words like "senseless" and "selfish" and "cowardly" get thrown about when suicide is discussed. Let me say this though - while those words might be applicable in a general sense, not all suicides are created equal and none are the same. Depending on circumstance suicide can be senseless or it can also be a very lucid final act of control, especially when the life you want to live is no longer possible. So, while I don't condone it, I can, in some instances, respect the choice. From what I've been reading, the general take on Hunter's death seems to be the latter - an act of control.
Sometimes I think its a desperate escape. In the summer of 1985 (does my memory fail me?) my friend Dave R. and I found out that a our good friend Dan had killed himself. Dan had moved to the Carolina's with his family months before and he was going to school down there and he had a girlfriend he'd met down there. We were still in school but it was near the end because all of the trees were green and it was really warm out. Dave had got the news from a phone call at school and told me. I remember being shocked and devasted. We just walked out of school, right past the principal who said nothing to us and out into the brightness of the day. We found a six pack and drank in the woods near his house and just talked. I can't remember what about exactly but it was about what you would expect -- ruminations on the meaning of life and just remembering Dan. Later on some details came to us, like how Dan had hung himself in the basement of his house. That he had leaned into the rope and that his knees were almost touching the ground. At any second while he was stil conscious, all he had to do was stand up. He never did. I also heard some rumors about his homelife that were said to be a factor but it was all basically heresay so I can't speak to that. I can't say for Dan what it was - senseless or a choice. The younger you are, the more senseless it seems. There's still potential and the life story is hardly written at 15. Your problems are workable. How horrible to be in a place where you can't see that anymore.
Months later I recalled a brief conversation with Dan. He had already moved and was up visiting for a bit. We had been drinking (go figure that one) and we were hoofing through the woods somewhere from point A to point B and just talking and making jokes and remarks back to one another. Finally I remember Dan had said something that night about killing himself. It was so casual and off the cuff, and we were both so drunk that I just dismissed it right away with "Don't be fucking stupid. There's a lot to live for." and we just continued our night of getting buzzed without thinking about it or talking about anymore. When I finally remembered that conversation, I felt guilty for a while that I had not said or done more. I'm great at blaming myself. Its even probably a little self centered of me to think that I could have made a difference somehow.
Dave and I have since drifted apart for whatever reason and aside for some bad poetry I wrote in college, Dan rarely comes to my mind.
Dave R. - if you are out there and see this, shoot me an email. I hear you are nurse working on a medi-vac helo crew. That's great to hear. So if you feel like it - give me a shout.
In general, I don't condone suicide. I'm pretty sure I'm in agreement with a lot of people when I say that. Its a bad thing and the language we use to talk about it reflects that. Often words like "senseless" and "selfish" and "cowardly" get thrown about when suicide is discussed. Let me say this though - while those words might be applicable in a general sense, not all suicides are created equal and none are the same. Depending on circumstance suicide can be senseless or it can also be a very lucid final act of control, especially when the life you want to live is no longer possible. So, while I don't condone it, I can, in some instances, respect the choice. From what I've been reading, the general take on Hunter's death seems to be the latter - an act of control.
Sometimes I think its a desperate escape. In the summer of 1985 (does my memory fail me?) my friend Dave R. and I found out that a our good friend Dan had killed himself. Dan had moved to the Carolina's with his family months before and he was going to school down there and he had a girlfriend he'd met down there. We were still in school but it was near the end because all of the trees were green and it was really warm out. Dave had got the news from a phone call at school and told me. I remember being shocked and devasted. We just walked out of school, right past the principal who said nothing to us and out into the brightness of the day. We found a six pack and drank in the woods near his house and just talked. I can't remember what about exactly but it was about what you would expect -- ruminations on the meaning of life and just remembering Dan. Later on some details came to us, like how Dan had hung himself in the basement of his house. That he had leaned into the rope and that his knees were almost touching the ground. At any second while he was stil conscious, all he had to do was stand up. He never did. I also heard some rumors about his homelife that were said to be a factor but it was all basically heresay so I can't speak to that. I can't say for Dan what it was - senseless or a choice. The younger you are, the more senseless it seems. There's still potential and the life story is hardly written at 15. Your problems are workable. How horrible to be in a place where you can't see that anymore.
Months later I recalled a brief conversation with Dan. He had already moved and was up visiting for a bit. We had been drinking (go figure that one) and we were hoofing through the woods somewhere from point A to point B and just talking and making jokes and remarks back to one another. Finally I remember Dan had said something that night about killing himself. It was so casual and off the cuff, and we were both so drunk that I just dismissed it right away with "Don't be fucking stupid. There's a lot to live for." and we just continued our night of getting buzzed without thinking about it or talking about anymore. When I finally remembered that conversation, I felt guilty for a while that I had not said or done more. I'm great at blaming myself. Its even probably a little self centered of me to think that I could have made a difference somehow.
Dave and I have since drifted apart for whatever reason and aside for some bad poetry I wrote in college, Dan rarely comes to my mind.
Dave R. - if you are out there and see this, shoot me an email. I hear you are nurse working on a medi-vac helo crew. That's great to hear. So if you feel like it - give me a shout.
Goodbye, Hunter
I was checking the frontpage of www.ntytimes.com last night around 11:15pm or so when I saw a new headline that wasn't there when I checked around 10pm (Its an OCD sort of thing I've developed since 9/11 - check check check the news). And here was a headline telling me Hunter S. Thompson, co-founder of Gonzo Journalism had taken his life. I sat for a second and thought about it and let it soak in.
"Aww no..." I thought. I also immediately thought of my estranged friend Tom who was a bigger Thompson fan than I. At least back when we spoke regularly he was. Anyway, I walked into the bedroom and told Clarisa what I had just read.
"Really? Wow.' She paused and looked briefly at her laptop screen, but saw nothing and looked back up at me. "In way, that makes sense.' she paused again."That's the end of something, isn't it?".
I thought about what she said for a second and I had to agree. I knew what she meant -- that it was more than Hunter that had just died. An age of sorts has passed. The voice of Gonzo Journalism silenced himself and left us to fend for ourselves in this land that I see quietly creeping toward Orwellian prognostications. And how was he supposed to leave this earth? Dying slowly in a nursing home? It just seems to fit that this is how it would end for him. By no means do I condone it and I hope I never face such a choice but it seems to fit, though I'd rather it not.
While not a regular reader, I always found it comforting to know that he was out there doing his thing; thinking bounding thoughts and experiencing things in a visceral way. What's more, I knew that I could, when I wanted, check right in and live vicariously through him for a bit via a column on ESPN's Page 2 or in any of his other writing. His writing is still there, of course, but all of a sudden I'm not as comfortable. Maybe he could appreciate that.
"Aww no..." I thought. I also immediately thought of my estranged friend Tom who was a bigger Thompson fan than I. At least back when we spoke regularly he was. Anyway, I walked into the bedroom and told Clarisa what I had just read.
"Really? Wow.' She paused and looked briefly at her laptop screen, but saw nothing and looked back up at me. "In way, that makes sense.' she paused again."That's the end of something, isn't it?".
I thought about what she said for a second and I had to agree. I knew what she meant -- that it was more than Hunter that had just died. An age of sorts has passed. The voice of Gonzo Journalism silenced himself and left us to fend for ourselves in this land that I see quietly creeping toward Orwellian prognostications. And how was he supposed to leave this earth? Dying slowly in a nursing home? It just seems to fit that this is how it would end for him. By no means do I condone it and I hope I never face such a choice but it seems to fit, though I'd rather it not.
While not a regular reader, I always found it comforting to know that he was out there doing his thing; thinking bounding thoughts and experiencing things in a visceral way. What's more, I knew that I could, when I wanted, check right in and live vicariously through him for a bit via a column on ESPN's Page 2 or in any of his other writing. His writing is still there, of course, but all of a sudden I'm not as comfortable. Maybe he could appreciate that.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
My first Imix
On the last day I ever saw Jenn - she sat down here at this PC I'm at and made a mix to take on her trip out to Oklahoma. I'm not sure it was so much for her as it was for me and a select few others.
Now its for you too. Just go to iTunes and then iMix's and search on "Kitcher" and her tunes will come up.
Now its for you too. Just go to iTunes and then iMix's and search on "Kitcher" and her tunes will come up.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: No Mullah Left Behind
The New York Times > Opinion > Op-Ed Columnist: No Mullah Left Behind
When I read OP-ED pieces like this one from Tom Friedman, I get really fired up. Go read it. If not, here is the executive summary...By not supporting an energy independence initiative, improving energy conservation, taxing gasoline or demanding increased mileage from Detroit the Bush administration is financing both sides of the war on terror. As the price of oil goes up, the need for economic and governmental reform diminishes and the U.S. energy policy basically becomes "No Mullah Left Behind".
I absolutely advocate energy independence from the mid-east. Energy independence should be this generations moon race. Right after 9/11 Bush could have announced an initiative like what I'm talking about. Instead, we got told to shop. No surprise since Dubya is best friends with the Saudis.
I also agree with Friedman that our nation's campuses are curiously quiet in regards to this issue and, to my mind, the war as well. Where are the idealistic kids?
Despite the lack of support from the administration, some U.S. auto manufacturers have seen the writing on the wall as to the future of oil and are hedging their bets by developing hybrid gas/electric vehicles and hydrogen powered vehicles. Take GM's program for instance which is designed to possibly accelerate what my old friends at Texaco's Strategic Management Group called the Hydrogen future. Since the petroleum present seems to have only another twenty to fifty years left, we would do well as a nation to prepare now for that inevitable change and start building the infrastructure we'll need to support it. The whole world would benefit economically and environmentally.
You think its going to happen when the Bush line of kings is in Washington?
When I read OP-ED pieces like this one from Tom Friedman, I get really fired up. Go read it. If not, here is the executive summary...By not supporting an energy independence initiative, improving energy conservation, taxing gasoline or demanding increased mileage from Detroit the Bush administration is financing both sides of the war on terror. As the price of oil goes up, the need for economic and governmental reform diminishes and the U.S. energy policy basically becomes "No Mullah Left Behind".
I absolutely advocate energy independence from the mid-east. Energy independence should be this generations moon race. Right after 9/11 Bush could have announced an initiative like what I'm talking about. Instead, we got told to shop. No surprise since Dubya is best friends with the Saudis.
I also agree with Friedman that our nation's campuses are curiously quiet in regards to this issue and, to my mind, the war as well. Where are the idealistic kids?
Despite the lack of support from the administration, some U.S. auto manufacturers have seen the writing on the wall as to the future of oil and are hedging their bets by developing hybrid gas/electric vehicles and hydrogen powered vehicles. Take GM's program for instance which is designed to possibly accelerate what my old friends at Texaco's Strategic Management Group called the Hydrogen future. Since the petroleum present seems to have only another twenty to fifty years left, we would do well as a nation to prepare now for that inevitable change and start building the infrastructure we'll need to support it. The whole world would benefit economically and environmentally.
You think its going to happen when the Bush line of kings is in Washington?
Saturday, February 12, 2005
This here is "Faust", aka "Little Guy". He's a rather large kitty at 25lbs, but this bruiser is a lover not a fighter. Clarisa found him under her car tire when he was about 5 weeks old or so. She took him home, gave him a bath and a bottle and I was like, "Can we keep him?!" So we did and now he is so very much Clarisa's cat its sad. Plus he was raised by a Rottweiler so he pretty much thinks he's a dog.
Posted by Hello
Introducing Juilet the Cat, aka Jules Vern. She is a "next to" kitty. That is, she prefers sitting next to you or by you rather than on you. The crinkling of plastic bags frightens the hell out of her, so when its time to put away groceries, its time to traumatize a cat. We've had her since we live with my parents so she's at least 9 or so but she is stil pretty spry.
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Friday, February 11, 2005
Truly Vanishing James
217.5 lbs 2/4/2005.
212.6 2/11/2005
I figure 10 more weeks to 180-185.
I'm not hungry. I'm eating a lot and I'm definitely getting stronger. Even better, I'm not jacking my cholesterol to the 340 mark it was back when I had been doing Atkins. The AbsDiet is not so much a diet as it is a lifestyle change, and even so, its a pretty easy one at that. If you've been struggling with your weight, yo-yo ing up and down -- check it out.
212.6 2/11/2005
I figure 10 more weeks to 180-185.
I'm not hungry. I'm eating a lot and I'm definitely getting stronger. Even better, I'm not jacking my cholesterol to the 340 mark it was back when I had been doing Atkins. The AbsDiet is not so much a diet as it is a lifestyle change, and even so, its a pretty easy one at that. If you've been struggling with your weight, yo-yo ing up and down -- check it out.
O ato do amor ajustou acidentalmente meu gato beloved no fogo.
AbsDiet story...
One of the recommended snacks on the absdiet is roasted almonds sprinkled with cayenne pepper and I have to say its become a fast favorite of mine. Last weekend I was snacking away all day on aforementioned tasty treat before we started going at it like crazed teenagers. Things were getting really hot and all of a sudden they really got hot. Clarisa recoiled away with an expression on her face that expressed both pain and puzzlement.
"The fucking cayenne pepper!" she said and high tailed it to the bathroom.
I'd never washed my hands...
Milk wound up places I never thought milk would wind up.
She could have been really pissed, but basically she just chalked this up to the fates evening out the scales of sexual justice for the "Pepsi Incident" that was perpetrated years ago.
One of the recommended snacks on the absdiet is roasted almonds sprinkled with cayenne pepper and I have to say its become a fast favorite of mine. Last weekend I was snacking away all day on aforementioned tasty treat before we started going at it like crazed teenagers. Things were getting really hot and all of a sudden they really got hot. Clarisa recoiled away with an expression on her face that expressed both pain and puzzlement.
"The fucking cayenne pepper!" she said and high tailed it to the bathroom.
I'd never washed my hands...
Milk wound up places I never thought milk would wind up.
She could have been really pissed, but basically she just chalked this up to the fates evening out the scales of sexual justice for the "Pepsi Incident" that was perpetrated years ago.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Ponderings
Hello there Internet.
A while back I posted about my aborted attempt to go to the French Culinary Institute (FCI). I'll recap here for those of you who prefer the executive summary...I'd finally decided to become a chef, or at least try. The plan was to borrow the 20K for tuition and finish the part time evening program in 9 months. However, while driving to the FCI to finalize my paperwork I received an untimely call by my boss asking me to come back from wherever I was and fix a Westcon e-Commerce problem combined with a building panic attack on my part caused me to veer off of the FDR and onto the Triborough Bridge. A few hours later after criss-crossing NYC I returned home, much to Clarisa's surprise.
She really wanted me to get back in the car and get back down there and do it, but I wouldn't budge. She really wanted me to do it but the huge worry about the loan and the crappy starting salary and the odd hours all were screaming at me -- THIS WOULD BE A MISTAKE!! How awesome though, that I get that kind of support.
But now I'm thinking about it again. And I'm thinking about it again because I'm unhappy here at Healthology (did not take long at all!!) and when I'm unhappy, I start thinking about cooking school. From a self analytical point of view, a career change in that direction has become my elysian fields. Just do that, and happiness will ensue for the rest of my days. The objective part of me knows this my habit of loving the idea of something more than loving the thing itself. I do love to cook though. And I am good at it and it makes me happy to do it. Its funny how it just snowballs into a desire to turn my life upside down and don the whites and checks. All I need to do is get a pan in my hand and I'm like Sulu with a Rapier all of a sudden. It just changes me when I do it - - I get in a zone and get that same feeling of satisfaction you get from hitting a great golf shot. Maybe my head is making cloudy what my heart makes very clear...
The culinary world aside, the reality is the situation here is not fantastic and I'll need to make some changes soon. Its a workable problem, so I'm trying not to worry about it, and even if it wasn't workable, there is no reason to worry about something that you can do nothing about either, right?
Some possible low cost career transitions I'm thinking about -
Go back to Coldfusion programming and build some apps.
Start doing some creative writing and try to get published.
Going to School of the Visual Arts (SVA) or NYU and take some courses, maybe in film, maybe in advertising and try to move to a company oriented one of those ways and use my previous skillset to leverage my new one.
I know, I know... my main problem is a lack of focus. I am more scattered than the tribes of Israel when it comes to making a decision. Hell, one day I'll be sure I want to be a chef and the next day Madison Avenue might look good. Maybe even in the same HOUR, never mind the same day. Its infuriating to me. My friend, Dennis, of http://www.d2stuff.com/ fame and I joke about it a lot. We take turns making up whacked job listings like "Seeking Coldfusion programmer with liberal arts background, strong grounding in American Philosophy, aesthetics, botany. Must be experienced with Photoshop, Final Cut Pro. Ability to make a killer hollandaise nice to have."
This new job frustration change thing is kind of ironic. I've been reading Anne, Straight From the Hip for a while now and if you know her at all, she was struggling away for a long time with depression and a crappy job at a Barnes & Noble. Finally she got out of there and got a position working for HBO's "The Wire". No sooner was she there then she brought up how there were things that she did not really like it there, or did like it, but felt bad about a bunch of things... I went from a "Good for you! Way to kick ass!" attitude to thinking, admittedly, "No fucking way!! Unhappy already? You gotta be shitting me...suck it up! You were just at Barnes & Noble for chrissakes..."
Now here I am - two months into this gig and climbing the walls wanting a change. Now being that I've served time at soul sucking jobs like Enterprise Rent A Car and CVS/Pharmacies and moved on to better things -- I should be kissing the very ground I walk on in thanks. Everyday should be happiness and light compared to that. And in a way, it is - but as crazy as those jobs made me, not being challenged is also a big turnoff. It just goes to show everything is relative and that once you get something its never as satisfying as having wanted it. Maye Dostoevsky is right and that man loves to build roads and is constantly in a cycle of creation and destruction. I just happen to have a really rapid turnover!.
A while back I posted about my aborted attempt to go to the French Culinary Institute (FCI). I'll recap here for those of you who prefer the executive summary...I'd finally decided to become a chef, or at least try. The plan was to borrow the 20K for tuition and finish the part time evening program in 9 months. However, while driving to the FCI to finalize my paperwork I received an untimely call by my boss asking me to come back from wherever I was and fix a Westcon e-Commerce problem combined with a building panic attack on my part caused me to veer off of the FDR and onto the Triborough Bridge. A few hours later after criss-crossing NYC I returned home, much to Clarisa's surprise.
She really wanted me to get back in the car and get back down there and do it, but I wouldn't budge. She really wanted me to do it but the huge worry about the loan and the crappy starting salary and the odd hours all were screaming at me -- THIS WOULD BE A MISTAKE!! How awesome though, that I get that kind of support.
But now I'm thinking about it again. And I'm thinking about it again because I'm unhappy here at Healthology (did not take long at all!!) and when I'm unhappy, I start thinking about cooking school. From a self analytical point of view, a career change in that direction has become my elysian fields. Just do that, and happiness will ensue for the rest of my days. The objective part of me knows this my habit of loving the idea of something more than loving the thing itself. I do love to cook though. And I am good at it and it makes me happy to do it. Its funny how it just snowballs into a desire to turn my life upside down and don the whites and checks. All I need to do is get a pan in my hand and I'm like Sulu with a Rapier all of a sudden. It just changes me when I do it - - I get in a zone and get that same feeling of satisfaction you get from hitting a great golf shot. Maybe my head is making cloudy what my heart makes very clear...
The culinary world aside, the reality is the situation here is not fantastic and I'll need to make some changes soon. Its a workable problem, so I'm trying not to worry about it, and even if it wasn't workable, there is no reason to worry about something that you can do nothing about either, right?
Some possible low cost career transitions I'm thinking about -
Go back to Coldfusion programming and build some apps.
Start doing some creative writing and try to get published.
Going to School of the Visual Arts (SVA) or NYU and take some courses, maybe in film, maybe in advertising and try to move to a company oriented one of those ways and use my previous skillset to leverage my new one.
I know, I know... my main problem is a lack of focus. I am more scattered than the tribes of Israel when it comes to making a decision. Hell, one day I'll be sure I want to be a chef and the next day Madison Avenue might look good. Maybe even in the same HOUR, never mind the same day. Its infuriating to me. My friend, Dennis, of http://www.d2stuff.com/ fame and I joke about it a lot. We take turns making up whacked job listings like "Seeking Coldfusion programmer with liberal arts background, strong grounding in American Philosophy, aesthetics, botany. Must be experienced with Photoshop, Final Cut Pro. Ability to make a killer hollandaise nice to have."
This new job frustration change thing is kind of ironic. I've been reading Anne, Straight From the Hip for a while now and if you know her at all, she was struggling away for a long time with depression and a crappy job at a Barnes & Noble. Finally she got out of there and got a position working for HBO's "The Wire". No sooner was she there then she brought up how there were things that she did not really like it there, or did like it, but felt bad about a bunch of things... I went from a "Good for you! Way to kick ass!" attitude to thinking, admittedly, "No fucking way!! Unhappy already? You gotta be shitting me...suck it up! You were just at Barnes & Noble for chrissakes..."
Now here I am - two months into this gig and climbing the walls wanting a change. Now being that I've served time at soul sucking jobs like Enterprise Rent A Car and CVS/Pharmacies and moved on to better things -- I should be kissing the very ground I walk on in thanks. Everyday should be happiness and light compared to that. And in a way, it is - but as crazy as those jobs made me, not being challenged is also a big turnoff. It just goes to show everything is relative and that once you get something its never as satisfying as having wanted it. Maye Dostoevsky is right and that man loves to build roads and is constantly in a cycle of creation and destruction. I just happen to have a really rapid turnover!.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
SpikeTV.com | The Ultimate Fighter
SpikeTV.com | The Ultimate Fighter
Mixed martial arts is going mainstream with this reality show. Its a long way from the first UFC in popularity and acceptance. Its cool to see that type of programming coming on. Anyhoo, I had heard of it but not watched it until last night when I accidentally stumbled upon it on Spike (even more coincidentally I got that comment on it in one of the preceding posts). I caught the end of some light heavyweight elimination fight wherein some bald guy got caught with a left right style combo that rang his bell and put him down. I think I saw a tooth fly out, but I'm not sure. It could have been anything. The program looks interesting and its on tonight so I just might catch it. Of course I'll be sizing up the guys and wondering where people in my school stack up against them. I think Renee could do really well in the middle weight, light middle weight category. The guy is really good. Totally mild mannered guy - but when he is on the mat he is something else. The funny thing about Renee, is when you roll against him sometimes -he actually starts to laugh the laugh of someone who is watching someone else realize the futility of their position.
Speaking of which, I plan on making my return to the BJJ academy this week and use the workouts there to compensate for one or two of the weight workouts specified in the ABSDiet. Of course I am a bit apprehensive about getting reinjured but you rolls your dice and takes your chances. At least with the running and workouts I have been doing for the past week I won't be sucking wind too soon into the class. Its funny how fast your body adapts - it can turn to shit and mush in a heartbeat and with just a little effort large improvements can be made. Of course, the beginning of anything is always that way. The challenges are, 1. Getting started 2. Keeping consistent 3. Busting through plateaus. The foot is feeling pretty good and I miss it so I am going back. Plus, I feel better working out knowing its for a purpose - like being able to triangle someone or kimura someone or mata leo someone or just hold my own against someone better / bigger than me. I'm not one to be a gym pretty boy. I am not John Baystow, fitness celebrity type. Speaking of which - I've found out that the cut builds and big muscles don't mean squat unless you know how to use them. I've taken on guys that you would say are in way better shape than me or stronger based on looks and held my own, beat them and yeah, sometimes got tapped out. But the point is that gym muscles are entirely different than BJJ ones. Like most things, if you can fuse it together you are really onto something. Martial arts fusion, fusion cuisine, cold fusion. Its all good.
So, I figure once this week and the next, and then back to a twice a week schedule.
The ABSDiet is going well. I'm kind of winging it now since I have not gone shopping yet - but I've adapted the principles of eating 6 meals a day and making sure that at each meal I eat one or two things that are in the ABSPOWERDIET group. And I am holding off the posting of the "fat James" picture for a bit. At the three week mark I will post it and another photo showing, hopefully, my progress. Then I'll post the 6 week photo. I'm just to self conscious at this point to post something like that without a counter balance. So for now, the Buddha belly stays tucked away.
Mixed martial arts is going mainstream with this reality show. Its a long way from the first UFC in popularity and acceptance. Its cool to see that type of programming coming on. Anyhoo, I had heard of it but not watched it until last night when I accidentally stumbled upon it on Spike (even more coincidentally I got that comment on it in one of the preceding posts). I caught the end of some light heavyweight elimination fight wherein some bald guy got caught with a left right style combo that rang his bell and put him down. I think I saw a tooth fly out, but I'm not sure. It could have been anything. The program looks interesting and its on tonight so I just might catch it. Of course I'll be sizing up the guys and wondering where people in my school stack up against them. I think Renee could do really well in the middle weight, light middle weight category. The guy is really good. Totally mild mannered guy - but when he is on the mat he is something else. The funny thing about Renee, is when you roll against him sometimes -he actually starts to laugh the laugh of someone who is watching someone else realize the futility of their position.
Speaking of which, I plan on making my return to the BJJ academy this week and use the workouts there to compensate for one or two of the weight workouts specified in the ABSDiet. Of course I am a bit apprehensive about getting reinjured but you rolls your dice and takes your chances. At least with the running and workouts I have been doing for the past week I won't be sucking wind too soon into the class. Its funny how fast your body adapts - it can turn to shit and mush in a heartbeat and with just a little effort large improvements can be made. Of course, the beginning of anything is always that way. The challenges are, 1. Getting started 2. Keeping consistent 3. Busting through plateaus. The foot is feeling pretty good and I miss it so I am going back. Plus, I feel better working out knowing its for a purpose - like being able to triangle someone or kimura someone or mata leo someone or just hold my own against someone better / bigger than me. I'm not one to be a gym pretty boy. I am not John Baystow, fitness celebrity type. Speaking of which - I've found out that the cut builds and big muscles don't mean squat unless you know how to use them. I've taken on guys that you would say are in way better shape than me or stronger based on looks and held my own, beat them and yeah, sometimes got tapped out. But the point is that gym muscles are entirely different than BJJ ones. Like most things, if you can fuse it together you are really onto something. Martial arts fusion, fusion cuisine, cold fusion. Its all good.
So, I figure once this week and the next, and then back to a twice a week schedule.
The ABSDiet is going well. I'm kind of winging it now since I have not gone shopping yet - but I've adapted the principles of eating 6 meals a day and making sure that at each meal I eat one or two things that are in the ABSPOWERDIET group. And I am holding off the posting of the "fat James" picture for a bit. At the three week mark I will post it and another photo showing, hopefully, my progress. Then I'll post the 6 week photo. I'm just to self conscious at this point to post something like that without a counter balance. So for now, the Buddha belly stays tucked away.
Yahoo! Sports - NHL - A MINOR MIRACLE: Wings transplants elevate Mechanics, delight fans
Yahoo! Sports - NHL - A MINOR MIRACLE: Wings transplants elevate Mechanics, delight fans
Thanks to alert reader and friend, Sfumato, for sending me this link. Being a rabid Red Wings fan, its nice to see some of the boys getting some ice time in and giving the folks in Detroit a lift. Like Chelios says in the article - too bad if some minor league guy isn't getting some ice time. Its not like anyone lost their jobs over this -- they are evidently rotating the vets through the team and benching guys in turn. And if some guy is whining about losing his ice time, maybe he should shut the hell up and watch the 20+ year veteran Chelios school people half his age and learn something.
Of course I do feel a bit sorry for the poor SOB going into the corner after the puck and having Derian Hatcher there to pounce on you and give you the stinky glove facial and otherwise just make you pay for going into the corner after his puck. Again, though - I think you can learn something from that, like facing adversity or some shit, so its good for the minor league player in this case as well.
One other hockey comment in regards to this lockout business...about Donald Brashear of all people. I am not the guys biggest fan, but I can see his point when he bitches that the league did not do enough to protect him from young bucks trying to make a name for themselves by fighting him. Its like guys taking on Billy The Kid. You want to make a name for yourself, its just a very dangerous way to go about it. Same deal with Brashear. From what I hear, he was reluctant to drop the gloves, but basically had a bunch of guys lined up waiting to scrap with him every game. If he knocks the crap out of somebody - what the heck can you do. You (you being the Quebec semi=pro league he was playing in) basically took Brashear on as a major draw, let guys go after him and then turn around and suspend him for the season for engaging in the very activity you promoted. Now, I did not see the fight that triggered the suspension, so I'm not sure if Brashear pulled any cheap shit, if any. Even so, IMO, the league bears some responsibility.
Anyone out there have a video file of the fight? Bit Torrent maybe?
Thanks to alert reader and friend, Sfumato, for sending me this link. Being a rabid Red Wings fan, its nice to see some of the boys getting some ice time in and giving the folks in Detroit a lift. Like Chelios says in the article - too bad if some minor league guy isn't getting some ice time. Its not like anyone lost their jobs over this -- they are evidently rotating the vets through the team and benching guys in turn. And if some guy is whining about losing his ice time, maybe he should shut the hell up and watch the 20+ year veteran Chelios school people half his age and learn something.
Of course I do feel a bit sorry for the poor SOB going into the corner after the puck and having Derian Hatcher there to pounce on you and give you the stinky glove facial and otherwise just make you pay for going into the corner after his puck. Again, though - I think you can learn something from that, like facing adversity or some shit, so its good for the minor league player in this case as well.
One other hockey comment in regards to this lockout business...about Donald Brashear of all people. I am not the guys biggest fan, but I can see his point when he bitches that the league did not do enough to protect him from young bucks trying to make a name for themselves by fighting him. Its like guys taking on Billy The Kid. You want to make a name for yourself, its just a very dangerous way to go about it. Same deal with Brashear. From what I hear, he was reluctant to drop the gloves, but basically had a bunch of guys lined up waiting to scrap with him every game. If he knocks the crap out of somebody - what the heck can you do. You (you being the Quebec semi=pro league he was playing in) basically took Brashear on as a major draw, let guys go after him and then turn around and suspend him for the season for engaging in the very activity you promoted. Now, I did not see the fight that triggered the suspension, so I'm not sure if Brashear pulled any cheap shit, if any. Even so, IMO, the league bears some responsibility.
Anyone out there have a video file of the fight? Bit Torrent maybe?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Realization
We have not seen one of the Best Film Academy Award nominees. Not one. Not for lack of trying, but my better half does not exactly dig, as she calles them, "Life Issues" movies. However, to her great credit, she always Netflix the movies I wanted to see in the theater but missed because they were in the preceding category. For example, we just got to see Garden State. It was a good movie. Mr. Branff did a bang up job. A special bonus was the discovery that I had previously listened to most of the music on the soundtrack way before the movie came out. It made me feel very hip. Oh yeah.
I want to see Million Dollar Baby. I don't know the ending, but I figure someone dies, its just that type of movie. I fear the longer Iwait to see it, the better the chances of someone spoiling it for me and thereby triggering all sorts of complex chemical reactions of frustration on my part. Ah the tension...
I want to see Million Dollar Baby. I don't know the ending, but I figure someone dies, its just that type of movie. I fear the longer Iwait to see it, the better the chances of someone spoiling it for me and thereby triggering all sorts of complex chemical reactions of frustration on my part. Ah the tension...
Back away from the Vienna Fingers...
During the Jets horrendous loss to the Steelers, my friend Joe, of the not so often posted to Sfumato blog, turned to me and said,
"Fat Riz is making a return."
To which I replied,
"That's ok, Fat Kitch is making a big comeback too."
I've packed on 12-13 lbs since I had to stop Brazilian Jiu Jitsu because of my foot injury. At 205 I'm not exactly svelte, but man o man its waaay better than the 217 the scale read on Tuesday night. The even weirder thing is I woke up Weds morning and weighed myself and I was 214. Where the hell did those three pounds go? I peed 3 lbs? Its a mystery.
That said, I've started going to Crunch Fitness on 38th street and I've started the AbsDiet and workout plan as laid out on the Men's Fitness Website. I even entered the AbsDiet contest and will be taking a picture of my fat ass for a "before" shot tomorrow and in 6 weeks will submit an after shot - the hope being that I will drop 10-20 lbs and maybe win a car. Actually I don't give a crap about the contest, its really more about giving myself some desperately needed structure. Hopefully, within that structure I will be able to drop some weight, lower my cholesterol and generally look and feel better. If I can transform my life somewhat - that's the biggest prize. Also, being able to replace the fat "before" photo thats about to go up with a better one -- that's pretty good motivation too.
So far, I've done two workouts at Crunch. The first day was dips, pullups and abwork and the second day was running with some abwork. I ran 4 miles and did some abwork and my legs are sore today and my arms are still sore from the workout on Weds. Man, you can really go to hell in one month if you let yourself. Tomorrow I start the AbDiets deal.
Six weeks, two photos and a goal of 192.6 to 197.6 lbs. Lets see what happens.
"Fat Riz is making a return."
To which I replied,
"That's ok, Fat Kitch is making a big comeback too."
I've packed on 12-13 lbs since I had to stop Brazilian Jiu Jitsu because of my foot injury. At 205 I'm not exactly svelte, but man o man its waaay better than the 217 the scale read on Tuesday night. The even weirder thing is I woke up Weds morning and weighed myself and I was 214. Where the hell did those three pounds go? I peed 3 lbs? Its a mystery.
That said, I've started going to Crunch Fitness on 38th street and I've started the AbsDiet and workout plan as laid out on the Men's Fitness Website. I even entered the AbsDiet contest and will be taking a picture of my fat ass for a "before" shot tomorrow and in 6 weeks will submit an after shot - the hope being that I will drop 10-20 lbs and maybe win a car. Actually I don't give a crap about the contest, its really more about giving myself some desperately needed structure. Hopefully, within that structure I will be able to drop some weight, lower my cholesterol and generally look and feel better. If I can transform my life somewhat - that's the biggest prize. Also, being able to replace the fat "before" photo thats about to go up with a better one -- that's pretty good motivation too.
So far, I've done two workouts at Crunch. The first day was dips, pullups and abwork and the second day was running with some abwork. I ran 4 miles and did some abwork and my legs are sore today and my arms are still sore from the workout on Weds. Man, you can really go to hell in one month if you let yourself. Tomorrow I start the AbDiets deal.
Six weeks, two photos and a goal of 192.6 to 197.6 lbs. Lets see what happens.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Burst Pipes - Aftermath
Well, the bedroom looks like we just moved in. We pulled everything that was in the path of the water and moved it into the bedroom. Shit is stacked everywhere. I can't imagine that all this stuff goes neatly away some where, but it does thanks to Clarisa's extraordinary ability to fold space and time in order to stow anything anywhere. Its a real honest to God talent. All the piles of stuff will be transported and disappear and in a short while this place will look like it always does. For now though, stuff is everywhere and its grating on Clarisa's innate sense of order. The Force must be balanced....
...Moving along...
Of course, its ass cold and the pipe that burst last night is already frozen again. In a questionable attempt to dry the place out, we pulled back the carpet in the bedroom where it got soaked to expose the padding underneath. An electric heater is blowing on the floor right near said pipe. Now, the Murphy's law part of me is saying - "Now we are going to be flooded and electrocuted on top of it."
I'm tired of having to spend close to $500/MO bucks to heat this joint in the winter and still freeze my a$$ off. You would think that would be money spent to make it warm but no way.
...Moving along...
Of course, its ass cold and the pipe that burst last night is already frozen again. In a questionable attempt to dry the place out, we pulled back the carpet in the bedroom where it got soaked to expose the padding underneath. An electric heater is blowing on the floor right near said pipe. Now, the Murphy's law part of me is saying - "Now we are going to be flooded and electrocuted on top of it."
I'm tired of having to spend close to $500/MO bucks to heat this joint in the winter and still freeze my a$$ off. You would think that would be money spent to make it warm but no way.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Burst Pipes - a kind of screenplay.
The Scene - a man riding home on Metro North Railroad. He is reading "The Discoverers" by Daniel Boorstin. He is wearing a yellow Burton boarding jacket, jeans and a pair of Columbia boots.
[Sidebar - Evidently in 1421 or so, a Chinese eunuch named Cheng Ho took about 30,000 of his closest friends on an adventure all over the Indian Ocean on ships that were just amazing to look at. Huge things. Pretty things. And they sailed not to conquer or enslave, but to spread the word of just how kick ass they were and show that, in fact, they did not need a damn thing from anyone. Oh, and if you brought them a Giraffe, the beers were definitely on the house, so to speak.]
[annoying cell phone ring - sounds like a slot machine]
- Man pulls out cell phone from jeans pocket and answers it.
Man: "Hello"?
- Its his wife and she is freaking out a bit and in a stressed but her voice is still kind of eerily calm.
Woman: "James! Oh what we've worried about has happened! One of the pipes burst and there's water everywhere. I just called the fire department. I need to go. You need to take a cab home. Bye!"
[Sidebar - Evidently in 1421 or so, a Chinese eunuch named Cheng Ho took about 30,000 of his closest friends on an adventure all over the Indian Ocean on ships that were just amazing to look at. Huge things. Pretty things. And they sailed not to conquer or enslave, but to spread the word of just how kick ass they were and show that, in fact, they did not need a damn thing from anyone. Oh, and if you brought them a Giraffe, the beers were definitely on the house, so to speak.]
[annoying cell phone ring - sounds like a slot machine]
- Man pulls out cell phone from jeans pocket and answers it.
Man: "Hello"?
- Its his wife and she is freaking out a bit and in a stressed but her voice is still kind of eerily calm.
Woman: "James! Oh what we've worried about has happened! One of the pipes burst and there's water everywhere. I just called the fire department. I need to go. You need to take a cab home. Bye!"
- The man has the next 25 minutes between the train and the cab ride home to wonder just what the hell is going on there and how bad its going to be. He hopes, wrongly, that its an outside pipe and the water is not spilling into every crevice of his house. He thinks about his wife crying and all of their stuff being destroyed. He thinks that he should still be thankful, because even with however bad this is, there are still people out there a LOT worse off than they are. Surprisingly, he manages to remain calm and just see what there is to see when he gets home.
- Water water everywhere. Not as little as he'd like, not as bad as he'd hoped. He pays $300 to the emergency plumber team and keeps helping his wife clean up the water that has run from the back of the house, underneath the kitchen tile and out into the dining area. They order a pizza and think hard about moving south or west.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Subway Music
NYC has a way of adding a twist to the routine. Just when you think it’s going to be the same old same old you come upon something different. It might be a building, an event, or maybe a person that grabs your attention and for a moment or two takes you out of where you are at and serendipitously places you, however fleetingly, in that realm of shared experience. And, if for some reason nothing like that happens the distinct turning of the seasons is sure to give you something different. You just need to be a bit aware. Yesterday, I got one of those twists.
Since it’s been a little cold in these parts lately and I've been running a little late as well, I've taken to riding the subway. The route is simple and fast -- Times Square shuttle to, well, Times Square and the Q/R/W to Herald Square. Yesterday I hopped on the Times Square shuttle, grabbed a handrail and waited for the inevitable lurch forward. Then, my morning routine was interrupted. A smooth voice wished "New York" a good morning and announced that the performers to my right and across the car from me were Miss Jubilee and Chocolate Thai. I looked over and saw a late twentyish man with a big kind smile, dreads, a goatee and some sort of pointy Asian looking hat. Behind him was a pixy of a woman with short hair, a faux rabbit fur vest and cuffed furry boots over her jeans and she held a large well-played dreadnaught guitar. She started to play and they both started to sing as the shuttle headed out.
This was different. I've seen lots of subway performers over the years, but never actually anyone perform ON the subway. What's more, they were pretty good. Good voices - nice melody and harmony over simple folk guitar rhythms with a distinct island feel to the sound and the lyrics. I sat there thinking that they were good and then I thought about how much work it was just to get to where they were - to have original songs, to have made a demo CD, to have the guts to ride the shuttle train with commuters, to play their stuff and to ask for donations and to sell their CD...well I just thought I had to commend that so I bought their CD as I got off.
They were on the subway again this morning and I made sure I told them I liked the CD and they seemed pleased.
So thank you to Miss Jubilee and Chocolate Thai and good luck. Check 'em out at Barnard College Radio (http://www.wbar.org/index.php), 87.9 on your radio dial.
Since it’s been a little cold in these parts lately and I've been running a little late as well, I've taken to riding the subway. The route is simple and fast -- Times Square shuttle to, well, Times Square and the Q/R/W to Herald Square. Yesterday I hopped on the Times Square shuttle, grabbed a handrail and waited for the inevitable lurch forward. Then, my morning routine was interrupted. A smooth voice wished "New York" a good morning and announced that the performers to my right and across the car from me were Miss Jubilee and Chocolate Thai. I looked over and saw a late twentyish man with a big kind smile, dreads, a goatee and some sort of pointy Asian looking hat. Behind him was a pixy of a woman with short hair, a faux rabbit fur vest and cuffed furry boots over her jeans and she held a large well-played dreadnaught guitar. She started to play and they both started to sing as the shuttle headed out.
This was different. I've seen lots of subway performers over the years, but never actually anyone perform ON the subway. What's more, they were pretty good. Good voices - nice melody and harmony over simple folk guitar rhythms with a distinct island feel to the sound and the lyrics. I sat there thinking that they were good and then I thought about how much work it was just to get to where they were - to have original songs, to have made a demo CD, to have the guts to ride the shuttle train with commuters, to play their stuff and to ask for donations and to sell their CD...well I just thought I had to commend that so I bought their CD as I got off.
They were on the subway again this morning and I made sure I told them I liked the CD and they seemed pleased.
So thank you to Miss Jubilee and Chocolate Thai and good luck. Check 'em out at Barnard College Radio (http://www.wbar.org/index.php), 87.9 on your radio dial.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
ESPN.com - NFL - NFL - Recap >> Jets F*&%K it up 2X
ESPN.com - NFL - NFL - Recap > Same Old Jets
Un Fahkking Bee Leev A Bull that they lost that game. If Doug Brien was a Brazilian soccer player he would be fearing for his life right now.
So far, when Sfumato comes over here to watch Jets playoff football, they have lost 100% of the time. Also, each time he has come over for Jet playoff football he has brought a very tasty homemade guacomole and in that guac is inscribed the word JETS. Each and everytime he has come over. Tasty guac, salty chips...bitter defeat.
Un Fahkking Bee Leev A Bull that they lost that game. If Doug Brien was a Brazilian soccer player he would be fearing for his life right now.
So far, when Sfumato comes over here to watch Jets playoff football, they have lost 100% of the time. Also, each time he has come over for Jet playoff football he has brought a very tasty homemade guacomole and in that guac is inscribed the word JETS. Each and everytime he has come over. Tasty guac, salty chips...bitter defeat.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
A Happy Day, A Conflicted Day...
Today, my birthday, marks three months since Jenn died (October 13th, 2004). So, I've been a bit apprehensive about really celebrating it and feeling good about it and all of that. Of course, everyone else says, and rightly so, that thats kind of silly and self destructive thinking and hey man, its your birthday. Go have fun.
So, to celebrate my parents came over this past weekend to celebrate. We didn't do anything too fancy. Just got some appetizers and some good beer for my Dad to try instead of his usual stuff. Of course the conversation turned toward Jenn and my mom brought out the actual medical examiners report and let me read it.
Its kind of surreal, reading something like that about someone you know and love. Its medical and objective and sterile -- but informative. I learned some things that make this somewhat easier to deal with that I might post here but I'd like to get a feel for what my parents think first.
As for today it was a quiet evening at home. We got some takeout, watched Anchorman and pretty much thought it sucked. And we were really trying to not let it suck for us. But it did. :-(. And I got a call from an Aunt and I got a call from my Mom. It turns out she got roses today for no reason from a neighbor. The significant thing about that was that she has been praying for a sign that Jenn is ok. She prayed for a rose this morning. The roses showed up this afternoon.
How bout that.
So, to celebrate my parents came over this past weekend to celebrate. We didn't do anything too fancy. Just got some appetizers and some good beer for my Dad to try instead of his usual stuff. Of course the conversation turned toward Jenn and my mom brought out the actual medical examiners report and let me read it.
Its kind of surreal, reading something like that about someone you know and love. Its medical and objective and sterile -- but informative. I learned some things that make this somewhat easier to deal with that I might post here but I'd like to get a feel for what my parents think first.
As for today it was a quiet evening at home. We got some takeout, watched Anchorman and pretty much thought it sucked. And we were really trying to not let it suck for us. But it did. :-(. And I got a call from an Aunt and I got a call from my Mom. It turns out she got roses today for no reason from a neighbor. The significant thing about that was that she has been praying for a sign that Jenn is ok. She prayed for a rose this morning. The roses showed up this afternoon.
How bout that.
Hi I'm James and I work for...
iVillage! Yes, that's right. A month and change after joining Healthology, I now work for iVillage. The executive team at work announced iVillage acquisition of Healthology on Monday morning this week after aborting the same announcement Friday evening (hence making everyone sweat it out as to what it was all about). I'd like to say I'm super rich and that my stock options will enable me to retire but that is not the case. I'm DEFINITELY working for the foreseeable future. Oh well. Thus far its a positive move - as they seem to need QA people, and they have more resources.
Notice - slight technical tangent approaching. Grab a double esspresso if you are not a web standards geek or just skip it.
They are also into CSS driven layouts. Check out their launch of their entertainment site and view the source, Luke. Its All CSS and it validates as XHTML 1.0 Transitional. The inner geek in me is soooo happy about that. It means I might have a chance to ply my web standard knowledge on a larger scale. Very cool. I've been away from that stuff for a while, but I find it interesting, compelling and even fun, so its worth it to get back into it if there is an actual reason to. I say that because I spent an awful lot of time learning Coldfusion only to find it hard to find somebody that would let me use it / wanted to pay extra $ for the hosting or because they thought it was a "beginner" language. Ok - so why is the .NET plat form basically CFML then. Oy. I hate that "if its easy it must suck" mentality in tech. Anyhoo, the point is if you learn something, you want to use it, it in this case is web standards.
Notice - slight technical tangent approaching. Grab a double esspresso if you are not a web standards geek or just skip it.
They are also into CSS driven layouts. Check out their launch of their entertainment site and view the source, Luke. Its All CSS and it validates as XHTML 1.0 Transitional. The inner geek in me is soooo happy about that. It means I might have a chance to ply my web standard knowledge on a larger scale. Very cool. I've been away from that stuff for a while, but I find it interesting, compelling and even fun, so its worth it to get back into it if there is an actual reason to. I say that because I spent an awful lot of time learning Coldfusion only to find it hard to find somebody that would let me use it / wanted to pay extra $ for the hosting or because they thought it was a "beginner" language. Ok - so why is the .NET plat form basically CFML then. Oy. I hate that "if its easy it must suck" mentality in tech. Anyhoo, the point is if you learn something, you want to use it, it in this case is web standards.
Happy Birthday To Me...
[old codger voiceover]
Hot Damn. I'm 36 Goddamn Yeers old. How 'bout that. Ain't that some shit. I'll tell you what. It sure is. Some shit. I tells ya. Yep.
Hot Damn. I'm 36 Goddamn Yeers old. How 'bout that. Ain't that some shit. I'll tell you what. It sure is. Some shit. I tells ya. Yep.
Friday, January 07, 2005
A little catchup...
The holidays, thankfully, are over and with them a bit of my depression. For whatever reason, in about the past 15 minutes I started to feel pretty good about things. I just feel "better" all of a sudden. Lets see if it holds. Someone also suggested I keep a time record of how I'm doing - so why not start here and now...
1/6/2005 4:50 PM - Feeling good. Not great...Good...From a relative perspective that is... I've been better. Of course I had a nice fudge brownie about 15 min ago. Lets see how much better "better" is when I recover from the insulin shock.
Lets rewind a bit to New Years Eve and New Years Day. Our New Years Eve Plans fell through suddenly on the 31st, just hours before we were supposed to head out to see some friends in Hyde Park. The reason being that their house was a wreck and they were particularly stressed out. Why you ask? Well, the deal is that they had bought a 9 month old golden retriever as a Christmas gift for their 4 year old, Zack. In theory, its a great idea. A boy. His dog. Bonding. Face licking. The fetching of slippers. Squeals of delight. Lots of Kodak moments. You get it. However, and you knew there was a however coming, right? Otherwise what's the point of all of this? Well, the however is that this dog turns out to be 12 Monkeys kind of crazy. It bites the kid, it shits and it pisses everywhere at any moment. They take it for a hour walk and it pees and poops. The moment they get back inside, Star ("the dog" up to this point) taps into a reserve bladder and whizzes all over the living room. Star is supposed to be crate trained, but star is is whizzing and pooping all over his cage and all over himself. While not whizzing, shitting or biting people, Star is chewing everything. The Couch. The Carpet. The Kitchen. Yeah - the dog tried to eat the kitchen. The family - not so pleased.
So here we have a terrified 4 year old that wants Santa to take the dog back but is also afraid that Santa will be upset with him. Angry even. So the dog winds up in the kitchen, the kid is hiding in his room and the parents are like -- we need to find pooch a new home ASAP. Naturally the breeder will not take it back. Eventually they get a single woman with the patience of Job that must own lots of brushed steel furnishings to buy the dog. Zack is ecstatic that the dog got taken away, but still worried that Santa has some sort of retribution in store for ungrateful children. However -- I have the feeling that Santa just might write Zack a letter telling him its ok. Nice one, right?
And that, dear Internet, is the story of how New Years Eve was almost lost. Almost I say, because our friends Dave & Jacquie either had nothing better to do or took pity on us and came over to hang out with us. It was a fairly uneventful evening, with the ladies watching some movies and Dave and me putzing around in the office with my computer. I showed him the graphical sweetness of Half Life 2 and the awesome fury of Counsterstrike Source and demo'd my GuitarPort software by Line 6. The GuitarPort is a nice little device that allows you to get just about any guitar sound you want with a mouse click and also provides a wealth of lessons, licks, full tracks and sheet music. Its really helpful. If you are starting to play or have been playing for a while but are not rigged up completely, this is a great investment for a hobbyist or mature player. Of course, Line 6 sells all sorts of other goodies as well. If you play, check em out if you haven't. Anyhoo, Dave got so excited by it that he came over on Tuesday night and we played around a bit. He is a lot more skilled than I am, so he kindly assumed the role of instructor and showed me some stuff. As a direct result of his visit I'm working on 10 Years Gone by Led Zeppelin. Sounds good, not boring to learn and challenging but not impossible for my skill level. Back to the roots of things man, back with Led Zeppelin. Tell you what, its a lot different now than 20 yrs ago or so when I first attempted to play guitar and I tried to play Heartbreaker for my friend Tom. I remember laying down the main lick or so for him and he asked me what it was. "'Heartbreaker'", I said.
"No its not." Tom said.
Lol, I was heartbroken. Of course what I was hearing in my mind vs what was coming out of the amp were two completely different things. I'm not great now, I know that, but I know I am getting better and better and what's more I am enjoying it. Plus I have a few folks around now patient enough to help me learn and cool enough to jam.
Ok getting back from the tangent there... So New Years was saved by Dave and Jacquie and Clarisa and I woke up on New Years Day after having slept in a bit. I surfed the net, blogged a while and just felt generally morose and quiet. It was going to be a cave day. But - we got a call from Christine and Barry asking us to come up. I was like, Ok, but not super excited. I was feeling pretty crappy that day. Just read the last post and you will get the gist of my mood. Still, mainly because I felt that way I thought it important to get out of the house and actually do something. I asked Clarisa to ask them if it would be cool if I brought my guitar. I knew Barry played, but we had never done anything like that together. It turns out it was a great idea. We played most of the evening and had a big sing along, with Clarisa and Christine even butchering an acoustic version of "Times Like These". We had a blast playing and singing. But the highlight of the evening came a bit later on when we went to check out the new stuff in Zack's bedroom. Under a plush toy or two I saw a table hockey game. A brand new Stiga NHL table top game. I immediately waxed nostalgic and I had to play. I grabbed the game up and called to Barry. "We HAVE to play" this. Immediately it became obvious we were both big fans of the game and "understood it." The old moves from hours (well, days really) of playing in my youth came back pretty fast. We were both a little rusty though and could not pull off some of the trickery we once knew - like bank shots and deflections and such. Despite our rustiness, our enthusiasm more than made up for it. We had a blast and eventually had to be dragged away because it was getting too late. I was like there is more hockey to play and more music to talk about and more hockey to talk about...but the night was over. I actually didn't want it to end. It was the most fun I had in a long time. Between the hockey, the guitar and playing around with Zack, I was really happy. It was nice man, I'll tell you.
The crazy thing is that Christine and Clarisa have known each other for close to ten years and Barry and I just bonded a week ago. Go figure. Everything in its time I guess. Next weekend we are supposed to be heading up again. Clarisa is jokingly calling it a "play date". Great...
BTW its 11:31AM on Jan 7th and I am still feeling "better". No sugar rush. Just some caffeine from a coffee this morning and a diet coke right now. Looking forward to getting home and a weekend with my guitar. My foots still to banged up to do much else. Soon though - or else I am going to need to switch to the "fat" jeans again.
And - before closing this long winding post, I'd just like to say thanks to the folks who took the time to email me about my depression. I really love you for it. Thanks
The holidays, thankfully, are over and with them a bit of my depression. For whatever reason, in about the past 15 minutes I started to feel pretty good about things. I just feel "better" all of a sudden. Lets see if it holds. Someone also suggested I keep a time record of how I'm doing - so why not start here and now...
1/6/2005 4:50 PM - Feeling good. Not great...Good...From a relative perspective that is... I've been better. Of course I had a nice fudge brownie about 15 min ago. Lets see how much better "better" is when I recover from the insulin shock.
Lets rewind a bit to New Years Eve and New Years Day. Our New Years Eve Plans fell through suddenly on the 31st, just hours before we were supposed to head out to see some friends in Hyde Park. The reason being that their house was a wreck and they were particularly stressed out. Why you ask? Well, the deal is that they had bought a 9 month old golden retriever as a Christmas gift for their 4 year old, Zack. In theory, its a great idea. A boy. His dog. Bonding. Face licking. The fetching of slippers. Squeals of delight. Lots of Kodak moments. You get it. However, and you knew there was a however coming, right? Otherwise what's the point of all of this? Well, the however is that this dog turns out to be 12 Monkeys kind of crazy. It bites the kid, it shits and it pisses everywhere at any moment. They take it for a hour walk and it pees and poops. The moment they get back inside, Star ("the dog" up to this point) taps into a reserve bladder and whizzes all over the living room. Star is supposed to be crate trained, but star is is whizzing and pooping all over his cage and all over himself. While not whizzing, shitting or biting people, Star is chewing everything. The Couch. The Carpet. The Kitchen. Yeah - the dog tried to eat the kitchen. The family - not so pleased.
So here we have a terrified 4 year old that wants Santa to take the dog back but is also afraid that Santa will be upset with him. Angry even. So the dog winds up in the kitchen, the kid is hiding in his room and the parents are like -- we need to find pooch a new home ASAP. Naturally the breeder will not take it back. Eventually they get a single woman with the patience of Job that must own lots of brushed steel furnishings to buy the dog. Zack is ecstatic that the dog got taken away, but still worried that Santa has some sort of retribution in store for ungrateful children. However -- I have the feeling that Santa just might write Zack a letter telling him its ok. Nice one, right?
And that, dear Internet, is the story of how New Years Eve was almost lost. Almost I say, because our friends Dave & Jacquie either had nothing better to do or took pity on us and came over to hang out with us. It was a fairly uneventful evening, with the ladies watching some movies and Dave and me putzing around in the office with my computer. I showed him the graphical sweetness of Half Life 2 and the awesome fury of Counsterstrike Source and demo'd my GuitarPort software by Line 6. The GuitarPort is a nice little device that allows you to get just about any guitar sound you want with a mouse click and also provides a wealth of lessons, licks, full tracks and sheet music. Its really helpful. If you are starting to play or have been playing for a while but are not rigged up completely, this is a great investment for a hobbyist or mature player. Of course, Line 6 sells all sorts of other goodies as well. If you play, check em out if you haven't. Anyhoo, Dave got so excited by it that he came over on Tuesday night and we played around a bit. He is a lot more skilled than I am, so he kindly assumed the role of instructor and showed me some stuff. As a direct result of his visit I'm working on 10 Years Gone by Led Zeppelin. Sounds good, not boring to learn and challenging but not impossible for my skill level. Back to the roots of things man, back with Led Zeppelin. Tell you what, its a lot different now than 20 yrs ago or so when I first attempted to play guitar and I tried to play Heartbreaker for my friend Tom. I remember laying down the main lick or so for him and he asked me what it was. "'Heartbreaker'", I said.
"No its not." Tom said.
Lol, I was heartbroken. Of course what I was hearing in my mind vs what was coming out of the amp were two completely different things. I'm not great now, I know that, but I know I am getting better and better and what's more I am enjoying it. Plus I have a few folks around now patient enough to help me learn and cool enough to jam.
Ok getting back from the tangent there... So New Years was saved by Dave and Jacquie and Clarisa and I woke up on New Years Day after having slept in a bit. I surfed the net, blogged a while and just felt generally morose and quiet. It was going to be a cave day. But - we got a call from Christine and Barry asking us to come up. I was like, Ok, but not super excited. I was feeling pretty crappy that day. Just read the last post and you will get the gist of my mood. Still, mainly because I felt that way I thought it important to get out of the house and actually do something. I asked Clarisa to ask them if it would be cool if I brought my guitar. I knew Barry played, but we had never done anything like that together. It turns out it was a great idea. We played most of the evening and had a big sing along, with Clarisa and Christine even butchering an acoustic version of "Times Like These". We had a blast playing and singing. But the highlight of the evening came a bit later on when we went to check out the new stuff in Zack's bedroom. Under a plush toy or two I saw a table hockey game. A brand new Stiga NHL table top game. I immediately waxed nostalgic and I had to play. I grabbed the game up and called to Barry. "We HAVE to play" this. Immediately it became obvious we were both big fans of the game and "understood it." The old moves from hours (well, days really) of playing in my youth came back pretty fast. We were both a little rusty though and could not pull off some of the trickery we once knew - like bank shots and deflections and such. Despite our rustiness, our enthusiasm more than made up for it. We had a blast and eventually had to be dragged away because it was getting too late. I was like there is more hockey to play and more music to talk about and more hockey to talk about...but the night was over. I actually didn't want it to end. It was the most fun I had in a long time. Between the hockey, the guitar and playing around with Zack, I was really happy. It was nice man, I'll tell you.
The crazy thing is that Christine and Clarisa have known each other for close to ten years and Barry and I just bonded a week ago. Go figure. Everything in its time I guess. Next weekend we are supposed to be heading up again. Clarisa is jokingly calling it a "play date". Great...
BTW its 11:31AM on Jan 7th and I am still feeling "better". No sugar rush. Just some caffeine from a coffee this morning and a diet coke right now. Looking forward to getting home and a weekend with my guitar. My foots still to banged up to do much else. Soon though - or else I am going to need to switch to the "fat" jeans again.
And - before closing this long winding post, I'd just like to say thanks to the folks who took the time to email me about my depression. I really love you for it. Thanks
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Rising to the New Year
I thought I might try to write something about the new year. I wanted to write something that said that the past is always with us despite the start of a new year, that we are not in fact starting anew. I wanted to write about hope and pain and our collective struggle to be better. I was thinking about it when I came across this article in the New York Times:
The New York Times > Opinion > Editorial: Rising to the New Year
To quote (well, paraphrase really) James Carville from his cameo in Old School, "That's perfect." Its a great piece of writing. Go read it. Now.
As for me, I definitely do not feel as if I am starting anew today. I still feel the weight of 2004 squarely upon me, squashing me, especially that last quarter from October till now. I know I am still depressed. I know I suffer from a low level depression a better part of the time and I know that its gotten worse since Jenn died. At times, doing the simplest things seems so hard and fruitless. Then, even if I want to do something, I have a hard time sticking with it and easily lose my concentration. My brain says -- "Not interested anymore. Move along or I will fall asleep..."
Its time to talk to my GP and see if there isn't anything that he can do. I remember feeling better and want to be like that if I can again and if that means trying Zoloft or Paxil or some other anti-depressant, I'm willing to do it. Toughing it out and talking it out have not done the job by themselves.
So here we are, Internet. Happy New Year. Or, in the spirit of George Carlin - "Have a moderately pain free year."
The New York Times > Opinion > Editorial: Rising to the New Year
To quote (well, paraphrase really) James Carville from his cameo in Old School, "That's perfect." Its a great piece of writing. Go read it. Now.
As for me, I definitely do not feel as if I am starting anew today. I still feel the weight of 2004 squarely upon me, squashing me, especially that last quarter from October till now. I know I am still depressed. I know I suffer from a low level depression a better part of the time and I know that its gotten worse since Jenn died. At times, doing the simplest things seems so hard and fruitless. Then, even if I want to do something, I have a hard time sticking with it and easily lose my concentration. My brain says -- "Not interested anymore. Move along or I will fall asleep..."
Its time to talk to my GP and see if there isn't anything that he can do. I remember feeling better and want to be like that if I can again and if that means trying Zoloft or Paxil or some other anti-depressant, I'm willing to do it. Toughing it out and talking it out have not done the job by themselves.
So here we are, Internet. Happy New Year. Or, in the spirit of George Carlin - "Have a moderately pain free year."
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