Learning The Hard Way

When I first started mountain biking I always took off without a spare or a pump. I got a flat soon enough but it was right near my house so I did not change my ways. I figured it was freak thing. Just look at those beefy tires on a mountain bike - so much more imposing than a skinny road bike tire. I had ridden road bikes for years without getting a flat - what were the chances of that happening again? In my case it was 1:1 each time I went riding after that. It seemed if I rode over a pebble I would get a flat. Beefy tires indeed. Under that tough knobby exterior was a thin penetrable skin that couldn't stand up to much of anything. Still though, it was only after getting a flat about 9 miles away from home with no wallet and no phone and doing the push the bike thing all the way back home - in the winter - that I figured that maybe, just maybe, I should invest in some equipment. So one weekend I went to the local bike shop and dropped some coin on a Camelback, clips, bike shoes, shorts, shirt and some spares and a compact pump and a most importantly a pair of Tuff-Ez to line my tires and prevent blowouts. Sure enough after I bought the gear riding became a lot more fun. I guess if you are prepared, you can relax and concentrate on the task at hand. So that's what I did.

Nowadays I bike less and the latest interest is photography. If you keep up with this blog (bless all two or three of you) you know I'm in a black and white class at SVA in Manhattan. It's an entry level class with weekly assignments and lab work where we develop and enlarge our own negatives - the basics. So far so good except that I fogged my initial two rolls of film. For some reason after the developer and stopper I decided the best way to add the fixer would be to open the main part of the tank instead of the light safe top. As soon as I had done it I figured out that this was not a Good Thing and slapped the lid back on and hoped that I had not wrecked the film.

It's exactly this type of loss of train of thought and brain fart maneuver that convinced me to withdraw from flight school. Lapses in concentration don't bode well in a flying machine that basically beats the air into submission more than flies.

Ok - back to the negatives.

At first glance the negatives looked good, but the roll from the top of the tank will not produce a negative worth printing. The bottom roll in the tank got fogged as well, but not as badly and I can print off of that one. So far I have one print of the power lines that traverse the rail trail that runs by my house. It's not Ansel Adams but then again why would I really expect it to be? What can be said for it is that it's a good print off of a negative with some issues and that it's my first print. I'll frame it just for that reason.

Like I said before I'm not sure what I want from all this. I'm trying to keep my expectations low and the goal is to learn and progress but not obsess as I am wont to do - I'd burn out my interest in no time otherwise. The thing with photography is that it's a gadget maven's delight - there's so much shit you can buy. And lets face it, gadgets can sure as hell keep you interested. Still, I have yet to go hog wild with the gear. I've got my Dad's camera, a venerable Pentax ME Super SE 35mm SLR and the 50mm and the 80mm telephoto lens he had. My contribution is some film, a wide angle lens and a light meter along with some developing and enlarging stuff.

I haven't burnt through too much film yet - there's been either no time to shoot or when there has been it's monsoon conditions outside.

This morning seemed full of promise - a nice fall morning with pale golden light and scattered clouds. I figured I'd head over to Lyndhurst and reshoot some of the shots I had fogged but by the time I got over there it was gray skies again. Argh. Then on top of that the batteries in the Pentax died. Then on top of that the batteries in my Poweshot A20 crapped out. Double Argh.

Well, it should not come as a surprise that this stuff uses electricity. I should have checked. I should have had some spares or another back up camera but I thought that everything would be fine. No such luck. Just like with the mountain biking I had to learn the hard way. On Monday during lunch I'll trek over to B&H and get a bunch of batteries. I'll get lens cases and some more film and a flash attachment. I'll probably pick up a camera gear backpack too. Sure I don't need it, but it will make my life easier and allow me to concentrate on the task at hand instead of wondering if I have the right equipment or if something is going to crap out on me. Like I said, preparation lets you enjoy things more. It's a lesson worth learning and one I seem to like to re-learn.

The saving grace of the sojourn out to Lyndhurst today was that Clarisa came along to be my assistant and model. Hey - I get to sleep with my assistant! So even though the equipment failed we still had each other and enjoyed the grounds. It felt like a date and after 11 years of marriage I think it's damn cool we can feel that way.

Before the battery died on the digital:

Trailer Park Logic

In his article, "Greetings From Idiot America" in this month's Esquire magazine, Charles P. Pierce writes, CREATIONISM. INTELLIGENT DESIGN. FAITH-BASED THIS. TRUST-YOUR-GUT THAT. THERE'S NEVER BEEN A BETTER TIME TO ESPOUSE, PROFIT FROM, AND BELIEVE IN UTTER, UNADULTERATED CRAP. AND THE CRAP IS RISING SO HIGH, IT'S GETTING DANGEROUS.

He goes onto state that Idiot America (one would think that the title of his article owes a little to Green Day for what that's worth) is essentially a war on expertise and the "...breakdown of a consensus that the pursuit of knowledge is good." and that "In the place of expertise, we have elevated the Gut. And the Gut is a moron."

It's a comprehensive, humorous and well thought out lambastication of, well, Idiot America.
Of course, Pierce is preaching to the choir with me, but it's a fun read nonetheless and isn't there always some pleasure in seeing your own incomplete thoughts coaleseced on the page? Sure there is.

The thing is, while I was reading his piece, I kept on thinking that I'd heard or thought these thoughts before. Not his exact thoughts, but his overall sentiment and this third premise of Idiot America - 3) Fact is that which enough people believe. Truth is determined by how fervently they believe it.

I knew I heard or thought of that before. Then it came to me.

Trailer Park Logic!

Well before Green Day or Pierce used the term Idiot America, I'd witnessed more than my share of what I call Trailer Park Logic. You cannot defeat it. That woman in the stained blue ribbed tank top with the jelly roll spilling over the exhausted elastic stretchband of her lycra leopard skin capris might as well be Daniel Webster. Present facts to her. Offer arguments. Bring a flip chart and Power Point presentations. It's moot. It doesn't matter if the topic is the death penalty or Elvis vs Johnny Cash. Whatever the point of view is - you cannot change it. And forget nuance. You are defeated and she will subjugate you to her superior will.

Fact is that which enough people believe. Truth is determined by how fervently they believe it (Pierce, Esquire, 10/05).

It seems the logic has left the trailer park and made it to the White House.

Like Mr. Pierce I am perplexed and concerned and disconcerted. How is it that we seem to have moved from a rational secular culture to one where intelligent design is being put side by side with science?

I don't have an answer - but as a person who is a fan of Thoreau, Emerson and Mills I hope we shift back.

Welcome Babies

I've been terribly remiss.

Back on September 7th my cousin Christine ushered into the world the newest member of our family - Christopher Blaze Carberry.

What a name. Christopher Blaze. I love it. I certainly love my cousin and I certainly love the little guy and even love the fact that the first time I held him he pooped for all he was worth. For the life of me I can't figure out why I have not thought to mention his arrival here. So - a belated welcome to Christopher and a public Congrats to you, Christine. It was great to see you in September and I got some good pictures of Clarisa holding Christopher. Sure I had my SVA photography class in the back of my mind, but more than that I was thinking that someday he'll be 37 years old and looking back and see this black and white photo of himself before he even knew who he was. Moreover - how great was it for so many of us to get together in Brooklyn on a non-holiday and just indulge in the simple pleasure of an extended walk around the block with a stop for ice-cream. That was really great. On top of that I got to see my cousin Kerry and two of her little ones - Devon and Dylan and even my cousin Will made a rare appearance. And yes, Will, the picture I took of you on your long board came out and you'll get a copy to post on your blog. I just need to do that whole printing thing first. Then the scanning thing. Seeing as how I have no scanner and even no computer - this might take longer than otherwise expected. If you would like the process speeded up - please feel free to meditate on the speedy arrival of the insurance check from Travelers. All of you.

Speaking of babies - Sfumato had his triplets, Dominic, Xavier and Luisa. Just like that he went from zero to three after nine years of marriage. Three over nine. One is a prime, one a square root of the other and there are three periods in hockey and 9 innings in baseball. Does that mean anything? Well, he loves baseball and he loves hockey. Plus Babe Ruth was number 3 and Gordie Howe was number 9. Nine times three gives us a 27 for Kovalev and 2+7 brings us back to 9. Nine plus three yields us a Broadway Joe as well. Fortuitous indeed. And CLUTCH.

Poof! You are a Dad! Congrats!

A Mini Catch-Up

There's been no posts lately for two reasons.

1. My PC died a horrible death. From the looks of things it was electrocuted - zapped right through my surge protector one night a few weeks ago during the 8 Days Of Rain. Maybe the hard drive is fried maybe not. Hopefully I can recover some of the data I didn't have backed up, but I've been too busy lately - which brings me to number two.
2. Work has been a royal pain in the ass. Since there is no glory in being Dooced if you are not Doooce herself, I'll just say I've been there a bit more than I would like to be and leave it at that.

Disconcerting

Scientists decide to set up scenario for real life re-enactment of Stephen King's The Stand

Lovely!

(For those of you who did not click on the link, it points to an article about scientists recontstructing the Spanish Flu virus Actually I think it's pretty cool that they can reconstruct it and hopefully learn enough about it to stop it from recurring. Not releasing it would be a Good Thing as well. Hence The Stand reference. All caught up? Good. You may proceed.)

Meanwhile, the great grandson of the Spanish Flu that killed my biological great grandmother, Mary Petrulyak, along with 49,999,999 other people is romping around enough to draw worldwide attention.

And given the reaction to Katrina - what do you think the results were for the study on how prepared we are to deal with a pandemic were?

That's right. You got it.

(For those of you not clicking the link - "That's right. You got it." means that I am assuming that you will assume that the study shows, as I have assumed, that we are shit out of luck so far in this regards.)

So what's the point? Will I start to wear a surgical mask like Whacko Jacko or some SARS dodging Japanese commuter? Should we all freak out?

Hell no.

It's just disconcerting to read about. And lets face it, there is the much more immediate reality of vague bomb threats to NYC's transit system to not worry about. Avian flu schmavian flu. Bombs? Feh. We have stuff to do!

But then I just read Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, so I perhaps that's responsible for my apocalyptic yet satirical and post-modernist mood. Yeah, yeah, I was a Fordham Lit major and never read it till now - what do you want from my life? Every class I signed up for all I ever got was Edith Wharton & Guest. House of Mirth every damn time. Not my fault.

Speaking of Edith Wharton - if you live in CT or southeast NY - her mansion, The Mount is a nice place to go visit in Lenox, MA - which is about 3 hours outside of NYC and 2 hrs away from Boston. And - if you are going to go to Lenox, you might as well stop in or stay in Stockbridge and check out the Norman Rockwell Museum and or Naumkeag. It's a great weekend get away, especially in Autumn. See? Some good came out of reading Wharton.

The next book on my "to read" list is Kevin Canty's Into the Great Wide Open. Nothing disconcerting about that but not everything can be. Dos Passos will just have to wait. Yeah - didn't read him either. Shameful.

Some BJJ Talk

There's been no mention of BJJ here for a while because I've stopped training while my biceps and shoulder and ankle and neck heal up. I was just getting too beat up to keep it up. I figure my weight and my lack of flexibility had a lot to do with it, so I'm on a diet and doing yoga to lighten up and limber up physically and mentally. I just trying to prepare myself to go back to it where I can work out and not walk out feeling like I just pitched a complete game with each arm. I do miss it though. I miss it especially when I manage to catch Spike TV's Ultimate Knockouts like I did last night. What great marketing by the UFC. Play an hour long show where someone gets their ass handed to them every 5 minutes and use it as a lead in to a live event. Beautiful.

More beautiful than the UFC's marketing was watching Matt Hughes in the knockout reel. Hughes gets arm barred or triangled and then stands up to escape it and carries his opponent, Newton, across the mat to the cage and posts him against it. Newton grabs the cage for a second and then is made to let go. Hughes pauses. Then he steps back and SLAMS Newton to the canvas. Lights out. Hughes wins. The guy is a monster competitor and very very savvy in the octagon.

The other great highlight was Forrest Griffin's rear naked choke victory followed by spooning his opponent. I had to laugh my ass off when he through a leg over the guy like it was a cool Saturday November morning in bed. To Forrest's credit, he joked about it later. You need to be able to laugh at yourself.

Ah - I just remembered one other knock out. I think it was Gary Goodrich in a UFC fight from long ago (he was in a gi) where, just 45 seconds into the fight he basically got this guy in a crucifix and then started lambasting the living shit out him with elbow strikes. It was ugly though too because the ref jumped in a little late.

As for the Ultimate Fighter II - I've caught it here and there. With the exception of the last show, the fights have been dull and the team strategy stupid. Why would you want to fight the other teams best guy? There is really nothing to gain from it in the context of the show. You risk elimination and you risk injury. Even Dana White had to jump in and tell them they were being stupid but they did not listen. It is a contest after all - with the idea being to win your weight class and a contract in the UFC. And, let not forget Dana wants some good fights at the end, not some lopsided contest or two guys that really don't deserve the UFC because the best guys have already eliminated themselves.

One last thing - I have not seen Andrei Arlovski fight yet - but did I see what I think I saw in the promos? He's got fangs a la Dee Snider and the creepy goth vampire folks? Luvit.

Kitchen's Done!

Well, all our rennovations are through and we can finally bid adieu, for now, to our Polish contractors. Here's our kitchen in chronological order:

When we first moved in:

The leak discovered and the kitchen torn to hell to locate it / fix it and clean up the yucky mold:


The new kitchen:

Man, what a relief. We've been dealing with this crap since May but in the end it's worth it because we found and stopped that leak and rennovated our place and we like it better than when we started.

Miracle

I just watched Miracle again. I figure it's the 8th time or so I've seen the film and it never disappoints, although nothing can compare to the day I watched Team USA pull off the greatest upset in sports history. I was amazed and inspired.

A few years later I met Mike Eruzione for a brief moment at a speech and autograph appearance at the South Hills Mall in Poughkeepsie, NY. I brought him my skates to sign - a pair of cloddy molded plastic Microns. Mike signed his name on the tongue of the right one for me and then offered me a bit of advice. Basically he told me my skates sucked and that I should invest in a pair of leather skates. By the beginning of next season I had a new pair of Bauer 100's and a break out year in my high school hockey career.

As for now, my interest in hockey is returning with the the new NHL season that starts in about a week. The Red Wings look good and I'm happy to see Steve Yzerman is back at the Joe for one more season. Here's to them kicking the crap out of Colorado and NJ. Why NJ? For the bragging rights. Sfumato and a host of other friends of mine are Devil's fans and it's always good to chirp about your team over a beer. Or in your blog.

NY Times Select, A Cheap Offer & Bob Dylan

Recently, the NY Times took everything that was worth reading and buried it behind the shiny tall walls of premium content they call Times Select. I used to read Rich, Friedman, Krugman, Dowd, Brooks et al every day and especially on Sundays. I'm not spending 50 bucks to do it though. Thanks NYT for forcing me to expand my horizons. Hello Slate, Salon and Google News.

An old boss of mine called me recently and asked if I would come back and take over my old position. The upside would be a ton more responsibility with exactly the same pay as when I left. In some cases, that might be a gracious offer, but consider that I left because I was grossly underpaid and now make tons more. Consider that I am not unhappy where I am. Consider I am not on the pipe and out of my fucking mind.

Earlier tonight I flipped by PBS and flipped back to it because Bob Dylan was on. It turned out to be Martin Scorsese's bio on him, entitled "No Direction Homee". I just caught the last 20 minutes of it and while there were some great performances in there, the film, at least here at the end, seemed to focus on Dylan and the media. We see him there, smoking and searching for words, joking and playing with the writers - not wanting to be pinned down at all. I'm not the biggest Dylan fan, but it seems to me that this guy has refused to be what we want him to be. While we're free to interpret his lyrics and his messages and ask deep probing questions, he just slips away. He and his art stand alone. He's not going to explain or justify or interpret for you. He's just there. You wanna play the deconstruction game? Go ahead. Bob abides and doesn't give a crap. Or at least he'll never let on.

Anyhoo - I'd like to see the rest of the documentary. It seems like Scorsese really nailed this one. Check it out.

The Catch Up

Ok, so it's been like a month or so. What gives? What's the deal? Why no post? What super duper melodrama is playing out that has kept VJ so occupied he's pulled a Sfumato like month of neglect?

Basically it boils down to self censorship combined with procrastination and its effects alongside a dollop of mild cyclical depression thrown in. Mix and serve. Make sure the depression is cold when you go to mix it in though - just like butter in a cookie mix.

I don't know how many times I sat down here in my office to write something about the debacle and tragedy that was and is Katrina and found my words entirely inadequate or just a recapitulation of sentiments I found better expressed elsewhere. Unable or unwilling to write about it I found it trivial to discuss anything else in the face of such tragedy. On top of it, I watched entirely too much coverage of it which just exhausted me emotionally. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that.

I can say this though - when I am done with something I just tend to put it away or abandon it or put it down for so long that it's almost embarrassing to pick it back up. I told Sfumato that my lack of a post was starting to feel like a class I'd been skipping all semester.

He told me that was silly. Just post something he said. Pick right back up. Other people wrote or asked about the lack of a post. I have no idea about the number of people that read this but a few seemed to notice the drop off and were concerned. Thanks for that. It's really appreciated.

In my last post I mentioned how I noticed a lack of response to the hurricane. Who knew how far that lack of response would go? Of course though, the blogging world caught up with the story and so did the large commercial Internet presences like Amazon.com. At first Amazon ran just a small red cross add in the upper right corner of their homepage. I think by Friday that small ad had finally turned into the same large centered Red Cross donation page that had been put up right away for the tsunami disaster.

A few weeks ago the NY Times ran an editorial piece about a med-evac company by the name of Acadian that seemed to actually be able to respond to Katrina and deal with it effectively while FEMA just screwed things up for them and everyone else. Evidently, teams of Acadian doctors were withheld because they were not "Federalized" and helicopters sat on the ground empty while bureaucrats fought over whether or not the right forms were being filled out.. WTF? The story made me think of my old boss , the Director of the Strategic Management Group, Drew Overpeck. Drew was all about nimble thinking and adapting to the situation. Plan? Sure you need to plan but you also need to plan on the fly because things rarely work out the way you want them to.

On a more personal level - we just got back Sasha's ashes the other day. Sad sad sad. I get thinking about Sasha and that gets me thinking about death and that gets me thinking about my sister. It'll be one year since she died on October 13th. I find myself thinking about her last weeks out there in Oklahoma with a person that was ill equipped to deal with her problems. I wonder if she had a good day at all - some measure of happiness or whether it was all frustration.

I miss her.

For the past few years Clarisa and I have been surrounded by death. I'll tell you what, it certainly helps to put things in perspective and appreciate those quiet times when everything is going generally well. It also makes you more aware of your life. Take work for example - in general they expect you to stay late and "get it done" because that is what must be done. They expect you to work like you are immortal.

Guess what.

So my advice, folks, is don't wait. Do. Not. Wait. Work for sure, but don't forget to live.

As for me? I've signed up for and have started taking a black and white photography class at SVA. I'm not sure where it will lead but I'm along for the ride. We're supposed to be shooting "motion" and practicing panning and blurring and freezing. Right now it's cool and overcast and I have some 400 speed Tri-X film loaded up and I think I'll go shoot.

What's the deal?

Perhaps this is premature, but where's the American Red Cross donation link on Amazon.com? Or the blog donations? Granted, Katrina is not the tsunami that devastated the Pacific Rim, but it's the worst natural disaster to hit the US and it's getting worse as the flood waters rise. More death and disease is sure to follow. It's just a complete horrible mess down there. I can't begin to imagine what all those people are going through and are going to go through.

Can we help ourselves too?

Donate to the American Red Cross

A strange find.

I just looked under my keyboard and found a business card from Cantor Fitzgerald, One World Trade Center, NY,NY. I have no idea how it got there.

The card says he was / is a specialist in Greenhouse Gases. That means I probably met him briefly at some conference at Texaco - probably one on sustainable development. I don't remember him but am really glad to see that he's not listed as one of the victims of 9/11. I was contracting at Texaco when it happened - so he either he was out that day for some reason or had left the company. If he was out, what a lucky guy. Cantor got hit so hard by the attacks.

It's just strange to me that I have this little piece of something that's gone and I'm surprised at how many memories it triggers.

A Sasha Story.

It's been odd around here. No pooch at my feet as I put on my socks and shoes. No black furry blur running to the door in anticipation of the great morning walk, sniff and pee ritual. I figure I walked Sasha close to 80,000 times or so. That's a lot of walking and sniffing. A lot of memories are wrapped up in those walks. A lot of stories are wrapped up too. Here is one of them...

Back in the day - in this case "the day" is an early summer morning about 6 years ago - we lived in Peekskill. Not in the artistic district, but in a bizarre duplex in the historic Depew building at the end of Rt. 6. We had French doors, wood floors, two marble fireplaces and a kitchen and a bathroom that were downstairs and below ground. It was spacious and distinctive but a really odd set up living wise. A big problem was the stairs down to the kitchen and bathroom. It wasn't just a few easy steps, but more like the steps Father Karrass gets tossed down in The Exorcist. They were steep and there were a lot of them. I hated those steps, especially if I ever sprained my ankle or got a heel spur or tore my knee. As for the neighborhood, we had the occasional drug dealer and prostitutes and other suspicious looking folk.

What does that have to do with the story - not too much - I just wanted to paint a picture for you.

Back in the day I also had a raging case of insomnia. Even if I managed to sleep I was sleep walking and even worse - sleep eating. We'd wake up to discover boxes of cookies devoured and all sorts of bizarre concoctions I'd made when, apparently, no snacks were handy. It not unusual to come downstairs to discover some milk in a pot with an egg and a slice of cheese in it. WTF was I trying to make? Thank god I seemed unable to get the stove working or we would have been in real trouble.

I eventually went to my doctor about it in hopes of getting a sleeping pill or other suggestions. He told me I was stressed out (no shit) and sent me on my way empty handed.

So it was early on a summer morning in the hood back in the day and I was in a stupor from a raging Ed Norton Fight Club style of insomnia. Sasha, bless her hyper heart, was up with me so I looked at her and thought we might as well go for a walk. Usually I kept her on a lead because there were cars and kids and the aforementioned suspicious people around, but it was 3AM and no one was around so I took her out off lead.

Right across the parking lot from our building was a hill. The first twenty yards or so were fairly steep and grass covered then came some woods and then a street above us and then above that the house and building of the hit 80's show, "The Facts of Life". The walks were generally relegated to the grassy part of the hill, known to us as "potty hill". Sasha knew where to go and what to do - though when we first got her she had bolted through those same woods and was finally captured by some Lutheran nuns from the convent above us and their Ecuadorian landscapers. But she had sinced claimed us long before and there was no fear of her bolting on this night. So I thought.

We get about half way across the parking lot toward the hill and Sasha bolts across the pavement and right up the grassy hill to the edge of the woods. I had no idea what she was going after or doing. It was surreal, I just watched her as she raced along the edge of the woods, traveling left to right and wearing her home jersey until she just stopped dead in her tracks and did the big "play with me move".

A big-ass white striped tail shot up in front of her. Her new friend was a gigantic skunk.

Oh Fuck. I thought.

"Sasha! Get your ass away from there! Cmon cmon cmon back over here! Get the fuck over here!!" I yelled and miraculously she came back to me over. I hadn't seen him spray her and I still held some hope for the few moments it took her to run back over.

I bent toward and sniffed. eeeeew. Skunky badness. Not a direct hit, but nothing I wanted to live with.

So, we went back into the house and down the steep Exorcist stairs without waking Clarisa. Why bother her?

I toss the pooch in the tub and turn the shower on and just jump right on in with her and start scrubbing away. Anything that was flowery scented got used. It wasn't working though. I locked Sasha in the bathroom and went into the kitchen in search of tomato juice. I'd heard that worked, and was willing to give it a shot. Alas, no V-8, no tomato juice and no tomatoes. Ah, but in the pantry was a cornucopia of spaghetti sauce. We had a few chunky Hearty Italian bottles, Garden N Herbs and an A La Vodka Sauce. This would have to do. I figured it was worth the shot.

I go back into the bathroom with the 3 bottles of chunky sauce and Sasha is still in the tub, blissfully enjoying the water. She'd shook herself though and fur was stuck everywhere. Stinky skunky fur. I climb into the tub and start working the chunky Hearty Italian sauce into her coat and this starts to annoy her. I keep scrubbing and working in spaghetti sauce and she keeps shaking and the fur and the sauce is flying everywhere. First the chunky garden style and then the garden and herbs and the a la vodka.

By the time I was done, the bathroom looked like someone had been blown to bits in there. There was chunky read sauce and clumps of hair everywhere. No matter though, because the pooch was deskunked (mostly) and I'd done what had to be done. I was beat - cleaning up could wait.

Around 5AM I climbed back into bed without telling Clarisa and somehow got to sleep. I figured I'd tell her later and clean up when I got up.

She got up at 8AM. Man was she surprised.

Drunken Blogging

Let me state that I have had three very potent Margeritas at this point. Ok. With that said...

My pooch died in my arms around 5:50 tonight. Clarisa and I held Sasha as she died. All I could say as the drugs took hold (so fast) was "I'm sorry" and "I love you" as I cried. First she just laid down and seconds later collapsed onto her side and she was gone. Just like that.

After she collapsed the vet, crying as well , got up and left us alone and I whispered into her ear a Buddhist mantra - "Om Mani Padme Hung" as many times as I could. For about twenty minutes I held her and talked to her after she'd passed. My pooch. My nervous, neurotic, but oh so loving pooch. Sasha, you will be missed, darling. If there is any sort of universal justice or karma you should be in good hands at this point.

Her last day was a good one. I took it off and spent the day with her from start to finish. Car rides, walks, dog parks, runs, more walks and turkey sandwiches and chips. We spent time frolicking in bed and on the couch. More than once, I tried explaining to her again and again what was wrong and what was going to happen and why. Of course, she had no idea, though she was freaked out in the vet's office once they put the catheter in her right leg. She wanted out of the Vet's office at that point.

In my heart I hope that Jenn finds her. In my heart I hope that all of a sudden Sasha just comes loping up on Jenn and gives her a bunch of kisses and that they are together until either one of us or both shuffle off this mortal coil.

I know I did the right thing, so why do I feel so guilty? We loved her as much as we could.

Again, I'm a bit speechless. I'll let Victor Hugo speak for me then...

Certain thoughts are prayers.
There are moment when, whatever be the attitude of the body,
the soul is on its knees.
Victor Hugo

Suffice it to say I am on my knees. Again. Here on the same day Jenn left for Oklahoma, never to return.

For Sasha

I knew something was wrong because while I was walking home from the bus stop on 119, Clarisa pulled up and was bawling her eyes out. I figured it might have to do with Sasha, our dog, and it did.

I'm a wreck.

She's sick enough that we will put her to sleep tomorrow.

We'd dropped her off at the vet to board her this past weekend and get her checked out - she had a little growth on her eye that had just sprung up. They ran some blood tests and discovered that her kidneys and liver are failing. She also has lymes, despite using Advantix. Ultrasound results show cancer all over the place - her neck for one. So, rather than let her suffer from it, we're letting her go while she's happy.

Sasha's been great. We've had her over 10 years of her 12+ years here and she's been a joy. Sometimes a royal pain in the ass, but a joy overall. She's not a ball fetcher or a trick doer. Though, if you were playing with a ball with someone else, after a bit she'd grab it and go hide it. How DARE a ball get better treatment than her!

When we got her she was insanely submissive - so much so that she would crawl on the floor to you when called and then roll over and whiz straight into the air. With patience and kindness that stopped and she's graduated to just being a nervous dog. A happy, nervous dog that wants to sit on your head and loom the way Snoopy does when he pretends to be a vulture. Nervous, but happy and a fan of humping our big gray cat, Little Guy.

She's been my buddy for a long time and I'm just so sad that tomorrow she's going to be gone. I'm so sad. I really don't know what else to say. Things turn on a dime.

Tonight she's getting boneless pork spare ribs and tomorrow we're going to go the park until it's time.

And to top it all off - today I saw a lady with a small child on the street asking for help. The same lady I saw back on October 12th and had passed by. The same lady I had passed by the day before my sister died.

Today, I passed her again in a rush to get home when it hit me who it was. So I went back around the corner of 39th and 6th and gave her two dollars. I wondered, what, if any, portent was there. Coincidence - probably, but I'm enough of a mystic to think there's much more than we can see here.

I really don't want tomorrow to come...my heart is breaking.

Musings

Earlier this week VH1 was showing a censored version of Showgirls. WTF? How can that sort of thing even be allowed? I mean, really, if you censor Showgirls, what do you have? An impoverished, diluted husk of a film void of any of the licentious and lascivious behavior that in fact made it such a guilty pleasure to watch. In short, you get jack-shit.

Censorship is bad people. Fight it. More boobs, less bombs on the boob tube.

Ok? Ok.

Moving on...

For a little bit I was reading A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin. I say for a little bit because I left it (and my monthly train pass which was playing the part of a bookmark) on the train or on the roof of my car. Considering the trainpass runs me $185 it's a relatively expensive misplacement. I hope whoever found it enjoys the literary stylings of Mark Helprin and free travel on the MTA's Harlem Line for the rest of August.

As for why I lost it - I guess my mind was a bit preoccupied on the way home that day and the reason for that is big enough for it's own post in the near future. Suffice it to say I had bought a turkey sandwich for a homeless guy who looked a bit like Jesus and whose pet ferrets had starved to death / cooked to death in the 110 degree real-feel heat on the street that day. His name was Tim. I'll write about him again.

As for the book...it's reminiscent of Hemingway but Helprin's prose is a bit more mellifluous and Helprin's central character, Allesandro, so far, seems to be a brighter and more evocative character than Hemingway's Lt. Henry.

Instead of getting another copy for now, I wandered back down to the breakroom and picked up another book someone had dropped off. Running with Scissors is a true tale of a kid's fucked up life after his crazy ass mother dumps him off at her eccentric (and that's really a kind euphemism for "crazy fucker") pyschiatrist's house and his relationship with his mother and his new found family. Despite all that, there's enough familiar ground in there for me to be sympathetic, but enough whacked out crazy shit that makes me ever so thankful that I was not him. The day I start examining turds the way a gypsy looks at tea leaves is the day that I really really really better get some medication. If you are confused - read the book. It's a hoot - it's a good story and ultimately about how resilient we can be.

In another post I'll cover The Family 2005 reunion in Virginia Beach. I got to meet family I never met and see others that I had not seen for 30 years or so. A good time was had by all.

It's Friday and its slooow at work.

It's been a while between posts blah blah. There is no procrastination. Just the absence of doing stuff.

Really though, I can't tell you how many times I sat down to post something here and immediately felt like I was getting bonked in the head with a big heavy thing. Of course, trying to post at 12:20AM is not probably the ideal time to put any thoughts down.

The protracted battle to fix the house continues. The contractors have been here all week and working late. It's kind of odd trying to sit and watch a DVD with shirtless sweaty Polish men working all around you. But that's life these days. If you want to watch a DVD, you have to do amidst the symphomic clamor of drills, hammers and saws interspersed conversations in Polish that I'm sure go something like:

"Peter, this wall isn't level."

"No surprise there Michael. This place was
built by retards. The ceiling isn't level either."

"It looks like an interesting part of their movie. I will now turn this drill on."

With luck, the guys will finish up today and we'll be ready for the counter-top guy to install our Maui colored Corian countertop in a few weeks. Then a week after that, the tile guy is going to come back and finish up the backsplash.

At that point, I think we will take three deep breaths, gaze at the rennovations and enjoy them for about 10 seconds and then call Century 21. Atlanta seems to have an abundance of tech jobs and the housing costs are still -- relative to Westchester Cty, NY -- cheap. Who knows really where we will wind up, but I can't imagine staying there too much longer. Of course, if I could work from home two days a week, we could buy one of those McMansions in the Poconos that you see advertised all the time in the Daily News and still put money in the bank. The future is wide open.


Most of last weekend was spent in total frustration as I tried and tried and tried again to successfully install a brand new, kick-ass ATI X800 XL AGP card. After installing a new Antec TruePower 430 psu for the X800 to feed off of, I tried to install the new vid card. Tried. And Tried. And Tried.

To say the least the litany of removing the old ATI software, installing the card, installing the Catalyst Software and Drivers was repeated again and again. All I ever got was screen defects and XP freezes and my monitor going into power-save mode interspersed with the occasional blue screen of death. I tried to upgrade my BIOS, but for whatever reason, the damn thing just won't upgrade. The most frustrating part of all this, is that the damn card actually started to work all of a sudden and continued to work for about 2 hours. Half Life 2 and Battlefield 2 never looked so good or played so well. I was amazed at all the new details, espcially in BF2 where the rotor wash from a helo will bend and shake tree limbs and leaves. Even more amazing was the way the jets and helo's handled in singleplayer mode - smooth and fast. What a difference a new video card can make. I was sooo happy. I thought about all the nice new kill records I would post and how my BF2 stats would climb.

Then the card crashed again and never came back. Tell you what - I really wanted to do a John Lydon on my PC. I wanted to hack it to pieces and whiz on it and give it the finger. But, I managed to retain my self control and put my old 128MB ATI Radeon back in it works fine. But, BF2 won't load now. So now I need to reinstall that. Grrr.

Basically, I know the problem lies with my older mobo and its frozen BIOS. I just need a new motherboard and chipset and to reinstall XP. But then I need to get a mobo that fits my Gateway case, which is going to be problematic. So, I already have a new vid card, a new power supply and a 1GB worth of PC3200 RAM. Throw in a new case and a new 478 pin motherboard with a 3.6 processor and I'm on my way to building a new PC. I could add new drives as I go and eventually pop in a RAID controller and upgrade the RAM. Decisions Decisions.


On a different note....

The guitar playing is coming along pretty well but the licks and rythyms of Robert Johnson continue to elude me. So, for the most part I stick with a master the blues book and CD and another book and CD combo that covers scales over chords. That stuff I am starting to get. Like, I can see how the major scale breaks down into the blues, minor scales and pentatonic. I'm even getting fairly comfortable playing, say a primary form of a scale up the neck, and coming back down with the secondary form. Things are starting to click there. Plus the PODXT is just a blast to work with. I'm always one nob turn away from the clean bluesy tones of a Black Lux to crazy metal tones. Freedom baby.



In a few hours I'm flying with my cousin, Jody, to Newport News for a family reunion with our Virgina Beach folks, the Gradels and Autens. The only downer is that Clarisa is not going. She's staying here and is with her cousins and uncle who arrived here today. The original plan was for all of us to go see Wicked and tour around the city. Then this reunion came up and with it a scheduling conflict. We talked about it and I decided to go to VA. It should be a blast though. The last time I saw these people, I was 5. That's an awful lot of catching up.

Hiking, Boozing and Breakfast Machines

I can't concentrate worth a crap right now.

I will say that last weekend was excellent.. I hiked, golfed, drank margeritas played and played guitar with a friend. Not bad at all.

The hiking at Ramapo Reservation was a blast. I went with Sfumato and his friend, Debra. Great conversation and good exercise. My ankles weren't ready for it. Hoofing it in NYC is not the same as climbing up to Hawk Rock - where we did in fact see a hawk and Sfumato treated himself to some hot stone therapy on cliff-rocks. Along the way we spotted lots of tiny little frogs and though we did not see one - Sfumato was convinced that there was a pheasant about.

Aside from an invite for the next hike, I took away one thing -- comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who hasn't figured it out. Actually two thing -- the second being that we might actually have an Adventure Race team in the making. Spiff!

Later in the day I got a call from Dave - a long standing friend back from the Enterprise Rent A Car Days. We did an impromptu barbecue at his place and drank a couple of Margeritas and shot the shit outside in his back yard. Later on we played guitar for a bit - always a pleasure with Dave because he's really good and a good teacher. Go figure - he just got his Masters in Education from Fordham and he's a good teacher. Very auspicious. Then in the middle of playing, I get a call from Clarisa and she's all upset and freaked out and wants me to come home. The reason? A chandelier crashed down on our dining room table, just moments after she stood up. At first I thought it might have torn out of the ceiling, since we just had it moved and that the guys put it in wrong. Nope. The actual metal hook holding the lamp just snapped. Totally crazy.

It's fixed now. Clarisa put things back together on Sunday when I was golfing with my Pops. We went to Vassar and played 9 holes with a nice couple, Murray and Eileen. As it turns out, Murray's a Chinese Studies Historian at Baruch. Hey, how often do you meet a Chinese Studies Prof and how often do you actually have something thoughtful to say about Chinese history? I mean what are the odds?

In this case, 1 to 1.

Oh yeah, I finally got to talk about Cheng Ho and the Chinese Navy and the water clock they built and all that fun stuff I read in Boorstin's "The Discoverers". [DuffMan Voice] Oh yea! Putting knowledge to use. Fucking Cheng Ho the eunuch. [end DuffMan] On top of that - Murray was writing a book on electrical engineering with a focus on semi-conducters. As luck would have it, while my Pops knows nothing of sailing Chinese eunuchs, he just happens to have a PhD in Metallurgy and 30 years in semi-conducter fabrication with IBM. So he had something to talk about. Ah - so what does Arleen do though? She works in IT. Systems analyst. What a great networking opportunity. And they were pretty good golfers too!

I'm going to have to look Murray up. How many Chinese Studies Professors can Baruch have?

Finally - I'd like to leave you with this little bit of Family Guy. It gets funnier each time I watch it.

Soldiers. Cops. Bombs. Blues

A day after the first bombings in London - the powers that be posted a platoon of National Guard soldiers at the White Plains train station. The boys are armed and loaded and do a pretty good job of stopping in front of people with bags or backpacks and giving them a bit of a stare down.

After the failed subsequent bombing attempts in London, they added MTA police to the trains and maybe you've heard that they are stopping people and searching them. One of the guys at my job got stopped this morning in Secaucus. I told him it was because of his beady little eyes. Plus he's Spanish, which these days is close enough to match an Arab profile. And yes, I'm all for profiling in this case. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and is carrying Semtex like a duck, chances are it's a duck. Stopping every 25th person, even if it's Al Gore or Tammy Faye is silly. It's being PC to the point of stupidity.

Anyhoo, moving along...

This morning cops were taping off Madison and 42nd. Lots of police and lots of shooing people away. I can only assume it was a bomb threat. Nothing about it showed up in the news, and no news is good news when it comes to terrorism. Speaking of which - Bloomberg is apologizing all over the place for the NYPD storming a tour bus and detaining five Sikhs. You've probably read about it / heard about it or watched on the news. From what I've read, a Gray line worker called it in saying these tourists were suspicious. While it's better to err on the side of caution, is there some way to do a PSA which informs people that turban does not equal terrorist? Casting aside the sartorial splendor of the five detained and scared shitless men, here is a Sikh:


Here is a Shiite:


Note the subtle differences.


Moving on again...


Dammit, despite the recent attacks in London and spate of scares here in the U.S.A. I refuse to let the terrorists win. That's right - today I went and bought something! On the way to pick up some tickets for Wicked in two weeks (we got hooked up with Orch. seats and a backstage meet and greet through a friend!! Nicey Nice), I stopped in at Sam Ash's sheet music place on 48th and picked up a general Blues tab book and a Robert Johnson tab book.

Robert Johnson's blues - that's about as American as you can get.

The Gear Is Here....

Alrighty!

My Marshall MG15CD and my PODxt showed up today.

[Stimpy Voice]

Joy!

All I can say it is soooo nice to have an actual amplifier, even a little one, instead of playing through tiny PC speakers or headphones. I was a little down on my Samick, but the the lil' MG15CD is a major upgrade for it and it sounds much better. Fuller, richer, cleaner and all those other words a stereo salesman might use to describe a speaker's tone.

As for the POD - I didn't get a chance to use it. I forgot to order a second guitar cord and the headphones I have are for the PC only and I don't have an adaptor.

Total Bummer.

I will say this though - it's way way bigger than I thought it was going to be. I thought it would be hand sized, but this thing is the size of Paul Bunyan's kidney. It's all good though, 'cos I wouldn't want to have to be squinting at a tiny display and twisting tiny dials. For the plethora of nobs on the POD, bigger is better.

For whatever reason, Musician's Friend also threw in a 6-Pack Pedal Board case. I don't need it yet, but free shit is free shit. Free is cheaper than wholesale. For now I put the POD in there until I get the free POD case via rebate.

Thor is right. More gear is good!

And it's also good to cut loose a bit and just play. See what comes. More and more often, I'm surprising myself.