Wednesday, February 29, 2012

RIP Davy Jones

Of course I could carry on about how much I enjoyed The Monkees. It might mean more to share how much The Monkees meant to other people too. Music, at it's best, is shared with other people. So here goes:

The 70s... in case you were wondering

what it looked and sounded like back then.

And if you had no other talents but wearing cool clothes and clapping your hands, you could be in a band.

Where form meets function...

I'm fairly certain the "soft ripples" they mention are meant to work along the same lines as a triple-blade, disposable razor.

Just say... Oh.

or Oh, no...

File this under

Then again, it was 1985. Things were weird.

Just say no, no, no, no, no... The Just Say No campaign might have worked if they hadn't started to simultaneously make better drugs. Sure, I'll say no, right after I give a few of these a whirl.

Same as it ever was.

Same. as. it. ever. was.

Or we could take it further back a few years.

Nope. It's probably best to just have your kids watch Scared Straight.

For some reason the fear of being ass-raped by lifers is a whole lot more tangible than the fear of death. Go figure...

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

The Revolution Will Not Be Catered

Demonstrations got boring,
Well it was obvious that the government was ignoring us
It's hard to drag yourself through empty streets
On an empty stomach with no sleep
The shortcomings got clearer
As the price we paid got dearer and dearer
It's supposed to be a case of give and take
Well I was feeling the give and making the mistake
And I've heard it said the unexamined life,
Isn't much worth living, and I'm sure they're right
But it's hard to keep on fighting the good fight
When no one else seems bothered
Yeah, when no one's on your side

Because I'm young enough to be all pissed off
But I'm old enough to be jaded
I'm at the age where I want things to change
But with age my hopes have faded
I'm young and bored of being young and bored
If I was old I could say I've seen it all before
In short; I'm tired of giving a shit

I've got friends who are bankers
And it's an easy rhyme to call them wankers
But I must say I envy the way that they live
And it's all; it's all take and no give
Well I'm playing the lone ranger
Riding to the rescue with 6 billion strangers
Armed with only an original song
And a sense that something's wrong

And I must admit that I'm tired of saying no, all the time
Well I must admit that I don't really know what would be right

And if politics, is helping all the people
Then my political career is pretty fucked
Because the truth is I don't like people all that much

The times they aren't a-changing
Yeah England's still shit, and it's still raining
And everybody's jaded and tired and bored
And no one lifts a finger, because
It's just not in our culture
Our culture is carryin'
And we're all vultures
And no one seems bothered by the state of play
It seems that the stench is with us to stay
So I had a go, I tried examining life
It wasn't much worth living
I guess they're right
And I'm tired of fighting a fight that's not my fight
So is everybody else, we're all on the same side.

Because I'm young enough to be all pissed off
But I'm old enough to be jaded
I'm at the age where I want things to change
But with age my hopes have faded
I'm young and bored of being young and bored
If I was old I could say I've seen it all before
In short; I'm tired
And in short; I'm probably fired
If the revolution doesn't want me, I don't give a shit.

Clever bastard, this one...

Watching The Rum Diaries a couple nights ago rather tickled my Gonzo Bone so I was surfing about some Hunter S. Thompson searches when I came upon this gem:

It's from a rollicking little backwater Tumblr called BETTER BOOK TITLES (CLICK), which is a cache of illustrated capsule book reviews--the title tells you what it is--you decide. Some are a bit dry. Some are piss-pants hysterical. They're pretty darn accurate.

Mark Lanegan Band: Blues Funeral

Not going to do anything resembling a review. You're either a fan or you're not, and I'm too old to even care to convince anyone else. Mark Lanegan's voice is a force of nature. This is the opening track from his new album, Blues Funeral.


It's going to get a lot worse before...


Nevermind. It's not going to get any better.


Science has proven CLICK HERE that people aren't smart enough for democracy to flourish.

Furthermore, CLICK HERE we're not likely to get any smarter because we're either too dumb or too stubborn to realize just how dumb we are!

Sad, really.

Creating Mini-Dicks (Relatively Safe For Work)

Unless you are prone to fits of apoplectic rage...

Let's say one thing first. This is not cute. It's simply not cute.

I'm not going to fly off the handle. I've no more ammunition and no more armor to steel myself against this special brand of... Well, there really is no word for it, is there? For lack of the proper vocabulary let's say this.

Narcissism is nurture, not nature. I'm over narcissistic milquetoast Brooklyn parents and their precious children. They walk. They talk. We are just awaiting the third miracle so that every last one of them can be sainted.

Oh, by the way, this is Ipecac that put me in this state: CLICK HERE

Some days it feels like I'm living inside a Luis Bunuel film.

Because some people are cooler than you...

Hardware > apps


Monday, February 27, 2012

More Art, Please

Want to see more of this?


I would love to see something like this in NYC, but people can be really stupid. This would end up tagged by some dickhead with a 3 dollar can of Rustoleum.

Damn shame too.

Iran Threat Part 2

So Haaretz picked up the story, but hasn't made too big a deal of it. They ran it though. One might still believe that more media outlets would have said something.


How big a threat is Iran?

The Hawks have been beating the war drums about Iran for some time now. The story has changed somewhat over the last few days, however, that the idea of Iran as a nuclear threat has been somewhat overblown.

So if their nuclear capability has been exaggerated, and since downgraded:

1) Were we ever in any danger?
2) If so, how much.
3) What new intelligence have we received that changes the perception? Let's see some specifics.
4) What has changed?

I'm really just trying to keep it simple. Wikileaks is claiming that they have received information (in the form of hacked intelligence e-mails) that Israel has recently launched covert attacks, disabling Iran's nuclear infrastructure.


That would explain everything, EXCEPT, why the attack and the WikiLeaks statements have been kept so quiet. This would be headline news, wouldn't it?

So much for investigative journalism. So much for objectivity.

So much for trust.

Academy Award Recap

There was a huge awards gala last night where they celebrated a bunch of movies I haven't seen, and can say with some degree of certainty that I will not. The Best Picture honor went to The Artist, a film that caught my interest for about 5 minutes when I learned it was largely silent. Best Actress went to Meryl Streep (snore) for her portrayal of one of my least favorite political figures of the last 40 years.

There were a bunch of people in expensive clothes, most of whom I am unfamiliar with.

Then there was this:

International relations being what they are, how did Billy Crystal get Kim Jong-Il's hair?

Bela Lugosi?

The Count from Sesame Street?

He looks like an old Borscht Belt comic that stood up out of the coffin at his own funeral.

My point here isn't to be mean, but am I the only one that thought that perhaps Billy might age with a tad more grace? At what point did he decide to just let go and be a caricature? He was also painfully unfunny.

This all just furthers my resolve to wander out onto an ice floe like an old Inuit.

Useful Science?

This would certainly appear to be a useful application of medicine and science to address a very real problem. CLICK HERE, PLEASE, the premise being that you could tweak genes thereby lessening the odds of chemical dependency.

I remain leery, however, of approaches that treat substance abuse as the problem and not a symptom. It's a hard call. I'm not the doctor here, despite any firsthand experience I may lay claim to. There is the harm reduction factor though, and that's nothing to sneeze at.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

"I had no idea it was going to be THIS kind of party, I swear.

Why do pipers march while they play?

To escape the sound...

Okay, apologies. I do love the bagpipes. It's not so much pride in my heritage really. It's difficult to get all uppity about such things when you're so clearly a product of America. Nobody back over there is going to mistake me for a Scot, and it's not just my white socks if you know what I'm saying.

Still... the pipes.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Bush III: Bet on it

Jeb Bush is going to be the GOP presidential candidate.

In 2016.

You can take that to the bank. He will be backed by Karl Rove and many of the same people that backed his brother, at least those that live long enough. These are the same people who are already putting distance between themselves and the current pack of Republican candidates.

This is not an "I told you so" post, but I did mention months ago that the the party was sending out there berserkers early in the game, and that before the race was over we would all be begging for Bush. (Hush, you dirty clowns. You know what I mean.)

This article CLICK HERE makes some interesting points. The last three Republican presidents are not conservatives by today's definition of the word. Barry Goldwater, who lost to Lyndon B. Johnson in 1964 because he was viewed as extremist, is not conservative by current standards.

Consider this quote:

"And while it’s undeniable, as a number of conservative commenters have observed, that a high percentage of American voters believe in the supernatural, it’s a considerably smaller group that wants a messianic politician—like one who has declared that the separation of church and state nauseates him—to inhabit the White House. Indeed, beltway Republicans are terrified at the prospect of a Santorum-like candidate—a nominee who fears, in equal measure, bathhouses and al Qaeda safe houses—walking away with the nomination, virtually ensuring a second term for President Obama."

Consider that when Karl Friggin' Rove seems almost reasonable, things have gotten strange.

Anyway, I think it's important to also address that Democrats are so hell bent on keeping Barack Obama in office for a second term that there has been no mention whatsoever of 2016. Knicks fans may recognize this phenomenon as management not working the farm system and scouting for the future (sorry guys, but it's true). I do believe that 2012 is a lock. I also believe that you are going to see an amped up Barack Obama also. Less negotiation. Less concession. You're going to see the fire that you wanted when you pulled the lever. There will be blood. Count on it. This will be nothing lame about this lame duck presidency between 2013 and 2017 Things are going to get ugly. FINALLY!

Keep looking to the horizon though. This business you're watching now is just the clown show before the real rodeo.

Snitches are a dying breed...

I have mentioned once or twice in recent months that I've acquired an online stalker. It seems to have happened much the way you can sometimes pick up a trailer of toilet paper whilst exiting the bathroom of a restaurant, but somewhat less embarrassing.

It's somewhat disappointing that he/she is only tangentially connected to me. I had rather hoped it would be a celebrity secret admirer who may have run across my blog in the throes of insomnia or the insanity of a coke binge. It was sad to learn that their only interest in me is to pass on information about someone else, presumably in the interest of hurting me. It was manifested first in cryptic messages regarding cereal boxes and prizes. It moved on to carefully cut and pasted e-mail threads. It's nonsense.

I'm not sure what the intent is beyond causing me some degree of grief, and he/she was successful in that at first. Then, when it became clear who it is, it became pathetic. The "top secret" information divulged only has as much to do with me as I decide it might... or might not. And it doesn't really have any bearing on my life it all.

But the point is, nobody likes a snitch. You gather information and hatch schemes and once you dish, you expose yourself as untrustworthy. Then you become irrelevant and impotent. You show your cards and are of no more use.

Or you could try to do better--in this case--grow a few inches or meet a boyfriend. You're in the company of men now and snitches rarely fare well in such situations.

Positivity rarely goes viral...

Here's the other side of the story that won't get picked up by every media outlet and re-posted, repeated and hyper-tweeted ad nauseum. CLICK HERE, PLEASE. We all know that Too Short really stepped in it recently with the XXL video primer on how young boys can treat women (and pick up their first sexual assault charges). We all read the commentary. We felt the outrage.

The Dream Hampton interview, however, will not receive the same attention. Why? Because it's more titillating to write off Too Short as a rape ape, and to condemn hip hop as rape culture. Racism and divisiveness are driving forces in popular media.

Skeptical? Ask yourself why Chris Brown is still vilified after Rihanna has been willing to move on. Or why he remains in the penalty box long after white entertainers with similar backgrounds have skated happily away.

Actions, ultimately, as Dream Hampton suggests, speak louder than words. None of Too Short's charitable work has ever been publicized, and any future good deeds are unlikely to be shown. The cameras will be waiting for him to slip, though. Bet on that.

Positivity rarely goes viral.

I believe in learning moments. I believe in growth. Not just for myself.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Remember him?

There was ample warning

No reasonable explanation...

I would have preferred that they call it the ThereBadger, but it wasn't my idea.

And just for a point of reference, the inimitable Clara Rockmore:

What if you had a War on America and nobody came?


This was a set-up, right? I've seen no indications at all of how many people were invited to this function. Certainly there is nobody in the entire PR world dumb enough to miss the symbolism of standing relatively alone in the center of an arena that holds 80,000 people. How many were invited? And whose decision was it that the show must go on when most of them didn't arrive?

This would be painful to watch, were Mitt Romney a little less vile.

My prediction right here and now is that the only threat to Barack Obama's re-election by a landslide is voter apathy. The Republican Party is broken. Romney could screw up a wet dream. Even horrible old crabs like Alan Simpson are using "disgust" and "Rick Santorum" in the same sentence. Newt Gingrich is the antithesis of the entire morality platform they've spent decades building, and is talking about colonizing the moon. Ron Paul is clearly out of his skull. Those are the front runners. The power brokers within the GOP appear to be throwing this one away for a 2016 rally. They seem to know that they've gotten as much populist traction from the Tea Party as is possible, and now like the Sith lords they've withdrawn to let the remaining drones get wiped out.

But there is always a sequel, and no doubt 2016 will chockful of state of the art effects and in 3-D.

Take another look at the photo above. That's one of the front-runners. He and his peers don't appear so impotent when you see them on TV--and that they're always on TV lends them some "virtual heft."

This is the truth though. They've come undone.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

David Foster Wallace, Revisited

Happy (somewhat belated) Birthday, David Foster Wallace. Had he not taken his own life several years ago, CLICK HERE yesterday would have been his 50th. It was somewhat jarring to see his name come up yesterday. The news of his suicide seems like yesterday. And of course 50 doesn't seem that old, but then again, there are those among us that live several lifetimes simultaneously and DFW may have been one of those. I can imagine, that with his intensity, day to day things may have been difficult. It's not my place to judge his choice.

It has been nearly three years now since I finished Infinite Jest, and walked away from it exhausted and maybe even shell-shocked. I recorded my still rather negative reaction here CLICK HERE, PLEASE, and staggered back to my own personal adventure. And yes, it has been an adventure these past several years, more even than I can even record in a public forum lest my future employment possibilities are threatened. Those who know, know...

Oddly enough, however, it has been Infinite Jest, more than most other texts, fiction or non-fiction, that I've fallen back on for guidance, or reference points if you will, for these events and upheavals in my personal life. Yes, it is ironic that much of my reaction to the novel was really more about not being ready for it than it was the novel itself. I can't count the number of times that I have referred to parts of it, cited passages and recited summaries to others. This "difficult" novel contained the framework for events in my life that I could not have predicted.

It would be nice to think that DFW isnt sitting somewhere saying, "Haha you dopey motherfucker I told you so," but he would have every right. I wouldn't begrudge him that.

It makes no sense for me to further expound on the book. All I can say after the fact is that I am, as the title of this blog suggests, eating my own words. Should reading a novel be work? Well, that would depend on what you do with the fruits of the labor, but I'm compelled to take this in a 'no pain, no gain' context. It was worth it.

One of my favorite blogs has put together a list of David Foster Wallace items that I think I'll start on today. CLICK HERE.

Happy Birthday, David... I think I get it now.

On second thought...

Alternative caption: People, oh my people...

...maybe I'll just stay in Brooklyn.


Every so often, I get to thinking that my time as a city dweller has run its course and is just about up. It's not truly the thought of neighbors with buffalo in their parlors that deters flight, but this story does raise interesting questions about culture, lifestyle and identity.

Though having grown up in a semi-rural setting, I'm pretty certain that most country folk would think this guy is screaming for attention...


Saturday, February 18, 2012

The dingo stole my baby!!!

Funny, all it takes is one double homicide to utterly bollix a carefully manufactured public image/brand/persona for the rest of time.

I've been thinking (just a bit) about this whole business of Chris Brown, and the furor over his Grammy appearance this past Sunday. Yes, he does seem rather unrepentant about the whole affair regarding his volatile relationship with Rihanna. CLICK HERE PLEASE Yes, violence against women is a very real issue, and definitely too real to have pop stars like Chris Brown and Too Short (Too Stupid) CLICK HERE TOO, PLEASE as the National Spokesmen on the issue.

At what point, however, might Chris Brown be absolved, or forgiven? Exactly how should he show "proper" contrition for his behavior in a relationship that Rihanna herself described as a professional prize fight?

It's not really Chris Brown I'm thinking about though. It's more the phenomenon of celebrity and public image, and how some stars get a pass, and others are condemned forever. We, as a culture, have a tendency to imbue our media heroes with qualities of supernatural goodness, placing them above any and all wrongdoing, or we put them on the rack. It says more about us than it does MOST behaviors these people engage in. We seem to need, as Tony Montana insisted, "a bad guy so you can feel good about yourselves."

Well here he is. Take a look. This is the bad guy. This is what he looks like.

The criteria that go into the creation of the "bad guy" are open to conjecture. It usually goes beyond the severity of the infraction. Race is definitely a factor, and you can argue that all you like, but you would be wrong. Not just because I say so, but because the facts bear it out.

There are, of course, double standards for men and women with sexual pecadillos. I scored no points with an old employer when upon hearing him engaged in gossip about Lindsey Lohan (prior to her turning 18), I asked how and why exactly he paid attention to who she might be screwing.

There even seems to be a carry over to whether the subject in question is known for film roles as a good guy or a bad guy. Why can't we separate the art from the artist? Or why does Woody Allen largely get a pass?

Just throwing some stuff out there.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Faces of Bigotry 1

This will be a new Glossophagia feature. It's self explanatory. You commit an egregious act against basic civil rights issues, like a gubernatorial veto of a Marriage Equality act that already passed a popular vote in the state legislature, and your fat ugly face goes here. I encourage people to blow it up, cut it out, and use it to pick up pet waste... or whatever.


Chris Christie... go to hell, you oversized, fetid, cheesy haggis.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I've no idea what this means

It's one of the more compelling photos I've seen today. I'm sorely tempted to caption it in a most vulgar fashion, but I will resist.

But for a clever caption... (NSFW)

But it doesn't always seem possible to find the appropriate phrase, so perhaps a picture is worth 1000 words:

Sex remains a strange and powerful element in our culture and our collective... Our collective something. There are people far more qualified to examine and write about it than I. It can be left to them. Daily discourse, however, often leaves me feeling that there is a rift, or a disconnect if you will, between humans and our sexuality. What all other mammals do as a matter of course we have ritualized, stigmatized and often traumatized and catastrophized... a mechanical beast upon which we are the passenger, and rarely the vehicle. See? I'm already messing it up.

Let's go to the pictures (CLICK HERE PLEASE) from inside a foreign adult novelty/sex toy factory. I have no explanation for why they resonate so profoundly, but they do.

Perhaps no more careful examination of how or why these photos gave me the willies is needed. Insight generally comes at it's how whimsy anyway, so why force an answer?


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Its been a lovely fucking war!

"Dump everything you've got left on my pod. I repeat, expend all remaining ammunition in my perimiter..."

Like my man Pachanga said, in another movie, "Sometime it be's that way, Papi..."

Or from yet another, "Never get out of the goddamn boat! Absolutely."

It wasn't all that long ago that a day like today would have been more than enough to give me the big fear. You may or may not know what the big fear is. It doesn't really bear explanation. Those of us who have felt it can see it in each other.

Anyway... now it's just sort of frustrating. Maybe I've just overstayed my welcome and my comfort level in this town, where:

I leave the house several days a week and immediately run into a man that sold his new teeth for crack. He had them one day and was grinning like a chimp! No tragedy would have wiped that smile off his face. Next day? Well...

I count a half dozen rats down in the tunnel before the train pulls in..

I step onto the train in the middle door and realize as the doors shut behind me that in place of oxygen there were two homeless men, both of whom had obviously shit themselves, screaming from opposite ends of the car that the other one "smells like caca!!"

I get knocked on my ass at West 4th Street by a phalanx of Israeli tourists all unwilling to yield an inch of steps lest they get separated in a place seemingly more frightening than Gaza.

I get yelled at my a kid trying to sell boxes of M&Ms for $3.

And the news is pretty damn bleak...

Yes, this is a place holder. Going to take a long nap so I'm not tired for Westminster tonight.

No, I didn't kill anybody.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

If only this was the most deadly weapon ever...

... endorsed by an incumbent president...

Best Obama Photo Ever!

I know I talk all the time about giving this or that person a kicking. I carry on about choking strangers in the street. Push comes to shove though, human beings spend far too much time thinking up new ways to harm each other. That's why I think this is a truly innovative device and that this child should get the Nobel Peace Prize


How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down On The Farm

Somehow I don't think this is what they had in mind.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Caption This Photo


Sorry... pretty transparent though. Perhaps this is his idea of damage control, because every time he's alone in a roomful of white people he's carrying on about black people and welfare.


Why not? I'm sure each of his rugrats has their assigned chores.

And I'm assuming everybody in this photo is getting paid because otherwise that would be a little too reminiscent of an older problem that Santorum doesn't seem to have any problem with.

We're not going to go there, though... Not today.

The Unbearable Heaviness of Stuff

George Carlin's rant on possessions always struck a note, but it has carried more resonance of late while traveling about with someone who is apartment hunting (read: looking for a place to house her stuff). It's impossible to walk into any space without imagining what my crap would look like in that location. My sofa. My TV. My this and that. Things that are perfect for one place don't fit in another place. It would be easy to end up looking at a flat and thinking, "Well the place is beautiful and the location is perfect but there is no way my perfect sofa that feels so perfect when I'm perfectly stretched out watching the latest episode of Hoarders on my TV which by the way will look like a pinprick against that wall so far away from my now less than perfect sofa but I can get a new TV..." And so on.

I've reached a stage in my life where I feel somewhat oppressed (is somewhat oppressed an oxymoron?) by my possessions. It seemed important at some point that every last item entered by place of residence, but somehow, considering that I've listened to none of them in years, owning every single top-reviewed indie record release in 2003 seems rather unimportant.

Yet I cannot seem to part with any of it... not at this point. It's coming though, believe you me. The day is coming.

Then there is this fellow, who has stripped down his burden to merely fifteen essential items CLICK HERE PLEASE I don't know that such extreme measures are in my future. It would probably not be intentional if it came to this, at any rate. Yet there is an appeal to such freedom. Where ten years ago this would have been unfathomable, it more than tickles my fancy today... despite that he cheated the count by including his toiletry kit as a single item. That's just the Virgo in me coming out though. I really admire what he's doing here. It occurs to me that one would have to be very confident and centered to break it down like this. Or not... maybe it is confidence and centered-ness gained by eliminating the worry of how to maintain and carry the weight of the "stuff."

Life is, Beauty, Terror, Knowledge

I don't know if I would have understood this at all even a few years ago. I'm not sure it's entirely clear to me now. I accept, however, that what I may grasp of it today is truth. We don't get to cherry pick what is conveniently pleasant to look at, in ourselves or in the world around us. We can try as hard as we like, but truth exists independently of what we perceive it to be. So from 365 Tao Daily Meditations, by Deng Ming-Dao:

A crucial part of following Tao is seeking knowledge. All the efforts of self-cultivation are meant to make us a fit vehicle for that search. Sometimes what we learn is not pleasant. With learning, we glimpse life as it really is, and that is difficult to bear. That is why spiritual progress is slow: not because no one will tell us the secrets, but because we ourselves must overcome sentiment and fear before we can grasp it.

There is an underbelly of terror to all life. It is suffering, it is hurt. Deep within all of us are intense fears that have left few of us whole. Life's terrors haunt us, attack us, leave ugly cuts. To buffer ourselves we dwell on beauty, we collect things, we fall in love, we desperately try to make something lasting in our lives. We take beauty as the only worthwhile thing in this existence, but it cannot veil cursing, violence, randomness and injustice.

Only knowledge removes this fear. If we were shown the whole truth, we could not stand it. Both lovely and horrible details make us human, and when knowledge threatens to show us our follies, we may realize that we are not yet ready to leave them behind. Then the veil closes again, and we sit meditating before it, trying to prepare ourselves for the moment when we dare to part the curtain completely.


~ And some will never even attempt to peak behind it. Can they be blamed? When I first began this journey, guides told me, "more will be revealed." In my naive state I believed--or I really wanted to believe--that I would be dining from the heavenly trough of truth and self-knowledge. I have certainly made it to the trough, but take my word that it is anything and everything but heavenly. Quite the contrary it is... earthly. Let's call it earthly. It has definitely been the feast to end all feasts. Some was actually wonderful. Some made me gag.

And I've only just sat down to eat.

Falling asleep

Alternative Title: What to do on Super Bowl Sunday in New York if you're not a football fan.

I'm not militant about it. I simply don't care. I'm not even vocal about it, though I will admit the itch to slap the incredulous look off the faces of people who were NOT football fans two weeks ago, when I am forced to respond, "I didn't see it." It's an uneasy feeling, one of disconnect, when you don't care about something that so many people apparently do.

Should I care?

Is there something wrong with me that I couldn't be bothered? I used to watch football religiously, and ever other sport too. What happened?

Is it weird that it reminds me of that same disconnect I used to feel on the job when every Friday morning people would be repeating the latest catchphrase from Seinfeld?

"Are you the master of your own destiny?" Knowing glance. Wink. Nudge. Pause. Longer pause. Look of confusion. Dismissal.

Uh... are you a cunt?


What is there to do when the entire city has shut down to participate in something you want no part of? There are options:

1) Sleep most of the day to avoid the pre-game hoopla. Check. I managed that successfully.

2) Have dinner at a Mexican restaurant with a friend who is moving away. Check. Why Mexican? Simple. It's Super Bowl Sunday. You have few options if you're trying to avoid vein-popping elephant bellows. Your best bet is to immerse yourself in a culture that doesn't acknowledge the event. I had Chinese on Saturday. Mexican is the next best choice. Granted, the game was on, but on a TV perched at a dizzying height and angle away from the table with the sound turned down very low.

It occurred to me while we were eating that I don't adjust to change very well. Making friends is still difficult, and friends moving away perhaps more so than ever. I've never been good at keeping in touch either. Hugs. Tears. Promises. Well, we didn't get into that, but maybe we've all come to accept that... well, to accept acceptance. We're only here for a visit and we don't know where we'll be tomorrow. I will miss my friend. She has been a big part of my getting better.

Insert confession here: I watched the halftime show. My comment on Facebook later was as follows--While they are generally campy, overblown and stupid.. and you come to expect and even appreciate it, this was perhaps the most uninspired performance I've ever witnessed in any venue of any size. It was beyond camp. Beyond boring. A k-hole had sex with an ambien-fugue and produced a giant snooze.

Nuff said...

3) Watch a shitload of dog videos on YouTube. This was one of many:

4) Read a bunch of articles and quotes by Jean Genet. Nothing says "I don't care about football" like diving headlong into the cynical narcissism of a French homosexual writer.

"Anyone who hasn't experienced the ecstasy of betrayal knows nothing about ecstasy at all."

I had originally thought to re-visit the ludicrous Hungarian nihilism of Emile Cioran, but for whatever reason, perhaps a sign of progress in my reintegration to the world of the living, it seemed a bit much.

"I yearn to be free, as a stillborn is free."

Small wonder Beckett told him to lighten the fuck up. Genet worked. Made me smile.

5) Cull the herd on your Facebook friends list. Start with people you originally "friended" because you both agreed that it would be great to rekindle old friendships but haven't spoken to since. Move on to people who do daily inspirational quotes. Pay particular attention to those who quote Lou Holtz, Vince Lombardi or any iconic football coaches.

6) Go to sleep

I suppose I'm just carrying on here this morning. There are these currents that we encounter on a daily basis. It was once my instinct to swim against them, but like a swimmer caught in a riptide, I got exhausted and was damn near drowned before being pulled in. Now it seems more a question of swimming across them until I'm free of the pull. It isn't particularly likely that I will go with the flow. It's a bit late for that. Certainly an old dog can be taught new tricks, but whatever.

Just checking in.