Better be good, that's all I know.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Get Ready
As we come to the end of another year, I wish to note that I continued into it with the *woo hoo* endless-drunken maritime social life from the year before, moved into an *ohhh boy* of too-good-to-be-trueness of love, and now prepare for a new year of *hmmm* to what will happen with the pending changes.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Washed
Scrubbed so hard up was dark, down was light. It can be understood how it is seen as such, but can't be understood why it's ignored. Given the chance, the tide would flip and it would be done. No chance. Not here. You say tunnel. I say simplistic. Manicheanly speaking.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Open Day at the Hate Fest
Questionable reprobates with the audacity to assume, demand, take and disregard. Dip you in cement and toss you over into the mirk.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Gram
On a recent trip home, the ole man and I went out of our way up Airline Highway to find the burial place of Gram Parsons.
In researching how to find it, I came across the Gram Parsons Project. In actually going out to find the spot, I found that, not only was the site very old and in desperate need of updating (the place marker at the time the website was last updated was merely a bronze vase holder), but also that the only real information that was helpful was 1. that Gram is buried in the Garden of Memories in Metairie, Louisiana, and B. that his burial marker is R-12 11-3. (No offense to the owner of the site.)
In following the directions from the site, which will now be redacted from conversation, we spent about 45 minutes wandering around the wrong area. So, I'm taking it upon myself to help any Gram fans out so they don't have to:
When you head into the cemetery, take your first right. The road's gunna fork, at which time you head to the right. After doing so, the road will make a nice sharp left. I'd say about 75 feet after the curve, stop.
To your left, in the distance, you'll see a big white bas-relief of the Last Supper - start walking towards that. About halfway up the hill, past the 9th line of grave markers, you'll see a white bench. Just past, and between the tree to your right and that bench, is Gram.
He has the largest grave marker (as you see above) in the area.
In my oh so wonderful OCDness, I took the liberty to also create the exact location (or within 5 feet of it) on google maps. Happy hunting, if ever you go out looking for Mr. Parsons.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
rar
I was given the opportunity to present myself in an orderly, respectable fashion... but at the last minute decided against it, grew fangs and claws and ripped it to shreads. Once done, I shook it off and waited for the dust to settle, the realized I have one hell of an imagination.
Now, if only I could grow a set of balls and actually do what I want so badly to do.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
glug
It's amazing how many rich assholes there are in the world who would rather pack their stuff up and store it, never to touch again, than give it all to charity. Yeah, they're entitled to keep what's theirs... but boy, do people fucking suck.
Friday, November 07, 2008
To avoid repeat
I recently had surgery on my left knee. It sucked. I've told this story a few time, the majority with my boyfriend having to hear it again. It's a pitiful, but funny (I think), story that I just haev to put out there.
For anyone who ever has Meniscus repair and ACL replacement surgery - I'm sorry!
My story isn't about how it happened. I was stupid, that's how it happened. No, this story is what happened the day of the surgery. Yeah, I want to document my horror story and share it with all the world.
I was quite stressed the week before my surgery was to take place. Hell, I had been stressedduring the entire month between the accident and the surgery. But, with the surgery fast approaching, my body was making sure it reflected the stress I had inside. Its final bout of reflection - laryingitus. Two days before my surgery, my voice totally gave out on me. Swell. Ok, fine.
The day of my surgery, I had gotten my voice back, but my throat still had a Froggy scratch to it. I wasn't coughing, and didn't have a cold. I just sounded like the Lil Rascal. I had to go to [redacted] hospital for 6.30am to be prepped and documented for my 8.30am surgery. I did everything they told me to, answered all the questions, had a living will signed and witnessed (just in case) and was ready to go. It seemed like everything was flowing nicely.
They tossed me on the gurny and brought me to outside my o.r. door. I don't know about anyone else's opinion on this matter, but there's something very uncomfortable about laying there with only a dressing gown still untied in the back with a baby blue and a sterile cap on my head, while nurses and doctors and people in blue outfits walk up and down the corridor, giving *huh wonder what she's in for?* glances.
Finally, my anesthesiologistssss came up. One was this very sweet girl with a bright neon colored flowers skull cap on. She introduced herself and the other guy, and then proceeded to get me set up for my IV. He walked off. She proceeded to find a vein in my right hand, but said they were all too small. She tried one, but right when she was starting to move the needle in, it rolled. This left a nice big bruise on my hand.
And wouldn't you know it, right at that exact moment the other anesthesioloist showed up. He was this giant stoiac Polish guy, who I honestly cannot say if he liked what he did. Maybe in some sadistic way, but he definitely wasn't there to better anyone. He grabs my arm like he would probably grab any woman's arm, and started looking around at my hand. In a heavy Polish accent he say *Yor veins in hand too smoll, must do IV in inner elbow,* and started slapping me there to draw out a vein. Not patting... slapping. Leaving a pattern of red welts. Nice.
During his bedside beating, he was asking me questions about what kind of anesthesia I wanted - general (tube down the throat) or regional (epidural in the spine). I mentioned that I've had spinal taps before, so the epidural is out. I also mentioned that I don't want this regional idea of theirs, since they were leading me to believe I'll only be *mostly asleep.*
No way *mostly asleep.* You're knocking my ass out!
Well, in voicing my opinion (which was not quite as blunt as the above) I had a little tickle to the already scratchy throat that caused a coughing fit. This did not stop the guy from still doing his poking business in my arm, but it did start his brash rudeness. Finally, he finished the poking, stood up, threw his hands up in the air like I'm some big inconvenience for his day (I'm the one having the frigging surgery!) and said he can't work with me and walked off scoffing at me under his breath.
After my coughing subsided, I asked for my doctor and told him and the others around me that there is no way in hell I was letting that man be in charge of any drugs going into my system. He comes walking up, to continue with moving me into the o.r. and getting me set up. I took one look at him and told him I don't want him anywhere near me and he can just leave.
The doctor went and talked to him, then brought me a new, NICE anesthesiologist who talked me down and convinced me to go with the regional. Twasn't hard... she was just nice and calm. The doc apologized for that piece of shit's behavior and tried to excuse it as some sort of cultural difference, to which I replied *he's in America now... adapt to other ways.*
Into the room... epidural... out.
Three hours later, I woke in recovery and immediately felt the pain comparative to a vice crushing my knee from the sides and from the top. I didn't even have a chance to be *where am I?* It all started with the pain. I didn't care where I was, I just wanted to know why I was hurting that bad and what they were gunna do to change that.
My doc comes around with two new male anesthesiologists and tell them to do a femoral block on me. A what? Basically anesthesia in a nerve at the top of the leg that runs all the way down and will kill any pain, any feeling in the leg for up to 10 hours. Hell yeah, hook me up!
So, these dinkuses set up a sonogram monitor, start looking around on my leg and find the nerve. One guy's holding the sonogram wand, while the other stabs me in the thigh...about 2 inches away from the frigging nerve. Argument ensues between these two dips over being too far, so he removes the needle and stabs me again... this time 1 inch away from the nerve. More arguing ensures. *Ummm, pardon me but are you a student or something.* He's not... no, he's a professional who's been doing this shit for a while. Yeah, good job man. Well, instead of removing and stabbing again, he starts wiggling the needle around, trying to get it deeper and closer to the nerve. WIGGLING NEEDLES ARE NOT FUN. Finally he gets the nerve, injects the meds, and they walk off grunting about my question and his incompetency.
Finally, about 30 minutes later, the pain's subsided and I actually feel okay. The nurse waits another 30 minutes before sending me to the next wing, where I can see my boyfriend, eat a little something and eventually be released.
When I get out there, something's starting to feel wrong. Ethan walks into my lil curtained area, says hi, and all of a sudden that same vice crushing pain is coming back... fast. We're talking with every heart beat the pain grows. I'm crying, Ethan's probably freaking out, and we can't find the nurse who's suppose to be assigned to me. Great. Finally, we find her, he explains I'm dying, she gets some help and sends me back into the recovery room.
Back in the room and with a new nurse. 10 hours! Ten hours! They said it would last ten hours! What the hell is wrong??? She calls my doc, who is in his next surgery, but gets permission to give me some crazy ass drug that makes one nauseous and sweat like a beast. *How bad is the pain?* 10! Ten minutes later *how bad is the pain now?* 10! Twenty minutes later... 10! An hour later... ok, 8.......
I was in the recovery room for at least two hours trying to get the pain to subside. During this time, I asked the anesthesiologist who was managing the sonogram thingie why it didn't last like he said it would... but he didn't have an answer for me. He did say that it's kind of good that it didn't last, because chances are ten hours from then I would be home and that pain would be just the same and I wouldn't have the drugs to bring the pain down as they do in the hospital. Oh well thanks, that's very reassuring.
I asked for my doctor. Still in surgery. (They weren't even intending to ask him to come to me when he was done.) I asked for my boyfriend. He's not allowed back there. I asked what my options were. I could stay over night. I want to consult with my boyfriend and doctor.
For the next hour, I had to continue to ask to see both of them, only to deaf ears of my nurse. I will be a lot less difficult if you would just please let me speak to them. Nothing. I will only become more difficult if you don't. Boyfriend is called.
Ethan comes back and we discuss. I explain to him that they aren't answering any of my questions, they're not telling my doctor that I want to see him when he's out of surgery and tell him what happened to me with the drug wearing off, the whole experience. He goes and speaks to the nurse, explaining that I'm scared and confused and in a lot of pain and would feel a lot better and be able to handle all of this if she would just have my doctor come to me when he's done. (Now mind you, other than crying over the unbearable pain, I was trying to not be difficult or annoying or ugly or mean. But with every idiotic comment that they made to my questions, which weren't even just sad answers to them but more like excuses or blow offs, yes - I was getting more impatient. *I don't know, but will try and find out* would have sufficed!) The nurse listened to him and sent word for the doc to come see me when he came back to recovery with his recent patient. Then she made my boyfriend leave again.
About an hour later, my doctor returns and answers all of my questions without batting an eye. By then the drugs they had been giving me thru the IV were lessening the pain to about a 4, which to my was tolerable. We discussed my options, and I decided I just wanted to be home. Even if they gave me a self inducing morphine, I really didn't want to be in the hands of these kind of people.
So, back out to the release section. Ethan came, as did crackers and apple juice... and this little 4'5" Philippine woman who had the energy of a hummingbird. She spoke fast, moved fast, acted fast, and was ready to get me up and moving and out. Now, remember, I just got pumped full of some drug that made me hot and sick feeling. I need calm. I need to feel relaxed. I need to pace myself.
Buzz buzz buzz, let's get you up. Buzz buzz buzz, let's make you walk. Buzz buzz buzz let's go to the restroom. Buzz buzz buzz, are you feeling nauseous? Yeah, that drug does that to people. Just don't throw up on me. Buzz buzz buzz, come on, walk to the restroom. Buzz buzz buzz, I'll come in with you and help you.
The restroom was maybe 4 x 5 feet, with a toilet and sink jutting out into the majority of it, and a giant waste basket that was about at my hip. I was trapped in this cell with this hummingbird woman. And she wouldn't shut up.
Buzz buzz buzz, I got you. Buzz buzz buzz, don't worry. Buzz buzz buzz, oh, you don't feel good? Well if you need to throw up, don't throw up on me. Buzz buzz buzz, here's the waste basket.
And, with all that energy, I was sooo nervous and antsy and sickened that... I threw up.
She wouldn't stop. What's more, because she was holding me and not giving me any leeway to position myself properly, I didn't have the best position or aim to lean into the waste basket. So, a little itty bitty drop of anesthesia (the only thing in my stomach at that point) hit her nurse green pants.
Buzz buzz buzz, ohhhhh see, I told you not to throw up on me, but you did anyway. Buzz buzz buzz, I knew this would happen. Buzz buzz buzz, ohhhh your boyfriend going to hear about this one. Ha ha ha! Buzz buzz buzz, it's ok, throw up all you want, just not on me anymore! Ha ha ha ha ha!
Please just get me out of here!!! I demanded myself to not be sick anymore, and begged for her to move so she could open the door, I could get out of there and away from her energy. Of course, once she opened the door, Ethan was there waiting for us, and she announced to the whole room Buzz buzz buzz, she puked on me! I told you see would! I didn't want her to and told her not to, but she did! Ha ha ha ha ha!
I looked at her and said *You made me sick.* She just laughed and kept buzzing about something while she closed my section's curtain so I could get dressed. I sat down in the lil lazyboy on rollers and just started crying. She had me so tensed up that I didn't even care about the pain my knee had... I just wanted to get away from her and that high energy and go home.
So there... my knee surgery. Sucked. My doctor and Ethan were the only two people there I could deal with and trusted. Everyone else... it was like they were just playing everything by ear and just doing by what the books told them, not by experience of dealing directly with people in a vulnerable position who are expecting you to watch out for them and make sure they are as comfortable as possible in a situation they really would prefer to not be in.
So... for your livelihood - never ever ever have to get ACL replacement surgery. It sucks.
Buzz buzz buzz, ar
No way *mostly asleep.* You're knocking my ass out!
Well, in voicing my opinion (which was not quite as blunt as the above) I had a little tickle to the already scratchy throat that caused a coughing fit. This did not stop the guy from still doing his poking business in my arm, but it did start his brash rudeness. Finally, he finished the poking, stood up, threw his hands up in the air like I'm some big inconvenience for his day (I'm the one having the frigging surgery!) and said he can't work with me and walked off scoffing at me under his breath.
After my coughing subsided, I asked for my doctor and told him and the others around me that there is no way in hell I was letting that man be in charge of any drugs going into my system. He comes walking up, to continue with moving me into the o.r. and getting me set up. I took one look at him and told him I don't want him anywhere near me and he can just leave.
The doctor went and talked to him, then brought me a new, NICE anesthesiologist who talked me down and convinced me to go with the regional. Twasn't hard... she was just nice and calm. The doc apologized for that piece of shit's behavior and tried to excuse it as some sort of cultural difference, to which I replied *he's in America now... adapt to other ways.*
Into the room... epidural... out.
Three hours later, I woke in recovery and immediately felt the pain comparative to a vice crushing my knee from the sides and from the top. I didn't even have a chance to be *where am I?* It all started with the pain. I didn't care where I was, I just wanted to know why I was hurting that bad and what they were gunna do to change that.
My doc comes around with two new male anesthesiologists and tell them to do a femoral block on me. A what? Basically anesthesia in a nerve at the top of the leg that runs all the way down and will kill any pain, any feeling in the leg for up to 10 hours. Hell yeah, hook me up!
So, these dinkuses set up a sonogram monitor, start looking around on my leg and find the nerve. One guy's holding the sonogram wand, while the other stabs me in the thigh...about 2 inches away from the frigging nerve. Argument ensues between these two dips over being too far, so he removes the needle and stabs me again... this time 1 inch away from the nerve. More arguing ensures. *Ummm, pardon me but are you a student or something.* He's not... no, he's a professional who's been doing this shit for a while. Yeah, good job man. Well, instead of removing and stabbing again, he starts wiggling the needle around, trying to get it deeper and closer to the nerve. WIGGLING NEEDLES ARE NOT FUN. Finally he gets the nerve, injects the meds, and they walk off grunting about my question and his incompetency.
Finally, about 30 minutes later, the pain's subsided and I actually feel okay. The nurse waits another 30 minutes before sending me to the next wing, where I can see my boyfriend, eat a little something and eventually be released.
When I get out there, something's starting to feel wrong. Ethan walks into my lil curtained area, says hi, and all of a sudden that same vice crushing pain is coming back... fast. We're talking with every heart beat the pain grows. I'm crying, Ethan's probably freaking out, and we can't find the nurse who's suppose to be assigned to me. Great. Finally, we find her, he explains I'm dying, she gets some help and sends me back into the recovery room.
Back in the room and with a new nurse. 10 hours! Ten hours! They said it would last ten hours! What the hell is wrong??? She calls my doc, who is in his next surgery, but gets permission to give me some crazy ass drug that makes one nauseous and sweat like a beast. *How bad is the pain?* 10! Ten minutes later *how bad is the pain now?* 10! Twenty minutes later... 10! An hour later... ok, 8.......
I was in the recovery room for at least two hours trying to get the pain to subside. During this time, I asked the anesthesiologist who was managing the sonogram thingie why it didn't last like he said it would... but he didn't have an answer for me. He did say that it's kind of good that it didn't last, because chances are ten hours from then I would be home and that pain would be just the same and I wouldn't have the drugs to bring the pain down as they do in the hospital. Oh well thanks, that's very reassuring.
I asked for my doctor. Still in surgery. (They weren't even intending to ask him to come to me when he was done.) I asked for my boyfriend. He's not allowed back there. I asked what my options were. I could stay over night. I want to consult with my boyfriend and doctor.
For the next hour, I had to continue to ask to see both of them, only to deaf ears of my nurse. I will be a lot less difficult if you would just please let me speak to them. Nothing. I will only become more difficult if you don't. Boyfriend is called.
Ethan comes back and we discuss. I explain to him that they aren't answering any of my questions, they're not telling my doctor that I want to see him when he's out of surgery and tell him what happened to me with the drug wearing off, the whole experience. He goes and speaks to the nurse, explaining that I'm scared and confused and in a lot of pain and would feel a lot better and be able to handle all of this if she would just have my doctor come to me when he's done. (Now mind you, other than crying over the unbearable pain, I was trying to not be difficult or annoying or ugly or mean. But with every idiotic comment that they made to my questions, which weren't even just sad answers to them but more like excuses or blow offs, yes - I was getting more impatient. *I don't know, but will try and find out* would have sufficed!) The nurse listened to him and sent word for the doc to come see me when he came back to recovery with his recent patient. Then she made my boyfriend leave again.
About an hour later, my doctor returns and answers all of my questions without batting an eye. By then the drugs they had been giving me thru the IV were lessening the pain to about a 4, which to my was tolerable. We discussed my options, and I decided I just wanted to be home. Even if they gave me a self inducing morphine, I really didn't want to be in the hands of these kind of people.
So, back out to the release section. Ethan came, as did crackers and apple juice... and this little 4'5" Philippine woman who had the energy of a hummingbird. She spoke fast, moved fast, acted fast, and was ready to get me up and moving and out. Now, remember, I just got pumped full of some drug that made me hot and sick feeling. I need calm. I need to feel relaxed. I need to pace myself.
Buzz buzz buzz, let's get you up. Buzz buzz buzz, let's make you walk. Buzz buzz buzz let's go to the restroom. Buzz buzz buzz, are you feeling nauseous? Yeah, that drug does that to people. Just don't throw up on me. Buzz buzz buzz, come on, walk to the restroom. Buzz buzz buzz, I'll come in with you and help you.
The restroom was maybe 4 x 5 feet, with a toilet and sink jutting out into the majority of it, and a giant waste basket that was about at my hip. I was trapped in this cell with this hummingbird woman. And she wouldn't shut up.
Buzz buzz buzz, I got you. Buzz buzz buzz, don't worry. Buzz buzz buzz, oh, you don't feel good? Well if you need to throw up, don't throw up on me. Buzz buzz buzz, here's the waste basket.
And, with all that energy, I was sooo nervous and antsy and sickened that... I threw up.
She wouldn't stop. What's more, because she was holding me and not giving me any leeway to position myself properly, I didn't have the best position or aim to lean into the waste basket. So, a little itty bitty drop of anesthesia (the only thing in my stomach at that point) hit her nurse green pants.
Buzz buzz buzz, ohhhhh see, I told you not to throw up on me, but you did anyway. Buzz buzz buzz, I knew this would happen. Buzz buzz buzz, ohhhh your boyfriend going to hear about this one. Ha ha ha! Buzz buzz buzz, it's ok, throw up all you want, just not on me anymore! Ha ha ha ha ha!
Please just get me out of here!!! I demanded myself to not be sick anymore, and begged for her to move so she could open the door, I could get out of there and away from her energy. Of course, once she opened the door, Ethan was there waiting for us, and she announced to the whole room Buzz buzz buzz, she puked on me! I told you see would! I didn't want her to and told her not to, but she did! Ha ha ha ha ha!
I looked at her and said *You made me sick.* She just laughed and kept buzzing about something while she closed my section's curtain so I could get dressed. I sat down in the lil lazyboy on rollers and just started crying. She had me so tensed up that I didn't even care about the pain my knee had... I just wanted to get away from her and that high energy and go home.
So there... my knee surgery. Sucked. My doctor and Ethan were the only two people there I could deal with and trusted. Everyone else... it was like they were just playing everything by ear and just doing by what the books told them, not by experience of dealing directly with people in a vulnerable position who are expecting you to watch out for them and make sure they are as comfortable as possible in a situation they really would prefer to not be in.
So... for your livelihood - never ever ever have to get ACL replacement surgery. It sucks.
Buzz buzz buzz, ar
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Rules of Walking II: You v. The Cyclist
Picture_Oct08 210
Originally uploaded by Ignatzybanjo
Cars cars cars!
People people people!
Don't forget...
Bikes bikes bikes!
As your fair city is ever growing, our culture turning to better their own Carbon Footprint (or, at least, everyone should be!) and the price of gas pushing us to find more economical ways of getting around, we are seeing a growing number of bicyclists on the road.
Now, come on people - they have to look out for potholes, cars, doors, and a whole slew of you's... so why not help them out and look out for them as well?
Pedestrian v. Bicyclists
Big argument: Who's the bigger dick? (Is, not has.)
Though they do have less enforcement of the laws of the road than cars do, and some/many tend to break all the laws (although it should be said that even many cars tend to break ‘em as well, particularly NYC drivers), they're still obligated to stop when necessarily, pay attention to their actions and surroundings, and get to their destinations unscathed. Because of their close proximity with moving automobiles, they're already ahead in the attention factors of paying such mind. Pedestrians... not so much.
Now, I'm a walker and a biker. I live both worlds, so I can vouch for the annoyances both sides deal with. I've been the stupid pedestrian getting in the way, and I've been the bitch on the bike telling someone when they're being a stupid pedestrian getting in the way. I've even been the stupid pedestrian getting mad at the cyclist, and being the cyclist coming close to an accident.
So, yeah... I can stone myself if I want.
I don't care what you're doing or who you are - everyone should be paying attention to everything around them and everything they do at all times. But, seeing as pedestrians are not obligated by any law on how to do what they do, I'll take it upon myself to lay down some ground rules.
So, with that, I bring you the second installment of Rules of Walking:
Rules of Walking II: You v. The Cyclist
1. LOOK!
It's as simple as that. Motorcycles aren't noticed by cars, and bicyclists aren't noticed by pedestrians. This is Rule #1 and really should be the only rule needed to be stated.
But, since so many people need a bit more explanation and guidance, and since leaving it at that would make this commentary short and kinda dull, I'll give you a few more specific situations that you may wanna keep in mind the next time you're out and about:
2. CROSSWALK CREEPERS
There you are. At the crosswalk. Couple other people there to. Or not. All you know is you wanna get across that road as soon as you can, so you can keep on keepin' on. So, what do you do? You creep out further and further into the street, just waiting for that lil red hand to turn into the lil white guy.
Whoa... look out! That car got pretty damn close, huh?
*Brrring brrring, Move!*
What's his problem?
You! Don't stand out in the crosswalks waiting for your chance to go. Make room for the cars AND the bikes. Whether there’s a bike path or not, bicyclists are sharing the road with the cars, but they’re trying to stay to the side so cars can pass them. If you’re jutting out, they have to get around you and still stay out of the cars’ way.
3. BICYCLE LANE LOLLYGAGGERS
Hanging outside your car waiting for someone, talking on your phone, or maybe just walking up the bike lane cuz the sidewalk's crowded. Listen, they're not there to give you a lil extra standing room or walking space. It's for Bikes. There are far more pedestrians that doddle in the bike lanes than you see bikes riding on the sidewalk. But, if I got every bicyclist to promise not to ride their bikes on your sidewalk, will you promise to not walk in the bike path?
4. DOOR PRIZE!
So, technically you may not necessarily be a pedestrian when it happens, but you're intentions are to move into or out of the act of pedestrianing. Whether you're a driver, a passenger, or hailing, getting in or out of a cab - doesn't make a bit of difference. You’d look out for oncoming cars… why not oncoming bikes too?
If you don't take the time to make sure all areas are clear (including down the block) before opening the door, you're liable to get hurt just as you're liable to hurt a passing cyclist... not to mention wreck the door of an automobile, miss your yoga class or clubbing night cuz you have to deal with a police report and/or ambulance.
5. YAPPERS
Pat your head and rub your belly. Faster. Faster! Now do that while stating the Pledge of Allegiance and jumping up and down on one leg.
Not so easy, now, is it?
Be it by text, cell or with whom you are walking with - if you're yapping away, two to one you ain't paying half the attention you should to what you’re doing, and you can't keep it all straight to avoid a bad situation. Make your movement down the block your #1 priority and all else secondary.
6. DIDN'T YOUR MA TELL YOU TO ALWAYS LOOK BOTH WAYS?
Yeah, they're not suppose to be biking the wrong way up the road, but you aren't suppose to be crossing against the signal or in the middle of the street. So, you're both wrong. But, for the mere fact that you just never know - concern yourself with both directions, even on one way streets. Cars go in reverse... wouldn't wanna step out in front of them because you didn't listen to your Mama.
7. JAY WALKING ACTUALLY IS ILLEGAL, PEOPLE
Hell yeah, I do it. But, I ain't telling anyone to do as I say, not as I do. Wait.. actually, I am. But, I should also follow this rule. And I actually try to. The difference between me and others... I actually and making the effort to pay attention to all the rules I've given you thus far! Look... just make sure you're safe and sound before stepping out in the middle of the street – at a cross walk against a Don’t Walk sign or in the middle of the street. Just cuz there are no cars coming, doesn't mean you're in the clear.
8. STROLLER AGGRESSION
I don't know who's worse, Mamas, Daddys or Nannies. God forbid it's the nanny. I suspect it would probably be the Mama. But, whatever. The point is - would you put your baby between you and an oncoming vehicle? Would you jut your stroller out far enough so it could get smacked by a car? Hell - when in the position of posing a threat to a passing cyclist and your baby, you're on a corner most of the time, anyway! Cars could easily take a tight turn and SMACK! Ooops. Stay all the way up on the sidewalk with your strollers, people. At least for the sake of your baby, if no one else.
9. Last but not least… LOOK!!!
Yes, it’s a repeat of the first rule, but I cannot stress it enough – LOOK OUT FOR EVERYTHING PEOPLE!!! You’re the danger, not the cyclists or the cars – YOU! Pay the fuck attention and avoid imposing on others because you’re too self-absorbed to know that there’s a big world around you and you’re lucky to be in it. If I had my way, I would be the police, judge, jury and executioner of anyone who breaks these rules. But… I’m not. So, all I can do is look, and stress to you that you should do the same.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wanton
There are these people I know... lots of them, actually... that I normally share one common bind - drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. As of late, however, I have not been so inclined, nor so physically able to do so in the joyous of ceremonies that we together normally subscribe, which is any old damn time and reason to do it. This makes me sad and feel dissected from the life I know so well. At the same time, however, at least I got rid of the belly that was slowly beering out in all directions. Not purdy.
So, what am I to do? Not a damn thing. For you see, with this unplanned lack of drunkenness, also comes an unplanned disinterest. I want to want to drink. I want to want to be around drunks. I want to want to go to the watering holes. I want to want to wake up hung over and wondering *oh dear christ... did I make a total ass out of myself last night?*
But I don't want. What I do want, other than the wants I want to want, is to have the option to do what I want, instead of what I am able to do, which isn't what I want to do.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Popless
I have this absolutely horrible annoying lack of satisfaction that I simply cannot obtain. There's literally nothing I can physically do to change this. If I did... oh the pain it would bring in ever other regard.
To be a bit more specific, so that I can get a bit of sympathy from whoever bothers to read this, and for historical reference of my own life for myself -
Damn it I need to pop my left knee!!! I can feel the deep seeded need to do so, but my muscles are so tight, my knee is aching so much and, quite frankly, I don't have the guts to do it out of pure fear of what it will do to me.
So, I have to just leave it like this and hope it accidentally does it, itself, and it turns out to not be that bad on the rest of me.
Sigh... this sucks.
To be a bit more specific, so that I can get a bit of sympathy from whoever bothers to read this, and for historical reference of my own life for myself -
Damn it I need to pop my left knee!!! I can feel the deep seeded need to do so, but my muscles are so tight, my knee is aching so much and, quite frankly, I don't have the guts to do it out of pure fear of what it will do to me.
So, I have to just leave it like this and hope it accidentally does it, itself, and it turns out to not be that bad on the rest of me.
Sigh... this sucks.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Fork
Poke poke, tickle.
Would prefer a beer.
Trip and fall.
Damn it.
Pick back up.
Hobble around.
Laugh at myself.
And at you.
Fall apart.
Dose up.
Wonder where I am.
Give a go.
Quit fast.
Take a nap.
Want my bike.
And a cookie.
Maybe a cup of soup.
Close my eyes.
Hear a song.
Sing aloud.
Head rearing to commence.
I stop.
Home, to go.
Night, to fall.
Sleep, wake, sleep.
Wake for real.
Do it all over again.
Would prefer a beer.
Trip and fall.
Damn it.
Pick back up.
Hobble around.
Laugh at myself.
And at you.
Fall apart.
Dose up.
Wonder where I am.
Give a go.
Quit fast.
Take a nap.
Want my bike.
And a cookie.
Maybe a cup of soup.
Close my eyes.
Hear a song.
Sing aloud.
Head rearing to commence.
I stop.
Home, to go.
Night, to fall.
Sleep, wake, sleep.
Wake for real.
Do it all over again.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Listless
I made a list of all the things that I didn't want but have and hope to get rid of soon.
You were not on it.
.
You were not on it.
.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Toby
Tobias "Toby" Allen
So... I use to know this guy. We were roommates, briefly, down in New Orleans in this giant haunted (heh) house on St. Charles Ave. He was quite the odd fellow, with modest pride. Toby.
I met him on the front porch of a mutual friend over on Constantinople St. He was staying with the chick, who's name I now forget, but not Toby. If I recall correctly, he had just moved back to New Orleans from Seattle. (He liked to go back and forth between the two cities.)
He looked like a filthy surfer dude from California (Northern, not Southern) - chin length stringy beach blonde hair, blue eyes, perpetual tan. He had a wicked smile, but with no actual evil intent. He wouldn't even kill a roach. He did, however, have a passion for the evil. Mainly - serial killers. He collected their art. Wrote about them. Befriended them. He even created a board game - Let's Play - http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/visualart/348657_deadlygame25.html !!!
He and I clicked over the common focus we shared on the West Memphis Three (WM3.org). He was "friends" (prison type pen pals), with Damien Echols. Eventually, he would make introductions between Damien and myself, which was much appreciated and correspondence between us, for a time, commenced.
I always had the morbid interest in serial killers... Toby was just someone who took it many more steps further than I. He collected their art. He corresponded with them. He took calls from them, visited them, pursued them. His top three conquests - Charles Manson, Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. He was planning to go up to try and see if he could get a visit with Dahmer, but... well, we all know how that story ended soon after his incarceration.
Anyso, he and I took refuge in this old house on St Charles Ave. It use to be a gentleman's quarters for traveling salesmen types to there were a few residents. Anne Rice made a big stink about us because apparently she grew up across the street from it, and it inspired her to write some stupid Memnoch vampire book, and she didn't want a bunch of neredowells inhabiting what she considered a sacred landmark.
Here's the house:
It wasn't this nice and polished up when we lived there. It was 1000$ a month for the whole thing. It was mainly kept within the same concept as it was first used, but chicks were living there as well. During the few months I lived there (yes, only a few - I couldn't handle that life style for very long), there was a new face almost every week that lived there.
John Wayne Gacy and Richard Ramirez (the Night Stalker) use to call him collect. He said Gacy always had this creepy way of bellowing out his name when the recorded prompted him *Inmate, state your name,* like it pissed him off that he had to do as told or something. Ramirez has a thing for Asian girls, and Toby took it upon himself to lead him to think I was Asian. I think that was even creeper.
Ramirez use to draw cartoon characters on his letters to Toby. Once he told me he would send me a drawing... I (fortunately?) never got it.
Anyso, to get to the point of this part of my tale, Toby had this painting that scared the bajebus out of me. He and I shared a bedroom (no... we were always Just Friends), and this face would stare at me as I slept - the background and the eyes glowing in the dark at me:
Elvis by John Wayne Gacy
I'm not 100% positive this is the exact painting... but I am 97.3% positive it is. I remember the background to be a more orangy color... but the computer image could play trick with my eyes or what have you.
Ok... so, I believe it was around summer of 1998 that Toby picked up and moved back West to Seattle. We lost touch, which isn't all that surprising. It's been 10 years.
However, when I was on my travels in 2000, I did hunt a bit for him... and have done so on and off (mostly off) over the years.
In 2000, a documentary came out called The Collectors came out about Toby and his friend/partner Rick Stanton (whom I believe I met once when he came down from Baton Rouge to hang out with Toby), and their art collecting and exhibition. (I've not been able to get my hands on this documentary, but would love to.)
This was the last I ever saw of anything pertaining to Toby.
Years passed... every once in a while, I would try and find him thru Myspace or google searches or whatnot. But, never could get anywhere. All I would come across was the Collectors sites.
This morning, for no real reason, I decided to do a google search for Tobias Allen. The third link read:
Should the Mariners Be Charged with Manslaughter? | Slog | The ...
Sep 12, 2007 ... According to the Seattle Times, police identified the body as Tobias Allen, whose death authorities will attribute to suicide. ...
http://slog.thestranger.com/2007/09/should_the_mariners_be_charged_with_mans
In the above link was a link to the following page containing the following:
Last Days -
FRIDAY, AUGUST 31 [2007] The week continues with an exceedingly well-documented Seattle suicide, first noted around 11:00 p.m. last night, when 911 dispatchers received a call about a body seen floating in Lake Washington. According to the Seattle Times, police identified the body as Tobias Allen, whose death authorities will attribute to suicide. According to his MySpace profile, Allen was a 39-year-old single Libra with a penchant for the Mariners, existential drama, and exclamation points. "Most days it feels/seems that most people are mindless fucking sheep," wrote Allen in his MySpace blog on June 15 [sic throughout]. "I'm talking about the people that actually waste presious oxygine talking about Paris Hell-ton. Who gives a fuck? Vapid little bitch... look, now I'm doing it! Thank the powers that be that the aurora bridge is only minutes away. I may need it soon!" By August 4, things were looking up: "Just when I was ready to give up on another summer.... my sweet sweet M's start kicking ass! I'm about to grin, or cry, or something. This has been one of THEE LAMEST summers of my life, to date. I was really going nuts. Then the mighty M's start kickin some ass! I guess, if they can do it, so can I! I have to see the end of the season! Maybe I will turn 40...." He didn't. RIP Tobias Allen, whom interested parties can see in the 2000 documentary Collectors, chronicling the nation's premier serial-killer enthusiasts. (In addition to Mariners and MySpace, Allen appreciated art made by serial killers. Go figure.)
So... wow. Dead. Gone.
I don't find it all that far fetched of Toby to commit suicide. I find it somewhat hard to believe that he would do it over a baseball team, tho. Not going to expound much on who he was, personally and privately. He was a wonderful person with a great heart. But... he, like many, had his own issues, that are not my business to tell others.
All I know is that it kinda sucks having this confirmation that he ain't around anymore. Though it wasn't a big mission, the fact that I've attempted to find him over the years, despite my failure every time, kept him going in my life, even if I hadn't seen him in a decade.
And, at least three times since his death, he was still alive as far as one person was concerned. Now that I found him (sort of), I could say *Ok, done.* But, it just leads me to wonder what kind of send off he was given by his friends.
Hmmm... maybe I should contact his old buddy Rick?
Anyso... there you go. Toby Allen. Sorry.
So... I use to know this guy. We were roommates, briefly, down in New Orleans in this giant haunted (heh) house on St. Charles Ave. He was quite the odd fellow, with modest pride. Toby.
I met him on the front porch of a mutual friend over on Constantinople St. He was staying with the chick, who's name I now forget, but not Toby. If I recall correctly, he had just moved back to New Orleans from Seattle. (He liked to go back and forth between the two cities.)
He looked like a filthy surfer dude from California (Northern, not Southern) - chin length stringy beach blonde hair, blue eyes, perpetual tan. He had a wicked smile, but with no actual evil intent. He wouldn't even kill a roach. He did, however, have a passion for the evil. Mainly - serial killers. He collected their art. Wrote about them. Befriended them. He even created a board game - Let's Play - http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/visualart/348657_deadlygame25.html !!!
He and I clicked over the common focus we shared on the West Memphis Three (WM3.org). He was "friends" (prison type pen pals), with Damien Echols. Eventually, he would make introductions between Damien and myself, which was much appreciated and correspondence between us, for a time, commenced.
I always had the morbid interest in serial killers... Toby was just someone who took it many more steps further than I. He collected their art. He corresponded with them. He took calls from them, visited them, pursued them. His top three conquests - Charles Manson, Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. He was planning to go up to try and see if he could get a visit with Dahmer, but... well, we all know how that story ended soon after his incarceration.
Anyso, he and I took refuge in this old house on St Charles Ave. It use to be a gentleman's quarters for traveling salesmen types to there were a few residents. Anne Rice made a big stink about us because apparently she grew up across the street from it, and it inspired her to write some stupid Memnoch vampire book, and she didn't want a bunch of neredowells inhabiting what she considered a sacred landmark.
Here's the house:
It wasn't this nice and polished up when we lived there. It was 1000$ a month for the whole thing. It was mainly kept within the same concept as it was first used, but chicks were living there as well. During the few months I lived there (yes, only a few - I couldn't handle that life style for very long), there was a new face almost every week that lived there.
John Wayne Gacy and Richard Ramirez (the Night Stalker) use to call him collect. He said Gacy always had this creepy way of bellowing out his name when the recorded prompted him *Inmate, state your name,* like it pissed him off that he had to do as told or something. Ramirez has a thing for Asian girls, and Toby took it upon himself to lead him to think I was Asian. I think that was even creeper.
Ramirez use to draw cartoon characters on his letters to Toby. Once he told me he would send me a drawing... I (fortunately?) never got it.
Anyso, to get to the point of this part of my tale, Toby had this painting that scared the bajebus out of me. He and I shared a bedroom (no... we were always Just Friends), and this face would stare at me as I slept - the background and the eyes glowing in the dark at me:
Elvis by John Wayne Gacy
I'm not 100% positive this is the exact painting... but I am 97.3% positive it is. I remember the background to be a more orangy color... but the computer image could play trick with my eyes or what have you.
Ok... so, I believe it was around summer of 1998 that Toby picked up and moved back West to Seattle. We lost touch, which isn't all that surprising. It's been 10 years.
However, when I was on my travels in 2000, I did hunt a bit for him... and have done so on and off (mostly off) over the years.
In 2000, a documentary came out called The Collectors came out about Toby and his friend/partner Rick Stanton (whom I believe I met once when he came down from Baton Rouge to hang out with Toby), and their art collecting and exhibition. (I've not been able to get my hands on this documentary, but would love to.)
This was the last I ever saw of anything pertaining to Toby.
Years passed... every once in a while, I would try and find him thru Myspace or google searches or whatnot. But, never could get anywhere. All I would come across was the Collectors sites.
This morning, for no real reason, I decided to do a google search for Tobias Allen. The third link read:
Should the Mariners Be Charged with Manslaughter? | Slog | The ...
Sep 12, 2007 ... According to the Seattle Times, police identified the body as Tobias Allen, whose death authorities will attribute to suicide. ...
http://slog.thestranger.com/2007/09/should_the_mariners_be_charged_with_mans
In the above link was a link to the following page containing the following:
FRIDAY, AUGUST 31 [2007] The week continues with an exceedingly well-documented Seattle suicide, first noted around 11:00 p.m. last night, when 911 dispatchers received a call about a body seen floating in Lake Washington. According to the Seattle Times, police identified the body as Tobias Allen, whose death authorities will attribute to suicide. According to his MySpace profile, Allen was a 39-year-old single Libra with a penchant for the Mariners, existential drama, and exclamation points. "Most days it feels/seems that most people are mindless fucking sheep," wrote Allen in his MySpace blog on June 15 [sic throughout]. "I'm talking about the people that actually waste presious oxygine talking about Paris Hell-ton. Who gives a fuck? Vapid little bitch... look, now I'm doing it! Thank the powers that be that the aurora bridge is only minutes away. I may need it soon!" By August 4, things were looking up: "Just when I was ready to give up on another summer.... my sweet sweet M's start kicking ass! I'm about to grin, or cry, or something. This has been one of THEE LAMEST summers of my life, to date. I was really going nuts. Then the mighty M's start kickin some ass! I guess, if they can do it, so can I! I have to see the end of the season! Maybe I will turn 40...." He didn't. RIP Tobias Allen, whom interested parties can see in the 2000 documentary Collectors, chronicling the nation's premier serial-killer enthusiasts. (In addition to Mariners and MySpace, Allen appreciated art made by serial killers. Go figure.)
So... wow. Dead. Gone.
I don't find it all that far fetched of Toby to commit suicide. I find it somewhat hard to believe that he would do it over a baseball team, tho. Not going to expound much on who he was, personally and privately. He was a wonderful person with a great heart. But... he, like many, had his own issues, that are not my business to tell others.
All I know is that it kinda sucks having this confirmation that he ain't around anymore. Though it wasn't a big mission, the fact that I've attempted to find him over the years, despite my failure every time, kept him going in my life, even if I hadn't seen him in a decade.
And, at least three times since his death, he was still alive as far as one person was concerned. Now that I found him (sort of), I could say *Ok, done.* But, it just leads me to wonder what kind of send off he was given by his friends.
Hmmm... maybe I should contact his old buddy Rick?
Anyso... there you go. Toby Allen. Sorry.
Friday, September 19, 2008
all none
You scare me. I don't like you one bit. You do what you want, but leave nothing to show for it... and I have a bad memory, so that doesn't help me in fond ways.
So, what am I suppose to do? What option do you give me? None... that I know of. I just have to bide time, focus on need over want, do without, hope and wish, and wait and see.
So, what am I suppose to do? What option do you give me? None... that I know of. I just have to bide time, focus on need over want, do without, hope and wish, and wait and see.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The knee
A brilliant evolutionary feat. We have the ability to do so may amazing things with these two lil knobs. Jump, skip, walk, run, moonwalk, dance, kick ass and dozens of sports that call for the side-to-side movement.
So, with all these abilities, we need to be protective and appreciative of these two lil guys.
So, word to the wise - when you're styling up on the a bar, then jumping up and over barstools with the intention to land properly on your two conversed feet, assuming everything else will fall into proper place with you... think again, and climb down properly and walk to your destination.
Otherwise, Mr. ACL and Mr. Meniscus won't be too happy with you, as is the case with yours truly, and you'll have to see Mr. Doctor about getting surgery on the ligament duo, as is again the case with yours truly come October 15.
Yay me. Thanks to all who have given your well wishes, booze, rides, laughs, fun pokings and just all around friendship and concern. Once I'm up and running (not bouncing, jumping or twisting, mind you), I shall make it up to all of you with a big pot of gumbo.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Yeah ummm no
Why is it the ones who's asses we Don't want to see are typically the ones we do see?
Fasion Week - Brooklyn Style
Originally uploaded by vaduzuvunt
Fasion Week - Brooklyn Style
Originally uploaded by vaduzuvunt
Friday, September 05, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
Oooo colors!!!
It's pretty in this way, eh? It's actually kinda cool while it's happening... so long as it ain't as bad as, say, Katrina.
This is Gustav. He didn't hate on New Orleans. But, he was hating on Baton Rouge pretty mean like.
For those who asked, thanks - My family is a-okay.
Tain't got no electricity, but they're not flooded out, they're not hurt, they're not seriously damaged. Well... inside they're homes they're not. Won't know how the exterior of their houses or yards are until day light.
I hate being so far away when this shit is happening. I feel like I've broken some sort of pact or a dereliction of duty not being there en guard against hurricanes. But... that's the way it goes, I guess.
Anyso... yeah, thanks for the concern. It's much appreciated.
(In similar news - on our way home from Asheville, NC, this afternoon, we were passed by convoy after convoy of electricity cherry picker trucks heading South. We assume to Louisiana to aid. That was relieving to see. Didn't count, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were over 200 that passed us in a matter of 6 hours time. Yeah... somebody made a good call ahead of time. That's good.)
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Give blood...
...they're taking it anyway.
So... it's been quite a skeeter summer, deep in the heart (or bowels?) of Red Hook. Hell, all of Brooklyn, it seems. Why, we have all asked, are there so many frigging monsters pricking into any and every bit of exposed skin (and some creepin' up under some folks' clothes, wink wink nudge nudge)? Well... Some guy called Gersh found out:
Buzz off!
By Gersh Kuntzman
The Brooklyn Paper
People from Greenpoint to Bay Ridge have been complaining about “being eaten alive” by mosquitos this summer — but it’s not just the normal seasonal whining: the population of a particularly insidious blood-sucker has doubled this summer alone.
And that cute tyke below is one of the prime victims!
Sure, he’s my son, but he could be your son. In fact, he is your son. And daughter. And yourself.
After getting sporadic, unconfirmed and altogether unscientific reports that there has been a huge uptick in skeeters this summer, I called the Health Department to find out if my neighbors and I were just going mad or if we really become human blood banks.
Confirmed: We are insect food.
The Asian tiger mosquito — a species once entirely unknown to America — is showing up in record numbers in Health Department testing sites all over the borough.
And unlike normal, relatively slow and less aggressive breeds, this ornery beast is ruining barbecues, turning restaurant gardens into feedlots (for the bug, that is) and, yes, biting my son in so many places that he looks like a pincushion.
“It has been a good summer for mosquito [breeding], weather-wise,” said Dr. Edgar Butts, the Health Department’s assistant commissioner for vetinary and pest control.
“The bad news is that the Asian tiger mosquito has doubled in population. And this is a tenacious mosquito that will really go after you,” Butts said.
“The good news is that it’s not a good vector for West Nile Virus,” he added, putting in his department’s standard plea for people to report all standing water in the city’s ongoing effort to cut down on West Nile–carrying bugs.
I agree that disease-prevention is one good reason to call 311 whenever you see a water-filled tire. And of course, I’m concerned that my son’s only memories of his first summer on earth will be that of repetitive scratching and vague recollections of waking up screaming in pain.
Brooklyn Bridge Realty
But there’s yet another reason to bemoan the fertility of the Asian tiger mosquito: They’re even biting our beloved celebrities!
“They’re with us — especially in Brooklyn, where I live,” Park Slope resident and international screen siren Maggie Gyllenhaal told David Letterman last month, during a weird digression about mosquitos. “They’re insaaaane in Brooklyn.”
Yes, my friends, if you’ve been bitten by a mosquito this summer, you may have a blood link to Maggie Gyllenhaal.
But the “Dark Knight” star isn’t the only one who’s hearing a giant sucking sound coming from her leg.
“Everyone is complaining,” said Carlos Elias, the co-owner of the new restaurant Aji on Ninth Street in Park Slope. The restaurant is heavily dependent on its two outdoor seating areas (they’re lovely, by the way), which he says are not getting the kind of traffic they could be getting.
Posters on Park Slope Parents, the ubiquitous neighborhood Web site, have been trading secrets about which repellents work best (full disclosure: I have put so much DEET on my arms that I set off smoke detectors in neighboring houses) and whether the “mosquito season” will be over by September so a friend can go ahead and plan an outdoor birthday party.
Not sufficiently horrified? Well, let me tell you a few choice words about our “friend,” Aedes albopictus. Originally spotted in Texas in 1985, this pernicious little devil now has a range that spreads from Mexico to Greenpoint, though his main stomping grounds seem to be the Bible Belt (for now).
According to the Centers for Disease Control (and these people should know; they’re based in Atlanta!), the tiger mosquito is “an aggressive day-biter and is most active from 10 am to 3 pm.”
And their eggs “can survive very cold winters.”
Here’s hoping that we go into a mini–Ice Age this December. Otherwise, these mosquitos are coming back in full force next spring and carrying off my son as their love slave.
Gersh Kuntzman is the Editor of The Brooklyn Paper. E-mail Gersh at kuntzman@brooklynpaper.com
©2008 The Brooklyn Paper
So... it's been quite a skeeter summer, deep in the heart (or bowels?) of Red Hook. Hell, all of Brooklyn, it seems. Why, we have all asked, are there so many frigging monsters pricking into any and every bit of exposed skin (and some creepin' up under some folks' clothes, wink wink nudge nudge)? Well... Some guy called Gersh found out:
Buzz off!
By Gersh Kuntzman
The Brooklyn Paper
People from Greenpoint to Bay Ridge have been complaining about “being eaten alive” by mosquitos this summer — but it’s not just the normal seasonal whining: the population of a particularly insidious blood-sucker has doubled this summer alone.
And that cute tyke below is one of the prime victims!
Sure, he’s my son, but he could be your son. In fact, he is your son. And daughter. And yourself.
After getting sporadic, unconfirmed and altogether unscientific reports that there has been a huge uptick in skeeters this summer, I called the Health Department to find out if my neighbors and I were just going mad or if we really become human blood banks.
Confirmed: We are insect food.
The Asian tiger mosquito — a species once entirely unknown to America — is showing up in record numbers in Health Department testing sites all over the borough.
And unlike normal, relatively slow and less aggressive breeds, this ornery beast is ruining barbecues, turning restaurant gardens into feedlots (for the bug, that is) and, yes, biting my son in so many places that he looks like a pincushion.
“It has been a good summer for mosquito [breeding], weather-wise,” said Dr. Edgar Butts, the Health Department’s assistant commissioner for vetinary and pest control.
“The bad news is that the Asian tiger mosquito has doubled in population. And this is a tenacious mosquito that will really go after you,” Butts said.
“The good news is that it’s not a good vector for West Nile Virus,” he added, putting in his department’s standard plea for people to report all standing water in the city’s ongoing effort to cut down on West Nile–carrying bugs.
I agree that disease-prevention is one good reason to call 311 whenever you see a water-filled tire. And of course, I’m concerned that my son’s only memories of his first summer on earth will be that of repetitive scratching and vague recollections of waking up screaming in pain.
Brooklyn Bridge Realty
But there’s yet another reason to bemoan the fertility of the Asian tiger mosquito: They’re even biting our beloved celebrities!
“They’re with us — especially in Brooklyn, where I live,” Park Slope resident and international screen siren Maggie Gyllenhaal told David Letterman last month, during a weird digression about mosquitos. “They’re insaaaane in Brooklyn.”
Yes, my friends, if you’ve been bitten by a mosquito this summer, you may have a blood link to Maggie Gyllenhaal.
But the “Dark Knight” star isn’t the only one who’s hearing a giant sucking sound coming from her leg.
“Everyone is complaining,” said Carlos Elias, the co-owner of the new restaurant Aji on Ninth Street in Park Slope. The restaurant is heavily dependent on its two outdoor seating areas (they’re lovely, by the way), which he says are not getting the kind of traffic they could be getting.
Posters on Park Slope Parents, the ubiquitous neighborhood Web site, have been trading secrets about which repellents work best (full disclosure: I have put so much DEET on my arms that I set off smoke detectors in neighboring houses) and whether the “mosquito season” will be over by September so a friend can go ahead and plan an outdoor birthday party.
Not sufficiently horrified? Well, let me tell you a few choice words about our “friend,” Aedes albopictus. Originally spotted in Texas in 1985, this pernicious little devil now has a range that spreads from Mexico to Greenpoint, though his main stomping grounds seem to be the Bible Belt (for now).
According to the Centers for Disease Control (and these people should know; they’re based in Atlanta!), the tiger mosquito is “an aggressive day-biter and is most active from 10 am to 3 pm.”
And their eggs “can survive very cold winters.”
Here’s hoping that we go into a mini–Ice Age this December. Otherwise, these mosquitos are coming back in full force next spring and carrying off my son as their love slave.
Gersh Kuntzman is the Editor of The Brooklyn Paper. E-mail Gersh at kuntzman@brooklynpaper.com
©2008 The Brooklyn Paper
Sunday, August 17, 2008
I coulda done that
OH wait... I did!
So... apparently some hoidy toid of the Times took it upon himself to declare the need for rules to walking.
David Rakoff's Walk This Way
Of course, ego steps up and makes me wanna declare *I said it first!* (MY Rules of Walking) and maybe even add *And I said it better!* Mind you, this guy did add the annoyance of dog leashes and texters... but other than that, he missed so much.
So, in declaration of my wonder and ego, and to even go so far as to update with more declarations on how to appropriately pass thru the world without the imposition of your existence on others, I give you:
THE Rules of Walking:
Ok... for years, I've endured the ignorance, but now I can't take no more! This city needs to set some ground rules, and they need to be posted on every subway train, platforms, and listed on those stupid TV monitors at the tops of the subway entrances. We're a city of 8 million, and then some, with all the tourist coming and going. Let's work together people!
It's not difficult people. We just have to THINK. Common sense! But, since some people are less equipped with such sense than others, I'll spell it out for you:
Walk in the City like you would drive anywhere in America!
1. WALK TO THE RIGHT.
You're in America!
There's no need for millions of people to constantly dance with others they clearly aren't interested in dancing with. And, being a girl who can't dance, and seeing as Murphy's Law always gives me some dipshit to dance with - I think this is one rule that should definitely be enforced. I won't inflict my moves on anyone if everyone just walks to the right!
2. YIELD.
When coming out of a store, don't just walk right out into the side walk where there's already people moving to and fro. Come on! You wouldn't just drive out in the middle of an intersection or merge onto the interstate without looking and yielding.
Also, when exiting stores... What causes a person to walk out onto the sidewalk and just stop? Does the brightness of the sun or the falling of the rain or the moon in the sky surprise you and cause you to be like a deer in headlights? Don't do that. There's a whole building right behind you. If you want to step out of the store and stop, step out and to the right or left and stop next to the building. You wouldn't just drive out in the middle of an intersection and decide there which way you want to go.
3. NO SUDDEN STOPS.
The only time there can really be a valid excuse is if a person drops something. If you suddenly realize you're going the wrong way, a friend of yours tells you something shocking, something or someone catches your attention, you forget something and need to turn around - don't just stop right there!
4. LOOK BEHIND YOU BEFORE TURNING OR STOPPING.
For all of the above actions, particularly in number 3 - the least you can do is look behind you and see if your impending actions will disrupt the motion of another. Simple as that!
5. WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
I ain't cop, but if I was and I saw some jerk swerving and veering, I'd pull him over and see if he'd been drinking. (Actually, I wouldn't cuz I just don't care enough. But the point is...) When walking, try and make it a straight line. Stay on your path, and out of others'!
6. DON'T STOP AT THE TOP OF THE SUBWAY STAIRS.
I always end up finding myself walking up the stairs behind one of these people. You get to the top and just stop and stand there. Yeah, sure you may be trying to get your bearings - but you can do that if you just step to the side (again, next to a building is a great spot!), and figure what you wanna do then.
7. IT'S CALLED A SIDEWALK FOR A REASON.
Move move move!!! Don't just stand there talking with people, figuring out where you want to go or where you are, or just look up gazing at the buildings. Do all that out of the way of the walk way.
8. SLOWER PACERS, WALK TO RIGHT.
On the interstate, the rule is - if you're going to drive slower, stay in the right lane so others can pass you on the left. This can apply with walking. The busier people can move around you, and you're less likely to have a collision with a stopped person standing to the side. (Like a stalled car on the side of the road.)
9. RALLIES DON'T TAKE UP THE WHOLE ROAD.
Nearly everyone has experienced a motorcycle rally. It can be a little thrill to see them cruise by, when you're just wandering about. But if you're stuck in your car waiting for the police escort to allow them to pass, it can be a bit annoying. This being said - come on groups! Let's not all take up the sidewalk. Share! If there is more than two of you, let's try staggering a bit so you leave plenty of walk space for the rest of us.
10. WALK AT YOUR OWN RISK.
While New Yorkers have been pigeon holed to be not-so-nice, it's bull shit! We are a very nice people - so long as you're not in our way. It's not that we are all about ourselves. Most of the time, especially during the work day, if we're out and about, we're moving form Point A to Point B and have to get there quickly. If you follow the above rules, it helps us out greatly! (And keeps us a nice people.)
HAPPY WALKING!!!!!!
So... apparently some hoidy toid of the Times took it upon himself to declare the need for rules to walking.
David Rakoff's Walk This Way
Of course, ego steps up and makes me wanna declare *I said it first!* (MY Rules of Walking) and maybe even add *And I said it better!* Mind you, this guy did add the annoyance of dog leashes and texters... but other than that, he missed so much.
So, in declaration of my wonder and ego, and to even go so far as to update with more declarations on how to appropriately pass thru the world without the imposition of your existence on others, I give you:
THE Rules of Walking:
Ok... for years, I've endured the ignorance, but now I can't take no more! This city needs to set some ground rules, and they need to be posted on every subway train, platforms, and listed on those stupid TV monitors at the tops of the subway entrances. We're a city of 8 million, and then some, with all the tourist coming and going. Let's work together people!
It's not difficult people. We just have to THINK. Common sense! But, since some people are less equipped with such sense than others, I'll spell it out for you:
Walk in the City like you would drive anywhere in America!
1. WALK TO THE RIGHT.
You're in America!
There's no need for millions of people to constantly dance with others they clearly aren't interested in dancing with. And, being a girl who can't dance, and seeing as Murphy's Law always gives me some dipshit to dance with - I think this is one rule that should definitely be enforced. I won't inflict my moves on anyone if everyone just walks to the right!
2. YIELD.
When coming out of a store, don't just walk right out into the side walk where there's already people moving to and fro. Come on! You wouldn't just drive out in the middle of an intersection or merge onto the interstate without looking and yielding.
Also, when exiting stores... What causes a person to walk out onto the sidewalk and just stop? Does the brightness of the sun or the falling of the rain or the moon in the sky surprise you and cause you to be like a deer in headlights? Don't do that. There's a whole building right behind you. If you want to step out of the store and stop, step out and to the right or left and stop next to the building. You wouldn't just drive out in the middle of an intersection and decide there which way you want to go.
3. NO SUDDEN STOPS.
The only time there can really be a valid excuse is if a person drops something. If you suddenly realize you're going the wrong way, a friend of yours tells you something shocking, something or someone catches your attention, you forget something and need to turn around - don't just stop right there!
4. LOOK BEHIND YOU BEFORE TURNING OR STOPPING.
For all of the above actions, particularly in number 3 - the least you can do is look behind you and see if your impending actions will disrupt the motion of another. Simple as that!
5. WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
I ain't cop, but if I was and I saw some jerk swerving and veering, I'd pull him over and see if he'd been drinking. (Actually, I wouldn't cuz I just don't care enough. But the point is...) When walking, try and make it a straight line. Stay on your path, and out of others'!
6. DON'T STOP AT THE TOP OF THE SUBWAY STAIRS.
I always end up finding myself walking up the stairs behind one of these people. You get to the top and just stop and stand there. Yeah, sure you may be trying to get your bearings - but you can do that if you just step to the side (again, next to a building is a great spot!), and figure what you wanna do then.
7. IT'S CALLED A SIDEWALK FOR A REASON.
Move move move!!! Don't just stand there talking with people, figuring out where you want to go or where you are, or just look up gazing at the buildings. Do all that out of the way of the walk way.
8. SLOWER PACERS, WALK TO RIGHT.
On the interstate, the rule is - if you're going to drive slower, stay in the right lane so others can pass you on the left. This can apply with walking. The busier people can move around you, and you're less likely to have a collision with a stopped person standing to the side. (Like a stalled car on the side of the road.)
9. RALLIES DON'T TAKE UP THE WHOLE ROAD.
Nearly everyone has experienced a motorcycle rally. It can be a little thrill to see them cruise by, when you're just wandering about. But if you're stuck in your car waiting for the police escort to allow them to pass, it can be a bit annoying. This being said - come on groups! Let's not all take up the sidewalk. Share! If there is more than two of you, let's try staggering a bit so you leave plenty of walk space for the rest of us.
10. WALK AT YOUR OWN RISK.
While New Yorkers have been pigeon holed to be not-so-nice, it's bull shit! We are a very nice people - so long as you're not in our way. It's not that we are all about ourselves. Most of the time, especially during the work day, if we're out and about, we're moving form Point A to Point B and have to get there quickly. If you follow the above rules, it helps us out greatly! (And keeps us a nice people.)
HAPPY WALKING!!!!!!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Shtoppenzehein
It'd be nice if you would stop doing what you're doing cuz it's giving me an ache and I don't understand why it's at all necessary cuz it ain't gunna do anybody any good and is just gunna make it harder and take longer to get back to the norm that we all know and enjoy so well.
So... stop.
Please?
So... stop.
Please?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Asking for it
So many people are asking for it. I'm ready to give them what they want. The good, the bad and the... Oh you have no idea how much I agree with you and what you want is equal to what you deserve. If I could give every single one of you what you're wanting... oh the karma that I would have.
Friday, August 01, 2008
fanacht
I stepped into the wind of the waterside
And waited for the shiver to subside
Walking in its direction
Looking forward
Giving no wonder or thought
Of the moment
Nor the coming
Just giving step by step to myself
Breathing in
Breathing out
The salinity resuscitating
And waited for the shiver to subside
Walking in its direction
Looking forward
Giving no wonder or thought
Of the moment
Nor the coming
Just giving step by step to myself
Breathing in
Breathing out
The salinity resuscitating
Don't mess...
She's Hit (Live, 1983)
Birthday Party
Sexy then... sexy now. Don't care what you say, Dave and Mimi!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Fuck FlexPetz
Some pricks out in California decided to take the rental industry one disgusting step too far:
http://www.flexpetz.com/
Rent a dog. Yeah. Who cares how it may effect the dogs. Go ahead - please yourself.
It doesn't matter if personalities clash.
It doesn't matter if the dog keeps feeling the sense of abandonment.
It doesn't matter if the dog becomes co-dependent and confused
Dogs don't have souls, therefore they don't have feelings!
So fuck them and what is best for them! If I want to have a dog to give back, I'll just call these assholes.
This List of Hate of mine is getting long.
http://www.flexpetz.com/
Rent a dog. Yeah. Who cares how it may effect the dogs. Go ahead - please yourself.
It doesn't matter if personalities clash.
It doesn't matter if the dog keeps feeling the sense of abandonment.
It doesn't matter if the dog becomes co-dependent and confused
Dogs don't have souls, therefore they don't have feelings!
So fuck them and what is best for them! If I want to have a dog to give back, I'll just call these assholes.
This List of Hate of mine is getting long.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
We need...
We need Baikal Seals in the Erie Basin. Cute cute!
San Francisco gets those big friggin seals - en masse:
Hell, Jersey gets dolphins:
And bears in Jersey, Connecticut and upstate:
It's only fair!!!
San Francisco gets those big friggin seals - en masse:
Hell, Jersey gets dolphins:
And bears in Jersey, Connecticut and upstate:
It's only fair!!!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Anatomical Snuff Box
After while I've had enough, but you just keep on giving. I straighten up, disassociate and try to ignore, but there you are giving me your all and making me miserable. Don't you have anything better to do?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
sminde
I can't decide if I find it amusing, annoying or pitiful. Probably a lil bit of everything. Definitely not feeling anger. Despite it all... there's nothing to do with it. Nothing I want to do with it... directly, at least. As of now.
Keep it up, tho, and... well... maybe that will change. But, as of now... I'll just kinda feel bad for having the first three feelings on the subject, along side with the bad feelings that you find the need to do as you are.
I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and I'll be nice about it... but only for so long. Keep it up, and I won't feel so bad about thinking the thoughts I first thought or feeling you evoked. And may have to say something directly.
Keep it up, tho, and... well... maybe that will change. But, as of now... I'll just kinda feel bad for having the first three feelings on the subject, along side with the bad feelings that you find the need to do as you are.
I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and I'll be nice about it... but only for so long. Keep it up, and I won't feel so bad about thinking the thoughts I first thought or feeling you evoked. And may have to say something directly.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Dear Doppelganger
I'm sorry I snuck out the way I did. You were sleeping so very peacefully and I didn't have the heart to wake you. Ok, actually, I didn't want to wake you because I didn't want to talk to you about it. I wanted to just disappear and get away as quickly and uneventfully as possible. Of course, on my way out, I stubbed my toe on that little lift at the doorway into your kitchen, and then nearly tumbled down those rickety stairs of yours in the corridor.
It was a beautiful walk. I slowly trailed myself down three stops along the park, just for kicks.
You're too sensitive. I didn't mean the things I said. Ok, yes, maybe I did. No. You should never make assumptions the way you do. I had no intention, nor should you have. But it's ok. We can laugh at it over pints some time. Not too soon, tho.
You didn't scare me. You never really do.
Cheers,
Al
It was a beautiful walk. I slowly trailed myself down three stops along the park, just for kicks.
You're too sensitive. I didn't mean the things I said. Ok, yes, maybe I did. No. You should never make assumptions the way you do. I had no intention, nor should you have. But it's ok. We can laugh at it over pints some time. Not too soon, tho.
You didn't scare me. You never really do.
Cheers,
Al
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Ribbit
I didn't anticipate the frog being there when the door opened. What's more, I didn't expect it to speak so eloquently... *Errrr, uhhhh, hey.* What a way with words.
All I could think to do was pat it on the head and say *Yup, hey.*
All I could think to do was pat it on the head and say *Yup, hey.*
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Fatty Fatty 2 by 4
Jarvis Cocker
"Fat Children"
Live, Monday, July 21, 2008
Music Hall of Williamsburg
Brooklyn, NY
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
No harm... just foul.
We would have preferred not to sit in those shadows and complain about you as long as we did... but we had to do something to pass the time. I, for one, really did enjoy it, nonetheless.
It's just so god damn easy. You set it up, yourself. And how you live within complete oblivion in such harmony... it's beyond me. It's a real shame, but hey - if you're enjoying that stupid bliss of yours, I'll enjoy the evil thoughts of what I'd like to do to you.
No harm... just foul.
Karma still in tact.
It's just so god damn easy. You set it up, yourself. And how you live within complete oblivion in such harmony... it's beyond me. It's a real shame, but hey - if you're enjoying that stupid bliss of yours, I'll enjoy the evil thoughts of what I'd like to do to you.
No harm... just foul.
Karma still in tact.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Lazy
And there you go, off into your own. Leaving the smashed bits scattered, not taking the time to tidy up, dust off and make sure all in well. The immediate gratification isn't so immediate or gratifying anymore, so... you quit.
*Oh, it doesn't feel good anymore, therefore it won't ever again.*
Wow... give up that easily, huh?
When obligated, you stick it thru and eventually come back to the pleasure. Unless you're head is filled so much with contempt that you just make yourself miserable... which is usually what leads to the lack of immediate gratification, which then turns everything else to shit.
Yeah, Good job.
*Oh, it doesn't feel good anymore, therefore it won't ever again.*
Wow... give up that easily, huh?
When obligated, you stick it thru and eventually come back to the pleasure. Unless you're head is filled so much with contempt that you just make yourself miserable... which is usually what leads to the lack of immediate gratification, which then turns everything else to shit.
Yeah, Good job.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Five (5)
Teddeh Bear
Originally uploaded by vaduzuvunt
A mountaineer who just returned from scaling Mount Kilamanjaaro walks into a bar and asks for a free drink. The bartender, sensing an ominous chill in the air says, "well sir, I can't give you a free drink, but I can give you five jokes in five seconds."
"Shoot" replied the crest fallen mountain man.
It was at this time in the joke that the admittedly jumpy barkeep pulled out his pistol and beat the mountaineer to death in five easy blows.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Oil up? Hold my cigarette.
Oil up? Hold my cigarette.
Originally uploaded by vaduzuvunt
Listen honey, what you need is a good night sleep.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Give to a good cause
I need this puppy. This puppy needs me. Help us find each other. Help us be together.
Donations accepted...
Donations accepted...
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Be not tooted
Oh... was that for me? Ummm... thank you? I saw you there... just wasn't sure you saw me. But now... yeah, now I know. What's that? Oh wow, really? Gee, thanks. It's not every day I get that. So yeah... wow... yeah... ummm, does this really work for you? Do you really think it's gunna work with me? I mean... really? Hmmm... yeah, you know what? I'm gunna... I'm gunna have to just... pass. Yeah... but good luck with that. I'm sure there's someone out there who would be accepting of... you.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
fade bright
The impression has worn out and disappeared
Laundered away with the new clean
The question of when it will
Once again be there rises and falls
Moved on to other notices
It's so green there now
With bits of peach, purple and blue
Dancers of the air with savage teeth
Goodness reflects brighter
With a little bad in the space
Pace changed
Laundered away with the new clean
The question of when it will
Once again be there rises and falls
Moved on to other notices
It's so green there now
With bits of peach, purple and blue
Dancers of the air with savage teeth
Goodness reflects brighter
With a little bad in the space
Pace changed
Carbon Squish
My carbon footprint is 4.299 tonnes. The average American is 20.4 tonnes. The average world wide is 4 tonnes, but needs to be 2 tonnes. I have some work to do.
http://www.carbonfootprint.com
http://www.carbonfootprint.com
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Da Da Da
My do was so easy to do when I didn't have the this to make the me think the different do that I do think of now. So, how do I do that do if this do doesn't influence that do to be done? I'd like to do the different do but the obviousness of the reason for the different do would just be too much do for me to do in such obvious fashion. I done do'ed too much already. Disregard and just keep on doing the do that's being done. I'll do it too.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
ce v me v c
Why are you doing this to me? I did what was asked of me. I followed thru. Now you're pulling this shit. Again. Why? Just take it and let's move on. This He says/She says crap has gotta stop.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Speck
When I first came upon it, I didn't know what to make of it. I figured it was an accident waiting to happen, but then I realized it already did. Tho I knew I was innocent to the debacle, I knew if I was caught here I'd be to blame. So, I quickly took pace and picked it up as rapidly as I could go. I refused to look back, fearing the salt, but I heard something fast approaching and knew the gig was gunna be up if I didn't keep truckin'.
Feeling my heart racing, out of both adrenaline and fear, I worked myself harder to get a good distance from whatever it was back there. But alas, it stayed on my heels.
All of a sudden, down I went. Don't know if it tripped me up or I, as I sometimes do, tripped myself up. But, down I went. My first instinct caused me to curl up in a little ball and wait for the blows. After a few seconds of nothing, I took a peak... there I was... alone. Ain't nothing was following me. All I saw was my shadow there... laughing at me.
Feeling my heart racing, out of both adrenaline and fear, I worked myself harder to get a good distance from whatever it was back there. But alas, it stayed on my heels.
All of a sudden, down I went. Don't know if it tripped me up or I, as I sometimes do, tripped myself up. But, down I went. My first instinct caused me to curl up in a little ball and wait for the blows. After a few seconds of nothing, I took a peak... there I was... alone. Ain't nothing was following me. All I saw was my shadow there... laughing at me.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
ooops...sigh
...and when the moment came and went, and you realized the regret that was befallen and attempted to proclaim amends, but none was given, I could hear your sigh across the bridge and into the waterfront where I stood wishing to forgive, but unable to forget and move on.
Plot Keywords: Spoiler Ale
Ladies and Gentlemen...
Doctor Morgus the Magnificent:
If you don't know who this genius is, look him up! Growing up with this man in NOLA was one of the best parts of growing up in NOLA. Live and learn!
Doctor Morgus the Magnificent:
If you don't know who this genius is, look him up! Growing up with this man in NOLA was one of the best parts of growing up in NOLA. Live and learn!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Manichean
Give too much to someone who deserves too little.
Denial is an ugly color, and the other wears it disgustingly well.
The hate of the idea of hope being wasted on dead history.
Evolution means growth for one, loss for another.
Survival of the fittest kicks in and someone's gunna lose.
Make sure there's only one loser.
And that it's not you.
Nick Drake's voice is the sound of smoke.
Denial is an ugly color, and the other wears it disgustingly well.
The hate of the idea of hope being wasted on dead history.
Evolution means growth for one, loss for another.
Survival of the fittest kicks in and someone's gunna lose.
Make sure there's only one loser.
And that it's not you.
Nick Drake's voice is the sound of smoke.
Nick... breathless (he leaves me)
I was gunna go for Billy Squier dancing around in pastel tees that he rips off his pasty white chest while singing about wanting someone to rock him in her/his arms... but, it's a happy bright day, and I'm wearing a bright pink dress.
Monday, June 16, 2008
tease
If I were to say what could be said, the obvious would be known. Would it make for conversation? Vanity? Insecurity? Which of my own? If I were to give the words to this, would you think they were about you? Would you assume as such and let it inflate like a balloon? Would it raise you up? Or both of us? Would it lead for more speculation and concern? Eventually would it pop? From too much air or the prick of someone's needle?
Make no assumptions of who *you* are... Just know I'm having fun with this.
Make no assumptions of who *you* are... Just know I'm having fun with this.
Boxed in.
I feel the need to express myself more clearly than I usually do.
I see and hear of the growth of the monster, and it's lil parasites coming around and slowly amassing a space no one of tenure wants to relinquish. The consensus has been NO, but now that it's coming around, a lot of YES and promotional commentary there of.
No. Don't want. Leave. Go. Stop. Turn around. Fuck off. Die?
I'm thinking...
...rotten fruit... fire crackers... bull horns in the middle of the night... sling shots and frozen grapes... eggs...
I see and hear of the growth of the monster, and it's lil parasites coming around and slowly amassing a space no one of tenure wants to relinquish. The consensus has been NO, but now that it's coming around, a lot of YES and promotional commentary there of.
No. Don't want. Leave. Go. Stop. Turn around. Fuck off. Die?
I'm thinking...
...rotten fruit... fire crackers... bull horns in the middle of the night... sling shots and frozen grapes... eggs...
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
rocker
When we set this thing up, we knew it would be brief... give or take. We knew it wouldn't have much effort, meaning, thought, consideration, time or even want invested into it, so when the end grew nigh there would be no worries or woes, anger or confusion, disappointment or pain. Why oh why, then, now that this time has come, the consensus isn't as agreed and everything isn't as said it would be? It shouldn't be taken personally. It shouldn't be anything more than the evolution we one day knew would be. Times change. Let them.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
trek
Defrocked gardens of modern apartheid given to the face of the animals, taught of its own survival in the monumental cliff's wind and the cloud's fallen tears. Back into the pocket, mixed in with the fronds and petals. The superimposed vision of the broken line rocked the momentary vision of yellow and green, turning cold and blue as the sky fell.
PS - I did your don't. And I hate it.
PS - I did your don't. And I hate it.
Monday, June 09, 2008
ahem
I can control that part of the do that I do, but I can't control the don't you do. There's no reason for me to try and change your don't to do, despite the do you don't do would be good for you, and I certainly have no intention on changing my do to your don't. It's just one of those things, I guess.
So, I'll just continue the do and hope you eventually come around to do the same thing. But, I'll be damned if I'm gunna do more of the other do's that i do that don't get no do from you.
Fuck you.
You suck. You know what you're doing is wrong, but you chose to do it anyway. You know you're destructive and cold and pointless, but still you travel that path.
And no,
I'm not talking to you.
I'm talking to you.
So, I'll just continue the do and hope you eventually come around to do the same thing. But, I'll be damned if I'm gunna do more of the other do's that i do that don't get no do from you.
Fuck you.
You suck. You know what you're doing is wrong, but you chose to do it anyway. You know you're destructive and cold and pointless, but still you travel that path.
And no,
I'm not talking to you.
I'm talking to you.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Refuse
I stepped up to the matter and figured the facts were all fucked up
Ignoring the ultraviolet shining halo above your head
Knowing full well it was made of pyrite and muscinae.
You tickled the concept with a ridiculous rhyme
But fell short of the purpose behind your shadow words.
I dissolved from reason and treated you to quite a sight.
With open eyes blinded from all else,
You said my name and started the cycle all over again.
Cold heat radiated off your skin,
Burning my eyes and being unforgiving to my cries.
Pretend the truth isn't and the lies are.
Far we go into the absence of wonder not.
Do well.
Ignoring the ultraviolet shining halo above your head
Knowing full well it was made of pyrite and muscinae.
You tickled the concept with a ridiculous rhyme
But fell short of the purpose behind your shadow words.
I dissolved from reason and treated you to quite a sight.
With open eyes blinded from all else,
You said my name and started the cycle all over again.
Cold heat radiated off your skin,
Burning my eyes and being unforgiving to my cries.
Pretend the truth isn't and the lies are.
Far we go into the absence of wonder not.
Do well.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
drip drip drip
What makes a person think that it's ok to think that it's fine to believe that all's well when you think you can believe that there is no problem feeling like the thing you think about is ok to be thought, though it may only be ok to think that you can believe it, but not believe that it's ok to think about it and definitely not ok to think about the feeling the thought you believe is a feeling in fact, but is really just something you think you believe is a feeling, but it's really just a thought?
Monday, June 02, 2008
Free will
Is it any wonder this isn't real?
Ignored for the truth is too...
Lost in the ignorance which we deem bliss.
Given away too much.
The finger's in the crack in the dam,
Just don't remove it.
Durge and muck gush forth
Onto the pretty flowers.
But the sun still shines down.
Safe in the lack of judgment.
Lucky duck.
Ignored for the truth is too...
Lost in the ignorance which we deem bliss.
Given away too much.
The finger's in the crack in the dam,
Just don't remove it.
Durge and muck gush forth
Onto the pretty flowers.
But the sun still shines down.
Safe in the lack of judgment.
Lucky duck.
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