Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
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
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Friday, November 07, 2008
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
Originally uploaded by Ignatzybanjo
Rules of Walking II: You v. The Cyclist
Cars cars cars!
People people people!
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
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.
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
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
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
Would prefer a beer.
Trip and fall.
Pick back up.
Laugh at myself.
And at you.
Wonder where I am.
Give a go.
Take a nap.
Want my bike.
And a cookie.
Maybe a cup of soup.
Close my eyes.
Hear a song.
Head rearing to commence.
Home, to go.
Night, to fall.
Sleep, wake, sleep.
Wake for real.
Do it all over again.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
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. I answered the phone a couple of times for each. 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. ...
In the above link was a link to the following page containing the following:
FRIDAY, AUGUST 31  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
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
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
Friday, September 05, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
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
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:
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 email@example.com
©2008 The Brooklyn Paper
Sunday, August 17, 2008
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!
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.)
Friday, August 15, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
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
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
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
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.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
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
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
*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
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
Monday, July 07, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
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
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
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
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Make no assumptions of who *you* are... Just know I'm having fun with this.
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?
...rotten fruit... fire crackers... bull horns in the middle of the night... sling shots and frozen grapes... eggs...
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
PS - I did your don't. And I hate it.
Monday, June 09, 2008
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.
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.
I'm not talking to you.
I'm talking to you.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
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.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Monday, June 02, 2008
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.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Watered down by the lightening's joyous tears.
Cleaned of the trials of what is the norm.
Cobbled into the path.
Forgotten for just a moment of the broken stones.
Refreshed and rejuvenated.
Found now what is woed.
Go with new thought into the sky.
Forget what is known.
It doesn't do any good.
Walk away with the melodica play.
A hope the old follow with smiles.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
When did you realize I was not there anymore? Paranoid memories of why I left in the first place came back and made me run again. I didn't mean to make you cry, it's just how I have to be. Hard. I'm a good person tho, and did so with positive intent. It's best for both of us, you know.
Besides, I see you smiling. You're happy. We both are. Five times I recalled your pout and that funny way you would say *monkey.* Charming. All good thoughts... the bad times forgotten somewhere deep in a shoe box covered with stickers, under gum ball machine toys, bouncy balls and newspaper clippings of adventures others have had.
What happened to the Scooby Doo purple? Did you leave it behind after a thunderstorm? Makes sense to me.
I wrote you a story backwards last night. It had a happy beginning.