Something else has been on my mind lately: I do wonder if there's not an epidemic sweeping the nation - this illness of being 'emotionally unavailable.' I can't tell you how many men I've met (sorry guys - prove me wrong when I say this) who describe themselves as emotionally fragile, unavailable, damaged, and otherwise not a good catch. Of course, it could be me - I tend to bring that sort of quality out in men (come on, boys - grow a pair!) - but I've seen so much of it lately I'm thinking about permanently spiking all of the water in my house with rye whiskey or something to put hair on the chest of the men who stop by. I can't decide which is worse - the phrase 'let's be friends' or 'I'm emotionally unavailable.' Maybe that's just an updated version of the same thing.
But, as if I needed a reminder as to why my last comment's really not such a big deal: yesterday I saw my first air-lightsaber battle in the hallway at the office, complete with sounds and dialog ("Luke, I AM your father!").
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
It's Been a Week Already?
Seems like I just arrived.
I'm still running into tons of folks - at this rate I will have seen all of my friends here without effort.
- Bill and Tuesday, the couple for whom Tanarra and I built a wedding cake in May. I'll be spending Christmas with the newlyweds. Ran into them while eating dinner nearby.
- Steve Schmitt, the guitarist and self-anointed brain surgeon of the Diminished Men, Tyler's former band. Saw him while shopping for olive oil. Check out their stuff: http://www.diminishedmen.com!
- Erica Brewer, the newly-minted fiancee of Peter Johansen - a childhood friend of Tyler's. She's a classy violinist in the area and has plenty of upcoming shows: http://www.thebellatrio.com/erica. She was on her way to the grocery store, I was out for a walk.
I did make an effort to spend Friday evening in the company of some great bakers, Bennie and Emma, without whom I would be in a lonely island of sugar and butter. We ate lots of tasty food at the Black Bottle and caught up on the last year.
Work is...just work. There's something strange about working in a team that is made up entirely of contractors. None of us has enough information to be dangerous - so there's little incentive to take a project and run with it. I'm working on a project that has well over a hundred other people working on it - and at the end of the day all I am is a little cog. Where that would have driven me crazy in the past, I'm quite happy to surrender the reigns on this one. It doesn't mean I won't do my best, but it does mean that in the end there's a very clear line of ownership and I simply don't count in the grand scheme of it. So when someone tells me it's time to go home, I go. I don't sweat it, there's plenty of work tomorrow. That is different.
Another notable change is the makeup of the office. I walked in and it was instantly noticeable. I walked down the hall and heads came out of the office, whispering, 'a girl, did you see that? another girl!' I mean, it wasn't quite that silly, but there's a meat market quality to working in this industry, especially when the ratio is still 8:1. Gotta start flexing those eyelash batting muscles!
I'm still running into tons of folks - at this rate I will have seen all of my friends here without effort.
- Bill and Tuesday, the couple for whom Tanarra and I built a wedding cake in May. I'll be spending Christmas with the newlyweds. Ran into them while eating dinner nearby.
- Steve Schmitt, the guitarist and self-anointed brain surgeon of the Diminished Men, Tyler's former band. Saw him while shopping for olive oil. Check out their stuff: http://www.diminishedmen.com!
- Erica Brewer, the newly-minted fiancee of Peter Johansen - a childhood friend of Tyler's. She's a classy violinist in the area and has plenty of upcoming shows: http://www.thebellatrio.com/erica. She was on her way to the grocery store, I was out for a walk.
I did make an effort to spend Friday evening in the company of some great bakers, Bennie and Emma, without whom I would be in a lonely island of sugar and butter. We ate lots of tasty food at the Black Bottle and caught up on the last year.
Work is...just work. There's something strange about working in a team that is made up entirely of contractors. None of us has enough information to be dangerous - so there's little incentive to take a project and run with it. I'm working on a project that has well over a hundred other people working on it - and at the end of the day all I am is a little cog. Where that would have driven me crazy in the past, I'm quite happy to surrender the reigns on this one. It doesn't mean I won't do my best, but it does mean that in the end there's a very clear line of ownership and I simply don't count in the grand scheme of it. So when someone tells me it's time to go home, I go. I don't sweat it, there's plenty of work tomorrow. That is different.
Another notable change is the makeup of the office. I walked in and it was instantly noticeable. I walked down the hall and heads came out of the office, whispering, 'a girl, did you see that? another girl!' I mean, it wasn't quite that silly, but there's a meat market quality to working in this industry, especially when the ratio is still 8:1. Gotta start flexing those eyelash batting muscles!
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
It's a Small World After All
Yes indeed, folks - Seattle is small.
So small that I've only been here a few days and it's like I never left. Well, except the whole 'older and wiser' attitude and funnier stories about New York. But here are some examples of what I mean...
- The anonymous guy who runs the barber shop around the corner waved and asked if I was back.
- The woman who runs 'Fini,' the coolest accessories shop in the world saw me 3 weeks ago and asked if I was back and if I brought my dog too.
- The two brothers at the pho place I used to go to in Redmond cheered when I walked in the door today and asked if I'd done something to my hair because it looked different.
- While at the grocery store in the fruits and vegetables section, a woman came up and offered me a sample of a cookie. She was an old friend who used to live in my apartment building from 5 years ago - and when the new gourmet grocery store opened near her place, she and her husband went to work there. It just happened to be the first grocery store I walked into.
- While walking Grendel I ran into the woman who used to cut my hair (and lived upstairs from me).
- Standing on the corner talking on the phone, I saw the subject of the 'How It All Went Down' post. Not sure if he recognized me, but I certainly saw him.
I only bring these up because I'm tickled by it - by being a part of the neighborhood, of the community - and even after having been gone for two years, it seems I'm still a part.
So small that I've only been here a few days and it's like I never left. Well, except the whole 'older and wiser' attitude and funnier stories about New York. But here are some examples of what I mean...
- The anonymous guy who runs the barber shop around the corner waved and asked if I was back.
- The woman who runs 'Fini,' the coolest accessories shop in the world saw me 3 weeks ago and asked if I was back and if I brought my dog too.
- The two brothers at the pho place I used to go to in Redmond cheered when I walked in the door today and asked if I'd done something to my hair because it looked different.
- While at the grocery store in the fruits and vegetables section, a woman came up and offered me a sample of a cookie. She was an old friend who used to live in my apartment building from 5 years ago - and when the new gourmet grocery store opened near her place, she and her husband went to work there. It just happened to be the first grocery store I walked into.
- While walking Grendel I ran into the woman who used to cut my hair (and lived upstairs from me).
- Standing on the corner talking on the phone, I saw the subject of the 'How It All Went Down' post. Not sure if he recognized me, but I certainly saw him.
I only bring these up because I'm tickled by it - by being a part of the neighborhood, of the community - and even after having been gone for two years, it seems I'm still a part.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Day 5: Bozeman to Seattle
Writing this today seems almost anti-climactic.
After having already driven 2300 miles by the time we got to Bozeman (and then hit snow), the last 800 miles looked daunting. Besides, we had stopped two towns earlier than we had planned to on day 4, so day 5 was supposed to be extra long and possibly a little trecherous still. After jumping on I90 in Bozeman, I drove for about 15 minutes and the snow literally disappeared. We cranked the speedometer up to nearly 90 where we stayed for another hour. Butte was more snow, but it was like Bozeman - 15 minutes before town and 15 minutes after town, so it was a short delay. We pushed on and before we knew it, we were in Coeur d'Alene, ID - and then Spokane. Crossing the border into Washington was exciting, but I knew we had about 270 miles to go, we were losing sunlight and we had one more mountain pass with a traffic-delaying rockslide waiting for us. Even though we'd left early, we'd still hit it at dark and I didn't know if there was snow in the pass.
When we passed the Gorge (for those of you not familiar with Washington, it's the natural ampitheater where bands like U2 still play) and started climbing into the Cascades, dusk had settled in. We were on the dark side (I couldn't resist, sorry) and traffic was picking up, but it wasn't as bad as we'd been led to believe. Then, without much warning, we saw signs that the slide was imminent. Cars started shifting to the right, speed limit 35 signs were posted and we saw the mountain lit up. But the delay was nowhere to be found and we kept moving. Five minutes later we cruised over a snowless Snoqualmie Pass and over the top of the Cascades and saw the city lights in the distance. Home.
So this morning Tanarra and I are sitting with laptops in tow at Victrola, my little coffee joint downstairs from my new/old place. The lattes are strong, Joy Division is playing, and we're the least tattooed in the room. It's 40 and sunny outside and we've shed the coats and gloves, opting for the native fleece look.
Day 5's playlist was short - but I'm including what I can remember here. It was a quiet morning without music as I got through the ice and snow - but when we listened to it, we played:
Dinah Washington
Etta James
Ella Fitzgerald
Herbie Hancock
Harry Connick, Jr.
Al Green
Dean Martin (and some other ultra lounge stuff)
Sunday kind of music.
After having already driven 2300 miles by the time we got to Bozeman (and then hit snow), the last 800 miles looked daunting. Besides, we had stopped two towns earlier than we had planned to on day 4, so day 5 was supposed to be extra long and possibly a little trecherous still. After jumping on I90 in Bozeman, I drove for about 15 minutes and the snow literally disappeared. We cranked the speedometer up to nearly 90 where we stayed for another hour. Butte was more snow, but it was like Bozeman - 15 minutes before town and 15 minutes after town, so it was a short delay. We pushed on and before we knew it, we were in Coeur d'Alene, ID - and then Spokane. Crossing the border into Washington was exciting, but I knew we had about 270 miles to go, we were losing sunlight and we had one more mountain pass with a traffic-delaying rockslide waiting for us. Even though we'd left early, we'd still hit it at dark and I didn't know if there was snow in the pass.
When we passed the Gorge (for those of you not familiar with Washington, it's the natural ampitheater where bands like U2 still play) and started climbing into the Cascades, dusk had settled in. We were on the dark side (I couldn't resist, sorry) and traffic was picking up, but it wasn't as bad as we'd been led to believe. Then, without much warning, we saw signs that the slide was imminent. Cars started shifting to the right, speed limit 35 signs were posted and we saw the mountain lit up. But the delay was nowhere to be found and we kept moving. Five minutes later we cruised over a snowless Snoqualmie Pass and over the top of the Cascades and saw the city lights in the distance. Home.
So this morning Tanarra and I are sitting with laptops in tow at Victrola, my little coffee joint downstairs from my new/old place. The lattes are strong, Joy Division is playing, and we're the least tattooed in the room. It's 40 and sunny outside and we've shed the coats and gloves, opting for the native fleece look.
Day 5's playlist was short - but I'm including what I can remember here. It was a quiet morning without music as I got through the ice and snow - but when we listened to it, we played:
Dinah Washington
Etta James
Ella Fitzgerald
Herbie Hancock
Harry Connick, Jr.
Al Green
Dean Martin (and some other ultra lounge stuff)
Sunday kind of music.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Day 4: Rapid City to Bozeman
We left Rapid City shortly after sunrise - and had an hour before the turnoff to Devil's Tower in Wyoming (outside of Sundance). The roads were empty and the weather perfect - it hovered around 40 the whole way and I was pushing 85 mph on some stretches. At 8:55 we turned toward the tower and found it about 30 minutes later - what a magnificent view. Thanks to the Wyoming Fish and Game chick, Heather O'Brien, who jumped out of her warm car and offered to snap photos of us in front of it. I'll have them posted in a couple of days.
From there we cruised easily to Sheridan, WY - past Big Horn and Massacre Hill, past the scenic entrance to Yellowstone. We switched off and got gas, Tanarra taking us into Montana. We had been warned that the weather had shifted and to expect snow all day today, but it was noon when we hit Sheridan and we hadn't hit a lick of it. About 90 minutes later we had driven through Billings and while we had seen some flurries and gotten some rain, this mystery snow was nowhere to be found. We kept moving on, hoping to hit Butte or Missoula a few hours later. Then we came around a bend about 20 miles from Bozeman and -SMACK- there is was. All of a sudden the roads were covered with thick ice and we passed two nasty accidents within 100 yards of each other. The mountain walls rose beside us and it got really easy to see where all of the snow was - right where we were driving. After another hour of pure driving hell (to Tanarra's credit, she sang the whole time and kept us on the road), we abandoned the project and pulled into Bozeman. It was only 3:30pm, but we knew we weren't going to make it much further and sunset was only an hour away - so we called it quits. There's easily a foot of snow outside, and it's still falling. I think in some areas it's over 18".
What's there in Bozeman? It's a lovely little place, actually - I stayed here the first time we drove to New York. It's full of trees (and snow, tonight) and lots of sky and stars. We're not far from the north entrance to Yellowstone and I'd imagine the fly fishing and hiking here is fantastic. It's a quiet place, sort of isolated - but we got a good meal of BBQ and some clean clothes from the (gasp!) WalMart across the street, so I have no complaints. We've already checked the weather for tomorrow and it's supposed to be clear all the way to Snoqualmie Pass. The boulders appear to have been removed from the roadway so the wait in the pass shouldn't be long, but we still have a good 12 hours in front of us, at least. Tomorrow, Seattle or bust!
From there we cruised easily to Sheridan, WY - past Big Horn and Massacre Hill, past the scenic entrance to Yellowstone. We switched off and got gas, Tanarra taking us into Montana. We had been warned that the weather had shifted and to expect snow all day today, but it was noon when we hit Sheridan and we hadn't hit a lick of it. About 90 minutes later we had driven through Billings and while we had seen some flurries and gotten some rain, this mystery snow was nowhere to be found. We kept moving on, hoping to hit Butte or Missoula a few hours later. Then we came around a bend about 20 miles from Bozeman and -SMACK- there is was. All of a sudden the roads were covered with thick ice and we passed two nasty accidents within 100 yards of each other. The mountain walls rose beside us and it got really easy to see where all of the snow was - right where we were driving. After another hour of pure driving hell (to Tanarra's credit, she sang the whole time and kept us on the road), we abandoned the project and pulled into Bozeman. It was only 3:30pm, but we knew we weren't going to make it much further and sunset was only an hour away - so we called it quits. There's easily a foot of snow outside, and it's still falling. I think in some areas it's over 18".
What's there in Bozeman? It's a lovely little place, actually - I stayed here the first time we drove to New York. It's full of trees (and snow, tonight) and lots of sky and stars. We're not far from the north entrance to Yellowstone and I'd imagine the fly fishing and hiking here is fantastic. It's a quiet place, sort of isolated - but we got a good meal of BBQ and some clean clothes from the (gasp!) WalMart across the street, so I have no complaints. We've already checked the weather for tomorrow and it's supposed to be clear all the way to Snoqualmie Pass. The boulders appear to have been removed from the roadway so the wait in the pass shouldn't be long, but we still have a good 12 hours in front of us, at least. Tomorrow, Seattle or bust!
Day 4 Playlist – 11/26/05 (Rapid City to Bozeman)
Day 4 Playlist – 11/26/05 (Rapid City to Bozeman)
Charles Lloyd - Georgia
Chuck Prophet - Just to See You Smile
Nina Simone - I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl
Randy Newman - Jolly Coppers on Parade
Vic Chesnutt - Band Camp
Time - Tom Waits
Express Rising - Neighborhood
Slumber Party - New Trouble
Clem Snide - The Ballad of Unzer Charlie
Electrelane - Enter Laughing
Mulatu Astatqe - My Own Memory
Johnny Hartman - I See Your Face Before Me
Nick Drake - Northern Sky
Ulrich Schnauss - A Letter From Home
Mountain Goats - Old College Try
Evan Lurie - The Orderly Retreat
Greg Brown - Oh You
Pete Krebs & the Gossamer Wings - Patiently
Mojave 3 - Always Right
Radiohead - Subterranean Homesick Alien
Tindersticks - Can Our Love
My Bloody Valentine - Only Shallow
Charles Lloyd - Georgia
Chuck Prophet - Just to See You Smile
Nina Simone - I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl
Randy Newman - Jolly Coppers on Parade
Vic Chesnutt - Band Camp
Time - Tom Waits
Express Rising - Neighborhood
Slumber Party - New Trouble
Clem Snide - The Ballad of Unzer Charlie
Electrelane - Enter Laughing
Mulatu Astatqe - My Own Memory
Johnny Hartman - I See Your Face Before Me
Nick Drake - Northern Sky
Ulrich Schnauss - A Letter From Home
Mountain Goats - Old College Try
Evan Lurie - The Orderly Retreat
Greg Brown - Oh You
Pete Krebs & the Gossamer Wings - Patiently
Mojave 3 - Always Right
Radiohead - Subterranean Homesick Alien
Tindersticks - Can Our Love
My Bloody Valentine - Only Shallow
Friday, November 25, 2005
Day 3: La Crosse to Rapid City
Sunrise was beautiful in La Crosse. And then somewhere after we crossed the Mississippi into Minnesota it turned into garbage – snow drifts blanketing the interstate, salt trucks blowing shit all over the place, and pure white-knuckle driving. It wasn’t as bad as Ohio – at least this was dry – but it was early and there was a lot of dry snow on the ground so it had its moments. When I found myself behind a big truck being passed by another big truck, that was the worst. Probably 2 minutes of complete blindness as the snow blew all around the car from two sides. I couldn’t even see the stripe on the road.
Finally, we hit South Dakota and everything changed. The temperature steadily climbed and the sky cleared, revealing a giant blue sky. I had been here once before – driving I90 from Seattle to New York – but this time we were ahead of schedule and had time to really enjoy the scenery. It’s amazing the expanse of land here, and even more amazing the amount of history that happened in this state and in Wyoming, our next state. I drove for nearly an hour with no other cars in sight going my direction and it made me think about how incredible it was that people were even able to interact here at all, with so much space between people. I could see miles to the horizon, some jagged outcroppings in the direction of the Bad Lands, but very few farms and even fewer people. Only one guy was of note – he was the passenger in a fast moving truck on a dirt road running alongside the interstate. It slammed on its brakes as we passed and he jumped out, pointing a shotgun at the pheasant that was flying towards our car. I don’t know if he fired – we were just staring in disbelief as we passed.
Our last stop before Rapid City was in the tiny town of Wall, SD. If you’ve ever been within 300 miles of this town, you know it. Signs come every ½ mile for almost 200 miles – advertising 5 cent coffee, free iced water and all manner of tourist junk – for Wall Drug. It’s a small pharmacy that has turned into some sort of ghost-town mega schmaltz mall, complete with fresh fudge, turquoise jewelry and lots of beautiful boots. I had grown up seeing yellow and black Wall Drug bumper stickers all over Austin – but I never knew what it was. The first time I drove through it was during the bike rally in Sturgis and it was so busy I couldn’t get in. This time, it was the day after Thanksgiving and we had the town to ourselves. So I got myself a bumper sticker too.
After our short stop in Wall, we landed in Rapid City an hour later – driving on fumes. Rapid City is where Eve Marie Saint and James Mason were to fly from in the movie ‘North By Northwest’ – and it’s just east of Sturgis, the location of one of the biggest HOG bike rallies in the country. It’s an odd little place – on the foothills of the Black Hills, near Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore – and filled with tattooed and pierced youth and cars like those in the ‘Fast and the Furious’ (lots of ground effects). This is where we’ll stay the night. Tomorrow we’re headed through the corner of Wyoming (can you say Devil’s Tower???!!!) and into a snowy Montana.
Finally, we hit South Dakota and everything changed. The temperature steadily climbed and the sky cleared, revealing a giant blue sky. I had been here once before – driving I90 from Seattle to New York – but this time we were ahead of schedule and had time to really enjoy the scenery. It’s amazing the expanse of land here, and even more amazing the amount of history that happened in this state and in Wyoming, our next state. I drove for nearly an hour with no other cars in sight going my direction and it made me think about how incredible it was that people were even able to interact here at all, with so much space between people. I could see miles to the horizon, some jagged outcroppings in the direction of the Bad Lands, but very few farms and even fewer people. Only one guy was of note – he was the passenger in a fast moving truck on a dirt road running alongside the interstate. It slammed on its brakes as we passed and he jumped out, pointing a shotgun at the pheasant that was flying towards our car. I don’t know if he fired – we were just staring in disbelief as we passed.
Our last stop before Rapid City was in the tiny town of Wall, SD. If you’ve ever been within 300 miles of this town, you know it. Signs come every ½ mile for almost 200 miles – advertising 5 cent coffee, free iced water and all manner of tourist junk – for Wall Drug. It’s a small pharmacy that has turned into some sort of ghost-town mega schmaltz mall, complete with fresh fudge, turquoise jewelry and lots of beautiful boots. I had grown up seeing yellow and black Wall Drug bumper stickers all over Austin – but I never knew what it was. The first time I drove through it was during the bike rally in Sturgis and it was so busy I couldn’t get in. This time, it was the day after Thanksgiving and we had the town to ourselves. So I got myself a bumper sticker too.
After our short stop in Wall, we landed in Rapid City an hour later – driving on fumes. Rapid City is where Eve Marie Saint and James Mason were to fly from in the movie ‘North By Northwest’ – and it’s just east of Sturgis, the location of one of the biggest HOG bike rallies in the country. It’s an odd little place – on the foothills of the Black Hills, near Crazy Horse and Mount Rushmore – and filled with tattooed and pierced youth and cars like those in the ‘Fast and the Furious’ (lots of ground effects). This is where we’ll stay the night. Tomorrow we’re headed through the corner of Wyoming (can you say Devil’s Tower???!!!) and into a snowy Montana.
Day 3 Playlist (11/25/05) La Crosse to Rapid City
Day 3 Playlist (11/25/05) La Crosse to Rapid City
Pet Shop Boys – What Have I Done to Deserve This
Pet Shop Boys – Shopping
Pere Ubu – 30 Seconds Over Tokyo
Pere Ubu – Final Solution
Peter Murphy – Deep Ocean Vast Sea
Peter Murphy – Shy
Peter Murphy – Cuts You Up
Peter Murphy – The Sweetest Drop
Pearl Jam – Jeremy
Nirvana – Heart Shaped Box
Nirvana – The Man Who Sold the World
Nick Drake – Pink Moon
Nick Drake – Northern Sky
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Red Right Hand
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Into My Arms
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Lime Tree Arbor
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – People Just Ain’t No Good
Nathaniel Merriweather – Ladies Love Chest Rockwell
Nancy Sinatra – Bang Bang
Motorhead – Ace of Spades
Ministry – Stigmata
Lou Reed – Satellite of Love
Leonard Cohen – Joan of Arc
Loretta Lynn – Coal Miner’s Daughter
Led Zepplin – Kashmir
Kinks – Lola
Judas Priest – Breaking the Law
Johnny Cash – I Won’t Back Down
Johnny Cash – Solitary Man
Johnny Cash – That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day)
Johnny Cash – One
Johnny Cash – Nobody
Jeff Buckley – Mojo Pin
Jeff Buckley – Grace
Jeff Buckley – Last Goodbye
Jeff Buckley – Lilac Wine
Jeff Buckley – So Real
Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah
Jeff Buckley – Lover, You Should Have Come Over
Jacques Brel – Ne Me Quitte Pas
Jack Johnson – Cocoon
Human League – Don’t You Want Me
Herbie Hancock – One Finger Snap
Herbie Hancock – Cantaloupe Island
Guns N’ Roses – Welcome to the Jungle
Guns N’ Roses – Paradise City
Pet Shop Boys – What Have I Done to Deserve This
Pet Shop Boys – Shopping
Pere Ubu – 30 Seconds Over Tokyo
Pere Ubu – Final Solution
Peter Murphy – Deep Ocean Vast Sea
Peter Murphy – Shy
Peter Murphy – Cuts You Up
Peter Murphy – The Sweetest Drop
Pearl Jam – Jeremy
Nirvana – Heart Shaped Box
Nirvana – The Man Who Sold the World
Nick Drake – Pink Moon
Nick Drake – Northern Sky
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Red Right Hand
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Into My Arms
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Lime Tree Arbor
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – People Just Ain’t No Good
Nathaniel Merriweather – Ladies Love Chest Rockwell
Nancy Sinatra – Bang Bang
Motorhead – Ace of Spades
Ministry – Stigmata
Lou Reed – Satellite of Love
Leonard Cohen – Joan of Arc
Loretta Lynn – Coal Miner’s Daughter
Led Zepplin – Kashmir
Kinks – Lola
Judas Priest – Breaking the Law
Johnny Cash – I Won’t Back Down
Johnny Cash – Solitary Man
Johnny Cash – That Lucky Old Sun (Just Rolls Around Heaven All Day)
Johnny Cash – One
Johnny Cash – Nobody
Jeff Buckley – Mojo Pin
Jeff Buckley – Grace
Jeff Buckley – Last Goodbye
Jeff Buckley – Lilac Wine
Jeff Buckley – So Real
Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah
Jeff Buckley – Lover, You Should Have Come Over
Jacques Brel – Ne Me Quitte Pas
Jack Johnson – Cocoon
Human League – Don’t You Want Me
Herbie Hancock – One Finger Snap
Herbie Hancock – Cantaloupe Island
Guns N’ Roses – Welcome to the Jungle
Guns N’ Roses – Paradise City
Day 2: Chicago to La Crosse
Thursday, Thanksgiving Day was a short drive – we started a lazy morning in Chicago with T’s parents and giant starch lunch – mac and cheese, broccoli casserole and mashed potatoes, with turkey and a spoon of cranberry relish on the side. We hit the road and hit that typical Chicago traffic all the way past O’Hare – and hit four or five toll booths before we left the state. At least we were able to grab that grande eggnog latte from the oasis of the roads before leaving the state for good.
We stopped earlier than we’d expected – but had built in time in the schedule for this sort of adjustment, so instead of going the extra 5 hours to Sioux Falls, we stayed in La Crosse, Wisconsin. Leftover Thanksgiving dinner was still warm from being planted next to the car’s heater, and we watched the end of a movie on Lifetime (TV for Women!) and the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind before crashing for the night.
Grendel’s been panting since we left New York – and the dry hot air in the car hasn’t done much for his already crusty nose. Benadryl hasn’t done much for helping him sleep in the car (or at night), and he’s only responding to human food, turning his craggy little snout up to his gourmet fish and sweet potato dog food. Tonight we’re aiming for a McDonald’s or somewhere I can get French fries – that might encourage him to eat a meal. Of course, it’s only about 15 degrees outside so it’s not like any of us want to go out for a walk.
If Wednesday was full of goth and 80s, today seemed more full of traditional rock. And because we were in Chicago, we spent much of the time in traffic listening to Jack FM (We Play What We Want!). The playlist below is from my iPod, I didn’t track Jack’s stuff.
We stopped earlier than we’d expected – but had built in time in the schedule for this sort of adjustment, so instead of going the extra 5 hours to Sioux Falls, we stayed in La Crosse, Wisconsin. Leftover Thanksgiving dinner was still warm from being planted next to the car’s heater, and we watched the end of a movie on Lifetime (TV for Women!) and the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind before crashing for the night.
Grendel’s been panting since we left New York – and the dry hot air in the car hasn’t done much for his already crusty nose. Benadryl hasn’t done much for helping him sleep in the car (or at night), and he’s only responding to human food, turning his craggy little snout up to his gourmet fish and sweet potato dog food. Tonight we’re aiming for a McDonald’s or somewhere I can get French fries – that might encourage him to eat a meal. Of course, it’s only about 15 degrees outside so it’s not like any of us want to go out for a walk.
If Wednesday was full of goth and 80s, today seemed more full of traditional rock. And because we were in Chicago, we spent much of the time in traffic listening to Jack FM (We Play What We Want!). The playlist below is from my iPod, I didn’t track Jack’s stuff.
Day 2 Playlist – 11/24/05 (Chicago to La Crosse)
Day 2 Playlist – 11/24/05 (Chicago to La Crosse)
Who – Baba O’ Riley
Who – Won’t Get Fooled Again
U2 – I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
U2 – With or Without You
T. Rex – Get It On
T. Rex – 20th Century Boy
Stevie Wonder – You Are the Sunshine of My Life
Soundgarden – Black Hole Sun
Soft Cell – Tainted Love
Smiths – Oscillate Wildly
Smiths – Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want
Smiths – This Night Has Opened My Eyes
Smashing Pumpkins – Eye
Smashing Pumpkins – Zero
Smashing Pumpkins – 1979
Smashing Pumpkins – Cherub Rock
REO Speedwagon – Take It On the Run
Ramones – I Want You Around
Radiohead – Karma Police
Radiohead – Subterranean Homesick Alien
Queen & David Bowie – Under Pressure
Psychedelic Furs – Pretty in Pink
Peter Gabriel – In Your Eyes
Who – Baba O’ Riley
Who – Won’t Get Fooled Again
U2 – I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
U2 – With or Without You
T. Rex – Get It On
T. Rex – 20th Century Boy
Stevie Wonder – You Are the Sunshine of My Life
Soundgarden – Black Hole Sun
Soft Cell – Tainted Love
Smiths – Oscillate Wildly
Smiths – Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want
Smiths – This Night Has Opened My Eyes
Smashing Pumpkins – Eye
Smashing Pumpkins – Zero
Smashing Pumpkins – 1979
Smashing Pumpkins – Cherub Rock
REO Speedwagon – Take It On the Run
Ramones – I Want You Around
Radiohead – Karma Police
Radiohead – Subterranean Homesick Alien
Queen & David Bowie – Under Pressure
Psychedelic Furs – Pretty in Pink
Peter Gabriel – In Your Eyes
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Day 1: Brooklyn to Chicago
I just realized I lost a day somewhere in the last couple. It seemed like yesterday that I was sitting at my desk working on a Sharepoint administrator’s contact list, scribbling down last-minute support notes and reminders to everyone where things could be found. But that was two days ago…
When I got home Tuesday night, I hopped in a hot bath and took a nap – that was the plan. At 10pm I woke up, loaded the car (more like crammed, stuffed and jimmied things into the car), and at 3am Wednesday morning, Tanarra and I set off. My shift was the first and I was able to go only about 90 minutes and she took over somewhere in New Jersey. I don’t even remember driving it and I remember even less falling asleep. But at 7am I woke up as we pulled into our first real break of the day, one of those travel centers in Pennsylvania with a 24 hour Starbucks. Joy, at last.
With a venti peppermint mocha warming my hands (that’s my signal the holidays have arrived, when I have my first theme drink from Starbuck’s), I took over. Sun was creeping onto the hills and as cheesy as it sounds, I was listening to Echo and the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon.’ I saw frost on the buggies as we sped through the countryside – the road was clear and the sun warm, even though the temperature gauge read 18 degrees. It was noon when I surrendered my post near the western edge of PA, and Tanarra took over into the tip of West Virginia, Ohio and Indiana. While she drove, I shuffled and dealt Gypsy Tarot cards, courtesy of Leslie.
Ohio turned out to be the hardest part of the drive – windy snow and wet roads with a temperature around 30 degrees – and traffic was starting to get thick. It only lasted about 45 minutes, though – and we were off again towards Dayton and Indianapolis. The sun was setting about an hour outside of Indy, where I had taken over. At that point we had gone 14 hours in the car and had listened to everything from cheesy goth music (see aforementioned Echo and the Bunnymen) to hair bands (there’s nothing like a good rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the road) to classic Elvis. If you’re interested, my playlist is on a separate post (see Day 1 Playlist (11/23/05) Brooklyn to Chicago).
We hit Chicago at 6pm (adjusted, so 7pm EST) and landed at her parents’ home by 6:45. After settling the dog and grabbing a much needed hot meal of pork chops, potatoes and peas and carrots, I hit the sack.
So it’s Thanksgiving Day in Chicago, probably 30 degrees outside and crisp and as beautiful a fall day as I could have ordered up. We will hit the road again in a few hours, drunk with turkey and mac and cheese, headed to South Dakota for the night.
When I got home Tuesday night, I hopped in a hot bath and took a nap – that was the plan. At 10pm I woke up, loaded the car (more like crammed, stuffed and jimmied things into the car), and at 3am Wednesday morning, Tanarra and I set off. My shift was the first and I was able to go only about 90 minutes and she took over somewhere in New Jersey. I don’t even remember driving it and I remember even less falling asleep. But at 7am I woke up as we pulled into our first real break of the day, one of those travel centers in Pennsylvania with a 24 hour Starbucks. Joy, at last.
With a venti peppermint mocha warming my hands (that’s my signal the holidays have arrived, when I have my first theme drink from Starbuck’s), I took over. Sun was creeping onto the hills and as cheesy as it sounds, I was listening to Echo and the Bunnymen’s “Killing Moon.’ I saw frost on the buggies as we sped through the countryside – the road was clear and the sun warm, even though the temperature gauge read 18 degrees. It was noon when I surrendered my post near the western edge of PA, and Tanarra took over into the tip of West Virginia, Ohio and Indiana. While she drove, I shuffled and dealt Gypsy Tarot cards, courtesy of Leslie.
Ohio turned out to be the hardest part of the drive – windy snow and wet roads with a temperature around 30 degrees – and traffic was starting to get thick. It only lasted about 45 minutes, though – and we were off again towards Dayton and Indianapolis. The sun was setting about an hour outside of Indy, where I had taken over. At that point we had gone 14 hours in the car and had listened to everything from cheesy goth music (see aforementioned Echo and the Bunnymen) to hair bands (there’s nothing like a good rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody on the road) to classic Elvis. If you’re interested, my playlist is on a separate post (see Day 1 Playlist (11/23/05) Brooklyn to Chicago).
We hit Chicago at 6pm (adjusted, so 7pm EST) and landed at her parents’ home by 6:45. After settling the dog and grabbing a much needed hot meal of pork chops, potatoes and peas and carrots, I hit the sack.
So it’s Thanksgiving Day in Chicago, probably 30 degrees outside and crisp and as beautiful a fall day as I could have ordered up. We will hit the road again in a few hours, drunk with turkey and mac and cheese, headed to South Dakota for the night.
Day 1 Playlist (11/23/05) Brooklyn to Chicago
Day 1 Playlist (11/23/05) Brooklyn to Chicago
Echo and the Bunnymen – Killing Moon
Joy Division – Love Will Tear Us Apart
The Church – Under the Milky Way
INXS – Never Tear Us Apart
Stone Temple Pilots – Plush
Caetano Veloso – Zera A Reza
Sigur Ros – Intro
Sigur Ros – Svefn-g-Englar
New Order – Regret
Foo Fighters – Best of You
Audioslave – Like a Stone
Coldplay – Warning Sign
Duncan Sheik – Barely Breathing
Coldplay – Shiver
MC 900ft Jesus – The City Sleeps
Nine Inch Nails – The Perfect Drug
Marilyn Manson – I Put a Spell On You
Chemical Brothers – Loops of Fury
Foo Fighters – Everlong
Cake – The Distance
Tricky – Christiansands
??? – Battle Without Honor (this is a song from Kill Bill vol. 1)
Tricky – Bad Dreams
U2 – Stay (Faraway So Close)
Zero 7 – In the Waiting Line
Coldplay – High Speed
ABBA – Dancing Queen
ABBA – Take a Chance on Me
ABBA – Mamma Mia
Depeche Mode – Never Let Me Down
Depeche Mode – Strangelove
Elvis – Lawdy, Miss Clawdy
Elvis – Shake, Rattle and Roll
Elvis – I Want You, I Need You, I Love You
Elvis – Hound Dog
Elvis – Don’t Be Cruel
Elvis – Any Way You Want
Elvis – We’re Gonna Move
Elvis – Love Me Tender
Elvis – Poor Boy
INXS – The One Thing
INXS – Original Sin
INXS – What You Need
INXS – Listen like Thieves
INXS – Shine Like It Does
INXS – Need You Tonight
INXS – Devil Inside
INXS – New Sensation
INXS – Suicide Blonde
INXS – Disappear
INXS – The Stairs
INXS – Heaven Sent
INXS – Beautiful Girl
INXS – The Strangest Part
INXS – Deliver Me
Portishead – Mysterions
Portishead – Sour Times
Portishead – Strangers
Portishead – It Could Be Sweet
Portishead – Wandering Star
Portishead – It’s a Fire
Portishead – Numb
Portishead – Roads
Portishead – Pedestal
Portishead - Biscuit
Portishead – Glory Box
Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody
Queen – Another One Bites the Dust
Police – Synchronicity 1
Police – Walking in Your Footsteps
Police – O My God
Police – Mother
Police – Miss Gredenko
Police – Synchronicity 2
Police – Every Breath You Take
Police – King of Pain
Police – Wrapped Around Your Finger
Echo and the Bunnymen – Killing Moon
Joy Division – Love Will Tear Us Apart
The Church – Under the Milky Way
INXS – Never Tear Us Apart
Stone Temple Pilots – Plush
Caetano Veloso – Zera A Reza
Sigur Ros – Intro
Sigur Ros – Svefn-g-Englar
New Order – Regret
Foo Fighters – Best of You
Audioslave – Like a Stone
Coldplay – Warning Sign
Duncan Sheik – Barely Breathing
Coldplay – Shiver
MC 900ft Jesus – The City Sleeps
Nine Inch Nails – The Perfect Drug
Marilyn Manson – I Put a Spell On You
Chemical Brothers – Loops of Fury
Foo Fighters – Everlong
Cake – The Distance
Tricky – Christiansands
??? – Battle Without Honor (this is a song from Kill Bill vol. 1)
Tricky – Bad Dreams
U2 – Stay (Faraway So Close)
Zero 7 – In the Waiting Line
Coldplay – High Speed
ABBA – Dancing Queen
ABBA – Take a Chance on Me
ABBA – Mamma Mia
Depeche Mode – Never Let Me Down
Depeche Mode – Strangelove
Elvis – Lawdy, Miss Clawdy
Elvis – Shake, Rattle and Roll
Elvis – I Want You, I Need You, I Love You
Elvis – Hound Dog
Elvis – Don’t Be Cruel
Elvis – Any Way You Want
Elvis – We’re Gonna Move
Elvis – Love Me Tender
Elvis – Poor Boy
INXS – The One Thing
INXS – Original Sin
INXS – What You Need
INXS – Listen like Thieves
INXS – Shine Like It Does
INXS – Need You Tonight
INXS – Devil Inside
INXS – New Sensation
INXS – Suicide Blonde
INXS – Disappear
INXS – The Stairs
INXS – Heaven Sent
INXS – Beautiful Girl
INXS – The Strangest Part
INXS – Deliver Me
Portishead – Mysterions
Portishead – Sour Times
Portishead – Strangers
Portishead – It Could Be Sweet
Portishead – Wandering Star
Portishead – It’s a Fire
Portishead – Numb
Portishead – Roads
Portishead – Pedestal
Portishead - Biscuit
Portishead – Glory Box
Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody
Queen – Another One Bites the Dust
Police – Synchronicity 1
Police – Walking in Your Footsteps
Police – O My God
Police – Mother
Police – Miss Gredenko
Police – Synchronicity 2
Police – Every Breath You Take
Police – King of Pain
Police – Wrapped Around Your Finger
Monday, November 21, 2005
5...4...3...2...1...
Tomorrow night, after two long years in New York, I'm going home to Seattle. This is an odd move for me, in a way. It's my sixth cross-country in ten years, perhaps my 30th apartment move in the same period of time. But this time I'm moving back to the apartment building I left, back to work at the company I left - in many ways picking up after taking a three year break. But the time here was good and I leave with no regrets.
I spent the last two weeks in New York enjoying the best of what it had to offer:
- My first (and perhaps last) show at CBGB, Ex-Habit
- Slices from Di Fara
- A bonfire in my backyard, complete with s'mores
- A double shack burger from the Shake Shack in Madison Sq. Park
- Incredible and frighteningly pricey cocktails from Pegu Club
- Milles crepes, a specialty dessert from Lady M Confectionery
- A dinner party in the building from 'The Jeffersons'
- A luxurious nap on Annie's table at Cornerstone Healing
- 'Pride and Prejudice' shown in the BAM Rose Theater
- Dessert at my very favorite place: ChikaLicious
Over the next five days, Tanarra (my pal and roommate), Grendel and I will cruise west. First stop, Chicago.
I spent the last two weeks in New York enjoying the best of what it had to offer:
- My first (and perhaps last) show at CBGB, Ex-Habit
- Slices from Di Fara
- A bonfire in my backyard, complete with s'mores
- A double shack burger from the Shake Shack in Madison Sq. Park
- Incredible and frighteningly pricey cocktails from Pegu Club
- Milles crepes, a specialty dessert from Lady M Confectionery
- A dinner party in the building from 'The Jeffersons'
- A luxurious nap on Annie's table at Cornerstone Healing
- 'Pride and Prejudice' shown in the BAM Rose Theater
- Dessert at my very favorite place: ChikaLicious
Over the next five days, Tanarra (my pal and roommate), Grendel and I will cruise west. First stop, Chicago.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Huh? But it's just November
What's that you say? It can't be. No, I thought she said the spring!
Actually, it's true. Whatever the little birdie or the butthole pixie told you is in fact the truth. I'm returning to Seattle. And soon, I might add - I will be back before December, although barely. And yes, for all of you naysayers - to stay.
How'd this come about?
Lots of things contributed to it, but many of you read my Manhattan Project e-mail from late summer and knew it was coming. I was just ready to come home, and when the right offer came along I took it.
What about JetBlue? What about your friends in NY? What about all of that?
I love JetBlue. This is a fantastic company, I wholly believe in the product, and I hope to support it for as long as I can. I'm even offering to work on projects for them on the side. But this isn't about work and it's not about friends. It's about me being happy where I am living, and frankly New York just wasn't doing it for me. I've spent a lot of time elsewhere in the last few months - on a kayak in Florida, hiking on property outside of (gasp!) Waco (actually, double-gasp - it was outside of Crawford), even in Seattle. The more time I spent in New York the more I realized there were things about it that would never work for me, and I just didn't want to do it anymore.
And what about school? Weren't you starting this fall?
I was scheduled to start a Masters in Gastronomy program this fall at Boston University. I was working through my financial aid forms and thought, 'hmm - 5 years to finish the program and I'll be 40, $35000 more in debt, commuting weekly to Boston and I'll have lived 5 more years in a place I can't stand. Is this a good idea?' Just because it didn't work for me here doesn't mean I can't make it work somewhere else.
When's this all happening?
I'm leaving New York early in the morning of 11/23 and my good friend Tanarra and I are driving Grendel across the country. We should arrive in Seattle somewhere around the 27th or 28th.
Where are you going to live? What are you going to do?
Not to worry, I have got a cunning plan. I turned to my good friend Holly for the answer to the housing question...I'll be back on Capitol Hill beginning 12/1 in yet another unit in the kidney (for those who don't know, that's the Malden), my fourth apartment there. For work, I got a contract gig in Redmond.
Are you baking?
Well, not really. After some really difficult baking jobs over the last year, I'm taking a break from the whole thing. I'd like to get back to doing it because it makes me happy, not because there's a deadline or a paycheck at the end of it. For now, I'll bake for friends and just little things, but no more formal affairs. Sadly, that puts me out of the running for Bethany's cake in February, but I'm hoping to make amends to her and her lovely husband-to-be by baking something just for them.
Are you bringing any other baggage back with you?
No kids, no men, only a new mattress. Movers will pick that up sometime at the end of December, along with a few other things I accumulated. For now, only personal effects and the dog. So no, no new baggage. Oh yeah, and the random brick-throwing habit I picked up when I'm honked at by a car. You have been warned.
So what's your plan?
For now, get back and get comfortable. Pay down debt, think about buying. Yes, that means laying down roots. Get more dogs. Find someone. You know, all of the usual things. But working to live, not living to work.
When can we get together?
Give me the first week of December to get my bearings, to buy some things for the empty apartment, and to figure out much money I'll have left in my account. And then, I'll make soup and whomever wants to come over can come and sit on my wooden floors and visit. And for all of you who haven't lived in NYC, the send-offs are long and liquor-filled. I've already sworn off drinking for the rest of my stay here after a little game of dodge-car and getting-to-know-your-vomit-container. So forgive me for my teetotaling. It won't last forever.
Much love to everyone and have a happy Thanksgiving. I'll see you soon.
Actually, it's true. Whatever the little birdie or the butthole pixie told you is in fact the truth. I'm returning to Seattle. And soon, I might add - I will be back before December, although barely. And yes, for all of you naysayers - to stay.
How'd this come about?
Lots of things contributed to it, but many of you read my Manhattan Project e-mail from late summer and knew it was coming. I was just ready to come home, and when the right offer came along I took it.
What about JetBlue? What about your friends in NY? What about all of that?
I love JetBlue. This is a fantastic company, I wholly believe in the product, and I hope to support it for as long as I can. I'm even offering to work on projects for them on the side. But this isn't about work and it's not about friends. It's about me being happy where I am living, and frankly New York just wasn't doing it for me. I've spent a lot of time elsewhere in the last few months - on a kayak in Florida, hiking on property outside of (gasp!) Waco (actually, double-gasp - it was outside of Crawford), even in Seattle. The more time I spent in New York the more I realized there were things about it that would never work for me, and I just didn't want to do it anymore.
And what about school? Weren't you starting this fall?
I was scheduled to start a Masters in Gastronomy program this fall at Boston University. I was working through my financial aid forms and thought, 'hmm - 5 years to finish the program and I'll be 40, $35000 more in debt, commuting weekly to Boston and I'll have lived 5 more years in a place I can't stand. Is this a good idea?' Just because it didn't work for me here doesn't mean I can't make it work somewhere else.
When's this all happening?
I'm leaving New York early in the morning of 11/23 and my good friend Tanarra and I are driving Grendel across the country. We should arrive in Seattle somewhere around the 27th or 28th.
Where are you going to live? What are you going to do?
Not to worry, I have got a cunning plan. I turned to my good friend Holly for the answer to the housing question...I'll be back on Capitol Hill beginning 12/1 in yet another unit in the kidney (for those who don't know, that's the Malden), my fourth apartment there. For work, I got a contract gig in Redmond.
Are you baking?
Well, not really. After some really difficult baking jobs over the last year, I'm taking a break from the whole thing. I'd like to get back to doing it because it makes me happy, not because there's a deadline or a paycheck at the end of it. For now, I'll bake for friends and just little things, but no more formal affairs. Sadly, that puts me out of the running for Bethany's cake in February, but I'm hoping to make amends to her and her lovely husband-to-be by baking something just for them.
Are you bringing any other baggage back with you?
No kids, no men, only a new mattress. Movers will pick that up sometime at the end of December, along with a few other things I accumulated. For now, only personal effects and the dog. So no, no new baggage. Oh yeah, and the random brick-throwing habit I picked up when I'm honked at by a car. You have been warned.
So what's your plan?
For now, get back and get comfortable. Pay down debt, think about buying. Yes, that means laying down roots. Get more dogs. Find someone. You know, all of the usual things. But working to live, not living to work.
When can we get together?
Give me the first week of December to get my bearings, to buy some things for the empty apartment, and to figure out much money I'll have left in my account. And then, I'll make soup and whomever wants to come over can come and sit on my wooden floors and visit. And for all of you who haven't lived in NYC, the send-offs are long and liquor-filled. I've already sworn off drinking for the rest of my stay here after a little game of dodge-car and getting-to-know-your-vomit-container. So forgive me for my teetotaling. It won't last forever.
Much love to everyone and have a happy Thanksgiving. I'll see you soon.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Falling, falling
***CONTENT WARNING***THIS IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A DREAM AND HAS NOT BEEN SANITIZED FOR CONTENT, GRAMMAR, ETC.
I call a car service. A hovercar arrives, Harry Connick is the pilot. We take an express tube across the bridge into the city - I am feeling the Golden Gate Bridge, but an entry into lower Manhattan. He is laughing and driving very fast. I think about it being the fastest hovercar ride I'd ever had - and it charged to my company card.
He drops me off at a small German bakery, wooden floors and glass display cases. Jessica is there already, picking out sweets. She has numerous to recommend. We go to the register to pay and she reminds me that she used to work there - we could work for a little while in exchange for the baked goods. She will funnel the workers to the register and I will process them before they are paid. It is like a welfare line - who are you, what have you done today, how much do we owe you, etc. A man comes up, said it had been a hard day. The bakery goes quiet and someone whispers, 'Fin's here. The finman is here.' I turn to look - he looks like Mark Wahlburg in Four Brothers - slick back hair, goatee, older.
He tosses his guns on the table. I asked someone what the finman did, but I never received and answer. Fin sighed, drew a smoke and started picking dirt from the barrels. I looked at him and was transported into his reality.
I was dressed in military gear. I had a large gun, an orange safety vest on and a pair of thin white cables hanging from my helmet to a battery pack in my vest. Unplugging it would immediately cause cardiac arrest - it was like a life support monitoring system, but also a power supply for the body. I stood next to my partner - she cartwheeled toward me, did a flip in the air and landed so that our uniforms interlocking systems locked into place. I faced one way, she another, side-by-side. When one moved the other automatically did a corresponding movement to provide instant cover fire. It was like the interlocking mechanism caused mirror image movements in the partner, yet both were individuals who could initiate any action. It's just that the power pack and the interlock caused each to have the ability to pick up additional automatic motions.
We walked onto the battlefield - it was a test environment. There were people watching from all sides. She shot her weapon, I laid down cover. We moved like a 4-armed goddess of war. Suddenly everything went quiet and hazy, slow motion. I looked around and saw my white cables disconnected from both pack and helmet - I should have been dead. I looked at the crowd, at my partner - who was not as close as she had been a moment before. I saw my orange safety vest drift across the ground, dragging up a thin layer of dry dirt. Down at the cables again, at the vert again - then at the ground, which was coming up quickly. I stood back and watched myself slowly fall to the ground, almost lay down - puzzling over the cables, the safety vest, the ground. My eyes shifted as my head hit the ground, jarred by the impact I could still make out the vest blowing toward a tumbleweed. My eyes shut with the slowest speed.
I call a car service. A hovercar arrives, Harry Connick is the pilot. We take an express tube across the bridge into the city - I am feeling the Golden Gate Bridge, but an entry into lower Manhattan. He is laughing and driving very fast. I think about it being the fastest hovercar ride I'd ever had - and it charged to my company card.
He drops me off at a small German bakery, wooden floors and glass display cases. Jessica is there already, picking out sweets. She has numerous to recommend. We go to the register to pay and she reminds me that she used to work there - we could work for a little while in exchange for the baked goods. She will funnel the workers to the register and I will process them before they are paid. It is like a welfare line - who are you, what have you done today, how much do we owe you, etc. A man comes up, said it had been a hard day. The bakery goes quiet and someone whispers, 'Fin's here. The finman is here.' I turn to look - he looks like Mark Wahlburg in Four Brothers - slick back hair, goatee, older.
He tosses his guns on the table. I asked someone what the finman did, but I never received and answer. Fin sighed, drew a smoke and started picking dirt from the barrels. I looked at him and was transported into his reality.
I was dressed in military gear. I had a large gun, an orange safety vest on and a pair of thin white cables hanging from my helmet to a battery pack in my vest. Unplugging it would immediately cause cardiac arrest - it was like a life support monitoring system, but also a power supply for the body. I stood next to my partner - she cartwheeled toward me, did a flip in the air and landed so that our uniforms interlocking systems locked into place. I faced one way, she another, side-by-side. When one moved the other automatically did a corresponding movement to provide instant cover fire. It was like the interlocking mechanism caused mirror image movements in the partner, yet both were individuals who could initiate any action. It's just that the power pack and the interlock caused each to have the ability to pick up additional automatic motions.
We walked onto the battlefield - it was a test environment. There were people watching from all sides. She shot her weapon, I laid down cover. We moved like a 4-armed goddess of war. Suddenly everything went quiet and hazy, slow motion. I looked around and saw my white cables disconnected from both pack and helmet - I should have been dead. I looked at the crowd, at my partner - who was not as close as she had been a moment before. I saw my orange safety vest drift across the ground, dragging up a thin layer of dry dirt. Down at the cables again, at the vert again - then at the ground, which was coming up quickly. I stood back and watched myself slowly fall to the ground, almost lay down - puzzling over the cables, the safety vest, the ground. My eyes shifted as my head hit the ground, jarred by the impact I could still make out the vest blowing toward a tumbleweed. My eyes shut with the slowest speed.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Blue Man and the Truth
***CONTENT WARNING***THIS IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A DREAM AND HAS NOT BEEN SANITIZED FOR CONTENT, GRAMMAR, ETC.
This is an origin story - how a person got the special powers he had.
A man is taking his wife to dinner at a fancy restaurant - they have late reservations but he decides to surprise her by taking her early. Upon their arrival at the restaurant, the chef - Tyler Florence - is prepping to cook for and serve a large table. Apparently, the chef knew the couple was coming and hadn't anticipated their early arrival. He had not planned to cook for them - so when they were seated at the table he was taken aback. This is because he was having an affair with the wife - the husband was completely in the dark until he saw them interact. Something in his being just knew this was happening, and it changed him forever.
The man now had the power to show people the truth. He can show them that which they are afraid to see, and he can also force the truth upon people who do not want to see. He goes mad. His body is bright blue, he is bald and naked. He begins to force the truth on people indescriminately.
Fast forward to a bathroom.
A child with special gifts - a boy - has just dropped something on the tile floor and his mother is trying to coach him on using his powers to put the object back together. It is a collage-type piece in a frame, but has come apart like little mosaic pieces all over the floor. There is a noise outside the door. I stay with the child. I am dressed in all white, as is the mother and the child. Almost like a bodysuit, but it covers our hair too. The mother looks at me - she wants to continue to encourage the child, but she needs to investigate the noise. I stay with the boy - he is about 8 years old.
Outside, the blue man grabs the mother's head - he is going to force his truth, his pain on her. She is pure of mind, only thinking of her child. The man does not understand why she resists so. The child pieces back together the object, his head swelling from the effort. I know what is happening outside - there is a horrible scene as the mother struggles to maintain her mind. I open the door, exposing the child to the man and the man to the child. The man drops the mother, who is irrevocably damaged from the transfer. He stares at the child in shock and shame, crying, 'I'm so sorry, I didn't know...I didn't know.' The child stares into his eyes, forcing the man to experience the child's own truth. The man runs from the room.
This is an origin story - how a person got the special powers he had.
A man is taking his wife to dinner at a fancy restaurant - they have late reservations but he decides to surprise her by taking her early. Upon their arrival at the restaurant, the chef - Tyler Florence - is prepping to cook for and serve a large table. Apparently, the chef knew the couple was coming and hadn't anticipated their early arrival. He had not planned to cook for them - so when they were seated at the table he was taken aback. This is because he was having an affair with the wife - the husband was completely in the dark until he saw them interact. Something in his being just knew this was happening, and it changed him forever.
The man now had the power to show people the truth. He can show them that which they are afraid to see, and he can also force the truth upon people who do not want to see. He goes mad. His body is bright blue, he is bald and naked. He begins to force the truth on people indescriminately.
Fast forward to a bathroom.
A child with special gifts - a boy - has just dropped something on the tile floor and his mother is trying to coach him on using his powers to put the object back together. It is a collage-type piece in a frame, but has come apart like little mosaic pieces all over the floor. There is a noise outside the door. I stay with the child. I am dressed in all white, as is the mother and the child. Almost like a bodysuit, but it covers our hair too. The mother looks at me - she wants to continue to encourage the child, but she needs to investigate the noise. I stay with the boy - he is about 8 years old.
Outside, the blue man grabs the mother's head - he is going to force his truth, his pain on her. She is pure of mind, only thinking of her child. The man does not understand why she resists so. The child pieces back together the object, his head swelling from the effort. I know what is happening outside - there is a horrible scene as the mother struggles to maintain her mind. I open the door, exposing the child to the man and the man to the child. The man drops the mother, who is irrevocably damaged from the transfer. He stares at the child in shock and shame, crying, 'I'm so sorry, I didn't know...I didn't know.' The child stares into his eyes, forcing the man to experience the child's own truth. The man runs from the room.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Albert and Death
***CONTENT WARNING***THIS IS A TRANSCRIPT OF A DREAM AND HAS NOT BEEN SANITIZED FOR CONTENT, GRAMMAR, ETC.
I went to bed early last night - before 8:30 in fact, sick to my stomach and feeling bleary from spending the day in the sun. I think I have food poisoning or a kidney infection. Everything aches. From all of those growls and pains I had an incredible sleep, just awake from hours of traveling, visiting people I don't know and nearly dying. Here's the scoop.
At some point last night, I started with a tour of a gallery. It was a private viewing, something a little unusual for me - the artist as my tour guide. Martha, in a smart pink suit, showed me her very Rothko-esque work, panels of silver and gray and red with small accents along seams between the color blocks. She was not the Martha we know now, but was a snobbish artiste-type, Soho-featured, schooled but naturally talented (and with an amazing business acumen). I wasn't walking fast enough for her - she left me behind while I finished the exhibit myself.
From there I walked to an adjoining hotel - I don't know where I was going or why, but I went through the lobby and found myself entering a suite of rooms on a low floor. There was a young man resting on one of the couches - all of the furniture was of the Baroque or Rococo style. There was another woman in the room - older, dressed as a maid or a servant. She was fussing about the young man who wasn't feeling well. I looked at her, took a wet washcloth from her and went to his side, gently easing him down on the couch. He was flush, his curly blond hair wet. I made him comfortable - removed his sneakers and socks, loosened the collar to his shirt, and wiped his brow and his neck with the cloth. He dozed quietly, appearing to feel better. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and stood to leave, but he opened his eyes and held my hand. He asked me to stay, saying that he would feel better with an angel by his side. I smiled - I am no angel, I replied - but I would stay with him. I knew him as Albert. His family came home later and shooed me out - being neither family nor a servant paid to do the job, they could not understand my attention to him. I left.
It was then that I was with my brother in the lobby of our old restaurant - waiting for the right train to come by. The counter was gone - the restaurant was no longer a restaurant but was a sort of refugee station. This must be in response to all that I have seen on the news in the last few days. Trains came by - their subjects shouted by the conductors when the doors opened. 'History!' shouted one. 'Poetry,' another. One only had a few moments to gather belongings before hurling into the train - and I did not want to miss my train. I knew there was more than one train I would have to take, but I was not packed and I was not ready to leave my brother behind. When 'Literature!' came roaring through, I told him that I would take a later train, that I wanted more time to pack. He said he would come with me, but he was not ready to leave either. We stood on the platform watching the train leave.
When I turned around, it was nighttime and I was staring into the lobby of a clinic on the corner of two streets. The building looked like a yellow bungalow-type house, wood paneling on the side with a wide glass door in the front. To my left stood a friend - I don't know who she was, but I had the sense that she was a friend. We were talking about entering the building. Conspiring, actually. We walked into the building - and from this point on, I am in flashback in the dream. I recall her telling me that unless we believed in bad happening, nothing bad would happen. She wasn't sure she believed it. I had just walked away from a fire that should have killed me - and she insisted that it was because I believed it not happening. I don't recall what I believed. She took a blowtorch to her hands - and sure enough, she did not burn. But there was doubt in her eyes. She looked directly into the flame, yet nothing happened. When she switched off the blowtorch, we saw the damage. She immediately started dying, her arms and hands burned black, her throat crunchy, her jaw taut. In the glow of the flame she did not believe she would die, but she did not have faith. I called an ambulance as I cradled my friend in my arms. She spent her last breath whispering that it wasn't possible...and when I looked closely I saw her eyes were aglow the same color as the flame from the blowtorch. I dropped her immediately, laid back and closed my eyes. She stood up, demanded I look at her - screaming that it couldn't be possible that she was dead when I was not. She shook me, took my head in her hands and tried to get me to see. I believed completely that she was dead - this was not possible, I was not hearing her voice and I was not feeling her next to me. After a few minutes, she stopped moving - accepting death herself, I imagine.
A police car pulled up. I stood and walked to it, expecting an ambulance but happy to have anyone there. Their flashlights came out - they were pointing them to the sizzling mass inside. They explained they had been called on an alarm, and that security cameras had shown four older men sitting in the lobby of that small clinic, passing cigars and making deals. Immediately, I stood amongst them, looking from face to grizzled face, wondering what their disturbance had to do with the death of my friend. When I looked to where my friend had been laying, I was transported back to my spot on the curb - looking in at her as her eyes were aglow again, a gun in her hands. She fired, the police couldn't see where the shots were coming from. She was shooting at me. bullets whizzed past in slow motion as if shot into a barrel of water - blue flame around the tip of the bullets. I closed my eyes, dropped to the ground and rolled - trying to avoid the bullets but also trying to recall that feeling of faith in which I knew she was dead - that was the only way she would stop firing and that I would survive the hail. The firing stopped. I stood and was alone on the street under a streetlamp, looking into an empty yellow house with a big glass entry window.
I went to bed early last night - before 8:30 in fact, sick to my stomach and feeling bleary from spending the day in the sun. I think I have food poisoning or a kidney infection. Everything aches. From all of those growls and pains I had an incredible sleep, just awake from hours of traveling, visiting people I don't know and nearly dying. Here's the scoop.
At some point last night, I started with a tour of a gallery. It was a private viewing, something a little unusual for me - the artist as my tour guide. Martha, in a smart pink suit, showed me her very Rothko-esque work, panels of silver and gray and red with small accents along seams between the color blocks. She was not the Martha we know now, but was a snobbish artiste-type, Soho-featured, schooled but naturally talented (and with an amazing business acumen). I wasn't walking fast enough for her - she left me behind while I finished the exhibit myself.
From there I walked to an adjoining hotel - I don't know where I was going or why, but I went through the lobby and found myself entering a suite of rooms on a low floor. There was a young man resting on one of the couches - all of the furniture was of the Baroque or Rococo style. There was another woman in the room - older, dressed as a maid or a servant. She was fussing about the young man who wasn't feeling well. I looked at her, took a wet washcloth from her and went to his side, gently easing him down on the couch. He was flush, his curly blond hair wet. I made him comfortable - removed his sneakers and socks, loosened the collar to his shirt, and wiped his brow and his neck with the cloth. He dozed quietly, appearing to feel better. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and stood to leave, but he opened his eyes and held my hand. He asked me to stay, saying that he would feel better with an angel by his side. I smiled - I am no angel, I replied - but I would stay with him. I knew him as Albert. His family came home later and shooed me out - being neither family nor a servant paid to do the job, they could not understand my attention to him. I left.
It was then that I was with my brother in the lobby of our old restaurant - waiting for the right train to come by. The counter was gone - the restaurant was no longer a restaurant but was a sort of refugee station. This must be in response to all that I have seen on the news in the last few days. Trains came by - their subjects shouted by the conductors when the doors opened. 'History!' shouted one. 'Poetry,' another. One only had a few moments to gather belongings before hurling into the train - and I did not want to miss my train. I knew there was more than one train I would have to take, but I was not packed and I was not ready to leave my brother behind. When 'Literature!' came roaring through, I told him that I would take a later train, that I wanted more time to pack. He said he would come with me, but he was not ready to leave either. We stood on the platform watching the train leave.
When I turned around, it was nighttime and I was staring into the lobby of a clinic on the corner of two streets. The building looked like a yellow bungalow-type house, wood paneling on the side with a wide glass door in the front. To my left stood a friend - I don't know who she was, but I had the sense that she was a friend. We were talking about entering the building. Conspiring, actually. We walked into the building - and from this point on, I am in flashback in the dream. I recall her telling me that unless we believed in bad happening, nothing bad would happen. She wasn't sure she believed it. I had just walked away from a fire that should have killed me - and she insisted that it was because I believed it not happening. I don't recall what I believed. She took a blowtorch to her hands - and sure enough, she did not burn. But there was doubt in her eyes. She looked directly into the flame, yet nothing happened. When she switched off the blowtorch, we saw the damage. She immediately started dying, her arms and hands burned black, her throat crunchy, her jaw taut. In the glow of the flame she did not believe she would die, but she did not have faith. I called an ambulance as I cradled my friend in my arms. She spent her last breath whispering that it wasn't possible...and when I looked closely I saw her eyes were aglow the same color as the flame from the blowtorch. I dropped her immediately, laid back and closed my eyes. She stood up, demanded I look at her - screaming that it couldn't be possible that she was dead when I was not. She shook me, took my head in her hands and tried to get me to see. I believed completely that she was dead - this was not possible, I was not hearing her voice and I was not feeling her next to me. After a few minutes, she stopped moving - accepting death herself, I imagine.
A police car pulled up. I stood and walked to it, expecting an ambulance but happy to have anyone there. Their flashlights came out - they were pointing them to the sizzling mass inside. They explained they had been called on an alarm, and that security cameras had shown four older men sitting in the lobby of that small clinic, passing cigars and making deals. Immediately, I stood amongst them, looking from face to grizzled face, wondering what their disturbance had to do with the death of my friend. When I looked to where my friend had been laying, I was transported back to my spot on the curb - looking in at her as her eyes were aglow again, a gun in her hands. She fired, the police couldn't see where the shots were coming from. She was shooting at me. bullets whizzed past in slow motion as if shot into a barrel of water - blue flame around the tip of the bullets. I closed my eyes, dropped to the ground and rolled - trying to avoid the bullets but also trying to recall that feeling of faith in which I knew she was dead - that was the only way she would stop firing and that I would survive the hail. The firing stopped. I stood and was alone on the street under a streetlamp, looking into an empty yellow house with a big glass entry window.
Monday, August 29, 2005
How it all went down
Maybe this is for posterity, but many bore witness to this week so I wanted to let you know how it really happened.
The circumstances were simple - we met online. Wrote frantically, lingered for hours on the phone together. There was an instant heartfelt connection, shared experiences and upbringing had brought us to the same place. I came out on Wednesday. It's early Monday morning now.
We met after dinner on Wednesday night. I went to his place, we shared a bottle of wine and talked for hours. I drove home hazy and delighted at 3am.
We started Thursday with babka and coffee at his place. After we finished breakfast, we walked through the neighborhood looking at trees, plants, houses, gardens. Our walk took us to a beautiful cemetery that was pearched atop a hill. We sat next on a bench talking about the engraving before us - about the limited number of times we can draw from the well - about how many times we are granted the opportunity to do something like visit our families, spend time with good friends, eat dinner together. From there we walked through my favorite park, lingered in my old neighborhood (admiring the new art installation), and had lunch. A trip to Seattle's new library followed - 10 floors of ramps and modern architecture, vantage points, secret spots, splashes of color all for us to discover. We took in every last view before walking back uphill for a late afternoon coffee and then a quiet dinner together. We went back to his place and talked some more, then I left.
I thought Friday would never arrive. I'd spent almost every waking moment with him the previous day, talking and looking and laughing. He drove us to breakfast and then to our first viewpoint of the day looking out from Queen Anne across Lake Union. We stayed for a long time taking it all in. Then a quick drive past the house he lived in, and a long stop at Gasworks where we put our bare feet in the sundial at the top of the hill and looked over the city in front of us. We sat quietly together for a long time. Our last viewpoint of the day was from the marshy hiking trails along Foster Island and the Arboretum, parking at MOHAI and walking through the woods. Warblers, finches, jays - all came out for song and we stood looking over the canal towards school. He drove us back to his place, I left and he went to work. Late after work we met for drinks. And talk.
Saturday started with babka and coffee again - we knew this would be a short day because he was working and I was supposed to leave. We ran a small errand, walking through the neighborhood and winding up at a smaller library and then a lingering walk through a new grocery store. We walked home, laughing and talking the whole way. Not catching any real emotional pull thus far, I asked how it was all working for him. He was gentle when he told me he just didn't feel any more than what was just there. I knew then, I had known already. Unable to tell him how I felt (it was just too emotional), I went back to the medium where we were most comfortable and I wrote. The flight sold out. I had drinks with another friend that night.
This morning I knew he had read what I'd said - there was a new strain to his voice, a searching not present before. But we were determined to have the wonderful weekend we'd promised ourselves and we decided it best to just enjoy each other's company for the rest of our time. We had breakfast again and walked to a wonderful bakery to buy dessert for later. We went back to his place to talk, and soon afterwards I left so he could go to work. Tonight it rained for the first time all week. I offered to pick him up and take his bike home so we could have our dessert together. He graciously accepted. We got back to his place, made coffee and ate dessert, lit a few candles and listened to music. And talked. Then he walked me back to my car, gave me a hug and said goodbye.
It's been a long time since I've put myself in a place like this - and I suspect it will be a long time before I do it again. The weekend was the best I'd ever had, bittersweet though it was. He is a gem, mold broken, a man in the truest sense of the word (and a gentleman at that, gracious and polite and so real). This, my friends, is what it feels to ache, to want, to hope and to live.
I hope to make a flight later this morning, because my time here is done for now. I will see you all soon.
The circumstances were simple - we met online. Wrote frantically, lingered for hours on the phone together. There was an instant heartfelt connection, shared experiences and upbringing had brought us to the same place. I came out on Wednesday. It's early Monday morning now.
We met after dinner on Wednesday night. I went to his place, we shared a bottle of wine and talked for hours. I drove home hazy and delighted at 3am.
We started Thursday with babka and coffee at his place. After we finished breakfast, we walked through the neighborhood looking at trees, plants, houses, gardens. Our walk took us to a beautiful cemetery that was pearched atop a hill. We sat next on a bench talking about the engraving before us - about the limited number of times we can draw from the well - about how many times we are granted the opportunity to do something like visit our families, spend time with good friends, eat dinner together. From there we walked through my favorite park, lingered in my old neighborhood (admiring the new art installation), and had lunch. A trip to Seattle's new library followed - 10 floors of ramps and modern architecture, vantage points, secret spots, splashes of color all for us to discover. We took in every last view before walking back uphill for a late afternoon coffee and then a quiet dinner together. We went back to his place and talked some more, then I left.
I thought Friday would never arrive. I'd spent almost every waking moment with him the previous day, talking and looking and laughing. He drove us to breakfast and then to our first viewpoint of the day looking out from Queen Anne across Lake Union. We stayed for a long time taking it all in. Then a quick drive past the house he lived in, and a long stop at Gasworks where we put our bare feet in the sundial at the top of the hill and looked over the city in front of us. We sat quietly together for a long time. Our last viewpoint of the day was from the marshy hiking trails along Foster Island and the Arboretum, parking at MOHAI and walking through the woods. Warblers, finches, jays - all came out for song and we stood looking over the canal towards school. He drove us back to his place, I left and he went to work. Late after work we met for drinks. And talk.
Saturday started with babka and coffee again - we knew this would be a short day because he was working and I was supposed to leave. We ran a small errand, walking through the neighborhood and winding up at a smaller library and then a lingering walk through a new grocery store. We walked home, laughing and talking the whole way. Not catching any real emotional pull thus far, I asked how it was all working for him. He was gentle when he told me he just didn't feel any more than what was just there. I knew then, I had known already. Unable to tell him how I felt (it was just too emotional), I went back to the medium where we were most comfortable and I wrote. The flight sold out. I had drinks with another friend that night.
This morning I knew he had read what I'd said - there was a new strain to his voice, a searching not present before. But we were determined to have the wonderful weekend we'd promised ourselves and we decided it best to just enjoy each other's company for the rest of our time. We had breakfast again and walked to a wonderful bakery to buy dessert for later. We went back to his place to talk, and soon afterwards I left so he could go to work. Tonight it rained for the first time all week. I offered to pick him up and take his bike home so we could have our dessert together. He graciously accepted. We got back to his place, made coffee and ate dessert, lit a few candles and listened to music. And talked. Then he walked me back to my car, gave me a hug and said goodbye.
It's been a long time since I've put myself in a place like this - and I suspect it will be a long time before I do it again. The weekend was the best I'd ever had, bittersweet though it was. He is a gem, mold broken, a man in the truest sense of the word (and a gentleman at that, gracious and polite and so real). This, my friends, is what it feels to ache, to want, to hope and to live.
I hope to make a flight later this morning, because my time here is done for now. I will see you all soon.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
The Manhattan Project
Introduction
Ladies and Gentlemen - we have arrived at the results stage of this glorious project, and I'm happy to finally have something to report. As previously suggested by a lot of non-native New Yorkers, New York *is* in fact a nice place to visit, but (and I quote) 'I wouldn't want to live there.' As this experiment winds to an end, I wanted to share with you some of the things I have learned about the city and about myself.
Findings
- Bag searches aren't happening everywhere in the subway system, only at two stations. So the nice reporting that I'm sure our network news channels devote to how safe New York's transportation system is is a little lean on reality.
- 97 degrees with 90 percent humidity makes stale urine the most recognizable smell in town. Sweat is a close second. It also makes for daily rushes at the local hardware store for air conditioners, which have gone up in price nearly 75%.
- There are no stars over New York. At least none to be seen. But there are fireflies at dusk.
- Every movie you've ever heard might be coming soon opens in New York. There's certainly no shortage of choices at the theater when you pull out your $11 ticket and take a swig from your $5 bottled water.
- It's weird to turn on the Today show to see Al Roker report on the weather, knowing he's talking about *my* local weather.
- Liev Schreiber is very handsome and intense looking in person. And he rides a beat-up street bike that he parks against a light post like everyone else around here.
- The New York Times is responsible for not only reporting, but exacerbating horrible fashion trends.
- All the cops are young and are as afraid to check trash bins around subway stations as I am.
- Barnes and Noble is a beacon of free toilet facilities everywhere.
- Dressing up your dog is cute except when it's 630am and you need to get his snow booties on and you're late for work and he doesn't want to get out of bed.
- And for those of you who know my dog well, there's nothing like tacking on two $35 taxi rides to the $150 - $500 vet bill every 21 days for his allergy meds.
- Anthony Bourdain, one of my very favorite people, just reported Monday night on the amazing trend of putting tapioca beads into a colored flavored 'tea-like' drink. Bubble tea, it seems, is still a mystery to many New Yorkers.
- New Yorkers fly to Florida in droves to enjoy the same shopping, the same heat, and the same people as in New York, but in less clothing.
- I can die happy knowing I have had the best pizza of my life in Brooklyn. And that I've had enough of it too.
- Union Square at midnight is a bustling place with rats everywhere and hundreds of people talking. I've had some of my best conversations on those park benches, and I will miss my chef dearly. He knows my heart.
- I loved the place I worked until it realized it was an airline. But I was lucky to have met one of the best friends I've ever had at that place. Fate was on my side that day.
- Cinnamon babka from Russ & Daughters is enough of a reason for me to fly back quarterly.
- Hatha yoga becomes bikram in this weather. I slid right off my mat and nearly broke my ass. But my skin was glistening and golden and looked lovely in the sweat.
- Grocery stores, if you're lucky to live in an area with one, close as early as 8pm here unless you're willing to go to one in the city. The overpriced bodega with its stale bread and old fruit is your only choice until it closes around midnight. After that, it's I-know-there's-something-in-the-back-of-the-pantry-I-can-eat-if-I'm-creative time.
- Nobody tells you how much work it is to go to the grocery store. Or the movies. Or to brunch. 'Ring, ring...hello? Hey, it's been a long time. Brunch, sure! Hmm, let's see - the G is running on a shuttle schedule today which means I can take it from Bedford to Hoyt and then transfer to the A which is running on the F line. I can take that to W4 and then transfer back to the A to go uptown. That place off 5th? Sure, I can get off at 72nd and then take the crosstown, or wait...maybe I can take the G to Hoyt then transfer to the F and then backtrack to Atlantic to catch the 4/5. That might be better. What? There's flooding on the tracks? Shit. Well, I'll meet you in 3 hours at Union Square and we'll just figure it out, how about that? I'll call you when I get there and we'll find one another. Yeah, I know about the parade, but...'
- Tons of children died here this summer. They shot, stabbed, dismembered, suffocated, beat, and otherwise were terrible to each other.
- Protests on the West Coast are a lot more fun than they are here.
- The 5 boroughs are a lot more segregated than I expected, and I've experienced more racism here than I ever did growing up in Texas. Race is an issue everywhere in everything, for every person you meet.
- You know your neighbors but you're not always friends with them. So you don't go knocking on your neighbor's door to invite them down to the local pub or to invite them over for poker night. Community means something different here.
What Happens Next?
I'm glad you asked. It's time to get the hell out of Dodge. Weather and pollution like this can't be good for my aging skin - and those of you who have spoken to me since I got here know I've lost a good amount of my hearing (another benefit of public transportation). I miss fresh air, quiet, and the warm friendships that saw me through so much - in the bar, in our apartments, on the back of motorcycles. I miss being able to take the dog to Magnusson Park to run to the shore, and I miss quality coffee, Thai food, and sensibilities of that coast. And let's not start on the men...(but be on the lookout for good ones, I'll need a wingman to introduce me).
But What About Grad School?
Reality hit. US Airways changed its flight schedule and our planes ran late. Then there was the $3k per class, the first payment due in about a month - loans were ready for that. But after realizing I was really pushing hard to tolerate my surroundings, I thought it would be true torture to force myself to stay for the 4 - 5 years it might take for me to finish, with a $30k bill due at the end. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I think that's going to have to wait - perhaps indefinitely.
When? Where?
Spring, I figure. If I had to guess, I'd put my money on the Emerald City. I mean, I've already lived there twice before. Maybe third time's a charm.
I've got some work to finish here, but after winter I'll start really looking for a job. That's priority one. Everything else will fall into place after that. Anyone planning to come out should.
So friends, that's that.
Ladies and Gentlemen - we have arrived at the results stage of this glorious project, and I'm happy to finally have something to report. As previously suggested by a lot of non-native New Yorkers, New York *is* in fact a nice place to visit, but (and I quote) 'I wouldn't want to live there.' As this experiment winds to an end, I wanted to share with you some of the things I have learned about the city and about myself.
Findings
- Bag searches aren't happening everywhere in the subway system, only at two stations. So the nice reporting that I'm sure our network news channels devote to how safe New York's transportation system is is a little lean on reality.
- 97 degrees with 90 percent humidity makes stale urine the most recognizable smell in town. Sweat is a close second. It also makes for daily rushes at the local hardware store for air conditioners, which have gone up in price nearly 75%.
- There are no stars over New York. At least none to be seen. But there are fireflies at dusk.
- Every movie you've ever heard might be coming soon opens in New York. There's certainly no shortage of choices at the theater when you pull out your $11 ticket and take a swig from your $5 bottled water.
- It's weird to turn on the Today show to see Al Roker report on the weather, knowing he's talking about *my* local weather.
- Liev Schreiber is very handsome and intense looking in person. And he rides a beat-up street bike that he parks against a light post like everyone else around here.
- The New York Times is responsible for not only reporting, but exacerbating horrible fashion trends.
- All the cops are young and are as afraid to check trash bins around subway stations as I am.
- Barnes and Noble is a beacon of free toilet facilities everywhere.
- Dressing up your dog is cute except when it's 630am and you need to get his snow booties on and you're late for work and he doesn't want to get out of bed.
- And for those of you who know my dog well, there's nothing like tacking on two $35 taxi rides to the $150 - $500 vet bill every 21 days for his allergy meds.
- Anthony Bourdain, one of my very favorite people, just reported Monday night on the amazing trend of putting tapioca beads into a colored flavored 'tea-like' drink. Bubble tea, it seems, is still a mystery to many New Yorkers.
- New Yorkers fly to Florida in droves to enjoy the same shopping, the same heat, and the same people as in New York, but in less clothing.
- I can die happy knowing I have had the best pizza of my life in Brooklyn. And that I've had enough of it too.
- Union Square at midnight is a bustling place with rats everywhere and hundreds of people talking. I've had some of my best conversations on those park benches, and I will miss my chef dearly. He knows my heart.
- I loved the place I worked until it realized it was an airline. But I was lucky to have met one of the best friends I've ever had at that place. Fate was on my side that day.
- Cinnamon babka from Russ & Daughters is enough of a reason for me to fly back quarterly.
- Hatha yoga becomes bikram in this weather. I slid right off my mat and nearly broke my ass. But my skin was glistening and golden and looked lovely in the sweat.
- Grocery stores, if you're lucky to live in an area with one, close as early as 8pm here unless you're willing to go to one in the city. The overpriced bodega with its stale bread and old fruit is your only choice until it closes around midnight. After that, it's I-know-there's-something-in-the-back-of-the-pantry-I-can-eat-if-I'm-creative time.
- Nobody tells you how much work it is to go to the grocery store. Or the movies. Or to brunch. 'Ring, ring...hello? Hey, it's been a long time. Brunch, sure! Hmm, let's see - the G is running on a shuttle schedule today which means I can take it from Bedford to Hoyt and then transfer to the A which is running on the F line. I can take that to W4 and then transfer back to the A to go uptown. That place off 5th? Sure, I can get off at 72nd and then take the crosstown, or wait...maybe I can take the G to Hoyt then transfer to the F and then backtrack to Atlantic to catch the 4/5. That might be better. What? There's flooding on the tracks? Shit. Well, I'll meet you in 3 hours at Union Square and we'll just figure it out, how about that? I'll call you when I get there and we'll find one another. Yeah, I know about the parade, but...'
- Tons of children died here this summer. They shot, stabbed, dismembered, suffocated, beat, and otherwise were terrible to each other.
- Protests on the West Coast are a lot more fun than they are here.
- The 5 boroughs are a lot more segregated than I expected, and I've experienced more racism here than I ever did growing up in Texas. Race is an issue everywhere in everything, for every person you meet.
- You know your neighbors but you're not always friends with them. So you don't go knocking on your neighbor's door to invite them down to the local pub or to invite them over for poker night. Community means something different here.
What Happens Next?
I'm glad you asked. It's time to get the hell out of Dodge. Weather and pollution like this can't be good for my aging skin - and those of you who have spoken to me since I got here know I've lost a good amount of my hearing (another benefit of public transportation). I miss fresh air, quiet, and the warm friendships that saw me through so much - in the bar, in our apartments, on the back of motorcycles. I miss being able to take the dog to Magnusson Park to run to the shore, and I miss quality coffee, Thai food, and sensibilities of that coast. And let's not start on the men...(but be on the lookout for good ones, I'll need a wingman to introduce me).
But What About Grad School?
Reality hit. US Airways changed its flight schedule and our planes ran late. Then there was the $3k per class, the first payment due in about a month - loans were ready for that. But after realizing I was really pushing hard to tolerate my surroundings, I thought it would be true torture to force myself to stay for the 4 - 5 years it might take for me to finish, with a $30k bill due at the end. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I think that's going to have to wait - perhaps indefinitely.
When? Where?
Spring, I figure. If I had to guess, I'd put my money on the Emerald City. I mean, I've already lived there twice before. Maybe third time's a charm.
I've got some work to finish here, but after winter I'll start really looking for a job. That's priority one. Everything else will fall into place after that. Anyone planning to come out should.
So friends, that's that.
Monday, January 12, 2004
Thawing Out
The last week has taught me something about myself. I can't live here forever. New York had its first miserably cold days this season, just well-timed to catch me on my return from a snow-blanketed but slushy Seattle. Two nights in a row we hit 0 degrees here, with a wind chill of -10. Jessica (my college roommate), here in town on business, put me up at her hotel and we stomped around the city during this blight. She grew weary of my complaints of frozen thighs and an icebox butt, offering to buy me long underwear to combat my chill, but finally relenting to the cold, we headed back to a noisy steam radiator-warmed hotel (those of us from the Malden know this phenomenon well, and as I had grown used to the anvil chorus in my room, this hotel didn't bother me a stitch!) and watched movies and planned our next culinary adventure. One of the places we discovered is the Doughnut Plant, with its 4 flavors only - big soft pillows of fried dough (no cake doughnuts here!) covered with vanilla bean glaze, Valrhona glaze, pistachio and (the WINNER!) fresh pear glaze. Flavors change seasonally - I bet the pistachio and pear are exchanged for fresh peach and spring strawberry during warmer months. For any of you who want to try one, I promise to take you upon your next visit.
The time has also brought a few welcome changes - today was my first day of work at what seems like a wonderful little company called JetBlue Airways. Sure, there was lots of logo wear and fawning over a brand well-branded, but maybe this little company has got it right. I can't begin to tell you how many people came up to me during orientation and said, 'it sounds too good to be true, and I didn't believe it either. Just wait and see for yourself.' If you haven't flown them, check them out sometime. And don't be fooled by the Direct-TV at every seat/in-flight yoga/healthy snacks/one-class airline marketing hoo-ha. They've got a good business model, they seem to be genuinely eager to make an impact, and hell, I found out today that the CEO only pays himself $200k annually + profit sharing of $85k last year, which certainly smells of balance, even if it's not the real thing. Besides, anytime you can get 2 jaded ex-Microsoft employees in the room together (a former MSFT consultant heads up part of their IT group), giggling with delight and saying they might actually wear JetBlue logo wear, either someone's spiked the punch or they're doing something pretty cool. Now if only they would make JetBlue mittens...
Last night was also my first night in my very first New York apartment. Well, it's really just a tiny pass-through closet I'm renting from this German filmmaker chick, but it's a bed, and she's not my elderly aunt. The whole room is about 7x8, with the 'hallway' taking up about 1.5' of the 7' space - leaving me a twin futon and a shelf crammed with my clothes in about 5'. I had a nice, big room rented near the Museum of Natural History, but the guy (Woody Allen-type neurotic older OCD-sufferer) gave my room away during the holidays, and then jerked me around when I offered to rent his larger room. So I'm living in the E. Village, about 2 blocks from my great aunt's place, and about an hour commute from work. It's tiny, but I'm only here until the end of April when she goes to Germany, and I start looking in earnest for a place to share with Tyler and the dog.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and a very happy new year! If I didn't get a chance to see you, perhaps I will in the spring or summer, once I have a little vacation time saved, and I can begin to use those flight benefits of mine. And feel free to write or call, I haven't disappeared off the face of the earth!
Take care, avoid the flu (we had it over the holidays, the ass-kicking variety), and remember, check out Tyler's band!! They're an awesome little trio with some crazy surf/carnival/jazz influences, and they're trying to get shows set up in Seattle. They're known as the Diminished Men, and you can download their music from http://www.diminishedmen.com! Play it loud, and pass it on!!!
The time has also brought a few welcome changes - today was my first day of work at what seems like a wonderful little company called JetBlue Airways. Sure, there was lots of logo wear and fawning over a brand well-branded, but maybe this little company has got it right. I can't begin to tell you how many people came up to me during orientation and said, 'it sounds too good to be true, and I didn't believe it either. Just wait and see for yourself.' If you haven't flown them, check them out sometime. And don't be fooled by the Direct-TV at every seat/in-flight yoga/healthy snacks/one-class airline marketing hoo-ha. They've got a good business model, they seem to be genuinely eager to make an impact, and hell, I found out today that the CEO only pays himself $200k annually + profit sharing of $85k last year, which certainly smells of balance, even if it's not the real thing. Besides, anytime you can get 2 jaded ex-Microsoft employees in the room together (a former MSFT consultant heads up part of their IT group), giggling with delight and saying they might actually wear JetBlue logo wear, either someone's spiked the punch or they're doing something pretty cool. Now if only they would make JetBlue mittens...
Last night was also my first night in my very first New York apartment. Well, it's really just a tiny pass-through closet I'm renting from this German filmmaker chick, but it's a bed, and she's not my elderly aunt. The whole room is about 7x8, with the 'hallway' taking up about 1.5' of the 7' space - leaving me a twin futon and a shelf crammed with my clothes in about 5'. I had a nice, big room rented near the Museum of Natural History, but the guy (Woody Allen-type neurotic older OCD-sufferer) gave my room away during the holidays, and then jerked me around when I offered to rent his larger room. So I'm living in the E. Village, about 2 blocks from my great aunt's place, and about an hour commute from work. It's tiny, but I'm only here until the end of April when she goes to Germany, and I start looking in earnest for a place to share with Tyler and the dog.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday and a very happy new year! If I didn't get a chance to see you, perhaps I will in the spring or summer, once I have a little vacation time saved, and I can begin to use those flight benefits of mine. And feel free to write or call, I haven't disappeared off the face of the earth!
Take care, avoid the flu (we had it over the holidays, the ass-kicking variety), and remember, check out Tyler's band!! They're an awesome little trio with some crazy surf/carnival/jazz influences, and they're trying to get shows set up in Seattle. They're known as the Diminished Men, and you can download their music from http://www.diminishedmen.com! Play it loud, and pass it on!!!
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