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Building character
Friday, September 10, 2010
Day Three: exhausted
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Remember I chose Miami because of the beach? Have yet to set a foot in it. But I’ve been to the pool. Does that count? It is certainly a very entertaining/irritating place. Today we were blessed by the appearance of a woman in a one strapped silver swimsuit with a beret-like sequined silver swim cap. Normally I would recoil in horror at such a sight but the wearer was a tiny woman with very bad posture and two kids in tow which was a pleasant diversion from the fake boobs, deep tan, long yellow hair and pink toenail polish that seem to be the norm poolside. In another unusual development, she was yelling at the kids, not into a cell phone. A true original.
Managed another longish leisurely swim, finally did some reading and met Jonny and Jorge for a movie (“Machete” – a magnificent source of one liners) and dinner at the Big Pink. Exhausted.
Day Two: even less accomplished
Went to the pool, it started raining. Everybody ran away like it was raining acid, even the ones that were in the pool and, by definition, already wet. I waited it out and then had the pool to myself for a long, leisurely swim before it was time to come back to bed for a siesta followed by a full night sleep.
Day One: nothing accomplished
Tried to get out of bed by 7.30 before remembering my clearly stated goals for the week. Went back to sleep. Slept until 2.30 PM.
Gingerly walked to Whole Foods less than 10 blocks away. Bought good stuff. Felt completely idiotic at being one of those people who were reading labels and buying raw food dessert. We take ourselves way too seriously. It’s just food, for chrissake.
Lunch by 5 PM.
Attempt to check out the pool by 8 PM. Attempt coincides exactly with the start of a major storm.
Came back to the apartment through what appeared to be a convention of gang members and pimps in the hall.
Keeping the apartment at the deep freeze temperature my body loves.
Congruity's never been my thing
It all started months ago when I checked the holydays for the year and realized there were two this week. I immediately put in a vacation request. My idea was to go to Spain for a couple of weeks, to see my family or, as I like to tease them, my ex-family, in Madrid, and then go to see M.A. at the beach. But then M.A. was not going to be at the beach, and I did not feel like spending two weeks in Madrid, desperate as I am for some beach and, preferably, warm waters. So I changed plans and decided to go to Miami, by myself. This does not make any sense. I hate Miami. I like the beach all right and I like that it is an easy commute from NYC but other than that, and not to be judgmental about it, I think it’s a wannabe place populated by just about the worst of South America and visited by the worst of Europe.
So I chose it because it’s so near, and cheap (remember these operative words, you will need them to make fun of me). Then a friend mentioned the train and got me thinking. I absolutely hate the flying experience nowadays. Fifteen years ago I did not fly because I feared it. But then I took a course and got over it. For a while I even enjoyed turbulences. Those days are long gone but the flight itself is not why I hate flying now. What I really hate is being treated like cattle, I hate the hours waiting in line, the whole security hoopla which, unfortunately, does nothing to make me feel safer, I hate being squished in tiny seats, being ignored, mistreated and dehumanized. I guess I hate everything about air travel now. On the other hand, I love trains. I love that you have space, I love that you have a view, I love that the staff is generally smiley and nice, I love that passengers are not as uptight and stressed as on planes, I love that train stations are right smack in the middle of cities. So then I proceeded to buy a one way ride on the train, thinking that I would decide what to do for my way back after. Then Pamen warned me that I might not be able to flight back if I did not use the leg from NY to Miami, so I called JetBlue and Orbitz and cancelled the whole non-refundable trip.
Bear in mind that I chose Miami because it was close and now I am riding a train for 27 hours. I chose Miami because it was cheap and now I am not using non refundable tickets and paying for the train ride which, by the way, is much more expensive.
Then again, I am in the mood for a vacation and the flight/airport part does not contribute to it. I don’t mind the 27 hours, I am in no hurry. I will arrive the same day, at the same time I would have if I had flown; only I will be leaving one day earlier.
So here I am now, on the Silver Meteor, on my way to Florida. We left NY Penn Station at 3.15 PM (actually it was more like 3.20) and we will be arriving to Miami at 7 PM, if there are no delays, which I am sort of expecting, after having researched the subject on line a bit. I will be doing some work (plenty of space), then I will have a proper dinner (I have a reservation for 7.30 PM, which was the latest available), then I'll come to my seat and watch a movie on my laptop.
So far it’s been interesting, most people seem to have done this before, I feel like the only rookie here. I am very excited about dinner at a proper table, as opposed to the ridiculous trays on plane. Oh, I have just been offered a pillow. Nice. And the bar car is just a few feet away. This is a very civilized way of travelling.
Back from my dinner with my former seat mate and a couple staying in one of the rooms. She is Asian, works for NASA and travels all over the world; he's older and basically smiles.
I am now in the café/bar car, people playing cards and drinking beer and me trying to connect to the web trough my cell. I have to work a bit after all and then I have to watch a movie. This is a must.
A minor complaint regarding the dinner car and the bar car: they have no restroom! Are you supposed to drink and not pee? Or maybe I you should leave/schlep all your stuff to get to the restroom at the end of your car.
Relocating
I am considering moving to an Amtrak train. Tons of positively huge people, both tall and wide. I am feeling like a cross between a tiny delicate flower and an elite athlete.
The characters
Before dinner, while we were in D.C. having the engine changed this woman was on the phone with her live-in boyfriend, who had spent two years in jails, who did not care about her child, who would not pay his part of the rent and the bills and she has to text him because he does not answer the phone, even though they live together. People in the car were snickering, rolling their eyes, telling her to shut up. I don't think she ever noticed though.
Then there’s the elderly black gentleman that looks like a minister, in a suit with a big hat. He’s a piece of work and on his way to the bar he has announced to everybody “I am going to relapse”. Great line, I can’t wait to use it.
Dinner companions: a couple travelling to Savannah. She’s Asian, works for NASA, has been all over the world and back. He was in the Navy back in the 60s in Naples, Italy. She talks, he smiles. They are staying in a roomette. She finds everything so cheap.
There’s a huge restaurant owner from Rochester, NY that knows everybody, talks to everybody and has recently had back surgery.
I am spending most of my alert time chatting with a Cuban lady, retired from a lifetime of union work. She’s a riot.
Then there are the announcements: after a particular long announcement we are asked to clap for the announcer, Jackie, the lady in charge of the bar. We do.
We are also told it’s a little boy’s birthday, seems he has distributed cupcakes and gotten money in return. A guy noted that if he did a second pass he would probably have enough money for college.
A crack-whore looking old woman, bright yellow hair, no teeth that I can discern, entertains an old men with a fascinating talk about nail polish. They guy just takes it, in silence and with a bewildered look on his face.
The huge, and I mean humongous, guy with suspenders and a gut so big he has to step off the train backwards, with help, so as to not topple over.
People are very friendly, lots of elderly people (it’s cheaper for them), lots of huge people (I don’t think they could fit in a plane seat), people with babies, kids, a woman on a wheelchair, in general people that would have a hard time on a plane, a few Southern belles and tons of African American.
James Taylor and Carole King at the Madison Square Garden
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Great concert but a bit of a geriatric suburban crowd.
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Absolutely no street cred
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
I have always liked bikes. As a teenager in Paris, when everybody else wanted a Vespa, I rode a bicycle. As an adult I rode my bike in Geneva and Montevideo, though probably not as often as I could have. So now, after 11 years in NY and several friend who assure me it's perfectly possible to bike in the city and not get killed, I decided to give it a try. I wanted something cheap, basically, something that I will not regret having stolen from me. I also wanted gears as I thought it would be difficult to only ride downhill. So I checked the bikes at Costco and I checked bikes on line and then yesterday I walked over to K-Mart, the epicenter of coolness, and got me an old-lady bike. And now, and only now, I am reading all about fixies. Gears are tragically out, brakes are for wussies. They sell them at Urban Outfitters, for chrissake! Shouldn't somebody have alerted me to this??? How will I ever summon the courage to walk into a bike shop to have my poor excuse for a bike repaired? It was daunting enough when I thought all I had to face was serious-riders-in-lycra attitude, and now this. Please, if you know of any repair shop that will not smirk at a middle-aged big-assed tragic figure with a K-Mart bike, let me know. Sooner or later I will need one.
Pain and humiliation: a spa experience
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
It was raining cats and dogs so after a purifying lunch at Quintessence (which, by the way, despite its hippyish look and strange smell, is a great place to eat) we decided to go and relax with a massage. Juvenex was not our first choice. Lilly and Raoul was, but unfortunately it was fully booked. There is certainly a wow factor in walking into a rundown building in Manhattan, getting into an old elevator and stepping into a large, well-used spa, but lets get it straight: it looks nothing like its pictures. It’s more like an oversize bathroom with hot tubs and mysterious rooms everywhere. The one girl at the reception desk was probably Russian or Middle European, everybody else was Asian, probably Korean. One of them handed us two bathrobes. The first one was clearly not meant for me as I could have easily used it as a glove. The second one was larger but still not large enough. It barely covered the unmentionables (the ones on the front, while hugging the one on the back like a second skin). I started getting a little anxious. I had to wear the robe and parade around clutching a dangling towel to cover mes miseres. For a moment I thought they had done it on purpose. There were bigger ladies there and they all (well, both of them) seemed to have large enough robes. Not white robes, blue robes. Hello! I need a BLUE robe! First of all, there is absolutely nothing relaxing about being bossed around and directed from one station to the next. First, the shower (one of those open-plan nightmares where you might shampoo in a dandily manner but certainly not scrub your vajayjay), then the sauna (a gazillion degrees in a tomb-like structure, I could not stop thinking of those poor deluded seekers who died in a sweat box in Arizona). The ladies even insisted on the jacuzzi where we were to jump in butt naked and join another couple of happy soakers. I only had one word for that: I-don’t-think-so. Truth be told, I brought some of the humiliation upon myself. Stupidly, in clear act of self-hatred, I choose to go to the spa with my best-bodied girlfriend, so tiny and cute and tight you just feel vomiting (you know who you are, you bitch!) . On the elevator from the 6th to the 5th floor, while I was praying that nobody, absolutely nobody was on the other side of the door when it opened, my masseuse was stroking my face and admiring my baby skin and blue eyes. It has happened to me before, and not just once, so my non-pc assumption is that all Koreans have a fetish with piggy-colored skin. They stare at me and get very agitated, chanting “oh! pleety pleety” over and over. I have to be careful at nail salons, my beauty can be very distracting. The massage itself was, well, brutal. I love massages, my idea of perfect happiness is going about my life with a personal masseur following me everywhere and rubbing my back every time I happen to stop or sit down, and I love them hard. No light strokes for me. Those are for sissies. Still, I think there is a fine line between the pain/pleasure of a deep massage and the unbearable agony of iron thumbs methodically breaking down your body. At Juvenex the hole on the massage bed is there for you to hide your facial contortions. You quickly learn to slide down the bed to bury your face and muffle your screams. I am embarrassed to say I paid dearly for this torture, both in hard-earned dollars and persisting soreness. So let me put it in writing: Lilly and Raoul, Graceful Services, I’ll never ever betray you again.
Boys, boys, boys
Monday, March 1, 2010
I have aways been a fag hag, a trait I share with my sister, although I did not find out about this until recently. My very first boyfriend (at 13?) was gay but clearly not out of the closet yet, not even to himself. I always had gay best friends and slowly, through the years, I got to the point where, when walking into a NYC Gay Pride party at the Ritz with a group of gay friends, I was the one being given shout outs. I even introduced a kid on his first Gay Pride to my posse. Up until two or three years ago I was dancing around in every gay joint in NY, being warmly embraced by Chelsea boys and Christopher Street bears alike. I have been to tattoo contests at the LGBT Community Center and I am now a card carrying Human Rights Campaign member.
I am not sure where the attraction is, but I know for a fact that my life would not be half as enjoyable without my boys. I have fun with them in ways I almost never do with straight guys. Most of them are way more interesting than most straight guys I know (with a few notable exceptions, obviously). More fun. More tender. I was trying to figure this out recently as I am aware if makes no sense to categorize a whole group of people in such a sweeping manner. It is as idiotic to say that gay guys are sweet than to say women cannot drive. I have obviously known petty, shallow, vicious men of the gay persuasion, but they have always been a very small percentage. And when I come to think of it, it boils down to how I feel in their company. It is so easy for me to just click with them. I appreciated the way they treat women, or at least me. I have never been to a gay club without at least 3 or 4 guys welcoming me. Looking after me in the bathroom, introducing their boyfriends to me. Being really kind and courteous. How can I not love it?
So it's no surprise I am so thrilled with the land I bought in Chihuahua and my plans of building a (small) house. It is a nudist beach, and part of it is gay. My neighbors are all gay and wickedly entertaining. They are also good people, which is very important to me. My nearest neighbours, Michael, was my teacher in Switzerland 20 years ago. He is a former dancer in London and Texas, originally from England. I found out, via Facebook, that he is leaving there now with his partner. M.A. and I stayed with him for a few days this year and he has introduced me to my across the street neighbor, a musical director from Chile. I met another friend of his, born in Argentina, who lives most of the year in Florida. And I am sure I will meet so many more. I can't think of a better place to call home, except maybe the rest of the world.
Conscious laziness
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I finally got my Internet connection back on again so I should upload a couple of posts. In the meantime I am playing with Flavors.me. I love it but feel so inadequate compared to others users and their incredible pages. For starters, I need a better picture, preferably not one taken with a cell phone. It would also help if I remembered the info to access my homepage so I can tweak a few things and eventually point my domain name to Flavors.me, but I am really good at forgetting things.I am also really good at procrastinating. I should have checked out NewWorkCity on Monday, if not then certainly today. I should have been cardio kick-boxing this morning and hip hop dancing yesterday evening. But I never moved from home and just barely from my chair, except to get to the bed and read a great book (note to self: join Good Reads). Right now I should be downstairs at the YMCA. I will ... in a minute or so. This weekend I would like to try and take the cardio kick-box class again, and go to a craft meetup of which I have been a member forever but never actually attended, and I would also like to go dancing with Marc. On Sunday I would like to hear Sharon Salzberg at the Community Meditation Center. And maybe also have brunch at Quintessence.
I might do some of it, I might do zilch. Chances of doing it all all are quite slim. Somehow I have gone from being a gung-ho Tony Robbins devotee full of goals and timetables to this new me, a strong proponent of conscious laziness.
Birthday presents - I love them ALL!!!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Quitapenas, or a bag full of people.
Several Kukuxumusu drinking glasses.
PCBeast brooch.
And this just from ONE person! Keep them pouring! I LOVE presents!
More whining - some repeating
Monday, February 8, 2010
being in Europe in the 60s can be charming for a short period of time.
Caipirinhas, once again, are out of this world, delicious everywhere
and every single time.
The cons. Service is terrible. It does not matter whether there is one waiter or
a dozen of them, you'd be still waiting forever while they chat or are
busy ignoring you. Driving is atrocious. Nobody seems to pick a lane, use their lights or
be aware of other cars on the road. Road signs are inexistent. Most
people don't know or follow basic road rules. I saw a woman with a
baby in her arms on the passenger seat of a motorbike. Also saw a guy
swinging from a bottle of beer in the car at the gas station with his
wife and baby without seat belts by his side. There seems to be a
subgroup of suicidal Uruguyans who jump or ride their bikes right
into coming traffic. By the way, the cars, like most everything, are
straight out of the 60s or 70s. Food is very simple, also straight out of the 60s. It does not matter
where you go, the menu is always the same. Quality is not good either.
Was disappointed by tomatoes and onions (and yearning for those of
Mexico). M.A. had the best meat and the best milanesa in La Pedrera, but both
were pretty bad almost everywhere else. One of the best meals was
across from where we were staying in Montevideo, not a fancy
restaurant by any means, but the food was very good and the
presentation was top rated. The place is called Rocco. On the other
hand, at Media Lunas Calentitas we got served a milanesa de pollo
completely uncooked. Revolting. Music on the radio is nothing but oldies. You would think nothing has
been created musically in the last 40 years. Even the alternative
scene is outdated. The hippies at Punta del Diablo are quite funny.
They seem unaware that that revolution was fought 50 years ago. Bu
then again, everything and everybody is stuck in time. Beaches are full of jellyfish (but not the ones that really hurt) and,
excepts for the ones in Punta del Este, there are very few services
like bars, toilets or showers. To top it off we both had some kind of virus/stomach bug that did not
contribute much to the enjoyment of the vacation. On a more positive note, it's my pleasure to announce that I LOVE
Chihuahua and I know I can be very happy there. I love the place
itself, love the vibe of the nudist beach, love my neighbours. Buying
a plot of land there was a TERRIFIC idea (gracias, Juan y Leandro!)
and I can't wait to build a house. More about Chihuahua in another
post. Time to work now.
The good and the bad, so far - Feb. 3
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
The good things.
The beaches are stunning. I got to see good friends. My skin looks great, smoothed out by the intense humidity.The bad things.The food is just the blandest, most uninteresting thing you can imagine. At a parrillada all I can eat is peppers or potatoes, but then the potatoes are covered in butter. Warm butter. Yuk. I tried a fancy restaurant but I all got was some fish and rice with just about everything that they could find in the kitchen thrown on top of it. Not subtle. Not even tasty. So far I have survived mostly on pasta (which, for some reason, they never strain properly so it's always watery) and melted cheese in the form of pizza or provolone. I just can't stand it any longer. Tonight, my birthday, I'll eat some frozen corn. Yummy. M.A. is practically a zombie for the second day in a row from some form of severe stomach bug, or at least that's what I hope. If it's not a bug then he is dying. My own stomach is not doing too good either and the fact of achieving illness through no pleasure whatsoever really pisses me off. In any case if he's this sick tomorrow again we are definitely going to the doctor. Another very unnerving local habit: real bad customer service.Yesterday we made a reservation for a table for 7 at a restaurant at the beach. Got there and the place was in total darkness. One of us got out of the car, pushed the door to the restaurant, which was open, and the alarm went on. Nobody came out. Given that the reservation was made in person a couple of hours before we showed up and that the door was not locked, I thought maybe everybody had been killed inside. If they were the news has not reported about it so far. Example number 2, I decided to get a massage for my birthday. The masseur was supposed to show up at 6.30/7.00 PM. I did not check what time it was when he actually came, but it was later than 8.30 PM. I strongly believe a massage is meant to relax you and by then all I wanted was to slowly strangle him with my bare hands. So forget it. Now I am in this gorgeous house, wondering when to start thawing the corn. Michael is off to a dinner. M.A. is in bed writhing in pain and trying to sleep. I might just fix myself a strong vodka with something and drink it to my health. Happy birthday!
Blogging from the plane - Dec. 22
As usual I am on a plane, looking forward (not) to hours upon hours of being jammed between other fellow passengers. In what amounts to an exercise in humiliation or a reality check, depending on your stance on fat rolls, I fit perfectly fine in the first seat with lenght to spare on my seatbelt. On the second flight, on the other hand, it's barely long enough to snap it close and I cannot unfold the tray completely without having it stab my situation. Anyway ...
So let me clarify my mythical status, as Alain will have it. In between sentences I will probably pop another pill, should this flying coffin start shaking. I will then probably make less sense.What I said was that it's not difficult for a woman, just about any woman, to pick up a guy. All you need to do is go sit at the bar at your local joint and instead of chatting fervently with your girfirend, look up, gaze around, stop your gaze on somebody. Itś not that difficult. You don't need to be spectacularly attractive and if you are very homely, you just wait for your turn, later in the night. The ol'pecking order. I also said that when I want mainly to get laid or to get myself some love I tend not to go for the 50 something. Obviously, I go for the 20 something or the 30 something. It would make absolutely no sense to choose the least apt to achieve the end.But then again, I also said that this is the case when you are just looking for some action, which I tend not to, and most of the women I know do not either. I also said that, as most things in life, most people are not terribly proficient at it or, in other words, most men are lousy lays. Basically, you hope for the best, chose the one that looks like he could be somewhat adept at it, listen to a lot of crap.
Follow him
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
You are bored, you need something to read, somebody to follow ... I can help you. Go read Alain's blog and if he says somethings less than absolutely flattering about me, let me know and I will send somebody to crush his knees.
It will have to wait
Back from my absurd Italian meetup. As usual we ended up talking about female/male relationships but we were really just talking about sex. I have plenty to say on the subject, just not right now. Cockteasers, cougars, prostitution, I guess we ran the gamut. Then somehow we touched upon geekiness and Linux. I will check your blog, and you know who you are, so you better mind what you write. As for me, I am going to watch something on the web and crash. The detail will have to wait until tomorrow. Namaste.
History in the making
Minor history, but still history. My office is all packed and the movers will start hauling everything off tonight. Tomorrow only my pc and the bare furniture will be here. At 1 PM we are supposed to turn off the computers and leave. Monday morning we will report at another location, just a couple of blocks away (and one block away from my place!). Theoretically we will stay in the new office for a few years while the main building gets a much needed overhaul but I am convinced we will stay away for good. As excited as I always am about change, and this time is no exception, I know I will miss being in the midst of the action. It was amazing to be having lunch surrounded by indigenous people dressed in traditional garb, in from all over the world for a meeting in NY. Or walking around among people with all kinds of disabilities here to discuss a convention. Or the opening of the General Assembly with Presidents and dignitaries from all over. Or even just a regular day. It felt like NY inside NY, the most diverse of workplaces. I've asked my colleagues to take pictures, load of pictures, so I can make a photo book for us, but I don't want to get overly nostalgic. I have been here for 10 years now. Time to move out and on.
By the way, this is my first post on posterous. It's supposed to post to my blogger blog and to twitter and facebook. Go!
Twitter is getting in the way of blogging
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
It’s uncanny how I write posts that I do not upload. Not hundreds of them, but certainly more than what my blog might lead you to think. I have been all over the place recently, went to Florida, then to Mexico, then to DC, then to Spain (came back on Sunday), and now, in two weeks, I will be off to Uruguay. I have also seen at least ten shows, joined a new club and took turbo kickboxing classes and bollywood dance classes (I know, I know, it´s masala bhangra), choose the class I want to take at the Culinary School of NY and I am now looking into meditation classes too. I’ve been working from home, and home is just wherever I lay my hat, on Mondays and Tuesdays and somehow I think I even managed to boost my productivity. Today I will work late, too late to go see this singer I recently met at a party, but tomorrow and Friday I will be out roaming the bars and making a fool of myself on the dance floors. Life is good and it will only get better. One tweet at a time.
Petition
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I have just read and signed the online petition:
"Boycott Kellogg's For Treatment Of Michael Phelps"
hosted on the web by PetitionOnline.com, the free online petition
service, at:
http://www.PetitionOnline.com/Kellogg/
I personally agree with what this petition says, and I think you might
agree, too. If you can spare a moment, please take a look, and consider
signing yourself.
Back in the game
Monday, February 9, 2009
He went back home so here I am, plunging into my usual post-M.A. hyperkinetic lifestyle. Out on Saturday, out on Sunday, out today. So many things to do, so many posts to write ... stay put.
A mini Xmas post
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I keep writing in my head, or drafting posts on the computer, but I never upload them. My bad. Today will not be much of an exception, as I should try and finish a text while hoping for the traditional early release from work so I can get home and prepare the Christmas hoopla. I love Christmas, so much more than NYE, which can sometimes get a little depressing. I am not planning anything big, just dinner at home with M.A., but I still want the works. I downloaded plenty of Christmas music, bought the red tablecloth, the wine, the Champagne, the Pandoro. The food should be scrumptious as usual, the cocktails just right. The tree is lighted and the wifi network for Skype videoconferencing with the families is set. Bring it on!
Have a wonderful Christmas y'all!
Deck tha hall with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la ... …
The party was a major success
Sunday, November 2, 2008
I have uploaded a lot of pictures on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=40323&l=e4e9c&id=500078515
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=40337&l=ff0c4&id=500078515
and in the meantime, enjoy this:
Some of the books half read or waiting to be read by my bed, on the left side
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Working Poor, Invisible in America by David K. Shipler (you can have a good chuckle reading this guy's opinion on the book);
Comfortable with Uncertainty: 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion by Pema Chodron;
The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge, M.D.;
Social Intelligence by Daniel Goleman;
Leap! What Will We Do with the Rest of Our Lives? by Sara Davidson;
Train Your Mind Change Your Brain by Sharon Begley;
The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, Ph.D.;
How Language Works by David Crystal;
The Mole People by Jennifer Toth.
Piece of fiction
Saturday, October 25, 2008
This is one imaginative bullshitter. I just went to Geneva and back for one night. I obviously never considered the possibility of not going out so I met old and new friends at a bar and restaurant in the Old Town. The place was lively enough when we got there, although the crowd looked a bit like UN interns. The mojitos were good and desserts were great. I was having a grand time and then, at precisely midnight, we were asked to leave because they were closing. The walk to the cars was straight out of a sci-fi movie. Thursday night, absolutely nobody out. Dark. Quiet. Dead.
More on the trip later, now I have to get back into a NY state of mind. Brunch. Then getting ready for the play tonight. Then drinks. Then the play. Then more drinks at Dawn's later on.
Middle of the night musings
Monday, October 20, 2008
There is not much on TV these days. It seems every time I turn it on there's a new ridiculous reality show. They sure seem to chose, in the best of cases, the most uninteresting, self-centered and emotionally retarded people, leaving dull, vapid lives. First it was the spectacularly depressing gated-community blondes from the Real Housewives of Orange County. Then the sad wanna bes from the New York season. Now there's the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Grown women in petty fights, flaunting their terrible taste and god awful table manners. Depressing. There's I love money, Rock of Love, Charm School, The Girls Next Door. Basically a bunch of seriously dysfunctional train wrecks, most of them absolutely illiterate. It's not that I only want to see fascinating social documentaries, it's that I would welcome more compelling characters. I am a voyeuse, always have been, and I used to love reality shows. I was a big fan of MTV's Real World, back when it was something more than just the token perfectionist Asian, the token gay, the token angry black man or woman, the token stupid middle American, all pumped, all naked in a hot tub. Now it's so predictable, so boring. And I won't even go into The Pick Up Artist. I don't know who decided this imbecile had something worth teaching, but whoever it was needs to have his/her head examined.
I am also tired of the celebrity blogs. There is only so much I can handle of David Duchovny's sexual addiction, Brit Brit Cheeto addiction, SamRo and HoHan's escapades, etc. etc. etc. etc. For the record, I think Vadje looks like a mean old junkie and I couldn't care less about her divorce. Who in their right mind could have married her in the first place?
So after all this crap, I find it extremely refreshing to stumble upon a well written, inspiring blog from an genuine human being. Here it is. Enjoy it.
Anyway, now that I pronounced my deep statement for the week, let me tell you that ... OMG!!!! OMG!!!! OMG!!!!!!!! I saw Tom Cruise on Friday!!!!!! Live!!!!! And he is GORGEOUS!!!!!
I was at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, already comfortably seated, ready for my Arthur Miller cry fest, when I looked to my left and saw somebody who looked like Oprah walking to her seat, more or less on my row, but in the middle of the orchestra. I looked really hard and saw Gayle, so I knew it was Oprah. And then TA DAN!!! Tommy Boy himself! Flashing his trademark grin. I did my best to play it cool. Not like those tourists from NJ or Ohio, all dressed up like they were going to a funeral (it's very easy to tell who's not from NY on Broadway), who were hanging from the mezzanine straining to see them.
I could marry that man! I don't give a damn if he believes in little green monsters. I don't find his faith any more or any less far-fetched than the more mainstream ones and if he does everything with the same intensity he puts in that dazzling smile, Katie must be a very satisfied woman.
And now I gotta go back to my text (thankfully, I should be done in an hour or so).
Bits and pieces
Friday, October 17, 2008
Going to see All My Sons tonight. Gotta check out Katie Holmes.
Last week (was it last week?) I saw The Atheist and stayed over for the chat with the director and the actor. Loved everything about the play except for the ending and I was not alone in my thinking.
Other than that, I've been working nights (4 to 12.30 but really 2 or 3 AM), and putting in a lot of hours a day editing the video clip for the exhibit. It will be launched on Monday and I am invited (free booze, free food).
The big news (well, one of the big news anyways) of the week was that we finally got completely fed up of the Italian theater group director and just told him to shove it. We are now rehearsing independently. I'll have to expand on that eventually.
So tomorrow it's rehearsals at 1 PM and then work work work. Gotta do 30 pages for Monday, but at least I don't have to come to the office. Monday will be a little hectic, finishing this text and probably doing last minute editing on the video. And then ... big news number 2 .... I am taking Tuesday day off to prepare for my super quick trip to Geneva. Leaving on Wednesday, arriving on Thursday, coming back on Friday. Susan, if you are reading this, maybe we could meet at some bar in the Old Town on Thursday evening?
My cell won't work in Europe, but I will be bringing my MacBook for Skype, Twitter and Facebook, among other things.
Getting ready for the debate
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Spur of the moment kinda thing, I invited a few people over for the debate drinking game. I bought a bottle of Stoli, 4 bottles of wine (2 red, 2 rosé) and I have a few beers (guests will contribute). I also bought some finger food and juice for the pregnant one. A quick shower and I will start connecting the laptop to the larger screen and the speakers. I will also turn on an additional TV and start preparing the food. Must not forget to charge my cell for the twitters.
I have no idea who is coming. We might be two or three, we might be a whole bunch.
Getting ready ...
Thursday, October 2, 2008
for the great Palin comedy act tonight. I am working nights this week so I will have to follow it on the Web. I will probably watch it at Current, and I will be twittering (or is it tweeting, maybe twitting?) away. I will also be following the scrolling twits (tweeters,witters?) at Election 2008. Unfortunately I cannot play the Palin bingo, nor can I join one of the Palin drinking games.
By the way, as much as I dislike McCain, his mom rocks. With a mother like that, how could he ever go marry that creepy creature?
