I am content
to sit on my roof
in my beat-up old pants
black shirt
and no shoes
and watch
hummingbirds.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
July 21, 2003
The humidity is broken, or rather is in the process of breaking, by means of a lovely thunderstorm. It's evening dark outside and the rain is soakingly torrential, the way rain should be. Thunder is rippling across the sky. Lightning flashes. I love this weather.
The rain is coming down in sheets, sweeping over the garage roof. There's even the hint of a tornado warning. Flicker flicker flash. I remember last year stripped to the waist, playing Eggy with the guys over by the elementary school.
There was just one of those flashes of lightning that makes you cringe in anticipation of the thunder, and it smashes over the neighborhood.
Ernie used to hate these. He'd always hide underneath the computer table, next to the power cords for whatever reason.
Further rumbling, growing distant. From my military studies I can't help but think of artillery explosions.
Gram used to tell me that thunder was the sound of the angels bowling.
I always used to wonder if my grandfather was a good bowler.
Someone just split the sky in half, anyway. Zeus rolled a strike, is getting cheers from Apollo and Aphrodite, while Athena keeps score and Hera wonders when exactly Zeus will be home to feed the dog and maybe get the kids from soccer practice. Except all the kids are watching the Old Man bowling cause damned if he ain't all kinds of good at it.
The sky is clearing up in the west. The storm/game is almost over. My stereo and computer are both broken, which is good because it got me out onto the porch to watch the rain.
A few last desultory rumbles, and it's all over. Everything washed clean, the air clear, the sky turning light, and all things shining.
The rain is coming down in sheets, sweeping over the garage roof. There's even the hint of a tornado warning. Flicker flicker flash. I remember last year stripped to the waist, playing Eggy with the guys over by the elementary school.
There was just one of those flashes of lightning that makes you cringe in anticipation of the thunder, and it smashes over the neighborhood.
Ernie used to hate these. He'd always hide underneath the computer table, next to the power cords for whatever reason.
Further rumbling, growing distant. From my military studies I can't help but think of artillery explosions.
Gram used to tell me that thunder was the sound of the angels bowling.
I always used to wonder if my grandfather was a good bowler.
Someone just split the sky in half, anyway. Zeus rolled a strike, is getting cheers from Apollo and Aphrodite, while Athena keeps score and Hera wonders when exactly Zeus will be home to feed the dog and maybe get the kids from soccer practice. Except all the kids are watching the Old Man bowling cause damned if he ain't all kinds of good at it.
The sky is clearing up in the west. The storm/game is almost over. My stereo and computer are both broken, which is good because it got me out onto the porch to watch the rain.
A few last desultory rumbles, and it's all over. Everything washed clean, the air clear, the sky turning light, and all things shining.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Confirmation Of Assignment
At my job, I have to send out emails whenever one of our candidates is selected for an interview or for hire.
I hate these things. They used to scare the piss out of me, since any mistakes potentially impacted the freelancer (which is bad) and resulted in shrieking vengeance upon me (which is worse). The probability for error is compounded by the utter lack of communication between the members of our division, with the result that I can be told to send one thing by one person, then get in trouble with another person for sending that information. Usually, somehow, it winds up being my fault, and I am told dismissively that I should have "worked with so-and-so" before sending the damn thing out.
The emails themselves aren't complicated. There's a template to fill out, or, once one has accumulated a good supply of them, you can take an older one and swap out the name, date, time, and special instructions. This saves time but can be risky, since if you're going fast (as one usually is when one is flipping old emails) and you forget to change the time, you're in for it.
Anyway, parody is one of the things that keeps me going at the godawful place.
***PLEASE REPLY ALL TO CONFIRM RECEIPT OF MESSAGE***
Hi Jack Of-All-Trades
Thank you for being available to work with [our staffing agency] at The Immortal 300! You should ask for King Leonidas, Ruler of Sparta when you arrive. Please bring 2 forms of ID and any relevant bardic songs chronicling your merciless vengeance with you. You will also need to have an sharp sword and an interlocking shield. Remember to dress to show off your muscles, and not to bring up the possibility of survival, just defer that conversation to [our staffing agency]. Here are the details you will need to know for this assignment:
CLIENT: The Immortal 300
DATES / DURATION: 480 BC / expected duration until all Persians are dead and Sparta is free
TIME: There is no time to waste
ADDRESS:
The Hot Gates of Thermopylae
CONTACT: King Leonidas
CONTACT'S PHONE NUMBER: You need no phone where you are going.
RATE: Slaughter is its own reward CONFIDENTIAL – Please do not discuss your rate with anyone but [our staffing agency].
DIRECTIONS:
Exit gates of Lacedaemon
Journey south with a group of good friends
Turn Left at the Hot Gates
End at Phocian Wall
Keep in mind most projects have the potential to be extended past the original projected end date, especially in the event of the Persian dogs retreating. Please inform us of any changes in your availability so we can keep the client best informed.
If you are running late or have an emergency, you are unworthy.
We want to make sure you have a pleasant experience killing for our clients, so please give us a call a few hours after you have repelled the first wave.
If at any time you need time off, you are hereby reminded to return with your shield or on it.
If you have any questions please call your recruiter. If you have questions about payroll or timesheets, please contact Demosthenes, who will whip you into submission. We are here to help you and make sure you do not turn traitor like that coward Ephilates.
Demosthenes – 3rd Phalanx. The one with the big whip.
demos@accessnyc.com
I hate these things. They used to scare the piss out of me, since any mistakes potentially impacted the freelancer (which is bad) and resulted in shrieking vengeance upon me (which is worse). The probability for error is compounded by the utter lack of communication between the members of our division, with the result that I can be told to send one thing by one person, then get in trouble with another person for sending that information. Usually, somehow, it winds up being my fault, and I am told dismissively that I should have "worked with so-and-so" before sending the damn thing out.
The emails themselves aren't complicated. There's a template to fill out, or, once one has accumulated a good supply of them, you can take an older one and swap out the name, date, time, and special instructions. This saves time but can be risky, since if you're going fast (as one usually is when one is flipping old emails) and you forget to change the time, you're in for it.
Anyway, parody is one of the things that keeps me going at the godawful place.
***PLEASE REPLY ALL TO CONFIRM RECEIPT OF MESSAGE***
Hi Jack Of-All-Trades
Thank you for being available to work with [our staffing agency] at The Immortal 300! You should ask for King Leonidas, Ruler of Sparta when you arrive. Please bring 2 forms of ID and any relevant bardic songs chronicling your merciless vengeance with you. You will also need to have an sharp sword and an interlocking shield. Remember to dress to show off your muscles, and not to bring up the possibility of survival, just defer that conversation to [our staffing agency]. Here are the details you will need to know for this assignment:
CLIENT: The Immortal 300
DATES / DURATION: 480 BC / expected duration until all Persians are dead and Sparta is free
TIME: There is no time to waste
ADDRESS:
The Hot Gates of Thermopylae
CONTACT: King Leonidas
CONTACT'S PHONE NUMBER: You need no phone where you are going.
RATE: Slaughter is its own reward CONFIDENTIAL – Please do not discuss your rate with anyone but [our staffing agency].
DIRECTIONS:
Exit gates of Lacedaemon
Journey south with a group of good friends
Turn Left at the Hot Gates
End at Phocian Wall
Keep in mind most projects have the potential to be extended past the original projected end date, especially in the event of the Persian dogs retreating. Please inform us of any changes in your availability so we can keep the client best informed.
If you are running late or have an emergency, you are unworthy.
We want to make sure you have a pleasant experience killing for our clients, so please give us a call a few hours after you have repelled the first wave.
If at any time you need time off, you are hereby reminded to return with your shield or on it.
If you have any questions please call your recruiter. If you have questions about payroll or timesheets, please contact Demosthenes, who will whip you into submission. We are here to help you and make sure you do not turn traitor like that coward Ephilates.
Demosthenes – 3rd Phalanx. The one with the big whip.
demos@accessnyc.com
Sunday, July 13, 2008
July 13 2003, 1:40 PM
"Think I can jump across this, Em? Think I can jump across this?"
A small boy in jeans and a multicolored tshirt yelled this to his even smaller sister as they ran along the bank of the stream in Congress Park. The stream is probably twice as wide as he is tall, but he still wants to try, and only a yell from his mother dissuades him until he notices the carousel and begins begging for a ride.
A squirrel just started to climb noisily down the tree I'm sitting under. He looks very confused - what right do I have to be under his tree? A confused squirrel looking at you upside-down can't help but be comical. He didn't take kindly to my laugh and scampered off through the branches to try another tree.
This is a great spot for people watching. Little kids and ducks have quite the symbiotic relationship - the kids provide the ducks with food, and the ducks provide the kids with entertainment, fuel for their amazing drive to try and do everything in the world and still be home for macaroni and cheese in the evening.
Everyone wants to be small again, to feed the ducks that are half as tall as you when they stretch their necks out for stale bread.
Sometimes I think: what's the point of life? Why are we here if we're just destined to die, our species become extinct, our planet disappear inside the supernova of the sun or get blown out of existence by a reckless madman with weapons of unnecessary and grotesque power?
But right here is an answer, in front of me. Life should be about waving hello to the ducks in the park on a Sunday afternoon, breathing the still air that seems to mean impending rain. About sitting next to a stream watching sparrows hunting bugs, or the dachshund romping about on its ridiculously short legs.
A white feather floats down the stream as a woman in a white bridal gown trailing a veil flows past with a page and three bridesmaids.
Life should be as intensely simple as that. Breathtaking as being in love in the park, simple as a white feather coasting downstream turning lazily in the current, or a sparrow taking a drink & disappearing.
Because really, what's so wonderful about having a point? Tiny ducklings scuttling through the grass and splashing into the stream have it all figured out, so what's taking me so long?
In complexity there lies potential destruction.
Live simply and fully; more one cannot do.
A small boy in jeans and a multicolored tshirt yelled this to his even smaller sister as they ran along the bank of the stream in Congress Park. The stream is probably twice as wide as he is tall, but he still wants to try, and only a yell from his mother dissuades him until he notices the carousel and begins begging for a ride.
A squirrel just started to climb noisily down the tree I'm sitting under. He looks very confused - what right do I have to be under his tree? A confused squirrel looking at you upside-down can't help but be comical. He didn't take kindly to my laugh and scampered off through the branches to try another tree.
This is a great spot for people watching. Little kids and ducks have quite the symbiotic relationship - the kids provide the ducks with food, and the ducks provide the kids with entertainment, fuel for their amazing drive to try and do everything in the world and still be home for macaroni and cheese in the evening.
Everyone wants to be small again, to feed the ducks that are half as tall as you when they stretch their necks out for stale bread.
Sometimes I think: what's the point of life? Why are we here if we're just destined to die, our species become extinct, our planet disappear inside the supernova of the sun or get blown out of existence by a reckless madman with weapons of unnecessary and grotesque power?
But right here is an answer, in front of me. Life should be about waving hello to the ducks in the park on a Sunday afternoon, breathing the still air that seems to mean impending rain. About sitting next to a stream watching sparrows hunting bugs, or the dachshund romping about on its ridiculously short legs.
A white feather floats down the stream as a woman in a white bridal gown trailing a veil flows past with a page and three bridesmaids.
Life should be as intensely simple as that. Breathtaking as being in love in the park, simple as a white feather coasting downstream turning lazily in the current, or a sparrow taking a drink & disappearing.
Because really, what's so wonderful about having a point? Tiny ducklings scuttling through the grass and splashing into the stream have it all figured out, so what's taking me so long?
In complexity there lies potential destruction.
Live simply and fully; more one cannot do.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
XM Satellite Radio: Round Two
Because it's just that kind of day.
* Maroon 5 - Makes Me Wonder
After much careful thought and due consideration, I'm replacing Colbie Caillat's song "Bubbly" in THE TRINITY with this piece of audio dreck. The fact that this little ditty won a Grammy has greatly reduced my desire to win a Grammy for myself.
* Michael Buble - Lost
Ah, the mental image of a ringletted chanteur wearing sunglasses, a striped leisure suit, and one gold earring sitting behind his piano and wailing away. The cameras whirr around on their booms, crossfading when they catch the hired gun bass player rolling his eyes. People attending the concert are underwhelmed, yet the live DVD sells a few thousand copies.
* Vanessa Carlton - A Thousand Miles
Another Stewart's flashback. When I hear this one, I swear I can smell an overabundance of ice cream mixed with the faintest whiff of stale hot dog. A warning, dear reader: never eat the hot dogs at Stewart's. I know where they've been (mostly just in the steamer) and how often they get changed in the steamer (never). Actually, just kinda stay away from the prepared food at Stewart's anyway. I don't think I ever saw anyone changing the chili, but then again, I never worked the opening shift.
* Sheryl Crow - The First Cut Is The Deepest
Deep enough to cut this single in half and throw it in the garbage. Next!
* Celine Dion - My Heart Will Go On
Let us give credit where 'tis due: in 1997, James Cameron's Titanic was the most historically accurate depiction of the sinking. (I am not, of course, referring to the storyline, which we will get to shortly and acidly). Cameron has personally visited the wreck site and is known as one of the foremost scholars and researchers on the subject; depictions of the ship going down were based on the latest evidence of the time. Notably different is the older (and, in my mind, superior) film A Night To Remember, based on Walter Lord's book of the same title. What made A Night To Remember most interesting, I think, is that it depicts the sinking as the survivors remembered it. Interviews were conducted, and Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall served as the historical consultant to the film. The wreck hadn't been found by the time ANTR was filmed, so that was, for the time, the best possible account of what had actually happened, despite the omissions and contradictions that we can now prove. Neat, eh? So we have two different versions, each with their own merits - as it was remembered, and as it was scientifically thought to have happened. (We now postulate that even Cameron's 1997 version is inaccurate, that the stern did not actually stand straight up in the air and various other changes - but that's for another time). So, what I'm mostly saying is that the film Titanic is not without detriment, both from the historical standpoint and the 13-year-old-boy-sees-Kate-Winslet's-boobs-on-the-big-screen standpoint.
However. The needless drama added by the storyline (seriously, it's the TITANIC, it's hard to get more dramatic, you don't need to add all that rubbish) is punctuated by the inclusion of this crap song slams what could have been a fantastic historical epic into the realm of sappy romance. Thanks, Celine. This is your fault.
* Phil Collins - A Groovy Kind Of Love
If you want to hear a TRULY Groovy Kind Of Love, find this song as performed by The Hippos. This version is about as groovy as plain mashed potatoes. Zero gravy train, baby.
* LeAnn Rimes - I Need You
I almost wiped LeAnn Rimes out on the streets of New York, and I'm regretting that I didn't have better aim. Although, given the size of her security guards, I'm probably better off deriding her music from the safety of The Internets. LeAnn and all her ilk should bow down before Allison Krauss, and that's my final word.
*Aaron Neville - Everybody Plays The Fool
And the DJ plays this song. Humbug! I can't even think of a good rejoinder for this one. Next.
* The Band Outside - We Drown Out XM Satellite Radio
There's some riotous cacophony going on outside at this very minute. Every Wednesday, a band gathers somewhere in Midtown and rocks out for an hour or two. I haven't been able to locate exactly where, or why, or who, but what the hell, it means I can't hear Band On The Run for the nth time, and that'd good enough for me. Someone give those boys a record deal
* Maroon 5 - Makes Me Wonder
After much careful thought and due consideration, I'm replacing Colbie Caillat's song "Bubbly" in THE TRINITY with this piece of audio dreck. The fact that this little ditty won a Grammy has greatly reduced my desire to win a Grammy for myself.
* Michael Buble - Lost
Ah, the mental image of a ringletted chanteur wearing sunglasses, a striped leisure suit, and one gold earring sitting behind his piano and wailing away. The cameras whirr around on their booms, crossfading when they catch the hired gun bass player rolling his eyes. People attending the concert are underwhelmed, yet the live DVD sells a few thousand copies.
* Vanessa Carlton - A Thousand Miles
Another Stewart's flashback. When I hear this one, I swear I can smell an overabundance of ice cream mixed with the faintest whiff of stale hot dog. A warning, dear reader: never eat the hot dogs at Stewart's. I know where they've been (mostly just in the steamer) and how often they get changed in the steamer (never). Actually, just kinda stay away from the prepared food at Stewart's anyway. I don't think I ever saw anyone changing the chili, but then again, I never worked the opening shift.
* Sheryl Crow - The First Cut Is The Deepest
Deep enough to cut this single in half and throw it in the garbage. Next!
* Celine Dion - My Heart Will Go On
Let us give credit where 'tis due: in 1997, James Cameron's Titanic was the most historically accurate depiction of the sinking. (I am not, of course, referring to the storyline, which we will get to shortly and acidly). Cameron has personally visited the wreck site and is known as one of the foremost scholars and researchers on the subject; depictions of the ship going down were based on the latest evidence of the time. Notably different is the older (and, in my mind, superior) film A Night To Remember, based on Walter Lord's book of the same title. What made A Night To Remember most interesting, I think, is that it depicts the sinking as the survivors remembered it. Interviews were conducted, and Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall served as the historical consultant to the film. The wreck hadn't been found by the time ANTR was filmed, so that was, for the time, the best possible account of what had actually happened, despite the omissions and contradictions that we can now prove. Neat, eh? So we have two different versions, each with their own merits - as it was remembered, and as it was scientifically thought to have happened. (We now postulate that even Cameron's 1997 version is inaccurate, that the stern did not actually stand straight up in the air and various other changes - but that's for another time). So, what I'm mostly saying is that the film Titanic is not without detriment, both from the historical standpoint and the 13-year-old-boy-sees-Kate-Winslet's-boobs-on-the-big-screen standpoint.
However. The needless drama added by the storyline (seriously, it's the TITANIC, it's hard to get more dramatic, you don't need to add all that rubbish) is punctuated by the inclusion of this crap song slams what could have been a fantastic historical epic into the realm of sappy romance. Thanks, Celine. This is your fault.
* Phil Collins - A Groovy Kind Of Love
If you want to hear a TRULY Groovy Kind Of Love, find this song as performed by The Hippos. This version is about as groovy as plain mashed potatoes. Zero gravy train, baby.
* LeAnn Rimes - I Need You
I almost wiped LeAnn Rimes out on the streets of New York, and I'm regretting that I didn't have better aim. Although, given the size of her security guards, I'm probably better off deriding her music from the safety of The Internets. LeAnn and all her ilk should bow down before Allison Krauss, and that's my final word.
*Aaron Neville - Everybody Plays The Fool
And the DJ plays this song. Humbug! I can't even think of a good rejoinder for this one. Next.
* The Band Outside - We Drown Out XM Satellite Radio
There's some riotous cacophony going on outside at this very minute. Every Wednesday, a band gathers somewhere in Midtown and rocks out for an hour or two. I haven't been able to locate exactly where, or why, or who, but what the hell, it means I can't hear Band On The Run for the nth time, and that'd good enough for me. Someone give those boys a record deal
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