I am all of a sudden tired of gay youth killing themselves.
A Rutgers University freshman killed himself last week after his roommate broadcast a sexual encounter on the internet, a gay sexual encounter.
Strangely enough, I have had a sexual encounter at Rutgers. Before the internet, but in some ways, it was much the same, but then, this is not about me.
It's about you. And your friends. And your friends friends.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Sexing it up
Well, just yesterday I sat through hours of a corporate sex harassment seminar and all I came away with is how confusing it must be for courts to decide who does what to whom. That said, I am completely obsessed with a new term, consensual adult interaction.
That's right, if you ask someone out (not sex harassment) and they say yes, (not sex harassment) and you share a beautiful dinner, a glass or two of wine and end up in the back seat of your VW van that is considered consensual adult interaction. Ummm, say it with me a couple of times.
So, the sexy hot amazing expert on sex harassment was explaining this to me yesterday and I kept thinking, I wonder what some good old consensual adult interaction would be like, wink wink.
Now, I know, sex harassment is not always fun or healthy, but then, what is? You know what is not fun and healthy? The term consensual adult interaction. I miss the term Hooky Pooky, which is the non-adult term for sexing it up.
When did we slip off the cliff as a society and stopped being healthy sexual people?
First, where are adults supposed to meet hot sexy sexual playmates? I once went to a bar and let me tell you, it was a lot closer to the bar scene from Star Wars than the Playboy Mansion. No, the very best place to meet a prospective hotty is right there at work, or maybe McDonalds, because for some of us, meeting is just the first baby step.
Now, I am generally a shy person, unable to meet new people in foreign situations, although to be honest, meeting people in foreign countries has never been a problem. I have also been guilty of being somewhat sexually harassing.
Example? Yes of course. It all started in Alaska, where all deviant sexuality does. I was working at becoming an award winning journalist and the secretary for the news division was this beautiful Native American woman named Tess. She was something of a free spirit and on a daily basis she would look at me with passion and disbelief. I am not sure how it started, but one day I mispronounced her name, instead of saying Tess, has there been any super important phone calls for me, I accidentally said, Tits, has there been any super important phone calls for me. Her answer was the same as always, no.
But from that day on, her name shifted from the eloquent Tess to the not so discrete Tits. She never seemed to mind, in fact, her liberating smile became all the more seductive over the next few months.
But enough about Tits and me. What I am most worried about is a generation that is both humorless and sex neutered. Watch an episode of Mad Men. Those people are drinking, smoking and sexually harassing each other into a frothy mixture of all sorts of strange and wonderful things.
Would I want to go back to a place where women wore tight skirts and men had fine suits, and all anyone could think about was getting those restrictive clothes onto the floor and doing the nasty? In a heart beat.
That's right, if you ask someone out (not sex harassment) and they say yes, (not sex harassment) and you share a beautiful dinner, a glass or two of wine and end up in the back seat of your VW van that is considered consensual adult interaction. Ummm, say it with me a couple of times.
So, the sexy hot amazing expert on sex harassment was explaining this to me yesterday and I kept thinking, I wonder what some good old consensual adult interaction would be like, wink wink.
Now, I know, sex harassment is not always fun or healthy, but then, what is? You know what is not fun and healthy? The term consensual adult interaction. I miss the term Hooky Pooky, which is the non-adult term for sexing it up.
When did we slip off the cliff as a society and stopped being healthy sexual people?
First, where are adults supposed to meet hot sexy sexual playmates? I once went to a bar and let me tell you, it was a lot closer to the bar scene from Star Wars than the Playboy Mansion. No, the very best place to meet a prospective hotty is right there at work, or maybe McDonalds, because for some of us, meeting is just the first baby step.
Now, I am generally a shy person, unable to meet new people in foreign situations, although to be honest, meeting people in foreign countries has never been a problem. I have also been guilty of being somewhat sexually harassing.
Example? Yes of course. It all started in Alaska, where all deviant sexuality does. I was working at becoming an award winning journalist and the secretary for the news division was this beautiful Native American woman named Tess. She was something of a free spirit and on a daily basis she would look at me with passion and disbelief. I am not sure how it started, but one day I mispronounced her name, instead of saying Tess, has there been any super important phone calls for me, I accidentally said, Tits, has there been any super important phone calls for me. Her answer was the same as always, no.
But from that day on, her name shifted from the eloquent Tess to the not so discrete Tits. She never seemed to mind, in fact, her liberating smile became all the more seductive over the next few months.
But enough about Tits and me. What I am most worried about is a generation that is both humorless and sex neutered. Watch an episode of Mad Men. Those people are drinking, smoking and sexually harassing each other into a frothy mixture of all sorts of strange and wonderful things.
Would I want to go back to a place where women wore tight skirts and men had fine suits, and all anyone could think about was getting those restrictive clothes onto the floor and doing the nasty? In a heart beat.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tea bagging
This from Matt Tiabbi, from Rolling Stone. Oh, and a side note, I once worked with Matt's brother, who was a New York TV reporter at the time, who happened to be a funny guy but was in charge of digging dirt up and reporting it as news. Oh the laughs we had.
" It's taken three trips to Kentucky, but I'm finally getting my Tea Party epiphany exactly where you'd expect: at a Sarah Palin rally. The red-hot mama of American exceptionalism has flown in to speak at something called the National Quartet Convention in Louisville, a gospel-music hoedown in a giant convention center filled with thousands of elderly white Southerners. Palin — who earlier this morning held a closed-door fundraiser for Rand Paul, the Tea Party champion running for the U.S. Senate — is railing against a GOP establishment that has just seen Tea Partiers oust entrenched Republican hacks in Delaware and New York. The dingbat revolution, it seems, is nigh.
"We're shaking up the good ol' boys," Palin chortles, to the best applause her aging crowd can muster. She then issues an oft-repeated warning (her speeches are usually a tired succession of half-coherent one-liners dumped on ravenous audiences like chum to sharks) to Republican insiders who underestimated the power of the Tea Party Death Star. "Buck up," she says, "or stay in the truck."
Stay in what truck? I wonder. What the hell does that even mean?
Scanning the thousands of hopped-up faces in the crowd, I am immediately struck by two things. One is that there isn't a single black person here. The other is the truly awesome quantity of medical hardware: Seemingly every third person in the place is sucking oxygen from a tank or propping their giant atrophied glutes on motorized wheelchair-scooters. As Palin launches into her Ronald Reagan impression — "Government's not the solution! Government's the problem!" — the person sitting next to me leans over and explains.
Related Obama in Command: The Rolling Stone Interview — In an Oval Office interview, the president discusses the Tea Party, the war, the economy and what’s at stake this November.
"The scooters are because of Medicare," he whispers helpfully. "They have these commercials down here: 'You won't even have to pay for your scooter! Medicare will pay!' Practically everyone in Kentucky has one."
A hall full of elderly white people in Medicare-paid scooters, railing against government spending and imagining themselves revolutionaries as they cheer on the vice-presidential puppet hand-picked by the GOP establishment. If there exists a better snapshot of everything the Tea Party represents, I can't imagine it.
After Palin wraps up, I race to the parking lot in search of departing Medicare-motor-scooter conservatives. I come upon an elderly couple, Janice and David Wheelock, who are fairly itching to share their views.
Related Get your dose of political muckraking from Matt Taibbi on the Taibblog.
"I'm anti-spending and anti-government," crows David, as scooter-bound Janice looks on. "The welfare state is out of control."
"OK," I say. "And what do you do for a living?"
"Me?" he says proudly. "Oh, I'm a property appraiser. Have been my whole life."
I frown. "Are either of you on Medicare?"
Silence: Then Janice, a nice enough woman, it seems, slowly raises her hand, offering a faint smile, as if to say, You got me!
"Let me get this straight," I say to David. "You've been picking up a check from the government for decades, as a tax assessor, and your wife is on Medicare. How can you complain about the welfare state?"
"Well," he says, "there's a lot of people on welfare who don't deserve it. Too many people are living off the government."
"But," I protest, "you live off the government. And have been your whole life!"
"Yeah," he says, "but I don't make very much." Vast forests have already been sacrificed to the public debate about the Tea Party: what it is, what it means, where it's going. But after lengthy study of the phenomenon, I've concluded that the whole miserable narrative boils down to one stark fact: They're full of shit. All of them. At the voter level, the Tea Party is a movement that purports to be furious about government spending — only the reality is that the vast majority of its members are former Bush supporters who yawned through two terms of record deficits and spent the past two electoral cycles frothing not about spending but about John Kerry's medals and Barack Obama's Sixties associations. The average Tea Partier is sincerely against government spending — with the exception of the money spent on them. In fact, their lack of embarrassment when it comes to collecting government largesse is key to understanding what this movement is all about — and nowhere do we see that dynamic as clearly as here in Kentucky, where Rand Paul is barreling toward the Senate with the aid of conservative icons like Palin."
" It's taken three trips to Kentucky, but I'm finally getting my Tea Party epiphany exactly where you'd expect: at a Sarah Palin rally. The red-hot mama of American exceptionalism has flown in to speak at something called the National Quartet Convention in Louisville, a gospel-music hoedown in a giant convention center filled with thousands of elderly white Southerners. Palin — who earlier this morning held a closed-door fundraiser for Rand Paul, the Tea Party champion running for the U.S. Senate — is railing against a GOP establishment that has just seen Tea Partiers oust entrenched Republican hacks in Delaware and New York. The dingbat revolution, it seems, is nigh.
"We're shaking up the good ol' boys," Palin chortles, to the best applause her aging crowd can muster. She then issues an oft-repeated warning (her speeches are usually a tired succession of half-coherent one-liners dumped on ravenous audiences like chum to sharks) to Republican insiders who underestimated the power of the Tea Party Death Star. "Buck up," she says, "or stay in the truck."
Stay in what truck? I wonder. What the hell does that even mean?
Scanning the thousands of hopped-up faces in the crowd, I am immediately struck by two things. One is that there isn't a single black person here. The other is the truly awesome quantity of medical hardware: Seemingly every third person in the place is sucking oxygen from a tank or propping their giant atrophied glutes on motorized wheelchair-scooters. As Palin launches into her Ronald Reagan impression — "Government's not the solution! Government's the problem!" — the person sitting next to me leans over and explains.
Related Obama in Command: The Rolling Stone Interview — In an Oval Office interview, the president discusses the Tea Party, the war, the economy and what’s at stake this November.
"The scooters are because of Medicare," he whispers helpfully. "They have these commercials down here: 'You won't even have to pay for your scooter! Medicare will pay!' Practically everyone in Kentucky has one."
A hall full of elderly white people in Medicare-paid scooters, railing against government spending and imagining themselves revolutionaries as they cheer on the vice-presidential puppet hand-picked by the GOP establishment. If there exists a better snapshot of everything the Tea Party represents, I can't imagine it.
After Palin wraps up, I race to the parking lot in search of departing Medicare-motor-scooter conservatives. I come upon an elderly couple, Janice and David Wheelock, who are fairly itching to share their views.
Related Get your dose of political muckraking from Matt Taibbi on the Taibblog.
"I'm anti-spending and anti-government," crows David, as scooter-bound Janice looks on. "The welfare state is out of control."
"OK," I say. "And what do you do for a living?"
"Me?" he says proudly. "Oh, I'm a property appraiser. Have been my whole life."
I frown. "Are either of you on Medicare?"
Silence: Then Janice, a nice enough woman, it seems, slowly raises her hand, offering a faint smile, as if to say, You got me!
"Let me get this straight," I say to David. "You've been picking up a check from the government for decades, as a tax assessor, and your wife is on Medicare. How can you complain about the welfare state?"
"Well," he says, "there's a lot of people on welfare who don't deserve it. Too many people are living off the government."
"But," I protest, "you live off the government. And have been your whole life!"
"Yeah," he says, "but I don't make very much." Vast forests have already been sacrificed to the public debate about the Tea Party: what it is, what it means, where it's going. But after lengthy study of the phenomenon, I've concluded that the whole miserable narrative boils down to one stark fact: They're full of shit. All of them. At the voter level, the Tea Party is a movement that purports to be furious about government spending — only the reality is that the vast majority of its members are former Bush supporters who yawned through two terms of record deficits and spent the past two electoral cycles frothing not about spending but about John Kerry's medals and Barack Obama's Sixties associations. The average Tea Partier is sincerely against government spending — with the exception of the money spent on them. In fact, their lack of embarrassment when it comes to collecting government largesse is key to understanding what this movement is all about — and nowhere do we see that dynamic as clearly as here in Kentucky, where Rand Paul is barreling toward the Senate with the aid of conservative icons like Palin."
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Elevator friendships
Oh, look, a new series of posts. First, I believe I have apologized for not posting as much as I should, but I have been guest posting in another business blog and my fingers are sore, although that last bit of information is completely unrelated to my posts.
Yesterday I was in a large building with small elevators and a happy women entered about the same time as I did. Generally speaking, I do not converse on elevators because, really, what is there to talk about? "Oh, I see you are going to 32, I am going to 45, how about that?"
Anyway, I am constantly trying to better myself, so I decided that for the next year or so, I would try and engage people in conversation and then share the results with you.
So, there I was, heading to the 45th floor, going to visit one of my favorite receptionists of all time because about a year ago I told her I was actually George Clooney and she either pretended to believe me, or she actually did believe me, either way, it was good for both of us.
The elevator was moving quickly, and I wanted to engage this woman, whom I recognized as pregnant, because I have a sixth sense about this sort of thing, having impregnated upwards of 700 billion women in my short but productive life. So, once we were done with the breaking of ice, I said, "by the way, congrats on the baby."
So, lesson one when trying to engage in conversation with a strange in a small, quick moving enclosed space. Do not ever, and I mean, EVER, mention to a fat person that you think their fat is a pregnancy. In fact, maybe what I learned is do not engage a fat person in an elevator, but what I am sure I learned was, a woman in an elevator does not want a smart ass commenting on her recent weight gain, ever. Did I mention, ever? Good.
More simplistic conversations to come. Until then, keep in mind, when you tell a large woman that she appears pregnant, you may have about 20 floors remaining with the most distressing silence in the world facing you. That and an evil look over a shoulder as she waddles out at an earlier floor than you.
Yesterday I was in a large building with small elevators and a happy women entered about the same time as I did. Generally speaking, I do not converse on elevators because, really, what is there to talk about? "Oh, I see you are going to 32, I am going to 45, how about that?"
Anyway, I am constantly trying to better myself, so I decided that for the next year or so, I would try and engage people in conversation and then share the results with you.
So, there I was, heading to the 45th floor, going to visit one of my favorite receptionists of all time because about a year ago I told her I was actually George Clooney and she either pretended to believe me, or she actually did believe me, either way, it was good for both of us.
The elevator was moving quickly, and I wanted to engage this woman, whom I recognized as pregnant, because I have a sixth sense about this sort of thing, having impregnated upwards of 700 billion women in my short but productive life. So, once we were done with the breaking of ice, I said, "by the way, congrats on the baby."
So, lesson one when trying to engage in conversation with a strange in a small, quick moving enclosed space. Do not ever, and I mean, EVER, mention to a fat person that you think their fat is a pregnancy. In fact, maybe what I learned is do not engage a fat person in an elevator, but what I am sure I learned was, a woman in an elevator does not want a smart ass commenting on her recent weight gain, ever. Did I mention, ever? Good.
More simplistic conversations to come. Until then, keep in mind, when you tell a large woman that she appears pregnant, you may have about 20 floors remaining with the most distressing silence in the world facing you. That and an evil look over a shoulder as she waddles out at an earlier floor than you.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Divorce study
Only in the internet age do you get a 28 year old message and think, huh?
Here is how it started. A few days ago I got a friend request on a site that is a lot like Facebook, except not filled with angry lesbians and bitter old queens. It seems this extremely lovely woman was a friend in college. I could not remember her and when I sent her a little note explaining that I enjoyed her request, but could not remember her, she replied that I remained the funniest guy she knows.
So we are now internet friends, she lives in Brazil or some shit, married (unhappily) and wondering what if. Like, what if I was not unhappily married.
Now I am happily unmarried, and that may be a bias of mine. I was unhappily married for almost 10 years. That is not to say I was unhappily married for 10 years, but I was married for almost 10 years and I was, well, in the end, unhappy. For most of the ten years I was just present.
So, my internet friend, and did I mention she seems to appear to be quite hot? She asks me, in such and such a circumstance, what would you do. Such and such being the key words, because people in happy, sexy, fulfilling marriages hardly ever have a such and such question.
Well, that too may not be true. When I was married there were a few times when I would be somewhere without the old ball and chain (I do love that phrase) and some sort of opportunity would present itself. A such and such opportunity you might say, and I would often think to myself, what if this such and such opportunity panned out? Such a dilemma, but because for the most part, my heart is in the right place, my priorities are true and pure and I had one of those understandings, all would magically work out.
So, internet friend, who seriously has had no contact with me, although I don't quite remember if there was contact 28 years ago, needed my advice. Unhappily married people are always casting about looking for advice and you know what? I am almost always happy to offer it. So she shares some shit with me, secrets, insecurities, questions about the future.
Now, you may not know this about me, but I have been conducting a years long study on relationships and divorce. One of the first things I learned is that people divorce for a variety of reasons, hardly any of them are sexy. Or sexual I should say. I did make a note that many people divorce after tuning up their sexuality. In my Seattle neighborhood I would see a woman start to jog, wearing short sexy shorts, stretching at the bus stop, being all sexy up in my business and I would know, not only was her marriage probably boring and on the rocks, but dammit, she was kind of hitting on me.
Now, this was back when I was still pretend married, so when neighbors would hit on me, I would act all flattered and say something sweet like, but you know I am in an unhappy marriage, and they would jog off, leaving hormones and frustration in their wake.
My study found many things to be true, most of them we how strange it is to live in a place with hot older women would, you know, make offers that were both sexy and obvious. That was not part of the official study though, because only one thing was found to be a constant in people who were divorcing and it was this. Children of the couple had to be old enough to attend a school.
That was it. I spoke with literally thousands of couples in the midst of relationship crisis, and every one of them had a different story, some were sexless marriage, some were drug or alcohol related, some were just too freaky for me to comprehend, but all of them had children and once the youngest was old enough for school, the lawyers started collecting outrageous fees.
Back to my friend from 28 years ago. She asked for my advice and I asked her how old her youngest child was. Again, she just thought I was the funniest guy on the planet, this time for no real reason, but she replied and said her youngest was 5. Five is the magic number for youngest child, so without going into details, I told her it would be wise to lawyer up. That is, if they even have lawyers in Brazil. She might be living in South Carolina though.
Here is how it started. A few days ago I got a friend request on a site that is a lot like Facebook, except not filled with angry lesbians and bitter old queens. It seems this extremely lovely woman was a friend in college. I could not remember her and when I sent her a little note explaining that I enjoyed her request, but could not remember her, she replied that I remained the funniest guy she knows.
So we are now internet friends, she lives in Brazil or some shit, married (unhappily) and wondering what if. Like, what if I was not unhappily married.
Now I am happily unmarried, and that may be a bias of mine. I was unhappily married for almost 10 years. That is not to say I was unhappily married for 10 years, but I was married for almost 10 years and I was, well, in the end, unhappy. For most of the ten years I was just present.
So, my internet friend, and did I mention she seems to appear to be quite hot? She asks me, in such and such a circumstance, what would you do. Such and such being the key words, because people in happy, sexy, fulfilling marriages hardly ever have a such and such question.
Well, that too may not be true. When I was married there were a few times when I would be somewhere without the old ball and chain (I do love that phrase) and some sort of opportunity would present itself. A such and such opportunity you might say, and I would often think to myself, what if this such and such opportunity panned out? Such a dilemma, but because for the most part, my heart is in the right place, my priorities are true and pure and I had one of those understandings, all would magically work out.
So, internet friend, who seriously has had no contact with me, although I don't quite remember if there was contact 28 years ago, needed my advice. Unhappily married people are always casting about looking for advice and you know what? I am almost always happy to offer it. So she shares some shit with me, secrets, insecurities, questions about the future.
Now, you may not know this about me, but I have been conducting a years long study on relationships and divorce. One of the first things I learned is that people divorce for a variety of reasons, hardly any of them are sexy. Or sexual I should say. I did make a note that many people divorce after tuning up their sexuality. In my Seattle neighborhood I would see a woman start to jog, wearing short sexy shorts, stretching at the bus stop, being all sexy up in my business and I would know, not only was her marriage probably boring and on the rocks, but dammit, she was kind of hitting on me.
Now, this was back when I was still pretend married, so when neighbors would hit on me, I would act all flattered and say something sweet like, but you know I am in an unhappy marriage, and they would jog off, leaving hormones and frustration in their wake.
My study found many things to be true, most of them we how strange it is to live in a place with hot older women would, you know, make offers that were both sexy and obvious. That was not part of the official study though, because only one thing was found to be a constant in people who were divorcing and it was this. Children of the couple had to be old enough to attend a school.
That was it. I spoke with literally thousands of couples in the midst of relationship crisis, and every one of them had a different story, some were sexless marriage, some were drug or alcohol related, some were just too freaky for me to comprehend, but all of them had children and once the youngest was old enough for school, the lawyers started collecting outrageous fees.
Back to my friend from 28 years ago. She asked for my advice and I asked her how old her youngest child was. Again, she just thought I was the funniest guy on the planet, this time for no real reason, but she replied and said her youngest was 5. Five is the magic number for youngest child, so without going into details, I told her it would be wise to lawyer up. That is, if they even have lawyers in Brazil. She might be living in South Carolina though.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Good times for all, except Iran
Well, I just got a call from a photojournalist in New York, who is spending his cay trying to get some candid shots of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the tiny little Iranian leader who is both adorable and dangerous.
Now, this is unrelated to the Mosque protests in lower Manhattan that seem to be held on a daily basis, but to me, much of this is related. First, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is the real deal, a dangerous nut job that happens to rule a country and is developing nuclear weapons. He is a serious danger to world safety. So, what do we do? Invite him to speak at the United Nations of course.
While on the phone to my friend the photographer I happened to ask him what was up with the Mosque protests. Now, keep in mind, this is a man who was down at Ground Zero minutes after the planes hit. He stayed there for days, documenting the rescue attempts and photographing some of the most scary and sad scenes I have ever seen. He also happened to have worked at Windows on the World and lost a number of close friends that day. When I asked about the Mosque protests, his response was clear and concise. Whenever he speaks to the protesters, they are white, from out of town and lost no one in the attacks. They are, in short, the tea bag nation.
Now, I am a big big supporter of teabagging. What I don't like is hypocrites and goody two shoes who stick their lilly white noses in everyone elses business. If this Delaware tea bag woman who is set to lose in her bid to become a senator shows anything, it is this, please don't pretend to know it all and be pure of heart when you have a past that is a complete opposite of what you are trying to project.
I could care less about Mosques or churches or any other building that houses religious people. I am all in favor of religious belief, just keep it to yourself. When those people show up at my door step and try to convert me, I make a point to answer the door naked and happy. That usually helps them focus on their message.
So, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, welcome to America, sin capital of the universe, happily in the midst of all sorts of big ugly public displays of strangeness and ineptitude, and a once great nation on the verge of destruction. Hold off on the nukes Mahmoud, we may just implode on our own.
Now, this is unrelated to the Mosque protests in lower Manhattan that seem to be held on a daily basis, but to me, much of this is related. First, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is the real deal, a dangerous nut job that happens to rule a country and is developing nuclear weapons. He is a serious danger to world safety. So, what do we do? Invite him to speak at the United Nations of course.
While on the phone to my friend the photographer I happened to ask him what was up with the Mosque protests. Now, keep in mind, this is a man who was down at Ground Zero minutes after the planes hit. He stayed there for days, documenting the rescue attempts and photographing some of the most scary and sad scenes I have ever seen. He also happened to have worked at Windows on the World and lost a number of close friends that day. When I asked about the Mosque protests, his response was clear and concise. Whenever he speaks to the protesters, they are white, from out of town and lost no one in the attacks. They are, in short, the tea bag nation.
Now, I am a big big supporter of teabagging. What I don't like is hypocrites and goody two shoes who stick their lilly white noses in everyone elses business. If this Delaware tea bag woman who is set to lose in her bid to become a senator shows anything, it is this, please don't pretend to know it all and be pure of heart when you have a past that is a complete opposite of what you are trying to project.
I could care less about Mosques or churches or any other building that houses religious people. I am all in favor of religious belief, just keep it to yourself. When those people show up at my door step and try to convert me, I make a point to answer the door naked and happy. That usually helps them focus on their message.
So, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, welcome to America, sin capital of the universe, happily in the midst of all sorts of big ugly public displays of strangeness and ineptitude, and a once great nation on the verge of destruction. Hold off on the nukes Mahmoud, we may just implode on our own.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Moments like these
Usually we do not realize we are at a great point in our lives until perspective sets in. Today, in fact this week, has been a series of wonderful moments and most of the time I have been aware of how great they are.
The vast majority of great people I know have snuck into moments all this week and that in itself is a blessing.
Seattle has long held a duality for me, there are people I kind of don't like here and people I passionately love. I got to see all the people I love and none of the people who are kind of skeevy. We also found the best sandwich shop in the world. I know, hard to believe that the very best sandwich shop in all the world is in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, but there it is.
It has been raining all week here, although it is that Seattle rain, which means that at different points in the day it rains heavily, then the sun comes out and then it rains again. If you plot your day correctly, you will spend the rain time indoors and the sunny time outdoors and life will be grand.
We spent all our sunny time outdoors and it seemed as though when ever it rained, we magically were indoors.
This has also been a week of revisiting history. I spent a day on the island of dread and walked away feeling like maybe it is not dread as much as mystery. When we moved a few years ago in an early morning get away, I felt it was about time to escape. First, to be honest, I never felt at home on that island. It was not my first choice of places to live, but at the time, using misguided logic, it became the choice. In retrospect that move was really ok, because I did meet and befriend some wonderful people, people whom to this day I trust and love. It's kind of funny, in the midst of a skeezo time in life, you can still find joy and wonder.
Confronting my ill feelings about island visitation was something I did not feel would go well, but as a friend and I navigated the island, I kept thinking that my own interior fears were completely misplaced. We did things that kept empowering the adventure, from visiting scenes of bike crashes and the bike shop of wonder, to a quick drive near the dungeon of hypocrisy. I kept thinking to myself that at some point, the floor would open up and I would be face to face with the hysterical monsters that always seemed so close at hand, but even the monsters seemed either at bay, or possibly they themselves had moved on.
The city has also offered comfort and a refreshing vision of Seattle as a place of beauty and hippy dippy coolness. I thought I might run into a couple of bad apples, but it was not the season.
So, as we prepare for a wedding and then a fairly early morning flight I am happy. My baby remains something of a mystery, which is good, the city remains something that I am now comfortable returning to and my friends remain, lucky for me, friendly.
If life could get any better, I would welcome the opportunity, but in the mean time, it's pretty damn good.
The vast majority of great people I know have snuck into moments all this week and that in itself is a blessing.
Seattle has long held a duality for me, there are people I kind of don't like here and people I passionately love. I got to see all the people I love and none of the people who are kind of skeevy. We also found the best sandwich shop in the world. I know, hard to believe that the very best sandwich shop in all the world is in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle, but there it is.
It has been raining all week here, although it is that Seattle rain, which means that at different points in the day it rains heavily, then the sun comes out and then it rains again. If you plot your day correctly, you will spend the rain time indoors and the sunny time outdoors and life will be grand.
We spent all our sunny time outdoors and it seemed as though when ever it rained, we magically were indoors.
This has also been a week of revisiting history. I spent a day on the island of dread and walked away feeling like maybe it is not dread as much as mystery. When we moved a few years ago in an early morning get away, I felt it was about time to escape. First, to be honest, I never felt at home on that island. It was not my first choice of places to live, but at the time, using misguided logic, it became the choice. In retrospect that move was really ok, because I did meet and befriend some wonderful people, people whom to this day I trust and love. It's kind of funny, in the midst of a skeezo time in life, you can still find joy and wonder.
Confronting my ill feelings about island visitation was something I did not feel would go well, but as a friend and I navigated the island, I kept thinking that my own interior fears were completely misplaced. We did things that kept empowering the adventure, from visiting scenes of bike crashes and the bike shop of wonder, to a quick drive near the dungeon of hypocrisy. I kept thinking to myself that at some point, the floor would open up and I would be face to face with the hysterical monsters that always seemed so close at hand, but even the monsters seemed either at bay, or possibly they themselves had moved on.
The city has also offered comfort and a refreshing vision of Seattle as a place of beauty and hippy dippy coolness. I thought I might run into a couple of bad apples, but it was not the season.
So, as we prepare for a wedding and then a fairly early morning flight I am happy. My baby remains something of a mystery, which is good, the city remains something that I am now comfortable returning to and my friends remain, lucky for me, friendly.
If life could get any better, I would welcome the opportunity, but in the mean time, it's pretty damn good.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Great days
You really can't go home again, in my case that is mostly true because someone purchase my house and seems to be happily living there. You can, however, visit friends and hang with children and spend a whole day with the nicest woman in America.
Seattle is such an interesting place right now. There remains the over blown glory of a recent economic power punch. There are buildings and stadiums and houses the size of a wal-mart, but there is also the after party gloom that maybe all this was built with not much. Maybe the money that flowed into the city like cocaine at a Lindsay Lohan birthday party was just that, a single evening in an uneventful life.
There are huge buildings, half built, standing around begging for attention. I saw two high heeled woman, teetering onto a ferry last night, clamoring for the same sort of attention and succeeding as well as the abandoned sky scrapers.
Here is what I have really discovered. Visiting old stomping grounds and saying hello to people I love.
Life is very short. To walk in some sort of misguided fear that someone might not want to hug you, or in my case, that someone might want to hug me, is silly. You learn lessons all the time if you treat life as something of an advanced course at a private elementary school.
Seattle is such an interesting place right now. There remains the over blown glory of a recent economic power punch. There are buildings and stadiums and houses the size of a wal-mart, but there is also the after party gloom that maybe all this was built with not much. Maybe the money that flowed into the city like cocaine at a Lindsay Lohan birthday party was just that, a single evening in an uneventful life.
There are huge buildings, half built, standing around begging for attention. I saw two high heeled woman, teetering onto a ferry last night, clamoring for the same sort of attention and succeeding as well as the abandoned sky scrapers.
Here is what I have really discovered. Visiting old stomping grounds and saying hello to people I love.
Life is very short. To walk in some sort of misguided fear that someone might not want to hug you, or in my case, that someone might want to hug me, is silly. You learn lessons all the time if you treat life as something of an advanced course at a private elementary school.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Travel thoughts
First, Hello Denver. Wow, talk about a beautiful place for beautiful people to be beautiful. I have been in a lot of airports and this airport had some serious European quotient of beauty. I walked around, my mouth open, saying, I think out loud, I want one of those, and one of those, and you two.
Good times on the tramac of life.
Also, I know a lot of people complain about air travel, but like much of our life, you really do get what you pay for. Other than cramped seating, the flights were professional, took off and landed close to on time and everything was swell. I still do the terrorist search, that is I use my own racial profiling mechanism and make sure I know who looks to be the type would try something stupid. Long ago, I made a promise to myself, I will not die at the hands of a terrorist who is trying to do something terror like.
I have a lot of great memories of Seattle. I fell in love a few times in Seattle and fell out of love an almost equal number of times. I rode bikes and crashed a number of times, sadly such a large enough number that I do not remember each one. I have wonderful and smart friends in Seattle. Today I had a Dicks burger in Seattle and it brought back a bunch of wonderful memories.
I am not sure exactly when I came to understand that Seattle and I needed to have a trial separation.
I am happy to have done it and I have no plans to move back, but for the first time since I quickly moved away, it is great to be back, it feels like returning to a home and a place of comfort.
That said, there is a deep sadness in Seattle that I did not expect. It is the same worry of economic troubles that has his the rest of the country and I just did not expect it in Seattle.
Good times on the tramac of life.
Also, I know a lot of people complain about air travel, but like much of our life, you really do get what you pay for. Other than cramped seating, the flights were professional, took off and landed close to on time and everything was swell. I still do the terrorist search, that is I use my own racial profiling mechanism and make sure I know who looks to be the type would try something stupid. Long ago, I made a promise to myself, I will not die at the hands of a terrorist who is trying to do something terror like.
I have a lot of great memories of Seattle. I fell in love a few times in Seattle and fell out of love an almost equal number of times. I rode bikes and crashed a number of times, sadly such a large enough number that I do not remember each one. I have wonderful and smart friends in Seattle. Today I had a Dicks burger in Seattle and it brought back a bunch of wonderful memories.
I am not sure exactly when I came to understand that Seattle and I needed to have a trial separation.
I am happy to have done it and I have no plans to move back, but for the first time since I quickly moved away, it is great to be back, it feels like returning to a home and a place of comfort.
That said, there is a deep sadness in Seattle that I did not expect. It is the same worry of economic troubles that has his the rest of the country and I just did not expect it in Seattle.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The wicked witch
I got a late night call from the wicked witch of the west last night. We had some catching up to do. She is my favorite drama queen of the world and last night was no let down.
First, I met the WWOTW many years ago, we were both much younger and better looking. The WWOTW has had some ups and downs since that time, mostly downs, and mostly self inflicted. Part of the reason I have little tolerance for drama is that people create their own drama and then demand the stage to complain about it. Something my mother used to say, you dig the hole you just fell into.
So when the witch called, I laid back on my bed and just listened, although as anyone who knows me, I am not big on listening. I have plenty of my own personal drama to always deal with and when it comes to complaining about it, or sharing it (as I like to refer to it) I am a better story teller. That said, the WWOTW does have a way with words.
I am going to spare you the vast majority of the WWOTW drama, suffice to say, she may be pregnant, again. Now, she has been pregnant before and even had a child, possibly more, the number does not really matter to me. What I do know is she has no children living with her, which means, of course, that she is a walking talking red flag to almost any man paying attention.
Imagine for a second that you are a single fella, looking for a nice woman to hang with, breed with and possibly get to know. So, one of the first questions I would ask is, do you have any children? And if the answer is yes, the follow up seems obvious, where are they? If that answer is almost anything but at the babysitters, I would bolt.
Why? I would bolt if a man said the same thing. I was once at a business function and this super smart sales guy was going on about his life and success and all that, and at some point, I asked about his children, who lived on the other coast with their mother and he had not seen them in many months, he was almost proud of this accomplishment, something about his ex being the worlds biggest bitch or something. Again, enormous red flag, not just because he was so removed from raising his own children, but proud of the fact.
WWOTW is much the same. She is not so much proud that she has children who do not live with her, she is almost gleeful that her life remains unencumbered by responsibility. Oh sure, she has pictures of the kids, even making sure they all get together at least once a year for a "family" photo. Yikes. That said, why is there even a possibility that the WWOTW is pregnant again? Are men really that vapid? Well, are some men really that vapid would be the better question.
I once saw a homeless woman performing oral sex on a homeless man, in an alley. Nothing about it was pretty or enticing. The "red flags" of this sort of behavior were overwhelming. I walked away almost throwing up and never thought once about the possibility that I could have joined in. When we see something so wrong, we should not find a way to justify or join in, we should scram, fast. Which is why I am so beside myself trying to figure out why someone would en enticed by the WWOTW.
Who in their right mind would engage in a sexual way with such a pathetic woman?
First, I met the WWOTW many years ago, we were both much younger and better looking. The WWOTW has had some ups and downs since that time, mostly downs, and mostly self inflicted. Part of the reason I have little tolerance for drama is that people create their own drama and then demand the stage to complain about it. Something my mother used to say, you dig the hole you just fell into.
So when the witch called, I laid back on my bed and just listened, although as anyone who knows me, I am not big on listening. I have plenty of my own personal drama to always deal with and when it comes to complaining about it, or sharing it (as I like to refer to it) I am a better story teller. That said, the WWOTW does have a way with words.
I am going to spare you the vast majority of the WWOTW drama, suffice to say, she may be pregnant, again. Now, she has been pregnant before and even had a child, possibly more, the number does not really matter to me. What I do know is she has no children living with her, which means, of course, that she is a walking talking red flag to almost any man paying attention.
Imagine for a second that you are a single fella, looking for a nice woman to hang with, breed with and possibly get to know. So, one of the first questions I would ask is, do you have any children? And if the answer is yes, the follow up seems obvious, where are they? If that answer is almost anything but at the babysitters, I would bolt.
Why? I would bolt if a man said the same thing. I was once at a business function and this super smart sales guy was going on about his life and success and all that, and at some point, I asked about his children, who lived on the other coast with their mother and he had not seen them in many months, he was almost proud of this accomplishment, something about his ex being the worlds biggest bitch or something. Again, enormous red flag, not just because he was so removed from raising his own children, but proud of the fact.
WWOTW is much the same. She is not so much proud that she has children who do not live with her, she is almost gleeful that her life remains unencumbered by responsibility. Oh sure, she has pictures of the kids, even making sure they all get together at least once a year for a "family" photo. Yikes. That said, why is there even a possibility that the WWOTW is pregnant again? Are men really that vapid? Well, are some men really that vapid would be the better question.
I once saw a homeless woman performing oral sex on a homeless man, in an alley. Nothing about it was pretty or enticing. The "red flags" of this sort of behavior were overwhelming. I walked away almost throwing up and never thought once about the possibility that I could have joined in. When we see something so wrong, we should not find a way to justify or join in, we should scram, fast. Which is why I am so beside myself trying to figure out why someone would en enticed by the WWOTW.
Who in their right mind would engage in a sexual way with such a pathetic woman?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Economics 101
An emailed suggested that I may have solved the worlds hunger problems with my donut purchase from yesterday. While I am no Mother Theresa, I will be happy to accept the Nobel Prize if indeed my buy a donut for free system works for everyone in need of a donut.
I like Elizabeth Warren, who has been keeping her eye on the TARP bailout money and seems like a very smart person. During the filming of Deregulating Greed I called her Harvard office a few times and even spoke with her secretary at the Treasury office she was using to watch every dollar ever printed, or something. Because really, when you think about it, what exactly has Ms. Warren been doing lately? There is a rumor she engages in really kinky phone sex with somewhat congress person Barney Frank, the lisping prancing congressman from her very own district. It's a rumor, but still, it does make sense.
Moving on.
Warren is in line to take a job she herself created. Now, think about this for a second. A couple of years ago Ms. Warren was a professor of law at Harvard, which is just a little surprising, at least to me, because I did not know Harvard even had a law department. In my experience with Harvard, it was all about the pudding.
The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau is something that just recently was created to keep financial institutions from pulling the same scams that almost brought down the world economy a couple of years ago. Warren has been an outspoken supporter of the CFPB. Now, the president, may be set to nominate Warren as the head of the CFPB. Brilliant. Create a career position in a government over-sight committee that has basically no power or teeth to enforce silly rules that have been watered down by the likes of your phone sex partner, the lisping prancing queen of Harvard Square.
Got to love these political types.
I like Elizabeth Warren, who has been keeping her eye on the TARP bailout money and seems like a very smart person. During the filming of Deregulating Greed I called her Harvard office a few times and even spoke with her secretary at the Treasury office she was using to watch every dollar ever printed, or something. Because really, when you think about it, what exactly has Ms. Warren been doing lately? There is a rumor she engages in really kinky phone sex with somewhat congress person Barney Frank, the lisping prancing congressman from her very own district. It's a rumor, but still, it does make sense.
Moving on.
Warren is in line to take a job she herself created. Now, think about this for a second. A couple of years ago Ms. Warren was a professor of law at Harvard, which is just a little surprising, at least to me, because I did not know Harvard even had a law department. In my experience with Harvard, it was all about the pudding.
The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau is something that just recently was created to keep financial institutions from pulling the same scams that almost brought down the world economy a couple of years ago. Warren has been an outspoken supporter of the CFPB. Now, the president, may be set to nominate Warren as the head of the CFPB. Brilliant. Create a career position in a government over-sight committee that has basically no power or teeth to enforce silly rules that have been watered down by the likes of your phone sex partner, the lisping prancing queen of Harvard Square.
Got to love these political types.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Dear Mr President
Sir,
I want to thank you for the personal note you sent me last week. While I think the Afghanistan war is a waste of time, I do understand you are the Commander in Chief, point made.
Look, I voted for you, proudly, two years ago, because quite honestly, you give great speech. Seriously, when this presidency gig is up, going to bet in 2 years, you will make millions giving speeches.
Yes, I know, I joked about the 2 years thing, but in all honesty, you are looking at a decent chance of losing in 2012. I still like you, it is nice to have a president who can speak well, or read well, because my understanding is that the Republicans like to say you could not say good morning without a teleprompter. Let's pretend for a second that what they say is true, you are nothing more than a good reader. Still about a million times better than a president who proudly could not read.
That said, your presidency is in trouble and I think I have a solution. Go left. Go far lift. There is reason in my suggestion. Look, the right wing hates you for a variety of reasons, you are smart, you seem happy and you are, of course, black. You will never win them over and the biggest mistake in your first two years was ever bothering to negotiate with the Republicans.
When you walked into office you had a mandate, and while you can claim all you want that you have steered heavy duty bills through both houses, you and I and everyone else knows these were watered down messes by the time you held a signing ceremony. So you half successes ring false. Stop bragging, the healthcare bill sucked. The problem is you went to the republicans and tried to work with them, then watered down everything and found that in the end they still did not support you.
Screw them. Here is your major problem, the left who supported you with passion feel as though you are a complete letdown. Sure, you are not Bush, who cares? McCain would have been better than Bush, stop lowering the bar. You want to stir the country up? Run wildly left. Demand laws that enrich people, follow a bit more of FDR moxie and push through a jobs program or two. You certainly can give the speeches. Get this, in the early 30's, while FDR was saving the country, the republicans stood on the sidelines and screamed socialist. Guess what? You get the same treatment without the reward of saving the country.
Run far left. Quit trying to appease. No matter what, your time as president is short. I know you like basketball, here is your metaphor. With your job, you actually start the game in the fourth quarter and the opposing team plays dirty and will do whatever it takes to keep you from the basket. Without you, your team does not stand a chance. You have one quarter to play the best game of your life, you can not make mistakes, the clock is always ticking and people expect you to step up. Quit playing defense and score some damn points.
I would love to say I will vote for you again, but if there is a serious democratic candidate running against you in 2012 (Hillary, I am finally winking in your general direction) I will jump ship.
Regards,
I want to thank you for the personal note you sent me last week. While I think the Afghanistan war is a waste of time, I do understand you are the Commander in Chief, point made.
Look, I voted for you, proudly, two years ago, because quite honestly, you give great speech. Seriously, when this presidency gig is up, going to bet in 2 years, you will make millions giving speeches.
Yes, I know, I joked about the 2 years thing, but in all honesty, you are looking at a decent chance of losing in 2012. I still like you, it is nice to have a president who can speak well, or read well, because my understanding is that the Republicans like to say you could not say good morning without a teleprompter. Let's pretend for a second that what they say is true, you are nothing more than a good reader. Still about a million times better than a president who proudly could not read.
That said, your presidency is in trouble and I think I have a solution. Go left. Go far lift. There is reason in my suggestion. Look, the right wing hates you for a variety of reasons, you are smart, you seem happy and you are, of course, black. You will never win them over and the biggest mistake in your first two years was ever bothering to negotiate with the Republicans.
When you walked into office you had a mandate, and while you can claim all you want that you have steered heavy duty bills through both houses, you and I and everyone else knows these were watered down messes by the time you held a signing ceremony. So you half successes ring false. Stop bragging, the healthcare bill sucked. The problem is you went to the republicans and tried to work with them, then watered down everything and found that in the end they still did not support you.
Screw them. Here is your major problem, the left who supported you with passion feel as though you are a complete letdown. Sure, you are not Bush, who cares? McCain would have been better than Bush, stop lowering the bar. You want to stir the country up? Run wildly left. Demand laws that enrich people, follow a bit more of FDR moxie and push through a jobs program or two. You certainly can give the speeches. Get this, in the early 30's, while FDR was saving the country, the republicans stood on the sidelines and screamed socialist. Guess what? You get the same treatment without the reward of saving the country.
Run far left. Quit trying to appease. No matter what, your time as president is short. I know you like basketball, here is your metaphor. With your job, you actually start the game in the fourth quarter and the opposing team plays dirty and will do whatever it takes to keep you from the basket. Without you, your team does not stand a chance. You have one quarter to play the best game of your life, you can not make mistakes, the clock is always ticking and people expect you to step up. Quit playing defense and score some damn points.
I would love to say I will vote for you again, but if there is a serious democratic candidate running against you in 2012 (Hillary, I am finally winking in your general direction) I will jump ship.
Regards,
Friends
I was just on the phone to an old friend, a friend who I will see later this week and he said something profound and interesting. He said he is my only friend who has never hated me.
It's kind of true too.
Even his wife has hated me. Although, I am pretty sure she does not hate me now, or today. But trust me, given time, she will hate me again.
It is a given, or certainly was, and that is a funny thing. It's not like I ever set out to make people hate me, especially in Seattle. Something about the liberal hippy culture has never quite meshed with my abrasive personality. Seattle is filled with people who love to agree with one another, so when I would say something the least bit controversial, it would lead to a bad vibe argument and me being asked to leave.
Then for a while I dated a drunk and that was not pretty because drunk people, while funny to watch, are often strange and hateful, and since I have a tendency to make hate a hands on sport, being around drunk people made it even easier to hate.
It's an interesting moment, returning to Seattle, a place where I made babies and good friends, and a place I left with a sense of shame and disconnect. I am hoping to reconnect with some friends and avoid others, but in the end, my neurosis makes me think about scenes that will probably never happen. With so many people who have hated me in my life and remain my friend, I have to think that no matter what paranoia and goofiness filters into my head, visiting with people I like should be easier than say, winning over the homo baristas at the coffee shops I plan to once again frequent.
It's kind of true too.
Even his wife has hated me. Although, I am pretty sure she does not hate me now, or today. But trust me, given time, she will hate me again.
It is a given, or certainly was, and that is a funny thing. It's not like I ever set out to make people hate me, especially in Seattle. Something about the liberal hippy culture has never quite meshed with my abrasive personality. Seattle is filled with people who love to agree with one another, so when I would say something the least bit controversial, it would lead to a bad vibe argument and me being asked to leave.
Then for a while I dated a drunk and that was not pretty because drunk people, while funny to watch, are often strange and hateful, and since I have a tendency to make hate a hands on sport, being around drunk people made it even easier to hate.
It's an interesting moment, returning to Seattle, a place where I made babies and good friends, and a place I left with a sense of shame and disconnect. I am hoping to reconnect with some friends and avoid others, but in the end, my neurosis makes me think about scenes that will probably never happen. With so many people who have hated me in my life and remain my friend, I have to think that no matter what paranoia and goofiness filters into my head, visiting with people I like should be easier than say, winning over the homo baristas at the coffee shops I plan to once again frequent.
Shit for brains
I was just called shit for brains. Maybe I was asked, do I have shit for brains. It all happened so quickly.
I was buying a water at the store downstairs. The guy in front of me was paying and a young girl walked up to the lottery machine. When I got to the cashier, I asked the woman behind the counter if there was an age limit for people to buy lottery tickets. She said she thought so, but was not sure. Then this other woman, who was behind me in line, asked if I had shit for brains.
I did not know what to say. First, I very well may have shit for brains, so if I was honest and admitted such a thing, she might get mad at me and think I was being sarcastic. Either way, it was unfortunate.
Speaking of strange store things. This morning on my way to work, I stopped at a local donut shop and purchased a single donut, mostly to celebrate the fact that I made it through the weekend and was heading back to work. When I went to pay, the clerk told me it was 79 cents. So at first I handed her a dollar bill, but since it was 79, I looked at the little change container near the register, you know, the take a penny, give a penny container. For some reason, I thought that if I took 4 pennies from the container, it would be easier for the clerk. She kind of grunted as my fingers touched the pennies, and I help my dollar, registered the look of disgust on her face, noticed that there appeared to be other coins in the small container as well as many pennies, so I decided to scavenge. I found two quarters in the change container, a dime and 19 pennies. So, in short, I got a free donut. I may have accidentally solved the worlds hunger problems.
I was buying a water at the store downstairs. The guy in front of me was paying and a young girl walked up to the lottery machine. When I got to the cashier, I asked the woman behind the counter if there was an age limit for people to buy lottery tickets. She said she thought so, but was not sure. Then this other woman, who was behind me in line, asked if I had shit for brains.
I did not know what to say. First, I very well may have shit for brains, so if I was honest and admitted such a thing, she might get mad at me and think I was being sarcastic. Either way, it was unfortunate.
Speaking of strange store things. This morning on my way to work, I stopped at a local donut shop and purchased a single donut, mostly to celebrate the fact that I made it through the weekend and was heading back to work. When I went to pay, the clerk told me it was 79 cents. So at first I handed her a dollar bill, but since it was 79, I looked at the little change container near the register, you know, the take a penny, give a penny container. For some reason, I thought that if I took 4 pennies from the container, it would be easier for the clerk. She kind of grunted as my fingers touched the pennies, and I help my dollar, registered the look of disgust on her face, noticed that there appeared to be other coins in the small container as well as many pennies, so I decided to scavenge. I found two quarters in the change container, a dime and 19 pennies. So, in short, I got a free donut. I may have accidentally solved the worlds hunger problems.
Cycle tragic
ENUMCLAW, Wash. – The King County Sheriff's Office says a driver who struck and killed a bicyclist early Sunday was so distraught he pulled over and shot and killed himself.
According to friends, a group gathered at a bar Saturday night to celebrate the birthday of a young man. He left the bar in the early morning hours on a bicycle to go pick up his truck at a nearby farm.
As he was cycling down the rural road, a truck hit and killed the cyclist. The truck's 24-year-old driver immediately stopped and went back to the scene. He recognized the dead cyclist as the same man whose birthday he helped celebrate earlier in the evening. Then, friends say, the overcome truck driver pulled out a gun and killed himself near the scene.
Nearby residents did not see or hear the crash.
"We're investigating to see if alcohol was a factor on the part of the driver," said Sgt. John Urquhart.
A group of tearful friends gathered near the site where a roadside memorial was growing Sunday, but none of them would comment on camera. So far, the families have chosen not to comment.
The cyclist who was killed worked on a nearby dairy farm.
According to friends, a group gathered at a bar Saturday night to celebrate the birthday of a young man. He left the bar in the early morning hours on a bicycle to go pick up his truck at a nearby farm.
As he was cycling down the rural road, a truck hit and killed the cyclist. The truck's 24-year-old driver immediately stopped and went back to the scene. He recognized the dead cyclist as the same man whose birthday he helped celebrate earlier in the evening. Then, friends say, the overcome truck driver pulled out a gun and killed himself near the scene.
Nearby residents did not see or hear the crash.
"We're investigating to see if alcohol was a factor on the part of the driver," said Sgt. John Urquhart.
A group of tearful friends gathered near the site where a roadside memorial was growing Sunday, but none of them would comment on camera. So far, the families have chosen not to comment.
The cyclist who was killed worked on a nearby dairy farm.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A bunch of amazing things
Literally, I just got off the plane from Arizona. That is not true, recently I got off the plane from Arizona. Oh, before I mention all the great things I witnessed, experienced and engaged in while in Phoenix, on the plane ride home I sat next to a woman with cankles. Kankles? Large ankles.
She was nice, but the entire trip, or at least the part where I was awake, she ate junk food. Weird.
Oh, and I just got a call from the republican party, they wanted to ask me some questions, like who would I support in the senate race, the congressional race and what sort of job President Obama is doing. When asked that last question, I said, I do not think of him as president, in fact (I said) I refer to him as Czar Obama, and then my daughter corrected me, we call him Chairman Obama. The republican girl giggled. She had one last question, do I support the changes to the nations health care system. I said, I do not support health care for anyone.
Well, maybe people with cankles.
She was nice, but the entire trip, or at least the part where I was awake, she ate junk food. Weird.
Oh, and I just got a call from the republican party, they wanted to ask me some questions, like who would I support in the senate race, the congressional race and what sort of job President Obama is doing. When asked that last question, I said, I do not think of him as president, in fact (I said) I refer to him as Czar Obama, and then my daughter corrected me, we call him Chairman Obama. The republican girl giggled. She had one last question, do I support the changes to the nations health care system. I said, I do not support health care for anyone.
Well, maybe people with cankles.
Friday, September 10, 2010
All those dead children
About a week ago we started to look for a used car that could serve as the loaner car we so badly need in our lives right now.
We have been scouring Craigslist and since I am in the midst of a lot of travel, sometimes we scour the ads in the other cities craigslist, the city I would soon be visiting. Not real clear on what we would do if I happened to find an acceptable car in, say, Dallas, but since that has not happened, no one seems too focused on the possibility.
A week or so ago I spotted a car for sale in Phoenix, my location right now. So I emailed the advertiser and I got back a sweet note, from a soldier no less, who was off for another tour in Afghanistan and he had this great car, but he would not be able to drive it, so it made sense to sell it, rather than garage it for two years.
That made sense to me too. A little later in his heartfelt letter he wrote, the car is now in a garage in South Dakota, but I will pay to have it delivered if you purchase it.
Then he explained that he would use the car sales feature on Ebay to guarantee delivery. That was all fine by me, although years of internet scams have taught me nothing if not, do not pay for something you do not have and approve of in your hands.
I emailed back and said we should talk. I have not heard back from the sweet soldier.
Another car caught my attention, this time a local car, and we were excited. Good solid car, low miles and we would be able to drive over and see it for ourselves. I emailed the owner, who emailed back that the reason the price was so low was because he lovely son had purchased the car and then he was hit by a drunk driver and died. Now the car is nothing but troubled memories. As a father, my heart went out to these fine people. As a car purchaser I spotted the chance to take advantage of a situation that would get the car out of the way of the grieving parents, and into my driveway.
At the bottom of the grieving mothers email was a note that said, basically, if I wanted to purchase the car, she would be willing to do it through the Ebay car sale program.
I emailed back and said I would love to see the car and I could make myself available at any time. I never heard back.
This sequence, interesting car found, emailed delivered, email returned, email asking to view the car, and no email in return, has happened about 10 times now. The last 7 or so have included a version of the same story, son/daughter loved car, died in a terrible fashion, parents grieving and car reminds them of the terrible tragedy. It is an amazing story.
Anyway, not sure what the scam is actually, since I almost always feign interest in the purchase, never give out personal information and never hear back. Strange, and we have yet to actually find a single real car for sale.
We have been scouring Craigslist and since I am in the midst of a lot of travel, sometimes we scour the ads in the other cities craigslist, the city I would soon be visiting. Not real clear on what we would do if I happened to find an acceptable car in, say, Dallas, but since that has not happened, no one seems too focused on the possibility.
A week or so ago I spotted a car for sale in Phoenix, my location right now. So I emailed the advertiser and I got back a sweet note, from a soldier no less, who was off for another tour in Afghanistan and he had this great car, but he would not be able to drive it, so it made sense to sell it, rather than garage it for two years.
That made sense to me too. A little later in his heartfelt letter he wrote, the car is now in a garage in South Dakota, but I will pay to have it delivered if you purchase it.
Then he explained that he would use the car sales feature on Ebay to guarantee delivery. That was all fine by me, although years of internet scams have taught me nothing if not, do not pay for something you do not have and approve of in your hands.
I emailed back and said we should talk. I have not heard back from the sweet soldier.
Another car caught my attention, this time a local car, and we were excited. Good solid car, low miles and we would be able to drive over and see it for ourselves. I emailed the owner, who emailed back that the reason the price was so low was because he lovely son had purchased the car and then he was hit by a drunk driver and died. Now the car is nothing but troubled memories. As a father, my heart went out to these fine people. As a car purchaser I spotted the chance to take advantage of a situation that would get the car out of the way of the grieving parents, and into my driveway.
At the bottom of the grieving mothers email was a note that said, basically, if I wanted to purchase the car, she would be willing to do it through the Ebay car sale program.
I emailed back and said I would love to see the car and I could make myself available at any time. I never heard back.
This sequence, interesting car found, emailed delivered, email returned, email asking to view the car, and no email in return, has happened about 10 times now. The last 7 or so have included a version of the same story, son/daughter loved car, died in a terrible fashion, parents grieving and car reminds them of the terrible tragedy. It is an amazing story.
Anyway, not sure what the scam is actually, since I almost always feign interest in the purchase, never give out personal information and never hear back. Strange, and we have yet to actually find a single real car for sale.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Quickly
Two things. Google now offers a new service, priority mailbox. I have no clue how this works, it just showed up one day and already I love it, although, to be honest, I have no clue how to turn it on or how to make anyone or anything a priority.
I just like the concept.
Second, in a previous post I mentioned I may be traveling to the socialist republic of Seattle. Then someone commented that they are an ex-lover of mine and looked forward to, and really I amnot sure if this is a memory problem or not, but face time seems to be the phrase. I could check, but it is early, I am busy, and I could care less. Either way, no email, no idea who it is * and not sure if a response is necessary.
Just kind of freaked me out for a second, because for the life of me, I am pretty sure I do not have any ex-lovers in Seattle.
* While living in Seattle for a few years I may have met some people, may have talked seriously with some people, may have rode bikes with some people, shared a meal, a laugh, a movie.
I just like the concept.
Second, in a previous post I mentioned I may be traveling to the socialist republic of Seattle. Then someone commented that they are an ex-lover of mine and looked forward to, and really I amnot sure if this is a memory problem or not, but face time seems to be the phrase. I could check, but it is early, I am busy, and I could care less. Either way, no email, no idea who it is * and not sure if a response is necessary.
Just kind of freaked me out for a second, because for the life of me, I am pretty sure I do not have any ex-lovers in Seattle.
* While living in Seattle for a few years I may have met some people, may have talked seriously with some people, may have rode bikes with some people, shared a meal, a laugh, a movie.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A cold wind
I have a good friend who has the worst wife in the world. I know it would be wrong to believe him, so many years ago I took it upon myself to spend quality time with the woman he lovingly refers to as the "cold wind that doesn't blow".
He and I have been friends for years. They had married too quickly after dating, never bothering to really get to know one another. When friends ask me how long someone should date before marrying, I usually say 30-50 years, that should do it.
I was unable to attend their wedding, at that time in my life I was working as a mime in Paris, a short summer job that ended up lasting 2 years. When I returned, unable to speak french and with makeup ruining all my cool black t-shirts, I was almost shocked to see how happy my friend and the cold wind were. That was their key to showing the world something that did not exist. In public, and even at private dinner parties, they seemed to enjoy one anothers company, they seemed genuinely happy and respectful towards on another.
It was a month or two after I had returned and started talking again that I sat with my friends, smoking cigars and fishing for bass off a pier that had no planks. Almost immediately he told me of his suffering, how his lovely wife was actually a shrew, who did nothing but complain and deny any sort of sexual activity. I told him he was lucky, there was nothing worse than being sexual with someone who did not appreciate it. This was something I had learned during my first formal relationship, a relationship that died on the vine, so to speak.
All people need to be appreciated, but no one needs it more than a neurotic man. When such a man is in a relationship with someone who does not show their love, everything will fall apart quickly, like within minutes.
My friend told me how unhappy he was and I mentioned how completely in love they had appeared just a few nights earlier. "All lies" he bellowed, "I can't stand her and she is so shallow, she does not realize it." Shocked I was, but determined to understand how this could happen. Not how my friend could associate himself, indeed marry, a cold wind that does not blow, but how such a person could marry my friend, a sweet, passionate and loving man, without wanting to be more a part of his active life.
I decided to get to know this cold wind. I spent time hanging at their home, sharing meals, watching movies, playing with their paints and candles. In over a month of hard work on their relationship I came away in total agreement with my friend. This cold wind had no personality to speak of, instead she relied on a sweet smile and an inability to speak about anything by sales at furniture stores with any passion. She was a boob, and not a friendly one either. Sometimes she would say things that sounded sweet when she said them, but upon review, they were brutal in their lack of compassion.
A few weeks after I abruptly ended my attempts at getting close to the cold wind that does not blow I saw my friend at a kite flying competition. I approached him to see how he was doing and as I got closer to him I could see he was smiling, a big, loving, sweet smile, one that I had not seen in recent visits. He grabbed my arm and walked with me and said, "I took your advice, I met a wonderful woman, a sweet summer flower who seems to glow when I am around."
I had never given him any such advice, although I thought a lot about it. "I met this woman at a small fishing village, she was a net repairer, and I was looking for crabs. One thing led to another. I'm leaving the cold wind, I need to breath, I need to live, I need love. The cold wind has polluted my environment like a oil tanker driven by a mean drunk."
I learned something important that day. As I listened to my friend intimately describe his new relationship and the end of his old one, I noticed that the judges for the kite flying competition were smoking pot as people prepared their kites. I knew then that the people with kites would never really get the fair and appropriate attention needed by the stoner judges.
My friend married the new repairer. They are a shining example of a real couple, one that loves, stays closer, talks and shares a passion for life. The cold wind that does not blow also is married, although I only know of her exploits threw what I hear from the local public radio station. She seems to remain unhappy, uninspired and deplorable. A cold wind indeed.
He and I have been friends for years. They had married too quickly after dating, never bothering to really get to know one another. When friends ask me how long someone should date before marrying, I usually say 30-50 years, that should do it.
I was unable to attend their wedding, at that time in my life I was working as a mime in Paris, a short summer job that ended up lasting 2 years. When I returned, unable to speak french and with makeup ruining all my cool black t-shirts, I was almost shocked to see how happy my friend and the cold wind were. That was their key to showing the world something that did not exist. In public, and even at private dinner parties, they seemed to enjoy one anothers company, they seemed genuinely happy and respectful towards on another.
It was a month or two after I had returned and started talking again that I sat with my friends, smoking cigars and fishing for bass off a pier that had no planks. Almost immediately he told me of his suffering, how his lovely wife was actually a shrew, who did nothing but complain and deny any sort of sexual activity. I told him he was lucky, there was nothing worse than being sexual with someone who did not appreciate it. This was something I had learned during my first formal relationship, a relationship that died on the vine, so to speak.
All people need to be appreciated, but no one needs it more than a neurotic man. When such a man is in a relationship with someone who does not show their love, everything will fall apart quickly, like within minutes.
My friend told me how unhappy he was and I mentioned how completely in love they had appeared just a few nights earlier. "All lies" he bellowed, "I can't stand her and she is so shallow, she does not realize it." Shocked I was, but determined to understand how this could happen. Not how my friend could associate himself, indeed marry, a cold wind that does not blow, but how such a person could marry my friend, a sweet, passionate and loving man, without wanting to be more a part of his active life.
I decided to get to know this cold wind. I spent time hanging at their home, sharing meals, watching movies, playing with their paints and candles. In over a month of hard work on their relationship I came away in total agreement with my friend. This cold wind had no personality to speak of, instead she relied on a sweet smile and an inability to speak about anything by sales at furniture stores with any passion. She was a boob, and not a friendly one either. Sometimes she would say things that sounded sweet when she said them, but upon review, they were brutal in their lack of compassion.
A few weeks after I abruptly ended my attempts at getting close to the cold wind that does not blow I saw my friend at a kite flying competition. I approached him to see how he was doing and as I got closer to him I could see he was smiling, a big, loving, sweet smile, one that I had not seen in recent visits. He grabbed my arm and walked with me and said, "I took your advice, I met a wonderful woman, a sweet summer flower who seems to glow when I am around."
I had never given him any such advice, although I thought a lot about it. "I met this woman at a small fishing village, she was a net repairer, and I was looking for crabs. One thing led to another. I'm leaving the cold wind, I need to breath, I need to live, I need love. The cold wind has polluted my environment like a oil tanker driven by a mean drunk."
I learned something important that day. As I listened to my friend intimately describe his new relationship and the end of his old one, I noticed that the judges for the kite flying competition were smoking pot as people prepared their kites. I knew then that the people with kites would never really get the fair and appropriate attention needed by the stoner judges.
My friend married the new repairer. They are a shining example of a real couple, one that loves, stays closer, talks and shares a passion for life. The cold wind that does not blow also is married, although I only know of her exploits threw what I hear from the local public radio station. She seems to remain unhappy, uninspired and deplorable. A cold wind indeed.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Trouble
Many times I have run into trouble. Trouble used to stop by the restaurant I owned in Seattle, a knife and piece of wood always at hand.
John "Trouble" Williams was a Native carver in Seattle. He had told me he was from a family of Northwest carvers and if you ever saw his delicate work, you would not disagree. What Trouble could do with any piece of wood was amazing. When I first met him he had about a foot long piece of wood that he was carving with an old knife. He would whittle and cut chunks of wood out, and then gently create the faces of the totem. His voice was both weathered and unmistakable. He had stories of how his father and grandfather had carved large totem poles all over the Canadian west coast.
Many years ago I was ailing, weak, sick and incoherent for long periods of time. I had a totem that Trouble had carved for me and I kept it by my side. When I had purchased it I had asked him, is this some form of Native magic? He just smiled and said that if there is any power in my new totem it is the power I give to it.
With or without the totem I got healthy again. When a friend was diagnosed with cancer, I sent the totem around the world to be with her, with the same words that Trouble had shared with me, it has no power except that which we give it.
Maybe that is the faith religious people speak of. You can not believe in god if you do not in fact BELIEVE in god. The power of belief is only for those who take the time to believe, to trust in something strong, something bigger, something different than us.
When I got healthy I did not think the totem did it, but I did like the idea that having this lovely totem did something, brought peace to a terrible situation, gave me something to focus on when I woke at 3 AM to throw up, something for me to hold tight when I would lay on the floor, passed out from medication and pain. The totem had all the power I could afford to lend it.
I could not tell you where my totem is today. I sent it out into the world with only the suggestion that it would be perfectly fine if it went about its path, finding people who needed it and then being handed to the next person. I do not track it, I don't ask questions about where it is and even in times when I miss it and think it might be nice to have around, I would not even know where it is to begin the repatriation process. It is free, like a small piece of wood being carried by the currents of love and faith.
In the years since I met Trouble, life has continued to be both beautiful and dangerous, as life often is. I did see Trouble a few other times as I prepared to leave Seattle for good. Because Trouble spent a great deal of time on the streets, his face became craggy and weathered and the last time I saw him, he looked a little bit more like a figure in one of his elaborate totems than the man from a long line of Native carvers.
On Monday of this week a Seattle police officer shot and killed John T Williams while he was holding in his hand his carving knife.
News from last nights vigil in Seattle:
Roughly 200 people spilled into Second Avenue in front of the Chief Seattle Club Thursday night, holding candles, praying, and singing for over two hours to commemorate the life of John T. Williams, a carver from the Nitinaht tribe who was fatally shot on Monday by a Seattle police officer while holding a carving knife.
"I'm proud to see this large gathering of nations here to celebrate [Williams'] life," said Jenine Grey, executive director of the Chief Seattle Club. Members of tribes in Alaska, Canada, many parts of Washington, and all plains nations were represented. City officials, most notably Mayor Mike McGinn and City Attorney Pete Holmes, stood in solidarity with the crowd. Elk stew and fry bread was served, as one-by-one people stood to eulogize Williams between songs and prayer. One woman spoke of the LOVE tattoo displayed on Williams's hand, and how it reminded him daily to "be a good person and to love everyone." Grey spoke of Williams's carving work—"he was a man who stayed true to his traditions"—which was sold in local stores in the area, such as the Raven's Nest Treasure in Pike Place Market and at Ye Olde Curiosity Shop.
But the peacefulness of the candlelight vigil couldn't mask the growing anger at the Seattle Police Department over Williams' death.
"The police have dehumanized [Williams]," said Real Change Director Tim Harris. "They mention his criminal record but don't mention his name. They paint the situation like we need to reserve judgment. What I see is self-justification and the closing of ranks."
"We have to stop police brutality—this is 2010," said Leona, Williams' cousin. "He wasn't homeless, he had a home and a family and he shouldn't have been taken from us."
"To see a Native with a piece of wood and a knife and not put that together—that’s culturally ignorant," said Storme Webber, a local writer and performance artist with Aleut heritage.
"Hearing about our club members dying on the streets is a reality," admitted Grey. "But as more details emerged, I got angry, outraged. I have a ton of questions, just like everyone else who's here. Why did this have to happen? Why didn't the officer subdue him? Why take his life?"
At this point, there are few answers to these questions. Grey says SPD has been in contact with the Native American community, that they've been assured the police are running a full investigation, and that "Chief Diaz is interested in meeting with us." However, outbursts of anger throughout the evening showed a lack of faith in the police—specifically, in police accountability—among the Native Americans and homeless people present.
"This is a night of peace, love, and prayer—not demonstration," Grey reiterated to the crowd. "But the demonstration is coming. We can't let something like this happen and not demand to see changes."
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Going west
I was recently walking on the beach in Southern California, very close to where I grew up, and it dawned on me, you never know what you have until you are walking on a beach being flooded with amazing memories.
That and having Mexican food in Richard Nixon's favorite restaurant.
With that in mind, plus some work, I will be flying into Seattle of all places later this month. Seattle and I have a love/hate relationship. I learned an awful lot about awful people in Seattle, but I also met some lifelong friends, made some babies, rode a bike and ran as fast as I could.
I have yet to return, after more than 3 years, although I have had good reason. Now, I return to eat food, visit friends and film some sexy people. Not a bad gig.
That and having Mexican food in Richard Nixon's favorite restaurant.
With that in mind, plus some work, I will be flying into Seattle of all places later this month. Seattle and I have a love/hate relationship. I learned an awful lot about awful people in Seattle, but I also met some lifelong friends, made some babies, rode a bike and ran as fast as I could.
I have yet to return, after more than 3 years, although I have had good reason. Now, I return to eat food, visit friends and film some sexy people. Not a bad gig.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Check and balances
I was contacted today to do some guest blogging for a fairly well known business site. In an email conversation I was asked about my business, how it has grown, how the economy has affected it, etc. All well and good. Then a very fun question, "what advice do you have for people starting a new business in this economy."
So I wrote back.
"This economy is not so different than any other, if you provide a useful service or product at a decent and fair price, you stand a chance of surviving in any economy. The key advice I always give to people starting a business has very little to do with marketing, business plans, location or any of the other things people learn in business classes. My advice is always to keep a very close eye on the checkbook. I know, it sounds stupid, but trust me, businesses run on a very tight budget and the loss of money, even small amounts, can be dangerous. I have had friends start businesses with friends of theirs, people they trust completely, only to find out, down the road, that the allure of a check book was too much for their friends to resist. Everything is important when starting a business, but keep an eye on expenses, costs and anyone with access to the business checking account is paramount."
So, there you have it, the best advice I could give them, is the advice I give you, the same advice I would give to anyone investing in a business of any sort. Even people you trust can get greedy.
So I wrote back.
"This economy is not so different than any other, if you provide a useful service or product at a decent and fair price, you stand a chance of surviving in any economy. The key advice I always give to people starting a business has very little to do with marketing, business plans, location or any of the other things people learn in business classes. My advice is always to keep a very close eye on the checkbook. I know, it sounds stupid, but trust me, businesses run on a very tight budget and the loss of money, even small amounts, can be dangerous. I have had friends start businesses with friends of theirs, people they trust completely, only to find out, down the road, that the allure of a check book was too much for their friends to resist. Everything is important when starting a business, but keep an eye on expenses, costs and anyone with access to the business checking account is paramount."
So, there you have it, the best advice I could give them, is the advice I give you, the same advice I would give to anyone investing in a business of any sort. Even people you trust can get greedy.
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