A while back I participated in the Smartest man, put it on my side bar. But now its gone… doesn’t fit, no longer prudent (I hope George Bush Senior doesn’t sue me for that.) So, here is the list and its a fun exchange between smart people, or just smart bloggers, or maybe just something to do when your not that smart. So tell me how smart are you???
Click more for list:
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This is a different kind of post, I guess one would say a self-promotion-bragging post. Its been close to two years since I started this blog on the crumbling ruins of my former site and I have sped past the 50 post mark. This would be 53 if this is considered to be a constructable post.
I guess this would be tagged better as ‘Hey Look at What I did!’ However that tag wouldn’t fit in my newly re-designed site. After-all after a while I get sick of looking at the same layout. Like anything new I’m sure there a few bugs here and there. I’m working hard of fixing those along with digging up content for this and my other sites (Which are now listed right above this post - how cool is that?)
Thanks for reading my poems, writings and brainless rants over the past year and 9 months. I can’t promise anything better or worse, however I can do a re-cap of my favorite posts:
But hey that’s just my Opinion. Tell me what you think???
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Okay. Someone broke the water cooler in the sky on this hot Tuesday in NYC. Ever wonder about the sky being blue. I mean blue is seen as a depressing color. When your blue, your either choking or depressed. So if the sky is blue then does that mean God is choking or depressed. I mean it’s so lovely outside, well besides the 99 degrees plus humidity factor, that it would be amazing God wasn’t in his bathing suite soaking up the sun with all those angels. But then why is Blue such depressing color, it’s a cold color even if its hot outside.So on a blue day look towards the sky and let the warmth of the heavens above melt those feelings away. Because there is no reason to feel down when the sun is burning a hole in your head.
Anyway, that’s just a random thought for this hot Tuesday.
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Wow… The blogging world got the short end of the stick for a couple of weeks there. I have now started a new job and getting back onto a Mac is like riding a bike, but you still fall down a couple of times. Now that the world seems to be slowing down, well for NYC standards, I will be back to the board… or the blog.
This morning the subway was packed, the sun being out and everyone trying to rush to work before the humidity sweats the morning coffee out of us, i couldn’t't get a seat. Standing rocking with the harsh sounds of the breaks I could only wonder when was the last time they squirted W-40 on them. Is it me or when you hear metal on metal that should be a warning?? I realized this morning as I got out of the station there is nothing surreal then after the rain washes everything away. You come out to a blue-sky day after the rain and you might not even need coffee… Well it was a thought. I grabbed my coffee and went back into the shadows of a Tuesday workday.
So I’m back and my front too, as my mind jumps back into the creative highway trying not to crash, or get caught like Lindsay Lohan with a DWI (Drinking while on the Internet). Â Its time for some creative writing and creative writing tips, along with a daily subway ride…
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This past weekend some friends of mine kidnapped me from my safe New York City lifestyle. We made our way up the Hudson river, taking the route that was heavily congested. Camping. Me who spends most of the waking day in-front of a box, with a keypad and mouse making sure other people can seamlessly do the same, let my inner caveman out. Camping is not anything new, nor is it for me, but something about this trip has opened a new beast inside me. Maybe its just the fresh air, the volcanic ash spitting out of the fire, or just the smells - burning wood, morning dew, stinking garbage, decomposing brush, food cooked over an open fire or just that forest blend that doesn’t blow down to the busy streets of NYC.
As I sat back our first night sipping on a beer and watching the flames of the fire dance, it occurred to me that it has been a long time since I wasn’t surronded by electricity or battery operated devices. Besides the car radio that we used as our jukebox and the flashlights that helped us find our sleeping bags and a nice tree for a midnight stroll, I found myself unwired and unwirelessed. Simulated into the 21st century technologists I thrive on our wonderful world of electronics. Right now besides the computer that i’m typing on, my iPod which i’m listing to or the five lights that are turned on in my studio apartment, I have the DVR which is quietly recording today’s 4400. This is the life of the 21st century and not only in the USA but all over the world. When I was down in Ecuador, everyone used the same electronics that made life a lot easier. They didn’t go over board like the consumer informed North Americans, but they aren’t sitting in-front of a fire on a $9.99 chair which they purchased from Target. (more…)
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The bus stop at Lincoln Center is always crowded. The construction from The Juilliard school makes things messy and it doesn’t help that a coffee shop is right in-front of the stop. Waiting makes you feel like buying a Cafe Latte and cheese croissant. Of course worst things can be done like yesterday’s Cellphone Borrower. A lady in her late thirties or early forties, who really knows these days, was moving her mouth as she stared at me. Of course I had no idea what she was saying and stupidly paused my iPod.
“Can I borrow your cellphone.” she asked.
“What?” I replied a little confused since moments ago “Garbage” was blasting “Paranoid” in my head.
“I need to make an urgent phone call, Its local.” She insisted and was only a foot from me. A true New Yorker who seemed to go over her caffeine intact for the day. The confusion out weighed my paranoia and my cellphone was in the hands of a complete stranger. The bus pulled up, unusually quick and the droves of patient people hogged the entryway.
I made sure she walked in front of me, since my head was thinking of a story about Kevin Spacey who lent a kid in London his cellphone and after the kid started dialing numbers he ran off with it. She entered and sat down in the handicap/elderly area as I slide my metro card in the slot and stood above her. She yapped along for a good five minutes, as I heard her converse with someone about their day. As we got to the next stop, she finally handed me my phone back since I was hanging over her like a trained monkey. By time I got a seat she had already borrowed the cellphone from a young guy sitting across from her.
Her white, rather large, hat and loud voice as she yelled on the phone to the poor soul at the other end made her the center of bus-attention. The old blind man sitting next to her laughed at loud as the Cellphone Borrower snipped at another lady who told the young guy he should get his phone back before she runs off with it.
On the other side of the park she returned the guys phone and raced off the bus. As we passed her barely moving cross town I watched as she stopped yet another man random man on the street. He took out his phone and she started dialing again. I call her the Cellphone Borrower but it was more like Tarzan swinging from branch to another. The bus turned up Madison and I sat back in my seat smiling. The city that never sleeps, never stops surprising me neither.
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I am happy where ever I go. That is a fact, and why shouldn’t I be. Recently a friend commented on my adaptability as being harmful to my life. While my lack of fight, or keeping on one side of an argument can be an issue since I can see there is at least two sides of everything, unless of course your looking at a pyramid. However in the end I’m proud that I am not single minded.
But how can someone be or become adaptable? Well I blame most of my adaptability on my surroundings. I spent a year abroad as a Rotary Youth Exchange student in Quito Ecuador and before we were alowed to leave the country the Rotarians prepared us for our journey. They advised that we should look at our situations with open eyes and not compare things to what we are use to in the States. This of course makes perfect sense since I was about to embark to the Middle of The World and find myself surronded by a foreign culture.
One Rotarian stood up after a formal dinner and explained to us that we are now in a foreign country and after dinner the custom is to eat the center piece. In this case a potted plant that was in the middle of every table. The Rotarian picked up a serving spoon, dipped it into the dirt and pulled out leaping mound with jiggling worms plopping it on my plate. I was not adaptable at that moment as I heard moans, gulps and some vulgar whispers. Yes, the mound of dirt on my plate didn’t please me and I wished for canolie, but the Rotarian insisted that we try new things and put away what we think we know. With my spoon I gathered up enough courage to take a taste, the worms were no longer moving and the dirt seemed to smell more like chocolate. After a tiny dime sized bit i realized that the center piece was chocolate moose and the worms were Jelly worms. This of course was more of a test, then a formal desert but taught me well.
During my senior year of high school in Quito Ecuador I experienced many different things. My first bull fight, first hang over, first time dreaming in a foreign language and in all it was my first time on my own. Each time an event came up that I did not know I wouldn’t try to compare it to anything that I’ve experienced before. To be truly adaptable is to take in your surroundings and do as the natives do. If I did think and compare things before I tried them, then I would of missed out of bull fighting with a baby bull or spending a week in the Amazon Basin. When we are faced with uncertainty our instinct is to run, however, if you stick in and realize that someone else has accomplished this task you will see how adaptable you really are.
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Men are dogs she says. Yes. That is the typical stereotype, four legged, tale between our rear legs, crouch licking, instinct driven animals. For some this maybe a severe contradiction on a quick self analytical survey. But are men like dogs? Well, I am a man (last time I checked) and I do not drool at the mouth, lick my own crouch, shed, run after cars, trucks, sticks, balls, Frisbees or the local USPS mailman. Yet, something about the statement makes me smile. Their is a bond between a man and a dog, an unspoken trust. When that connection is there, it is something quiet unexplainable, well, almost unexplainable — since dog is ‘man’s best friend.’ We could deeply analyse the psychology of what is called man’s best friend, but I prefer to stay clear of that. The real question, is it a true statement that men are like dogs?
Yes. Of course we are.
The answer is simpler then the above statements, its men think quickly about instinctive things. We do what makes ourselves happy in a perverse way, like looking back when a beautiful girl passes, leaving clothes around the floor of the bathroom instead of using urine to signify dominance of a territory, and of course trying to out-perform any other guy around because WE are the MAN. So next time she taps her Prada shoe and states that ‘Men are dogs’, think about one question only: If men are dogs then why is the slang for an annoyed women a Bitch, the same definition as a female dog? When your done smiling you might consider men are dogs since we both want to get the bitch.
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After a long day at the office all one wants to do on a Monday night is go home, grab a beer and watch lasts nights tivo’d desperate House wives. That would of been a nice Monday night in the city, instead, I opened the apartment door and noticed something on the rug. Turning on the light, yellow dust filmed the green carpet in my hallway and didn’t stop there. The dust was everywhere, the floor, desk, inside the kitchen over the counters, inside the cabinets pasted to the pots, forks knifes and spoons. Walking through it, my shoes left little treads around the apartment.
It seems your never safe from your neighbors renovation. The nice young lady next door had torn her kitchen completely out that day, well not her but the construction people she hired. I of course would rather picture the blond with a sledge hammer pounding away the wall as her Maltese barks after every loud crash. Everyone in the building waiting for the dogs Last Bark! Instead three Spanish speaking guys with ripped jeans, thick accent and plastered smiles broke down the wall and the next morning vacuumed and wiped up the mess. The microfibers of the concrete they were smashing made its way through tiny little holes inside my kitchen wall that is opposing her kitchen wall but never touches, touching kitchen walls would be in violation as would be some sort of insulate.
Since the place was already a mess and I was in no mood to see which Desperate house wife was getting, slapped, dumped or shot at this week I decided to exit the situation in New York fashion. Calling around I ended up getting an early dinner (8pm) with a friend at Jekyll and Hyde Club since she had out of towner’s who needed a place to snap some pictures and ask “why on earth would someone actually eat here?” After an evening of live entertainment, theater students acting as crazy scientists and talking shark heads, I did return home, opened a beer and watched the show. After a hard day and unexpected events its good to watch a show that people actually suffer more then you. Long live Desperate House Wives.
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