I was riding past the World Science Festival

In Battery Park and Dr. Tyson DeGrasse is speaking!!!

in callback for motion picture...

with 3 matched pairs of young folks: blond, brunette & racially ambiguous.

fun stuff.

Roomie's new "friend"

a) recognized we needed a new filter over the range, which I never paid
attn to before

b) is cute

/yes.

(fistpump)/

dopesauce

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=an9BgNm_LPg

Male tarantulas live to about 8 yrs,

only a few months after they reach sexual maturyity.

Females live 20-30.

Cough....gag.

Had my first coughing fit due to a "tickle in throat" today.

**while waiting to go in to audition**

Bad enough to cause convulsions.

That sucked.

No idea of cause.

Welcome (back) to NY.

south Asian man on street:

I don't prefer the women which are flat.

(or something like that)

I think I miss

NerdBoy and the maternal G.O.A.T. unit.

strange, weird stuff with Sr. (again).

more on all that after I spend to QT with these sides.

peace,

me.

''Here's the maintenance I had this week...

I had a facial, a body wrap, botox....''

(heard from coming from seat 6C on flite 5080 to Atl.

The more I'm around

Nerdboy, the more I regret all the time I haven't spent with him.

'' 'Artist'...

is a word that floats around in your head, but there's a point at which you have to come out of the closet and say, 'That's what I intend to be,' and saying that rules out a lot of what you might have done in your life.''

          Liviu Ciulei

Mad shouts out to shawty werkin' gate D31 in ATL rocking the fly chappeau and making work with the uniform and corporate guidelines.

The captain for my 9:55 flight to monroe, la HAS NOT ARRIVED YET. (insert incredulity)

Do trees grow up

because it's easier

or because it's harder?

Neh'mine.......they grow both ways.

Why the

!@$@ does this @$%! happen at exactly the same time every 2#$#@ year?

At least I @#$%@% consistent in being full of @$%.

(sigh)

Macaroon

While reading about the Mardi Gras, the subject of mixed-icism came up - quadroon, octoroon and such. It's nothing I wasn't previously familiar with, but I've come to understand that such deliniations a based in the Frenchie experience and worked their way up into the rest of the cultural consciousness.

So, with my understanding of the concept, I thought I was considered a quadroon -  white Euro grandparent, the rest* Afro-brown.

However the reading referred to having one person of African descent and the other European, thus I began to wonder about the previous classification.

Ergo, I hit up the Mom-Unit and received this:

"you are 1/4 caucasian and 3/4 African to my knowledge ???? but of course I'm sure my white father's parents were both white and their parents both white --- so -- maybe so."

I've known of my mother's mixed-oscity for some time now and thus mine, but growing up, it was never discussed as such. She was just Black. Even recently when we've talked about it, we just discussed her "biological father", not saying avoiding him, but never saying she's mixed.


She came to see me when I did Yellowman in St. Louis, and I know it was discussed, but I can't remember ever saying "your father is white", though we certainly knew that was the case.


What she's never done, though, is referred to ME as being part Blanco.


It was weird to see that.


"you are 1/4 Caucasian."


You're never too old for them to surprise, one s'poses....



*I actually don't think my paternal grandfather is of purely African ancestry. His brown was a little light; his nose a little profound to the front rather than to the sides.

the lowly creative's prayer

Dear, heavenly father, I apologize for all the evil I, as the Acting Monster, have visited upon productions past. I will try to better control the theatrical beast that lives inside me. This I do unconditionally...

However, if you might see fit, I was wondering if you could maybe, like, you know... possibly make these actors a little less completely frackin' insane out the $%%!hole so we can finish this week, this run without any acting casualties.


Signed w/love,

the AD'ing Monster

My father just

referred to himself by his first name on a voice message.

"Hey...this is ______."

Partly weird since we have the same given name.

interesting.

pic taken with new toy

new toy

Good filter stuff

blahblah (this page explaining lens filters) blahblah

Watching "Art Wolfe's Travels to the Edge"

While talking about a goose family, he just said:

"...8 little gosslings, that probably hatched in the past couple weeks."

Gosh. It must be wonderful to be disconnected from popular culture to be
able to let that escape your oral cavity.

No. Really.

Music choice

, apparently, doesn't know the difference between "zydeco" and "blues".

Install Android on Your iPhone 2G

(click)

Shout out to the lady that I told wasn't your typical Apple drank sipper.

I knew I was lying 1.5 blinks after I said it. Bad me.

Me: "Macs get fewer viruses because their not targeted like Windows"

Her: (nodding look down) "Well, that's part of it..."

Me: (inside brain) "uh-oh...hehhehheh"

Although, she did admit the iPhone is not the most technically amazing device in the world....then she went on to extol the virtues of how it magically goes from answering music to answering a call and the the mic on the earbud cord.

Yes. The mic. In the cord.

Yeah.

Mmm. Kool-Aid.

(hehheh)

Remind me to make fun of Glynn Turman

next time I see him for Penetentiary II.

Not because of anything he did,

just 'cuz.

I would say E. Hudson, too, but he was a pretty legitimate bad mutha@Q!@%^!.

Tonight's edition of chicken soup

smells like it's going well.

Deliberate attempt to not overload the pot this time.

No more full tracks on Last.fm

ergo -> boo.

"On the unacceptability of ugliness"

(click)

Too good for Facebook

"Dear agent, casting person, young ad "creative"(etc.)
While I may very well be funny, I'm not Will Arnett, the Apple ad guys, or whomever else it is you think is cute now that somebody showed you on their MacBook. Call somebody else - preferably THEM."

Now, when you want somebody to sell your acoutrements du conspicuous consumption, gimme a holler. I'll be asleep at a rehearsal in Harlem.

Not dumb,

silly.

inCREDibly silly.

wrist brace.

and ice.

for real.

ow.

The Workaround

Attempted my first pregnant-belly hug in memory last night. I attempted to hug around the bundle, so as not to damage the bundle, but was pulled into the bundle.

Which, strangely, worked.

Then it's additionally strange to hug an attractive bundle-bearer, 'cuz it's like, "you're still attractive - I think I feel weird about having naughty thoughts about you in your current state of bundledom".

Then there's the completely juvenile and unavoidable* thought: "hee hee. I know what you did to get that".

Bundles are like nature's way of confronting our acquired prudish sensibility with the factuality of sex**.

*for juveniles, anyway

**feel free to laugh at how deep-telligent I obviously think this sounds

Less fb

More Blog.

Nappy Sun Day

you ever wonder if Jesus brushed his teeth and washed his face on the way out the tomb?


(yawn)


(stretch)


"woo. got a little crook in my back from that thing. point made, I guess, so....."

Bhug

Black Jack vol 5

is the jawn.

This not debatable.

And it only works if you read vol.s 1-4 first.

Fax - Porcelana

click

(tummy rub)

Danyzon - Lusine

Egg

Cirrus

Werd to to ol' bird.

Dr. Henry Roberts, pc pioneer, loses battle with pneumonia

click

Magnetic waves distort the brain's ability to make moral judgments

click

If you re-invented the wheel,

wouldn't you still just have a wheel?

Public act of excretion #.....

Brooklyn.
Cadman Plaza.
Across from TD Bank.

Individual casually leaning, body toward fence.

('wait, was this his')

Arching stream of liquid from individual's "area".

(sometimes hates being so trivially observant)

I think I may be the creative part of my mother that she never realized.

One of my failings, I think...has been to compartmentalize creativity,

to not view it for what it is an explore it in macro;

or...to examine it in macro, that I might understand how to utilize it universally,

thereby being inspired in the path to investigate it in micro.

(?)

"What can life be

if life's first rehearsal is life itself?"

''Right now I can't seem to commit to one truth.''
Big O

It must be a horrible thing to want to be a super hero,

only to find out you are remarkably ill/un-equiped.

Interpretation is inherent in exprience - you can't exprerience without interpreting. Performance is the substance of interpretation. Acting is physicalized interpretation

(bounce)

tanbrown,
almond-eye(ish)
smurf-ette smallperson in laundry room
staring at me (as I put unmentionables in the machine)

I'm trying to toss my stuff in fast,
(as though hurrying would keep her from seeing my dirty drawz);
{and her mom was right THERE}

but all she did was
happyjoy dance
to the music of commericial washers and driers,
that LOUD-ass fan,
&
whatever she had bouncing around her synapses

easy and matter-of-fact as
water is wet
and God is.

(bouncebounce)

yeah. i can see that.

In the shower I considered

that the most desperate thing you can do is to want time back,

since it impossible to regain something that you can neither give nor receive.

That said,

I desperately wish I could have ( at least ) the past 10 years back.

!! This just in:

wishing is what happens when there is no real possibility;

hope is what you have when there is a chance;

pray is what you do when you don't know which of the previous applies.

Dreams 12/26/09

This morning I dreamed that I did a motorcycle practice track day on an indoor track that seemed to have at least moments of resemblance to my childhood home.

Which, I suppose, is at least partly related to this.

MOntel?

I few days ago I had a dream I was being interviewed with something for M. Williams.

Today I had a dream that I was in Louisiana and got a call from him for an interview or something, that required me to be in NY the next day.

Think I'm not having issues regarding leaving?


(sigh)

I think I finally figured out

that,

in order to be the actor I want to be,

I need to get away from here.

There was a time I felt lazy at home.

Now I feel lazy here.

(and I don't want them to get me for those tickets I keep refusing to pay)

So. Yeah.

I watched Still Bill.

So, I think I'm gonna go ahead and go home.

Rent's cheaper there, anyway.

While shooting last night

in Union Square,
a family walked between me and me subject.
The father ( presume ) says, "nice eye".

(or "good eye")

Then, in the process of talking my ear off,
Josiah asks me,
"how old are you, 40?"

nyc.

The City

sigh....

I think I'm ready to leave here. I desire to have my own space again, and I miss my people. I miss the freedom to move about without having to partake of public transportation or yield up offerings to ye olde god Toll. Once when I went home, I missed having it. Now I relish just about every moment I'm not using the train.

Or that could just be because I very much believe in the bike.

As it stands, I don't feel there's anything in particular for me to do here. Acting, at this moment, is not a powerful enough draw for me to be here...and that has been the case for the better part of this year. I've done a reading since I came back, and it was fine, but it's nothing I don't feel like I can't live without.

At home, I feel like there's an outlet for theater..even if I'm not the one on stage.

But....

there are the lingering reasons to be here: certain people I've met that I'll miss.

and I guess that's why people stay here.

If they're here, though....and I'm able to return occasionally.....doesn't that work? That's what I do now, but it's my family on the occasional end.

I don't think there's room any longer for that to happen.

When I was home, my father -

for the first time -

looked like my grandfather; his father...

The way I remember him looking, that gaunt face.

What happens if I blink and he's gone? Then, he's gone.


Today, I went to an audition. And it was cool.

Then I went to Madison Square Park and played paparazzo with the squirrels.

Then I met my Nederlander/Surinami/Cape Verdian friend who choreographs and moves beautifully and talked with her about how this place feels so foreign...even though I remember 2 years ago when she wanted so badly to be back here.

When I was at home, she and I communicated, and one of my reasons for coming back was to not miss her. 'Cuz folk who speak Dutch ain't exactly common where I'm from.

Then I went and leaned against the curb in the pedestrian mall next to the Flatiron Bldg. and took pictures.

You can't do that anywhere else, right?

But you can do that anywhere...right?

Then I stopped and got a falafel shawerma. At the boat, somebody gave me a card for the SI Critical Mass...and we started talking about how he knows people who have places to stay...

And the ride & walk back to the apt seemed easier than usual.

So, today made me go into my questioning mode. But I guess the good days are like that.

But, if you're gonna leave...don't you want to do so smiling?

So...I think NYC's got me for a few more months. Maybe.

(shrug)

Inventory

I believe in:

the bike

the drum

the voice

the combustion (electricity + fuel = fire)

the truth

Alexander Toulouse, 8 yrs

Beanfield - Planetary Deadlock

@ last.fm

I walked away

from my first promo job yesterday,

largely due to an interaction with NY's "finest".

I have a history of displeasure for authority figures,

but it feels like some special ire for these in particular.

Perhaps it's just my general view regarding the way people deal with each other here.

Regardless....I despise the powerlessness I feel around them....how attempting to counter anything they say immediately causes me to draw back for fear of reprimand...

which is not their job.

Yet we all...most of us...seem to do it instinctually. Slowing down even though you're already doing the speed limit. Stopping for yellow lights. Purposely not looking "them" in the eye.

Pavlov is, apparently, a mutha.

So,

I walked off my first job. And now I feel stupid about it. Instead of swallowing the anger for a few more minutes I, more or less, asked to be replaced - and now I'm out of a few hundred dollars (unless company gets desperate and calls back).

Doing the promotions was supposed to be a way of dealing with the indignity of working in offices.

I think I may just have lost patience for being someone's underling.

(shrug)

I'm gonna go bang a drum, or something.

He

answered the phone and small-talked, what amounts to small talk for us anyway, for a few minutes.

The whole time I'm waiting for him to drop for it...

"Well, yeah, I was just thinking about coming up there and seeing what's going on..."

But nothing.

I assumed he was bored and just not playing as much golf...

He "had an episode" yesterday. "Heart".



(sigh)

Well...

I guess now I know why the Monster's been here with decreasing regularity over the past two years.

I actually sort of miss the monster.

Stranger still...

my father, who I've not been on great terms with, just called to wish me a happy bd and ask about the housing market in NYC.


Once......MAYBE once has he ever called me on my birthday.


Bored at work I suppose.

Today I got a djembe.

I wanted one pretty strongly in college, thought about it since then, acted on it today. I didn't go to work with the intent to do so, but the opportunity was there, and I took it.

Yes it is a Sunday, yes I was working, yes it is the day I start another circuit around the sun.

There was bit of remorse on the way home, I thought I may put out too much, felt that I got gamed a little by savvy merchant.

However...

It was strange how people kept complimenting me and the djembe. Particularly since they could see them in the same place I did, in two different places along 3rd Ave this day.

At some point I noticed the way I carried her*, on the shoulder with fingers locked around the concave middle that rested on my shoulder, close in, with the carved wood of the base against my face.

(* I think she's a she)

I ran with her for a boat that was leaving without us. We sat in the ferry terminal. I took not much notice of her as I considered changing one of the tie-died that I bought. I got into a conversation with the neph and had to remind myself several times to keep an eye on her. As we got ready to load, I attempted to hoist her onto my shoulder via her handle, or hold via the handle. Awkward.

After sitting her down to wait for the ferry bridge (moving dock arm we use to board) to clear, I picked her up in the way that seemed most comfortable: base forward, close to cheek, finger locked over middle.

I sat on the boat and put her down in front of me. I finished reading the last chapter of Ghandibhai's truth that I started on the train. I looked at her. I placed her between my legs and my hands on her head. We began to talk a bit.

I thought about how I held her.

I thought about why I got (have?) her.

We talked some more, and I was somewhat surprised that the level of communication, though still rudimentary.

We waited until the boat was completely docked and gates open before we got up to leave.

I put her on my shoulder, my fingers locked around her waist.

At first, this just happened. Then it became deliberate. Now it was ease.

I walked with her comfortably on my shoulder, set her carefully in the passenger seat...then set her more carefully in the seat.

While walking, I noticed somebody looking at (us).

While on that boat I began thinking, on the way home I continued...about how, recently, I've realized my need to explore....explore in doing. I've been wrestling about getting a motorcycle. At some point, I stopped wrestling. I need to do. I need to explore. I need to stretch.

There was a time when this was done through acting. I've taken non-deliberate, then deliberate steps away from that.

I've noticed and realized a need for exploration outside the realm of research. I need to touch, feel. The desire to do is coming more from the need to experience. On the boat with my fingers testing the sounds, running over the surface of the skin, noticing the hairs left, the small unravelling of the fibers of the cloth around the head, I looked forward toward drilling myself in the comprehension of her language,

and any remorse left. It feels right.

On this day, I've realized that...

I'm changing. In my reading. In realization. Something different seems like it's happening. I suppose, in it's a way, it's a fitting day for it to happen.

I think, maybe, I've finally grown up.

It feels a little like bringing home a first child, doesn't it?

(breath)

She's in the other room. I'm letting her get used to the place. The first night in a new place can be sort of traumatic.




We'll talk tomorrow.

I hate facebook.

(sigh)

It amazes me....

there are times when I can't stand him.

there are times I sympathize with him.

there are times I feel sorry for him.

Yesterday

I found out I taught somebody to sing.

C

uh..what?

I love that my nephew comes to me with his defacatory dilemmas.

In other news, I've been endorsed.

Whether more instructor's really think I deserved it or not.

edit: I do not, however, love hearing about his Tetris block poo.

Fat/Bike

humoroso

Church 8/16/09

Sermon: Can You Still Ride While You Fast?

Scripture: 27.83 miles of north Louisiana hill country backroads.

Key verse: (the last few Hundred feet of Rockshop Rd before HWY 167)









{amen}

Earrrrrzzzzzzz

From watching the sky at night at home...

...from the backyard that will forever be the one I grew up in:

it's amazing how distinct the Little Dipper is*.

everytime I come home, I'm taken aback a bit how long it's been since the last time I saw Orion.

how cool it would be to be able to look up at the Moon and think, "there are people living up there,".

I want my life, whatever it was supposed to be, back. I wish I knew where to get it from. I blinked. I've spent my life blinking. I've missed it. I want it back.

yet, as bad as I want it, I'm still afraid to say out loud give it back. I won't take it.

(shrug)

maybe it's because I don't know what it's supposed to be.

(breath)

cities on the moon. how cool would that be?

I would like to know

what's at the root of my current distate/disconcern for theatre up there.

Am I just tired of acting,

tired from wanting to act;

jealous,

or fighting the realization that I've not the personal store of determination and desire to get any better at it?

(exhale)

I think I wish like hell the past 15 trips around the sun felt like they meant something.

That passport can't get here soon enough.

This is what happens when I spend all day in bed at home.

"Asceticism is not that you should not own anything,

but that nothing should own you." -Ali ibn Abu Talib (fourth caliph of Islam)

Home

The G.O.A.T mom and I just had the house conversation.

I've officially stated that I want the house once they leave (for which/whatever reason).

This is a big house and it takes a lot of upkeep.

Yeah. I know.

----------

(sigh)

My mother told me,

as she worked on her latest paint-by-numbers project,

that "it's too late for her";
that she'll never get to live up to her potential;
that she wouldn't get married again and seemed to imply that, knowing what she does now, she wouldn't have the first time.

She wanted to buy my father's insurance business from him.

Perhaps, had a I made earlier mention of a desire to assist her with it, he would've been more willing.

The world is not enough.

and people wonder why I'm no longer big on "love".

Attack of the monster.

If you ask and I say it's because I'm tired, please just leave it at that.

If it's because of you, I'll just stay away from you until it's no longer an issue.

If you continue to ask me about it after I've denied you as a reason, you will become part of the reason.


Please,

do not become part of the reason.

"professional solitaire player"

I find the above term to be comic genius.

One of several useful things that came out of eBay hell week.

"from my diaphragm"

is actor funny.

I think I'm being

shown my own need to slow down.

or maybe just that we are what we are...

(shrug)

In other news...

"I'm either going to play or get married" has probably gotten to the point where it's truer than I ever intended it to be. Not that that's unexpected.

From fear of paternity to drawn by paternal instincts.

Or maternal. (hee)

Hmph.

I just realized I've not yet seen

Cars. Let's see if I can't remedy that.

I just responded to an email

asking if I'd seen the Iconoclasts episode on Desmond Tutu & Richard Brannon. I replied that Tutu should get to live as long as trees.

I think that's an interesting concept...

That there are people who've gotten so good with this humanity thing...that they should get to live as long as trees.

Seems strange how much capacity we have to conceive of what we can't do.

Or maybe it's just what we can't do yet?

(shrug)

Impressionistic painting

Never audtion for anything you're not willing to do.

No matter how much you doubt you'll actually get it.

hehehehehehhh

I didn't like this at first....the "but, he's a MUSLIM" nitwits don't need any more ammo.

Then I saw the "harpie" thing and, well...ok.

JJ vs Feminism

Part 1

Part 2

Why I Believe in the Bike

This past Sunday, I took a friend for a ride. This is the first time I've ridden with this person, and the first time she'd ridden a bike that wasn't stationary in years.

I spent some time cleaning the chain and setting up the MTB for her (best guessing, but she's not terribly removed from my dimensions). When she arrived, I looked at her cute, though casual garb and thought things might not go well...

We loaded up and headed up the West Side path. I just found the crossover that allows you to continue on the path on through Harlem on my last leisure ride, and there's some great scenery once you get past the bustle (yes, there's now high weekend traffic on the path up to around the 100s), I decided we'd head up until she'd had enough*.

Making a bicycle travelogue is not my intention here, but I will say the view seemed even more pleasurable than last time....this may have had something to do with the threatening wind and clouds we saw until past midtown.

I remembered to check to see how she was doing a couple times, as she primarily rode behind me. She said she was good, so we kept going. We made it to my previous turn around point where she graciously elected that we continue on the path. It finally terminated in a park north of Fort Tryon.

I think I should interject at this point that we did stop twice on the way up, both at my behest - I will forever pause for fresh cornonthecob. 'Twould be un-chivalrous to speak the reason for the other pause...

We headed back down through the park to take a look at the Cloisters and the Medieval garden. Leaving Ft. Tryon, I asked how she felt about riding in a little traffic (the bane of most who've never been on or've** been away from the bike for some time - and it IS NYC). She indicated her willingness as long I didn't get her maimed (or worse), so we headed down Ft. Washington Ave.

Most of that was kindly provided with a bike lane. Again, she was faring pretty well (including dealing with numbskulls on a fairly major intersection trying to turn left), so I forewent switching back to the bike path until we ran into Broadway. THAT, I chose not to subject her to. So we backtracked to a cross street that led us to Riverside Drive. We made our way back down that until switching back to the bike path.

It was close to early evening; the path traffic had cleared out significantly. She was getting her cadence up fast enough to for the bike to feel slow (thus, did I interpret her comment about it feeling shaky), so I got into my big gear. Again, she hung with it - though I did sort of hear about it later...only after I brought it up...in her way of letting me hear about it.

Anyway...

We got down to Tribeca, and I decided it was snack time, so we went to Whole Foods for the cool down. It was here we had a regular vent session, releasing in turn about each others work. I always find these interesting, because I don't think we particularly get what the other is talking about, not all the time anyway - but I'm pretty sure we both know that's not completely the point.

Speaking of the point...

We usually do this anyway, but I have to think there was something about that ride that made things spill a little easier. She relayed somethings that were pretty deep (again, not uncommon for us), but they came forth with an underlying emotion that I'm not quite used to seeing from her. You know how you say something without pre-thinking? It and how you feel about it just come out at the same time?

Yeah, that.

And I think that was due to the ride. And that's what a good ride does to you.

It energizes you,

it flushes you,

it saps you so the only energy you have left is closer to basic need -> none left for hesitance and social form. Polite society crap

"This is what I gotta say and I gotta say that sh!t now"

(bleh)

it falls out of you.

And maybe it wasn't that deep to her...

And, as I'm sure is obvious now, I was heartened quite a bit to so her diligence in it. Granted this is a former runner, but getting out of the physical habit can still be the basis for a shock when you try to jump back in, and she's had much to deal with besides...

And that chile rode a good part of 30 miles...

So, yeah.

I believe in the bike. Come to the altar sometime, maybe you'll become a believer, too.

*(cranky crotch, numb butt, saddle soreness - many names for the #1 premature ender of two-wheel-ed glee)

 

**( "or have") 

(insert title here)

I've been on one of my "I hate NYC" things for the past few days.

or weeks.

or epochs.

Which I'm sure has nothing to do with the summons I was issued for riding a bicycle on a sidewalk.

Anyway, whenever this happens something usually comes along to challenge the statement.

Fate's little way of saying, "you don't really mean that". Or maybe God just knows I need help.

Anyway.

I got onto the ferry yester-eve and stepped out onto the upstairs outdoor deck. This has become fairly uncommon for me as I've elected to do most of my travel via the bicycle in Manhattan, despite the city's discouragement. Even when I'm not riding, I'll still avoid it. I'm so very full of tourists.

It was about 8 o'clock, and the sun had come out at the end of what'd been a rainy day, so there was a visible haze. It was cool, though, not the stifling cloud of stank and rank that will no doubt be showing up periodically from June to September. There was enough sun for the sky to be light and blue, yet the moon hung there full and clear. Off to it's right, was the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, not yet lit and a little bit ghosty in the haze.

And I knew exactly what was happening. The universe was doing that thing where it tries to show me another perspective; show me why I wasn't going to continue to boil at an ulcer that I'd been kicking up for the better part of the previous 24 hours.

And, I said hell no. I was in no way giving in to it, because the hell surrounded by water and toll booths has taken too much of my skin without restitution.

And then the (I/we)

had a realization-resolution-settlement.

It goes like this:

(ahem)

I hate the city...

but I love the view.

I'm pretty sure

the smell of undercooked bacon is analogous to that of cooked human flesh.



(barf)

Justin Timberlake & Jessical Biel

Forgot to say, I passed these two while on my way to a casting this past Thursday. They were being hounded by paparazzi on bikes.

the New Deal - Then & Now

I don't know that I can tell you just how good this feels to me...

particularly while crossing Victory,

in front of the church,

with the sun..

..and a breeze.

What i learned today.

I love dogs that eat fruit.

(ok, I already knew that.)

I love dogs that eat almonds.

(!)

I love dogs that give hugs.

(hump grabs do not count.)

I really love when said dogs are part American Bull Terrier.

(a-stereotypical much?)

A phone...

that looks like a regular candybar-style, except all the keys on the front are touch, rather than real buttons.

except,

its hinged at the top, like a flip,

revealing a full-length touch interface underneath,

with the GUI reoriented for texting, scheduling, media, what have you...

close it -

back to the candy.

Hey, stop stealing my idea.

Don't Bite

"I'm too intellectual for property"

damn.

now if only I could right a decent rhyme more than one line at a time.

(see what I did there.....)

(nope not just that, but THAT too. See?)

{I'm special}

[braces look like boobies]

I believe I may have developed

an inseparable relationship with my hair.

So much for commercial acceptance.

$*%"! it.

i'll sweep.

Lalah Hathaway - Boston

yep.

Introspective

"From Above"


-copit-

Once, sometime ago,

when I was very,

very sad,

there was a person who told me

"come home";

it made me feel better. It may not have cured me, but it's certainly stayed with me.

Now....

despite the trouble that might be caused by that person occupying an impossible place in the subverse that is my psyche,

and what that person eventually said/didn't say,

I think

(at some point)

I want* somebody to say "come home" to me again.

(maybe soon)

*(need?)

stereo-typin'

(brooklyn-based, minority run non-profit theater) just sent me my W2s for work I did there last year.

1) I sent my taxes to the momcountant in Febuary.

2) TAXES ARE DUE IN TWO WEEKS.

....... : /

I guess they figured I we always wait to do our taxes late, so....

(sigh)

See, uh-sumption is a cycle.