Off-Road

Remind me why you need that Expedition with the 20 again...

Today rather sucked

on at least three different occasions.

My teeth feel big.

Arian Foster on going vegan

"People feel so strong about meat and milk. I wish they felt this strong about peace."


Agreed.


(if you don't know, he's an elite NFL running back who's decided to remove meat from his diet)

I Love Acid - Wagon Christ

the old 3D.

The above

is an oil painting.

Deal

with that.

comments

bored. Comments turned back on for first time in several seasons.


we'll see how it goes.

And then there's the native stupidity

Not long after previous entry, man gets on with his two girls. There
are no two adjacent seats, so one sits farther back near me. There is
a wondow seat next to a woman who is sitting in the aisle.

Presumed Daddy motions for 2nd girl to take the available seat.
Instead of just sliding over into the window seat, Woman does The New
Yorker Window Seat Mambo: picks up all her things and spins knees
outward to make the child move past her to take the window seat.

I can understand this in certain situations, say if one is about to
get off soon, but this movement is universal in this town. It gone
past any roots in safety and is a tiny, pitiful power play that takes
place daily on the transit here. When I saw it, I regretted not moving
sooner so the girl could sit nearer her sister, but The Amazing
Falling European Girl got off the bus soon after, so I moved and all 3
of them were able to sit together.

End 'o story.

Tourism

I was just tripped over by a tourist and slightly fallen on by a
tourist on the bus. She tipped into the seat right next to me despite
there being one closer to her presumed compatriot. There should be a
class for these people.

Lati

 I was spending quality time with Lati in Central Park and she attracted the attention of Allow who seemed a bit compelled to dance. It didn't take her long (RocketPop tinted mouth and all) to give in.

She passed by at a moment when we were resting, looking back expectantly. I felt a bit disappointed that I was not in the midst of something for her to move to, her reluctance to leave apparent in her father having to beckon authoritatively.

Interesting.

Perhaps the next visit will result in enough courage to go sit in the drum circle.

I was just prepared

to lunge and keep someone from jumping overboard...to the point of
flinching when he seemed he might be moving to kick a leg over the
side.

I think I finally get

why my father planted peas despite owning an insurance office and
mother continues to need to pull weeds and sow seeds to this day.

"Lawyers...

...live on dead rights disinterred."

"...now the king in everyone...

...must rule the world."

H. G. Wells
'The World Set Free"

Angry

Last Tuesday/Wed, I spent all night preparing and audition video for a theater in a certain large, midwestern city. This included having to learn a couple rap songs (not something I generally do).

When I say all night, I mean no sleep - despite having a callback and a rehearsal later that day.

I was tempted to give up and submit what I had without putting something more polished together, but I really wanted a shot at this job.

So, it was submitted and I tried to go on the rest of the day not thinking about it. Before the day was even over, I'd gotten word of the callback.

Word.

This meant learning two additional songs - one of which was to be sung. This is REALLY something I don't do. This seemed challenging at first, but I was surprised how much I enjoyed working on it.

At about 6:30p Friday, I get an e-mail from said theater that there has a been a "development in the process" that may affect them having the callback.

Over the weekend, I try not to think about it. I did, however, not work on it with the same fervor.

On yesterday afternoon I got the confirmation that, though theyenjoyed my video and the effort put into it was appreciated, callbacks had been canceled.

I was fine with that. Things happen. Plans change. I don't even believe it when I'm hired until the first day of rehearsal.

The message went on that a local actor had been found for the job.

Hm.

This didn't bother me too much. In what was supposed to be a bit of making light of the situation, I went back and forth over email with the agent that submitted me.  I and this agent have had a period of not getting along. He has a certain way of expressing himself that can be taken as, well, antagonistic. I'd decided to just not take it personally, but that I also should remember to limit my converation with him to amiable professionalism (as such with all in the biz, actually). I made the mistake, in this instance, of not letting the issue rest. Though we didn't disagree, he was more upset with the reason for cancellation than me. Thinking about the valid points he made (and making the mistake of mixing myself up in the bitter), I agreed.

Then, having gone to a rehearsal for a show that I should have bowed out of, I began to think about it more.

And I got angry.

Angry that so much of my time had been dedicated to just trying to be seen, only for them to decide on someone they knew. They should have just gone with that person to begin with or, at least, give me chance to compete for the job in person.

At the end of the theater's message, it was mentioned that I'd be kept in mind for future productions at the theater by this plays writer.

Not other productions? Just those by this writer?

(sigh)

you know what?

just..

#### it.

Latest theory

We have a finite amount of energy....we must choose what we will expend
that energy on.

(there was something more concrete about this yesterday....what I get for not typing then)


Truth is a state of energetic productivity. To function one needs
energy. Being in a state of truth (expression, facilitation) creates
energy.

Untruth is a consumptive state. Propagating untruth, participating in a
circumstance stemming from lies or some state of untruth uses energy.

Give

It's interesting to have someone appreciate your expression to the
degree that are compelled to want to share theirs with you in the same
moment - like something that they are actively trying to sell, that
they feel is worthy of paying for and indignant at the prospect of
someone being of the opinion that it isn't.

I am hilarity.

I think I'm going to tape myself rehearsing for auditions from now on.
My futility is hilarious.

Com Truise - Fairlight

Intense. Delicious.

intense delicious

http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=US&hl=en&client=mv-google&v=KCPGQX9rU1s&nomobile=1

Time.

So, I'm watching "Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman". On the wrap for the time travel episode,he says that "life is short and time is precious".

I continue to disagree with this assertion.

Life is precious. Time is the result of mankind's realization when it's been wasted.

I was told

this past Wed night, after having done some silly thing or another that I sound somewhere between Monty Python and Bill Cosby.

My response:

"Genetics".

No one here gets my miscegenation jokes.

Dread Van Winkle

I'm currently walking behind a man whose hair has mat-locked into a so
perfect a flat trapezoidal across his back that it looks like he laid
perfectly flat, facing up for a score or so of weeks/years.

He's also having a very strident disagreemwnt with someone who doesn't
appear to exist...at least not at/in this space/time.

Currently have a lump in my throat

because I just found out I lost a major role to someone I
find...."trying". It is likely worse that I was asked to do a minor
role.

New Beetle

This just in: VW engineers think different.

Or maybe they just think putting the reverse gear to the left of 1st and requiring a downward press on the shifter to be really, really funny.

And one wonders if the fact that the trans will only shift back out of 5th if the wheels are turned all the way to the right (maybe?) is another fun Farfeg-feature.

 Which is only helped by the marketing customization on it that block the rear-view and left the power mirros un-adjustable.

(power locks, power mirrors.....manual windows?)

In other news: I now have personal witness of the chirping chicken KFC sign....which is really more of a focal point of the architecture.


(picture to follow if possible)

I am anxious

and cranky
and mopey
and irritable
and janky
 and can't think

 because there's a job I really want to get that I've been waiting for a week for the final interviews to finish so I can get a response because I really want a POSITIVE response because I really want to get to work near home because I'd really like to get to be an actor for a change.

There.

I said it.

Vision

I just noticed that my left eye seems to perceive color more intensely
than the right.

Or maybe it's just got something to do with this polarized filter.

One wonders how common this; that it migt be the result of adaptation.

So, I just took my first trip

across the asphalt at speed (likely 15mph or so).

All my fault. Pics and details to come.

ScaryMonsterMan

Instance of fear and terror 1:

Last week, I went onto the roof to do some calesthenics thinking I'd be less likely to disturb the people below. The roof, however, is made of the same thinly sliced cheese as the rest of the building. Therefore, a lady with he infant child heard walking and heavy breathing on the roof. She accosted me just as I'd finished an interval, asking twice if I lived in the building. It seems to me if she was so scared of whoever was above her, she probably shouldn't have come up to check it herself.

Instance of fear and terror 2:

On the way home on the bus, I noticed a young woman who I recognize from the route, but forget that she lives in the same building. We got off the bus at the same stop and took the same path through the grounds of a church on the block. This is a common instance. During this, I started thinking about some vocal and breathing pointers I gave a younger actor recently and start practicing some diaphragmatic breathing up the hill while listening to some experimental Euro jazz. It occurred that it might sounds probably sounded strange, but she didn't seem to take much notice, so I didn't worry about it. When we got to the door, she suddenly turned around and spoke. I had to take out my headphones and ask her to repeat.

"Are you ok?"

I let her know that I was merely doing breathing exercises and apologized for what I then realized must have sounded like a literal version of a colloquial heavy breather.

"Ignorance is a powerful

 tool if applied at the right time, even usually surpassing knowledge. Lots of times a guy will jump into a project without knowing how far he is into something way over his head until it's almost too late to back off. This is a situation that I frequently wake up to in the middle of another adventure."

E.J. Potter

"For these fellows

of infinite tongue who can rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, they do
always reason themselves out again."


Henry V, ln. 156-159

Maturity

is wisdom in action.

So went a pondering of about a week ago.

Dream 4/27

Interesting...

Roommate comes over to my side of the mountain and I'm expecting him to ask me to clean up the workshop - which I'm always suspicious he wants to ask. Instead asks me to come out, take look, and my opinion.

It seems that, while I'd been asleep. There was a great redecoration undertaken. And the room was now decidedly dark.

I'm like "uh....". He tells me it was all his girlfriend's idea. She seems proud of herself. I'm pretty sure I spent the rest of the dream trying to find a nice way to say, "please, put it back".


In other waking life news - I was told I'm too short to play a character debuted by an actors that is my height.

Producers & casting people, by and large, are clueless people enjoying a small sampling of power they've managed to alot.

Therefore: they're a pretty much like everyone else.

Lockturnal

Dream from a few nightmornings ago:

I'm in a barber chair, seemingly getting a line. When I get out I feel like there was more hair removed than was necessary for just a line. I frantically begin searching for a mirror, knowing that I told the barber to just line and not remembering him going any further.

So, frantically searching, finally find one, see that all is as it was.

Conclusion?

This is not the first hair dream I've had, but it seems the most definite:

I don't want to cut my hair.

Which likely means life is going to present me with an option based on doing just that. I suspect this will take place sometime between May and June.

Einstein Flies the Bird

So, ever since a trip out the Flushing Meadows a few weeks ago, I've been periodically websearching (which is a word that should be entered into the modern English lexicon) the two world's fairs that occurred there trying to get a picture of what it was like.

In doing so today, I found myself back at this website which, by 2012 standards, is quite quaint and unsophisticated in its presentation of information, but is probably the single best repository of it for the 1964 fair on the web. In fact it was just today that I figured out its design enough to go deeper into the attractions from the fair it documents.

I've been browsing for a few hours, trying to find out where the various exhibit spaces that were removed and re-purposed (yes, people moved whole, huge buildings from this thing - such was the excess greatness of the US mid-century and pre-Vietnam backlash). While doing so I came across the Westinghouse Pavilion section and started reading about the two Time Capsule buried after each fair. The NYWF64.com even has a downloadable pdf of the 1939 book of record that was sealed in the '39 capsule.

I started looking through it, curious how it would explain to people 5000 years in the future to decipher it (paradox, conundrum, effed-up situation, fruitless endeavour - you decide) and came across a section dedicated to "great minds" of the time. Assuming this would lead to some fine self-revelatory western civilization praise, I looked through a few. The third turned out to be my good friend whom I've never actually met Albert Einstein. It was in German. This was disappointing at first - particularly since great pains are taken in the section of the book before to explain English to future readers (??). I've read some of his writings on war and society and was piqued at what he would have decided to include in a capsule intended to be open 5000 years in the future. Fortunately and sensibly, the following page was a translation. Below is the scan of the actual page from the book of record. Peep it:



And now I am left to wonder....am I the only one who sees this as a delightfully bold exercise of subversion?

hm...

At the moment I'm thinking

that expression is the act of saying.

Communication is the act of saying to.

I was just in bed

feeling some obligation to read the Bible...not a burden, but some freeing responsibility.

I rose and walked to the bathroom, a mysterious vertical power lofting me up from below - stepping in front of the mirror, the familiar, already known source made visually evident, emphasized by the cotton legs of unders pushed incrementally up by the activity of dormancy.

I sit here aware of some power. I am wondering if it is from reading about modern mythic heroes while feeling the urge to sleep, to dream.

I dreamed that I returned Home to find an overnight renovation that also made the inside of my family home vast and manoral. In evening there was a party of due size, at which I discovered that someone had published these thought contained here as "journalism". This was somehow connected to suger-glittered gumdrop figures which I gathered held some value. At the discovering, indignant, I reclaimed my right to my words and noticed that all the trappings seemed to be leaving as well..at which point, like freed children, the vast space began to be used not for the things we'd always wanted to, but for the things we HAD used them. The last thing I saw was kneeling to the floor and releasing through tears the pressure built up in claiming one's own self.

I do not know how much connected this was to hearing of my sister's similar waking-life reclamation of self and my verdant hope that this time it sticks, but knowing that it takes a few tugs on the rope to get out of a really deep hole.

The Sun is out. Today I will stand uP.

I am currently considering the validity of sitting outside this casting

for no reason other than listening to this tawny euro chile and her
brownolive hybrid comrade go back and forth in Japanese.

--
Peace:
cW

"Will Make Itself"

by Michael Maricle

Me vs. Cust. Serv.

c Walker: I show that I have $6 balance remaining and I'm currently on a daily plan. Can I get a refund back to the card charged for that $6?

~Julie G: Welcome to T-Mobile Chat service. My name is Julie and for your reference my rep ID is 1320032. First, please allow me one moment to review your question.

c Walker: ok

~Julie G: Hello C Walker. I will be glad to assist you concerning your $6 balance.

~Julie G: Just to clarify, you would like us to credit back your credit card $6.00, is this correct?

c Walker: yes

~Julie G: May I ask why you want us to credit back the $6 to your credit card?

c Walker: Because I am trying a different carrier.

~Julie G: I am sorry to hear that you are trying another carrrier.

~Julie G: I regret, refills are non refundable.

c Walker: despite the fact that is daily and I am only charged per day to use it?

~Julie G: Yes that is correct.


~Julie G: All refills are non refundable.

c Walker: Then why did you not say that at first instead of asking me why I want to be credited for the $6?

c Walker: thereby saving me the time of sitting here on chat?

~Julie G: So I could clarify the reason why you were requesting the refund.

~Julie G: I apologize for the inconvenience.

~Julie G: Is there anything else I can assist you with today?

~Julie G: Are you there ?

I just realized that the dream I had earlier

was of my receiving a letter announcing my individual nomination for A&C for some awards that I imagine were representative of the AUDELCOS.

THE TRUTH

Crack Kills. So does Sugar. Crack is Sugar.

(copied from here)

Regulating Our Sugar Habit

By MARK BITTMAN

Mark Bittman on food and all things related.

When Ronda Storms, a Republican state senator in Florida, is accused of nanny-state-ism for her efforts on behalf of a sane diet, it’s worth noting. When she introduced a bill to prevent people in Florida from spending food stamps on unhealthy items like candy, chips and soda, she broke ranks: few of her party have taken on Big Food. And as someone who has called for the defunding of an educational Planned Parenthood program and banning library book displays supporting Gay and Lesbian Pride Month, she is hardly in her party’s left wing. Not surprisingly, she’s faced criticism from every corner: Democrats think she’s attacking poor people, and Republicans see Michelle Obama. Soon after Storms proposed the bill, she told me, “Coca-Cola and Kraft were in my office” hating it.

Yet she makes sense. “It’s just bad public policy to allow unfettered access to all kinds of food,” she told me over the phone. “Why should we cut all of these programs and continue to pay for people to use food stamps to buy potato chips, Oreos and Mountain Dew? The goal is to feed good food to hungry people.”
To some, dictating what recipients of benefits through the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program can eat seems unfair. But when the program began in 1939 it aimed both to feed the unemployed and to aid farm recovery. Participants received $1.50 in stamps for every cash dollar spent, 50 cents of which was designated for purchase of agricultural surplus. That’s already a directive on spending, but perhaps more important is that nearly three-quarters of a century ago almost the only thing you could buy — with or without regulation — was real food. Since then Big Food has moved our diet in the wrong direction, and now we have a surplus of empty calories.
The argument for limiting the use of food stamps to actual food is consistent with established policy. They’re already disallowed for tobacco, alcohol,vitamins, pet foods, household supplies and (with some exceptions) food meant to be eaten on premises. Payments have been based on the cost of a “nutritionally adequate diet.”
Let me state the obvious: there is no nutritional need for foods with added sugar.
All of this is part of the bigger question: How do we regulate the consumption of dangerous foods? As a nation, we’ve accepted the need to limit the marketing and availability of tobacco and alcohol. The first is dangerous in any quantity, and the second becomes dangerous when overconsumed.
And added sweeteners, experts increasingly argue, have more in common with these substances than with fruit. In a recent paper in Nature, Robert H. Lustig, Laura A. Schmidt and Claire D. Brindis remind us that for the first time, chronic diseases pose a greater health threat than infectious ones, and of the three main risk factors for chronic diseases — alcohol, tobacco and diet — two are regulated and one is not.
The authors specifically target “any sweetener containing the molecule fructose (which makes sugar sweet) that is added to food in processing” as the key problem in our current diet, and correlate the rise in consumption of sugar with a rise in disease, listing the many ways in which sugar’s effects on the body are similar to those of alcohol. Their contention is that sugar is hardly “an empty calorie,” but rather an actively harmful one: “Fructose can trigger processes that lead to liver toxicity and a host of other chronic metabolic diseases.”
Added sugar is not the only dangerous food. But unlike animal products, for example, which we also overconsume, it has no benefits. Yet we down it at the rate of 150 pounds per person per year, and while scientists argue whether it is addictive in humans (it meets the criteria for addiction in animals), it is most certainly habit-forming. Lustig and his co-authors suggest that actions like imposing taxes on added sugar or establishing a minimum age for purchase of sodas (they mention 17 in their paper) would reduce consumption.
The question “Is this necessary?” is unavoidable. But as obesity and its consequences ravage our health care system, we struggle not only with our own diets but also with preventing our children from falling into the same traps. Last year a brigade of parents stood watch outside a corner store in North Philadelphia in an attempt to prevent their kids from buying junk food.
They’ve been called foot soldiers, but you might call them vigilantes. Vigilantism occurs when people believe the government isn’t doing its job. We need the government on our side. It must acknowledge the dangers caused by the most unhealthy aspects of our diet and figure out how to help us cope with them, because this is the biggest public health challenge facing the developed world.

---

Please visit my blog

Appreciation

I did my next-to-last day on SVU today. We were in the "precinct" and the background actors I remember most from a couple weeks ago when I did bg were there today. One in particular I was hoping to see was there. We greeted each other as he was about to head into bg holding while I was heading to the principle dressing room area. I saw in his eyes the recognition of what had taken place. We parted at that moment, each with our own wry smile.

"Wry" because two Thursday nights prior, we left together and talked about the life and doing the bg thing for a bit as we made our way to our respective forms of public transit. He's a pretty gregarious guy, sharing pictures of his dog and aspects of his life during the 11 hr day. I gathered from the day before that he was a bit of an OG in the room. He eventually revealed that he was one of the original core BG people for a few years until about 2006 when the decision was made to "refresh" the squad room (with new faces in the background....as in younger faces). He's in his 50s; looks 10 solar rotations less. One of the last things we discussed before parting ways was about people who say that they'll never do another bg job if they get a principal role (featured, speaking). We both agreed that this wouldn't stop either of us from doing background.

So, today, after that first interaction, I saw him as talking to another group as I walked to the snack table. On my way back, I stopped and leaned into him and said, "remember the conversation we had about going from bg to principal..." Bryce (sp?) is his name.

The other gentleman stuck out to me because I caught him with the cWj comedy act. The first day I was in the holding room, I walked in not knowing anybody and sat at a table by myself feeling very first-day-of-school-lunch-room.  Bryce was one of the people that sat at the table with me. Another was a woman called Mazzy who was THE most talkative person in the room*. Well, I was fairly quiet and tried to read as much as I could. She began chatting with some other guy in the room and said something that left me an opening to crack on her a little bit (as she had been on other people), so I did my thing that exploded the little shell I was in. She was taken aback (amiably), and the other gentleman - Big Dude I'll call him since I never got his name - thought it was particularly funny, and so I broke the ice with a few people in the room.  Part of the reason I call him Big Dude is because they had him sitting at the sign-in desk (so I guess he was supposed to be the desk sergeant) and he and I took turns trying to make each other crack as we performed our background magic. He as the officer and me as the perp getting ushered along by another lovely bg'er named Debra.

Today I say him and greeted him without saying anything. My preference was to let people figure it out. They've been there much longer than me and I figured they'd be able to tell anyway. When we first spoke, he asked me if I'd been there all day; I told him that I'd just gotten there. I started to say something then, but let it be. I'm suspicious he heard something from Bryce, because the next time I saw him, it was understood. He congratulated me several times with heartfeeling.

That is what I took away from today (well, yesterday now). Both of these men were genuinely happy to see that I'd gotten a shot. Bryce was actually my stand-in, so he was around longer and we got to chat a few more times.

It's times like this that start to trick you into thinking that it's not quite so much a horrid existence, this acting thing.


* edit 3/2: whereas Bryce was gregarious, Mazzy was bodacious.....if I ever see her again I may offer that as a stage name: Mazzy Bodacious. Very 70s British glamrock.

Yeah. But you won't get out of that car will you.

This past Monday at around 5:15, I was riding back from picking up my laptop. I'd just finished talking to a bike messenger I shot a few scenes with last summer from 14th to around 12th. We were in the right most lane, I left and he right (closest to the sidewalk). We rode slowly next to each other while we talked, then he turned off. As I rode on Broadway, I looked over to my left and noticed a rider coming from the opposite side of the street. He stood out to me for being an older gentleman of similar decent to me, though darker. His bike was a different brand, but similar in color. He had chrome fenders, however. I thought about how much the must weigh, that I still need to get some.

About a block or so further up, a cab charged up against toward the curb cutting me off. At first I assumed he was trying to get a fare (as they tend to do - have little regard for anything around them when trying to pick up), but the driver stops and starts yelling at me to through a seemingly Eastern European accent about never touching his car again. Before I can ascertain exactly what it is he's risked my personal well-being to say, he pulls off. I think for a second, then decide to catch him at the next light to ask exactly what his issue is - since I haven't touched anybody's car. I get there and babbles more, thought he "knows what he saw" and makes like he's going to spit on me. He pulls off again - and I am now....energized shall we say. I ride past him as he sits at the next light and try to talk to him again as he passes through the light making a left turn onto Houston. He continues to make the same claim except now managing to dismiss me at the same time (which is interesting since HE brought this up) and pedestrians see the exchange. After he's passed through, I tell a couple of them what happened, one of the remarking that perhaps the his passenger will see this and not tip him.

I continue south on Broadway. As I'm riding, I'm trying to remember the sequence of events, and begin to think that there must have been someone on his side that he's mistaken me for. I decide to go back to Houston and see if I can catch him. I see cabs ahead, but don't recognize the plate. I decide to continue through the Bowery as I've now amassed a large enough concentration of energy that it needs to dissipate. I keep riding and decide to try one last group of cabs ahead. One is not, it pulls off left...then I see him and go for it. I catch him near 1st to see ask if it was the driver side. I get there and get the first sign that he might have calmed down enough to deal with logic when he rolls down his window and says, "you are having good fitness". I ask if he was hit on the driver side; he responds yes. I try to tell him that I was on the RIGHT side of the street and could not have done it, that he (if this actually happened) has mistaken me for another rider - that I think must be the much older, darker-skinned, grey-bearded, rider wearing a jacket of a completely different color. He continues to insist he "knows what he saw". I let him pass again, first riding off south again, then AGAIN reconsidering and catch him in a long left turn line (that included concrete barriers on one side due to construction) and took a picture of his license plate, determined to report him to the T&LC, Transportation Alternatives or SOMETHING for having threatened/endangered a cyclist with his car.

And he better be glad that feigned, dramatic Euro-spit thing was only feigned. Because he would have caught a loogie then a fist.

I'm careful, I try to respect other people's space, I ask that mine be respected as well, I am tired of going about the world in fear.

Wanna be stupid? Fine. I'll just be making sure to bring it to you attention in the event you make that choice.

Last night:

Had a dream that I was fired from my current major tv acting job...perhaps because, on my first day, I heard that an actor had been replaced last week  - as in they actually had to re-shoot with a new actor. Which is kind of major....

Added to this is that we seemed to have been on some kind of abandoned factory set where, the next day, Grambling would be playing. So, on my way leaving it seemed that the day was turned into that day. So I got fired and then I was there to see Grambling.


I'll take half of that in real life.

bicycle -> redemption

Today while on the boat, I talked to a fellow cyclist about an electric bike, which turned into a conversation about why it can make sense to spend three grand on a bike in a city like nyc, which turned into a conversation about his crazy spoiled girlfriend's tickets, which brought up motorcycle licenses and whether you can one if your license was suspended in another state for driving several miles/hour past 100 on a public thoroughfare, which caused me to ask if he'd been drinking...

which led to a detailing of his recovery from chemical abuse and the pain involved in telling loved ones still addicted that they were cut off until better.



And you wonder why I believe in the bike?

unalien.

currently on the boat glancing over olive-toned, dark haired, almond eyed ma'am give a quite hot cold soldier to young male of similar description of a decidedly more (subsomething), supplicating nature


she, seeming to wipe remnants or expectations of tears.

and i'm wondering if Asian men and women of some certain specificity have the samesimilar strangestrained relation to each other as african-american men/women seem to.

(Let Tyler Perry, Wendy Williams and empowerment workshops tellit)
Connected by MOTOBLUR™

"See? See what you can do?

"Never mind can't tell one letter from another, never mind you born a
slave, never mind you lose your name, never mind your daddy dead, never
mind nothing. Here, this here, is what a man can do if he puts his mind
to it and his back in it. Stop sniveling."

Song of Solomon, Morrison, ch. 10

"So it was hard for me to latch onto a woman."

"Because I thought if I loved anything it would die.

But I did latch on once.

But I guess once is all you can manage".


Song of Solomon, Ch. 13, T Morrison

Education

I sent my family some books I thought they might find interesting. My mother finished one I sent for her and sent to my sister and asked me why I had.

Back yonder (aka: a few months ago), it felt like a way to contribute back to the family after all my time away.

Thinking about it now...it just occurred to me that I am at the place where I can challenge my parents academically...which may be at the core of sending them the books....or is apart of the contribution. I've thought about asking her to write..

Giving them "assignments"...

My nephew asked my what were some books I thought he should read a few years ago and I sent him a few.

But, I think this idea of challenge is about a few things....like, giving them..my mother something to do...to keep her going.

Or, maybe, help her pick up somewhere she may have left off due to circumstance. I still think she can do a lot. I keep hearing her say it's too late.

That has a lot to do with why I want to go back home so much - I feel like I can be an instigator.

But maybe that's more about finding something for me to do in a place that's easy..?

I find interesting that I want her to write, my dad (as she told me the other night) wants her to write, but she doesn't want to share it with anybody else -- even the thoughts on a book she read that I sent her. She'll share it with me, but not with anybody else.

...

RollerCoaster

Tuesday: Did background as perp on SVU despite previous position against playing people handcuffed on the ground. No handcuffing took place, met some really nice people in holding. Educated them regarding Tracy Morrow's video acting.

Wednesday: Arrived back at Pier 62 by 9a (zzzz) for very first match doing background. Wished that I'd done as I'd promised the day before and brought dominoes. What I DID bring were two other outfits....and then didn't even shoot, although I was there for 11 hours (bonus!). Second interaction with Tracy Morrow. You wish you were me.

Thursday: Didn't get called back for 3rd day on SVU as hoped....looked around at buying a PD uni in order that I might have a shot at becoming BG core. Which would be a cool way to make some eat money.

Friday: Got email about TV casting from manager for SVU. Wondered whether it mattered that I'd just done BG, decided to keep that to myself; thought about irony of booking a principal role one week after doing bg on same set. Feel like I have an ok shot at it...despite that it is AGAIN playing a perp.

Saturday: Asked actor whom I knew as a "worker" if she was available to help with audition, received a msg from her that ended in "You WILL book this!" Her confidence seemed strange; struck me for some reason.

Sunday: got stood up by somebody I bought tickets to a Broadway show for - ironic because I'd already decided this was the last time I'd do this (edit 3/2 - supposedly due to his incarceration). Didn't catch previously mentioned actor by phone or otherwise. Spent remainder of night and plenty of succeeding day salty. Decide that instead of telling self that I'm leaving if I don't book, I'm leaving if I DO book. Irony has a way hovering it's old self around me and would love giving me a nice case of self-conflict to deal with.

Monday: Go to audition, felt like I did what I'd intended. Spent much of day checking for call or e-mails from manager. Finally told self "next" and began sifting through bg calls to submit for and whatever else distracted me on the internet. A couple hours later looked and saw that I had an e-mail from him informing me of a callback the following Wednesday. Spent rest of evening NOT looking at lines.

Tuesday: Distracted by all the things the internet distracts me with. Finally looked at sides again that night.

Wednesday: Put off getting out of bed as usual, thought I heard roommate get up and decided to let him have the bathroom so he could get to work, heard emergency responders come to door, found out roommate was having some sort of medical-possibly-emergency situation. Was shaken, still had to get to callback. Got there in the very nick of time. Do audition for producers. Am given an adjustment. Done. Leave feeling very unsure. Now waiting to hear from manager AND roommate. Milled about ruminating and worrying more. Decide that I have got to find something else to do with myself because I simply can't eat myself alive like this anymore. At home, decide to play with recently acquired video camera, after which I notice that manager has sent inquiry about my availability for next few weeks. Relieved of some of that part of the worry, decide to go inquire about roommate. Find him; he seems ok for the time being. Go driving/shopping.

Thursday (today): Procrastinate about going to print casting. Expecting a post-work crowd, get there and am able to get in and out almost immediately, chat amicably with auditioner following me. Leave a stack of photog cards with rest of cards advertising actor services and shows. Head toward NYPL Midtown branch when I get a call from a private number, thinking it is The Package Lady letting me know that somebody has a package and if she can bring it down. In fact, it is MANAGER - and I know what it means because he wouldn't have called otherwise:


he tells me that I've booked SVU (which I'd figured out) for 5 to 6 days of work (WHICH I HAD NOT!!!).

Hung up phone, leaned against building on 40th between 6th and Broadway and proclaimed quite loudly that I'd been cast on Law & Order SVU.

Now just going to pay rent and wait and see what's going on with roommate.

(train, having careened down it final drop, pulls into station readying itself for the next trip back up that first long rise)

Confidence

does nothing for me. I need a motivating fear of looking like a complete ass to get me to work.

(or something like that)

"Like vanity."

"Can't nobody fly with all that sh!t. Wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that's weighing you down."


(from Song of Solomon by Morrison)

I'm pretty sure I wish this audition was Tuesday.

Remind me to talk about my stand on playing "perps", criminals.

"The fact that no one understands you

doesn't make you an artist."

Gem gleaned from playing Zuma.

(sigh)

I really hate having these headaches.

bad posture sucks.

(zzzzzzzZZZZZSSSSSr

I am a Jr.

Which means somewhere (supposedly somewhere in the south Atlantic on a bigg-ass white boat at the moment) I have a Sr.

I'm currently going through one of my strange sleep patterns. Probably this is the strangest because it's not even nocturnal - I go to sleep around seven and am up in the wee hours. I've been having headaches that I think I due to fatigue from being sleepy while out exposed to bright sunlight (and it has been quite sunny this week). However, if I can manage to stay in the bed until about 3a-4a, I usually do ok.

In the past I have absolutely HATED sleeping like this. I think it doesn't bother me now because I read (I am behind but trying to get through a huge biography at the moment), search purposely around the internet or mess around with photos. So, I've been waking up during what many think of as the middle of the night, but I'm not having that groggy, pissed-off, disjointed,woke-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night feeling.

I'm sort of liking my sleep sched at the moment (at THIS moment, anyway).

I say all that to say this:

one of my fathers peculiarities was going to sleep by 9p and waking up at 4a;

I despite all the protestations to the contrary during my youth, I am turning into my Sr.

This is not a new realization, but there are still times when you chillin and it just sort of (!)s across the face.

.....

Colin Powell's "rules to live by"

from Parade magazine:

1. It ain't as bad as you think. It will look better in the morning.
2. Get mad, then get over it.
3. Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when you position falls your ego goes with it
4. It can be done!
5. Be careful what you choose. You may get it.
6. Don't let adverse facts stand in the way of a good decision.
7. Check small things.
8. Share credit.
9. You can't make someone else's choices. You shouldn't let someone else make yours.
10. Remain calm. 
11. Have a vision. Be demanding.
12. don't take counsel of your fears or naysayers.
13. Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier.

others not included in that article:

"Of all manifestations of power, restraint impresses men most." (via Thucydides)

"Avoid conservatism."

"You never know what you can get away with until you try."

"Use your intellect to inform your instincts, but trust your instincts."

I am still amazed

that, when I am having trouble getting my face to conform to English,
moving to a dialect of some kind helps.

I just found a white hair growing out ma belly.

oh, my.

Grant green Deep River

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Reagan quote of the young year

While using the biography I'm currently reading for VO-in-dialect practice, I just read the following out loud in standard British:

"Reagan liked to tell stories he believed displayed his lack of racial bias..."

That was roughly 40 minutes ago.

At least 5 minutes of that was afterglow, the other 35 have been recuperation.

I can even began to guess what will happen to my body once I work up the courage to read comes after "bias".

( ! )

Ooh...wait.....sorry....I need a minute.....

Telefon Tel Aviv - fahrenheit fair enough

um....yum.

I wonder how concerned I should be that I just really don't feel like
doing anything.

Like.

In general.

We shall oversleep

Perhaps fitting that this came on the evening of MLK day.....

I had a dream that I was in a small, Black church - except everybody was dressed like it was the 50s/60s. It wasn't set in the 50s/60s - but we looked like it.

I seemed to have a mate...chocolate of complexion with a nigh perfectly spherical coiffe consisting of swooping straightened curls.

Well, there weren't many people in the church, but there was some sort of inclement weather - heavy rains perhaps. It was bad enough that we needed to stay put and the kind of bad where people might look for shelter.

And it must have been desperate straits indeed, because soon after this dream started knights of the local klan came striding down our isle.

Black church. mid century dress.

Ku Klux crew.

Don't you love my brain?

These appear to be some ranking types, and I seem to remember thinking the term "grand dragon" came up. I do remember one of them having robes of a more satin/iridescent finish, colored mother-of-pearl if not gold.

There, of course is some debate about whether to allow them to stay, and I believe I took the side of "our Christian duty". I believe there was actually a larger number of them than us, because it seemed a good idea to invite friends of a lighter tone to join us - and just more people in general to even out the mood...and perhaps the ranks.

And that's pretty much how it ended. The klan folk stayed and things stayed civil.


But how, exactly, does one's subconscious come up with that??!

I find it a bit of a coincidence that the Nazi hunter episode of Outer Limits came on this morning (which I watched when I should have been asleep).

I think my brain watches Quantum Leap while I'm gone.

Ewok

click,

While walking north toward the Flatiron District last night, I decided to call the G.o.A.T. Barb on the way up. She had just texted me that she was going back to work - big surprise, no?

We talked for a while in W Sr. came into the room and got on the phone from the background.

Him, "So, you - you ready to head back this way?"

I think, at this point, the only person in my immediate family who has not asked me this is my sister - but she's got her own stuff to deal with, so that's not too surprising. She probably also expects the least of any of them for to return, so it may just not have occurred to her.

After going through the roller coaster of the Saints game, confronting a livery driver with his decision to park half of his suburban in the crosswalk at Park and (twenty-something) and the always strange-for-me club experience, I walked back south towards the ferry.

At some point while walking, I went back to that question. At some point - I'm not sure if it was before or after - I thought about how I'm right back to not having to chosen to stay or leave since deciding to leave in late 2009 and never doing so.

(as poorly as a I remembered what I was getting at I went back and really read the poem in the comments section of K's post and now REALLY don't remember what I was talking about - HBG!)

I think, because I'd planned earlier this year to have enough money to leave and those plans got "interrupted" - I'm having a bit of a "I DON'T (heart) NYC" moment.

I thought, for the first time, whether it was a mistake to have not left here 5 years ago. I played hating that out in my mind a bit. It is a bit flabbergasting to think that I've been in the same twin bed in the same tiny room for 7.5 years....with not too much more than this blog to show for it - even there I've left several musings that belonged here dissipate before putting writing them.

Or..maybe I didn't play it out. Maybe I actually hated it. Maybe if I hadn't gotten distracted with the camera I'd be tapping out some finely thought-and-worded precision justifying my immediate exit.


It just occurred to me that some of this may have to do with having just left a going away party....maybe/maybenot.

(shrug)

Ok. This started out sounding like it was going to be good, but I'm just rambling now.

Boo this man.


(boooooooooooooo)

Q + Canon = (whut?)

has no idea what this dude is saying besides "time lapse", "Johnston
Canyon" and - I think - "time is money".

Yet, I find this video strangely engaging.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=QTQAIQKWsjs

eBay hi-jinx.

You know, my general view of privacy is such that I'd leave the name off this...but, you know what?

Flame this person hard.


I'm just done with eBay stupidity.

From: cdubbleyoo
To: szelectronics1
Subject: Other: cdubbleyoo sent a message about IBM LENOVO TABLET STYLUS PEN X60 X61 X200 X201 New DIGITIZER THINKPAD #150701422882
Sent Date: Jan-11-12 21:31:02 PST

Dear szelectronics1,

The title is for IBM but pic & desc are for Toshiba...

Dear cdubbleyoo,

Very good little johnny !

A is for Apple
B is for Boy
C is for Cat
..................

- szelectronics1

From: cdubbleyoo
To: szelectronics1
Dear szelectronics1,

Oh, so you had no intention of describing the item correctly. Noted.

- cdubbleyoo

Dear cdubbleyoo,

A jacked made by whites can be worn by blacks. I'm sorry that your mental capacities do not allow you to ponder this far.

Blocked-(Reason:Buyer's mother and father were originally siblings)

- szelectronics1

Dear szelectronics1,

"A jacked made by whites can be worn by blacks"

Mental capacity?

You have no interest in selling anything; just auctioning for personal entertainment. I get it...even artistic in it's way. Carry on.

Dear cdubbleyoo,

A jacket made by whites can be worn by blacks. I'm sorry that your mental capacities do not allow you to ponder this far.

Blocked-(Reason:Buyer's mother and father were originally siblings)

Also do not contact me again or I will be reporting you to ebay for harassment.

- szelectronics1

Dear szelectronics1,

Even spelled correctly that makes no sense. I contacted you to clarify what item your auction was for. Perhaps you missed the subject line asking "Which brand", but you chose to answer answer flippantly. Then you chose to attempt to be cryptically...something or another which looks vaguely racist but just seems a teenage attempt to win an argument (which there never was to begin with).

So, you go right ahead and report me. For harassment. Please make sure to include the entire exchange.
 
- cdubbleyoo

bedroomeye

New Rule:

no lovers quarrels are allowed to take place inside the domicile unless travel outside of said domicile is patently unfeasible.

Particularly when lover done had her ass here 3 damn days straight.

'I am what happens

when one is the marrying type, but cannot make up one's mind'

STDized testing.

So, finally, for the first time ever, I did an HIV screening today.

Screener was, of course amazed that I've never been drunk or smoked.

One can only imagine her incredulity if she'd asked "number of partners".

I had no idea that oral sex is considered a low-risk HIV activity.

(well, lower at any rate)

Or that "pre-cum" is a valid term in these situations.


Dear, non-profit sex-safety orgs:

please, ease up on the condescension a bit - not everyone you talk to is stupid.

interesting experience, though.

Glad I went.

NPR on the chitlin circuit

click

Atlantic slave trade map

click

Photographs of African captives in slave ships

click

It's times like these...

... that I wish I could pause the rest of (reality) while I finish editing these pictures.

Jump the passport

Proving how UN-revolutionary and conditioned I REALLY am,

despite the ethno-crunchy exterior,

I just turned down a marriage for citizenship proposal.

Which seems interesting considering I'm in need of further income for about a month now.

Though I suppose this goes along with my "I don't do anything for money" thing I've been working on.

(shurg)

I am sitting

In the ferry terminal in Manhattan where a guy just slide-stumbled his way onto a seat. A key clip including a fobbed car key was clipped to his waist. On his feet are socks. Just socks. And it looks like he has been walking in standing water.

I wonder if he knows where his shoes are.

Or whether HE'LL be wondering where in the morning.

Air - Playground Love (vibraphone stylee)

I'm tired of fb getting all my music love.

So here.

Dammit.

Theatre is a strangplace

when the room is full and you're the only one there.

There are days when I really wish I was married.

There are days when I really think I'm louse.

There are days when I really think progressive.

There are days when I really think I may still change the world one day.

There are days when I really wonder if anybody'd notice I'm gone.

There are days when I really feel my body conceding.

There are days when I really feel stronger than ever.

There are days when it really feels like I can't remember anything.

There are days when it really seems like I'll never forget.



The earth spins; it rotates.
The solar system spins; it rotates.
The galaxy spins, rotates.
The cloud* spins as it rotates.

No matter the way you turn,
No matter how fast you run,

you are always coming and going.

So, if I let go - simply:

Root my Self in the Ground,

I will always be going;
I will always be coming.

∞.



(*the cosmic one)

Life in the city

Was recognized ny person who recognized by young lady who knew me from college and even had that story that Chikiezie wrote on me while there...(wow)

just heard ''I don't know you, when you see me, don't speak to me'' escalate to water in face after 3 refrains retaliated to by pink grapefruit Simple across the back.

For future reference, throwing water in someone's face is, well... Is well wack.

Ghost Rider

It seems the motorized community has taken a cue from their
Human-Powered kin.

prayers to the families of both involved.

Drivers: be patient, pay attention.

Riders: slow down, be vigilant.

selah & amin.

For the first time in recorded history.

I am feenin' for something to read.

Preferably without pictures.

My metamorphosis into a dowager is complete.

I believe I have turned myself

into one of those people who must read before going to sleep.


Also, it's official: I'm nocturnal again.

I wonder

if the evil onE can overhear my private conversations with God.

Thus, it knows how to bait me.

"Be self-controlled and alert.

Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."



1 peter 5 : 8

garba chap 3, v113

"Live life every day as if it were the first and the last

for they are both a celebration."

The Stage

WARNING: There's probably some NSFW language mixed mixed about this incomprehensible raving

The G.O.A.T. Barb

just texted me that she's in her "garage gym" hula hooping.

This is why I love my Barbar,

and further entrenching her as the G.O.A.T.barb .

There was a period in my life

when I used to savor things. This seems to me to have been right after I got out of college. It may have been happening before, but I mark it then because I was taken out to eat by a friend who remarked that she loved how I savor things. At the time I would do it consciously for performance sake, but I think that instance caused me to invest in it more.

Thinking about it now, I believe it probably started while in school at least. I think I took flavor for granted growing up in The Boot State. I never even liked Tabasco until I had to deal with the comparatively bland campus food.

I bring this up...because I think I've lost that ability to savor...or am in a period of protracted separation from it.

And it feel like it's been since coming here to a place (geographically, metaphysically) that seems primarily to be about subsistence, survival. I eat the food I can get to. Even when I go to taste something, I feel like I'm wolfing it down, having to hurry up and finish it so it's consummation poses the least burden on my travel.

And things are hurried here.

At home/before here I had time to taste.

To savor.

Perhaps I should make a purposed effort to be somewhere* where that time exists again.

Or maybe there must be balance to stimulate action?

Hm.

(*Geo, though I can hear you already saying meta.    You nerds)

(shrug)

Occupied by....bronze?

Occupied by fall weather

Occupied by chant practice

In that order.

This sign is a hater.

Peanut

On September 10th, while on an assignment, I found out my cousin Brian Lundy, Jr. had been killed on Marjah, Afghanistan.

He is not the first of my famliy to die.                                                          

He is not the first of my family to die young.

He is not the first of my family to die in violence.

But this struck me....and it took, I think, a day for me to start to figure out why: he was the first family member that I've personally known from a succeeding generation to die.

You see, Brian is my second cousin - as much younger than me than I am my older brother. His mother (my first cousin), was born roughly the same time as my Aunt Gwen. The last time I saw him he at roughly the same point in his life that my first nephew is now. I remember them discussing Pokemon or some such 10 years ago when they were both at my apartment after my knee surgery.

They reminded me of each other in ways...both given to shyness....but perhaps not really much more than the way I see my nephew in just about anybody I look at and think of as young.

It took days, weeks even maybe, to discern the emotion I was having. I knew him and we spent some time together, but I was closer to his older sister. More then despair there was this anger rooted in the idea that he was young. Perhaps I should say that he's young to me - despite the fact that he was 25. Because the last time I saw him, he was 18. So I think that's how I'll always think of him...

And rooted in that anger - or what the anger was rooted in  - was that I would never get to see the man he'd become/was becoming.

And in the more universal sense, it made me face in the way that none of us are comfortable with the prospect of our children dying and specifically for me my nephew. I'd known that it's hard to watch someone younger than you die; now I knew...KNOW what it feels like.

synpathy->empathy

I suppose I should have put this up sooner than a month later, but it really did take me a while to be able to put into words how I felt about. Being lazy...I guess I was waiting for necessity to be the inventor.

(but was prolly just being my usual lazy self)

The inventor showed up when dealing with a bit of family discord. I'd been feeling a bit useless during the day before and of the funeral, not having/knowing anything to say to make it better, awkward in attempts at humor... Then some of that inevitable family discord showed up. And I just had to project my probiscus into it... the following was part of an attempt to quell it and in it I think I was finally able to express where I was or had been at for that past week:

I am Brian K. Lundy Jr.'s second cousin. I used to lived in Austin for four years, during which B and his family were my only family there - and for the first year the only people I knew there at all. I spent one summer with them. I helped teach Jos how to drive and helped B fix his bike. The three of us drove 500 miles to a family reunion where they met much of their extended family for the first time. He and I played ball (and won) against (people) hours before we had no idea we were related to. He helped me pull the interior of my car out. I helped him install a cd player in his first car. 


I am one of the people who goes back and forth between anger and sadness that he's gone...



So. I don't know. Maybe that says something. Maybe it only made sense to say in that moment. Maybe the strangeness I feel now putting it here doesn't compare to the first time I sent it.

Maybe this is all really just me yacking about me...looking for the internet to pat me on the back for so deep and personal.

(shrug)

Or maybe it just a long-@ss way of saying death has a funny way of letting you know who you love.

:-#

Despite having been illuminated thusly several moments hence & more than once,,

it still strikes me to realize that the way I feel about TheNerdBoy (Nerdy Walker (the Thurd??) may have/must have been/was* the way My Gwen felt* about me/us...the neeces...the nephs.


Sometimes I miss My Gwen, but she never stops making me smile. That's why I still love her.


*is?

*feels?

today

Shipping company left crap that I had to move in truck.

Tweaked back while lifting large mass of vinyl.

(see what bad posture on off days gets you)

Made fateful decision to take cab from Jerz back home thinking it's not far and got hit for $57 ride because driver didn't have ezpass.

Got home and remembered I had job to do city which is why I was supposed to go back to PATH instead of take cab.

Headed back toward city to do said job and realized phone was left on bed.

Saw NYPD, for first time in personal history, busting fake bag sellers near Broadway and cdn't document due to forgotten phone.

Chose to miss chance at 10:00 boat to take care of personal errand, 10:30 turned into 10:45, lost transfer.



>:{#

I want to throw a brick

every time I bother trying to listen to "Sky Full of Lighters".

I'm sure there's some idea there I'm supposed to like, but I am adamantly against such unwarranted warbling or music that's so obviously an attempt to be "moving" and emotional.

Fake strings make me (blech!).