Today I saw a seagull practicing its hang gliding. I wonder if it was having fun.
Saturday, November 01, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
A lie
is a curse...
A curse broken only with the truth.
The longer the duration the lie has existed,
the more insistent one must be with the truth.
A lie is a cancer.
The truth is a healer.
Lower your pride,
raise your voice.
Beckon, "send me a healer!
Lord, send me a healer..."
A curse broken only with the truth.
The longer the duration the lie has existed,
the more insistent one must be with the truth.
A lie is a cancer.
The truth is a healer.
Lower your pride,
raise your voice.
Beckon, "send me a healer!
Lord, send me a healer..."
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Saturday, October 11, 2014
The chin wins again
Me: (walking into joint)
Dude: slightly wide-eyed look
Me: quick-Nodding recognition, looking away
Dude: Dude!
Me: thinking this must be a tv recognition moment
Dude: Nice beard!
Me: (moment of recognition)
Me: Thanks.
Dude: slightly wide-eyed look
Me: quick-Nodding recognition, looking away
Dude: Dude!
Me: thinking this must be a tv recognition moment
Dude: Nice beard!
Me: (moment of recognition)
Me: Thanks.
Thursday, October 09, 2014
Twice this past week, I was complimented on my beard.
Kinda knew what was coming. That's not a completely rare occurrence. Y'all young boys need to step your beard game up.
Last night I was told, "you're a good leader".
That's something I've thought I'm not very good at, but kinda wanted to be and thought was an ability I'd not claimed.
(fear)
It was the first time that's been said to me. I didn't even realize that I was "leading".
Maybe that's the best kind of leadership.
Or just the kind that works for me.
Kinda knew what was coming. That's not a completely rare occurrence. Y'all young boys need to step your beard game up.
Last night I was told, "you're a good leader".
That's something I've thought I'm not very good at, but kinda wanted to be and thought was an ability I'd not claimed.
(fear)
It was the first time that's been said to me. I didn't even realize that I was "leading".
Maybe that's the best kind of leadership.
Or just the kind that works for me.
Tuesday, October 07, 2014
Say cheese
I just had my first "I have to take your picture " actor recognition experience.
Interesting.
And I didn't even run away.
Interesting.
And I didn't even run away.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Just overheard outside the Vanderbilt
"...'cuz he a limp-dicked fag - and no disrespect to gay people..."
Friday, September 19, 2014
I just played "Flava in Ya Ear"...
and I think I'm reliving that moment when I realized I don't like "Wild
Thing".
(as in Tone-Loc)
Thing".
(as in Tone-Loc)
Monday, September 15, 2014
Histry
I just saw a man limping the wrong way down the 8th ave bike path wearing a SWAC championship shirt with GSU on the right.
We are currently a marginal Division III team.
And that doesn't completely bother me.
My philosophical opposition has begun overtaking my interest/enthusiasm.
Not that I no longer cut for the home team,
I'm just more concerned about the home team doing something more important than touchdowns and shallow state hubris.
I think.
We are currently a marginal Division III team.
And that doesn't completely bother me.
My philosophical opposition has begun overtaking my interest/enthusiasm.
Not that I no longer cut for the home team,
I'm just more concerned about the home team doing something more important than touchdowns and shallow state hubris.
I think.
Sunday, September 07, 2014
Formality
One day...
If you are looking
(observant),
you may see a man,
walking casually,
with locked tresses so long that he has to hold them draped over a bent arm:
like a royal or noble keeping the tails of his robes out of the dust.
If you are looking
(observant),
you may see a man,
walking casually,
with locked tresses so long that he has to hold them draped over a bent arm:
like a royal or noble keeping the tails of his robes out of the dust.
Thursday, September 04, 2014
Plumage
Today I was told my beard looks fake. Earlier this week (or last?) I was asked if I dyed it ("really, it's jet black?).
And yet, I come from them red-haired sometimes red-toned folk...
And yet, I come from them red-haired sometimes red-toned folk...
Monday, August 25, 2014
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Sitting in the courtyard of the library
on an ever less-seasonally cool Saturday afternoon...
after several minutes of power nap...
reading a couple chapters of Burroughs (with his overwrought ass)...
may not be "everything".
Today, however,
it is enough.
after several minutes of power nap...
reading a couple chapters of Burroughs (with his overwrought ass)...
may not be "everything".
Today, however,
it is enough.
Friday, August 22, 2014
I am currently
listening to the Yancey Boys page on Soundlcoud after having learned
that the verse that I always thought was Baatin in "Raise It Up" is
actually J and now understanding why Kweli said that Dilla was one of
the greatest triple threats ever.
And, no, that wasn't a run-on sentence. :-P
In other Kweli news: Don Lemon has apparently solidified himself as The
New Symbolic Tom not long after Jesse reasserted his lack of relevance.
Funny thing about uprisings and movements...funny how they tend to reveal the
the old, the new, the malleable, the stagnant, the quick, the dead, the
growing, the inert.
If I was smart and ambitious, I would be blogging long and hard about
Ferguson and letting everybody in the world know and going there and
sticking my face in front of cameras and talking opinionating,
but I'm only half of those two things only half of the time so.
Yeah. Happy End-Of-Summer.
;-#
that the verse that I always thought was Baatin in "Raise It Up" is
actually J and now understanding why Kweli said that Dilla was one of
the greatest triple threats ever.
And, no, that wasn't a run-on sentence. :-P
In other Kweli news: Don Lemon has apparently solidified himself as The
New Symbolic Tom not long after Jesse reasserted his lack of relevance.
Funny thing about uprisings and movements...funny how they tend to reveal the
the old, the new, the malleable, the stagnant, the quick, the dead, the
growing, the inert.
If I was smart and ambitious, I would be blogging long and hard about
Ferguson and letting everybody in the world know and going there and
sticking my face in front of cameras and talking opinionating,
but I'm only half of those two things only half of the time so.
Yeah. Happy End-Of-Summer.
;-#
Thursday, August 21, 2014
"Create no images of God.
Accept the images that God has provided. They are everywhere, in everything."
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Monday, August 11, 2014
I was just approached by a stranger
on her phone while in Soho Park asking whether I'd been on a certain tv program. She apologized. It was only slightly weird.
I'm pretty sure
I no longer feel strongly about anything...
Not about anything that matters or is permanent anyway.
Not about anything that matters or is permanent anyway.
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
You ever wonder what you did
that put your life on trajectory of everything being wrong no matter what you do, try to do, or the origin of the intention behind the attempt?
"Now is reason past care"
:-#
"Now is reason past care"
:-#
Sunday, August 03, 2014
To want love is to invite pain,
to pursue sex in lieu of love, is to want not to be hurt.
!#©× you.
wuss.
!#©× you.
wuss.
Friday, August 01, 2014
I just tried to sit cross-legged
and felt a cramp coming on in lefty.
i backed off and tried again: same result.
I am now so sh!tty that I can't even sit without catching a charlie horse.
Old sucks.
i backed off and tried again: same result.
I am now so sh!tty that I can't even sit without catching a charlie horse.
Old sucks.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
I am that person
that moves so he's not in a tourists picture,
hears "dread",
fields the question "are you a TRUE dread, do you speak positivity",
takes time to clarify that he is not a dread by his own definition, that not being so doesn't determine whether he is so (to a now apparently inebriated person),
is admitted to of a drinking problem,
told of a broken marriage after 29 years and five kids,
held onto so long that he thinks he has missed the boat,
and walks away wishing I'd pressed record on something.
hears "dread",
fields the question "are you a TRUE dread, do you speak positivity",
takes time to clarify that he is not a dread by his own definition, that not being so doesn't determine whether he is so (to a now apparently inebriated person),
is admitted to of a drinking problem,
told of a broken marriage after 29 years and five kids,
held onto so long that he thinks he has missed the boat,
and walks away wishing I'd pressed record on something.
Monday, July 14, 2014
I am confused
by something I just saw.
How can you have a small, slender body but a muscular chest/fakebust?
How can you have a small, slender body but a muscular chest/fakebust?
Sunday, July 13, 2014
It's 1:35 in the morning
I'm trying to write a 30 second spoof ad for a class,
and I want tacos.
That is all.
and I want tacos.
That is all.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Sunday, July 06, 2014
Kindershepherd
I am currently feeling a great deal of urge to tell this longslender-limbed, mulatto-featured sprite on the train to role the legs of her already-short-shorts down.
"It's easy for the victim to say...
...they forgive. It's not easy for the guilty to forgive themselves."
...hm.
...hm.
Saturday, July 05, 2014
Naked
My roommate has just summed up eveyone's general reaction to my currently bare face.
"Man, every time you shave that, it freaks me out."
Interestingly, this was the first time it didn't freak me out.
That changed as of the second day when I realized I look not only like a completely different person, but a person I actually know.
I might need to grow my face back.
"Man, every time you shave that, it freaks me out."
Interestingly, this was the first time it didn't freak me out.
That changed as of the second day when I realized I look not only like a completely different person, but a person I actually know.
I might need to grow my face back.
Modern Realism
Me: Hey, how you doin?
Door guy: I'm good, you?
Me: Pretty good?
Door Guy: Actually, I'm lyin' to ya. I'm not doin' too well.
Me: Aw, man.
(exit into elevator)
....
The truth is a healer.
Tell it.
Door guy: I'm good, you?
Me: Pretty good?
Door Guy: Actually, I'm lyin' to ya. I'm not doin' too well.
Me: Aw, man.
(exit into elevator)
....
The truth is a healer.
Tell it.
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
It is hot.
I can remember when 85F was nothing, but it's had me hiding inside most
of the day.
I dare say I've gotten old.
of the day.
I dare say I've gotten old.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Reasearch
I just tried to watch an episode of SNL for sketch writing class.
I made it through two sketches.
It ended part-way through the third in a litany of variations of the F-bomb.
Where is The State when you need it?
Where, indeed.
I made it through two sketches.
It ended part-way through the third in a litany of variations of the F-bomb.
Where is The State when you need it?
Where, indeed.
Cataract
I am having one of those moments where I wish I was sleepy because I can neither focus nor find something with which to busy myself.
I signed up for a sketch comedy writing class that has homework due Monday. One day I will understand what it is about having to do something that causes me to be incapable of doing it.
Perhaps it is the motorcycle. I DESPERATELY wish Pokey was running. I have needed motorized therapy for about 3 weeks now.
I signed up for a sketch comedy writing class that has homework due Monday. One day I will understand what it is about having to do something that causes me to be incapable of doing it.
Perhaps it is the motorcycle. I DESPERATELY wish Pokey was running. I have needed motorized therapy for about 3 weeks now.
Sunday, June 22, 2014
I Am That Dude
that, when a woman asks him for a quarter and is told "God bless you" then asked why somebody replied "I don't believe in God" when she offered the same blessing goes on to have that whole conversation about receiving the blessing someone offers you and the religious zeal of Athiests.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
You know what sucks?
Crying in an audition and not even getting a callback.
That shit SUCKS...
and is probably kind of embarrassing.
Getting naked...all for naught.
The comparison of the audition process to the love process continues, unabated.
That shit SUCKS...
and is probably kind of embarrassing.
Getting naked...all for naught.
The comparison of the audition process to the love process continues, unabated.
I guess, when you spend more than a month
kind of obsessing over someone who you have NO idea WHY you are,
it takes more than deleting some texts, "un-friending"
(eyeroll)
and a night of sleep to be done with the issue.
it takes more than deleting some texts, "un-friending"
(eyeroll)
and a night of sleep to be done with the issue.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Hell hath no fury
like that person who jocks HARD
until they get what they want
and then could not care less
whether you exist.
They leave you
scrambling
and clutching
for a shred
of attention.
until they get what they want
and then could not care less
whether you exist.
They leave you
scrambling
and clutching
for a shred
of attention.
I am starting to hate that Shange & Parks ever became widely read in playwriting school.
PLAYWRIGHTS, USE %%$&&%# COMMON SENTENCE AND PARAGRAPH STRUCTURE AND PUNCTUATION SO WE KNOW WHAT THE -%$%%!!! YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY INSTEAD OF TRYING TO WRITE THE WAY YOU WANT IT TO SOUND.
Or add a guide to your script we what your misguided @$$ed attempt was meant to accomplish...
Or add a guide to your script we what your misguided @$$ed attempt was meant to accomplish...
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
I have no idea where these came from
Such are the perils of the communal laundry facility.
Edit:
upon going downstairs to wash last night, there were some thong unders left on the floor.
Thong unders that were so slight as to appear more as strap of some sort rather than something meant to cover "something".
I still don't get the prevalence of thongs. It seems like air flow would feel better, but my bits and/or pieces are not so arranged.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Use It vs. Lose it
I sort of feel like I don't know how to act anymore.
The same fire doesn't feel like it's there.
I am as excited reading a piece, but putting the words in my mouth feels....
(shrugz)
Maybe it's just been a long time.
Maybe it just takes an old engine longer to turn over.
Maybe I just need to get off this keyboard and fight with this script
some more.
The same fire doesn't feel like it's there.
I am as excited reading a piece, but putting the words in my mouth feels....
(shrugz)
Maybe it's just been a long time.
Maybe it just takes an old engine longer to turn over.
Maybe I just need to get off this keyboard and fight with this script
some more.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Life is like working on cars or bikes
You learn from messing up.
You get excited and try things without the necessary tools.
You put things off that you are afraid to try,
And then you finally do it, figure out how you are supposed to do it...
and wish you'd tried it all a long time ago.
You get excited and try things without the necessary tools.
You put things off that you are afraid to try,
And then you finally do it, figure out how you are supposed to do it...
and wish you'd tried it all a long time ago.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Sticker Shock
This past Sunday I headed into the city to see a 2pm show and possibly drop in on a Tony party.
When I bounded from the boat, down into the station and onto the 1 train, I sat across from a gentleman wearing this sticker.
As a "performing artist" trying to remain alive and knowing several others who consider themselves to be the same, it resonated with me.
I had just had an experience where I asked to take a picture of someones bag and they said no. Since, however, I learn nothing from any past experience EVER, I asked again in this case instead of just going with the stealth cellphone shot. I was rewarded by being told I could have the sticker itself.
(word? gimme.)
He then volunteered that he got it from an art fair not far from the ferry. The artsy types out on the island are mostly concentrated in the area near the ferry and I've seen people with tables out with their wares before: visual art.
After I accepted the sticker and placed it smoothly and firmly upon my own shirt, it occurred to me that the intended meaning was different from the way I read it. I read it as "artists existing/subsisting as artists". Coming from visual arts/handcrafts fair, it occurred to me the more literal meaning: support artists who are still ALIVE.
Still a sentiment I could get with and still open enough to interpretation to fit my more specific needs, I thought it would be a nice sentiment since I would spend at least part of the day at a show and another part of the day among people in them/trying to get in them.
After the exchange with him, I decided to switch to the 3 train at Chambers.
At 14th Street a young woman with short locks, a backpack and folder hopped onto the train. I was standing in the doorway opposite of where she came in, and she immediately smiled at me. At the time I thought it may have been a bit of the common recognition that happens among those of locked hair. Then, once I saw she was busking, I thought it may have just come from that bit of openness that comes with salesmanship.
For a second, I thought she may have been just riding the train and in a rare (for the city) good mood. Then she opened a folder and began impassioned exhortation for support for her artistic endeavors. She showed examples of her visual art and explained that she has kids and was trying to support herself and her family via her art.
This is not particularly uncommon. Well, it's not AT ALL uncommon on the subway.
There was, however, a performative aspect to it that caught my attention. It seemed to be, if not written, a rehearsed piece that specifically referenced common means of avoiding giving attention to train buskers (" put down your book and LISTEN to me) and intrigued me enough to lift an earphone off so I could hear it (and maybe so she would know somebody was listening).
I will now add that I am EXPERT at ignoring train performances and have a particular, high standard for what I will pay attention to. I am willing to give you attention - but I need you to have PRACTICED YOUR SH!T and have some understanding of theatricality.
(I mean YOU breakdancers/hat dancers/singers)
What also struck me about her was that on the outside of her folder, I could see the info for her GoFundMe account. Again, different from the average and more in line with the people I know rather than just another person hustling on the subway.
As she finished, I pulled out my wallet to give her a dollar. I also had the idea to give her my card - I think as form of solidarity. Or maybe to say, "hey, I take you seriously,".
She came over, I handed it to her, she thanked me adding, "that's what I'm talking about. Can I give you a hug? You 'bout to make me cry up in here.".
This time I could plainly tell she was referencing the sticker...
And I thought it might just be about adding a little more to the presentation, but I gave her a hug anyway.
And it was a real, firm hug.
And when we released, she did have tears running down her cheeks.
I said something encouraging, wishing I could come up with something more poignant. I suddenly glanced out of the doors to check the stop when they opened and backed out onto the platform.
I regret not asking her name.
People in my building have recently found out that I'm an actor (due to a certain NY Lottery commercial). Sometimes...I guess even often, when people hear you are an actor, they will compare their "normal" job to it. They way this happens varies, but the insinuation is that they have a "real" job; they would love to get to do an "easy" job like yours.
Living as an artist is hard enough. Trying to live off of your art is even harder.
It is real. It is not easy.
And no one (including artists) seems to understand just how integral artists are.
At some point I will likely come here and wax long about my views on how poorly artists contextualize the tangible, literal, pragmatic importance of what they do.
For now, just this:
When I bounded from the boat, down into the station and onto the 1 train, I sat across from a gentleman wearing this sticker.
I had just had an experience where I asked to take a picture of someones bag and they said no. Since, however, I learn nothing from any past experience EVER, I asked again in this case instead of just going with the stealth cellphone shot. I was rewarded by being told I could have the sticker itself.
(word? gimme.)
He then volunteered that he got it from an art fair not far from the ferry. The artsy types out on the island are mostly concentrated in the area near the ferry and I've seen people with tables out with their wares before: visual art.
After I accepted the sticker and placed it smoothly and firmly upon my own shirt, it occurred to me that the intended meaning was different from the way I read it. I read it as "artists existing/subsisting as artists". Coming from visual arts/handcrafts fair, it occurred to me the more literal meaning: support artists who are still ALIVE.
Still a sentiment I could get with and still open enough to interpretation to fit my more specific needs, I thought it would be a nice sentiment since I would spend at least part of the day at a show and another part of the day among people in them/trying to get in them.
After the exchange with him, I decided to switch to the 3 train at Chambers.
At 14th Street a young woman with short locks, a backpack and folder hopped onto the train. I was standing in the doorway opposite of where she came in, and she immediately smiled at me. At the time I thought it may have been a bit of the common recognition that happens among those of locked hair. Then, once I saw she was busking, I thought it may have just come from that bit of openness that comes with salesmanship.
For a second, I thought she may have been just riding the train and in a rare (for the city) good mood. Then she opened a folder and began impassioned exhortation for support for her artistic endeavors. She showed examples of her visual art and explained that she has kids and was trying to support herself and her family via her art.
This is not particularly uncommon. Well, it's not AT ALL uncommon on the subway.
There was, however, a performative aspect to it that caught my attention. It seemed to be, if not written, a rehearsed piece that specifically referenced common means of avoiding giving attention to train buskers (" put down your book and LISTEN to me) and intrigued me enough to lift an earphone off so I could hear it (and maybe so she would know somebody was listening).
I will now add that I am EXPERT at ignoring train performances and have a particular, high standard for what I will pay attention to. I am willing to give you attention - but I need you to have PRACTICED YOUR SH!T and have some understanding of theatricality.
(I mean YOU breakdancers/hat dancers/singers)
What also struck me about her was that on the outside of her folder, I could see the info for her GoFundMe account. Again, different from the average and more in line with the people I know rather than just another person hustling on the subway.
As she finished, I pulled out my wallet to give her a dollar. I also had the idea to give her my card - I think as form of solidarity. Or maybe to say, "hey, I take you seriously,".
She came over, I handed it to her, she thanked me adding, "that's what I'm talking about. Can I give you a hug? You 'bout to make me cry up in here.".
This time I could plainly tell she was referencing the sticker...
And I thought it might just be about adding a little more to the presentation, but I gave her a hug anyway.
And it was a real, firm hug.
And when we released, she did have tears running down her cheeks.
I said something encouraging, wishing I could come up with something more poignant. I suddenly glanced out of the doors to check the stop when they opened and backed out onto the platform.
I regret not asking her name.
People in my building have recently found out that I'm an actor (due to a certain NY Lottery commercial). Sometimes...I guess even often, when people hear you are an actor, they will compare their "normal" job to it. They way this happens varies, but the insinuation is that they have a "real" job; they would love to get to do an "easy" job like yours.
Living as an artist is hard enough. Trying to live off of your art is even harder.
It is real. It is not easy.
And no one (including artists) seems to understand just how integral artists are.
At some point I will likely come here and wax long about my views on how poorly artists contextualize the tangible, literal, pragmatic importance of what they do.
For now, just this:
support living artists.
edit: while walking along 6th ave last week, I saw her heading west (yes, among the 8 million people in Manhattan any given day). Her name is Sha. This is her GoFundMe
Monday, June 09, 2014
Sunday, June 08, 2014
Alas,
I am festooned with feet fickle,
with cartoonish ephemerality,
stereo-typic of cartoonish women;
so do I declare:
all the Puma's are being returned.
Whirlwinds just don't feel right when they're not colored black.
with cartoonish ephemerality,
stereo-typic of cartoonish women;
so do I declare:
all the Puma's are being returned.
Whirlwinds just don't feel right when they're not colored black.
Dear Internet,
Please, go back to being boring and interesting...
instead of entertaining, titillating, eroticizing, polarizing, incentivizing, ad-generating...
(etc.)
Signed,
That kid who used to get nothing done getting lost in you that now gets nothing out of getting lost because of you.
instead of entertaining, titillating, eroticizing, polarizing, incentivizing, ad-generating...
(etc.)
Signed,
That kid who used to get nothing done getting lost in you that now gets nothing out of getting lost because of you.
Thursday, June 05, 2014
Supplication
(one day, a hurt man looked up and said)
"Dear God,
The Truth,
What-Is-And-Has-Been-And-Will-Be:
I once asked you to make me a healer;
Now I am asking you to send me one.
Amin"
(amin)
"Dear God,
The Truth,
What-Is-And-Has-Been-And-Will-Be:
I once asked you to make me a healer;
Now I am asking you to send me one.
Amin"
(amin)
The Monkey
I just realized, after setting my Neuro Sequencer app for "dream state", that I dreamed about Gizmo last night.
The brain was heavy and my little feelings have been hurt, so I needed a to go for a good dream. I think I do better today.
Sometimes I miss Gizmo.
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
I had sex with the wrong person.
I feel like an ass.
I feel like a fool.
I feel like shit.
I knew better.
I wish I had someone to say these things to.
This is affecting everything I do.
I will very likely seek some kind of therapy.
I feel like a fool.
I feel like shit.
I knew better.
I wish I had someone to say these things to.
This is affecting everything I do.
I will very likely seek some kind of therapy.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Monday, June 02, 2014
Chappelle & Angelou
"courage, the most important of all virtues. Because, without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently."
Maya Angelou
Maya Angelou
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
It occurs to me
that a periodic date is useful because it is good exercise in attentiveness.
Or just good exercise?
Perhaps I'll explain more later.
Or just good exercise?
Perhaps I'll explain more later.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
...that moment when one looks down
and realizes that strange, thin shadow on the floor is not a shadow at all,
but that length of lock that had been hanging on for dear life
that you didn't want to let go.
but that length of lock that had been hanging on for dear life
that you didn't want to let go.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Oops!
nevermind. Puma.com has them 30% off for the weekend...
Not exactly the right colors, so crisis mostly averted.
Not exactly the right colors, so crisis mostly averted.
zapatos
Of course, now that I have a little money with which to buy (and keep
this time) those Puma Whirlwind Classics, NOBODY has them in my damnably
common size.
Boo. Boo, I say.
(sigh)
In other news: sex ruins everything.
this time) those Puma Whirlwind Classics, NOBODY has them in my damnably
common size.
Boo. Boo, I say.
(sigh)
In other news: sex ruins everything.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
The ducat$
A week of cool, high-school-cute normalcy descended into personal annoyance and emotional volatility dropping headlong into a descent of regular new bad news.
So, a week of nice was the precursor to 10 days of relative hell of one sort or another.
(as it turns out, I'm really sensitive to room colors and having my stuff touched
And about 30 minutes ago my roommate walks in and hands me two letters, one being from my "talent manager".
I open it and see a four figure check.
And I immediately looked up and sighed in relief, as I'd just paid rent, and in the midst of sorting through job postings on the state employment site.
And then, being the cerebral nitwit I am, I thought about it.
I'd much rather my cousin could still coddle and care for her 7 month old son.
I'd much rather my other cousin was watching his daughter play in the spring-soon-summer sun instead of holding her little unconscious hand after surgery and in preparation for a round of chemo.
I'd much rather my father were feeling better and able to putt around after he putt a round.
And I like, REALLY despise money....
but I sighed that sigh,
didn't I?
So, a week of nice was the precursor to 10 days of relative hell of one sort or another.
(as it turns out, I'm really sensitive to room colors and having my stuff touched
And about 30 minutes ago my roommate walks in and hands me two letters, one being from my "talent manager".
I open it and see a four figure check.
And I immediately looked up and sighed in relief, as I'd just paid rent, and in the midst of sorting through job postings on the state employment site.
And then, being the cerebral nitwit I am, I thought about it.
I'd much rather my cousin could still coddle and care for her 7 month old son.
I'd much rather my other cousin was watching his daughter play in the spring-soon-summer sun instead of holding her little unconscious hand after surgery and in preparation for a round of chemo.
I'd much rather my father were feeling better and able to putt around after he putt a round.
And I like, REALLY despise money....
but I sighed that sigh,
didn't I?
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
I grew up not being normal.
In high school I was usually never around kids like me.
(which I now realize sounds...chauvinistic?)
I have always been an exception.
So, I came to this city full of "exceptional" people, never intending to
stay here the 10 years I have.
I realized I'm weird here, too.
Recently, I tried feeling normal....and it was nice for a while,
but I think I've come to a conclusion pressed home by the weight of 12
million signs:
it doesn't matter where I go,
I will always occupy a space outside of whatever the local average is.
I am inherently,
biologically
intrinsically,
chemically,
genetically,
not
normal.
(which I now realize sounds...chauvinistic?)
I have always been an exception.
So, I came to this city full of "exceptional" people, never intending to
stay here the 10 years I have.
I realized I'm weird here, too.
Recently, I tried feeling normal....and it was nice for a while,
but I think I've come to a conclusion pressed home by the weight of 12
million signs:
it doesn't matter where I go,
I will always occupy a space outside of whatever the local average is.
I am inherently,
biologically
intrinsically,
chemically,
genetically,
not
normal.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Never before have I wanted to peel off my (_____)ness,
not because I no longer want it,
because I feel I no longer deserve it.
because I feel I no longer deserve it.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
I am changing.
I thought I might be for a couple years now, but there is a definite difference in this moment.
I am a ball of raw nerves. I need something, I think.
I respond.
I finally changed my license. I decided to be where I am.
I want desperately to love, but I won't admit it.
I want to drink you in, I want to wash myself over with you even though I know you're no good for me.
I will fight.
so,
basically,
I think I'm turning normal.
I am a ball of raw nerves. I need something, I think.
I respond.
I finally changed my license. I decided to be where I am.
I want desperately to love, but I won't admit it.
I want to drink you in, I want to wash myself over with you even though I know you're no good for me.
I will fight.
so,
basically,
I think I'm turning normal.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
I am currently on the boat watching
a family playing a charade-type game via mobile device and am not annoyed by it.
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
....?
"The United States Census Bureau defines White people as those "having origins in any of the original peoples of Europe, the Middle East, or North Africa."
http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/meta/long_RHI505210.htm
http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/meta/long_RHI505210.htm
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
bolas azules
I am not quite certain what I did to invite it, considering there's been
no arousal to speak of today and certainly nothing intense and prolonged
to invite the condition,
but Righty is tender.
I assume I'm being paid back. For something.
Ok. I'll be good.
(ow)
no arousal to speak of today and certainly nothing intense and prolonged
to invite the condition,
but Righty is tender.
I assume I'm being paid back. For something.
Ok. I'll be good.
(ow)
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Sunday, April 13, 2014
I don't think I know enough people
who understand the glory involved in having just been called "The Stig".
(walking around with helmet on)
(walking around with helmet on)
Saturday, April 05, 2014
I am officially declaring a moratorium on playwrights that write dialogue with no punctuation and call it "stream of consciousness" or "stream of thought".
If it's written correctly, we'll get what it is
Furthermore, people reading the script need the punctuation SO THEY KNOW WHAT THEY $#??$ YOU'RE TRYING TO SAY.
If it's written correctly, we'll get what it is
Furthermore, people reading the script need the punctuation SO THEY KNOW WHAT THEY $#??$ YOU'RE TRYING TO SAY.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Saturday, March 15, 2014
I took the 3:30 drunk boat, saw a man so incapacitated his friends were carrying him arm-under-arm onto the boat.
Then I went to the front of the main deck (in effort to avoid a perceived high potential for drunken stupidity. I ate a little, thought a little...and looked around to see several people dosing on each other's shoulders, laps, chests and couples boo'ed up.
It was the first time I've ever found anything about the ferry in the wee hours on the weekend remotely adorable.
Maybe that's progress.
Then I went to the front of the main deck (in effort to avoid a perceived high potential for drunken stupidity. I ate a little, thought a little...and looked around to see several people dosing on each other's shoulders, laps, chests and couples boo'ed up.
It was the first time I've ever found anything about the ferry in the wee hours on the weekend remotely adorable.
Maybe that's progress.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Today,
while on the train:
I saw a youngwoman whose face seemed as though she could have been hewed by spirits from wood
sanded in so many steps that all separation of grain and splinter melted into a consistent hue -
and rubbed with oil so that she shone.
And I found myself almost-despairing that I was not alone...
and that I had no tears...
so that I could weep the pleasure of the seeing.
while on the train:
I saw a youngwoman whose face seemed as though she could have been hewed by spirits from wood
sanded in so many steps that all separation of grain and splinter melted into a consistent hue -
and rubbed with oil so that she shone.
And I found myself almost-despairing that I was not alone...
and that I had no tears...
so that I could weep the pleasure of the seeing.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
A Note to Any Future Cohabitants
I need to always be near a steady, abundant supply of paper towels.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Seinfeld to Stern
"Your career is a victory over the self...you conquered yourself."
("conquered your self"?)
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
I am currently on the boat
sitting a ways away from a hybrid if Wilford Brimley and Holmes' Watson dressed for a jungle forest excursion.
I don't know if I want hot English breakfast or sun brewed iced.
I don't know if I want hot English breakfast or sun brewed iced.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Bliss =
That moment when a character says exactly what you've been screaming at
the screen for 2 seasons.
Voyager, 703, 12:30
the screen for 2 seasons.
Voyager, 703, 12:30
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
The Grind
I'm not sure when, but at some point I became a teeth-gnasher.
This does not bode well for ye-of-little-to-no-health-or-dental-coverage.
Monday, February 03, 2014
"I never refer to me as an artist,
From: CWalkerJr
Sent: 2/3/2014 8:55
To: C. Walker, Jr.
Subject: "I never refer to me as an artist,
Friday, January 31, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Turkey Hangover
I suppose I've never been out on the night before Thanksgiving before, but I certainly never knew how much like Saturday night it is.
(currently sitting in terminal waiting for boat and surrounded by drunkards)
(currently sitting in terminal waiting for boat and surrounded by drunkards)
Monday, November 25, 2013
"I remember we were in Papua New Guinea once
There are like 370 tribes
there and they’re not nomadic, so they all stay on their pieces of land.
They all speak their own languages. One of them told us that if you
change your body after you come out of your mother’s womb, you’re
disrespecting your mother. You’re disrespecting what she gave you… you
need to embrace what you have."
Brian Spitzer
Brian Spitzer
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Motorcycle derivation
Riding a fast bike slow = (not fun)
Riding a slow bike fast = (fun)
Riding a slow bike slow = (enjoyable)
Riding a slow bike slow on a 40-and-below day = (55 cool points)
Riding a slow bike fast = (fun)
Riding a slow bike slow = (enjoyable)
Riding a slow bike slow on a 40-and-below day = (55 cool points)
Thursday, October 31, 2013
" Nigger Hit Us All..."
The following is a post to facebook by Dominique Morisseau. We are acquainted via the minute vastness that is the world of theatre in NYC. If you want to know who is and what she does, consult your local internet search engine. She got credits, son.
Read.
Read.
*****
Nigger Hit Us All...
October 30, 2010 at 12:40pm
A tradition of mine to re-post an experience I had a few years ago on Oct 31st....
Halloween. 1:30am. Most crowded A Train ride of my life. Really. On the way to Brooklyn- smooshed into the train car and separated from my friends like we were going through the middle passage. Moist naked skin from ridiculous Halloween costumes puts me way too close to the touch of some random man's hairy legs. I'm already dyin', and the drama has yet to begin.
We get to West 4th and the car gets unloaded by the many people still in search of the next party to swing to, and my man and I catch two empty seats together. We think we are free. The train re-fills with some more crazies and the train takes off. Then it happens.
A White man, his girlfriend, and some young pre-teen that is with them, all enter the train- pushing past the tall older teens and young adults, some just costume-less, some faces masked in monster-ness or stocking caps and the like.
I guess somebody touched the White man's hair. It's reddish brown and wild and I'm hoping he is wearing a costume, but in NYC- you just never know. But somebody must've touched his hair, cuz he starts screaming "Don't touch my fucking hair" really loudly on the train. His girlfriend and the pre-teen with him look embarassed. They try to quiet him down. The murmurs and laughter of the masked teens get louder as they shout stuff back to him. It's inarticulate.
But the White man continues his rant, until he's so angry. So wild-eyed. So drunk. He spews amidst the laughter - "I can't stand all you stupid niggers".
A beat. A long moment of silence. Time damn near froze. The word "niggers" hit us all. The people sitting on the sidelines. The children in Halloween costumes rummaging through their candy. The mother standing right behind the White man- who kept flinching from his reckless elbows in her side. She covers her baby in the stroller that he is unconsciously pushing her into. The heat rises in all of our collective throats. We are all immediately pissed. Collectively ready to kick his ass.
"I can't stand all you stupid niggers". Beat. The train erupts in "WHOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" from about twenty Black and Brown voices, but it felt like a million of us. A million people ready to pound this drunk man into oblivion.
I can't hear my own heartbeat. I stand and scream something I can't even remember. I can't even hear cuz we are all screaming at this man at the same time. I was ready to spit on him. To throw something at him. My man stood up, ready to do the same. The blood was rushing through us like crazy. "We are going to kill your ass," I was thinking.
Then suddenly, I look to my right, at the little boy, six-years old-lookin', brown-skinned, fake blood coloring his face, and fake knife going through his head. He looked so excited about his candy just moments ago. Now he stood, back against the train wall. Out of his seat. Invisible to everyone else because the rage was focused on the man who had just cursed us all. Even his mother didn't see him. But I did. His eyes were wide and alarmed. He look FRIGHTENED by the mayhem. FRIGHTENED.
I touch him gently. Shield him with my arm. "It's okay, baby. It's alright." He looks at me and starts to cry. I realize he should hardly trust me. Just seconds ago, he probably heard me cursing something obscene and horrible. I instantly hate myself for losing my cool.
My man sees the boy too. We both start to comfort him. Then the stranger next to him ruffles his hair a bit to calm him down. Finally the mother sees, and tries to join in the comfort, but must stay standing to protect her younger one in the stroller. The noise and screaming is still going on all around us.
The White man is screaming and cursing so much I think I can see his lungs. The train is so overwhelemed with adrenaline and hatred I think we are going to ride this thing straight into Hell. Or I think this White man is about to be pulvarized.
We pull into the next stop quickly, and everyone warns this man that he better "get the _____ off the train". He pushes past all the people. The innocent Black, Brown and White faces that he whizzes by hear all the noise but missed the details and have no idea why they should hate this man.... but they do. You can tell. White man makes it free off of the train, but looks back to see that his girlfriend and the preteen have been left behind. He has left them on the train with US. It is his grave mistake.
He starts banging on the train window for her to get off. She is called Maya. "Maya PLEASE GET OFF THE TRAIN" he screams and bangs on the window. The word "niggers" flies from his mouth again, and he is sending electricity through this train that none of us is prepared for.
For whatever reasons, Maya never got off. Neither did the pre-teen. The train doors close and pull off, and the Black and Brown bodies on the train start laughing. Laughing that Maya is left on the train with this angry pack of wolves. Left to the "niggers".
It's a little funny at first. As the train pulls away, we laugh at the fool for leaving his girlfriend and this pre-teen behind. What an idiot. What a coward.
But then... Maya begins to catch all the hell he left behind. The teenagers and young adults start messing with her. The pre-teen is falling apart by this point. His curly hair is compared to "Sideshow Bob" by the teenagers. Maya, whose piercings and red hair make her the target of a number of stereotypical White punk rocker jokes, gets called "Pink", and "Eminem", and is taunted and yelled at the entire train ride home.
Maya is afraid, but she is a fighter. She curses back. She stands her short ground next to the tall group of guys and girls that taunt her. "I"m from Brooklyn" she declares. That's supposed to give her some clout. It doesn't much. But in hind sight- she got points for standing up for herself. Which is more than we can say for the White man who left her to "the wolves".
But the pre-teen is broken. The yelling and the taunting is too much for him. It's too much for the little brown boy. It's just too much. The pre-teen is afraid. He is embarassed by the White man's actions. He looks to me and my man and begins crying and apologizing profusely.
"I'm...I'm sorry" he keeps saying through a quivering voice and tears. His body is shaking and I fear that he may faint or collapse. He, like the little brown boy, is FRIGHTENED by the mayhem.
I reach out to him also. Try to touch his arm. Calm him. He's just a child himself. "It's okay," I try to tell him. "Don't be scared, honey. You will be fine. They are just being silly."
But ain't nothin' funny about it. Not to him, at least. Not to Maya. Not to the little brown boy. And eventually, not to me. Not to my man. Not to the others on the car who are getting tired of the teenagers and their loudness and their rude racial jokes. We are getting TIRED.
And as we sit on this hellishly long train ride, I realize what this word "nigger" has done to us. It hit us all. Not just the teenagers. Not just the Black and Brown train passengers. All of us. Maya was scorned by it. Had to ride home in its aftermath. The pre-teen was traumatized over it. Will now be afraid of Black and Brown people for what could be the rest of his life. Every White person that got on that train was now a target. Because the Black and Brown teenagers had to reclaim the power that was stripped from them by this word. They had to spit back the hate any way they could find. Become the "wolves" that they were being treated as.
And I was wondering to myself, as my man and I were walking our friend home... glad to be off of that A Train... glad to finally be in Brooklyn....still hearing the yelling and taunting in our own minds....
Were we even mad at that White man? Drunk off his behind and completely stupid and not to be taken seriously in any way whatsoever. Was it he who offended us? Or was it the word?
Nigger. Nigger - when said that way makes us less than. Makes us inferior. Makes us aware of our "place" in the world, even as one of us sits in the highest seat in the country. We can still be stripped of our dignity. We can still be dehumanized. Still be impoverished and ignored and humiliated.
Whether the White man says it to us.... whether we say it to ourselves..... we have given that damn word waaaaay too much power. Waaaaaaaaaaayyy too too much.....
Halloween. 1:30am. Most crowded A Train ride of my life. Really. On the way to Brooklyn- smooshed into the train car and separated from my friends like we were going through the middle passage. Moist naked skin from ridiculous Halloween costumes puts me way too close to the touch of some random man's hairy legs. I'm already dyin', and the drama has yet to begin.
We get to West 4th and the car gets unloaded by the many people still in search of the next party to swing to, and my man and I catch two empty seats together. We think we are free. The train re-fills with some more crazies and the train takes off. Then it happens.
A White man, his girlfriend, and some young pre-teen that is with them, all enter the train- pushing past the tall older teens and young adults, some just costume-less, some faces masked in monster-ness or stocking caps and the like.
I guess somebody touched the White man's hair. It's reddish brown and wild and I'm hoping he is wearing a costume, but in NYC- you just never know. But somebody must've touched his hair, cuz he starts screaming "Don't touch my fucking hair" really loudly on the train. His girlfriend and the pre-teen with him look embarassed. They try to quiet him down. The murmurs and laughter of the masked teens get louder as they shout stuff back to him. It's inarticulate.
But the White man continues his rant, until he's so angry. So wild-eyed. So drunk. He spews amidst the laughter - "I can't stand all you stupid niggers".
A beat. A long moment of silence. Time damn near froze. The word "niggers" hit us all. The people sitting on the sidelines. The children in Halloween costumes rummaging through their candy. The mother standing right behind the White man- who kept flinching from his reckless elbows in her side. She covers her baby in the stroller that he is unconsciously pushing her into. The heat rises in all of our collective throats. We are all immediately pissed. Collectively ready to kick his ass.
"I can't stand all you stupid niggers". Beat. The train erupts in "WHOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" from about twenty Black and Brown voices, but it felt like a million of us. A million people ready to pound this drunk man into oblivion.
I can't hear my own heartbeat. I stand and scream something I can't even remember. I can't even hear cuz we are all screaming at this man at the same time. I was ready to spit on him. To throw something at him. My man stood up, ready to do the same. The blood was rushing through us like crazy. "We are going to kill your ass," I was thinking.
Then suddenly, I look to my right, at the little boy, six-years old-lookin', brown-skinned, fake blood coloring his face, and fake knife going through his head. He looked so excited about his candy just moments ago. Now he stood, back against the train wall. Out of his seat. Invisible to everyone else because the rage was focused on the man who had just cursed us all. Even his mother didn't see him. But I did. His eyes were wide and alarmed. He look FRIGHTENED by the mayhem. FRIGHTENED.
I touch him gently. Shield him with my arm. "It's okay, baby. It's alright." He looks at me and starts to cry. I realize he should hardly trust me. Just seconds ago, he probably heard me cursing something obscene and horrible. I instantly hate myself for losing my cool.
My man sees the boy too. We both start to comfort him. Then the stranger next to him ruffles his hair a bit to calm him down. Finally the mother sees, and tries to join in the comfort, but must stay standing to protect her younger one in the stroller. The noise and screaming is still going on all around us.
The White man is screaming and cursing so much I think I can see his lungs. The train is so overwhelemed with adrenaline and hatred I think we are going to ride this thing straight into Hell. Or I think this White man is about to be pulvarized.
We pull into the next stop quickly, and everyone warns this man that he better "get the _____ off the train". He pushes past all the people. The innocent Black, Brown and White faces that he whizzes by hear all the noise but missed the details and have no idea why they should hate this man.... but they do. You can tell. White man makes it free off of the train, but looks back to see that his girlfriend and the preteen have been left behind. He has left them on the train with US. It is his grave mistake.
He starts banging on the train window for her to get off. She is called Maya. "Maya PLEASE GET OFF THE TRAIN" he screams and bangs on the window. The word "niggers" flies from his mouth again, and he is sending electricity through this train that none of us is prepared for.
For whatever reasons, Maya never got off. Neither did the pre-teen. The train doors close and pull off, and the Black and Brown bodies on the train start laughing. Laughing that Maya is left on the train with this angry pack of wolves. Left to the "niggers".
It's a little funny at first. As the train pulls away, we laugh at the fool for leaving his girlfriend and this pre-teen behind. What an idiot. What a coward.
But then... Maya begins to catch all the hell he left behind. The teenagers and young adults start messing with her. The pre-teen is falling apart by this point. His curly hair is compared to "Sideshow Bob" by the teenagers. Maya, whose piercings and red hair make her the target of a number of stereotypical White punk rocker jokes, gets called "Pink", and "Eminem", and is taunted and yelled at the entire train ride home.
Maya is afraid, but she is a fighter. She curses back. She stands her short ground next to the tall group of guys and girls that taunt her. "I"m from Brooklyn" she declares. That's supposed to give her some clout. It doesn't much. But in hind sight- she got points for standing up for herself. Which is more than we can say for the White man who left her to "the wolves".
But the pre-teen is broken. The yelling and the taunting is too much for him. It's too much for the little brown boy. It's just too much. The pre-teen is afraid. He is embarassed by the White man's actions. He looks to me and my man and begins crying and apologizing profusely.
"I'm...I'm sorry" he keeps saying through a quivering voice and tears. His body is shaking and I fear that he may faint or collapse. He, like the little brown boy, is FRIGHTENED by the mayhem.
I reach out to him also. Try to touch his arm. Calm him. He's just a child himself. "It's okay," I try to tell him. "Don't be scared, honey. You will be fine. They are just being silly."
But ain't nothin' funny about it. Not to him, at least. Not to Maya. Not to the little brown boy. And eventually, not to me. Not to my man. Not to the others on the car who are getting tired of the teenagers and their loudness and their rude racial jokes. We are getting TIRED.
And as we sit on this hellishly long train ride, I realize what this word "nigger" has done to us. It hit us all. Not just the teenagers. Not just the Black and Brown train passengers. All of us. Maya was scorned by it. Had to ride home in its aftermath. The pre-teen was traumatized over it. Will now be afraid of Black and Brown people for what could be the rest of his life. Every White person that got on that train was now a target. Because the Black and Brown teenagers had to reclaim the power that was stripped from them by this word. They had to spit back the hate any way they could find. Become the "wolves" that they were being treated as.
And I was wondering to myself, as my man and I were walking our friend home... glad to be off of that A Train... glad to finally be in Brooklyn....still hearing the yelling and taunting in our own minds....
Were we even mad at that White man? Drunk off his behind and completely stupid and not to be taken seriously in any way whatsoever. Was it he who offended us? Or was it the word?
Nigger. Nigger - when said that way makes us less than. Makes us inferior. Makes us aware of our "place" in the world, even as one of us sits in the highest seat in the country. We can still be stripped of our dignity. We can still be dehumanized. Still be impoverished and ignored and humiliated.
Whether the White man says it to us.... whether we say it to ourselves..... we have given that damn word waaaaay too much power. Waaaaaaaaaaayyy too too much.....
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Nocturne
I just got off the train and able to walk fairly normally after suffering through a laziness-sowed, stress-triggered back cramp for two days. Stepping off the train and walking toward the work vehicle on wee-hour Saturday morning, I usually regard the youth exiting the local ballroom and on/from/at the diner where they find their mythical, rationalized inebriation cures.
(aka: eat something)
At first it was the usual age-objectified judgment that I was no longer interested in such.
Then I noticed that the mid-October morning was a more pleasant cool than it seemed when I first emerged from underground.
Then I appreciated that the episode of the NPR podcast that I'm listening to was one of the better in recent memory.
Then that late/early frolicking didn't look so bad.
The point?
I probably want to spend a late night out making just a little too much noise eating a little too much pancake once more.
As soon as my back feels better.
p.s.: I also need a fall state/county fair to wallow in.
And for 5 guys to get real whole grain buns and a beef alternative.
Off to work...
(aka: eat something)
At first it was the usual age-objectified judgment that I was no longer interested in such.
Then I noticed that the mid-October morning was a more pleasant cool than it seemed when I first emerged from underground.
Then I appreciated that the episode of the NPR podcast that I'm listening to was one of the better in recent memory.
Then that late/early frolicking didn't look so bad.
The point?
I probably want to spend a late night out making just a little too much noise eating a little too much pancake once more.
As soon as my back feels better.
p.s.: I also need a fall state/county fair to wallow in.
And for 5 guys to get real whole grain buns and a beef alternative.
Off to work...
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)




