Monday, January 25, 2010

Walking home from coffee this morning I came across a middle-aged woman flailing about on a busy street corner advertising for a local chiropractic clinic.
She was brandishing a poorly illustrated poster akin to those snazzy ad-spinners you always see outside mattress stores, and it got me thinking.. who came up with this ad technique to begin with? Though this woman may have been lacking the enthusiasm generally paired with mattress sale hysteria, she still was the only person for miles dancing sans music on a street corner so as to attract passerby who coincidentally are in need of realignment and/or adjustment?
Where do these guys learn their moves? Is there a class? Which dance sequences lure in the most customers? Does eye contact with a driver during a hip thrust do more harm than good? Do people that just bought a mattress buy another one just as a tribute to the under-appreciated dancing legacy on the corner outside the building?

Maybe my life's calling has presented itself to me at last. I think I could choreograph dance routines that would turn one-time mattress dancers into legends with lifelong careers. No casual driver would be able to resist my patented snap-and-spin technique, and people will own mattresses in such excess that my life will be threatened by rivals. See you on Wednesday? 5:30pm? Lessons start at $15.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

So I went to see Youth in Revolt at the metroplex this evening. I know a lot of people who didn't like it, but
Random cinematography. Countless french influences and references reminded me regularly of my best friend. Michael Cera's evil alter-ego Francois Dillinger is supposedly french, but he never speaks a word of it. They make up for it in referencing Serge Gainsbourg, the father of Charlotte Gainsbourg- whose music I'm very fond of.
Darlings.
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Frank Sinatra. Pretentious prep schools and vocabulary. Free love. Michael Cera x2. Haute Hippy.
A little bit of a lot that i love.

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I would recommend it to anyone.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

There are no pelicans on my staircase, only mapache.

Interesting walk home tonight. Eventful.
Was strolling down 23rd, hands-deep in my sweater pockets and brain equally deep in thought... when a young man on a yellow bicycle zoomed by on my right, wherein the loud consequential "clunk" of a sewer grate from behind left me in a crouched position against the rough stucco exterior of Pepino's Mexican Restaurant. Casually, I collected myself, returned to an upright position, and with contemptuous nonchalance I surveyed the scene. Had anybody caught my schizo episode?
You bet.
My ex-neighbor Mick is standing across the street on his cellphone, seemingly distracted by the aforementioned incident. I start to laugh and using my outside-voice shout across the street "Howdy, Neighbor!"
I assume by his lack of response, he's too engrossed in his conversation to notice me, so, naturally, I just start waving my arms overhead, clamoring "Mick! Hey, Mick! Neighbro..."
To be fair, I haven't seen this guy in a few month's time- so my excitement is not completely unfounded. He and his younger brother moved out of the adjoining two bedroom suite at the end of summer, and I've missed having someone around to bump into on the way to grab the mail or while exchanging loads of laundry between the washer & dryer. It got awkward after he put his girlfriend on hold to acknowledge the lunatic leaping at him from a distance.
When we finally made contact, exchanging hugs and pleasantries, he motioned that he had to get back inside and then bid me adieu. I'd not crossed the block yet when outside the bagel shop I notice an elderly (40 year old-ish) fellow getting into it with these young dapper dudes dolled up in 3-piece'rs and bow ties. He's (the old guy) threatening them for inappropriately addressing his children. The young men are obviously drunk, slurring and stumbling about- and I assume that I'll come across a 16 year old-or-so daughter while passing patio while dad defends her honor, but find instead mother and her two infants huddled together, monitoring the scene with a great deal of concern.
I couldn't stop speculating as to what these two drunk-o's must have said to have pissed daddy off so bad, and where were they coming from looking so fancy and so seeming so drunk to begin with on a Thursday night?

I got home in one piece, and on an uninterrupted trip to the mailbox found that netflix had delivered the videos I'd been waiting for. Yipee! I climbed the stairs to my apartment and sitting outside my door was none other than mapache, in a frantic half-crouched position against our front window.
Haley's scared of him, I don't know why. I think i'll try to lure him inside using tortilla chips and peanut butter.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

When the morning gathers the rainbow / Want you to know I'm a rainbow too

I mean to post more often! I mentally draft paragraphs on a regular basis, it's just holding on to what i want to say long enough to get it down that's the trick. In example- this morning. It's been nothing but rain, rain, rain. Got up early for yoga and left the house without my umbrella. I was drenched in a cotton zipup, dodging under the eves of neighboring buildings and I noticed one of my neighbors standing impatiently below her brownstone balcony. She had her cigarette in one hand and a raincoat-clad pug's leash in the other. Such consistency. Every morning. Out there with her dog.
I passed them in silence, reminded momentarily of a special I'd watched over the weekend with Dad on animal rescue missions in South Carolina. A hurricane. Thousands of people, pets, and wildthings with nowhere to go. I wondered whether I might ever share the misfortune of those who were subject to such catastrophe. Sure, it rains here most of the year.. but I can rest easy knowing that my house won't be blowing away in the night.
Were I ever to find myself stranded after a flood, I would eagerly model, mold, and manufacture a series of water vehicles. My dad would boast at my boat building abilities, and you would find me hollowing out old trees in the yard, or fashioning oars from paneled siding and pool noodles. I'd be the town hero, ferrying my neighbors and their purebred pets in gortex to safety.


By the time class was over, my mind had disposed of all possible hurricane/survivalist scenarios. I fidgeted with my ipod and was pondering the contents of my mailbox while steering clear of puddles on the walk home. Stepping into the warm, dry confines of my apartment I realized my life is still wrecked... er, decked- in holiday accoutrements.
Ignoring them, I wrote this down, just as i had kindofsortof intended to from the start.

And all that time, I felt just fine, I held so many people in my suitcase heart

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I've discovered an end-of-winter-itch to get away from reality and out into the wilderness. No phones, no agenda, no bedtime- good food, good people, good scenery. To drink beer by the fire, and run naked through the brush with mud on our faces.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Feliz Año Nuevo

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Lifting up the pressing stone
beetles rushing giddy.
Spiders spinning silent webs
around the silver winking.
Silent spinning
buzzing, blinking
breathing rainbows
Anna.

Wild Wild Sunflower Child Anna -Nancy White Carlstrom.
 
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