Gifts of Thought

Recommendations

2011-09-14T13:00:00.001-04:00

A friend of mine was in despair this morning from watching Morning Joe. Everything going on was getting to him. Here's what I said.

Recommendation 1: Stop watching Morning Joke. Mika is a vapid fool and I'm convinced that Zbigniew bangs his head against the wall every single morning wondering how he ended up with such an idiot for a daughter.

Scarborough himself has yet to explain the dead intern in his office.

Willy Geist is a phony masking his utter lack of intellectual ability behind sardonic-isms.

Recommendation 2: Yeah, we lost NY9. This sucks.
However, remember that while we lost 9, we won 26 and 29 last year, two upstate districts that had been Republican since the Civil War. Bigger wins. 9 was a thin margin, 26 and 29 were a good deal wider.

The Rs played the Israel card very well. Better than the Ds played the Medicare/Social Security card. They took it for granted and not without cause. Let that be a lesson.

Recommendation 3: Stop watching the Republican debates. You won't get anything out of it. None of those candidates are going to say anything particularly insightful.

The race is going to be Romney v Obama. It may or may not be a close race.
The race is going to be Perry v Obama. It will be a landslide victory for Obama and quite possibly hand the House back to Nancy Pelosi.

Unless either of those two things suddenly changes (always possible) there's just no reason to watch. Think of the reasoning as the same reasoning you use to not watch Jerry Springer. Why bring yourself down watching the worst of humanity?

Life is weird: A Memory

2011-09-11T09:04:00.004-04:00

My grandmother died on September 7th, 2001. She had been living in a suburb of Pittsburgh ever since her third husband, a retired steel worker, had died decades earlier.

Being next of kin it fell on my brother and me to get down there and take care of things. My mother, who happened to be in NY that weekend drove the very large family van with us in it. The funny thing is that this was my father's mother who had died. But my mother, never one to pass up a road trip with her sons. Besides, she had a big van and we were going to need it. It's a long drive from New York City to McKeesport, PA.

To say that my grandmother was not well would be an understatement. Always somewhat emotionally immature as well as an alcoholic, she had left behind a small apartment piled wall to wall and knee high in Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes mailings and chintzy "consolation prizes". So when we arrived at her place on the morning of September 9th. We had a lot of work ahead of us.

It took us two days to get all the garbage out. On the morning of the 11th, we turned on the news as we got ready to leave the hotel and head to the apartment. There was a small campus fire at UP Pittsburgh. A dorm kitchen apparently. We watched the coverage of that, grabbed our free hotel coffee and headed over. One there, we packed up all the "consolation prizes" to take to the Goodwill in the next town. Deciding we needed to stop by the hotel on the way to the Goodwill to use the bathroom, we headed into the lobby, van loaded with stuff.

In the lobby, guests and staff were all gathered, watching the television. All I saw on screen was smoke. I thought to myself "Wow, that campus fire is out of control". I turned to a guy standing next to me and asked him what was going on. He told me that planes had just crashed into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I stared at him in disbelief, my face probably for an instant communicating "fuck you, what's really going on?" But I saw he meant it.

We had to keep moving though. There was just too much that had to be done at grandma's to pause. So, after our bathroom break, we got back into the van to head to the Goodwill. The "Kill All Towelheads" signs were already up on pick up trucks that we drove, listening to the Today Show on the radio. As we commented to eachother on how we were already blowing it, the first tower fell. How my mother managed to stay on the road at that point, I'll never know.

It's a very odd experience listening to someone narrate a terrible event as it is happening. Matt Lauer's voice will forever have that echo for me. In a way, I'm grateful that I wasn't among the millions watching. Weird as it was, I think it was easier to process emotionally for me than seeing it would have been.

We unpacked at the Goodwill which was for all intents and purposes abandoned, and went back to town. We had to stop at the town funeral home to arrange grandma's cremation. On the way, we listened to the second tower falling.

When my brother and I returned to the van from the funeral home, our mother who had stayed in it to listen to the radio told us that another plane had just crashed in Shanksville, about 70 miles from us.

It seemed like the end of the world in that moment. The Twin Towers were one thing, the Pentagon part of the same thing...but a field in rural Pennsylvania? "What the fuck?" just doesn't even cover it.

We took a few moments to pull our heads back together and get back to grandma's apartment. We were finally going to be able to deal with her actual possessions. And start to figure out what to do with everything.

Much of it, oddly, was still in boxes though she'd lived in that apartment for 20 years. (I guess she needed the room for all the used PCH mailings). Taking the box nearest where I sat, I opened it carefully. It felt like it would be mostly paperwork and that seemed like the best place to start anyway.

When I opened the box right there at the top, was a plastic framed 3D photograph taken of the World Trade Center to commemorate the opening of the Twin Towers. My grandmother had kept it from her visit that summer of 1970.

I gasped. All the time it took to get through the detritus she had left behind...the events of the day and the first actual possession of my grandmother's I uncover was this.

Life is weird.

Gaining Momentum Part I

2011-05-19T11:55:00.006-04:00

It has to be said that I am often slow. Not in general, but certainly on a social level I’m like slow glass. It takes awhile for the light to pass through and reveal itself to me. Especially when it comes to relationships and sex.

I’ve written about this here before. I have a running joke that I could be in a dark corner/room/anyplace with a woman and she would be tearing my clothes off, covering me with passionate kisses and begging me to take her to bed/the wall/someplace/anyplace and in my head I’m thinking “I wonder if she likes me”.

Yeah, okay, that’s an exaggeration. I’m not quite that slow…but sometimes I’m close. Also that scenario rarely actually happens, when it does…I’m generally way more on the ball….so to speak.

But last April, when I attended MomentumCon (thanks very very hugely to my friend @dangerouslilly), I began to learn and realize just.how.slow. I actually am and have been.

Let me explain, if you’ll be kind enough to indulge me and read on.

My whole early life, I’ve been giving myself hints about what my desires were and are. What I like, what I don’t like what I want. My subconscious would give me ways of thinking looking and thinking of things. But I wasn’t getting it. I think the reason for this is because I grew up in a fairly repressed household…you know, the classic “stop touching yourself” kind of thing when you’re a kid…subtle if unintentional parental messages of shame. You know the drill…It was the 60s and 70s and my parents were young and children of the 40s and 50s.

So I never asked myself certain questions and I managed as I grew older to squelch my darker ideas about sex and thus left them unexplored.

In my early teens I read books by gay men, knowing that I wasn’t attracted to men. I was fascinated by the sense of being “other”. I was mystified by this. Why was I so interested in the thinking of struggling gay men when I was clearly attracted to girls. I didn’t realize this then…but I was drawn to reading about people who struggled with self and societal acceptance. I think I was trying to tell myself that I had desires and attractions that I wasn’t accepting. It certainly was what I was doing. And since there were no ready books for me out there yet (Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty was completely out of my radar until I was in my 40s) Merle Miller was what I had to go on.

In college I became frustrated with the plethora of books on women sexuality and the absolute lack of books on male sexuality. Other than a book by Bernie Zilbergeld, I could find nothing. This is the very early 80s. No internet. And oddly, though I was in a very liberal college with lots of artists, I wasn’t encountering the kind of “dark play” that still crept in the back of my mind. In high school I would role play with my girlfriend, but she would only go so far and since I viewed myself as being unusual I simply let it go as far as she was comfortable and resigned myself to not going further.

I simply had no awareness of any other option and I think, being partially on the spectrum, or at least the way that I was on the spectrum, things just didn’t occur to me. So…suppression continued…it went on through my brief marriage and even further.

A couple of years after my separation from my wife, I discovered online role play…you know…the old Yahoo chat rooms. I just went early on to meet people but eventually learned there were people creating their own “worlds” and stories.

I was in my 30s and this is where things, still slowly, began to come alive...

To be continued

Cold Kraft

2011-01-23T10:52:00.004-05:00

Yesterday we took my daughter up for the second semester of her Junior year in college. We go up as a family, my daughter, ex-wife B, her boyfriend/fiancee, F and me. F has a car that's a small station wagon and he's happy to make the drive.

F is a drummer and has been a musician for awhile and knows his stuff, but generally when it comes to certain kinds of music I tend to turn to my daughter as the young one more attuned to current or recent music.

So yesterday as we are heading north I get a tune stuck in my head. 8 notes that repeat several times...I'm sure it's a Coldplay tune, but the rest of it is gone...I hum the notes to my daughter who also finds it familiar but isn't sure it's Coldplay. F finds it familiar too anWd after a few minutes is sure it's a Kraftwerk song.

I tell F that I'm sure that's not it, because I heard it on a radio, and Kraftwerk, brilliant as they are, hasn't had anything play on a radio in a store in decades.

After awhile F blurts out "Computer Love" and I look it up on my iPhone and sure enough, there are those 8 notes...but it's not the song.

Eventually my brain kicks in...the song I'm thinking of is "Talk" and once we listen to both as iTunes samples I learn that Talk is indeed inspired by Computer Love.

Computer Love is a song that accurately depicts the loneliness that comes with being sort of obsessed with communicating through computer. Talk is a song about uncertainty in communication among other things.

Turns out there's a wiki page on this. Who knew? Well, apparently Wikipedia and I'm betting scores and scores of people. Sometimes my ignorance cracks me up.

We all learned something yesterday...and I got a tune unstuck in my head. FTW.

Here for your enjoyment, are both songs.

Computer Love by Kraftwerk. 1981.

Talk, by Coldplay. 2005. This is the official video and I love the retro science fiction theme.

Please enjoy.

And if you ever turn around....You'll see me

2010-12-15T23:37:00.006-05:00

The other day I watched the movie Adam on HBO. It's a beautifully told story of a young man with Aspergers Syndrome and a budding romance he has as he begins to strike out onto the world on his own. Hugh Dancy's performance as Adam is spot on.

Without tieing things up in a neat little Hollywood bow, Adam shows what happens when there is understanding, compassion and an open heart toward people who see and experience the world differently. It also faces the reality of such things with bittersweet honesty, especially in that way that depending too much on someone holds you back, yet that dependence can be the launching point for something greater for you both.

The movie has stuck with me for the last several days. Haunted me really. If you've read any of my previous blogs on Aspergers you'll immediately assume that I think much about my daughter when thinking about this movie, and you would be right. But there is much in the character of Adam that reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. I think I'll save that for another blog though.

I've been thinking much of my daughter who is now 20 and not long away from striking out on her own. The song that comes at the end of the film is one of very beautiful and simple words of encouragement and the kind of words I wish I had gotten in my youth. The kind of words I want to tell my daughter now and holds in her head and heart in the moments before, during and after she walks on stage in a year and a half to take that diploma after 4 years of struggle, growth, frustration and triumph.

This is for my beautiful 20 year old daughter who is becoming an articulate and wise young woman even as she hangs on to many of the trappings of childhood, as many of us do at that age before learning to let go and walk on.

Can't Go Back Now

Written and Performed by the weepies

Yesterday, when you were young,
Everything you needed done was done for you.
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone,
What can you do?

You and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now.

You know there will be days when you're so tired that you can't take another step,
The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you will ever get

But you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go
Be what you want to be,
If you ever turn around, you'll see me.

I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself

And you and me walk on
Yeah you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now

My letter to Phil Griffin regarding Keith Olbermann

2010-11-05T15:38:00.003-04:00

Dear Mr. Griffin, (phil.griffin@nbcuni.com)

It strikes me as quite an over reaction to suspend Keith Olbermann for his small contributions to two political candidates.

I understand that there are provisions in his contract and that he failed to inform your company before hand as he is obligated to. An employer does indeed have the right to reprimand it's employees as it sees fit. However an indefinite suspension is an act better saved for someone under indictment for a serious crime or perhaps something truly damaging to the reputation of the employer. This does not fit that category. Perhaps a more reasonable reaction would have been a defined suspension or the docking of pay over a fixed period of time.

This act however punishes your audience and only creates animosity. MSNBC after all, is a network struggling between 2nd and 3rd place. Showing such disrespect over what amounts to a hill of beans will only turn off what few viewers you have.

You're action demonstrates your own personal view of the situation rather than reasonable business thinking. Countdown is your highest rated show with a very loyal following. Mr. Olbermann himself has been a strong influence on your evening line up with has resulted in more weeks of MSNBC as number 2 rather than number 3 in the ratings of the 3 cable news networks.

Understand that I also believe that NPR should not have fired Juan Williams for his strange statements made on the Fox Network, nor Rick Sanchez' firing from CNN for his ridiculous statements. Much as I understand the employers reasons, there were better ways to handle that situation and created dialog over important issues. I tell you this because I want to assure you that I am not merely writing as an outraged viewer who agrees with Mr. Olbermann's positions (In fact I often disagree with him with respect). I am writing as a viewer who finds himself being treated with neglect and carelessness.

I urge you to rethink your decision. In the meantime, until such time as Mr. Olbermann is returned to the evening line up, I will not be watching any programming on MSNBC at all. Nor will I stream Rachel Maddow, Lawrence O'Donnell or Ed Schultz as I often do on my home computer. I will seek my news sources elsewhere.

Sincerely,

John XXXX

www.OpinionatedGifts.com

My Trip to the Rally to Restore Sanity, Part Two: Sanity Restored...somewhat

2010-11-01T12:51:00.015-04:00

Having gotten my anger out on the bus situation yesterday I can now write about the aspects of Saturday’s trip that were rather pleasant.

The first, I have to say, was the people. I mentioned John and Kyla from early in the morning, waiting in the “line”, not knowing what was up, but enjoying a beautiful sunrise.

I didn’t get any sleep. In order to make sure I was at Willet’s Point by 5:30 I needed to make sure I was out my door by 3:30 or so as the trek from Brooklyn can be problematic. A fairly long A train ride followed by almost the entire length of the 7 line. If I had had any brain at all I’d have taken Nyquil at about 8pm and slept til 2 or 3. But sleep didn’t come, so I made breakfast at 2am and drank a few mugs of coffee, then showered, then out the door.

I was reminded of how much of a party town New York can be, because I saw a lot of people going home after early Halloween parties at 4ish am while I was just starting my day.

I saw this couple whom I had thought were going to the Rally and had formed a response to those teabagger signs of Obama as the joker when in fact, they were just heading home from a party. Still, great job on the costumes I must say.

Frustrating as the line and all the lack of organization was, it must be said that Citi Field is rather beautiful to look at in the dark. I hate that it, like so many stadiums, is named after a corporation rather than the team or a team icon. But I appreciate it's homage to Ebbet's Field.

Ummm, Arianna, stop posing and pay attention.

On the early part of the bus ride I had a nice conversation with the guy sitting next to me at the time. He and his wife were from Hawaii and visiting friends in Canada. They had come down to NYC specifically to get to the Rally. It was interesting to hear someone describe Hawaii with a sense of appreciative boredom. It made me feel a little better about feeling stuck in New York.

After the rest stop (which we didn’t really need, but since the bus was having an a/c problem we did get to switch out to a more comfortable bus) seating got moved around, and the new person next to me was sleeping. So I enjoyed what scenery there is on I95 and also managed to nap for about 25 minutes.

When we finally reached DC it was a thrill to get off the bus. Five hours of sitting like that really makes your ass sore. Especially when part of your ass is titanium and ceramic. This had a lot to do with my decision to walk rather than stand and wait and wait for the Metro.

I used the GPS on my iPhone as best I could, but mostly followed others who were also walking. I was still seething from how late we were and how much that lateness wasn’t being acknowledged when I was catching up to another young couple. Close enough to hear the woman say “I just feel like my day is now wasted. I could have gotten a lot of things done today and still seen the Rally on TV. The whole thing”. I felt compelled to say “Would it make you feel any better to know you’re not alone?”

The three of us instantly became friends. We continued the walk along Independence Avenue, a very beautiful street that reminds me very much of parts all over Brooklyn. I didn’t get any shots of the area, but honestly it looks like a cleaner, more refurbished version of some of my earlier walk through Brooklyn blogs. The couple; Jim and Sue are very sweet people and who despite being supremely pissed off had managed to enjoy what could be enjoyed. It made the frustration a bit easier to handle.

We finally reached the Capital Building where we encountered masses of people leaving the rally, which we took to mean it was over. It wasn’t…but as it turns out, we would not have been able to get to a place to see anything until it was.

It had been about 10 years since I was last in D.C., over 20 since I'd lived there briefly while on tour. I always remember that I like that town, though I forget how much. It really is, where it is not blighted, a beautiful city and I am filled with a sense of awe, wonder and national pride when I see the grace of the Capital Building.

Astoundingly hungry, sore and tired. We chose to turn back and find a place to eat as we had passed several nice looking restaurants a few blocks back.

A high point was seeing Donna Brazile heading down the hill as we turned to go back. She was talking on her phone (I think faking it to avoid too much attention, understandably) but I waved to her and gave her a thumbs up. I would like to have yelled “Kick Breitbart’s ass on Tuesday” to her but on the chance that she was sincerely talking I decided not to be that rude.

Timing is everything. That crowd I mentioned going the other way got to the restaurants before us and what seemed manageable on the way TO the Capital had become…well…ridiculous. The only place that had seats was a Thai place that had been converted from being some sort of little pub.

I’m not a fan of Thai food. I actually find it kind of boring and even more prone to the “hungry right after you eat it” syndrome than Chinese food. BUT…I don’t hate it and when it’s the only place you can eat..what the hell.

Turns out it was pretty good. Tastier than most, nothing I’d write home about or even put any energy into eating again, but it was nourishing and hot and delicious enough. What I DID love was the Thai beer that Jim and Sue talked up and ordered. Very very excellent. I recommend it highly. Chang Beer.

Jim and I talked a lot about the state of the media and how I was growing tired of pundit “analysis” shows and how we wished there were more Anderson Coopers and Richard Engels, etc. And we watched what was left of the rally on the TV as we ate and drank.

Sue, as it turns out, works with the daughter of a famous cable news journalist. I won’t mention the name here but I will say it is one of the ones that would more appropriately be found on the unemployment line than on the TV.

Jim and Sue.

Stewart’s closing speech was spot on as far as I was concerned. I may be a fan of Keith Olbermann, but Stewart has a point. And David Carr can kiss my ass until he fesses up that the media is indeed part of the problem, not just a “messenger”. Marshal McCluhen anyone?

But man…Tony Bennett singing the song that SHOULD be the National Anthem is a sublime pleasure.

Nothing overcomes anger and frustration like good conversation and company and a good buzz from a couple of beers. Seriously, unless you are an alcoholic, alcohol is a great remedy.

But we were running out of time to catch the bus back, a ride we were dreading. This is where we met Steven, the fella I talked about in yesterday’s blog who managed to get on the bus rides without having done a single thing we were required to do. We chatted and left the bar and headed toward the bus.

I mentioned how I didn’t want the buzz to fade and someone came up with the idea of getting something for the bus. To which one of us responded “We aren’t allowed to drink on the bus”.

The only possible answer to that was buy bottles of Coke and some rum and mix it.

Genius. We got some Captain Morgan Dark Spice Rum, 4 sixteen ounce bottles of coke and proceeded to make our survival kits. Buzz maintained…as well as the improved mood.

We got back to RFK which is a fascinating structure from the outside though I can see how as a baseball park it’s an epic fail.

There was more of the nonsense about wrist bands that were never checked, we got on the bus easily and by coincidence Jim, Sue and I happened to have the same driver we had coming in. A very funny woman who’s nickname was Miami Vice. She was awesome. Great sense of humor and really good at keeping us informed. She also managed to get us back to Citi Field about a half hour earlier than could be expected. That, I can absolutely appreciate.

Back in Queens, ass sore but spirits improved.

I said goodbye to Jim and Sue who were driving off to Long Island, and then goodbye to Steven who was off to his home not far in Queens. Steven, if you’re reading this, email me at OpinionatedGifts@gmail.com. Jim and Sue, please do the same, though I have Jim’s site.

Calculating the visuals for the blog posts and tired as hell, I got onto the 7 train, decided I couldn’t make my friend’s party in Hoboken and be any decent company at all.

Jim, by the way, is a musician and here is his band’s site: www.cravingstrange.com.

Once home I collapsed and slept a solid non stop 9 hours. I can’t remember when I did that last. Maybe staying up all night and sitting on a bus for 12 hours total is what I need to do.

Favorite sign seen but not photographed "Make Inappropriate Sexual Suggestions, Not War"

Coming soon, I blog about conservatives I respect. It’s a short blog, but not as short as you might think.

My Trip to the Rally to Restore Sanity, Part One: Sanity Lost.

2010-10-31T22:10:00.016-04:00

I don’t like buses. In fact I hate them. To me, riding the bus is a necessary when absolutely unavoidable evil…..like root canal.

They are loud, bumpy, cramped and uncomfortable. In Brooklyn, the city buses are the best way to go and manageable, but beyond that, I’d rather be strapped into a chair Clockwork Orange style and forced to watch Glenn Beck give a chalkboard lecture.

So when Arianna Huffington announced so joyfully that she would provide free bus transportation for anyone wanting to get to the Rally To Restore Sanity, I hesitated. For a second. The word “free” generally helps me get over myself. By yesterday afternoon I was sorry I had heard about her offer at all.

Before I start on the disaster that Huffington established, let me say a few positive things because that would only be fair. I’ll even do it without qualifiers.

First, it was a good impulse and a great idea to begin with. After all, Freedom Works, the Koch Brothers and other Right Wing corporate funded groups go out of their way to bus in Teabaggers to their ridiculous events, so why not counter that with similar help? Good and nice idea. Plus this would provide the ability for people like me, of very little means of finance AND transportation to go, thus increasing the attendance numbers.

Second, great thinking to have the pick up point in New York City be at City Field in Flushing Queens and the D.C. drop off be at RFK stadium in Southeast Downtown. Both locations have the facility to handle multiple buses and have public transportation close by that also has the capacity to handle large crowds. RFK is also a reasonable if a little long walk to the National Mall.

Sadly, the thinking that went into this undertaking seems to have stopped abruptly at these two points.

Here is Arianna giving the same info on Countdown after her visit on Friday.

This was accurate, if by 6am you mean 8am.

Don’t for a second think that I am not taking into account the very large task it is to bus 10,000 plus people. It is a big job…very big…but it’s actually not a hard one. Not once you think it through.

Let me tell you what went wrong, then I’ll tell how simple it should have been for it to go right, barring acts of God.

Emails from HuffPo indeed instructed us to arrive by 5:30 check in so that buses would leave at 6am.

This was after having us register, then confirm, then a few days later RE-confirm. I don’t know why there needed to be a re-confirm, but there was. By the way, I had to email the bus organizers because I hadn’t received a clear confirmation that my re-confirmation had gone through. This was a first, though minor indication that something on the other end wasn’t working.

Trouble indicator; the time for a re-confirmation is within two days of the actual event, not two weeks. In that time people may have been able to make other arrangements (car rides with friends for example) or may not be able to go at all. Some friends cancelled because they balked at having to be at Citi Field at 5:30 in the morning, many of those friends found friends with cars. If you have to have a re-confirmation early on, have a re-re-confirmation just before the event. This could save you time…and money. Original estimates had bus riders at 14,000, but we ended up being 10,000. That’s a lot of buses you end up not needing at the last minute. Potential money saved…potential easing of organizing done. Now this last point is based on a 14,000 that was hearsay so I my point on planning may or may not apply though as a general rule, confirmation on the last day or two before an event is pretty much common sense.

I arrived at Citifield at 5:12 am. There was already a considerable crowd of people, there were young men and women with bullhorns speaking not very clearly or loudly instructing us to have our IDs and confirmation printouts or phone images ready. Nothing else. Since there was no indication as to where a line started or ended I figured that the one I saw as I came closer to the stadium was where I should go. I followed this line to it’s end which was just about to the Right Field entrance and then curling back.

While waiting I made friends with a young couple, of which there were many, John and Kyla. We made conversation. This was comforting to me because my plan to meet an old friend was quickly coming to be an impossibility. That’s a different time though.

John and Kyla and I were confused by the line, it didn’t seem to have particular shape or direction and after awhile there seemed to be another line of a very different shape or make up. 5:30 came and went and neither line was moving.

Now we were over by the Right Field entrance. It was pretty chilly and I was regretting not having brought my hat, but I knew the rest of the day would be warmer in DC and as 6 was approaching I’d be on a bus soon.

Not so much.

The line itself did not begin to move until about 5:45 and that was in small drips and drabs.

Every now and then one of the staff would come by with these bullhorns and start talking. What they said I cannot tell you because somehow they managed to be inaudible. No matter how many times we shouted “Please speak up” nothing changed.

For the record, speaking into a bullhorn does not require that you speak in a whisper. It requires that you check your volume, speak at at least normal volume and continue to check that you can be heard.

None.Of.This.Happened. EVER.

We got people who were standing close enough to hear her to spread the word that they were simply repeating the instructions about the IDs and confirmations. Nothing about where the buses were or how the line would be working or what we would be expecting.

ZIP.

The line very slowly moved. 5:45/ 5:50 / 6:00. As it moved. , many who were past the curve simply turned direction and cut the line. Part of this was people being sneaky, but it was largely because we were all very confused and had no idea what was actually happening.

We managed to move from Right Field entrance about a third of the way to the main entrance. By the time we reached the main entrance we realized that there was another line on the other side, that probably went to the Left Field entrance. 6:10 / 6:20 / 6:30.

We manage to get around enough that we can see a bit more of the crowd. The sun was rising. It was very pretty but we were getting very cold as the wind off the bay was now whipping against us. This is not Huffington’s fault, the weather is the weather, but since we were supposed to be on our way by 6:45 and had yet another hour before even boarding the bus, I’m going to say that it was indeed her fault that I was freezing my ass off and had chattering teeth, despite a very warm fleece.

I spoke to my friend on the phone that I had missed meeting. She had arrived 20 minutes later than I had and yet somehow managed to be close to getting checked in and boarded once the buses arrived. This is still after the supposed leave time of 6am…but the fact that people who arrived later were getting boarded earlier indicates a very clear lack of any system whatsoever.

We rounded the corner and saw the other side. The crowd was still quite huge. There was still no sense for us of what was going on, but there WERE people kind of directing us without being entirely clear. But there was a tent, and in that tent we would finally show our photo IDs and re confirmations. The stuff that was supposed to be ready almost 2 hours ago.

There were three people checking IDs and printouts. Once done we moved on to have our bags security checked. Security checks are fine and absolutely understandable. But some people packed a lot of things and it would have been a good idea in an advance email to make sure that people understood that there would be a security check and that packing very lightly (as I did) was a good idea.

The security guy gave us wrist bands to wear with the Huffington Post letterhead printed on them. We were told these would be VERY important as this was what would get us back on the bus on the way back.

Now this was done…the buses had been pulling up and waiting about 10 or 15 at a time…we had to continue along another line, this one a bit more organized but only a bit. This lead all the way down to the end of the lot, where we would then board buses by walking back up the way we came and finding a bus and boarding. Huff Crew would announce that there were a few more seats in a given bus. The bus would fill and be on it’s way.

It is now for me 7:45. Finally I get down to the right spot, we walk up, find a bus and get on. 5 minutes after being full, we are on our way, nearly 2 hours after the announced departure time that Arianna announced many many times.

I should add that at about 7am Arianna herself was out thanking people for coming. She never made mention of things running late. I didn’t think much of that at the time. She was getting a lot of adoration and being swamped by people wanting pictures with her and all that. However angry I am at her…(and after watching her on Hardball just a moment ago I am even angrier) I can understand how that is a very heady and distracting thing. I also frankly did appreciate her saying hello.

She left abruptly, I assume to catch her bus.

Alright, so..here we are, leaving two hours late, which means that instead of arriving at the planned 11am we would arrive at about 1pm. Which means getting to the Rally closer to 1:30. This is frustrating but not terrible. We would get there by the time Stewart and Colbert were scheduled to come on stage and we would still catch the bulk of it, albeit from a great distance.

Below is my diagram of what happened. This is from GoogleMaps shot of Citi Field. I’ve moved the crowd on the right is a bit off kilter because of the angle of the picture. Imagine the green oval being closer to the wall and on actual sidewalk. Forgive my crude power point. Yes I did once do this professionally but I've had a bazillion things to do today.

Click on the picture to see it full size. Then click the BACK command on your browser to return to the blog.

But…..there’s a lot of construction on I95 between here and D.C. and by the time we were hitting it, after 9am…we were screwed. We basically crawled the entire length of Delaware and slowed quite a bit through Maryland…then once we approached Baltimore it was slow going for the rest of the way.

We would have missed this traffic had we left on time because the traffic flow would have been lower. And even if we hadn’t with the same amount of delay, we would have made it by 12:30 at the latest and not missed much at all.

Instead, we arrived at RFK stadium at a little after 2:15pm. The rally itself was scheduled to stop at 3.

Now some buses had left before us and had arrived before us, but not by much. And some folks did get to the rally way way in the back and managed to catch an hour.

Once we got out of the RFK parking lot, about a 5 or 8 minute trek we were greeted by a guy with a bullhorn. This guy could be heard. “Arianna Huffington personally welcomes you to D.C.”

Personally? Really? You don’t look like Arianna Huffington to me. Plus at the moment we are all really pissed the fuck off and mentioning her name is counterproductive to say the least.

There was no acknowledgement of how bloody late we were, no mention of an apology. Instead we were given instructions on how to cross the street. Right…never done THAT before.

Because the train station was crowded and I figured it would be awhile before even getting into the Metro, let alone an actual metro train I chose to walk…it’s a long walk but not terrible. Still longer than we had been told but I’m pretty fast.

So…by the time I got to the Mall people were leaving. As it turns out there was still some show left, but there was quite an exodus.

I had made friends with another young couple on the walk over…we ended up having Thai food and beer and watching the last half hour on TV.

At the bar we met a guy named Steve. Steve had been driving by at 3am in Queens and saw signs for the rally and decided to come by. He hadn’t registered or re-registered…and he’d also never gotten a wrist band. He got onto the bus and got on on the way back.

The way back makes sense to me because when we got back to the buses our wrists were never checked. Never. We were told we better make sure we had our wrist bands as we approached the buses, but no one ever actually looked.

When we got on the bus, the crew didn’t even bother to check to see if the bus was full, we had about 4 empty seats. They didn’t bother to look and sent our driver on her way.

I’m not mad at Steven even fact I’m thrilled that a guy who wanted to go and didn’t know about the buses got to….but he’s another clear indication that what little bit of a system there was, wasn’t even adhered to in any way.

Our driver, by the way, was amazing. When traffic allowed she pushed the limits and on the way home got us back to Citi Field about 45 minutes early. What might have been…ah what might have been.

Steven informed me that he saw that despite the fact that the buses were already there by 5, the crew itself was not ready to deal with anything until 6.

Now, lest you think I’m being unfair, let me show you how in fact the way to organize this that would have worked. I would tell you that I have some experience working with large events such as the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade (Downtown coordinator) and several large events such as fashion and spring festivals that take up entire parks and streets.

But really, anyone who has put a kid on a school bus could have figured this out.

Below is how I would have planned this. I figured this out in about 15 minutes while on the bus, stuck somewhere in Maryland on I95.

First. When you announce to people to arrive at 5:30, that means that you make sure you are ready for them at 4:30 at the latest. WHY? Because once people arrive and they have to be processed it’s going to feel like a shit storm on the crew and they will need an hour to relax after set up to be ready and raring to go.

As well, the 7 train arrives every 20 minutes at this station...there's even a schedule easily found on any map program and at that hour the train actually does arrive on time. Which means you can even plan ahead for the waves of people.

Google, Arianna, look it up.

This diagram should demonstrate pretty much how it should have happened. Again, click to enlarge, then BACK to return here.

Again, I thought this up in 15 minutes. Huffington and her crew had weeks. WHAT.THE.FUCK.

The bus drivers clearly knew what they were doing so as they loaded even in that haphazard system, they were in and out fairly quickly.

In closing I do think it was a great impulse. And I'm appreciative of that impulse. But there seems to be a lot of back slapping for what amounts to a failure.

Don't offer something that you don't follow through properly on and then brag about getting 10,000 people there on your website and then have Chris Matthews congratulate you on it on National Television.

Acknowledge the problem. At the very least acknowledge it. Apologies would be nice too.

For me, Arianna has no credibility whatsoever. I can't take anything she says seriously because she seems so far to be living in the same bubble that Republicans and other inside the beltway jerkoffs suffer from.

I'm done with her.

I invite suggestions, comments, complaints.

Tomorrow I will blog about the nicer aspects of the trip. There were nice people to meet and it was a beautiful day. Plus I got to see Donna Brazile.

Realizing I have something to crawl out of

2010-10-28T15:14:00.003-04:00

Strangely enough, in the nearly 8 months of my unemployment, I’ve spent a lot of time in a kind of isolation. This is not an entire surprise, I’ve always been a very social person who needs to crawl into a tiny place to be alone for awhile.
I spent a lot of time, online and on the streets, looking for work early on. Applying for jobs, interviewing at agencies, updating my resume on monster.com and other such places. But I still had lots of time and in that time, I’ve seen only a handful of my friends.
That’s not like me. It’s not normal.
When I was married my wife marveled at how I navigated parties and got to talk to everyone I could and make new friends. It was a skillset that she envied. To me I just like parties. I like moments of being the center of attention (Hello, actor) I like listening and engaging.
But over the last few years, I’ve sought more comfort in being alone. I communicate through email or the phone. I watch movies or TV shows I love, but I don’t get out much. Social situations scare me now.

I use the financial situation, which has not been better than struggling for at least 10 years, as an excuse for not doing myriad things with my life. Not seeing people, not seeing shows or movies in theaters or trips. I sit here alone with my PC or laptop or DVD player or all three and live in my own world.

Lately I’ve become immensely aware of all this.

A few weeks ago I went to the launch party of the NYSexBlogger’s Calendar for 2011. This is a great party for those of us who support and want sexual freedom, the calendar is very cool and btw, if you support such things I would ask you to buy one for you or your friends. Check it out.

Anyway, big party and I was looking forward to seeing @MiaOnTop for the first time since before her move to Texas and maybe a couple of buddies of mine. But in the hours before the party, I had to really nudge myself to go. In fact the kicker was that I would get to say hello to Mia, who had even asked on Twitter if I was going. That was worthwhile to me. And so I went.
It was a pretty good night and I’d gotten there early enough to even get some swag. Swag mostly for women, but swag nonetheless. (Seriously, since I'm not dating at the moment what am I supposed to do with 3 vibrators.)
I even got to meet @GrayDancer who’s kinda big in the poly/kink/podcast world and the quite sexy @sexiesadie. Nice thrills for first 40 minutes that I was there…and then…I became a meandering wallflower. I stuck around to listen to some speakers, and enjoy the raffle, but all I did was wander through the crowd, and literally stand against a wall while GrayDancer drew raffle tickets. I barely spoke to anyone. I felt isolated surrounded by like minded people. It was kind of ridiculous.
I left as it wound down, tried to say goodbye to @_Ten_10 who was busy with conversation and headed home. I felt relief as I sat on the F train.
A few weeks later I went to a weekend retreat with polyamorists in New England, not far from the city. It was a basically free event and a chance to get out of the city for a weekend for almost nothing. It was a good time. There was anxiety for me but I could occupy myself with building fires (cold weekend) which I love to do and am very good at and then on Sunday morning make my somewhat famous French toast for breakfast.
I made some new friends and managed to relax after awhile, but I found myself doing the meandering thing on more than one occasion. There were only a couple of people of the 18 of us that I knew and I found it hard to reach out too much. Fortunately this was a person’s house and there was TV and fire and a yard.
I had a great time over all and even got some pictures that will be headshots for free out of the deal. Kind of wild. And a friend there seems to be determined to life coach me. Really what I need.
Then last weekend was a party held by an old friend that would feature many old friends. I have avoided the whole idea of the party for weeks. The idea of the party itself filled me with dread.
What was I going to talk about? My lack of a life? My lack of a job? My over all sense of doom about things of late?
I didn’t want to get into it, so I conveniently chose not to think about it. To the point of forgetting about the party until 2 hours before its start.
I decided that it was important for me to go, so I spent an hour and a half talking myself into it and asking myself what the hell had happened. What is going on and why do I feel I just don’t have anything to offer as a person to my friends.
My friends don’t care about my joblessness or whatever. They want to hear my political rantings (even though I myself and getting a little tired of myself on that front…sort of) so what am I worried about? But bottom line I want so much to talk about my latest adventure, my latest passion, and I have none.
Not that there aren’t things in my life I feel good about, but some aspects of my life I need to keep to myself for now and can’t share them for myriad reasons. I can and have lived with that. I’m fine with it, there are people who deal with that sort of thing on much grander scales than I do. Just some things that I might share with friends are things they would not understand well.
But ultimately something hit me as I got myself dressed and dragged myself off. On November 2 of 2002 I was on my way to a party when I was hit by a car and spent the following 3 months in the hospital and the following 2 months after that homebound. I literally bear the scars of that event and am partially artificial for it. Every day I am reminded of that night 8 years ago by a pain here and there or the sound of my hip slipping slightly from its ceramic socket.

Of course I get nervous about going out.
This is not a blog of “feel sorry for me” for all this crap that’s going on. It’s more about the fact that I need to write anyway and that I find myself not quite being myself and trying to get clear why.
I was once hungry and ambitious and creative, now it’s more like I can’t be bothered. I’m starting to think that more than my hip and shoulder were broken and those breaks probably predate the accident, but the accident itself was like a final nail after an already tough decade.
I’d just found so many avenues to avoid really looking at all that for so long that it took this latest bout of unemployment to look at what the hell is going on.
Somehow I’ve got to find inspiration again. Somehow I’ve got to remember the only reason that I feel that I have nothing to offer is because I FEEL I have nothing to offer. The facts say something else….
More on that for another entry.

NPR's Juan Williams Firing Prompts Conservative Backlash

2010-10-21T19:52:00.001-04:00

I have to say, as a person who is generally liberal I find this firing troubling in the same way that I found the Rick Sanchez firing troubling.

Both Williams and Sanchez are journalists that I have/had very little respect for, but neither man merited being fired for what they got fired for.

Fire them for being bozos and not very good journalists. Fire them for sucking (which they did). Don't fire them for saying things we find disagreeable or even reprehensible. The fact is we need to talk more out in the open about this because if you think that Williams is the only American who feels this way, you ain't lookin' very hard.

Sunlight is the best disinfectant and this kind of thing just shoves prejudice and fear back in the dark...where it thrives.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Justices Scalia And Thomas's Attendance At Koch Event Sparks Judicial Ethics Debate

2010-10-21T10:10:00.001-04:00

Dear America,

This is Clarence Thomas. I just want you to consider apologizing to me for making me undeservedly famous and for allowing me to have a job for which I am so deeply unqualified that I need Antonin Scalia to hold my hand for the last 19 years.

Pray on this and say you're sorry, or I'll whine about my absent father some more.

Have a nice day.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

What Remains Of Dollhouse

2010-10-14T13:40:00.010-04:00

Eliza Dushku and Amy Acker in Season 2 of Dollhouse.

I spent this morning with my brother on some personal business and had a bit of breakfast. We had a short argument about Dollhouse. He hated it from the get go, hated the premise (which I told him he had gotten completely wrong, but he's entitled to his opinion), hated the scripts. This didn't surprise me entirely. My brother and I, both science fiction and fantasy geeks, have very different sets of standards. For instance he loved Babylon 5. I myself could not stand that show. The over all storyline was interesting, and philosophically dense, but the writing and acting per episode was so atrociously bad that it rendered the show, for me, entirely unwatchable. So I laughed as he tried to break down Dollhouse as an excuse for an actress to be vapid.

By the way, he concedes the point on writing and acting but is able to go past that for the philosophy. Maybe it's because I am an actor and sometimes writer that I just can't do that.

But Dollhouse, I pointed out to him, was about the exact opposite of being vapid. At the core of the show was the societal pressure to be vapid against the strength of the human spirit (Echo) and Love (Sierra and Victor). This is not THE core of the show, but is certainly a large part of it.

It's been months since the end of Dollhouse, which I've written about here before. I still miss the show though even more, I miss the show's unreached potential. The potential that FOX TV never allowed and indeed undermined.

But this week, the DVD and Blu Ray set of the series' second and final season released. With that release comes an official video of the original song "Remains" which was written as the coda for Season One's unaired episode "Epitaph One".

This episode was written as a contractual obligation to FOX TV and was thrown together by the show's writers and filmed simultaneously with the actual "season finale" of the series.

Epitaph One was meant to give the audience a glimpse into what the show might have been since by then, Joss Whedon had not expected to be renewed for a second season. So they fulfilled the contract and had something for the DVD release as an extra for fans. And what an extra it is.

Here is the final clip of the episode, featuring the song "Remains" written by the show's Mo Tauncheron and Jed Whedon who became the head writers for Dollhouse during the second season. Here we see the basic thrust of Joss Whedon's philosophy of what happens when they keep trying "to make people better" (from Serenity).
Here is the same song, but with it's official video release. This goes back to other core themes of Dollhouse by revisiting the concepts of vapidity and how easily we can disregard our fellow human beings. It revisits the inherent loneliness of human beings and the ways we try to fulfill that loneliness even as we regard eachother with disposability.

My brother still hates the show and doesn't miss it. But he doesn't like Fringe either and he liked Titanic. I love him, but damn that's just crazy talk.

These videos make the sting of missing this show and regular doses of Eliza Dushku easier to tolerate.

Now if Amazon would hurry up and deliver my Season 2 DVDs.

Pizza, memory and dad

2010-10-05T10:21:00.013-04:00

"Sex is like pizza. Even when it's bad it's still pretty good" Woody Allen

"Ponder well on this point: the pleasant hours of our life are all connected by a more or less tangible link, with some memory of the table." Charles Pierre Monselet

Ask any New Yorker what the best pizza in town is and you will usually get the same answer, whatever pizza it was that said New Yorker grew up with. I am no exception, though I think an excellent case can be made for me being more right than most.

That pizza is Sal and Carmine’s on Broadway between 102^nd and 103^rd street. Known as simply Sal’s Pizza when I was a kid, the place has been an Upper West Side fixture since the 60s when Sal first opened up his shop. He was later joined by Carmine, his brother in law (I believe). Sal passed away last year unbeknownst to me until a few months ago, but Carmine and Sal’s son are still there, still putting out this most excellent example of classic New York pizza. Here is a link to the best write up I have found on about this slice. I agree with every point made. You have to scroll down to the part about Sal and Carmine’s but it’s a great read all around. http://theeatenpath.com/2009/06/07/sal-and-carmine-best-slice-in-manhattan/ You’ll get no less than 12 pages of links to different reviews, blog entries and diaries just by googleing “Sal and Carmine’s”

I started eating Sal and Carmine’s when I was 11, not long after my parents split up and my dad moved to a tiny studio apartment on Amsterdam Avenue and 95^th Street. Back then Sal’s, was a hole in the wall with no tables and white tile everywhere. The counter had barely enough room for the two men to work. But work they did. Making pizza after pizza, serving slice after slice after slice. It was rarely empty, rarely navigable and always delicious.

Their pizza was, and still is, so good that a plain slice/pie is more than good enough. Adding sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms or whatever actually ends up distracting you.

This isn’t gourmet pizza, you understand. This is classic New York by the slice pizza at its best. And it is indeed the pizza I grew up on.

Sure there's Lombardi's (where pizza was invented), Grimaldi's and John's (who both got their start at Lombardi's) and they are great, but that's sitdown eat a whole pie kind of place. Sal and Carmine are of a more common New York tradition and you are hardpressed to find something as classic and authentically Italian as they are save for parts of Brooklyn, the Bronx and Mulberry street in Manhattan.

I started eating Sal and Carmine’s when I was 11, not long after my parents split up and my dad moved to a tiny studio apartment on Amsterdam Avenue and 95^th Street from our place on 103rd and Central Park West. Back then Sal’s, as it was known then, was a hole in the wall with no tables and white tile everywhere. The counter had barely enough room for the brothers in law to work. But work they did. Making pizza after pizza, serving slice after slice after slice. It was rarely empty, rarely navigable. It was always delicious.

When the neighborhood yuppified in the 80s they were forced to move up about 7 blocks. It was worth the extra time. Back then, the real estate line was sharp…at about 99^th street the neighborhood remained a mix of middle class and sketchy, rental was still a bit cheaper than the rest of the area so the new space, now called Sal and Carmine’s had 7 tables in the back. The ovens and the flavor never changed.

Sal and Carmine never bought into the ridiculousness of putting every damned thing on their pizza the way so many of the newer, generally awful pizza places do. They stuck and continue to stick to the basics. Woody Allen's joke no longer applies in New York. The bad pizza here is pretty fucking bad. In my part of Brooklyn (Crown Heights/BedStuy) the local pizza makes you lose the will to live, it's that horrible.

When I moved out of my dad’s place 27 years ago part of my life became about finding places nearby that were approachable to Sal and Carmine’s. Not just because of the goodness but because of the memories.

When my parents split up I was of course pretty devastated. Dad was over ever Wednesday and we went to his place every other weekend. The distance between mom's place and dad's wasn't that far so we were lucky in that we still got to see him.

Dad had discovered Sal’s right after the move and Saturday pizza with Star Trek reruns on Channel 11 became the tradition when we visited. It was a tiny studio apartment and my brother and I slept on inflatable mattresses on the floor, but we had fun. There was always something to do and of course, Sal’s Pizza and Star Trek every Saturday.

Years later I moved in with dad so I could go to the high school I wanted to go to, my brother stayed with my mother who had moved out to Long Island and we switched off weekends. The Saturday tradition never changed, though there would be additions of Space 1999 (we would talk about how awful it was), UFO, Battlestar Galactica (to this day I wish dad had stuck around long enough to see the new one. He’d have loved it). But Star Trek was always on the Channel 11 lineup and Sal’s pizza was always in ours.

This was dad/son bonding time and just plain fun. We’d call ahead and order by phone, then go pick up. They never delivered so we always went to pick it up…always chatted with Carmine mostly, Sal was usually silent but never unfriendly. We would vary sometimes and get toppings, just for fun…and they were always good. Even better, if there were leftovers, we’d have cold pizza for breakfast.

Trust me, this is a sublime pleasure when the pizza is good. It doesn’t work for all pizzas.

More and more as the years pass and the pain of my father’s suicide is layered over by years, experience and perspective, Sal and Carmine’s pizza remains my favorite dad related set of memories.

As some of you know, this past summer I tried my hand at apartment showing for a real estate firm on the Upper West Side. This was not a terribly successful venture, in the two months I did this I made under $700 altogether and generally ended up wanting to go postal on “clients”. It is an industry I may return to but not with that particular venue.

A plus though was that many of the apartments I showed were in my old neighborhood and I had some pretty surreal experiences showing apartments on blocks that we didn’t even go to when I was a kid because they were too dangerous. Wild stuff, and fun.

Mid July I was showing an apartment in the low 100s to a couple of college girls. I was in a pensive mood. It was what would have been my father’s 72^nd birthday and whenever it is his birthday or the anniversary of the day we found him I’m always a tad on edge. Even when I don’t realize what day it is.

It was warm, but there was a slight rain that tempered the warmth that made the day actually very pleasant. I showed the apartment (which I liked very much but the girl's typically didn't, that's another blog for another day. Spoiled young clients with no clue), afterward I chose to walk a bit before heading back to the office. Lo and behold, there was Carmine tossing away and spinning a pie.

At this point I was certain that Sal and Carmine’s was no more. I hadn’t been in this part of town in a very long time. The last time I had been I “misremembered” the location and found what I thought in it’s place one of those newfangled awful pizza places that specialized in dreadful toppings to mask the utter lack of flavor. At this moment I was in one of those rare states of mind here I am deeply grateful that I am wrong about something. I stared for awhile, took a picture and then walked inside and ordered a slice and a cherry soda which was my standard back at dad’s.

Carmine looked much older of course than the last time I’d been there which I think was about 10 years. I wasn’t aware at the time that Sal had passed a year earlier, but given how old they must have been I surmised and said nothing to Carmine, only that I was so happy to see him.

He remembered me after a few minutes and asked about my dad and brother. I lied and told him that dad was fine but had moved away years ago. I didn’t want to get into it. I was too happy with the sight of Carmine, the taste of my favorite pizza which had not altered a jot. I savored every bite, grinning the entire time. I wanted this moment to be about the good memory, not grief.

I thanked Carmine for the years of great pizza and that I couldn't wait to be back again then left. I stood outside for a few moments and said quietly “Happy Birthday, Dad”, then turned and headed back to the office.

It would be laughable if it weren't so sad.

2010-09-28T12:09:00.008-04:00

“…the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and
pressure.”
William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act III, Scene 2

The humorless John Conyers

Much has already been said and written about Stephen Colbert’s testimony before the House last week regarding migrant workers. Too bad, I’m chiming in anyway.

Many may not realize that Colbert was speaking about plight of migrant workers because the press, both liberal and conservative and even “moderate” obsessed about there being a *gasp* comedian in that Capital and what an insult/joke/degradation etc. that is.

Because of course, having Elmo, lying steroid addled athletes, the massively under-qualified Alberto Gonzalez testify before the House were such dignified events. As if allowing someone like Louis Gohmert or Michelle Bachmann let anything come out of their ignorant and crazy mouths in the halls of congress were remotely respectful.

This wasn’t a disease suffered only by FOX anchors, Chuck Todd who was at one time a promising and bright analyst for MSNBC but who has become a barely articulate mouth breather of an anchor whined incessantly about the dignity of the House as if he hadn’t been covering Washington for the past two years.

Apparently, the press will do anything but discuss the plight of migrant workers, the sorry state of our nation’s farms and farmers and the decline of the American Agricultural tradition. It’s easier (lazier) to focus on the trivial and make it a big fucking deal.

Note to Chuck Todd: When you’re in the same company as Megyn Kelly, check yourself.

So far as I can tell, only Keith Olbermann and Lawrence O’Donnell actually covered and discussed the meat of what Colbert was addressing and why he was brought in to testify. Only these two of the press, that I can find, and John Stewart, even approached the seriousness of the situation. Is it possible that only these three individuals understand the purpose of satire in the national media?

It’s possible. The media is filled with idiots and sycophants, after all, as we already know. It’s also possible that the media, which is pretty much 100% corporate owned, doesn’t want us talking about these things at all. But that’s another subject….or rather an offshoot of the same subject.

What I want to discuss is America’s growing lack of a sense of humor which I believe can be traced right down to the chipping away of arts education. As an actor I am of course an advocate for arts education in our public schools and it should be no surprise that I believe arts education is more important than what are generally called, the basics.

Why, you may ask?

Learning about theater, dance, music and visual arts opens up both sides of the brain. It stimulates creativity and creative thinking. It provides a very strong foundation with which to learn math, science, reading and writing. It teaches you to approach the world from a more rounded standpoint than a narrow, left brained training.

We learn through the arts, how to play and by learning how to play, we learn how to work.

But in the last couple of decades we have seen and experienced not only the cutting of arts education from schools, but the dismissal of it as a luxury. As if there is nothing to be gained from understanding what an artist might be trying to communicate or what goes into learning and bringing a part to life on stage, etc. As if a stimulated imagination has nothing to do with anything else in the world.

We can certainly get into a discussion on whether this is actually part of an overall strategy to keep the masses under educated in order to keep the powerful in power and I would agree with that assessment, but that’s also another blog post for another day.

The other thing that comes with arts education is a broadening of a sense of humor. Any education that involves being creative does this. Human beings love to laugh and we find new ways to do it whenever we can.

Unless you’re Gallagher. Taking a hammer to a watermelon is great and hilarious…when you’re 8 years. Then, hopefully, you grow up and it becomes mildly amusing but you need some good, strong satire, of whatever political bent, to really get your mind going.

And this is what Stephen Colbert gave us last week.

John Conyers, a congressman whose politics are much aligned with mine but who is, largely, a rather humorless man (and I have followed him for about 25 years now) let that lack of sense of humor get the best of him.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the embarrassment.

Not that Stephen Colbert testified in character, but that John Conyers didn’t get it. That Chuck Todd, most of the House, all of Fox News and most of the rest of the media DIDN’T GET that the joke is on us. That is what shames me as an American.

Nancy Pelosi got it. Clearly Zoe Lofgren, who requested his testimony got it. What she didn’t get was that she was surrounded by colleagues and a press too narrowminded and too childish to think or to understand. Her mistake was in assuming that her colleagues both left and right were smart enough to get it. Her mistake was thinking that the press would instead of asking what the steak was seasoned with would skip right to the dessert of bad rice pudding with off brand jello.

Yes, in that one day that he worked, Colbert became more of an expert on the subject than anyone in that room who wasn’t testifying. By a long shot.

Colbert’s testimony, joke by joke, jeered at the lack of action, the lack of character and the lack of maturity that one finds in today’s politics and in so doing made clear what happens to people when politicians act as they do. He even brilliantly brought it home with a final, sober and out of character statement that to spoke our humanity and human dignity.

But our own lack of humor allows us to buy the nonsense that FOX, Todd and the rest feed us.

As an artist, Stephen Colbert held the mirror up to nature, and nature didn’t like what looked back at it, so…it whined about the mirror instead of itself.

It is to laugh.

And while we're on the subject of not having any fun....

2010-09-18T00:00:00.005-04:00

Early Friday morning I had a panic attack. Full on, pain in the chest, cold sweat, dizzy spell, am I having a heart attack, am I about to die, what the hell panic attack.

I’ve only had this once before, several years ago. It was many months after my accident. I had recovered well enough, but woke up in the middle of the night having some chest pains. Being over 40 and it being late at night…the mind goes to ridiculous thoughts…and all I had to do was entertain the notion of a heart attack to scare the becrappus out of myself.

It’s not that hard to do…the fact is that the symptoms of a panic attack are pretty much exactly the same as a heart attack.

“Dumbass, why didn’t you call 911?!!!” I hear you shout.

Well, that is what I did 6 years ago…got the whole treatment, ambulance oxygen…the works. By the time the EMT guys got there though I was feeling better if idiotic. But they insisted I go to the hospital and check things out.

I ended up being there for 3 days. It took them 3 days to tell me that I was fine, my cholesterol was a little high but my heart was in great shape and there were no signs of a heart attack. The pains were symptomatic of some of my injuries and that I’d fallen into a midlife panic attack. SO there. Fortunately I had a very good health plan at the time and my copay was small.

Jump to the present. Much of the process is exactly the same, except this time I have no insurance…and while I was talking myself down from the panic and semi successfully convincing myself I was not suffering from heart failure (despite Google’s insistence that I might be) I also reminded myself that if I was hospitalized, there was no way on this green earth that I was going to be able to pay for a fucking thing…OOOHHHH boy…More debt.

This did not help the panic. I couldn't bring myself to call. Stupid? Probably. But since I'm sitting here writing this almost 24 hours later, I feel it was the right way to go. So I did some slow yogic breathing, did my best to go to my happy place, and closed my eyes.

Eventually I sat upright in the kitchen and slowly drank a glass of water I’d left on the table before bed. I held my iPhone in my hand, ready to dial. But I started to feel fine and eventually I went back to bed and lay there awhile and stared at my phone. I relaxed..my chest stopped hurting, I fell back asleep for a few hours and woke up feeling normal.

In the morning I remembered something else. I'm also hypoglycemic. I sometimes have to watch how I eat and how often I eat. If I over do the carbs and under do the protein I can end up having similar episodes. This has happened to me once or twice, but so rarely that I forget about it. And by rarely I mean 3 times in 25 years. Pretty much all I'd eaten yesterday was 2 mugs of coffee and a big plate of spaghetti with two meatballs.

Not.Smart.

It’s annoying that the kind of ailment I sometimes suffer from ends up being so similar to a heart attack. As I approach 50 this has to be a reality I face, even though heart attacks don’t run in my family at all. Seriously, the only member of either side of my family that didn’t die at a very old age of some form of cancer or another was my great grandfather. And that was a brain hemorrhage. Oh wait, my grandmother…but she was 86, diabetic, massively overweight and drank Jim Beam like a fish. OH and the heart attack happened while climbing 4 flights of stairs. She was also, God love her, batshit crazy.

Still, the bottom line is that I have to be more conscious.

Yeah, I’m nervous as hell, I was actually going from store to store filling out applications in supermarkets like a high school kid yesterday. And yeah, I had visions of myself as a 4 year old man bagging groceries for a living. Hey if I get hired I will suck it up and do it. I can handle that, but it’s a lie to say that it’s not a depressing thought.

This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for myself.

Anyway I’m above ground is a good one. I’ve used that phrase to remain positive for a couple of decades. It’s been helpful and funny to say it with a smile.

But maybe it’s time I raised my standards…I need to find something to inspire me.

Treading Water

2010-09-12T11:35:00.004-04:00

So, yeah, it’s been awhile. My latest blog entry has a months long gap between it and it’s predecessor.

What gives?

During BlogHer, @MajorBedHead asked if I had stopped blogging altogether. It sure seemed that way. I would sit down, have an idea to blog about, then start writing. Then I’d find something to do, never get back to writing and just couldn’t muster up the urge to continue.

Like the White House’s “Summer of Recovery” my summer was productive as a wet noodle screwing in a hot lightbulb. That’s not entirely fair. The recovery act DID actually help maintain and create some jobs. And I had a minor one in that time.

But as I wrote my piece for yesterday, I realized that what I had been doing was retreating. My long stint of unemployment was getting to me on an emotional level. My efforts in the real estate proved beyond frustrating and frankly really demoralizing. My luck was so bad with it that veterans in the office where I was working even said “Wow, What the fuck?”

I’d also been doing some production work for a friend who was participating in a theater festival here. So I decided to ditch showing apartments and just focus on that. And when it ended, I found as much motivation to show apartments as I had with writing in this blog.

The difference was, I knew I was supposed to be writing, whereas with the real estate gig, I felt no such urging.

I don’t seem to be the only one @LesleeHorner of Waiting For The Click had flat out decided to stop blogging on a regular basis, @2MuchPerfection has also been a very infrequent writer, and even @MajorBedHead spent some time away from her blog while dealing with the end of her marriage. @MiaOnTop took a hiatus as she moved to Texas from New York. There was a lot of shifting going on. The thing is that everyone else seemed to know where they were shifting to. I still haven’t figured out what is going on with me.

What really shocked me though, as I logged onto Blogger to write the other day was that that not only had I not written, I’d been pretty piss poor in following up on the blog’s that I read. Musings of A Madman would email me to remind me to read up (though lately he’s been AWOL with his new life), Leslee would knock on my Facebook to ask if I’d read her. It wasn’t personal. I just wasn’t busting out. But when I looked at the Blogroll on my page, I realized that I just hadn’t kept up with anyone that I had been reading on a regular basis.

I really had withdrawn. If not for Twitter and Facebook, it’s entirely possible that I’d have had almost no contact with anyone for most of the summer.

There are other factors. Some creative outlets that I’ve had have fizzled because of time and circumstance, so I’ve had to shift slowly to different creative writing outlets that are more self reliant. This isn’t easy for a guy with ADD.

I’ve done a little other writing here and there. Something that may become a one man piece about my father’s suicide and the role that Fear has played in his/my/the world’s life. Slow progress but coming along.

I’ve smattered around with an adaptation of a series of books that I love too. But just smattered.

A lot of my energy has gone into just changing my frame of mine. Yes, affirmations, meditations. Things to bring my mind away from despair and back to a place of forward thinking and inspiration.

I don’t despair, and haven’t in the 6 months that I’ve been out of work, but like a tired swimmer treading water, I’m managing to keep from drowning, yet can’t seem to figure out what direction I need to swim to get back to shore. I don’t know what that shore looks like and I just don’t want to keep swimming in the wrong direction and end up in deeper, rougher waters.

Overall, I’m doing ok. I’m healthy, I’m enduring. But I’m not thriving. I’m not having any fun.

But something is “clicking” to an extent. Here I am, writing, and I am catching up on the blogs I haven’t kept up on. I’ve rearranged my room which is no small thing considering how small and oddly shaped my room is. I’ve also started re-engaging with the polyamorous community in New York. It looks like I may be doing some more production work for a small production of a play here for even smaller money, but it’s work and in a field I love. And there’s an interview coming up at the end of the month that I’m not excited about but like the prospect of SOMEthing cooking in the work situation.

I think I’m back. I hope I’m welcome. And I hope to keep some momentum going.

Thanks for your patience if you haven’t given up entirely on me.

Gateless

2010-09-10T15:06:00.007-04:00

Picture from http://www.planetware.com/picture/new-york-city-new-york-statue-of-liberty-us-nyc005.htm

I’ve blogged on this subject before here and here. In fact I guess this is sort of an annual thing. Anyway, my readers won’t be surprised by what I have to say today regarding everything involving tomorrow’s anniversary.

What will shock my readers is that I’ve actually made a blog entry for the first time in four months. More on that another time.

As I’ve said before. I live here in New York City. I’ve lived here just about my entire life. I lived here before the Twin Towers were visible and lived with them as they dominated the city land and sky-scape.

Nine years later it is still strange to me to look out and not see them from various spots in the city. From West 4th Street and 6th Avenue, to the Smith and 9th street stop on the G and F train in Brooklyn, from the Staten Island Ferry to the Ditmars Blvd stop on the N train in Queens. Nine years later there is still something not there that ought to be there.

I remember my last visit to the Observation Deck at the World Trade Center with my then 10 year old daughter as we looked out at the Liberty Science Museum, Long Island, Upstate New York and of course Manhattan Island.

For those of us that live here, we are constantly reminded. The skyline itself is an empty echo of the thousands of lives contained in those steel marvels of engineering. The many more thousands of lives left behind in loss and pain.

As I’ve pointed out, I somehow escaped personal heartache on that day. No one I directly know was amongst the murdered. But many I do know have lost lovers, friends, husbands, fathers and children. Every moment I talk to them on the phone, or see them on Facebook or have a cup of coffee I am reminded. Every waking day, they are reminded.

My heartache is for the heartache of those I care about and of course for the scar on the city for which I have a love/hate relationship and with which an indelible part of my soul will always belong.

It’s also no secret that aesthetically, I hated those buildings. While marvels of engineering they seemed out of place at the time. And I still feel that way about them then.

But now…

Like them or not, they were unforgettable, powerful and a kind of gateway to the city. A gateway this city no longer has.

The Statue of Liberty no longer stands in the shadow of that gate. A gate that increasingly seems to remain closed to what America is. There was a kind of sense of the Statue of Liberty showing her light to the harbor as she stood at the feet of the Gate that was the Twin Towers. A Gate now closed.

Liberty still shines a light onto the harbor, her words of welcome still inscribed. But God forbid you want to build a community center aimed at healing that gaping wound. God Forbid you make a place that yes, is primarily a Muslim Cultural Center but that also will house places of prayer for every religious practice available. God Forbid that an act can be made to reach out, to bridge the divide.

Oh you’re welcome here, but only up to a point.

September 11th must be a day of reflection, prayer and thoughtfulness. However it is you observe for yourself and ponder the nature of humanity’s penchant for cruelty and violence to each other and what we can do to grow from it, to be greater than it. To be better than we have been.

No, instead we focus on whackjobs burning books of worship, we throw parties to make money and then retroactively decide to donate the proceeds somewhere and claim that the party date was a coincidence. We claim to be thinking of the families of the fallen when we display our astounding ignorance of every conceivable fact and meaning. We exploit and wring our hands, but God forbid we actually solve the issue and learn to live WITH each other.

Clearly I stand in support of the Cultural Center known as Park 51. But I will not be joining the demonstrations tomorrow. I do not believe that September 11th should be marching or demonstrating for anything. ANYthing.

Anything else dishonors the dead and dishonors the families of the dead, whether at the World Trade Center, The Pentagon or that open field in Shanksville.

We need reflection. We need to think. We need to pray and send light. We need to volunteer. We need to really help.

As always I say we don't need to be told to "Never Forget". That's a self aggrandizing phrase promoted by people who are trying to be part of something that frankly they.just.aren't.

What happened was yes, a national tragedy. But the wounds are felt HERE. Not in Wasilla, not in Florida....HERE.

Any idiot will tell you that if you keep scratching a wound it will get infected. We need to stop scratching at the wound.

We Are Not Our Prejudices

2010-05-18T16:36:00.012-04:00

In 1966 and 67 when they were filming the original Planet of the Apes the cast and crew stumbled upon an interesting sociological phenomenon. For those of you who have never seen the movie or haven’t seen it in a long time, there are three species of ape featured; chimpanzees, orangutans and gorillas.

Roddy McDowell and his counterpart, Cornelius.

The makeup worn was extensive and delicate. Once on, it really could not be taken off for the entire day of shooting. Actors had to eat smoothies for lunch through straws…and delicately. So, meals were generally eaten with full on ape make up. Here’s what would happen.

No matter who was underneath the make up, black, white, Asian or otherwise, each of the three species tended to sit at the same tables with each other, never mixing until someone realized what was going on. The chimps would sit with the chimps, orangutans with orangutans and gorillas with gorillas.

This, to me, tells us a lot about how we as the animals known as human beings operate. We are naturally gravitated toward that which is like us, and suspicious of that which is unlike us. Old point, I know. But an important one because I think this goes to the heart of what America strives to be, as opposed to what it is.

We have initial reactions in our guts about what’s different, who’s different. These reactions are not rational, they are based on nothing more than fear. Sometimes there is a level of experience behind that fear. Sometimes not. But the instinctive needpreference to be with the familiar is paramount.

For some of us, this is a given and we develop, over time, a strategy to overcome our prejudice. We ask ourselves questions, such as; What am I really afraid of? What am I basing this reaction on? Can I get past this sensation to see what’s really there? With a little effort we tend to be able to move past it.

That’s why I have held to my belief that we are all racist in some way shape or form. It’s inherent. What makes us better, what moves us past that is our other innate behavior. The ability to question ourselves.

Some of us are better at it than others. I don’t have much patience for people who refuse to do it. People like George W. Bush, Sarah Palin, or for that matter Christopher Hitchens.

Some of us simply sink further into our prejudices. We remain comfortable with them. We look for statements and events that make that security blanket of the familiar thicker and warmer. We don’t notice that when we take that blanket and pull it over our heads, it gets too dark to see that there’s a world outside that blanket, and it’s not exactly a world that fits our warm comfort.

Hence, Arizona. Now look, I don’t actually have an issue with maintaining some enforcement of expecting people to have proof of citizenship on them. The fact is, if you have ID, you should have it on you. That’s true no matter where or what you are. But when the law suddenly states that law enforcement can act on its own hunches (because there’s no real way to define ‘reasonable suspicion’ any other way. ) and when you threaten that the state can sue said law enforcement for NOT acting on those hunches..well..you’re just saying that you’re making sure you look out for the unfamiliar.

My beautiful homestate filled with flawed sheeple.

Governor Brewer can state over and over again that racial profiling is illegal. But until she actually says WHY it’s illegal and listens to the Sheriff’s of the border counties on why the law makes it harder not easier on their efforts, then she’s acting on that prejudice. She proves my point even further when she signs legislation banning ethnic studies in her state for middle and high schools.

(It’s worth noting too, that those Mexicans they hate so much were there first.)

It’s no better here in New York City where two mosques are being planned for the area right across the street from Ground Zero.

Reprehensible Representative Peter King is offended and some 9/11 families are too as well as the same idiots who are afraid to try terrorists on American soil. Well, I’m sorry these people can’t see past their prejudices on this one either.

Honestly, when I first read about it, I too had a moment of twinge. I’m ashamed to say that my initial reaction was one of distaste. But then I remembered something. I’m an American and an intelligent human being and I stand for better than that.

Islam did not smash down the Twin Towers. A bunch of sick idiots following a power hungry schmuck hiding behind religion did that. And frankly every religion is guilty of that sin.

Let me explain something about the financial district of Manhattan. It is one of the most excellent examples of bad planning that you can imagine. Most of the tallest buildings in the city are concentrated in this area. An area where 60% of the streets are the same width they were 400 years ago when New York (then New Amsterdam) was first settled. To say this area is crowded during the day would be as if to say boiling water hurts when you touch it.

Those small streets themselves are lined with shops and food carts. The vast vast majority of those carts and many of those shops are owned and/or run by Muslim Americans. I’m talking about donut and coffee carts, falafel stands, hot dog stands, kebob stands, (is it bad that I keep thinking about Homer Simpson buying Kluv Kolahsh in front of the World Trade Center?) halal hamburger stands, pretzel and chestnut carts, jewelry shops, restaurants, delis......

So again…IT’S FUCKING CROWDED.

Now, you have a vast population of Muslim Americans working in this area. They have been here for a long time. Some of them were killed on 9/11. Are we actually going to suggest that they can’t have a place to worship, because they happen to share a claim to a faith that was had by the dickbrains that crashed the Twin Towers?

The fact is, we need a 13 story mosque in that area, because people of all faiths and professions literally spill onto the streets in that part of town.

When I worked in midtown it took me door to door 40 to 50 minutes to get to work. In the time I was working in the Financial District last year, 3 miles closer to me, it took over an hour. That’s because of crowd navigation. I’m not exaggerating.

So there is not only a spiritual need, but a PRACTICAL need.

Are we really going to not get past our own prejudices caused by associations that are more emotional than rational?

I say no. I say we are Americans and we stand for freedom.

It shouldn’t surprise me. Gretchen Carlson has the audacity to suggest that a Muslim woman won Miss USA out of political correctness. Other right wing idiots seem to be falling over themselves to join the chorus on that one. It couldn’t possibly be because she’s hot.

Actually, the real problem is that Carlson, a beauty pageant queen herself should be careful. All beauty pageants are bullshit and if she starts trying to peel away at that issue, she’s just going to skin herself alive.

We need to poke our heads out of our security blankets and see the world and recognize the world outside doesn’t have room for us to not question our fears.

I’m sorry for the grief of the 9/11 families. I am friends with a 9/11 widow who in fact thinks this is all nonsense. But they need to move beyond the blanket over their grief and remember who the real enemy is.

Otherwise the terrorists have already won.

They like us in our dark warm blankets, because then we can only see what’s in our dark little fearful minds instead of what is actually happening.

Let’s remember who and what we stand for. Let’s remember that for the past 150 years we have built this nation on the sweat and backs of the different. Let’s.Be.Better.

I also recommend this piece for some historical perspective on the Crusades.

Twelve Years

2010-05-13T18:40:00.027-04:00

Twelve years ago this week I was spending my days going through my father's apartment with my brother. Dad had shot himself on the 9th and his body was found by his oldest friend in New York on the 12th. Twelve years ago Wednesday.

Twelve years ago I was sifting through grief, memory and questions questions questions. Not the ones you might think. The fact is, when I got the call from my brother that the police had called him from Dad's apartment, I knew what had happened. I'd hoped I was wrong. But I knew.

Mom said it best that night when we called to let her know. "He was always so sad". It was true. He was also scared. Whatever the combination, he had a dim world view.

I loved my dad. He was basically a good man who never really dealt with his anger issues, his alcoholism or his strengths. A talented actor, he'd packed us up from Tucson Arizona, sold the Ford Falcon and got us on a train to New York City and went straight into substitute teaching and social work. His career as an actor was essentially small productions in holes in the wall (before the moniker "Off Off Broadway" was coined.) and extra work in movies.

As a kid I would listen while he would lament the vagaries of the business and how hard it was...and it instilled in me the belief that the business was indeed brutal. It didn't stop me from wanting to be an actor. It didn't stop me from thinking I could do better. But these things are insidious and the sins of the father are often visited upon the son. His beliefs did become mine and even when I achieved some pretty good if minor successes, my joy would be tainted by fear of the success not lasting.

Now to be sure, being an actor isn't easy. It can be brutal, but I can see very clearly as I look back how my own thoughts and feelings that were inherited affected the way I approached my career and subsequently the way my career developed...or didn't as it turns out.

Twelve years ago fears and doubts overtook my father to the point that he no longer was able to reason. This man who raced down the street with me...encouraged me to take the training wheels off my back when he knew I could. The man who when he saw I was floundering in my efforts to audition for the High School of Performing Arts bought a gazillion plays for me to look through and helped me find the right pieces and even coached me. A man who as a social worker had saved or improved as best he could, so many lives, wasn't even able to remember a simple meditation technique because anxiety had overcome him.

He'd been given Buspar and started to take it, then stopped. 12 years ago it got so bad that he sat at the edge of his bed and ate the barrel of a .357 magnum. He left a note that was really more of an excuse than anything else. Fears of a cancer that didn't exist.
Two weeks later, the girl he wanted to marry, a dancer from Japan was finally allowed back into the country. He'd become convinced it wouldn't happen after months of legal back and forth. Fear of being alone and abandoned convinced him that his life wouldn't work out as he desired. So it seems he decided to just stop trying.
12 years later I still wrestle with loving him and hating him. Remembering his capacity for compassion for everyone while he seemed to only have pity for himself. I am sometimes on the edge of forgiving him. And then I remember having to tell my daughter what happened. I remember how as she is now almost 20 years old, she can't play chess because that's what she used to do with Grandpa. I can't quite do it.
For the past 12 years, for about 3 weeks before and after the anniversaries, he shows up in my dreams. Sometimes as if he's never been gone, sometimes as if he's only been on some trip in South America or something and we all just THOUGHT he was dead.I forget about it...forget it's that time of year...sometimes even the days of his actual death or the day he was found go by entirely unnoticed. Sometimes not.
Twelve years later I can watch Dirty Harry make one line comments about his Magnum and still get a kick out of it. But when Heroes first aired and there was an episode with half a skull being cut off and brains removed, I get completely worked up.
I wrestle with fear too. And it's not hard to see how it keeps me from acting. Clouds my thinking. I've made a decades long struggle of shifting from "can't" to "can". It hasn't been easy.
Twelve years ago I cremated my father. Twelve years later I'm still cremating parts of his legacy so I can rise from the ashes.

Fear, Loathing and Godwin's Law in the United States

2010-04-28T21:10:00.014-04:00

I want to begin my blog entry with this clip from Chris Matthews' show Hardball this evening.

I'm not the greatest fan of Mr. Matthews. He's the kind of guy that is too in love with the game of politics most of the time. He tends to miss a lot of things, but I do admire his tenacity and his drive...and the very enthusiasm that annoys me, also amuses me. But he's right on the money in this final comment from tonight's show. So let's start here before I talk about the state where I was born, Arizona.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

OK, first point made. I agree. Can we drop this shit already? Godwin's Law covered...now to Fear and Loathing.

I was born in Tucson, Arizona, Pima County nearly 50 years ago. We left when I was just a year old and I've only been back twice since.

I love Arizona. It is breathtakingly beautiful country. Tucson in particular to me because of the Santa Catalina mountains that surround it and the unbelievable cast of light the sun makes when shining through the blue sky and through the wind carved mountains.

My grandmother and grandfather moved there in the late 40s from Waterloo, Iowa for my father's severe asthma. Basically, Arizona saved his life.

My mother's parents moved to Tucson in 1952 from Arcadia, in the Los Angeles area because of my grandfather's job moving them. A new plant apparently for Hughes.

The Santa Catalinas as seen from the University of Arizona in Tucson, my dad's Alma Mater.

Mount Lemmon, where my dad apparently spent many a college night with pals and a case of Coors. In the winter you can ski here and then drive over to Tucson at the bottom where it's 80 degrees.

Arizona was the place to be, the place to go. Jobs were growing, housing was booming. America's fixation with the myth of Cowboys and Indians was building to fever pitch.

Decades later, after we moved to New York City in the early 60s, Arizona began to fall on hard times. Terrible employment, decaying industry as like every where else, jobs moved out of the country. Sure there was the tourist industry and there's a fuck ton of wonderfulness to tour to in Arizona (notice that I haven't even brought up the Grand Canyon), but tourist dollars are never enough.

As I understand it things are starting to pick up a little in Arizona as they are slowly, oh so slowly picking up in the rest of the country. It's still got a ways to go...

So...why has the Arizona legislature created a law that has not only alienated it from so much of the rest of the country, just about the entire Latino population OF that country and threatened it's economy with boycotts?

Fear....and loathing.

Remember the USA Patriot Act? Same thing. U.S. gets attacked. White House and Congress need to look like they are doing SOMEthing...but they have no idea what, so they go with the easy instead of the smart. They are also operating from absolute fear. Fear of attack, fear of losing elections, fear for life of family and nation. Fuck with civil liberties, the Constitution and what we stand for in order to give the illusion that we have taken a major step to solve the problem. Then use the powers given by said act to listen to soldiers having phone sex with their partners overseas.

Now, the AZ legislature follows suit. Only they go even further. Arizona feels attacked. And not entirely without justification. Just over the border is Mexico, a country so thoroughly fucked up that to call it a rogue nation might be a compliment. The government there is dysfunctional. Drug cartels are running everything and so heavily out-arm Mexican law enforcement that they basically run the show....and they are now moving through to the U.S. to kidnap and ransom.

This is not a frequent occurrence, but once is enough.

Clearly we have a problem.

To be sure, illegal immigration has been an issue for a long long time and something needs to be done about it. But it's the Federal government's job as it is an international issue.

I'm not going to get into the inherent racism of the bill. Other's have written and blogged and broadcast about it. I can't add anything that is at all helpful except to say that I agree entirely. And so does the Sheriff of my home county.

Unfortunately he has a good bit of opposition among his constituents, but he's been sheriff of Pima County for 37 years, there must be more they like about him than dislike. But I'm encouraged to know that good men of courage and conviction are in the state to counter the cowardly acts of a legislature that can't function. For now.

There's a lot of bigotry in Arizona, so I expect that idiots who don't learn from history think nothing of having to show papers to police on a whim. MusingMadman (who is covering the outrage end of this argument very well, which is largely why I'm not going into it myself) already had a ridiculous argument with someone using the "If you're a law abiding citizen you have nothing to worry about" argument. I can't even begin to go into how fucking stupid that guy has to be.

Anyway, I happen to like what Lindsay Graham, John Kerry and Joe Lieberman (yeah, I'm liking something LIEberman did...scares me too) are pushing. It's a sensible law that solves the current issue and deals with the issue of those who have been here for a long time with humanity and logic.

Folks against "amnesty" don't like it...but that's idealogical claptrap. This is reality, Greg. (Points if you get the reference) There's just no way to deal with those any other way.

Congress has to act. It hasn't done so for many Administrations both Democratic and Republican. It's time to deal.

And then we have to deal with Mexico. There's a reason there's fence jumping. Mexican life sucks and there are American businesses perfectly willing to hire illegals because they are cheap and easy to control with fear.

We have to take out these drug cartels. We have to examine our own drug laws. Let's face it, the war on drugs isn't working from a law enforcement standpoint and it can't work unless those fuckers are wiped the fuck out. (By the way, guess where the Al Qaeda gets it's money). We have to find a way to help Mexico get it's infrastructure and everything else in gear so that Mexicans are happy in Mexico.

Remember, Canadians aren't jumping the fence to take advantage of our fabulous healthcare system. Maybe we can find a way to get Mexico working. What that is I really don't know. But there are plenty of good minds out there. Let's get to it.

As to Arizona, I have no doubt that this law will be found unconstitutional and the state will bow to economic pressure (as it did when it was a hold out for Martin Luther King Day). But Texas is already talking about similar laws. There's a trend here...the only way to stop the trend is to actually solve the issue. But too, changing demographics will reverse this trend.

On the other hand...I don't have an issue with Mexican drug cartels taking Texas out. Maybe we can let them secede.

Bottom line, I hate that Arizona has brought this nonsense on itself. I want others to love this state as I do. To appreciate it's beauty and potential. That can't happen while idiots, cowards and bigots are running things.

A musical interlude of sorts

2010-04-26T14:55:00.005-04:00

While I am working on a cogent blog entry on Arizona's latest misstep, I want to post this song for your listening and soulful pleasure.

I stumbled on this song while watching an episode of the TV show Castle, from last season. I think it really covers so much about what's at the core of human behavior and suffering.

Envy and fear are at the core of our anger most of the time, the core of action and inaction.

I have striven for years to free myself of these particular chains, with a modicum of success. Still working on it.

So I am sharing with you, my tens of readers...Enjoy.

Oh..and if you are as outraged as Leslee, I and many others are...join A Million strong against praying for the President's death on Facebook.

And now;

Tomorrow I'll post about my home state of Arizona, what's wrong and what's right.

Why David Gregory Should Be On The Unemployment Line

2010-04-21T18:59:00.013-04:00

The pathetic state of the press in this country has come down to this;

Outsourcing.

That's right. News organizations, unable to do their own work have gotten so bad at it that Sunday news shows have actually been offered the service of Fact Checking.

Now, let's set aside for a second the fact that really, when a politician is interviewed by the press that said press is informed enough on the questions they will be asking that they will not only be able to catch the politician on a half truth or out and out lie, but be able to keep that politician on their toes. They will be doing their job.

When a politician or any figure going to an interview with the press is not nervous, is not scared is not double checking their facts before going on, the press isn't doing their job.

I submit that when it comes to Meet The Press, politicians, especially those on the Right are likely enjoying a cocktail before their interview.

I've written before about how Dick Cheney got hours and hours of fun filled interviews with Tim Russert in which he was not challenged at all in the build up to war in Iraq. Russert, sadly, only woke up to the bullshit well after it was too late. I remember when Hillary Clinton was running for NY Senate and Russert moderated the debates between her and then opponent Rick Lazio. Russert pounded Clinton on the Lewinsky "issue" and pretty much gave Lazio a pass on everything. I'm told Russert was a liberal. Perhaps he was overcompensating, but I digress.

I may be a liberal but I want every politician to be fact checked, not just the Right. But mostly what I see is pretty much the opposite. The grilling is aimed at Democrats and the Left and Republicans pretty much get to say whatever the fuck they want. And twerps like Breitbart and the Fox Propaganda Machine whine about a Liberal bias in the press that I have yet to see outside of Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann.

And then there's David Gregory...This guy...dancing while Karl Rove is serenaded by a tuxedoed white rap artist who has probably never gotten closer to the inner city than his cleaning lady. Stuff like this makes me think of Max Von Sydow's line in "Hannah and Her Sisters"; If Jesus were alive today, he'd never stop throwing up.
The picture is fuzzy, but that's Gregory behind the rapper, thumbs up, bottom lip bitten.

OK...back to my original point (in my own roundabout way). I used to be addicted to the Sunday morning news shows. Face The Nation, This Week (way back with David Brinkley, then of George Stephanopolos, now Jake Tapper and eventually Christiane Amenpour) and of course Meet The Press, the longest running TV show in history, let alone the longest running news show.

When I started watching these shows, it was anchored by a reporter named Garrick Utley a very serious news man with pretty decent credentials. When I was a kid, I remember this show being an even more challenging (if boring to a child) place. The subject, be they politician, activist, celebrity etc, faced a panel of about 4 or 5 journalists. Those journalists ranged in the political spectrum from right to left and asked whatever question they saw fit.

I guess to save money, NBC began to pair it down...then the started a round table set so that every one was sitting at the same table all chummy and inside club like.

Utley retired and he was replaced by Tim Russert, an amiable man with a zealous love of The Buffalo Bills and a background in politics but not much background in journalism so far as I can tell. This only reinforced the "insider" game. He was chummy and palsy with politicians because, well, there were his chums and pals. And it became Meet The Press with Tim Russert, or essentially The Tim Russert Show. And so the chumminess increased.

Oh sure, he'd get a gotcha in every now and then but mostly he would be the only questioner and his questions, increasingly, became unimportant (i.e. fixating on Monica Lewinsky as opposed to say...healthcare).

Now, lest I be attacked for speaking ill of the dead, as I said earlier when he passed, Russert seems to have been a genuinely nice guy and was clearly loved. But the quality and standards of Meet The Press were reduced under his reign. That's just the way it is. And his untimely death resulted in it getting even worse.

David Gregory strikes me as the kind of guy who reads a little on a subject, makes a list of 5 questions to ask his subject and never veers off course...which of course allows his subject to get away with utter nonsense.

Months ago when he had Dick Armey and Rachel Maddow on the show, he let Rachel do his job for him by exposing Armey's corporate funding for the so called grass roots movement known as the tea party. Gregory sat there, his thumbs up his ass, while Rachel actually earned her paycheck.

That was the last Meet The Press I watched. I stopped watching This Week when it became clear that I was expected to take Michelle Malkin and Elizabeth Cheney seriously.

But now Politifact has stepped in and some have responded well. This Week has decided to use it. ABC is clearly looking to upgrade it's News Division with the hire of Christiane Amenpour and now they've gone further by perhaps deciding to hold facts up as an important part of political discourse.

David Gregory however, doesn't think it's his job and declined. Furthermore he said his audience could do it for themselves. Here Jay Rosen blogs with quotes from Gregory.

I don't find this surprising. The facts would not be helpful to Gregory, whom I suspect has an agenda. He's not a journalist. He's not even trying. He should be unemployed.

Read Joe Gandelman's excellent blog on the subject here.

If you're as annoyed as I am, look up this Facebook page as well and "Like" it.

The Press should not be an inside game. David Gregory wants to keep dancing with Karl Rove and he wants us to shut up about it. Maybe we can get him to shut up.

The Ash Kicking Our Ass

2010-04-18T10:59:00.012-04:00

In late August of 1883 the volcano at Krakatau (many know it as Krakatoa, but it's pronounced "ow" not "ohah") erupted. The eruption was so fierce and so powerful that the skies in London were red for days from ash in the upper atmosphere. The volcano itself essentially melted into the sea. It has since grown back.
Telegraph gave the news of the eruption but it was slow reaching. There was some panic, some fear in the areas that saw only a red sky. Understandable.

Last week a volcano erupted (called Eyjafjallajokull and no I am not going to try and pronounce it) in Iceland (in case you've been hiding under volcanic rock for the last 10 days) and a different form of chaos has ensued. Flights delayed and canceled because the ash is so thick and so strong that it is blocking the ability for jets to fly safely. Military operations are slowed or cancelled for the same reason.

Looking at these photos it is not hard to imagine a less educated and more primitive society predicting the end of the world, apocalypse, etc. In the last few months there have been earthquakes and tsunamis all over the place. I have to admit, even I sit here thinking what the fuck is going on.

(I took these pictures from the following site http://www.swisseduc.ch/stromboli/perm/iceland/eyafallajokull_20100416-en.html but that site seems to be blocked now. A shame. It's possible I might get in trouble for having them?)

It's very easy to start thinking of God's vengeance, as Rush Limbaugh and Pat Robertson and that ilk start spewing. Even in this day and age. The weak and small minded use it to shore up their superstitions, their power-structures.

Unless you're one of those geniuses that believes the earth is 6,000 years old and that man used Tyrannosaurus Rex to pull his plow etc, we know that the earth is astoundingly old and we know that our time as human beings on this earth is a relatively tiny amount.

As much as I argue with creationists and anti global warming deniers on the right, I also argue with "tree huggers" on the left. Not because I'm not a tree hugger (because I am), but because I've always had a problem with the "Save The Earth" argument.

The Earth, my friends and loved ones, will be just fine. It's us that needs the saving. We're the ones that will be wiped out when weather makes things inhabitable. We're the ones that will die of radiation poisoning if some idiot decides to follow suit on blowing up a nuclear bomb.

The Earth, she will adapt. The forms may change, may mutate, but they will push through.

When you walk down a paved street and there's a crack in the pavement, in a short amount of time, there's a weed or a tree popping up. Here in New York, when a building gets torn down and an empty lot is left...a lot of brick and dirt and mortar, nothing more, mind you. The next year, that lot is filled with grass, small trees, etc. In two years you have a forest. The Earth always finds a way, Life always finds a way to exist. It doesn't need to be human.

I do have some belief in a higher power, but it isn't the God people go to church to worship and/or fear. I believe that there is power greater than humankind, and if the volcanic eruption and the ensuing disruption to our lives isn't a clear demonstration of that power, whatever it's source, I don't know what is. I call that power Life. I don't know if it's mystical or accidental or what. I'm just pretty sure it is what it is and it will do what it will do whether we like it or not.

We are nothing.

We are a brief and tiny species in a far far greater tapestry that may or may not be "God's plan", but is certainly something larger than we seem to be able to accept or comprehend.

We ain't all that. We need to get over ourselves. We need to take care of ourselves and each other. We need to stand (or sit) in awe of Life and be humble in our actions. Our advanced form of travel is brought low before a single action by the planet we inhabit.

God's not angry folks. The Earth is just doing what it does. Living. We're just lucky enough to be here while it does.

My trip to Dixieland (sorry)

2010-04-11T10:27:00.005-04:00

About a year or so after my ex and I separated I did what any frustrated, lonely divorced man in his early 30s would do, fly across the country to meet a woman I met online. Notice the word sane is nowhere in the previous sentence.

I was new to the internet and the chat world had completely hypnotized me. Also, I needed to get out of town and see a bunch of old friends.

So off I went for about ten days to Los Angeles. I'd arranged to stay with a friend who lived in Los Feliz while this internet woman and I planned out our time.

Those particular plans were dashed within 45 minutes of my arriving. But that's perhaps another blog.

I spent my 10 days hanging with friends and mostly catching up with my friend, Tess, at her apartment.

Tess was/is a costume designer and at the time was working in Names, a play that posed a hypothetical scene between Elia Kazan and other members of the Group Theater, the night before Kazan named names at the HUAC. The role of Stella Adler was played by Dixie Carter.

The production had developed a tradition Tess told me. On weekends, between matinee and evening performance, the cast and crew of the show was invited to Dixie and Hal's "house" for dinner. Tess said "Come to the matinee, you'll be invited, trust me".

Now I wasn't going to say no, but I felt sheepish about the idea of getting a free lunch at someone's house whom I didn't even know. Seemed a bit classless to me, but Tess told me not to worry about it.

I was not a big Dixie fan. Don't get me wrong, I didn't dislike her, but I only knew her from Designing Women, a sitcom I liked but only watched now and then. I had been a big fan of her husband, Hal Holbrook for many years.

Anyway, I saw the show and became a Dixie fan almost instantly. Her portrayal of Stella Adler (whom I'd also met at one time though briefly) was spot on and very moving. And her presence was undeniable.

After the show I had every intention of politely getting on a bus back to Los Feliz. It just felt too rude to me to do otherwise. But I did got backstage to talk to Tess. Tess introduced me to the cast bit by bit which of course included Ms. Carter. Tess told her I was an actor friend from college visiting from New York etc. and Ms. Carter asked how I liked the show.

I told her pretty much what I said here, and asked if she had known Stella Adler. She hadn't. I became a bigger fan as I said "Well, that just makes your performance even more amazing." She smiled and then put her hand on my shoulder and said "You're coming over for dinner, aren't you?"

There was a certain sternness and elegance in this question. Later I learned that Tess had already told Ms. Carter about me and had even said "he's probably going to leave first as he's kind of shy". So it seems she was being somewhat proactive..and terribly kind. It was obvious that she adored Tess. I was just lucky enough to be a friend of hers.

20 minutes later I'm at the mansion, being introduced to Hal Holbrook, and their chef who had made a delicious meal of spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. 20 some odd people walking around the yard, the beautiful pool and land.

I sat by Hal Holbrook and listened to him tell the story of how he couldn't mount this horse on one of the westerns he had done.

I have pictures of this day, but apparently they are in storage. One is a very nice pic of Dixie with her chef and another of Hal telling this story.

There's a lot I remember and a lot I've forgotten. A-it's a long time ago and B-I was rather ossified by the circumstances.

Dixie Carter was classy, full of grace and elegance. Hal was more down homey in his feel, but just as full of grace and his own elegance. They seemed quite the couple.

My fandom of Holbrook was fortified by meeting him, my fandom of Carter almost created from scratch that very day.

I never saw either again after that afternoon but I always remember that day as one of my life favorites.

It's very sad to think of the world without Dixie Carter in it. One less note of class on the planet.

My thoughts and sympathies to Mr. Holbrook and the family.

Rest In Peace.

My desktop, or Me In A Nutshell

2010-04-09T12:37:00.000-04:00

I'm just sayin......

2010-04-08T22:36:00.000-04:00

The Fallen and The Risen

2010-04-04T11:14:00.030-04:00

Jesus Feeding the 5000

Pretty sure you know who this is.

If you read this blog at all, you know that I'm not a tremendous fan of religion itself, so generally today being Easter doesn't resonate for me beyond being a day when I see people dress up and go to church, or kids going on Egg Hunts, etc.

A modicum of research tells us that Easter is a Christianization of Oestre, a pagan holiday celebrating the rebirth that is spring. It makes sense that the power structure of the church morphed the holiday into a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus from his crucifixion in the same way that the pagan holiday of the Winter Solstice eventually became the celebration of Jesus' birth.

Like I said, I'm not a religious man. I don't like church, or "the church". I am highly suspicious of anyone that tells me what, why and how I should worship a God I only suspect is there. I do believe in spirit, I do believe that there is something intangible to life that works around and through us, but I don't ascribe any one school of teaching. Religion is division to me, and there's too much of that in the world.

Not that I'm a great example. I'm a very angry man. Very frustrated. Of late I find myself filled with rage with the state of many of my fellow Americans.

I hate them.

I hate them with a fire that fills me with regret. I'm trying to find a way to love them. To love them and hate the ignorance that drives them. I'm trying to have compassion for Tea Partiers because I know what they fear, as deliberately uninformed as they are. I remind myself that while they hate things that aren't real, have shown real signs of racism, that they love their children and feel in their hearts that they are operating out of that love, no matter how misguided I may ~~think~~ know they are. I want to understand and have compassion enough for them that I learn to speak to them with that compassion instead of the disdain I feel now.

It's hard.

So on this day in which a great deal of the world celebrates rebirth in one form or another, I am also reminded that it is the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. And so...I will finish this entry with quotes from Dr. King and those attributed to the teacher known as Jesus.

I do this for myself as well as those that have chosen to speak with bricks, bullets and hate. Because I'm this close to taking up a gun myself and that is not the man I want to be.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars--must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation. Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength To Love, 1963.

Then Jesus said to him, "Put your sword back into its place; for those who live by the sword, die by the sword." Matthew 26:52.

Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true. Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength To Love, 1963.

But I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. Luke 6:27-32

I know that at some point soon, probably tomorrow, I will make a comment to someone about Andrew Breitbart, or Sarah Palin or Ronald Reagan or any number of "conservative heroes" that I find to be distasteful examples of humanity. I know I'm not perfect or all loving, but today, let me let this go. Let me feel just compassion and love for my fellow human beings. Let me remember that we are all afraid. We are all fragile and we are all capable of doing and being better.

Whether looked at from a biblical standpoint or simply an historical one, we are all fallen.

We are all capable of rising from the death that is hatred and vitriol to the life that is love and understanding.

I'm working on it.

I'm working on it.

Happy Easter.

My Savage Fandom (in which I recommend podcasts)

2010-04-01T14:05:00.003-04:00

A few years ago I finally broke down and got an iPod nano. It wasn't my first mp3 player, but I had gone a long time without one and I was working at a job where sometimes you needed the music playing in your head to help focus. (Later I learned that that is a classic ADD behavior...but that's a different point).

Through the iPod I was exposed to iTunes and through iTunes, podcasts. I now rarely listen to music on my nano, or my iPhone. It's all about the podcasts.

My listening range goes from the podcasts of Rachel Maddow and Keith Olbermann to fanboy podcasts for Fringe, Lost (two favorites), Joss Whedon to Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me and This American Life. Other favorites include Polyamory Weekly and I Want Your Sex and more.

One of my big favorites is Dan Savage's The Savage Lovecast, which is the audio version of his sex advice column. I've been reading him for years in The Village Voice and Time Out Magazine and watch him whenever I hear he is going to be on some show or another.

Savage is the kind of writer that I wish had been around when I was a teenager. We are about the same age so I assume part of why he does what he does is because he was aware of the same vacuum.

Dan has a great mix of humor, patience, outrage, compassion and tough love. He's not afraid to tell a caller that they are being selfish, or stupid or some general ass...but he is filled with understanding no matter the situation. He's also snarky as hell, and I love snark. But his advice, I have found is 99% spot on. There's no dogmatic approach to anything. His only agenda is to get the best information and most helpful advice and resources out there. Invariably my mind and heart will be changed by the points he makes. Without revealing details left by a caller he will research resources in the areas they are calling from and give them hints...sometimes he will even call someone back and broadcast the actual conversation on the cast.

We are where we are in life and generally I tend to believe that "the universe unfolds as it should". But for so long I was flying blind when it came to sex and relationships and at the less than tender age of now 48 I cannot tell you how many "aHA" moments I have listening to this podcast. I don't dwell on it but I am keenly aware of the very different choices I would have made in my life had there been someone like Dan to read and listen to 30 years ago. Oh sure there were resources, but you had to go to them..and the things I was thinking about were less obvious.

Having gone to the High School of Performing Arts I experienced many friends "coming out" during that time. But I'm not gay, my thoughts and "theories" and ponderings were different. My desires were different and I was too shy to express them or explore them at that point and I wasn't learning from watching my gay friends as they braved the waters of a more public life. (Remember that 30 years ago, even in "Liberal" New York, coming out as gay could get your ass killed or at the very least seriously beaten. Yes it still happens, but not nearly with the kind of frequency or general acceptance as it did then.)

My daughter's generation is so much more aware of what is out there and in there than mine was. They're more informed, in general, than we were. Oddly in this "post AIDS" environment, I think that people coming of age have more understanding, more education and more awareness of sex, sexuality, it's rewards and dangers than human beings have had in a long time. They aren't perfect, there's plenty of mistakes going on. But it all stems from ignorance (cough, Bristol Palin, cough cough). Dan's on the frontline of that war.

He is fun, funny, forthright and clear. He begins every cast with a rant of one kind or another, generally at Right Wing hypocrisy, and that is always massively enjoyable. And lest you think he's a partisan hack, you should hear how he lays into President Obama on Don't Ask Don't Tell.

Listen to it, tell your teenager to listen to it , tell your friends to listen to it. Spread the word.

As an addendum, when I tweeted about writing this entry yesterday I was tweeted by someone recommending Dear Redhead. I'll check her out. Apparently she's been described as Dan Savage with a vagina. The more the merrier I say...I'll let you know.

Sex is who we are and how we got here. We need to embrace it, own it and feel good about it. And that's why I listen to Dan.

The Pick Up Truck Guy took less than 2 months to become a typical Washington Pol. Surprise Surprise

2010-03-31T01:38:00.002-04:00

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Mia's Workshop at Shag

2010-03-26T13:23:00.001-04:00

A few years ago I experienced a kind of revelation about myself, or at the very least, a moment of self discovery that had been buried beneath the surface my entire life but for whatever reason.

I came to realize that my feelings and thoughts about love and sexuality and relationships were a lot more broad than I knew. That I'd always been this way but hadn't given myself permission to open up.

Caveat, for some of you may find this might be TMI. I'm going to do my best to reveal enough to be clear and not enough to scare anyone off.

I like some kink in my sex...it's not a deal breaker necessarily, but I strongly prefer it...and there are certain things involving rope and a willing subject that really work for me.

I also more and more believe in open relationships. This, you likely already know about me from previous blog entries but there it is nonetheless.

I believe that the greatest threat to love/marriage/relationships is rigid rules that have more to do with societal expectations and standards than they do with the human drives for love, companionship and sex. I've even half heartedly defended jerks like Mark Sanford on this blog...(However, John Edwards is indefensible. He's an ass of the first order and I am embarrassed beyond belief that I wanted him to win the Democratic Primaries over Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. But that's another story.) I believe that if we had more realistic understandings of the human heart, human desire we would be able to love eachother more honestly, with more compassion and more understanding and more maturity.

A few years ago I started attending a monthly meeting of polyamorists in New York, but not long into that I started working nights and so my involvement in the community faded.

One of the blessings of my recent unemployment is that my time has freed up and I've been able to attend some events that have enabled me to reacquaint myself with the "alternative" communities that interest me. I've also been lucky enough to win a LOT of freebies lately which I take a sign that I'm on the right track on a personal level.

One of the things I won was a free ticket to attend Mia Martina's workshop on open relationships at Shag, a new sex positive shop in the trendy section of Brooklyn known as Williamsburg. (Some of you might remember my walk over the Williamsburg Bridge last year into a part of this area and Greenpoint.)

I've been listening to Mia's podcast almost since the very beginning. I think at her third entry. It's been about 2 years or so I think. To me, it's an incredibly brave podcast. I think anyone that writes about their sexual exploits and adventures and mixes it with the bittersweet experiences of love and relationships are among the bravest people that can be. When I got onto Twitter I started following her there too.

A few weeks ago I actually got the opportunity to meet Mia at In The Flesh and was thrilled to discover that she is as sexy as her voice suggests as well as very sweet. She bought me a drink and we had a great talk. I've seen her twice since at other events and even got to meet her boyfriend once, who also strikes me as a rather excellent human being. So when I lucked out and managed to win a free pass to her workshop last night I was thrilled.

Shag is a terrific little shop. It's not like other sex shops you think of...if you don't look carefully as you pass by you would think it was just a nice little shop of hand crafted art and chachkes. A closer look or a glance at the wall where large graphic pictures of anime sex fantasies will clue you in rather suddenly though. I met Sam, one of the owners, a very nice and sexy woman herself and she led me downstairs where the workshop had already started (thank you VERY much G train for sucking even more than I had planned on).

Mia gave us handouts with brilliant recommendations on reading, podcasts and thoughts. She spoke about the nature of the communication one needs in open relationships and she defined the different types (with help from Tristan Taormino's book). She also handed out a sheet of questions regarding our own feelings and beliefs about relationships, emotions surrounding those beliefs. It was fun to see Mia read off some of the answers and discuss them.

There were a few other folks I know from Twitter there. And one I didn't realize until this morning. This made it even more fun.

I won't go into too much detail on the workshop itself...you should go to Mia for that and if you're in NYC you should attend her workshops which I am sure will be happening more frequently. Suffice it to say that it was great to meet others who are interested and to share experiences and notes and knowledge.

Mia's in open relationships of one kind or another for some time and she had great tips gleaned from her successes and misses and very funny stories about her own sexual/relationship journey.

If you're in New York, go to Shag...it really is marvelous and unique...and if you have an opportunity to hear Mia read her material DO SO. Subscribe to her podcast or listen to it from her website...But start from the beginning because there's an arc to it.

Below are books that are part of Mia's recommended reading. I concur. If you are at all curious about open relationships, whether casually or more personally, these are great books to read.

My Anthem

2010-03-12T23:10:00.005-05:00

I'm just a tad more than 2 weeks away from turning 48. This is why I'm going through this whole, what am I doing, where am I going ? phase. Unemployed now for over a month and doing interviews and trying to raise enough enthusiasm and salesmanship for jobs that just don't interest me enough for this much effort.

A lot of my life is a series of knockdowns and set backs. Still I am standing.

And that's why this song speaks to me so much. I've decided it's my Anthem.

Particularly these lyrics.

I'm at the borderline of my faith

I'm at the hinterland of my devotion

I'm at the frontline of this battle of mine

And I'm still alive

Also

I am lost

But I don't doubt

So I rise

I've the will to survive

Watch, enjoy the percussion that makes me sway in my seat, makes me march,

makes me remember it's never too late.
When that annoying fucking ad pops up in the bottom, just bring your mouse all the way to the right and click, it will go away.

So...what AM I doing?

2010-03-09T22:17:00.003-05:00

When I was 5 or 6 years old I started to get it into my head that I wanted to be an actor.

My mom and dad married in Tucson Arizona and a year later I was born and a year after that we moved to New York, so that dad could pursue a career as an actor. They'd sold the car and got us all on the train because my mom hated to fly (still does).

Dad's headshot from 1963

By the time I was 5 dad was working a lot as an actor on the side from being a social worker...but only as an extra in movies and commercials. Still to a little boy this seemed pretty exciting, especially as the bug began to bite me too.

At that point in my tiny life I had already run the gamut; policeman, fireman, secret agent, mayor but then the classic 'little boy wants to be just like dad' thing kicked in I started talking about being an actor. I started talking about it a lot. I even wrote a short essay in school and drew a picture of my dad in front of a camera, then added one of me in front of a camera.

But there was something more going on for me...it was going beyond wanting to be like dad because I kept talking about it.

Right around the age of 6 my dad said to me that there was a movie coming on channel 13 that I should see if I really wanted to be an actor. He told me that it featured a man then widely considered the greatest actor in the world and in one of the most famous parts any actor can play. He was talking about Laurence Olivier's film of Hamlet.

For what seemed an eternity I waited for this movie...I asked my dad all kinds of questions and he helped me to understand it.

Lest you wonder what the hell a dad was doing encouraging a little boy to watch a film of a tragic and violent play, let me tell you, my father was great at prepping me. The ending was hard, almost everyone dies, this is what a tragedy is...etc. Yeah, I think in this case, spoilers were acceptable, because it really did help.

Finally the movie was showing. I guess it was a Saturday night. A very special event. Possibly the first time it was on TV in New York since ABC had shown it in the 50s. Anyway. I was transfixed.

The film is as luscious as any black and white film can be. Filled with haunting atmosphere and cinematography...AND...it had a ghost in it

I found this thrilling. THRILLING. Slow moving. The eyes invisible behind the helm. Only a pained motion of a bearded face.

And the language....Let's face it...at 6 I had no idea what the fuck was being said...but it sounded incredible and I was "bound to hear".

I
Was
Hooked.

But what really got me in the end of this movie was the duel between Hamlet and Laertes. I can find no pictures to really capture the thrilling choreography and tension...but this too grabbed me by my Batman t-shirt and held me transfixed.

I was on the edge of the couch. I was haunted by ghosts, funerals, drowning maidens and Shakespeare's language. In short, I was ruined.

I went to bed that night, fencing. Laying on my back and crossing swords in the air until I finally fell into a deep sleep.

I woke up the next day, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was the actor's life for me....

to be continued...

Below are links through my Amazon Associates account to the DVD of this movie. You just can't appreciate the beauty of it here. You have to see it. It's well worth it and worthy of any movie lover's collection. I don't agree with the Freudian take of the movie, but it was the prevailing wisdom in 1948 and so is interesting in that context.

Then there is the Campbell Scott version, which for pure storytelling and stunning acting must be seen. Campbell is a grossly under-appreciated actor. I had the privilege of being in class with him over 20 years ago under Geraldine Page. Fecking Brilliant.

This city has lost its nads....

2010-03-06T00:07:00.002-05:00

"Well there are certain sections of New York, Major, that I would advise you not to invade"

Rick Blaine to Major Strasser. Casablanca. 1942

Alright...Last week I bitched about how this city has utterly lost it's ability to handle snow and I complained to Mayor Mike Bloomberg that we are becoming something other than New York City....

That was nothing...

Now...apparently because Mikey has whined about not wanting Khalid Sheikh Mohamad here...he's all afraid of the security risks and police situation and cost, blah blah blah...that we have to set aside what is GREAT about this nation...and this city and .

So let me get this straight Mikey....

It was okay to move our cops from various neighborhoods in NYC to Central Park for a month to protect these ugly pieces of shit. These traffic cone orange shower curtains that you could NOT get away from ANYwhere in Central Park. By the way...crime rates rose in certain neighborhoods because of the cop "migration" TO PROTECT SHOWER CURTAINS!!!!!

Christos pretentious "Gates"

And it was ok to pull all the cops and spend a gazillion dollars so that ~~The Republican Convention~~ THESE YAHOOS could live on their cruise ship and waddle into Madison Square Garden in the afternoon for their convention...shutting down businesses. (NYC lost money on this one).

I know, Tom Delay is missing. On purpose. I hate that guy too much to allow his face on my blog

Oh yeah...then you created "Free Speech Zones" Where protesters had to stay in cages...Yeah...that was sooooo brave, Mikey. And nothing expensive about that. (By the way, thanks Democrats for deciding this was a good idea for your convention too. Can we go back to the First Amendment now?)

Thank you bakelblog.com

But now...now...it's time for Khalid Sheikh Mohammed to face the music.

This guy

This.......guy

Now, we are so afraid of KSM and his buddies, that Mikey is afraid to have him here...it's too expensive. Too expensive for the man. Maybe Mikey can dip into that 85 million he spent to narrowly win re-election last year. Maybe he can come up with the dough from his buddies to cover the costs...The feds offered help...no no...still to expensive...read...I'm afraiiid.

Maybe we as New Yorkers can stand tall and proud and tell the world that KSM WILL stand in a civilian criminal court, because that's all he is...a little petty fucking thug criminal. Maybe we can stand tall and show the world that we stand for the rule of law and we even respect the rights of fucktwats that help engineer the murder of thousands. We stand for these things because we are Americans, we are New Yorkers. It is who we are.

Nope...it's who we were. We are the city that can't walk to the subway in the snow. We are the city that never lets our children out of sight even as it is safer now for children than it has ever been. We are the city that was understandably brought to our knees on September 11, 2001, yet almost nine years later, we are demonstrating that we are still on our knees. We are still unable to stand.

We are afraid of another attack. I've got news for you, my Mayor and my fellow New Yorkers. We may be attacked again, we may not be. Whether we try this schmuck here or not won't change that. We're New York. Ask London, Ask Paris, Ask Belfast, Ask Khabul, Ask Bagdhad. If you're a target, you're a target. New York is a target.

So....Really? We're really going to let these shitheads think they won? Have they won? Really?

Granted, Rick Blaine (nor the writers of that great classic) could not have imagined the horror of jetliners flying into towers. He was talking about Nazis marching down Delancey Street. But he was still addressing the spirit of this city. He was still talking about our resilience and defiance. The way we say "Fuck you" when we think we're getting screwed or insulted.

See what a great middle finger the Empire State Building makes?

We sit now, on our knees, afraid of another attack because we were going to try this guy rightfully. We were gonna be New York but instead, we are being who they made us. The President and the Justice Dept. are now reconsidering the plan to try KSM here and to move it to a military court because they can't get the cooperation of the city. So, Military Court. Different rules. Rules we don't need because this guy is guilty by his own admission, (despite the water-boarding). It isn't as though he had a real chance of getting off. We are afraid of another attack. We are afraid of our own laws. We are afraid of our own Constitution.

Nope...we are not New York anymore. Not Rick Blaine's New York, at least. Certainly not mine.

Really Mikey? Really?

Right...I must write.

2010-03-05T18:15:00.001-05:00

Heelllpp meeee....Heelllllp mmeeeeeeeee

This seems to be a repeating theme on this blog...how I'm not blogging.

I wrestle with ideas and thoughts and the "oh, who wants to read about your crap?" crap. And then the day is over and I haven't written a damned thing....this time around it's been ...well it's been a fucking long time.

So...here's what I'm going to try and do. I'm just going to write...bullshit sometimes...maybe more often than not I'll actually say something of interest to more than my former cat. But I'm going to do it...every day. At some point I might hit my stride.

The thing that sucks the most about writing is that you have to write.

Ok..that sucked...but it's done. I'll be back tomorrow.

Snowbigfuckindeal

2010-02-16T22:51:00.000-05:00

In April of 1969 I was newly 7 years old. I was going to P.S. 116 on Menahan Street and Knickerbocker Avenue. We had a ginormous blizzard. So big that we could build snow tunnels from our stoops to the cars on the curb...It was amazing.

This storm is famous for how it crippled the city and how Mayor John Lindsay handled it so badly it nearly cost him re election. Parts of the outer boroughs of Queens and New York were inaccessible for over a week.

Back in the 90s we had a huge blizzards that lasted the entire winter because of El Nino. Seriously, both years. I believe 1995 and 1996 the last of the snow that melted in April had actually fallen the previous November. People didn't even bother trying to shovel out their cars after a couple of weeks because it was just going to get buried again.

You know what we still had then? During all those storms? All those years ago? With weaker technology and fewer resources?

SCHOOL! WORK!...nothing got closed. If you could show up, you did. You know why?

We have these modes of transportation in New York...had them for about a hundred years or so

They are called SUBWAYS. THEY RUN UNDERGROUND. They suck a lot...but THEY RUN. It's how we get from point A to point B in this town.

But something happened in the last couple of years and I don't know what the fuck it is. But we've started closing school pre emptively. We've started cowering in our apartments.

Hell, I was to go to an event this evening but the snow was so heavy they decided to cancel it. Except the snow wasn't that bad and about 5 minutes after the cancellation the SNOW STOPPED.

Dear New York City,

What the fuck happened to your balls? Get up off your ass, put on some motherfucking Totes boots and WALK through the goddam snow!!!!

Stop whining. Fer chrissakes, they are laughing at us in Buffalo. BUFFALO IS LAUGHING AT US. BUFFAFUCKINGLO!!!!!! Are we seriously going to let them deserve to deride us?!!!!!!

Mayor Bloomberg, I thought you grew up here...are you seriously making us act like whiney little children around a bit of frozen rain. Is this the city you want us to become?

It's bad enough Giuliani began to turn us into a giant shopping mall. Do you have to turn us into castrati to boot? I love the pedestrian areas and cutting traffic from parts of Midtown...but if the price we have to pay for this is we become an emasculated little weak bunch of whimpering sheep, I say bring back the trucks.

I hate winter, I don't like the cold, but you know what? I go out in it. You know why? I HAVE SHIT TO DO AND A LIFE TO LIVE!

This isn't snow so deep you can't open your front door like they get in Iowa. This is not even a foot and a foot isn't even that hard.

IT'S.JUST.SNOW.

Get the fuck over it! Grow some nads!

BE NEW YORK....not....I don't know....fucking NEWARK.

(sigh)

Something in the air?

2010-02-11T10:13:00.002-05:00

If you follow me on Twitter at all you know that I was laid off this weekend. Which in and of itself is weird because I don't work on weekends. Or haven't in awhile. But there it is.

The third party that I had been temping with for the last almost 3 years let a bunch of us go in a last minute decision to cut costs, right when work was actually starting to get busy again. I'd blame the bank, but it's the third party that made the decision and..well...more on them another time.

They were good enough to offer 2 weeks of severance which in the Temp World is pretty much unheard of, so it took the edge of. It helps that my agency at least appeared to be on top of finding me work from moment one.
However, things seem to suddenly be at a standstill after a lot of language about getting things moving. Last week, before the layoff, I had called about possibly moving over to a legal firm where A-the money is a little better, and B-generally different (better) working conditions. I was told that right now they are only really hiring people who have been in it for awhile. Now we are all being encouraged to submit for it. So which is it, they are hiring or not hiring?

Then there was the rush to get me into a 4 hour training to prep for a test for another bank because that bank is apparently in a big hurry to hire. We get the training...time passes and there is absolutely no information on when this actual test is supposed to happen.

Now the direct deposit for this week failed and the day after it still seems to be failing. So I'm operating with 9 dollars in the bank and a pending child support check to my ex wife that will bounce.

Is the Universe trying to tell me something about continuing as a temp? At least with this agency?

Did I Fall Asleep? I'm afraid not...it's really over.

2010-01-30T22:21:00.005-05:00

Warning: This is fairly spoilery if you haven't seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly/Serenity or the series finale of Dollhouse.

Dichen Lachman, Tahmoh Penikett, Fran Kranz, Olivia Williams, Harry Lennix, Enver Gjokaj
Eliza Dushku

It can definitely be argued that Joss Whedon tells pretty much the same stories with each of his projects, or at the very least, revisits the same themes while messing with the way he tells the story. This is not a complaint. I love how he does it.

For this blog I'm just going to focus on the main one; Female empowerment out of victimization. Buffy is strong but only because the first slayer was violated by a group of male high priests with demon energy, Cordelia is also imbued with demon energy, and yes she does so willingly, but later we learn that she was tricked, in the same series Winifred Burkle becomes the embodiment of an ancient and long forgotten god only through being made a sacrifice to that very god, and River Tam is tampered with to the point that all that is done to her by the Alliance Government brings out her genius and super powers and perhaps ultimately the end.

And then of course there is Caroline who through the manipulations of the Rossum Corporation and the Dollhouse becomes Echo, a high powered Matrix like hero but embodying the opposite of Neo's cluelessness.

All of these women rise from the ashes of thinly veiled metaphors for rape.

In the early part of the first season of Dollhouse many women, including fans of Joss Whedon's work complained that the show seemed to glorify the exploitation of women. This was nonsense. If you know anything about Joss Whedon you know that he is more of a feminist than my mother, who was a vice president of a local chapter of NOW for several years.

When it comes to Joss, you have to stick around for the long view. I learned this in Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Joss had Buffy meet the infamous Dracula in the season premier. That episode ended with the sudden and seemingly shark jumping introduction of Buffy's younger sister. When I saw this I was furious, not only was the actor who played Dracula abysmally bad, but the introduction of a sister out of nowhere?!!!

What.The.Fuck. (a)

BUT, I learned quickly, there's always a longer story, and a few episodes later we learn that the sister's existence has a purpose and that while badly acted, the character of Dracula introduces aspects of Buffy's being that we do not fully understand until the Seventh Season and that echo the warnings that came to us in the finale of Season Four. Further, a few years later as I introduced my daughter through the series on DVD, I saw how the coming of Dawn was foretold in the end of the Third Season, by none other than Faith (played by the ever hot, Eliza Dushku) in a shared dream with Buffy.

I am being wordy here because it brings up how the Fox Network has now twice failed the fans by their nearly militant refusal to appreciate good storytelling. Even if it happens to be a similar story to the last time.

They did it with Firefly, and they did it again with Dollhouse. And in the same way that Warner Brothers screwed Angel at the last minute, Fox left the Dollhouse crew precious little time to wrap up their story in a completely emotionally satisfying way.

And yet, like the ending of Angel, the Whedon crew managed to pretty much pull a small rabbit out of their hat. A small one, but a rabbit nonetheless. A lesser crew would have had Sierra waking up, walking to the bathroom seemingly disoriented only to find her loving husband Victor in the shower..it was all just a bad dream....except Victor is a Replicant....and isn't that Bob Newhart's wife in the bed? (ok, that last one was an awesome finale actually).

I just finished watching the Dollhouse finale, "Epitaph Two" and I am indeed sad and a bit teary eyed. To be sure, the impact of E2 is best appreciated if you've seen "Epitaph One", and if Fox were worth half a dog turd they might have screened that episode last week before showing this one. But that's asking the impossible.

Earlier today I was chatting with @2MuchPerfection who had seen the Dollhouse finale already. She is also a fan of Buffy though never liked Angel (I still think she's cool though) Her words "Joss is so predictable. Someone sacrifices, someone you don't want to die is killed and the world is alright again....not that I didn't like it. I can just see it coming"

She was right, but because Fox gave Dollhouse 5 episodes to wrap things up, I find it easy to forgive that certain parts of Whedon's formula are repeated so blatantly. And the unwanted death happens so fast and so without closure, that it still has impact.

As I watched tonight's episode I mourned for the stories we will never see. Alpha's struggle and eventual redemption (not unlike Spike's at the end of Buffy. Topher's sacrifice as well had echoes of Spike and even a touch of Wesley), the continual attempts that Paul makes to reach Echo/Caroline. The adventures that Meg, the girl Caroline and Zone as they make their way from Los Angeles to "Neuropolis" (Tucson, where I was born, by the way, just for the fun of knowing it), what does Dominic do and what is his journey after he is set free from The Attic, how long does Echo suffer through headaches before she makes peace. So many journeys so many variations on the story that could have been explored if the Powers That Be just let Joss be Joss and just.let.him.tell.the.fucking.story.

Parts of this finale were disappointing, but only because so much had to be covered in so little time. For me it was emotional and sad and the very last moment broke my heart. How even more heartbreaking if we had had time to learn more about Caroline/Echo's loneliness and isolation (again, themes embodied by Buffy, Angel and Malcolm Reynolds before her).

I loved this show from the start. I didn't need time to warm up. There were dips here and there, but I knew Joss was leading us somewhere somewhat new. (I will blog in detail soon, episode by episode.)

But his messages are the same. We can be stronger for our suffering, we should stop tampering with ourselves unnaturally to make ourselves better, and saving the world always, ALWAYS requires sacrifice.

Also...we ~~like~~ ~~love~~ ~~adore~~ ~~lust after~~ hot chicks with super powers.

(a) just a side not in the form of a footnote, Garry Marshall, producer of the show Happy Days, from whence the phrase "jumped the shark" was created, likes to boast about how high the ratings were for the episode where Fonzie, in a bathing suit and leather jacket, does the water ski jump over the shark, earned that show the highest ratings ever. But what he fails to understand, and I admire Mr. Marshall, is that even though it got high ratings, it was still the beginning of that show's spiral into utter stupidity

Me and the Glass Family

2010-01-29T03:07:00.000-05:00

Like most of my generation in the United States, I was introduced to Catcher in the Rye in high school, and like most of us I felt a certain kinship with Holden Caulfield.

But it was Franny and Zooey that really hit me where I lived and live still. Now it wasn't that I had a family like the Glasses, a home filled with angsty geniuses. Not at all. But they were fascinating and beautiful and just as angsty as I felt in my late teens.

I fell in love with Franny, the sister who was in withdrawal after ages of spiritual exploration, huddled up in her room, isolated. Still trying to figure it out.

And I felt I WAS Zooey, in so many ways just as lost but somehow having a peace with it. Knowing something of the answer but still searching for it.

He has this great speech early in the book where he criticizes himself and his family and how they are too damned smart for their own good and seem to have lost the ability to really relate to people one to one.

I made that section of the book into a monologue, and in college I worked on it in my acting class. I felt such a kinship with Zooey that I wanted to continue to explore his character. In some ways I was pretty obsessed. But there was something about working on it that made me feel I was understanding something about myself. Or something like that.

After I left college at the end of sophomore year I muddled around a little trying to find and create my own threatrical projects and groups. I was fortunate enough to find my way to studying with the great Geraldine Page, through her (also very talented) sons. Among other pieces, I continued to bring my work on Zooey into class for Geri to look at. We worked on it...and she was a wonderful teacher about whom I will write more on another time. But when she took a couple of weeks off to go to the Oscars (for "Trip To Bountiful", I think) class was taken over by F. Murray Abraham.

The first day that Murray came in I was scheduled to bring in Zooey. By now I had been working on Zooey's talk with Franny over the phone. Franny is holed up in her room and the only way Zooey can seem to reach out to his sister is by calling her as she sat in the next room. He goes on to describe all the ways we try to find ourselves and the truth in the world...what it all means. How bullshit some of it is, and how simple the truth is. It's been a long time and much of it escapes me now and sadly my copy of the book is in storage at the moment. It's very hard to describe the esoteric truth that Zooey tryes to convey to Franny, that the essence of life, (as their oldest brother had told him before his suicide) is in everything, that the homeless guy that he saw every day was "Christ himself, Franny...he's Christ himself" in the sense of the truth of it being within everyone and everything. And that in the end, it's just not that complicated.

Franny comes out of her isolation, and Zooey himself somehow has managed to guide himself to a sense of understanding too.

When I did the piece for Murray and finished he was silent and a bit misty eyed. It turned out that this was one of his favorite books of all time and that he too wished he could play Zooey. He gave me a simple note...that I had everything I needed to portray Zooey completely, it was clear that I understood him and all the levels of his thoughts and feelings...but there was one thing I had forgotten in all the time I'd been working on it.

"John, the one thing you have to remember...he is saving his sister's life. You don't have to think of anything other than that because you know Zooey I think maybe better than *I* do...and I know him pretty damned well. He's saving his sister's life."

Of course he was right on the money and his note to me was parallel to Zooey's message to Franny. It's simpler than you think it is. And it almost always is like that.

I realized then and now that I was drawn to Zooey because in my head I'm constantly having that talk with myself. My Zooey half is trying to save my Franny half's life.

So far I think I'm succeeding.

Thank you Geri, Thank you Murray.

Thank you, Mr. Salinger. Funny how the wisdom of your books drew you to isolation, I so hate that you are no longer in the world with us, even within that isolation.. It's a lesser world for your absence, but I am a richer man for your words.

Rest In Peace Old Friend

2010-01-26T13:41:00.003-05:00

7 years ago I replaced the local made piece of shit computer that I'd had for about 2 years with a Dell Dimension 2400. It was sleek, dark grey and dark blue. 80 gig HD, decent integrated graphics and could do up to 2 gig of SD Ram. She was sweet. I named her Gort after one of my favorite movies.

She's been moved, bumped around, upgraded, downgraded, sidegraded...For the last 3 years she's been on almost constantly. And she has always performed gracefully.

In the last 6 months, Gort's age began to show. She just couldn't handle some streaming video...I had to upgrade with a video card that she could barely handle just to get Second Life to run relatively well. And she needed to be rebooted often.

Then a couple of weeks ago she contracted a small virus. Odd in that it came from a site that was deemed safe, and commonly visited by many, nonetheless. There it was. It was handled well enough after a couple of days...But the next day, clicking on a charity link posted by my twitter friend @nandoism she got another one...and this one was big.

Now before I continue, this was a legitimate site apparently. @nandoism put it out there as a way to help gay teenagers who are on the verge of suicide. Many have visited it, so I'm not suggesting that @nandoism put a bad link out there. Clearly, Gort was just too susceptible and something along the way hit her...the link just...I don't know...brought it out?

At any rate, the decline was fast. The virus targeted the only anti virus and anti malware software I have, disabling its .exe file quickly.

I downloaded AVG and it only made matters worse. AVG did nothing to prevent further infection and did nothing against the current one. In fact I got more malware than ever in 24 hours than I had in 7 years after installing the piece of shit.

Further, AVG ran so hard in the background that booting up took 30 minutes and opening any application took about 15.

After two days of continual working on her, Gort finally seemed to be getting better. But when I came home from work at 1:45 am, the HD was back to spinning wildly, malware pop ups were all over the screen and I couldn't get anything done.

So I shut Gor down, waiting for the replacement OS disk to revive her after a reformat. But I have to face facts. She's very old for her kind. She's worked very hard for me. I may just have to let her go.

I've done a lot through Gort. I've role played many stories. Made very good and meaningful friends through her. I started this blog with her.

It's silly I know. But 7 years is a long time. And I will miss her.

She's been powered down for 10 hours now...the longest she's gone being down in a long time. It feels weird.

I have a spare...one of slightly less power and ability that I got through a friend's client for free a couple of years ago, so my ability is fine enough. And soon I hope to have a new laptop.

It's not like I didn't know this day would come. Still, it feels weird. Funny how one can get attached to things, even when approaching half a century in age.

Goodnight Gort, sleep well. Maybe I can get you back up and running or maybe I'll just let you rest in peace.

Either way, thanks for your hard work.

So...it's time to see if I can make the internet work for me in a new way

2010-01-22T13:36:00.001-05:00

So as the few of you who read me know, I'm a mix of many things on this blog...life stuff, politics stuff, pop culture stuff, rant stuff.

But I'm going to focus on the popculture geeky thing about me.

My dad raised me to be a movie buff. Not on purpose, but he was a buff and so he passed it on pretty easily. It worked so well that when I met my ex wife I got very excited about who her father was even as I knew I was very attracted to her. You see her father was a famous film historian/preservationist/professor in NY and I had grown up reading several of his books. That's a side point, but it gives you an idea of what it's like being around me sometimes. Anyway, my enthusiasm for movies became an enthusiasm for things pop culture, etc....

So here's the thing...I have this blog, and I have this fetish for pop culture and I have this need to express what I'm thinking to people who may or may not give a flying rat's genetically engineered human ear about. AND I need to make some extra money.

So I've been pondering the idea of doing reviews of various TV shows, movies, books, etc that I have experienced and offering said items, when applicable, for sale through my Amazon.com association. The way it works is I have a product linked here and you click on that link and buy that product. When you do that, Amazon sends me a percentage of the profit. A little here, a little there, and Blog Her becomes easier to manage, as does my Shakespeare Retreat in Vermont, as does my daughter's text books.

Part of me thinks this is great, part of me wonders if it isn't an ethical thin line. The thing is, I KNOW I'm not going to say something I don't mean in order to sell something. It's just not in me to do it. That's why as an actor I have a lousy damned commercial career. Indeed, I can see myself offering something up for sale even though I hate it.

The other thought I've had is to maybe make a different blog, that's specifically devoted to reviews. But that sort of takes away from the mixed bag that Gifts of Thought is supposed to be. Or maybe both. Do the review here but have a blog set up as a kind of archive/shop of past Opinionated Gift reviews.

So...I ask you, my friends and fellow tweeter/blogger/follower/reader friends. What do you think? Use the poll I've set up at the top and to the right, and if you want to add a comment, please do. Thank you thank you and ever thank you.

One Step Closer...

2010-01-20T02:28:00.001-05:00

One of my goals for 2010 is to reduce my expenses even further. My conscious plan involved getting rid of most of the things I have in storage through selling items, getting rid of stuff and moving other things to the basement of where I'm living now, the other is to get that second roommate here. Both attempts are going along slower than I'd like..but coming along.

This week I got a boost I wasn't expecting. Turns out, that my mobile phone carrier offers discounts to people who work where I work. 20% discount. Awesome. It was as simple as giving my work email and verifying a few minutes later.

Voila.
$150 a year saved.

That doesn't seem like much on face value, but considering that just one of my daughter's text books for this semester, cost that much used, I'm pretty happy.

I have already achieved one goal with further improvements coming. And it's still January.

YAY ME!

This makes me feel better.

2010-01-13T02:03:00.003-05:00

I've blogged a few times in the past about my beliefs and feelings regarding love, marriage and thus such things.

I think one of the things that I've found the most hurtful, depressing and discouraging of late is the continual defeat of Gay Marriage in this country.

Now I've said before that in terms of that, I think no one should have a governmental right to marry. As far as the state is concerned adults should be granted (without contest) civil unions. And civil unions can include any number of consenting adults. It means you have made a commitment to a person, or personS and they to you and eachother and that the state recognizes it for legal and tax purposes and that's that. PERIOD. Beyond that it's no one's mother fracking business.

Marriage, is ceremonial...and while I also believe that any and all consenting adults should be free to marry whom they choose, it belongs more within the purview of spritual institutions.

But we have been overhauled by branches of "Conservatives", Catholics, Mormons, Scientologists and other self righteous, moralistic fucktards that when law is enacted or a legal statement is made that recognizes that "gay marriage" is indeed constitutional...we actually go out and have a vote...and in THIS country, in The United States of America, in the twenteyfuckingfirst century, we actually allow people to vote away a "right" from other people.

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. My pastey white ass.

But then...a glimmer of hope. Which I will let Rachel Maddow explain in more detail. But finally, a prominent and truly bipartisan, NONpartisan approach to this repressive trend. What is in this video is not only hope to be free to "love as thou wilt" but even a glimmer of hope about the possible future of politics in this country. When wise men (and women) of good will, truly good will, stand together for something that is right, and good, and toss away whatever wing of politics they fly under because it doesn't matter. Watch this. I hope that it will make you, as it did me, proud to be an American.

Bear with the advertisement in the beginning. You can click on the X in the circle fairly quickly and watch the real thing.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

I'm not in the mood

2010-01-12T14:11:00.001-05:00

I haven't blogged since New Years. I haven't felt like it.

No, that's not it. I've felt too much like it. Sort of.

I hate every idea that pops in my head, every opinion that circles my psyche.

I'm sick of myself.

Alright...that's kind of harsh. But its the clearest way of expressing it I can come up with...and its in my nature to be hard on myself.

Something comes up and I think...yeah I'll blog on that...then I think...oh who gives a shit.

I don't really know where this is coming from. But it is what it is.

I'm not in the mood.

So...in the end, I write about not being in the mood to write. So there.

Twentyten, Twothousandandten....whatever

2010-01-01T17:41:00.001-05:00

Like a growing number of us, I don't do resolutions. I do set down goals.

I don't adhere any attachment to accomplishing them. They are things are strive for and do what I can to achieve, but I don't invest my entire identity on something that might change at any time.

Having said that, here are goals I intend to achieve one way or the other by the end of the year.

Continue to grow closer and more understanding with my daughter.

Significantly reduce if not eliminate entirely my debt, medical, consumer and tax.

Get to the Shakespeare Retreat this year at the end of August. It's our 10th one and I don't want to miss 4 in a row. It is my plug in.

Attend Blog Her and meet so many of the neat folks that I've met online.

More sex.

Liesure time. Enough left over from my financial obligations to go out with friends without stressing about bills.

Be more regular with the blog...At least 3 times a week. Give myself permission to let my entries be lame if need be. Just to get up and do something.

Meditate daily.

Continue to adjust my frame of mind to more positive thinking and less self sabotaging defeatist attitudes.

Visit my mother and stepfather more often.

At least two well paid acting jobs this year.

There you go...alright 2010, don't blow it.

Thank you, 2009

2009-12-31T12:18:00.000-05:00

A double rainbow in Vermont. Taken by a buddy.

It would be foolish not to acknowledge what went well this year, so here goes.

First of all, Thank you 2009 for the fulfillment of one goal I had for this year, a closer and better relationship with my daughter. It hasn't been smooth, but that's exactly part of the process. She felt safe enough with me to argue with me a few times and we've worked it out and found more common ground to communicate than just our love of pop culture.

Thank you 2009, for making up for the eviction by miraculously helping me into a terrific roommate situation. I really wasn't looking forward to it, but I found a place that is pretty good and a roomy who is enough like me in all the right ways that living with another person is easier than it could have been. Plus the dude makes the best pulled pork I have ever had in my life.

Thank you 2009, for introducing me to Twitter. Really that's because of Too Much Perfection. I still don't remember how I found her blog, but her twitter roll on her blog made me break down and try it and it's been fun to meet new people and get into some conversation and take on a Right Wing Nut Job or 3. As a result I will be attending Blog Her next year, which happens in my home town, but more on that in tomorrow's blog.

Thank you 2009, for keeping me employed. Temporary or not, lack of paid time off and holiday pay or not, its great to have had relatively steady income this year when so many friends and/or their spouses have not. It's a wicked rough world out there and for all that's been so hard this year, I'm glad to have not gotten further knocked back. Which leads to...\

Thank you 2009, for the chance to begin to etch away at debt, medical, consumer, tax and otherwise. It's gone slower than I had hoped, but it's gone...and that's important. It was a thinner Christmas than I would have liked, and this month's rent will be a little late. But I wiped out an entire section of debt left over from my hip replacement a few years ago...and that feels damned good in and of itself.

Thank you 2009 for the folks I have met in the blogosphere and twittersphere. Some real sweet people. Even a cybercrush or two (no I'm not telling). I do need to spend more time with my friends in the "real" world in the coming year, but I have found my cyber friendships to be fulfilling and meaningful and I hope they can say the same about me.

Thank you 2009, for me beginning to find my voice in the blogosphere...to really learn how to express, argue and rant my sense of things...its been helpful.

Thank you 2009, for helping me rediscover the joys of Brooklyn. It's interesting and beautiful here.

Thank you 2009, for the slow and steady clarity of vision about my life. Got a ways to go yet, but its gone better than it has in a long time.

Thank you 2009 for getting Healthcare reform on the table. I may not be happy about how its turning out, but I still believe it to be an improvement and a first step. Social Security and Medicare evolved as well. So too shall this.

Thank you 2009 to the growing number of folks who actually read my stuff here and respond back. It's really fun and heartening and motivating.

And finally, thank you 2009, for ending. I'm tired from it.

Tomorrow, what I'm looking forward to in 2010

Fuck You 2009

2009-12-30T15:36:00.001-05:00

It's almost over so I'm saying goodbye to the year in two parts.

Today's should be obvious by the title. Tomorrow's will be more positive.

Fuck you 2009, you started out with an eviction, upending my life and causing me to abandon 80% of my stuff.

Fuck you 2009, your recession halted my ability to find new or extra work to help my new situation along. You also pushed back for another 2 years the ability for the place where I temp to hire me permanently.

Fuck you 2009, for giving me more of that ignorant and manipulative bitch, Sarah Palin.

Fuck you 2009, for continuing to bombard me with that evil troll Dick Cheney's incessant and fearful nattering.

Fuck you 2009 for those teabagging morons who can't spell, read or think, let alone make a reasonable case for themselves.

Fuck you 2009, for making things more expensive undermining my paycheck.

Fuck you 2009, for not being much of an improvement over 2008 despite my best efforts.
Fuck you 2009, for giving my hip so much trouble. It's supposed to be less painful than it's been so you can go screw yourself.
Fuck you 2009, for Dick Armey, speaking of those moron teabaggers, for being the kind of douchebag smart enough to know how to make people into sheeple.
Fuck you 2009, for Jim DeMint, the hipocritical asshole that has more to do with how fucked up National Security is than anyone else, but plays it as if it's Obama's fault. We don't have a head of the TSA because DeMint hates Unions. Country First, douchebag.
Fuck you 2009, for teasing us with Obama's election but sticking us with the worst Senate in memory. Not to mention Obama's penchant to stay out of things...very disapointing.
Fuck you entire decade for Joe Lieberman.
Fuck you 2009 for the bullshit racket of college textbooks. $150 for the Spanish language my ass. And that's just ONE textbook.
Fuck you 2009, for being the third year in a row that I wasn't able to do my retreat in Vermont this summer.
Fuck you 2009, for letting FOX cancel Dollhouse.
Fuck you 2009, for Snuggies.
Fuck you 2009, for killing off teachers and old classmates.
Fuck you 2009, and good riddance.

Tomorrow I'll say things that refute almost all of this, but venting comes first.

Thanks for listening and your tolerance.

Sunday Grateful: Tom et al

2009-12-13T13:09:00.005-05:00

I'm about to head out to see some family for Hanukah today. For the second time in the last few years I am going without presents for my little cousins.

Just too broke this year to pull it off. It's a little challenging to be grateful today for that but I am focusing my mind on how I'm going to work things better in 2010 to be able to have a stress free Hanukah and Christmas shopping season.

Having said that....

I was at a couple of parties yesterday that were fun. One to someone's place I barely know but who lives not far from me in Brooklyn. One to an old friend and his partner's, Tom (and Greg).

It is safe to say that my 30s were somewhat disastrous, divorce, semi homelessness, dad's suicide...it was really one of those get back up my feet, life kicks my ass back down kind of decades that lasted just a bit longer than 10 years.

My semi homelessness, due to under earning and the like resulted in me couch hopping awhile was about 12 years ago. The longest of those stays was at my friend Tom's. It was only supposed to last a few months, if that, while I gathered funds and found a place to live. This was slow going but then Tom got a gig working a show out of state and got the architecture firm he was working for as an admin to hire me in his place.

They were a few blocks away, nice folks and they paid really well. I worked every day and started a project that reorganized their storage closet and supply closet. (I'm fantastic at organizing other people's lives and things...my own?..not so much)

It was a good couple of months and I earned enough to easily afford the expenses of moving. About 3 or so weeks before Tom's return I began apartment hunting. One day I took a longish lunch and as I was leaving the office to take a look at apartments in a part of Manhattan, not far, where we once lived as a family, I ran into my dad. He lived still in the small apartment building he had moved into after my parents had split up and where I lived with him when I was in High School, only a few blocks away as well.

He wasn looking old. A couple of months shy of his 60th birthday he looked a good bit older than that, and shaky. I tried to talk him into coming with me but he came up with some lame excuse about having to buy milk and then spoke obsessively about the things in his life he was worrying about. I'll save the details of this for some other blog, but I shrugged it off, gave him a hug and said I'd come by soon and we'd have dinner.

A week or so later my dad's body was found after he shot himself with his own .357 magnum. I got the call from the cops as I got into work that day after seeing my daughter, then 7 in her school play. I left quickly, running the block and a half and getting into the old place....

I called the office, told them what was going on. They told me to do whatever I had to do and not to worry about returning as obviously I would have priorities.

Two days later the accountant for the firm came over to give me my last paycheck which included the time I would have worked up until Tom's return with no expectation of actually working those remaining days.

It is a generosity I can never forget and am grateful for every time I think about it.

I spent the next few months going through dad's things, straightening out his affairs as best as possible and holding my ass together through a pretty awful period.

The money I'd saved ended up keeping me fed over that time rather than moving expenses and the time that all of this required kept me from finding work.

I ended up living on Tom's couch for another year. Tom charged a small amount of rent and I took up his living room for that time until I was able to move. I know it was hard for him. He enjoyed his privacy and was a single gay man at the time, trying to change that while his straight friend was taking up half his place.

It was hard for me too. Couches do not make great beds. But it was a lot less hard than any alternative would have been.

Last night as I was hanging out at his party he said "I don't know how you got through all that." I told him. "Dude, YOU!" It's also true that during that time I had other amazing friends who stepped up and helped out in ways that were beyond reason. My brother had friends who were also very amazing.

I will be grateful to Tom and these other friends until I keel over and die at the age of 120. I can never ever thank them enough or love them enough for helping me through that.

"How Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth it is....

2009-12-09T14:09:00.003-05:00

...to have a thankless child" - King Lear

Laurence Olivier as King Lear, Alec Guiness as The Fool at the Old Vic, London (1946)

This is a long one, I apologize.

I've written before about how proud I am of my daughter, who, at the age of 2 was diagnosed with autism. Mirror staring, phrase repeating, repetitive behavior, classic autism. I've written about how in many ways it was her own sheer determination and will that helped her break through a good deal of that to the point where she is high functioning and is now under the label of Asperger's Syndrome. I've never written about the part of being her dad that is painful, frustrating and makes me want to run screaming and deny that I am a father to anyone, let alone her.

Today will change that.

First, something to edify those of my readers that don't know what Asperger's Syndrome is.

This is the simplest comprehensive explanation of AS I can find. If you want, read this first, then go ahead. It might be helpful.

My daughter and I are in the middle of a kind of fight this week. Over the Thanksgiving weekend she got into a pretty intense battle with her mother and her stepfather. (To clarify, my ex is not married yet, but her fiancee has lived with them for a few years now so the relationship, while not official, is concrete enough.) My daughter likes digging at my ex wire, as teen aged, early college children are want to do. It went too far, causing my daughter's friends to tell her to back off and my ex wife to break down.

Now to be sure, as events were given to me, my ex was inappropriate a few times and has a tendency to invite this sort of abuse from my daughter without accepting that responsibility. But in the end, my daughter needs to learn when enough is enough. If you've read the link above, you can see how her AS plays into the already troublesome mentality of the late teens/early twenties brain.

Enter me, calmly picking her up on a Sunday before she heads back to school for breakfast and a calm talk about what's going on and how to patch things up. I won't go into detail, but it got ugly at one point when one of the adults lost it and set back my efforts considerably. It was a tough day, but eventually Sarah saw where she had gone too far, felt bad about it and owned up to it. There was peace in the valley, more or less.

I took her to the bus, she hugged me before getting on and thanked me, then off she went.

A little more background. Her mother and I split just before she was diagnosed as autistic. Over several years my ex and I tried to get back together, back and forth back and forth. Long story short, eventually we got smart and gave up.

During the time since splitting up the relationship with my daughter has been complicated for all of us. I alluded to an over possessiveness on my ex's part that created a block between me and Sarah that I didn't have the maturity to understand or work through constructively. The bottom line is that in many ways Sarah and I never got to bond enough in her babyhood. After I moved out, whenever I could come over to begin our weekends together, there would be tears. This was fine and understandable of course, but over time, its difficult to not take this personally.

The AS resistance to changes or shifts complicates this...going to Dad's house for weekends, Grandma's for Christmas, etc...all shifts that are difficult. And because Aspys have trouble with empathy at times, they don't understand the emotional impact of their apparent indifference or resistance. All of this I understand, but in the end, our history while filled with many wonderfuls is also filled with many rejections. Her rejections of me and as much as I get it, it still stings because frankly, its hard not to hear "I love you, dad" once in 19 years. Not because she doesn't love me, but because its just not something she can say. "You too" is the best I can get.

So, honestly, I am somewhat sensitive as a dad. Not one of the most mature aspects of me. But there it is.

Sarah and I had a sort of date this weekend to watch on Hulu from our respective locations, the last episodes of Monk. One of the ways that she and I bond is through the shows and movies we love. It's also a classic Aspy thing and it has made a difference in our relationship. We started to get much closer when I started turning her on to Buffy DVDs when she was 11. It continued with Angel, Alias, Firefly....Monk she found on her own but I was watching it too...and she relates to Monk (guess why).

So, it was something I looked forward to. We made the arrangement last Friday when we were all up at her school to see her ensemble concert. We agreed to watch together over the weekend.

Saturday didn't work out well because it was crazy around here with my roomie's party preparation, so we agreed on Sunday. Sunday was a series of phone calls on my part with schedule issues for her and subsequently me saying, ok..why don't you call me when you are able to watch, even if its not tonight. She agreed.

End of Monday I find on her FB status that she's watched the show and hasn't bothered to tell me directly. Now, I'm less pissed about missing the show with her, though I am disappointed. It's the not calling that gets me.

And yes, she's 19 and to some degree this is normal anyway...and combine that with AS its not unusual. But when I email her about it I get scolded for thinking its such a big deal, as if my phone calls weren't a cue that it was something I really wanted to do with her. To her it wasn't important enough because we weren't in the same room or couldn't talk about it during commercial breaks. So it couldn't possibly be important to me.

Ugh. She doesn't get that its rude, she tries to say that I could have called instead of me waiting for her (as if my 5 calls to her 0 weren't enough). It's the same kind of insensitivity that drove her mother to tears only a week ago.

I've spent 19 years enduring resistance, rejections, patching up fights, advocating for her helping her, coaching her monologues, staying in a city I have come to loathe to be near her, suffered financially to some degree for her and continue to do so. All of these things are things that go along with being a parent. And I don't want to play martyr to it, but today I am sick of it. I am sick of the treatment, sick of the life I live for it, sick of the nonsense drama I have had to deal with. Sick of the situations I am stuck in for her. SICK OF IT.

I know in a few days it will be ok...peace will be had...and that this goes along with the territory of being a father of an Aspy, who is 19, who has all the arrogant and stubborn genes of both sides of her family and who is also a spoiled brat (that I blame on the other parent...but it is what it is). It also goes along with the territory of a child who had the strength of will to pull herself from staring at mirrors in silence at the distance of half an inch, to moving to mainstream education, a specialized high school for actors and into college. Yes her parents helped, but in the end it was her will that pulled her through...and its that same will that makes me want to grow my hair back so I can pull it all out and run to California or Georgia or Arizona and forget I was ever a father. Today. Sometime later this week I'll be back to being proud as can be of her for one reason or another.

I just have to keep remembering, this comes with the territory, this comes with the territory, this comes with the territory.

Sunday Grateful

2009-12-06T10:29:00.005-05:00

Malachite is said to bring harmony into one's life. It is also believed that malachite gives knowledge and patience. Malachite is used as a children's talisman to ward off danger and illness. It is attached to infant's cradles.

I'm trying to return to this tradition. Like many of us I think its really important to just make notes, of what you appreciate in your life.

This morning I am starting by being grateful for coffee. Yes I know it's a drug and it doesn't REALLY wake you up. But it says 'Good morning' to me and it does indeed ease me into the day and give me a way to settle myself and gather my thoughts.

I had a really good time on Friday visiting my daughter with her mother and stepfather. It was a very pleasant and fun day despite the terrible tension of the previous Sunday. My daughter had a really great time. We enjoyed her company immensely and she was really funny.

When she had her ensemble concert it was the usual delight in watching her have such a great time.

I'm grateful that I am still employed in this rough economy, WhyIsDaddyCryin' recently lost his job and is undergoing all the frustrations that come with such things. And TooMuchPerfection's husband is now beginning a recovery from over half a year of being jobless. It drives home that I am fortunate and count my blessings. As well, I am keeping my fingers crossed that TMP's good fortune continues and that WIDC only finds that his life picks up after this snag as his blog seems to show that he will.

By the way, I'm grateful for my many blogger friends who are awesome.

I am grateful for this apartment I am currently living in. It's not ideal for a man my age to be living this way but the fact is that I have a really good roommate who is a nice guy and is a great cook. His holiday party last night was a gas and much needed and it was good to meet his good friends and eat that damned delicious food he made.

I'm grateful people in my life whom I love greatly and who despite how difficult I can be and how complicated my life is, love me back.

I'm grateful for you readers and my twitter friends. My world is expanded because of you and I am the richer for it.

I'm grateful that despite the economy I am taking stock in myself and beginning the hunt for new employment so that I can continue to improve and grow and lead the sort of life I want.

The return of the Sunday Grateful

2009-11-29T21:57:00.007-05:00

Image from http://breitstonecollection.com/

So, it was Thanksgiving a few days ago and its been a really interesting week of sneaky blessing lessons.

I started the Sunday Grateful blog inspired by Too Much Perfection...but my ADD kicked in after awhile and I wasn't particularly consistent. But the fact is, life really does seem to go better when I remember to be grateful for things, to acknowledge what is working in my life and keep my attention less so on the things that don't seem to be working.

This week a few things happened to really illustrate that its best not to judge your life so much. Religious people say that God has a plan for us. I've never bought that phrase. I'm pretty certain that God is pretty damned busy and doesn't have individualized plans for the billions of us on this planet...but that's for another day.

What I DO believe is that God, or the Universe or whatever it is, responds to our thoughts and behaviors as we dictate. And that sometimes things just happen. They might seem one way at a certain point, but later turn out to be something else.

Case in point: In January of this year I was evicted from my home of 10 years. That apartment signified the end of a 2 year period of time when I was essentially homeless and living on friend's couches and spare rooms. So, when I fell a little behind on bills from medical expenses and then when I unexpectedly became jobless for a year and a half and I was struggling to catch up on rent, you can imagine that finally giving up was a huge and painful decision for me.

I had failed to take care of myself. I had failed to be a grown up and meet the most essential of obligations, rent payment. A struggle of more than a couple of years that I surrendered on.

It sucked. I was down on myself, down on the world, particularly down on the management company that owned the building that was essentially moving ahead because a payment had been one.day.late. and they decided to stick to the letter of the agreement so they could renovate the apartment and install bad plumbing and wiring and charge 4 times the rent I was paying. But the bottom line was that I was a failure.

Jump ahead to last Tuesday and I get an email from a friend of mine who lives across the street from that old apartment. The building is on fire, people are jumping out of windows to the firemen below, smoke and flames are everywhere. Bad wiring is the culprit according to the fireman my friend talks to. My apartment is one of 6 that are decimated.

Suddenly I feel pretty damned lucky and the fact that I lost a lot of stuff in the hasty move I had to make pales when compared to the thought of losing EVERYthing.

Then on a smaller note, this Friday as my brother, his new girlfriend and I are waiting for the bus home from Atlantic City, we are cold. He has to be at rehearsal in NY at 6, I need to be at work at 5. We wait for the bus. It arrives, but its been to two casinos before hand and only has room for 4 more passengers...we are the 10th, 11th, and 12th among about 40. The next bus will make me late for work.

Greyhound decides to supply a second bus. This is not uncommon practice, but in Atlantic City the bus ride is a gamble like anything else and there's just as much chance we'd have been sitting out there waiting for the next bus, which might have been just as crowded.

So the new bus arrives, completely empty, which means that with everyone on the line, we still have a lot of room and can stretch out... a near impossibility most times. AND, the normally 2 and a half hour ride to NYC is 2 hours and 10 minutes. So I am actually earlier than expected. Which reminds me that the trip from New York to Atlantic City and ultimately Cape May, is normally a 4 hour trip altogether and was 3 hours. Totally good fortune all around.

You never really know what's bad or good in the moment. There is only what is and what isn't.

So, I'm grateful for what is. And I am grateful for the first step toward a wisdom of ceasing to judge my life in every given moment and to simply live.

Right Across The Street From Russia

2009-11-24T11:29:00.003-05:00

and here you see the phenomena of Sarah Palin in a nutshell.

The founding fathers created a way of governing that was pretty restrictive by today's standards. Videos like this begin to convince me that they might have been completely correct in this.

I won't go into the many many things that are wrong with what people say here. But if you post a question in comments, I'll be happy to answer. So...without further adieu, I give you Columbus Ohio Borders.

The Long Thursday Journey: Part 2, What a night. Plus a touch of Friday.

2009-11-22T19:21:00.005-05:00

3:00 pm: I'm at the office. It is of course odd to be here when I usually am not. But it's centrally located and has a usable men's room. Picked up some alcohol and hand wipes from the Duane Reade and start undoing the wax and glue and make up...it goes faster than I thought. Awesome.

I tweet a few pics of it and head back to my desk, which is thankfully unoccupied for this earlier shift. I sit and take those damned shoes off and breath while co workers ask what I'm doing here so early and also how the gig went. I tell them...then remind Mark at the front desk that I will be late tonight for the memorial. I go back to my desk, rest my hips, catch up on email on the iPhone and catch about a 5 minute cat nap. It helps.

4:15pm. I head out. The memorial is scheduled for 5 and its a quick subway ride, but I figure I will see some familiar faces and want to have some room for conversation if necessary.

The subway's are cooperating and in minutes I am back in the neighborhood (The Upper West Side) where I grew up. I don't spend much time here now as I knew few people who still live in this now unaffordable area and it is also fairly unrecognizable from my youth.

4:40 pm: I'm at the memorial chapel. It is an UWS stalwart that I am grateful still stands, and I am reminded that the last time I was here was 25 or so years ago for the memorial of a college friend. The surreal is all over the place.

I walk into the main entrance and there is Alex, one of my first friends in high school. I hadn't seen him in quite a while and we'd suffered a bit of a falling out over the years, but we smile and embrace each other and he says how it does his heart good to see me. We get into the elevator and immediately start talking about how we've processed Mr. Eskow's death as if we'd been in touch every day for the past 30 years even though we've barely spoken for the past 10. It occurs to me that the last really lengthy conversation he and I had was the day of my father's memorial. This is just getting creepy.

4:45 pm: We get to the 2nd Floor chapel and I can see Jerry's daughter, Lisa greeting people. Lisa is only a few years younger than I am. I remember meeting her a few of the times she would visit our school to see her dad. She is still stunning and I can't quite fathom the fact that it has been 30 years since I have seen her. The wheel of life is humbling.

I go to check my coat and umbrella. The woman taking care of all that is Lisa's college roommate (whose name escapes me). She's very sweet and we talk a bit about how things are going. I ask how Lisa is doing, how Libi (Jerry's wife) is doing. She says rather well. He'd been sick awhile but there is still a weirdness to processing it. I nod agreement and mention that I had to blog about it in order to work out my own oddness, I could only imagine how hard it is for them.

She looks at me and says “I read that blog, I think that was you. It was wonderful. Lisa loved it!” I suddenly remember that when I sent Lisa an email of condolence from the notice of Jerry's death that I had told her about the blog if she cared to read it. I actually had no expectation that in everything she had to do, that she would even get to my email, let alone read it. But apparently a google search of Jerry Eskow brings up the blog and her ex husband had found it. I'm amazed.

The woman turns and waves to Lisa then points to me “He wrote the blog” she says. So I wave to Lisa and go to her to say hello and she tells me how much she and her mother loved the blog. That it meant a great deal to her. I start getting teary because well...I hadn't really thought about having an impact like that just from a little blog. It both humbles me and feeds my ego a little.
Lisa introduces me to her mother who tells me that I got Jerry exactly right. Lisa follows up by saying that her mother never does much on the internet. Again, I am floored.

I go into the main chapel area and look at the posters of show's he's directed. A great photograph of him that I remember being in his office and a picture from one of the Senior productions from high school. (The photo is the same one used here) It happens to be a production that my ex wife was in, though she isn't in the picture. Our Town, and Ving Rhames is playing George's father, if I remember right. He was one of the fathers. Anyway, I hadn't seen that pic, aside from the reproduction in my ex wife's yearbook, in 26 years. I grin.

Alex and I look for a seat but see several of our old teachers. Mr. Britten one of our acting teachers who had been one of the original Bozo the Clown's back in the 50s, who has the energy of a teenager despite having to be in his late 70s. Mrs. Koehler, another acting teacher whom I had Junior year. Despite white hair she looks the same and is just as commanding as she was then. Mrs. Schwager who was a math teacher when I was there, but also good friends with many in the drama department. She looks about the same which seems impossible. Later, Tony Abeson comes in. He started teaching there when I was a senior and was a very strong influence on my work. It's a flood of people and memories.

As Alex and I make our way from all the teachers, my ex wife comes in, escorting Mrs. Schein, who was my first acting teacher there. When my daughter was about 4 or so she met Mrs. Schein on the street with my ex. They hit it off immediately and there were frequent visits hence.

But the last few years Mrs. Schein began to succumb to Alzheimer's and it was clearly taking its physical as well as mental toll now. She too was a very dynamic woman, very youthful even as she grew older. She always wore black, like Mrs. Koehler and they both were known to wear leather pants. It is disconcerting to see her now, barely able to walk, and unable to recognize anyone there.

I'm thoroughly impressed and proud of my ex wife for bringing her. Being with very sick people has always been something that has frightened my ex. But she worked through it, obviously, out of love for our old teacher. (My ex graduated in 1977, we met several years after high school but that's another story). They sit together with the other teachers who are very emotional to see “Roz” and thank my ex profusely through tear streamed faces. Its nice to see.

Sometime after 5pm because here I lose all track of time pm:
Paul comes in. Paul, like Alex is a year younger, but came in at the same time I did. He started as a freshman, I as a sophomore (yeah you can do that in NYC, or could back then). He was my first scene partner and when Mrs. Schein sees him she tells him he was a very nice boy. But Paul remembers how many times she admonished him as something or other and doesn't realize how far gone she is. He makes a humorous reference to it, no malice intended, just a fun ribbing, til he realizes what's happening. It hardly matters.

Many others I know of course are there, and there are many hellos. Alan, a guy from two of 3 classes under me but who was there when I was a senior comes in. His girlfriend in high school lived in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn as mine did and so we hung out a lot too. Alex, Paul, Alan and I are sitting together and the memorial finally starts. I think its about 5:20.

Lisa speaks. She tells funny stories about Mr. Eskow's passionate approach to life, his need to master certain things like mixed drinks or the perfect omelet. Stories of her young son and him. How he dealt with Parkinson's with humor. She finishes by saying that she was an only child, but that when she would visit her dad where he taught, she felt like she was part of a huge family. She speaks of how she loved that old building we used to be in. How it was a kind of magical castle of creativity. I smile and get a bit misty because she's exactly right.

Next is a guy that Mr. Eskow grew up with, went to WWII with and then college too...turns out like me, Jerry grew up on the Upper West Side. And I laugh at some of the stories describing certain streets...despite the decades distance between us they were much the same up until 15 or 20 years ago, so I recognize a lot.

He tells a story that strikes Alex as amazing, about a young woman that Jerry had fallen in love with. I won't go into detail but I'll get back to it later.

More family members speak, nephews, a brother...and then the rabbi says that if there is anyone who wants to speak or tell a story, that the the floor is open.

This strikes me as terribly dangerous in a room filled with about 300 theater people. We love to talk.

Alex gets up. But someone closer beats him to it. This happens several times. Paul leans forward and suggests that all four of us go up, but I feel like I'd just be repeating my blog.

A couple of more people go and then Paul who has the aisle end of the pew, stands...we all stand too. I realize I had something new to say.

Paul gets up first. He talks about how he briefly dated Lisa Eskow. He also spent time with Mr. Eskow in the mornings and have conversations about this or that. Jerry really liked us and enjoyed talking to us. The story was about how one day, Jerry, silently made it clear that dating his daughter was not in the cards for Paul. He just sat with his knee over the other, hands clasped over, peering over the top of his glasses at Paul and Paul said. “This isn't a good idea is it?” Jerry shook his head. That was that. The room laughs.

Alan is next and he tells the story of how it had fallen on Mr. Eskow to tell Alan that his father had died. How patient he was in the telling and how he sat with Alan quietly, telling him that whatever he needed he'd take care of it. A ride home, calling someone else to keep him company home if he preferred. Whatever was needed. Alan said he decided to go home on his own, but how Jerry continually followed up with him over the rest of the year.

My turn. I stand at the podium and suddenly find myself overcome with emotion and have a hard time catching my breath. What the hell is wrong with me? I breath in and introduce myself and mention how the four of us all hung out together in one form or another.

I go on to talk about how the school is very important to me, how it is in my bones. I ended up marrying a woman from there and though we didn't stay married it was such a part of our beings that when our daughter was 5 she decided to go there too (though a different building, she still did it).

Those years are the first time in my life I was in a place I knew I belonged. Where was safe to fail in my work. And fail I did on more than one occasion, but also I had terrific successes.

I pointed out Mrs. Schein, who according to my ex beamed at her mention, and how she taught the basics and how to think through a character analysis. How to hold myself and begin to think well of myself. Mrs. Koehler who taught me that attention to physical presence was as important as psychological analysis.

In my emotional state I flaked on Mr. Britten who was out of my line of site, but later said to him that what he had was a ridiculous joy for being there every day and that he made us all feel good in his class. There was never drama. There was Mr. Capalletti (sp?) how had a very subtle way about him and whos lessons tended to hit you on the back of your head when you weren't looking. And Mr. Abeson, who in my senior year taught me that actors and artists of all stripes have an important place in the world and that we should be proud of what we are. Who helped me clarify some of the language that had been taught me in that school and make it even more active. Who tried to teach me that poverty was not romantic.

In that speech I managed to tell these teachers what I had failed to tell Jerry Eskow. That they were important to me and that I loved them. I looked down toward Lisa and said to her that he had made all those people a part of that teaching there. And that it was indeed a castle and that he made it that way.

I was done and really really needed a glass of single malt.

Alex was up next and told the story of how Jerry had changed his life simply by telling him he needed a box moved from point A to point B...that Alex is now a professional in the stage hands union, indeed in Local 1, which takes a serious amount of skill and ability to get to and that it was Jerry who recognized that in Alex within his first few days in high school and that he knew that if Alex didn't have something to do at all times...there would be trouble.

He then finished by saying that he lived in the same building as this dancer that Mr. Eskow had fallen in love with in his youth. Alex did a paper on her for an assignment for Mr. Eskow. The paper was handed back to him with an A but absolutely no notes. Everyone else had had copious notes.

No matter how many times Alex asked why there were no notes, Mr. Eskow skirted the issue. Now Alex knew why. This strikes many of us as the highlight of the evening.

Another fella from around our time, Bill came up and thanked Jerry and spoke of his street life and how the school saved his life. We are a little dubious of this as we remember Bill as being a pretty cool kid right off the bat and not at all menacing. But apparently it is how he felt about himself and more importantly where he felt his life was going at the time.

Mr. Abeson got up and described what a “hot mess” he was when he came to PA and how badly he needed that teaching job and how on paper he was unqualified but that when he said he felt this was where he needed to be, all Jerry did was lean forward and say “Yes it is” and he was hired.

7:30 pmish: It is over and we are breaking up...we say goodbye to as many as we can. My ex is already gone having to bring Mrs. Schein home before she became too exhausted. I catch up with others there. Some whom I didn't remember but who remembered me (Freshman always remember the Seniors) Some vice versa. I am the only one from the graduating class of 1980 and I am rather disappointed by that fact. Ah well.

I say goodbye to Lisa who is leaving for home in Texas in a couple of days. She's in Austin and we joke about how Austin is the only place in Texas worth a damn. Libi thanks me again for the blog and says again how much I “got him and what he was trying to do”. I find myself wishing that I had managed to get Jerry while I was in high school, but glad I got there eventually. I remind Lisa that most of us are on Facebook and she should do it too and say hello. She nods. I don't think she will do it.

Paul, Alex and a few others and I have a beer/club soda/coffee at a nearby bar and trade stories about all the teachers. I still want a single malt, but I'm broke and I have to leave for work. The Magic Hat beer will do just fine.

8:35 pm: I say goodbye, we all remember that we are on Facebook and to stay in touch. I head downtown to the office where it is so dead I end up doing a little Corel training and watch Countdown and Rachel Maddow on line. They make me think about Fox & Friends, but mostly all night I keep thinking about the memorial. How much of a celebration it was. Joyous. There wasn't a single maudlin moment. A fitting tribute because Jerry would have hated maudlin. That much I knew.

1:15am: I am heading home in the car the company provides every evening after 10pm. I'm grateful for it.

1:45am: Home. I take off the Jos.A.Bank suit, those awful shoes and breath deeply. I sit down at my computer and finish off email, play a little Yoville and Farmville on Facebook to unwind and accept a couple of friend requests that popped up from the memorial, then send a couple of them myself.

There are already notes on the PA pages on Facebook about the memorial. Our speeches are mentioned which is sweet and I see that my blog has gotten a LOT of new hits since the memorial.

2:45am: I lay down. Too tired and achy to think about anything. I plug in my iPhone to speakers and wall cord and listen to Ambience Pacific Shore to let the crashing west coast waves waft me to sleep.

Thank you for today, Universe. Thank you for every day, but especially for today.

Goodnight Jerry.

The Long Thursday Journey: Part 1. On The Fringe.

2009-11-21T22:46:00.004-05:00

3:30am: I'm awake. I'm supposed to wake up to an alarm in another half hour, but my body, despite being on sleep aids has decided I need an extra half hour to get ready for the day. After a moment I decide my body is right. I have to shave my head and face and be very very thorough about so the extra time takes the sense of being rushed off the table. I am suddenly aware that I am waking up at the time I usually go to sleep. This is weird and it hits me just how long this day is going to be.

I get up, shower and do the shave thing. I'm excited. Today constitutes what is my first paying acting gig in many years, and even though its not a full on production, just a promo stunt, it feels really good.

5:00am. I am out the door in my new Jos.A. Bank suit and my charcoal grey longcoat. I haven't dressed this well in years and I am suddenly very aware that the neighborhood I live in isn't that great and its 5am and I am looking damned upscale. I walk cautiously and even cross the street when I see a couple of teenagers coming up the block toward me. Jeez. When did I become THIS guy?

5:15am: The A train arrives, running local. This is fine as it will take me right to the F. So far so good. I have to be at the hotel at 6am sharp to have my eyebrows covered. I'm excited and amazed to be upright. I listen to Dan Savage's podcast to stay awake. Nothing like listening to people's sexual issues and Savage's awesome if sometimes snarky advice before sunrise.

5:55am: I arrive at Stay..a new hotel on 47th street. I'm right near where I used to go to High School. It's the first of many moments of walking by significant areas of my past. The day is going to have an element of weirdness I hadn't anticipated.

6:20: I am in a small hotel room with 10 other guys with shaved heads in suits and two make up artists. I've had to get my own coffee as there is none provided. That irks me a little as coffee and pastries at gigs this early is pretty much SOP, but since I'm getting a free suit out of the deal, I get over it really fast and get my own coffee.

My eyebrows get spirit gummed, waxed and covered. I'm really looking like an Observer now. My inner actor is excited and dancing with my inner fan boy. The only thing better would be actually playing an Observer in an actual episode of Fringe. But this is damned fun.

7:00am: We are split into two groups of 5. One group is to go to the Today Show, the other, Fox & Friends. I am really hoping for the Today Show as those three morons on Fox & Friends really bug me. I am of course chosen to go to Fox. But I'm getting a free suit and $250 so I get over it.

7:15am to 8:40am: I am standing outside the Newscorp Building in Rockefeller Center doing the Observer thing. (Silent, watching, creepy) The show is broadcast and I am forced to remain stoic while Steve Doocy, Gretchen Carlson (her credentials according to their website is that she is the first classical violinist to be crowned Miss America.) and Brian Kilmeade kiss Rudy Giuliani's ass while he lies up and down and up and down. As I listen though I am relieved to realize that this scumbag won't be running for Governor of New York, which I think he has a shot at winning, but is instead running for President again, which will help him succeed in travelling from being America's Mayor to being America's least liked scumbag. Later Brian Kilmeade says “Not all Muslims are terrorists, but certainly all terrorists are Muslims” I nearly vomit. But I remain stoic and scare the hell out of passersby. Despite the 3 Blind Idiots in the background I am having fun...and at about 8:30 the show goes to break filming me and 3 of the other Observers on the street.

The first time I am on television since my episode of Law & Order 15 years ago and its on Fox & Friends. I'd be unhappy, but I'm on television and I'm getting $250 for the day and a free Jos.A.Bank wool and cashmere suit. I get over it real fast.

9:00am: Grand Central Station. Here the fun really kicks in as people are milling about and stopping and staring. Some of the other guys end up having pictures taken with passersby. I am just stared at, I love it.

10:00am: Times Square. We are in the area that has been closed off to traffic. I'm sitting at one of the chairs with a circular table. This is a major relief. My shoes are very bad shoes and I have been on my feet since 6:30 this morning and I have an artificial hip. I'm actually in a great deal of agony. It makes being stoic a bit easier.

The sitting helps a lot though I am still achy.

School children come by. They are about 9 years old or thereabouts and very excited by what they see.

“Hey that bald man moved” “so what stupid, they're not statues” “can I have a picture Mrs. Jones, with them?” “What are they doing” “It's a TV show, I think my mom watches it.”

They are adorable.

A pretty girl of about 20 is staring around with 2 friends of hers. She gets one of the folks who hand out Tabasco sauce and say “Watch Fringe on Fox tonight at 9” to take a picture. The girl sits in the chair next to mine and her friends stands behind her. I am “observing” facing away from her. I hear her say “Dude, don't look over at me, ok?”

Now to me, that just means, “Please look right at me” so I slowly turn my head and give her a wondering, quizzical stare. She jumps. “DUDE” and her friends laugh. I turn back and look across the street, she settles in and has the picture taken. The Tabasco girl is laughing and so are the pretty girl's friends. The walk off and I hear her say to her friends “I want to crack one of them up”. This almost cracks me up.

More tourists come by, more pictures are taken.

In the walks between sites we are working, I have passed by 10 different places where I've once worked and also where I am currently working. And of course, where I went to High School. Later today I will be attending the memorial Jerry Eskow. There seems to be a real symmetry to the day and I am glad that this is a day that I am working as an actor. Jerry would be pleased I think

11:30am: I am finally eating breakfast at Andrew's Coffee Shop and stopping to get vitamins at The Vitamin Shoppe. I wolf down the eggs and bacon and coffee...ahhhhhhhh. Then head over to Macy's for the second half of the event.

11:50am: Herald Square, lots of passersby. We are basically all together in another part where traffic is no longer allowed. But it is part of a crosswalk so there are plenty of people to creep out. And creep out we do. I stand at the edge and stare into the windows of passing buses which are slowed by traffic. I gaze at every passenger I can. Inside I am grinning at the reactions even though on the outside I show nothing more than an otherworldly curiosity. My back and hip and feet are aching again. So much walking. So much fun.

Twice I am asked what is going on by passersby. I silently direct them to one of the Tabasco people. Some are fans already and shout OH YEAH. Others say weird.

We are being filmed for the promo. Some genius walks up to the cameraman who is gazing intently into his viewfinder to set up a shot.

GENIUS: Excuse me, are you filming something?

CAMERAMAN: Calmly and nicely tells him what's going on.

INNERJOHN: No, moron, he's fucking the camera right here in the middle of Herald Square.

Really, I am exercising delicious self restraint today. $250 and a free suit. Did I mention its a $600 suit?

1:00pm: Union Square. The last site. We are all pretty exhausted actually but still having fun. There are benches and a couple of us sit and do our creepy resty thing. But there are few passersby in this part of the Square.

It starts to rain, so we go down into a subway entrance and scatter among the stairs and turnstiles. This affords a fantastic opportunity to stand at the gate and observe commuters who are unnerved by what is happening.

At a certain point a very drunk woman comes down the stairs...talking out loud about some craziness. I watch her out of the corner of my eye because she might be trouble. She's that drunk.

She pauses for a moment before the turnstile and looks around, stumbling a bit as she sees 10 men of varying ages, all baldheaded, all very well dressed. She shakes her head “Oh no no no. I need to get right the fuck home now. I can NOT deal with this. No no no sir” We are all desperately trying not to crack up.

1:50pm: A cameraman from the local Fox News station comes down to shoot us for awhile. He seems to be having a great time with it all and it turns out he's a Fringe fan. He says this should be on the news tonight, but a friend on Facebook tells me the next day that she saw me that morning. It creeped her out. I get very pleased.

I pass by so many places I used to work today, its like my past is sort of surrounding me. I decide its a way of saying goodbye to all those old non acting jobs while I am acting. I like it.

2:10pm: We are done. I am exhausted, but I have a memorial and then work later. So I grab more coffee, some spicy cinnamon gum and head to the office where I work to use the Men's Room to take off the wax and gum from my eyebrows. And get some rest. My body is really aching pretty badly.

I'm not even half done with the day yet.

To be continued...

If you are on facebook, you can check out what we did here. Scroll down for Sightings: New York and you can find me.

In Praise of passing teachers.

2009-11-18T02:33:00.008-05:00

Most of us are pretty arrogant when we get to high school. Even the most modest of us. We are smarter than our parents who are exceedingly uncool and say the most ridiculous things. We know who we are and we know exactly what we are doing and where we are going and anyone that tells us otherwise is either full of shit or just has no idea what is going on.

This disease goes on until we start to approach 30. Then we start to realize that WE were the assholes and that we have a ways to go. If we are lucky.

A man named Jerome Eskow, who was the head of the Drama Department in my high school for many years before and after I went there, passed away a couple of days ago after a long battle with Parkinson's Disease.

I went to the High School of Performing Arts here in New York City. Most of you will know it as The Fame School. I hate that moniker, but that's a blog for another day. I entered the school in September of 1977 as a Sophomore and graduated in June of 1980. Yes, I'm that old.

To this day I consider my time in High School pretty much the most amazing years of my life. Not all happy, mind you, but every moment pretty fucking wonderful. I experienced all the awfulness that goes with adolescence. Confusion, anger, social awkwardness, etc. In spite of all that I enjoyed a level of creativity, exploration and artistic growth that I've never had since. Jerome Eskow was more responsible for that than any teacher I've ever had.

That's not how I felt about him through most of high school. Only toward the end did I begin to suspect how brilliant the man truly was, and how much he loved us and the school.

He came across as rather pompous, sitting on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, his hands cupped a foot or so from his face as his gravelly, slow voice expounded on and on about acting theory, theater history, "the business".

To so many of us, it seemed like endless droning by a man who loved to hear himself talk. While there's possibly a grain of truth to that, the fact is that we suffered from our own pomposity. The pomposity I mentioned at the beginning of this blog. We suffer from this pomposity to the extent that we don't hear the grains of wisdom that are offered to us. And as I came to realize later, Jerome Eskow offered a lot.

I won't get into the specific lessons here all at once. A lot of them won't make sense outside of the Theater. But one thing he said once has always stuck with me.

"We have to say I hate you a lot before you can really get to I love you" I don't remember the context of the day's lesson. But the point of what he was saying was that to truly love someone, or something, you have to really know them and accept them, warts and all. You have to pass through the negatives because at the end of all that is the positive that was there in the first place. The love.

As time passed and after I graduated, I would visit the old school, which later became the new school when it moved into a large and (to my mind) still soulless building a bit further uptown, I found that Jerry (who seemed to prefer me calling him that after graduation) had more to teach, more to talk about. But more and more it was about me and self acceptance. I continued to watch the way he would talk, the way he held himself...and it occurred to me that it wasn't so much pomposity as it was...PASSION.

Slow, gravelly, deep and I think even luxurious passion.

My life went on...I drifted away from visiting, Mr. Eskow retired as did most of my teachers. The last of the teachers that were there retired just a couple of years ago (while my daughter was a senior in that soulless structure).

I sent an email to Mr. Eskow a couple of years ago. Or I meant to. I never heard back from him, it occurred to me and its possible that either his Parkinson's made it too hard or that I, in my ADD just flaked on it.

It is a regret. I don't think I ever told Jerry how much I've grown to admire him as I've gotten older (more mature?). I didn't tell him that despite my rather disappointing career (so far) that much of my deepening as an actor and a teacher comes from the things he taught me, even if they took awhile to soak in.
I had other teachers at P.A. that I loved. Some were inspiring, others were brilliant in subtle ways, some, honestly, weren't very good at all.

Jerry seeped in, sneakily...like someone planting seeds in the dark of night while every one is sleeping. Then one afternoon you wake up...and there's a tree.

Rest In Peace, Jerry. Thanks for the trees.

Sent to the Attic (without any supper)

2009-11-15T15:01:00.006-05:00

So, as I suspected it would, Fox canceled Dollhouse this past week. So, as a result, I will be canceling Fox from my viewing activities.

Whining Fanboy you say? Over reacting? Well, maybe. But losing Dollhouse is really the final among many straws.

Dollhouse was not a perfect show. It took a few episodes to find its voice. Get its leggings. But this is true for every other Joss Whedon show, with the possible exception of Firefly, which I will get to in a minute.

Here's what Fox has/has not done, that has me deciding to tell them to go fuck themselves.

1-They put Dollhouse in exactly the same time slot where they put Firefly a few years ago. Friday nights...WHEN NO ONE IS WATCHING TV!

2-They barely promoted the show themselves. This year alone on Twitter we counted hundreds of official Fox tweets for Glee, a show that was already a hit, and about 20 for Dollhouse which was strugging ON FRIDAYS.

3-They then blamed poor ratings.

4-They promoted upcoming episodes coming in November, but only as coming soons, very rarely on other time-slots, then within days they pulled the show OFF November for sweeps, thus playing a sort of game with fans. They assured us that this was a way to keep the show safe and help their numbers (the replacement, re runs of House, garnered a tiny tiny teeny weency improvement for that slot. Why? BECAUSE NO ONE WATCHES TV ON FRIDAY NIGHTS for network broadcast numbers to be worth anything.

5-Then after a week they cancel the show, demonstrating that EVERYthing they said previously was flat out, in your face, bald faced bullshit.

They treated Dollhouse marginally better than they treated Firefly, which is to say that they treated it like less stinky shit, holding it 3 feet away from their noses instead of 4. And they spoke to fans in condescending and again, lieing tones.

What they should have done, if they really wanted the show to hit, if they really wanted to give it its best opportunity like they said they did, was keep Fringe on Tuesdays (I'll get to that in a minute too) and have Dollhouse follow, giving the show a significant and popular lead in. If Dollhouse failed to garner an audience then, the network would have had a legitimate case on its hands and would actually be able to honestly say they tried.

I've written about this before. Gone are the days that network executives gave shows time to find their audience. Time for their audience to find them. No more. Everything has to be Lost now. Everything has to be Desperate Housewives (I just vomited a little into my mouth). Everything has to be Glee.

BTW, I have nothing against Glee, it doesn't interest me, but it sounds like a good show IN A GOOD TIME SLOT.

Firefly was probably Whedon's greatest creation for television. It was mature, featured the strongest cast that's ever been on one of his shows and it had a great premise. Sales of its DVDs continue to sell brilliantly. Fox claimed to learn a lesson from that. Their actions proved that to be bullshit. They did absolutely nothing for this show.

The pulled this same kind of half hearted nonsense on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles too. I wasn't a fan of the show for a number of reasons. But it clearly had a loyal base and its ratings on say FX (which Fox owns) or SyFy (Which Fox doesn't, and God I hate writing "SyFy", so fucking stupid)would have made it a smash. Given that Dollhouse's ratings were even better, that same action would have been even more successful

And finally.

I love Fringe too. It's on Fox so my giving up on Fox means I am giving up on Fringe (yes there are ways to watch it under the radar, I'm not going to advocate that). But they are doing it to Fringe too.

It was a hit on Tuesdays last year. It started slow and built really well. So what did Fox do? They moved it to Thursdays...OPPOSITE CSI AND GRAY'S ANATOMY. Two huge ratings giants. What the fuck did they think was going to happen?!!!

And now they are saying that they are unsure of the ratings and we will see about renewal.

And then of course there's Arrested Development. A brilliant show that yes, they stuck with but never did a single thing to improve its ratings. They played the martyr with it and also fucked with its fans.

Well guess what? FUCK YOU FOX. FUCK YOUR DISDAIN FOR GENRE TELEVISION and FUCK YOU FOR TELLING ME FUCK YOU. The Simpsons is boring now and you have nothing on that interests me. Much as I like Seth MacFarlane I have yet to get a single good laugh out of Family Guy (I know, I know....I just don't think its that good). I'll watch the remaining 7 episodes and then I'm done with you. Oh, and if I haven't said it enough already, FUCK YOU.

(Monday update) I forgot to mention that I think web shows are the future anyway. Like Dr. Horrible or The Guild. I don't think it's a bad idea to begin making clear to networks, both broadcast and cable that they are moving into irrelevancy as far as we are concerned.

I encourage you to join me in my boycott if you've had enough.

Blog that's really stealing someone else's blog

2009-11-07T01:51:00.004-05:00

So back in April I put up some pictures that were taken by professionals at the first Teabagger demonstration. Just stuff that displayed the monumental stupidity of this movement.

But yesterday, one of my favorite bloggers actually encountered a group of these geniuses in her home town.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Too Much Perfection. She doesn't normally get political and ranty the way I do. Its just a nice calm witnessing. Good on her.

OK, Look...

2009-11-04T02:28:00.004-05:00

Yesterday sucked on a lot of levels for those of us that stand for sensibility, reason, fairness and freedom in this country. But it also wasn't the big deal that the main stream media keeps making it out to be.

New Jersey: For those of you who don't live in or nearby, you might think that this is a big deal. John Corzine, incumbent Democrat, ousted by a Republican for a bedroom at the Governor's Mansion in Trenton. But those of us from these parts know one thing, every 4 to 8 years New Jersey goes from having a Republican Governor to a Democratic Governor and vice versa. In my lifetime this State has never been able to make up its mind as to whom should run it. And Governors of both parties have never gotten it quite right. Only Tom Kean, a moderate Republican, managed to do a fairly decent job for the state, actually beginning to make inroads toward shedding The Garden State of its reputation for being a garbage dump.

Republicans cut taxes, then the localities have to raise property taxes in order keep their basics (garbage collection, etc. going) so they get ousted for not keeping taxes down. Democrats move in, raise taxes, improve schools etc...but the taxes got raised...so they get ousted.

The Senators are still Democrats and likely to remain that way. The State generally goes Blue for national elections...it just has a split personality for its locality. The northern part is generally blue, the southern generally red, with Indies in between. The Indies generally dictate what happens.

Oversimplification, but basically that's what happens over and over again. Corzine was not a great Governor. Better than he got credit for and better than his overspent campaign managed to communicate, but his negatives were enough.

Virginia: Virginia is a purple state with heavy emphasis on the red end of the spectrum. It went blue for Obama last year for several reasons. A-youth vote B-Sarah Palin C-Changing Demographics. But that doesn't mean that the change is going to be a steady climb. For one, the Democrat ran a lousy campaign in a state that always elects a Governor of the opposing Party to the White House. For another, its mostly a Republican State...so it did what it usually does.

Neither of these elections mean a lot for either party.The next Governor of New Jersey will be a Democrat, very likely in 4 years because this guy is a clown. Virginia will continue to move toward blue, but at its own pace. Just like Georgia and Texas. (Yes, GA and TX are going blue...just watch)

New York 23: OK, this one surprised me. I really thought the conservative would walk away with this one, but here's the thing....other than 23, most of that area is blue, and it seems that 23 looked around, thought about which candidate had the better chance of doing more for them and went with the Democrat rather than the guy who was anti-abortion but had no idea what the local issues were. Parochial indeed, Dick Armey, parochial indeed.

So its one more Dem in the House for us. This is far more significant than losing two governorships. The Club for Growth and Sarah Palin and DICK Armey will tout their ability to oust the established Republican candidate, but they won the battle and lost the war. They think they will win next year, but that's highly doubtful. The district will likely feel good about their choice this year, especially since the economy will be picking up by then. Also, that area is about to be redistricted and in two years will be entirely Democratic. Its over.

Meanwhile we also did well with getting progressive into a seat in California. This isn't getting much play but its at least as important as NY-23 if its important at all.

Finally there is Maine...ahhhh Maine. But Rachel Maddow warned us. States are basically losing whenever it comes to these referendum votes. The anti Marriage Freedom people are well funded by the Catholic church, the Mormon church AND the Church of Scientology and well...people are bigots and self righteous beasts for the most part. I think that while it is disappointing, we should bear in mind that 5 years ago, the vote would not have been as close as it was. Close enough that a recount is likely.

Marriage equality is going to have to be done on a national level. As a friend at work said yesterday, it will likely have to be some kind of law saying that Civil Unions must provide the same protections and rights of Marriage and that Civil Unions are to be available in every state.

I don't see the LGBT community going for that. They seem to have decided on an all or nothing approach. But I think my friend might be right.

This is an issue of rights. It bugs the shit out of me that we allow elections that take away rights, but apparently we do. And apparently we do indeed vote to remove rights. We've come a long way, but we still have a long way to go.

We will get there. We've been moving in that direction quite a bit, and we have a generation coming up that doesn't even believe this is an issue. Indeed, most of that generation voted for Obama as their first national vote last year. Maybe this is small comfort to my gay brethren, but it is a comfort at least....I hope.

(Friday addition)

OK...seriously, I don't think I've said 2 nice things about Republicans on this blog, but the key words have attracted an ad to contribute to the Republican Governors Association.
Tone Deaf Much? Out of Touch Much?...Yes I do believe so

Recovery? Seriously?

2009-10-29T13:26:00.006-04:00

The news is blaring about how the Recession is over.

Well, this is technically true. A Recession is marked by 3 quarters in a row of negative growth. As we have just had a quarter of growth, the recession is over.....
For now.

I'm not an economist and despite my admiration for a few of them I don't have a whole lot of respect for the study anyway. It's all theory, sometimes you can base a theory on history, but its still theory.

We base our perspective on our economy in this country on Gross Domestic Product or GDP, this is a number that comes out of analyzing the value of goods produced and consumer spending. This is taken from a bunch of numbers that are amassed and run through mathematical formulas on some genius' spreadsheet.

Liars like Maria Bartiromo go on about how what's good for Wall Street is what's good for Main Street. But we know this woman has no knowledge of history and is also married to one very rich honcho. Out of touch much, bitch? And Jim Cramer goes on and on and on about absolutely nothing. Gets everything wrong on every count and somehow we still ask him how we are doing...Like he fucking knows his ass from his checkbook.

But to my mind, there is only one true measuring stick to how well the economy of a nation is going. A simple two part question.

Does everyone who wants/needs a job have one and are they earning enough to thrive?

By thrive I mean, 3 meals a day, a decent roof over your head and the ability to save for an improved future for you and your family.

A simple question with a simple answer. Yes or No.

The answer is still a resounding NO.

You asked...I tried to answer. Writer's Block at least temporarily averted....

2009-10-22T13:00:00.003-04:00

So I stole this idea from one of my twitter/blogger friends because I have hated every writing idea that's come into my blogging head for the last week. I even had someone suggest expanding on a Twitter Story I told a few days ago...and oh boy was my inner critic running overtime.

Thus I begged my TwitterFollowers to help me out, ask me questions so I could blog the answers, so that I am doing SOMEthing.

Thank you all. I tried to Favorite every question so I had them handy, but the function seems to have not worked well. So I'm doing my best to get them all. I won't be as funny as "Daddy" but here goes....

@WhyIsDaddyCryin if given the opportunity how would you choose to publicly humiliate balloon boy's dad for being such a fucking douche?

My first question and oddly parallel to the TwitStory expansion that I abandoned, although that involved Rush Limbaugh as the balloon and Glenn Becky as the boy who crawled up his ass only to float around the United States. Anyway.....

This question leads to my question, How do you shame the unshameable? This guy got vomited on twice on national television, completely exposed by a 6 year old and had his awful reality TV show proposal aired to everyone. None of it seems to phase this guy. He just wants the recognition.

He is in fact, Rush Limbaugh. He will say and do anything to get noticed. If he's a Democrat, I guess I'd just call him Rush Jr. every time I referred to him, while he was in the room. If he's a Republican I guess I'd call him Chairman Mao since that's their latest fetish.

@lesleehorner asked this of both “DaddyCryin” and me” What's 1 thing you are passionate about, and lose all track of time while doing? And the answer can't be sex.

Killjoy.

Well, I mentioned recently that I enjoy doing character roleplay on certain venues. A way of getting my creative writing juices going. I very easily lose track of time doing that, the way other friends of mine do it playing World of Warcraft (which I refuse to play, A-because there's a monthly fee and B-because I KNOW no one will ever see me again if I do).

When an idea hits me, or the hint of one, I get really excited and I've made myself almost late for work on more than one occasion.

But in the end, its when I'm acting or directing. I could do it forever...never take a break except to eat and even then I just want to keep going. Never tired of it, always want more. There really isn't anything that makes me more happy.

Except perhaps for sex with someone awesome. (heh heh, got it in there anyway)

@GratefulKim What cereal could you eat everyday?

I'm honored that you took time away from your devoted stalking of @WhyIsDaddyCryin' to ask me that.

It's a two parter.

Non Sugar Cereal. Cheerios. I fucking love Cheerios. Especially with a banana sliced on top. That rocks. Even better when eaten outdoors

Sugar: Lucky Charms, because they're magically delicious, of course. Interestingly, Lucky Charms is essentially Cheerios, covered in sugar and with marshmallows. MMMMMMMMMMMMM. I'm all in touch with my inner Homer Simpson now.

@kitterztoo asked me what color I would be if I were a color...something like that. I can't find it because Twitter's Favorites function doesn't function. Fortunately my memory is a bit better.

Unfortunately I have no fucking clue. When my daughter was born, in the first couple of minutes, she was this amazing deep shade of purple. I mean like, dipped in grape juice for days purple. It was stunning. STUNNING. Not blotchy, not ugly. Breathtakingly beautiful. I wished it would stay that way because it really was that awesome. Shortly after that she got all splotchy like newborns do, then settled in. Ah well.

I guess I'd like to be that color. I think it would be cool, also....mad sexy.

Now if you're asking about my personality? I really don't know. I probably would go between red and blue..which might explain the purple thing.

@MajorBedHead wants to know one place I would go to for a month, as in a vacation. Once again Twitter lost this post entirely even though I added it to favorites. Twitter is really starting to piss me the fuck off, though my memory is pleasing me.

There are a few places I want to spend a month in. For the last few years though, the number one place is Scotland.
I lurve single malt whiskey. Lurve isn't even right because it's inadequate. But drinking it makes me all kinds of happy. A really good single malt has complexity and smoothness that makes life worth living even in the worst moments.

The plan is I start either at the southern most tip or the northern most tip and work my way up or down, back and forth, visiting every.single.distillery there is in that country. I would buy 2 bottles from each, whether I liked it or not, and send them home, in addition to whatever I sampled on the spot. I would journal the entire trip as a separate blog from this and then turn it into a book.

Eventually someone would fall in love with the whole story and make a movie out of it. They'd call it John and something really catch that would be a pun on my name and whiskey....or something.

@LiberalViewer1 What do you do for a living, my friend?

To pay the bills I do document work for a bank. Most of these are done in Power Point as pitches to invest in certain areas. But it often involves charts and tables in Excel and Word too. I'm actually not allowed to talk a whole lot about it. A Co-worker got fired for mentioning where he worked when he called a local newspaper to report a major event he'd just witnessed outside an office window. Seriously, it's that crazy.

I have on occasion, tweeted the view from said windows. Very stunning.

I'd rather be acting (see above).

@wil_m alright, when was the first moment you actually felt like a father?

This is a really good one and I had to spend a lot of time thinking about it. Oddly enough, the answer is the moment I first held my daughter.

So there she was, already fading into blotchy from being that purple grape juice purple. My (ex)wife had been in labor for close to 36 hours so when my daughter was born, her body went into a kind of shock. Shaking uncontrollably. So once they were finished doing all those awful things they do to babies when they first pop out, the couldn't hand her to her mother, so they put me on a stool and gave the screaming baby to me.

I was grinning as I felt this little life in my arms...crying and crying from the harsh bright light, the poking and the prodding. I gently shushed her and then said “It's okay Sarah. Daddy's here. It's me, daddy...everything is ok”.

Immediately her tears stopped and she scrunched her face and seemed to look in my direction...she was quiet and I could feel her relax. This of of course was when I started crying. It had been a very very long labor (a story I will tell some other time). I had nearly fainted from lack of food because I was too worried about my then wife and also was certain that the moment I went anywhere to eat, that would be when my daughter would finally decide to come out. So the emotions were deep and palpable.

But the response to my voice ...that made me feel very dad like.

The second time was not for awhile after that. To explain would mean going into one of the major things that was wrong with my marriage. That's a whole nother blog story. Just that for a long time my ex got proprietary about our daughter and essentially shut me out. Something that years later she finally copped to and apologized for. I didn't exactly handle all of that like an adult myself.

It was while visiting my mother and stepfather at their then house in Long Island. A nice long weekend of just my daughter and me and she got to really learn to come to me with things. I think she was 4 or so at the time. She came to me in the kitchen to help her with something. And while I was helping she asked a bunch of questions, which I answered. There was a lot of humorous back and forth. After she ran back to do whatever it was she was doing on her own I felt my back straighten up and I was suddenly breathing really clearly, like after a good yoga class. I wish I could remember what we were saying. But I do remember the feeling.

If I missed anyone, its Twitter's fault. Hope you all enjoyed it. If so, I might do it again. Thanks again to @WhyIsDaddyCryin.

Peace.

Remember what I said about the News Networks the other day?

2009-10-14T15:09:00.009-04:00

Turns out, as usual, Jon Stewart is on it.

One more bit of evidence (as if his Jeopardy appearance wasn't the nail in the coffin) that Wolf Blitzer is a useless piece of shit.

This segment sums up exactly what is wrong with the state of our current news service. I maintain that The News Hour with Jim Lehrer is by far the best of the bunch and is actually good.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

CNN Leaves It There

www.thedailyshow.com

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