Blog slut

It occurs to me that people must think that I'm nothing more than a popularizer for other blogs. Which is true, to some degree, because I was motivated to start this site lo those many months ago because I wanted to share little bits of this or that that were interesting with other folks who didn't have the free time I did to roam around and find the interesting bits. Little did I realize how fleeting that free time was. But more to the point, the fact that I keep subreferencing other sites is only evidence of my appreciation and respect. It just keeps being the same few because I am lazy and predictable and they consistenly impress me and crack me up and holy COW I can't believe such talent just floats out there and I get it all for free. Really. For the price of my monthly MSN (damn you to hell Bill Gates) fee, I am languishing with some of most entertaining and skillful writing I've ever found. Go to the links page above to find it. So this is a backdoor way of introducing thankfulness and gratitude today, what with it being the season and all.


on Gratitude

Dad's stuffing notwithstanding (damned fine stuffing, that; we doled it out in spoonfuls as we made preparations to leave the other day like it was laced with gold or maybe something more illicit and fun, and it didn't come to blows but it could have) I'm thankful for lots of other stuff as well. Like V and her delightful way of being shamelessly commercial and yet this year we have to keep pressuring her to give us gift ideas because she really doesn't want anything. Her list(s) cover two small pages, and we accomplished most of that (her mom and I) yesterday in about twenty minutes, and it's mostly books (which gladdens my heart no end) and she's mostly a happy and contented nine-year-old, smarter than the average bear and loving and kind most of the time. She wants to publish a magazine. I'm trying my best to help her do that.

And my family, which has had more anxiety and grief lately than I can remember in a while, but we still managed to traverse great distances to be together if for no other reason than it would feel awkward and strange if we didn't, and we find a comfort in the familiar foods and familiar faces. And focusing on each other for a day or two helps put everything back in perspective. A little. And it was damned fine stuffing.

And LK who reminds me every day that it's the path and not the destination, and even though we connect like old familiar souls that have been separated by circumstances or distance, the discovery (or rediscovery) is joyful and is to be savored again and again. Take nothing for granted but trust everything. Whee! This woman.... I'm rendered speechless just now.


And of course for Dr. Wendy, for millions of reasons. I keep trying to get her to start her own blog. The efforts will continue in the new year.

And for discovering that I've been linked by yet another blog! Taiwan_on: worth much of your time, and not just because she gave props to me either.

And now for the racy bloggy bits

In keeping with the blogslut theme, Rebecca offers us this observation:

I had a bizzare childhood, not all bad but not all that great either. But Im an adult now and I see my Mum in a new light, and I like her and her unconditional love. I would like a pug, too, though. Or maybe a Boston terrier. I love an ugly small dog, what can I say? Im also not adverse to kitties but their tempermant is too much like my own, where as a dog just loves and loves. Cats say fuck you, motherfucker. Where are my pounce treats, bitch. Sound familiar? It should because it’s me. Im a cat. I do walk across the newspaper while you are trying to read it. I do lie down in sunshiney spots on the carpet. But don’t fucking stroke me against the grain, man. I will bite. I do bite.

And as a rather natural segue, I suppose I should say too that I'm grateful for big evil Newton, who rather than being all ornery after my long trips away is actually very happy that I'm back. And not for the food and the body heat either, or so it seems to me. Although LK, once believing he was sweet and cuddly and inviting all stretched out on the floor, reached out to pet him only to be scratched for her trouble. Hence the "evil" in evil Newton. You find the good.







posted by MT at 9:31 AM |

From the sublime to the nipple-perking cold


This may mark the first time I've used n1pple on this site, and I'm sure it will intrigue everyone who googles their way here looking for m0ther-s0n 1ncest photos...

Just a quickie -- was in Miami Sunday and Monday, and am now in Albany. The body does not handle 30-degree drops in temperature very well. At that altitude. Actually I'm in Saratoga Springs. Had a lovely drive in from the airport at nearly midnight last night, driven by a quirky but very friendly cab driver in a circa 1970 station wagon cab. The dashboard was backlit by little incandescent bulbs, like the kind used for dome lights! No fashionable green or amber dashboard glow here! The speedometer only went up to 85 (and there was apparently little need for it to register much beyond 57 MPH, it seemed). Said cabbie was quite enthusiastic about informing me of the charm of this place, which was apparent enough in my groggy cruise through town. Something to do with horse racing in the summer. He had a big band station playing, which seemed strangely appropriate. And yes, Katxena, he was probably wearing shoes, but frankly, if he wasn't I would not have been very surprised!


Actually, the real reason I popped in here was to remind everyone that Mimi Smartypants is a national treasure. I nearly fell out of my chair this morning. Witness:

What do we want? GRADUAL CHANGE! When do we want it? IN DUE COURSE!


What do we want? NUBILE YOUNG MAKEOUT DOLLIES WITH POINTY NIPPLES! When do we want it? RIGHT AWAY!


What do we want? A FLAKY CROISSANT! When do we want it? TOMORROW MORNING!

And so we begin and end with nipples.





posted by MT at 7:47 AM |

The view from 70 Park

I'm staying at the Doral Park Avenue in NYC. Just finished the best cheeseburger I've ever eaten, in 70 Park the lounge/lobby bar. Rounded out with a chilly Bass ale. I've been reading Kissing in Manhattan on loan from LK, a great collection of connected short stories the first of which could have taken place right here. The rain is not as cold as it looks, but the view of the street is expansive and yet compartmentalized, like watching a movie on an impressive high definition screen. It's dark and wooden in here. A large table fills the center of the room, low with tea lights placed at every corner. In the center is a fluid dark wooden sculpture that is smooth and shiny, and makes me think of two accomplished partners dancing to a thrumming latin beat, or maybe a couple of praying mantises negotiating the moment before copulation. No edges, just rounded dark shiny parts, all elbows and knees and shoulders, it seems.

Outside a pizza delivery guy is trying to navigate the street. I've watched him for maybe 10 minutes. He keeps looking at the street signs, then at a slip of paper now soggy, then back at the street signs as if they will fill in the blanks for him, maybe add some subtitles to help him find where he needs to be. I know how he feels. Unless that hot oven bag has an internal power source, his customers are going to be unhappy. He doesn't seem to notice the rain.

The last time I was in the city at this time of year was maybe five years ago, and I was wandering happily around Rockefeller center, where all the holiday fanfare glowed with bright optimistic light. It seems so much darker today.

Feeling lonely, wondering what it is exactly I'm doing here. Waiting for the heartburn to kick in (it's only a matter of time). But damn that was a good burger. The juice dribbled out, soaking the bun. I used the heavy knife as a placeholder, balanced across the top of the pages so I could read without touching them and getting them all damp and greasy. When the waiter came and collected my plate he let me keep the knife so I could keep reading for a while longer.

I'm exhausted and want to play, but with the exception of turkey day the next three weeks are going to be a brutal nonstop work travel nightmare. I keep wondering why I am doing this. There is no obvious or satisfying answer. But soon I will throw myself into work and the days will pass. I have to remember to breathe. And take my reflux meds, just in case.


posted by MT at 9:45 PM |

Ever notice...


You know how when you go down to Zipperhead or one of those stores on South Street to buy your bondage gear, to get a chrome spiked one of those or a leather bound one of these, maybe with some fur along the outer edge...well, it’s almost a requirement that you do buy these sorts of things if you're on South Street. Like going to the track without betting on the ponies. It just isn't done. And it gets really absurd when you get your big bag of goodies and whatnot home, because you have it in a big shopping bag like you just came back from Boscovs or Macy’s or some other big republican department store, and the first thing you have to do is take eveverything out and clip off the tags...but then you find yourself setting the tags aside, like there’s even a remote possibility that you will someday return those things if...what, they don’t perform? Who would write a warranty for these items? And what kind of inspection would have to take place before the store would consider a return? I mean, bathing suit purchases are final, for crying out loud. But still, you make a little pile of the tags, and maybe the instructions if there are any, and any spare keys or whatnot, extra screws for the battery case and so on. And in the bright light of day, well this all just seems even more silly than it did before.

Ever notice that? Anyone?



posted by MT at 1:20 PM |

A Night at the Opera

And not "Tommy" or "Carmen: A Hip-Hopera," either. The real deal. Lots of Italian and magnificent music and oh yes the gothic and the killing, all with a thick slathering of melodrama over the top like buttercream frosting. MMmmm...frosting.

But I get ahead of myself.

Allow me to illustrate:

I was tempted to start with a little quiz -- given some key plot points, could you pick out which opera it was? I mean, if I tell you that there's familial blood feuds, the Scottish highlands, castles and lords and ladies aplenty, gothic ghostly tombs and cemetaries, the marriage of convenience versus the marriage of love (and to an enemy to boot), plus swordplay and madness and murder...I mean, those are enough critical decision points, aren't they? No? Me either.

I don't pretend to know anything about this stuff, except that it was damned fine entertainment. The "Mad scene" as it was being frequently referenced, where Lucia (above) kills her new husband (you know, the one she was forced to marry) and then wanders out into the parlor in a bloody white dress and proceeds to decompensate in front of the guests...It was stellar. Melodrama aside, this was a magnificent performance. It is difficult to comment on the singing because it is all so foreign to me, but the technical skill and emotional presence of this woman in particular were spectacular.

Something should be said about the venue as well, because unlike other operas I've attended (all one of them) this was not in a grand stately hall but rather in a tiny church-like enclave. Small, intimate, the orchestra filling up the first 15 square feet or so, and the stage was a tiny bit of business -- which was interesting, because it spoke to the skills of the performers that they were able to project such ornate and grandiose manner and song with such a constrained space to work in.

A grand time.

So why was I there? Not being a remarkably huge fan of opera...well, not yet anyway...

Well, a lovely and delightful lady of my recent acquaintance was performing, in the orchestra, over to the left. On violin. It was tough dividing my attention between the action on stage, the conveniently projected English translation above the performers, and to the orchestra where LK was performing. I was much more interested in watching her, as you might imagine.

I will have much more to say about her in the days and weeks to come, but this was mostly intended as an introduction. She is a stunning woman, in every respect. I am quite the giddy boy...Today I am heading out to Delaware to watch her and an eclectic ensemble of friends and co-workers in an improvisational, interpretive musical performance. There will be much more to report later.

So, from gothic to giddy, all in one post. I'm tempted to comment on the Orson Welles-like character who sat immediately to my left, intermittently dozing or removing his jacket and then putting it on again, but there'll be time for that later...




posted by MT at 6:25 AM |

Saturday morning prime


I find myself up and online at the strangest times these days. My internal clock has gone through some bizarre reorganizations, and it seems like a few new time categories are necessary...like Morning Prime can refer to the "technically morning" hours of say 12 to 4, when if you are getting up you realize that the noise from the apartment below is probably still last night's party continuing, and they are thinking that they are actually still in Late Evening Standard.

It also has a lot to do with what you're drinking at the moment. Since it's my special French roast/snickerdoodle coffee concoction, it must be morning...If it's the last beer or maybe a nice Glenfiddich on the rocks, well then...call it evening and you avoid all of the cognitive dissonance that having a beer for breakfast can bring. Well, at my age. There was a time when sipping a brew and hearing the radio alarm come on in the other room (cause I never remember to reset that thing for the weekends) was met with a "Hey! Cool! We forgot to go to sleep!" whereas now it's more of a "Oh. Bother. We forgot to go to sleep."



Best bumper stickers / vanity plates this week


Carpay DM Vanity plate. I like this one for lots of reasons. First, why misspell carpe when the correct spelling is shorter and would (I think) cost less on the vanity plate? So then I have to think the car-pay connection was intentional, but then the true meaning becomes a little more obscure (seize the car payment? Is this a repo guy? Car-pay the day? Still struggling to pay off this sucker?). And at first glance, I thought it read "Crappy DM." In sales land, 'DM' is the accepted abbreviation for District Manager, and if one really thought one was a crappy DM, why advertise that fact? Fun.


Militant Agnostic: I don't know, and you don't know either. Never saw this one before. More fun.

Honk if you understand punctuated equilibrium! (on the same car as the Militant Agnostic sticker) Since we were on the Shuylkill Expressway, I decided not to honk, to avoid the resultant road rage and gunplay that would inevitably ensue. Further fun.



Finally I get some respect.

Picked up V from school yesterday -- last minute schedule changes are par for the course. She was going over her recent spelling words, and in the give and take that followed, she decided it would be fun to quiz me. After I got all of them, she pulled out a big dictionary and started thumbing through, to try and stump dear old Dad. Foolish young mortal. You're in my sandbox now! (I was thinking).

Of course, the absurdity of the situation was that she had to a) stick to words she could read (which as proud papa I have to say is rather remarkable; she's a very good reader and can sound out words that are impressively difficult) which tended to be easier to spell, or b) pick long words that she couldn't pronounce, so of course I could never be sure if I had the right word as I was spelling. Reminds me of the ridiculous advice teachers used to give to "look it up!" if you didn't know how to spell a word....How to find it in the dictionary, pray tell, witless teacher? They tend to organize those words by, you know, how they are spelled. So she read the definition and the sample sentence as appropriate cues for the tougher ones.

By the end, she was impressed that I was able to get every one. Daddy's got some street cred now! I'm sure that she'll gather all her friends around now to try and stump me. Teach them all to respect and love the geeks around them. Look what we can do! Here's a marketable skill! This is me campaigning for Coolest Dad Ever! Witness: superlative spelling skills *and* knows all the words (sadly) and tunes to every top 40 song that comes on Radio Disney. And wait til you see what I can do with a computer! Thus dawns a bright new day...


posted by MT at 5:36 AM |

Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this

Oh, did you think I was going soft on you? No, it's just that I have that damned song in my head suddenly (must have walked past someone's desk with the radio playing), and it actually fits right there with my rampant consumerism post of mere minutes ago. (Still trying to work up a head of steam, getting closer...) Merrican Idol...That damned Kelly whats-her-face and that other guy, the Sideshow Bob lookalike, and all the rest of them. It's not about becoming good musicians but good performers; not about art but about entertainment. Not about craft but about attention and popularity and notoriety! Feh! (I'm waggling my fist in a threatening way, geezer that I am). These damned kids and their popular music....


Bloody song! It's everywhere. Pure cotton candy, like the whisp of a scent of something that used to be real. Complete with the requisite Barry Manilow key change near the end, just to ratchet the poignancy up a notch or two. Thankfully, I suspect 12 of her 15 minutes are already through...

And by the way, in case you ever get a song like this wedged in your head like a caraway seed between the molars, just hum a few bars from Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega and all will be well. ACM taught me that. Works prophylactically as well, in case you know you will be spending two hours listening to the Radio Disney top 30*with your nine year old in the backseat. Get a few innoculatory (?) bars under your belt and you're covered for the afternoon.

*Do you know they edit the songs on that station? And in the most irrational ways -- like that Britney Spears song that like is called "oops I did it again" -- there's a line (yes I know the lines, I tell you it's like an infection, you don't blame someone for having the plauge, do you? like it was their fault??) so there's this line that like goes "I'm not that innocent" (like, duh) and like they totally don't play that lyric. Totally. And I have to wonder, what is it they think they are protecting their wee listening audience from? I ask you.
I could go on about the censorship but I would really be reaching, right there. I'm sure tomorrow's elections will bring many things to get frothy about...soon, my pretties.

posted by MT at 2:26 PM |

Happy 101st, Grandma Rose!

I realize that this shout-out will go unreceived, but I suspect that if she could see the screen, she would think it was a fine idea and then ask why I'm doing it in the first place. Always a cross between enthusiasm and practicality, is my grandmother. Now that she is embarking on her second century, I think the slack that we should cut the woman is fairly enormous. The slack, that is (read carefully).

Okay this isn't going well. I meant to tell you about her party on Saturday, not a big bunch of hoo-ha, but still and all a fine time was had. My grandmother's secret energy pill is her great-grandkids, who flocked around her for about as long as you could reasonably expect and then went on about their business. She drops about forty years when she's watching them, beaming silently like a glowing Italian Buddha. I hope if I ever get to that age I can keep the cynicism down to such a practically invisible level and still find a reason to wake up every morning with gratitude for being given another day. Macular degeneration, hearing nearly gone, peripheral neuropathy in her fingers -- and she "thanks God for every day." And means it. And that's pretty cool.


Enough with the soulless consumerism already.

So day two of the weekend was spent trying to coax Windoze XP to full functionality. Dad picked up another PC, and if you believe the hype on the front of this thing you would think you were in for a whirwind time of blazing speed and multimedia wizardry. And you would be wrong. A 1.7gHz processor on this thing and it ambled along like its diaper was full. Don't quite understand it, myself. And I have to say, since Bill first started making a career of poorly mimicking the MAC OS he has never come so close or fallen so far short. Much has been written about XP and my three hours with it does not a reasoned sampling make. I know that. On the plus side, it's a visually appealing interface. That and a back slap will give you a pleasant tingly feeling for about five minutes. In the few hours I spent with this bear, I noticed a) completely counterintuitive menus (and no attempt to simplify the user's transition from previous versions to this one); b) shitty backward compatibility -- I mean, two of five pieces of software we attempted to load crapped out on us and caused system faults that necessitated restarting the damned thing, and they still won't load properly; and c) commercials everywhere.

There is a theme here. I can't be sure if I am becoming overly sensitized or there is something afoot here (maybe the latest entry on my ever-growing evidence pile in favor of the apocalypse NOW). The radio plays music in between twenty-minute spans of advertising; I met someone recently who doesn't watch television because of the pervasive promotional gimmicry. I can deal. It doesn't make me happy, but I'm good at ignoring things. But the PC business...this really boils my blood. This is a major purchase! Don't put shortcuts on the desktop to things I don't actually have access to without going on line! Don't try to sell me upgrades to a program I haven't even launched yet! And no, you sinister bastards, I will not register this puppy online because I have enough crap in my spambox to keep me amused for several hours every day! At what point do we reach critical mass on these things? Can't we just stop the insanity?

Not one of my more articulate rants, I know. Probably because my blood didn't really boil, just kind of came to a tepid simmery sort of place. It does bug the hell out of me, but it wouldn't keep me from using the adware in the first place. So maybe I'm part of the problem, with my pseudo-zen acceptability of this slow and irrevocable sell-out to the corporate masters. Sigh. Trying hard to feel cranky about it, but I'm feeling too good today. Got Mozart on my mind for some reason...And I'm heading downtown shortly for an evening group and then three days of teaching, so things could be a lot worse.

Plus it isn't my computer....which helps with the tepid.

I'll try to get worked up about something later on...





posted by MT at 1:31 PM |

Getting 'weeny in the hay-ouse

Please to forgive that outburst.

So I took V out for Tricks and Treats last night. Brutally bitter winter bitch around here, so we didn't stay out long. Nobody seemed to be appropriately dressed for it, least of all me. So the swarm of kids that I was with sort of sought out the warm and friendly lights, like summer moths, hovered around for a bit and then went home. She was dressed, by the way, as a she-devil. Versus the princess/Ariel theme from years past. Playing, perhaps, a little closer to type this year. I say that in the most loving way.

So I learned two things last night (you know I always learn at least one thing when I spend any amount of time with her and her friends). First, my costume as Big Goofy Dad with Camera was fairly frightening to the wee ones. Apparently there are rules of child proximity that I failed to respect. I was right up there with them, or right behind them, coming up on the doors and poking my head around to see what was what. This was frowned upon. Parents are required to hang back by the curb and look the other way while the kids do their begging. So my streak of being hyper-interested and hence embarrassing to the child continues. At least I'm consistent.

The second learning was that damn these kids today are lazy. Yes, it was cold and all that, but where's the sense of anticipation that comes from knocking on the door, shouting Trick or Treat!! and waiting to see how the occupants would greet you and what neat stuff they would have?? Granted it's a row-home kind of neighborhood, and many people find it easier to just sit out on the step with the big tray of goodies as the kids go scooting by. But when the house lights are on and the inviting pumpkin is glowing there on the front step, climb on up and ring the bloody bell! Yes it's free stuff, but you have to put forth a little effort! It's not the drive through at Wendy's for crying out loud. I was saying to myself.

I think when your inner voice starts shouting advice to 9-year-olds about how they should have more fun than they are currently having, it's wise to ignore that voice, and maybe drown it with some beer.



posted by MT at 9:02 AM |