Allegories...
Sometimes dreams teach you amazing lessons.
"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook being worse treated than a cook?"
"Insulted by a lazy ribald with idle pipe and vesture piebald? You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, Blow your pipe there till you burst!"
Once more he stept into the street, and to his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
and ere he blew three notes (such sweet soft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air)
There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls. Tripping and skipping ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood As if they were changed into blocks of wood, Unable to move a step, or cry To the children merrily skipping by.
---Could only follow with the eye That joyous crowd at the Piper's back...However he turned from South to West, And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, And after him the children pressed; Great was the joy in every breast.
"He never can cross that mighty top! He's forced to let the piping drop, and We shall see our children stop!"
...as they reached the mountain-side, a wondrous portal opened wide, As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced and the children followed, And when all were in to the very last, The door in the mountain side shut fast. Did I say all?
No; one was lame; and could not dance the whole of the way; and in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say,--
"It's dull in our town since my playmates left! I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me.
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue, And everything was strange and new...and just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured, the music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!"
...Alas, alas for Hamelin! There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that Heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the the needle's eye takes a camel in!
...And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it, The Pied Piper's Street---Where any one playing on pipe or tabour, Was sure for the future to lose his labour.
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern They wrote the story on a column, And on the great church-window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away, And there it stands to this very day....
So...let me and you be wipers Of scores out with all men--especially pipers! And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise!
The Piper Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning ©1888
It's funny what you remember...and for those that broke their promises, I will not forget. Hide if you wish, but the picture is clear. And your price? I pray that you can bear it.
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Kate's baby
Well, let's see--the last time I saw Kate was when The Governator AhhhNuld was running for office. She does news and such for NBC, and was married back in 1997 to a lovely Frenchman who I met once coming out of Karavas Tavern on Cornelia Street in the West Village one hot summer night. They live on the upper East side, if I'm not mistaken.
Kate, who worked at Rock Center (and suffered just I did) thru the 87-88 season, quickly became a regular season passholder soon after. (I quit after 2 seasons, tried the same thing, and said, ehhh...I'd rather sneak in free, which I still do. Pbbbbthhhhtt on you, Nick Valenti.) Kate has the incredible distinction of being
COMPLETELY SELF-TAUGHT.
I mean, spins, jumps, everything. I've seen her launch out of nowhere in axel attempts, double-toe walleys, flips....my lord, I think she'd try a back flip if she had 20 more feet on each side to work with! Her sit spin is incredible and nausea-inducing. You literally cannot see the features on her face when she lunges in and tucks under. Jaws drop, let me put it that way. She routinely falls into what I call her "chicken shit" tirade when she falls out of jumps. I look at her, and before I can ask, "Well, how was it? I thought it looked good," she shouts, "I'M A CHICKEN SHIT! I CAN DO THIS, WHY NOT TODAY? Grrr...."
Personally, I think Kate longs for a double axel, but you really need someone to teach you where and when your forward edge is unless you want to risk a non-surgical nose job. You just need that extra eye. She has a tendency to "skid" upwards rather than a releve, which you need, but that's why they call it free-style--you do it how you want. Imagine she did have a teacher? One can only imagine how many other skaters with medals would NOT have stood on a podium had she chose to compete.
Her camel (spin, not the biblical animals appearing at Radio City's Christmas show) is divine. Long, trailing edge, strong hook, and then this forward outside edge. Martin James's son told me he asked her who she learned from and her answer was "TV." I mean, can we just all die now????!!!
I am continually tickled that I work so close to this place (literally across the street) just so I can take a break during the winter months and watch Kate fly (and boy does she) when I eat lunch. Now, with news of her new son, I wonder when she'll be back out there? I guarantee you this little boy is going to have her fiery spirit, and maybe just maybe, a new pair of skates? I doubt he'll be in toe picks, maybe hockey skates. Either way, if he grows into anything like his talented Mom, the skating world will have a prodigy on its hands.
Congratulations, Kate and thank you, Jorge for telling me!
Well, let's see--the last time I saw Kate was when The Governator AhhhNuld was running for office. She does news and such for NBC, and was married back in 1997 to a lovely Frenchman who I met once coming out of Karavas Tavern on Cornelia Street in the West Village one hot summer night. They live on the upper East side, if I'm not mistaken.
Kate, who worked at Rock Center (and suffered just I did) thru the 87-88 season, quickly became a regular season passholder soon after. (I quit after 2 seasons, tried the same thing, and said, ehhh...I'd rather sneak in free, which I still do. Pbbbbthhhhtt on you, Nick Valenti.) Kate has the incredible distinction of being
COMPLETELY SELF-TAUGHT.
I mean, spins, jumps, everything. I've seen her launch out of nowhere in axel attempts, double-toe walleys, flips....my lord, I think she'd try a back flip if she had 20 more feet on each side to work with! Her sit spin is incredible and nausea-inducing. You literally cannot see the features on her face when she lunges in and tucks under. Jaws drop, let me put it that way. She routinely falls into what I call her "chicken shit" tirade when she falls out of jumps. I look at her, and before I can ask, "Well, how was it? I thought it looked good," she shouts, "I'M A CHICKEN SHIT! I CAN DO THIS, WHY NOT TODAY? Grrr...."
Personally, I think Kate longs for a double axel, but you really need someone to teach you where and when your forward edge is unless you want to risk a non-surgical nose job. You just need that extra eye. She has a tendency to "skid" upwards rather than a releve, which you need, but that's why they call it free-style--you do it how you want. Imagine she did have a teacher? One can only imagine how many other skaters with medals would NOT have stood on a podium had she chose to compete.
Her camel (spin, not the biblical animals appearing at Radio City's Christmas show) is divine. Long, trailing edge, strong hook, and then this forward outside edge. Martin James's son told me he asked her who she learned from and her answer was "TV." I mean, can we just all die now????!!!
I am continually tickled that I work so close to this place (literally across the street) just so I can take a break during the winter months and watch Kate fly (and boy does she) when I eat lunch. Now, with news of her new son, I wonder when she'll be back out there? I guarantee you this little boy is going to have her fiery spirit, and maybe just maybe, a new pair of skates? I doubt he'll be in toe picks, maybe hockey skates. Either way, if he grows into anything like his talented Mom, the skating world will have a prodigy on its hands.
Congratulations, Kate and thank you, Jorge for telling me!
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
A thoroughly EXASPERATING day
Well, last night ended ok. I woke up this morning, gray day (just how I like 'em), and I have a 10 am doctor's appointment. I get over there, catch the bus just in time. It's also snowing, which makes me a happy (balding) camper. It seems more of my hair loss (telogen hairs, FANCY how they're named!) was caused by the flu and the high fever I had. My immune system conked out, and the 102 degree fever is what did me in. This wacko shedding is temporary. I'll go back to my usual rate of 100 hairs per day very soon. It's been cut a certain way, and colored, so I'm not worried. Or, maybe I'm just in denial. (The prospect of looking like Mr. Clean will do that to you.)
I go to my diner, since my appointment ended sooo early, and had my usual eggs and toast while reading reviews of Mel Gibson's new movie. Considering how he edited "Hamlet", I'm sure he'll screw up the Bible quite nicely. Buy me a ticket, 'cause I'm going! Let's see if I don't get struck by lightning when I come out of the theater. If anyone asks me, "How was it?", my pat response will be, "The book was SOOOO much better! Get the book!" ^ . . ^ (devil horns)
Then, I get on the train, my first adventure with the revamped "D" train at 36th street (yesterday was the "N"), and I go over that bridge. What a difference! We didn't "lurch" from side to side, so the steel has definitely been fortified. I get to work, do my usual phone Tuesday thing, and pop open my email.
The Asshole has returned! Mr. Sage sent me a colorful reply re: my reply to him over the ebay item I'm selling. He states that he goes to an ice show once or twice a year (which means Stars on Ice or Champions on Ice, since there are only two shows now--Ice Capades died in 1997, and Holiday on Ice is strictly a European tour now), which means I WAS RIGHT! Another non-skater telling me what I know. I swear to God (and not Mel Gibson's version), I can smell these rats a mile away! I was promptly lectured about my response, my listing, my attitude, and why do I waste my time, when it's obvious I should be doing something else, why my friends should be doing something else (I mentioned the demise of Capades and how it put my friends out of work) and how today's skaters (and I'm quoting) "can't hold a candle to the Olympic caliber of days past. Then he goes onto tell me that I should complain to ebay about the "ask the seller" function if I don't like it. NO, I think it's very useful. Except for fucking morons like you. AND.....(now my Irish is up!)
NOTE TO MR. DAVE SAGE! (what a name, since you're NOT)
1) I do DO SOMETHING ELSE. Ebay's a part-time thing, my listing is worded the way it is because I WORK WITH WORDS AT MY FUCKING JOB. IT'S A NEWS AGENCY, AND I WAS HIRED TO SIFT THROUGH CONTRACTS AND ORDERS TO CORRECT TRANSMISSIONS WHICH COME DOWN TO WORDS ON A SCREEN!
2) I don't consider my listings (or my favorite recreation) a "waste of time" since the listings help PAY MY BILLS, and my recreation is wonderful exercise, which I need, given a heart condition and a poor thyroid. And neither do my friends, since many of them get to teach out in the boroughs and Long Island, and they can afford new cars every year, despite their non-show status.
3) As for "Olympic caliber", you sit on your ass, not in a rink. Who are you to judge? Time moves forward. People retire. Dick Button got old, Peggy Fleming survived cancer, Dorothy Hamill suffers from osteoarthritis. Don't you watch her Vioxx commercials, dickhead? People age, and move on!!! But since I'm so technically good with words that it pisses you off, let me note that all of the cast of SOI is either an Olympic Gold, Silver, or World medalist. There are no "bronze" winners in there, unless you count World Bronze medalists Rudy Galindo and Nicole Bobek. COI has eligible skaters, and always will. Tom Collins designed it that way to give them good performance exposure. There's also Disney and Kenneth Feld, which has chorus skaters and a lot of Russians making children laugh. Ask them about their credentials from Moscow and St. Petersburg, I'm sure you'll find some gold in there despite the Monster costumes!
I blocked this sonofabitch and have no qualms about doing so. And to think I was so happy that my friend Jorge told me that Kate Wallenda had a baby boy, and this fuckwit totally wrecked my frame of mind.
What kills me is the listing in question now has 30 hits and 4 days to go. Everyone's been emailing me with questions (POSITIVE questions, might I add) about what size, how does it look, do I have more, when will I get another one. Someone's definitely gonna purchase this thing, and I hope it makes someone really happy. Not Mr. (Not at all) Sage.
More thoughts on Jorge and Kate's baby (not to mention her camel spin) tomorrow...
Well, last night ended ok. I woke up this morning, gray day (just how I like 'em), and I have a 10 am doctor's appointment. I get over there, catch the bus just in time. It's also snowing, which makes me a happy (balding) camper. It seems more of my hair loss (telogen hairs, FANCY how they're named!) was caused by the flu and the high fever I had. My immune system conked out, and the 102 degree fever is what did me in. This wacko shedding is temporary. I'll go back to my usual rate of 100 hairs per day very soon. It's been cut a certain way, and colored, so I'm not worried. Or, maybe I'm just in denial. (The prospect of looking like Mr. Clean will do that to you.)
I go to my diner, since my appointment ended sooo early, and had my usual eggs and toast while reading reviews of Mel Gibson's new movie. Considering how he edited "Hamlet", I'm sure he'll screw up the Bible quite nicely. Buy me a ticket, 'cause I'm going! Let's see if I don't get struck by lightning when I come out of the theater. If anyone asks me, "How was it?", my pat response will be, "The book was SOOOO much better! Get the book!" ^ . . ^ (devil horns)
Then, I get on the train, my first adventure with the revamped "D" train at 36th street (yesterday was the "N"), and I go over that bridge. What a difference! We didn't "lurch" from side to side, so the steel has definitely been fortified. I get to work, do my usual phone Tuesday thing, and pop open my email.
The Asshole has returned! Mr. Sage sent me a colorful reply re: my reply to him over the ebay item I'm selling. He states that he goes to an ice show once or twice a year (which means Stars on Ice or Champions on Ice, since there are only two shows now--Ice Capades died in 1997, and Holiday on Ice is strictly a European tour now), which means I WAS RIGHT! Another non-skater telling me what I know. I swear to God (and not Mel Gibson's version), I can smell these rats a mile away! I was promptly lectured about my response, my listing, my attitude, and why do I waste my time, when it's obvious I should be doing something else, why my friends should be doing something else (I mentioned the demise of Capades and how it put my friends out of work) and how today's skaters (and I'm quoting) "can't hold a candle to the Olympic caliber of days past. Then he goes onto tell me that I should complain to ebay about the "ask the seller" function if I don't like it. NO, I think it's very useful. Except for fucking morons like you. AND.....(now my Irish is up!)
NOTE TO MR. DAVE SAGE! (what a name, since you're NOT)
1) I do DO SOMETHING ELSE. Ebay's a part-time thing, my listing is worded the way it is because I WORK WITH WORDS AT MY FUCKING JOB. IT'S A NEWS AGENCY, AND I WAS HIRED TO SIFT THROUGH CONTRACTS AND ORDERS TO CORRECT TRANSMISSIONS WHICH COME DOWN TO WORDS ON A SCREEN!
2) I don't consider my listings (or my favorite recreation) a "waste of time" since the listings help PAY MY BILLS, and my recreation is wonderful exercise, which I need, given a heart condition and a poor thyroid. And neither do my friends, since many of them get to teach out in the boroughs and Long Island, and they can afford new cars every year, despite their non-show status.
3) As for "Olympic caliber", you sit on your ass, not in a rink. Who are you to judge? Time moves forward. People retire. Dick Button got old, Peggy Fleming survived cancer, Dorothy Hamill suffers from osteoarthritis. Don't you watch her Vioxx commercials, dickhead? People age, and move on!!! But since I'm so technically good with words that it pisses you off, let me note that all of the cast of SOI is either an Olympic Gold, Silver, or World medalist. There are no "bronze" winners in there, unless you count World Bronze medalists Rudy Galindo and Nicole Bobek. COI has eligible skaters, and always will. Tom Collins designed it that way to give them good performance exposure. There's also Disney and Kenneth Feld, which has chorus skaters and a lot of Russians making children laugh. Ask them about their credentials from Moscow and St. Petersburg, I'm sure you'll find some gold in there despite the Monster costumes!
I blocked this sonofabitch and have no qualms about doing so. And to think I was so happy that my friend Jorge told me that Kate Wallenda had a baby boy, and this fuckwit totally wrecked my frame of mind.
What kills me is the listing in question now has 30 hits and 4 days to go. Everyone's been emailing me with questions (POSITIVE questions, might I add) about what size, how does it look, do I have more, when will I get another one. Someone's definitely gonna purchase this thing, and I hope it makes someone really happy. Not Mr. (Not at all) Sage.
More thoughts on Jorge and Kate's baby (not to mention her camel spin) tomorrow...
Monday, February 23, 2004
Bitchy Questions are, like, soooo last year
Ok, I wake up, get to work (on the new revamped trains, yay for Brooklyn!), and pop open my email. Lo and behold, I get a "question for seller" email. This particular tidbit is actually berating me for the wording and "questionable content" of my listing. The person (whose name is Dave) is known on eBay as "fanofpsu." My hackles are immediately raised when I see the word "fan". PSU stands for Professional Skater's Union. So, Dave, are you a fan? Have you ever skated? Or, are you just a bitchy asshole wasting my time?
I could not possibly list here the extreme problems of very insecure, snot-nosed people inside the skating hierarchy. The list runs toooo long, and would be filled with waaay too many expletives. I also find it very interesting to note that
1)Most "fans" have never had skates on their feet--this also includes members of the PSU, and judges from the ISU. It annoys the hell out of us who actually jump and spin. It's also a huge reason why skaters (pro and eligible) leave the sport entirely, bitter and angry. You've never done it yourselves and you tell US how it's supposed to be done? Go scratch!
2)Mr. Perfect PSU Fan had no items for sale. If a person poses a question such as the one I received, perhaps it is in the spirit of competition? Competitiveness among eBay sellers is not unheard of, and actually can improve the "tweaking" of listings to level out the field and make things more desirable for bidders. Undercutting is a known practice, it's part of economics. However, I don't want your money if you're just going to comment in a rude manner. If you actually have a proven track record of selling items, and wish to give me pointers, ok. I'll gladly take it as "constructive criticism."
If you're just ranting, fuck off. I don't want your money anyway. I've been in this sport since 1976, I know what I'm talking about. I don't need my time (and my email space) wasted. If you're wondering why people leave you weird comments and negative feedback? I JUST TOLD YOU WHY. You don't want the items? Don't like how they're listed?
THEN DON'T BID.
Sidenote to RD: don't let assholes like this ruin your time when you start selling. Assholes are a part of life.
Ok, I wake up, get to work (on the new revamped trains, yay for Brooklyn!), and pop open my email. Lo and behold, I get a "question for seller" email. This particular tidbit is actually berating me for the wording and "questionable content" of my listing. The person (whose name is Dave) is known on eBay as "fanofpsu." My hackles are immediately raised when I see the word "fan". PSU stands for Professional Skater's Union. So, Dave, are you a fan? Have you ever skated? Or, are you just a bitchy asshole wasting my time?
I could not possibly list here the extreme problems of very insecure, snot-nosed people inside the skating hierarchy. The list runs toooo long, and would be filled with waaay too many expletives. I also find it very interesting to note that
1)Most "fans" have never had skates on their feet--this also includes members of the PSU, and judges from the ISU. It annoys the hell out of us who actually jump and spin. It's also a huge reason why skaters (pro and eligible) leave the sport entirely, bitter and angry. You've never done it yourselves and you tell US how it's supposed to be done? Go scratch!
2)Mr. Perfect PSU Fan had no items for sale. If a person poses a question such as the one I received, perhaps it is in the spirit of competition? Competitiveness among eBay sellers is not unheard of, and actually can improve the "tweaking" of listings to level out the field and make things more desirable for bidders. Undercutting is a known practice, it's part of economics. However, I don't want your money if you're just going to comment in a rude manner. If you actually have a proven track record of selling items, and wish to give me pointers, ok. I'll gladly take it as "constructive criticism."
If you're just ranting, fuck off. I don't want your money anyway. I've been in this sport since 1976, I know what I'm talking about. I don't need my time (and my email space) wasted. If you're wondering why people leave you weird comments and negative feedback? I JUST TOLD YOU WHY. You don't want the items? Don't like how they're listed?
THEN DON'T BID.
Sidenote to RD: don't let assholes like this ruin your time when you start selling. Assholes are a part of life.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
Deep Space (An Equestrienne In the Circus of the Falling Star)
These stars
no one else can see
Trapeze the height of thee
vanish as they call
These blues
no one else can hear
no one else can sing
this one for you
Can they, dear?
Things that you do are always with me
when you're laughing
you're always here
What's the use in crying?
It won't matter when we're old.
This tear
will finally fall
Keep your eyes here
when there's no net at all
When the Lord's face
is an all-night cafe
There's a woman who will wait on
what you have to say
And your dreams are like marbles
in the pocket of a little boy
and they whisper when you hold them
like a beautiful girl
Beautiful girl.
reprinted from The Magazine ©1984 by Rickie Lee Jones Warner Bros. Records, Inc.
It's one of my favorites. You figure it out.
These stars
no one else can see
Trapeze the height of thee
vanish as they call
These blues
no one else can hear
no one else can sing
this one for you
Can they, dear?
Things that you do are always with me
when you're laughing
you're always here
What's the use in crying?
It won't matter when we're old.
This tear
will finally fall
Keep your eyes here
when there's no net at all
When the Lord's face
is an all-night cafe
There's a woman who will wait on
what you have to say
And your dreams are like marbles
in the pocket of a little boy
and they whisper when you hold them
like a beautiful girl
Beautiful girl.
reprinted from The Magazine ©1984 by Rickie Lee Jones Warner Bros. Records, Inc.
It's one of my favorites. You figure it out.
Friday, February 20, 2004
Take Me to the Water
Good song, and I'm already there. The Sun is now in my sign, the fishes.
Today's word: Avatar: \AV-uh-tar\, noun:
1. The incarnation of a deity -- chiefly associated in Hinduism with the incarnations of Vishnu.
2. An embodiment, as of a quality, concept, philosophy, or tradition; an archetype.
3. A temporary manifestation or aspect of a continuing entity.
(as described in the Merriam-Webster dictionary.)
My avatar today is the recurring theme of convergence. Proof? This gets very interesting...
I awake this morning to a gray-blue sky, thinking of choreography from our newest National Champion, Johnny Weir. He is a skater. We move across frozen water. His costume represented an icicle, which was gray-blue. The zodiacal shift of Pisces represents water (which can also be gray-blue), which in turn brings up creativity, emotions, and intensity. He exudes all these things. I got a "flash" in my head of his hands reaching out to me physically. I dismissed it as a random thought before coffee. Johnny is training for Worlds, which takes place in Dortmund, Germany next month. I grabbed Toller Cranston's book (which is also gray-blue) , not knowing why, thinking I'd reread the John Curry section. Something about movement, something about feeling. I get on the bus.
I get to work, and open up my email. There sits a reply from Johnny mentioning what I wrote to him back in January when he won Nationals, a reference to SkyRink where I skate, and how his performance stunned me. The style matched that of his blog in spelling, and composition. There is no way in hell his agent/manager could have crafted this reply. It was too personal. Does this explain the "flash" of his hands reaching out to me?
Lunchtime arrives. I sit in the concourse next to the Rink (frozen water.) I am interrupted by my old manager from Rock Center (who I never cared for, but tolerate) who bubbles with effusive 'hello's', 'how are you's', and 'what are you doing's?' This woman never talks to me, but I noticed she was dressed completely in white, like the ice. She steps away, and I go back to the John Curry section I was reading. My jaw drops as I read Toller's commenting about his Holiday on Ice experience in Dortmund, Germany almost 30 years ago. Johnny was born almost 20 years ago. John Curry (same name, and I'd argue same style) died 10 years ago. We are all emotional, creative people. We all knew SkyRink (the old one and the new one). Toller's costume in Dortmund that year was gray-blue. We are all skaters. We all adore winter.
My reply to him was typically Piscean:, I reminded him to watch his hands (the ones that reached out to me ) in his performance when it happens next month. He seemed truly grateful when I told him of how inspired I was (reaching out again.)
This entire day, so far, is the embodiment of my sign: intensity, emotion, creativity. Water signs are like no other. There is no coincidence. The temporary manifestation appeared to me in the form of the sport I so dearly love, but the underlying component is its own resonant incarnation--feeling. You can't see things and their interconnected qualities, but you can feel them.
Like I've always said, true spirits will find each other.
And when you choose to gather and protect what you love, positivity is the overwhelming result. Kindred spirits (dead or living) will always seek and find each other.
Good song, and I'm already there. The Sun is now in my sign, the fishes.
Today's word: Avatar: \AV-uh-tar\, noun:
1. The incarnation of a deity -- chiefly associated in Hinduism with the incarnations of Vishnu.
2. An embodiment, as of a quality, concept, philosophy, or tradition; an archetype.
3. A temporary manifestation or aspect of a continuing entity.
(as described in the Merriam-Webster dictionary.)
My avatar today is the recurring theme of convergence. Proof? This gets very interesting...
I awake this morning to a gray-blue sky, thinking of choreography from our newest National Champion, Johnny Weir. He is a skater. We move across frozen water. His costume represented an icicle, which was gray-blue. The zodiacal shift of Pisces represents water (which can also be gray-blue), which in turn brings up creativity, emotions, and intensity. He exudes all these things. I got a "flash" in my head of his hands reaching out to me physically. I dismissed it as a random thought before coffee. Johnny is training for Worlds, which takes place in Dortmund, Germany next month. I grabbed Toller Cranston's book (which is also gray-blue) , not knowing why, thinking I'd reread the John Curry section. Something about movement, something about feeling. I get on the bus.
I get to work, and open up my email. There sits a reply from Johnny mentioning what I wrote to him back in January when he won Nationals, a reference to SkyRink where I skate, and how his performance stunned me. The style matched that of his blog in spelling, and composition. There is no way in hell his agent/manager could have crafted this reply. It was too personal. Does this explain the "flash" of his hands reaching out to me?
Lunchtime arrives. I sit in the concourse next to the Rink (frozen water.) I am interrupted by my old manager from Rock Center (who I never cared for, but tolerate) who bubbles with effusive 'hello's', 'how are you's', and 'what are you doing's?' This woman never talks to me, but I noticed she was dressed completely in white, like the ice. She steps away, and I go back to the John Curry section I was reading. My jaw drops as I read Toller's commenting about his Holiday on Ice experience in Dortmund, Germany almost 30 years ago. Johnny was born almost 20 years ago. John Curry (same name, and I'd argue same style) died 10 years ago. We are all emotional, creative people. We all knew SkyRink (the old one and the new one). Toller's costume in Dortmund that year was gray-blue. We are all skaters. We all adore winter.
My reply to him was typically Piscean:, I reminded him to watch his hands (the ones that reached out to me ) in his performance when it happens next month. He seemed truly grateful when I told him of how inspired I was (reaching out again.)
This entire day, so far, is the embodiment of my sign: intensity, emotion, creativity. Water signs are like no other. There is no coincidence. The temporary manifestation appeared to me in the form of the sport I so dearly love, but the underlying component is its own resonant incarnation--feeling. You can't see things and their interconnected qualities, but you can feel them.
Like I've always said, true spirits will find each other.
And when you choose to gather and protect what you love, positivity is the overwhelming result. Kindred spirits (dead or living) will always seek and find each other.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Good, Bad, Up & Down
Well, that usual brick to my forehead arrived today in the form of USFSA's news section: Naomi & Peter, our 5-time champions (and the first 5-timers since Blumberg & Seibert in the 80's) have broken up. He, a Russian emigre (and very nice guy, might I add), got his US citizenship so he could go to the Olympics. They did in 2002, and were gearing up for Torino, Italy in 2006. Now, no more. I'd like to smack Naomi square in the head. My reasons?
1) She's never had her bursitis injury operated on though she said she would. TWICE.
2) She's also announced her pregnancy, which means no operation at all until after the baby.
3) There's no evidence yet that she's even marrying the guy, a hulking Russian acrobat.
Peter, who waited patiently through the 2003 season, and planned his career around 2006 is now left in the lurch. And yes, rumors had it when they originally paired up that he was a MUCH better skater than her. I've got the tapes, seen the tours, watched the exhibitions: Pete, get back in the game. Get a new partner. We need you out there. No other team comes close in talent, just hard work. And in this sport? If it looks like you're making it difficult, the audience--not to mention the judges--don't buy it for a minute. Naomi says her life is taking a "different path." Yes, but let's hope NOT at the expense of the child and possibly her partner's (probable) anguish. Tanith Belbin might not even have her citizenship by that time! We need American ice dancers in 2006! Did I mention Naomi's a Saggitarius? Never knew one of 'em born on December 18th who wasn't a complete pain in the ass. (Yes, Mama's Boy, that means you.) Ah, I'll get over it. Her kid's gonna be gorgeous, that's for sure.
I'm now going through post-flu vomiting and stomach pains. Could this be the last vestige in which this little virus survives? I got up 3 times during the night with a bucket to empty it, and that's being very nice about it.
In other news, that wackjob receptionist who reminds me of the hookers in Full Metal Jacket, took my post-dated check and cashed it. That means I'm getting hit up for a nice $30 fee. That moron who paid me with the eCheck, also has payment that hasn't cleared, and that auction ended on February 1! So, earthlink's bill came through. No money, since the aformentioned check was supposed to be for this Friday, so yes, another $30 overdraft fee. That's $60. There's also a debit that never went through, so could I hit the trifecta and get another $30 fee? Probably. That's the luck I have. My luck is now worth -$90.00 in my checking account.
I am also thoroughly enjoying reports that my ex is now living in his car. Thank you, Nancy, for the information. I really needed to laugh, and you provided me with my first moment of levity all day. I was right about January, after all. I simply adore people who try and use me to their own advantage. Looking back on some of his "buddies" were all the red flags I needed. From what I heard? None of them liked me. Jealousy over whose got more brain cells will do that to ya. Quick, grab me some Kleenex while I go cry. BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! Karma's a bitch, ain't it?
Well, so am I!
LMFAO!!!!
Well, that usual brick to my forehead arrived today in the form of USFSA's news section: Naomi & Peter, our 5-time champions (and the first 5-timers since Blumberg & Seibert in the 80's) have broken up. He, a Russian emigre (and very nice guy, might I add), got his US citizenship so he could go to the Olympics. They did in 2002, and were gearing up for Torino, Italy in 2006. Now, no more. I'd like to smack Naomi square in the head. My reasons?
1) She's never had her bursitis injury operated on though she said she would. TWICE.
2) She's also announced her pregnancy, which means no operation at all until after the baby.
3) There's no evidence yet that she's even marrying the guy, a hulking Russian acrobat.
Peter, who waited patiently through the 2003 season, and planned his career around 2006 is now left in the lurch. And yes, rumors had it when they originally paired up that he was a MUCH better skater than her. I've got the tapes, seen the tours, watched the exhibitions: Pete, get back in the game. Get a new partner. We need you out there. No other team comes close in talent, just hard work. And in this sport? If it looks like you're making it difficult, the audience--not to mention the judges--don't buy it for a minute. Naomi says her life is taking a "different path." Yes, but let's hope NOT at the expense of the child and possibly her partner's (probable) anguish. Tanith Belbin might not even have her citizenship by that time! We need American ice dancers in 2006! Did I mention Naomi's a Saggitarius? Never knew one of 'em born on December 18th who wasn't a complete pain in the ass. (Yes, Mama's Boy, that means you.) Ah, I'll get over it. Her kid's gonna be gorgeous, that's for sure.
I'm now going through post-flu vomiting and stomach pains. Could this be the last vestige in which this little virus survives? I got up 3 times during the night with a bucket to empty it, and that's being very nice about it.
In other news, that wackjob receptionist who reminds me of the hookers in Full Metal Jacket, took my post-dated check and cashed it. That means I'm getting hit up for a nice $30 fee. That moron who paid me with the eCheck, also has payment that hasn't cleared, and that auction ended on February 1! So, earthlink's bill came through. No money, since the aformentioned check was supposed to be for this Friday, so yes, another $30 overdraft fee. That's $60. There's also a debit that never went through, so could I hit the trifecta and get another $30 fee? Probably. That's the luck I have. My luck is now worth -$90.00 in my checking account.
I am also thoroughly enjoying reports that my ex is now living in his car. Thank you, Nancy, for the information. I really needed to laugh, and you provided me with my first moment of levity all day. I was right about January, after all. I simply adore people who try and use me to their own advantage. Looking back on some of his "buddies" were all the red flags I needed. From what I heard? None of them liked me. Jealousy over whose got more brain cells will do that to ya. Quick, grab me some Kleenex while I go cry. BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! Karma's a bitch, ain't it?
Well, so am I!
LMFAO!!!!
Monday, February 16, 2004
A/C & Window on their way
Ok, I was awoken twice today. First at 9 am, when my cell phone alarm went off (I wanted to check how loud it was), and again, when my super came to the door. Kitchen window is fixed, but I need to get this air conditioner out of the window. It's been BOLTED in. I didn't even notice that. The guy's coming for it this Saturday, which is turning out to be a busy day: A/C removal at 9 am, then off to get my hair (what's left of my hair) cut and highlighted. The window will have to be ordered, and hopefully, I won't freeze my ass off when they put it back in.
The last time I had a window replaced was in my hellish old apartment and they came on a--I'll never forget it--20 DEGREE DAY. All week long, it was nice. The one day I need a new window? A polar bear and his two seal buddies watched from across the street. That was fun. My cat put on a coat while they snapped in the frame. That was October 1987. The window was so new and clean, a pigeon actually flew into it. Sad.
The super had some funny stories for me of previous tenants and the ever-growing mouse problem since the streets were repaired last summer. Apparently, one of the spots in the back has an overflow of garbage from an adjacent building, so rats and mice are moving in. I'm not worried: I've got Miss Muffin, the Killer Calico. She hasn't seen/smelled a mouse since (again) that hellish apartment. We always had "visitors", and she and Butch (Goddess rest his Soul) always tag-teamed to bite their heads off. Life with cats is really entertaining. My super only mentioned this since our 5th Avenue mice seem to enjoy the crawl spaces between the walls and the windows. He told me when the most recent move in 539 happened last month, there was a blanket left near a window. That was a rodent bunker--he lifted the blanket, and babies started to crawl UP the screen! He came back with a bunch of traps, but was sick to his stomach. I don't think a mouse would last 3 minutes in this place with my loveable savages. Occasionally, I'll pop on a nature show just so they don't forget what mice look like. It's really hilarious with them sitting there like 3rd graders watching the history of the vole.
Back to work at normal time tomorrow, with PB and all the neuroses. It's only a matter of time before the axe comes down. I don't know what the hell else she thinks she's going to get away with. Everyone I've spoken to in the last year keeps asking, "Did they fire her yet?"
Don't worry, kiddies, I'll let you know!
;-)
Ok, I was awoken twice today. First at 9 am, when my cell phone alarm went off (I wanted to check how loud it was), and again, when my super came to the door. Kitchen window is fixed, but I need to get this air conditioner out of the window. It's been BOLTED in. I didn't even notice that. The guy's coming for it this Saturday, which is turning out to be a busy day: A/C removal at 9 am, then off to get my hair (what's left of my hair) cut and highlighted. The window will have to be ordered, and hopefully, I won't freeze my ass off when they put it back in.
The last time I had a window replaced was in my hellish old apartment and they came on a--I'll never forget it--20 DEGREE DAY. All week long, it was nice. The one day I need a new window? A polar bear and his two seal buddies watched from across the street. That was fun. My cat put on a coat while they snapped in the frame. That was October 1987. The window was so new and clean, a pigeon actually flew into it. Sad.
The super had some funny stories for me of previous tenants and the ever-growing mouse problem since the streets were repaired last summer. Apparently, one of the spots in the back has an overflow of garbage from an adjacent building, so rats and mice are moving in. I'm not worried: I've got Miss Muffin, the Killer Calico. She hasn't seen/smelled a mouse since (again) that hellish apartment. We always had "visitors", and she and Butch (Goddess rest his Soul) always tag-teamed to bite their heads off. Life with cats is really entertaining. My super only mentioned this since our 5th Avenue mice seem to enjoy the crawl spaces between the walls and the windows. He told me when the most recent move in 539 happened last month, there was a blanket left near a window. That was a rodent bunker--he lifted the blanket, and babies started to crawl UP the screen! He came back with a bunch of traps, but was sick to his stomach. I don't think a mouse would last 3 minutes in this place with my loveable savages. Occasionally, I'll pop on a nature show just so they don't forget what mice look like. It's really hilarious with them sitting there like 3rd graders watching the history of the vole.
Back to work at normal time tomorrow, with PB and all the neuroses. It's only a matter of time before the axe comes down. I don't know what the hell else she thinks she's going to get away with. Everyone I've spoken to in the last year keeps asking, "Did they fire her yet?"
Don't worry, kiddies, I'll let you know!
;-)
Sunday, February 15, 2004
"Windows" of Opportunity
Thanks to the FCC's new "portability" rule, I trotted over to Cingular Wireless yesterday (my second post-flu day) and got myself a new Nokia phone. This thing is so great, I don't even know where to begin. My ringtone is a jazzy montage right out of CD 101.9, and my screen is a sunburst color. Clear, no drop-outs in sound. I had to turn DOWN the volume when I called to set my voice mail. My other crappo Kyocera is turned to top volume, and I still can't hear when I talk. The guy that sold it to me was a cross between Gerald LeVert and Ruben from "American Idol", and was wonderful! I wanted another model, and he looked at me like "Ya'r NOT leavin wit dat phone. That IS CRAP, m'dear." I laughed, and let him talk me into this little slice of jazzy heaven. Turns out my credit is still good, since I didn't need a deposit to port over my number (whew!) and he even gave me a rebate form for $50. Unbeknownst to me, I got in on the second to last day of the sales "event" for this particular phone model. It should have cost me $109, but I got it for $50 with a regular contract, and now I can mail in my receipt and get that back in the mail. Cool! I'm donating this other piece of junk to the domestic violence program sponsored by the NYPD. I may hate that Kyocera, but someone else may need it.
Other post-flu adventures include my constant runny nose and the fact that my window just doesn't want to stay in the frame. This extreme cold basically took a two-inch crack in the upper corner and spread it out to two FEET across the pane of glass. Now, let's see what fun I have trying to get the landlord on the phone. I went to leave a note under my super's door (thank god I'm off tomorrow), and realized he might not be there tomorrow, either. I also realized that one of my nicer neighbors, Karen, is no longer living in the building. She was the first person to hold the door for me when I found this place, but a Michele Sharkouff is now in A-2. Oh well, hope you're ok, Karen. Regardless, I got out my Scotch thick-mailer packing tape, and patched up the window. I will now have to take out the air conditioner, too, since that's where it is. Maybe I'll have it cleaned. I hope I can get a new window.
Imagine that, January 2004 destroyed my window. Hope this doesn't ruin Dexter's bird-watching "spot". He's got his eye on a little gray sparrow. Really, their new nest? It's like MTV to him. And I won't get into the day a pigeon landed on my A/C. It was like the World Window Jumping Championships with the three of them lungeing towards the glass. Hmmm...maybe that's how that crack got there?
Sneaky little buggers.
Thanks to the FCC's new "portability" rule, I trotted over to Cingular Wireless yesterday (my second post-flu day) and got myself a new Nokia phone. This thing is so great, I don't even know where to begin. My ringtone is a jazzy montage right out of CD 101.9, and my screen is a sunburst color. Clear, no drop-outs in sound. I had to turn DOWN the volume when I called to set my voice mail. My other crappo Kyocera is turned to top volume, and I still can't hear when I talk. The guy that sold it to me was a cross between Gerald LeVert and Ruben from "American Idol", and was wonderful! I wanted another model, and he looked at me like "Ya'r NOT leavin wit dat phone. That IS CRAP, m'dear." I laughed, and let him talk me into this little slice of jazzy heaven. Turns out my credit is still good, since I didn't need a deposit to port over my number (whew!) and he even gave me a rebate form for $50. Unbeknownst to me, I got in on the second to last day of the sales "event" for this particular phone model. It should have cost me $109, but I got it for $50 with a regular contract, and now I can mail in my receipt and get that back in the mail. Cool! I'm donating this other piece of junk to the domestic violence program sponsored by the NYPD. I may hate that Kyocera, but someone else may need it.
Other post-flu adventures include my constant runny nose and the fact that my window just doesn't want to stay in the frame. This extreme cold basically took a two-inch crack in the upper corner and spread it out to two FEET across the pane of glass. Now, let's see what fun I have trying to get the landlord on the phone. I went to leave a note under my super's door (thank god I'm off tomorrow), and realized he might not be there tomorrow, either. I also realized that one of my nicer neighbors, Karen, is no longer living in the building. She was the first person to hold the door for me when I found this place, but a Michele Sharkouff is now in A-2. Oh well, hope you're ok, Karen. Regardless, I got out my Scotch thick-mailer packing tape, and patched up the window. I will now have to take out the air conditioner, too, since that's where it is. Maybe I'll have it cleaned. I hope I can get a new window.
Imagine that, January 2004 destroyed my window. Hope this doesn't ruin Dexter's bird-watching "spot". He's got his eye on a little gray sparrow. Really, their new nest? It's like MTV to him. And I won't get into the day a pigeon landed on my A/C. It was like the World Window Jumping Championships with the three of them lungeing towards the glass. Hmmm...maybe that's how that crack got there?
Sneaky little buggers.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Give your free will a chance, you've got to work to succeed...and a momentary look back
Take Heart
While many are under the constant barrage of Valentine's Day frenzy, I gleefully confess that I have spent many alone. No gifts, no hearts, no jewelry, nary a Stella D'oro Swiss fudge cookie in my midst. Each year, however, I am bestowed a precious gift, if only I stop to notice. It has never been a man, a look, a kiss, or dinner.
Since my muse watches over me with special regard, I take great pleasure in watching the folly of those around me in fruitless pursuit of the things I have just mentioned.
Valentine's Day really is one of the sillier holidays. A day to declare one's love? Haven't humans indulged in this pasttime since the dawn of time? And who made the rules governing the use of red foil hearts, chocolates, and tiny candies with sappy messages to express their love? I am partial to Cupid with his little arrow and tiny feet, but if he ever struck me in my past, I'm sure I wasn't aware of it.
My true suspicions regarding Valentine's Day are grounded in good, old-fashioned, ruthless commercialism. Americans love to make a buck, so why not? The actual existence of St. Valentine was never proven anyway, but placed in myth, so why not romanticize and wrap the whole holiday in red velvet? Hey, I like a good box of chocolates like anyone else.
But, I digress. Remember those "gifts" I mentioned before? I got a doozy two years ago.
I LOVE telling this story.
February 14, 1994 began as a fairly innocuous one for me. I went to a film class, wrote a poem at lunch, and planned to meet a friend later at his acting class. Pretty usual stuff.
Class ended, I took the train to Manhattan, and waited for my buddy. The problem was, I entered the wrong building. He had already left by the time I realized I was in the wrong place. "Oh well," I thought. I made my way up Eighth Avenue at 49th street with little fuss. I slowly began to recognize a woman walking next to me and I stopped dead in my tracks. The woman was my childhood idol.
"Gelsey Kirkland?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered, quite startled.
"I happened to be reading your book, " I said, referring to the sequel to her autobiography, The Shape of Love. It was the third time I had picked it up and I wasn't quite sure why. My Muse must have known.
"You were really good on L.A. Law," I told her. The previous Thursday, she had guest starred, and I was quite impressed. It was her first acting assignment.
"Oh, thank you, " she replied, smiling. "It's freezing!" she said, beginning to laugh. "Good luck getting through the rest of the winter."
"I think I need it for the spring," I replied. With that, she stopped and smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkling. "Ok, then, " she giggled.
"Good night," she said to me finally, slowly turning the corner. The whole encounter must have lasted no more than sixty seconds, but my heart raced.
This was the woman with whom Baryshnikov had hand-picked to dance when he defected from the former Soviet Union in July 1974. Her ballet career, though later marred by injuries and various addictions, began to skyrocket at just the time I became interested in dance, 1977. Her comeback in 1986, after five years of drug abuse, floored critics and fans alike when she performed Romeo and Juliet and Sleeping Beauty for the last time with the Royal Ballet of London. There are five great ballerinas in the history of dance: four are Russian, only one is American. The American is generally regarded as Gelsey Kirkland.
She spoke to me. We shared a moment. We met. I thought I would BURST. My joy. My idol. I had to watch her walk away.
As a fine crystalline lattice of snow descended upon me, I realized THAT was my gift. I waited for a Valentine's Day to remember, and finally, there it was.
For all of you lonely masses, this I say to you: life's treats do not always appear in a box of candy, yet they taste just as sweet. Take heart: your unexpected package may arrive this year.
reprinted from The Brooklyn College Excelsior ©1996
The best Valentine's Day I did have a few years after this was 2001. If 9/11 hadn't happened, Mark would still be with me. Immigration made certain to harass him about his visa application. He's been back in Jamaica since 2002, with little hope of getting back here unless restrictive laws are eased. Thank you, Ashcroft.
Take Heart
While many are under the constant barrage of Valentine's Day frenzy, I gleefully confess that I have spent many alone. No gifts, no hearts, no jewelry, nary a Stella D'oro Swiss fudge cookie in my midst. Each year, however, I am bestowed a precious gift, if only I stop to notice. It has never been a man, a look, a kiss, or dinner.
Since my muse watches over me with special regard, I take great pleasure in watching the folly of those around me in fruitless pursuit of the things I have just mentioned.
Valentine's Day really is one of the sillier holidays. A day to declare one's love? Haven't humans indulged in this pasttime since the dawn of time? And who made the rules governing the use of red foil hearts, chocolates, and tiny candies with sappy messages to express their love? I am partial to Cupid with his little arrow and tiny feet, but if he ever struck me in my past, I'm sure I wasn't aware of it.
My true suspicions regarding Valentine's Day are grounded in good, old-fashioned, ruthless commercialism. Americans love to make a buck, so why not? The actual existence of St. Valentine was never proven anyway, but placed in myth, so why not romanticize and wrap the whole holiday in red velvet? Hey, I like a good box of chocolates like anyone else.
But, I digress. Remember those "gifts" I mentioned before? I got a doozy two years ago.
I LOVE telling this story.
February 14, 1994 began as a fairly innocuous one for me. I went to a film class, wrote a poem at lunch, and planned to meet a friend later at his acting class. Pretty usual stuff.
Class ended, I took the train to Manhattan, and waited for my buddy. The problem was, I entered the wrong building. He had already left by the time I realized I was in the wrong place. "Oh well," I thought. I made my way up Eighth Avenue at 49th street with little fuss. I slowly began to recognize a woman walking next to me and I stopped dead in my tracks. The woman was my childhood idol.
"Gelsey Kirkland?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered, quite startled.
"I happened to be reading your book, " I said, referring to the sequel to her autobiography, The Shape of Love. It was the third time I had picked it up and I wasn't quite sure why. My Muse must have known.
"You were really good on L.A. Law," I told her. The previous Thursday, she had guest starred, and I was quite impressed. It was her first acting assignment.
"Oh, thank you, " she replied, smiling. "It's freezing!" she said, beginning to laugh. "Good luck getting through the rest of the winter."
"I think I need it for the spring," I replied. With that, she stopped and smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkling. "Ok, then, " she giggled.
"Good night," she said to me finally, slowly turning the corner. The whole encounter must have lasted no more than sixty seconds, but my heart raced.
This was the woman with whom Baryshnikov had hand-picked to dance when he defected from the former Soviet Union in July 1974. Her ballet career, though later marred by injuries and various addictions, began to skyrocket at just the time I became interested in dance, 1977. Her comeback in 1986, after five years of drug abuse, floored critics and fans alike when she performed Romeo and Juliet and Sleeping Beauty for the last time with the Royal Ballet of London. There are five great ballerinas in the history of dance: four are Russian, only one is American. The American is generally regarded as Gelsey Kirkland.
She spoke to me. We shared a moment. We met. I thought I would BURST. My joy. My idol. I had to watch her walk away.
As a fine crystalline lattice of snow descended upon me, I realized THAT was my gift. I waited for a Valentine's Day to remember, and finally, there it was.
For all of you lonely masses, this I say to you: life's treats do not always appear in a box of candy, yet they taste just as sweet. Take heart: your unexpected package may arrive this year.
reprinted from The Brooklyn College Excelsior ©1996
The best Valentine's Day I did have a few years after this was 2001. If 9/11 hadn't happened, Mark would still be with me. Immigration made certain to harass him about his visa application. He's been back in Jamaica since 2002, with little hope of getting back here unless restrictive laws are eased. Thank you, Ashcroft.
Friday, February 13, 2004
Happy Birthday, Danny!
You'll always be 19 in my mind. Hope you're well, and I hope your poor car's holding up.
I'm back at work, but shaking like a leaf. Still pretty weak, and fixing up orders and assessments. Two days out really knocked me out.
So, it's catch-up time. Let's see if spies are watching.
Ahh, the corporate life. If I do enough yoga, maybe I will be able to see from the back of my head. If they get wind of that, they might try it themselves.
Nah, never mind.
Friday the 13th, too. ICK!
You'll always be 19 in my mind. Hope you're well, and I hope your poor car's holding up.
I'm back at work, but shaking like a leaf. Still pretty weak, and fixing up orders and assessments. Two days out really knocked me out.
So, it's catch-up time. Let's see if spies are watching.
Ahh, the corporate life. If I do enough yoga, maybe I will be able to see from the back of my head. If they get wind of that, they might try it themselves.
Nah, never mind.
Friday the 13th, too. ICK!
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Three Strikes
My dog didn't win at Westminster (Bunny.) My candidate is dropping out (Wesley Clark.) My illness is flu after all (confirmed by Rx this morning.)
I've had a two-day headache. That goes with the flu, I've heard. I'm sucking down Advil like they're Pez. It ain't helping.
Ick. Yuck. Bleah. Urf. Gag. Cough.
Now, onto tea and tissues.
(and another advil. hope my liver holds up.)
My dog didn't win at Westminster (Bunny.) My candidate is dropping out (Wesley Clark.) My illness is flu after all (confirmed by Rx this morning.)
I've had a two-day headache. That goes with the flu, I've heard. I'm sucking down Advil like they're Pez. It ain't helping.
Ick. Yuck. Bleah. Urf. Gag. Cough.
Now, onto tea and tissues.
(and another advil. hope my liver holds up.)
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
It's the Flu
And I'm taking off tomorrow. And perhaps the next day.
Sick people, please stay away, I will get sicker. Healthy people, if I make you sick, here's your apology in advance.
My head's in a fish bowl. I'm weak, shaking. HR is a nightmare. If this crap keeps up, I either want to see an improvement in my paycheck, or I'm looking for another job.
And forget about Friday. The ex-office person's getting a phone call from me, pre-emptively, to describe the nasal sinus hell I'm in. And if he doesn't like it? TOO DAMN BAD.
I'm on my schedule this week, not anyone else's.
And please, no goddam lectures about getting a flu shot. I always have a reaction and have a weak arm after the injection.
And I'm taking off tomorrow. And perhaps the next day.
Sick people, please stay away, I will get sicker. Healthy people, if I make you sick, here's your apology in advance.
My head's in a fish bowl. I'm weak, shaking. HR is a nightmare. If this crap keeps up, I either want to see an improvement in my paycheck, or I'm looking for another job.
And forget about Friday. The ex-office person's getting a phone call from me, pre-emptively, to describe the nasal sinus hell I'm in. And if he doesn't like it? TOO DAMN BAD.
I'm on my schedule this week, not anyone else's.
And please, no goddam lectures about getting a flu shot. I always have a reaction and have a weak arm after the injection.
Monday, February 9, 2004
Still sick as a dog
It just doesn't get any better. And I don't mean that in a good way.
The highlight of my weekend was seeing OutKast and George Clinton on the same stage at the Grammys last night. I think all the right people won, but I wouldn't have given Best New Artist to Evanescence--I would have handed it to 50. There's just something about that wacky guy I like. I think Ja Rule's a wanksta, too. That gravel voice....ugh. It's worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
More uselessness while dealing with trains. I leap out of bed before 7 am, but it doesn't help. I have to run, run, rush, cut off, step over, and lean on people to still be five minutes late. I'm officially renaming Rush Hour "Crawl Hour" because everything crawls. The only time I'm ok is when I get up at 4 am to skate. Even then, there are 15 people waiting at the bus stop at 5:30 am. It just doesn't end. My European friends are laughing at me right now as they go into their first full vacation week since they get 6 or 7 per year. And I wonder why my hair is falling out? Good Christ.
It's enough to kill.
More switcheroo desk duties this week--Friday instead of Thursday. That gives me a break, but I'm dreading seeing a former coworker for "drinks". If this means some ridiculous pity party, I swear to God, I'm going to walk away. The last time members of my office went out, we ended up walking almost 3 miles trying to find a bar because these people are just horribly indecisive. You know what you want, you ask for it.
I'm not spending $27 plus a tip on a friggin martini. I can't even drink given my liver enzymes are doing a dance with the medication I'm on. That might account for the pains in my side. But, lo and behold, the minute I go off these meds? Headaches, hormonal surges, and more hair loss! Hey, I know! Just get me a wig catalog for my birthday. I want to look Lil Kim with purple, pink, and turquoise hair. Especially turquoise--it will match my eBay feedback rating when I get to my 100th item!
I was going to give the Bowery Mission a call to see if I could pop in on Saturday and give them some help, but I might get tuberculosis or something. Some of those guys are in pretty bad shape, healthwise. It's a "food of love" thing, as Emeril says, you need to share it with those that don't have it, but at the rate I'm going, I don't think I'm leaving the house. The only great Valentine's days I ever had were 1984 and 1994. 2004 will not be part of the ten-year trinity, so to speak. Nothing beats '94. When I reprint Saturday, you'll see why.
I think I'm going home to replay that funk bit. I taped it. In true old skool fashion, I don't have a DVD player yet, and my tv was built in 1989. Dexter liked it, but he was looking for James Brown. He's a big fan of "Ain't That a Groove." Funny cat.
It just doesn't get any better. And I don't mean that in a good way.
The highlight of my weekend was seeing OutKast and George Clinton on the same stage at the Grammys last night. I think all the right people won, but I wouldn't have given Best New Artist to Evanescence--I would have handed it to 50. There's just something about that wacky guy I like. I think Ja Rule's a wanksta, too. That gravel voice....ugh. It's worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
More uselessness while dealing with trains. I leap out of bed before 7 am, but it doesn't help. I have to run, run, rush, cut off, step over, and lean on people to still be five minutes late. I'm officially renaming Rush Hour "Crawl Hour" because everything crawls. The only time I'm ok is when I get up at 4 am to skate. Even then, there are 15 people waiting at the bus stop at 5:30 am. It just doesn't end. My European friends are laughing at me right now as they go into their first full vacation week since they get 6 or 7 per year. And I wonder why my hair is falling out? Good Christ.
It's enough to kill.
More switcheroo desk duties this week--Friday instead of Thursday. That gives me a break, but I'm dreading seeing a former coworker for "drinks". If this means some ridiculous pity party, I swear to God, I'm going to walk away. The last time members of my office went out, we ended up walking almost 3 miles trying to find a bar because these people are just horribly indecisive. You know what you want, you ask for it.
I'm not spending $27 plus a tip on a friggin martini. I can't even drink given my liver enzymes are doing a dance with the medication I'm on. That might account for the pains in my side. But, lo and behold, the minute I go off these meds? Headaches, hormonal surges, and more hair loss! Hey, I know! Just get me a wig catalog for my birthday. I want to look Lil Kim with purple, pink, and turquoise hair. Especially turquoise--it will match my eBay feedback rating when I get to my 100th item!
I was going to give the Bowery Mission a call to see if I could pop in on Saturday and give them some help, but I might get tuberculosis or something. Some of those guys are in pretty bad shape, healthwise. It's a "food of love" thing, as Emeril says, you need to share it with those that don't have it, but at the rate I'm going, I don't think I'm leaving the house. The only great Valentine's days I ever had were 1984 and 1994. 2004 will not be part of the ten-year trinity, so to speak. Nothing beats '94. When I reprint Saturday, you'll see why.
I think I'm going home to replay that funk bit. I taped it. In true old skool fashion, I don't have a DVD player yet, and my tv was built in 1989. Dexter liked it, but he was looking for James Brown. He's a big fan of "Ain't That a Groove." Funny cat.
Saturday, February 7, 2004
Whatsamatter? Is this the real end?
Well, to quote Rickie Lee Jones, it certainly feels like it. For the second month in a row, I'm suffering with a minor cold. Brought on by yet another week of too-little sleep. Helping HR with front desk duties is certainly killing me, too. Going back and forth from my desk is really stressful. It's surprising I get any work done. I set a world's record for the 5 quickest lunches eaten at my desk--15 minutes. Chew, gulp, chew, gulp, chew. Choke--I need to be at the front desk again! So, I've got a sore throat.
Don't believe the cold medicine hype, kiddies: sleep, sleep, and lots of water is the way to stave off a cold. Sleep resets the body's mechanisms, and water is good for everything since you're likely NOT to have any appetite whatsoever. If you're not going to eat, you need water. This explains why I consumed a whole box of sugar plum tea last month. This month's flavor is Wild Berry Zinger. A bit sweeter, but packs a whallop, too.
A day like this fulfills me--rain, overcast, gray. Woke up, scratched Kashi's ear, pulled Dexter's tail to get him to stop smacking Kashi, and proceeded to Pilates stretches. My back feels less stiff. Given my office duties, I'm seriously considering taking a wheely-chair with me everywhere. I could just zoooom down the block with out walking. Wouldn't that be fun? Now Muffin's mewling at me like a calico cabbage. They smell the treats I bought.
(be right back)
Ok, treats have been administered. They're like children, these fuzzy little pieces of my soul.
It's month two of a new year. I feel free. I've restored my sanity in a lot of ways. Next Saturday is Valentine's day. I'm reprinting an old article I wrote from the Brooklyn College Excelsior about one of my favorite Valentine's adventures. It'll be good, so stick around. It involves 1 old friend who was an actor, and my favorite dancer. Cleaning out my desk, there it was in a blue folder. It's worth another spin.
Well, I'm off to find some eggs and sausage. Be well!
Well, to quote Rickie Lee Jones, it certainly feels like it. For the second month in a row, I'm suffering with a minor cold. Brought on by yet another week of too-little sleep. Helping HR with front desk duties is certainly killing me, too. Going back and forth from my desk is really stressful. It's surprising I get any work done. I set a world's record for the 5 quickest lunches eaten at my desk--15 minutes. Chew, gulp, chew, gulp, chew. Choke--I need to be at the front desk again! So, I've got a sore throat.
Don't believe the cold medicine hype, kiddies: sleep, sleep, and lots of water is the way to stave off a cold. Sleep resets the body's mechanisms, and water is good for everything since you're likely NOT to have any appetite whatsoever. If you're not going to eat, you need water. This explains why I consumed a whole box of sugar plum tea last month. This month's flavor is Wild Berry Zinger. A bit sweeter, but packs a whallop, too.
A day like this fulfills me--rain, overcast, gray. Woke up, scratched Kashi's ear, pulled Dexter's tail to get him to stop smacking Kashi, and proceeded to Pilates stretches. My back feels less stiff. Given my office duties, I'm seriously considering taking a wheely-chair with me everywhere. I could just zoooom down the block with out walking. Wouldn't that be fun? Now Muffin's mewling at me like a calico cabbage. They smell the treats I bought.
(be right back)
Ok, treats have been administered. They're like children, these fuzzy little pieces of my soul.
It's month two of a new year. I feel free. I've restored my sanity in a lot of ways. Next Saturday is Valentine's day. I'm reprinting an old article I wrote from the Brooklyn College Excelsior about one of my favorite Valentine's adventures. It'll be good, so stick around. It involves 1 old friend who was an actor, and my favorite dancer. Cleaning out my desk, there it was in a blue folder. It's worth another spin.
Well, I'm off to find some eggs and sausage. Be well!
Thursday, February 5, 2004
File this under "Duh!!!!"
CIA Boss: Iraq Never an Imminent Threat
WASHINGTON (AP) _ In his first public defense in the growing controversy
over intelligence, CIA Director George Tenet said Thursday that U.S. analysts
never claimed before the war that Iraq was an imminent threat. The urgency of
such a threat was the main argument used by President Bush for going to war.
In a speech clearly aimed at protecting the CIA from becoming a scapegoat,
Tenet said analysts held varying opinions about whether Iraq possessed
chemical, biological and nuclear weapons before the war. Those differences
were spelled out in the October 2002 National Intelligence Estimate given to
the White House, he said.
We've got a monkey running this country. And if one more sorry ass stupid oaf says "Hey, he jump started the economy," I'm going to scream "BUT NOT FOR THE MIDDLE CLASS YOU TRIFLING DIMWIT!!!!"
My father used to scream at the tv when the evening news came on. I've officially carried over this tradition. I shouldn't watch tv for this reason. But I do.
If you hear a distant yell, it's just me. (Watching CNN, of course.)
CIA Boss: Iraq Never an Imminent Threat
WASHINGTON (AP) _ In his first public defense in the growing controversy
over intelligence, CIA Director George Tenet said Thursday that U.S. analysts
never claimed before the war that Iraq was an imminent threat. The urgency of
such a threat was the main argument used by President Bush for going to war.
In a speech clearly aimed at protecting the CIA from becoming a scapegoat,
Tenet said analysts held varying opinions about whether Iraq possessed
chemical, biological and nuclear weapons before the war. Those differences
were spelled out in the October 2002 National Intelligence Estimate given to
the White House, he said.
We've got a monkey running this country. And if one more sorry ass stupid oaf says "Hey, he jump started the economy," I'm going to scream "BUT NOT FOR THE MIDDLE CLASS YOU TRIFLING DIMWIT!!!!"
My father used to scream at the tv when the evening news came on. I've officially carried over this tradition. I shouldn't watch tv for this reason. But I do.
If you hear a distant yell, it's just me. (Watching CNN, of course.)
Wednesday, February 4, 2004
Ok, this is a little nicer
Happy Birthday Hello Kitty!
Gee, that's close to my age. I wonder if she likes Wonder Woman and L'amour, too.
Happy Birthday Hello Kitty!
Gee, that's close to my age. I wonder if she likes Wonder Woman and L'amour, too.
It's nice outside. What do I do now?
Wow. It's way above 32 degrees. What am I supposed to do? It's supposed to snow again Friday. It was nice today, though. I'm in shock. I don't trust it. Kids are running around on school trips to Radio City. They have their coats off. People have gleefully ripped off their hats, scarves, they're not buttoning their coats.
I smell "sick days" for all of them.
I am still stocking up on Benadryl and Robitussin. I have an extra box of tissues stashed away. I have 3 boxes of herbal tea, Ludens Cherry cough drops, and an extra blanket next to my couch should I get chills while watching Cartoon Network (I'm hooked on the new "Justice League." Go Wonder Woman!) I don't trust this weather.
My boots are still out, too. They're funky Uggs-Native American-shaman hybrids. Weird-looking, but very comfortable. Maybe, just maybe, I'm truly loyal to winter and can't let go. It ain't spring! We've got a long way to go.
And that evil bastard who's refusing to pay me better cough it up the next time I log in to eBay. You want my stuff? THEN PAY, ASSHOLE!
ahem.
Ok, a nicer rant next time...
Wow. It's way above 32 degrees. What am I supposed to do? It's supposed to snow again Friday. It was nice today, though. I'm in shock. I don't trust it. Kids are running around on school trips to Radio City. They have their coats off. People have gleefully ripped off their hats, scarves, they're not buttoning their coats.
I smell "sick days" for all of them.
I am still stocking up on Benadryl and Robitussin. I have an extra box of tissues stashed away. I have 3 boxes of herbal tea, Ludens Cherry cough drops, and an extra blanket next to my couch should I get chills while watching Cartoon Network (I'm hooked on the new "Justice League." Go Wonder Woman!) I don't trust this weather.
My boots are still out, too. They're funky Uggs-Native American-shaman hybrids. Weird-looking, but very comfortable. Maybe, just maybe, I'm truly loyal to winter and can't let go. It ain't spring! We've got a long way to go.
And that evil bastard who's refusing to pay me better cough it up the next time I log in to eBay. You want my stuff? THEN PAY, ASSHOLE!
ahem.
Ok, a nicer rant next time...
Monday, February 2, 2004
Spellings I love
Hamberger. Adress. Unsual. Form (typo for "from"--even I screw this one up). Icey. Cinammon. Tommorow. Infered.
And today's lovely entry on a circuit installation order--"Diddo." No, um, it's "Ditto." I removed it from the final forwarding email, which gets seen by about 12 people before final processing.
1--that's a slang expression. Slang does not belong (ballonge?) on a circuit order. Short and sweet, "yes" or "no" will suffice (seffise?)
2--I had to erase it because a) it annoyed the living hell out of me, a former spelling bee winner (I got to the 1985 Diocesan regionals held at St. Mary's Grammar School in my ugly navy blue uniform (yoonuffarm?); and b) it's incorrect. This is the AP. Newspapers, journalism schools, colleges and high schools contact us about style, form, and yes, common spellings across all periodicals and dailies. Am I nitpicking? Perhaps, but nitpicking is part of good editing. Clarity and style is the precedent. NOT slang.
PB may have more handbags, nailtips, angora sweaters, Coach coin holders, Gucci heels, and leather jackets, but she's still a friggin moron.
RD: file that under your "Dumb Ass" email folder. I should get one, too. Darn thing would be filled up in less than a week.
Hamberger. Adress. Unsual. Form (typo for "from"--even I screw this one up). Icey. Cinammon. Tommorow. Infered.
And today's lovely entry on a circuit installation order--"Diddo." No, um, it's "Ditto." I removed it from the final forwarding email, which gets seen by about 12 people before final processing.
1--that's a slang expression. Slang does not belong (ballonge?) on a circuit order. Short and sweet, "yes" or "no" will suffice (seffise?)
2--I had to erase it because a) it annoyed the living hell out of me, a former spelling bee winner (I got to the 1985 Diocesan regionals held at St. Mary's Grammar School in my ugly navy blue uniform (yoonuffarm?); and b) it's incorrect. This is the AP. Newspapers, journalism schools, colleges and high schools contact us about style, form, and yes, common spellings across all periodicals and dailies. Am I nitpicking? Perhaps, but nitpicking is part of good editing. Clarity and style is the precedent. NOT slang.
PB may have more handbags, nailtips, angora sweaters, Coach coin holders, Gucci heels, and leather jackets, but she's still a friggin moron.
RD: file that under your "Dumb Ass" email folder. I should get one, too. Darn thing would be filled up in less than a week.
Sunday, February 1, 2004
Thank you, VideoMatic2
Well, eBay has brought me yet another gem---a 1982 skating rarity based on Anderson's The Snow Queen. My instructor told me recently how he couldn't get of his contract with National Ballet of Canada to be a part of this. Turns out Toller Cranston asked him to be a part of it when they were building the set for this back in 1981. This thing is such a joy! John Curry, Janet Lynn, Toller Cranston, Dorothy Hamill, JoJo Starbuck and a list of extras including Paul Toomey (my first coach's coach when Tom did pairs), and Sandra Bezic the reknowned choreographer in one of her last skating roles.
The special effects are very "80's"--cheesy angles, video backgrounds, all the things that digital computer techs have virtually killed off with the effects we have today. It's sweet for the skating, but it ain't Pixar. However, this cheesy weesy-ness only adds to its charm.
So, in a bit of copyright oblivion, I hooked up my other vcr last night and made a copy. Everyone should see this, the choreography is that good. Oh, the sport I picked--well, it picked me--continues to show me things I missed when I was a child.
It's also bikini weather out there! 34 degrees will be today's high temp. Wow. I can smell the Coppertone lotion from here. It's nice. My heat's coming up, I've got my cuppa joe with milk and cinnamon in it, the cats are curled up sleeping quietly and well-behaved. RD's coming up later today for a late brunch, so it's off to do dishes and swiffer the hallway. Things are looking good.
My godmother's still doing well on dialysis, but it's been quite a trip for her to get outside--she's weak and the cold air really affects her breathing. Hopefully, we'll hit 40 today or tomorrow and she can take a walk around the block. Cabin fever can really get to a person.
All my ebay bids are going down today, too. I'm just so happy someone wants this stuff. I've got ballet programs coming out my ears! This can help me pay off my credit card. Ain't that great? Other people send me money, and technically, they're paying my bills.
God Bless America.
And eBay.
Well, eBay has brought me yet another gem---a 1982 skating rarity based on Anderson's The Snow Queen. My instructor told me recently how he couldn't get of his contract with National Ballet of Canada to be a part of this. Turns out Toller Cranston asked him to be a part of it when they were building the set for this back in 1981. This thing is such a joy! John Curry, Janet Lynn, Toller Cranston, Dorothy Hamill, JoJo Starbuck and a list of extras including Paul Toomey (my first coach's coach when Tom did pairs), and Sandra Bezic the reknowned choreographer in one of her last skating roles.
The special effects are very "80's"--cheesy angles, video backgrounds, all the things that digital computer techs have virtually killed off with the effects we have today. It's sweet for the skating, but it ain't Pixar. However, this cheesy weesy-ness only adds to its charm.
So, in a bit of copyright oblivion, I hooked up my other vcr last night and made a copy. Everyone should see this, the choreography is that good. Oh, the sport I picked--well, it picked me--continues to show me things I missed when I was a child.
It's also bikini weather out there! 34 degrees will be today's high temp. Wow. I can smell the Coppertone lotion from here. It's nice. My heat's coming up, I've got my cuppa joe with milk and cinnamon in it, the cats are curled up sleeping quietly and well-behaved. RD's coming up later today for a late brunch, so it's off to do dishes and swiffer the hallway. Things are looking good.
My godmother's still doing well on dialysis, but it's been quite a trip for her to get outside--she's weak and the cold air really affects her breathing. Hopefully, we'll hit 40 today or tomorrow and she can take a walk around the block. Cabin fever can really get to a person.
All my ebay bids are going down today, too. I'm just so happy someone wants this stuff. I've got ballet programs coming out my ears! This can help me pay off my credit card. Ain't that great? Other people send me money, and technically, they're paying my bills.
God Bless America.
And eBay.
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