Winning the Pomme d'Or

Yes, kiddies, you read that correctly. I meant to write Pomme d'Or. "Golden Apple" for those of you who despise the French. Tarantino might want my head right now, but today began with an astounding blog-worthy omen.



No one is here, it's a holiday weekend. I am almost jumping to get the hell out of here, but I went dutifully to apply some mascara (lest I scare small children) and grab some coffee. What should I see but a spray-painted apple sitting on a counter near the ladies room? A GOLDEN APPLE.



My love of mythology still abounds, so I thought it over: take it with me? Or does someone else claim this? Was this a test like that $50 Starbucks card I found back in November? I ask in the hall, and I asked a little girl if it was hers. It looked like someone left it behind. It's solid and gorgeous. The tale of the golden apple, as found on About.com, is as follows...



"It all began at the wedding of the Goddess Thetis and King Peleus of Greece. Eris had not been invited, and decided to do a little mischief as payback. She tossed an apple of gold in among the guests (Gods and mortals alike).



This apple was engraved with the word Kallisti, meaning "for the fairest". Needless to say, all the Goddesses present at the wedding felt that the apple belong to them. After much bickering, the choices were narrowed down to Aphrodite, Hera and Athena. Being a wise man, Zeus wanted no part of this contest and send the three Goddesses to find Paris of Troy. He would be the one to decide who gets the apple. Well, all three Goddesses did their best to sway Paris, but in the end he chose Aphrodite. As his reward, Paris was given Helen (the most beautiful mortal woman) as his wife.

Unfortunately, she was already married to King Menelaus. Well, Paris took Helen back to Troy anyway and King Menelaus attacked the city in retribution. And thusly, the Trojan War was born.



Discordianism may seem like a mess of made-up madness, but those who follow this path say that there is a deeper meaning within the chaos. I think the moral of this particular tale, is that even a very small action can lead to huge results.



While I certainly do not believe that I am the fairest of them all (though I can be Maleficent), is this a portent of some kind? Calamity or Prosperity? The former adores me, but not the latter.



Can't wait to see what this means.

Prrrpp Rehh Rehhh Greeewoooorrrwww

That, kiddies, is Pigeon-Speak for "Please Mommy, fix the broken window!" Members of the Furry Mafia aren't amused that they can't jump up to bird-watch due to the smashed pane. A nest of sparrows (read: "snacks") has moved into a tree across the way, and four-pawed frenzy has begun. I'll bother the window mavens at Rose Glass again tomorrow.



As you can tell, I really don't feel like working, since I've got piles of it on my desk. I'm bored, therefore I blog.



More occult-esque dreams haunt me: candles, robes, a golden goblet, a dark castle, and (of course) more spiders. Another dream diary I consulted stated that spider dreams predict great wealth and good fortune. Great. More Money=More eBay items. (Don't think for a moment I've lost my priorities.) Between the spicy food and Clive Barker before bed, my brain's doing backflips.



I'm finally ripping apart that decrepit shower curtain this weekend. It's managed to morph into some penicillin-laden gunkfest in only a few months. Chemical warfa...er, cleaning would do that sink some good.



Fantasia's the newest "Idol." Has anyone noticed a pattern here? First season finalists: a guy and a girl. Second season finalists: two guys. This season: two girls. What's next year final gonna be? Two trannies? A tranny and a eunuch? A eunuch and a cripple? Just thinking out loud, don't have a cow.



Today's gonna be a looooong day, I know it. RD, check your mail. Something Silly This Way Comes...

Commencement(s)

Well, Radio City's been MEGABUSY with movie premieres, soap opera awards, and one graduation ceremony after another. Yesterday was FIT, today was Pace. Tomorrow could be...? Dunno, but I'm sure the onslaught of caps and gowns is only beginning.



A recent Radio City find tucked inside an old book was a copy of the 1977 Thanksgiving Day program from the premiere of Pete's Dragon. Mom, Dad and I traipsed merrily into Manhattan to see this, NOT dine on turkey that day, and spend the day together. I remember my mother had cut her hand badly on the inside of a metal file cabinet, and was bandaged. Why this sticks out? Hell if I know. We had one more Thanksgiving without turkey in 1989, as we sat at Casa Pepe, a mexican place near Colonial Road. I don't think I've been in there since.



Soon, I will say goodbye to this area as I move backwards in time to my new office, the old SkyRink on 33rd St. For everyone else, this is new. For me, it's a weird slice of my life--1980 through 1985, then a six year break until March 1991 when I had resumed my life on ice again. The nabe has been built up again, so my memories of the hookers and drug dealers are vanquished. How incongruous a sight we were: holding our scribes under our arms for patch sessions while shady characters scored their "goods". Strange days, indeed.



Aha! OutLook is up and running again. No more goofy "stalls". Back to orders...

I'm just wild about Harry

Good day, yesterday. Despite chasing the diabetic kitty under the couch and failing to give her the shot, I roamed around the City and found a nice spot to watch the cast of the newest Harry Potter film emerge from the premiere at Radio City.



Robbie Coltrane (Hagrid) was the first to wave at us, followed by Emma (Hermione), and then the bespectacled cutie himself--Daniel (Harry.) The limos zoomed by onto the after-party I presume, and it was fun! I was smart to wait after and not before: there were almost no barriers between the few people around and the cast itself. Rupert (Ron) was nowhere to be found, but my redhead quotient has been filled for some time now. They replayed the red carpet footage on the 10 o'clock news, and I saw him engulfed by a pack of screaming teenage girls. His flaming red tresses have grown quite long. I hope they dress him a bit better in this one. I know the Weasleys have little money, but those tattered pants and sweaters (jumpers as they'd say) are getting tired.



Van Helsing was CRAPTASTIC. It was so bad, it was FABULOUS. Werewolves, Frankenstein, Dracula, and an implausibly tight corset worn by Kate Beckinsale (how do you slay monsters while your rib cage is buckled in?) made this a lovely brainless romp. And Hugh Jackman is just campy and fabulous. There are explosions, shootings, stabbings, ugly villagers, a thousand-year old curse, and some cool weapons that our Wolverine-god puts to great use. It's utterly forgettable the moment you walk out of the theater, the only thing that reminds you you were there is your ticket stub and the taste of popcorn. I can't WAIT to see the sequel.



As for the rest of me, I couldn't sleep last night. My window's been ordered, though. 10 days to the glass installation, then the A/C comes in. Tossed and turned in my own sweat and I'm flumped out today. Like RD says, losing the will to live is just exhausting. 21 vacation days, too, is what I have. That's roughly 3 days a month for the rest of the year. How, kiddies, HOW in hell am I going to schedule this time? I'm still getting circuit orders that weren't sent from last week from our favorite Brat.



I give up. I think I'll let The Same Deep Water as You stream from my RealPlayer. And NOT think of the guido who introduced me to the power of this track.



Feh. I miss Dexter.

Little Lullaby Babies?

I'll be damned if the spiders living over my closet aren't listening to my Cure cd, too...one of them sat on my perfume bottle as I awoke to take care of David's diabetic cat this morning.



Tiny, light-colored, and moved out of the way as I reached for the bottle of Diamonds & Sapphires.



No wonder I've got no mosquitoes or flies in this apartment. Spiders really are good luck. My mother just spoke to me about it from a dream book. And I've been dreaming about them for a week.



Well, we slip into Gemini this weekend. Cancer is today's moon sign, it's a sickle moon in the sky tonight and today's "spirit" color is black. My witch's almanac states that rubbing patchouli oil on outer doorknobs will keep unwanted visitors away. I'll have to remember that--my neighbor keeps yanking the door open whenever I go down the stairs to haul trash. She's paranoid or something. Maybe I'll have my spiders visit her?



hee hee hee

One door closes and another window smashes

Well, well. What an interesting night. I dreamt of spiders--this, probably in part to watching Harry and Ron escaping Aragog's "friends" on video last night, and a lovely little Cure tune called Lullaby.



In this song, Mr. Spiderman is ready to nibble on Mr. Smith as he tries to sleep. That dark sensibility captured the feeling I got as I walked past my old aparment building. I stood up and looked at 6B's window on my walk down to the 69th St. Pier. I lived there when I rode the Mill Basin streets with Peter DeVena, who introduced me to Disintegration. It was dark in a scary sort of way (the apartment, not the record). How long it took me to escape. Still, that was the music that covered my days before I met my first love, so my subconscious is telling me something. He has truly left me. I must be "digging" and "chewing" on something internally for me to revisit this music and imagery so many years afterwards. Funny, too--I moved into my present apartment and spiders were there to greet me in the kitchen, the hall and the bathroom. My Chinese coach told me that is proof of impending good luck. So, what was that other "spidery" feeling back then? I've got more "chewing" to do...



As for the windows, Mr. Repairman was late today (I wanted to sick Aragog on him), but the window has been fitted. The glass has also completely smashed. The pane now sits in a complete half-sickle shape, cut across one-third of the top. I'm surprised there was no blood as the glass almost popped out and fell on his arm this afternoon. It measures 27 1/4 by 32 inches. New glass will arrive, and then it's A/C time.



More diabetic cat adventures this weekend, but BJ the Kitty Girl will be ok. I think this, kiddies (kitties? ha ha), will be the night I see Van Helsing. Given my broken glass, nightmares, and spiders, I think a few vampires and werewolves would clear my head once and for all.



Or, I'll wake up screaming like a banshee.



We'll see...

Ode to My Pillow

Light shines in

And I know I must leave you

Slumped and flumped

My head has cleaved you



Into



A dimpled mess

My buckwheat friend

I tell RD

"It Just Doesn't End"



Then



Showering begins

Food for Cats

On the train

To work with brats

and yuppies

Guppies of Trash

Their cuisinarts

Will never last



How I long for you

My buckwheat friend

I'll cleave your linen

Once again



Nighttime comes

Alarm is set

Kashi awaits

Her nose is wet

And Dexter's tail will swish at me

But not too close

Since he can see

My pillow there

awaits sleep's sea

Will I fall fast?

Or slow again



It's worth the wait

My buckwheat friend

Little and crunchy

so funny you are



Under my head

Dreaming travel

A Star

Small, medium, and large

With those words, a night to remember was born last night at the Met. La Bayadere was a lovely respite from the frightful mess of reality tv. Besides, I need my sparkly rhinestone fix.



I arrived (after imbibing copious amounts of coffee as not to slump over) at 7:30, and went up to the third level. A Filipino man took a seat next to me, and we began to chat. Turns out he's a dance teacher who works in Chicago, and was trained under Danilova, Tumkovsky, and Vasiliev back in the 60's. He's seen every performance since May 13, and was excited to see Paloma Herrera, as much as I. She is now 28 and has grown into quite a lady. Random conversations can teach you specific things, kiddies, and this person did not disappoint.



A rousing band of ridiculous-and obviously clueless--tourists talked all the way throughout Angel Corella's first act solo when Solor spots Nikiya, and he whipped around with a thundering SHUUUSHH! My, my. And you thought I WAS INTENSE??!! I giggled, and we quickly moved during intermission.



Gillian Murphy played Gamzatti, Solor's treacherous fiance, and while she is not my favorite principal at ABT, she did not disappoint. Her developpes were strong, and there was a crisp clarity with regards to the mime. My delicious colors were all there: deep gold, periwinkle, crimson, ruby, blush pink, sienna, turquoise, purple and silver. The set's design came from Makarova's own memory when she performed this at Kirov. Not a foot was placed wrong by any of the corps. Mr. Filipino's comment about "small, medium, and large" came from him pointing out the disparate size of the three soloists after the Kingdom of the Shades fills the stage. Veronika Part, according to him, is "large"--very muscular thighs: an obvious product of the Bolshoi school. She's also about 5'8", positively gigantique for a ballerina.



Act II's intermission began, and we began to discuss my other sacred joy--skating. Interestingly, it was he and not me that initiated the topic. Johnny Weir popped up in the conversation, as did Sasha Cohen, Brian Joubert, and Tatiana Tarasova, the coach who choreographed Johnny's short program this year, and brought the newest World Champion, Shizuka Arakawara, to prominence this past season. Like I've said before, kindred spirits find each other.



This man, whose name I did not get (proof of any heated discussion--time flies and you forget), will most likely be sitting through the rest of ABT's spring season up in the balcony. I won't be able to see Raymonda, but I will be there for Coppelia in two weeks. I do hope to run into him.



It's so nice when your opinions can spill forth! Even with a stranger. I do hope I see him again. Our three-hour exchange had one tacit understanding underneath it all: when you love something, you must love it completely and in its entirety. Don't nibble at the sides, take a big spoon and dive in. There is no excuse for not knowing the thing you love. Even in its flaws and its splendor, you must know and feel every inch, pore, bump and texture. That is truly food for the soul. Don't expect to be fulfilled unless you actively seek your own kind. Great love springs from great knowledge of the beloved object, as Shakespeare said.



Truer words were never spoken.

If only and then...sort of

Well, after RD making a very funny comment on why I didn't purchase the cd I'm now listening to when it came out (1989 was the year), I'm glad I waited.



I walked over to Trump Tower where there's a Tower Records in the basement (where I met Harry Connick 10 years ago--how do I remember things) and purchased my cd. It was the only one there. I'd like to think it was waiting for me. Then I wanted to add something to my lunch, a miserable soggy sandwich.



Traipsing up 54th St, I turn to see a huge pair of shoulders approaching me in a white shirt. I pass this male vision and realize it's Michael Rosenbaum from Smallville! He plays Lex Luthor. My heart flutters, but I realize he's talking to his friend. Do I grab him and tell him how much I adore him? Nah, let him be an anonymous person. I'll be a human being and let him be one, too. For the record, his hair is growing back. Filming begins in two months back in Vancouver, I think. What a gorgeous guy! A nice hockey build, too. I've felt guilty these last 3 months since I can't really watch on Wednesday nights. I get up at 4:30 am to skate on Thursdays. I should've told him that, I hear he's a serious hockey player.



Then I tried a new gyro vendor-the chicken and rice has lemon peppers and cumin with basmati rice. Most vendors only sell yellow rice, so this is a nice change. Gourmet Lebanese fare for $4! Can't beat it. Not too many onions, either.



Well, here's synchronicity--I want the cd, I see someone I admire, and I find new food. What if I stayed in today? What if I had ordered the cd half-price off yahoo or eBay? What if I only ate my soggy sandwich? I guess we are defined by our choices, even in silly ways.



And I just found out from the Radio City Techs that the Harry Potter premiere is taking place this Sunday. That's great: my little witches and wizards just down the block from a building I know so well.



Nah, it all falls into place. Somehow.

Danny & Chris live on! Inspiration drops down outta the blue...

Well, when I wrote earlier this week that blogger's got a new look, I didn't really have time to navigate all the goodies involved. Today I did--and laughed out loud!



This template is called 'tequila', which of course brings back fond memories of L'amour (the REAL L'amour, not that shitty car dealership it turned into). L'amour will always be Danny & Chris for me. They loved to imbibe copious amounts of tequila shots when a certain bartender named Lisa was there, so this color (which is kinda Meg-colored, too, now that I think of it hee hee) is a loving tribute to them. Particularly Danny, whose strange jokes and love of Spiderman endeared him to me from the day we met: September 2 ,1987. After seeing this, I had to change the look. I'm sure they'll be happy to see their names here. "Jellyfish" was cute, but Tequila! Oh, ya just had to be there back in the day...



On the Lafayette High School bleachers (which have been demolished), Danny once took a black sharpie and drew a hilarious picture of Bill the Cat. Even though he was allergic, this was the comic strip character he truly loved. There were two characters he created as well, Erk & Berk. I don't know where these came from, but those were their names. My first yahoo address was ErknBerk, but I never really sent anything there except spam. All because of Dan.



1986/87 lives long and well as I know the both of you are out there.



(and RD: I bought pink sequins on the new slippers--they were only $2! two dollars.... When oh when will we duck? The sauce is waiting in the bottle....lololol)

I guess Sprint does suck after all...

Man Hurls Phones, Causes $2K Store Damage

FARGO, N.D. (AP) _ A man who said he was fed up with his cellular phone

service went to a Fargo mall and started hurling phones across a store,

striking an employee and causing more than $2,000 in damage, authorities

said. Jason Perala, 22, of Fargo, told The Forum newspaper that he planned

only to yell at employees at Verizon Wireless.



I just switched my service. Thank God I didn't hurl anything. LMAO

Frasier has left the building...

Well, kiddies, you can keep your "Friends." "Frasier" was a much better tv show. Despite my not really watching these past 3 seasons, I will watch the series finale tonight. Frasier, Niles, Daphne, and Eddie deserve it. Consistently intelligent, witty, and filled with zany references ("Bridesmaid Revisited", anyone?) to books, events, and shows, this was one of NBC's finest.



The big question remains--will Maris make a final appearance? Yes, Niles married Daphne after years of lusting after her, but that uptight ex-spouse of his was referenced brilliantly over the years.



Make fun of Kelsey Grammer all you want. The guy's simply hilarious! Reminds me of a dimwit I once worked with: this woman comments on how he's not much of an actor, then comments on how Macauley Culkin was getting raves for a broadway show he was in at the time. (Some of you reading this will know who I'm talking about. She also had a dandruff problem, constant lipstick on her teeth, and was basically a stuffed shirt when it came to her job. Or should I say blouse? Whatever...)



Oh, it's hard to say goodbye when high quality is involved. Thank God I've still got "Smallville." I've tried not to watch it too much this season, since all the shows I'm devoted to get canceled. I was slavishly devoted to "Ally McBeal", and look what happened to that! Oh, it's too much.



My TV, as of late, has really been for rented movies and sporting events. Wimbledon will be here soon, and that makes me happy. I wouldn't dare pick up a racket again with these knees, so I let Venus and Serena sort it out. And of course, "Sopranos" on Sunday. What WILL I do when Tony and Carmela are no longer around? I shudder to think.



Well, more skating this Saturday, and a sports massage on Sunday. My back feels like one million little knots. And the saga of the window continues...UGH.

Well, blogger's got a new look!

So, it's been a fun week, to say the least. The wonderful changeover from almost-Spring to Spring is here. I'm taking it better than I thought. A nice trip to Conway and Old Navy netted me some new tops and pants.



My next adventure will be to take in the delicious lunacy that is Van Helsing. Hugh Jackman with feathered hair? I'm sooo there. The Boy from Oz pulling off a cut worthy of Sean Cassidy circa 1978...ahh, the memories.



Pilates and skating has really kicked my ass over the last few days...a very zany trip to SkyRink over the weekend took 2 hours of travel time plus a taxi to get to Manhattan, but I did it. I forgot about the backspin to practice my nemesis jumps, and enjoyed two little hockey kids chasing the traffic cones. Apparently, the coaches use this for balancing little ones on both edges. I guess it works since they're only 3 ft. tall. They waved goodbye at the zamboni guy as it spun around. Too cute!



The newest Peter Pan was pretty good, too. The kid that plays Peter, Jeremy Sumpter, is a real looker who seems older than his 13? 14? years. This whole Mary Kay LeTorneau thing's starting to make sense. (Yeah, I know--I'm going to hell. I've known it since third grade, so no use reminding me.)



Here it comes....OutLook training. Thank God we're getting off this ancient email system. As Duckie said to Molly Ringwald, "Let's plow...."

Georgie & me

Disney Blocks Distribution of Moore Film

NEW YORK (AP) _ Michael Moore's ``Fahrenheit 9/11,'' which criticizes

President Bush's handling of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and connects the

Bush family with Osama bin Laden's, won't be released through Miramax Films

on orders from parent company Disney. Moore believes The Walt Disney Co. is

worried the documentary will endanger tax breaks the company receives from

Florida, where Bush's brother Jeb is governor.



Ah, skittish distributors. Politically correct? Or just stupid?



Check out the fun at www.michaelmoore.com ! (cut and paste, kiddies, I ain't in the mood for html today.)

Add fumes for total toxicity

Well, a chat with a neighbor revealed quite a startling suspicion I had: some people just see things as "coming" to them, "at" them, or "for" them. Interesting.



The neighbor was the woman who told me that we have a new landlord. Funny how she didn't know the guy's name. I pushed a note under the super's door and he pushed the new note back with the name of the current management company. Why? Probably because I have good communication with this guy and I've only been late with the rent twice.



This woman seems to think someone's going to contact her. She hasn't paid her rent in months, holding out for a new refrigerator, a door for her bathroom, and some plumbing fixtures. Um, you have to work WITH people, not against them (although the assholes at my previous job would surely disagree.) While in principle, this sounds to be a good idea, I think it's going to blow up in her face. Why? Notice I asked, and I got the letter. She didn't get anything,and probably won't have her lease renewed without a long, lengthy housing court battle-- something I absolutely refuse to do again. 6B in 1988 kicked the shit of my family, I ain't going there again.



So, she asks about the window, I say I'm going to pay for it myself. Why should I deal with a protracted legal battle that could take 6 months or more over an $90 pane of glass? True, I'm paying for it, but if these window people were so wonderful in the first place, why am I just one of 4 tenants that I know of with window problems? If I pay, that means I get to choose the person and the company supplying the glass. Well, she practically bolted down the block when I said this. People's behavior can be very telling sometimes. You'd have thought I said "Well, are you fucking stupid?" I didn't. I wouldn't, either. I told my point of view, and I got this almost instant reaction as if my decision affected her. Very, very weird.

Then again, I don't want to be renting for the rest of my life either. There's a sort of "crutch" mentality that goes with that which I saw in various members of my mother's family.



They believed that all their grievances should somehow be taken care of through one narrow form. That form, to me, seemed to be clashingly violent battles with landlords. I ain't going there. I had a bleeding ulcer once, don't want it to come back. I also don't need the headaches, backaches, stress, insomnia (which kinda bites me in the ass anyway), and general vague nausea that goes with such problems.



I told her I had the letter and I'd give her the phone number. She said she'd pop up to my door later.



It's later. No knock yet. Doesn't matter though--she's gonna do things her way. Lilian DeSantis did things her way back in 1991. She lived in my old building in 1D. She was evicted after a major battle. I think I know where this is going, but I'll still say 'hi'.



Even as she looks at me (like so many other people I loathe and despise) like I'm the idiot.



Yeh. Whatever...