"Grown Up Christmas List"

It's hard to wake up in the morning when all your radio station plays in Christmas Carols. Hard indeed, and yet well, well worth it.
This should be the time in my life when the holiday season means the least to me. I am in fact far too old to celebrate the traditions as a child and while it seems that many others who I knew in my youth have already begun, I have certainly not started a family of my own. And yet somehow as season passes into season, year passes into year, and college passes into "adulthood" (shiver) I perenially find myself warmed by the concept of Christmas and all it has to offer.
As if the actual, literal season could not come soon enough, even on a particularly and peculiarly warm late November evening, Christmas and all its sister holidays seem to bring light into not only nature's darkest days but the time that marks the end of one chapter, in this case 2005, and the slow, deliberate passage into a new one. The great abyss of each year bringing us closer to all that we have ever dreamed of as well as closer to our inevitable end of days.
So, it should be no surprise that on this last day of November, on the eve of our final and arguably most important month of the year, I find myself once again shocked at how excited I am for this season and all of its collective joy, stress, warmth and expectation. I gear up for the lists and gifts, as well as the pressure and fun of deciding just what to buy, craft or make. I eagerly anticipate once again returning home to spend what is sure to be an amazing week with my truly phenomenal family. And I even smile to myself at the thought of red scarves, green sweaters, the smells of pine, cinnamon, egg nog and the joy of discovering lights in unexpected places.
But much more shockingly than any of these usual feelings pre-conditioned in most humans since infant-hood is my over-whelmingly, almost frighteningly political correctness when considering the whole event. More so than my affinity for the story of the baby Jesus or my appreciation of the Festival of Lights (which we are often reminded, is what this is all about in the first place) is my hope for a unified sense of O.K.ness. That everyone finds their way Home, wherever that may be. That for a season or a month or for even just one day, this world and everyone on it can experience some semblance of peace. I've always considered myself quite spiritual, if not particularly religious, and perhaps this plays into that, but probably it does not. All I know is that the older I get, the bigger I dream. And this year, while my material wish list might be longer than ever, all my heart really wants on this December's Eve is certainly impossible. But maybe that's what this season is all about, the impossible occuring in our darkest and coldest of days. So I'm asking for it, please, in spite of everything.
Let this life turn out O.K.
for all of us.

Opportunity (Missed)

I wanted to take a picture today
actually cursed myself for not having a camera
I was down in the line of a rare (albeit consistently amazing) underground Subway restaurant chain on my lunch break and was waiting for my six inch tuna on Italian Herbs and Cheese bread with lettuce, pickles and chipotle southwest sauce
always the same
each and every time
at every single Subway
I was standing there, and a thought I'd been having that very morning on the way to work solidified itself for me
I noticed that not one, not two, but all FIVE of the businessmen in line in front of me were all wearing different variations on the exact same pale blue oxford dress shirt
Now some of the shirts had a light plaid pattern
others were a shade or two darker
but all five of the men in front of me could essentially be wearing faded or possibly dated versions of the same strict Catholic boarding school uniform
and each was doing so voluntarily
I seriously wished I'd had my camera
Because the thought I'd been having on this morning
which was just like any other of late
on the way to a job that is not only easy and fun, but spent with a friend
was that I suddenly lived in a gray world
The world that I inhabit
at least for the Fall and Winter months of 2005
is blue and gray, sometimes black or navy
but never orange or green or paisley or pink
This life that I always dreamed of is happening
love
and
New York
and
potential
and
heartache
I sit down at least once every single day to attempt to create something
even if it only comes out as self-indulgent crap
I suddenly have an intense desire to start painting again
I will be a tiny but legitimate part in a major motion picture filming this Friday
but I was one of these men
and my world
my universe
at least at this time
is blue and gray, sometimes black or navy
but never orange or green or paisley or pink.

welcome back

such an odd sensation,
returning from whence one came
dull
not sad
empty
but not necessarily lonely,
yet.

a sobering experience
always
returning from a family holiday,
like treading water
being home gets the blood flowing
the heart pumping
all the vital organs in use
like treading water
being home is stationary yet one feels constantly in motion
it requires every bit of musculature
each appendage is called into action
and the effect can be a bit dizzying,
pulled a hundred different ways
friends to catch up with
relatives to enjoy
meals to eat
and movies to see
it really is all nothing,
nothing and everything

and then you return
always too soon
to the place that is and isn't your home
to the place that makes you feel guilty
for bringing your dog back to.

Homeland Insecurity

There was a moment of fear today. Fear mixed with embarrassment and a certain sense of pride. My parents, Matt and I decided to stop by our lake house for the afternoon. Just to get away from whatever it feels like people need to get away from after a holiday. We had been down to our dock, rested at the house for a little while and had then all headed out for an afternoon hike. Two o'clock Sunday sun had glistened off of still waters. Finally browned oak leaves had crunched beneath our feet. Nature's wonder had set the scene for an awareness within myself that life could in fact be simple. That our humanity far outweighs our hate.
Matt and I separated from my parents after a trip down the Old Bucket Trail bordering the lake. My mom and dad headed back to the house and we made our way over to a dock in an open cove that afforded a sense of openness in an utterly remote setting. We had been down on this dock for a while, Matt lying on his back, his head resting in my lap when I got the sensation that someone was coming towards us. It started out as a sensation, vaguely of being watched although we were in the middle of nowhere, but more or less became a certainty when the distinct sound of footsteps on dead grass grew louder.
"Someone's coming." I whispered to Matt. "No they're not. You're joking." his only natural response. I turned, my head rotating back and to the right and sure enough, although shockingly, a man was approaching with two small black muts panting at his heels.
Now there was no denying the fact that we had been in a more than casual postition. In fact I had been leaning down to kiss Matt not thirty seconds earlier. And if there was any question as to our combined genders from forty feet away there certainly wouldn't be any confusion soon. Matt sprung up. I thought to myself maybe this man will just go away. Maybe he isn't headed down to this dock at all. It soon became clear, however, that he was not only headed to this dock but straight towards us. He was an older man, sixty five or so, with a thick gray mustache and a can of Coors light in his hand. There was no backing out of this one. We were a couple of queers in the middle of nowhere on someone else's dock and our only two choices were fight or flight.
The stranger stepped onto the wood planked dock, now not more than ten feet behind us. We were surrounded on all sides by freezing cold lake water and there was literally no way out. He stared at us. I have no idea what Matt was doing but I suppose I more or less stared back. "You boys know this is a private dock?" came warbling out of his mouth after what felt like an eternity had passed. "Uh, yes, sorry." I replied, scared simply because I felt intruded upon, nervous only because I felt exposed. "Yes, sorry. Is it ok if we sit here? I, uh, um we have a house just right over there-" "Oh," he called, still summing us up. Not seeming particularly offended or even surprised, though he could have been quite the actor in his day. "Oh, you're a Clark?" he responded, referencing my family's name. "Yes, yes that's me." I said breathing what must have looked like an enormous sigh of relief. "All I need to know," he replied, already turning around to go.
The dogs stayed for a moment longer, licking the tips of our fingers in what seemed to me like only slight amuzement. The man who I would later come to find out was our "neighbor" Lloyd was already nearly gone.
I suppose there was absolutely no reason to be afraid that someone would catch us in a private moment played out amongst the great outdoors. And yet there was without question a reason to be afraid. We live in interesting times, whether you're a New Yorker, an Arkansan or someone in between. Very interesting and often scary times, and for some sad, strange reason life seems so much safer when it's lived behind closed doors.

in the moment nothingness

off to dinner
drinks with the family right now
white wine and jazz
a meal with friends at 8
central standard time
who knew life could be this easy?
it feels like there's nothing to write about
without work
without stress
without loneliness

with only love

Black Friday

a dark day
for no apparent reason
it's chemical
I tell myself
"you wanna take one of my pills?"
"it'll bring your serotonin up"
matt says to me
always doing any and everything he can think of to make me feel better
knowing first hand what the darkness feels like
"no" I say
not sure if I should or shouldn't

a perfect, perfect, perfect day
the realization of a lifelong dream
love and acceptance
family and health
all brought together
under one roof
but that's the scariest part
now that it's all come true
what comes next?
is it only downhill from here?

"It's like my mind knows I'm happy"
I say
in bed
after shower
next to Matt
"but I'm not able to feel it"

tonight

Am missing "Miracle on 34th Street"
the remake
to be up here typing
a family tradition
that movie
every Thanksgiving night
it never fails

home
the original home
before dorm rooms and studios
before the concept of home became more or less unclear
when it only existed within these walls

i hope everyone can be with their families tonight
i hope everyone is wrapped in the warmth that only comes from their closeness
it's been a long year
and we deserve it

i figure
family is what you make of it
family is whatever you create
whoever surrounds you at any given time
friends
pets
relatives
lovers
mine is growing
and life is right
give thanks
until the end

Journey Home, my boy

just got home from "Rent"
hard to do it all justice
the "all" of it
some problems
but truly remarkable
really, really remarkable
-the film-
need more time
for full sinkage
to take effect.
today marks the end of my first month blogging
although eye opening
truth challenging
wish fulfillment
would better describe.
Headed home in the morning
this morning I suppose
being that it is now 4:01
a lot will happen
first person to come home with me
first time parents will meet a "someone"
although Matt
is much more than a "someone"
I'm in love
with him
with life
with it all
Thanks be to God.

The Only Way To Travel

A homeless woman serenaded me on the subway this afternoon
We'd gotten a good three or four stops together before she even seemed to notice I existed
quite evidently drunk and with either the lower part of her stomach or the upper section of her lady-parts exposed
it must have been once her friend left that I caught her eye
she had been talking loudly to this other lady for many stops and I admit I paused my ipod briefly to see if they were saying anything of interest
but when I found that they in fact weren't I allowed the music to resume and figured it would end at that
not much later, somewhere between astor place and bleecker I believe, old "home-y" took it upon herself to wrassle up some entertainment
and it came in the form of, me
A large, heavy-breathing nearly bearded woman
she began to sing aloud either an old Cole Porter standard or a random selection from inside her hooch-drenched mind
I, for the record, couldn't tell the difference
"Heey, theere Cuuuttttiiiieeee!"
she couldn't be talking to me...
I'm not even looking in her direction
"Heeeeeyy, theeeeerre Cuuuutttttiiiieeee!"
is she Singing?
she continued and at this time took it upon herself to stand
"Heeey theeerre Littttllle Daarrrrrrrlinnnnnn!'"
my face flushed
I could feel it
no one seemed to be looking at either her or me but she was definitely standing (well, tilting might be the better description) and she was certainly projecting this "song" directly at me
it continued
and now she began to girate upon the subway arm pole
not half a foot away
"Yooouuuu maaaaakkkee me feeeeelllll"
"Yooooouuuuu maaaaaaaakkkkeee meeee feeeelll
reeeeaaaallll gooooddddd insiiiiiiiiddeeee!!!!"
Unable to maintain my toddller-like embarrassment
about this time I began to laugh
not in a cruel way, but in a warm, awkward manner that I assume only egged her on
the whole scene was just too surreal
deep, deep underground and out of absolutely nowhere a large, heavily intoxicated older woman began to sing a song about love and desire to a young, only slightly offended man
it all seemed to have the makings of an epic poem if looked at properly
so, in what I imagined was an effort to further seduce me,
she began to hoist her leg up next to mine
and it was only when she lost her footing that her singing came to a halt
Before I knew what was happening she was off at one stop or another
and before much longer I was off at mine
I felt a bit used by the whole situation if I may be so bold
all that build-up and not so much as a number to take home with me
nothing, really, but the memory
to keep me warm at night

a thousand and one words

Now I know this image of George W has been all over the media for the last 24 hours or so
I first saw a clip of it on the news last night and it was the cover of at least two newspapers this morning, including the New York Times
so, while I hate to kick a man when he's down, I love to kick good ol' G.W.
sure he was just trying to leave a room, (evading truth all the way over in China the same way he avoids it over here!)
comforting to know some things never change...
and it certainly is no huge sign of defeat to try and exit a door that was already locked prior to your knowing it
but
is it just me or am I the only person who deeply, deeply feels that the leader of our great United States,
that the leader of the FREE WORLD should Never, Ever under Any circumstance be even Physically Capable of making that face
EVER!
tell me I'm a nut job or that I have unreasonably high standards but that should just be a requirement of some sort
you're able to make THAT FACE
sorry, we've got a great job for you down at the power plant
or on the horsey ranch
or at the junk yard

Our President, ladies and gentlemen
we elected him
(this time at least)
and we should be required to stare at that face, day in and day out
as punishment
for our unimaginable crime

--and also, finally, a photo in the Post today of my "co-star" Bono getting ready to shoot a scene from "Across the Universe" on the Lower East Side
apparently he'll be singing "I Am the Walrus"
not a huge Beatles fan myself but
I can't wait to film on December 1st!

song title #2: "Another Day"

loyalty is difficult
and I was tested today

call me over-dramatic, a loser, a freak
but for about the last six months I have literally been DYING to see the film version of "Rent"
nearly every other day involves checking the various online "Rent" sites
i attended a cast signing at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square
the soundtrack has been on heavy rotation since its purchase a few weeks back
and I was nearly devastated to find out that the New York release date had been moved back from November 11th to November 23rd
needless to say, the show is one of my all-time favorites ever, if not THE all-time favorite, and I don't exaggerate in explaining that I more than eagerly await its film release

one of my best friends, Scottie, and I had planned to see the movie together for as long as we've known about its existence
tickets have been purchased and picked up for the midnight screening at the Ziegfeld this Tuesday
a dinner at the Life Cafe planned for before the event
a whole night really
built around our shared love and excitement over a piece of theatre that perhaps not only shifted but saved our lives

so I'm literally counting down the seconds

but this afternoon, still a bit hung over from last night and just coming off a Bagel Bob's lunch and an in-house screening of "Dead Poets Society"
I got a phone call
one of my other best friends, Ashley, has just gotten tickets to a "Rent" screening this afternoon and she wants to know if I can come

moral crisis
(to me at least)
DYING, literally freaking DYING to see this movie as soon as possible
and one more free time couldn't hurt anybody...

I tell her to wait
and call Scottie
no answer
call Matt
no answer
call home
answer but now Matt's calling me back
I NEED AN ANSWER
though I already know it myself

long story short
(too late, I know)
I said "No"

I could have seen it today, seen it Tuesday, even seen it Wednesday and not a soul would be hurt
I could have just never even told Scottie and gone along like every sumptuous shot was as new to my eyes as his
I could have just said "screw everybody else, I've got a free ticket to a movie and I'm fuckin' seein' it!"
I know his feelings wouldn't have been hurt
it just wouldn't have been the same
having already seen it

maybe none of this makes sense
maybe none of this matters
maybe no one will even understand why this was such a minor, yet huge, dilemma for me
its just a movie after all
and I'll see it one way or another

I really hope I don't sound preachy right now
because that's not my intention at all
but
I did what I knew I had to do

There seems to be very little loyalty left in this world, in this city, in this life of mine anymore
maybe this was just the first step in change
maybe this gesture will be returned some day, in one form or another
and then again, maybe it won't
but Tuesday night, come hell or high water, gosh-darnit, I've gotta date
and I will be there
with the person I was meant to be there with
and that alone will be magical enough
to make the wait much more than worth it.

imagine that...

I lost my camera today.

Finally sitting down to breathe after being flustered for blocks and blocks
(having a dog will do that to you)
(especially an un-trained one)
It was once I sat down to relax that I realized that the camera, hanging snuggly by the thick woven string on my wrist, was no longer where it had been before.

Bells rang out. Sirens screamed. "What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?" barrelled through my brain.
Nearly no one takes more pictures than me.

I was at the Tomkins Square Dog Run when it hit me.
"Where have I just been? Where have I just gone?" shot through my head as I frantically searched the mud and wood chips beneath my bench.
Suddenly everyone was a suspect.
How long would I even have had to leave it for before some mangy, grungy, scroungy East Villager snatched it away in glee, giddy with the knowledge that they could secure a good price at the local pawn shop.

My dog was immediately snatched up, though she'd had no longer than five minutes to play and we, together, began to backtrack.
First the "oh-so-clean" Tomkins Square public Men's Restroom, where I'd taken the community dog bowls to fill some water for all the 35 lb. and under pups in the small dog section.
nothing
Not that I could have expected to find it there, if in fact I'd been stupid enough to take it off my wrist and then leave it.
Backtracking further in my mind I realized it could be anywhere.
I'd stopped to take a picture outside the gardens and rec space near Bowery and Chrystie Streets but after that it was anyone's guess. I had been to the bank, to stop and gaze at the collection of a street side bookseller. I had been all up and down the East Side and with a sprinting, panting dog barrelling ahead of me who knows where I could have been too distracted to notice the camera's departure?

But I had to take this terrifying process step by step, and the first place to look after the toilets was the small pizza place right on the edge of the park where I'd stopped for a slice.
The one man running the joint had told me I could keep my dog inside and as a result I decided to eat in the surprisingly spacious back area. It was due to the fact that the pizza was neither particularly warm nor tasty and also due to the company of a rambunctious young girl bouncing around my dog while her father continued to loudly scold her actions, getting nowhere in actually controlling her, that soon pushed me out of the joint before I'd more than half-way finished.

Upon my return to the pizza place I was met with even more grief and dread when I frantically half gasped, "HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAMERA? WAS A LITTLE BLACK CAMERA LEFT HERE?" and was told only "Uh, No. Check the back." When I'd gotten back there, at least a full ten minutes after having first left, I found that with no camera of any kind in sight I was more or less doomed.

And then a voice came softly from behind me.
The source figure not even noticed before.
"um, hi, you left your camera here I think."
I spun.
The awful dad and the loud girl were still there (amazing that pizza-eating could even take that long) and they had not only found but were now returning my camera to me!

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted, "WHERE DID YOU FIND IT?"
"oh, you just left it there on the counter. we were going to go to the dog park to look for you 'cause we figured that's where you were headed."
"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!" I shouted, unable to get out of this Cameraland Bermuda's Triangle fast enough.
I wanted to and considered offering to give this gentleman a bit of money, 20 bucks or something for his kindness and his honesty, but he was with his daughter, I looked no older than my 23 years and the whole scene would have made me feel supremely uncomfortable.
It would have been nice for me to do anyways.

So a lesson was learned I suppose.
Even in a city where we have to be crammed in with so many strangers: in elevators, subway cars, city streets and restaurants
wanting nothing to do with next to all of them.
It just made me feel like an asshole
for getting so irritated with a man, just because he procreated
and with a girl, just because she liked dogs.

"How Fitting"

Just returned from the fitting
36th between 10th and 11th scares me
but find your way to the top floor and you've entered a swirling, glowing space of creativity
warehouse sized rooms
aisle after aisle
rack after rack
of costumes
each one begging to be used
The smooth as silk vintage plaid with matching maroon v-neck sweater found their ways to me
along with the fitted school boy retro jeans and woolworth jacket
apparently it's very exciting that I'll be wearing the "woolworth"
"After all," I was told. "They just don't make them anymore!"

Like a drug
Being there
Scary and alive and phony and thrilling
this world

Reminded me of being in shows when I was younger
before life as a waiter sucked me in for over a year
I'd forgotten how manipulatingly terrifying costume designers can be
they always make a comment
right when you're standing in your underwear
frozen in embarrassment, hoping they are clean enough for public display
but too afraid to look down

think I'll be playing one of many Columbia students
saw "Columbia" written on multiple surfaces
the costume also seems to say college prep circa 1960-something
if, however, I am wrong
I promise to bring back some quality beverages for all you coffee drinkers

And finally
Last night:
Don't go to Nobu 57
It's no better than Tribeca
and the entire staff is either braindead, under-trained or so painfully, flamboyantly, bitchingly gay that they will manage to not only insult you, but do it while lisping over your food
STAY FAR, FAR AWAY

then went to a Fresh cocktail party at their Spring Street location celebrating the release of "Memoirs of a Geisha" with an appearance by the author, Arthur Golden
It was nice and brief
brief and nice

and after a short, half-drunken nap saw the midnight screening of the new "Harry Potter"
you should see it if you're a fan
it's very action packed and is dark enough to justify the book's tone
but if HP4 isn't your thing then stay away
cause that shit's long

in conclusion
goodbye
to the un-support staff

I promise I won't miss you
at all

fer real?

ecstatic life force
jubilant, overflowing energy
unreal and yet forever destined--

I sent out headshots last week
just forty or so
part II in a neverending process
millions upon millions of agents and casting directors
none of them interested in just another headshot or resume

last night -The Scene- sushi and solitude
me on couch: eating and viewing simultaneously
amazing what a multi-tasker I have become

"RING! RING!"
unknown 212 number
me, slightly annoyed and confused
thought process of should I or shouldn't I answer
we all go through that
usually, it seems, we opt for choice #2

"what the hell" scrolls through my head
"Hello?!" in my grumpiest voice
"Is this Chris --?" comes from the other side
"Uh, YEAH!? Who Is This?" my spoiled, ludicrous frustration growing for no apparent reason

"Hi this is Candace from Casting. We're calling to check your availability for December 1st to shoot Julie Taymor's new film "Across The Universe"
....
......
........
"uh, um, uh-hum. Yes, Yes I'm available. Definitely, uh yes, very much available."

The rest is more or less a blur
Addresses were scribbled down
Contact information acquired
My weight, neck, wrist, jacket and shoe size all asked for
Even a fitting managed to get scheduled for Friday at 5
Lord knows what I'll be wearing...

my first baby step
just an extra job
I could be anything from a party-goer in a third of the film to a faceless blur walking the streets somewhere in the very far off distance
(chances are it'll be the faceless blur)
but I was cold-called and cast just because of a headshot
amazing that was all it took

imdb the film if you can
apparently it's a movie musical using the songs of The Beatles to tell a love story set in the raucous 1960s
Bono is the star
as far as I can tell

then again I suppose I should know
(what with Bono and I being co-stars and all)
Ha!

I am so happy
Who knew I'd make it to the movies after all?

You & i

will be together soon.

You & i Matthew.
You & i Family.
You & i Understanding.
You & i Peace.

Sex on a Dance Floor

Is it wrong that I picked these two items up for myself on the way home from work?
Or is it even more wrong that I feel so gay as a result I wouldn't entirely object to a redneck kicking my ass if he knew?
Ah, the mysteries of the world!
But on to the criticism! Because seriously, where would we be without critical thinking and bright pink packaging to project it upon?
The Sex and the City Complete Series Box Set: what can I say? I've seen every single episode an estimated Four hundred and seventy nine times each, so unless the season finales comes in 3-D or every other episode contains a never before discovered code where Sarah Jessica Parker's voice can be heard screaming "DIE! CATTRALL! DIE!" while the sound plays backwards to the music of "Dark Side Of The Moon" --I really don't know what they're gonna do to surprise me.
I just fucking had to have it.
(will keep you posted on the Bonus Features though...)
Now, Ms. Madonna, Lady Madge, Queen of all things Kabbalah: I have listened to your newest CD and while I love, love, love you (maybe more than life itself) you know I have always been honest about your music and stage shows in the past. The Good, The Bad, The Fabulous, I've called you out on all of it and I must say after listening to your latest recording endeavor (albeit only one and a half times thus far) I've got to tell you that I think it is quite possibly my favorite in a very, very long time.
"Confessions on a dance floor" is quite simply phenomenal.
Simultaneously haunting, futuristic, beat-driven, mellow, nostalgic and original, this feels more like the type of music I would be listening to -regardless of her name being attached- in as long as I can remember.
A good little bit of it sounds alarmingly like music she's produced in the past. Layers of "Push" conjure up the exact tones of "Like A Prayer." The "Future Lovers" bassline is a near duplicate of what played during the brilliant Japanese anime segment of her Drowned World Tour. And lyrics like "going down my own road," have certainly exited her lips in song before. But frankly when you are at the Madonna legendary status, cases like this are probably considered more or less self-sampling than just accidental repetition.
Now I could do without banality like her not-entirely-truthful "I Love New York." (I mean if she loves it so damned much, why the hell aint we neighbors?) Or make that "neigh-BOURS" in her case. However a song like "Isaac" more than makes up for an out-of-place diddy like "New York." All in all "Confessions" flows from one track to the next with such glassy, glossy perfection it can only be described as an uncommonly rare high note in a breed of space-y, trance-y music that has nearly been done to death.
So run out and buy it if you can. The only things "Confessions on a dance floor" needs are a candlelit lounge and a steady supply of popsicles.
I can not wait for the first time I hear it out in that very environment.
But in the meantime I'll continue to dance around my apartment in socks.

Today 4 U

it is coming
it is coming

11,814 minutes
from the moment I typed this
(or so the website says)

can not stop thinking about it
no day but today
feels like an eternity
from now

measure your life in
something

meaningful

talked with my brother on the phone today
he is well
in case you were wondering

he told me to do something.
try it for yourselves
(and if this is old news I apologize deeply)
but
go to www.google.com
type in the word "failure"
click on the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button

and laugh

crap

blogging is dangerous
be careful what you publish
we always know who will be reading
even when we pretend we don't
i am new to this
so i won't criticize
the process
but bloggers beware
sticks and stones
may break my bones
but words
may break my heart

quasi-poetic shorthand musings

cried twice today
movies do it for some reason
life not so much
shielded
blocked
safe
from feeling
rational thought kills all sadness
in me
"this too shall pass"
over and over
over and over
inside my mind

let it all come in
the truth of each disappointment.

the fucked up truth of life
is that it is wonderful
and awful
at the exact same time.

music-power-pride-change

Late yesterday afternoon as I walked from work to the train I was taken off-guard when a song I didn't even know I had began to play on my ipod.
Proud and forceful trumpets gave way to a rousing and militaristic drum beat. Chimes rang out and the drum beat continued, stirring a life inside of me that is often hard to come by after a long day's work. Beaming from ear to ear I quite literally began marching to the beat, giddy with life's randomness. It took a moment before I realized that the music was John Williams' Olympic Theme, a download that probably occured somewhere between Harry Potter and Star Wars during a film score mass search months ago. To think that it had taken me this long to find the song again, and for the first time. To think that it had taken me this long to change the way I listen to music-- this long to let go.
Dare yourself to play your life on shuffle.
Dare yourself to let life surprise you.
You'll have yourself to thank when you do.

Today, alone in my office, I was met with a similar sounding music. Only this was fainter and slightly less persistant. Honestly, it took a good while before I even realized that the music was real. Then it took me even longer before I found that it was coming from the street 23 stories below my window. Climbing into my windowsill, dressed for a casual Friday in jeans and a dress shirt, I saw the marching along Fifth Avenue first and only then realized that I had maybe the oddest bird's eye view of the New York City Veterans Day Parade.
I was so high up that I only watched for a moment or two (this would be no dancing Ferris Beuller type scene) and I only really took note again later when what I gathered was a high school marching band started to play the highlights of the Pink Floyd songbook.
There were no vocals, not that I could hear anyway, but I sang along inside my own head
"We don't need no education"
"We don't need no thought control"
"No dark sarcasm in the classroom"
"Teachers Leave Them Kids Alone"
"Hey Teacher Leave Them Kids Alone!"
"All in all you're just another Brick In The Wall"
It struck me as an odd choice for a Veterans Day Parade for numerous reasons but mainly because the song has such a powerful voice in standing up to manipulation, standing up to lies and fighting against the disregard for our basic human experience. I want to believe that the vast majority of the young men and women fighting for us fight for these reasons. That the torturers are only a mere few. I simply can no longer believe that the powers who put them there can be trusted in any capacity.

Honored today are the veterans who have fought before and who are still fighting.
HONORED
I want to fight for them.
I want for their deaths to not be just another brick.
Because the bricks are stacking up.

And this wall of thought control must die
so as they can live.

Think Pink!

It's difficult for me to handle the popularity of one of my favorite sites on the web, PinkIsTheNewBlog.com
I love it and find it to be so guiltlessly delicious, like Diet Country Time Lemonade in the Summer months. No, make that Diet "Pink" Country Time Lemonade in the Summer months.
It's just that this site is so different from what I'm doing here. So much more accessible in a way.
I would hope that you wouldn't have to know who I am to get something out of cgc182.blogspot.com but I KNOW that you don't have to know who Trent is (he's the blog's creator) to get something out of PinkIsTheNewBlog.
You all should go to his site if you haven't already. You can link it straight off of mine if you simply shift your gaze slightly up and to the right.
You'll see great new pictures of celebrities and funny comments that are updated daily and (if this is your sort of thing) you'll probably end up frequenting his site much more than you do mine- whether you know me well or not.
And that's OK.
It's like comparing Apples and Pink Grapefruits. I'm happy that there is room for both his blog and mine.
All I know how to be is truthful.
All I can do is my best.
I do secretly wish that my words and photographs could be as captivating to the masses as Mary Kate Olsen's latest Starbucks run or Britney Spears' most recent fashion mistake. But I know that it isn't and I also know that that's not what I'm about anyway. It's just not really why I'm here.
So blog away Trent! We might even be friends if I lived in Detroit or if you lived in Manhattan. And I like what you have to say.
I'll keep reading.
And, don't you worry, I'll keep on writing too.

Reality TV Sensation

Last night I flipped between a re-run of "The Apprentice" on one channel, a re-cap of "America's Next Top Model" on another channel and what appeared to be a re-cent episode of "The Biggest Loser" on a third channel.
My God, these shows are great.
Each and every one of them is exactly the same as the next, from the go-to cookie cutter exterior shots of whatever building they happen to be living in to the you-know-its-coming cliffhanger commercial breaks. How no one seems to have noticed that they are scripted, shot and edited in exactly the same way as all the rest is a mystery to me. But whether they appear on ABC, MTV, NBC or even CNBC all I know is that despite these minor downfalls (and the fact that actors like myself are consequently out of more and more work as a result of their popularity and low production costs) these programs are as sickeningly, addictively and devastatingly great as one could ever imagine.
So how can they be so wonderfully (albeit mundanely) great if the only substituted element is a fat guy for a model or a businessman for a fashion designer? I fear only Lucifer herself has the answer... But I'd venture to guess that it has to do with their inherent watch-ability. Unlike many other scripted dramas, with reality television you can pick up a week or even a month after having seen the last episode and all you'll have missed are a few teary or cringingly awkward goodbyes. Your most dramatic sentiment might sound like, "Oh, the flamboyant guy is gone, too bad, ho hum." or "What is that asshole still doing around? I thought he'd be gone months ago. Oh well, wonder who he'll insult this week, lah de-dah."
So, in conclusion I feel as though reality television as a medium is a foul and loathsome being and that we as a culture should--
Oh Shit! Martha's new show is about to come on and I don't even have my VCR set up yet...

autumn in new york

the slideshow that will never be
at least will never be, for now
"autumn in new york" was the title
it came accompanied with the song
and it was beautiful
I was only lucky enough to have witnessed it
lucky enough to have had a camera with me at the time
Here is a much abbreviated idea of what would have been in store
if I was the computer genius I am trying to become
imagine music as you scroll down the page
imagine music at all times if possible
-or come to my apartment and I'll show you the slideshow myself-
(God, does that sound as awful as I think it does?)

I spent today in Central Park
some photos of that are here
and, wow
From Sea to Shining Sea
with me, annoying my friends, as I try to capture it all
must take a piece home with me
forever
(if that concept even exists)

comments are still off, for those who have called or are wondering
just something I'm doing for me
proving to self that censorship is dead
must not write for others
any more than is necessary
but please keep reading
I WILL be here every day

I didn't vote this afternoon
nobody seemed to be talking about what I wanted to hear
and I probably would have voted for Bloomberg anyway
which bothers me
I just feel as though my mayor should be able to speak
and very expensive robot wins out over mumbling toadie any day
at least in my book

hope you all are well.
all of you who are reading this

and ALL of you who are not

(In Transit)

I was sitting alone on the subway this afternoon.
Just a simple, nothing trip home from a simple, nothing day at work.
I was happy, content might be a better word, just to be sitting alone amongst strangers. My headphones were in and I was day-dreaming. About what I can no longer remember.
My eyes wandered from the gentleman sitting across from me, who I noticed wasn't laughing at his new copy of "Me Talk Pretty One Day" to the large man seated beside him, who sat wide legged and rapidly scribbled in the small leatherbound journal atop his lap. 51st Street became 42nd. 42nd turned into 33rd. 33rd into 28th and so on and so forth.
Eventually my gaze shifted upwards. Suddenly I sat reading an MTA "Poetry in Motion" poster just slightly above the heads of the few standing passengers in this surprisingly and delightfully sparse afternoon train. I found myself for the first time in all my years of taking public transport actually enjoying the poem--a short piece that expressed one's inner struggle between the desire to create and the necessity for basic human survival. It touched something in me and I was immediately called to do what I always want to do when something pleases or affects me in one way or another. I had to have it. I had to capture it, own it in my own way. I pulled out my small sony camera and before even thinking, lifted it to eye level and snapped what seemed like the longest photograph ever, which came accompanied by a very elaborate and extravagantly bright flash.
Immediately color ran to my cheeks. I could feel my entire neck flush, like a part of my anatomy had been suddenly and shockingly exposed. I was really only embarrassed because I didn't want anyone to think I was bold enough to flat out take a photograph of them (though I've pulled this trick off in subways before). And I was met with a combination of annoyance and of-coursedness when I viewed the digital shot and found that in my nervousness I'd missed the poster all together.
In my own dogged determination I re-raised my camera, praying the flash would simply be napping, and steadied my view-finder until the poem was clearly and legibly in focus.
I snapped the photograph.
It came out just fine.
And after a moment or two, which felt like much longer, I mustered the courage to lift my head and meet the cold and indifferent consternation of a public unable to understand the choices I'd made.
I looked up.
No one was staring at me. No one had cared enough to notice. Not even wonder curiously, "What's that kid going on about with the camera and the flashing and the oy..." Now I'm observant enough to know that New York subway passengers have seen it all. From a blind woman singing Tony Bennett to street dancers who swing above the heads of tourists, missing an eye socket and a lawsuit by mere inches in a rousing above ground ariel performance complete with flips and twirls.
Hell, one time I saw human feces.
A kid in Coach dress shoes and a blazer pulling out a camera doesn't even begin to hit the radar.
But that's the thing about the ev-er-y dayness of ev-er-y day life.
You have to live it ev--er--y day.
And at the end of one day, after one twenty four hour cycle comes to a close and before the next can begin, I anyway-I-just desperately want to be noticed by somebody. I just desperately need to matter. To someone...to anyone...to anyone at all.

Still Half Empty

Plant the seed of something bigger than yourself
Matter to as many people as possible
Change, don't try to change, the world every day you're living
Create Produce Enliven Enlarge Shift Sculpt Matter Mold
How do we make this time worth it?
How do we do justice to the miracle of life?
How do we not just live for the purpose of survival?
How do we matter if no one knows who we are?
Don't let this fucked up world get you down
Don't let your loneliness consume you
Do something positive
Be the butterfly wing flap that shifts the weather in China
Be the person who makes living bearable for someone you'll never know
Existence is difficult when your phone never rings
Existence is difficult period

tech support

I need technical assistance
amongst numerous other forms...
today was perhaps the most beautiful day ever and
All I wanted was to publish a slideshow illustrating how awe-inspiring this city is
(apparently I must first right-brain myself into genius level)
computers don't seem to be working these days
or maybe that's just me
at any rate, a slideshow tomorrow perhaps
or the next day
or the next
in the meantime a photo of me looking sad, or is that pensive, or is that just plain boring?

The House of Soho

one night only, my old self revisited
on the town
"excuse me sir, you're here to see..."
"oh, hi, i'm meeting my friend emily"
-elevator up-
only six floors before complete privacy
do what you will
smoke
coke
jump rope
get it while its hot
sitting at a table amongst new and old friends it only takes a drink or two before the clarity makes itself present
"you're on top of the world."

show don't tell

auditions

the saddest group of people you will ever see
desperation pouring out of them

The Scene:
like a cramped, stained on-the-ocean cabin room--immigrants praying for a better life
"not all of us will make it to the promiseland, I fear."
large round girls sit on public floors, rollers still in hair--
lugging entire suitcases filled with makeup and monologues
angry pointy-faced gays--armed only with an arsenal of dirty looks and self-hate
the elderly. I'm not kidding on this one. the elderly--putting on their lashes, clearing their throats, actually doing sit-ups before the eyes of babes
water bottle after water bottle after water bottle
and me
the self-consumption, the insecurity, the NEED all played out under the harsh glow of sterile hallogen lights
fascinating if it weren't so sad
"You do this every day?" I think to myself before, "You left the house like that?"
their pounding of the pavement is quiet and inconsequential
you will never make it
and neither will you
you might as well had just slept in

this room will be your carnegie hall
that corner will be your only stage
the end of your road has come, so soon

Why are you here?
Why are you here?
Why are you here?
Why are you here?

And then I look away from the mirror.
I roll my neck atop my shoulders, lightly cough into my small right hand and attempt to clear my mind of the negativity that controls it.
I proceed...


"Number OneHundredandFifteen, you're next."

Curtain

of light
liquid
loud

In the middle of everything
In the middle of it all

still.

peace be with us

please-
please-
please-

(hi how r u?) (ok) (fine)

It is so beautiful in New York right now.
The beautifulness mocks me.
“I’ll rain the next time you get dressed up, the next time you plan a big night out. I bet I can freeze the pants rights off you. Today I’ll be beautiful though. Today I’ll shine. You can look at me, through that big 23rd story window. You can sit there and half-way work and you can contemplate as hour rolls into hour how today, in its own way, was wasted.

Sit at your desk and quietly know that even at this moment, well before noon, today is already over.

I worry about us.
Sometimes.
I worry about the possible oncoming death of human interaction.
In a world where we move from friendster account to instant messenger, from text message to blog
In a time when we can live through entire 24 hour spans feeling a part of this human world because our blackberry was checked eleven times and our email inbox is full
In an age when there is no need to return phone calls because the fact that we had messages in the first place was good enough, I have to admit I worry, just a little.
I mean, entire relationships can develop with little to no shared contact.

There is a difference between connected and connection.

I’m right on the cusp. My telephone statement said I used 1450 minutes of free PCS to PCS calling in the last two weeks alone but I to this day refuse to go on IM. I’m obsessed with this new universe of “blog” but the concept of texting is still lost on me. I do it regularly, but doesn’t it take twice as long? Are we so afraid of speaking to each other that even a phone call is too much?

I think I’m just more or less worried about the kids who are ten now, the kids who have just been born, and those kids’ kids. Will they ever read a book? Will they ever read anything that didn’t come accompanied by an electronic ring? Bill Gates was on MTV last week and said that within five years computer screens will be on every surface of the American home- from your bathroom walls to your kitchen countertops. But on a recent trip to L.A. (where it should be noted that I had an amazing time) I couldn’t help but see that we already move throughout our days going from one screen to another. Our powerbook g4s lose our interest and it’s onto our sidekicks. Once all ‘contacts’ have been made we maybe scroll through the face of our ipod where we tune in and tune out for a while. And when we’ve exhausted ourselves on this contraption we sit down in front of the biggest isolator of all- our televisions.
From screen to screen to screen we fill our days.
You’re looking at one right now.
They sure are great. I for one don’t know what I’d do without all of mine. But that’s all they are—is screens. Blocking me from you.
And you from everyone else.