Writing
Montana Photos & Random Writing
Sunday, September 28th, 2008 | Photography, Writing | 3 Comments
Hiking near Red Lodge
First of all, check out my photos from Montana including my brief stopover in Denver. Warning: too many self-portraits. There are some lovely scenic shots though. ;)
This morning I wanted to spend some time writing but I was uninspired so I just decided to describe a bit of mine and Justin’s journey home from Brooklyn last night.
Last Night
We stumbled every few steps over the uneven sidewalk, scarred as it was with thick bands of wild grass, broken and even shattered to bits in some areas from neglect… The streetlights became soft orbs of light in the humid night air. On a bridge in the distance, the line of lights was distorted so everything glowed, seemingly uniform. To our east, a fair distance beyond the nearest buildings and the river, the city was entirely obscured by the thick, hazy moisture. All we could tell of the city was a strange purple glow, refusing to acknowledge the presence of a sunless sky – ignoring the notion of twinkling stars above.
Calvary Cemetery by Tony the Misfit
An impressive cemetery stretched out along the western side of the street. All the stones were black, slate, grey. Towering obelisks and massive crosses crowded together, interspersed with hulking sepulchers. As crowded in life as in death in this city of ours. We could’ve been in New Orleans – my imagination readily allowed. My companion snickered as we clambered passed the Best Western City View Hotel. All of the windows facing the cemetery were frosted. I suppose this was out of concern for their customers rather than deference toward the dead. It would’ve disappointed me had I stayed there. The cemetery was really quite lovely, and at sunset, I imagine it would be breathtaking to behold filled with warm golden light.
We walked into a more residential neighborhood where the sidewalks notably improved. Spanish voices serenaded our march as a mother ushered in her little children at 10PM – their playground an empty street with one lone Latin bar. I suspected that the bar was completely abandoned, though the loud music emanating from within suggested otherwise.
A few minutes later we came to the corner of a couple of streets flanked by tall, red brick apartment buildings and spotted a small yellow cab. It was one of the new, more energy-efficient hybrid models. We were lucky to flag it down easily. Upon climbing in I was surprised to discover that the safety glass I’d become accustom to which separated driver from patron was non-existent in this state-of-the-art vehicle. I wonder if it speaks to the current safety of New York city streets or something else entirely that has yet to occur to me. I gave the driver our address and we sped quickly home.
Life, Love, Suicide
Wednesday, May 28th, 2008 | Positivity | No Comments
Sorry to send you elsewhere. I considered writing something truly heartfelt here earlier, but I went to dinner and discussed it with Justin instead. You can get the jest of it here: Heart-to-Heart Conversations: Past Loves and Helping Others Cope with Suicide.
Comedian, Feminism, My Last Post
Wednesday, March 5th, 2008 | Thoughts | 10 Comments
Last night Justin and I were watching Comedy Central. A stand up comic was reviewing some of her old material and making new jokes also. She got onto the subject of feminism and talked about how, after telling a particular joke roughly 10 years ago, she used to ask if anyone in the audience was a feminist. No one would raise their hands. When she asked the question on the show last night lots of women were cheering and raising their hands. She said that feminism is dead. What it means nowadays is that a woman has enough money to buy her own breast implants. Unfortunately, she is right in a lot of ways. Too bad I can’t find the exact quote - but you get the drift.
Shouldn’t we all be above the societal hype and influence? Aren’t we all supposed to be happy with who we are and what we are without trying, wanting, having to change ourselves? Here’s to wondering how much different and hopefully better things will be 10 years from now.
On the subject of my last post: The book How to be Happy Dammit just so happened to be sitting atop the JetBlue re-gifting table one day and Oscar brought it over to me, saying he thought I should read it. Basically, the book is filled with ugly art and valueless “uplifting” one-liners. I honestly can’t imagine it took more than a week to put together. At the time, it absolutely floored me that it had been published! Imagine my surprise when I discovered the newsletter I recently signed up for on Thao’s suggestion was by the same “author.” Incredible. *shakes head* And it’s not the only “book” she’s published. She’s actually published 29 “books!” I wonder - are they all of the same caliber?
Maybe I should go into self-help publishing. Nah, that would take too much motivation.
JUST DON’T TRY!
Sunday, March 2nd, 2008 | Uncategorized | 2 Comments
So this may not make sense.
People who do not try really make it!
Thao turned me on to this author not too long ago: NotSalmon.com. I sometimes enjoy the emails sent from her website.
I didn’t even realize that I have a history with at least one of her books. But it leads me to reveal: I have to admit that people who put in less effort and pump out MORE really make it!
So, long story short - make connections, pump out stuff, be successful.
Now I am sure you all want the back story, but just take my word for it.
bizarre… Life really does answer questions. ;)
Acquainted with the Night
Friday, December 21st, 2007 | Uncategorized | No Comments
This is a Robert Frost poem.. I thought I’d post it and see if anyone had any of their own opinions or would like to attempt to analyze it. I love the feeling of loneliness, apathy and sadness it evoked in me upon reading it this morning… certain areas of the poem being particularly poignant. I thought I’d paste it and see if anyone had any thoughts.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Other news (and life is strange but that is a longer and more involved story): Justin won standby tickets on Qantas from his Corp Comm team Christmas Party, so it looks like we will be visiting Australia and New Zealand sometime next year (I am particularly interested in the latter).
Thoughts from my old notebook
Monday, June 18th, 2007 | Uncategorized | 2 Comments
Today, we went to the Museum of Natural History with Jenny and Cody. I love that museum. They are having a mythical creatures exhibit right now but it wasn’t as fantastic as I’d hoped. I enjoyed going through the NY State history/ecosystem hall better.
We also tried Pinkberry. My apologies if you actually go to that link and hear the incredibly catchy music. It was pretty darn good. I’d go again if it was more convenient.
Val! and I have been commenting back and forth on a lot of our photos from Portland. Good times.
I switched to a new notebook at work, which resulted in my going through my old one, transferring some still-relevant notes, throwing most everything away, and stealing a couple of sheets of musings I’d written while sitting in meetings but being “checked-out.” I thought I’d transcribe them here, despite the fact that they’re lacking. Then again, most of my posts here are anyway.
“because you have changed, or because you are new… or because once we fought with you, with your citizens, but have since made amends and you are once again new to us <3"
I am not sure what the above was about.
I like this one a little better;
I am remiss to damage a page completely blank, full of purpose, a thing of beauty almost - not at all ugly or hideous as it sometimes becomes once I’ve begun my regular scribblings.
And yet - I have that unfortunate human condition that requires me to deface or destroy those beautiful, pristine things.He called in… who cares. Half of the time he just sits there bored out of his mind anyway.
I feel sad or lonely or maybe that’s not it. Maybe what I feel is dispassionate and insignificant. I don’t know, but I imagine that could be it.
I want pizza. I want Cosi. I want happy. I want cozy.
TB strategy - “it’s a little all over the place” and “We’re still trying to figure out just what it will be.” Meaning if you’re a man or have the right title people will actually listen and respond to your ideas. What am I missing?
Everything is so small if you want it to be - feels so small.
Like I am so in debt and I don’t want to be an insignificant worker bee all my life and I want to do fun stuff and How will I be able to get out of debt in order to justify going back to school.
!
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