Friday, September 30, 2005
Happy Weekend To All You Shit Cutters!
Enjoy my babies.
See you on Monday!
Enjoy my babies.
See you on Monday!
Thursday, September 29, 2005
TV! TV! TV!
We are finally into the fall television season. And by “finally”, I mean “Thank the Lord in Heaven abizzle!” If I had to force myself to watch one more episode of So You Think You Can Dance or reruns of Still Standing (ok, like I would EVER bother with Still Standing!), I may have off’d myself with the lone bullet I have sitting next to my bed. Ok, again, like I would have a lone bullet sitting next to my bed. Ok, AGAIN, too many tangents.
The following is a list of purely excellent television. Consider watching these shows if you believe in art and entertainment existing cohesively. And yes, they are ranked in order of excellence (well they were until I got to the end and gave up on that). If you disagree with the shows I’ve chosen, do me a favor and shaddup. I’m not in the mood for that bullshit today.
Lez begin lezzies:
Lost: First and foremost is this absolutely wonderful show from J.J. Abrams. Holy fuck this show is awesome. I’m sure there aren’t many of you that would be ignorant enough to miss this show during the second season. If so, I highly encourage you to stop watching whatever lame shit you’re watching and commit to a show that is not only intriguing, it’s exciting, fast paced and chock full of some of the best acting performances currently on television. There is no chance that I will ever miss an episode of this Emmy Award winning drama and there’s no excuse for you to pretend as though you’ve got something better to do.
Nip/Tuck: True, I jumped on the bandwagon for this show a tad later than the die hard fans. But once I watched the first episode of this season, I was immediately hooked. If Julian McMahon isn’t enough to keep you hooked, I don’t know what is! The man has sex oozing out of his beautiful face. This season, there is a killer on the loose that goes by the name of the “Carver”. He’s creepy and he ass raped my dear Julian (and FX showed it all!). There was no turning away from the television during that bold and shocking scene. Last season, one of the main female characters was revealed as a transsexual and threesomes occur more often that Beverly Hills women go under the knife. Trust me…this show will knock your dainty little socks off.
Desperate Housewives: If you happen to be one of the very few people that don’t watch Lost nor Desperate Housewives, please go flush your head in the toilet out of pure shame. The women from Wysteria Lane are back for more drama and hilarity. The season opener ushered us faithfuls back in with gusto! Is Zach dead or alive? Who the FUCK is Alfre Woodard feeding in her basement? And Marcia Cross’s portrayal of “Bree” should nab her a dozen or so awards in the upcoming year. She’s fierce to the point of excellence. And for those of you that think Eva Longoria is in any way the star of this show, you must immediately pull your head out of the toilet and insert it in your ass. You have so much to learn.
Survivor: Gautemala: There’s a reason why this show still ranks in the Nielson top 10 every week. It’s addictive, good fun, with the best reality casting on television. The challenges have gotten ridiculously dangerous and the players are more cut throat and brutal than ever. I must also mention that fan favorite “Stephanie” is back for a second attempt at the million dollar prize. God, I’ve never loved a woman so much. I’m borderline hetero for that chick. Our host, Jeff Probst, has gotten increasingly smarmy over the years and it’s downright hilarious to watch him verbally berate everyone that crosses his path. It’s not too late to pick up on the Survivor band wagon. Just do it now so that you can get to know the contestants before it really matters.
ER: Having been on the air for more than 10 years, this outstanding series has been under critical scrutiny for losing its edge. If you happened to see the roof collapse at the end of last season, then you know that critics often suck ass. Maura Tierney still reigns supreme and Linda Cardinelli is fast becoming second in line. The writing on this show is still fresh and they are constantly adding wonderful new actors to the line up. Look out for John Leguizamo and Kristen Johnston to join the show this year. If that’s not enough to force you to tune in, then must I remind you again how shocking these episodes turn out to be? Those of us that saw the eye pop out of that guy’s skull last year are still realing from it.
Medium: While I’m not usually one for shows that deal mostly with formulaic plot lines, this show has two things that most other shows don’t. First and foremost is actress Patricia Arquette. She’s always been a favorite of mine and her Emmy win just assured me that her quiet intensity has finally been recognized. Secondly, the show is on at 10pm on Mondays. If you can find something better to watch at that time, you let me know. Each story is wrapped up within an hour and most often, the visuals are stunning. Whoever is directing this series is doing a wonderful job! Not to be forgotten is Jake Weber who does an outstanding job as Patricia’s husband. It’s RARE to find a husband/wife dynamic that is more realistic and believable. I could watch these two sit in a room for an hour and still feel satisfied. I’ve yet to miss a single episode of this series and I’m proud to say that I picked it up on day one due to my utter devotion to everything Arquette (David excluded).
Invasion: The Jury is still out as to whether or not this show is worth it. But the jury is IN on the fact that Eddie Cibrian is a beautiful man that deserves at least the chance at success.
Weeds: “Little Boxes on the Hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky little boxes…” Don’t be one of those people that has Showtime and doesn’t watch Mary Louise Parker steal hearts! Sure, it’s no Queer as Folk, but it’s better than The L Word and also stars Elizabeth Perkins! You’d be crazy not to give this show a chance based on the fact that it’s only a half hour long a week! I take dumps that are longer than that. Who knew marijuana could be so funny and devastating at the same time!? Pack up that bowl, settle in with the munchies and prepare to both laugh AND cry.
South Park: The new season has yet to start, but if I were you (and I am), I would consider catching up on the episodes from last season. Your jaw will hit the floor and sometimes against your own will, you will find yourself laughing so hard that pee comes out. Then the pee will drip on the floor. You may not think that the “Terri Schiavo case”, “Stem cell research”, or the “Special Olympics is funny”, but that’s where you would be wrong. My heart breaks for everything and I STILL find this show hilarious because it doesn’t make any apologies for stepping over the line. The Simpsons used to be the kings of political satire, but that crown goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. At least for now. I’ll always hold The Simpsons in my heart of hearts. They’re just in a low period right now.
Ok…that should be enough to keep you all busy for a while. Now, I understand that some people aren’t into television as much as I am. And that’s understandable. We’re not all as pop culturally obsessed as I am. But if you’re someone who doesn’t even OWN a TV (RANDY), then I must immediately slap you for finding better things to do with your time.
Next week…look for the shows that are slowly causing me to cut myself into a million pieces. Meaning, they suck.
Now get cracking on some of this awesome shit!
We are finally into the fall television season. And by “finally”, I mean “Thank the Lord in Heaven abizzle!” If I had to force myself to watch one more episode of So You Think You Can Dance or reruns of Still Standing (ok, like I would EVER bother with Still Standing!), I may have off’d myself with the lone bullet I have sitting next to my bed. Ok, again, like I would have a lone bullet sitting next to my bed. Ok, AGAIN, too many tangents.
The following is a list of purely excellent television. Consider watching these shows if you believe in art and entertainment existing cohesively. And yes, they are ranked in order of excellence (well they were until I got to the end and gave up on that). If you disagree with the shows I’ve chosen, do me a favor and shaddup. I’m not in the mood for that bullshit today.
Lez begin lezzies:
Lost: First and foremost is this absolutely wonderful show from J.J. Abrams. Holy fuck this show is awesome. I’m sure there aren’t many of you that would be ignorant enough to miss this show during the second season. If so, I highly encourage you to stop watching whatever lame shit you’re watching and commit to a show that is not only intriguing, it’s exciting, fast paced and chock full of some of the best acting performances currently on television. There is no chance that I will ever miss an episode of this Emmy Award winning drama and there’s no excuse for you to pretend as though you’ve got something better to do.
Nip/Tuck: True, I jumped on the bandwagon for this show a tad later than the die hard fans. But once I watched the first episode of this season, I was immediately hooked. If Julian McMahon isn’t enough to keep you hooked, I don’t know what is! The man has sex oozing out of his beautiful face. This season, there is a killer on the loose that goes by the name of the “Carver”. He’s creepy and he ass raped my dear Julian (and FX showed it all!). There was no turning away from the television during that bold and shocking scene. Last season, one of the main female characters was revealed as a transsexual and threesomes occur more often that Beverly Hills women go under the knife. Trust me…this show will knock your dainty little socks off.
Desperate Housewives: If you happen to be one of the very few people that don’t watch Lost nor Desperate Housewives, please go flush your head in the toilet out of pure shame. The women from Wysteria Lane are back for more drama and hilarity. The season opener ushered us faithfuls back in with gusto! Is Zach dead or alive? Who the FUCK is Alfre Woodard feeding in her basement? And Marcia Cross’s portrayal of “Bree” should nab her a dozen or so awards in the upcoming year. She’s fierce to the point of excellence. And for those of you that think Eva Longoria is in any way the star of this show, you must immediately pull your head out of the toilet and insert it in your ass. You have so much to learn.
Survivor: Gautemala: There’s a reason why this show still ranks in the Nielson top 10 every week. It’s addictive, good fun, with the best reality casting on television. The challenges have gotten ridiculously dangerous and the players are more cut throat and brutal than ever. I must also mention that fan favorite “Stephanie” is back for a second attempt at the million dollar prize. God, I’ve never loved a woman so much. I’m borderline hetero for that chick. Our host, Jeff Probst, has gotten increasingly smarmy over the years and it’s downright hilarious to watch him verbally berate everyone that crosses his path. It’s not too late to pick up on the Survivor band wagon. Just do it now so that you can get to know the contestants before it really matters.
ER: Having been on the air for more than 10 years, this outstanding series has been under critical scrutiny for losing its edge. If you happened to see the roof collapse at the end of last season, then you know that critics often suck ass. Maura Tierney still reigns supreme and Linda Cardinelli is fast becoming second in line. The writing on this show is still fresh and they are constantly adding wonderful new actors to the line up. Look out for John Leguizamo and Kristen Johnston to join the show this year. If that’s not enough to force you to tune in, then must I remind you again how shocking these episodes turn out to be? Those of us that saw the eye pop out of that guy’s skull last year are still realing from it.
Medium: While I’m not usually one for shows that deal mostly with formulaic plot lines, this show has two things that most other shows don’t. First and foremost is actress Patricia Arquette. She’s always been a favorite of mine and her Emmy win just assured me that her quiet intensity has finally been recognized. Secondly, the show is on at 10pm on Mondays. If you can find something better to watch at that time, you let me know. Each story is wrapped up within an hour and most often, the visuals are stunning. Whoever is directing this series is doing a wonderful job! Not to be forgotten is Jake Weber who does an outstanding job as Patricia’s husband. It’s RARE to find a husband/wife dynamic that is more realistic and believable. I could watch these two sit in a room for an hour and still feel satisfied. I’ve yet to miss a single episode of this series and I’m proud to say that I picked it up on day one due to my utter devotion to everything Arquette (David excluded).
Invasion: The Jury is still out as to whether or not this show is worth it. But the jury is IN on the fact that Eddie Cibrian is a beautiful man that deserves at least the chance at success.
Weeds: “Little Boxes on the Hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky little boxes…” Don’t be one of those people that has Showtime and doesn’t watch Mary Louise Parker steal hearts! Sure, it’s no Queer as Folk, but it’s better than The L Word and also stars Elizabeth Perkins! You’d be crazy not to give this show a chance based on the fact that it’s only a half hour long a week! I take dumps that are longer than that. Who knew marijuana could be so funny and devastating at the same time!? Pack up that bowl, settle in with the munchies and prepare to both laugh AND cry.
South Park: The new season has yet to start, but if I were you (and I am), I would consider catching up on the episodes from last season. Your jaw will hit the floor and sometimes against your own will, you will find yourself laughing so hard that pee comes out. Then the pee will drip on the floor. You may not think that the “Terri Schiavo case”, “Stem cell research”, or the “Special Olympics is funny”, but that’s where you would be wrong. My heart breaks for everything and I STILL find this show hilarious because it doesn’t make any apologies for stepping over the line. The Simpsons used to be the kings of political satire, but that crown goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone. At least for now. I’ll always hold The Simpsons in my heart of hearts. They’re just in a low period right now.
Ok…that should be enough to keep you all busy for a while. Now, I understand that some people aren’t into television as much as I am. And that’s understandable. We’re not all as pop culturally obsessed as I am. But if you’re someone who doesn’t even OWN a TV (RANDY), then I must immediately slap you for finding better things to do with your time.
Next week…look for the shows that are slowly causing me to cut myself into a million pieces. Meaning, they suck.
Now get cracking on some of this awesome shit!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I'm Sick
Not in the head, tho that's up for debate.
I'm sick right now. (sadness ensues)
I'll try to post tomorrow, but it's more likely that Thursday will be the day. Just wanted to keep you all in the loop.
Don't go doing anything fun while I'm held up at my house blowing my nose off.
Being sick sucks huge gay cock.
Um.
Fine. It sucks huge straight cock too.
Not in the head, tho that's up for debate.
I'm sick right now. (sadness ensues)
I'll try to post tomorrow, but it's more likely that Thursday will be the day. Just wanted to keep you all in the loop.
Don't go doing anything fun while I'm held up at my house blowing my nose off.
Being sick sucks huge gay cock.
Um.
Fine. It sucks huge straight cock too.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Happy Weekend Everyone!
To those of you that I will see tomorrow...warm my seat...I'm sure I'll be running late!
To those of you that I won't see...huggles!
Peace.
To those of you that I will see tomorrow...warm my seat...I'm sure I'll be running late!
To those of you that I won't see...huggles!
Peace.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Time has Cum
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about anal sex. In fact, I spent a good portion of my therapy session today discussing that very topic. I’ve been having dreams about it and I can’t seem to get the whole idea out of my head. Mostly I think this is happening to me because at 28 I’m still a virgin – at least an anal virgin. For the longest time I was really proud of this fact, but as I get increasingly older, I become less proud and more anxious about it.
Why am I a virgin at 28, you ask?
Well it’s a ridiculous story. One that I would love to share, so here we go! The first time I ever hooked up with another man was when I was 20 years old. He told me every day that he was “straight” and while our hook-ups became gradually more intense, kissing on the mouth was practically forbidden. In any case, the 2 or 3 years that I spent with him didn’t allow for any cherry popping. When I met my boyfriend Paul, he wanted to have sex right away. But I wanted it to be meaningful and special and I wanted to wait until we were in love with each other. Fast forward a couple of years and we’re in love, but not having any sex at all! Not even the quickie blow job. Then the tension surrounding the act of “doing it” became almost too much to bear, so we haven’t really discussed it in a long time. I’ve been with Paul for over 5 years and we’ve never even come close to sticking a dick into each other’s butthole. But I digress…
Now that I’m broaching the inevitable 30 years old mark, I find a desperate need to explore my sexual identity. I want to have lots of sex and I want to learn how to identify with the pleasures of any and all sexual experiences. I struggle a bit with religious restrictions, but mostly with my own fear of becoming vulnerable. It is so easy for me to give a guy a blow job, but I would have to really like him in order to allow his mouth on my dick. In fact, of the 12 or so guys that I’ve blown over the years, I’ve only let about 3 of them even come close to touching my dick. It’s just how I roll.
However, through therapy, I’m learning how to open my mind to the pleasures of the human body. I’m excited to step out of my box and to turn into a raging slut, albeit a slut that practices safe sex. I want a man to pick me up in his arms and shove his cock deep inside of me. I want to learn how to ride a dick up and down and all around. It’s exciting for me to think about any scenario where my legs are over my head and I’m being fucked like mad. Why has it taken me so long to care about this aspect of my personality?
I’m pretty conservative when it comes to trying new things, but as I get older and more confident in myself, I’m starting to take advantage of the propositions I receive and the opportunities that come my way. The last thing that I want right now is to be restricted any more than I already am. There are obvious reasons why I’ve stayed in my relationship this long, but it’s actually more important to me to grow and learn about myself while I’m still young and good looking. I’m not going to be that hot kid at the bar forever. And I’m certainly getting nowhere being a frigid bitch. It’s time to open my hole and let a few guys take a nose dive. Literally.
The first time I have intercourse will have to be special and important. Once that is all said and done, I’m totally about having multiple partners the way that most people do! It’s time that I get some experience under my belt and it’s time that I have my first real orgasm with a guy. Its one thing for them to cum on my back, it’s another for me to cum at all.
At least my next challenge is something having to do with sex. I mean, if I was sitting here complaining about learning crochet, that would be one thing. But I’m sitting here talking about having multiple, amazing orgasms. This is one challenge I can deal with!
Time to go jerk off in the bathroom now. I got myself all sorts of worked up! I’ll probably stick a finger in my ass for good measure.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about anal sex. In fact, I spent a good portion of my therapy session today discussing that very topic. I’ve been having dreams about it and I can’t seem to get the whole idea out of my head. Mostly I think this is happening to me because at 28 I’m still a virgin – at least an anal virgin. For the longest time I was really proud of this fact, but as I get increasingly older, I become less proud and more anxious about it.
Why am I a virgin at 28, you ask?
Well it’s a ridiculous story. One that I would love to share, so here we go! The first time I ever hooked up with another man was when I was 20 years old. He told me every day that he was “straight” and while our hook-ups became gradually more intense, kissing on the mouth was practically forbidden. In any case, the 2 or 3 years that I spent with him didn’t allow for any cherry popping. When I met my boyfriend Paul, he wanted to have sex right away. But I wanted it to be meaningful and special and I wanted to wait until we were in love with each other. Fast forward a couple of years and we’re in love, but not having any sex at all! Not even the quickie blow job. Then the tension surrounding the act of “doing it” became almost too much to bear, so we haven’t really discussed it in a long time. I’ve been with Paul for over 5 years and we’ve never even come close to sticking a dick into each other’s butthole. But I digress…
Now that I’m broaching the inevitable 30 years old mark, I find a desperate need to explore my sexual identity. I want to have lots of sex and I want to learn how to identify with the pleasures of any and all sexual experiences. I struggle a bit with religious restrictions, but mostly with my own fear of becoming vulnerable. It is so easy for me to give a guy a blow job, but I would have to really like him in order to allow his mouth on my dick. In fact, of the 12 or so guys that I’ve blown over the years, I’ve only let about 3 of them even come close to touching my dick. It’s just how I roll.
However, through therapy, I’m learning how to open my mind to the pleasures of the human body. I’m excited to step out of my box and to turn into a raging slut, albeit a slut that practices safe sex. I want a man to pick me up in his arms and shove his cock deep inside of me. I want to learn how to ride a dick up and down and all around. It’s exciting for me to think about any scenario where my legs are over my head and I’m being fucked like mad. Why has it taken me so long to care about this aspect of my personality?
I’m pretty conservative when it comes to trying new things, but as I get older and more confident in myself, I’m starting to take advantage of the propositions I receive and the opportunities that come my way. The last thing that I want right now is to be restricted any more than I already am. There are obvious reasons why I’ve stayed in my relationship this long, but it’s actually more important to me to grow and learn about myself while I’m still young and good looking. I’m not going to be that hot kid at the bar forever. And I’m certainly getting nowhere being a frigid bitch. It’s time to open my hole and let a few guys take a nose dive. Literally.
The first time I have intercourse will have to be special and important. Once that is all said and done, I’m totally about having multiple partners the way that most people do! It’s time that I get some experience under my belt and it’s time that I have my first real orgasm with a guy. Its one thing for them to cum on my back, it’s another for me to cum at all.
At least my next challenge is something having to do with sex. I mean, if I was sitting here complaining about learning crochet, that would be one thing. But I’m sitting here talking about having multiple, amazing orgasms. This is one challenge I can deal with!
Time to go jerk off in the bathroom now. I got myself all sorts of worked up! I’ll probably stick a finger in my ass for good measure.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Paying to Pray
As you should know by now, I work for a Jewish Organization at a very prestigious university. I’m going on my fifth year here and there are still moments that really shock my shit. Considering that I’m not Jewish (in fact I’m Born Again – eep!), it’s always been weird to me that Synagogues charge their members money in order to attend services for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. As has been told to me numerous times, this is just the way it’s done in the Jewish world and no one should be shocked by that fact.
Wellity, this year our ticket prices for the “High Holiday” services have gone up to $72 each. This is a 100% increase from last year. I was told by my boss to stick to this number and no matter what anger gets thrown at me for it, simply “tell them that our costs have increased, thus making the price what it is.” I’ve been so brave and heartless so far and have sent many people out of the building fuming that it costs close to $400 for a family of five to attend our services.
A couple of minutes ago, a twentysomething girl came in and asked for four tickets. I told her that the price was $72 per ticket and her face fell right on to my desk. This was our conversation:
Angry Girl: “What do you mean the price is $72 per ticket?!?”
Joe: “I know it’s a lot more than last year.”
Angry Girl: “A LOT more? It’s like 50% more!”
Joe: “They actually doubled. Last year it was $36 and this year it’s $72.”
Angry Girl: “I understand that. I can do the math.”
Joe: “Look, I’m not trying to be rude to you, but I was told by my boss that I need to be unwavering in charging $72 per ticket.”
Angry Girl: “I can’t afford that. My sisters and I come to your services because they’re affordable and convenient. We don’t have the money to go to any other synagogues in the area.”
Joe: “I’m really very sorry. I don’t know what I can do.”
“Angry girl” turns into “Sad Girl” and begins to cry at my desk.
Sad Girl: (sobbing) “I just don’t know what I’m going to tell my family. We can’t celebrate Rosh Hashana this year because we don’t have enough money.”
Joe: “Oh man. I…well…”
Sad Girl: (tears flowing down her face) “This is just terrible. This is just TERRIBLE! What am I going to do?!?”
Joe: “Ah geez. Ok…listen. How much can you pay per ticket?”
Sad Girl: (through choked sobs) “I can…pay…$36 per ticket.”
Joe: “Ok, then don’t tell anyone I did this, but give me what you have and I’ll give you the tickets.”
She stopped crying and barely gave me a “thank you”. I handed over the tickets and she walked out of the building. Part of me was irritated that she didn’t make a big deal out of saying “thank you”, but part of me totally understood the stress she felt over not being able to worship appropriately.
Every year I wonder why it is that the Jewish people pay so much money to attend holiday services. Sure, I get that the overhead costs can be phenomenally high, but at the same time, isn’t it kind of “wrong” to tell someone that they have to take money out of their life savings in order to enter a synagogue on two of the biggest holidays of the year? In the Christian religion, you can go to Easter and Christmas services for free. Sure, you’ll be asked for a “tithe offering” (donation), but you aren’t forced to pay. I wonder what God thinks of all of this?
Most people grumble when I tell them that our tickets are $72, but they pay anyway. But for young people like the girl above, how can I possibly tell her that she has to give me every dollar she has or she must find somewhere else to attend services? My heart can’t possibly stand it.
In the perfect world, there would be no such thing as money and religion. But then again, we surely don’t live in a perfect world, do we?
As you should know by now, I work for a Jewish Organization at a very prestigious university. I’m going on my fifth year here and there are still moments that really shock my shit. Considering that I’m not Jewish (in fact I’m Born Again – eep!), it’s always been weird to me that Synagogues charge their members money in order to attend services for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. As has been told to me numerous times, this is just the way it’s done in the Jewish world and no one should be shocked by that fact.
Wellity, this year our ticket prices for the “High Holiday” services have gone up to $72 each. This is a 100% increase from last year. I was told by my boss to stick to this number and no matter what anger gets thrown at me for it, simply “tell them that our costs have increased, thus making the price what it is.” I’ve been so brave and heartless so far and have sent many people out of the building fuming that it costs close to $400 for a family of five to attend our services.
A couple of minutes ago, a twentysomething girl came in and asked for four tickets. I told her that the price was $72 per ticket and her face fell right on to my desk. This was our conversation:
Angry Girl: “What do you mean the price is $72 per ticket?!?”
Joe: “I know it’s a lot more than last year.”
Angry Girl: “A LOT more? It’s like 50% more!”
Joe: “They actually doubled. Last year it was $36 and this year it’s $72.”
Angry Girl: “I understand that. I can do the math.”
Joe: “Look, I’m not trying to be rude to you, but I was told by my boss that I need to be unwavering in charging $72 per ticket.”
Angry Girl: “I can’t afford that. My sisters and I come to your services because they’re affordable and convenient. We don’t have the money to go to any other synagogues in the area.”
Joe: “I’m really very sorry. I don’t know what I can do.”
“Angry girl” turns into “Sad Girl” and begins to cry at my desk.
Sad Girl: (sobbing) “I just don’t know what I’m going to tell my family. We can’t celebrate Rosh Hashana this year because we don’t have enough money.”
Joe: “Oh man. I…well…”
Sad Girl: (tears flowing down her face) “This is just terrible. This is just TERRIBLE! What am I going to do?!?”
Joe: “Ah geez. Ok…listen. How much can you pay per ticket?”
Sad Girl: (through choked sobs) “I can…pay…$36 per ticket.”
Joe: “Ok, then don’t tell anyone I did this, but give me what you have and I’ll give you the tickets.”
She stopped crying and barely gave me a “thank you”. I handed over the tickets and she walked out of the building. Part of me was irritated that she didn’t make a big deal out of saying “thank you”, but part of me totally understood the stress she felt over not being able to worship appropriately.
Every year I wonder why it is that the Jewish people pay so much money to attend holiday services. Sure, I get that the overhead costs can be phenomenally high, but at the same time, isn’t it kind of “wrong” to tell someone that they have to take money out of their life savings in order to enter a synagogue on two of the biggest holidays of the year? In the Christian religion, you can go to Easter and Christmas services for free. Sure, you’ll be asked for a “tithe offering” (donation), but you aren’t forced to pay. I wonder what God thinks of all of this?
Most people grumble when I tell them that our tickets are $72, but they pay anyway. But for young people like the girl above, how can I possibly tell her that she has to give me every dollar she has or she must find somewhere else to attend services? My heart can’t possibly stand it.
In the perfect world, there would be no such thing as money and religion. But then again, we surely don’t live in a perfect world, do we?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Saying Goodbye
Over the last two weekends, I’ve attended goodbye parties for two people I’m going to miss greatly. It’s been quite a sad couple of weeks, but at least the two events that were planned in their honor went off without a hitch!
Megan – My friend Megan was accepted into a very prestigious theater school in London and will be gone for two years. Two years! Of course she’ll visit now and again, but there will be long stretches when I won’t get to see her face. Megan was a founding member of the theater group I’ve worked with for the last couple of years. She is a beacon of light in this otherwise dark world. Her laugh is contagious, her talent knows no bounds, and she is an incredibly charming and pretty young lady. For her goodbye party, our friend Kelly organized a gathering at one of our local bars and a night of karaoke. I particularly liked the time at the bar since it was on a garden patio and we had a really good spot picked out. The karaoke was fine, but I didn’t know many people, so I walked around and hung out with a few of my close friends. Had I known that I wouldn’t see Megan again after the party, I’m sure it would have been an emotional goodbye. But since the night didn’t end until 3:30am and we were all pretty screwed up by that point, Paul and I went home to eat pizza and play loud music. Megan flew out last Monday and I carried a heavy heart about it for a day or two. Since her arrival, we’ve been in touch and she sounds like she’s adjusting smoothly. She’s always had a very optimistic view of the world and I know she was really excited to get to school and start working. I just wish I didn’t miss her so much.
Adam – I met Adam this summer and I was immediately smitten by him. He is an intelligent, down to earth, hilarious guy and I feel so lucky to have had the chance of getting to know him. His party was this past Saturday night and DAMMIT, it was awesome. I arrived very early and helped carry ice and decorations and food up the stairs to the roof of their building. Adam and I got some alone time up there, so of course I blew him. (sike!) Then we laced the entire area with holiday lights and set up the coolest looking scarecrow I’ve ever seen (he was hot yo!). A ton of people came and we drank and ate and smoked lots of pot. I met some great new people, especially one Miss Liz! My friend Ian joined us later on in the evening and so did Paul. I don’t remember the last time that I partied for so long with a group of people that I barely knew (Tessa and Randy don’t count…although you were both absolutely hilarious that night). It was fucking fantastic! And most of all, once I got over my pre-evening jitters, I felt totally at home with these people. I couldn’t believe it when the clock struck 3am and I had to get a cab home. I could have stayed right through until sunrise. My favorite part had to be the case of champagne that was provided for the event. Every 20 minutes, a cork would pop and some of us would scream “Happy New Year!” Oh my God, that NEVER got tired. I decided that rather than fill my drink up every time it emptied, I would just carry around a bottle of champagne and drink it and fill up anyone’s glass that needed it. That was such a highlight for me. When it was time to say goodbye to Adam, I held on to him for much longer than expected and just didn’t want to leave. While I’ve made some really wonderful new friends this summer, Adam is surely one of my favorites. I like knowing that every time I head over to Alphabet City, Adam will be there ready to smoke a joint or grab a drink or even play a round of Apples to Apples. I gave him a card and wished him luck at Stanford. With a lump in my throat, I left the party and went home with Paul. As is typical for us, we stayed up until 7am playing music and eating dinner.
These last two weekends have taken a lot of me, but I can finally say that the summer is over and I’m ready for what the fall will bring. This upcoming weekend is the first one in two months that I haven’t had a commitment to attend to. It’s going to be great…exactly what I need after the summer of pure chaos.
To Adam and Megan…I miss you both tremendously already. I’m sending much love your way and I’ll think about you all the time. Just don’t forget to think about me too!
And please come visit when you can. It’s not going to be the same without you here.
Over the last two weekends, I’ve attended goodbye parties for two people I’m going to miss greatly. It’s been quite a sad couple of weeks, but at least the two events that were planned in their honor went off without a hitch!
Megan – My friend Megan was accepted into a very prestigious theater school in London and will be gone for two years. Two years! Of course she’ll visit now and again, but there will be long stretches when I won’t get to see her face. Megan was a founding member of the theater group I’ve worked with for the last couple of years. She is a beacon of light in this otherwise dark world. Her laugh is contagious, her talent knows no bounds, and she is an incredibly charming and pretty young lady. For her goodbye party, our friend Kelly organized a gathering at one of our local bars and a night of karaoke. I particularly liked the time at the bar since it was on a garden patio and we had a really good spot picked out. The karaoke was fine, but I didn’t know many people, so I walked around and hung out with a few of my close friends. Had I known that I wouldn’t see Megan again after the party, I’m sure it would have been an emotional goodbye. But since the night didn’t end until 3:30am and we were all pretty screwed up by that point, Paul and I went home to eat pizza and play loud music. Megan flew out last Monday and I carried a heavy heart about it for a day or two. Since her arrival, we’ve been in touch and she sounds like she’s adjusting smoothly. She’s always had a very optimistic view of the world and I know she was really excited to get to school and start working. I just wish I didn’t miss her so much.
Adam – I met Adam this summer and I was immediately smitten by him. He is an intelligent, down to earth, hilarious guy and I feel so lucky to have had the chance of getting to know him. His party was this past Saturday night and DAMMIT, it was awesome. I arrived very early and helped carry ice and decorations and food up the stairs to the roof of their building. Adam and I got some alone time up there, so of course I blew him. (sike!) Then we laced the entire area with holiday lights and set up the coolest looking scarecrow I’ve ever seen (he was hot yo!). A ton of people came and we drank and ate and smoked lots of pot. I met some great new people, especially one Miss Liz! My friend Ian joined us later on in the evening and so did Paul. I don’t remember the last time that I partied for so long with a group of people that I barely knew (Tessa and Randy don’t count…although you were both absolutely hilarious that night). It was fucking fantastic! And most of all, once I got over my pre-evening jitters, I felt totally at home with these people. I couldn’t believe it when the clock struck 3am and I had to get a cab home. I could have stayed right through until sunrise. My favorite part had to be the case of champagne that was provided for the event. Every 20 minutes, a cork would pop and some of us would scream “Happy New Year!” Oh my God, that NEVER got tired. I decided that rather than fill my drink up every time it emptied, I would just carry around a bottle of champagne and drink it and fill up anyone’s glass that needed it. That was such a highlight for me. When it was time to say goodbye to Adam, I held on to him for much longer than expected and just didn’t want to leave. While I’ve made some really wonderful new friends this summer, Adam is surely one of my favorites. I like knowing that every time I head over to Alphabet City, Adam will be there ready to smoke a joint or grab a drink or even play a round of Apples to Apples. I gave him a card and wished him luck at Stanford. With a lump in my throat, I left the party and went home with Paul. As is typical for us, we stayed up until 7am playing music and eating dinner.
These last two weekends have taken a lot of me, but I can finally say that the summer is over and I’m ready for what the fall will bring. This upcoming weekend is the first one in two months that I haven’t had a commitment to attend to. It’s going to be great…exactly what I need after the summer of pure chaos.
To Adam and Megan…I miss you both tremendously already. I’m sending much love your way and I’ll think about you all the time. Just don’t forget to think about me too!
And please come visit when you can. It’s not going to be the same without you here.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Happy Fridizzle!
Have a great weekend everyone!
To those of you that I willsee tomorrow , I can't wait! Even though it will be bittersweet...I am looking more forward to this party than, well, than anything! It's been way too long y'all.
To those of you that I will not see...PEACE!
Much love...
Have a great weekend everyone!
To those of you that I will
To those of you that I will not see...PEACE!
Much love...
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Dreams Become Reality
When I walked out of college, I knew exactly where my life was headed. I, of course, had planned it all out and didn’t think that the rumors of “the ugly world out there” were true. Having always been the big fish in a little pond, I refused to accept the cliché for the truth behind it. If I wanted something, I got it. The only thing I ever seemed to need was money. And really…snores to money.
Here was what I envisioned:
I graduate and move to Boston to get to know and fall in love with my first real boyfriend, Paul. We would find that being in love was grand and full of wonderful surprises. I would finally lose my virginity and I would curl up in the arms of a man that I had always hoped existed.
Once I knew our relationship was unbreakable, I would move to NYC, get a job, and settle into my new life. After about a year, probably less, I would begin auditioning, proving that I have the talent that everyone else claims to possess. It would be a slow process, but I would grow and learn about the theater world and I would eventually find myself in a position where I would give up my day job, make money as an actor, and steadily work towards winning my Oscar.
Once that was taken care of, Paul would move from Boston to NYC and we would set up in a beautiful, roach free, apartment; soon after we’d obviously be planning our wedding and talking kids…or dogs…whatever. My life would be on track and I would rid myself of that pesky depression that plagued me throughout my years in college. I would be healthy. And more importantly, I would be happy.
(Big Sigh) Just beautiful.
Here is how my life actually turned out:
Moving to Boston after college turned out to be bittersweet. I fell in love with the city, but realized that Paul and I were very angry and disappointed people. I had this nagging urge to get to NYC and start my theater career, because the ideal relationship I had imagined was clearly a figment of just that, my imagination. We fought all the time. It got physical on both of our parts and I blamed him for my unhappiness. I eventually realized that he was not the cause for my resistance to change. I wanted Paul, but I didn’t want Boston.
I moved to NYC.
Long story short…Although I moved to NYC, I lived in transit between Boston and Queens for about 2 years. The boxes I brought with me to my first apartment, back in 2001, were left unpacked for about 9 months. I slept in my bed with a sheet and I, once again, refused to believe that my dreams weren’t falling completely in line with my reality. I got a job and made a friend and for the next 4 years I began to struggle with my identity, my lack of motivation, my crumbling relationship, and the fact that yes, I am still a virgin at age 28.
(Big Sigh) So not beautiful…
And now…
I have limited NYC acting experience. I’ve been an integral part of some wonderful grassroots productions, but it’s not exactly the thing that’s going to propel me to success. The scariest thing that I’ve had to accept is the fact that I’m the only one that brings me to destiny’s door. Praying to God and wishing on that first star just don’t cut it in the real world. If you want it, you really have to make that decision and get it. Handouts – sadly I have to report – just don’t exist.
And I continue to struggle with my confidence, while waiting on the sidelines of life.
But (and this is where I try to remain positive)…
Maybe I won’t be on Broadway by 28 and married by 30. Maybe I won’t immediately become the big fish in the “A List Celebrity” pond. Maybe…that’s ok?
My (undying) optimism can only accept inevitable success. I will get married. I will be a legitimate actor. I will be…content.
If only I could learn to grow from obstacles, rather than consistently become stunted by them.
When I walked out of college, I knew exactly where my life was headed. I, of course, had planned it all out and didn’t think that the rumors of “the ugly world out there” were true. Having always been the big fish in a little pond, I refused to accept the cliché for the truth behind it. If I wanted something, I got it. The only thing I ever seemed to need was money. And really…snores to money.
Here was what I envisioned:
I graduate and move to Boston to get to know and fall in love with my first real boyfriend, Paul. We would find that being in love was grand and full of wonderful surprises. I would finally lose my virginity and I would curl up in the arms of a man that I had always hoped existed.
Once I knew our relationship was unbreakable, I would move to NYC, get a job, and settle into my new life. After about a year, probably less, I would begin auditioning, proving that I have the talent that everyone else claims to possess. It would be a slow process, but I would grow and learn about the theater world and I would eventually find myself in a position where I would give up my day job, make money as an actor, and steadily work towards winning my Oscar.
Once that was taken care of, Paul would move from Boston to NYC and we would set up in a beautiful, roach free, apartment; soon after we’d obviously be planning our wedding and talking kids…or dogs…whatever. My life would be on track and I would rid myself of that pesky depression that plagued me throughout my years in college. I would be healthy. And more importantly, I would be happy.
(Big Sigh) Just beautiful.
Here is how my life actually turned out:
Moving to Boston after college turned out to be bittersweet. I fell in love with the city, but realized that Paul and I were very angry and disappointed people. I had this nagging urge to get to NYC and start my theater career, because the ideal relationship I had imagined was clearly a figment of just that, my imagination. We fought all the time. It got physical on both of our parts and I blamed him for my unhappiness. I eventually realized that he was not the cause for my resistance to change. I wanted Paul, but I didn’t want Boston.
I moved to NYC.
Long story short…Although I moved to NYC, I lived in transit between Boston and Queens for about 2 years. The boxes I brought with me to my first apartment, back in 2001, were left unpacked for about 9 months. I slept in my bed with a sheet and I, once again, refused to believe that my dreams weren’t falling completely in line with my reality. I got a job and made a friend and for the next 4 years I began to struggle with my identity, my lack of motivation, my crumbling relationship, and the fact that yes, I am still a virgin at age 28.
(Big Sigh) So not beautiful…
And now…
I have limited NYC acting experience. I’ve been an integral part of some wonderful grassroots productions, but it’s not exactly the thing that’s going to propel me to success. The scariest thing that I’ve had to accept is the fact that I’m the only one that brings me to destiny’s door. Praying to God and wishing on that first star just don’t cut it in the real world. If you want it, you really have to make that decision and get it. Handouts – sadly I have to report – just don’t exist.
And I continue to struggle with my confidence, while waiting on the sidelines of life.
But (and this is where I try to remain positive)…
Maybe I won’t be on Broadway by 28 and married by 30. Maybe I won’t immediately become the big fish in the “A List Celebrity” pond. Maybe…that’s ok?
My (undying) optimism can only accept inevitable success. I will get married. I will be a legitimate actor. I will be…content.
If only I could learn to grow from obstacles, rather than consistently become stunted by them.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
What Happened?
Seriously...or the way I wrote it the first 13 times...stwouelsy...
Wow. I'm wasted right now. It is SO rare that I actually get good and fucking wasted. Yeah, I'll go out and party it up, but never...and I mean NEVER do I get WASTED. There was actually a moment tonight when I had to take myself aside and chug a glass of water.
This was a very strange night. I really didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt like I was doing my best friend a favor by sticking by her side. Was I perfect? No. Did I try my best? Yes.
Is it 4am and time for a possible puke? I hate to admit it, but yes.
God. No, I mean, G-D! I honestly can't remember the last time that I felt this drunk. I am the king of pacing and although I drank at a reasonable rate tonight, I came home and had the spins even before I sat at this computer. I have a vodka/redbull sitting right next to me...but next to that, I have an ice water. Who am I kidding? Sometimes the night gets away from us...and for once, it got away from me.
Wow. Is this what it feels like to be trashed? It's been a long time...
This is how shocking it is to me...I can still type (anal retentively) even when I'm in the can. That's why it's so shocking...I don't get wasted. It's just not in my world. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz whatever...I'm boring myself even.
Tomorrow is Sunday and usually I go out on Fridays so that I have two days to recup. But this time...saturday, with one day to get back on my feet and a new week starts. Honestly, my life is fucking snoresville. OH YAY! I get to be an office manager AGAIN on Monday. OMG. YAY. MY dreams...fulfilled.
It's fine. I'm only 28 and I have the world ahead of me. PTH. HAHAHAHAHAHA
I gotta say....none of this makes sense...but it's nice to actually type something in this journal, where I don't give a shit either way. I type...you read. I jerk off. What else is there?
Sorry this journal sucks.
But actually, not sorry. Cuz my therapist says not to be sorry.
So judge away.
Whoa. I'm really done and I'm turning into that old drunk guy at the party that's like "FUCK YOU" for no reason. And then everyone looks at that guy and raises and eyebrow and you're so happy that you're not that guy.
Me either.
Now I judge you, instead of me.
(fart)
Seriously...or the way I wrote it the first 13 times...stwouelsy...
Wow. I'm wasted right now. It is SO rare that I actually get good and fucking wasted. Yeah, I'll go out and party it up, but never...and I mean NEVER do I get WASTED. There was actually a moment tonight when I had to take myself aside and chug a glass of water.
This was a very strange night. I really didn't enjoy a lot of it, but I felt like I was doing my best friend a favor by sticking by her side. Was I perfect? No. Did I try my best? Yes.
Is it 4am and time for a possible puke? I hate to admit it, but yes.
God. No, I mean, G-D! I honestly can't remember the last time that I felt this drunk. I am the king of pacing and although I drank at a reasonable rate tonight, I came home and had the spins even before I sat at this computer. I have a vodka/redbull sitting right next to me...but next to that, I have an ice water. Who am I kidding? Sometimes the night gets away from us...and for once, it got away from me.
Wow. Is this what it feels like to be trashed? It's been a long time...
This is how shocking it is to me...I can still type (anal retentively) even when I'm in the can. That's why it's so shocking...I don't get wasted. It's just not in my world. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz whatever...I'm boring myself even.
Tomorrow is Sunday and usually I go out on Fridays so that I have two days to recup. But this time...saturday, with one day to get back on my feet and a new week starts. Honestly, my life is fucking snoresville. OH YAY! I get to be an office manager AGAIN on Monday. OMG. YAY. MY dreams...fulfilled.
It's fine. I'm only 28 and I have the world ahead of me. PTH. HAHAHAHAHAHA
I gotta say....none of this makes sense...but it's nice to actually type something in this journal, where I don't give a shit either way. I type...you read. I jerk off. What else is there?
Sorry this journal sucks.
But actually, not sorry. Cuz my therapist says not to be sorry.
So judge away.
Whoa. I'm really done and I'm turning into that old drunk guy at the party that's like "FUCK YOU" for no reason. And then everyone looks at that guy and raises and eyebrow and you're so happy that you're not that guy.
Me either.
Now I judge you, instead of me.
(fart)
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
My Thoughts On Katrina
When Hurricane Katrina first announced herself on my television, I didn’t think anything of it. Hurricanes have pummeled Florida for years and more often than not, the media gives it very little attention. Surely, I remember the footage from last summer with residents of local Florida counties crying in front of their destroyed houses. Yet they were isolated incidents on my television and it never occurred to me that I should donate a few dollars or even think about it for longer than the news report.
Why does it take a natural disaster of this magnitude to make us care?
When the residents of Louisiana were told to evacuate, I started to become more interested; applying the situation to my own life just to see how I would have reacted. After a couple minutes of thought, I decided that I would stay put. I would buy some supplies and pray that my cable wouldn’t go out. After all, I’m a NYer and I’ve been through 9/11 first hand. Warnings are merely that: warnings.
As the storm roared over the Gulf Coast, I watched the story unfold before my eyes. It was amazing and scary and I wanted so badly to be there experiencing that meteorological chaos. I imagined myself in my house with boarded up windows, listening to a shitty transistor radio, complaining that we had to play another round of Uno. I would have been in my house after all: the safest place on the planet.
When the rains stopped and the levees broke, I realized that the game I was playing with myself, the game where I’m braver than life, was over. I would have been dead.
Hundreds of people sitting on their roofs’, signs above their heads (“Help us!”) and I began to cry. What was going on? Why were people stranded? That can’t be the tops of houses peeking through the water!
And then it began. A community descended into chaos and I watched in shock, jaw gaped. I began to get up a couple of minutes earlier in order to buy the morning paper. I rode on the subway reading individualized stories – a local aquarium had the roof ripped off and a seal lion was picked up by the wind and slammed into a local building, A man holding on to his wife, on the roof of his house, made the decision to let the water carry her away in order to save his two young children, families separated in order to find a high enough place to sit so that the flood wouldn’t wipe them all away in one big wave. There wasn’t a commute where my eyes weren’t filled with tears.
Terribly, it was only the beginning of this horrible nightmare.
As the days went by, I worked and continued my life as normally as I could. The NY Post always in my bag, I would discover that I had inky, black fingers from constantly pulling it out to read every word. Looting took over and people began to starve. Helplessness was replaced by fear and before that emotion had taken over, a will to survive started to burn. Not necessarily from the water, but from the lack of resources and the surging violence in a world with no laws.
Where was the help? Of course the conditions were impossible to understand, but its 2005 and we can send people to the moon. It would be unfathomable to think that help wasn’t on its way – a convoy of food and water and police - everything the people would need to regain their faith. But the days dragged on and people still sat on their roofs.
With no assistance in sight, people began to get desperate. Looting, killing, raping…nothing was off limits. Fight for your lives, take what you want; there will be no one to stop you, because there is no one to help you.
It’s very easy to lay blame on the president. He’s been under major scrutiny since he ran for re-election. However, whether or not he is a competent president, is not the issue here. The issue is the devastation. The issue is the mental state of these horrified people. The issue is the mourning and acceptance of such a tragic event. We’ll have time to figure out why we can organize an invasion into Iraq in the matter of hours, but we can’t find a way to deliver food or water to New Orleans for days.
Having been in Manhattan on the day of September 11th, I realized even then that my life would forever change. I had experienced panic in a way that I had never imagined and I dealt with a kind of sadness and frustration that was previously foreign to me. Since the first moment I heard that an airplane crashed into the World Trade Center, I have strived to re-discover my innocence and optimism. For a long time, I believed it would come back. I now have something in common with the citizens of Louisiana.
Hurricane Katrina has shown me the ugly side of weather and human nature; I can feel the work I’ve done over the last couple of years fade away, only to be replaced with that same feeling of defeat. If something this catastrophic can happen and if terrorism is breathing down our neck, how can you live in a world where your life is threatened at every corner? Or even worse, how can you live in a world where you have to watch it unfold in front of your eyes?
I’ve learned quite a few lessons over the past week, mostly dealing with the complexity of the human condition. Does it only take 24 hours for our society to fall apart? If anarchy is a sincere force to reckon with, would I be learning how to shoot a gun, rather than trying to get my face on TV? Is it detrimental that I create an evacuation plan of my own and save up cash for this specific reason? Obviously enough, is life so unpredictable that I too will have a comfortable home one day only to eventually cry over the rubble of my existence the next?
It can’t take another tragedy for me to confront the reality of my generation.
And to think…
I fully believed that I would have ridden out the storm with my transistor radio.
When Hurricane Katrina first announced herself on my television, I didn’t think anything of it. Hurricanes have pummeled Florida for years and more often than not, the media gives it very little attention. Surely, I remember the footage from last summer with residents of local Florida counties crying in front of their destroyed houses. Yet they were isolated incidents on my television and it never occurred to me that I should donate a few dollars or even think about it for longer than the news report.
Why does it take a natural disaster of this magnitude to make us care?
When the residents of Louisiana were told to evacuate, I started to become more interested; applying the situation to my own life just to see how I would have reacted. After a couple minutes of thought, I decided that I would stay put. I would buy some supplies and pray that my cable wouldn’t go out. After all, I’m a NYer and I’ve been through 9/11 first hand. Warnings are merely that: warnings.
As the storm roared over the Gulf Coast, I watched the story unfold before my eyes. It was amazing and scary and I wanted so badly to be there experiencing that meteorological chaos. I imagined myself in my house with boarded up windows, listening to a shitty transistor radio, complaining that we had to play another round of Uno. I would have been in my house after all: the safest place on the planet.
When the rains stopped and the levees broke, I realized that the game I was playing with myself, the game where I’m braver than life, was over. I would have been dead.
Hundreds of people sitting on their roofs’, signs above their heads (“Help us!”) and I began to cry. What was going on? Why were people stranded? That can’t be the tops of houses peeking through the water!
And then it began. A community descended into chaos and I watched in shock, jaw gaped. I began to get up a couple of minutes earlier in order to buy the morning paper. I rode on the subway reading individualized stories – a local aquarium had the roof ripped off and a seal lion was picked up by the wind and slammed into a local building, A man holding on to his wife, on the roof of his house, made the decision to let the water carry her away in order to save his two young children, families separated in order to find a high enough place to sit so that the flood wouldn’t wipe them all away in one big wave. There wasn’t a commute where my eyes weren’t filled with tears.
Terribly, it was only the beginning of this horrible nightmare.
As the days went by, I worked and continued my life as normally as I could. The NY Post always in my bag, I would discover that I had inky, black fingers from constantly pulling it out to read every word. Looting took over and people began to starve. Helplessness was replaced by fear and before that emotion had taken over, a will to survive started to burn. Not necessarily from the water, but from the lack of resources and the surging violence in a world with no laws.
Where was the help? Of course the conditions were impossible to understand, but its 2005 and we can send people to the moon. It would be unfathomable to think that help wasn’t on its way – a convoy of food and water and police - everything the people would need to regain their faith. But the days dragged on and people still sat on their roofs.
With no assistance in sight, people began to get desperate. Looting, killing, raping…nothing was off limits. Fight for your lives, take what you want; there will be no one to stop you, because there is no one to help you.
It’s very easy to lay blame on the president. He’s been under major scrutiny since he ran for re-election. However, whether or not he is a competent president, is not the issue here. The issue is the devastation. The issue is the mental state of these horrified people. The issue is the mourning and acceptance of such a tragic event. We’ll have time to figure out why we can organize an invasion into Iraq in the matter of hours, but we can’t find a way to deliver food or water to New Orleans for days.
Having been in Manhattan on the day of September 11th, I realized even then that my life would forever change. I had experienced panic in a way that I had never imagined and I dealt with a kind of sadness and frustration that was previously foreign to me. Since the first moment I heard that an airplane crashed into the World Trade Center, I have strived to re-discover my innocence and optimism. For a long time, I believed it would come back. I now have something in common with the citizens of Louisiana.
Hurricane Katrina has shown me the ugly side of weather and human nature; I can feel the work I’ve done over the last couple of years fade away, only to be replaced with that same feeling of defeat. If something this catastrophic can happen and if terrorism is breathing down our neck, how can you live in a world where your life is threatened at every corner? Or even worse, how can you live in a world where you have to watch it unfold in front of your eyes?
I’ve learned quite a few lessons over the past week, mostly dealing with the complexity of the human condition. Does it only take 24 hours for our society to fall apart? If anarchy is a sincere force to reckon with, would I be learning how to shoot a gun, rather than trying to get my face on TV? Is it detrimental that I create an evacuation plan of my own and save up cash for this specific reason? Obviously enough, is life so unpredictable that I too will have a comfortable home one day only to eventually cry over the rubble of my existence the next?
It can’t take another tragedy for me to confront the reality of my generation.
And to think…
I fully believed that I would have ridden out the storm with my transistor radio.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
From Michael Moore to GW
Friday, September 2nd, 2005
Dear Mr. Bush:
Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.
Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?
Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!
I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?
And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!
On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.
There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.
No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not as if this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!
You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.
Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFLINT@aol.com
Michael Moore
Friday, September 2nd, 2005
Dear Mr. Bush:
Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.
Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?
Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!
I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?
And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!
On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.
There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.
No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not as if this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!
You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.
Yours,
Michael Moore
MMFLINT@aol.com
Friday, September 02, 2005
Old Gay vs. Young Gay
When I was in Pittsburgh last weekend, I met the most eclectic group of gay men. At 28 years old, my friend Mark and I were the youngest ones there. Upon entering the situation, I felt as though I was a little out of my element. It’s very rare for me to hang out with a group of gay guys to begin with, much less ones that were upwards of 62 years old. I was shy in the beginning, but once the alcohol started to flow, I had no trouble breaking out of my shell.
As the day wore on, I realized what it means to be an alcoholic. But to each his own and I did my best to rise above that and to drink at a much more casual pace. Not to say that I wasn’t pretty buzzed by the time I went to bed, but it will always surprise me that people allow themselves to get so fucked up that they are found laying on the ground, passed out in their own juices. Unreal.
In any case, at the end of my first night in Pitts., I walked into the mansion to find the 62 year old guy laying on the ground of the lobby, snoring. The Samaritan in me got him to his feet and basically carried him up the three flights of stairs. Once I had him sitting on the couch of his suite, his eyes popped open and we had the following conversation:
Old Guy: “Thank you for helping me Joe. I took some pills and drank too much.”
Me: “It’s ok. You just have to be careful. You were lying in the middle of the foyer.”
Old Guy: “I’m drunk. I have something I need to tell you.”
Me: “What is that?”
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want if you stay with me tonight.”
Me: “Oh, um, well. I can’t do that. I’m here with Mark.”
Old Guy: “I’m so lonely. I’ve only had 2 boyfriends in my life, but they weren’t like you. You understand me. You’re a young guy, but you seem wise.”
Me: “Thank you. I try to learn as much as I can about-“
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want: money, or a car or money if you’ll just give me a blow job or a hand job.”
Me: “UM! No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Mark is downstairs waiting for me so-“
Old Guy: “Come on! I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll just kiss me. Just kiss me.”
Me: “I can’t do that. Mark is waiting for me and I should go downstairs.”
Old Guy: (starting to cry) “Please Joe. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m always alone.”
Me: “I can stay with you for a couple of minutes, but then I should really go downstairs.”
Old Guy: “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”
Me: “Ok, I have to go.”
I reached over and gave him a hug. He craned his neck up towards my face and I kissed him on the mouth because I felt guilty and sad for him. Next thing I know, his tongue is forced between my lips. My first reaction was to barf all over him, but after regaining my composure, I actually let his tongue dart around my mouth for a minute before pulling away. Five seconds into the kiss and it was over. I immediately turned towards the door and opened it.
Old Guy: “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t leave.”
Me: “I have to go now. Good night.”
Old Guy: (whimpers)
I went downstairs with my mind racing. First of all, gross. Gross, gross, gross. But second of all, sad. Sad, sad, sad. I didn’t know how to get myself out of the situation without hurting his feelings, yet I didn’t want to get sucked into doing anything that I felt uncomfortable doing. Some of the things that this guy said struck a deep chord within my heart. How terrifying and awful to be 62 years old and to be completely alone. How do you live your life once you’re this age and you realize that you’re body and your mind are slowly deteriorating and you have no one to talk to about it? It broke my heart.
When I found Mark, I explained some of what happened to him. He immediately became incensed and wanted to run up the stairs and beat the shit out of the old guy. OBVIOUSLY, that wasn’t the right thing to do, nor a resolution to the situation. It was cute that he wanted to defend me in that way, but he’s not my boyfriend and I can take care of myself. I backed down from telling him about the kiss because I knew he would have a word with the guy at breakfast the next morning. I just let it go.
Many times over the last week I’ve thought about this moment and cringed. Half of me thinks the whole thing is bizarre and half of me is petrified that I’m going to end up just like him.
The next morning at breakfast, the old guy made no mention of what happened and neither did I. I thought it better to just let the whole incident go unrecognized. I figure he’s been through enough already. Course, he was plastered again by 2pm and I just made every effort to avoid him for the rest of the day.
Crazy shit, I tell ya.
When I was in Pittsburgh last weekend, I met the most eclectic group of gay men. At 28 years old, my friend Mark and I were the youngest ones there. Upon entering the situation, I felt as though I was a little out of my element. It’s very rare for me to hang out with a group of gay guys to begin with, much less ones that were upwards of 62 years old. I was shy in the beginning, but once the alcohol started to flow, I had no trouble breaking out of my shell.
As the day wore on, I realized what it means to be an alcoholic. But to each his own and I did my best to rise above that and to drink at a much more casual pace. Not to say that I wasn’t pretty buzzed by the time I went to bed, but it will always surprise me that people allow themselves to get so fucked up that they are found laying on the ground, passed out in their own juices. Unreal.
In any case, at the end of my first night in Pitts., I walked into the mansion to find the 62 year old guy laying on the ground of the lobby, snoring. The Samaritan in me got him to his feet and basically carried him up the three flights of stairs. Once I had him sitting on the couch of his suite, his eyes popped open and we had the following conversation:
Old Guy: “Thank you for helping me Joe. I took some pills and drank too much.”
Me: “It’s ok. You just have to be careful. You were lying in the middle of the foyer.”
Old Guy: “I’m drunk. I have something I need to tell you.”
Me: “What is that?”
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want if you stay with me tonight.”
Me: “Oh, um, well. I can’t do that. I’m here with Mark.”
Old Guy: “I’m so lonely. I’ve only had 2 boyfriends in my life, but they weren’t like you. You understand me. You’re a young guy, but you seem wise.”
Me: “Thank you. I try to learn as much as I can about-“
Old Guy: “I’ll give you whatever you want: money, or a car or money if you’ll just give me a blow job or a hand job.”
Me: “UM! No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. Mark is downstairs waiting for me so-“
Old Guy: “Come on! I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll just kiss me. Just kiss me.”
Me: “I can’t do that. Mark is waiting for me and I should go downstairs.”
Old Guy: (starting to cry) “Please Joe. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone right now. I’m always alone.”
Me: “I can stay with you for a couple of minutes, but then I should really go downstairs.”
Old Guy: “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”
Me: “Ok, I have to go.”
I reached over and gave him a hug. He craned his neck up towards my face and I kissed him on the mouth because I felt guilty and sad for him. Next thing I know, his tongue is forced between my lips. My first reaction was to barf all over him, but after regaining my composure, I actually let his tongue dart around my mouth for a minute before pulling away. Five seconds into the kiss and it was over. I immediately turned towards the door and opened it.
Old Guy: “Don’t leave me here alone. Don’t leave.”
Me: “I have to go now. Good night.”
Old Guy: (whimpers)
I went downstairs with my mind racing. First of all, gross. Gross, gross, gross. But second of all, sad. Sad, sad, sad. I didn’t know how to get myself out of the situation without hurting his feelings, yet I didn’t want to get sucked into doing anything that I felt uncomfortable doing. Some of the things that this guy said struck a deep chord within my heart. How terrifying and awful to be 62 years old and to be completely alone. How do you live your life once you’re this age and you realize that you’re body and your mind are slowly deteriorating and you have no one to talk to about it? It broke my heart.
When I found Mark, I explained some of what happened to him. He immediately became incensed and wanted to run up the stairs and beat the shit out of the old guy. OBVIOUSLY, that wasn’t the right thing to do, nor a resolution to the situation. It was cute that he wanted to defend me in that way, but he’s not my boyfriend and I can take care of myself. I backed down from telling him about the kiss because I knew he would have a word with the guy at breakfast the next morning. I just let it go.
Many times over the last week I’ve thought about this moment and cringed. Half of me thinks the whole thing is bizarre and half of me is petrified that I’m going to end up just like him.
The next morning at breakfast, the old guy made no mention of what happened and neither did I. I thought it better to just let the whole incident go unrecognized. I figure he’s been through enough already. Course, he was plastered again by 2pm and I just made every effort to avoid him for the rest of the day.
Crazy shit, I tell ya.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
You’ve Been On My Mind…
Ari <>. After knowing someone for years and years, it always amazes me when I see a new side of their personality. I have lunch with my friend Ari today and it was different than most conversations that I’ve ever had with her. Instead of being the usual confident, exuberant, controversial girl…she was sad. Genuinely and whole heartedly frustrated and, sad. It broke my heart into about 33 pieces. It was one of those moments where nothing I could say would make her feel better, but maybe just sitting with her and talking to her could be some sort of a comfort. It’s rare that I get to be that support for Ari and I was overjoyed to be able to do it today. And most of all, I was proud to walk down the street with my arm around her shoulders.
Ciara. I’m still crushing on this R & B diva pretty hard-core. If I were my friend ADAM, I’m sure I’d have her blow me.
Katrina. Holy fucking shit. I haven’t cried during the nightly news since September 11th happened. It’s almost impossible for me to sit and watch my television without my jaw dropped in gaping horror. The stories, the devastation, the pure humanity of it all...such heartache. Could this be a true sign of the end of times?
MTV's The 70's House . Once in a while MTV comes up with a show that is adorable and totally worth the effort it takes to watch it. I find this new contestant based reality show to be just that. The cast is hilariously ignorant and the host “Dawn” lights up my smile every time she walks into the room. Without “Dawn”, I doubt the show would have as much charm as it does. The premise of the show is for the contestants to live as much in the 70’s as possible. They have to dress, talk and eat only things that were around during this decade. When someone slips up and says “I can’t live without my GameBoy!”, they are chosen to compete in a hilarious game show at the end of the episode. The loser of said game show gets booted from the house. It’s addictive good fun and it just makes me happy. Like heart warming type of happy. Not butt plug kind of happy.
Edy's Whole Fruit Pops . I’ve NEVER been one for popsicles. That wooden stick sends shivers down my spine if my tongue even looks at it. However, Paul and I have recently discovered these Lime and Strawberry fruit bars that are killer. They come 6 in a box and Paul will eat them all within an hour’s time. I prefer Strawberry or the Mixed Berry versions, but Paul sticks only with Lime. He has gone so far as to make Strawberry shortcake and cut up lime bars to put on top of it. Um. I call that piggish. Paul calls that delightful. We’re fully obsessed and we have both agreed to have a constant supply flowing in and out of our freezer. It’s much better than the Ben & Jerry’s addiction and I’d go so far as to say that it’s healthy too!
Dead to Rights. I’m currently working my way through this PS2 game. I find the controls to be easy to handle and the different challenges to be borderline hilarious. In one scene, I had to become a stripper and dance so that my character could escape the bad guys. In another scene, I had to assume the role of my dog in order to rip the throat out of a killer. It’s all very ridiculous, but catchy and fully enjoyable. Paul laughs and laughs as he cooks dinner from the kitchen, me screaming at the television that I can’t defuse 5 bombs in two minutes and move on to the next level.
Nu . I’ve been keeping this journal for over 3 years now. If you keep a journal yourself, you know that you have those who are faithful readers and those who stay on board for a couple of months and disappear into the abyss. Well, I have one reader, that fits this description, who calls herself “Nu”. She is an incredibly interesting person and I’m constantly smiling at the comments she leaves for me. Well, since she is such an avid reader that truly takes note of what I write about, she sent me a copy of Further Tales of the City in the mail. I’m not the guy that has a wish list (yet?) on my page, so when someone sends me something in the mail, it’s a huge deal. I want to personally thank NU on this page. There are so few thoughtful people in the world and I am elated that I’ve run into one of them via this journal.
Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. I’ve always loved this woman, but even moreso now. Her show is what I like to call a Dramedy. It’s got so many sad moments in it, but it’s one of the FEW reality shows that truly give you an insight into a celebrities’ mind and lifestyle. Most celebrities that do reality try to put on this façade of being perfect (a la “The Comeback” on HBO – which I also love). Kathy lays it all out there. As far as her new stand-up routine is concerned, I find it to be pure genius. It’s fresh, controversial, and showcases a side of her that most people don’t get to see: security. I believe that Kathy is truly a B-lister, with major potential for growth. I just wish that someone would give her a shot. I would hate to see this show end without her jumping off that D list and into our televisions more frequently.
My Bed. The best part about starting over in your life? Commitments. The worst part about starting over in your life? Lack of sleep because of commitments. A movie I never quite fell in love with? The Commitments. Is this all symbolism or just pure exhaustion?
Peace out Yuh. All.
Ciara. I’m still crushing on this R & B diva pretty hard-core. If I were my friend ADAM, I’m sure I’d have her blow me.
Katrina. Holy fucking shit. I haven’t cried during the nightly news since September 11th happened. It’s almost impossible for me to sit and watch my television without my jaw dropped in gaping horror. The stories, the devastation, the pure humanity of it all...such heartache. Could this be a true sign of the end of times?
Dead to Rights. I’m currently working my way through this PS2 game. I find the controls to be easy to handle and the different challenges to be borderline hilarious. In one scene, I had to become a stripper and dance so that my character could escape the bad guys. In another scene, I had to assume the role of my dog in order to rip the throat out of a killer. It’s all very ridiculous, but catchy and fully enjoyable. Paul laughs and laughs as he cooks dinner from the kitchen, me screaming at the television that I can’t defuse 5 bombs in two minutes and move on to the next level.
Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List. I’ve always loved this woman, but even moreso now. Her show is what I like to call a Dramedy. It’s got so many sad moments in it, but it’s one of the FEW reality shows that truly give you an insight into a celebrities’ mind and lifestyle. Most celebrities that do reality try to put on this façade of being perfect (a la “The Comeback” on HBO – which I also love). Kathy lays it all out there. As far as her new stand-up routine is concerned, I find it to be pure genius. It’s fresh, controversial, and showcases a side of her that most people don’t get to see: security. I believe that Kathy is truly a B-lister, with major potential for growth. I just wish that someone would give her a shot. I would hate to see this show end without her jumping off that D list and into our televisions more frequently.
My Bed. The best part about starting over in your life? Commitments. The worst part about starting over in your life? Lack of sleep because of commitments. A movie I never quite fell in love with? The Commitments. Is this all symbolism or just pure exhaustion?
Peace out Yuh. All.
