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June 25, 2005
Friendship
I have not been a good friend to many people. Perhaps it is a conservative Romanness that is coming to me later in life than it should, but
Few feelings linger longer in me than the sting of rejection from people I once considered friends.
Posted by Underblog at 10:26 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 24, 2005
Moving to New York City: Pros and Cons
Reasons why a sensitive gentleman might consider moving to New York City:
- It really is all happening there.
- New York embraces any and all personal quirks and makes it easy to indulge them.
- The Hudson River at night.
- An endless supply of 24 hour restaurants.
- Little Italy.
- Every movie plays there.
- Exceptional people-watching, grist for the creative mill.
- No one gives a rat's ass about anything you do.
Reasons why he might consider not moving to New York City:
- Unthinkably unimaginable sweltering heat.
- Ripe garbage in the streets, sanitation strikes scheduled for summer.
- No markdowns on groceries.
- Subways which are havens for the hygenically-challenged.
- Pervasive crime.
- Nosebleed-inducing real estate prices.
- No one gives a rat's ass about anything you do.
Posted by Underblog at 6:55 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
June 23, 2005
Camping: Pros and Cons
Reasons why a sensitive gentleman would not like camping:
- Physical effort: Canoeing, portaging.
- Biting insects.
- Limited food selection: no cold beverages (pop, chocolate milk) to have at any time.
- The caibo.
- Thin sleeping pads.
- Breakfasts of coffee, oatmeal, and bannock.
- Constant activity: paddling, pitching the tent, cooking, cleaning, filtering the water, hanging the food-pack, lowering the food-pack, breaking camp etc.
- Dirty hair and clothes.
- No TV, videos, DVD's, or computers.
Reasons why he might:
- Aurora Borealis.
- A still and quiet lake, mirroring the sky.
- Wildlife viewing.
- The great unknown, adventure?
- Candy and sweets for breakfast and lunch.
- No TV, videos, DVD's, or computers.
Posted by Underblog at 6:55 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 20, 2005
To Blog Or Not To Blog
That is the question. Do I wait until I have something profound to say? I think it is possible that I will wait forever. Blogs and personal webspaces are like houseplants: no one but the owner and her confidantes really cares whether it stays or goes. And like houseplants, the routine maintenance they require is sometimes annoying. The metaphor can be extended only a bit further: some folks lavish attention on beautiful plants, and others have mostly scrubby pots but with the occasional blossom. But every so often, a post speaks to some person on the vast worldwide interwebs. It resonates sufficiently with them that they leave you a comment. Or not. No one, not even Barry Bonds, hits a home run each time at bat.
I suppose the commitment to blog is really a commitment to a public persona. There are excellent reasons for not having one. Even the most opaque blog, over time, betrays its author to the reader that cares to read between its lines. Long periods of silence speak volumes.
I for one do not buy the line that someone has nothing to say. If one is thinking at all, there is content there. Look at Terri Schiavo's blog. The question is not "what do I have today?" but rather "what am I willing to share?"
Posted by Underblog at 6:37 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
June 13, 2005
Blocks
We learned that our neighbor had her dog put down last night. Personally, I will not miss the large black canine, for he growled and barked and tried to intimidate people on the other side of the fence pretty consistently. Recently, he and I had come to an arrangement: I would ignore him completely when he barked at me, and he would soon lose interest. With the element of surprise gone, all he had was noisemaking. I tried my best to take a Buddhist perspective: the dog barked because he was unhappy. For his suffering, I tried to feel compassion.
It turns out that this dog was actually (and not only apparently) brain-damaged. Some scar tissue on his brain (evidently from prior abuse) was causing him great pain and was likely to kill him eventually. As little as I miss that dog, I completely sympathize with the owner. Dogs are really good at providing their masters just that thing that the master cannot obtain elsewhere: simple, true, and unqualified love. All this in exchange for some food, walks, and the occasional vet visit. Lord help those who have to make the decision of life and death for their faithful but speechless companions.
Posted by Underblog at 6:29 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 9, 2005
iTunes
At work, I do more than make monkey fists with sash cord. From time to time, I listen to iTunes. One of the nice things about iTunes is that you can share your music with other laptops. I know a couple of the people I listen in on. Others I do not know at all, though I have IM'd one person during a particularly grueling slow point.
What surprises me about the playlists that I eavesdrop on is how uneven they are. Most people have several good albums and assorted singles and a bunch of crap. I am not exempt from this rule. I wonder if anyone listens to the Shaggs and wonders (as I do) what on Earth were they thinking when they undertook "Philosophy of the World"?
Posted by Underblog at 7:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
June 6, 2005
Grand Old Day
We usually do not get too excited about Grand Old Day. The day after Roomie and I made an offer on our house, we attended our first. The streets were choked with folks eating corn dogs, popcorn, and corn on a stick. By this time, beer had already been relegated to designated "beer compounds." Nothing like Grand Old Days past, where young men would tote beer kegs in shopping carts offering free beer "vom Faß," no cups allowed. We did see a good band play at the Teenage Battle of the Bands, however. We took this as a good omen for our new neighborhood. Since then, we had been back once for a bratwurst and a stroll.
Grand Old Day takes place close enough to our house that parking becomes tight. One of our neighbors once had the misfortune of having to hose down youth's excess on her driveway: Evidently someone's Grand Old Time included puking in public. Nice.
But this neighbor called yesterday and invited me to see local boy Har Mar Superstar at one of the beer compounds down Grand a bit. She also hinted that if I did want to go and I did bring the scooter, she would appreciate a ride. I had been intrigued by the local near cult status and self-promotion ability of Har Mar, and so I showed up around the corner on the Letta, which was now sporting two new Shinko tires (I had replaced the front earlier in the day). "I really needed to clean myself" she said from the top of the stairs." "Me too, but I didn't bother" I replied. We proceeded down Summit until we saw a large tent from which loud music emanated. This must be the place.
One of the things I like best about scooters is that they are so easy to park. Special events add a premium to this convenience, since even the barricaded streets have a row of motorcycles into which one can insert one's bike. I parked the Letta between two bikes and we strolled over to the tent, purchased our wristbands (making it impossible to look for our peeps on the outside), and saw most of the opening acts act. I imagine they sound better recorded than they do live. Like most parking lots, there was a distinct lack of shade. I could feel my skin burning, which might have been distracting but for the Summit Ale I managed to scrape the five dollars out of singles and coins to pay for. When an occasional cloud blocked the sun for a moment, we breathed a sigh of relief.
As Har Mar took the stage, he pointed to the clouds and told us that the Devil was going to visit. At first, I would feel a rain drop fall but it would evaporate as soon as it landed. But by the second song, evaporation would not keep up with the rain. Then the skies opened up in earnest. The weather did not appear to dampen anyone's enthusiasm, much less ours. Har Mar has made a career of being a charismatic and talented humunculus. But he knows how to the work the crowd. It is a mystery to me why that man objected to his wife / girlfriend making out with him onstage: She seemed game. Dancing in the rain was the latest of the day's series of small firsts.
Once the set ended, I was ready for the rain to stop. I had been thoroughly cooled. Two Harleys now bookended the Letta. One was an old hard tail panhead with a springer front end. Nice. The other was an 883 XR750 replica. Personally, I prefer the Storz conversions, but I applaud the Harley folks playing to the great look of the old XR's. As we were getting ready to pull away, a man crossed the street to say "Nice old bike." As we took off the rain gradually tailed away and the sun returned. A football player type walking with his wife over the Ayd Mill Road overpass gave me the thumbs up. Nice to know it met with his approval.
Posted by Underblog at 5:53 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack