i’ll tell you right now that sincerity is about to reassert itself. i haven’t meant anything in a good long time, and that in large measure is probably, as a trend, probably not going to change that much, for me anyway. what i do know is that i was sitting here thinking about how i still think that line from Caddyshack about pretending to act like real human beings is sort of touching. more on this later.
if i got here at 12:30 (let’s call it noon, the train was delayed so i meant to be here on time) and it’s 3:37, and i still haven’t been asked to do anything today, does that mean i’m free to leave? i feel like i’m free to leave. maybe i’ll leave. the court will have it read into the record that i have in fact seen at least 3 authority figures today. it’s just that i didn’t talk to any of them and they didn’t happen to shout out instructions while i was scurrying towards pretzel nibblers in the vending machine.
things i made friends with today:
a. a large plastic cup full of yogurt with onions and whatnot in it. grade: D+ for DEADLY WHEN DELICIOUS. middle eastern food, do not lean back.
b. two bananas from a cart guy at roughly boerum place and livingston street in b’klyn. not the best bananas i’ve ever had. yet they were only 25 cents each. so who wins? everybody? i think so. i’ve eaten so much potassium in the past week i can’t imagine i wont be able to see through time very soon. but when i do gain the ability to see through time, concept such as “very soon” and “past week” won’t matter very much. because i’ll see through time.
c. 7:40 a.m. flight from cleveland to laguardia.
d. one of my FIVE (5) pairs of new pants
e. some peanut butter and rye bread.
f. sourdough pretzel nibblers
i feel a hinky excuse for leaving work coming on. i hate not doing anything. and i’m sleepy as fork. on the plus side: someone, probably some sort of recently departed intern, left a container of somethign called “SUGAR COOKIE” “BUFF YOUR BODY POLISHING SUGAR SCRUB” <>. it’s from the DEMETER FRAGRANCE LIBRARY. vous sentez-vous un peu rude sure les bords? Adoucissez votre peau. Calmez votre esprit. Remettez-vous en forme de la tete aux pieds. I’ll point out that this product is FABRIQUE AUX ETATS-UNIS. in great neck, actually. so i’m not really sure why the label is in french. update: burning desire to leave abated. or at least is being succesfully suppressed. wait. it’s back. almost 4:30. i suppose i could probably leave now and it wouldn’t shame anyone. but you never know with shame. at the very least i could stop doing this crossword puzzle.
actual transcript from actual job inteview
q: what is your favorite word.
a: (long pause) uh. crepe. (i’m not sure if i meant crepe paper or crepe, the pastry.)
q: what is your least favorite sound?
a: (very long pause) floor sanders
q: why is that?
a: well i worked at night last year. and during the day for one week, they sanded the floor above my apartment. because they probably thought everyone was at work.
q: and you were trying to sleep.
a: but i couldn’t.
q: what is your favorite sound.
a: pedal steel guitar.
q: what is your dream car?
a: (zero hesistation) 1986 toyota tercel hatchback.
q: any particular reason?
a: it’s a beautiful vehicle.
q: if you could run your own business with no restrictions, what would it be?
a: (considering appropriateness of the truth) a bar that serves salad. and has a lending library.
q: if you could have lunch with anybody living or dead…
a: (medium pause) abe lincoln. well, maybe i should pick a living person. no, actually, i’ll stick with abe lincoln.
q: why?
a: well, i’d like to pick his brain. and he’s dead, so the ghost angle would be sort of interesting.
i feel like i handled the situation pretty well. i’m wearing a dishrag tie again.
I hate to sound like a broken record but once again, I don’t understand the world going on around me. I’m sitting in the intern cage at a magazine that will remain unnamed and i don’t particularly have anything to do. nor have i had anything to do for large swathes of the past several days. and how does that make me feel? well, a bit bored. i decided my new goal in life is to open a small bar that serves pizza by the slice and middle-brow salads to hungry winos somewhere in the midwest. this bar project does not yet have a working title. possibly Operation Barstaurant? here are some more details about this bar:
the salads will have kalamata olives in them, with the pits still in. there will be, at any given time, 10 salad choices. one of them will have a non-standard meat choice. five of the ten salads will have chicken in them. but not breaded chicken. just sort of non-standard shaped pieceds of grilled, or sometimes broiled chicken breast. some times the chicken will taste like pretzels on the outside and in some situations, curry may be involved. there aren’t going to be any tortilla strips. and no small orange slices in the salads either. but there might be grapes. no raisins. some plums. maybe all the salads shouldn’t have kalamata olives in them. christ i need something to do. but consider this a warning shot: i am coming to drop bombs on your house and value system and these bombs have ADVANCED DEGREES in salad. this is such a good idea. who wants to invest in my barstaurant? i figure all i need is $500,000 to do it right. i;ll pledge $20 right off the bat. don’t think you’ve heard the last of this shit.
Assorted news and notes:
shitballs. of the three elected officials i met in 12th grade government class, he’s the first one to be found (mostly) naked and unresponsive in a stranger’s lawn. at least he didn’t get shot and wander to cal ripken’s doorstep. although it’s possible dennis kucinich has been found naked and unresponsive before, it’s just that i don’t know about it.
also, let’s elect manu ginobili president. i don’t care if he’s ineligible on a half-dozen techicalities. the guy is the best money player since ben broussard.
i should probably do something more productive. sorry.
Systematically Underrated: Street bananas. You can get delicious bananas in NYC from guys on the street for $.25. They also sell other assorted fruits. Mostly, I’ve stuck to the bananas. 14 out of a possible 10.
Also, I discovered the end of hope. It’s the subterranean mall attached to the Herald Square PATH station. This isn’t a knock on the PATH or New Jersey. It’s a knock on this mall: it’s probably the worst place in the world. it’s like a black hole of good intentions. More on that if I figure out what I mean.
Hoboken: Sort of nice.
Fort Greene, Brooklyn: Would be nice, if you could actually live there. That goes for much of NYC, incidentally.
The block immediately north of Shea Stadium: You can’t park a burned out wrecked car there. But that guy did.
That’s enough of this crap. I’m in a copy place in the village and I don’t especially want to remain here all that much longer. Or at all.
For your edutainments: We must protect this house.
Some procedural notes as always before the floor is opened:
If anyone is interested in the semi-permanent (by which I mean permanent) care and feeding of the former wiry cat, make yourself known. i would only recommend this course of action if you have met wiry cat and enjoyed here company. if any such persons exist, again, make yourself known. otherwise, i think i have to get rid of the cat. moving the cat to new york presents several challenges, mainly the process of moving the cat to new york which would have to involve sedatives for the cat definitely and for me probably. and so the betrayal of the cat was completed. If anybody has experience with bloodless demi-continental cat interdictions, now would be an appropriate time to share, as I face my shame for a fortnight. what that means, in a conventional sense is that i will be in chicago very briefly around aug 22 to do some moving-related tasks. i doubt this will result in me having much, or any, time for hanging-out-themed activities. i’ll leave that to sometime in the autumn when i have a job and discretionary income and 100% less apartments to return to self-rule.
two, if anybody in chicago wants/needs any of things that myself or ben have/has in chicago (if these things are yours already and you just want them back, or if you have always secretly coveted my things and want them for the first time):
or, a partial list of things that i have that i wouldn’t be heartbroken not to have anymore (with % values representing their relation to brand-newness):
Turntable (90%) [the needle belongs to Sam, incidentally]
Cabinet speakers (75%)
Tuner/receiver (100%)
Cassette deck (0%) [visually appealing]
Free queenish-sized bed (45%)
Desk from Target (99%)
Liz’s dining room table and three chairs (100%)
The fourth (cat’s) chair (67%)
Most of these would be free for the hauling. I might trouble you for recompense for the turntable or desk, depending on how much I like you.
Assorted somewhat tasteful video collection (varies %)
Enough of that. I feel like writing, although I haven’t done much of that in the intervening 2 months. Not that I would term what was happening in this space before high culture. Now I went back and added some sentences to the preamble about the cat and I don’t feel like I have as much to say. I can expand on this in the future but for right now all I can promise is that I have some views, which might be termed as advanced, on the state of the American metropolis, as well as one brief dispatch from the strangely cold hearth of hipsterdom that is Williamsburg, several book capsules, canonical reviews of NY-area train-based trainsportation.
Kenny Williams must be autistic or something. 2003: White Sox have most talent in AL Central by fair sight. Add Carl Everett and Robbie Alomar, neither of whom do much of anything. Result: Get abused, in a not unerotic way, by the Twins, repeatedly. 2004: You don’t even have the most talent in the AL Central anymore. Well before trading deadline, trade Miguel Olivo and some crap for more crap, or Freddy Garcia as some people insist on calling him. Allegedly, this shores up your rotation. Then the Twins come calling and abuse you some more. Solution: Get Carl Everett and Roberto Alomar, both, again. Result: I think we can see where this is going. I don’t understand baseball anymore. It might be that I haven’t been able to watch enough Baseball Tonight, but Baseball Tonight’s not the answer anymore. They tampered with natural law by reducing the amount of Peter Gammons and adding another ex-ballplayer (the demi-literate John Kruk) to go along with Harold Reynolds, who could probably lose an argument to an inanimate object. And now de-mustached Jayson Stark doesn’t appear to be on TV at all anymore. Here’s my main question: Why don’t they get Rob Neyer on TV? I’ve been nothing but frank about my opinions on Rob Neyer’s personal appearance. Unless he has a brutal speech impediment or talks like a girl (which I guess would qualify as a speech impediment from a certain perspective) there is no reason this man should not be on TV at all times wearing his lumberjack shirt. Also, Grady Sizemore. That is all.
