March 2004 Archives
C is for Silence...
Oh, no ... I mean, C is for Chelsea. Hanging out in Chelsea is rarely a good idea. Sometimes, I forget this. This is normally followed by a trip to Chelsea (thinking: maybe it won't be so bad this time) after which I think, 'Hanging out in Chelsea is rarely a good idea'.
Therefore, C is for cute. This weekend, I ventured into the West Village on a little errand (of sorts) with some friends. Once there, we noticed that there were actually gay men walking down the street holding hands! This was shocking - cause you really don't see this too often in the city. It was kinda sweet. It made me appreciate the warm weather even more for some strange reason. Love is in the air ...
Ah yes ... C is really for alcohol: Back in the comforts of the East Village, I was ...
Actually, C is for 100 ... happy 100th post ... (what? no streamers?)
Oh, no ... I mean, C is for Chelsea. Hanging out in Chelsea is rarely a good idea. Sometimes, I forget this. This is normally followed by a trip to Chelsea (thinking: maybe it won't be so bad this time) after which I think, 'Hanging out in Chelsea is rarely a good idea'.
Therefore, C is for cute. This weekend, I ventured into the West Village on a little errand (of sorts) with some friends. Once there, we noticed that there were actually gay men walking down the street holding hands! This was shocking - cause you really don't see this too often in the city. It was kinda sweet. It made me appreciate the warm weather even more for some strange reason. Love is in the air ...
Ah yes ... C is really for alcohol: Back in the comforts of the East Village, I was ...
Actually, C is for 100 ... happy 100th post ... (what? no streamers?)
On the eve of my 100th entry, I spent the day remembering some very important lessons from my past.
Lesson One: A little bit of suburban paranoia goes a long way (and sometimes pays off). Every day that I left the house (from when I was 6 until I left for college), my parent's told me to be careful crossing the street. When I moved to NY, they changed their tune. It became: Don't stand too close to the edge of the subway platform - someone might push you onto the tracks ... or worse.
Well, to be honest, it was the 'or worse' that really scared me ... but I must have subconsciously absorbed at least a little of their warning because I developed a very wide 'subway stance' (patent pending). Although it wouldn't necessarily prevent me from being outright pushed onto the tracks ... it would prevent me from being lightly bumped over the edge. Today, I was able to test my stance when a grown man with an oversized backpack backed into my back and almost sent me flying in front of the 'R' train. Luckily, I was able to brace myself with my left leg ... this caused the large grown-up to spin quickly around to see what he hit with his oversized backpack ... which in turn swung around and knocked some poor child's head right into an iron column. Not saying a word, the man bolted away and up a staircase. The lesson I was reminded of today was not that I should adopt the subway stance but that some people are real assholes.
Lesson Two: Some things I did in college actually mattered. And in a good way.
Lesson Three:Sometimes that mysterious little key on my keychain comes in handy.
Lesson One: A little bit of suburban paranoia goes a long way (and sometimes pays off). Every day that I left the house (from when I was 6 until I left for college), my parent's told me to be careful crossing the street. When I moved to NY, they changed their tune. It became: Don't stand too close to the edge of the subway platform - someone might push you onto the tracks ... or worse.
Well, to be honest, it was the 'or worse' that really scared me ... but I must have subconsciously absorbed at least a little of their warning because I developed a very wide 'subway stance' (patent pending). Although it wouldn't necessarily prevent me from being outright pushed onto the tracks ... it would prevent me from being lightly bumped over the edge. Today, I was able to test my stance when a grown man with an oversized backpack backed into my back and almost sent me flying in front of the 'R' train. Luckily, I was able to brace myself with my left leg ... this caused the large grown-up to spin quickly around to see what he hit with his oversized backpack ... which in turn swung around and knocked some poor child's head right into an iron column. Not saying a word, the man bolted away and up a staircase. The lesson I was reminded of today was not that I should adopt the subway stance but that some people are real assholes.
Lesson Two: Some things I did in college actually mattered. And in a good way.
Lesson Three:Sometimes that mysterious little key on my keychain comes in handy.
JCN brings us some stunning photos of last week's demonstration. Check them out and let him know if you like them.
Just because you do it slow doesn't mean it is art. Last night I braved the 2/3 to BAM to see the Nederlands Dans Theater's Program A. It left me feeling quite stale. It's not every day that you actually contemplate BOOing in a crowded auditorium.
The evening consisted of three pieces. The majority of them were interesting visually - but weak in concept. It seemed a night of cheap tricks ... a night of cheap tricks I had seen before and seen implemented to far greater success. Even musically it was stagnant. It sounded as if the composer had just discovered SoundEdit on his computer ... and I finally sank into trying to figure out what the backwards voice-overs were really saying. Satanic messages for sure.
Technically, the dancers were brilliant. They were precise while making it all seem effortless. Unfortunately the choreography didn't raise the stakes high enough to make me even care. The New York Times summed it up best:
The evening consisted of three pieces. The majority of them were interesting visually - but weak in concept. It seemed a night of cheap tricks ... a night of cheap tricks I had seen before and seen implemented to far greater success. Even musically it was stagnant. It sounded as if the composer had just discovered SoundEdit on his computer ... and I finally sank into trying to figure out what the backwards voice-overs were really saying. Satanic messages for sure.
Technically, the dancers were brilliant. They were precise while making it all seem effortless. Unfortunately the choreography didn't raise the stakes high enough to make me even care. The New York Times summed it up best:
Nor does anything matter in the mysteriously titled "Claude Pascal" when the four speaking characters complain of hair loss or mental retardation while three sets of dancers peer from revolving panels with mirrors.Nothing mattered, that was my problem with the evening. Give me my 25 bucks back and I'll sit at the bus stop and watch the beauty of the human beast. At least then I'll learn something I don't already know.
Thankfully, Ms. Leber is a lesbian gun owner and can protect herself ... but what about me! Honestly, certain individauls that vaule their cold hard cash more than their civil rights are starting to make me really angry. But what do I care ... sure ... go right ahead ... vote for someone that not only wants to make you a second class citizen but that probably wants you dead too (but that's for religious reasons ... so it's all ok).
The protest yesterday went surprisingly well. Despite the rain, the crowd just kept getting larger and larger (despite the one anti-protest-protester), and after 9 o'clock came and the megaphone permit went into effect ... it got even better.
Still ... it did feel a little odd to be protesting encaged in street barriers. Technically, it was a demonstration ... but still ... how much can you really protest when you are safely framed within one little area of the sidewalk going round and round in a circle?
Although one of the Queers with an Eye for the Straight Guy showed up, I was happiest to see JCN and K. there. Leave it to them to show some straight support for gay marriage! And props go to D. who actually came up with one of the slogan's that we were chanting:
Whooooose Constitution?
Our Constitution!
The whole morning gave me faith that people are actually doing something ... and that I could do something as well. And boooooo to you Mr. Bloomberg. I'll call you Mayor when you actually fight for the equality of your citizens ... all your citizens.
Still ... it did feel a little odd to be protesting encaged in street barriers. Technically, it was a demonstration ... but still ... how much can you really protest when you are safely framed within one little area of the sidewalk going round and round in a circle?
Although one of the Queers with an Eye for the Straight Guy showed up, I was happiest to see JCN and K. there. Leave it to them to show some straight support for gay marriage! And props go to D. who actually came up with one of the slogan's that we were chanting:
Whooooose Constitution?
Our Constitution!
The whole morning gave me faith that people are actually doing something ... and that I could do something as well. And boooooo to you Mr. Bloomberg. I'll call you Mayor when you actually fight for the equality of your citizens ... all your citizens.
Nothing beats sitting outside a cafe, mid-afternoon, in the shadow of a building towering above you, pulling your coat around you to keep you warm from the wind, and sipping green tea as you talk with a friend whose bags are at your feet and is just on the safe edge of being late for a flight that will bring him to the other side of the country.
As calmly intense as the conversation was - there were forces ... a pressure in the air, you could say - around us which signaled that time is a fluid beast. It made me realize that I was an active participant in the conversation. I wanted to push against the air. I wanted to be in that conversation ... at that moment ... in that space. Clarity just sneaks up like that sometimes.
As calmly intense as the conversation was - there were forces ... a pressure in the air, you could say - around us which signaled that time is a fluid beast. It made me realize that I was an active participant in the conversation. I wanted to push against the air. I wanted to be in that conversation ... at that moment ... in that space. Clarity just sneaks up like that sometimes.
Don't you just love walking in the door and realizing that your fly is down? Hmm. I wonder how long it's been like that.
I'm going to bed early tonight to prepare.
I'm going to bed early tonight to prepare.
I don't have the money to donate to more than two well chosen charities ... and I don't have any money to donate to political campaigns. However ... I have decided NOT to spend my money anywhere that supports the opposition.
My first personal boycott is Urban Outfitters (sorry N.). Although I do not find their 40 dollar 'vintage' tee shirts or jeans that cost 120 bucks at all enticing, I have purchased a small rug there in the past. But that was then, and this is now. No more shall my hard earned cash go to an organization that gives even one cent to Santorum. May said chain-store fall off the face of the earth and take every damn trucker cap with it.
My first personal boycott is Urban Outfitters (sorry N.). Although I do not find their 40 dollar 'vintage' tee shirts or jeans that cost 120 bucks at all enticing, I have purchased a small rug there in the past. But that was then, and this is now. No more shall my hard earned cash go to an organization that gives even one cent to Santorum. May said chain-store fall off the face of the earth and take every damn trucker cap with it.
