The spotless mind

There are certain aspects of civilization a man ought not to be a part of; like throw pillows, or Christmas cards. I did some venting on Christmas cards yesterday. Having abandoned religion in theory and principle, I also despise it's routine elements, the meaningless traditions like the exhange of cards that no one wants or reads. Gifts don't count. I hate Christmas shopping, but occasionally I get good stuff, so I suppose that possibility makes it worth keeping. Who ever heard of a good Christmas card though? The only good cards I've ever received hae been at the end of the year from my best mate, or random, off the calendar cards from other really good friends. The best one that comes to mind is a postcard that has a bruised and bandaged hand one side, and on the other side says in huge block letters, "Because I love your sinful, scotch-soaked soul." That's from my summer friend in Boston. She rocks. The only thing I think the holidays really are useful for, is connecting and reconnecting. New people you've been hanging with, and would like to continue to hang out with get text messages reaffirming the good times. Girls you stopped seeing but would like to keep hanging out with (the freshman, the actress) get non-threatning messages to see if things are alright. They're both both quite willing to be friends, which pleases me very much. I've never understood the bitterness and acrimony at the end of most relationships. That part drives me batty. If I liked a person enough to go out with them on more than three dates, chances are that I want them in my life. And not necessarily to sleep with them (although, that is sometimes an option). But I have ex-lovers all over the East Coast who are among my favorite people in the world. And I can't stand it when a relationship ends so badly that I can't speak with the person afterwards. If I once cared deeply about you, chances are I'm going to continue doing so. There is a recent ex who I'd like to get the Laguna treatment done for. The only reason I'd do that is that I know if it were available, she'd do it to me. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth to like someone that much, and have them unwilling to even return a phone call. Pah, women! Some women!

Anyway, not to turn this blog into a tribute blog to all my favorite entertainment choices, but I must take a moment to sing the praise of one of my favorite movies ever, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Like every internerd and movie critic who watched that movie, I of course identify with Jim Carrey's character, although truth be told, I'm Captain Amazing next to his scaredy ass. Still, going into his head was creepily similar to mine with the traumas of childhood and that whole waiting to be saved from yourself thing. And will there ever be anyone with orange, red, blue and purple hair as devastating as the citrus fruit monikered Clementine? I say it's the best thing Winslet has ever and is likely to ever do on film. I totally love that movie. Right, the next post will feature neither television, nor movie lovage and something manly to counteract all this gushiness. Peace

Neanderthal Man

My first reaction to this article is "damn, I don't watch enough TV!." Not owning a TV will do that to a fella. Then I start to wonder how much people really are identifying with the worst parts of these characters. As I've not watched much of any of the shows written about here (besides a couple of episodes of the Sopranos), I'll just take my favorite anti-social hero as a case study. Detective McMulty of the Baltimore Police Force. What a fucking asshole, and how I do love that asshole. (That was a really weird sounding sentence). Anyway, McNulty is an ass, no denying that. Love him or hate him, you gotta admit the man has no shortage of flaws. Convict him on charges of womanizing, boozing, fucking up his marriage, failing to pick up his kids, drunk driving (he's a motherfucking cop!), pettiness and extreme instances of disloyalty. Yet he's still one of the most compelling characters I've ever watched on TV. And I'm not Angelina, so it's not his pretty blue eyes that do it for me. The man has passion for what he does and he's damn good at it. Besides that, he does strike you as a good guy at heart. Whether that's enough, I don't know. It's enough to make me watch the show, the best on television (bar fucking none). Would I would actually have a drink with him? Possibly, but it'd be on the order of having a drink with one of my friends I consider an extreme fuck up, exasperating and exceedingly annoying. I mean, I can't even be mad at the womanizing. So the man is a caveman, he likes to get laid (good at it too, I would take lessons if he gave em). But like anything, it becomes a problem when it prevents you from doing what you need to with your life. If you've got kids and a worried wife, you ought to figure out your shit and get it together. I'm very anti having children if you can't keep it in your pants. Also, good guys don't hurt women willy nilly and McNulty leaves some very bloody hearts in his wake. Then there is drunk driving which I've been conditioned to really, really hate. Pettiness is fine. I can be petty myself, particularly when I feel like I've been fucked with. Fuck me over and get it like I can give it. Say a couple of rosaries, McNulty, that sin is forgiven. What can't be forgiven though is disloyalty. That's the kind of thing that'd cause me to really give this man distance. McNulty fucked (and fucks) over people who fought for him, depend on him. Political figures, his old captain (Bunny), DA lady (who he screwed in more ways than one), members of his team occasionally, and his current captain (Daniels). Daniels is particularly egregious because the show has you liking Daniels. He's the kind of captain that really goes hard for his thing, coming pretty close to losing his career for the case and the team, and buying himself a long and difficult exile in the process. For McNulty to repay that with disloyalty after all they'd already been through... that's some fucked up shit. Nevertheless, even as he makes himself harder and harder to love as the series progresses, it's hard to give up on McNulty completely. He's just dogged (and good) at his work and his everyman schtick is sometimes so appealing (the man gets intimidated at nice restaurants even when bedding hot shot political animials) and quite frankly, your favorite cops love and trust him (even though they are as frustrated with him as you are and it might be because he covered for Kima when she was cheating on her wife), you just gotta sigh, wish the best for the man and hope he somehow finds some moral redemption. So I guess I'm one of those people that the article talks about. I might not have a beer with the dude, but I guess I'm always rooting for him, flaws and all. I never claimed to be anything more than a neanderthal anyway, just one with manners. (Hey, remember that awesome scene in Closer where Clive Owen chases Julia Roberts down the stairs demanding to know the details of her infidelity and when she asks why he wants to know, he yells "because I'm a caveman!" Wasn't that awesome? Spine tingly goood. If I ever do turn fag, it'll be that man that does it). Anyway, what all of this bellyaching and analysis really is, is a love letter to my favorite show on TV, the grittiest, most realistic, nihilistic, totally truthful, hot as a flaming poker show to ever land on TV, The Wire. Insert a motherfucker somewhere there if you like. Check out the HBO website, buy a TV, order cable or just start ordering the DVDs in anticipation of its return. That's that show and you ain't seen nothing yet if you ain't checked it. Sermon over, I got work to do.

Conservative? I think not

Things is, I ought to have much in common with the conservatives. No doubt, I'm a proper bleeding heart on many an issue. I believe in floors more than ceilings. I don't care how wealthy a man gets, I just want everyone else to be able to eat two or three meals and send their kids to school wthout going bankrupt in the process. I'm all about giving everybody an opportunity to compete in this country's idealistic dream. Education is good, healthcare is good, taxes aren't great but basically essential. Don't let the lazy get away with being lazy, don't want to end up a welfare state like Germany. But do allow people the opportunity to compete. Choice is good but truth is, abortions are bad. People should be more responsible. On the other hand, it's plain reality that humans will fuck up. Allow for that and put in place a reasonable system that encourages education, gives people choices when they fuck up and hopefully minimizes the need for abortions. But leave the option open so women don't end up sticking hangers in themselves in their bathrooms or paying hacks to do it in unsanitary conditions. Some of these things are simply plain common sense and easily agreed on by reasonable people. So why is it so difficult to find any middle ground? Why is it that I can't read any of these sites that claim to be written by conservatives? I may be ultraliberal about some issues, but I'm pretty conservative on others. I don't like crime either and I might not agree with you on exactly how to deal with, but we ought to be able to talk about it without all this excess acrimony and me leaving with a bad taste in my mouth every time we do.

I have a partial answer or two. Freqeuntly, what so called conservative websites are peddling isn't conservatism, it's hate, and racism, xenophobia and greed, all cloaked in conservative colors because that language allows for it to be more effectively hidden. Thus the reason Mr. X and I can't agree on anything is because Mr. X hates niggers, chinks and wops and would like to send them all back to their countries, and possibly even put that slavery thing back in place so that they can do what they were put on earth for, which is serving him.

Point B is sheer bitterness, this fuck em before they fuck you, us against the world, everybody is an enemy rabid paranoia that fuels so many worldviews. Like the previous group, it's impossible to reason with these folks. Shit, I don't think the world is all pretty colors and roses. On the other hand, I can't see any way to reason with anyone who thinks the US doesn't have enough in nuclear weaponry yet. I'm simply not able to get past that level of paranoia. I do quite dislike the opposite of this as well, that hippy dippy bullshit where the world is a rainbow filled Skittles ad. Snap out of it, wars happen, people die, people try to kill you. Why is it impossible to find a middle?

Point C is plain party politics. You abandon conservatism and simply make the world us vs. them. This one applies to democrats and everyone else pretty evenly. Is that ruling good for our side? Great, don't matter that it abandons every principle we ever thought we stood for. our side's winning. You'd think it was bloody WWE fridays the way some of these people cheer at this stuff as it happens. I've been guilty of this one. I tire of it.

All this and I can't trust the news, any of it. Grey Lady, WSJ, Washington Post, all as doubtful and incompetent as Fox News. Need to go to Iraq myself, build a time machine and listen in on Libby and Novak's conversations myself, forcibly interrogate CIA members as to whose bidding somebody was doing when they went someplace, etc. etc. etc.

Some of this seems so obvious and it must seem like I'm just realizing what everyone else already knows. After the last election though, I promised myself I'd get out of knee jerk politics, listen fairly to other people's opinions, seek out the enemy and see if we didn't have some commonalities. I haven't done it as consistently as I've liked, but honestly after a few of the conversations I've had online, I'd really like to stop now. Some of these people should be lined up and shot. Everything you ever heard about bigotry, close mindedness and hate in America is true. It's probably true the world over. But I live here, so here is where I experience it. These people get me depressed.

Mouse! In my house!

So I'm sitting at my laptop, tapping away productively (a rare occurence indeed) when bold as a pirate I see across the room a motherfucking mouse. Itty bitty motherfucker, just scurrying along like his ass was going for a nice Sunday stroll on the manor he just bought. Maybe it was a she and she was going to pick up some groceries, from the kitchen that I stock. Well, doesn't matter what the fuck gender or race that little bastard is. It's gonna die. Break out the mouse traps, the tazers, the motherfucking biological weapons. That bitch is going down. I do not pay exorbitant Manhattan rent to share my apartment with any other biological creatures. Where is my fucking six shooter?

This is funny

It was going to be another quiet night for me. It was almost 1 AM and I was spending some quality with French philospher, Foucault, when the Brazilian sent me a text message. She just got back into the country the day before and wanted to know if I was out that night. I replied in the negative but told her she could stop by after her party if she wanted. She said sure and told me she'd send a text message to warn me when she was close by so I could come down. I went back to reading, and waited for her text. As it came, I glanced around the apartment and realized I ought to have pulled the place together a bit. It was clean and neat enough, but fresh sheets might have been wise. I figured that'd have to wait till I let her in. So I went downstairs and she was nowhere to be found. She called as I was there and said the taxi had gone to wrong block and they would be back shortly. So I figured I had time to dash upstairs and change the sheets while this was happening. Ran up the stairs, cursing my landlord for rigging the doors so you had to come downstairs to let people in, changed the sheets and then dashed down again as I heard the buzzer going. I stepped out the door, laughed at her sparkly gear, gave her a hug and then turned around to realize that I'd just locked us out. Yes, I am idiot and I've got the certificate to prove it. It was near 1.30 in the morning and it was freezing out. My neighbours were going to love this. I started playing the buzzer game, starting with the apartments I actually knew the residents of and where I figured someone was most likely to be awake. As I did this and alternatively laughed and fretted with the Brazilian about our predicament, I looked her over. She was coming from a holiday office party with an eighties theme. The most striking aspect of her sparkly gear included a ridiculous off-shoulder, shiny striped shirt (like something she stole from the Fez and altered for effect); a short, blonde wig, huge Jackie O sunglasses and some garish shiny lipstick in a sinful shade of red. Being the liberated and worldy gentleman that I am, I was sporting a jalabiya. What's that you say? It's one of those long, flowing robes you've seen Arab men wearing. For pottering around the apartment and sleeping in, they can't be beat for comforts. Most evenings, if you come to my place after I'm all settled in, I'd be wearing one of those. As it was, the Brazilian and I stood outside looking like something Halloween left behind. The lady who finally let us in was someone I had never met before and as she opened the door to hear my explanation, the look on her face was so incredulous and beyond comprehension, I wish I'd had my camera for I surely would have won an award. The end

An email I just received

I dare you to decipher this. These things ought to come with their own Rosetta stones. I've changed nothing beyond removing her name.


hi cousin hw r u doin?hpe gud nd i hpe skol is fine 2.i jst need 2 ask one tiny winy favour.could u pls get me microwave popcorn wen u r comin home,iv rily misd it .tanks in anticipatn.take kia, [my 18 year old cousin's name retracted]

a life less ordinary

forget the movie, which was ordinary to good at best. I get tired of having boring conversations, being the kind of unimaginative clot who spends his weekends in the bottom of a whisky glass trying to meet women in places where at least six years of experience suggests its inadvisable to be trying to do so. I see people who do things that amaze me, whose writing causes my head to explode and reconfigure, who've made art that makes my blood boil, and ignorance that freezes it in my veins. I feel the need to break out of my skin, break into a different world, be a lot more than I am now. And I know I have it in me. When I sleep, I hear my spirit rumbling, I wake up wondering what I'm waiting for and when I'll break with all the bullshit. I'm too conditioned, too bound to convention, like capitalizing at the start of the sentence and writing in complete, too scared of myself and what I could be, too scared that I won't like what I become. I like this dude. He ain't exactly changed the world, but that arrogant SOB took on the world on his own terms, did it right and he ain't even near done. And no, he's not even in the same ballpark as the game I want to play. I've got to break free of ordinary people with ordinary thoughts and preoccupations. I've got to stop delaying and start working. I sometimes stare at the mirror and think to myself, I'm in my physical, creaive and mental prime. If I don't do it all now, all this will start to rot and my life will have been a waste. Any moment from now. I'm at the crest of possibility but my effort has not yet matched my capability. I gotta stop getting there and get there. Now, now, now, now now!!!!! There, that dramatic enough for you? Somebody take my keyboard away from me.

Skinny hipster threat

I think that'd be a great name for a band, connoting many different aspects and dangers of the current hipster ethos. Are the actually a threat? To whom? Themselves? Society? The American way of life? Rational people the world over? Non-hipster folk who just want to drink their whisky in peace? Tonight anyway, at least one member of that final group wasn't too pleased with their presence, at least the male ones. Skinny hipster girls are always awesome, as are not so skinny hipster girls and not quite hipster but still very cute girls. Nevertheless, it was yet another evening when I wondered if it was worth putting on three layers of very think clothing, seperating myself from my very pleasant home and taking two trains to hang in locales where I felt somewhat uncomfortable and returning home without one interesting conversation logged. Must be more creative in planning my evenings, and fire my wingman, whose responsibilty tonight was.

Err, the Brazilian again

I just realized that the last post begged the question of why the Brazilian is still in my life. Do I contradict myself? Yes, but who cares. The Brazilian expects to be out of the country permanently by the end of March at the latest and possibly by the end of this month. In the unlikely event that I were to meet the woman of my dreams before that time is up, the Brazilian would have to be let out the back door quickly and firmly. If that doesn't happen though, why deprive the Brazilian of my sweet loving? Or if you prefer the less self-serving version, it's great to have a friend with benefits while the search for the next Lady Flint continues. Remember, applications are still being taken at fredfflint@gmail.com.