Big Week for MTV

I don't want to pull a Dean or anything but I had to do a back-to-back post to say:

This week in TV is going to be totally epic

Monday: Bromance and The City on MTV premier
Wednesday: Real World BROOKLYN Premiers (too bad it's New Year's)

Meanwhile, team face has a new obsession: Mama's Boys.

make sure you hear from us every so often lest we slip into a Via-coma (dan, is that a portmanteau?)


...and RIP Pinson.

Hello, I'm a Mac...

So, as Christmas in the Savino house was mostly envelope giving this year, I have just purchased a new laptop after 6 years.

I'm a little concerned because my relationships with my mac friends are quintessentially "I'm a Mac...and I'm a PC" and I don't know how to define myself now. I'm not liberal enought for mac-dom: I eat meat (veal even! foie gras!), I looooove fur, I shoot guns (ok once, but I think my mom and I might hit up the midtown gun range), I occassionally side with free market economics, I don't like Scarlet Johanson.

Crisis of conscience.

It truly was a pivotal christmas. The only tree the family had was a small potted one in the corner, instead we strung ribbons from the light fixtures and hung our ornaments there (I really should edit Real Simple). My only presents were stocking stuffers, two of which I returned. NO CHURCH this year - a very heathen christmas indeed. But now, my father and I are starting a new tradition, though this year we listened to the whole of Handel's Messiah on the couch and fell asleep, next year (and every year thereafter) we're going to see it live - and most likely fall asleep too.

Christmas Money Purchase Roundup:
2 pairs black flat boots - would anyone like a pair? I made a final-sale mistake I seriously regret
4 pairs of tickets to New York City Ballet
2 pairs work-apropriate flats - one of which may be returned
1 ella moss top
MacBook
and, most importantly
GIANT FAUX LEOPARD PRINT COAT

bless your heart intermix sales.

To Purchase:
Wireless Keyboard
Opera and Ballet Tickets for Prague
Tights

Conspicuous consumption is alive and well.
To counteract it - I'm volunteering tomorrow night, driving around in a van and giving meals to homeless men and women.
AND
After a very successful "no purchases for myself" period from September 29th through December 25th, I'm reinstating it from January 2nd to 31st [break for Prague] then until Easter.

Pretty good eh?

Auld Lang Syne

I can't wait.

And one more thing on this X-Mas Eve...

Missouri considers legalizing margarine.

Oh, and...

Merry Christmas.

Brief Thought on Warrenism--wait, Christian Fundamentalism

I know there's probably a lot to say and that has been said about Rick Warren, and perhaps you've arrived at your opinion about him, but I'd like to say here that I'm astounded by Obama's choice for the Inauguration's Invocation.

Although I am atheist, I think there are hundreds of better choices of clergy to hoist up on stage rather than this clerical demagogue. Not only does he spew plenty of virulent homophobia and Christian superiority during his sermons and public appearances -- both of which I've been tracking for some time -- he's such a perfect example of the modern Christian fundamentalist, and the danger those individuals pose to our political society.

All of his sermons at Saddleback Ranch--er... Church-- they're completely frustrating. Honestly, didn't we have enough of W. Bush spouting off things like "God told me to free the Iraqi people"? How is that sentiment any more ridiculous than Warren's statements like, "I don't hate gay people; it's God's word, not mine"? [That sentiment can be seen here. Of course, the Saddleback web site has changed with the times. Oh, for the times!] They're both tantamount to the religious hubris that infects this country.

This brief entry was spurred by an earlier thought I had today, about our imminently-sworn-in President-elect Obama: What if the man said, "It's God's will to have a public, government-sponsored health care system in the United States"? I can imagine the same men and women who defended W. Bush's publicly-funded, government-sponsored and God-inspired wars would be up in arms. "Blasphemy! He's invoking God's name for a public agenda!" The difference is trivial and equally sickening.

There is plenty more to say, but I'll save that (and much more) for my time in NYC with you wonderful people. So, for now, I'll say, Rick Warren & Christian fundamentalists, enjoy your moment in the limelight. Time willing (and with some enlightenment in this country over the next... err... several centuries!), moments like these are going to be harder to snatch.

Have blog, will travel

I'm going to tell you about this idea I have for a music blog. Don't steal it. I mean, obviously I can't stop you from stealing it -- nor would I inflict any sort of punishment on you, were you to steal it. But, like, honestly? Dick move, if you steal it. Way dick move. Because I trust you.

Most music journalism, it turns out, is really incredibly lousy. I've wanted to start a music blog for a while now -- a music blog where people could write about songs and shit without resorting to name-dropping and definition by comparison. (I don't think, for the record, that I'm God's gift to music criticism, but this would be a good way to pass the time.) My initial idea was "Synth Plinth," an altar at which to worship the pantheon of synth-pop and disco. But this felt too constricting. Plus, people with way more impressive music libraries have been there and done that.

So how's about this, instead. You go out. You're at the club. You're at the diner. You're at Duane Reade. You're at the neighborhood barbeque. You're at Shoe Mania. And a jam comes on. This is the jam you must blog about. Not only is the song reviewed, but the cultural context of the song, and its impact on your environs. Thus, every entry includes:

• Song (.mp3, last.fm or YouTube link)
• Review of song
• Google map and/or photo of location whereat song was heard
• Reflections on song's cultural import/playback method/human impact/spatial redefinition/jarring juxtaposition/associative beauty/etc., etc., etc.

The blog would be updated twice weekly, unless contributors were prolific enough to ensure daily content. Content, of course, is dictated at random -- you can't pick the songs you hear in public. I think I'd also accept writing regarding the use of diegetic music in film and television.

If you're into music and, more importantly, writing on music, does this sound like something you'd read (or write, for that matter)? And what the heck would you name it?

NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

RIP, Sparks.

And here I was thinking this would help me through this last paper.

License Plate of the Day Award goes to...

New York tags,

"D33ZNUTS"

It was a metallic blue Honda CRX.

Spotted on 32nd between Park & Lex.

Short Update

I am ridiculously happy right now. Almost sickeningly so. Baby Jesus, thank thee so, so much. You or your probably-more-real-counterpart, Chance. Who am I kidding? Thanks, Chance, o Holy Chance.

All I can say is: the post-college Christmas season is great. I have a lot of updates about life, including some rather interesting news that includes Secular Humanists and eggs Florentine, respectively.

OK, this obscure, rather obtuse entry terminates right now. More to come.

cincin-
DRPE

The Dismal Tide

When it comes to market-based economies, nothing brings out desperation like a nice, deep recession.

This month, HarperCollins published a forty-eight-page book, How to Talk to Girls, by a nine-year-old boy. He just sold the film options to Fox. A sequel, How to Talk to Moms, is slated for release in March. Perhaps it will match this titanic bestseller:



In MTV's latest reality show, contestants vie for a chance to fuck identical, bisexual twins*. The twins' meteoric rise was precipitated on a brief waitressing stint at Hooters, during which they simultaneously revealed their bisexuality.

To promote continued ignorance -- particularly, it seems, amongst youngsters -- energy magnates have launched "The Clean Coal Carolers," a website featuring anthropomorphized, hovering pieces of coal that sing Xmas carols with adapted, pro-coal lyrics. (It's really weird; in a way it's as if they advocate self-immolation and genocide. Burn us! Please, burn us!) Here, for example, is the bridge to "Frosty the Coalman": "There must have been some magic in clean coal technology / For when they looked for pollutants there was nearly none to see."

Nearly.

Penn State, my mom's alma mater, announced last week the production of official university perfumes and colognes. Their developer -- who is either synesthetic or really gutsy -- claims that the fragrance "captures the essence of the school’s blue and white colors."

And then there's Manbabies. Yes, Manbabies, equal parts terrific and terrifying.

More evidence, thus, of what is quickly becoming a truism: Any effort to lampoon American culture is inevitably bested by actual headlines.

*In the summer of 2006, this turn of events was foreseen by prescient mock-shock-rock progenitors The Purple Cocks; cf. "Identical Twincest," The Fourth of July Cockfest EP, self-released.

Selected Excerpts from Top Chef Viewing: Team Face

C: So apparently Doug's dad invented the frozen burrito.
A: I'd hit it.

C: Fine. You know what, you can win the jizz game. In fact, I REALLY want you to win the jizz game.

C&A: hehehehe come.

Top Chef: And then of course, Tom enters the kitchen
C: He can stick it in MY kitchen.

A: And now she's bonin' that dude again
C: Oh is she using a condom this time
A: No, but I bet she used this Tangelo peel.
C: ew.
A: What? I'm holding one; it's like shooting fish in a barrel! Or sperm into a vagina!

Devil Stoned Back Into Hole, Late Spring Predicted Next Year

Pilgrims Stone the Devil
---

It seems the devil received another good whacking from the upper-atmosphere-deity's earthly representatives this year, signaling a decisive victory once again for righteous morality. That makes it, oh, 1387 years of a lucrative throwing-stone market in Mecca? Wow.

(Photo courtesy of the BBC.)

Milk

And I highly recommend "Milk." It is a great movie, and I mean that emotionally and critically.

God is Dead and He Didn't Pay the Bill

Carl Sagan's Musings on Sundry Topics Such as the Life of Man and the Cosmos

So, I've revived an old desire to read more Carl Sagan. You might have had an inkling that he's been on my mind, from my last post. He's such a fascinating character, with a good deal to share on science and the meaning of life. Here are some short quips of his that I enjoy:

"A celibate clergy is an especially good idea, because it tends to suppress any hereditary propensity toward fanaticism." Hahahahahaha -- I never thought of it this way!

"I am often amazed at how much more capability and enthusiasm for science there is among elementary school youngsters than among college students."

And finally, some gems:

"Who are we? We find that we live on an insignificant planet of a humdrum star lost in a galaxy tucked away in some forgotten corner of a universe in which there are far more galaxies than people."

"Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves."

I feel that this final statement is a brilliant summary of atheistic belief–ahem–rather, what the universe poses to the atheist. I was listening to NPR this morning, the Diane Rehm show, and a guest was sharing his latest production, a T.V. special on the life and conversion of Thomas Merton, from hedonist to monasticism. What a change!

Merton's conversion came about because of what he saw as excess in modern civilization in the West. Yet, I see also a refusal to work within the system, to recognize the world as imperfect, but seeking to perfect, and as Sagan stated, not by the volition of some godhead, but by the will and actions of humans.

I've read some of Merton's works, and granted, I should read more, but I believe Sagan's last quote here exemplifies the meaning of challenging the anthropomorphism of religion -- rejecting the idea that a god or spirit-thing is floating about, one that is charged with human emotions and which carries a petty insistence that its human minions pray to it for favors and salvation (a choice of words softer than the reality it obfuscates, that is, the subjugation of man's independent thought).

So, in the end, I just wanted to share my admiration for Sagan. He's been providing a good lens for evaluating one's place within the human community, and how to bring the individuals who comprise that community together, to seek out a common mission. Perhaps I ought to join a (Carl Sagan) book club after all.

Perhaps sometime later today, when I have time, I will edit this post so that it makes sense. For now, enjoy the quotes, and if you haven't touched Sagan's works, then I suggest some reading. Best!
-Dean

Star Stuff

Beautiful piece by Sagan, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsDQ2jn2oAo.

Enjoy.

Here's another idea

What if there were more than one way to make a Snuggie...

So help me God, if you don't want a Greeting F***ing Card

I came home yesterday morning from an absolutely wonderful time in Annapolis -- photographic evidence to come -- to find the house bedecked in paper snowflakes and a large wooden pole that advertised, "Welcome to the North Pole." The magic of leaving Cassie Powers to her own ways over a 3-day period. (With help from Sarah McCann, whose snowflakes assumed a rather general cruciform nature; Christian much?)

As you can see, our holiday planning is afoot. The party is on Dec. 19, and if you're in the Arlington area over that weekend, please stop by. I promise that there will be plenty of fresh face surprises that we haven't seen in some time: fresh imports from familiar Williamsburg, distant Richmond and the farthest reaches of this region. There will be mulled wine and holiday rum, among other things, namely foods and aforementioned people.

And I will continue writing this until I track every one of you cretinous imbeciles down individually:

DO YOU WANT A GREETING CARD? PLEASE SUPPLY ADDRESS.

Goddamn it!

Merry Christmas!

wowowow it's been a while

today i got lost wandering the halls of the National Museum of Natural History's upper floors. Deep within the bowels of the museum are thousands of stacks of shelves filled with bones and other relics that never made it to the NMNH's six collosal "pods": space-age, football field-sized windowless warehouses where the bulk of the NMNH collection is housed, located right nextdoor to my place of work. It was kind of a cool situation to be in, just wandering around a maze of bone shelves.

not much more to tell here. I joined a neighborhood gym this week, which is exciting because I might start making fitness a continuous and important part of my life, for the first time ever. This gym is like the "Cheers" of gyms--it's tiny, with people of all ages, shapes and sizes wandering around. It's like that gym from the movie "Dodgeball", Average Joe's, but with a few more ladies. Today I went to the yoga class there and was pleasantly surprised by the small size of the class, my [slight] flexibility, and my scottish yoga instructor's lovely accent.

Lastly, I am being interviewed for my U.S. Citizenship on Monday. How terrifying! I will soon be joining your ranks, only to use this newfound status to justify taking trips that last longer than six months and not concerning myself with the possibility of being unable to re-enter the U.S.

Speaking of travel, I went to Costa Rica last week, and I'll be going again in 2 weeks. This time around, my mom took me to an acuupuncturist, which I would recommend if you enjoy things like yoga and all the silly things your yoga instructors says, like "breathe into your psoas, feel your psoas"*. The acupuncturist had a very similar schpiel-he made me hold a little jar of milk, and tested my pressure points and resistance, and suddenly came to the conclusion that I was lactose-intolerant. Incredible! He even called my mom today to see if I am actually keeping away from lactose (I am not, but I told mom to lie). They really like all that new-age eastern medicine shit in Costa Rica!


Last of all, happy birthday Jay-Z!!! Thanks for writing a rap titled "December 4", it will always make me remember your b-day.


*these things were actually said during today's yoga class.

How to Serve Man

Of note:

http://www.commodityonline.com/news/Revolution-food-riots-in-America-by-2012-13062-3-1.html

Discuss, if you like.

GREETING CARD ANYONE?

Break some Bread

Clever

http://stopgoodtv.com/

This just has to be shared

The Team Face fridge.

Textile Diversity

I learned today that there is a difference between velvet and velveteen. So much for velour.

Paula Deen Outdoes Herself

I don't know if I can think of a quicker way to die happily.

An Exercise in Cognitive Dissonance

Step One: Watch this.

Step Two: Watch this.

Step Three: Marvel at the fact that those two songs/videos not only derive from the same band (Was (Not Was)), but also the same album (1988's "What Up, Dog?", Chrysalis Records).

Step Four: Discuss.

Terra Nova

I thought this Times piece on the early Earth was a fascinating read. It reminded me of the fact that I've sunken to a new, and old, low: computer games. I've begun playing the latest release from Maxis, better known as the company under Will Wright that produced the SimCity series: Spore, a game where players follow their biological creations from single cell to space-traveler. God, kill me now.

In other news, I've been thinking more and more about joining a community. No, I'm not referring to Alex's "snuggies" cult, but a positive community of like-minded people. I figure that aside from Settlers of Cataan interest groups, one to which I almost was made party last weekend, a church might be my only salvation—pun intended. Of course, being a free-thinker—or a rationalist, atheist, agnostic, post-Christian, Jeffersonian, or what-have-you—it is a hard decision of which sort of church/community group to join.

Some friends have said I'm being daft; for what reason would I want to join a church? If everything has a biological end, then what is serving to bind me to the spiritual needs of another man? Well, perhaps it is because religion has cornered the market on "spirituality," for lack of a better term, and the churches serve the purpose of uniting people of common spiritual tenets.

Perhaps I have never asked or we've never discussed it, but what are the religious views among this group, out of curiosity? I know several of yours, and they range from agnosticism to apathy to religious orthodoxy, but I don't have a cohesive grasp of where this group stands on personal moral values. It's interesting to me that we can divorce our moral face from our public personality; I'd imagine it would have been impossible forty years ago.

I think personal moral convictions are absolutely important to discuss; they're the only means to knowing better what, in fact, we believe. I don't mind if someone is a Christian or a Satanist, an atheist or a devout papist, just the same as I don't care if one's reward for good deeds is today or tomorrow: it's one of the clearest signs of a deep character, to be able to peer into someone's intellect.

Anyhow, just a thought.

Here's an idea

www.getsnuggie.com

I really really really want to orchestrate some thing and maybe call it performance art, I guess, but have like 3 or 4 dozen random, unrelated people all wearing those things (in blue or green probably) just as everyday wear. But thats all they ever wear. Ever. I want them to seem like some weird snuggly monk teletubby cult, but actually not be a cult. I pondered this when I saw the infomercial for these gems on a screen in the new terminal of the Raleigh(/Durham) airport today. RDU is always a (potentially) terrifying place, as I have never failed to spot someone I know from the past there, with an increased likelihood of such a sighting on holiday weekends. Yep, spotted someone from middle school from afar.

Today was a comedy of flight errors.

The next three weeks are gonna bloooooooooow.

Becoming a hermit in 3...2....1...

A Bachelor's Christmas

There is no season like Christmas—or, as I saw it printed in one blog entry—CHRISTmas. No, indeed. A season for whatever one makes of it, whether it is the traditional pastiche of commercialism and Christianity or a general time for being with others (or a combination of these two options).

For me, it's a time for holiday parties. It's one thing I have been anticipating since the end of college: holiday parties with workmates, holiday parties with friends, holiday parties with strangers—holiday parties in general. In actuality, I enjoy the festive cheer, too. With the music and the pageantry, and the awfully good story that comes with the package, this is the one time during the year that I wish I were a practicing Roman Catholic. I mean, honestly, what a beautiful season. Being a Catholic at this time of the liturgical year is like living in the 5th century A.D. Pretty sweet.

As a bachelor, I find holiday parties are always good to meet people, too. Although I do not particularly enjoy the D.C. political crowd, and still consider myself a "New Yorker-in-exile," (so much for moving places for love) the holiday party can be a universally redeeming event for any locale. Everyone is eager to mingle during the Christmas season, and that should afford some new faces in the process.

Culminating in what one hopes is an epic New Year's Eve in NYC (Cait, I swear, I'm mailing it tomorrow! Pleaaase forgive me!), the coming weeks will be fairly busy:

(1) Next weekend, my friend Kathleen Brasington is starring in a production of A Christmas Carol in Annapolis, and she and Julia Elkin are hosting me and several dear friends for the weekend. I am excited, to say the least.

(2) The following week is chockerblock full of holiday parties in the area. D.C. area Yule Log with fellow, awkward W&M kids, some D.C. holiday parties with good friends from W&M and then my workplace is hosting a party on Dec. 15 (All friends in the area are invited to any of these!)

(3) More D.C. area parties follow that week, along with what we hope is a great holiday party here at the house around Dec. 20. It should prove entertaining!

(4) PLEASE READ: All friends are entitled to at least one (1) Christmas Greeting Card. On it, it will feature me (sadly), Sarah McCann, Cassandra Powers and Ryan Powers. If you would like one, please give me your mailing address. It will be shipped posthaste (as soon as we make the card).

That's all for now. Oh—see Australia! Delightful film. Reminds me of what it must have been like for my dad to grow up in an inhospitable desert with no signs of civilization, and then to hear from Americans today, "Oh, I'd love to visit the Outback!" My dad cannot understand those people.

ciao!


Discussion Question: Mumbai: Should it still be called "Bombay"?
Discussion Question #2: Do you have an advent wreath? If not, why?

Thanksgiving Education

Well, I won. I won the successful cousin contest. This is awesome because it also means my mother loves me more as a point of comparison (though, I am in 2nd place in the sister category). There were many a feminism (my position) vs. birthing is life (theirs) discussions and I think they all must think I'm some kind of lipstick (PITBULLS!) lesbian.

But more importantly: I shot a pistol! A 40-caliber. We went to the outdoor range, I in my marc jacobs jeans and giant heels, my mother in her fur-trimmed coat. It snowed as I shot to my heart's content. Too much responsibility. But my mother seemed to enjoy it in a weird Annette Benning in American Beauty kind of way.

I also played my first game of Euchre - according to my father it's the national game of Upstate New York.

And lastly, my aunt joan wanted everyone to know that she was wasted for thanksgiving. She kept shouting "And you can tell everyone your aunt was sloshed at dinner". So I am.

Memories made.

And OMG-eezy how could I forget the traumatic recurring references to "30 days of love". My aunt and uncle are having sex every day from thanksgiving to christmas. It's the thirty days of obligation, ky jelly, mortification, lecherous uncles, and NIGHTMARES. It was brought up at least once each meal and then every 10 minutes at non-mealtime. Which might be why this was the least indulgent thanksgiving ever.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

Dear God,

The entire Bannana Republic store was 50% off yesterday. THE WHOLE THING.
Thank You for families in a hurry to get home. Thank you for saving my bank account.

Love, Josh

(Amen.)

Worker dies at Long Island Wal-Mart after being trampled in Black Friday stampede

http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2008/11/28/2008-11-28_worker_dies_at_long_island_walmart_after.html


One of the more revolting headlines in recent memory.

Anxious Midnight Pre-Thanksgiving Post - Of Course!

Oy Vey. So, I have this vacation planned in February to go to Prague to visit a dude-friend. He may or may not have, over homecoming, very intoxicated, told me several things including "I want to fuck the shit out of you" and "if you're not planning on sleeping with me, then get a hotel room". Well fuck (the shit). I haven't entirely talked to him since then. And I certainly haven't thought about the vacation. Which is fine EXCEPT that I also mistakenly bought those super sweet John Legend tickets for the night I get back. Boo hiss. I suppose I'll be hawking those babies on craigslist or that other ticket scalping site.

ADDITIONALLY

I will not be taking a vacation so much as a weeklong unpaid leave as I am still freelance (though no longer lying to my parents - does anyone have cheap insurance btw?) and have no paid vacaton days. Hours still reduced. Economy still sucking

*competitive stressing? - dan*

I called customer-service guru Delta and they will issue me a credit for my flight minus a 200-dollar fee for cancellation.
At this point - that sounds ok.

But if the fucking shit comment was just drunken and if I can actually stay in his apartment without the prostitution element it could be a fun trip. And most likely a well needed vacaton. And what would I do with a delta credit anyway?

In other news:
The F&W job I applied to has been frozen until january. I applied to a few jobs but as they were listed on mediabistro, I'm sure the other 199 applicants are more qualified. I still have 2 jobs to apply to, 2 articles to write for my 2nd freelance outlet, hours upon hours of T+L work to do. And a family to fawn over.

But, then again, christmas party season is upon us and if I remember it correctly it means a lot of rich food, champagne, drunkeness, and then vomming the whole thing away that evening. Looks like my holiday weight goals are in sight.

~FIN~

Addendum:
still up worrying...
thank goodness for the quizzes on disneychannel.com in the hannah montana zone. You should all go though I cannot vouch for their accuracy. It said I was hannah/miley and that the music genre that represents my lifestyle is...COUNTRY

Sputter.

I've done something I really didn't think I'd ever do for this whole year. I've skipped class and work 2 days in a row. NBD, I'm not really that sick, I'm just kindof gross and probably shouldn't be around people in confined classroom- or office-sized spaces. I also think that after roughly 2-odd years of living together, Charlotte and I are completely immune to each other. In fact, I've secretly been coughing all over her belongings and food for the past three days. This is a lie, but we're in such close quarters I'm sure it wouldn't make a difference.

All my dear little friends from Raleigh are either already home or get home tonight and I am super excited to see them. I do, however, dread the trip home, because I have to fly home at the asscrack of dawn on Thanksgiving morning. This is just about the last thing I'd like to be doing in the recovering stages of a phlegmmy cough, as I'm a bit of a germophobe to begin with and really all an airplane is is a goddamn germ capsule in the sky with no escape.

Speaking of flying, I went to Williamsburg a couple weekends ago for the 7g new kid show. It was delightful and quite funny. There also seems to be a lot of 7g incest and 7g fringe incest. Fun for the whole family, I guess. I had mama steve's twice, and I don't know how this happened, but I had Taco Bell and didn't even get the normal exorbitant amount of food I typically order, and couldn't finish it. It was really weird.

School is getting tougher. My classmates feel burned out and cranky and have lost the will to read. I still manage to soldier through the reading because if I didn't, that would sort of defeat the purpose of my being here. I seem to spend a lot more time at work, too. Like more than I'm technically supposed to, but whatever, there's a lot to do and someone has to do it. Except for yesterday and today, of course.

I'm really excited about next semester's classes. I'm taking Subcultures and something about cyberculture crit theory. Both very useful subjects. The third and final class is the ma projects course, which I really know nothing about. I am assured by many, however, that "don't worry about it, it'll work out." Oh, okay.

It now seems that the MA class has divided into three parts: 1-those of us who never had any intention to apply for the phd (this is where I fall), 2-those of us who were pumped for the phd from the get-go and are still gunning for it full steam ahead, and 3-those of us who were pumped for the phd from the get go and gave up because they are burned out or maybe think perf studies isn't exactly what they bargained for or have just run out of steam. You can tell who belongs to what category really easily by their attitude and form of caffeine glued to the hand that isn't clutching a macbook with a dog-eared Foucault volume stacked on top of it.

And now I return to the vicious cycle of reading, sleeping, and guzzling water until the Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion show. That shit is my guilty pleasure. It makes me oddly homesick.

This is what I meant...

http://jezebel.com/5097720/a-colbert-christmas-john-legend-wants-to-nut-your-egg


instant classic.

It's A Christmas Miracle

This made me nutmeg a little.

I'm seeing him in February at Radio City:

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

A Colbert Christmas: Preview - John Legend

Ron Paul Interview
Bob Barr Interview

Green Screen
Bill O'Reilly Interview

Fuck these Bitches

Watching My Super Sweet Sixteen and it brought up this gem:

Alex: They should call this show "what recession?"

Me: Or, fuck these bitches.

They cut my hours down to 35 which is a delightful 1/8 paycut. 

I started applying for supplementary/new jobs today but who knows  how that will turn out, probably not well. 

In other news my bedroom is kept at a cozy 99 degrees and I have to go out and get insulation to wrap the heating polls. It's driven lee away and now I have to go to brooklyn where the heat can be regulated. 

So it's been rough. Warm, poor, and rough. 

NYE 2K8

this new years eve extravaganza that i am in the process of spearheading is shaping up to be incredibly sweet and if you don't come you're the worst. this is just a public service announcement. more info to come later.

my turn

I'm going to Williamsburg TOMORROW. Noms Mama Steve's potato & american cheese omelet, same Wawa sandwich I ordered for all four years, and ohhhhh sweet sweet Taco Bell. Bliss.

November 4, 2008

I'm not a sentimental man. It's a lie I tell myself time and again, but I confess my hypocrisy on November 4. Knowing full well Obama would be elected president by nine o'clock that evening, my initial emotional reactions were muted, mostly due to the inevitability I felt the moment carried. That moment, however, at eleven o'clock, when CNN deftly delivered in quick succession Virginia and then the presidency to Obama, was overpowering. What a beautiful moment, so charged with history and sentiment.

For me, and certainly my memory, the Bush administration did not begin in January 2001. I would venture to say none of us could pull a concrete Bush memory or recall a particularly memorable Bushism from those early days. I remember, however, talks about the “lame duck” presidency of George Bush, even in the first months of his presidency. As our nation, we were still saturated with the goodwill and wealth of the Clinton years; the economic decline and e-bubble burst were only beginning. There were those who predicted the impending messes, not me—I was naïve.

For me, the Bush administration, with its machinations, hubris and eminence, began on September 11, 2001. Whatever the reasoning behind the Islamist assault on the United States—I would hazard a guess that many of us share a similar opinion—the Bush administration became a focal point for our fears. When, not if, will be attacked next? What is Cheney planning? Where is Cheney? How intelligent is Bush? Why is his invading Iraq? What did Iraq do to us? How many will die, how many will suffer, how many will let this happen? Fears became resignation, and in very short time, I became a cynic. 9-11 was everything wrong with this nation, with our outlook and our government's behavior. The Bush regime, however, became more popular; they were reelected in 2004. Politically, I felt alone. Fear was the prevalent political attitude: fear of foreign powers, fear of taxes and social policy, fear of homosexuals. It was the apex of twentieth century conservatism, a convergence of Christian and anti-government conservatism.

But the anti-government became the Government; the Christians, who rallied against “legislated” morality, legislated morality—in many states, amended their civil constitutions to reflect their sentiments rather than their liberties. (We will find ourselves battling these hypocrisies, and our own, for a while.) I was resigned to the concept of perpetual war and cynicism, doubting the ability of the electorate to right this tidal wave of fear. 2008 proved me wrong.

In many ways, it wasn't the power of the conservatives that tore them from the rostrum; it was their impotence. Their impotence to prevent their inadequacies from loosing the terrors of greed and selfish autonomy. While they defended “life” as a sacred right, lives were ruined—in Iraq, in New Orleans, on Wall Street, in U.S. cities, towns and neighborhoods. Fear turned to disgust, and disgust is by no means a projection of compassion and goodwill. The electorate began to shift.

Again, I am not overly sentimental—perhaps that's a better way to phrase my viewpoint—yet Obama has effectively focused our attention. (Well, the fifty-two percent majority that elected him; the other fifty-seven million voters will have wait and see his message.) Our attention is turning toward true compassion. I remember scoffing at the notion Bush put forward that his conservatism was “compassionate,” as if he had differentiated himself from any other form of political conservatism. There is compassionate conservatism or liberalism, tyranny or socialism: nevertheless, we can charge our policies with compassion. Compassion for the poor and sick, the lonely and the deprived, the war-ravaged and those who have lived long lives, beyond war and peace, yet are destitute.

Obama might not accomplish his agenda in four or eight years, but if we can sustain the sentiment of this movement, then another chapter is, in fact, being written in our relatively short history as a nation.

That is what November 4, 2008 meant for me. Bush has another seventy or so days in office, and he retains the capacity to enact harmful executive measures to ensure his political legacy will not end on January 20, 2009. The Iraq War guarantees that fate. Regardless, Bush is historically impotent now.

For me, Bush's chapter in history will be from September 11, 2001 to November 4, 2008. He will have not advocated compassion in politics any more than he will have proved himself a compassionate man. A man who advocated the removal of rights and livelihood for hundreds of unnamed, unseen political targets, their torture and death, under the aegis of a war on “terror,” when the true terror is the ignobility of a government whose responsibility was to its Constitution and its constituency.

It is inconsequential to me that Bush might be a kind man, loved by his family and friends, honored by social conservatives for his dedication to his god and his beliefs. He has wrought a silent death to hundreds of thousands—a violent death for the victims, muffled by the silence of their distance from our everyday lives. For anyone who finds in Bush any semblance of moral fiber, I ask this of you: Imagine the screams, the cries, the death. Imagine the blood and rubble of families buried together, the old aged as lifeless as those who were robbed of aging old. And ask yourself: what for? Were they, in actuality, a threat to the lives of three hundred million Americans?

I am losing my focus for this post. Let me recap: I am proud of our sixty-five million strong majority. We might not all agree on policies, outlooks or politics. Even so, we have made an initial repudiation not only of an eight-year chapter in our history, but of a thirty-year experiment with Reagan style conservatism. I hope, with the greatest sincerity, that our next four—and, if we're strong enough, eight—years will build a progressive coalition of conservatives and liberals, the religious and the rationalists, the majority of middle-class, white Americans and our ever-growing, ever more vocal social, economic and sexual minorities.

That's the hope for the twenty-first century. We face plenty of challenges.

This was a spur of the moment post for me. I apologize for any errors or exaggerations, but I wanted some venue to vent my thoughts. I thought I would share them with you. We have a long battle ahead of us, to ensure liberty and equality for all in our civil society. Despite our fears of societal collapse, economic disaster and war, the attitude in moving forward is recalling our nation's unique ability to adapt through history. Yes, we can! And yes, we will.

Goin' to Williamsburg...

tonight.

YAY! At this point

But seriously, CNN

WILL.I.AM VIA HOLOGRAM.

and NC is killing me right now.

President-elect Obama

Friends,

We have won. It is only a matter of time now till President-elect Obama officially takes the majority of Electoral College votes.

GRAPHIC-OFF 2008

Some talking head (body?) just joined the CNN newsroom live via hologram.

How am I supposed to choose a channel on which to follow the returns? Their graphics, camera angles, and live feeds of various media make it so hard to decide!

I am left to judge based on their respective makeup jobs.


Complexion change we can believe in.

Almost the case

http://www.theonion.com/content/video/voting_machines_elect_one_of

Dan, this is in line with what we said about robots.

Come one, come all...

umm...to our place tomorrow night to watch returns? When the happy news is made official (and knock on wood, like knuckle-busting hard, that it will be) we will parade to Dan, Lee, and Alex's place, bottles of liquor ready for liberal dispensation to any interested Fellow Pedestrians and Assorted Revelers to party in the neighborhood through the night. 515 5th St., buzzer 7. Call me or Cait.

Life in an Air Shaft

Hi All,
So, I am sick yet again and blogging from crown heights, bklyn, where I've just slept for 10 hours in a bed that isn't entirely mine.

Over the past few weeks a lot of hilarious things have happened but in my mucus-soaked state I can only remember a few.

1) A conversation with my air-shaft neighbor:
The windows of my room face out onto a narrow airshaft and look directly onto another apartment no more than 5 feet away (this is part of a tenement law that stipulates all rooms must have windows) . On more than one occasion I have heard/seen my neighbor having sex. NBD, it happens. BUT on tuesday evening while she and her friend were watching biggest loser (I can hear absolutely everything that goes one in there) the inebriated pair lean toward the window (after we've accidentally made awkward eyecontact across the shaft) and my neighbor shouts "I hear you guys having sex ALL the TIME." Awesome. I have to move now.

2) Jo-Bros and Hannah take to the Streets
Halloween: The Jonas Brothers - Abby, Alex, Charlotte
Hannah Montana - Josh (from work)
Results: Polaroid Perfection.

Let's see, what else?
Oh yeah! Layoffs! FUCKING HILARIOUS My job is fine but 22 people from my AmEx pub group were laid off on tuesday followed by Thursday's announcement of a 10% company layoff of 7,000 employees. Oh Amex, you delight me. In other news:Goodbye Radar, CosmoGirl, and RealSimpe and regrets to the 600 Time Inc. employees laid off as well. I'm oh so glad that I am simultaneously in publishing AND finance since my group is owned by a credit giant.

Then there was homecoming, no death threat from Ashley this year, so that's an improvement but there was a lot of drunk awkward. I saw Champe - it went surprisingly well considering I was almost comatose, definitely hungover from the day's drinking, and certainly not prepared to see him. I spent most of my time with Lizzie - the exact reason for my sojourn to the south. So I guess it was a pretty ideal weekend save for the rain on saturday and the ambush saturday night.

Yesterday Alex and I went to see the Chanel Mobile Art Exhibit in Central Park. Everyone should go. It was the best 0 bucks I've spent in years. Zaha Hadid is Brilliant, as is Kaiser Karl and his arty minions. Leventhal was a little creepy which is to be expected. Go. Seriously. Go.

That's all. Happy extra hour. I'm off to prepare my SAT lessons for NYCares. I love the two kids I'm tutoring and am in the process of figuring out a good way to get them to fall in love. I assigned 10 things I hate about you to the chick because she's apathetic about visiting sarah lawrence (which with my help she may actually be able to get in to).

God's Witness on this Earth

Yea, yea, I say unto ye:

Verily, Chipotle is providing free burritos on this All Hallow's Eve. Yea, go forth and fetch an 1800-calorie, 3-pound, sour cream drenched burrito, swollen with rice and guacamole and a spicy blend of cilantro and chili. All you have to do is fashion an accessory made of tin foil, like my tin foil yarmulke. Each of you, take this burrito and eat it, for it is thine, and there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth, yadda yadda yadda, amen. Oh, for Halloween, I'm a conservative Jew.

Hey, a man asked his waiter, "Hey, there's a fly in my matzo ball soup!"

"What? If it's free, why're you complaining?"

Extermination

So every other Monday I have to stay late at work to wait for the exterminator to come. He's a strange (and really, really nice) dude, Matt, but that's neither here nor there. In the past I've had conversations with him about women's gymnastics (he's a big fan) and dwarf sex (he's a big fan).

Last night, after telling me about his love of haunted attractions (houses, hayrides, etc.), he told me how he's planning a tour of the Northeast for next year. He is preparing evaluation forms for the tour, to be filled out by participants after each stop. The tour, see, will be of haunted attractions and, in his words, "really bad strip clubs." He is planning on using the same evaluation form for the strip clubs and attractions alike. See, funny, right? After I told him that he needs to stop in Burlington County, New Jersey, which is hell on earth and chock full of really bad strip clubs, he invited me on the tour. Umm...fuck yeah?

THE BOYZ ARE BACK

oh dear sweet lord, EVERYONE should go see High School Musical 3.



After drinking heavily.



Oh god, it's just...



...there are no words.

For the hardened realist

Real Geschäft

For the Soft Hearted

Bunnies

Beaton & McClendon Birthdays

A very happy birthday to Alex and Dave.

A Note Re: Me

Hello all. I haven’t posted on here for quite awhile, and, actually, haven’t meaningfully interacted with most of you for at least as long. I suppose the purpose of this entry is to solicit you all for a bit of patience with me. Without going into too much detail, I will say that I am going through some proverbial shit right now. In fact, I have been for a very long time. Said shit has rendered it very difficult, if not impossible, to be normal in social situations. It has taken the joy out of my life in many ways and made me into a real drag to be around.

You have noticed this, I’m sure, and probably remarked on it to other readers of this blog. It might have prompted questions such as, “wow, why is someone as spectacularly amazing as Cait together with this guy?” And so on. It has made me pretty unbearable to be around, I’m sure, especially at parties and the like.

I’m a strong believer in the notion that one is nothing other than the sum of his/her actions. In this sense, it is difficult to make any claims about this person that I have been of late not being the “real me.” In a very true sense, I am the awkward, withdrawn dude that you’ve seen for a long time now. I am the fellow who hasn’t contributed anything meaningful to a conversation with any of you in recent memory. While I realize that this will only change when a change is manifest in my actions, the capacity for this change is assuredly there. The thing is, underneath the fucked up shell-of-a-person that you guys have seen of me, I’m actually, like, the coolest dude there is. Srsly: so awesome.

There are two reasons that you should bear with me. First, I’m self-aware. At least I’m conscious of how lame I’ve been. Second, I’m trying hard to get past whatever hang-ups I have that have left me socially retarded. I’ve been in therapy for a few months now, and while progress has been slow (as was painfully evident at, say, Dan’s party this weekend), I assure you that it is there. I think that some breakthroughs are imminent.

I know some of you better than others, but I think that all of you are remarkable. I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to be the friend to you that many of you are to each other. I wrote this to give you a glimpse into an (unfortunately) dominant part of my life at the moment, lest you think that I have been a generally disappointing person for any reason other than the ones given above. I’ve basically been paralyzed by fear of social interaction for a while now, and I want to do better. Please bear with me, and hopefully I’ll be able to offer more (in many ways) in the not-too-distant future.

In other news, I'm interviewing tomorrow for a job with this research group in the City. They maintain a large network of industry experts in five different fields (telecom, energy and industrials, healthcare, etc.). Institutional investors call them with industry-specific questions requiring the advice of an expert, and the research group selects an appropriate expert and arranges consultation. The idea is that it is much more efficient for this research group to provide this service than for the investor to seek out the proper expert and deal with getting in touch. I would be in charge of matching investors with experts. The cool thing is that they are looking for someone to deal mostly with German clients. I would be that person, dealing on a daily basis with German executives and such in the arena of alternative energies and heavy industrials. So that's cool. Put them German skillz to use. Wish me luck.

Mostly been listenin' to Bembeya Jazz National and mixes from this place.

XTREME WOMENS HEALTH!!!!!!!! RRRRRAAAAWWWWWRRRR

That being said, my absentee ballot is mailed, I did my thang, McCain/Palin suck and blah blah blah, polls look pretty, so now I sit back and laugh...

In re Womyn's "Health" Care

I, for one, thought the recent performance by John McCain at the last debate was downright appalling, especially his use of women's health in air quotes. Sort of like using air quotes while saying the universal suffrage movement in the early 20th century was women's "liberation."

Would McCain get away with that one? Given his previous record of being slightly more aware of women's health concerns, McCain seems to have lost major ground on this topic, but of course, isn't that the same across his platform? I don't mean this in the pejorative sense that's bandied about a lot these days, but McCain is such a visibly old man, in his actions, behavior and willingness to sacrifice his "integrity" for political stature. I recall the same was true for W. in 2000 and 2004.

That said, there were plenty of gaffes last evening that I thought put McCain in such a poor light, and I wished Obama would have been more active in asserting those falsehoods. All in all, in my own opinion, Obama proved again to be a capable politician and an assertive, albeit sometimes too cordial debater. But that's enough from me on the topic; too often, I find that many people are prone to providing critical analysis beyond their knowledge, and that's just as foolish as those who pretend to know and direct public policy.

Although I will say this: see "Religulous," by Bill Maher. I know there is a sizable number of people who think Maher is brash, arrogant and that he commits the exact foolish act I just described; however, that conclusion ignores the premise of "Religulous" and of Maher's philosophy.

The fact is, as Maher asserts, we don't know what's out there. I can say that I'm an atheist because there is no proof that a god does or does not exist, but it remains that, well, I don't hold any dogmas about it. In the scope of things, it doesn't matter to what opinions we hold our personal philosophies and way of life.

What matters is when people contend they "talk" to their god, and then act in that god's name or will. The history of humanity is driven by gods, the gods of myth and finance, the gods that others create and we consume. It's one of our deepest and most historical attributes, the will to believe in the unbelievable.

For finance, we can see the charade when the system trips or collapses, but for religion, well, we only see the catastrophic death wrought by fanatic belief and lack of reasoned dialogue. And that's not a leap of judgment: it's evident in our world that dogmatic belief in religion, be it mythical, financial, political. I think Maher treats the subject deftly and concludes his film succinctly with a serious call to getting people to the table and working out a sustainable future.

Well, that shouldn't spoil the film at all. Go see it!

As far as life, it's going pretty well. I'm still searching for a permanent social scene in D.C. Everyone tends to be very busy here -- even the weekends seem like matters of business! Flitting here, there, going out of town there and now and later, and I'm left here many times to read and write, two activities I've been meaning to do for a long time now. I've met a few creative people here in D.C., which gives me hope for the short term that I won't be bereft of active minds in a sea of busybodies.

Maybe after I figure out how poor I will be in November as I begin paying back thousands of dollars in student loans, I should go to N.Y. The weather is perfect for it. Who would be willing to house a poor man like me? I will provide drinks, good cheer and some of my business cards cut up and fashioned into a carnation-rose-hydrangea bouquet.

wow.

copied from a gmail convo i just had explaining what just occurred in my office:

we had a "graduation" for people who just finished a training course so
they had like 15 caregivers
who were graduating
and they have a big ceremony
in a conference room
with balloons
and im gonna get sweet leftovers
anyway
after the president and vp gave little congrats speeches
one of the graduates
did a "spirit dance"
in which she put on some weird yoga music shit
and did really awkward pirhouettes in a space that was way too small
and she was wearing like white flowing pants
and it went on for like 5 minutes
and THEN
another graduate
got up and sang one love by bob marley
but
she forgot the recording
so she was singing a capella style
and she was completely tone deaf
completely
and she only sang like one verse because she forgot the words
hear the children crying, hear the children crying
one lo-ooove
it was seriously the funniest thing ive ever seen that i havent been allowed to laugh at

Confessions of an AutoRickroller

Even though its putative purpose is to irritate and disrupt, I really enjoy being rickrolled. In fact, I think Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" (Whenever You Need Somebody, 1987, RCA) is a terrific pop song, though its attendant video leaves something to be desired. Of the single, allmusic.com astutely notes:

The song was driven by a busy rhythm track and a synthesized string section strongly reminiscent of late-'70s disco productions, while Astley's distinctive voice boomed over the top. Perhaps the most memorable flourish on "Never Gonna Give You Up" is the way Astley handles the chorus, which alternates rapid-fire 16th notes with longer, off-the-beat triplets; his delivery is impeccably smooth, navigating the rhythmically shifting melody with ease.

No argument here -- those triplets are the shit. While its technical features are endearing enough, "Never Gonna Give You Up" is also lyrically reassuring, a bulwark in these trying emotional times. "Inside we both know what's been goin' on," Astley sings: "We know the game, and we're gonna play it."

Who can remain unshaken by such romantic calls-to-arms? Frankly, I'm at a point in my life where I'd really like to be told by someone that I'm "never gonna [be] give[n] ... up [on]," though I'd prefer that that "someone" be (a) female, (b) under the age of thirty, and (c) not ironically appropriated by a viral web meme. Sadly, these criteria more or less render Rick Astley a nonstarter.

Still, in my more vulnerable moments of web-surfing I kind of foster this inchoate hope to be rickrolled, i.e., I click on every hyperlink in sight under the delusion that maybe, say, NYTimes.com will rickroll me. It's like the trope of the lonely guy who, on his birthday, periodically flings open the front door in hopes of being "surprised" by a bouquet of flowers or festively-wrapped fruit basket or singing telegram or enormous cardboard check courtesy of the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol, only to find his stoop unadorned.

So to cut to the chase, earlier today I rickrolled myself, and when the YouTube video ended I clicked "play again," and there's simply no saying when it's all going to end.

an update

why hello there, friends!
i have a job now. i am an outreach associate at the al*zhe*ime*r's as*soc*iat*ion. i like it! i recruit volunteers and staff for health/agency/ street fairs, coordinate fundraising events for a group of involved young-professional volunteers, and coordinate a speaker series. they keep me busy enough. the people are very very nice. and i have health and dental benefits. no complaints!
i just completed week one and it was absolutely tolerable. hooray!
i can't go to homecoming, because we have our annual "memory walk" that weekend. so that's sad, but i'm going to go for the jens lekman concert instead. andy and david, you are doing this as well? also, i think sam and maybe dan are doing this, too? a reasonable consolation, except i won't get to spend a weekend in my natural habitat with the likes of lucia and j.house and katie j. but lulu, i'll see you this month anyway.
mostly these days, i watch a lot of tv. the msnbc "clown show," i.e. matthews/olberman/maddow, has received a nightly residency in my home. i love it. i love how they pander to me. i eat that shit up. also, i watch jeopardy and wheel of fortune. pat sajak is a depressing little man.
oh, and the food network.
we had a bunch of people over the other night for the vp debate, including of course dan and charlotte. it was a super fun and also kind of surreal and wacky political experience. A+.

what should i be for halloween? how many people do you think will be sexy sarah palin for halloween this year? maybe i will do that. i need a flag pin.

buzz buzz buzz

Charlotte and I are sitting on my bed right now watching a re-run of ANTM (typical) when we heard this weird buzzing. We look around for what we guess is a bug, and finally see that it's a bug in my overhead light fixture. This fixture is like a plate stuck to the ceiling with the bulbs between the two, so you can see lots of little bug corpses that have chosen it as their final resting place. They like light, yknow. This buzzing was coming from this one giant ass bug who is cruising around the plate and eating all the dead bugs. "I like him. He's like one of those fish that suck all the algae off the side of the fish tank," says Charlotte.

Best pest ever.

We're both coughing and hacking, because even when team face is separated, we get the same illnesses. Her long island birthday weekend was dee-liteful.

Adulthood, Step 3

As of today, I have a stack of business cards with my name on it. I feel a little bit more adult.

My First Solo TL Article

So, if you ignore the co-written sidebar on flight passes (which I suggest you do) that I wrote with Josh last year, this is my first TL piece:

http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/tv-fan-getaways

I can't say it's exactly what I wrote in round one, and I can't say I like the fact that I'm sending people into the baltimore slums (the irony was edited out) but, there have been worse things written.

Wrong side of the bed.

So right now i'm watching the Today show that's being taped in Colonial Williamsburg as part of Today's tour of...battleground states. So far, the number of early-rising/visible Mccain/Palin signholders drastically outnumbers any Obama supporters; in fact I don't think I saw a single one.

Where's the WM I thought I knew? Did the open-minded crowd of people sleep late? My heart sank. I am embarrassed.

And then they glamorized Sarah Palin in a segment about her tour of Manhattan. There were cops EVERYWHERE in the realm of the UN yesterday and the day before.

Ugh, loss for words. Need coffee. And a shower. And an absentee ballot.

Leafe? Oh, nevermind

On my commute to work, passing through a nighlife-ish area, I saw a sign for the Grean Leafe. And I got really excited. And then I realized that it said "Green Leaf Nursing Home." And then I got really sad.

livestrong, yall

Holler at not Working in Investment Banking

Suck on it I-Bankers:

http://money.cnn.com/2008/09/21/news/companies/goldman_morgan/index.htm

they just got pwned by the govt (kind of)

RIP David Foster Wallace, 2/21/62 - 9/12/2008 [II]

I can no longer resist: I've got to eulogize. Lacking a more appropriate venue, I'm subjecting all Post-Williamsburgers and whatever stray readers we may/may not attract to this breathless encomium. Take it or leave it.

---

Despite never having met him, David Wallace has had a huge influence on me -- on the way I write, the way I think, the way I perceive other people. It's safe to say that his impact in my life has been greater than that of most people I have met. On or off the page, I've never encountered a writer with such myriad gifts; his compassion and intellect were unparalleled, and few could engage the ironic mode so deftly without collapsing into cynicism or solipsism. Wallace found an intimate, covalent bond between the comic and the tragic. He used laughter to make us think, atrocity to make us laugh, and every gradation in-between. Not once did he abandon his defining principle, that fiction was about what it feels like to be human:

I guess a big part of serious fiction's purpose is to give the reader, who like all of us is sort of marooned in her own skull, to give her imaginative access to other selves. Since an ineluctable part of being a human self is suffering, part of what we humans come to art for is an experience of suffering, necessarily a vicarious experience, more like a sort of "generalization" of suffering. Does this make sense? We all suffer alone in the real world; true empathy's impossible. But if a piece of fiction can allow us imaginatively to identify with a character's pain, we might then also more easily conceive of others identifying with our own. This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside. It might just be that simple.

Reading his work really was like occupying the skull in which he was "marooned," exposing yourself to the full and beautifully messy brunt of his consciousness. Not a day passes when I don't wonder what he'd make of some quotidian detail or major social phenomenon. Philosophy, politics, sports, addiction, psychology, depression, interpersonal communication, ethics, lobsters, porn, snack cakes, hangnails ... life. He could tackle the microscopic and macroscopic with equal aplomb and grace, an earth-shattering insight lurking on every page, lapidary prose tucked neatly in every footnote. My own writing is no more than a cheap pastiche of his own, self-self-self-conscious, an attempt to attain that intoxicating and infinitely expressive blend of high and low vocabularies.

I'm a member of a listserv devoted to him, and the past week has seen an unmitigated outpouring of grief and remembrances. Hundreds have written about how he affected them, and the media's coverage has grown exponentially. If any self-respecting fiction-lover hadn't heard of David Foster Wallace, the secret's officially out. It seems that he was unanimously respected not just as a writer but as a human being. I envy those who counted him as a friend.

The closest thing I have to an anecdote: In late January, when W&M's philosophy department sought a new professor, Sam and I took a candidate out to lunch. He made an offhand reference to a brilliant undergrad he'd advised at Amherst in the late '80s, a mathematical, philosophical and literary prodigy who whipped up two summa cum laude honors theses in one year, finishing both of them by spring break. I asked who, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

Once the professor left, it was agreed that I looked like I'd spermed myself.

In a way, not having known Wallace personally makes his death even stranger, somehow less comprehensible. The proximate aspects of grief are irrelevant; we won't feel his absence on a day-to-day basis, i.e., at an atomic level, the way we do when someone close to us dies. It's a more confused, distant absence, something off-kilter. Since he was never "here" to begin with, it's all too easy to forget that he's no longer out there, feeling, breathing, helping us come to grips with twenty-first century American life. It's as if we've mysteriously lost touch with the world's most dedicated pen pal.

I only wish I'd had the guts to write him back when I could.

Holler at not Working in Insurance

This is fast becoming a series:

http://money.cnn.com/2008/09/16/news/companies/AIG/index.htm?cnn=yes

Brightening everyone's day.

RIP David Foster Wallace, 2/21/62 - 9/12/2008

I know you know as well as I do how fast thoughts and associations can fly through your head. You can be in the middle of a creative meeting at your job or something, and enough material can rush through your head in just the little silences when people are looking over their notes and waiting for the next presentation that it would take exponentially longer than the whole meeting just to try to put a few seconds’ silence’s flood of thoughts into words. This is another paradox, that many of the most important impressions and thoughts in a person’s life are ones that flash through your head so fast that fast isn’t even the right word, they seem totally different from or outside of the regular sequential clock time we all live by, and they have so little relation to the sort of linear, one-word-after-another-word English we all communicate with each other with that it could easily take a whole lifetime just to spell out the contents of one split-second’s flash of thoughts and connections, etc. – and yet we all seem to go around trying to use English (or whatever language our native country happens to use, it goes without saying) to try to convey to other people what we’re thinking and to find out what they’re thinking, when in fact deep down everybody knows it’s a charade and they’re just going through the motions. What goes on inside is just too fast and huge and all interconnected for words to do more than barely sketch the outlines of at most one tiny little part of it at any given instant.

From "Good Old Neon," Oblivion, 2004

one year ago today

I want this again.

Fast-track to Middle-age

Hello, Williamsburg expatriots. I actually got a real-person job! I'm writing to you from my desk in a very professional office building, in which I currently serve no real purpose. I think they're still looking for things to keep me busy for the time being. I'm a pharmaceutical market researcher -- a job that I'm neither interested in or qualified for, but I got bills to pay! I'm not sure what my job title fully entails, but essentially I'll be researching which drugs doctors prescribe and why.

Actually, I can't complain about the company; the office is really nice, and everyone is extremely approachable. And they left a little gift bag on my desk the first day with chocolates and gift cards to restaurants. From a dating perspective, this company's mack is HUGE.

I'm fast realizing, though, that watching "The Office" and living "The Office" are two very different things....

But until I actually have real responsibilities, I'll be posting up here!
P.S. for the love of god please gchat me

Also, halfway through my first day the entire building started to shake like there was an earthquake, and there was an awful noise coming from the roof, as if a helicopter was crashing over and over. All of the employees started to freak out, and we had to evacuate the building. Butttt it was just the giant industrial air conditioner on the roof that exploded (we're on the third and top floor). But now we don't have air conditioning and it's like working in a Taiwanese sweat shop, so they keep sending us home early. Hooray!

-Andy

Holler at not Working in Finance

http://money.cnn.com/2008/09/14/news/companies/lehman_workers.fortune/index.htm?postversion=2008091507

Titties!

Today was the Susan G. Komen NYC Race for the Cure 5k - my first 5k ever I ran with josh, and after correcting for the 7 minute late start, we ran it in 33 minutes which I think is pretty good. The Amex team raised $53,000 but, alas, neither of us won any of the raffle prizes at the afterparty, a very corporate catered brunchy thing at lincoln center. 

I think I may be getting my salaried position in January. I'm proving myself every day and had a really kick-ass pitch meeting this week. Not much else is happening but I'm pretty proud of my performance today. 

ah this yuppie life. 

...is lame

here's what the title is about:
today, a seriously great Mexican singer/songwriter, Julieta Venegas, gave a concert at the Kennedy Center (for you non-DC'ers, the Kennedy Center is DC's premiere concert venue--it's where the National Symphony Orchestra and the National Opera 'live') for FREE. at 6pm. I really wanted to go, but the people I was planning to go with bailed on me last-minute. I will be the first to admit that I hate going to shows/movies/meals by myself, so I was super lame and didn't go.
...So i think i'm going to take a page out of Dean Edwards' book (as you all know by now, Dean is my go-to man in this DC life...him and his bed) and start writing on my pre-existing blog, La*Chelita, with upcoming events and junk. so not to clutter post-williamsburg with such things.

ok well i hope that some of you can join me at the next excellent dc event!

Today I fought the urge to kick a pigeon...

...and I probably love pigeons more than anyone I know.  I count them among my style icons.  And I really dislike animal cruelty.  It was that kind of day.  

I don't know what has happened to me but I can no longer get my rear in gear in any kind of quick pace in the morning, so for a 9:30 class (and an 8:40 trolley) I figured I should wake up at 7:15.  That's just not my scene.  

So as I am exiting my building today, some batshit insane-looking (and not in the fun way) oldish lady stops me and asks

"Were you using cable yesterday?"

I paused in such a way that I was quite sure she could visualize the ellipses going through my mind over my head like a cartoon idea lightbulb, until I released a low, guttural "uhhh" (Charlotte, you know the one) and said

"yeah, my cable worked yesterday, like RCN you mean?"

Homegirl went on to accuse me of blasting "some loud movie all day into the night" and reminded me how thin the walls and small the building are.  Lady, I probably did not wake up until after noon, nor was I even in the apartment all day, and god knows the sounds from my wee little TV intended for a kitchen could not reach the opposite end of the building, let alone your apartment, if it tried with all its might.  Nor did I hear "the loud machine noises next door" she also questioned me about.  What the hell, don't stare me down as I exit my building, you culotte-wearing wackadoodle.

So, as the semester has started, the Route E NYU buses have gotten considerably more crowded, as I expected, but I don't think I expected herds of the undergrads to take a bus when, in reality, they have an approximately 10-block walk to class.  GTFO my breathing space.  For the few days I couldn't locate my ipod last week i wanted to punch a hole in the bus window (if I had managed to snag a seat) and dive into traffic.  In a related story, I'm pretty sure I want to become one of those twats with giant puffy noise-canceling headphones.  

I still haven't been to all my classes yet.  My phenomenology course is mad theory-heavy and the books double as doorstops, but that's kindof what I need (sidenote: Dear W&M, offer more strictly theory courses, luv, Beaton).  I seem to have to do a presentation or show-and-tell (dead serious) for all of my courses, so I'm scheduling myself into these according to what will keep me most sane within the syllabi.  Also, there's this Blackboard Scare at NYU; it's really a lot like the Red Scare.  The faculty and law school are apparently losing their shit about getting caught for copyright infringement, which is good for authors and publishers and all, but bad for killing trees, checking out reserves, and my wallet.  

Also uggggh, no, I do not know why the new printer is not connected to all the computers at work, I am not a wizard, it is not my fault, do not shoot the messenger, she is not getting paid anymore, and will only be okay with this when I see my name on the front matter.

Surprise, there's like a dead zone in NYU's insurance.  That was super fun to find out as the price of a prescription MORE THAN DOUBLED THIS AFTERNOON.  Speaking of drug stores, my trusty old friends BenGay and Medical Tape are back in my life, as I seem to have recovered from last week's first ballet class by developing shin splints in the middle of the night or something.  I am now taped up like a steroid-injected racehorse.  

In happy news, the section of street adjacent to the fire hydrant in front of Team Face's apartment building has been filled in with fresh asphalt, which means perhaps the lovely puppy piss odor might linger a little less.  

I also find slight comfort in the fact that I get to GTFO the city in the near future for Charlotte's birthday AND reveling in my four day weekends just after that by visiting my dear dear best friend Laura at MSU, who, by some aligned stars, has cranky days when I do too.  

Excuse me while I read a shit ton, nurse some chocolate soy milk (I am a child), and unrealistically hope that Andy Murray beats Roger Federer.  I will probably disappear really soon now that I have a routine.

Buddha, etc.

The one exciting thing happening in my life is that I've begun tutoring a Buddhist monk in ESL. His name is Sit-ka. He's thirty-two and a refugee from Burma. When I first found out I was going to be tutoring a Buddhist monk, I relished the opportunity to engage in some sort of cultural exchange and to show off my religious studies knowledge (was he in the Therevada, Mahayana, or Pure Land School etc?). However, I didn't stop to think about why I was teaching him, namely, that he doesn't know English. My hopes of talking with him about his Buddhism and his flight from his home country were squashed once I walked into the temple and realized this fact. Still, our first meeting went well, and while we couldn't relate to each other verbally, we were able to show kindness and our appreciation for one another. We were both nervous. I talked/hand-motioned to him about his tattoos and gathered that he had gotten them when he had entered the monastic order as a young boy. The meeting was only an introduction but I'm looking forward to our first session this week.

In other news, I kicked ass on the GREs. The thought of grad school in a year is the only thing getting me through living at my parent's house this year.

In fun news, I went to a wedding last weekend, got plastered, and danced the night away. We even got the DJ to play "Bizarre Love Triangle," clearing the dancefloor of the Jimmy Buffet fans who populated most of the wedding party. Also, I've discovered the Galaxy Diner's PBR deal in Carytown: $4.50 for a pitcher. That's pint night every night. Oh, that reminds me of what also happened this weekend. So I was with Brandon and Luke at Hooters (reserve your judgement) and we were waiting for a table. Just our luck, all the lights suddenly went out. The Hooters hostesses turned from flirts into bouncers, not letting anyone leave the restaurant until the power came back. They were especially cruel overlords. With no air circulation, the bar quickly became filled with smoke, causing many customers to complain that they could not leave and go outside. When one gentleman complained to the hostess, she feigned concern and reached for a menu, waving it in front of his face and replying, "Is that better?" We got the hell out of there since we hadn't even been seated yet. This provoked many behind us to yell louder at the hostesses. I can only hope that this turned into a ridiculous bar brawl with wings, cigarettes, and boobies flying everywhere. We left and went to Chili's. Instead of paying $4.50 a pitcher, I paid $4.50 for one pint. We discovered the Galaxy Diner the next night. Fuck Chili's.

Screw us

Maybe we are, well, "screwed," to say the least.

dramz

Hey guys,

sorry i haven't written in a while. I am especially sorry because it's taken me over a week to muster up the energy to write about a very hilarious experience I recently had with one of my fellow p-w bloggers and recent birthday boy, Dean Edwards. Here goes, just cuz:

Last Friday, I met up with some fellow WM graduates for happy hour. I ventured out to the sticks of virginia (Courthouse, to be precise--DC living has sadly enhanced my inner geographical location snobbery), where they all live. Two of the ladies in my company are roommates of Dean's, so once we all got tipsy thanks to empty stomachs and $3 Amstel lights, we decided to continue the party. We ended up at Dean's house, reveling until the wee hours. Before I knew it, we were dancing to Springsteen in the living room. It was around this time that my inebriated self began to panic about having to sleep in a bed with some stranger (they have a pull-out couch in the living room, and i thought that i would be made to sleep there with the other person who was at the house who didn't live there, this guy named Tyler i think?) so i literally broke into Dean's bedroom, threw off my pants, climbed into his twin bed with him, and pass out. I woke up at 7am, terribly parched, so I get up and am shocked that I am not wearing pants or a bra. i put these items back on, chug some water, and return to dean's room to see him grudgingly making the aerobed for me (Thanks Dean!). We fell back asleep and woke a few hours later to some pleasant pillow talk. All in all, I'd like to thank Dean publically for having a sleepover with me, even if it was thrust upon him without consent.

In other news, work rules, I got my reader's badge for the Dumbarton research library this week, and got some sage advice from Dr J.P., one of my Pre-Columbian studies icons. Am literally drowning in books in papers in my boss's office; he keeps mailing me more and more material from his stops in Argentina and Chile. For you DC-ers, my museum is opening its newest show very soon, a survey of Fritz Scholder's work (contemporary art), it's going to be super so let me know if you'd like to go!

My house is coming apart at the seams. Part of my housemate's ceiling came off during the storm we had on Saturday, and we have illegal scaffolding set up in front of our house. An inspector from the DC government came by unannounced and called our living situation "slum living". It was kind of embarrassing. While we are taking legal action to assure that no one will ever again call us victims of a slum lord, we fear the clusterfuck that is the DC government/court system and its ability to actually prevent our hosue from falling apart. Wish me luck, I'm going to landlord and tenant court tomorrow.

that's life in a nutshell.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DEAN!!!!!!

WOOOOOO GET DRUUUUUNK 22 BIG ONES HOLLA

Just a Note

I never really liked (i.e. never cared for) Pilchen anyway.

I CAN SEE CLEEEEARLY NOW

I just got reading glasses.  My quality of life has improved a kajillion-fold.

Easy 'Cause You're Beautiful

Greetings from the long island, where Abby (romper girl, for the new york set) and I are enjoying a very leisurely (see also: fattening) existence. This morning I had cookies and scones for breakfast after sleeping 12 hours after a car-ride filled with easy-listening sing alongs with my father, sister, and brother-in-law. None of this is important. BUT I did have two very interesting dreams last night. The first was that my job gave me benefits effective as of october. And secondly that I had a very intense driving-range-competition that I lost and freaked the fuck out.

anyway now on to reality:

I'm glad that we all seem to be progressing to some sort of self-sustainable adulthood, which is to say, holler at making money. I have only recently realized how much of a pay-cut I've taken by quitting my job with my dad. But man, has my quality of life improved.

I think I might, maybe, have a by-line in a future issue of T+L which is thrilling, granted it will be a "researched by" or some equivalent, and potentially not a by-line at all but a girl can dream.

Josh and I have started wearing matching outfits to work - just color-schemes, for now - we're going to see how long it takes for someone to notice. I think it's going swimmingly, I think everyone who has a friend at work should do it.

My first real volunteer experience was totally lame. I knit at the Prince George Hotel, a low-income "hotel" that's really a halfway house. We were supposed to knit baby-blanket squares with residents but none showed up so it was me, and four other volunteers making squares and being awkward. I don't think I'll go back again, we'll see how dog-walking in Harlem goes.

This is an ill-constructed post but basically the gist is, I'm really happy, and I don't think it's lunar. I think I've actually made a life for myself. My job is great, my apartment is great, my roommate is fierce, my volunteering is (in the future going to be I hope) rewarding, and I've started seeing this awesome dude. (eek, this makes me uncomfortable)

I love you all.


ps. cait, let's invite taylor rubin and hayley to this. And can we permanently change the timestamp?

Moving along

Hey all,

Life is going pretty well. Although I admit life does sort of settle into a rhythm, I am, for one, glad to be past college. I enjoy the freedoms and people I meet everyday here, with the chance to hear stories and go places that college just can't afford -- and I mean that financially, too.

Our newest housemate, Sarah McCann, is still looking for a job, but she's only recently come to Virginia. I can recall how hectic the job market was; and heck, I will be back there some day. For now, I'm fairly content being a newspaper reporter/editor for an alt. weekly.

I will admit alongside Dan, I do fear death. Hell, news of that beheading in Canada put me in a real rut. And the scores who continue to die needlessly around the world, coupled with the thousands who die naturally. Boy, life does seem fairly finite, doesn't it?

But I don't really mind. We can't be held back by our pasts and the inevitable future. And I'm pretty sure the future holds some really good things.

Like Bill Maher's movie "Religulous" -- GO SEE IT. And Real Time -- his show on HBO -- returns tonight. Woo-hoo!

All things said, I miss the company of all of you, especially my New York compatriots. I must make that leap and buy the ticket to the city.

just sayin'

i'd like to briefly note that this blog was the best idea ever, as it brings me endless joy.

k thats all

The Prodigal Son

If you're wondering if I've forgotten all of my dearest friends, who, collectively, are my one shining beacon of hope in this miserable postgrad existence, you can rest assured that I've been closely following your comings and goings on this blog with much hand-wringing and bated breath. In a good way.

I am aware that it's a bonified asshole move to compare myself to the biblical prodigal son through the title of this blog post, but I'm happy to be back on the blog scene, although I have no fresh ideas! I've been hitting the bricks hard recently, and the best thing coming my way so far is a job as a pharmacuetical market researcher. Yes, that's right, big pharma. Well, a consulting group that leeches off of big pharma. It'll help me sleep at night. Essentially I'd be putting my sociology experience to use analyzing the ins and outs of why doctors prescribe certain drugs. Or something. The job itself seems soul-crushing, but it has that really important quality of jobness -- that is, being a job -- which my broke ass doesn't seem to have the option of turning down.

So, RE: Cait, don't worry, I feel exactly how you feel, and I've applied for plenty of receptionist positions and been turned down. Actually a lot. That kind of sucks. And the alternative, i.e. soul crushing market research, isn't a whole lot better, so don't fret!

But on a positive note, let's please all visit each other a lot and enjoy the fact that we're in our early twenties!

P.S. I've made a conscious effort to use "yall" more, now that I'm up north, even though I was vehemently opposed to in while in virginia. I miss college....

it's hard not to admit defeat

today i got a 3-month temping assignment at a very heartwarming and wonderful non-profit
--that's the good news --
the bad news being i've been placed there as a receptionist/administrative bitch. i really have nothing to complain about i guess, because i am gainfully employed while i search for a full-time job that i really like, but i can't shake the sinking feeling that i've graduated college with a BA and a double major and i won't be able to find any other jobs besides receptionist positions. this thought caused me to have a nervous breakdown on my lunch break.
there's no way i possibly could have spent 20+ hours a week in meetings and events in college (not to mention the time spent on coursework) to become a receptionist. right? there's no way that's fair or appropriate at all. there's no way there are an infinite number of people my age in new york city who are interested in the same jobs as me and are more qualified than me, right? for fuck's sake, there can't possibly be more than like 60 kids of comparable age in new york city right now who are applying for the same jobs as me and have more experience. seriously. i lived to be overextended in undergrad. i loved having absolutely no free time. i enjoyed that shit. how am i not getting noticed?
if there's anything i hate in life, it's being undervalued. and i'm feeling pretty fucking undervalued right now.
well, i interviewed for a job 2 days ago and i should know if they're hiring me within the next few days. so at least that's...potentially good. or potentially another piece of shit to add to the list.

in much better news, sam and i are going ROLLERSKATING here tomorrow night!!!!! if any of you new yorkers are around and want to come please give me a call. it's gonna totally make my week.

oh, right: and on sunday my dear old high school friends -- the utterly ridiculous pop-punk band patent pending -- are playing with andrew w.k. on long island. naturally i'm going. that will surely be a night to remember.

READING:
if on a winter's night a traveler by italo calvino
LISTENING:
my favorite book by stars
suffering jukebox by the silver jews (thanks sam)
all i need by radiohead