The Luna Park Gazette

The French were right: To say goodbye really is to die a little. I learned, or re-learned this lesson after dinner last night. I was all set to work on the computer when there was a knock on my side door. No one comes to the side door so I figured it was my neighbor John coming to ask me for favor. I was close; it was my other neighbor, who lives in the rear apartment of John's house. This man's name, I believe, is Fei, and he is the father of my two little buddies, Kelly and Maggie, the Chinese girls who like to drive me crazy whenever they see me coming. Fei doesn't speak English very well, but the message was clear: they were moving. He, his wife, the grandmother, and those two lovely girls who have given me so much joy over the last year or so are packing up and moving to a place about 20 blocks from here. Yes, it's not that far. And they really intend to come back because the new tenants are actually members of their family, so they'll have a reason to visit. ...

It has come to my attention that I am... it . It, like the game of tag, get it? I got it, and now I want to get rid of it. If memory serves, I was pretty good at tag when I was a kid. It didn't involve catching or hitting a baseball so I didn't have to worry about blowing the double play or striking out in the bottom of the ninth with a tie score and the winning run on third. No, with tag, all I had to do was run and dodge, which are about the two things I do best in life. I recently learned that in the blogosphere people tag each other's blogs and, like a chain letter--or a disease--you have to spread it around answering a series of questions and passing them on to other bloggers. I got tagged by my Israeli homeboy, DesertPeace. I confess I wasn't too thrilled at first, since I had other posts in mind and I don't know too many other bloggers, and the few I do know I'd rather not piss off by dragging them into these kinds of games. But upon reflection, I decide...

When you're looking for something, always check the cushions. I found this out the hard way on Sunday when I managed to lose just about everything I needed in quick succession. It's been cold here in the Northeast, colder than it has any right to be. I went out Saturday night and the freezing air just ate right through my gloves, to a point where my fingers were hurting and visions of frostbite danced in my head. I'm happy to report that this did not occur and I'm hitting the keyboard with all ten digits. But the rotten weather has a way of making things worse. This is also a holiday weekend, which I have noticed tend to be more strssful for me than a normal one, and it gets to the point where I almost miss the office. Almost. Birthday Girl Friday was nice, as my sister and I took my auntie out for a birthday dinner. We found a French restaurant on Atlanic Avenue, walked in without knowing a thing about the place and had a great meal and a great time. It's so strang...

"If you have true love, take a tip from a man in misery, don't ever be lonely, poor little fool like me." --Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose This could be the longest day of the year--if I so decide. Yes, it's Valentine's Day yet again and yet again I don't have a girlfriend. It's been so long since I've had a lover on this day for lovers that I would probably freak out if I did have someone. I've gotten exactly two cards this year, one from my sister and one from my friend Stephanie. And while I appreciate their thoughtfulness more than I could ever express in words, I would like to have someone of my own. This sucks. Of that there can be no doubt. The airwaves and newspapers are filled with Valentine's Day ads and the TV news programs are doing all these flowers-and-candy stories. I have a chance to go out tonight to a few places, but honestly I don't think this is a good night to go looking for someone. It's sort like trying to fin...

Oy, who asked for this? I'm so accustomed to hearing TV weather nitwits scream about the next ice age that I tend to tune out the word "blizzard" whenever I hear it. Well, the bastards fooled me today and actually got this one right. We're up to keesters in snow in the Big Apple here, folks, and if you're reading this in a warm, sunny place, I hate your guts. Oh, of course I don't hate you, I'm just ribbing you a little. With all that damn sunshine you're getting you should be able to take a joke. This being Sunday, I don't have to go anywhere, except to my boxing class, and I decided to skip that today, which is not easy when you're a gym junkie, but I've got to shovel my sidewalk yet again today. I did it once this morning and my nice clear pathway got covered over in about an hour. Nuts... I've been running around a bit for the last day or two. Mary, my dad's homecare aid, called me Saturday morning to say her daughter's wat...

I directed my first film on Saturday and it only took me 22 years. It was about three minutes long, it took place in a narrow hallway, and while it will never be mistaken for Gone With the Wind to me, it's a classic. I've been taking this digital video course on Saturdays and for the second class the instructor gave us a short film to shoot, handed us a camera and kicked us out into the hall so we could get busy. I have written screenplays, both long and short. I have been on the sidelines of several shoots where the actors say my words, more or less, while a director tells them what to do. I once saw David Mamet on a talk show discussing his experience as a screenwriter for Brian DePalma's The Untouchables . He said he felt like an aunt on the set and I can see why. You believe you have a right to be there, but you get the distinct feeling you're in the way. I've been dreaming about this since high school, after watching a PBS program called "The Men Who Made...

Years ago, when I was visiting my brother and his family in San Francsisco, I took the ferry out to Alcatraz, the infamous prison that sits in the middle of the bay. This was the hightlight of my trip, the only thing I had actually planned on doing once the plane touched down on the runway, other than seeing my brother, his wife, and my beautiful little niece. I had read an article about Alcatraz in the New York Times travel section and decided I had to see the place. Hell, after all those prison movies and episodes of The Untouchables I had watched as a kid, I figured a pilgrimage to the great American big house was mandatory. The weather that morning was awful, all gray and windy, just perfect for sailing out to the notorious slammer. As I waited to board the ferry, a group of German tourists approached and one of them, pointing out to the island and the unmistakable buildings, asked me, "Das is Alcatrez ja ?" I told him it was, whereupon they all started chanting ...