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Showing posts from February, 2007

Muck & Mire

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I know it's winter and the weather is supposed to be bad, but this latest round of meteorlogical misery really blows. We had some kind of snow and sleet combination hit the city last night and its turned the streets into a godawful mess, yet again. I haven't been feeling well since last week, but I woke up this morning actually feeling worse than I did on Friday. I was extremely pissed, since I had kept a low profile over the weekend to make sure my system was clear. Apparently I've got some kind of Australian malady as it went away and then came back and whacked me upside the head. I felt cold, sick to my stomach, and useless. I thought about the fact that I'm turning 50 in May and I felt like a sick old man. My solo performer class starts next week, I don't feel like going to the gym and that just makes me crankier. I felt like some mean old geezer who chases kids away from the front of his house. I came out of the subway, hooked a left and walked up the street

Gun Crazy

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Hey, do you like guns? Yeah, me, too. Nothing says freedom more than having a .357 tucked under your armpit or carrying an AK-47 in the trunk of your car. Guns are what made America great, and if you don't believe that, I'll shoot you. Of course there are some drawbacks to this freedom, like, oh, I don't know, the occassional mass murder. We had two of them here in the States not too long ago, one in Philadelphia and one in Utah, and you can bet some bleeding hearts will have the nerve to suggest outlawing guns--yet again. The right-wing gun lovers were furious that the news media didn't mention that the Utah gunman--the one who shot up a shopping mall--was a Muslim. Only, the news media did mention this fact and went on to report that the police saw no connection between his religion and his actions. But what does reality matter to your average gun nut? Now these same neocon pistol-humpers had no problem with gun laws that allow psychotics to get their hands on lethal

Mask Appeal

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There was a musical that came out in the 70's called "The Me Nobody Knows." I never saw the show, but I always loved that title. It seems to say that we all have this fabulous inner self that the rest of the world doesn't know about, that we're not just another drone in the army of working schmoes, but a unique, vibrant personality. If only we could get that me to step out from behind the curtain. It's been freezing here in New York for the longest time and it snowed earlier this week. I had to get out in front of the house with the shovel and spread that ice-melting crap so I won't be hit with a fine from the city or get whacked with a lawsuit by some Whiplash Willie who decides to take a dive in front of my crib. There's slop all over the streets, particularly on the corners. The other night I came out of the subway and was heading to my local grocery store when I heard screaming from behind me. "Mother fuck! " I turned and saw this young

Fire and Water

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Two little girls died in a fire a few blocks from my home early Thursday morning. Their names were Fatin Lazhir, 2, and Aya Khawatmi, 4, and they died when an electrical cord powering a space heater sparked a three-alarm inferno. The girls were living in the same house where my sister had her first apartment nearly 30 years ago. And they died on the same day as Anna Nicole Smith. I was in bed when this was going on, listening to Morning Edition on NPR. I heard sirens, but that's a common sound in New York, so I didn't pay much attention, even though they were pretty close. It was about 5:30 a.m. and I just wanted to relax a little before getting up and starting what I knew would be a tough day at the office. This was the big retail day, when companies release their monthly same-store sales figures, and I had to be in an hour earlier to start pounding out the story. The sirens eventually stopped, but helicopters kept buzzing on and on, right over my house as if we were being in

Football Hero

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Superbowl Sunday doesn't seem to be a good day for me. Years ago, I got dumped by a woman on this, the biggest day in football, and today I got stood up by another one. It could be a coincidence, but I think for the next Superbowl I'm going to hide in my attic. I'm not broken up about today's washout--honestly. I arranged to have this woman meet me at a Moroccan in my neighborhood that I've been meeting to try for over a year. So it was a short walk to the place and when she didn't show, I treated myself to a delicious meal. Then I went home and looked at the game for a while. I usually watch the game for the ads, and they pretty much sucked this year. When Prince (say,what?) started his half-time show, complete with the Aunt Jemima head scarf, I knew it was time to turn off the tube. When I got up this morning, I had a feeling I should call this woman to confirm the dinner. I just had a feeling she'd blow me off. But I didn't want to call. It sounds des

Winter of Our Discontent

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I was taking in the mail this afternoon when I could have sworn I heard a bird chirping. It's freezing here in New York now and it's not going to warm up any time soon, so I figured it was something mechanical, non-living, that just sounded like a bird. Plus I was wearing a hood and a bulky winter coat that restricted my movements so much I didn't bloody feel like looking up. But the noise persisted, so I finally cranked my head up and saw an honest-to-God bird sitting on the bare limbs of the tree that stands in front of my house. (I call it "my tree" but I'm not quite sure how that works in New York.) I don't know much about birds, but it wasn't a pigeon. He was small and black and I think he had a red bill, but he took off the second I turned my head, like a sneak preview of spring. That's all you get, buddy. Now go back to freezing your ass off. Last night I had dinner with my friend, Xiaojing, who recently moved here from China, and I tried to