The Luna Park Gazette

I've always liked Chris Rock, ever since I first saw him on Saturday Night Live all those years ago, but last night he really pissed me off. I suppose I should mention here that I've never met Chris Rock in real life, I haven't seen him on TV lately, and I haven't even thought about the guy in God knows how long. And yet he walked into my head last night and wouldn't leave until I chased him the hell out. I was in the middle of a strange dream, which sounds redundant in light of the technicolor skull busters I've experienced in my life, but at least this time it wasn't one of those horror show nightmares I've been known to have. In this latest psychodrama I was sitting in a doctor's office, which makes some sense as I'm due to see my surgeon this week. However, this setting looked nothing like my doctor's waiting room and I wasn't wearing these godawful leg braces that I'm saddled with in real life. And then Chris Rock walke...

Too soon? That's what we hear every time some heavily armed psycho gets hold of a terrifying weapon of personal destruction and kills innocent people. While the victims' friends and family are still reeling from the unimaginable loss of their loved ones, the gun lobby and their whores in congress swoop in to make sure nothing ever changes. It's too soon to talk about gun control, they say, it's disrespects the victims. We can't politicize this tragedy, they say, as if they actually give a shit. And so the story fades from the news cycle, the dead are forgotten, and the scene is set for the next horrific attack. But don't worry: these brave souls are ready to take action against the real villains here-computer games and movies. Yes, of course, that makes perfect sense. Except when you realize that American movies and computer games are viewed and played all over the world and these countries don't seem to have the mass shootings that we do. Gee,...

This never happened on Star Trek . It was Thursday night and I was trying to attend my most fabulous writing class via Skype, but I couldn't make the magic happen. I'm still wearing these awful leg braces from December's surgery, so riding the subway to my instructor Rosemary's house in Park Slope is out of the question. But my classmate Joan, who is in New Mexico, and I were getting all 21st Century so we could join in without actually being there. Or at least I was trying to join in. However, I was having trouble getting online and the Skype calls kept crashing with this obnoxious noise that sounded like someone punching a heavy bag. Rosemary called me to guide me through the process, but all I got for my efforts was another phantom punch in the ego. Video conferencing has been around for ages, but to a techno-thal like yours truly it's something akin to voodoo and Buck Rogers. This seems strange, since I was such a science fiction fan when I was a ki...

Now comes the hard part. I went to see my doctor this week, six weeks after he operated on both my knees, and got a new, more flexible set of leg braces. My physical therapist had warned me not to be shocked by the sight of my emaciated legs, but I have to say it was quite a jolt seeing these two toothpicks attached to my body. Still, my PT guy says the muscles will return just as quickly as they disappeared. As my doctor examined my knees, a stray thought sailed across my mind like a shooting star on a summer night. I've had a good life. That sounds rather strange coming from a chronic complainer like yours truly, but this awful experience has taught me a lot about gratitude-or it can, as long as I allow it. Before the accident I went to work, went to the gym, did some (but not enough) socializing, and worked on my writing. While it wasn't the perfect life-what life is?--I was doing well. But I wasn't really happy. I was always worried about something, alway...

I once had a therapist who very succinctly explained to me the dangers of being indecisive. "Sitting on the fence," he said, "gets you nothing but a big red mark on your ass." I'm doubt if Freud would've expressed it this way, but I'm sure he would agree with the sentiment. I've given up far too much of my time agonizing over decisions about all things great and small and all I've gotten out of this emotional fence-sitting was a big red mark on my psyche. No decision is a decision and I would rather do things than allow inaction make the decision for me. While I would like to think I've made progress in this area, I did have a minor but disappointing incident occur recently that's still bugging me. I was sitting in front of the TV one Saturday night-like I do most nights after wrecking my knees last month-thumbing my remote-control unit into a coma. I do a fair bit of channel-surfing, but I was especially bad on this particul...

My auntie shared such a lovely dream with me on Saturday. She has been suffering with a bad hip for a long time now, so the simplest actions-like walking or standing, for instance-are now incredibly challenging. But all that changed in her dream. "I was walking," said my auntie, who will undergo surgery in the coming weeks. "I couldn't believe it. I told people around me, 'look, I'm walking!'" It was so painful to hear this because she walks with such difficulty now. I can remember when she was hiking all over Manhattan, but now it takes her so long just to pick up the phone. Dreams provide fertile ground for wish fulfillment, of course, which is all well and good until the cruel light of day breaks in and ruins the dance. I wake up most mornings expecting to get up and walk around my home like I've always done and then I realize that I'm wearing these massive leg braces and that every single move has to be planned before being pu...

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” – William Shakespeare I’ve been home from the hospital for 8 days now and I have to confess this new year is getting old real fast. While I’m trying to accept the fact that I’m a virtual prisoner in my own home, I took some solace in the fact that I was reasonably healthy. I have a walker, a cane, and a grabber, a little mechanical claw that I use to pick up the mail and anything else that might be out of reach. Going to the bathroom when you can’t bend your knees is a bit of a challenge—I’ll spare you the details—but I’m managing. And it’s not like I have nothing to do with my time. I thought that I’d take advantage of my forced imprisonment by taking a run at my creative to-do list. I’m working on my next book project, organizing my notes on an idea for a TV pilot, and reviewing the draft of a screenplay I finished last year. And the weather has been so harsh lately that I figured I’m not missing much. ...