The Luna Park Gazette

"I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy—myself." ---A Warrior’s Prayer by Chief Redcloud I watched a rat race the other day. That’s not a figure of speech about the daily, soul-destroying grind of the average working stiff. I mean I actually saw two rats having a race. I was standing on the platform of the R station at 36th Street, as part of my daily, soul-destroying grind to the office when I looked down on the tracks and saw one rat being chased by another. I guess they were racing, or playing tag. Or maybe they were going to do the wild thing, the little rat fuck bastards. Whatever they were doing, I'm pretty certain they were having more fun than I was. I finished my second week at the new job and let’s just say that I need to do some mental adjustments to keep from running away to join the circus. I don’t want to say that I’ve been depressed, but the other day I was walking down Sixth Avenue after a numbing day at the off...

The Third Annual Brooklyn Blogfest, a gathering of Brooklyn bloggers who write about their neighborhoods and anything else that matters to them, will be happening on Thursday, May 8. If you're a blogger, an aspiring blogger, or you just love Brooklyn, come on down. The event was founded and is organized by Louise Crawford of Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn . Every year, the number of participants in the Blogfest doubles and this year will prove to be no exception. And now for some details... WHEN : Thursday, May 8 at 8 pm WHERE : The Brooklyn Lyceum 227 Fourth Avenue at President's Street, Park Slope ADMISSION : $10, Students $5 I went to last year's Blogfest and I had a blast. I met a group of very cool, talented people and we've been getting together about once a month in various Brooklyn neighborhoods ever since. If it wasn't for this group, I would never have taken a ride on the G train and that alone was quite an experience. I've been pretty much the on...

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief. --Bob Dylan I had wrapped up my first week at my new job on Friday when one of my co-workers gave me some great advice. “Go get lost,” she said. That wasn’t as harsh as it sounds. After working in the financial district for the last seven or so years, I am now doing my business within walking distance of the West Village--a nice location indeed. My co-worker was merely suggesting that I take a walk around the neighborhood to get a feel for the place. Actually, I had been getting lost all week at the job. Every time I got up from a desk in my new office and walked a few feet away, I could not find my way back. I mean, I really couldn’t do it, under the threat of torture, even if you played “Billy Don’t Be A Hero” by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods over and over, I still couldn't tell you where my desk was. Now that is seriously lost. I’ve never been...

I love the smell of chlorine in the evening. It smells like...victory. --Me, just now I still can't believe I did this. I actually swam-- swam , I say, across the deep end of the pool tonight. This was the culmination of eight weeks of training in my adult swimming class and while most people would think nothing of this little jaunt across the pool, for me it had all the suspense of an Indiana Jones cliffhanger. I've been enjoying this class tremendously; it has made me do something that I thought I would never be able to do: namely, swim. My form is from hunger and if I were moving any slower I'd be going backwards, but every week I would get in the pool at Park Slope YMCA and actually swim. However, this was always in the shallow end, the kiddie portion where the waters are all of four feet high. "We're going on a field trip," the teacher announced toward the end of tonight's class. Field trip? Where, pray tell? "To the deep end of the pool." O...

You’ve got to love spring in New York. The weather is warm, people are wearing t-shirts and sandals, and all over town, men are strapping on hideous hairpieces. Yes, it’s open season on bad rugs in New York, and you don’t have to be Buffalo Bill to spot one of these monstrosities coming down the avenue. They seem ready to leap off their owners’ heads and go right for your throat. I spotted one last night while waiting outside the Guggenheim Museum, when a guy walked by me with this thing on his head that could have easily been a piece of modern art. I nailed another one in Manhattan two days earlier, but the wig in question was so horrible I have since forgotten the exact location. You could call it post-traumatic rug syndrome. Maybe I have keener eye because of my own follicle-challenged dome, but I’ve seen a couple of road kill specials that just make you want to body slam the occupants, rip the offending toupee off their melons and hurl them down the nearest sewer—the toupees, not t...

"I'd rather be a failure at something I love, than a success at something I hate." --George Burns They got me. I don’t know how this happened, I don’t know whom to blame, but somehow I landed a job and I start next week. I know I should be happy. I know I should be thankful, given all those people who are out of work right now, who would give anything to trade places with me. And I am happy and thankful, I honestly am. But I’m also nervous as hell. It started out innocently enough. I answered this ad, like so many others, and I went in from an interview. Next thing I know, they’re offering me a job. It sounds like a sailor’s tale of being shanghaied, but then a large part of my life has that same ring to it. Naturally, I get laid off in the winter, so I can freeze my ass off going out on interviews, and now I'm going back into the office just as the weather is getting better. They seem like nice people, they’re paying me more money than my last job, and it’s good to h...

I stood alongside my rented van in the dead of night and tried to open the rear door. I should tell you that this wasn't actually happening; this was a dream I had recently and it's still on my mind. I don't know what I was doing with a rented van and why I was out so late at night, but this was a dream after all, not the six o'clock news. I aimed the remote at the van to open the rear door, so naturally the front windows came down. I hit another button and the rear windows came down. Okay, I thought, I'll get in back of this bastard and aim the remote straight at the offending door. The little electronic blips coming out of the obstreperous--nice word, no?--device will have a shorter distance, more direct route. That worked just fine, for a few seconds anyway. The rear door began to rise and I was feeling so proud of myself, having shown this gas-guzzler who was boss. And then the van took off. I stood there and watched this driver-less vehicle race down Fifth Aven...

Man, I had a hell of a time last night. I did a reprise of my solo show "Breathe With Me" at the People's Improv Theater last night and I had a blast. I rocked, I rolled, I was the Loch Ness fucking Monster. And the really incredible thing is that the rehearsals had gone so badly--even the most recent ones, where you think--you hope --you had gotten beyond the basic stupid mistakes. But there I was, flubbing lines, using the wrong words, forgetting whole sections of the damn show--I was ready to jump on the next freight train out of town. And to top it off, I came down with some kind of stomach bug, which I'm pretty sure was stress-related, because I feel better now--knock wood. I was so angry with myself, wondering why in the hell I had taken this on. I don't have enough on my plate, I've got to contend with this nutty vanity project to boot? Who wants to see some middle-aged bald guy from Brooklyn rant about the misery in his life? I wasn't sure I wanted...