Category Archives: Uncategorized

Spiderman lost his boot

by the Dinty Moore in the convenience store:


In order to express our sense of reality, we must use some kind of symbol: words or notes or shades of paint or television pictures or sculpted forms.  None of those symbols or images can ever completely satisfy us because they can never be any more than what they are–a fragment of a reflection of what we feel reality to be.

I really love that quote.  It gives such a sense of importance to creativity.  To everything we create–even creating a conversation.

Oh.  You know who that quote is from?  Mister Rogers. 

I’ve been working on a project related to Mister Rogers for a few weeks.  And it’s incredible.  I went into the project not knowing all that much about him, aside from his sweaters and his songs and his puppets.  The more I learn about him, the more daunted I am in some ways.  Because now I have such respect for him.  And now I feel such a responsibility to do a truly good job on the project.

I tripped crossing the street earlier.  The laces on my hiking boots got snagged and I started to go down.  I was carrying my laptop and books and a piece of Celeste Pizza for One.  I came so close to falling, but then somehow I recovered.  My laces had come undone, so I had to stop and retie them.  As I did I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me, but no one was. 

It was a welcome thing, though.  I’d been so lost in thought.  As always.  So I was grateful to be jolted to the present moment.  Sometimes days go by so quickly and I don’t even remember living pieces of them.

Back to the Mister Rogers quote.  In this moment, I relate to the sense of reality expressed in this song:

The world is beautiful and so are the chemicals that come together to create soft-serve goodness.

Every time I see someone walking down the street licking an ice cream cone, I think, I want to be walking down the street licking an ice cream cone.

It happened tonight on my way to work, so I stopped to get a cone.  It’s been happening a lot, actually.  So much so that I expect the guy at McDonald’s to see me and ask, “The usual?”  And then I’d get embarrassed.  But I think he likes being able to make my ice cream cone.  He always looks so proud of the cone he’s produced when he hands it to me.  Tonight the ice cream looked so perfect that I thought I should compliment him on his craftsmanship.  But I didn’t.

Leaving the store with my cone, I felt like I was in an advertisement.  The ones that make the world seem idyllic because one person will do one nice thing for another person and then that person is inspired to do a nice thing and the happiness and love carries on like waves on an unpolluted beach.  The McDonald’s guy put extra care into my cone, which made me happy, and then on the sidewalk I saw that a man had dropped a wad of cash, so I said, “Did you know you dropped that?” and pointed to his wad of cash, and he said, “Thank you!” and maybe he went on and pulled a woman away from a speeding taxi cab just before it crashed into her and broke her.  But I kept walking so I didn’t see.  Then a woman with a cane was approaching me on the same sidewalk, mere steps from the wad of cash guy, and she was laughing like she was full of life, the way that crazy people laugh when there’s no obvious thing to be laughing about.  But just after she passed me, she exclaimed, “Look at how she be licking that ice cream cone!”  So it turned out she was laughing at me.  And that filled me with joy.  Because she was right.  I was really licking that ice cream cone. 

(Note: I apologize for this post being an advertisement for McDonald’s ice cream cones, but I like them, despite the corporation that produces them and the terrifying list of ingredients.)


16,000 blueberries from one plant?  20 bowls per week? 4 pints of blueberries EVERY DAY?! I don’t trust these things:

Proverb of the Month!

Oh man, my blog is cool. No, really. This is going to be awesome.

A proverb, (from the Latin proverbium), is a simple and concrete saying popularly known and repeated, which expresses a truth, based on common sense or the practical experience of humanity. They are often metaphorical. A proverb that describes a basic rule of conduct may also be known as a maxim.

This is contentious stuff! I’m weary of any so-called “truths”. I’m also weary of “common sense” and “metaphors”. Metaphors are wolves howling at the moon on a foggy night. Metaphors are adults who still wet the bed and neglect to do laundry for two months. Oh, and yeah, that whole “basic rule of conduct” thing? Fuck that, too. That’s almost as bad as a metaphor. That’s so bad it’s like a simile.

Proverbs are lame. Especially when they’re included on the slips of paper inside fortune cookies that should be reserved for, oh I don’t know, FORTUNES.


Proverb of the month:

Two dogs fight for a bone, and a third runs away with it.

So, there you have it. This month, heed that wisdom and be a greedy pacifist bitch.

And another month has passed.

The month of May has always been close to my heart. My mom’s maiden name is May. My eldest brother was born in May. And, you know, flowers are nice.

Three weeks ago I went into one of those fast-food breakfast chains, bought a bagel with cream cheese and a medium hazelnut coffee, and then rushed back onto the street to catch a subway and a train out of the city. As usual, I was completely lost in my head. More than likely a little hungover. Slightly worried about missing my train. And drifting back and forth between allowing the universe to guide me wherever it sees fit and completely freaking out in an effort to figure out what to do with my life.

Anyway, I wandered onto the sidewalk, paper bag and styrofoam cup in hand. I waited at the curb for the red hand to turn to a white stick figure, at which time I would follow my fellow Queens pedestrians across the blacktop. As I stood there distracted, I heard a man yelling out behind me. It was obvious, for some reason, that the yelling was meant to get my attention. “MISS! HELLO, HELLO! MISS!” He was so frantic and excited, as though I’d just missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity, or you know, dropped an earring or something. So I turned to see a man waving and smiling at me as he leaned out of a convenience store window.

At the time I just thought, “Hmm. Men are so strange.” Which is probably a thought I have a good two to three times a day. I didn’t particularly recognize the man, so I just assumed he was a bored stranger in the middle of a 14-hour shift who was cat-calling to pass the time.

Have I mentioned how much I love cats?

Have I mentioned how much I love cats?

About a week later, train out of the city successfully caught, and then train back into the city also caught–I walked out of my apartment building on a mission to buy toilet paper at the 99 Cent Store next to the Strip Club. To get there, I had to pass the stoop next to my apartment building on which a middle-aged man sits each night. We small talk, chit-chat–you know, like real neighbors. He asks me when I’m doing laundry next. I ask him what kind of beer is in his brown bag. Put simply: we bond.

That particular night, though, I really didn’t have time to shoot the proverbial shit. The 99 Cent Store was about to close, the Strip Club was about to open, and yeah. Toilet paper was at a premium. So when I gave a distracted “Hello,” and continued walking, I was not in the mood to deal with his, “HELLO! MISS, MISS! HELLO!” But he was just so excited, so frantic, that I stopped.

And it was then that I learned my neighbor with the nightly stoop-sitting ways is the very same man who works at the convenience store next to the fast-food breakfast joint. He told me that his co-workers saw the whole ordeal. Heard him announce, “I know that girl!”, only to have that girl turn away and cross the street, her eyes showing no signs of recognition.

I apologized profusely. Our non-English-speaking super also leaned on the stoop, his head cocked, his lips curled into a perplexed smile. My neighbor shrugged off my apologies and said, “Next time you’ll know. You can have a soda on me.”

Five minutes later, toilet paper in hand, I walked by my neighbor and my super again. We all smiled in recognition at each other, but I already knew that I would likely never take my neighbor up on his free soda offer. I headed towards my own stoop, anticipating entering my bathroom where I’d replace the old roll with the new roll. My super waved. I waved back. My neighbor held up his brown paper bag, and in a one-sided toast, exclaimed, “Goodbye, Miss! Goodbye!”

Why is it so hard to embed things on WordPress?

I must be inept. But Stephen Colbert is so completely not inept it’s ridiculous. His scalding examination of Richard Branson’s attempts to prove his manhood made my week.

There was a profile of Stephen Colbert published somewhere in which he said that sometimes he the man agrees with the views of his character–this clip seems like that kind of instance.