26 October 2007

Two Reasons Why New York is Awesome

People in New York have some pretty crazy pets, don't you think? Just last night, as I was walking along 23rd St. after watching a comedy performance by the Raspberry Brothers a la MST3K/rifftrax over the Lost Boys, I saw someone "walking" their "snake". Let me explain the quotation marks. He was "walking" the "snake" in the sense that people carry those fake leashes that seem to have an invisible dog attached. That's what I thought of when I saw him. And it was a "snake", not in the sense of a pet snake, nor in the sense of his dick, which I could definitely imagine happening in New York, but in the sense of a two foot long fake snake sticking out of the crotch of his pants. This guy was walking along as if he was actually walking an actual animal. Fan-fucking-tastic.

This morning on my way to work I saw something a bit more ordinary, but nevertheless always brings a smile to my face. Those Asians are very talented at multi-tasking. They seem to be happy and able to do just about anything while smoking a cigarette, such as riding a bike, sweeping the sidewalk, or, like this morning, selling produce from outside the corner deli. The way the long ash hung menacingly on the end of the cigarette, threating to spill onto the "fresh" produce below just made it look that much more appetizing. Someone was making a purchase from this man as I walked by.

24 October 2007

Tonality, in a Superficial Sense

There's this nice boy I know that reminds me of this annoying boy I know. The nice boy is quite worthy of being fancied, I'd say, but he so reminds me of the annoying boy that I'm having a tough time fancying him. It's not so much the way he looks, though there's some resemblance in stature, and slightly in the face. The nice boy is better looking. It's more about the tone. The way he speaks. The way they both speak. When the nice boys speaks, I hear the annoying boy. See, the annoying boy is so very annoying. He fancies himself quite the Renaissance man, and loves to talk about it. "It" being his many and varied talents. Of which none are really very good, as far as I can tell. But maybe I'm biased because I find him so very annoying. That sort of kills everything else for me. Also, I tend to think that such annoying people can't possibly have any talent, well, at least what I think of as talent. However, the nice boy does have actual talent, so perhaps that will help me overcome this nasty case of cross identification.

23 October 2007

2nd Avenue Repaved, or, How I became Crippled

Right now, at this moment, 2nd Ave between 6th and 14th is being repaved. How do I know this, right now, at this moment, when I should be sleeping? I just witnessed it firsthand on my way back from dinner in Williamsburg. By the way, did you know that Bushwick Country Club has Jim Beam n' Coke slushies? Fantastic. Anyway. I became crippled on my way down 2nd.

It's my own fault, really. I should know better than to wear these heels. In my defense, they're usually fairly comfortable. Or at the very least, not that uncomfortable. I'm frequently accused of walking too fast (you know who you are, accusers!), and unfortunately I don't slow down any when I wear heels, don't shorten the strides at all, just power walk right along, as usual. If you can imagine, not a delicious way to walk in heels. I believe it may look sexy, but at the end of the day it feels like hell.

The thing is, though, I didn't really expect to be doing much walking tonight. From my apartment to the bus to the train, the train to the 'burg, and back, blah blah. But there was a glitch in my plan. See, on the way back, I have to get off the train at 1st Ave and walk to 2nd Ave to get the downtown bus. Already on the train I was agonizing over having to walk that block to the bus stop. I even considered going allll the way to 6th Ave to catch the downtown F, but that would be so lazy! But in retrospect, would have been a wise decision. When I got to 2nd Ave, it looked rather deserted. Oh look, there's orange barrels blocking it off, and in case people didn't pay attention to those, a huge truck parked across the avenue to prevent anyone from going down. Those bastards are repaving again! I swear to Christ they repaved 2nd Ave in the last 2 years. Or maybe it was the side streets in the East Village. Turning back seemed such a sad thought. I thought I'd have a better chance going down 2nd and hopefully catching the bus further down. Fool! As I hobbled along the avenue, I realized there would be no bus for me.

However, it was quite fun watching the spectacle of repaving, and the fools trying to cross the street. I could feel the heat on my skin from the freshly laid pavement, while at the same time watching some asinine girl and her douchebag boyfriend get ready to bounce across the street, just as the flattener roller thing was going to pass by. Like that thing in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", the thing that flattened the bad guy, what was his name again? And then Eddie, Eddie Valiant, threw a black hole on it so he wouldn't get squished? Right? It's been a while. Man, that Jessica Rabbit.

The repaving itself was enthralling. Most of the side streets were blocked by big trucks parked in the middle. There were a bunch of trucks full of tar lined up at the end of the line, between 5th and 6th. The trucks attach to this tar laying machine, somehow. They slowly dump their load (heh) through this thing that lays it on the ground and smooths it down a bit, in preparation for the flattener thingie. A bunch of guys walk along with it, but one of them has this broom type thing (you like my technical jargon??) that he uses to push the excess tar onto the wet tar side, so it can be flattened with the rest. After the truck is empty of tar, it detaches and another one backs up to the machine to begin again! Maybe it's more fascinating in person. I did actually stop to watch this, and it wasn't just because I felt like one of Cinderella's wicked step-sisters. I predict tomorrow will involve a lot of sitting at my desk, and not much walking around on my lunch break. Maybe just to Pearl River.

10 October 2007

ANTI Anti-folk

What in mother fucking god almighty's name is this genre of so-called music referred to as "anti-folk" wherein young females (and sometimes males, though the broads are what concern me here) purporting to be musicians of the "singer songwriter" variety warble like pigeons while putting on a show of strumming on a guitar or pounding out a few notes on a piano?????? I can't watch a single goddamn TV show without being put through the agony of a commercial that Regina Spektor or one of her (unfortunately) many sound-alikes provided the "musical" distraction for.

Don't offend me or real musicians by citing the likes of Bjork, Siouxsie Sioux, Tori Amos, Holly Golightly, Liz Phair (the list goes on and yes there is a long list of actually
talented female musicians) as influences for your empty, uninspired "music". You cunts don't even deserve to listen to them, never mind have their names pass through your wizened, sallow lips.

Regina Spektor and her shitty copycat followers can take a fucking hike back to whatever god forsaken hole they crawled out from under to torture my poor aural sense. Please note that I have nothing personal against Regina Spektor. She may even be nice, but that's unlikely as she's Russian, and most Russians are big, gaping assholes. Prove me wrong, just try.

Bat For Lashes. Now there's a girl band I can get in bed with. I mean get on board with.