I hope that I'll get old before I die

I was going to write about this past Thursday and how my father was awarded an honorary Doctorate in Divinity from the Jewish Theological Seminary, and I probably will within the next few days, but before that I feel compelled to write about a member of my father's congregation.

Jesse (last name with held for anonymity - also I have absolutely no idea what his last name actually is) has been a member of the Marathon Jewish Community Center (for some reason they don't use the word synagogue or temple in Queens, everything is a "community center") for quite some time. As an active member he enjoys celebrating his birthday after services on the Saturday closest to his actual day of birth by sponsoring a lunch or some sort at the "temple." This past Saturday we celebrated his one hundred and first birthday. Let me repeat that. HE'S ONE HUNDRED AND ONE YEARS OLD. He was born November 24, 1904.

Please shake from your minds the idea that he is some old bed ridden feeble asthmatic forgetful old man. He is as spry as a man in his eighties. He walks everywhere. Everywhere. He walks to the supermarket, to the drug store, to temple. He probably isn't allowed to drive anymore but still, it's a hell of a lot of walking. He even walks in the annual Israeli day Parade in Manhattan every year. At age 101 he has only just recently started to use a walker because he had some sort of accident about a month ago. In fact I'm starting to suspect he is actually Colonel Steve Austin and not the nice Jewish old man he who sits six rows up from the bimah every Saturday morning.

Forsaking the amount of money (six million dollars) put in to his body (we have the technology...) I find it helpful, to really put in all in perspective, to discuss what this man has witnessed throughout the course of his life. Just some of the major plot points (not necessarily in linear order).

-World War one, 1914-1918
-The great depression, 1929
-The invention of Marshmallow fluff, 1917
-The mass production of the and eventual commonplace of the Automobile
-Charles Lindbergh's first nonstop transatlantic flight aboard the Spirit of St. Louis, 1927
-The invention of the Oreo Cookie, 1912 (which actually came second to the now defunct Hydrox cooki,e 1908 - personal aside: I miss Hydrox and always liked them better than Oreos)
-17 Presidents of the United States (From Teddy Roosevelt to Bush the second, Presidents in between of note: all of them)
-World War Two, 1939-1945
-The creation of the state of Israel (big deal for the Jews), 1948
-The growth of America from 48 states to the whopping 50 we are today: Hawaii + Alaska, 1959
-The first man in space, 1961
-A man walking on the Moon, 1969
-The creation and dissolution of the Bull Moose political party, 1912-1916
-Fourteen near presidential assassinations (Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, Truman, Nixon, Ford - twice, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton - three times, and Bush two - twice so far); 1912, 1933, 1950, 1974, 1975 twice, 1979, 1981, 1993, 1994- twice, 1995, 2004, 2005; and one actual assassination (JFK) 1963
-The film "The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai across the 8th dimension" 1984
-Korean War, 1950-1953
-Vietnam War 1965-1973
-Gulf War 1991
-Iraq War 2004 - ?
-Bud Bowl one through seventeen 1988- present
-The Red Sox winning the World Series in 1918 then again in 2004
-The civil rights movement
-Gay marriage legalization (at least in one state) 2003
-The rise of radio and then consequently the demise of radio followed by the rise of Television
-And though there are many more, in my mind the most important: The invention of Tang (The Greatest thing to come of the NASA!) 1957

He is literally four times older than I am. He has children, grandchildren and great grandchildren (and if he keeps this up he'll be alive with great-great grandchildren) During his 99th birthday celebration he turned to the congregation and said, "I'm thankful for the past ninety-nine years I've had and for the one year I have left." I don't know whether he expected to die at age 100, or just meant he was excited to reach a full century. Either way he has outlasted his own expectations as he's 101 and still kicking strong. The way things are going I almost expect him to outlive me; petrified of death as I am, for some reason, I'm OK with that.


(all information only half ass researched using the internet, mostly wikipedia, where you all can go to verify the facts)

An ever growing portfolio

It's odd, every so often finding myself with nothing to write about. I don't know how people manage to post everyday and continue to be interesting. I'm trying to get back into prose writing, as the past year was mostly spent on screenplays and comic book scripts (had an artist, lost the artist, now still looking for an artist). I've decided to try and send my stuff out (once it's all good and polished and such) to some magazines and wait for the rejection letters to role in. Straight prose fiction has never really been my thing but I'm going to give it a shot.

And in the efforts to build my writing portfolio you can all go to The Noyse and check out my Newest Editoral.

Also, what does <3 mean? I've seen it on a few teen blogs and have yet to figure it out.

It's late and I'm cranky

Retail. I quit retail to get a real job that I'd like. Bah, apparently the jobs that I like don't like me. It's incredibly demoralizing to be honest. Everyday I have to keep a chipper attitude, thinking positive, and every day I go to sleep disapointed. I don't want to be stuck doing something I hate for the rest of my life and I don't want to work my way up into middle managment at some corporation that sells overpriced crap to idiots, and I fear if I go back to retail that's exactly what's going to happen to me.

The hardest part is keeping a positive facade. I know, I know, I never seem positive or cheery on this blog, but that's because it's my blog. In real life when ever anyone asks I have to pretend it's going well, keep up appearences. After a while it really hits home - gets me in the gut that I'm broke, in debt, without health insurance and about to go back to doing one of the things I hate most in the world. I know I shouldn't complain because there are tons of people out there worse off than I am, who don't have the same support system I have in place family , freinds, et cetera. Realizing I'm better off than many doesn't really take the sting away, rather increases it as to how much crap there is out there. There has been a panic attack building which I have been supressing as best I can that I think is just going to burst soon, and am scared it's going to be an all out nervous breakdown since I've been holding it in for so long.

I don't know. All I know is that I'm sick of where I am and what I am (and am not) doing. It's not the rejection that gets me, it's the fact that I'm not even getting any consideration, I get no calls for interviews, and no one takes my call when I try to be assertive. And it isn't like I'm applying to jobs I'm not qualified for. Everything and everyone I've sent my resume to has been for something I am more than qualified to do (much of it has been stuff monkeys are qualified to do, at least monkeys with a college degree).

I'm not looking for pity, I'm not looking for compasion, I'm not looking for anything. I just needed to vent and delay the panic attack I felt building up inside. My next post will probably ignore this one completely as that's what I've been doing, ignoring the crap until it piles up so high it can't be ignored. This just raises the wall a little higher to keep it from tumbling down, at least until next time.

And because this has been such a whiny and annoying post (I know I'd find it whiny and annoying if it wasn't about me) I will leave you with something fun (if offended by bad language do not click on link).

A day of writing

It's been a while since I've updated Symphony of Sweets, and I've been meaning to (for the very few people that might actually be reading it) only I don't like the way it's went and I'm having a hard time getting the next chapter out. I though putting myself in a bind with a structure would help, only now I'm just disapointed with my work. I will get back to it soon (I just started on the first chapter for the seventh time and I think I have something), but until then feel free to check out my newest brainstorm on my Fiction Blog.

Whenever I am stumpted on something I want to write I wind up writing something else far more silly, just to cleanse the my writing palate. It keeps me fresh and keeps the weird fun stuff from infecting the stories I'm more passionate about. It's not a finished work as I don't know what's really going to happen next, and I thought this would be a perfect time to get feedback (if any of you are so inclined to read thet story) so I can mold the story into what it will become. Read it, don't read it, at least it keeps me off the streets yelling at strangers like a crazy old man.

I love canadians

I do, but that is really neither here nor there.

If you are at all interested, I wrote a review for The Squid and The Whale, which can be read Here at TheNoyse.com.

pins and needles (well really just needles)

I gave blood today. The nurse wasn't so good and my arm is still in pain (and cold, but the cold is normal when I give blood, the pain has usually gone away by now) and the puncture point is definitely going to bruse, which I could have lived without. My blood is A- which I already knew, and my brother loves lording it over me that he has O- ("My blood will definitely save a life while your's might just languish in the banks till it's no good anymore). The funny thing is both my parents have Positive blood types while myself, and at least one of my siblings have Negative blood types. Genetics is wacky.

Speaking of wacky, go to Stellito's blog here and click on the link she provides in the post. It's quite possibly one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

Seacrest, Out.
(What a tool)

looking down my nose (but not seeing much because it's so big)

I recently sent of an application to a website to review movies for them (not just out of the goodness of my heart, I'd be paid to do it). The application was simple. First was basically a short bio explaining why they should consider me a Snob (their term for their reviewers). The second part was a writing sample.

I haven't written anything on my blog for a few days, and still don't have much to report or to really say, so in lieu of a regular entry I shall present you with my answer as to why I am (or can be) a film snob. Only now do I notice my mistake: I used the phrase "when it's all said and done" twice, and I probably shouldn't have used it even a single time. Ahh, cest la'vie.

When it's all said and done, I don't think anyone wants to be a snob. What we do want, however, is for people to consider our opinions above those of anyone and most everyone else. The real problem is convincing the world that our opinions are worthy of said consideration. I graduated from Emerson College with a degree in writing and a strong background in media history and theory. If you need a guy to write a article on post-modern, post-structuralist, anti-essentialist, lesbian, independent cinema, I'm your guy. I can get into the history, background, evolution and artistry in film.

At the same time I'm a big dork. I wish it weren't so, but alas. Just because I know the big words and how they're used, and when they should be used, does not mean I only watch films where those "big words" can be applied. I can dig on the pop stuff too. As a fan of comic books I'm usually the first one in line for the next bright, four color, multi-million dollar adaptation. Simultaniously, due to my background, I'm usually also the first in line to see Jim Jarmusch's newest film.

I know movies. I know good movies, I know bad movies, and I know movies that are so bad they're good. When it's all said and done I am a connoisseur of story and that is why my opinion matters - why I should, as you put it, be a snob.

Haikus for yous

Bad poetry because I'm in that sort of mood.

Short staccato verse.
latent emotion evoked.
Style dictates content?

29 Beckwith drive.
Longmeadow, Massachusetts
Amichai J. Greene

Dessert for breakfast
cannot nearly compare to
breakfast in the desert.

Wasting all my time
writing nonsense instead of
searching for a job.

Heavens, the fever - she is upon me

Still sick. Still achey. Still nausious. Still trying to break out of my feverous delusions. I have not vomited, yet I see it as an eventuality; it's not a matter of if, just when. Hopefully some hot tea and the 60 degree (farenheit) weather outside will do me some good.

Something I forgot before. I didn't list Rawbeans Rant as a blog I read regularly, only I do read it regularly so now it is listed.

Also, for the love of pete, people - you should all go out and read Stellito's blog. Please, for your own sake.

new blogs that I like

So it's Saturday night and I should go out and have fun. I haven't actually gone out and had fun in a long time (at least two months). Lily (my brothers girlfriend), as I mentioned two posts previous, just turned 24, and tonight she is celebrating her birthday. First, dinner at some vegi chinese place in chinatown then drinks at some dive bar (which as a prerequisite must have a photobooth - as per Lily's birthday wishes) somewhere in alphabet city (on avenue B or D, I can't recall). Granted I would hang out with all my brother's frieds (I have no freinds in Manahattan yet - or queens for that matter), but that will most likely be fun. I do have a tendancy of being incredibly awkward at all times (those who know me personally can back this up) and that might not be such a good thing amungst strangers. Regardless I don't even know if I'm going as I am coming down with a cold. I either got it from my father or a different brother, both of whom are sick. Today is the first day and I know it's just going ot get worse tomorrow. I ache like nobodies business (as if someone lubricated all my joints with battery acid) and my head just started pounding. I took some tylenol, which has eliminated my symptons, albeit temporarily. The scary thing is I can feel my heart beating. Psuedophedreine (sp?) causes your heart rate to increase. I took an anti-histamine pill and though it's probably just my hypochondria, I think I can feel my heart beating much more quickly in my chest. It's not a big deal as it often happens when I take anti-histamines, but it isn't very comfortable.

I'm also very poor, as in quite literally broke (well more than just broke since I'm in debt up to my eyebrows - damn expensive college loans) so I don't even know if I can afford dinner and drinks, let alone just dinner, or just drinks. I would very much like to celebrate Lily's birthday but I think destiny is forcing me to do otherwise and once again stay home and watch TV (maybe with a nice bowl of soup and copius amounts of tea).

Regardless, tonight I have decided (inspired by lady hearteater) to throw out some links to other blogs I read. Some in fact I just started reading, while others I have been reading for a while. None of which are linked in my sidebar. I should probably do that too (at least with some of them) but I'm sick and far too lazy to really go into my template and do the additions. When I feel better....

But until then:

Lunatic Fringe just news and stuff, but I like how he writes it.

Ten Minutes Older a clever hopeful british film maker who has described herself as over educated and under employed - and I can completely relate to that.

Clandestine Call Girl This one really blew my mind. I'm pretty sure it's legit. It's the online diary of a woman who lives a normal life like all of us, yet on the side she's a proffessional escort. I actually took a day to go through and read all her old entries. From a psychological standpoint it's riviting (also she has a nice writing style that makes the blog very accessable).

XoTessamarieoX I love Jazi Fizzle!. Two blogs from two forteen year old girls. It's not riviting, or even that interesting, but I never had sisters, and there is something very interesting getting into the head of a someone who is so alien to me.

Friday's Web Most people who read my blog probably read hers first so there isn't much I need to say. If you haven't read it, you should check it out.

Lady Hearteater. Ditto with what I said about Friday's Web. Another fun lady with a fun weblog.

Now don't say I never gave you anything.

The secret true history of Amichai (an awfuly long post)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Birthday Blog

My youngest brother Asaf has officially turned 18 as of today! He can get drafted and vote; he can buy lottery tickets, cigarettes and porn. He can also purchase items previously unavailable to him in stores; that's right, the home shopping network and other special TV adds have opened their arms to him with all the useless gadgets the world has to offer - provided he's willing to shell out only four payments of $19.95 (plus shipping and handling).

And the final nail in the coffin that was his youth: he can have consensual sex with someone his own age legally and not be accused of statutory rape (not that he was ever accused of statutory rape, justing saying that as long as he stays sexually active within his own age group he'll never have to worry about it - also, who would want to rape a statue anyway?). That's right boys and girls, the government no longer has any say regarding his sex life.

But the happiness doesn't stop there. Not only is it Asaf's birthday today but Lily, Hillel's (the eldest of all three of my younger brothers) girlfriend, was born 24 years ago today. This isn't that big of a step for her as she can already purchase lottery tickets, cigarettes, porn, and the other junk only available through this special one time TV offer. But it is a momentous day for her as well because; well, just because it's fun to enjoy a birthday. I do feel bad for her though, she is allergic to wheat and it's difficult to find a birthday cake she can eat. Last weekend Hillel did a test run for a chocolate cake using spelt flour instead of wheat from a recipe in Gourmet Magazine. They way I see it, that's true love.

Happy birthday to all and to all a good night (or afternoon, or whatever time is when you read this)

Secrets: Lies and Truths

Ten secrets (and not so secrets). Half are true, half are false, but I won't ever say which is which.

1) I have never been trick or treating.

2) In the seventh grade I nearly killed my best freind with an unsharpened pencil.

3) I have never been in love.

4) I'm still scared of what may be lurking behind a closed shower curtian

5) At 20 years old I realized at a lame college party I had a crush on the guy I went with and not the girl I was trying to pick up.

6) I want to die on an absinthe bender when I'm in my thirties amidst a bonfire of all my unfinished and unpublished work. I don't care what happens to the ashes.

7) I lie more often than I tell the truth (about anything and everything)

8) I tell the truth more often than I lie (about anything and everything)

9) I hate Grape Jello.

10) I am brillaint in bed.

for your edification

I just posted the newest chapter of A Symphony of Sweets on my Fiction Blog. I know techinically I'm late but I'm bending the rules just because of the holidays. this month is filled with Jewish Holidays that just slam into you one right after the other. First Rosh Hashana, the new year, two days long. Ten days later Yom Kippur, the day of repentance, one day long. Five days after that, Sukkot, a harvest holiday, eight days long (though only seven in Israel - I'm not going to get into the detials of jewish law here, just trust me on that). The final two days of Sukkot (In Israel just the last day) are holidays within a the holiday. Shmeeni Atzeret (to be honest I'm not quite sure what the deal is, with this one, I think it has to do with rain and such) and Simchat Torah.

Simchat Torah is actually a pretty fun holiday. A chapter of the Torah (five books of moses) is read every week during saturday morning services. Simchat Torah is the day of celebration when we finish the last chapter of the Torah, then start all over again for the new year. It's as big deal. Big party. In your sunday best (for jews I suppose it's our saturday best) you go to synogogue, hear the first and last chapter of the torah, then everyone dances and sings and gets drunk. As the way the jewish calendar works each day actualy starts at sunset so the holiday starts in the evening. As such the biggest party is in the evening. Some streets in Manahattan actually close to traffic so the Jews can empty from the synogogues dancing with the torahs and each other and singing mostly jewish folk songs and such. The drinking is done before, after and during.

So I'm not complaining that there are so many holidays, just that they come with such quick succession It's hard to get any work done. That's why the posting of the newest chapter is a bit delayed this week.

For those wondering Simchat torah starts this Tuesday night, so if you're bored this tuesday, regardless whether you are Jewish or not, you might want to check out what the local synogogue is doing. Services are always free as are drinks (though said drinks are usually schnapps of some sort and or Manashevitz wine). That's what I'll be doing anyway.

Happy holidays.

again, too much time on my hands

First I noticed that my previous post was posted twice on the same day for some reason. I deleted the duplicate as duplicates are rarely good (my twin brother found that out the hard way, he will be missed) and now the site is clean. Well, clean in the sense that it's orginized.

Boy howdy, I am not a goth (I don't think I'm an "anything" save really big dork) but I took what I believe to be a very scientific test and found out that if I was a goth this would be me:


Girl Name: Mistress Acaia

Guy Name:Sir Sebastain

* I see
sadness in your heart*

You carry too many
secrets in your heart. You should really try
and vent about things more often.


What Is Your Goth Name?
brought to you by Quizilla

So true, so true.... er what?

post script extra trivia point. Though completely coincidental, Sebastion was also my German name for that one year I studied German in high school. No, I didn't pick the name in either case, but apparently the cosmos is trying to tell me something. I figure I'm either supposed to change my name to Sebastion, kill someone named Sebastion, or marry someone named Sebastion. None of the choices are very appealing as: I like my name; I have taken a vow never to kill (again); and I don't know of any straight women named Sebastion. In theory I could marry a man (as it is legal in my home state of Massachusetts) but contrary to my mother's suspsions (she won't ever admit she suspects, but it's obvious she does) I am not gay. I just wish the cosmos would be more specific.

most people suck

As mentioned in previous posts, I am a member of Triggerstreet.com. It's an online forum and workshop for screenwriters and filmmakers created by Kevin Spacey in order to weed out new talent from outside Hollywood. There are over 2000 members and it is free to join. I post under the name Chrysalis because I joined before my epiphany.

Anyway, the dork that I am, I read and post on various threads on the message boards, usually the ones devoted to specific aspects of writing. One such thread was a discussion as to how much one should focus on format when reviewing and rating other people's scripts. There were some complaints that some members are sticklers when it comes to "proper format". I put that in quotes because the main arguement against said sticklers is there is no completely standard screenplay format.

Thing is, there is a stanard format, it's just much more fluid that we give it credit for. In my opinion, format is important (bad formating says almost as much about the writing as it does the writer and distracts from the story) but shouldn't come close to over shadowing the story or the characters in regards to importance in reviewing. A happy middle ground.

But that's all background for this next bit. Because there is some arguement as to what is or is not proper format one member wrote:

"ironically, even the farmat Nazis can't agree on what format is."

First off, that's his misspelling on format, not mine; so there's that. But I let that one slide. What really bothered me was the usage of the word Nazi. And in response (and I guess the fault really is mine because I started this whole stupid thing) I wrote:

First this is my little side rant, (my pet peeve if you will), I know it wasn't meant this way, and this isn't a dig towards the writer, but I really can't stand it when the term nazi is used so loosely. To compare someone who is strict in regards to grammar, spelling, or the sales of soup (regardless as to how funny it is - and that was a funny seinfeld episode) to an ideology of genocide, never sits well with me. One would never call someone else a "spelling klansman", it sounds silly, and that's basically what I hear when I read the word nazi thrown around as such. But that's my thing and this is the end of my rant.

You can judge, but I tried to be civil whilst still getting my point across. My next paragraph (which I won't bore you with) was basically a summery of my thoughts on format, as previuosly discussed in the beginning of this post.

The responses I recieved? Damn did they get my blood boiling. The first basically said (boiling down to the essentials) that I justified the terms usage in my own paragraph because,

But isn't one writer comdemning another writer for being outside their parameters a form of literary genocide?

Not only was that one of the stupidest things I've ever read, I don't know what literary genocide is, save perhaps the wholesale slaughter of authors and poets then burning their work. And I'm pretty sure that's not what this person meant because said member went on and wrote about writers as artists and thinking out of the box and such while not worrying about the little bits and peices. It was a shame really as before I read this post I had some respect (via prevoius posts on different matters) for this member.

The second response - and god, I hope there will be no more - quoted my work then wrote:

wow, you're the biggest semantics nazi I have ever seen.

I've never wanted to kick anyones front teeth in more than I did to this member after reading the post. The term annoying monkey molesting stupid fucking douchebag bastard (commas omited intentionally) is one I rarely dust off, but in this members case the moniker fits because said member really is an annoying monkey molsesting stupid fucking douchbag bastard (and I have the pictures to prove it).

Hedonism bot's favorite websites

My brother just bought seasons three and four of futurerama which is why the title.

Anyway, I'm not nearly as frivolous and celebrity obsessed as these links make me seem. But I thought they were funny, and though most people out there probably already know what they are (as I found the second from the first) they are new to me.

Any for your hedonistic pleasure I give you
Go Fug Yourself
And
White Trash Palace

me being me

I'm behind in my plans, slacking, basically just being myself. I am co-writing a short script with some guy in England and we are working entirly over e-mail. The final work is due on Halloween and I haven't even written the first draft yet to send to him to retool. I have to get on that. I also said that I'd update my online novel A Symphony of Sweets weekly, yet I haven't updated it this week yet. That means if I don't write the next chapter today I've already failed my own expecations and goals. So, today, I shall write the next chapter and it will be posted before sunset eastern standard time on my other blog. Why before sunset? Because that's when I turn into a horrid bloodsucking beast from beyond the grave. That, and it's when shabbat (the sabbath) starts and computer usage is a no-no on the shabbat.

I fasted yesterday for Yom Kippur, and today (with out going too much into detail) my stomach and bowels are exacting their revenge for being so horribly neglected. If only I could convince them that it was not neglect rather a spriritual necessity. Alas, my bowels are not spritual by nature and mock my attempt at purity (my stomach just chuckles, always cowtowing to peer pressure from my other organs).

In other news some investment company or something like that saw my resume on Monster and left a message on my machine to schedule an interview. I need the interviewing practice so I shall call them back, but I am a bit scared as the only companies who have found my resume without my prompting seem to be the same companies who want to suck my soul out of my body through my nose (always through the nose, I can think of other places I'd prefer them to suck my soul out through, but it's not very polite mention such things in mixed company). I can't imagine this investment company is much different as I have absolutely no experience in money managment or investing. I figure it's like all the others and they are some sort of direct marketing firm, or want me to cold call people to sell bad investments. I shall schedule an interview none the less because beggers can't be choosers.

So, uh, carry on then....

Edit 5:30 PM
I have now uploaded the newest chapter ( Prelude part two) and it is available for your viewing pleasure. It's not as good as I want it to be, but as I concieved and wrote it in an hour I don't think it's that bad.

So you think you're cool?

Well there's really only one way to find out.

One day I hope I will no longer need to pimp my own work, but until that day, the scarce readership that I have, please check out my new article What is Hip? featured at The Noyse.

Just remember, whether you are hip or not, I still love you and you're far better off than this guy.

octopussy

I think my brother's cat is spying on me. As I sit here typing away he (the cat) lays pretending to sleep. How do I know it's pretending? It's right front paw is draped over it's eyes (a wierd sleeping position to say the least). I think it's trying to trick me, see even though the paw is draped over the eyes, its eyes aren't closed, and it's peeking out at me from behind its own paw. Watching me. I don't know what it expects me to do, but there we go. It'd be really cute, if it wasn't so freaky.

I can imagine it slinking off to it's own tiny computer later, typing away in its sending a message to its kitty overloards:
Slept most of the day, watched the strange new human who has arrived. He is different than all the others; he doesn't leave as frequently, in fact I'm beginning ot suspect he is like me, and isn't allowed out of the house. In other news, the older female human once again stole my excrement. Almost every day the humans come down and scoop it away. I can't imagine what they use it for, or what they want it so badly. I must observe some more. But I need to be subtle, I think the new human was onto me, so to throw him off I immediatly started cleaning my genitals. I got so, er, carried away, that I did not notice him leave. I must go, I hear them fast approaching.

End communications

A symphony of sweets

I'm going to try something I never have before. As a writing excersize I'm going to attempt to write a novel. But more than that, I'm going to attempt to write most of it on my other blog, As of yet untitled. Basically I'll be using that blog as a rough draft. The first thoughts and first drafts for chapters will be posted with no particular deadline in mind. I'm doing it as such half because its a convinient place to save my work, and to add to it from where ever I happen to be (and from what ever computer I happen to be on). I have a few ideas as to what is going to happen, but basically I'm going to be making it up as I go. I am going to try and add a chapter once a week. I'm not going to devote the blog to the novel as I plan on occasionally dropping in a self contained short story, but I am trying to figure out how to create a subsection devoted solely to the novel.

I just posted Prelude part one for said novel, which from now on will be called A Symphony of Sweets. You can check it out HERE

As always comments and thoughts on the fiction is always welcomed.

Prelude Part one
Prelude Part two
Prelude Part three

Damn dirty computer

So there is a bunch of blogs I read on a daily basis. Most of them you can find in the link section. There are a few that I read that aren't linked whom I found through Cute Little Box's Blog (RIP). I have them bookmarked in my computer for easy access. Unfortunately, my computer is not connected to the internet after the move and I've been using my mother's laptop. As such I don't remember the addresses off the top of my head and I haven't been able to read them. To the writers of said blogs (hopefully you know who you are), I will find you again, and I will read what I've missed because I can honestly say I've missed it. It's odd the type of attachments that grow, and how I do want to know what you'll come out with next.

where to go from here

So...

I've only been here for a week and already I'm sick of the place. I love my family and all but I gotta get a place of my own. It's been a freaking year of this stupid job search and getting absolutely bubkis. I say I want to write but I don't really do anything about it. Thing is, I don't really know where to start. I write, mostly fiction, so I guess what I really need to do is look for small magazines that publish fiction, build a portfolio. I should probably do the same with some non fiction, only I don't know where to send my stuff. Research. I write for The noyse but that can't be it. I need a real paying gig. Trying to figure out how to accomplish this. Anyway, that's enough for now. I think I'm good enough, I just need to actually go out and do it now. We'll see what happens. All I know is my allergies are really killing me and I have to get out of Queens.

I'm wiped

I'm so fucking beat. Pardon my language but honestly, the house in queens is wicked small and there isn't enough room for everything, and the basement floor won't be finished until november (it's only half done now). So much stuff coming back and forth between the house, the cars, and the garage. My arms are bruised from carrying so much stuff. There is probably a lot I can write about but I'm far too tired.

Instead feel free to read my review of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride over at The Noyse.

I'll probably be absent for the next few days as it is the Jewish New Year and I am a practacing Jew (practice makes perfect, and I figure I'll get it right one day, right now though, boy do I need the practice).

On a plus note, a script I wrote just to see if I could write a noiresque sci-fi just got to the top ten over at Triggerstreet. It's always the one you don't expect. I spent years of my life on a script and it doesn't break 300. I spend a month writing this one (you can't download it without joining Triggerstreet) and bang, it hits the top ten. It's never what I expect. And if you happen to check out Triggerstreet you will notice that someone named Chrysalis who may or may not be a bunny is the reviewer of the month. For those curious, Chrysalis is my Triggerstreet psuedonym.

And here I'm going to check out. The Red Sox are up 7-1 on Yankees, so take that all my new neighbors (though since I'm in Queens they are probably Mets fans and don't really care). Cleveland lost (sorry dad) so the Red Sox is (are? grammatically I'm lost here) the wild card for the world series. I'm hoping for them going all the way again this year, but I'm not going to push my luck. As long as it isn't the Yankees, I'll be fine.

Movies are cool

Like always, if I don't promote my work, no one will. So, feel free to check out my review of The Transporter 2, at the Noyse HERE.

Bow your head

So Life as a Box has shut down. It seems it was hacked, or something along those lines (not really sure) and caused LB (Little Box) to quit with the blogging. It's a shame as I thought he really had something there. Hopefully he shall return someday, but until then...

There is a good deal I would like to write about, but the house has been sold and I am in the midst of moving out (temporarily to Queens, then from there, who knows) and don't have the time. Just wanted to pop in and lament the passing of LB's blog.

Oh, and as the link to LB's blog only leads to a tomb put up by the person (psuedonym of Necromancer) who destroyed it in the first place, I am removing the link from my link section. Now, it really is over.

Say wha?

First off I have to say posting is addictive. I posted then posted, and now am posting again. Hmm... what does that really say about my follow through? Well, not a lot really.

But this post isn't about me, well it is, as most posts in someway are about me. Instead lets say this post is more about a friend and me.

Which is to say it's not really about anything at all, or might not be about anything at all. I'm not sure. The thing is - I think a good friend of mine just tried to come out of the closet to me. I was on the phone talking to her, enjoying the conversation as I always do when speaking to this friend, then when I mentioned I planned on getting a hair cut this week (it's been a year and three days since my last cut) she mumbled something very quickly.

Now, her response is what befuddled me. In her muddled response affirming that yes indeed I should cut my hair, I think she tried slipping something in about being gay. One of those really awkward:

"Yes, the roast is delicious. I'm a lesbian. Can you please pass the gravy?"
"What did you just say?"
"I was asking for the gravy."
"Oh."

Granted it was a phone conversation and didn't occur anything like that (as there was no roast or gravy to speak of; though as I mention it, I am getting hungry) but had that general gist to it. The whole bit happened so quickly I wasn't sure if she actually said she was gay, trying to make a joke about my long and crappy hair, or it was something else all together. I can honestly say I'm not sure. And it really isn't something I can ask her. I mean I can ask her, I just don't know how to tactfully bring it up in conversation, and worse, I wouldn't know what to do if I brought it up and she said she was straight.

Friends have come out of the closet to me before. I know how to be supportive and nonchalant. I write nonchalant because sexuality really has no bearing on how I treat people. I have gay friends, I have straight friends; there are gay people I hate, there are straight people I hate. The reason I like and or hate these people has nothing to do with being gay or straight, but on the person's personality. And this friend who may or not be gay knows that about me. We've been friends for six years now and have shared many of the same friends.

Random aside. As I write this I am completely flipping out. I'm home alone, it's nearing midnight and I heard a huge crash sound coming from the other room. Let me repeat. I am alone and the crash came from the other room. In horror movies this is the point where you yell at the scream, "don't be stupid and check the noise, run away as fast as you can." Well, I got up and checked on the noise, because in real life that's what you do when you live alone - though on the other hand it's probably what you do when you die alone too. The shower broke and fell, crashing onto the tub making the noise. I don't know how, or why, as I never use that shower (I use the one downstairs) or how to fix it. I'm kinda freaked but I'm trying to move on. Though if this winds up being my last post ever, you'll all know it was the monster in the bathtub that did me in.

And if I ask and she says she's straight, what do I say next. It can't be like "oh, are you sure, cause I thought you were." What's the next sentence after she says, "no, I'm not gay"?

If she is gay she needs to deal with it in her own way and I respect that. I will admit that it does saddens me a little, if she is, that she isn't comfortable telling me yet. She's one of my best pals ever, her being gay won't change that. And if she thinks it will, what does that say about how she thinks of me? So I hope she isn't, not because I really care whether she's gay or not, but because I don't like the idea that she isn't comfortable telling me.

Why do I suck at life?

Just needed to get this out and have no other forum to do so. Just had a phone interview for a position at WGBH Boston, and I think I did all right, only maybe a bit too honest with questions like "what would your colleages say your three best work qualities are?" and "What would they say your worst is?" (the second one hurt much more than the first, obviously) I don't think I'm going to make it to round two, I don't find out until the week of the 26th, and probably won't post again until I do find out.

One question I thought was funny was "how do I set my priorities?" The first answer I thought of (but thankfully didn't say) was one my younger brother once used when asked the same questions: "I put them in a list and order them by level of importance, isn't that how everyone sets priorities?"

I'm sweating so much it's crazy. Man, I'm depressed.

I guess I'm it

I was tagged by Cute little box so I am completing this meme. I wasn't planning on posting again so soon as I'm still working out my stuff, but it seemed like fun and I was getting a little bored. I don't know when the next post will be and I'm just considering this post a short recess from my self-imposed absence. Anyway, without further elaboration or excuses (and pardoning the poor writing), here we go.

Ten Years Ago: I was just starting my sophomore year of high school. It was wicked freaky as most my freshman year was spent in in Israel and I had maybe three friends in my American high school. I had such an amazing time the year prior the first semester of my return I hated school. I wasn't a complete loser, but I was pretty close. The worst part was biology. It took me almost a semester to realize I had learned it all the material in Israel only now I had to learn the terms and names in English.

On the plus side I did make friends and was for some reason given the nickname Moses (which I was called even by people I didn't know) because apparently, Amichai wasn't Jewish enough for them.

Five Years Ago: I moved across campus starting my junior year in a new dorm. I went to a small college in downtown Boston, so across campus was really a seven minute walk across Boston Commons and the Public Garden. I moved because I wanted a single room, and I wanted something new and fresh as I had lived in the same dorm room for my freshman and sophomore years. Moving turned out to be one of the best things I ever did as most of my college friends I keep in touch with today are the friends I made at the new dorm.

A side note, the dorm was built in a brownstone on Beacon street (132 Beacon to be exact) and there were maybe 70 people living in the dorm total (compared to the 70 people per floor of the my previous dorm -13 floors total). Since I am a very forgetful person and didn't own anything of any value what so ever I never locked my dorm room door. I was scared I'd lose my key or lock myself out, both of which carried a fine as a penalty. Once Mike and Sara (two people who consequentially became some of my best friends) found out that my door was never locked they snuck in and messed with my stuff. Being something of an (and by "something of an" I mean complete and utter) absent minded doofus when they cleaned up my desk - didn't notice. Then they turned some of my stuff upside down (my calendar, a few business cards, and a small poster) and I didn't realize it. I am always fiddling with something so when I saw them upside down I figured I didn't it with out realizing it. They even switched two drawers in my dresser. When I woke up the following morning and opened the drawer for my socks I saw my pants. Instead of wondering how this switch occured I just assumed I was an idiot and forgot which drawer I put my socks in. It took about three weeks for me to think maybe something strange was going on.

One Year Ago: I quit my job at Kolbo Fine Judaica and moved out of my apartment in Somerville back to Framingham. Nothing else really exciting happened. Of mild interest, it will be exactly a year ago tomorrow that I had my last hair cut.

Yesterday: I hung out with my mom in the morning, scheduled a phone interview for a job at WGBH I really want (the interview is thursday at 11 am) went shopping for bread and fruit, then watched TV. I'm a pretty boring guy.

5 Songs I Know All The Words To: Basically everything by They Might Be Giants; Cosmic Dancer by Marc Bolan (though I prefer the Lo Galluccio version); Coin Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls; Down South, 10 Hours, I-5 by the All Girl Summer Fun Band; Punk Rock Girl by the Dead Milkmen.

5 Snacks: Oreos, Edy's whole fruit bars, Granny Smith Apples, Rum Raisin ice cream with carmel syrup and sprinkles, Zebra cakes.

5 things I would do with 100 million dollars: Buy six houses in Israel (one for each member of my immediate family), start my own production company (to print comic books and produce movies), Pay off my student loans and for my brothers college educations, I'd do the whole charity thing; maybe start my own non profit to subsidize grants to local artists and education initiatives, and roll naked in huge vault with what ever was left just like Scrooge McDuck.

5 Places I Would Run Away To: New Zealand (just to see the Kakapo Bird), Tzfat in Israel, Tokyo, Micronesia (but just general island hopping in the Pacific), Curocao.

5 Things that I'd never wear: Assless pants, Bike shorts, a toupee (don't need one, but as every male in my family over the age of 40 is bald or balding - both paternal and maternal sides of the family - I figure it's only a matter of time before genetics catches up with me), anything with a swastika on it, a parachute (well I would wear one, but I never plan on being in a situation where one is needed).

5 Favorite TV Shows: Simpson, Arrested Development, Barbershop, Deadwood, Gilmore Girls.

5 Favorite Joys: Don't really know how to answer this one. I'm not someone often filled with joy. In fact i'm not quite sure what joy feels like. I've been happy, celebratory, but never filled with joy (well there was this one girl I had a crush on named Joy but I don't think that counts).

5 Favorite Toys: All my old HeMan action figures (I don't play with them anymore but if we ware talking about all time favorite throughout the course of my life HeMan probably ranks near number one), My playstation 2, Shrinky Dinks - those things are awesome, My Computer (an old iMac, but it's still cool), my various frisbees (I love them all the same).

5 People I'm Tagging: I don't know if anyone reads this now, as I am not really posting, so I don't think anyone would know if I tagged them, but if you have read this entry, consider yourself tagged.

That is all for now (at least until I get my shit together or get bored once again).

Cat and Girl (and me)

As with most of my writing I've read over older entries of this blog and have found them to be lacking. They don't feel complete, missing a sense of a larger image in which they fit. As I read two ideas slowly crept into my head. The first: "Man I want a falafel." Followed almost immediately by: "Gasp! The imitative fallacy."

The first is pretty self explanatory, Falafel=Goodness. The second I'll take a moment to explain. For the unaware, the imitative fallacy is a trap many young (and even older) fiction writers fall into. The presentation of the plot imitates the themes and story, completely unintentionally. For instance, if you write a story about a race, where everything is speeding by, you might find that each paragraph is short, the sentences choppy, and the characters jump from one idea to the next very quickly, and none of it was planned when you started writing. The imitative fallacy is especially problematic if said style is bothersome to the reader (as stories that fall into the imitative fallacy often are).

Now how does this apply to my blog? I'm very glad you asked. I am unemployed drifting around aimlessly in a small suburban town. I have very little contact with my friends outside the phone and e-mail. No face time. I don't do much, as I said, I'm just sort of drifting trying to find a job (I had a job, I mean a good job, a job I'd like, not just a job but a Career). I'm 25 and I think it's time I started growing up. I don't want to get all stuffy in a suit and pants (pantsless employment=fun job or porn star, and I don't have the...ehem, body to be a porn star - nor do I think being a porn star would be a fun job, but that’s niether here nor there and this has become far too long of a parenthetical break) and just worry about money, and marriage, and children and all that other crap adults are supposed to worry about. But I also don't think I should still be bumming around working in a simple retail or coffee shop type job, not three years out of college with a nice (and expensive) degree.

I’ve looked back on my blog and found that the posts mimic my life. Drifting, aimless, self-contained, and searching for meaning. And really, that's just not good enough.

I just read the newest installment of my favorite web comic Cat and Girl and there was a line that really struck me. To quote, "If television's a babysitter, the internet is a drunken librarian who won't shut-up." I realized I didn't want to just be another voice of an endless "drunken" cacophony. So I'm taking some time off from this blog. I don't want to be profound (who really can be profound all the time, and those that are, man they're annoying), I just want to come up with a greater context.

I am still going to read all the blogs I read, because I like those blogs (noodles is posting again; I've said it before but I really, really dig her prose, both smart and funny - it doesn't get much better than that), but I'm refraining from posting until I find my context.

Or get really really bored, whichever comes first.

uh... carry on then...

just another 332 days to go

I know, I know, three posts in one day, do I even have a life anymore? Actually no, but that's neither here nor there at the moment. Onto the topic at hand.

It's early, but I totally know what I want for my birthday next year.

For the next 15 minutes

I know I don't have many readers. But I'm posting mostly just to keep myself occupied, and this blog is devoted to my own narcisism.

That being said, through no fault of my own, I think I may have stumbled on to the next big interet hype. I may be wrong but I think (update 5/28/07: link disabled due to the fact that the blog doesn't exist any more - I guess I was wrong) This Blog is going to become insanely popular soon. Get in on the ground floor now. It's quite possibly (as advertised) the cutest blog ever.

If I'm right, you've heard it here first. If I'm wrong, well, I'll just add it to the list.

Take that Lex Luthor

For truth, justice, and the...er...Surbian way.

Mork would want it this way

I really hope this is a joke.

Why didn't I see this sooner?

So Jon Stewart was on Crossfire last october and I never saw it untill today. It was freaking brilliant and if you haven't seen it I urge you to check it out.

Amichai's life Lesson #327

Never watch the Iron Chef when you're hungry.

I'm a stinker

Yesterday:

It was around 8:30 at night and I was driving home from the supermarket. A horrid popsicle craving struck me about a half hour earlier so I hit the supermarket hoping to find Edy's whole fruit popsicles. Alas, they were all out. In their stead I purchased a box of Tropicana popsicles; 12 for the price of 14 (advertised "made with real fruit juice" which kinda scared me that there are enough popsicle makers out there who don't use fruit juice for fruit flavored popsicles it has to be advertised as something special).

With the popsicle box open in the passenger seat and a raspberry popsicle in my mouth I hit the road feeling very pleased with myself. I was in no rush, the night air was cool, and even obeying the speed limit I was no more than ten minutes from home. The road was dark, quiet; the type of quiet found only in open stretches between adjoining suburban towns. You know, the noise disappears, just for a moment, woods wall the road, and even though you know in two minutes you are going to drive passed condominium complexes, at that moment the quiet makes you feel as if the world is actually a gentle place to live.

I left my windows open and the cool air rushed through the car. The road was empty, or so I thought as I was about to step down on the gas, forgoing the 35 mile per hour speed limit and race home to get the popsicles in the freezer. But just before I put any pressure on the gas pedal, a large, white, Cadillac SUV pulled up behind me and flashed its brights. I was caught a bit off guard, so when I didn't immediately accelerate to satisfy the drivers lust for speed the SUV's brights turned on, no longer flashing, but now glaring into my car. Popsicles or no popsicles, I was not about to be pushed around by some jerk. So I did what any other jerk would do. I slowed down.

I kept my car traveling down the quiet road at a few miles under the speed limit. And when the speed limit dropped I obeyed (probably the first time I ever have driving that particular road). Brights still glaring into my car, the SUV practically nipping at my back bumper, we remained like this for about a song and a half (the fifth and sixth tracks on Transatlantacism by Death Cab For Cutie).

Finally we got to a red light and I pulled into the left hand turn only lane. The White SUV pulled up to my side. From the driver seat a very addled woman, no older than 23, stared at me. She did not appear angry, just awfully confused. I suspect she was expecting a different sort of person behind the wheel of my car. Who she was expecting, I can't say.

So I waved, and smiled as sincerely as I could, because when you boil it down, I am, as Daffy Duck likes to say, a stinker.

Oh, and the popsicle was delicious.

Questions without answers

I don't support the war in Iraq, but that's old news and that isn't what this post is about. I just wanted to get it out of the way, and give a little background before I charge head first into this rant.

There's been more and more talk about Cindy Sheehan, in the papers, and on the various news programs. Whether she is vilified (say, by Foxnews), put up on a pedestal (MoveOn.org), used as a jumping off point for discussion (Newsweek) or mined for comedy (The Daily Show) no one can seem to shut up about her and her protest down in Texas.

Now whether you agree with her motives or not, you should concede it takes a very strong woman, and strong sense of commitment to do what she is doing. There are those who are denouncing her motives saying she is just using her grief and the death of her son for political gains, but then again many of those same denouncers are the ones who supported Terry Shiavo's parents who used their grief over their daughter for political gains (the denouncers political gains, not the parents). But the left isn't blameless either, just look at the recent attack adds on Judge Roberts NARAL pulled because they were just too damn mean (and by and large, blatantly ignored the facts). Both sides like twisting the truth for their own political gains.

To be honest, I don't really care about all of that. It's back story. Here's my real issue. In her protests Sheehan asked if this war was so important why hasn't he (President Bush) sent his daughters off to Iraq. This question, if you recall, was used by Michael Moore in his documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 as he approached Senators who voted for the war whether they would enlist their children to fight. The point being, if the Senators and President Bush aren't willing to sacrifice their own children it must not be a just war. I find that to be very flawed reasoning for a few reasons. First, I can't think of a single parent who would willingly sacrifice their children's lives for any cause. There are parents who swell with pride when their children choose to join the army, and fight for their country, even with a strong possibility that their children will die fighting. That being said, no parent I know would sign their children up themselves if given the choice.

Which brings me to the second reason. It's not the parents choice. My parents can't sign me up for the military. The only person who can sign me up is me. Even if they wanted me to be a soldier, if I didn't want to be a soldier, there was nothing they could legally do about it. The same is true for the first daughters. Even if President Bush wanted them in the army (which I doubt he does, as Jon Stewart of the Daily show said, "Are you kidding, I thought we wanted to win this war?") with out their consent he couldn't do anything about it, legally. The same applies to the children of Senators, or Congressmen or women. It's the children who have to choose to volunteer, that's why it's called volunteering.

The question "would you send your children to war?" is a divisive one. There is no way one can answer it and look good, sound good, or be righteous. It's asked simply to make the recipient look selfish, greedy, and - for lack of a better word - bad. Bad as in evil, morally repugnant, and hypocritical. These sorts of questions just make protesters on both sides of the aisle less palatable to the other side. They just entrench us in our beliefs that those on the other side are wrong as we think to ourselves: "I mean look at the kind of cheap tricks they pull to get some sympathy." To really spark a helpful debate we need to start asking better questions, not just divisive ones.

I'm a man a head of my times

Holy crap I'm psychic! But of course in the bad sorta way. If only I could predict good things to happen instead of this crap.

As reported in the Denver post:

Officials of the city's system, which this month pulled 6,000 racy Spanish-language picture books from its shelves, are worried that a full review of its 2.5 million books, CDs and videos may follow.

Doomed for all eternity, though I hear there's a starbucks there

Another stupid internet test.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Moderate
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Very Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

The virtuous non-believer thing makes sense, as I'm, you know, not a Christian. And I'd argue the fradulent bit, though you wouldn't know if was being honest or not. But lustfull? I think that's just a result of not having any sex for over a year. Er, was that too much information?

Crossing my fingers

I just sent my resume and cover letter off to a job I actually want. Wish me luck.

More of the inane

I stepped on my glasses and one of the arms snapped off. They're six years old so it's time for a new pair anyway, I just really liked them. They were one of the few things I owned that was stylish but not trendy or too hip to make them passe after a year or so. Ah, my glasses, I mourn thee.

If you're a guy...

You know your hair is too long if it gets in the way when you try and blow your nose.

this is such a pain in the...

For a while (as in this past month) I've had a pain shooting down the right side of my neck. As the time has passed it's dimmed to a dull throb, or disapears completely letting me forget about it, that is until I tilt my head up. Then the sharp pain kicks into gear. It's one of those things I'd like to think will just go away by itself. I should probably see a doctor, but I am poor and uninsured, so maybe a free clinic. If I was insured I still probably wouldn't see a doctor, because I'm just that sort of idiot.

Take that you hippie freaks!

As someone who has no health insurance I prefer to try and find ways to prevent illness without the use of proper medical advice. Echinacea has always been in my stock of preventative medicines, mostly in tea form for when I get sick. Echinacea and vitamin C (gallons upon gallons of OJ consumed regularly) were my main tools to stay healthy.

Apparently I was wrong. As reported in the New York Times (well really first in the New England medical journal):

Echinacea, the herbal supplement made from purple coneflower and used by millions of Americans to prevent or treat colds, neither prevented colds nor eased cold symptoms in a large and rigorous study.

Stupid hippies with their free love (which arguably is way better than paying for it) and herbal loving remedies. I'll never listen to you guys again. From now on all my medical advice will come from Emo-rockers, certainly they must know where it's at.

Juvenile delinquents

I always feel like such an idiot walking into the library, heading straight for the YA section to read the graphic novels (ie. comic books) I can't afford at the moment. I don't feel like an idiot because I can't afford them, rather that I have to walk into the section filled with 13-16 year olds playing some sort of online computer games, to get my graphic literature. I feels eyes boring into the back of my head as I browse ("look at that dork, still reading comic books").

Yeah, I like comic books, so what?

But shocked me the most is the nature of some of said graphic literature in the YA section. The librarians, who don't read the comics themselves (and I'm not advocating that they should, or that there is anything wrong with not reading comics) assume that if there are pictures it's for kids. This could get a library in serious trouble. Some comics contain images not suitable for young adults (at least by certain adults or parents).

For instance, if Preacher, the award winning series Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon, were made into a movie it would definitely be rated R. Strong religious themes and theological debates arise amidst a sea of sex, nudity, and blood. It is smart, funny, but with out a doubt adult (Adult as in a R rated movie, not a porno). If I had a thirteen year old child I probably wouldn't have a problem having him or her read it, but I know there are parents out there that would forbid it from their house.

And if teenager, or child took out a comic like Preacher from the library, and their parents don't approve of that sort of mature content for said child/teenager it's the comic that gets blamed for the content, not the library for putting it in the wrong section because "comics are for kids."

I know, I know, this is just a hypothetical, but stuff like that happens more often than we think, but mostly to comic shops than libraries (as most people I know aren't even aware libraries carry comics). Check out the comic book legal defense fund for more info.

I'm just sick of the bad rep comics get.

Anyway, rant over. Bah, humbug.

USA, USA!

Lance Armstrong is AMAZING!!

What is your chinese name?

http://www.mandarintools.com/chinesename.html

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY

Ok, but at least I can spell Tuesday.

Anyway, as the title suggests, today is my birthday. I'm 25 years old and some odd hours (about 15 and a half). I'm not doing anything special nor am I expecting any presents (my bastard of a best friend already sent me one - which is one more than I really wanted, but honestly I'm glad he sent it to me, it was very nice of him, so thank you Jason). I took the final Sara Vowell book I haven't yet read (Radio On!) out of the library and will content myself to read it out on the porch. For the past three years I've had surprise parties on my birthday (two of which I was actually surprised) and am content this year, now that I'm a quarter century years old, to relax and celebrate my birthday in quiet contemplation.

So cheers to me, and anyone who happens to be going out this evening be sure to drink an extra drink in my honor.

random thought

Every so often I feel like I should know more yiddish than I do. At present this is the extent of the yiddish I know:

Tuchis/tush- Butt (one's behind)

Schpilchis- excess energy, like ants in your pants

Shmie/smie- to look around, to browse

Milchik- dairy

Flieschic- meat

Parve- neither meat nor dairy.

and that's all.

a pounding not unlike the energizer bunny

I don't really like my father's computer. I'm a mac person, and he used to be, but has since (to be compatible with work) switched over to the dark side. I'm staying at his place until Tuesday - got here Friday - and it was a mistake to come. It was a mistake because my life is full of cruel ironies. For instance, I'm a cat person. Can't stand dogs. Dogs smell funny, take up too much time and energy, and can never be left alone. Cats only smell funny around the litter box, and if you are smart and buy good cat litter the smell is negligble and in an area of the house you infrequently visit. Cats are much more independent, but good ones will respond when spoken to and also love playing (and this playing induces a minimal energy expendature on the owners side of the equation). Not only that, you can't curl up with a dog and read a book or watch TV. A cat, however, couldn't be more content sitting on your lap as you read, watch TV, or even sleep. And cats don't bark obsessivly everytime someone walks by your house.

My father has two cats. Oscar and Felix; brothers named after the odd couple (one has fluffy bright orange fur, the other has black, grey and white peppered short fur). I have cat allergies. We had a cat when I was younger and I didn't have a problem, I shared a cat with my roomates in my first apartment four years ago (he is currently living with one of my former roommates in New Orleans - lucky bastard)and I still didnt' have a problem. But they were short hair cats and it wasn't a big deal. Felix - the fluffy bright orange one - is too much for me. His dander is everywhere and I need to be on a constant regiment of antihistamines to breath. In the winter it wasn't so bad, most of his fur stayed on his body. It's summer now and he's shedding like a made man (er, cat). It's hot, incredibly and incredibly humid in Queens and his fur is everywhere. I can only breath standing up. Once I lie down at least one nostril clogs up and I feel sinus pressure building behind my eyes and in my ears. Thus, I can't fall asleep. I was up until 7 in the AM when - thank the lord - it rained, temporarily relieving the humidity and much of my nasal pressure. I slept for a total of three and a half hours before I was forced awake by the unbareable sinus pressure building beneath my face. I'm just thankful I'm not a big enough dork to get random nose bleeds. Thank heavens for small favors

My neck hurts too, but I don't know why, and it's been hurting all week. It's kinda scary actually, but I'm too poor and unemployed (lacking health insurance) to see a doctor. C'est la vie.

So I'm beat, have a bit of a sinus headache, my stomachs doing the weird thing it does when I don't get enough sleep, and I'm home alone for the day (folks and a sibling went off to a wedding for the day, a wedding I was not invited to, bah, humbug). I have a car but am too tired to drive anywhere for fear of getting in an accident - also I don't really know my way around even in optimal conditions. My big plan is to go the the movie theater around the corneer and watch at least one really stupid movie (the Fantastic 4 is in my immediate future, that or Mr. and Mrs. Smith; I promised my Mother I'd see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with her so that'll have to wait).

Enough complaining. I'm going to try and come up with a clever title for this entry and then hopefully collapse into a bed and sleep for a few more hours.

That's all for now so be good little boys and girls, and remember to eat all your vegitables.

Oh yeah, since this is my pops computer I'm to lazy to figure out how to spell check this, so any words that are misspelled will remain that way until I get back home on Tuesday or Wendseday.

**NOTE** 1:15 PM
I finally updated my blog including Amber's life weblog. I check it frequently and have been meaning to add a link but was jut too lazy or forgetful. Anyway, it's up now in the link section. Feel free to check it out. As noted hers is far more intersting than mine.

Carry on then....

bring in da noyse

Once again, anybody out there at all interested in my opinions (don't jump up all at once. Anyone? Anyone? Fine, be that way!) feel free to read my review of the new film War of the Worlds right HERE or my review of Me and You and Everyone We Know over HERE.

Both at The Noyse.com.

Thanks for placating my humble ego.

bad mood

Yeah, I'm in a bad mood and I don't know why. Had a good long weekend: Providence, Rhode island from Friday 'till Sunday, then Boston (Cambridge, Somerville really) from Sunday 'till Tuesday. Saw lots of friends, ate lots of food, didn't see fireworks (didn't really care too) and finished both my books (Generation X - Douglas Coupland and Assassination Vacation - Sara Vowell), both excellent.

Anyway, I'm posting a new story on my other blog Here. It's an older one, though never been posted I've re-edited a bit. Posting this one because it fits my current mood. I stole an idea from it to use in a screenplay that got to the top ten on triggersteet, which really isn't saying much. But those who might have read the script be aware, the short story came first.

Enjoy, and as always fresh insight and critique is always welcomed (and encouredged).

Yesterday around 5 pm

Behind me and across the street lies the first cemetery in Rockport, Ma. where Richard Tarr’s body was laid to rest in 1732; honored to be the first citizen of the town to take permanent residence, albeit six feet under.

In front of me the Atlantic Ocean stretches out as far as I can see presumably ending as it hits Europe, only my eyes aren’t that good to make out the land once called “the old country.”

I am lucky enough to be somewhere in between.

The trip to Rockport was a last minute decision as I was content to remain at home, sending out resume's in the - what has become almost futile - hope that perhaps someone will hire me. I would have the internet, cable television, the Jonathan Lethem novel I just started reading, and the back porch to enjoy the perfect clear blue sunny day. 70’s (Fahrenheit) and not at all humid, a rare occurrence in New England. Perhaps I’d even mow the lawn if inspiration struck. Perhaps not.

My mother, having finished the school year the day prior (teaching at a local Jewish Junior High) decided to celebrate her first day of summer vacation by stopping off in Lexington (home to “the Shot heard round the world” - you can’t throw a stone in Massachusetts without hitting something of historical value) for an hour on her way traveling north up route 128 to the final destination of Rockport, MA. Though I was slow to acquiesce to join her, I relented - mostly due to the realization that I hadn’t been out of the house for almost a week.

Earlier. I walked around a small part of the town with my mother falling into most gift shops we passed. After that we decided to split up. She enjoys window shopping and sneaking into peoples back yards (“just to see how they decorate”) whereas I don’t have money to shop and the thrill of trespassing no longer does anything for me.

Now. Children play on the rocks jetting out from the left most border of the beach into the ocean, all acting as if they were the first to discover this “remote” part of America. A boy, no more than 17 years of age, decked out in the hippest heavy metal beach attire scales the highest rock. Perhaps to impress the waifish 16 year old girl trailing at his heels. They are the only two visitors wearing combat boots to the beach.

The town itself is picturesque, in the very sense that I felt I was walking through a picture as I navigated my way back to the car and this beach. It is every quaint New England coastal town you’ve seen on countless postcards. From the salty early colonial blue, gray, and white houses to the small over priced tourist shops (here spelled shoppes), art galleries and clothing boutiques. Not to mention the countless hole in the wall clam and lobster (spelled proudly and phonetically “Lobstah”) joints that litter the side streets. In the middle of the street leading up the docks and gift shops a street light rests; a scale model of a white New England lighthouse. I wonder if in the evenings the light revolves warning residents to avoid this part of town lest they crash head first into an out cropping of tourists.

It is so pristine in its portrayal of itself as a charming slice of nostalgic Americana I can’t help but feel I don’t belong. As if my very presence here lessens the aesthetic (and somewhat kitschy) value of this town. I am an outsider, alien to the quiet charm loudly echoing through the streets. I feel like a walking imposition on the residents forced to ply their trade from the tourists each summer. A tourist is someone loved for their money, but hated for needing their money, and I have no money to spend. So I am worse, I am just someone taking up space.

There is of course no outward hostility towards me, as all of my discomfort here is in my head and not actually on the streets themselves (or with the citizenry). But as I look at a town whose current appeal lies closer with Disney World than otherwise I think that Richard Parr, were he still alive, would be sitting next to me (he’d have to be sitting, a man his age and still alive wouldn’t be able to stand) feeling the same sort of detachment and alienation in his home town as I do. We might not have much to talk about, him being an early Puritan settler the likes of whom are responsible for current blue laws, and me, a liberal Jew the likes of whom support gay marriage and countless other vices not permitted by the puritans. Even through our differences I would like to think we’d agree that neither of us felt comfortable here. The town he knew and helped found would be so changed as to only be recognized making money from a false sense of nostalgia. Though as uncomfortable as he might feel he would have a leg up on me, swelled with a pride I do not have. Pride stemming from the simple truth that his decedents (if not exactly by blood then by citizenship) have kept his town thriving and healthy, and that his legacy lives on.

I’m just a bad tourist and have no excuse. So I close my eyes, trying to be like the 5 year old who excitedly giggles with joy every time she drops a stone into the water, and let everything go, just to enjoy myself. I think Richard would want it that way.

Shameless self promotion

Because if I don't pimp my writing no one will, check out my review of the new film Batman Begins here for The Noyse online magazine.

I have no ideas of my own

Image stolen from Warren Ellis's website and posted again here only because I think it's so damn funny.

Procrastination

I plan on writing one of those really good, funny, soul searching posts that has some sort of actual context to the world around us. I plan on it, but instead I mess around on the computer.

Anyway, favorite blog at the moment (as it changes often as more posts are posted on all the blogs I check): High-Centered & colourphobic Check it out if you dare.

graaah

I am the most awkard man alive!!!!!!

Once again

I just watched the incredibles on DVD, good movie. What thrilled me even more was one of the little extras, a video essay by Sarah Vowell (voice of Violet and also one of my favorite writers!) So, yeah, I'm bit obsessed, and I can't help it. The way I figure though, she is a much better person to idolize than some stupid pop star or wanna be activist actor (Susan Sarandon, Sean Penn, I'm pointing at you). I don't think I'd be star struck if I bumped into, say... John Malkovitch on the street (which I have, literally, didn't know it was him, a bit embaressing really) but if I saw her in the street I would be totally tongue tied.

But I can never really talk about her to anyone because no one really knows who she is (except for dorks like me, and I don't hang out with dorks like me, I hang out with a compeltely different set up dorks). So here I am, just iterating my undying love for Sarah Vowell.

I'd like to say it's the last time but I can't be sure, I still haven't read her newest book. Once I do, I'm sure I'll post once more just to say how great she is.

But I'm not obsessed, at least not in any sort of crazy way.

Less than a good idea

I haven't really had anything interesting to write about recently, yet I am always compelled to write. Thus, to spare anyone who might be reading this from my pointless prose I give you:



Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, those men are bathing in 42,000 pints of beer. It is a luxury afforded them by The Starkenber Beer Myth, a resort near Starkenberger castle in the Tyrol region of Austria. A bath only an alcoholic would enjoy, as I can't imagine anyone else who prefers smelling of warm beer. Add some cigarette smoke in the ventilation system and it would make for a nice excuse to the significant other.

"You smell horrid. Have you been out drinking in the middle of the day?"
"Don't be silly dear, I just took a bath. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the airport. That plane won't fly itself you know."

Moving up from Austria into Germany. Ahh Germany, I think I had family there once, they weren't from there though. This is going back about 65, 70 years. They took an over booked train ride, and oddly were never heard from again. Anyway, when I think Germany I think piety, which is why this doesn't surprise me at all.



A doll has been issued in honor of Pope Benedict XVI and is being sold in Germany for a mere 93£. Clearly it's worth it, the likeness alone is astounding. It doesn't look at all like they took a cabbage patch doll and dressed it in white, added a cheap gold cross necklace and a white yarmulke you can get free at most bar-mitzvahs. I applaud them for their hard work and piety, no cheesy exploitation of our holy-men here.

NEW EDIT(thanks to Peter David) 12:14pm
Why am I adding to this post instead of giving this bit it's own post? There are two reasons. 1) I think it fits best in this one and 2) because I said so, that's why. Either way, the world is filled with stupid people with too much money on their hands. Case in point:


For those of you familiar with the TV series Lost you'll recognize those as the evil numbers on the show. For those of you that don't, well, I just told you what they were so now you know. Whether you knew off the bat what the numbers were or not, the fact is this piece of toast is currently going for over $5000 on Ebay, and there's still two days left to bid! If you don't believe me, the image will link you to the ebay posting. If this really sells, who knows, I have some bridges (here and here) I can part with - at the right price of course.
END EDIT 12:25pm

And finally, I am a comic book nerd who was one credit shy of receiving a media theory minor in college. As such it's always fun to find out that big time movie directors like Bryan Singer can be just a big fanboy, awkward dork as I am. He is my new hero. To fully understand why, check out his behind the scenes of the new Superman movie currently being filmed video blog, but specifically, "Episode 7: The Call". Watch it and try not to fall in love with the man. I dare you.

Uhh... carry on then....

Amichai the mountain man

I haven't shaved in over three weeks nor have I got my hair cut in almost 9 months. I also haven't showered since yesterday or changed my clothes. I'm slowly turning into that weird neighbor whose lawn you warn your kids to stay off of. This has got to change.

I shall sleep, and tommorrow (technically later today) after I wake I shall shower, shave, tie my hair back in a bandana and spend the rest of the day outside being a person again.

A bike ride is immenent in my future.