Breast-jiggling, thong-wearing car washers

Thanks Jen, for turning me on to this...

Loud mouth on the MBTA Red Line

It's the age-old complaint living in the city...some idiot talking (too loudly) on a cell phone.

We all talk on the phone: Hi hon, we're pulling into the station right now....do you want me to pick up anything before coming home?

But there is this thing that we all should be aware of now, and that's talking loud and long...like the dude on the Red Line this morning.

You know who you are, because I stared at you until you noticed. I heard you over the sound of the train and my iPod turned up full, that's how loud you were. Do you have any idea how loud you have to be to drown out the racket of a subway train? And you kept it up. You. The guy in the blue-striped shirt and the khakis (the uniform of every tweaker in this city) and your teeth too big for your mouth.

You had to have a clue, bud, but you just kept talking and talking. I mean, I was glaring at you. Don't know what you were saying because it wasn't English (or Spanish, French, or Italian because I would have been able to deduce a bit of that) but you just kept it up in your tired, monotonous tone.

My pals at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

I've been meaning to blog about something that happened a week ago Sunday (April 4) at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, the MFA, but was actually waiting to see if I'd get a response to my complaint to their members office. But nothing, so here I go, with both barrels.



First, the good news. Sue and I love the MFA, at least for what it is. We've both been all over the world, been to a lot of museums, and it's not the greatest museum. There are many museums that are by far more complete, more fascinating, just more world-class. But, welcome to Boston. Boston, in so many ways, is a second-class city going downhill fast. So let's rate the MFA pretty good.

So, Sue and I are members for the second year in a row now.

On this particular Sunday, we went to see a film, 3 Americas, with two of our neighbors. Afterwards, the writer/director/ producer Cristina Kotz Cornejo, another producer, Angela Counts, and three of the actors including Nicolas Meradi from Argentina spoke and answered questions after the film.

A great film about a girl named America who moves back to her grandmother's house in Argentina and how she grows and matures. It's about the three phases of her life, it's about the three Americas, it's about a lot of things and there's not a single car chase or gun fight. Afterwards, the comments and the questions were thoughtful and enlightening, and an additional bonus was later I was able to talk face-to-face to the director about her film and to Meradi about Meisner training.

A great day, huh?

Well, yeah, as long as you're not dealing with the stuck-up bunch of stiff necks that run the joint.

First, the MFA has a great gift shop. (Notice how every compliment is a superlative, and there's always this big "but" that follows?) I saw a shadow book there that I thought would make a perfect birthday gift for Rowland Scherman, a photograper. What better gift than a shadow book for a person who's made his life's work painting with light, huh? I decided I'd pick up the book after the film.

After the film ended, I walked into the gift shop and headed to where the book was. I was halfway across the store when it dawned on me that the lights were low and there was no one in the store. No customers, no clerks. So, I turned around to go out, but before I could get to the door, a security guard who looked for all the world like he belonged in the Land of Oz (little pointy beard and all) stood at the door and said, "Hey pal, we're closed."

Hey pal?

Is this any way to talk to anyone? I was shocked, not that I demand to be called, sir, because that blows my mind, too, but, Hey pal? I mean, you expect a little bit more, dare I use the word, class, from the MFA.

Did you just call me, pal? I asked, incredulously. But he didn't answer, but said nastily, we're closed. By this time my dander was up and I said, The door was wide open. But I left.

Okay, here's the thing. I don't dress like a Boston Brahmin. I am a fifty-two-year-old grown man and that day I was wearing my typical cowboy boots, faded jeans, and leather jacket. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, anyone's pal.

But welcome to Boston, that racist, (I'm Caucasian, by the way), elitist, snotty city on the Charles. The Athens of the East. There is that idea of Boston being that "pawk the cawr in Hawvard Yawrd" and all that blue-blood crap, and it does still exist in certain enclaves like the MFA, but Boston is so much a mixed city of African-American and Latino and Asian and people from all over the world and all kinds of cultures that this sort of behavior is just shocking.

I'm sorry if I don't look like a member of the gang of doners who were clogging the lobby that day (tuxedos, bulbous noses with broken blood vessels from drinking too many gin and tonics at the club, name tag with class of '38 written on it) but that's really not the way to treat members or anyone who walks through those doors. Because what's ironic is there's a really good bet that I could run rings around our little Ozian security guard in the art department, or a lot of other visitors for that matter.

The next day Sue drove me to the museum where I picked up the book and I mentioned this incident to a nice, polite young man in the members office who felt I did have an obvious complaint. I filled out a form, but haven't heard anything in a week, so I figure Sue's and my $100 members charge and all the tickets and gifts we've purchased in the past and will purchase aren't appreciated, even though we keep getting these pleas for money in the mail all the time. I'm wondering if the new wing they're building will have a back door for the likes of me to go in and out of.

But there's more. I went to the lobby to meet Sue and our friends, where I had the conversations with Cornejo and Meradi. There obviously was some function about to start for the above-mentioned blue-bloods. So, to clear the lobby, another security guard, in a loud booming voice, shooed everyone out the door. Here's a talented filmmaker and actors and guests of the museum being treated like riff-raff. They couldn't come up to these people and quietly and politely explain that another function was starting?

Nice.

And I'm sure the predominantly white, wealthy people who stayed were never once referred to derogatorily or spoken to rudely.

Just A Girl In Short Shorts Talking About Whatever

A few months back I stumbled upon the blog, Just a Girl in Short Shorts Talking About Whatever. Written by Becky C, she's a former DA, a lesbian, a mom, a Libertarian, and a whole lotta other things including a mountain climber.

She's kind of a mouthy (this is a good thing, in the sense that she's opinionated) and I guess it's because of her lawyer training she can back up her opinions and she's a talented enough writer that she does it in an entertaining way. Plus, she illustrates a lot of her posts with pictures of hot, semi-naked girls.

And most of the time I agree with her. Affirmation is a wonderful thing, knowing that you're not crazy for thinking the things that you/I do, especially in the liberal Northeast. I've always said you have to watch the left as much as the the right, and Becky gives a person like me a good out in the form of the Libertarian Party. It's really hard living where I do to explain to people that no, I don't feel that Clinton or Obama represent what I believe and how I envision this country. So I don't even try.

Anyway, so first, go read her blog. I think you'll love it.

Second, her post today was about how the mayor of San Francisco is banning the sale of tobacco products from drug stores, saying that tobacco runs counter to the purpose of a drug store, which is supposed to be health, never mind that drug stores also sell Twinkies, which are bad for you, too. This is pure Short Shorts stuff. Funny, irreverent and dead-on, giving the Libertarian view of getting government the hell out of our lives. Especially of getting the government out of our lives as it tries to tell us how to live on on a moral basis.

As I've said more than once, along with having to watch the left as much as the right because they both have agendas, I also believe that there is a special spot in hell reserved for the moralists of the world. Because morals and humans don't go hand in hand. Jesus himself said, anyone who is without sin can throw the first stone, and no one did. Moralist always fall, because no human being is that good. (Which is one thing I would love to point out to Obama fans. I guess you had to live through the Kennedy years to understand this feeling though. He's no saint, simply because he's a politician and he's running for president, and that's a tough lesson for young people to learn.)

Anyway, something else I'm fond of pointing out is, with humans, throw logic clean out the window. This is in reference to the Short Shorts posting. We all know the dangers of cigarette smoking and using tobacco products. My father died of heart disease and smoked almost his entire life. He had a stroke on the operating table as he was having triple bypass surgery, and when he finally got home a month later he would go into the basement to sneak a smoke. Doctors once thought I had throat cancer, and I did quit smoking, but I still carry a can of Skoal. You'd think I'd learn, but I don't need the government telling me I'm stupid. I know already know it.

Willin'

Nobody can sing Lowell George's classic like he can, but unfortunately I can't find anything on Youtube...so here's a different, sweeter take on it...

dang, I would have loved to have heard Janis Joplin sing this...

I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow
I'm drunk and dirty don't ya know, and I'm still, willin'
Out on the road late at night, Seen my pretty Alice in every head light
Alice, Dallas Alice

I've been from Tuscon to Tucumcari
Tehachapi to Tonapah
Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made
Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed
And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine
and you show me a sign
I'll be willin', to be movin'

I've been kicked by the wind, robbed by the sleet
Had my head stoved in, but I'm still on my feet and I'm still... willin'
Now I smuggled some smokes and folks from Mexico
baked by the sun, every time I go to Mexico, and I'm still

And I been from Tuscon to Tucumcari
Tehachapi to Tonapah
Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made
Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed
And if you give me: weed, whites, and wine
and you show me a sign
I'll be willin', to be movin

Tragedy in the White Mountains

A terrible thing happened Thursday (April 8) up in the White Mountains in New Hampshire. About 2:30 p.m., while Shu Qin, a 28-year-old woman visiting from Shanghai was hiking the Falling Waters Trail, a boulder split from a ledge and fell on her. Two hours later she was placed in an ambulance and taken to Littleton Regional Hospital, about 20 miles away, where she was pronounced dead. About three hours had elapsed between the time of the accident and the time she was pronounced dead.

But...and I'm writing this with the greatest trepidation because it seems a wonderful human being 's life was snuffed out, and her family is hurting terribly and unless you spend a lot of time in the wilderness this is going to sound so cold but it really is the truth: these things happen in the wilderness, and now her brother-in-law is wondering if her death could have been avoided, or if more could have been done to attempt to save her life.

In a Boston Globe article it says he laments poor cell phone reception. He suggested a land line at the head of the trail could have expedited alerting authorities. And that the NH Fish and Game could have done more to warn hikers of the dangers of the trial.

The article quotes him saying she sat on the trail for two hours begging to be saved.

Omigod...where to start?

It's the wilderness, there is no cell phone reception there, installing and maintaining land line telephones at the heads of every trail up there is simply not practical, and do you really need authorities to warn you of the dangers of climbing a mountain?

You hike into a place like the White Mountains, and you're responsible for your own safety and well-being. It's not Disneyland. The bears do bite and the moose will lower their heads and charge. The rocks are not made out of papier-mâché and will crush you. It is a rugged, dangerous place where the weather changes rapidly and you can find yourself in danger in a matter of seconds--yes, seconds--and people go there all the time thinking it's a park. It's not. It's foolish to think that. Just to east of where Qin died mountaineers train in the winter for Mt. Everest. And to expect authorities to save you when you get in trouble in a place like that is frankly shirking your own responsibilities.

I would love to know what kind of first aid training this group of hikers had, and what medical supplies they were carrying with them. Or even what kind of general gear they were carrying.

And why did Qin sit on the trail waiting for help when help was right there in the form of her fellow hikers? In a situation like that you do quick first aid and then get the victim out of there. You fashion a stretcher out of poles and a tarp or your rain gear. Or you carry her out fireman style. Sorry, (and I could be way out of line here because I'm just going by the Globe report) if anyone is to blame, it's appears that it's her fellow hikers for being ill-equipped and not carrying out proper procedures.

There are people, and I'm one of them, who like the fact that there is still real wilderness where we can go and we're on our own. I like that feeling of independence and responsibility, something that I think the middle-class suburban world has long ago discarded. I don't know how many times I've been out in the outdoors and came across someone who needed help. And I had to choose between using the medical supplies I had for myself (and risking not having them later if I needed them) and helping an ill-prepared fellow human. And I've always helped them out, but it's an awfully entitled, selfish approach to your fellow hikers to expect them to put themselves at risk for you.

I must reiterate that I feel so bad for Qin's death. But please don't tame the wilderness because you can't handle it. Because frankly, you can't tame it anyway. It's better to learn it, and learn how to survive in it.

Blue Eyes

Sometimes I get upset when people treat me bad
I don't have time to think and so I get real mad
And I pull my hair and find somewhere where I can be alone
And when I do I think of you and head myself back home


CHORUS:
Where I got chores to keep me busy, a clock to keep my time
A pretty girl to love me, with the same last name as mine
When the flowers wilt, a big old quilt to keep us warm
And I got the sun to see your blue eyes, and tonight you're in my arms


Sometimes I get unwound when fancy cars drive past
Money don't get me down, though I can't make it last
And I bite my nails and if that fails I go get myself stoned
And when I do I think of you and head myself back home

Super Fitness (Quincy, Mass.)

Super Fitness. In Quincy. It's so bad there Sue and I couldn't make ourselves join, even though the price was unbelievably low....though I don't know how low it was because we walked out of there and I said to Sue, I feel like I was just with a used car salesman...if you don't believe me, check out Yelp and see what other folks had to say about this place...

Some big, over muscled guy named...well, let's call him Josh to protect the guilty, showed us around. He was our friend. He showed us around and everything was cool until he brought

us over to a desk and started the big sales pitch...

...this was after he took us downstairs in the aerobics room and put a spin on the new carpet stench that was down there..."we just put in a new carpet...you see: you can still smell it." Later Sue said, can you imagine working out down there with that smell...that spin ranks right up there with the old Cingular Wireless's, "We have fewer dropped calls than the other guys." You're not supposed to have any dropped calls and your aerobics room isn't supposed to smell like a glue factory.

But it was the Big Pitch that got to me...and dumb me, I actually gave Josh my real phone number...Sue told me later she never gives out her real number to guys like that...you see why I say Sue's definitely the brains in this operation?...

The Big Pitch consisted of Josh pitching different deals to us, sweetening each one until I had no idea what he was talking about, and finally giving us one that was just for that night, that particular time if we just signed on the dotted line right then and there...every nerve in my body told me to get up and run the hell out of there...

I thought we got out clean and free...but I forgot about the phone number...I'm at work and my cell rings..this is a few days later...I pick up and here guys laughing, that frat room crap that guys with too much testosterone and too small dicks go on about...Josh is still my friend, my best bud...he asks me what we've decided...I tell him I'm at work and I'm kinda busy...he reminds me that he gave us a free pass to check things out...cool, I say...later...and we hang up...

Then, this past Thursday he calls...he's

not my friend anymore...he sounds kinda mad...and I'm really, really busy at work (you have to be a writer to really understand the pressure associated with the word, deadline) ....anyway I'm cordial, but man, you got me at work and I'm really busy....this is the number you gave me to contact you, he snarls...okay, now I'm pissed (I get pissed when fairly simple concepts aren't understood by bohunks)...I tell him we haven't decided and again, tell him I'm at work and can't talk...he wants to know again what we're thinking...I'm exasperated by this time...what part of "I'm at work right now" don't you understand... obviously, his work consists of calling people up at their work and bugging them...I say, I don't know, then Josh hangs up...click...unbelievable...well, at least Josh won't be bugging me at work anymore...

Here's a note to our intrepid sales rep, and take this from someone who's worked with really good sales people his entire life: When you're working on commission, don't be so desperate. It's suddenly gets really noticeable that you're just trying to make a buck at someone else's expense and you really don't give a damn about servicing the other person. You'll kill a sale that way every time.

Saturday night

Saturday night and joyously boring. I've wanted nights like this so many times in the past. I was actually spending Saturday night folding laundry tonight. We have a washer and a dryer. We can have clean clothes whenever we want now...what a country.

The Jefferson Airplane is cranking on the stereo right now...

Bob is snoozing happily at my feet...

Sue is sitting on the couch opposite me, reading the first draft of the Rowland Scherman story I'm writing for Cape Cod Life.

Before, Sue was researching places for us to go...places that I'm reluctant to tell people about because people wonder why we'd want to go to Glacier National Park and the Badlands...it's hard to explain to certain people that you want to see a grizzly bear before you die, or want to hear the wolves howl, or that you believe you lived a former life in the Badlands...so it's best just to keep to ourselves...we have a travel fund that we sock away our pennies for our trips...

Rodrigo y Gabriela guitar tips

Here is a way-cool video (well, it is if you're into way-cool guitar players, and Gabriela especially is ranked in that group.)

George here at digital world turned me on to this vid, and I've watched it a few times and even slowed down it's hard to imagine Gabriela actually doing this. Much less me doing it. But the little bit I can play, I know the door for this. It's forgetting the instrument is a guitar, and just play. Gabriela's playing is percussive; it's almost like she's playing a drum with strings, or a guitar with a drum head.

Rodrigo y Gabriela are enjoying some success, but there was a time when they were flat broke and busking in Ireland. That's where they developed their own unique musical and entertainment style. They're used to entertaining people, almost one-on-one. You really can't categorize their music, which is one thing that I love about it. I've seen other videos where Gabriela gets pretty hot about trying to categorize what they play. To her, it's music, not some category or style that will limit who she plays.

And, you gotta admit, Gabriela and her accent is so hot. Like when she says, you have to practice like crazy.

Happy Mother's Day

Sunday is Mother's Day here in the States...

Don't forget to Take Your Momma Out...and show her what it's all about...

The simple truth

The simple truth in this life is we all end up in the same place: that wooden box. It's the same for the rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak...

The only difference is how we get there. And I work on that every day of my life, sometimes well, and sometimes not so well...

I just try to be the very best person the Creator expects...

Red State Update

This is kind of old (considering the news from the North Carolina and Indiana primaries, but I still wouldn't discount Clinton) but these two guys are pretty funny doing the Hee-Haw imitations and scathing social satire thing...

The thing about Clinton, it's like in a movie when the evil villain monster has been filled with the combined magazines of about a hundred machine guns, and people ease up to the dead, putrid corpse, and then when they get right up to arm's length of the creature it comes to life for one last time. The thing about a Clinton is, they don't die.

Look on Your Face

From The Meat Purveyors...people who I would love to go out drinking with...

Jake and Amir: Date (part II)

Actually, it should be titled, The Breakup.

I love these two guys. The comedy is built upon the idiotic relationship they have (a la I Love Lucy) that lets you believe the crazy situations they come up with.

And poor Amir. A gorgeous girl wants to break up with him, but typically is too chickenshit to tell him so dumps the problem in Jake's lap. Anyone who has ever been dumped can emphasize with Amir, you feel ridiculous, as if you really are dressed in a penguin suit (there is something so ironic about me and penguins, too...something that makes me laugh so hard now, and just smile) and you think she's "the one", when only later you find out the better idea is, "yeah, she's one all right..." and in the end it's your real friends who are there...

And thanks to Sweet Lou, which is where I was turned on to these two in the first place....


Date Part II from Amir on Vimeo.

664--The Neighbor of the Beast

From the deep recesses of George O'Connor's mind/brain/id:

664
The Neighbor of the Beast

Saten's next door neighbors...

Nature Boy

Anything, anything, but politics...

And music is always a good alternative...always...

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds...pretty romantic and hot...

(but she dressed me up in a deep sea divers suit??....oh...oh!)

I was just a boy when I sat down
To watch the news on TV
I saw some ordinary slaughter
I saw some routine atrocity
My father said, don't look away
You got to be strong, you got to be bold, now
He said, that in the end it is beauty
That is going to save the world, now
And she moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
She moves something deep inside of me
I was walking around the flower show like a leper
Coming down with some kind of nervous hysteria
When I saw you standing there, green eyes, black hair
Up against the pink and purple wisteria
You said, hey, nature boy, are you looking at me
With some unrighteous intention?
My knees went weak, I couldn't speak, I was having thoughts
That were not in my best interests to mention
And she moves among the flowers
And she floats upon the smoke
She moves among the shadows
She moves me with just one little look
You took me back to your place
And dressed me up in a deep sea diver's suit
You played the patriot, you raised the flag
And I stood at full salute
Later on we smoked a pipe that struck me dumb
And made it impossible to speak
As you closed in, in slow motion,
Quoting Sappho, in the original Greek
She moves among the shadows
She floats upon the breeze
She moves among the candles
And we moved through the days and through the years
Years passed by, we were walking by the sea
Half delirious
You smiled at me and said, Babe
I think this thing is getting kind of serious
You pointed at something and said
Have you ever seen such a beautiful thing?
It was then that I broke down
It was then that you lifted me up again
She moves among the sparrows
And she walks across the sea
She moves among the flowers
And she moves something deep inside of me
She moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
And she moves right up close to me

Cool things are happening in the world

People are out there doing so many cool things with their lives...it's not all formating copy decks for car sites, let me tell you...and it's so great to see people really doing creative, positive things with their lives, just trying to make this world a better place.

Heard about all of this today...

Ana, a friend of C's, has a nice show going on out in Lexington. She used to shoot for Filene's and wanted to do more with her talent than shoot kitchenware. Her show's at the Munroe Center for the Arts until the end of the month. Don't try the site though. It's woefully out of date. Hey Munroe, get into the 21st century would you.

Fellow actor (wait a minute, is a person a fellow when she's a woman??) Margot is getting all kinds of work, and her Facebook status is usually followed by an exclamation point! Today she's prepping for her 1st voiceover recording session for the documentary film On the Lake: Life and Love in a Distant Place.

Email today from my old music teacher, Colleen (wait, she's not old, she's my former teacher) played solo acoustic at SXSW this year and is recording for her new CD that will debut later this year. She and Greg moved to Austin last year (she's the best music teacher I ever had; she turned me onto songwriting by simply saying after our first lesson, go home and write two songs, just like that...she was good because she didn't get into having to learn scales and the right position for holding you pick, though that's all really, really important, she felt what's inside is what counts, and that anyone with a brain and some patience could get the rest.)

Too many keys

I've got too many keys on my ring
And too many rings on my finger....

I always wanted just two keys, one to my apartment, and one to a boat. Well, that boat just ain't gonna happen in this lifetime, so it's just the apartment key and my truck key. And that's pretty simple enough, I guess. No complaints here...

Trouble

Got a lot of leaving songs on my mind today....

Trouble

Have they put out all the fires yet
now the celebration's done.
I hope you'll come to see me
before the summer's gone.
My mind still lives in your time
my spirit's up and down.
I tried to find some old friends
but nobody's around.

Can't understand it
I got my signals crossed.
I thought I could do it
but already I've had enough.

The buildings they're so graceful here
they barely touch the sky.
Sometimes it's so quiet
you can hear your neighbours cry.
I miss my messy circus street
with music through the night.
I miss the times we'd stumble home
together in the morning light.

Oh my I wish that I
had thought about this more
maybe then I'd be waking up
behind familiar doors.

I must be blind
I must be out of my mind
to think I'd come back
and everything would change.
I must be so naive
that I forgot about the pain.
Here I am in trouble once again.

And as one day becomes the next
clearly it's the time
to see the things I never change
and what I leave behind.

Oh my I wish that I
had thought about this more
maybe then I'd be waking up
behind familiar doors.

I must be blind
I must be out of my mind
to think I'd come back
and everything would change.
I must be so naive
that I forgot about the pain.
Here I am in trouble once
Here I am in trouble once
Here I am in trouble once again.