in which i describe my movie marathon

I trust Halloween treated you all nicely.

I had a good and rather quiet holiday. I had a movie marathon at my friend's house, and then popped back over to my house with two other friends to watch an episode of an old vampire anime series that I own.

The Official Halloween Movie Marathon went as follows:

The Devil's Advocate (creepy thriller involving a law firm -- very Rosemary's Baby meets The Firm or something)

Rob Zombie's Halloween (a take on the classic horror flick; really terrible movie, except for the last 15 minutes or so.)

Seven (seen it a million times, but still a creepfest)

Episode 1 of Hellsing (an entertaining if cheesy Japanese vampire series)

I am going to continue the Halloween movie-a-thon by watching 30 Days of Night and perhaps Poltergeist II. I do love me some horror flicks!!

In other news: I am looking forward to buying discount candy en masse today. That's the one good thing about the start of November -- all the cheap candy just waiting for me to stuff into my face!! November is generally a crappy month, except for Thanksgiving, but at least there is cheap candy to kick off the crapfest with.

I am glad about the candy, but the rest of life in general has me a bit down these days. I'm struggling with finding a job, sorting out graduate school (where to go? what program? who do I talk to? how do I get funding?), dealing with this god awful economy, getting my license and, of course, guys. Men. Oh, how sometimes I loathe thee. The bane of my existence has been the eternal problem: males!

Anyway, I'm not prone to getting overly personal on here, so I'll leave the gory details out. Needless to say, they're not very exciting and only really matter to me anyway. But those problems hurt and frustrate me.

Whelp, that's all. (And yes, I typed 'whelp.' I know what it means. But I'm leaving it anyway.)

If you get a chance, please click on this link: http://goosetopia.myminicity.com/. I'm trying to get my city to grow. Gracias!


Also, the travel blog is getting another update. Go check it out.

happy halloween

Happy Halloween.

For a few days it looked like we'd be having a white Halloween. It snowed a few days back -- and how! -- but it's all melting off the ground now. There are slippery wet puddles everywhere. Sidewalks and parking lots are like swimming pools. Very disconcerting when you don't look and step in one, but I suppose also refreshing. Kind of, anyway.

I'm not entirely sure what my Ghoul Day plans are, but something will come in to fruition. I already did some celebrating at a friend's family party in the Hamptons, so there's no pressing need for me to mark the passing of Halloween this year. I don't feel an urgent rush to run out and catch a concert or dress up with all the other butterfly fairies and angels at a party this year. It's a nice change of pace from how I normally feel, which is pressured in to acknowledging the holiday.

Halloween is my favorite celebration, but more because of the time of year, weather and general campiness of the holiday. I also love the movies and candy associated with Halloween -- horror flicks and candy corn galore!!

So, Happy Halloween. Candy corn it up. And then check out my travel blog, which has been updated yet again.

brooklyn birthday visit

I just got back from an evening/afternoon in Brooklyn. It was so nice to be ... home. There. I typed it. Brooklyn feels like home to me. I just love being there so much, and it was lovely being back in the big city again. I know that I will be moving back there again at some point in the future. (Moving back home -- oh snap!)

I had a lovely birthday celebration with a friend at the esteemed Blue Ribbon Brooklyn. We gorged on shrimp cocktails, New Orleans shrimp, an oyster each (we just wanted to try one), and a nice cocktail. I had salmon for my main course, which was delicious. My friend got the equally delicious catfish.

Then it was off to Bar Reis for some well made drinks in the dimly lit basement and upstairs. (Considerable time was spent there, and we moved spots after a certain point.) The bar was playing great music (until 11pm, anyway), and had a nice, relaxed atmosphere and an appropriately dingy-chique vibe. Props to the bartenders for putting on classic musical gold such as Bill Withers, Aretha Franklin and Donnie Hathaway. You NEVER hear things like that at bars around here. Never.

Oh, Park Slope, how I have missed you!

I finished the evening off with good company, and then woke up late this morning and ate yummy Italian for lunch while watching a John Cusack movie.

Good times.

In other news, I've been listening to these albums, and can't seem to get enough of them for various reasons. They are:

Donuts by J Dilla
23 by Blonde Redhead
Dear Science by TV On The Radio (mixed feelings about this one, but there's still redeeming qualities to it)
Godmusic by Chocolate Genius
Redheaded Stranger by Willie Nelson

Blonde Redhead really has hit home with me lately. There's just something about that band that I really like. I can't pinpoint it, and I can say what I *don't* like, but as for what makes me coming back to listen, I can't really say.

The J Dilla album really gets to me, because it was the last thing he ever created before he died. That knowledge makes for a heavy aural experience.

Oh, and Willie ... I just want to give that man a hug. A big, long and affectionate bear hug. Long live Willie Nelson.

I'm off to go watch another episode of Dexter -- an obsession, by the way, that several of my friends share. I don't feel so alone now.

happy birthday to myself

Happy Birthday to myself.

Admission: I'm scared of getting older.

Admission: I haven't accomplished half the things I would have hoped to by now.

Admission: Sometimes this makes me feel like a bad person.

Admission: Yet, somehow, I'm excited I left so many possibilities open for myself.

It's all been about exploring thus far, and now it's going to be about reaching, reaching, reaching and grabbing what is mine in life.

Kind of cliche, yes, but I think listening to too much Blonde Redhead does that to me. But oh man, I love that group. Even if they make me write cliche, dippy things on my birthday.

Anyway.

Happy Birthday to me!

aussie blog

I've been working slowly but steadily on my Aussie travel blog. So far there are only 3 entries, but more are coming daily.

The address is at: http://cityflipaussiejourney.blogspot.com/

Check it out.

i'm back from australia

My five week adventure across the Pacific has sadly come to a close. I had many wonderful experiences there, met a handful of amazing people, experienced a variety of new things, and even held a koala!

I will be sure to post up blogs about my trip very soon. Plenty of photos will be included too.

It's good to be home, but I miss Australia TERRIBLY.

Keep checking back -- I have plenty of updating to catch you up on!

Until then, take care.

my cat :(

I will post soon, but I'm delayed because my very loved, very special cat is currently at the animal hospital undergoing all sorts of tests and exams. The vet believes he has lung/heart disease and is, in his words, "a very sick kitty."

Well, that makes me a very sad kitty mom.

My cat has lost a ton of weight, wheezes/has lung congestion, and bronchial problems, not to mention he's off his feed and very lethargic.

I'm feeling terrible about this, as I'm going on an international 5 week trip in a manner of days. I can't cancel the trip, but I feel terrible for my boy and am really hoping he'll pull through.

Keep your fingers crossed.

I'll post more about the train adventure in the next entry.

the great train adventure, part I

Finally. As promised ages ago, I am posting the pictures and memories from my first (and possibly only) Great Train Adventure. I've been meaning to share this story for a long time, but I've been putting off posting about it for weeks. I think you guys will forgive me, however, given all that has happened over the past few weeks. (Near death experiences, spending copious amounts of time in a hospital, getting performances, gigs and rehearsals together, visiting NYC way too much ....)

With that little introduction aside, let me set the stage for the Great Adventure.

First of all, imagine a lovely little park named Nayaug in the middle of Scranton city limits. This park is quite nice, with a public pool, wildlife center, tree house and plenty of walking trails. It's the sort of place one would go to for a picnic, or a midday snooze, or something of the sort. It's very different than my beloved Prospect Park in Brooklyn, and not nearly as big, but an enjoyable place, all the same.

One of the best parts of the park is that it's very easy to slip off the paths and go wandering over rocks and in to a creek and the like. There's also a railroad line that runs along part of the park -- a perfect place to do some exploring, if one is into trains. (Which, by the way, I totally am.)

(Over to the right of the margin is a pretty terrible cell phone photo of part of the park.)

It was a warm day in early summer when a friend and I decided that it would be a lovely idea to go on a 3 mile walk to downtown Scranton via some back "trails" in Nayaug Park. I was a little apprehensive when my friend mentioned something about 'exploring a train tunnel' and 'walking along the railroad tracks'. He only managed to convince me to go after telling me about how scenic the walk would be. My friend promised all sorts of things, including a waterfall, rock art of Jim Morrison, and lots of flowers and bushes and green things. Being a fan of both Jim Morrison and nature, I was enticed by his descriptions.

And so we set off on our journey. It began innocently enough, with a leisurely walk along one of the paved main trails of Nayaug. This brief little spell soon ended, however, as I followed my friend and cut off the main trail. We made for a small field, which was really more of a paddock than a meadow, minus the required horses and fencing. Littered with debris and covered in flowers, the grassy area made an oddly beautiful scene. Cut glass sparked in the sunlight, while purple flowers bobbed in the breeze. Kind of magical, really.

Eventually a rock wall rose up in front of us. It had two tunnels blasted through it. The tunnel on the right had a railroad line running through it, but the tunnel on the left looked to be unfinished and abandoned, with no train tracks. We picked that one to walk through.











(Above, the tunnel in question. The left hand tunnel we took, and the right hand tunnel is the one with a train parked in front of it.)

The tunnel was cut through living rock, which dripped water on to the gravel floor. It was like the space was sweating and breathing, exhaling and inhaling with our every step. It was also incredibly dark, an overwhelming pitch black that obliterated and eliminated everything from sight.

There are few times in life where I have felt as claustrophobic as I have in that tunnel. The space was large, and the ceiling high, but I could still feel the weight of the earth crushing in on me. It was an awe inspiring and frightening experience, although one I am glad that I had.

After carefully picking our way through the pitch black tunnel, we emerged out the other side and began to walk alongside the railroad tracks. An impossibly long and winding train was parked directly outside one of the tunnels, and looked for all the world like some sort of slumbering and impressively huge beast. I made a joke about it resembling Falcor from the film 'The Never Ending Story', simply because it was so long, skinny and white. (Hey, and there is Falcor in his cinematic glory, to the right.)

We spent some time walking along the train and marveling at all the flowers growing alongside the track. It truly was beautiful here, with all sorts of colorful blooms and waving grasses dancing in the sunlight.

At one point we happened across an almost-ripe patch of raspberries, and of course dove in to pick some -- until we realized that ouch!! Raspberry bushes have thorns. Still, we picked away, and nearly got sick on the taste of almost-sweet-and-slightly-sour raspberries. The best part was how purple our fingers got from the berry juice, and how it stained our skin.

It was a marvel, really, biting into their juicy skins and getting at their bittersweet interiors. Having spent the past several years living in a city, I had forgotten what it was like to eat food right off the bush. It was a revelation and a reminder of how sweet life outside of the urban sprawl can be.

With our bellies now a little fuller, and our fingers nicely stained, my friend and I decided it would be interesting to climb up on the parked train and see if it was carrying any cargo. (For the record, it wasn't.)

My friend went up the side of the train first. He looked like a monkey as he ascended, and pronounced it a 'very cool view' from the top. Which, by the way, was really high up. I don't think people realize how tall trains are until they're actually standing next to them. They are like dinosaurs! Huge and imposing. Mammoth, really.

After my friend had his fill of climbing around, on, and over the train, I tentatively took hold of the ladder up the side of one of the cars and began to climb. I'm afraid of heights, however, and chickened out half way to the top. Despite my friend's encouragement, which began to border on irritation at my lack of bravery, I opted not to climb all the way up.

I did, however, get under the train and had my friend snap a picture of me trying to look cool. This was my bad ass moment. If I couldn't climb on top of a train, at least I could climb under one. The view was probably a little less inspiring, although no less interesting.

(To the right is what it looks like under a train, minus my grinning face.)

While it was very fun to climb around under a train, it's a really dirty thing to do. Literally. I wound up with grease on my face and all over my fingers and legs. It was really sticky, like black tar, and hard to get off. Also, it smelled bad and gave me a headache. All in all, a very annoying substance. However, getting covered in the gook was a small price to pay for clambering around a train, and anyway, it's always kind of fun to get covered in muck.

I'm stopping at this point because I've had enough typing for the day, and you've probably had enough reading, but I will continue with Part 2 soon. Lots to come -- Jim Morrison (on a rock), some colorful graffiti and a band of cute stray cats that I managed to take photos of. Oh yes, and a tense moment crossing a crevasse will also be described.

Until then ... happy train riding, or however it is you're spending your summer.

scared but now happy

I'm not sure where to begin. I suppose the start is the most logical place, but I'm not even sure when all of this began, or how, or why ...

I don't even know if I can really go in to specifics, because I don't want to embarrass anyone or reveal any information that shouldn't be floating around the internet. At the same time, I want to share a little about what's been happening in my life, and why I've been virtually M.I.A. from this blog for so long.

So, I suppose all I can really write is that I recently had an immediate family member take up residence in the hospital. Roughly 11 days of medication, constant monitoring by doctors and nurses and roughly 264 hours of bed rest,all because of a very serious condition which was life threatening and could have had a tragic outcome.

Luckily, the family member is much improved and now at home. This outcome is exceedingly rare and fortunate, and has made me realize, yet again, that I am blessed.

Beyond blessed.

However, it was a very scary past two weeks, and confronting issues of mortality is never pleasant. Especially for me, since I already have such issues with the topic.

That said, I am grateful, happy and pleased -- all of which are inadequate terms to describe my feelings, but the only words I can think of at the moment -- that everything has turned out alright.

And, to my friend graywayfarer, the train story will be coming soon.

Promise.

on the road again ....

So.

It's that time of year again.

Time to travel.

Like clockwork, my nomadic instincts kick in every summer and I have an overwhelming urge to get out, pack the bags and see something (or somewhere) new.

My tickets are bought, so I can now officially announce my biggest trip yet ...

Australia and New Zealand in '08!!

Yes, you read that correctly.

Australia. As in kangaroos.

New Zealand. As in hobbits and Lord of the Rings.

I am going to both of those places!!

I leave L.A. on August 27, arrive in Australia on August 29 and stay on that lovely continent until October 2. On October 2 I will be flying out to New Zealand, where I will have a whirlwind 4 days before jetting back to the United States.

As most of you know, I loathe flying, so this will be quite the journey for me. I'm taking this trip to confront my fears about death, flying, heights and being alone.

Oh yeah, and I should add ... I'm going by myself.

I am planning on taking an emergency supply of Xanax on the airplane with me for those just-in-case-freak-outs. (Seriously.)

I will of course blog about my adventure and be posting photos as I travel about Queensland and Auckland.

Check back in the next day or so for yet another blog post -- my Train Adventure needs telling, still!

update

If I were a parent and this blog were my child, I'd be reported for neglect. That said, I haven't totally forgotten about this blog -- it's just that life has been keeping me so full (literally, like I'm constantly filled up on a good meal) and busy that having some time to write hasn't been easy.

That said, I do have 1 or 2 things to blog about, including my Most Excellent Train Adventure and my summer trip that I am planning!!!

More details to come. Keep posted, because I will be back in blogging action quite soon.

drop acid (not bombs)

This past weekend I visited NYC. I went to film a commercial my friend's company was producing (which is a whole different story), and happened to find myself, the night before the shoot, in a little dingy bar on the Lower East Side. Johnson's, which is at the corner of Rivington and Essex Streets, has $2 cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, $6 mixed cocktail drinks and other cheap goodness a young twenty-something can appreciate.

Something else they can appreciate? The incredible amount of graffiti on the bathroom wall there. I couldn't resist taking some photos on my cell phone camera.

The bathroom wall in question:

A close-up of some graffiti, titled 'orchestrate reality':

and my favorite, 'drop acid (not bombs)':

I can verify that both of the bathrooms in the joint were packed with similar types of messages.

My eyes were exhausted trying to keep up with the scrawl on the walls.

Yet another reason to love New York City ... bathroom walls inked with 'drop acid (not bombs)'.

Pure gold!

making music

My grandmother died on Sunday. Very sad news, especially since I had to call up my mom and tell her own mother had just passed away. Not a fun phone call to make.

However, out of the sadness has come incredible joy.

It started with a recording I made for my grandmother's funeral. Since I can't attend due to financial reasons, the family decided it would be nice if I could record several of her favorite hymns to play at the funeral. I happily did so, and recorded some classic gems like 'Amazing Grace' and 'Jesus Loves Me.' (All songs a half-Jewish girl can relate to ... ha. Not quite. But I still love them!) The recording process was relaxed and easy, since it was done in my friend's recording studio in town.

After recording the hymns, that same friend and I decided it would be fun to 'lay down' a few tracks of our own. Just for fun. Nothing for the funeral, or even meant to be heard by anyone but us. We spent about two hours recording ourselves using the Reason program -- so. Much. Fun.

My instrument had two microphones on it, and sounded surprisingly nice. Fed through Reason, my normally sweet sounding instrument sounded demonic, loud, in charge. I felt like a rock guitarist. A loud, bombastic rock guitarist. It was so cool. With a few clicks of a computer mouse, my instrument went from demonic to angelic, and then from angelic to celestial. It was out of this world.

My friend and I experimented with all sorts of free improv, and I became addicted to counting in 5. 5 and 7, to be exact. We were purposely trying to stay in odd meters for my benefit, because of the way they sound on my instrument.

This same friend just got offered a record, all studio and musical expenses paid, so he is going to take it to the potential producer of his upcoming record to see what happens. He thinks some of the material is workable into an ultimate final track.

Fun, fun.

I had another uplifting musical experience this past Friday night. I performed with my musical duo partner at a local restaurant, and we ended up with quite a crowd. People were listening, applauding, shouting our names, hooting and hollering -- it was great. Some local friends came to enjoy the music, which was super nice of them and a great show of support. It's always difficult in situations where you perform at a restaurant or bar, because you want enough people to come that you get invited back again. When friends come as a show of support, it not only helps the musician, it makes the bar or cafe owner think that more people are showing up to spend money at their establishment.

Based on our gig at the little eatery, my duo partner and I have been invited to do some more gigs around town. It's a refreshing change from New York City, where I never did much gigging. (Of course, I was so busy with school all the time I never bothered trying to book any, but that's a whole different story.)

Anyway, my friend Q showed up to lay down some electric bass. His brother is a drummer and has worked for all sorts of top musicians and bands, including David Bowie and Weather Report. Q has some serious funky chops, so that was a lot of fun to hear him play. A beat boxing flute player also joined our group at one point, to the audience's surprise and seeming pleasure.

Over all, it was one of the nicer gigs I've had in a while. Everyone was so receptive to the music. It was what I refer to as a 'warm' gig -- everyone was warm and friendly and, better yet, eager to listen.

Anyway. I have more to blog about, but I'm getting ready to go back in to the recording studio tonight to play some more. In addition, I'm going on a short road trip to Nova Scotia. I leave next week. Shortly after that it's off to the beach with friends, and then I'm planning a big trip sometime in late August/early September. (I can't reveal anything until it's final, though!) Traveling! I love it.

I'm just so happy that out of something so terribly sad as my grandmother dying, I've been given a blessing. Making music is such a joy, and it's even better when you make it with friends you love and work well with.

hats

There are lots of hats.

Everywhere.

Akubras, berets, boaters and bowlers. Buckets, cloches, cowboy, fedoras, and panamas. Hats for rainy days. Caps for balding men. Formal head attire for wedding party members. Every and any kind of hat.

There are also lots of boxes. Brown, black and beige boxes. Big and small boxes. Boxes to the ceiling, behind shelves and on shelves. Boxes stacked on top of each other. Piled high, piled sideways, piled right side up and collecting dust. Boxes of hats, and hats in boxes.

Everywhere.

The man who runs the place is old. Very old. He's eighty-nine, to be exact. I don't catch his name, but he looks like some one's grandfather. (In fact, he probably is.) He's short, wears a long sleeved shirt and sweater vest, long corduroy pants and, fittingly enough, a hat on his scantily haired head. There's a hearing aid in one of his ears, but he still has a hard time catching the phrases and words that people tell him.

He likes to talk, though. Not being able to hear well doesn't seem to stop him from wanting to speak. He talks and talks and tries to listen a little and then talks some more. About hats. About being a military veteran. About his wife and growing up and living in the same town his entire life. About running a hat shop. About hats again. And so on.

Deitz's Hat Shop has been a Scranton, PA staple for any number of years. The exact span of time has slipped my memory, but trust when I say it's been longer than I've been alive.

The old man has been running the shop for a large part of this time span.

Business used to be good, but current times aren't so hat friendly. This, at least, is according to the old man who runs Deitz's. To begin with, hats have gotten more expensive. It used to be you could get a nice rabbit fur hat for a decent price, but now a similar type of hat would run you around $150. Which is too much money, according to the old man. No one wants to spend that much money on a hat.

Another problem is how hats are sold to suppliers. Store owners have to buy them in groups of a dozen. Since there isn't a large turn over rate for hats, most of the dozen hats ordered will just sit around for years, collecting dust. You simply can't buy one hat at a time. You have to buy the whole lot of 'em. In a place like Scranton, that makes hat buying rather difficult for store owners.

Which explains all the boxes in Deitz's. And all the hats.

Boxes and boxes and boxes of hats and hats and hats.

Everywhere.

The fun part is trying on the hats. There are many sitting out on racks, waiting to be scooped up and bought. I try on a few types of hats, parading around the shop like I own the place. My friends are doing the same thing, fingering hat brims and then delicately placing their choices on their heads. Hats aren't the type of thing you just slam down on your cranium. They deserve a little respect.

We stalk around the shop -- we are the only customers, after all -- and make conversation with the old man and muse at the prices of what we're wearing on our heads. I put on a cloche, exactly the style my grandmother wore in the 1920's, and examine myself in a mirror. How very last century.

(But I like it!)

I try on a cowboy hat and look ridiculous.

A beret goes on next, and I pretend to talk with a French accent. No one thinks it's funny except for me. I make a joke about Brie and French bread and then immediately feel like an idiot and take off the hat.

Funny how hats can bring out different sides of one's personality. Even the geeky parts.

We eventually left the store without buying anything. The old man said he was happy to let us try on the hats and it was fine not to buy anything. He said he gets bored in there anyway, and it was nice to liven things up with some kids.

I have a feeling I'll be back, though. Hat shops aren't a common site these days. Anyway, I could really use an akabura. Or a boater. Or a fedora.

You never know.

update

Here I am, sitting in a little house in the mountains, far away from New York City. I miss the urban sprawl and noise terribly. The home sickness hits at the oddest moments, like when I realize I can't stroll out my door and pick up some Afghani or Ethiopian food. People keep asking me the completely obvious question of "do you miss the city?" and every time I answer a resounding "YES!". It's true, though. I really do miss my dirty, over crowded, ill mannered home.

That said, being back in the 'countryside' is kind of nice. It's nice to wake up to birds chirping or to step outside and be able to smell cut grass and damp earth. There's a big garden for me to dig and plant in, three cats and a dog to play with, great parks to go camp in and the always beautiful view of mountains on the horizon. Better yet, I am putting together a musical duo and we've already gained quite a bit of attention in the local area.

Of course, being here has led to a fair amount of boredom. Before, living in New York City, I could step outside my front door and go for a walk and bump into all sorts of characters and colorful sights. Now I have to do more self-entertainment. Since most of my things are still packed up from my move, this means I've been relying heavily on my friend's Xbox. I feel like a 13 year old boy every time I pick up the Xbox controls, but still, there's a part of me that is stuck in the pubescent world of male teenagehood. I love video games, especially violent, overly gory ones. This probably explains why I beat the game 'Jade Empire' in 2 days, or how I've racked up an impressive amount of points on 'Burn Out'. (That particular game, by the way, falls under the 'needlessly violent' category: it's a racing game that also includes options such as 'road rage' where you bump opponents off the road).

Other than the Xbox, one website has been keeping my attention these past few days. My friend Nate, newly back from a semester in Europe, was the one who alerted me to it. The website is www.lastfm.com. You can go there and type in any artist and get live radio streaming of that musician's work. Even cooler is that you can get live streaming of musicians with similar styles. It's a great way to discover new music or expand one's musical knowledge.

Some music I've been listening to pretty non-stop:
Steve Reich
Liars
Arovane
The Foals

Steve Reich has especially been my go-to musical man these past few days. I can't seem to get enough.

At any rate, the blog is still being updated, even though I'm no longer in NYC. I'll be gone all summer, but I'm keeping this blog going because I've come to enjoy writing on here. Anyway, I'll be back in my beloved city soon enough.

Editing is still going on, so don't be surprised if some posts change or go missing. Let me know if there are any posts you'd like to see corrected.

obedience is not patriotism

A very good point that was made on a sidewalk somewhere off of Avenue A in the East Village.
(Sorry about the low quality of the photo, it was taken on my cell phone in the middle of the night!)

update

Hello,

Happy Rainy Day Friday to you.

Over the next few weeks I am making it a personal project of mine to spruce up this blog. Some editing will be done, deleting of certain posts, and just general tidying up. This is so I can start linking my blog address to my facebook account and the like, and not feel strange when people that know me may actually read it.

Also, I really am pretty fond of some of my entries, and would like more people to read them. So, fixing everything up is a nice way to get that ball rolling.

Have a lurve-e-lee day.

-- the blogger :)

sounds & noises

Birds.

That's what I've been hearing lately.

Lots and lots of birds. Chirping madly, singing happily, fussing noisily.

This is how I know spring has finally arrived. It's officially here when the birds of Brooklyn go melody happy and start singing all day long.

Another thing I've been hearing a lot of are catcalls.

I don't mean the raunchy, rude kind that make your skin crawl.

I mean the kind that are friendlier in tone, a sort of 'Spring Has Sprung and I Think You're Beautiful!' kind of call.

Things I've been told/informed of this week:

"Ah, you're so gorgeous, you're beautiful sweetie!"

"Beautiful, just beautiful."

"I like your smile."

"How you doin'? You're beautiful, you know that?"

And so on.

I know some women get very upset when men make comments to them, but for me, as long as it's nice and not disgusting, I don't have a problem with it. In fact, being the vain little creature that I am, I kind of love being called beautiful.

Even the neighborhood crackhead informed me I was hot stuff the other weekend.

We actually had quite a funny exchange. I was standing with a friend on the steps to my stoop, when a large guy steps up to me and starts talking some game. (You know, the chat-'em-up sort of idiocy that so many men think is a great way to meet someone.) Anyway, he ends up telling me his name.

"My name is Freedom," he said to me, like I should never forget it.

Well, hell's bells I thought. Freedom. What a great name.

My response?

"Did your mother give you that name?"

He smiled at that one.

"Nah."

But he kept smiling. I think I got points for being so sharp with him.

He asked me my name and I told him my nickname.

His response?

"Did your mother give you that name?"

My reply?

"Nah."



There are always kids playing on the basketball court that is next door to me. The constant dribble sound of ball-against-pavement floats up to and through my window in a kind of endless drone. It's relaxing, in a way. The sound is a soft one, very dull, and far away.

I can't replicate it on a computer keyboard.

Maybe like this: thud thud thud.

Then again, maybe not.



Certain sounds really bother me. Construction work, for example. It always begins so early, and so ominously. It starts with a rumble, and then horrible crashing noises, like hundreds of pieces of sheet metal getting dropped on concrete. Grumbles and rumbles and horrible belly aching noises that just make me want to grit my teeth and pull a pillow over my head to block it all out.

Except nothing blocks it out.

Sometimes, when I'm just waking up from a dream, I think the construction noises are really the rumbling of some giant's sore belly. Okay, not really, but how fun would that be if that were truly the case?

Giants running wild in New York.

an overheard admission

Something to think about:

... we would know far more about life's complexities if we applied ourselves to the close study
of its contradictions instead of wasting so much time on similarities and connections, which should, anyway, be self-explanatory.

-- Jose Saramago, 'The Cave'

i like ... this quote

So up until the last moment, I'll hold my head high and keep laughing because they won't get the best of me. As long as you're alive you can protest and shout, yet laughter is the most subversive weapon of all.

-- Marjane Satrapi, author of 'Persepolis'