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|Monday, November 17th, 2014|
|only talk about nice things
When I moved to New York, I was proud to see it was not like Boston. "You got problems, I got problems, everyone has problems," my Dad used to say. He meant do not discuss your troubles. New York wasn't like that. It wasn't infected with that rotten Puritan mean streak. If something bad happened to you, it was because you had unrealistic illusions. You didn't plan ahead. You deserved it. In New York, any given night, some folks were up, some folks were down. It was OK, to talk either way. You always had a sympathetic ear. Everyone knew, admitted out loud, if she was looking good this week, it wasn't to her credit, much it had more to do with fate. If she were down next week, didn't mean she was a loser, either. She caught a bad break.
New York now has become like Boston. Only happy talk out in public, please. I hate it. It makes me angry. I looked down the bar, Friday night and saw maybe four guys, sitting alone, not saying a word, obviously unhappy, or worried. Everyone else carried on around them, indifferent. Bartenders are not what they were. You get asked how you're doing, you damn well better say great, then follow it up with your band kicked ass last night, things are great with this new girl, or you just got promoted. Say something like, "nahh I'm not doing too well," and you'll be avoided. What I see resulting from this is more drug and alcohol problems among my friends than I'd ever have imagined. Also this ugly smugness. If I'm up, it's because I'm great. I've never heard of down. That's what happens to people who are weak, who don't plan, who just aren't in my league. I've seen guys in real bad trouble, not of their own making, treated with contempt for it.
Social Darwinism's back. I don't mind hearing anyone's troubles. Happy talk all the time, makes me nauseous. Bars have to make money, I know, except a bar that has to be happy all the time, to win the business of the so obviously successful, improving all the neighborhoods ... that is Potemkin crap. I don't want a permanently happy bar, I want one that's safe for anyone.
Week ago, I kinda got sandbagged, wound up in my local later than usual, staring at a beer. Sober. Kim asked was I all right to get home. I said fine. Sorry to be in this shape. "Don't worry, it's just your family, looking out for you." What a kindness. I almost lost my composure, it'd been so long since someone talked to me like that. I remember, not long ago, New York was more like that. It is the economy, no question, but it haunts me all the time, as a society we've chosen the absolute lowest response to tough times: we mostly blame people, not brave enough to be kind anymore, that'd imply tough times could hit us too.
|Sunday, November 2nd, 2014|
|Welcome back, Anonymous
I think I'll change the setting here to allow Anonymous comments again. I miss Smart Anonymous. Good person to talk to.
Interesting. It has already been reset that way ... change by our Russian overlords, I guess, but interesting that I haven't seen Anonymous comments anywhere for a long time.
There's a Stan Lee Live Journal, apparently. Could be fun. I want Katee Sackhoff to play Captain Marvel. Been reading the adventures of Carol Danvers since Avengers 92, including the whole damn run of Ms. Marvel so I feel qualified in this regard. There's a graphic novel, In Pursuit of Flight, kind of a playful feminist deal. I liked it. Some killer pin-ups! Here's Captain Marvel:
Sigh. I can walk to Mass. Yeah --I'm in. Today is crummy. I joined a gym again and have made it 4 times so far. Went yesterday. This is the first time I can ever remember I woke up day after gym and felt like crap anyway.
Made it through Mass. Rough going.
Halloween night, surprisingly didn't suck. I'd made no plans. So I hung out at the Brazen Head with the bartenders, all friends of mine, and all the girls who weren't working, also stopped by. Greg brought his wife and new baby by. We ranked on customers. Etc.
There was a girl working I'd met once before, couple months ago. She'd trailed someone for the night. I introduced myself, left, came back --her boss was way upbeat, the two of them were speaking, boss if one knows how to read appearances was keen on this young woman coming to work permanently. I joined in. Said what a great place it is, nice people, backup for you when there are problems --we double-teamed her, but was nice because I meant every word I said. She was quiet and shy.
Friday, she was dressed in camos, a five-minute costume, hat, her hair up, pants and jacket. Later in the night she kept showing me the real outfit, just the pants and a sports bra with bandoliers draped across. "Look, I drew in a six-pack." She was fucking with me. I said "you're making me blush" and things like that. She looked way hot, but she's so much younger than me it was embarrassing owning up to her looking hot, also we'd shared hours of stories of misreading intentions, getting screwed over, getting groped by assholes (those were her stories) and being driven nuts by inconsistent romantic behavior. For God's sake, would you set a course AND STICK TO IT? We were simpatico on that. Fickle is when your immaturity kicks the shit out of someone else less flaky but eviscerated. Such as a 12-hour engagement.
I don't smoke tobacco. Past two months, things have sucked so bad, I started. I had a great moment outside with my very good friend, smoking. She quit three years ago. We are both in the same boat. She is 100X better at maintaining appearances than I. When I went out back to smoke, she was sitting alone at a table, in the dark. Still I had to keep our conversation limited to present context only, which is a strain on me 24 hours a day, but never more so than when something's tearing me up inside.
"She is wonderful," I said. "She was so kind to me. Great to talk to." My friend smiled warmly. Made me feel good. I'm never happier, than when this one and I, share the same feeling because we've seen the same.
"She has perceptions! The way you and I do!"
I wish you'd seen her face, she gets this expression of businesslike, matter-of-fact and God it makes me happy because she means yes of course I know, you worry way too much, so much we already know between each other
. "Yes she has perceptions, I really like her ...." Then this other kid working that night, came outside, she joked with him, me too and that moment was gone. I went home happy. I hugged my new friend goodbye, she'd brushed against me, few times these are messages too and I need not explain them.
Last night, started also a good time. Also hanging out with the staff. Some new guy I didn't know was there. He was new to the group, I know the feeling, so I sometimes left the girls' conversation and talked just to him. He and I went outside to smoke. Nice kid. Not one who hears anything you say, though. He speaks forthrightly, but doesn't take in what you say. I realized this, couple minutes in so I just asked him questions, listened, asked more questions, threw him softballs that let him go on at length. People are as they are.
Did not end well. The girl working, my good friend and I wound up talking about some of what good friend is dealing with, which is not for here. Guy said some stupid things, but he can say what he wants, whatever. Unfortunately he said something, hit like five nerves at once & I started snarling. Not so you'd notice. Subject was law school. "Yeah, they use this Socratic method, asking each student randomly questions by his/her last name. After first couple months, all the students wind up demoralized, realizing the entire Socratic discourse was to put the new students in their place, make clear they do not know anything ...."
"That's absolute bullshit. That's exactly what Socrates set out to attack. His questions were to teach him no less than anyone he asked, every time--"
She narrowed her eyes, I missed it because too late. Passion, in the Greek sense, had me.
"Does anyone ever go BACK at them?"
"Well yeah, I guess sometimes--"
She put her hands over her ears. Not so anyone could see it.
"...it's a good job, though. Safe career choice."
He didn't hear me correctly.
She laughed. "Did you just say 'topless photographer?'"
"Yeah, that'd be a good job!"
I've been angry for past couple months. It found its outlet.
I left feeling rotten, because that context, I added it up and hated it.
We had earlier been on the subject of mama's boys, and what friend sees as the paradox that these same guys, treat women like shit. I know why this is so and explained some. Basic Oedipal stuff, why Mom doting on and spoiling you too much does you no favors, you have to push her away, son must have adult relationship with Mom where he is respectful, dutiful but will not kiss her ass, and she for her part points out his errors a great deal more often than his good qualities. I got angry, to tell the truth, because my heart connected something faster than my brain did.
"I don't think it's so bad, a son still calling his mother Mommy as an adult if he is close to her," the kid had said ... women drawn to abusive mommmy's boys, horror to think I was watching it happen again. Us non-mommy's boys, angry all the time.
|Saturday, October 25th, 2014|
|Ebola vs. the flu
"We do not know how influenza and other upper respiratory diseases are transmitted," said Jeffrey Sharman, an environmental health scientist at Columbia University. "We know how they can be transmitted." --NYT, yesterday.
This is crap. When it warms up, a lot, after three cold days, like April and that is a bikini top, or December and six full tables outside Chez Prix, ever hear someone's busty aunt at work, or your grandma say, "people will get sick?" True. These conditions aerosolize the virus. You heard it from a woman, because women are stuck dealing with this shit 80% of the time in this modern age, when someone else is sick, and they were women older than you, meaning they'd been around long enough, to have learned.
Riordan and me rode bikes from Medford to Park Drive in Cambridge, Patriot's Day. Six weeks later, my new job, still breaking a sweat walking to the bathroom. Three weeks later, I rode my bike to the supermarket. I made it a thousand feet. I was twenty-five.
I could dig out the study about influenza virus transmission, it is circa 2001, but this man's choice of words is peculiar. We know that the flu, is transmitted. We know the receptor sites to which it may attach in lung epithelial tissue, or we certainly do about the 1918 virus. Real brave guy, dug up corpses by himself from permafrost, until he was able to secure still-extant virus samples. A lab then sequence it. How many genes do you think it had? Try six. Maybe eight. One mutation, in one of those genes, allowed what may have been a virus harmless to humans to kill millions more than WWI did.
What he means is we can't differentiate airborne transmission from proximity transmission with Ebola. Also true. This in no way rules out airborne transmission, and we have to plan on that basis.
|Friday, October 24th, 2014|
Think I got it.
If you have a high regard for yourself, care what happens to you, we say you have a big ego. If this ego is aware of itself, we say you are neurotic. This is considered pejorative. But.
The single development, in building an ego, is called theory of mind. It has two parts. First, around age 13 for most people, you develop self-awareness. You realize as you've been going through life, doing stuff, feeling things, there's been a growing part of you that begins to understand it has been observing itself. You have a mind. You're not just a series of actions. That leads, in most people, to completing the circle of theory of mind: other people, possibly all of them, act but also observe and consider their own actions. This leads you to consideration of others' decisions
. So those times you were miserable because of what someone did, he/she knew you were a real person equivalent to her/him, but went and did it anyway? They made you miserable on purpose. They were comfortable in this. Except given their theory of mind, awareness of you as a thinking, feeling being no less than themselves, wouldn't you expect that would make it impossible for them to hurt you? It would be like hurting themselves. As you know yourself, when you undertake thought experiments, "what if I did this, or that," and imagine the pain you could cause someone: highly unpleasant experience. So: they weighed you, vs. them, all those times, still chose to do something that presumably did well for them, but left you hurt. At first glance, only two possibilities are possible. Either they shut down part of their own theory of mind, or --what? Maybe they don't
have awareness of you. Maybe they've never developed theory of mind. Scary idea.
To be aware of yourself as a person, is to be forced to realize you can have no true happiness except in other people. So given a set of people, all with theory of mind: I concede it may be unavoidable, impossible not to have to hurt someone even with theory of mind, but no one could rest easy having done that. So as you'd expect, most people are happy sometimes, unhappy generally. Except read any book on dating or making friends. "Happy people are more attractive." And some people, often very successful, seem to be happy just about all the time. They are not neurotic, apparently. They just go through life, experience things ... exactly as you did before you turned fifteen or fourteen.
People are drawn to others who seem happy all the time, because it's as though they've solved the problem of life. Aware of yourself, you need someone else above all other things. That guarantees you will be unhappy a great deal of the time, because other people's decisions, only sometimes will overlap with yours. Their interest in you, only sometimes will match your interest in them by degree, intensity and duration.
It is not possible to be entirely content in yourself, without either shutting down theory of mind, or never developing it at all. Neurotic's no put-down. If you're not neurotic, you're a finite thing comfortable in finitude. Real scary thought. Such a person, would have no inherent interest outside him/herself. No lasting connection with someone like that would be possible, but what I'm saying is I'm not sure they're human.
There's also the suckass reality attractive, young and/or rich people draw others to them without having to do much. This could create a bias, where these convince themselves pain they cause really ought to be transient, as it is for them. Except to me that's ridiculous. Maybe if you're up all the time, it does change your brain.
Even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.-- Aeschylus
|Thursday, October 23rd, 2014|
ISIS is not after one town, or even the control of territory adjacent to areas where they're strong --yet. They weren't after the dam this summer, either. ISIS wants control of something else.
Do you see the highway, just west of the Iraq border, running to the Mediterranean? ISIS wants that. To move materiel
A woman sitting next to me at the Lighthouse, in Wellfleet this summer, was real interested in the NYT front page, the day "mysterious explosions" occurred near an area where civilians were being massacred. Headline: "US Drops Supplies To Refugees." Interesting story. Not one source in that story was attributed. "Mysterious explosions," my ass.
The two of us drew on the Iraq-Syria map for almost an hour. She took me to school. Four times. It has to do with who vacations in Wellfleet, Cape Cod in the summer. It's not just every shrink in New York + Pharma execs.
|see what a year, can bring
Our Song is, Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Green Day.
"I'm gonna keep on lovin' you
Cause it's the only thing I'm gonna do ..."
Singing looking down, smiling. I knew. She was singing too, beaming at me. This is the world's most intimidating girl! You know when she sings along? --NEVER.
"I know all this and
I know all this, and
I know, all this and more ...."
It's like the happiest I've ever felt. Every time. She's THERE. godthankgod see I never really talk. I have to plan what I say, to match. But she, knows my heart in this way.
Hence tonight FB. Message to her. Dreamed about her last night, actually. We got on a plane at the airport.
|Monday, October 20th, 2014|
Girls’ snoring is cute. Male snoring is revolting. My roommate in college snored like a bastard. It was deafening. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him, let alone sleep, and he’d snore for up to twelve hours at a stretch on the couch, because he’d been up for two days prior which is another story. He fell asleep during a party in our room once. I shook him. Nothing. I shook him harder. ZZZZZzzzzzzz. SNORK ARK ARK SNGGORK. I picked up one end of the couch (it was cheap), my other roommate picked up the other end and we shook it and him up and down like it was a violent earthquake. SNGGHORRK nothing. I dumped an ice cold Heineken down his crotch. That woke him up fast! He was pissed.
When it wasn’t a party, one night, my other roommate and I got so pissed off, we taped him. C90, we taped him for all 45 minutes of Side A, put it on Permanent Repeat, plugged headphones in and shoved them on his head. He slept fine.
She told me I snore. Rattled me. After it rattled her. "OK, you don't snore every time, but when you do, damn." Because I was more rattled she wasn't in bed with me when I woke up.
|Saturday, October 4th, 2014|
Better to get back over here. I start enjoying Facebook too much, I start talking in my own voice. Not advisable.
Facebook is for one- or two-sentence quips. You're at a cocktail party. You're supposed to stay upbeat, share light anecdotes, talk about ski trips. That Ebola thing, isn't that terrible? ISIS, who are they, exactly? Better to stay away from subjects like that. Abortion, race relations, feminism, gun ownership, the unequal distribution of wealth, those damn Republicans, Democrats spending us to death -- come on, you know better. Here's the Cats In Bags video! An OK party. I didn't say a great cocktail party. Where is Miley, where's Rihanna?, no mouth-offs or scandalous pictures for two weeks. I'm bored! You have way better tits than Miley. Naah I wouldn't say that on Facebook, but I would like to be at that party. Aaaaand I see a smarter guy than me's just fixed the thread I dragged wrong a little too much. "I think it'd take a silver bullet to make so-and-so inorgasmic." I belong to one secret group on Facebook. It's an ongoing gross-out/who's smuttier contest. I'm new there, most of the people grew up together. The married women are fastest with dirty jokes, they have crazy angles.
I wrote an actual post. To follow soon. Same talent, serves me best at work, making plans, writing articles, solving problems ... in human relations, it traps. I don't accept
. I use resentment as energy, look at it all from ten-dimensional perspectives, invent solutions, clash them, then fix things. No one's better at that than me. Relationships, people aren't rational. You and me, aren't even ourselves sometimes! My intuition's good too, but I have to act
. Never in compromise: I know values, priorities as true-in-themselves. I begin with non-negotiable, as, "we'll get the system in place, understood and the team's work lives'll be easier." Any obstacle, aggravation claims to be unchangeable, my mind'll rip it apart, over and over until I change it. Would that this virtue, and it is a virtue, undid absence that way. Could it reverse loss? --there are levers to everything. I don't trust patience. All its sycophants speak after the fact. You never hear of patience unrewarded. Give me something to do, to solve the problem and I'm fine.
|Thursday, September 4th, 2014|
|Saturday, August 30th, 2014|
The WiFi's screwed up from tourists, so I'm typing this in the bathroom. Expect my posts to get a lot better.
|Saturday, August 2nd, 2014|
The reason I haven't posted here is typing has been very painful since April 24th. Very painful means having to lie down in bed for half an hour after typing five minutes.
I've had four sets of spinal injections since then. Some improvement. Next will be radio frequency burning of the nerves. I'm consulting with a neurosurgeon, but before I can do that, I have to nail down NY State Medicaid. Under disability, you are automatically entitled to pay for Medicaid as supplemental coverage, but most States throw up every imaginable bureaucratic obstacle trying to keep you off the roles, because that way they can keep the money.
That was what Obamacare was really all about. They did a lousy job explaining it. I'll try.
"Right now, your State gets millions of dollars each year from the US Government to cover health insurance for poor and disabled people plus certain other categories. The reason you've never heard of this is any money your State doesn't spend on people who need it, they get to keep. So, Republican or Democrat, you really ought to be for this program because the money's already being spent, it's been spent for decades and your State stole practically all of it. At least the money ought to help someone."
I'm going to post a bunch of crazy things. First off: the OKCupid ad I'd write, never having seen one.
|Sunday, June 29th, 2014|
Expect more and more quotes, both sides of the US aisle: "it is time to discuss alternatives to Prime Minister Maliki," or "the US must support Iraqi democracy, which still has not been given the chance the Iraqi people deserve." Former quote will come from Lindsey Graham or John McCain (Rs). Latter quote will come from John Kerry.
This week, Cameron will probably go first. Merkel, next day. Hollande, desperately does not want to say a word, but I believe he's worth something and he will go on record.
It's like this. We were losing the Iraq War until 2005 and something called the Awakening. We paid off a number of Sunni sheikhs, traditional authority figures in the region. They hated Saddam because when he wasn't slaughtering Shi'a, Sunnis who didn't toe Saddam's line oh he loved slaughtering them. The sheikhs also hated Al Qaeda because of the atrocities. There were of course secret deals struck with everyone and his brother having to do with de facto political control of de facto sheikdoms since 2005-2007, how much of a central government did Iraq have? --none. The difference now is we helped several marginally fair democratic elections happen in Iraq and the people won. Iraq is majority Shi'a. Maliki, the new Sh'is Prime Minister immediately gave any government portfolio worth anything to his corrupt cronies, who were Shiites too yeah but really just guys Maliki had to pay off. Maliki had a Sunni second-in-command. He was very quickly charged with trumped-up corruption charges and fled the country. Iraq still has never had anything like a democratically elected government that respects the rights of all Iraqis.
Assad Jr., dirtbag was more than happy when Islamic radicals infiltrated Syria's rebel forces and likely hired most of them.
Kurdistan -- let's cut the crap -- the top part of Iraq with so much oil has a militia, the pesh merga, as well as a de facto army. They've already taken Kirkuk. That's where a HUGE amount of oil is refined. If anyone cares anymore, sharing Iraq!s oil revenues was to be a tool us Wilsonians, because we are all supposed to have some sad, honest faith in our country and in the universal truth of human rights those oil revenues might have helped us pull Shiites, Sunni and the Kurds into something like a state. At this point, we're staring at a civil war across two no-longer-existent "states" we once called Iraq and Syria, hence the name of the six thousand dirtbags who've turned the tide so against us, ISIS. Except it's not the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. They're after "the land of the sons of Shem." We don't mention enough Arabs and Jews are Semites both, or Shemites: the sons and daughters of Noah's son Shem. ISIS is after the entire Levant.
I love the World Cup too. My friend and I drew Argentina. We have a shot. But Iraq is going to Hell right now. Six thousand irregulars against a 50,000-man army, except the army doesn't want to fight. We have a problem.
We are going to have to consider air strikes. It is not anyone's FAULT. That thinking's no good to anyone anymore, us Americans have a problem, the end, that's it. We act or stare at a destabilized Middle East getting worse real fast. I can think of two US allies armed to the teeth. They may decide not to wait on our hand-wringing.
|Wednesday, June 4th, 2014|
18 months ago, they gave me an epidural and facets. No pain for three months.
This time around, doc wants to try each in sequence. If one works, suggests where trouble is (scanners can't see it); if it doesn't work, we try the other approach.
Woke up this AM, 7 on a scale of 10, where 10 is call ambulance. I.e. typical.
It is discouraging. Means Friday, same ER crap, & presumably 3-4 days of argh since they'll be shredding up a new area. Them's the breaks.
|Monday, May 26th, 2014|
I am pleased to note one woman friend of mine, got it right about the deluded maniac who shot people in Santa Barbara CA. She felt bad for him, expressed the wish he'd gone to a prostitute. I don't think that would have worked, that was not what he was after (from what I've read), but the reaction of the rest of America is scary. I sat in a bar today, heard people talk. "Couldn't get laid, what a fuckup, loser," etc. was like watching the creation of the next one, or more realistically the next one of how many millions will never do anything but will have nowhere to go, no one to talk to even though each has done nothing.
Several months ago, I had a thought about loneliness that made me want to throw up. It was sickening. In the mid-90s, I went through twice a week psychotherapy, Freudian psychnoanalysis. I can't recommend it to anyone. It helped me a great deal with getting along with my family. It did not change what happened to me. I've yet to meet anyone who ever went to therapy who did not want what happened to him or her to be different from what it had been, and unfortunately nothing human exists that is any help with that. There is a book out, Profiles of the Poor. Someone got sick of hearing that poor people had made bad life choices, so she studied a group of same next to a control group of better-off people, trying to understand the difference between the two groups. I hope you already know there was no difference, except for one thing: poor people, in the main, had suffered one or more bad life events that hurt them and predisposed them to more bad life events. An example would be the fatal illness of a parent at a young age. The woman who wrote the book found that poor people are unlike the better-off primarily because of luck. We live in precarious times and the poor are most easily distinguished from the better-off by pain they suffered but did not earn years before. This pain changes people's relationship with the world. It leads to more pain, as the death of a parent at a young age can lead to economic and social dislocation, later the death of optimism itself: difficult to believe any longer in what reality has manifestly proven does not apply to you. Similarly, if a 22-year-old is certain he can't get laid or loved, this is true for him absent incredible luck, and there's not much of that anywhere these days. What would instill in someone age 17 the certainty he can't be loved? --divorce and the alienation of affection, like from your mother yeah that might do it. Except since it's not a divorce proceeding, God help you if your Mom dies or otherwise can't love you: you have no recourse. Most likely outcome: you will decide the fault is yours, because Man is rational before practically anything, this is why we've survived this long and we require rational explanations even for human barbarism. We do not want to believe same exists. We will blame ourselves first, and thus the ripping this kid apart: had it been us, obviously could not have happened. Sure. As we create the next one: is it so hard, to admit not one of us would trade places with him, or admit no one should be left outside humanity like that, least of all ourselves? No it is much easier to tell others they suffer because they must deserve it. God help us.
In Freudian analysis, my shrink constantly reminded me "that sounds like an emotion that is not yours. So-and-so tried to put that into you, to help himself: he expurgated horrible feelings by cramming them into you. You can't process these feelings most of all because they are not yours to begin with, you are trapped trying to manage parts of you, that aren't you." What if loneliness
is something caused in individuals by the actions of others? What if it's a sin we have committed? This would explain why lonely people are so absolutely unable to manage it, it was never theirs to begin with, they suffer from malignancy by sentence. We could never have survived this long as a species were we not social by nature, co-operative, requiring everyone's help. I do not find loneliness as neurosis credible because no one would choose it, and the very things we insist to lonely people will save them, like joining a hundred clubs, OKCupid and all that shit we already know ourselves guarantee nothing. Because no one would choose loneliness I know it is human sacrifice practiced by all of us on the few, or go read The Lottery
by Shirley Jackson: we so need to believe suffering can be avoided, we sacrifice people to it. You hear one person express one iota of sympathy for that kid you let me know. I am proud of my friend. Who did that to him? Don't know. I do know he did not do that to himself.
|Tuesday, May 6th, 2014|
NANCY: We are here.
NANCY: Both of us. Those you knew as the Commissioner and the Companion. We are both here.
SPOCK: Companion, you do not have the power to create life.
NANCY: That is for the Maker of all things.
SPOCK: Commissioner Hedford was dying.
NANCY: That part of us was too weak to hold on. In a moment, there would have been no continuing. Now we're together.
SPOCK: Then you are both here, in the one body?
NANCY: We are one.
(She goes to Cochrane, who takes a step back.)
NANCY: Zefram, we frighten you. We've never frightened you before. Loneliness. This is loneliness. Oh, what a bitter thing. Oh, Zefram, it's so sad. How do you bear it, this loneliness?
KIRK: Spock, check out the shuttlecraft. Engine, communications, everything.
NANCY: That will not be necessary, Captain. Your vehicle will operate as before, so will the communications device.
COCHRANE: You're letting us go?
NANCY: We could do nothing now to stop you. You said we would not know love because we were not human. Now we are human. We'll know the change of days. We will know death. But to touch the hand of man, nothing is as important.
COCHRANE: You're very beautiful.
NANCY: Part of me understands. Part does not. But it pleases me.
COCHRANE: I could explain many things.
NANCY: Oh, let me walk, Zefram. Let me feel the earth against my feet. Let me feel the warmth of the sun on my face. You beside me. Let me feel these things.
|Sunday, May 4th, 2014|
From the Anti-Slam, Wednesday April 16 2014:
The stays lashed the worse, no hope of forgetting them. Soon as would drag you down. The Master's time, now: (WHAP tp tp tp) the true sound of wind hates us who try its seas. His blasts, piled one on the other that the timbers' scrape was loud to hurt, the boards we slept on, the wind could take them too. I have slept as on a ship through the northeast storms. That night I knew: serve home. The captain of his fate serves a fool. Held by no storm, but the unseen shore, home can never be taken from you. The tides of this world break on home, and the stars the same: no star but together, and so home, above all this Earth.
|Monday, April 28th, 2014|
|Saturday, April 5th, 2014|
|Monday, February 17th, 2014|
|Storm 12, tomorrow
Landlord and I are standing on the stoop. "Upper East Side Not Plowed -- DiBlasio Retaliation Alleged." When was our street plowed? NEVER. What's our street like now? 4-6 inches of snow, with half-assed skid ruts.
Three Con Ed guys standing around a manhole. Ahh, shit. I did see that. I saw them working at three in the morning when I got home. Not a lot of manhole work at 3 AM, should've remembered that. I am outside with the landlord because half our apartment has no power.
One guy's securing a two-handled device in place like a jackhammer. There is no sound. I have never seen this device before. WHOOMPGH there is a sound.
Dark green smoke pours out of the manhole like the Joker's attacked Gotham City. I keep looking. The smoke remains green. Never seen that. Con Ed guys. Hardhats, good. Not management. All three are not running away simultaneously. OK.
"Dey say de transformer's blown. Entire transformer!," says landlord.
"Yeah, see that stupid trench?" There are two of them, one on each side of the street in the middle of the sidewalk. Each one starts out like someone gave a shit about the job. New asphalt is flat. Twenty feet of that, remaining sixty feet, both sides is nothing but a heap of oily black rocks pretending to be asphalt. No fun, trying to walk on that but buried under the snow, anyone could break something. Good luck wheeling anything over it such as your kid in a stroller. "The gas company dug that what, last summer? Six months, they just LEFT it?"
"Six months? Nine months!," says landlord. He is correct. "How many times I call, 311, gas company, city, city won't do it! No money! But the taxes, twelve hundred dollars ..." I tune him out at this point because mysteriously every conversation with this guy winds up a discussion of the operating costs of the building which continue to increase.
"--haven't done SHIT so old people and little kids can keep breaking their necks on it. What's a new trench? New leaks! Leaks in new places DUHHHH!"
Con Ed team smirks. All three guys. I fixed burglar alarms for 12 weeks during a Verizon strike. I know holes. Work for the guys! Ice, snow, salt: ZAPPP electrocuted dog. KRNNSHCK ahh my LEG! SKRRHZHCHCH new bumper time, happy sounds of winter. So many fuckups in New York are planned, just about.