The Meaty Efreeti

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

It's been an odd day. So D, Mom, B. and I get up early to drive to Sealy and see Russell's parents...specifically to be there with them as his headstone is placed at his grave. On the way out, I'm passed on the freeway by an 18-wheeler with a rubber chicken hanging from the rear door. I grin and glance upward. We end up being very, very early and wait around the graveyard for an hour-and-a-half before the headstone monkeys arrive and do their thing. (By the way, the Bass that D and I left for Russell on his birthday was still there, slightly salving my faith in humanity.) As they dropped the top stone into place, a prescient flash hit me. One which was quite moving, and will, no doubt, be quite difficult to describe. I could sense the moment knife-carving itself into my memory. I felt myself remembering it. The stone slid into place with a soft grating thud...the same kind of dull gravelly sound they use in movies when sepulchres are being shut, or rocks are being pushed in front of caves mouths, trapping the occupants. I could feel the memory forming in my head, and felt the permanence of it. An odd sensation, especially when coupled with what came right afterward. Which was being able to see myself standing right where I was, looking at that stone, at many, many different times in the future. It's an interesting experience to view something with that kind of diuturnal nature for the very first time. To take the first look at a scene that you'll be revisiting again and again, for the rest of your life... I really wish I could describe it better for you, and I've edited and re-edited that last passage so many times that the words have jumbled together... Unfortunately it seems that's as good as it's going to get. Sorry. Anyway, we put his various effects back in place around his grave, said goodbye, and headed back to the office, which is where I will be for the next 10 minutes or so before I go play some tennis for a bit, and then go home to watch "Closer." Yes, tennis. I figure I'm not pushing the gerontologic sporting envelope quite hard enough with softball alone... See you on the court. Take care, j.s. Top 5 Wednesday! Songs to be Played at My Funeral: 1. "One Chance" - Modest Mouse 2. "Look Up" - Stars 3. "Don't Follow" - Alice in Chains 4. "This Monkey's Gone to Heaven" - Pixies 5 "Let Go" - Frou Frou

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

"Perfect! Every time!" So, you're going to have to take my word on this one...but you want to right-click that link and "Save Target As..." to your machine. It makes me giggle and cry at the same time. It's strange to hear his voice, and his laugh... I really miss that kid. j.s. Oh, and it increases exponentially in hilarity with each viewing

Monday, March 28, 2005

Hiya. I don't have much time to write...so this is going to have to be a weekend recap on amphetamines. Here we go. Friday I went to O.C. after work with Mom. Had a couple of beers, hung out on the patio until she took off for the hockey game. I stick around for another hour or so by myself, then Luis makes it over and we discuss the impending baseball season and the General Hospital-esque drama revolving around it. "Roger's Hummer was stolen? No!" "Johnny cut his hair and shaved? Maybe he had to after being bitten by that spider..." And perhaps the most insulting... Yankees/Red Sox Shake Hands??? Okay kids...now don't take this personally or anything but...cough Fuck you. You pathetic little fucking whiners and your clueless mealy-mouthed teachers are trying to ruin one of basballs' greatest and most heated rivalries by hosing it down with that re-polarized happy-sludge from Ghostbusters II? Things don't have to be nice and sweet and kindly all the time people... Is it not okay to simply dislike someone anymore? Look. It's our nature as humans to need bad guys...and both teams fill that slot admirably for the other. It isn't like the Yanks and their fans don't reciprocate the hate...and that's good. It's great for baseball. It's fun to watch...especially so when there are opposing fans around. And it's and important and fundamental part of American life. And if you little snot-nosed unicorn-riders cock that up for not only me, but my kids and grandkids? America will never fucking forgive you. Besides...shake a Yankee hand? In our house? I'd rather chew a roll of tinfoil. I've digressed havent I... Friday night. Right. Okay, so we hang out there. I get a strange text message from [TGFTP} that requests to catch up with me, however I must come up with a bar expeditiously. I'd planned on seeing "Fight Club" anyway, so I pick "Sherlocks," a ridiculous bar, but one that happens to be right next to the movie theater. I go. She doesn't. Apparently a text message explaining that she would not be there was lost in the digital ether somewhere... Ended up being a good thing actually, since I was supposed to meet Luis and K. 30 minutes later outside the movie theater. Which I did... And after Fight Club, we all just went home. Saturday Ft. View Cafe for breakfast. Good, good. I finish breakfast and walk to get another cup of coffee before leaving for practice when I glance over and see... The Puggle Owner. I ask where the Puggle is... "Alas, we left her at home today...sorry." "Ah. So it 'tis. How sad." I say, smile and walk back to the table and finish my coffee. (Baby steps people...baby steps.) I wave as I drive off...and she waves back. Tune in Next Weeked for: The Introduction? Went to practice, which was good. Then hung out at D's place afterward and watched Invasion of the Body Snatchers until I get a message from N. saying she was heading to the O.C. So I go home, shower and change, and head over there to hang out with her and friends. Fine time, fine conversation, numerous Bass Ales, and home around 2. Sunday Get up around 11:30 and lounge around the house in recovery mode. At 3 I leave and head to my Grandmother's house for an early Easter dinner thing with some of the fam...after which I head to Dad's place for a bit. Family time all around...which was good. I had to give them a certain amount of good-natured static for making what looks like a Zen rock garden in the front yard. I'm sure they'll eventually tire of the little smiley bald men in orange robes that will wander around the gardens looking confused. Smoking censers, chanting at all hours, contemplative posings... Eventually they'll have to chase 'em off with a broom or something. Um...yeah. Anyway, hung out there, then went to D's where I crashed. And today is our first softball game at Papa Blakely's. Wish us luck...please. K, I've really gotta run. Take care. I'll leave you with this: The Beard Olympics. j.s.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Good morning my Lovelys...and a happy Easter/Passover/Vernal Equinox to you. It's early Sunday morning, around 3'ish, and I have just returned home from the O.C. where I spent the evening with N, [TGFTP], and a cast of supporting characters. Overall it was a good time, steeped in directorial debate, "actresses I'd like to sleep with" arguments, and indie musical hipster pissing contests. Cute. And it slightly made up for that fact that I was stood up by [TGFTP] the night prior, which is a long story and I'm not really in the mood to go into it. But me... Stood up. Can you imagine? What kind of Bizarro world do we live in? Anyway, I'll recap the weekend on Monday I think... Right now, Cowboy Bebop is on the tele...after which I think I'm going to bed. Good night. j.s.

Friday, March 25, 2005

K. I'm out for the weekend. It's looking good for "Fight Club" at the River Oaks tonight, if any of you would like to attend. (Although I'm not supposed to talk about it...) j.s.



Hi there. I'm a little blurry around the edges at the moment. Went to the O.C. tonight with my uncle and a gaggle of realtors. Topics ranged from property prices in Montrose, to welding, to Shelley Long, to the show "E.R," then to Sri Lanka, veered over to snowboarding, then took a right at "The King & I," and stopped at my dimples. At which point I'd had just about enough and went home. Good times. And I am a huge fan of the $2.00 Red Stripe Thursdays. =] I did meet a kinda cute girl tonight though. One whom I walked 2 blocks to my Jeep to get a jacket for. (Although to be honest, that really doesn't mean much. I'd probably walk several blocks to get a jacket for Eva Braun if she looked a little chilly...) Alas, she ended up leaving with someone else. Not that I'd expected her to leave with me or anything, but...well, you know... So now I'm laying in bed, propped up against some pillows, and writing for you folk before I tire and crash before work tomorrow. Hope your Thursday was as generally pleasant as mine. G'night. j.s.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

My Red Sox tickets in Dallas for the 30th, as well as my Astros season tickets, have arrived. First 'Stros game = Apr. 5th. And I am already tired of waiting. I would like hereby like to lobby those in charge of the Houston climate to bypass any and all other weather phenomena that currently exists in potentia, and to simply keep the current weather constant for the foreseeable future. It's almost impossibly beautiful outside, and it's supposed to be like this for the rest of the week. knocks wood Also, in the interest of increasing the speed at which I recover my ciggie cognitive spin-up time, I purchased a coffee this morning and am, as we speak, drinking it. It's hard to say if it helped, but I'm certainly typing faster than I have in the past. And my heart is thanking me for the caffeine by vibrating happily in my ribcage. K, I'm off. Talk to you later. j.s.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Also tired of changing out the picture at the top, so I just set up a random Flickr stream. So there you go. j.s.



Good morning. Not a whole lot going on out there today, unless you count the national buzz at Texas Childrens' Hospital over the forced euthanasia of malformed babies. Read if you like, but I'm not going anywhere near that topic. There's a hurt there that hasn't distanced itself enough yet, and I'd rather not stir it back up if it's all the same to you. Instead, I'm going to stare wistfully out the window and wish that I were outside. Here I go... wistwist* A wiser man that I once said, "how can I possibly be expected to handle school [or work] on a day like this?" Think I'm going to take in a Fiesta trip for drinks. Back in a bit. ... Back. Hunting/gathering of Minute Maid Fruit Punch...complete. I shall enjoy its fruitiness once I have finished my morning's Earl Grey. Oh, not sure if I'd mentioned that or not, but I've given up my morning coffee along with the smokes. To be honest it's been pretty easy. I simply replaced it with hot tea. Unfortunately I've also never felt so mentally dulled in all my life...as if the inside of my head were stuffed with cotton, making my thoughts slow, labored and muffled. You know, I'm coming to realize that I don't really miss the cigarettes themselves (the act of smoking them), nor do I miss the relaxing effect of them (like smoking on a porch after dark on a warm summer evening), I don't even miss (much) the way a cigarette helps me gesticulate my many insightful points with graceful and enlightened (I PUN!) aplomb... But I do miss the speed at which they helped me to think... And I'm not so sure if losing that in exchange for healthier lungs is a good trade. But we'll see. Perhaps this fog is only temporary. j.s.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

That's right..."Create New Post." Water is flowing uphill...I'm actually writing on a Sunday. You are now allowed to express your pleasure. So Thursday was Micks' Drink Day, and I started off the evening at Gingerman with Luis and K. et al. And though I don't think I looked like it, I was really having a good time...and in rare, "I'm tipsy and unapologetically goofy" form. There were many laughs. There were many beers. There were puppets. There were plastic shamrock beads. A horrible band played Beatles covers. There were several very drunk girls who kept calling me "Israel" for reasons lost on me. And there were, in fact, many pictures taken. But as I've mentioned, my camera was stolen so I am unable to show them to you. (Unless the thief has a blog, in which case you can Google for pictures of "Sprout" the miniature Jolly Green Giant and find them that way.) We went next door to Bronx Bar for "real" drinks, and a different set of drunk girls were convinced my name was not "Israel" but "Happy." (Your guess is as good as mine.) St. Patrick's Day coincides with Nickname Jeremiah Whatever-the-Damn-Well-You-Please-Day apparently.) So I assured them that my name was not, nor had it ever been, nor would I ever go by the alias "Happy." They seemed saddened by this and immediately left. And so did I. To the O.C. Where no one gave me strange and inappropriate nicknames at all. Friday I went to work, and then caught up with J.T. at my place in the afternoon and we headed over to the O.C. again... Many beers and an arrival of N. later, and we went over to Katz's for late-night-snackies. (Hence the Andrew "Dice" Clay post earlier.) Yesterday (Saturday), was softball practice which was made unbelievably painful by a new pair of cleats I'd purchased. Running + new cleats = a gaping chasm on Jeremiah's heel. I had planned on going out with some friends on Saturday evening, but watery stinging pain in my foot kept me relatively sedentary for the evening, and I instead rested on D's couch and watched Ten Commandments. Today (barely moble as a result of the cleat-created hole in my foot), I hung about on the couch until N. called and was on her way to the O.C. Which sounded like a good idea... So I cleaned myself up a bit, wrapped my foot in gauze and headed over to have a couple of beers. Met a bartender there in an Sandman t-shirt and small-talked about Gaiman and the Death postcard above the refrigerator. Introduced ourselves, and said 'bye' when I was leaving. My first "in" into the new bar. fanfare And now I've relocated to Diedrich for a cup of tea and to sit on the patio for a few...and, after just receiving an invitation to dinner, I shall be heading to Carraba's with Mom and D and 'Liss and The Plus One. Take care of yourselves. Talk to you tomorrow. j.s.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

I would like to note that I'm very disappointed in all of you for not voting for the Meaty in the 2005 Bloggies. I slave for hours over a steaming hot keyboard to make free, bite-sized and easily digestible quips for you, and I get nothing but ingratitude in return... Why do I bother? Because it certainly isn't for the national recognition of my obvious genius. Next year I'll fill out the form for you and simply have a "Submit" button. Actually, it's just a shameless ploy to get invited to SXSW... I'll even replace my camera that was stolen last night and photoblog it, just for you. --Random Interesting Factoid-- Andrew Dice Clay washes his hands thoroughly after going to the bathroom. (I bore witness to this tonight at Katz's, where he passed me a couple of paper towels. Who'd have guessed?) j.s.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Jeep broken into again. Lost a digital camera and my CD's. I'm seriously considering moving... j.s.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Hello...Happy Booze Day. So last night I drove out to Sealy, stood by Russell's grave, drank some Bass, and left a rose, a la "The Crow." (Which no doubt sounds horribly dramatic to those that didn't know Russell, but trust me, he'd have liked that.) I stood there and quietly told him how much I miss him, and how much it still hurts that he's gone. And he in turn reminded me that such seriousness isn't neither warranted, nor required when reflecting on him and his life (or my own for that matter), and that, once again, the best way to honor him is via a ridiculous, uncontrollable smile and friendly, unabashed laughter. It's difficult for me to explain. It was soul quieting, for lack of a better term... And it was something I needed without knowing that I needed it. See, a lot of existential theory has been ricocheting around my head lately, and being out next to him slowed things down and gave both focus and levity to these cerebrations. It was good. And it helped. And that's enough. Today it appears that I am heading over to Red Lion/Gingerman for drinks after work, all to celebrate the life of one Mr. Patrick, and his missionary work to the Irish. I shall see some of you there, others far away or absent will have to settle for a heartfelt raise o' the glass. Take care. j.s.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Hi. Today is Russell's birthday...he would have been 25. j.s.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Good morning my Meaty faithful. The content of this post has been pre-hyped a little and to be honest I'm a little nervous about how it'll come out. Although it could just be the coffee. Okay... the Weeeeekend Recap! (A classic.) Friday Unbelievably beautiful weather led me to a patio at Sam's Place at about 3 in the afternoon for multi-beer consumption. Originally I'd just planned on staying there for a couple hours, but as 7:00 rolled around I was in "gogogo! mode," so I went to a friend's house for a bit, (in the middle of nowhere on the northside), had drinks, and then caught a ride to Fedora Lounge at around 10ish. And I gotta tell you...that is one boring little bar. Perhaps I'll patronize it when I'm a septuagenarian, but on a Friday night when there's so much else to do, and I don't require a walker to do them? Not so much. The girls we were sitting with really didn't help either. I haven't been that arrogantly dismissive to people in a very long time. Didn't talk to them, didn't listen to them, I barely even looked at them... Although, in my own defense, their conversations were pretty inane. Most revolved around their current boyfriend(s), Desperate Housewives, or someone being "soooo drunk." At one point I just decided to entertain myself by feigning partial deafness and staring off into space while they were talking to me, just to see how many times they'd ask the same question. Example: "So where's your girlfriend Jeremiah?" ... "Where's your girlfriend?" ... [a friend nudges Jeremiah] "Huh?" "Where. Is. Your. Girlfriend?" "Oh. She lives in Canada. Near Niagra Falls." (Doing my best Anthony Michael Hall.) "Canada?" [Jeremiah nods] "Oh. How long have you been with her?" [Jeremiah stares off again] "How long have you been with her?" [It appears Jeremiah has found something interesting on his thumb] "HOW. LONG. HAVE. YOU. Awfuckit..." [Girl looks away, and a subtle smile forces its way up the corner of Jeremiah's mouth] It's sad what one has to resort to for entertainment in this city. Anyway, I switched to Coke at around 11:30, and after my 4th one I began dropping subtle hints that I was ready to leave. You know, like yawning, compulsively twitching, building icecube igloos on the table, and staring upward while trying to swivel my head to match the speed of the ceiling fan... None of which worked. We left after last call and I rode back out to the middle of nowhere with these people, leapt out of the truck when we arrived, and beelined for the Jeep to go home. "Jeremiah, you're leaving? "Yes!" "WHY?!?" "Contrary to popularly held opinion my dear, I do not drink alcohol simply to do so. And if history has proven anything to me, it's that rarely does a late-night tryst with inebriated acquaintances at someone's house outweigh sleeping in one's own. Goodnight. And have fun." [Jeep door slams. Jeremiah waves. Stunned, everyone slowly waves back.] The friends that I was there with called me the next day and laughed about it, so all is well. And I've given you these details for a reason...I promise. Saturday Got up around 11 and headed to Fountain View where I caught up with Mom and my aunt. Weather still beautiful, although no sign of the Puggle, and more importantly, no sign of the Puggle's owner. Sigh. Oh well. After breakfast I headed over to softball practice at Cullen Park, which was certainly interesting. We are...not so good...YET, and we definitely need a lot more practice. It also seems we are a team of lushes since many people were too hungover at 3pm to show up. So we practiced with 5 people. Hopefully next weekend will be better. After practice I did a quick change at home and headed to pick up Luis and K. at the airport. I accidentally parked on the opposite side of the airport from where they were flying in however. (My fault, I was convinced he said "B" when he did in fact say "D as in 'dog'" 3 times.) But it was an excuse to ride that awesome little tram around for a bit. =] So I head over to the D terminal and I find a gaggle of buddhist monks, recently arrived to the U.S., waving little flags and passing out oranges to people. I sat and watched them for about 45 minutes. And it was one of the most moving experiences I've had in a long while. All of them calm and serene, yet smiling happily and strolling around, often breaking into beautiful little songs and clapping. To watch and listen to them made me feel becalmed and at peace, and also very, very saddened for how I acted toward the people I was with the night before. I'm not sure exactly what it is that I took away from the experience, but I've been thinking all weekend about how profoundly it affected me...and it defintely bears more consideration. Drove Luis and K. to her place and dropped them off, then headed out to Katy to catch up with Jake, (aka: "bitterness is a drug against W"), who was in town just for the evening, having a long layover on his flight back to NYC. Good to catch up with him and that group for a bit. Went home at around 11ish. Sunday Woke up at 8 and readied myself for the AIDS Walk. Got there at 9 and started hikin' at a little after 10. I'm not exactly sure how many people turned out, although I've just heard that my picture is in the Houston Chronicle...and of course I'm on my phone in it...=] After the walk I headed home where I caught up with my uncle. Hung out on my patio, enjoying the magnificent weather, and then decided to hit the O.C. for a few Red Stripes. Got a text from N. saying she and [TGFTP] were at something called the "West Alabama Ice House," and that we should come by. Skeptical isn't a strong enough word for how I felt, yet I was curious, so we went. And I found, Texas. Texas. And more Texas. So Texas that I had a Skynard Reaction and found the back of my neck to be slightly rubric upon my return home. The bathroom was an aluminum shed people...an aluminum shed. Plywood walls on the inside, an olfactory clogging stench of beer/urine, and garden hose running along the warped, muddy formica tile floor. In fact, it was so Texas, that I'm unable to relate the Lone Starosity of it to you in my normal voice . So to remedy this I'm going to switch to "Go Texan!" mode by quickly downing a 6-pack of cheap beer, covering my tongue with Anbesol, and cracking my head sharply on the corner of my desk... Ready? Ahem. shht shht shht shht shht shht Blehba... CRACKow... Well hahdy. So we'wer sippin' sum Bhuuds n' sittin' out on a wood binch at tha Ahce House this Sundee last. Wind stirrin' up the dirt evr so often. Little 'uns 'er out eatin' hot dogs... Evrone brung their dawgs out with 'em too and they was all playin' round and gettin' in tussles and havin' a bawl and whutnot. We hung 'round ther for 'bout n' hour 'r two, shared some stohries, got a good lil' drunk goin' and jus had a fine ol' time. Roun' 6 Jinny 'membered she had taters waitin' on 'er back at the house, so she 'n her beau skeedadled on home. I till you whut... Now me n' mah Uncle J.T. n' N'cole wasn't quiite ready to head on just yet, so we stayed on, tellin' stories n' laughin', you know. Some girl with somma the strangest tattooos that you ev'r seen sat with us for a spell. You shoulda seen 'em man. She had that...whatchacallit...that lil' salt girl in the poncho? Yeah her. She was all over the frunt o' her leg...and on the back she had a tabasco sauce label. Now I don't reckon I know whut kinda drugs she's on, cuz she'us talking 'bout a mile a minute and we'us having trouble just tryin' ta keep up. But she got bored and moseyed on off after 'bout an hour or so tho', and me n' N'cole n' J.T. all decided to head on home 'roun sunset. Boy I till you what...was a fine Texas afternoon. Yep. Fine Texas afternoon... Think I'm fixin' ta pass out now...hooboy... -Jer'miya Shaugh-

Friday, March 11, 2005

Hello. This is my "I Am Officially Tired of Freeway Construction" post. For those who don't reside in the Greater Houston blobsprawl, you are blissfully unaware of the I-10 "improvements" that are happening on one of our biggest thoroughfares. Here's a quick look at just a few bits of our loverly commuter tarmacs: These aren't even that bad... The ubiquitous barrels which change position daily at the whim of the Great Freeway Construction God, freestanding girders, smoking/flaming machines, giant rivets, mustachioed men with blank stares... It's like day-glo Donkey Kong. The total cost of this I-10 Project? 1.5 billion dollars. Projected finish date? March... Of 2009. All this in an effort to ease the blood pressure of suburban 9-5'ers who are blurring the edges of the city by creating enormous subdivisions with soothing colloquial names like Cinco Ranch and Sun Creek. Meanwhile, our city edges even higher in the pollution index. We're currently ranked at #5, behind L.A., Visalia-Porterville, Bakersfield and Fresno. (West Coast environmentalism FTW!) So, quicker traffic to West Houston equates to more people moving there. More people living there means more people driving there during rush hour. And the clogging of the freeway begins anew... I-10 II: Interstate Ten and the Temple of Sprawl, beginning in 2011. But I digress... You would think that, when widening an existing freeway into a 20-lane behemoth of convenience, you simply apply the law of diminishing returns and concentrate on a particular area in an effort to, in the vernacular of my rubescent-necked neighbors, "git 'er dun." This is sadly not the case. They're tearing up nearly every stretch of road, freeway, loop, beltway, feeder, side road and driveway, in the entire city. So you are unable to escape their "progress." Okay enough. I'm beginning to fume. (I PUN!) In brighter news, and in a manic depressive shift of topic, I have just purchased 2 tickets to the Rangers vs. Red Sox game at Arlington Field for April 30th. 3rd base line. 7 rows back. And just thinking about that makes me vibrate with happiness. It could be that we head up on Friday night and spend the weekend up there...I've no idea. For now I'm getting in the Jeep and heading to the park to enjoy the unbelievably beautiful weather. See you around. plays "mario with the hammer" midi j.s.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Daily Addendum My Jeep windows just arrived. And though they do not have post-break-in slashes in them, they are also not the same fabric as the top of my Jeep. Perhaps it's just my degree coming back to haunt me, but the Jeep top is a black sailcloth and these new windows are a black twill. Which is so sucky that it hums. I guess once I get it out in the sunlight and have a look I'll know whether I'm going to be calling that guy back and reaming him or not... Also, when did Moleskine notebooks become so trendy? I've been carrying one for 3 years now and today I've seen 3 different references to how many folk are toting them to SXSW this year... I should really get paid for this kinda thing. And finally... Gentlemen, BEHOLD! The New Google. j.s.



I spammed many of you this afternoon about the AIDS Walk here on Sunday. My apologies. If it helps I did feel kinda icky about it. But it just seemed the quickest and easiest way to tell all of you at once, and to see if you'd like to come along. The quick breakdown is: Sunday, March 13th @ Sam Houston Park in Downtown. Registration starts at 8:00 am, with the 3.5 mile walk beginning shortly thereafter. If you'd like to come, call or text me and I'll let you know where we're meeting up beforehand. Oh, and hopefully the weather this year will be better than the last. Sorry again about the spam. j.s.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Poodles and leylines to you my friends. Happy "International Women's Day." It wasn't long ago that, on this day, I was arriving at Fiumicino airport in Rome. Finding the general female populace to be both "on strike" (a day off really), and generally going batshit and partying like lecherous old men with a new penile pump. Pushing the young men in drinking establishments up onto the bar, forcing them to dance, and pulling their shirts off and such. Sigh. I miss Rome. Went to the gym yesterday evening and (as it typically does), it felt great to work out. Muscles are taut and stringy today, but in that good way. And my general healthy and tingly good vibe has no doubt been enhanced by a night of uninterrupted sleep. The isochronal bouts with insomnia (3-4 am nightly) were blissfully absent, no doubt owing to both the gym workout, and sleeping with the window next to my bed open. Mmmm...I want to slide back into bed just thinking about it... Down comforter and pillows, a gentle breeze blowing in and making the trees whisper outside, train sounds echoing softly in the distance, ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead...and that comforting "home" smell of your house with the windows open. yawn Okay. So what else. Ah! D and I have purchased 3 season tickets to the Astros this year, which promises to be inexorably cool. They're first row, right field, directly next to the foul pole. Not exactly the greatest seat in the park, but it's our first year buying them so we figured starting slow wouldn't be a bad idea. Besides, we're still permitted to yell/heckle players and drink beer out there, not necessarily in that order, so all is good. Those so inclined to see a game or two are more than welcome to come along. It seems that FedEx has misplaced my replacement Jeep windows. I just got a call from them explaining that they found one of them, however they claim to have no idea as to why they weren't delivered yesterday. Not that it really matters today. The weather is just too beautiful to drive around with a top on your car. In fact, it's way too beautiful to stay inside as well. looks outside longingly Oh, and the result of my ruminations on good vs bad? I seems that it simply cannot, pragmatically anyway, extend beyond your "self." The definitions of what is "good" and what is "bad" are so varied from person to person that anything I perceive as "goodness" simply can't be assumed to have a flat uniformity to others in our society, and obviously even less so to other cultures around the world. So in my book, (which is admittedly comprised mostly of stick figures and kitties drawn in crayon), the only thing I've been able to solidly argue is that being told what is right and wrong via religion and acting upon that based only on this input is less good than doing what is right because you have unilaterally weighed and measured what is right and wrong. The former is like a blind man who accidentally finds himself on the right road, and boastfully claims to know where he was all along. The latter seems like a developed, fully-cognitive human being. Now, the biggest difference in opinion I've come across is with people who have asked me whether I think I'm a good person, as if whatever I think is all that should matter. But everyone thinks they're a good person, right? I mean, if you didn't think you were (albeit sometimes deep down), you'd suffer some kind of cognitive dissonance right? I'm willing to bet you that Adolf Hitler thought he was a great person... But others don't seem to agree with me here. Claiming that "people who are shitty know that they're shitty." I'm not so sure. People are capable of some amazing feats of rationalization when pressed to it. Trust me on that one. K, I think I've meandered enough on here for one day. Talk to you all later...perhaps from a patio somewhere with a cup of tea. That sounds really good. Take care. j.s.

Monday, March 07, 2005

So, aside from a hockey game on Friday night...I did absolutely nothing all weekend. No drinks, no clubs, no late-night carousing, niente. Had an emo-kid moviefest on Sunday though...watching Garden State, Beautiful Girls, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Breakfast at Tiffany's in rapid succession. Don't try that at home. I am an emotional professional. The side effect of doing very little this weekend is there's nothing for me to recap really... Oh! There was, however, a very cute girl sitting next to me at Fountain View Cafe on Saturday morning with a puppy. (Half Pug, half Beagle. This apparently equates to a "Puggle.") So the little Puggle is on his back legs and hopping forward against his leash with everything he had, just in an effort to get to me. One of the girls at the table says "No, I don't think he wants to talk to you sweetie," at him. "Oh of course I do," I reply, "C'mere lil' guy..." At which point they slacken the leash and he zooms over to me and proceeds to lick my hands with unabashed delight. I'm smiling like an idiot at the cuteness of the puppy, and meeting the eyes of the puppy's owner ("Mary" I think), whenever possible. "I know. I know." I say, "It's all very exciting." She giggles. "Yeah, I see you really want to get up to my face right now," I say as the puppy is trying desperately to jump into my lap, "but I'm afraid I just don't know you that well yet." "Hehe, sorry but I think this relationship is moving way too quickly." she says. And now I'm laughing, and pleasantly surprised by such unexpected cleverness, and send the puppy off. We smile at one other, and go back to our breakfasts. I'd be lying to you if I said there wasn't a quiet hope that she and the Puggle might be back next Saturday. Ahem, right. So, I'm going to get back to work now. Talk to you later. j.s.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Hi. So this post has been percolating in me for about a week now, and I'm not sure if it's quite done brewing yet, but I'm going to give it a shot since I'm being chastised by several of you for not posting. So, I'm wondering if I'm a "good" person. Not good as in "he lives a clean Christian/Muslim/Jewish/Wiccan/etc. life, because I think religion has very little to do with whether a person is genuinely "good." I've met horrible, selfish, unkind and mean-spirited people who attend religous congregations all the damn time, and met people who haven't darkened the door of a place of worship in decades, and yet are some of the kindest, most wonderful and decent people that I've ever known. Not good as in "Wilt Chamberlain is good at baskeball." Because I'm really quite adept at being a person and, to be more specific, being me. In fact, I can say with certainty that I'm better at being me than anyone who has ever lived. And it isn't easy being me. I mean, I make it look easy... =] And not in a "this rice pilaf is really good," although I'm sure I'm quite delicioso. I'm talking about what's beneath all of that. The inner machinations of me that, to be honest, I'm just a little afraid to examine. I'll give you an example that just happened. I'm sitting here, writing this, and a big red ant begins to crawl up the computer monitor. My first, split-second impulse was to smoosh it with my Post-It notepad, conveniently peel off the little, yellow, ant-encrusted page (being certain not to touch his disgusting remains), and then toss his mangled, quivering little body into my trashcan. A sepulcher where he would no doubt convulse in agony for the short remainder of his life, and be carried out solemnly by the office cleaners later tonight. (Or is it a "White Sepulcher" perhaps?) But! That impulse sank somewhere into the murk of my Id almost a split-second after I had it, and I instead blew it off the screen, sending it careening off to Godknowswhereantsgo. Good? Bad? Neither? It doesn't matter it's just a stupid ant? I don't know. Aside from that, I mean, I do little things like AIDSWalks and clothing donations and spend time with my Grandmother and help my neighbors and try to be there for people whenever they need me and the like... But does that make me good? Is that all one has to do? That's it? And what if I do these things because, on some level, I feel guilty for being in essence a "bad" person? Because, between you and me, I have done, and continue to do, some things that would be viewed by a vast majority to be "bad." I'm quite an arrogant prick for one, and if you've happened to be on the other side of me when I'm in a bit of a snit, well then you've borne witness to just how much caustic and hurtful I'm capable of being, just by speaking to you. No, I'm not going to go into the rest of the dirty laundry list that makes me think I might be a "bad" person. Thank you all the same. I walk around with it everyday and it's heavy enough already. ("IT IS A PONDEROUS CHAIN!") But I wonder... Should we be striving to be better? Should we disregard what is held as "good" and "bad" and simply look out for ourselves since any and all judgement upon others lives is a human creation? Or is there a karmic balance between the good we do and the hurt we cause? Is it a conscious balance or something that just occurs naturally? I don't have an answer. I'd been trying to come up with one before I wrote this...but I think, now, that I could have thought forever about it and never written a word. Which, by now, I bet some of you are wishing just that. So, go have yourself a Lawful Good weekend. Or a Chaotic Evil one. Or True Neutral. Whatever you fancy I guess. j.s.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

The Academy Awards To be honest, I have very little to say about the attire worn this year. For the most part, everyone looked beautiful. Even Mike Meyers and Adam Sandler looked okay. Ahem, for the most part. Words cannot convey my disappointment with one Mr. Depp. What the hell was that thing Johnny? You're so good looking that you make me angry when I see you...and yet... Oh wait, I get it. You're trying out for a part as a demented funeral home director turned ringmaster...right? Boffo baby...boffo... Kirsten Dunst and her wearable doily liberated from the Munster's mansion irked me a bit. Oh, and here is the obvious "Adam Duritz is Sideshow Bob" comment. There you go. Beyonce looked stunning, but really should've toned down the length of her medieval neck armor by about a yard or so. You think Santana supports the genocidal executions, rapings and butchery evident under Che Guevara? I wonder that everytime I see one of those ridiculous T-shirts... And while we're on the subject, why was Antonio Banderas singing? Why was Antonio fucking Banderas SINGING?? Let's see...what else irritated me... Travolta's little self-referential curtsey when talking about the music for Saturday Night Fever. Salma looked beautiful, except she stole Janet Jackson's wig circa 1991. That was a recurring theme throughout the show actually...great attire, horrid hair. Annette Bening must've had Jaqueline De BagLady as her stylist. Now, the things that were great. Prince was there. "Born into Brothels" won Best Documentary. What she did for those kids was noble and heartfelt, and exemplifies what documentaries should be. (Take a cue Mr. Moore.) Jeremy Irons. If you had just tucked that shirt in mate, you would've been golden...but you still had the best looking and most original tux in the place. Kudos. Prince was there. Kate Winslet, who I normally don't dig all that much, looked unbelievably beautiful in her periwinkle dress. It embarrasses me to say so, but that Budweiser Fighting Cockatoo kills me everytime I see it. "Joo want summa dis puppy?" Leonardo DiCaprio. Excellent job mate. You looked classic, refined and exemplified everything that a Hollywood actor should look like. I actually liked Hillary Swank's dress, despite the gaping hole in the back of it. And Zhang Ziyi. (The girl from House of Flying Daggers and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) Zhang makes my heart flap around in my chest. Especially when she's holding a katana... Call it the geek in me. Oh, and Prince was there. That's just about it, and I'm out of time. Talk more later. j.s.

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