waiting to inhale

A close friend was recently kind enough to let me smell one of his books.
Now before you cart me off in a tumbrel, or start dialing 9-1-1, or 3-1-1, or whatever you do in a situation like this, allow me explain.

Ask any card-carrying bookworm: There is no finer fragrance than the interior of a yellowed tome with its notes of far-away lands, and an hermetically sealed universe that can only exist within the confines of a front and back cover. Some would rightfully argue that a book is a passport; a best friend; a portal into other people's fate, to be consumed as leisurely or voraciously as the reader would digest it. A good book is better than a good meal any day with nary a chance of acid reflux.

When I was a boy, I used to spend an inordinate amount of time in self-imposed solitude, living through the pages of as many books as I could get my hands on. I found myself consistently laden down with pounds of age-appropriate literature from the school library, somehow managing to later steal more adult titles from the shelves of the neighborhood bookmobile to feed my precocious quest for carnal knowledge.

Of course, there really isn't a point to any of this. Taken at face value, it is just a few paragraphs thrown together in a virtual shrine of the written word. Perhaps it is a call to arms for my fellow compatriots to continue fighting the good fight, reading the good paperback, forging forward against the wind, Oprah Book Club selection raised firmly in hand for everyone to see.
Besides, you can always sniff it later when nobody is watching.

what is a depression, and who is it to me?

Who wastes time fretting over whether the glass is half full, or half empty? What we really want to know is whether it is water or whether it is gin? Changes the equation entirely.

Brings to mind all of this incessant hand wringing over what to call the current economic downturn. A recession? A depression? A retrenchment? A Barnum-and-Bailey World?

Oh, come on... it's only a paper moon after all (and hopefully not one made of common stock, or cheese for that matter, although they are now worth about the same.)

Regardless of what term we settle on, all this daily sturmundrang has me wondering if the mere attempt to classify said blemish on the nation's fiscal complexion is what is leading to the stock markets steady decline.
It seems to me -- and I'm not one to give away my age for a cheap cocktail and a bag of peanuts -- but during the original Depression of the 30's, people just made due. They rolled up their collective sleeves and went to work righting the economic ship that was helmed by an improbable captain, FDR. They did not wallow in despair or self-pity, or go on Oprah to blab how much worse off their plight was than their neighbors.
If I see one more waif publically plead her case about lack of good roles for women before the national media, I'll just turn the channnel. That's what I'll do.

In the end, if we are forced to wear oatmeal boxes for shoes, make our own clothes, or drink from Mason jars again, so be it. I shall be the very last person to complain. Just make sure you that you fill that jar half full.... no water please.

plagiaristic dyspepsia

Is it just me, or does the new Pepsi logo bear more than a passing resemblance to the Obama campaign's emblamatic trademark?

The cola manufacturer unveiled the new design to coincide with the inauguration of the country's 44th President.

Hmmm. Probably just me.

(Now that's Cyanocobalamin you can believe in.)

a pirate looks at forty

When I was 12, I ate a plain cheeseburger -- no condiments, no lettuce, tomatoes or pickles on the 73rd floor of the Westin Peachtree Plaza Hotel in Atlanta and got a copy of the menu as a souvenir. When I was 32, I ate a plain cheeseburger -- no condiments, no lettuce, tomatoes or pickles on the lanai of Jimmy Buffet's Cheeseburger In Paradise in Lahaina, Maui and got a copy of the credit card receipt as a souvenir.
I swam in the cerulean blue waters of the Caribbean at the foot of the Mayan ruins in Tulum. And I have white water rafted on some river in Belize... I forget the name. I have stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon four times, at Yavapai Point and yelled my name and heard it echo ten times. I have straddled the continental divide, and then peed at a nearby rest area all the while wondering if my piss would ultimately reach the Pacific or the Atlantic.
I'll never know for sure.
Then there was the time that I kayaked in Montego Bay, Jamaica, and got so sunburned that I shed skin for 3 weeks.I have driven the road to Hana, but got bored after two hours so drove back to the hotel to drink another drink with a biodegradeable umbrella.
I have sipped cocktails at the top of the Hancock Tower in Chicago, but ordered a Sidecar on a dare and thought it tasted like cherry flavored Sucrets. I have built two houses and found out that it wasn't as bad as everyone claims. I have walked the sidewalk outside Graumann's Chinese Theater but never saw Marilyn's handprints. I have owned five cars, and will never buy a Chevy again. I bought a Chevy in 1984, and will never buy a Chevy again. Did I mention my first car?
I rode the streetcar in Portland and shopped at the world's largest bookstore that required a map of the store and ended up buying a book that I could have just as easily purchased at Barnes and Noble, or Amazon.com.
I have shopped online, repeatedly.
I learned how to ice skate, but cannot drive a stick shift or roller skate backwards. I have canoed down the Cuyahoga river and seen Indian Burial mounds from the banks of the Erie Canal.
I have walked 30 blocks alone in New York City at midnight after seeing one of Idina Menzel's final performances in Wicked, and managed not to get mugged.
I have been mugged in downtown Dallas.
I have lived. I have loved. I have lost. I have won. I have written.

new year's haiku

Sniffles, Sneezing, Cough.

Crumpled tissues by the bed.

Is it midnight yet?

prepare for impact

Seatbelts fastened. Ankles grabbed in braced position. Multiple synapses firing... thoughts flooding my cranium as life continues to lose altitude.
November 4 is accelerating toward us and my window shade is drawn.
Pitbulls with lipstick speeches. Teenage pregnancy scandals. Rumors of dementia. It's almost too much to bear. Thank God we only go through this once every 1,460 days. Listening to my iPod on loop. The usual suspects. Tracey Thorn's "Out of the Woods." Swing Out Sister's "Beautiful Mess." Pizzicato 5's "Big Hits and Jetlags."On the screen... the perennial Project Runway. CNN. HGTV. And hurricane tracking on The Weather Channel.Work. Don't ask.
Film Festival. Just beginning, yet almost over. Brings to mind the refrain that it takes a lot of effort to appear effortless.
A hint of chill in the night air on the tarmac. Farewell to flip-flops (Yes, Julia... we are raising a generation of fallen arches.)DING.The NO SMOKING sign lights up. I forgot to raise my seat tray. Damn, now I need to piss.

come sit next to me

Humor me. This will only take up three minutes, twenty seconds of your valuable time.... perhaps not even that long. In the span of one Britney Spears "song" (and I do use that term loosely), I will feel much, much better and you can carry on with your boring lives.
Let me start by saying that I refuse to wear a flag pin, or a God Bless America t-shirt, or put a metallic yellow ribbon bumper sticker on my car in support of the troops. While we're on the subject, you won't find a red, pink, or blue ribbon on my bumper either. Personally, I'm just not into causes.
I will not pardon a senior citizen for changing lanes without a signal. I will not tolerate children under the age of 5 -- make that 10 -- ruining my intimate dinner at a nice restaurant. And, I am staunchly opposed to vegetarians and Republicans alike. Oddly enough, most people who don't eat meat are Democrats -- but that's a moot point. One cancels out the other.There are a host of things that I don't like, but conversely there are a couple of things that please me.

But this blog isn't about those things.

This is not a Christmas card. These are a few of my unfavorite things: Cigarette smoke, body odor, poor fashion, ignorance, racism, fascism, narcissism, bad movies, Paris Hilton, lack of humility, cruelty to animals, FOX News, slow internet connections, pickle relish, bologna, traffic, $4 gallon gas, misspelled words, condescension, subpoenas, intolerance, godhatesfags.com, George Bush, John McCain (wait, did I just say that twice?), poverty, crime, clergy abuse, mascara abuse, abuse in general, insincerity, sociopaths, baggy jeans, hypocrisy, rayon, the color purple.... not the movie or Tony-nominated Broadway production which I think are both fabulous although the play veers sharply from the movie in the second act, tequila, organized religion, unorganized religion, crunchy cereal, Wal-Mart, guns, radishes, lima beans, Lysol Spray, hospitals, rudeness, pollution, flight delays, customer service in India, customer service in Indiana, warm beer, small minds, and rambling blogs. I think that about covers it.