Book binging: How To Be Good

How To Be Good by Nick Hornby

This portrayal of marriage is terrifying.  While I've seen/heard it in other forms in as many words that life holds no guarantees the question posed is still disconcerting.  The one you love now...will he/she be the one you will still love tomorrow?  Somehow, the extremes in life seem easier to handle with a partner but what about the mundane?  Is your relationship strong enough to withstand the daily grind?  Bringing all of my own issues into it I found myself more scared reading the realism in this book than reading a Clive Barker gore-fest.

Book binging: The Life of Pi

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

This is one of those rare books that can be recommended to everybody.  Yes, that's right, everybody.  It contains a magic that is devoid of mysticism.  After I closed the book I sat upright and just had to cry.  Not a few tears.  Not a few minutes.  These were great heaving sobs mourning and celebrating whatever it is that allows us to make it through terrifying events in our lives and remain whole, changed, but whole. 

Read it.

Book Binging: The Opposite of Fate

The Opposite of Fate:  A book of Musings  by Amy Tan

I love books like these.  They're the equivelant of a backstage pass.  It's a chance to get to know Amy Tan without being a stalker.

Book Binging: No Touch Monkey

No Touch Monkey by Ayun Halliday

Yay!!!  Finally, a travel book that deals with the realities of travelling on the cheap.  As a wannabe back packer this was a great read.  It addressed several hygenic realities without ever forgetting that adventure can be found only with an open heart and a well developed sense of humor.  I spent the majority of reading this book grinning like an idiot.  I stopped grinning only to laugh out loud like a fool.

Book Binging: I, Robot

Why read one book when you can read several?  Truth be told, I've gone for a good month or so without reading a book so it isn't surprising that I've gone on this most recent book binge.

When I saw that I, Robot by Isaac Asimov was finally coming out as a movie I could barely contain myself.  The re-make of Stepford Wives was memomorable only because it had the I, Robot preview.   I bought another copy of the collection of stories to remind myself of the basics.  I can't believe I forgot so much.  The story lines I remembered and the main characters came back to me easily enough.  What I forgot was how much I loved Asimov's writing.  I forgot the grace of his logic, the unerring clarity of his prose and the unflagging optism his work contained.  Reading I, Robot again made me feel like a 10 year old, sweating out a hot summer day on the couch, not hearing my mother calling for me to do this thing or that thing because the stories were too good to put down.  I forgot how I cried in April 1992  during a performance of My Fair Lady at my high school when, somehow, I found out that he had died.  I cried for him but mostly I cried for me because I always thought I'd get to meet him.  I forgot how I read everything of his I could get my hands on, the fiction and the non-fiction, until, finally, sometime during the summer of my junior into senior year of high school I could read no more because I had gorged and was too spent to keep reading him.  I didn't pick him up again until I ran across  Yours, Isaac Asimov: A lifetime of letters.  It was in the bag that got stolen that night I got held up at gun point in the parking lot of my apartment complex when I lost my voice screaming for help as the hooded gun man fled.  The bag, book and voice were eventually recovered but I couldn't bring myself to pick it up again because everytime I tried to read it my throat closed up and I could feel rounded metal against my temple.  Despite all this that I've forgotten I have always remembered that Isaac Asimov was my first favorite author.  I'm not sure but I think he mostly still is. 

Which made the viewing of I, Robot, the movie so much more horrific for me.  I watched as the stories, characters, and yes the 3 Laws got twisted around a shoe commercial.  Gone is the logic.  Gone is the clarity.  Gone is the optimism.  In their stead is smarmy, smug one liners that don't begin to do Asimov justice.  I have since found out that the filmakers have indicated that the movie was "suggested" by the work of Isaac Asimov.  "Suggested" is the best description of the diluted product you see on screen.  I look forward to reading  Harlan Ellison's screenplay of I, Robot, the one that didn't get made into a movie.

Finishing the close out wasn't too bad and it didn't take me as long as I thought. But I stayed at the restaurant until 9.30am to wait out the traffic then headed down to Sandy Hook to do some hiking. I tried breaking my feet in, in preparation for this August. I walked over 2 hours through the sandy out-of-the-way roads in these

Despite claiming to have massage-knob footbeds if you don't wear socks with these things they will give you callouses quick-fast. Actually, I haven't tried wearing these things with socks yet so right now I am calling them bleeders because after my little hike I felt like my feet were bleeding from several small openings.

After my hike I sorely needed a dip in the ocean. It's been a few years since I've been to Sandy Hook so I forgot all of its quirks. Quirks such as the pebbles that line the coastline that dig into your feet (in my case feeling-like-their-bleeding feet). Once you make it through those there is the weird drop off that your not prepared for because you're just rushing to get away from the evil pebbles. And then there are the jellyfish. Ahhhh the jellyfish, those lovely gelatinous creatures that you're sure are sitting on your head or climbing in your ears that cause you to freak out in spasms danced to the rhythm of your own muffled shrieks every time your fingers or legs brush up against them. They are enough to drive you out of the water despite the prospect of revisiting those wicked pebbles. So it's off to the beach blanket where I prepared to sleep after 30 hours awake. Sleep was quick to come but not long enjoyed as I woke up in the middle of being devoured by what I now know to be greenheads.

I was wondering why I was continually yelping as these little bitches (only females bite (ain't it the truth)) gouged my flesh out and lapped up the blood while my neighbors would only periodically swat them away. As it turns out they seek out darker objects and can often miss lighter or white colored victims. So, I only got to really nap straight for an hour other than that it was these terrified bouts of being unconscious but still somehow being aware that the biters were out there.

I think it's safe to say that this experience precludes any future visits to Sandy Hook.

Crappie doodle doo

Well, I locked myself out of the office tonight. I was closing the restaurant and I was feeling fairly cocky since the evening went pretty smoothly and I'd had no problems during the other closes I've had. I was ahead of schedule and for sure I was going to get out of the restaurant by 2 am, at the latest!

Oh no my friend. Oh no. I came out of the office to tell the bartender that his drawer was short and "click" I realized my keys were inside. With no access to the office I sure as shit wasn't closing anything down tonight.

I am feeling a little upset that I couldn't get a hold of the other managers. Twice I've been called when somebody else locked themselves out of the office and I've come running. Despite the myriad of phone calls no one could be reached. I tried the credit card trick. I tried climbing through the cieling. I considered breaking the door. I imagined some fantastic device that I would create that would slip under the door, flip up, hook on and turn the door handle. Alas, I had to make a choice. I could stay all night until someone with keys to the office came along or go home and wait it out in the comfort of my couch and Celebrity Poker Showdown for company.

So here I am awake at 5 in the morning because I don't want to go to sleep and miss being at the restaurant at 6 am when the first crew gets in. And in my head, playing on a loop, is that wonh wonh wonhhhh sound. I'll never hear the end of it.

Thank you Mr. Wilder

My mood can best be described by the 1983 hit single Break My Stride by Matthew Wilder.

Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground, oh no
I've got to keep on moving

You're on the road and now you pray it lasts
The road behind was rocky, but now you're feeling cocky
You look at me and you see your past
Is this the reason why you're runnin' so fast
And she said

Ain't nothing gonna break my stride
Nobody gonna slow me down, oh no
I've got to keep on moving

I got my internship.

On a positive note

I am really proud of this cairn that Laura and I built at Round Valley Reservoir.

Independence Day

If you look closely at the picture below you can just make out Laura and myself sitting on her car as we watched the fireworks at Liberty State Park.



Immediately after the fireworks the following occurred.

On the way to getting a couple of drinks before calling
it a night we got stuck in the traffic of people getting in and out of Jersey City
after the fireworks. We idled for about a half hour inching our way
through the streets during which time Laura periodically said she had to go to the
bathroom and she had in fact started saying this the minute we parked
to watch the fireworks. At one point she floors it to catch a light
and makes a left and I'm wondering, "Where the fuck is she going the
car in front of us is already halfway into the intersection so where is
she making a left?" SHE MADE A LEFT ONTO A TWO WAY STREET AND PUT HER
CAR IN PARK ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD GOT OUT OF THE CAR AND SAID
"SOMEBODY DRIVE I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. I'LL MEET YOU AT DON
PEPE'S." I'm screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU
DOING!!! WHERE'S DON PEPE'S but she's gone. Tim, got out of the back and
jumped in the drivers seat just as a cop walks over

cop: Are you alright?

Tim (nervously): Yes. I didn't put the car here. My friend had to go
to the bathroom

cop: Are you alright?

Tim (perplexed and stuttering): Yes. I didn't put the car here. My
friend had to go to the bathroom

cop: I mean are you alright in the head. You're going the wrong way

Tim (indignant): I didn't put the car here

Meanwhile, a large SUV seeing that we were in its way decided to barrel
towards us anyway flashing its lights at us and came to a stop as it
was about to kiss us fender to fender and
honnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnked indicating his displeasure but
giving us no room to maneuver out of his way. The cop then graciously
helped us get the fuck out of the way as the hecklers in the cars all
around has (having no where to go themselves, mired as they were in
deep traffic) shouted, "Give him a ticket!!" "Yeah! Give him a
ticket!!" If they had had tomatoes in their possession we would have
been gazpacho.

Other than that I spent a large part, too large a part, of the weekend feeling frustrated and bound because I had committed all of it to spending my time with one person or another. It reinforces my most recent hermitic habits. I feel no frustration when I go out into the world alone.

Summer Days

Yesterday was lovely. Here is a recap.

We got off to a later start than was scheduled so we ended up at Seven Presidents Beach Park at noon instead of the 10 o'clock I had planned for. Re-reminder to self: Always meet Laura at the destination. In the end it worked out well as the sun was blistering hot and we left the beach at 2 pm and avoided the lethargy that accompanies all day beach outings.

The water was refreshingly cool and Laura, Annie, and I laughed at everything since the joy of floating in crisp waters underneath a brilliant sun can't be contained by these piffling bodies.

I find it interesting that now, when I am at my heaviest (I am 15 pounds away from being 200 pounds), I feel comfortable enough in my own skin to go about the beach in a two piece. The scared childrens be damned. It is with self conscious pride that I look down upon my brown tummy. OH TO BE BROWN!!! Now, I just have to get the breasteses up to speed.

We left just as the hunger hit and we drove the 5 minutes it took to get to Monmouth Park Racetrack where we devoured and drank our fill with my co-workers before going about learning how to bet on horses. I must admit to a great sense of relief that I am not enamored with betting on horses. It was a nice outing but I know nothing of horses and my betting was based on the names I liked and what little information was provided in the betting books we received. I am happy to conclude that my gambling problem is selective in nature and not pervasive.

Just when I thought my day o' fun was at an end an unexpected delight occurred. Rosie, Annie, and I got peticures and manicures! A rare occurrence for me. So rare, in fact, that this was only the second time the act(s) had been performed on me. I understand now the addictive properties that these sessions hold for so many women.

A lovely day indeed.

Today has proven to be less eventful yet no less lovely. I just finished reading Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The book is beautiful. It is a mixture of dreams and reality and imbued with properties from both worlds. It's like reading a story I already knew but had forgotten about in the act of living and I needed each word written before I was allowed to remember. I finished reading it on the patio as the sun reached its noon peak and my skin was shiny with sweat. As the salts from yesterday's ocean swims and today's languid reading mixed I closed the book and left behind that familiar South American seaport.