Now That I'm Forty...


Born in New York and now going to die in New York. Someday.

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Now That I'm Forty...

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Sunday, December 28, 2003

The Best TV Commercials
The Ratchet and Clank series.
-The one when they turn their friend into a Chicken.
-The one where they're having Target Practice with a game prop.
How do they do it?

The Bernie Mac Basketball Church
-Dude Pee-Your-Pants hilarious. (Anyone ever been in a church like that? It's noice.)

Me at 12/28/2003 08:58:00 PM

On Dying (Pt. I)
There's a dead squirrel outside on the sidewalk, a few feet forward and to the left of my front door. It must have fallen because it was directly below the high branches of a massive tree and not in the street, smashed. (Squirrels cavort on the berms in front of these garden apartments as long as there is daylight, in any weather and any season. They frequently cuss me out on my way to my car in the morning.) I was watching one of them do their thing, nuggling* on an acorn, when I almost stepped on its fallen kin. I did a little skip of fright while avoiding it.

Thing about death is, when I do it, I want it to be as a period at the end of a sentence. Not as a comma or an ellipses. (Ellipses (ellipsi?) are for When I'm Forty). It doesn't even have to be as an exclamation point. Just let it have come after I got a chance to say something complete.

I believe in an afterlife on many fronts. Epistomologically, intellectually, fantastically, hopefully, and fearfully among a few. Currently, I'm negotiating my terms of surrender to it. Way back when, I was bloody sure I had a suite reserved and an ironclad certificate of occupation in the upscale section of it. Now?

All I know is, as the description of this blog states, I had better get it done in NYC, in due time, after some mark left in the world has the signature of me etched on it, else I am going to be. SO. pissed.

I don't want to slip out of a tree and end up stiff on the New Jersey pavement.



*I totally made this word up as I wrote it. Then I did a Google on it. I got this. Not bad, right?

Me at 12/28/2003 04:06:00 PM

Okay, So I'm A Hoarding Freak Too
But who else still has all the instruction booklets/warranty info from the appliances you've bought within the last five years--raise your hand. And still, I'm not throwing them out during the move.

Well I mean you never know!

Hmm, maybe I have more in common with my New Brunswick client than I realize.

Me at 12/28/2003 11:21:00 AM

Such A Procrastinator
Aside from the fact that all my books are off the shelves and in bags for easier portability, you'd never guess I'm moving next week. oh, I did dissemble my stereo system too.

Last week, after I signed my lease in NY, I started breaking down my library. I found a place to sell books in a small revolutionary war-flavored town called Cranbury. At least, the bookstore was located through a portal in time. It's called the Book Worm and it doesn't even have a website. THAT'S how rustic. (One reality shock was that in another 200+ yr-old house across the street from it, a Sikh Muslim man sat doing business behind a huge plate glass window with a ceiling of orignial timber just about a foot above his turban. A relief to know I wasn't REALLY back in the 1700's.)

The. entire. house. was converted into a library. Every wall, up the stairs, every room, every cranny was a bookshelf. The proprietor-ess was a tall thin woman with graying hair and no interest in make-up. She struck me as an activist who's heyday was at Haight-Ashbury, judging her sense of humor. I had only brought her half my books, about 7-8 bags. She sorted through them with a disrciminating eye. Hovering nearby was her kinsman, a big bellied, graying-bearded elder of the Hell's Angels. Everytime she brought a handful of books out of the bag, I remembered where I had been when I bought them. (For instance, I had gotten many from The Book Barn in Joplin, MO)*.

My toes were curling. I felt like I was auctioning off children. When she rejected half of them, I nearly wept with joy and thanked her for giving them back more than I did for the forty-five bucks I netted. That brought a smile out of her. Heh, I almost gave her my Bible school yearbook by accident and my sketchbook from my days as an aspiring cartoonist. That sketchbook has drawings in it by my roommates when I went to Joe Kubert's school in the early eighties. It also has an autograph from John Byrne which he reluctantly gave me when I cornered him relaxing at a convention back then.

This is what happens when I review my books. Each one is a time machine.

Anyway, now it's time to try to pack away kitchen stuff and empty my closets. Oh, and clean off my tabletops. And wash all my clothes.

*Interesting sidenote (to me, anyways) The link address to the Book Barn appears to be under a private user's name rather than a commerce website. That user is called "Evelyn". When I used to go up there, a non-descript, bi-racial girl in her twenties was an employee who wore a nametag called "Evelyn". I wonder if it's the same girl? I honestly had a mad crush on her. In today's world you could say she had a serious Norah Jones-Alicia Keys vibe, although those ladies were still in Elementary school back then. In the world of Joplin, Missouri, I couldn't imagine how she was surviving as a bi-racial person. I imagined her totally spurning her "darker" half since she could pass as white and would be better off doing so in those communities. (One day I will elaborate about my experiences in Missouri. And then I'll try never to do it again, because it won't be pretty.)

Me at 12/28/2003 07:49:00 AM