Monthly Archives: May 2009

is it okay to like John Mayer? i’m looking for a little guidance here

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I just watched John Mayer on Austin City Limits. I didn’t know anything about the guy except what I read in the tabloids. I guess he likes to tramp around. He periodically dates Jennifer Aniston and dumps her. That seems to happen to Jennifer a lot. She must be a monumental pain in the ass.

But I digress. I thought he was great. The guy’s a hell of a guitar player. His style reminded me of Stevie Ray Vaughn, if you can imagine that! Did you know he could play? I didn’t! I thought he wrote songs you hear on Lite FM.

Is that okay? You know what I mean. Is it okay to like John Mayer or does that make me…I don’t know…kind of…girly. During an extended guitar solo they cut to three girls in the audience who all wore matching green t-shirts that said “John.” They looked like lonely, middle-aged Catholic girls who wanted to cuddle him. So I’m feeling a little unsure about liking John Mayer.

a horrible decision to make

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Five months ago I was laid off from Benevolent Dictators, Inc., aka, Morgan Stanley. My family and I gutted out four months of unemployment. At one point, 7-Year Old Daughter’s first grade teacher phoned to say that Daughter told her, “My Daddy got fired and nobody wants him.” It was rough stuff.

Four weeks ago I lucked into a consulting gig at A Company Called Malice, Inc., a global investment banking superpower. The financial services community in New York City is flat on its ass and the fact that I found a job AT ALL, much less one in investment banking, is a miracle.

I signed a three-month contract. At its expiration, they can elect to renew it, offer me a staff position or leave me to the tender mercies of the economy.

While the work I’m doing at A Company Called Malice, Inc. is satisfying, it requires 60+ hour work weeks. I’ve not seen my daughters, wife or friends since the day I started there. It’s horribly managed and the workload is heavy.

Yesterday I was pulled into a conference room by the department head. He said that everyone is so pleased with my work that they want to terminate my contract and offer me a staff position straight away. The horrible paradox is that I love what I’m doing, but am afraid I’ll never see my family again. I don’t want to overhear my daughters say, “Oh, I never really knew my dad. All he ever did was work.” I don’t want to be weekend dad. I’m not that motivated professionally. I’m just regular.

But I have to be pragmatic. I need the benefits. I could take the job right now and trade up when the economy improves but you have to be careful about stuff like that. You know what they say:

And then one day you find
10 years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun

* * *

I’m posting this from Bryant Park near 42nd Street and 6th Avenue. It’s very early in the morning and there aren’t many people about yet. It’s warm and the sun is just starting to crack between the Chrysler Building and the New Your Public Library and spill onto the freshly sodden lawn. The trees are finally full of leaves. I thank God for this dirty old town that causes me untold heartache and then helps me to get through it.

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nothing says “happy mother’s day” quite like horseracing

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Monmouth Park Racetrack, New Jersey’s premier home for thoroughbred racing, opens on Mother’s Day weekend and bringing mom to the track on her special day is a Garden State tradition. We all went with my mother- and father-in-law in tow.

The horses are called to the starting gate before each race by the At The Post trumpet.

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My father-in-law poured over the racing program before each race. He performed complicated mathematical calculations that took track condition, jockey weight, length of race and performance history into account. Each painfully scrutinized bet resulted in one crushing loss after another.

I asked 3-year old daughter which horse would win.

“Free.”

“Number 3? The number 3 horse is going to win?”

“Yes. Free.”

Of course, number 3 won. This happened a few times. Try to imagine how satisfying that was.

The girls anxiously eye the finish line. Placing a $2 bet is a critical life skill that should be taught to your children. When she’s 14 I’ll show her where the sucker bets are on a crap table.

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random NYC pic—Chrysler R.I.P.

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This post is in honor of Chrysler Corporation filing for bankruptcy.

Photos of Chrysler Building always feature the beautiful steel tipped apex with the surrounding gargoyles. But the view from street level is pretty special too.

This is a shot looking up from Lexington Avenue. I like the streetlamp on the right. I think it adds to the photo composition. Each morning on my way to work, I walk through the marble main hall of Grand Central Station and then pass this monument. I consider it a privilege. When it no longer gives me a cheap thrill, I’ll leave this dirty old town for good.

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Here’s the Lexington Avenue entrance just north of 42nd Street. It’s an awesome site in the early morning light. Click on this pic and have a closer look. The entrance is full of pointy arc deco flourishes.

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Here’s a pullback shot of the entrance from across Lexington. The archway looks almost coffin-shaped (to me).

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* * *

I would like to direct your attention to the comments section of two posts ago. I wrote a rant about the conspicuously wealthy Tovar family and how jealous I am of their freedom of movement. Well, “Mrs. Tovar,” that old bitch, wrote me a very terse comment. I have to admit, I had it coming.

hooray for hollywood

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Star Trek had a strong opening this weekend. Its $76.5 million three day take was propelled by unexpectedly strong reviews. In a New York Times article this morning, Paramount Vice Chairman Rob Moore was described as being “giddy.” He said, “It’s a great relaunch to this classic property.”

He referred to the movie as a “property” and was giddy about the money. What a corporate cog. What a prototypical anti-humanity Hollywood stuffed shirt. Can you imagine going out for a pint with this guy?

* * *

ABC is making a TV series out of Robert J. Sawyer’s novel Flash Forward. The novel supposes a worldwide 2-minute 17-second period of unconsciousness in which people are able to see themselves six months into the future.

I have to be perfectly honest and say that six months from now, barring unexpected calamity, my life will almost certainly be exactly as it is this morning. Six months isn’t a long enough period of time to effect significant change unless you’re about to graduate from a University. How interesting can that program possibly be?