i givith but my cell phone jammer taketh away

Posted on June 5, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Seated next to me on the train was a 20-something Mexican girl. The conductor informed her that since it was rush hour, she needed to step-up her off-peak ticket an additional $1.50. She didn’t speak English but eventually understood his request.

She reached into her wallet and handed the conductor a $100 bill which, of course, he could not break. It was all the money she had so the conductor pantomimed that she would have to get off at the next stop. She didn’t speak English but by the look on her face I could tell that she clearly understood THAT.

I, hero that I am, handed the conductor the $1.50. She said gracias several times. Then do you know what that ungrateful child did? She popped a Bluetooth in her ear and started loudly yammering away into her cell phone. The volume knob on her voice was set at 8. If there’s a language spoken faster than Spanish, I’m not aware of it (especially if it’s being spoken by a 20-something Mexican girl with a high-pitch, grating voice).

Fortunately for my fellow passengers and I, my cell phone jammer was running on a fresh charge. Of course, I tormented her for several minutes by allowing her to reconnect her call and then knocking out her service. It was delicious fun and she deserved it. I don’t speak Spanish, but I’m pretty sure she was referring to Sprint in derogatory terms.

I can be agreeable but if you cross me I’ll turn on you.

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Latest News story link on CNN homepage that I cannot possibly click on this early in the morning:

Ducklings down drain, mom quacks for help

why write jut one play when you are talented enough write a trilogy? (the second part)

Posted on June 4, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

About three weeks ago, CB and I were lucky enough to get a ticket to Alan Ayckbourn’s The Norman Conquests; a brilliant comedy trilogy that can be viewed in any order or independently as stand-alone plays.

That’s almost seven hours of theater with the same six characters. Norman is a horrible-charming cad who obsessively seduces and deceives three sisters. He’s married to one of them but that doesn’t seem to be a sticking point with him.

We’ve got two down and one to go. This time, we saw Living Together. Although these are separate pieces of the same puzzle, this is considered the middle play.

Since seeing Round and Round the Garden three weeks ago, which is technically considered the third play (we’re doing it ass-backwards), the play picked up a few Tony nominations, namely, best revival, best performance by an actor, best performance by an actress (two of those) and best director. Not a bad day at the office.

It deserves all the accolades it can get. It’s so funny and the actors work their asses off and they’re British and I know that shouldn’t count for anything but because I’m a big Anglophile, it does. You really can’t go wrong with any of these plays so if you live out here or are visiting I would encourage you to go. You’ll laugh. And who couldn’t use a good laugh these days? God knows I need one.

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We sat near Vogue editor Anna Wintour. She was there with her daughter. [CB identified her daughter. I had no idea who she was.] She sat through the entire performance with her sunglasses on. Indoors. At night. What a horrible, pretentious idiot. (With apologies to CB. He admires her.)

15 books—in no particular order

Posted on June 3, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I like to read memes but I don’t participate very often. But this one was too good to pass up. It’s from Annie.

List 15 books that will always stay with you. And don’t take too long to think about it. It has to be spontaneous.

I reread my list and some of the choices seem pretty pedestrian and obvious, but it is what it is. They don’t call them classics for nothing. I thought of throwing a ringer in like Das Kapital or Ulysses to sound like a big smarty-pants but it would have been a lie. Play along, if you’d like

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit by Charles Bukowski

The Quiet American by Graham Greene

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Journey to the End of the Night by Céline

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

Will You Please Be Quiet Please by Raymond Carver

If I Die in a Combat Zone by Tim O’Brien

Ironweed by William Kennedy

Barrel Fever by David Sedaris

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

i’m trying to maintain my composure

Posted on June 2, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I thought the long hours at work would abate with the advent of summer but they have not. I just pulled another 13-hour day. I’m full of spit and bile and anger. I work for people stupid enough to do this:

This is how incoming projects are categorized. When I first saw this I laughed out loud and made a joke about how if everything is a panic then nothing is a panic, but the woman who set up this system got a hurt puppy-dog look on her face.

According to her, Rush is more important because it’s underlined.

This is the place that demands most of my waking hours. This is the place that has taken my daughters away from me. Those rotten fuckers.

can’t you read the signs?

Posted on June 1, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Artiste Florenza and I attended the Jenny Holzer exhibit at the Whitney. It was a series of LED sculptures that are visually fetching but can also be headache-inducing if you stay in the gallery too long.

Holzer works with words, words, words and most of them have a political bent to them. I sometimes grow weary when art tries to beat me over the head with a political agenda.

Stick with this video. The Whitney installation starts about :30 seconds in and it’s worth a look. Here’s the link if you can’t see it below.

Here are a few stills.