A Million Gumballs

Moving is always a new beginning. A chance to start with a clean slate.

Our particular clean slate happens to be a one-bedroom in Queens, on a tired side street. The city that never sleeps takes its toll on the neighborhoods of the working. Anyhow, it’s a nice place all in all, clean, freshly dusted off it seems. There’s a sign on the fire escape to remind us that obstructing it would result in a ten dollar fine, and that the building has at least one half a century on us.

We signed all the papers, talked to Old Lady Landlord to both convince her that our cat(s) could stay and ask her if she was planning on putting in a stove anytime soon, and it was ours. And will be as long as we can pay the rent.

It’s wonderful. It’s wonderful because it’s ours. Because we join the masses of tens of thousands who came to New York searching for a better life. Because an empty room, like an empty canvas, holds so many possibilities. Possibilities of memories to be made, as the days go by and we slowly grow old and wise. Though we will be starting a life together, we will be surrounded by not just thousands, but millions of people. It's frightening.

It is difficult to imagine a million of anything. Allow me to rephrase. The average person can comprehend a million by thinking of the million as a single unit. I don’t think the brain is able to comprehend one million of anything. Take a million gumballs for instance. One would visualize them as perhaps the volume they would fill or linear distance they might cover. Quite a mouthful. One does not and cannot picture and understand each and every gumball at once. Once a piece is picked out and examined, it ceases to be part of the million. It is then separate from the now million-minus-one. But a million people is a million different lifetimes and stories. Each lifetime takes, well, a lifetime to understand...if you're lucky. Our challenge is to be a witness to a single life, and not completely ignore the mass around us. But, we must also not let the mass dictate our life.

Though the challenges are great, so are the possibilities…

Oooh baby, baby, its a wild world...

...and a long road. When your walking to the train, the road goes ever on.

Little Bright Lights

Little Bright Lights - Sound technology alight.

Future Subway Riders of America

I don't know if this even requires an explanation. This little boy was sitting across the subway from me on my way into work the other day. His mom was a few seats away on the train. He was just chillin', and looked like he was just cruisin' the subway alone.

Food for the Bomb

Think, think.

Have a drink.

Take a breath

And let it sink

Later’s now

And now is then

But then is something

Other than

The where, what, who, why,

How or when

And so you see my darling dear

The end of time is growing near

For all we hear and all we touch

Don’t seem real very much

God plays tricks

The joke’s on us

The tears and fears

Ain’t worth the fuss.

Ain’t worth it such

That I wonder why

we sigh and try

To pretend that we will never die

Saving, saving for a day that

may

never

come

If Reagan had his way

We’d all be sitting in bunkers still

Our missiles aimed and primed to kill

Lame, lame.

The song’s the same

You don’t duck and cover you

Just hide behind a Bush or two

Or be torn apart by terrorists

Or Christians, or you choose the threats

No shield made by forge of man

Can stave off death the reaper’s hand.

He plays fair no matter where you are

From left to right

The right to life’s

A losing fight.

Photo Journal

I left my apartment this morning and thought, "I should document my daily life in photos."

There are two problems, though. The first.....I love to observe life, but I like to live it, too. The second.....I don't want to look like a tourist walkin' around the city all the time.

I will, however, try to document life in the city in photos. Like Illustrations to go along with the text of this blog.

This, I snapped as I was walking to catch the train this morning. You can see the tracks ahead.

Waiting for the train to take me to work. It was already muggy and hot.
But still, a pretty nice morning.

I walk past this every day on my way from work back to the subway. I don't know why I don't notice it in the morning, but I imagine it's because I am so focused on getting to the deli to have my favorite breakfast sandwich, heart attack on a roll (bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll). Every day I see it, I find myself a little unnerved by the three story tall hockey player dude in his jockeys, holding his (hockey) stick, and surrounded by Ice. This show (MVP) seems to me to be soft porn thats been picked up by ABC. Someone should let Time's square and ABC know there's a reason the show was dropped so quickly from CBC. Some of you might remember it better by it's full name, "MVP: The Secret Lives of Hockey Wives."



You can't see it, but the building at the end of the street has a giant "Vote" sign on it. Today was a special trip from work back to the subway station, as it was smack dab at 7:30. And any theater person knows that is half hour, and that means lots of people waiting to go see the newest, or oldest, or longest running, or most awarded Broadway shows are on my way home from work. No matter how man times I have been there, times square always leaves me in awe.



Waiting for the train this evening after work. It's been a long week, and it's only Wednesday. That's my train up ahead.

Summertime

The sun’s already tucked away beneath the horizon’s shadow

Too tired to wait up for the last of the weary workers

ears still ringing from the screaming machines

eyes and feet swollen sore from the weight of the day

And the days before that and before that

And the presumption of one coming after

Oh summertime livin'

The paying is cheap

You got holes in your pockets

And sores on your feet

If you’re lucky they’ll pay ya

Enough that you’ll eat

It’s a prime time gig

Shovelin shit for the elite

Stumbling up a set of weathered steps

To eat a dinner of thrice cooked potatoes

Alone in the low glow of a single shaded lamp

Barely awake enough to partake of the daily bread

And to think just for a minute of some distant face

Before collapsing into a heavy sleep.

Oh summertime livin'

The paying is cheap

You got holes in your pockets

And sores on your feet

If you’re lucky they’ll pay ya

Enough that you’ll eat

It’s a prime time gig

Shovelin' shit for the elite

Summertime livin'

I can't stand the heat.

God I can't stand the heat...

Kitties

Little Lady in the window at Casa Ballantino

Peanut lounging on the luxurious bed.

the tip jar

someone asked me today when i was moving? now that i am re-entering this post-near-death fight with the flu world of social interaction, i keep getting that question.

"When are you moving?"

i don't know exactly. i may have a job as early as a week from this monday, or i may have to wait until late august/early september. it all depends on the way it goes. so.....uhh....go watch some theater, support the arts, tip your audio engineer as you leave the theater.

okay, i'm kidding about that last thing. although, seriously, every one else in the world feels entitled to their own tip jar, why can't i have one? if you can tip the guy at dunkin' donuts that turned around and picked up your donut for you and charged you way too much money for it, why can't audio engineers have tip jars?

you know why? cause it is against all my morals.

waitresses get tips cause that's what they live on. hair dressers and the like get tips cause they usually have to rent their space or pay out a portion of their earnings to the owner of the establishment. these people are living off tips.

m waiting for a tip jar at the mcdonalds drive thru. "thank you for doing exactly what youre being paid to do. i admire your talent to cash out a customer and talk on your cell phone at the same time. but then i would be talking on my cell phone, too, if i stood at a cash register all day for minimum wage. i use my intense will power to not tip at DD, or any other place where you can not pass judgment of how well they did their job.

How can you tell whether that guy who pulled your slice at the pizza place did it well? Did he handle it with care? Was it at optimum temperature? If I can't judge how well you just did your job, i am not tipping you.

i show up at work, i do what i am paid to do. it is what i have chosen to do. if i wanted to make more money i would find a better paying job, not ask for tips.

now, i will be the first to admit that minimum wage is nothing close to a living wage (especially with inflation in the last years), but if you're making minimum wage you are not living off tips. in fact when all is said and done, your're probably making more per hour than i am.

i guess the problem isn't the tip jar, the problem is minimum wage. the tip jar is a symptom of the ever increasing gap between the upper and lower class. the tip jar is where middle class america is forced to choose. share the wealth and join the ranks of the poor and underpaid? ...or... stand strong against the plea of the working class and hoard your pennies and dimes?

maybe there's another choice...

i can't think of one, but i don't have the money to tip my donuteer or barrista.

so, when i am moving? as soon as 9 days or as late as mid august.

i don't mind not knowing.

hell, when i moved back, i didnt have a place to live until i was halfway here.

"There is an art, or, rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." -Douglas Adams

Mix Tape II

Did you ever notice that the 90's was full of bands that were far better live than their studio albums. Not that their studio albums were bad or didn't sell, just that a live concert...or even a live recording seems to better for some bands. I guess it was part of that rebellion against electronic music, and pre- pitch adjusted vocal tracked live shows. There are a few bands still like that. It's not better or worse than the reverse (a well produced album, or even an over-produced spectacle concert). Just different. So, here's a few more for the mix tape.

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here....it's probably the only pink floyd song i feel can be taken separately from the rest of its album

Counting Crows - Rain King [live at Heineken Music Hall]...Honestly I could probably put the counting crow's New Amsterdam Live at Heineken Music Hall CD on here. It's all pretty good chill music.

Dave Matthews Band - Stay....just cause. It doesn't need a reason. Because it reminds me of something, someone, a time and a place in my life. I bet it does you, too. I was never what you would call a DMB fan, but this is a good one. Especially live.

Rusted Root - Back to the Earth

O.A.R. - That Was a Crazy Game of Poker

Experience Sound

I am a sound designer & audio engineer. I love to experience sound. I am currently working on a Chill-Out Mix on Napster. I won't list the whole mix here, because some of them are obvious to most people. Perhaps, when it is complete I will post a track list, or a link to it on Napster. In the mean time I will throw out some rare gems that you may have to dig to find. Or at least, I have dug to found them.

Of course everyone's version of chill-out music is different. I tend to be attracted to deep thought provoking music sometimes, and more trance pop music other times.

This is my Deep Thought Chill Out Mix.

Peter Gabriel - "Don't Give Up" (The Original) - There is a live version that is pretty cool, but a slower and less haunting rendition. So, for chillin I choose the original. It has a slightly less whiny effect, the words are clearer, and it is well produced.

U2 - "Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World" - A nice upbeat trip through a Dali-esque musical painting.

Peter Gabriel - "In Your Eyes" (Secret World Live) - normally I would be absolutely true to the original, but the life recording is just as intense but with a slight Caribbean swing that gives the song an upbeat chill factor.

We also have some John Mellencamp Cougar Whatever. Still lookin' for some god Bob Seger. Some other tracks, and we havent even gotten modern yet. Stay tuned for the best chill mix tape to come out of the summer of 'o8.

Titus Flavius Domitianus and Vladimir II Dracula

Titus Flavius Domitianus, commonly known as Domitian, was emperor of Rome from 81 until 96, when he was assassinated. He was close to 30 when he became emperor. He was just about 45 when he was killed. He is considered by many Judeo-Christians to have been the bloodiest of the Common Era pagan Roman Emperors, though there is no historical consensus on this as fact.

Interestingly, enough, he is said to have worshipped Minerva, and in fact (with her help) predicted his own death. An astrological prediction told him he would die at noon, and he did. A dream of Minerva leaving him without protection is said to have occurred a few days prior to his death.

The Jesus Fish and it's origins are heavily debated, though one thought is that it was a protest against the Roman Emperors' habit of deifying themselves. One such emperor was Domitian who had coins minted with the phrase Theou Huios, son of god, in reference to himself.

Perhaps, but why the Jesus Fish, also known as the Ichthys? Perhaps a symbol stolen from Mithraism. A common Roman pagan tradition followed by many in the first few centuries of the Common Era.

ICXC is often inscribed in the Jesus Fish. It is a Christogram, initials of Jesus Christ. In this case the first and last letters of Iesous Christos, Romanized the S becomes a C.

It is also thought that the Jesus Fish is in fact an achronym itself. Fish in Greek being Ichthus. Icthus being an achronym for "Jesus Christ God Son Saviour."

It also happens to be the symbol representing the age of Pisces, of which Jesus is the central figure.

There are other Christograms. IHC or IHS are most common, the first three letters in the Greek, IHSOUS or Jesus. Also, interpreted as Iesus Hominum Salvator (Latin for Jesus, Saviour of Men). It has, also, been connected to the Latin In Hoc Signo (roughly translated, "by this, be victorious"). Chi-Ro was another Christogram, being the first two Greek letters in Christos or Christ.

The initials ICXC are often found on the Eastern Orthodox cross, divided into IC and XC and appearing at the ends of the main horizontal.

The Greek Cross was often representative of Eastern Orthodoxy and early Christianity. It has equal length arms, sometimes bowing out to become wider at the ends.

High ranking members of the Order of the Dragon often wore a number of symbols. One was a seal depicting a dragon with a big body, dented wings, only 2 feet, a free tail, and a small Greek cross on the chest.

Vladislav II , Voivode of Wallachia, was a member of the Order of the Dragon. Wallachia being a a region of Romania, and Voivode being a title similar to duke or count. He was better known as Vlad Dracul, Vlad the Dragon

This made his son, Vladislav III Draculea or Vladislav Son of the Dragon. Vladislav Dracula went on to become Vlad Tepesh or Vlad the Impaler. The man, the myth, the legend who inspired Bram Stoker's Dracula.

And thus I have traced my much derailed train back to where it started earlier this evening while watching a Biography special on Dracula....or perhaps it was on Vampires in general.

Either way, Wikipedia is dangerous kids.

Little Bright Lights

In an instant what one knows to be true is truth, but what one knows to be true changes from one instant to another. Is there any truth that remains constant through time?

I believe in love. Love is a truth that is constant through time. Could love be the little bright lights?

Excuse me, sir.

I spend a fair amount of time working outside during the summer. Usually, it’s because there isn’t any room in the workspace. Sometimes, it’s because I’m dealing with noxious chemicals best used in more ventilated conditions than the stuffy shop. It is never solely because it’s a nice day out, although sometimes that is a perk.

Today, all three of these were relevant. I spent the majority of the day essentially welding a cage out of EMT. EMT is great for running electrical wires through. It is not, however, so great for running electrical current through (i.e. welding), in the sense that it is quite bad to breathe in when heated to high temperatures.

Anyhow, working in front of the shop means that every so often, I have to deal with a passerby who pulls me away from whatever I’m doing. This is typically to either ask for directions or comment on my project. Mostly harmless. It is worth mentioning that there are many, many tourists about during the summertime, and alot of jerks.

Occasionally, I’ll get some guy who will interrupt me specifically to make some disparaging comment related my gender and line of work. I once had someone come up to me, pick up my tape measure, open it and then ask me if I was aware of what “all those little lines” meant. He was so certain that my gender made me that incompetent. I’ve found that I get a lot less snarky comments if I look especially scrubby, or better yet, if I can blend in as a member of the stronger sex. I can pass pretty well for a scrawny man when I’m in full welding gear. You wouldn't necessarily know it looking at me during off-hours, but I've learned from experience.

The rest of the shop, all men except for those in the paint department, gets a kick out of keeping track of every time I get “sir-ed.” Every once in a while, someone will stop to ask me a question that begins “excuse me, sir...” That’s getting sir-ed. Usually I’ll take my glasses or mask off before I answer so I can get the inquirer’s embarrassment out of the way.

I’d imagine part of the reason these people are so often shocked is that, even in this century, it’s quite uncommon to find a woman behind a welding mask or wielding a hammer. It’s great now that we can be doctors, lawyers, and businesspeople with some regularity. But there’s still a mental block most people have against females working hard, and being good at it.

I don’t think I’d be as much of a feminist if I had chosen a different line of work and didn’t regularly experience sexism first hand. I’m sure that it exists in many other fields, but in alot of these, less blatantly.

It is not surprising to me that with a legislature made disproportionately of old men, that an equal rights amendment has never passed. It boggles my mind how any self respecting woman would deny herself the right to equal pay, for instance, by continuing to vote for such sleazy fools. Or not by not voting or caring at all.

Electing a female president won’t change a thing. Just because she’s there, doesn’t mean everyone will respect her. Every flaw she has, every mistake she makes, will simply be attributed back to her initial “flaw”—being born a woman. I have high hopes that society will someday evolve into an entity that cherishes equality and fairness, but I don't believe I will see this during this lifetime.

Stir it up...

Here we go....here we go....here we go again. Missing you is not a crime, but I am ashamed to admit the things I would do to be near you again.

The patio which once bathed in spring's setting sun, is speckled with the shadows of summer leaves. It's beautiful, darlin. Do you think the cats will like the city nights? All the sparkling city lights. Us two, the Little Bright Lights.

I can't wait, to share this adventure. I can't wait to follow this path. It goes where it leads, what a crazy path. It has lead me here to you, crashed in like waves of the sea. Blessed are we, when i have you and you have me.

Bob Marley is wailin' in the background, and my favorite smoke fills the air. So, you see I can't hold back the words, just let them roll from my fingertips. The feelings of you I miss. The sweetness lingers on my lips. I hold back from falling deeper and deeper, there is no getting out of this gutter now.

So, I hope the city is ready for us. Cause I am sure we are going to take it by storm. And life is waiting for us to grab it, tame it, make it ours. where ever we set home is the place we will be. We don't need riches, we don't need things. We will make a home set for kings, and queens, and in betweens. I don't know, where we go...I know we will succeed. I know we'll be happy.

So stir it up.....and no woman no cry....get up stand up...
We don't have riches, we don't have things...we aren't a million lights of a city burning...but we have little bright lights to find the way...and there's always something to say...and everything is gonna be all right...so no woman no cry...no woman no cry....

Much love and peace, always.

Missing You

I miss you like a part of me
is walking along the shivering sea
but part of you is still here with me
and waits for the right time to be
I wish you were here as I go to sleep
I'm with you in all my thoughts
I am waiting for the time we keep
together, but apart.

Sweeney Todd

I just finished watching Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd.

I have to say, after finally seeing the movie, there was absolutely no creativity in the costume design for the drama department. I didn't realize she [the costume designer] basically ripped off the movie right down to the hair styles.

Weird.

The movie wasn't bad, though...as far as movie adaptations of musicals go. Cutting the ensemble numbers was smart, I find it's harder to suspend one's disbelief when an entire ensemble bursts into song in a movie than just one person.

Look at me.....I sing to the cats all the time.

I mean I know I am not the "norm", but it at least proves it is plausible that humans spontaneously burst into songs about their lives.

It's a little harder to swallow a whole group of humans bursting into song about other people's lives in a narrative format, in rhythm, and three part harmony...with a round.

The movie moved a little slow for my taste, but I often find Sondheim a little slow at first. The first time I saw a production of Into the Woods, I was dumbfounded as to why it had not been cut in half. Now, I love Into the Woods, and indeed almost all Sondheim. He is complex, slow....but brilliantly complex.

New Jersey Drivin

So, I used to live in Jersey. Yes, I was for a time, a Jersey girl. It didn't last long. I was young. I was foolish.

When you live in the state, weird things make sense to you: the "jug handles", the "no left hand turns", even the slow slow driving in the rain.

Maybe you know what I'm talking about. Maybe you've never had the pleasure of drivin' through the drrty. Let me catch you up to speed.

In Jersey there is a severe lack of left hand turns. In order to turn left, one has to go right. Sometimes its a little thing called a jug handle, sometimes it takes you on a detour through suburban sprawl that leaves you wondering how anyone gets to work on time.

Most everyone else calls it crazy.

If you ever drive through the state in a rain storm (and by rain storm I mean "rain showers") you will notice something unique. Everyone, and I mean every one, slows down to a crawl.

"It's just water," I yell time and again, but still they have slowed to a 30 mile per hour crawl down the inter state.

Live here a while, though, and it all starts to make sense.

My girlfriend's theory is it's in the water. You drink enough of the water, you begin to understand the civil engineering of the armpit of america.

It's a nice theory, unless you drink bottled water.

No, my friends, drive in Jersey long enough and you too will begin to understand why there are no left hand turns.

If you are from the New York/New England area, or indeed any other state you can't possibly come up with a good explanation of these automotive oddities.

The explanation, however, is so simple it hurts.

Stupidity.

We can't fathom it because, well it is outside our experience. People so stupid they can't be trusted to make a left hand turn? Impossible.

Oh, but it is possible, my friends. It is possible, and it exists. Drivers every where are unique. In Boston they have a death wish, they wish to die. In New York City they have a death wish, they wish for you to die. In DC they just like driving in perpetual circles, it keeps them from being driven in circles by the government. In Jersey, my friends, they just cannot be trusted to make that left hand turn.

And the rain, you say? Ahh, the rain.

If you ever find yourself on a major highway in a rain storm surrounded by these scary stupid drivers, you will find yourself slowing to a crawl, too.

Bashing New Jersey is not the purpose of this post, though (Yes, it actually is.) The real purpose is to let you all know, that we have made the trip down to the shore and back. Safe and sound.

It's going to be a long lonely summer, but we have begun the trip that is life. And we will find out where it leads.

Centri.fugal (sěn-trĭf'yə-gəl) adj.

(from Latin centrum "center" and fugere "to flee")

1. Moving or directed away from a center or axis.
2. Operated by means of centrifugal force.
3. Physiology Transmitting nerve impulses away from the central nervous system; efferent.
4. Botany Developing or progressing outward from a center or axis, as in a flower cluster in which the oldest flowers are in the center and the youngest flowers are near the edge.
5. Tending or directed away from centralization, as of authority: "The division of Europe into two warring blocs, each ultimately dependent on a superpower patron, is subject to ever-increasing centrifugal stress" (Scott Sullivan).

centrifugal. Dictionary.com. The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/centrifugal (accessed: May 06, 2008).