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