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Doogie Howser, M.D.

Okay, tell me I'm a dork, but. . .

I saw Neil Patrick Harris on the train last night, and that man is HOT! No, I'm not kidding. Good stuff.

Pleeeeease!

Someone give me a job. Please!

Little Known Fact

Every year, Americans buy $100 million of duct tape. Every. Year.

I swear to god you can make money doing anything in this country. Where does all this duct tape go? I mean, there is a limit to the number of MacGyvers out there, right?

It continues

(Ya know what's ironic? I just noticed that yesterday's cyber tantrum was my 666th post. huh.)

Yesterday's horseshit day continued right through today. Lovely.

I'm tired. I want to be done. I have 8 classes. and a thesis. I'm crabby. I want to be done. I'm crabby. I hate pissant ivy-snot-nosed-league-professors that get their jollies by having an assignment due in EVERY f***ing class. I'm crabby. and did I mention I want to be done? I have 5 - count 'em FIVE - of those professors this semester. Let's see, that's: (5 classes x 15 weeks x 2 classes per week) + (2 classes x 5 standard assignments) + (1 class x 3 standard assignments) + (2 classes x 2 exams). For a grand total of. . . .

163 assignments and 4 exams.

163! And I'm NOT talking about reading assignments. These are "read XYZ case and the 15 accompanying news clippings and submit a case analysis along with 2 of the 4 following questions. 1) blah"

AHHHHHH! I'm losing my fucking mind.

And I'm PAYING them to torture me. To ridicule me. To try to ride me down into the dirt until I feel like a worthless piece of shit.

F***ers!

I want to be done.

GRRRR. . . .

!@$#&%@$&@&%^#&@!*%&#$%&@!

You have just been a witness to my cyber-tantrum. If and when I cool down, I'll explain later.

21 Poems

Addiction
She would write with whatever was available,
on whatever was available.

Pencils and pens on envelopes.
Lipliner on paper plates.
Chalk , crayons and ketchup.

But mustard she avoided.
It gave her words a strangely pungent scent that upset her.

*

Ash & Ochre
Fingers stained
in ash and ochre

tell stories as
they circle the rim of
a heavy glass

it is late
and the bartender tired

*

Beads
Beads bedecked
her shoulders
as if they were
tiny planets
and she,
the sun.

*

Blue
Light.

Blue like

electricity.

*

Commentary
The fickle world of art
and its constant rebellion
against life,

or at least the vacant perception –
the hollow sham –

of civility and sophistication
on which order depends

*

Distain
I’m sick of it.

The part she plays
is always
a fragile little dove.

*

Endless
Anything could set it off.
A sound,
a scent,
something she saw.

It was endless.

And though it scared her,
she loved it.

*

Freedom
The freedom of motion,
the movement of time against space

its playground,
the chasm of sunlight between
earth
and sky

*

He Said
You look like an angel,
he said.
A very broken angel
with broken wings,
but an angel.

*

Mixed Media
Broken dishes on the wall
that leave you feeling empty –

hung sideways,
all their contents leaked out

*

the place within
He stood
staring blankly,
silent.

He was screaming inside.

*

Point of No Return
And all at once he realized
he was broken beyond repair.

*

Reality
Fame
has nothing to do with
talent.

*

Rainbows Whispered
Rainbows
whispered to the clouds
about things
they didn’t want the rain to hear

*

The Red Pillowcase
She was wearing a pillowcase

– a red, satin pillowcase –

a rope of tiny jewels
held it up

*

Sarah
Sweet little girl
with hair the color
of pennies
soaring on a tree swing
in the yard

*

The Setting, Tom Stoppard.
The background was littered
with the twinkling sound
of tiny piano keys.

And painted on top
was the single, solitary melody
of a sad clarinet.

*

Sign
An earthy twig
with a single
shivering
leaf

*

Slippery
It was just easier to
write on the back side.

The front was slippery, and
my words kept sliding off.

*

That Which Band-aids Cannot Cure
You can transplant yourself
over and over,
each time trying to start anew.

You can reinvent yourself
as often as you like,
but the voice remains the same

and the insides,
damaged.

*

The Way It Is
What makes you happiest
is often also that which
makes you most miserable.

quotes from 2 movies

I truly believe that video on demand is one of the greatest things ever invented. You can watch odd movies at weird times (aka any time you want) and choose not to watch them if they turn out to be crap. And it doesn't matter if you watch 2 or 52. It's the same price. And it's way cheaper than going to the theatre or renting anything at Blockbuster.

Side thought: How much money do you think Blockbuster lost to NetFlix before they finally pulled their heads out of their asses? I bet it is a mind boggling amount.

Anyway. . .

Here are quotes from 2 non-mainstream flicks I saw this week:

Basquiat
- A movie about artist Jean Michel Basquiat, aka Samo

Song in the background: “You can’t be funky if you ain’t got a soul.”

Rene: “When I speak, no one believes me. When I write it down, they know it’s true.”

Samo: “Are you a writer, or are you a white writer?” Rene in reply: “I may be white, but I’m a nigger.”

On the words being crossed out: “They’re almost stronger in their absence.”

Warhol to Basquiat: “Good conversation is hard to find in this town.”

Samo: “Hey! Duck man! Can I get 2 ducks, man?”

Samo: “The sound was so beautiful people wanted to grab the air.”

There are 2 other great passages, but I couldn’t write them down fast enough. The first is Rene speaking in Riverside Park while Samo wakes up in a cardboard box. The second is Rene speaking at minute 59 when Samo is leaving his gallery opening.

. . . . .

Jesus’ Son
- one of the many strange little movies that Billy Crudup has done

“The traveling salesman had fed me pills that made the lining of my veins feel scraped out.”

“I knew every raindrop by its name.”

Image: She was shooting up at the breakfast table.

“If I opened up your head and ran a hot soldering iron around in your brain, I might turn you into someone like that.”

“I mean it baby, you’re the rain in my desert.”

“They made God seem like a senseless maniac.”

Love this quote

This afternoon, I happened to catch a re-run of one of my favorite old shows, Two Guys a Girl & a Pizza Place. It was the episode where Pete realizes he's in love with Sharon, but Johnny is about to propose. There was a great quote. . .

Ashley asks: "What's a better basis for love and marriage than friendship?"

Berg responds: "Sex. Money. An alliance between kingdoms."

Funny, funny stuff.

Lackawanna Blues

So, I'm on Spring Break from the b-school (but not TC) this week. And it's snowy. It's sleeting and the wind is blowing at about 35 mph. That is ridiculous! My classmates are off in sunny places and I'm here working on homework.

Bitter? Who's bitter?

I took a break this afternoon and watched the movie Lackawanna Blues. It was fabulous. It was waaay better than Their Eyes Were Watching God. See for yourself.

2 from Their Eyes Were Watching God

So, I watched Oprah's Halle-Berry-version of my favorite book on Sunday night. They didn't do it justice at all.

Is it just me, or can Halle not act? She's absolutely beautiful, but her performance was on the level of Catwoman.

Through the whole show she had this aura about her like, "I'm Halle Berry. I'm too good to be doing a made for tv movie."

Michael Ealy's performance left her in the dust.

I would like to have seen Oprah play Janie. I think she could have gotten closer to the strength of the character. Granted, you'd probably have to cast someone other than Ealy to play TeaCake, but the whole thing would have done Hurston more justice.

Enough bitterness.

. . . . .

2 great quotes from the movie:

"I ain't nuthin' but your night thoughts."

"TeaCake walks Miss Janie home in the evening, but don't walk hisself home 'til the morning."

This Rocks!

THANKS, ADAM!!!

=)

(Deep inside the cyber-guts of the blog universe, big changes have taken place. Y'all can't see it, but the secret inner-workings of my blog got a major facelift today. The new e-digs are fabulous.)

What the $@#&% was I thinking?

So, the other night I went out on a blind date with the friend of a friend.

Dating in New York City is soooo uncomfortable. It isn't about casually hanging out and getting to know someone, it's more like a job interview or like I'm a car that guys are thinking about buying. It makes me feel like I'm getting grilled on whether I give the right answers or whether I'm the right make and model. Is the outside shiny enough? Is the paint the right color?

Ugh.

Anyway, we met at a lounge down the street and I had 2 glasses of wine. The date was fine, but when it comes to beverages, alcohol and I don't mix. And I know this. Why do I still let myself order anything with alcohol in it? Even just 2 glasses of wine and I am annihilated.

I guess this is obvious by the obnoxious entries I posted that night. What was I thinking?!? I can't believe it.

I thank my lucky stars that I passed out before I could find my phone. What an idiot. I was going to call the slimy liar I dated last summer. Bluuhhk.

Bottom line: No alcohol = no problems. I need to remember this.

Re-run?

Did anyone see a show last Wednesday night (March 2) - it was Dateline or something similar - that had a segment on a woman who couldn't stop writing?

I've scoured the web and called a couple of the network stations looking for a tape or the transcripts, but to no avail.

I only caught the last minute of it and I really want to see the whole segment. If you saw it, could you please email me?

Quotes from last week's classes

"Loyalty can kill you." - M. Preston re: Not removing employees from positions for which they are not qualified

"having skin in the game" - Franklin Edwards re: Boards of Directors holding stock in the company they are directing.

The bottom line is this. . . and other words of truth

Advice
Grand gestures,
romantic
or absurd,
doesn’t matter,
every woman
loves them.

*

Alleyways of Shadows and
Sidewalks of Sunlight
You live here a couple years
and you get to know
the ins and outs and
the ups and downs of the place.

You come to realize that
you can live in the city,
or the city can live in you.

Once you move on,
you know you are changed.
The time you spent there
has shaped something inside.

It’s left footprints or clawmarks
or the bruises of a stranglehold.
Somehow it’s been inside you.

*

As Chairs Should
To be funny,
he had purchased chairs from
the waiting room of an insane asylum
and placed them in the hallway.

It was not funny to her at all.

When he was at work,
they would mock her.
It was only when he was home
that they would stay quiet,
behave as chairs should.

*

Aubrey
Soft,
intelligent,
and she loves me.

*

Bound
Laying listening
to the second soundtrack
of Dirty Dancing and
enduring a seemingly endless
flashback from which
I can’t escape

*

Burden
Heavy and unwanted are
the problems
late in settling
on our shoulders.

*

Darting
She feared the age of things,
the stories they held.

She was afraid they would grab her
and mercilessly never let her go.

Torturing relentlessly,
the spiral would trap her
in an inescapable lockbox of
paranoia
where the ceilings were low
and from time to time
the walls would close in.

*

The Dreams of Little Girls
Many fairy tales have been born
beneath the cover of bed quilts
in a land lit by flashlights and glowworms.

There atop snowy mountains of pillows,
princesses are crowned in jeweled sleep
as they wait for the kiss of a fair prince.

Maidens of dreamland dance in meadows
and the great halls of castles –
their silken capes checked at the door,
carriages waiting at the gates.

*

enya & jd’s breakdown
The swell of stinging tears lingers
just beneath the surface
that only he understood
and was afraid of just the same.

*

Fading
Hours become days
and days slip away.
Months become years
and life slips away.

*

Fingerprints of Explosion
Bullets –
the riffling
of sharp grooves
on soft metal
at high speed
and under heat

the fingerprints of
explosion.

*

Foolish Dreams
The foolish dreams
of little girls
fade with a flash
and are gone.

They fall like stars
from an unforgiving sky,
seldom seen
seldom missed.

Foolish dreams
like castles of sand
crushed by the force
of the waves.

The foolish dreams
of little girls
fade with a flash
and are gone.

*

Gravel and Corn Dust
The thought crashed into my mind
like a thunderbolt –
a million electric flashes.

In that same driveway
where your dreams had been crushed –
your heart torn to raw shreds –
my ending was different.

It was soft kisses and opened doors.

Now your love is married
to a love of his own and
two giggling kids,

while my heart and I are
still in search of ourselves,
unsure what the future holds.

*

He Killed Desire
He killed desire –
the succulent bliss
of laying around
enjoying a juicy day
together.

*

The Heights of Absurdity
I eat cinnamon tic tacs
drunk
in some ridiculous and feeble effort
to spite you.

5 of them,
as I wait –

wishing

I had grabbed those words
before crossing the threshold.

*

The Irrationality of Logic
the lines and the lyrics
the maybes and the might haves –

all come from the same place,
and it’s not your
heart.

*

It’s Complicated
it’s complicated,
he said.

I still don’t know
what that meant.

*

Lives in Transition
Ours are lives in transition
constantly changing
from one scene to the next.

How we got from mark A
to spot B, we do not know,
for it is unknowable
how Fate guides our movements.

*

My King
His heart, the heart of a lion,
knows no fear
and his loyalty no shadow

He is my king –
the liege whose love
I beseech

His kingdom follows
not by war,
but the peace borne
of his grace and humility

He is of generous spirit and
benevolent hand.
Of his kingdom he is respectful
and by his subjects, respected.

My liege, we love you,
they cry as he passes,
riding with head held high.
He is regal –
his backbone fierce
and eyes kind.

It is a great man that
rules not by what
the world sayeth he ought,
but what his heart
knows is true.

*

Paranoia
Paranoia is
waiting to die
some tragic death
at the hand of a faceless author
of a hideous melodrama
having grown torpid
beneath the relentless fear.

*

Piled Up Secrets
A page or two each night
to read, to hold
as I fall asleep.

It was one of the secret wishes
he never told her.

Somehow
there came to be a mountain
of wishes and dreams

they never told one another.

*

Practically Prosaic
In another life
I might have

I might have been
the love of your life

Stolen all your kisses
and rested happily on
our stoop with
the baby on my lap

A boy
and a girl
and us
a family

Rural and
quiet
worldly and
beautiful

*

Reaching That Place
The first time I came to the City,
I was underwhelmed.
It didn’t scare me.

When I stepped off the plane
after having purchased
a one-way ticket,
I had second thoughts.

The trepidation poked at
the edges of my strength,
but I was supposed to be here –
to find myself,

or find out who I wasn’t.

*

Silence
I don’t want to laugh anymore –
speak no more than to
greet the world each morning
with snide derision.

*

The 2 of us R really 4
We’re even now,
he and I.

You were here –
are always here –

the two of us
are really four.

*

They Don’t Even Argue Anymore
The name of the song was,
They don’t even argue anymore.

She walked through the door
and straight up to the jukebox.
And, with the sound of
the cue ball hitting the 8 in the background,
reached up and slid her last quarter into that slot.

The speakers crackled as the albums shuffled
until the right one dropped.

That was just the way she felt –
like the worn quarter that just disappeared –
like the dry raspy voice of the singer
who overtook the room.
She felt spiteful and ragged,
done wrong and
left for dead.

The bartender set a highball of whiskey
– neat –
on the bar where he knew she’d take up a stool.
He just shook his head and continued drying glasses.

No one understood why she was alone,
who all the men were that let her down time and time again.
Where did she find them?
And how could they be such fools?

She stared at her own reflection in the glass. Then
picked it up and swallow the contents whole.

*

Untitled
She lays down the sketch
in a puddle of water
and the ink
begins to bleed
like she does inside.

*

Watching
I am invisible.

The faces that pass by –
just images through a pane of glass.

No sound,
but the far off murmur of
the dreams they abandoned long ago.

*

We Never Get There
It’s funny,
life is always happening
at a frantic pace,

and yet
we never become
who it is we want to be,

or get around to doing
what our life’s dream is,

fast enough –
indeed –
if at all.

*

Whispers of Genius
A haunting theme
hangs in air
over a dimly lit sidewalk

Inside those hallowed halls,
the ghosts and seedlings of genius
battle the inertia of mediocrity
and time

Dusk brings innovation
and dawn sees obsolescence.

*

Words, Sharp
Words, sharp
and singular,
exact in their
meaning
and intent.

*

Words, Sweet
Words –
sweet –
that I could not capture.

*

You are My Bookmark
You are the bookmark in my life –
with you I know where I am,
where the good parts are.

2 nuggets from a magazine

Found these two last week:

(this one was part of a music review)

“With everything from reggae beats…
to acoustic strumming
and Brazilian balladry, this aural
aphrodisiac feels open-ended –
like the wee hours, when anything can happen.”
- Jonathan Cohen

(this one is an Avon ad)

The Trilogy of Love
Today. Tomorrow. Always.

Today let’s fall in love with
the woman in the mirror, the one
you see everyday but seldom
truly look at, the one who gives
more than she ever takes,
today let’s take nothing,
not this day, not this moment,
not this chance,
not even ourselves, for granted.

Let’s first love who we are.
- Avon

Makes no sense to me

Consider for a moment the statement, “How do you do?”

Now tell me, what are the origins of that? Not only is it grammatically incorrect, it doesn’t make sense.

How do I do what?

Recent Quotes

“The gods haven’t made it easy to be a human.” – can’t remember what movie.

“Enter here to gain wisdom.” - quote on the gates to Harvard

“Never again should people starve in a world of plenty.” – Irish monument in Boston

“Write that down.” – from the movie Van Wilder

“I’d send you bouquets of sharpened pencils” - from the movie You’ve Got Mail.

“From the moment we’re born we’re shipwrecked between hope and despair.” – from the movie City of Joy

“That’s a lot of cows.” – from the movie The Rundown

Quotes from the B-school

I can't remember to whom all of these are attributed, but they all came from classes at the b-school.

“passion lurking in your blood” – Dana Buchman

“Everyone thinks they are a good judge of character” – Communications lady

“There’s no limit on how much you can spend on advertising.” –van Ryzin

“He wasn’t a reader of books, he was a reader of men.” – re: Lyndon Johnson

“Business school is all about soundbites.” - psycho bitch

“If you’re a first grader and you’re getting your ass kicked by a second grader, what do you do? Hire a third grader!” – Flynn

“How hard it is to stay sane in a mad, mad world.” – Operations class

“Reality might be far different than my plan” – Beim

"You have a smile that wakes a guy up when he’s sleeping." – KK

“If the Chinese started to eat Big Macs, we’d have to slaughter all the cattle in South America.”

“I’ve predicted nine of the last five recoveries”

“Know your BATNA”

“Go-to-hell money”

“At some point, everything becomes a toaster.”

“Will the real IRR please stand up?”

“Matt’s Lawn Gnome Company.”

“Statistical control religion”

“It’s a crisis. People have lost faith in us as business leaders. So we get to profit from others’ suffering. The good news is, this will never go away.”

“Hello, my name is Bond. 30 year bond.”

“Legitimate thing we don’t teach”

“You are currently living through the largest US immigration in history.”

Upside Down

You know what's really weird?

(no, what?)

When you post a bunch of blogs all in a row, that they actually read backward when you see them on screen. (And I guess logically that's how they should be.)

The first entries appear on the bottom, and the last entries on top.

Whatever, you're not drunk. You'll figure it out.

Hmmmm

Forget drunk dialing,
try
drunk blogging!

Hmm, interesting.

Especially with the hand-eye coordination required for typing.

I do recall that when we left the bar an hour ago, that he said, "How do you feel?" And my oh-so-sauve reply was, "Happy."

Cool. I'm so smooth.

A smooth operator. That's me.

Addendum

That makes three this week.
James. check.
Robert. check.
Dean. check.

Add them all up,
that makes. . .
oh yea, ZERO.

Benefit of the Doubt

Okay, that was harsh. I apologize.

He's a nice guy. Some stuff in common. But waaaay too short. Grew up in LA, we have mutual friends, we're both oldest children, we both like lots of random music.

Nothing. Not even anything. Nothing.

Life sucks.