• believes in nothing

    “In a society that believes in nothing, fear becomes the only agenda. Whilst the 20th century was dominated between a conflict between a free-market Right and a socialist Left, even though both of those outlooks had their limitations and their problems, at least they believed in something, whereas what we are seeing now is a society that believes in nothing. And a society that believes in nothing is particularly frightened by people who believe in anything, and, therefore, we label those people as fundamentalists or fanatics, and they have much greater purchase in terms of the fear that they instill in society than they truly deserve. But that’s a measure of how much we have become isolated and atomised rather than of their inherent strength.”

    –Bill Durodie, Director, International Center for Security Analysis, Kings College (from The Power of Nightmares)

    April, 2011


    Tomorrow night, Fooney and I are going to New Jersey to see this person play live…

          No Surprises (Radiohead cover) – Regina Spektor

    …and on Thursday night, we’re going to see the Broadway revival of Jesus Christ Superstar that the New Yorker theatre critic called “God-awful.”  I haven’t read any other reviews, as I’m holding out hope (praying, even) that the New Yorker stands alone in it’s disdain for the production.  If you’re judging me for liking Jesus Christ Superstar, then I suggest you actually go and listen to the original 1970 recording of it and get back to me.  It’s certainly not for everyone, but if you haven’t tried it then you really have no idea.

    We celebrated Easter Sunday by having friends over for dinner, several bottles of wine, and eventually a few games of Apples to Apples that were so loaded with cheating and manipulation that I’ve begun to think that that’s the way the game is supposed to be played.  Neither Fooney or I won, and I’m proud of us both.

    And today I felt lousy for the first third of the day, then just felt tired, and on the subway home from work a hipster looking guy in a wheelchair was playing electric guitar for money.  He had casts on both of his legs, and a tiny amplifier that he forced the most horrible sounds out of –– I actually think people were giving him money so that he would stop.  His wheelchair got stuck as he was trying to get off the train, and apparently the conductor didn’t notice because the doors started closing on the wheels of his chair, making the “bing-bong” sound over and over.  People tried to help him, but there was nothing they could really do because there was a beam on the platform right by the doors, so he couldn’t back up far enough to allow his cast leg to steer clear of the closing doors.  It was funny because I was 90% convinced that he was an impostor, and it was impressive because he maintained his composure the whole time.

    Now I have to go to bed, or try to.


    a bit rustic

    Well, it’s looking a bit better here, if a bit rustic. I hope to add many photos (new and old) at some point, and maybe some videos, but this is going to have to do for now, and possibly for the foreseeable future. My cold seems to be retreating, and with it my excuse to work on this instead of everything else I should be doing. So it goes.

    I’d be remiss if I didn’t praise the mad web skills of Franny, without which you’d probably still be staring at an error screen. I’ve never had a girlfriend who understands computers (and other technical stuff) as well as I do, and I like it. Thank you, Fooney.

    “Fooney” is what my nephew Owen took to calling Franny during our recent trip to San Francisco, so it’s kind-of stuck. In spite of getting unfortunately sick during the last few days, the trip was a good one, and one of the many highlights was treating Fooney to her first cable car ride…

    …which she insisted was as fun as I’d repeatedly insisted it would be. After the cable car, we bought each other books at City Lights and then had coffee at Stella Cafe before returning home for dinner and fun with the family. We had delicious pasta with goat cheese…


    I pulled a muscle dancing with my niece Vivian, which everyone found hilarious, even Owen, in spite of the fact that he was running a fever.

    A few hours later my sister dropped us off at rainy SFO, which made me sad, but having Franny’s shoulder to cry on made the parting less traumatic than it had been in the past.

    And now I’m back in my tiny bedroom in Brooklyn up too late recovering from the last remnants of the cold I brought home with me.  I need to go to bed, but here are a few more moments from the trip with a promise that there are more to come…


    Back up, but not better than anything.  I’m working on it as I work out my head cold.