Wednesday, April 30, 2008


I'm here
Not in yesterday
Not looking at tomorrow
I'm here

This is where I'm supposed to be
That was what it was
And what it is won't be what it will become

Just stay with it now
And don't run back or leap ahead
Or I'll trip and fall in my day
And it's the only one I've got.

I'm here.

Monday, April 28, 2008

It'll Take More

It'll take more than a picture of some teeny bobber in a towel
It'll take more than false outrage at our latest distraction
It'll take more than your washed up efforts to shake us up
It'll take more than your cries of art while getting hard over the commerce

Hi, I'm here for my exploitation
Point your lens in my face
Hi, I'm here to lose my soul
Won't you blow your film in my space?

And yeah, I look sexy now
Does that make your life any better?
Did I make you forget about your rent?
Or that big ugly high rise that's gonna drive you out of your home?

Maybe if I take off a little more
You can forget all the little things
Maybe if I tell you what I eat
You can forget all the little things
Maybe if I tell you how real I am
You'll forget how real you are
Maybe if I tell you my hopes and dreams
You'll forget those three kids you have you can't feed

It'll take more
It'll take more

But I'll give it to you.

And you want it.

The Smell Test

I'm not buying Miley Cyrus' embarrassment and apology over the Vanity Fair pictures. She knew what she was doing and was probably thrilled to be shot by Annie Leibovitz. As I've learned from my fourteen year-old niece, fifteen is the new twenty (in their mind, anyway). It's sad and disturbing, but true.

But that's to be expected. She wants to play in the big leagues and shed the good girl image and someone thought this was a good idea.

No, my issue is that regardless of whether fifteen is the new twenty and regardless of whether Miley Cyrus may be looking more to Lindsay Lohan as a role model than say Anne Hathaway or Jodie Foster, her father and "handlers" as well as Vanity Fair and Annie Leibovitz should have thought twice on this one (or at least once).

If these were photos of a fifteen year-old boy in a towel found on some high school teacher's hard drive, he'd be headed to jail right now. And that, frankly should be the smell taste.

Heck, even the picture of Miley with her father is kind of, uh, gross. Why someone would pose like that with his daughter is beyond me.

Having said all this, I'm not going to act all outraged like the NY Post or all the other media outlets and media empires whose content promotes and celebrates the exact behavior and attitudes they are now all feigning disgust over. They will use this to feast on and distract us from what really matters.

Of course, we let ourselves get easily distracted so we get what we deserve.

Saturday, April 26, 2008


Ralph Ellison didn't need to write anything else after Invisible Man. He tried for sure, but for obvious reasons could never match the power of his classic nor did he have to do so.

J.D. Salinger didn't need to do anything else after Catcher in the Rye either.

And if Everclear had never done anything else and Art Alexakis had only written "Father of Mine," it would have been enough.


All I really have to say about it. Shocked, but not surprised.

Art Doing Someone Else's Art

Just wanted to say I'm digging Everclear's cover of "Rich Girl." The cover of "Jenny" (867-5309) not bad either. However, their version of "Our Lips Are Sealed" is a little weak.

Where Is That Rising Tide Anyway?

When I showed my journalism class Shattered Glass a few weeks ago, I didn't expect that it would serve as an inspiration. Guess I should've known better.

My last day of class was spent nailing two students for plagiarizing and another for, well for just making the shit up. I don't know what this kid was thinking and as usual it was the cover up that led to the student's demise. The student tried to be smarter than necessary and tripped up.

The other two were just lazy. Both took shit from other sources without attribution, which is something I have explained numerous times is unacceptable. One of them lied when asked if they had conducted the interviews in their story. When I pulled out the article where the material was lifted the student did a complete turnaround claiming they mean to attribute it and forgot. I then had to point out that they had just lied but furthermore that this was a journalism class and the idea was for the students to go out and do reporting, not just lift shit from other places, attributed or not. The usual blank stare looked back at me.

The other kid was just an arrogant jackass. When I said that the interviews in the article weren't done by the student, said student replied, "I didn't say they were." I had to explain (yes with blood somewhat boiling) that it is certainly what he implied and then noted that when one reads an article in a newspaper and someone is quoted in it, it is the reporter who got the quote unless otherwise noted. He pleaded ignorance to which I said, a)bullshit, b)when you go to the toilet do you need to have someone tell you to raise the cover before you take a piss? and, c)you're smarter than that.

Rather than spend my last class trying to have fun, I instead spent it explaining to the class that while they thought they were getting over on the school, the exact opposite was true. The school could give a shit if they learn as long as the check clears, but one day you'll be out in the real world and the shit you pulled off here is not going to fly. I was probably out of line but hell, someone should say it. Of course, I doubt it penetrated any of their text messaging, Ipod listening, ADD suffering brains.

I know I could've and should've approached the class differently once I was aware with what I was dealing with there. I didn't fully grasp that college had become the new high school. Of course, if that's the case where I was teaching was a middle school. I would have gone to the bare basics. I also should've been tougher out of the box. It is better to start tough and then soften if the students are with you than it is to start soft and try to toughen up.

And for anyone else thinking of going down this road, never teach a class scheduled for Friday afternoons. That was my bad. My one smart student told me that if the class had been on Wednesday as originally scheduled, I would've had much better students. Sad, but probably true. I guess the one good student almost made dealing with all the others worth it. Almost.

Today, I read, is the 25th anniversary of "A Nation at Risk," a report on our educational system that warned of a "rising tide of mediocrity that threatens our very future." From where I sit, a rising tide of mediocrity looks pretty good.


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Mood Music

Is there anything worse than browsing in a porn shop and some song that brings back sad childhood memories comes blasting on the Lite FM station that all those stores are tuned in to?

Tonight I'm blowing off steam after a rather intense group therapy session and am browsing the racks when Elton John's Daniel comes on. That song has always bummed me out. Brings back the feelings of abandonment I felt when my oldest brother did his disappearing act many years ago.

Needless to say, that'll put everything in a tailspin and it sent me to the door. Probably a good thing but still. Reminds me when I was in a strip club one Christmas Eve and if that wasn't depressing enough, try watching a dancer try to work the pole to Whiter Shade of Pale.

That's a memory that stays with you.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Down Nowhere Again With You

Waited for you to lock the doors
At a quarter to five
Downed my last shot, cancelled my whore
And went out alive

You pulled around in your 64 Falcon
Gave me look that said take me for a ride
Chased you down the street desperate for your welcome
You winked at me, took it in stride

Back at your place you tied me to the bedpost
Told me I wouldn't forget this one
Lit the candles, got the cuffs and I knew that was no boast
And there was no where for me to run

Stuck there in my feelings
Thrashing against my wrists
My head still reeling
What the fuck was in that shit?

Found myself a few days later in an ally
Nothing left of me but me
You took all I had, split to the valley
And I lay dying down in the 213

Perfect Together

Did you like me?
Did you forget yourself for a few minutes?
Did you cum like never before?
Did you remember to tip me?

Did I make it seem real?
Did I make you feel what you couldn't before?
Did I kiss you by mistake?
Did I get the cash right?

Did you get my number?
Did you think of her or me?
Did you like my shoes?
Did you get what you needed?

Did I make you forget your father?
Did I make you forget about those holes in your arm?
Did I make you forget about that time in the basement?
Did I see you put something of mine in your purse?

Who's robbing who?
Who's fucking who?
Who's killing who?

Blameless, Victimless, Pitiless, Merciless

Let's do it again soon
Take each other down piece by piece
And tell ourselves that it really doesn't matter
And that we'll be whole again one day

Those Moments

They happen every now and then at the strangest time and place. Mine just happened getting my lunch at the overpriced place across the street when Prince's I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man came blasting over the speakers. Suddenly I'm all smiles on a sunny day.

Unfortunately, Prince is pretty watchful of his copyright, so you'll have to settle for this not totally lame version by The Eels.

If you think that's different, check out this country version by Kane.

Channeling Travis Bickle

More on the hooker blogs as I realize my last post was a little wishy-washy. I was once again in hold the tongue don't say it if it might offend mode. What I really meant to say was how about a little discretion? If your family can figure out who you are from your shadowed and voice disguised television appearance, than your clients and their friends can probably do the same.

Clients are not paying you just for sex. Actually, they're not paying you for sex at all. They're paying you to leave after sex. But besides that, they're also buying your silence. That's part of the contract too right next to the no kissing clause. Respect it.

As for the preaching about people not getting it, convince yourself that you're empowered, but not everyone who does what you do is getting that same sense of "empowerment." The runaway who gets the shit beat out of her every night and gets all her money taken from her is not empowered. Julia Roberts won't be playing her in a movie and Elliot Spitzer doesn't have her come down to D.C. when he needs some. And there are a lot more of them than there are of you and they're the ones who actually get it.

The clients who seem so glamorous are lost unable to connect with anyone, particularly themselves. You are the piece of meat they're eating that night and later on you'll be crapped out along with everything else. The money can be good, no denying it and there are probably some pretty decent perks. If you can separate the rest of the baggage that comes with it, more power to you. But as you are showering off the day's loads and trying to look in the mirror, save the rap on the misunderstandings and preconceptions of the job. You can't bullshit a bullshitter.

Or am I just hung up for some reason?

Monday, April 21, 2008

Kissing. Getting Paid. Telling.

Been reading more oldest profession blogs. This one girl was interviewed by Diane Sawyer and I guess her folks figured out it was her despite the darkened screen and altered voice.

So I was reading her blog and it has some juicy stuff and some crap and sure, I guess she can write a little. Then again, I think I (and others) get fooled into thinking that any girl writing about giving head is able to write because hell, if I'm getting turned on it must be powerful. Guess what, doesn't take much to turn me on.

I do wonder why they write it up. Is it because if it somehow sounds sexier on the page than it is in the room it must not be so bad?

This is not about being all high and mighty. People do what they do and my thoughts (not that they matter) are all over the map on this one. I can argue any point of view.

Of course, I sit here struggling to put word to screen and am all trapped in my head. There must be some middle ground between no discretion at all and where I'm at, which is so uptight that the words are all jammed somewhere between my esophagus and my sphincter.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Get On The Bus

The Tourguide has joined my list of peeps. Here to tell us all about Robert Moses and the demise of NYC, about South Philly, about D.C., and all that is in between.

Keep the posts coming.

Saturday, April 19, 2008


Back in D.C. for the weekend. Took a long run this morning from Dupont Circle over the Memorial Bridge over to Roosevelt Island to the Key Bridge then along the C-O Canal and back to 21st and New Hampshire.

This place has changed so much it is hard for me to even remember what it was like when we first moved here in 1979. I do feel that D.C. had a more seedy feel than it does now. Running between Dupont and Foggy and Georgetown there is a ton of new developments. Some are not even so new anymore. The Circle Theatre has been gone for decades as has the 21st Amendment. I'm assuming Dan's Cafe and the Fox & Hound are still around, but of course it's not like I'll be going there but nonetheless they are landmarks to me.

Of course things change. Things are supposed to change. This city is a lot cleaner than it was when I was a kid. It looks better. And more importantly, it still does not look overwhelming. Because of the strict zoning rules here, there are no hideous developments like the ones that are destroying the soul of NYC. The new here blends right in with the old. It is as if the developers actually took into consideration just where they were developing before pouring the cement. Radical thought.

That said, it's easy for me the outsider here now to come down and say this isn't so bad. Compared to what I see in the city, it isn't. But in search of a hardware store I was informed that Candy's is long gone. And in doing a Google on Candy's I stumbled across a site complaining that D.C. is behing "Manhattanized."

Maybe Baltimore is the answer. Actually, everytime I take the train down I have this overwhelming urge to get out at Baltimore and just disappear. But that has more to do with me than the corporate gentrification of our cities.

Thursday, April 17, 2008


It's spring. The skirts get shorter. The heels get higher. The legs get tanner. I get crazier. It's the best of times. It's the worst of times.

The other day I was helping a female friend on some stuff. What I really did was just let the lust run through my veins until I thought was going to explode. She had on this tight skirt, nice top and I'm pretty sure the heels were past the three inch mark. Of course, she also didn't really need my help and enjoyed the torment. There's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what your thinking and wants you to think it. It was like having my own personal Audrey Horne.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Shabby Work

Another death on a construction site yesterday. That brings the total to thirteen this year and we're only in April. Of course, half of those deaths were from the crain crash last March.

According to the Daily News, the site of this latest accident, another hideous high-rise, has 38 open Building Department violations. This seems to be standard operating procedure for construction in the city these days. Is it just me or don't all these new buildings look like one strong wind would knock them over?

And another thing, while huge high-rises are still as ugly as ever, when did midsized buildings become so hideous. All the new apartments and condos in Williamsburg/Greenpoint and Chelsea look like they belong in Tel Aviv. (I must give props to my peep Erin for coming up with that one, but it's true).

Used to be a time when architects actually tried to a)make buildings that fit the form and mood of the neighborhood and b)would look great one hundred years from now. Now the goal is to build it fast, cheap and, if possible, extremely ugly. If AMC, makers of the Pacer and the Gremlin, got into architecture, these are what their buildings would look like.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Small World

In the morning, I heard from a rich and handsome guy who climbed to the top of the music biz and then the cellphone biz and had everything one could want but was empty inside. The poison he was using to try to fill his souless void stopped working and started killing instead.

In the evening, I heard from a modest man who had nothing and lost even that. Jails and institutions were behind him and the only thing in front for him was death. If you passed him on the street you might think life passed him by. But if you know him, you know he embraces the day and all its possibilities.

Both men were completely different from each other and from me and yet we're all the same.

Saturday, April 12, 2008


Waiting for a moment
Is that too much to ask?


You don't wait for moments
You make moments

You can sit in your window all day
And it's not going to come to you
You have to go get it
You have to kiss the girl
You have to cross the street
You have to unlock the door

Sitting on the sidelines
Won't get you on the field
Staring at the kids waiting to be asked
Won't get you in the game

Take the moment
Take the day
Unlock the door
Live it, don't watch it


Sitting here in the big empty
Keep waiting for the words to come
Staring at you in my memory
Feeling like your here and you want some

But I don't know how to give it to you
And you don't know what to do with that
Can't go on so blue
Need to take a turn at the corner and come back

The voices are quiet
And I don't know what to do with that
I'm kind of tired of the riot
And feeling like I'm stuffed in a sack.

It's just another day
In my empty room
Waiting for you to say
Someone be coming soon.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

The Wrong Turn

As I prepare to go teach my class tomorrow I just keep wondering how this country's educational system slid so far so fast.

The joke is that college is the new high school. Maybe, but the college I'm teaching at is the new middle school.

This is not an isolated case. I got through high school knowing less than my brothers, who probably knew less than my parents. I'll bet that I couldn't handle the workload of college in the 1970s. I'm sure the work I did in the early 80s was easier and I'm even more sure that by comparison to today's kids I did the work of an Ivy Leaguer.

I know that there are plenty of smart kids out there. My nephews are smarter at 16 than I was at 26. But for the most part, the quality of our education, the quality of our workforce sucks.

I just want to know what happened. I have a pretty good idea. Seems to me that the public schools probably started to go downhill in the 1980s. I'm sure 12 years of Republican administrations didn't help matters. And the trouble is that once the shit starts to go bad, there is no bringing it back.

It's the same in the workplace. So many people do things half ass. I'm guilty too. I do just enough to get by. It's what a lot of people do now and it explains a lot about this country and how we've lost our way.

I don't think a candidate can bring that back. I don't know what can except the repercussions of doing things halfway. I know this. Half measures avail us nothing.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Starbucks Goes Throwback Jerseys On Us

Starbucks has gotten rid of their iconic green and white cups and have returned to their 1971 brown and white cups. They are hideous looking. I know this is the cup they used to get the whole thing going, but it is not the cup that has established the company as a world class brand.

I know they are having issues right now. The franchise expanded too far too fast and got into areas they should have steered clear of and now they are trying to undo the damage.

Handing me my overpriced coffee in a crappy looking cup is not the answer.

Where Am I?

One of my ten readers is griping about the lack of new posts. I apologize.

I just have been in a funk lately. My job is busy and boring and frustrating and crappy. I haven't gotten to the gym in two days and I'm having trouble getting out of bed. I am doing to much socializing at night and I need to reign that in. And socializing is not code for some perverted activity. I'm just hanging out with friends and eating at diners and not getting home until 10 p.m. There's nothing wrong with it, it's great, it's saving my life, all that shit. That said, it also means I don't have much time for myself. My problem is figuring out what is time for myself and what is isolating.

I'm almost done with my class. Can't wait until that shit is over. I joined J-Date and have been bombarded with horny yentas with kids who are past my age limit. A few hopefuls, but I'm not holding my breath. I had what I thought were two promising get togethers with this chick (yes, I said `chick') off of Nerve, but she flaked out and disappered. Or she just didn't like me. That's fine but, why then did she waste my time?

I was just rude to a friend and I feel bad. I have to go home for Passover next weekend and that makes me feel worse. My brother just turned fifty and that makes me feel old. I have no creative energy. I have no physical energy.

And yet things could be a fuck of a lot worse. I have my job. It pays me very well. A lot of people I know are out of work right now and that would suck.

I don't want to go to group therapy tonight. I didn't want to come to work today. I want to go to the gym tonight and am thinking of doing just that even if I blow off a dinner. But I can't blow off the dinner because this friend may be doing me a huge favor on Friday by talking to my class of lunkheads.

OK, this is one of those posts that hopefully in a month I'll look back on say, `yeah, that was a crappy day, but it passed.'"

Hope so.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

On Second Thought

As much as it pains me, I am going to amend my Sex and the City prediction. I realized today watching dozens of morons parading down Perry Street to have their picture taken outside the brownstone used as Carrie's Upper Eastside home (I know, there are plenty of brownstones up there too, I don't understand it either) that this thing will be huge.

If you ever want to have fun, just hang on a corner at Perry Street and talk shit when these bozos go by.

For example:

"And down the street is where Charlotte refused to blow that guy."

"Just to your left is where that dude ate Miranda's ass."

"Here's where Carrie got caught cheating."

Seriously, perhaps SATC would have left a better taste if she'd ended up with Aiden instead of Big. Face it girls, the show was not some groundbreaking new feminism. It was traditional all the way. Three of the four characters end up married, two have kids. Your lead holds out for the rich shit who can't commit. Only the ho was true throughout the series. Hopefully James Remar will be in the movie but as his Warriors character Ajax and he'll make a few popsicles.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

A Solution In Search Of A Problem.

I don't get Slingbox.

Now I know I don't get a lot of new devices, but this one really makes no sense. For the uninformed, a Slingbox is a device that allows you to watch your home TV on your computer when you are away from home. In other words, if you take a business trip to Los Angeles and your night just isn't complete without Channel Five local news with Rosanna Scotto, you can use a Slingbox and watch it.

Now who really needs this? If you are a sports fan, there is some limited appeal I guess. But other than that, TV is TV no matter where you go in the country. What, you think that Seinfeld rerun in Florida isn't worth watching when you can catch the one in New York?

Someone please explain to me why this is a device the marketplace needed.

And sooner or later I'll get back to posting some deeper (at least I think it's deeper) stuff.