10th Avenue Lame Out

So the rumors are confirmed. Bruce Springsteen will play Super Bowl XLXCVWHATEVER.

Bummer. Bruce doesn't need this and I'm not sure why he wants to do it. For a guy who admirably refuses to sell his songs for commercials or go corporate in any way, this is performing for the biggest commercial/corporate event in the world. Bruce will not grow his audience doing this and conversely the NFL actually needs to start thinking about their fan base that is under 35 when they book these halftime acts.

Of course, the NFL, still reeling almost five years after nipplegate, wants to keep playing it safe with MOR rockers (McCartney, The Stones, Petty). I know this will sting us Bruce fans, but that's what they see in him. He's not going to fuck up their party.

The set list will no doubt be "Born to Run," "Hungry Heart," "Badlands," maybe "The Rising." Forgot about anything remotely controversial or political. Just dance for the man, Bruce.

The Amazing Mets...

Watching the Mets blow it (again), I feel a little like Harvey Keitel in Bad Lieutenant. The only difference is in the movie it's the Dodgers who choke.

Throwback Throwaway

I know I ranted about this last year, but what the hell. The Jets have the worst throwback jerseys in the NFL. There is a reason they got rid of those uniforms. They suck. They look like a high school team. Here's a hint, if your throwback jersey looks nothing like anything your team has worn since wearing them over 40 years ago, keep them in the closet.

If You Watch The New Chris Rock Special...

Do yourself a favor and just listen to it. Rock did the same stand up in three locales wearing three different sets of clothes so the special always cuts to the different locales in the middle of the same joke. Incredibly distracting, annoying and completely unnecessary. Classic case of one those `wouldn't it be cool if we..."

No, just because you can do it doesn't necessarily make it a good idea.

You A Hustler, Ames?

So many great scenes who knows where to start?

This is far from his best work, but something about this scene always grabbed me between Newman and Forest Whitaker in The Color of Money. The cockiness, the anger, the vulnerability as he realizes that he's just an old man who got taken. But was is really amazing about this scene is that he gives it to Whitaker. A true star knows when to lay back and get the best out of his fellow performers and that's what's going on here.

Threats And Common Sense

Was the crazy dude hanging on the ledge of his apartment building naked really a threat to anyone? He could only do harm to himself. There was no reason for the police to zap him and they had to know he'd fall. Might as well cut the $10 million check to her mother now and safe the court fees.

Meanwhile though, we have the mother whose kid was accidentally guided onto a school bus and then let out two miles from home alone and a good samaritan (what we used to call a human being). took him home. Yes, a screw-up. But is this really worth a lawsuit? Sure something horrible could've happened, but it didn't. Sometimes in life people make mistakes but there was no intent to do harm here and this, to me, is not the kind of screw-up that will never happen again because of this lawsuit. And the kid will now go from having a minor inconvenience to thinking that he was somehow traumatized from all this and that something really wrong happened.

Another Moment Passed

We had a big shot in speaking today at lunch. He was asked about all the people coming out of college who want to be investment bankers just to get rich, not because of any love of high finance or doing deals, etc.

The guy, who seemed pretty down to earth for a multi-millionaire deal dude, said that if your not passionate about something you a) won't do it well and b) it isn't worth doing. He also said that if you can't get enjoyment out of even the mundane things in your job, find something else.

I wanted to put down my plate, walk over to him, shake his hand and say `thank you' and then walk out of the lunch and out of the building.

Man that would've been great.

Instead I kept chewing and nodding my head. The berries for dessert were excellent, btw.

Ghosts

Past another ghost today
Looked right through me
Those hallow eyes staring at nothing
Too tired to close
Innocence long shattered
Nothing keeping her together

Always chasing that first time
Never finding it again
See those ghosts all over town
Not dead yet, but they sure aren't living

Wish I could bring them back
Wish I could make them see
But the lure of that darkness
It's too hard for them to beat
Towels over the windows, shattered glass on the floor
Won't they get tired of being tired
No they just come back for more

Don't want to see anymore of these ghosts
Can't keep looking at them looking at the abyss
Want to smack your head into the ground
For what your doing to you is what you did to me
Don't know that yet, you're too far gone to feel

Don't want to see anymore ghosts today

This Is What Happens When You Listen To `Strawberry'

Pulled over at the corner and I got in
Two blocks later you're off on another run
And I'm ready to disappear into my skin
Yeah, time for some fun

Here we go again
Think we'll get it right this time
Here we go again
Back in the slime

Headed back to my block
And forgot all that stuff that was there a minute ago
Kept staring at the clock
Called the deli, got the booze to go with my new low

Waited for you to get here
Won't you get on for this ride?
Waiting for you and my beer
What? Aren't you on my side?

Fell down again
Woke up on the corner
Does it ever end?
Guess it beats the coroner

Might Want To Rethink That One

There's a girl on the dating site I'm currently striking out on who sent me a note and her profile name is "Spicy Tuna." This is why it's sometimes good to get a second opinion on these things.

Last Out

The bats are all put away
The gloves go back in the closet
The sunny Sundays will soon fade
And another season has set

Out there for 21 games
Couldn't quite make it to 22
The bats so strong went silent
The runs, once so many, were few

There will be head-scratching
And over analyzing
And the usual cries of next year
Inside the Nest, Matchless, and other houses of stale beer

But I only come out for fun
To run down the first base line
To slide into second
To catch a sinking liner, to score a run

Winning is great, don't get me wrong
And losing sucks
That said, I'd rather play and lose
Then sit at home all Sunday long

Crooked Pieces

Used to be so easy
Sit in the corner
Suck down my whiskey
Smoke up my Marlboro
Spot the prey from across the room, the one whose standards have just fallen far enough to be within my gravity
The one with the sadness in her smile as she looks to drown the pain
Charm her with my eyes,
Fill her with my lies

Fool each other that we've found each other
That at long last these two crooked pieces and have found their fit
And as we drift further away from what is real we'll convince ourselves that this is it
Suddenly the nightmare of our lives will feel some light
And we'll maul each other on the way back to the hole from where we came
And we'll reveal things no one knows
The scars, the pain, the shame, the hurt
Will all fade as we melt into each other

In the morning, we'll return to our shells
The walls will go back up
And we'll realize we've done it again
Gone down the wrong alley for the wrong answer
The hurt will be twice as bad
Gave away the only thing we had
To a stranger we thought could take it away
Now they're gone and we're here to stay

Losing It

I'm glad that Hannah Upp, the Hamilton Heights teacher who went missing a few weeks ago, was found alive (albeit floating in the river) and I'm dying to hear more about what happened with her. Did she stop taking meds? Have a complete crack up? What was it?

Part of me thinks, how wonderful that must have been. Just to lose it like that and disappear in one's brain. She had enough going on to know to use different health clubs to shower, but clearly she had some sort of mental break.

I'm sure it's nothing to romanticize. Still, to borrow from Bukowski, "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead."

Go Gus

I have to admit that I was pumped to see that Gus Frerotte has been named starter for the Vikings. After 15 years, Gus is still out there playing. I have always had a soft spot for him since the Redskins picked him (7th round, Tulsa) back in 1994.

Heath Shuler was supposed to be the star but there was something about Gus. Pretty soon Gus had the job and the love of the fans. Now was he the star I and many other fans had hoped for? No. But he had a few good years, particularly 1996 when the Skins started out 7-1 only to fold in the second half of the season. That collapse wasn't on Gus. He lost heart breakers at home to the Cards and the 49ers (where he out-dueled Steve Young and the pigeons that we all over the field that day) and if the Skins had won either of those games they would've made the playoffs and who knows. He was also the last QB to start at RFK. Unfortunately, he will always be known as the guy who head-butted a wall.

He has bounced around the league as a backup (Rams, Lions, Broncos, Dolphins, etc.)and keeps collecting a pay check. I doubt he'll last the season as the Vikings starter, this is more of a move of frustration by their coach, but still for a guy who was an afterthought 15 years ago, he's shown how to last.

Enough With Dunkin' Donuts

I now have four, count them, four Dunkin Donuts in a 12-block radius. A new one just popped up on Broadway between 101st and 102nd. The space they took over had been empty for a very long time. Previous tenants were a nice Korean deli with good fruit and classical music in the background and a laundry. We now have Dunkin Donuts at Broadway and 89th, Broadway and 96th, Broadway and 97th and this latest addition.

I used to like Dunkin Donuts. Thought of them as a nice blue collar treat (and if that sounds condescending so be it). Now though they've decided to take on Starbucks and apparently are studying Starbucks game book and following that chain's misguided saturation strategy.

In the meantime, my neighborhood, which admittedly stopped being a neighborhood years ago, suffers. We have lost three laundries over the last couple of years. I now have to walk all the way to 104th between Broadway and Amsterdam. Of course, as more and more hideous hi-rises go up filled with the types of people who wouldn't deign to use a laundry, those of us who do will be SOL.

Still, they do make a nice cup of coffee.

The Conspiracy Continues....

Tuesday's New York Times had a column (Memo from Cairo)which reports the disturbing, but not all that surprising news that there are still those in the Middle East (and elsewhere) who think among other things that no Jews died on September 11, that the U.S. and Israel were involved in the attacks and furthermore that the Jews had received advanced warning to stay away from work that day.

I wish someone had sent that memo to my childhood friend and Hebrew school classmate. Maybe he’d still be alive today instead of dying in the Towers. Furthermore, I know the media is supposed to just report, but would have been that bad for the writer to point out in the story that Jews did in fact die on September 11? I’m sure getting the actual number of Jews who died in the attacks would not have been too hard for the paper of record.

Mr. Grossman

Watching Mad Men where Don buys a new Cadillac and I remembered our next door neighbor Mr. Grossman in Detroit. He owned this big Cadillac Sedan DeVille with the fins and everything. He would come racing out of that driveway like a bat out of hell every morning. At least it seemed like he was racing to my five year-old eyes. I steered clear of that side of the house until after 8:30. Man that was a great car.

Chasing Empty

Always racing off to somewhere
Never getting anywhere
Rushing to the train in the morning
Only to do it backwards in the evening

Spring into Summer
Summer into Fall
Always running
Hoping not to fall

Chasing that carrot
Trying to stay on the horse
Don't know how we bear it
And stay on course

Tomorrow will be today soon
And today will be yesterday
I'll still be in this room
Looking to make my way

Hoping each day that the answer will come
But instead we just find another reason to run

Waiting For You To Want Me

I don't get your look
Can't get you to see my hell
If I wore it on my sleeve
Would it make you bleed for me?

Yeah I'm not that guy you're supposed to steer clear of
I'm the one you really steer clear of
He looks like he's on the edge
I look like I'm on the ledge

If I came on to you would you take me in?
Or just pass me by because I don't look like I'm hurting?
If I looked like a train wreck
Would that get me into your bed?

But if I just hold my own and get by
It's like somehow I'm not tough enough for your eyes
Die to survive to live that lie

You got that thing
Want the one who's an inch above the ground
Never mind that he'll fuck you over
And never come around
You'll be left holding the bag
And yet when he slinks back to town you'll swallow him down

I'll be the one still there when he goes out again
I'm the one tough enough to do the time
While your boy keeps dropping dime

But you'll walk right past the one who can carry you
And race back to the one who hurts you
I'll still be in that room counting the years
While he struggles to count the days

He'll get your sympathy
I'll get your pity
He'll get your lust
I'll eat your dust

But I won't bleed for you
I won't go down to try to get you around
Can't get caught in that trap

So just roll by me again
Put it all down on that losing hand
And maybe one day when you tire of your yo-yo toy
When you're through playing with that boy
When it's the middle of the night
And you see he's never going to be right
Your dreams have been left for dead
And it's not even right in bed
I'll still be there
Where you can always find me
Waiting for you to want me

This Man Has No Dick

Word is a (another) Ghostbusters movie is in the works. Why? Can't they just leave well enough alone? If they do remake it, Walter Peck had better be in it.

Getting Lost

I've become obsessed with these guys. Just want this running through my head while I'm lying in bed rolling around getting my strange.

Pins And Needles

I want to escape
Take me please
Get me out of this place
My head

I keep thinking about that train
The one that takes me down
The one that goes off the cliff
And I want to get on it

Lose all I've gotten back
Just for an hour
Drift away from me
And get back to me

Feel the sky open up
Hear my brain shut down
Get that feeling out of my skin
Just me and me and all I can take

So get over here
And take me down to the floor
Don't ask me about tomorrow
There won't be one

Wouldn't that be sweet?

Vintage A-Rod

He just hit a solo shot with the Yanks comfortably ahead. One of his classic "pile on" home runs. Wonder how many of those 548 home runs actually meant something.

I Haven't Read This Book But That

Won't stop me from expressing an opinion. The book is Curtis Sittenfeld's American Wife, a fictional novel about a first lady that on the surface sounds a lot like Laura Bush.

By surface I mean that Sittenfeld took some basic well known facts about Bush and inserted them into her protagonist Alice Blackwell. Like Bush, Blackwell is a librarian who was in a car crash that took the life of a classmate and eventually ends up marrying a wealthy and somewhat wild scion of a political dynasty. Sittenfeld then crafted a bunch of fiction around it and viola, suddenly we have a bold, brave novel instead of laziness and a lack of creativity.

If not for that, would this book get any hype? If in fact, the author tried to write a story of a first lady that did use what I will describe here as "Google Research" and was not a (not even) thinly veiled version of Laura Bush, would anyone care?

This is not about defending Laura Bush. It's about a new form of literature. Whether it's The Devil Wears Prada (but at least that author worked for Anna Wintour) or some other piece of mock fiction, it's getting a little tired. Perhaps I'll do one on an author who has one idea for a book based loosely on their own experiences, then gets a book deal and puts out one piece of crap after another, usually loosely based on someone known enough to get knowing winks and nods from critics but without any real or deep insight at all.

I know, I know. Well, hotshot why don't you get off your ass and crank out some crap and laugh your way to the bank.

I would, but I'm pulling in too much cash with the porn work for now.