Hello? Is this thing on?

Testing, testing, one two, testing testing, one two.

Is this blog on?

I have been struggling. My addictive personality keeps me overly occupied with work. Am I making up for my slacker-attitude in college by trying, rather uselessly, to be an over-achiever on Wall St.? And if so, why now? Really, why? Do I really have the constitution to be Warren Buffet?

I do a lot of reading these days, but not the kind that helps. I feel so different today than when I last wrote in this blog, I'm afraid to post again. It's like this blog belongs to someone else, and I should just go get my own, less colorful, less interesting blog. It feels like I'm trespassing in a creaky, abandoned colonial-era house, or wiping my feet on a grave in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey.

Changes

My Firefox has a new homepage. It's no longer PennPortal. It is now Google News. I have no use for PennPortal anymore. Some of my other bookmarks have been deleted, too. No need to check Blackboard, for instance. These are the kinds of changes that make me sad. Also, I will miss many of you. Off you go, to D.C., to Boston, St. Louis, Alabama, Florida, Canada, the West Coast. Or staying in Philadelphia, Texas, Los Angeles. Halfway around the world.

I hear from so-called "New Yorkers" that New York is the central nexus of the universe. If this is true, I hope you will all stop in and say hello. Otherwise, I will have to escape like Russell.

Today

Today I ate eggplant beef from Yue Kee's food truck with Anni. It was really good, and kind of spicy. I also played basketball at Pottruck with Vimarth, John, Viraj, and Ant. We didn't win any games, and I shot the ball poorly. I ate dinner with Eric at Qdoba, nachos and a tortilla soup. It was very satisfying. Later I watched some NBA playoff basketball and drank beer with Sam. We got a beer called Pyramid which was apricot-flavored. It was good. I also had two cigarettes and some hookah. I'm going to shower and probably go to sleep now. I guess it was an OK day.

April Fool

If the fact that my thesis is due on Tuesday turns out to be an April Fool's joke, I'll be equal-parts elated and angry. Is this simultaneity possible? I think so. I can't believe I just spelled "simultaneity" correctly on my first try, by the way. Sweet!

Everything should be a collaborative process, even writing -- the traditionally "solitary loner" practice. OK, so not "everything" everything. Collaborating on going to the bathroom would be pretty awkward.

Goddamnit, I need to work on my thesis...

2007

Resolution #1: Read and write more.
Resolution #2: Get an agent. Sell a screenplay.

So it goes.

Happy New Year!

Plano, Texas

I live in Plano, Texas.

Plano is bigger than Jersey City, New Jersey (the second-largest city in NJ behind Newark); Lincoln, Nebraska; Greensboro, North Carolina; Norfolk, Virginia; Birmingham, Alabama; Madison, Wisconsin; Orlando, Florida; Rochester, New York; and Reno, Nevada.

Plano is over 78% white. Next are Asians and Latinos at 10% each. Black people are around 5%. These numbers add up to more than 100%, because about 3% reported two or more races.

Plano is the highest income place in the United States for cities over 130,000 people. It also has the lowest poverty rate of 6.3%, making it the richest city in the United States with a population over 250,000. Plano is also located in Collin County, the richest county in Texas and part of the richest 1% of counties in the United States. The four wealthy zip codes of Plano that contribute to the county's affluence are (in descending order of median household income/year): 75093, 75024, 75025, and 75094. I live in 75025.

64.3% of households are married couples living together.

Plano is also home to many large corporate headquarters, including Electronic Data Systems, JCPenney, Cadbury Schweppes/Dr. Pepper/Seven Up, Frito Lay, and Neiman Marcus.

Plano students achieved notoriety following a cluster of nine suicides in 1983 that raised national awareness about suburban teenage depression and drug abuse. The drug specifically cited by many was heroin. This heroin problem resurfaced in the late 1990s, culminating in coverage by several major news outlets such as NBC's Dateline. Heroin use in Plano eventually led to over a dozen overdose deaths of teenagers and young adults. Many more Plano heroin users suffered from overdoses that did not result in death.

I live in Plano, Texas, but I will never be from here.

punk rock for kids

black jeans
black hoodie
black chucks
chain
laughing at the smiths

Baroque

Listenin' to a lot of Scott Walker lately. Baroque pop from the 60s. Some songs make me think of the Decemberists. New Decemberists album downloading now. Head swimming with dramatic, theatrical story-tunes. Welcome to October.

everything in my head at once

good god, y'all
war -- huh!
what is it good for?
asked the cleaning lady
sunburned like hell
hashbrowns, powerade
twice a day, rinse off
the music's loud
in your room
turn it down
for us to figure out
on the bad luck train
sleeping sleeping sleeping
she likes traveling
when i'm with her
don't be that guy
or she will kick your ass
not addicted to cloves yet
one more, one more, one more
paper tiger -- no, airplane
that wasn't a song!
need a new pillow
pillowcased backpack
deep bad conversation dish
always breaking rules
peace, calm, happiness
laughter, laughter, laughter
sake, sake, sake
it's the pitchfork that builds
builds the hay into a haystack
that's chicago! that's what we do!
we keep it local and
invite the rest of the world!
the airtrain has no wheels
because it's air... train.
twenty-one years old
a twenty-one-year-old
man man ha ha man, man!
fuze has heroin in it
drunk and stoned
fuck yo la tengo
fuck bush, bleeding heads
they don't look like pharmacists
there's a lot of hair on stage
walking from union park to the red line
on the lake, over the lake
capone's blue light
chopping peppers, garlic, stirring
mozzarella was my idea
gothic american hopper edward
i was a falling nighthawk once, but
these milk jugs are heavy
i'll never make it home
well-hung stable boy!
i was meant for the stage
thank you so much for everything
falling asleep and growing up
under the sun, white sheet summer
stolen kisses on the run
i can still feel your head on my shoulder
everything hits at once
you forgot your tropical coconut body wash

The Last Day

At 8:30 pm, I was born.

This was significant once a year for 21 years in a row.

Today is the last day, afterwhich... significant no longer.

"All downhill," as they say.

But it was a gentle, modest, unassuming slope up.

And down, most probably the same.

Have I learned anything in 21 years to take forward with me?

Some fundamental lesson that only a lived life can teach?

What combined wisdom can I draw from the years of infancy, childhood, adolescence, and now, adulthood?

Perhaps this:

Love... but don't talk to strangers.

And this:

Relax.

For Lisa

I was smoking a cigarette as Jeff Mangum wailed in my ears, going through his last verse of "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" when she stopped me. I pulled the buds out of my ears and flung the cord around my neck.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do this, I hate asking for help. But I'm six months pregnant and I'm homeless and hungry."

I gave her my usual response. "Sorry, I don't have any money on me."

"No spare change?"

It was true. I didn't have a single bill in my wallet, and my pockets were empty of any coins. I didn't even have a SEPTA token; I was walking home from 30th Street Station.

"I don't have anything. Sorry."

Her skin was a soft, smooth black, but her face bore lines hardened by thirty-eight years of hardship. She was wearing a backpack with what I imagined were all her worldly possessions inside. I noted the additional weight she had to carry in her belly. I thought about offering her a cigarette, but quickly realized the folly in that.

"I can buy you something at a restaurant. Some fast food. I have money on my card."

"McDonald's?"

I thought about it. It was out of my way. I'd have to walk with her back to 30th Street Station. "Sure. McDonald's."

"God bless you, you are the first blessing of the day." It was 8:30 PM.

"What's your name?"

"Lisa."

Lisa and I walked down the windy street under the darkening sky as the sun quietly slipped away, unable to compete with the low clouds.

She told me about how she had been through the shelter system, and how they had a bunch of very onerous rules. If you miss the 9 PM curfew three times, you're kicked out for several months. I responded in polite, clipped words. I didn't really know what to talk about with this woman whose life was so utterly and completely different from mine.

"I know everyone's got to go through hardships in life, but..." She trailed off.

When we got to McDonald's, she asked me how much she could spend. I told her I'd buy her five dollars worth of stuff. She wanted two double cheeseburgers and three McChickens. Good choice, I thought. Healthier than what I would have gotten for five dollars -- all five in double cheeseburgers.

"Get some ketchup and honey mustard, too."

"OK," I laughed gently.

As we were waiting for the food, she asked me what my name was.

"David."

"David?" She started to laugh. "You have a black name?"

I got a little confused. What was she talking about? Was she about to give me a "black" name? Could I be a LeBron or something? Shaniqua?

"No, I don't have a black name."

"Yeah, you do. A lot of black people have that name."

"Oh, I see." Right. "I would call it more of an American name."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant. I'm sorry, you know, I didn't mean like, I didn't know how to put it..."

"It's OK." That was probably the tenth time I had said, "It's OK" to her.

"Where you from originally?"

"My parents are from China, but I was born here, so they gave me an American name."

The food arrived, and I asked for some ketchup and honey mustard. I took the bag and handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Take care, Lisa."

"You too."

I put my earbuds back on and walked out of the station. It was dark. The last strains of Jeff Mangum's voice in "Two-Headed Boy" floated softly back into my world, and I lit another cigarette.

Top Artists

Somebody's been listening to a lot of "Moon River" and looping Norah Jones albums at night, on my iTunes.

werks

work and what's worse
while we work
we're not ourselves
we become workers
we become work
work with a nametag
we're works
werks

The New Pornographers/Belle & Sebastian

at the show at electric factory last night
the new pornographers totally awesome
except no jackie hey hey hey hey
a lot of other mass romantic, though
keyboardist with short hair
carl/a.c. newman
belle & sebastian with scottish accents
best black eye on the whole tour
electronic renaissance
sukie in the graveyard
i don't love anyone (and more tigermilk)
girl from audience singing judy and the dream of horses
encore
harmonica and guy in suit
guy in suit dancing
stuart murdoch
best show ever
jealous?

the roar

the roar came through your throat
like a whimper through a megaphone
and i could feel the rumble of voices
whispering, murmuring in my stomach
everything went black inside the whites
of my eyes until i blinked
gone
i tried to speak to you
but someone else's voice came out
did you notice?
my eyes closed over your face
and my body faded into the warm air
we had to hurry in the darkness
or risk being seen by ourselves
but nothing was in my control
my hands were in my ears
fingers tied together
everything happened off to the side
as i watched, helpless
as you laughed
but a song came through your throat
like water rippling down a river
and my eyes finally opened
i saw you for the first time
looking at me
and you looked just like me
a smile like a sunflower
eyes like tadpoles
there was nothing
to be afraid of
afterall --
except...

silence

End Game: or the Adventures of Max and His Curious Friend Doogs

That's the title of the feature length screenplay I'm working on. It's a working title.

 
Story is the most difficult thing in my life right now. And time. Or is it distance? Einstein would say they're the same thing.

 
I am directing the play I wrote. And Blogger needs to do something about spammers commenting. I refuse to force the inconvenience of using a code word on my nonexistent readers.

Done!

The play is done! Now comes the even harder and more time-consuming part: rewrites.

Lonely Day

Last night, I rode my bike around the neighborhood, singing along joyously to my iPod, and trying to take in every little simple pleasure I could think of, like breathing. I did a few laps around the large pond/small lake in Russell Creek Park. I stood up on the pedals as I rushed down a gentle hill, wind in my hair, belting the lyrics to "Angel of Harlem" by U2. I must have looked almost maniacally happy and carefree.

But then, inauspiciously, "Lonely Day" by Phantom Planet randomly came on next. It's a great song, but it's not a happy one. I listened to it anyway, not realizing that it was about to come true...

I could tell from the minute I woke up
It was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day
Rise and shine, rub the sleep out of my eyes
And try to tell myself I can't go back to bed
It's gonna be lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day

Even though the sun is shining down on me
And I should feel about as happy as can be
I just got here and I already want to leave
It's gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day
It's gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day
It's gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day

Everybody knows that something's wrong
But nobody knows what's going on
We all sing the same old song
When you want it all to go away
It's shaping up to be a lonely day

I could tell from the minute I woke up
It was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day
It was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day

Everybody knows that something's wrong
But nobody knows what's going on
We all sing the same old song
When you want it all to go away
It's shaping up to be a lonely day

I could tell from the minute I woke up
It was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely day
It was gonna be a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely
Lonely, lonely, lonely...

Everybody knows that something's wrong
But nobody knows what's going on
Everybody knows that something's wrong
But nobody knows what's going on