Plankton

Went to the dentist today to get my implants checked out. They were fine, but I had a fart brewing in me for about an hour before the next appointment.  I held it in. In spurts.  But when I got out it tornadowed like a mother fucker on 6^th ave. Then I got on the subway downtown. And, wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing started brewing again. I started bloating like a gulping belly whale.

I got out at 15^th St. and went to the dermatologist. My stomach started making noises like a garbage disposal eating a bicycle chain. Then I started to try to cough away the farts…as in aheeeehhhhhheeeeeeemmmmmmm-fffffffffff-ttttttt. Stank.

I got called in to my appointment and came out skin cancer-free. But I had a fart in me like a 13-month old baby.

So I pay my bill while squeezing my cheeks. Then I casually, tight-cheekeked, strolled out.  I hit 6^th Ave and the air FLIES. I walked two whole blocks with my ass farting. It was glorious. I felt like I gave birth to a baby gas giant planet.

This is what it seemed like walking from 15^th St to 16^th St: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFhhhhhhhhhhhhhhbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbhhhhhhhttttttttttttttttttttttttrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhpppppppppppp. This is what it felt like: “Phrt.” Squeek?

Saw The Afghan Whigs alone and Lotion with Joe last week. I have stories to tell. Stay tuned. Joe is one cooooool duuuude. Gin? JD? Eggplant? Pepperoni? Chicken? A mile walk to the 1 train? A night on my couch? This man can adapt.

Controlled substance, dangerous unless used as directed

I’ve had bronchitis for the past dozen days and I’m getting sick and tired of coughing. I went to the doctor last week and got a Zithro pack and some codeine. Normally that does the trick. Not this time. Had to go back today because the coughing is to the point where if it doesn’t nearly suffocate me, it keeps me up at night. So I go back to the doctor. He gives me an amped up level of antibiotics and some grade AAA kush cough syrup. This shit had me tripping for the better part of this afternoon and evening. I’m still treading on it in a tiny tidal pool somewhere near the back of my conscience. This is the best buzz I’ve had in a decade. This is plush. And I haven’t coughed in hours. Zippety do dah, this shit rocks.

Blond on Blonde

Just got one of the best/weirdest/coolest emails ever. It was from a girl I was best friends with during my senior year in high school. She was a foreign exchange student from Holland. Tall, skinny blonde, etc…We were like brother and sister, except we made out with each other sometimes. It wasn’t gross, though. We were not related.

July's Hazy Laziness

It's July. It's hazy out there. This is the perfect time for motives. Or air conditioning. And video games. And Netflix streaming. And emailing old girlfriends. And getting returns. And doing laundry before the sun hits the stinging point. And spending time in the freezer section of the market looking for those looking for meals for one. And lip synching Hot Rocks instead of listening to Coldplay.

The boys are back in town

I did other things to be me. I took up surfing. I played in some amateur baseball leagues. I acted in plays. I played in bands. I partied.  Like those things, writing came naturally. I went for the money in pharma advertising. No wife, no life, no independence, no permanence, no obligating presence, no retribution, no construction. No complaining. Except for wanting to be outside more. 

Teenage Fanclub

Xxxx,

That email you sent was epic. I can’t address everything in one response, but here is my reply. My hope is that we can have a continuing conversation.

I’ve been working in the city for the past decade. My profession is, and had been since college, medical advertising.  I write snappy headlines and copy to sell pharmaceuticals.

In a grand miscalculated equation, it seemed as a way to define myself.

The writing came easy. It’s in the family genetics. But don’t even ask how I learned the science. The mystery is beyond all but a chemistry teacher at HHS. Mrs. Grocott once kindly gave me a B instead of a C on my report card because I drew a picture of a stick-figure cat instead of answering a question on a test.  Somehow, drawing that cat as a 16-year old tilted the deck in my favor. I’m still drawing stick figure cats.

Anyway, as to how I got to NYC… I was living in Red Bank, NJ and sacrificing 4 hours a day to ride trains to and from the city.  It gave me time to read a lot, but I could feel the leeching of time in in a micro and macro sense. So I quit my job, packed my surfboard, and travelled to Mexico, Costa Rica, Jamaica, and Antigua.

After my grand tour of the tropics, I came home and chilled at the beach for a year.  My girlfriend, Lynn, had a place in the city and would visit on weekends.  An apartment in her building opened up and I took it to be closer to her and where the business is.

But I’ve painted myself into a corner. At the age of 45, I’m disgusted with the professional path I committed to 20 years ago.  It’s not exactly the writing gig I, or my professors had in mind.

I decided to get in touch because of a dream. All my friends had died and I was the only one at the funeral. I was surrounded in a Mandelbrot set of spiraling caskets. I awoke sweating, feeling weak in the haze of the heat. I remembered you and how much laughter and drama and fun and teenage closeness we had in such a concentrated touch of time.

After that dream, and after I reached out to you, a great friend of mine killed himself. He jumped off a cliff at Rockefeller Lookout at Palisades Interstate Park. He was suffering greatly from MS. It broke me, Xxxx.

We are — here on out — going to be losing more friends than we gain. Let’s at least keep in touch with the one’s we truly have.

PK

USA! USA! USA!

Is it me, or are we experiencing an epidemic of some bizarre pathological compulsion to control others on our own self-righteous terms? Is this a natural trait of those in power or those aspiring to authority? Why is there now litigation concerning the size of soft drinks sold on a sidewalk outweighing human obligation in a hospital to care for those who suffer from bone-splintering pain?

We are insane. We are aggressively killing human compassion to fund the yachts, private jets and orgies of CEOs.

It’s bad enough we cant have the yachts and private jets.

Why are public servants inventing laws in their mind to spontaneously and aggressively assault, verbally and/or physically, fellow Americans exercising their rights?

Why are telecom companies deciding what television shows they don’t want us watching? They don’t want to make our emails subject to government inspection, do they?

Why do some feel that freedom of religion means the freedom to strongly suggest to others that they should say only Christian prayers in public settings?

We’re way too nosey. We’re busybodies who presume to have better things to do, but do not.  We pathologically peek over the neighbor’s fence to judge, yet not be judged. But yet we reveal with a yearning for empathy and recognition and connection to note our ever evaporating ink spot on this earth.

I get the TSA. I know they want to protect us. But are they screening the screeners? Are they closing the gate after the suspicious have left the barn? Maybe they should, for PR and security reasons, invent screenings that come before shoe bombers rather than after.  We brag about the fact that we’re perpetually a step behind.

If the TSA is so serious a government determination, maybe it should be less passively staffed. Maybe, in a call to American efficiency and commerce, it should be staffed to accommodate the volume of travelers. Maybe, in a capitalistic society, the worst should be fired and the best be promoted.

And why are we being watched without warrant? Why are we being searched? Why are doors being broken down in the name of blackhearted stormtrooper cops starving for steroid-fueled aggression? Why do many cops exhibit the symptoms of taking Human Growth Hormones and sport conspicuously similar crewcuts? If they stereotype others, can others stereotype them?

Why can’t we make cops pee into a cup for drugs? Why are innocent people being tasered for acting within law, but the inflaming tempers of trigger-happy, marine-wannabe, suburbanite police academy graduates go gently back home to soothing milk and cookies?

And if this is truly true…Why was a pregnant woman tasered for resisting being handcuffed, while handcuffed, the other day. She was kicked eight times. By a cop.  Again, while handcuffed. For resisting arrest and refusing to be handcuffed. While handcuffed. And head kicked. And so preciously pregnant. Was the cop trying to give her his own personal abortion?. Let’s wonder what political party an aggressive cop belongs to.