The Tin Man » 2004

Thursday, April 1, 2004

April Fool’s Day on the Web, 2004.

12:13 PM | Comments Off

The New York Press presents The 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers. I feel kinda cool that I know someone on this list (#15). And I’m really glad that the employees of the Strand made the grade (#29):

SLAVING AT A used bookshop may be a nobler vocation than trading pork bellies, but is it too much to ask that someone make eye contact through his or her Elvis Costello glasses? Is it unreasonable to expect the occasional acknowledgement of a customer’s presence? Do new employees take classes to learn how to display utter contempt?

For the very reasons expressed above, I hate asking for help at that store. I’m glad to learn it’s not just me.

4:18 PM | 2 drops of oil

Friday, April 2, 2004

I’ve just signed up for Kinja, a new weblog aggregator that launched yesterday. Weblog aggregators grab the latest posts from all the sites you’ve chosen, so you can read the new stuff from your favorite blogs all on one page. Kinja has an elegant layout, and a blog doesn’t need to have an RSS feed in order for Kinja to recognize it.

I’m having trouble with the bookmarklet, though. I use the Google popup blocker, and unless I temporarily disable it (by pressing the Control key at the same time as I click on the bookmarlet link), the bookmarklet doesn’t work. Can any of my readers help me out with this?

The coolest thing to me about Kinja so far is the icon they’ve chosen to represent my site:

Too cute.

10:53 AM | 1 drop of oil

Saturday, April 3, 2004

“Well, you can fuck yourself,” he scowled from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t mean to leave you in the lurch, Michael,” I said. “But I just don’t see where I can go from here.”

“No, I mean fuck yourself for science.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“Mold your dick, then have someone strap it on.” Obviously. “It would be a great finale to the column.”

1:56 PM | Comments Off

Sunday, April 4, 2004

Six months ago today, I met up with a guy for coffee. He was a blogger who ran an LGBT blog directory that I’d visited occasionally over the previous couple of years. I was well aware of his site, although I didn’t know anything about the guy who ran it. He’d long lived in another part of the country, but over the summer he’d moved to New York. I knew this because my friend Mike was a friend of his and had blogged about him.

One day, the guy left a comment on my blog. I’d been meaning to write him and welcome him to New York, and this seemed like a good opportunity to say hi. So I wrote him an e-mail, thanking him for the comment and welcoming him to the city, and he wrote back to tell me that he’d been enjoying my blog and suggested we meet up for coffee some time.

That guy was, of course, Matt.

That Saturday, in the afternoon, we met at the Starbucks at Astor Place, near the K-Mart. He was a little late because of subway delays, but that was okay. He was cute, as I’d expected from the photo on his site. We got some beverages and grabbed a table. We talked for a long time, and he showed me his Palm Pilot, which he seemed pretty enthusiastic about, and which made him even cuter. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and I liked the hair on his forearms. I wanted to touch his arms, but I didn’t.

After a long while, the coffee got to me and I had to go to the bathroom, but the line at Starbucks was too long, so we went over to Barnes & Noble and I used the one there. Then we walked over to and up Third Avenue, because we wanted a snack and I’d suggested bagels. We searched without success. We doubled back to Union Square and went into another Starbucks, but they were out of bagels as well and there were no snack items that looked appealing. I used the bathroom again. He did too, I think. Then we walked some more and wound up at Java & Jazz, a coffee shop on Broadway at 17th Street. There were bagels! Success. So we got some bagels and a table and continued chatting for quite a while.

Eventually it was time to go our separate ways, so we left Java & Jazz and walked along the northern end of Union Square. I liked this guy and hoped to hang out with him again, but I wanted to be casual about it. One of us, I can’t remember who, suggested we in fact hang out again, and the other one of us said that would be great. Yay! I gave him a spontaneous little goodbye hug, which seemed to take him aback, but he smiled and we parted.

Then I went into Barnes & Noble and worried that I’d been too forward by hugging him.

Tne next day, I got an e-mail from him telling me that he’d really enjoyed hanging out with me. He repeated that it would be great to meet up again soon. I felt good.

During the following week, I IM’d Mike and told him that I’d met Matt. I mentioned that I’d had a great time. Mike responded that Matt had told him he’d had a great time, too and had liked me a lot. I told Mike I was kind of interested in the guy.

Matt and I e-mailed a few times during the week. We decided to get together again that following weekend, and we were trying to figure out what to do.

And then he ended one his e-mails by suggesting that we go on a date sometime, because “a little bird” had whispered in his ear.

(Thanks, Mike!)

I wrote back and said that it would be my pleasure.

So that Friday evening, we went out to dinner, and then saw a movie, and…

So (ahem) anyway, it was six months ago today that Matt and I met each other. We’ve retroactively decided to use that first meeting as our anniversary date, because, well, it gets us there sooner. While our first meeting wasn’t officially a date, we did meet up for coffee for the purpose of getting to know each other, and we spent several hours together, during which I developed — er — romantic curiosities about him. So at the very least it was date-related program activities.

And so:

Happy six months, sweetie.

(He’s in Philadelphia this weekend, but I’m sure we’ll celebrate in some fashion soon.)

I’m curious: what do other couples use as their anniversary date?

6:06 PM | 11 drops of oil

“Wonderfalls” has been cancelled. Effective immediately. Fuck!

It only lasted four episodes (and I missed the first one), but I fell in love with it the first time I saw it. I can’t believe it’s gone. I hope Caroline Dhavernas and the rest of the cast go on to other projects, because they were terrific.

Is there any place for quirky, intelligent shows anymore? Yes — on cable. The truth is that until 20 years ago, when television was still monopolized by three big networks, a show like “Wonderfalls” would never have made it onto TV in the first place. At least we no longer live in a three-network world. The big networks (and Fox, which often beats ABC in the weekly ratings, counts as a big network these days) are not the place for unusual or offbeat shows, and they never were. Three or four million weekly viewers would be a hit on almost any cable network, and that’s where people like Tim Minear and Joss Whedon should be looking to pitch their ideas, even if they’d have to deal with much smaller budgets. Due to smaller exposure, the shows probably wouldn’t get even three or four million viewers, but it would be better than nothing.

But maybe we can get it released on DVD. I want to find out why the animal objects were talking to her.

God, I’m pissed.

8:09 PM | 4 drops of oil

Tuesday, April 6, 2004

On Sunday night I watched a prime-time PBS special marking the 35th anniversary of “Sesame Street.” It was odd to see how much has changed since the 1970s/early 80s. Strangely, the humans are the same: Gordon and Susan, Luis and Maria, and Bob (although Bob’s deaf friend Linda seems to be gone). But now Gordon and Susan have an adopted son, Milo, and Luis and Maria are married and have a daughter named Gabriela. Milo and Gabriela both appear to be teenagers, so I’m sure they’ll get married someday. As for the muppets, Big Bird is still neurotic, Oscar the Grouch and Cookie Monster are still every child’s id, Grover is still ironically humorous, and Bert and Ernie still haven’t come out of the closet. (I think Bert needs to see “Avenue Q.”)

As I’m sure most “Sesame Street” afficionados know, Elmo and “Elmo’s World” have taken over the show. But that wasn’t as jarring to me as all the computerized animation the show uses today. I feel old now, and I now realize it’s true that every generation grows up taking for granted the technology that the previous generation thought was so cool.

The special included a few classic routines that I was shocked to realize had been buried in the deepest recesses of my memory. For the last couple of days I’ve been unable to get the following lyrics out of my head:

Ten eggplants –
Over easy!
That’s one of our little jokes
(Ha, ha, ha)

You can play the Sesame Street 35th Anniversary Trivia Game. That Oscar the Grouch is so mean.

Sometimes I wish I could be a kid again.

1:01 PM | 1 drop of oil

Wednesday, April 7, 2004

I brought Matt to my parents’ house last night for his first Passover seder ever. He’d already met my parents and my brother before, but I was looking forward to bringing him to my hometown, giving him a tour of the house in which I grew up, and introducing him to the family dog. He also got to taste my mom’s cooking for the first time. As for the seder itself, Matt was a real trooper — he wore a yarmulke and read from the Haggadah. It was so neat to expose him to all these aspects of my childhood: my parents’ house, the room that used to be my bedroom, the family photos on the walls, some of my relatives — all these things that are part of my history and that have contributed to who I am.

(I also gave him a glimpse of my mom’s huge collection of Playbills going back to the 1960s. Maybe next time he’ll be able to pore over all of them.)

At the end of the evening, my dad drove me, Matt, my brother, and my brother’s girlfriend back to the city. It was nice not being the odd one out anymore, and it was cool to casually mention to my dad that he didn’t need to drive me back to my apartment because I was going to, ahem, stay in the city. Hey — if my brother and his girlfriend can talk about it, so can I. I’ve recently realized how laissez-faire and laid-back my dad has become, after I grew up being so scared of him. Sometimes it takes the perspective of someone else — such as Matt — to remind me what a cool guy he is. I really do love my dad, particularly for being so accepting.

10:32 PM | 1 drop of oil

Thursday, April 8, 2004

“Wonderfalls” executive producer Bryan Fuller gives a hint as to what was in the nine remaining unaired episodes:

“The episode that would have been next week kicks off all the franchise-y, arc-y stuff for the series,” he says, “whereas the episodes we’ve aired so far have been establishing the scenario… The next episode, ‘Crime Dog,’ kicks it off in a big way. We have Jaye’s brother, who learns that she’s a little bit crazy, and it starts his arc of becoming the first apostle. We have all sorts of nitty-gritty juiciness with Sharon, the lesbian Republican lawyer sister. We’re hoping the tone and scope of these episodes will have a lot of promise for another network and be a tasty little treat to tempt them into picking us up.”

Sigh… I hope we get to see them. He’s trying to pitch “Wonderfalls” to other networks, such as the WB and UPN. “I think the show would make a great companion piece with ‘Smallville’ on The WB,” he says. He vows to continue until “I’ve been told ‘no’ by all the networks.” Go, Bryan, go!

This article gives some of the reasons why “Wonderfalls” wasn’t given a chance to succeed. Executive producer Todd Holland sadly concludes:

“I feel like the sort of wonder you can create from small worlds of fiction is totally in danger of extinction because people — the audience or the networks — don’t have the patience to nurture that kind of journey… Anything you don’t nurture and feed, withers. Our imaginations, our dreaming spirits, are in danger of giving up.”

Amen, and that’s sad. After the Passover seder on Tuesday night, my brother and his girlfriend watched a tape of the previous night’s finale of “Aver*ge Joe,” which she’s apparently obsessed with (and which I have Google-proofed in this sentence). Matt and I sat and watched it with them for a few minutes, and I was not the least bit entertained. Reality TV just makes me feel icky.

Maybe I’ll have to start reading books again — or at least make better use of my TiVo and my DVD player.

4:50 PM | 1 drop of oil

Monday, April 12, 2004

Terrific Gothamist interview with Clay Shirky, which makes me homesick for New York even though I live here. (More or less.)

12:15 PM | Comments Off

I’m going to be in San Diego from May 8-14 for a work-related seminar. Anybody have any recommendations about what to do or see when I’m there? I’ll be staying on Coronado Island. I’ll have Saturday and Sunday to tour around — the rest of the week I’m free in the evenings. I’d appreciate any ideas.

Also, will I need to rent a car?

12:40 PM | 6 drops of oil

Matt and I were walking north along Eighth Avenue on Saturday afternoon, heading over to Studio 54 to pick up our tickets for that afternoon’s performance of “Assassins.” We were about to cross West 46th Street when I noticed someone waiting to cross Eighth Avenue who looked familiar. That looks like John Tartaglia, I thought.

I took a closer look at his backpack and saw a button on it that said IT SUCKS TO BE ME.

Yep, it was him.

We watched him cross over and walk down toward 45th Street, presumably heading over to the John Golden Theater to get ready for the matinee of “Avenue Q.”

This was just one of the treats of the fun-filled weekend Matt and I had.

By the way, John Tartaglia and his “Avenue Q” puppet Rod are going to be on “Hollywood Squares” all next week, if you want to catch them. (Check local listings, as they say.)

2:31 PM | 5 drops of oil

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Music theory in a nutshell. Wow. (via Anil)

9:57 AM | Comments Off

One of my favorite writers, Michael Chabon, has an Op-Ed in the New York Times today about the censorship of teenage art:

It is in the nature of a teenager to want to destroy. The destructive impulse is universal among children of all ages, rises to a peak of vividness, ingenuity and fascination in adolescence, and thereafter never entirely goes away. Violence and hatred, and the fear of our own inability to control them in ourselves, are a fundamental part of our birthright, along with altruism, creativity, tenderness, pity and love.

He also has a piece in a recent issue of the New York Review of Books about His Dark Materials, a fantasy series. (I haven’t read the review or the books.)

I love Chabon’s baroque, challengingly beautiful sentences. What’s amazing and paradoxical is that he usually uses this style to write about childhood, which is supposed to be a time of innocence and simple pleasures. Chabon knows that’s not true. Like the best artists, he still knows how to be young, but like the best children’s writers, he knows better than to idealize youth. He treats childhood with a mixture of wonder and idealism on the one hand, and fear and complexity on the other. He knows that childhood is scary, and sometimes scarring. Although children may have less experience than adults, that does not make them simple, or always innocent.

1:07 PM | 1 drop of oil

I am a Jew.

See here, here, here, and here, for why I’ve linked to the above site, and help rectify an antisemitic case of Googlebombing by posting

on your site, too.

4:19 PM | 3 drops of oil

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

I ate so much crap yesterday. Breakfast was fine: a bowl of oatmeal with fruit (my usual). But it went downhill from there. My midmorning snack was a packet of Lorna Doone shortbread cookies from a vending machine. Lunch was two pieces of pizza, followed a short time later by a Nestle Crunch bar. Then it turned out one of colleagues had brought in a homemade apple pie, so I had a piece of that in the afternoon. Dinner before my chorus rehearsal was McDonald’s, and during our break I had a chocolate Krispy Kreme donut.

That’s right. I had oatmeal with raisins, shortbread cookies, pizza, a chocolate bar, a piece of apple pie, McDonald’s, and a chocolate donut.

McDonald’s isn’t a regular part of my diet, but I’ve been eating too much chocolate and other sugary products lately. I don’t drink coffee, but I have a chocolate bar almost every afternoon at work. While I don’t put on weight from this stuff, it does make me feel a little icky. So I’ve decided that I’m going to eat healthy today. No chocolate or sugary or greasy foods, just for one day. I’ll have a salad or a sandwich for lunch, and my afternoon snack will be a piece of fruit. Dinner will be real food, and no sugary desserts. I figure if I commit to just one day, I’ll have a better chance of following through.

(I should probably take up some sort of cardiovascular exercise, too.)

This all reminds me that a professor in college once told us that the four food groups were sugar, salt, grease, and beer.

11:58 AM | 2 drops of oil

An interview with Robert Fagles appeared in the New York Times yesterday. Fagles has translated the Iliad and the Odyssey to wide praise in the last several years, and he’s currently working on translating Virgil’s Aeneid. Reading this interview made me envious for the academic life: Fagles is a retired Ivy League professor, he’s been married for almost 50 years and has two grown daughters, and he works “in a window-lined room in his house on a back road.” And the photo of his desk nook looks lovely. I’ve reconciled myself to not diving into the academic life — I don’t have enough interest in one single subject to get a Ph.D., and I’d rather learn than teach. But it’s still nice to dream.

6:31 PM | 2 drops of oil

I’ve posted a question on Ask.Metafilter to try to learn the origin of the phrase “do what?” I heard this from time to time when I lived in Virginia, and Matt occasionally uses it as well, often without realizing it. We were talking about it this past weekend.

I still can’t hear the phrase without thinking it means “You want me to do what?” I’ll just never understand where the “do” comes from. (Sorry, sweetie…)

Anyway, the question got some interesting responses.

10:57 PM | 6 drops of oil

Friday, April 16, 2004

My commuting time is sacred to me. I like to be alone when I commute; I usually read. I don’t feel like having conversations.

I was really tired this morning, and I had to go to a meeting, so I planned to doze on the PATH on the way to work. When I got onto the train, however, I saw one of my coworkers. On the rare occasion that I see one of my coworkers when I get on the train, I usually go sit at the opposite end of the car and pretend I don’t see him or her — not out of malice but out of introversion. But this time it was too late; he spotted me. So I smiled and sat down across from him. He lowered his book and smiled back, but after saying hi I mentioned that I was exhausted and needed to take a nap before getting to work. He had no problem with that, so he returned to his book, and I closed my eyes.

But I couldn’t fall asleep, and after a few minutes I wished that I’d decided to read instead. But of course I couldn’t read, because then my coworker might think I just didn’t want to talk to him. So I sat there for 15 minutes with my eyes closed.

And of course I really did start to fall asleep, but the train was pulling into Newark so I had to get up.

Life is cruel.

4:13 PM | Comments Off

Saturday, April 17, 2004

Last night Matt and I saw“Connie and Carla,” written by Nia Vardalos, in which she and Toni Colette play women on the run who pretend to be drag queens. It was really cute, and I’m sure it helped that we were seeing it in the heart of Chelsea, in a theater full of gay men whose laughter was infectious. Lines and scenes that would have been merely funny became uproarious. If you’re going to see it, see it in a theater filled with queens.

1:50 PM | 2 drops of oil

Monday, April 19, 2004

Things I need:

- A haircut. Badly.

- A good-looking spring jacket.

- Short-sleeve shirts.

- A pair of sneakers. (I rarely wear sneakers — I haven’t bought a new pair in five years — but I want to wear some again.)

Ahh, spring has sprung.

[Addendum: also sunglasses.]

10:30 AM | Comments Off

I’m overcome with spring fever. I can feel my body chemistry changing — I want to throw my cares away, frolic barefoot in the fields, throw a frisbee, have sex on the grass. (I’ve done all except the latter.)

What a gloriously beautiful weekend it was! Some looked at boys; others relaxed in Central Park. For our part, yesterday Matt and I walked over to the South Street Seaport and back, and then we walked down to Battery Park, where we saw the Sphere memorial and Castle Clinton. We thought about going for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry, but we didn’t want to wait around for the ferry.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention all the guys in T-shirts walking around, their biceps showing as they came toward us. When one pictures biceps, one usually pictures them from the side, but there’s something to be said for the frontal view of the lower half of a bicep poking out of a shirtsleeve, connected to a lightly-haired forearm. Sigh. (The closest approximation I can find online is Jake Dobkin’s tattooed right arm. Lovely.)

On Saturday night, Matt and I went to a birthday party, where we once again met Keith Jameson, who played Toby in the recent “Sweeney Todd” production at the New York City Opera. We were sitting there talking to him, and then he leaned over kind of slyly and said, “So… is one of you the Tin Man?” Somewhat discombobulated, I said that I was. It turned out that he’d found my mention of him via Google.

Thank goodness I liked the show.

Matt also got to chat with the rehearsal pianist from the original productions of “Merrily We Roll Along” and (I think) “Assassins,” which seemed to be a thrill for him.

At one point this weekend, Matt mentioned that before he became a New Yorker, he would enviously read some New Yorker’s bloggings about all the New Yorky things that that particular blogger had been up to, and that now that he’s an official New Yorker, he gets to write about New Yorky things and have other people be envious of what he’s doing. Yay!

Now excuse me while I sprout wings, pick up a lyre and serenade the onset of the vernal season.

2:39 PM | 2 drops of oil

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

I’m hopping on the meme bandwagon. (Is that redundant? I’m not sure.) Here’s a list of every job I’ve ever held. I’m not sure if I ever got paid to babysit or to shovel snow, so I’m leaving those off. My job history is rather directionless, as you’ll see. By the way, this is a great exercise — it’s a trip down memory lane and shows you how much world experience you’ve got.

Summer Intern, U.S. Embassy, Tokyo, Japan (summer 1991, age 17): My final summer in Japan after graduating from high school there. Me and this other guy went through files of corporate visa requests (Japanese companies requesting U.S. visas for their workers) and entered tons of data into a database. The embassy had a great library, and tons of American snacks and magazines.

Maitre D’, Dai Hachi Japanese Restaurant (summer 1992, age 18): My first college summer. I turned down a camp counselor job because I didn’t want to live in a cabin all summer and deal with kids, so instead I lived at home and worked in a small local restaurant. My hours were 11:45-2:30 and 6-10 weekdays, 6-10 Saturdays. (I had no social life.) I wrote down food orders over the phone, I worked the cash register, and sometimes I seated customers. Wasn’t too bad.

Part-time fast-food cashier (summer 1993, age 19): The job that I tend to repress from my memory. I needed to take Biology Lab that summer, because I was pre-med but started it late and needed to catch up. I’d always thought it would be neat to work in a fast food place. I was wrong. The customers sucked, I had nothing in common with my coworkers, I was surrounded by hicks. One night I had to stay until 1 in the morning and help clean all the greasy tools and mop the floors along with this mean limping cross-eyed woman. Totally not what I was born to do. Hence I repress it.

University Singers music librarian (1993-94, age 19-20): I was appointed music librarian of my mixed chorus during my third year of college. I actually got paid by the music department for this. I was responsible for making sure everyone’s folders were up to date with current music pieces and collect the pieces when we were done. I also reorganized the cramped little U. Singers music library. I spent countless hours in the chorus room (a.k.a. B012, or “B-twelve”), organizing music and playing CDs on the stereo in the room. I enjoyed this job.

Caterer, UVA Catering Services (summer 1994, age 20): The summer after my third year of college, I decided to stay in town and live in the Glee Club House. This is partly because I’d procrastinated looking for a job that would have looked more impressive on my resumé. So I lived in the house and worked for UVA Catering. We were all students, and the people attending the events were nice, and everyone got the same food so there were no orders to screw up. Plus, we got to eat the same food as the guests, which was really really good.

Temp, Servicemaster (summer 1994, age 20): During one week that summer, I didn’t cater but instead manned the office of a local Servicemaster husband-and-wife franchise, a job I got through a temp agency. They ran a carpet-cleaning service and a basement de-flooding service. Unfortunately, that happened to be the week a huge storm hit Charlottesville. I was flooded (heheh) with calls from people who needed their basements pumped, and I had to schedule tons of visits for the basement-pumper-people to go help the homeowners, who were overwhelmed by all the requests and fell behind schedule, so of course all the customers got mad at me.

Temp, shipping company (summer 1994, age 20): During another week that summer, I worked in a company where I helped this guy deliver copy machines and stuff like that. Basically I rode with him in a van all over the state of Virginia and did about 10 minutes of actual work each day. Not bad.

Book shelver, Alderman Library, UVA (fall 1994, age 20): During my senior year of college I worked as a shelver part-time. I liked my boss, a typical library bookish type. “Well, Jeff, today for you we’ve got D’s,” he’d say. I always got the D’s — that was the world cultures section or something. I’d take a rolling cart full of D’s and go up to the D section and reshelve books. I was good at it, and fast. I liked the quiet, the seclusion, and occasionally I’d skim through the books I was working with. I enjoyed this.

Temp, Roche Labs, 8th Avenue and 15th Street, Manhattan (summer 1995, age 21): I temped for a month during the summer after I graduated from college. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and this was a placeholder. I sat at a computer all day and entered in data about gynecological exams while listening to talk radio on my Walkman. This was dreadful and instead the planned month, I quit after three weeks.

Data enterer, UVA Health Sciences Center (Sept 1995-Feb 1996, age 21-22): I’d moved back to Charlottesville, VA after my post-college summer to see if I could find some direction there. I wound up temping. I entered data relating to medical patient folders. I worked inthe same room as a bunch of mostly middle-aged black women and a couple of white-trash white women who all affectionately reffered to me as “Muffin,” as well a rural queeny gay man whom I didn’t come out because I was in the closet at the time. They were mostly nice people, but I had nothing in common with them. My Walkman once again came in handy. Sometimes I’d look up the student health records of people I knew, just for fun.

Staff member, UVA Music Library (Feb-Aug 1996, age 22): I loved this job. I got to interact with students, many of whom I already knew; I got to surf the Web; I liked my boss. The music library was a familiar and welcoming space for me. I only left because I started law school.

Summer intern for a U.S. district judge, Newark, NJ (summer 1997, age 23): I didn’t get paid for this, but I enjoyed it. I worked with a few other law students, and the judge’s two law clerks were fun. Mostly I did legal research and wrote legal memos and draft opinions. My favorite case was the one involving a crazy woman who believed that aliens and the FBI and CIA were keeping tabs on her, or something. In dismissing her case, I wrote, “Contrary to ‘The X-Files,” the truth is not ‘out there’ but right here,” or something like that. I don’t think the judge used it in his final opinion, but he got a chuckle out of it.

Student researcher for a UVA Law professor (summer 1998, age 24): Unlike the other 99% of my class, and 99% of law students generally, I didn’t work for a law firm the summer after my second year of law school. I don’t know why. I just didn’t want to, and apparently I wasn’t good at feigning enthusiasm in my interviews. So instead I wound up doing research for a professor all summer. It was really boring, but I spent much of my time in the UVA Law Library. I sprained my ankle that summer. I also came out that summer.

Proofreader and editor; senior editor, On the Internet magazine, Hopewell, NJ (Sept. 1999-Aug. 2000, age 25-26): I’d decided not to be a lawyer. So for a year I worked for a four-person company with offices on the ground floor of a quaint Victorian house. I worked on several projects, including proofreading a bi-monthly magazine and writing a monthly e-newsletter, both of which my boss published for the Internet Society; proofreading a monthly catalog my boss designed for a yoga center in Massachusetts; and helping my boss edit her first book, an organic-food cookbook. As this was at the height of the dot-com boom (when was the last time you heard the word “dot-com”?), I also had to deal with tons of daily unwanted faxed press releases from dot-coms that didn’t know that “On the Internet” was a public policy magazine, not a general interest magazine like “Wired.” Sometimes my boss would bring her dog to work. It was such a great environment.

Law clerk, Newark, NJ (2000-2001, age 26-27): I decided to go back to the law. I worked as a law clerk for the standard term of one year, researching and writing legal memos once more. I wrote memos on a wide range of subjects, so it was always interesting. This was a nice state job with nice people, including my nice boss, whom I rarely saw because she worked in Trenton.

Lawyer, state of NJ (Sept. 2001-present): And here I am.

1:59 PM | Comments Off

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

The Curse of The Ziering.

…there’s a dark side to scoring a successful TV series that no one seems willing to face: in the ensemble cast of nearly every long-running show, there’s one actor whose career is destined to die with the show. That actor is The Ziering.

(via Whedonesque)

1:04 AM | 1 drop of oil

A request: if you’re playing an electronic game while riding in the same train car as me, could you please turn off the sound or use headphones? You don’t see me reading my book out loud, do you? I swear, the constant blip-blip-blip of your frickin’ computer game is worse than Chinese water torture. I can’t read because I keep anticipating the next blip. It drives me nuts. Few things enrage me more than someone rude or oblivious enough to force his or her audial environment on everyone nearby. What makes you so goddamn special?

(Not that it gets me mad or anything.)

10:19 AM | 2 drops of oil

This is kind of creepy: Images of well-known events recreated as computer game screenshots. The Matthew Shepard fence is rather haunting. (Here are descriptions of each shot.)

11:43 AM | Comments Off

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Michigan Preparing To Let Doctors Refuse To Treat Gays. Are you fucking kidding me? No, seriously, are you kidding me?

The bill wouldn’t apply in emergency medical situations, but still, this is disgusting. Just plain disgusting, and the members of the Michigan Catholic Conference should be ashamed of themselves. “Individual and institutional health care providers can and should maintain their mission and their services without compromising faith-based teaching,” according to Paul A. Long, vice president for public policy for the Michigan Catholic Conference. If we’ve come to a point where religion trumps human health, for fuck’s sake, then we’re already back in the Dark Ages.

9:43 AM | 7 drops of oil

Gay For Payday

On October 11, 2004, I propose that the GLBT members of the work force stay home from work and refuse to allow the federal and state governments to impose income taxes on our paychecks for one day in a simple act of civil disobedience.

10:23 AM | Comments Off

Lately I’ve been wanting to punch up my blog a little bit. I’m getting tired of the current design — I’ve had it for the last 14 months. I’m trying to decide whether to add MovableType categories; whether to separate my posts into two columns — one for quick Web links, and one for more lengthy entries; whether to get rid of the sidebar entirely and just have one central column of blog content; whether to increase the font size; whether to add more color or borders. I want a site that’s easy on the eyes, but with some personality as well. Does anyone have any suggestions? I’d appreciate it.

12:50 PM | 4 drops of oil

Tolkien’s Silmarillion in 1,000 words.

ILUVATAR: Ahem.
AINUR: Wow! Existence!
ILUVATAR: *blows pitch pipe* LA!
AINUR: LA LA LA!
ILUVATAR: LA LA!
AINUR: LA LA!
MELKOR: This sucks. BUM BUM BA DUM!
AINUR: Um. . . la?
ILUVATAR: Ahem. LA!
MELKOR: Boop bop-a-doo-bop!
ILUVATAR: LA, dammit.
MELKOR: Bwam bardle ningle boom.
AINUR: . . .
ILUVATAR: Right, you’re out of the band.

(via boing boing)

3:26 PM | Comments Off

Friday, April 23, 2004

As you can see, I’ve tweaked my page design a bit. I’ve created a border around the sidebar and made it a different color from the rest of the page. Also, the sidebar now contains a bunch of those standard buttons that you see all over the Web. Here’s a ton of them, and you can even make your own.

Note that if you’re among the 9 percent of my readers who are still using Internet Explorer 5 or lower, this page might not look right. I’d upgrade to IE 6 if I were you.

I’ll probably continue to make changes.

3:07 PM | 3 drops of oil

Sunday, April 25, 2004

There are cemeteries all over Queens. In one of those cemeteries in Queens, there is a plot. It was reserved years ago. At the time, it contained eight spaces: one for my great-grandfather, one for my great-grandmother, one each for my grandfather and his two sisters, and one for each of their spouses.

I went to my great-uncle’s funeral today. Now there is only one space left — for my grandmother, my mother’s mother, when she dies.

One of the most painful sounds to human ears is the sound of dirt and gravel landing on top of a funeral casket right after it’s been lowered into the ground and the shoveling has begun. Until today, I’d forgotten how arresting that sound is — raw, coarse, real, and yes, painful, and therefore so appropriate. It makes me think of my mom, because her grandfather died within a few months of President Kennedy’s assassination, causing the two events to coaslesce in her 14-year-old mind. She once told me how awful that sound made her feel.

My great-uncle was 96. He was one of the oldest living graduates of NYU. Up until his death, he still lived in the house where he and his wife raised their two daughters. He didn’t stop driving a car until two years ago. I didn’t see him very often and therefore didn’t know him very well. But whenever I did see him, he was a such a friendly guy, and he always knew who I was.

Before the funeral, we drove through Jamaica, the Queens neighborhood where my mom grew up. Afterwards, we drove through Jackson Heights, right past the block where my dad was raised. Queens always makes me think of Archie Bunker and the 1970s, since that’s where and when “All in the Family” took place. I think of largely Jewish neighborhoods, right on the verge of emptying out for mass migration to Florida. The golden age was already over by then — it had ended sometime in the ’60s, probably — but I still have warm feelings for Queens in the ’70s. I don’t know that time or place very well; I wasn’t born until the end of 1973. We lived in Queens for the first three years of my life, though, before moving out to suburban New Jersey, so it’s all in my bones, somehow. I feel nostalgic for those times, when we lived so close to all four of my grandparents and I was mesmerized by “Sesame Street.” When I was a kid, we’d go to Queens all the time and visit one pair of grandparents or the other. Those trips were my connection to the past. Now, though, both of my grandfathers are dead and my grandmothers live in care facilities in New Jersey. There’s no nostalgia in nursing homes.

There’s only one spot left in that cemetery plot. The past is slowly dying.

Then again, it always was.

4:53 PM | Comments Off

Monday, April 26, 2004

Lower your Netflix monthly fee. (via evhead)

I just lowered my Netflix fee by about five bucks a month for the next six months.

10:12 AM | Comments Off

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Jew-Jew.com — a response to Internet-promulgated antisemitism.

9:32 AM | Comments Off

Last night I had the real treat, along with Mike and my friend Dan, of seeing theater composer Jason Robert Brown perform at a restaurant/bar on the East Side. Brown wrote “The Last Five Years” and “Parade” and was brought in to help fix “Urban Cowboy.” His show last night lasted more than two hours, and it was such a pleasure. His music isn’t what one would typically think of as Broadway music; while he enjoys wordplay, his songs are jazzy and funky and modern. He’s a terrific pianist and has a nice singing voice, too.

But the first thing I noticed was that he is a dead ringer for John Kerry 30 years ago. I swear — he looks just like him, he even talks just like him. It’s uncanny.

The evening was helped by his special guest performers, including Brian D’Arcy James, Julia Murney, and Carolee Carmello — the latter whom Matt, Mike, Jaye and I saw on Saturday in “Baby” at the Papermill Playhouse in New Jersey. Carolee Carmello twice in three days! I love her.

Now I’m going to have to listen to all of Jason Robert Brown’s stuff, probably after bumming it off Matt. After spending over two hours watching the guy perform, I have a real sense of his music now.

I love when that happens.

4:11 PM | 5 drops of oil

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

I’ve just upgraded my version of Movable Type from 2.64 to 2.661. I hadn’t wanted to upgrade, because I don’t like the redirect feature on the new MT comment pages. In the old version, after reading a comment on a MT blog, you could roll your mouse over the commenter’s name and see the person’s URL or e-mail address. This was especially helpful if multiple people with the same first name regularly commented on a particular blog. But the new version of MT got rid of this, because it was being abused by spammers. That meant that for blogs using the newest version of MT, there was no longer a fast way to tell which Jeff was which, for example.

But, lo and behold, it turns out there’s a plugin that allows you to get rid of the redirect feature even if you’ve upgraded. Hooray for Optional Redirect!

So I’ve installed the plugin and I’ve upgraded, and all is right with the world again.

1:02 AM | 3 drops of oil

Time: Last night.
Dramatis personae: Me and Matt.

Me: I started teaching myself Perl the other day. I’ve decided I want to re-establish my geek cred.

Matt: When did you have geek cred?

(silence)

Me: When I was ten.

2:06 PM | 1 drop of oil

Thursday, April 29, 2004

I saw “American Idol” for the first time on Tuesday night.

I don’t get what the big deal is. Basically a bunch of people sing songs and Simon Cowell says mean things.

Then again, I can’t stand most reality television. I’m possibly the only person in the entire country who didn’t watch “The Apprentice.” When Donald Trump hosted SNL a few weeks ago, I felt like I was watching some big in-joke. I was actually annoyed that I was supposed to know who Omarosa was.

I guess there are worse possible #1 shows than “American Idol.” It seems like good clean fun, at least, with nobody stabbing each other in the back or eating worms or trying to live out deluded notions of romance. “American Idol” is harmless and bland, and thus it appeals to the widest possible portion of the American public. Nothing wrong with that, I guess.

But I’m distressed (OK, not really “distressed,” as we’re talking only about television here) that reality TV has taken over. I watch TV in order to escape into different worlds, not to further immerse myself in modern American society. The shows I’ve watched regularly over the last five years have included “The X-Files,” “Buffy,” “Angel,” “Smallville,” and now “Alias.” I avoid reality TV for the same reason that I avoid TV news: both pretend to show the real world and the people in it while actually distorting it and them. When you watch traditional narrative television, you know that you’re watching fantasy, and the writers aren’t trying to pretend otherwise; not so with “reality” TV.

I was going to say that the reason I don’t like reality TV is that I’m uncomfortable with people-watching. But that’s not true. I love to people-watch. In New York, you can people-watch on the subways, on the streets, in the parks. But reality TV takes the fun out of people-watching. The people on reality TV shows know they’re being watched, so they’re not being real. Furthermore, they’re being attention whores, and I don’t like paying attention to attention whores.*

(* Except for bloggers.)

Finally, I’m probably a highly sensitive person, so all the quick jump-shots and shaky cameras and loud music of reality TV combine with the inherent “loudness” of videotape (as opposed to film) to drive me up the wall.

It’s not that I don’t find anything redeeming about reality TV; entertainment doesn’t always have to be redeeming. It’s that I find reality TV the opposite of redeeming. It has a net negative effect on me. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but these are at least some of the reasons.

That said, I guess “American Idol” isn’t quite as bad as most of the others.

1:30 PM | 6 drops of oil

Friday, April 30, 2004

Yesterday I was walking south along Sixth Avenue between 8th and 9th Streets when I passed Isaac Mizrahi walking in the other direction. He was wearing jeans and a black jacket and was talking on a cell phone. I stared at him and he quickly glanced over while continuing to walk and talk.

I love New York.

2:10 PM | 5 drops of oil