The Tin Man » 2006

Monday, May 1, 2006

Currently reading and enjoying: Letter Perfect: The Marvelous History of Our Alphabet From A to Z, by David Sacks. Each letter of the alphabet gets its own short chapter discussing that letter’s history and its evolution to its present-day written form and pronunciation. Interspersed with these are chapters that follow our alphabet’s transition from the Phoenicians, to the ancient Greeks, to the Etruscans, to the Romans, and so on. Really terrific.

2:35 PM | 2 drops of oil

4:38 PM | 2 drops of oil

Wednesday, May 3, 2006

Why are we attracted to body parts?

I think about this sometimes. The answer, of course, is hormones. But it still seems so weird.

It’s weird that you can be attracted not just to a physical person, but to a piece of flesh. To a calf. A neck muscle. A pec. A breast. A back. Even if that body part is clothed. You can even be turned on by just a hairstyle.

What prompts this is that on my way back from lunch just now, I was noticing breasts. Not in a lascivious way; I was just noticing them. Sometimes you walk into an elevator and there’s a woman in there and you can’t help but notice the woman’s breasts before you notice anyone or anything else in the elevator. You quickly look away and feel embarrassed and wish you could apologize. This happened to me on way out of the building. Later, outside, I noticed a woman’s breasts again, and I felt embarrassed. But how can you not notice? They’re these two protruding lumps of flesh. They’re just… there. Almost looking back at you. But the fascination they create is out of proportion to their being mere lumps of flesh.

Sometimes I think about my feelings. I try to “see around” them. If you say or look at a particular word over and over again, like “yogurt” (yogurt. yogurt. yogurt. yogurt.), the word loses any sort of meaning and degenerates into a series of random sounds or letters.

A similar thing can happen with feelings. I might be sitting on the subway one day, see a guy in a t-shirt sitting across from me, and feel attracted to his arm. There’s just something about his arm that turns me on - perhaps the way the guy is displaying it, perhaps the tendons on the arm, perhaps the arm’s skin tone or the arrangement of the arm hair, perhaps the way the color contrasts with the t-shirt, perhaps the way the rest of the arm disappears tantalizingly up the shirtsleeve. I keep looking at the arm - surreptitiously - and as I stare, the arm eventually devolves into a random shape of flesh with no accompanying context. I start to wonder why we’re attracted beyond all proportion to a lump of flesh of a particular shape. I still find myself attracted to the arm, but now these other thoughts and concepts have become mingled in with it, competing for my attention and complicating what had been a nice simple attraction.

Why are people who are attracted to guys attracted to their muscles? They’re just muscles. Or tendons. Flesh. Shapes. I don’t get why I feel this way.

I wish there were some way to quantify this attraction. I wish there were some device that could detect and measure tiny particles as they pass invisibly from the guy’s right arm to my eyes.

And why is it our eyes that notice these things? Why, if an attractive guy walks past me on the street, might I have a strong desire to turn my head and keep training my eyes on him? Why are we so visual? The reason we’re primarily attracted to someone by sight instead of by smell, taste, hearing or touch is that our sense of sight works at farther distances than the other four senses. But it still seems odd, when you really think about it. You physically turn your head, crane your neck because you find someone attractive. There’s no inherent connection between these two things. The only reason it happens is because that’s the way we human beings are put together.

It seems weird, though. Light bounces off someone’s body and travels to your eyes; your optic nerves send data along an electrical pathway to some primeval part of your brain, and thence to other, more interesting parts of your body, which communicate back to your brain the message “we likey”; your brain thinks “me likey too” and it makes your neck muscles turn so that your head turns so that your eyes will continue to capture the light reflecting off the person so pleasantly. All while drool is trickling out of your gaping mouth.

We’re curious creatures, we humans.

3:03 PM | 17 drops of oil

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Wow, has it really been a week since I last blogged?

I had an interview with a company this morning. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Wish me luck. In the meantime, Friday is my last day of work at my job.

Last night we watched the season finale of Veronica Mars. Kuh-razy insane. Season finale season (does that make sense? only in the way that “player piano player” makes sense in The Music Man) is upon us. All those cliffhangers and goodbyes, and then maybe I can pull Matt away from the TV for the summer. Or at least until July, when the Stargate franchise resumes.

If you enjoy the new Battlestar Galactica, you must see these caricatures.

A week from tomorrow night I’m going to spend five and a half hours watching Parsifal at the Met. Um, it seemed like a good idea two and a half months ago.

I enjoyed Sunday’s review of the book Stumbling on Happiness in the Times. One Amazon.com reviewer summarizes the book’s salient points:

1) We often exaggerate in imagining the long-term emotional effects certain events will have on us.
2) Most of us tend to have a basic level of happiness which we revert to eventually.
3) People generally err in imagining what will make them happy.
4) People tend to find ways of rationalizing unhappy outcomes so as to make them more acceptable to themselves.
5) People tend to repeat the same errors in imagining what will make them happy.
6) Events and outcomes which we dread may when they come about turn into new opportunities for happiness.
7) Many of the most productive and creative people are those who are continually unhappy with the world - and thus strive to change it.
8) Happiness is rarely as good as we imagine it to be, and rarely lasts as long as we think it will. The same mistaken expectations apply to unhappiness.

I’ve come across these points in the past, but lately I notice how true they are. Losing my job is not (yet) as bad as I thought it would be; it provides new opportunites. Human beings have hope, and if the worst happens, your sense of self-preservation will kick in. Some people will always be happy, and some people will never be happy. The easiest way to change your level of happiness is to change your attitude before your circumstances. Finally, there’s no need for me to be so scared about things in life and the choices I make.

Bush has a 31 percent approval rating in two polls. Do I hear 20s?

This video spoof made by Hillary Clinton is surprisingly funny, and yet she’s so cringeworthingly not a good actor.

That’s all the odds and ends for now.

3:38 PM | 2 drops of oil

Thursday, May 11, 2006

How do you diagram the sentence, “See Spot run”?

10:59 AM | 2 drops of oil

From today’s (mostly bad) reviews of Tarzan:

“Me, critic; you lame!”
“You, ‘Tarzan’! Me, Agonized!”
“You Tarzan, me disgruntled”
“You Tarzan. Me looking at watch.”

Then there’s:

BUNGLE IN THE JUNGLE
‘Tarzan’ a bungle in the jungle
Fumble in the Jungle

My favorite sentence comes from the New York Post: “Disney’s new musical swung shakily into the Richard Rodgers Theatre last night, and as far I’m concerned, it can swing right back out again.”

12:33 PM | Comments Off

Friday, May 12, 2006

I think one of my former coworkers has found my blog. If she’s reading this: drop me a line!

2:20 PM | Comments Off

One day, when I was a kid, as the end of the school year approached, I was talking with my dad about the upcoming last day of school. I wondered if adults’ lives were similar, so I asked him, “Is there a last day of work?” I was surprised and demoralized when he told me that there wasn’t. (But not as demoralized as when I asked him if there were such things as robbers and he said yes.)

Well, it turns out there is, in fact, a last day of work, and today is mine. It’s my last day at my job. I’ve been at this job for almost five years, and I’ve been working in Newark for almost six. I’m not going to miss Newark, or the commute, although the PATH ride has always been a great opportunity to get some reading done. If all goes well, I look forward to being employed in Manhattan in the future, and having a much shorter trip.

I got taken out to lunch today, and we’re going to have a big ol’ dessert spread later this afternoon. Everyone here has been really supportive of my situation over the past six weeks. I’m going to miss my colleagues - they’ve always been so friendly, relatively low-pressure and well-balanced people. (And many of them are very funny.) I’ve tended to be pretty quiet around the office, but I’ve gotten along well with everyone during my time here. I hope the same holds true for future endeavors.

And so I move on to whatever life brings me next.

2:21 PM | 2 drops of oil

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Smallville’s John Glover (Lionel Luthor) is openly gay. I had no idea.

11:44 AM | 3 drops of oil

Monday, May 15, 2006

I liked the final episode of The West Wing last night. It was pretty undramatic and low-key - the only suspense was whether Bartlett was actually going to pardon Toby. (It’s too bad Richard Schiff didn’t appear.) The episode seemed to be more about the nitty-gritty of how one presidential administration transitions to the next, rather than about character development. I guess that makes sense, since most characters’ story arcs had been wrapped up before last night. And I love wonky presidential nitty-gritty, so I was into it, especially how the usher’s staff packs up the Oval Office in like five minutes and then sets it up for the new president. I think the one point in the episode where I started to tear up was when C.J. popped into the empty press room toward the end for one last view from the podium.

I don’t know if I buy Ronna (played by my former high school co-star) being Santos’s personal secretary. Matt pointed out that she seems too young. And it also seems kind of sexist. “Gee, what should we do with her character? Okay, she’s a girl, let’s make her a secretary.” On the other hand, it’s probably the most prestigious secretarial position in the country, so I guess that makes up for it.

I was happy to see Stockard Channing; I’m glad the napkin and Toby’s rubber ball both appeared (I’d forgotten all about that napkin); I’m glad there were references to Leo. I was hoping someone was going to use Bartlett’s famous line - “What’s next?” - and I was glad to hear it. It’s nice that we got to see the beginnings of Santos getting down to business in the Oval Office - the orderly transition of government and all that.

I almost wish the series could continue in some form. I’m sure there are people out there who are getting ready to write fictional episodes and post them online.

Ah, well. Goodbye, West Wing. Hello, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. (Can they maybe shorten the name?)

12:17 PM | 2 drops of oil

This week’s New Yorker has an article by Burkhard Bilger called “The Search for Sweet,” about the difficulty of creating substances that taste good enough to serve as a substitute for sugar. (Unfortunately, the article’s not online.) At one point, Bilger notes that the less sugar you eat, the less of a taste for it you have. This made me think of something that happened yesterday. I’ve been told that it’s good to eat some peanut butter before working out, because it contains a lot of protein. I was doing that, but a few weeks ago I decided to switch to sugarless peanut butter, as it’s healthier. When I first had a spoonful of it, I was overwhelmed by the concentrated pungency of peanuts. But I’ve grown to like it.

Unfortunately, I ran out the other day, so yesterday I had a small spoonful of Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter instead. Blecch. I could barely eat it. I used to like the stuff, but yesterday it tasted so artificial and un-peanut-buttery. Give me sugarless peanut butter or give me death.

It’s amazing how many processed food products contain sugar. We really are addicted. It’s a good thing the Middle East isn’t a hub of sugar cane instead of oil, because then we’d be even more screwed than we are now.

Bring on the ethanol and switchgrass sugar-substitutes…

10:05 PM | 3 drops of oil

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Tony nominations announced.

So when does Hot Feet close?

2:18 PM | 1 drop of oil

Thursday, May 18, 2006

1) Tonight I attend a five-and-a-half-hour opera. Wish me luck.

2) I’m unemployed now. Really caught between trying to enjoy this time and looking for a job. Trying to do both. Voices other than my own are in my head, telling me what to do. That’s always been one of my biggest problems. I’m woefully mis-calibrated.

3) I’ve considered getting a Ph.D. in history and getting a library science degree but I don’t think I actually want to do those things. I really just want to write a biography/history book. But that would still require having a job for the foreseeable future.

4) Unhappiness and anxiety on a blog are so unbecoming. But I’m really feeling them right now.

2:39 PM | 3 drops of oil

Friday, May 19, 2006

I spent most of today depressed and anxious about my future, and I really wasn’t in the mood to sit through five and a half hours of Parsifal tonight. I considered selling my ticket. I still hadn’t made up my mind once I’d gotten to the Met. I stood outside for a while, watching people haggle over tickets. But curiosity won out, and I went in, and the usher ripped my ticket in half and gave me the stub. No turning back.

Well, there sort of was. I left after the first act. (There are three acts.) Granted, the first act is nearly two hours long, so I saw a substantial chunk of the opera. And it was superbly done. But it was very slow, and besides that, I just couldn’t spend another three more hours sitting in a seat by myself at the opera. I wanted to be home, cuddling on the couch with Matt in front of the TV. Which is what I wound up doing instead. It was time much better spent.

Not even my therapist, whom I’ve been seeing for more than five years, seems to have a clear idea of what I should do with my life. For a few weeks I’d been thinking about a Ph.D. in history, which I’d thought about in the past. Then a couple of nights ago it hit me that a library science degree and going to work in a university library might be a much better idea. (Also an idea I’d thought about in the past.) But I had therapy this morning, and while talking about the idea, I got discouraged. (I read more about library science on Ask.MeFi today, and I got more discouraged.) Then my therapist suggested a Ph.D. again. I said that I’m not really interested in teaching so much as I’m interested in learning about a person or a historical topic and then writing a book about it. She said, then don’t spend all the time and money getting a Ph.D. Just write a book.

Sure, easy. I have no idea what I’d write about or even how to write a biography or history book, and there’d be no guarantee of success with a book if I somehow managed to write it, and in the meantime I’d still have to work a full-time job, and the point is to find something now that I love to do.

I really don’t see an out right now, and I feel like I’m never going to be happy.

This was pretty much my day.

It’s not a good feeling.

1:59 AM | 6 drops of oil

“One of the most neglected aspects of the blogosphere, in my opinion, is that precisely because it’s (mostly) composed of people who aren’t professional journalists, it’s composed of people who are professional doers of something else and know a great deal about what it is they ‘really’ do… If you want to push back[,] you’d better know what you’re talking about and not treat your audience like a pack of mewling children.” - Matt Yglesias at Talking Points Memo.

7:34 PM | 1 drop of oil

Sunday, May 21, 2006

South Lawn Project

The New York Times Magazine is all about architecture this weekend, and it has a great piece about the debate at my alma mater, the University of Virginia, over plans to build an extension of the main part of the Grounds, called the Lawn. The Lawn is sacred ground at UVa. As one member of the Board of Visitors says about this project, it’s “sort of like putting a wing on the Taj Mahal.”

There’s a clash between those who want to build in a neo-Jeffersonian style, all red brick and white columns, like many other buildings that have gone up at UVa in the last 200 years, and those who want architects to try a fresh approach instead of emulating the past. They ask, “Is it desirable that a building built in 1990 be mistaken for one built in 1830? Is UVA to become a theme park of nostalgia at the service of the University’s branding?”

In delving into the debate, the author of the piece, Adam Goodheart, wonderfully explains in a nutshell the subtext of everything that’s happened at UVa in the past 30 years:

For all its tradition, the University of Virginia, more than most other institutions, suffers from a generation gap between its past and present selves. This is actually a result of its phenomenally successful transformation in the past few decades from a small, regionally-bound institution (where the first black undergraduate was admitted in 1955 and full coeducation arrived only in 1970) to a major research university with a $3 billion endowment and an increasingly diverse student body. Many of its older and wealthier alumni, then, are nostalgic for a jacket-and-tie Southern school that no longer quite exists.

While I always loved singing with the Virginia Glee Club - at 135 years old, one of the oldest existing collegiate men’s choruses in the country - I always felt a little silly when we had to meet elderly alumni and listen to them drone on about the good old days at UVa. I can be quite the misty-eyed romantic, even about UVa history, but being a (then-closeted) gay northern Jew, I always found the stereotype of the young southern gentleman - usually a guy with a first name that sounded like a last name - to stick in my craw.

There’s a middle ground. I’m against tradition for the sake of tradition. On the other hand, modern architecture doesn’t have to be ugly. It’s okay if architecture tries to make a statement, but it has to be something you can live in and with every day.

I like what Goodheart says about Harvard Yard:

The college campus that I myself know best — Harvard’s — is in some ways the opposite of Virginia’s. Unlike the Lawn, its ancient Yard has developed through the years by a process of slow accretion: a stalwart Georgian relic here, a bit of Romanesque Revival there, a modernist folly by Le Corbusier sidling up along one edge. When I was an undergraduate there, I loved the sense of living amid a museum of three centuries of American architecture. Some buildings were closer to my heart than others, but I never thought of the new as detracting from the old. All, it seemed, were part of a continuing intellectual project; their variety was proof of its vitality.

[Warning: UVa-specific musings below]

Anyway, I’m curious about a couple of the effects of the South Lawn Project. I wonder what it will do to the Glee Club house, where I used to live. (That’s a link to the exact spot where the house is, although for some reason I had to use a different numerical address to get the correct location.) From the maps of the project, it doesn’t look like it overlaps with the house’s location, so I guess the house will continue to exist. It might have a very different character after the project is completed, though, with University buildings practically on top of it instead of a parking lot.

I also wonder what the project will do to concerts at Old Cabell Hall, at the south end of the Lawn opposite the Rotunda. Right now the windows in the Old Cabell Auditorium look out on an empty courtyard. As part of the project, New Cabell Hall, which was built behind Old Cabell, will be demolished, so the back of Old Cabell will finally be visible again. But after completion, the area behind Old Cabell (perhaps it can revert to its original name, since there will be no more New Cabell) is bound to be noisier. I wonder if they’ll soundproof the windows or something.

All I know is, I’ll definitely have to go and visit once the project is completed.

1:01 PM | 5 drops of oil

Monday, May 22, 2006

Here’s Megan Mullally and Sean Hayes singing “Unforgettable” on the series finale of Will & Grace.

2:25 PM | Comments Off

Blogger’s block.

Fellow bloggers, do you ever feel like you can’t put two words together to write a good blog entry?

Two types of blog entries I could write today:

(1) Job-search issues, life-goal issues.

(2) Pithy, witty observations based on micro-events in my life.

In other words:

(1) The serious.

(2) The light-hearted.

In other words, I could use this space to:

(1) Vent and express my frustrations.

(2) Entertain my readers and make them think I’m funny and witty.

This is what happens when you think too much before blogging.

6:06 PM | 3 drops of oil

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

The Come-Back Kid. This is a great article on Al Gore’s potential for the presidency in 2008. The author interviewed Gore for the piece.

Al Gore has long fascinated me. I loathed John Kerry in 2004, but I took Gore’s mistakes in 2000 personally, almost as if I myself were making them. For some reason, I identify with some aspects of him, and I’d love to see him as President.

From the article:

I tell him that all of his allies are telling me that everyone they know is telling them that he ought to run. He knows. I tell him about people in Hollywood and Silicon Valley, New York and Washington who say that the country needs him to run. He knows. So what does he say to those people?

“I don’t want to give them any false signal,” Gore replies. “I don’t want to be responsible for anyone feeling that I’m inching toward running again when I’m not. You won’t find a single person in Iowa, New Hampshire, or anywhere who has had the slightest signal that originated with me or anyone speaking for me.”

So let’s clear this up: Why don’t you say right now, unequivocally, that you will not run? Then no one will have the impression that you’re leaving the door ajar.

Gore puts his left elbow on the table, cups his cheek in his hand, and audibly exhales.

“It’s really more a function of my own internal shifting of gears, not an outward coyness. It’s just honest. I was in elected politics for 24 years. I ran four national campaigns. I was first elected to Congress in my twenties. I was around it for all my life before that. And when I say I’m not at a point where I’m willing to say, ‘Never, never, never again under any circumstances,’ I’m just not at the point where I want to say that.”

There’s also a companion piece, The Trouble With Hillary Clinton. I guess we know where New York Magazine stands.

There is so much wishful thinking in all of this, of course. As someone says in the first article, “Americans love a comeback. We’re a comeback-crazed country. And this would be a comeback beyond all comebacks.”

Among those Americans who love a comeback, of course, is a large chunk of the media.

12:20 AM | 3 drops of oil

A review of Doing Nothing: A History of Loafers, Loungers, Slackers and Bums in America. I really want to read this book. The topic dovetails with a lot of what’s been going through my mind lately.

1:52 PM | Comments Off

I’m currently reading Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow. It’s slow going - I’m only about 60 pages into it, out of about 740. It’s the year 1774. Hamilton is about 19 years old and starting to make a name for himself in New York as a supporter of strong retaliatory measures against Parliament’s Coercive Acts (a.k.a. the Intolerable Acts), which are curbing liberty in Massachusetts as retribution for the Boston Tea Party.

I love the revolutionary period of American history. I’m also curious to know more about New York during this time - I’m reading about King’s College, which Hamilton attended and which was right near City Hall Park, the park where Hamilton made his first public speech, also right near where Matt and I used to live. J&R Music World is near some historically signifcant places. Odd.

I find myself resentful of Hamilton across the centuries, though - resentful of his exceptional hard work and intelligence. It’s odd: I have the same psychological reaction toward a long-dead famous man as I did toward some of my peers/competitors growing up. It’s hard to look to Alexander Hamilton for inspiration when his skills and abilities so outclass mine. How I can be as accomplished as him? I’d feel more inspired by achievers who have a skill level similar to mine.

So yeah, I’m reading a nearly 800-page book about a major figure in American history, but it all comes back to me again, doesn’t it.

3:07 PM | 6 drops of oil

Thursday, May 25, 2006

We saw a really bizarre play last night at New World Stages called Burleigh Grime$ (warning: the website has sound). It was only the second preview, and you could tell. This show needs a lot of work.

The cast of seven had some familiar faces: Wendie Malick from Just Shoot Me, Mark Moses from Desperate Housewives, and Ashley Williams from How I Met Your Mother. We sat near the end of the second row, but the first row’s seats didn’t extend that far, and the first row was nearly empty anyway, so we were essentially in the first row. It’s cool being so close to actors, especially famous ones. We were THISCLOSE to Paul Young.

We saw this show because it was supposed to have original music by David Yazbeck, of whom Matt is a big fan. Indeed, there was lots of incidental music by Yazbeck, all played by a (way too loud) onstage band, but as Matt pointed out to me, the music wasn’t new. When we got home, he popped in one of Yazbeck’s CDs, and out came the music we’d just spent two-plus hours listening to.

The show is about a greedy trader who manipulates the stock market, and all the people who succumb to the hope for riches in such a heady environment. In other words, it was really timely - seven years ago. There’s no reason for it to be on stage right now.

On top of that, the pacing was slow, which we chalked up to it being the second preview. The second act was nearly incomprehensible, including one scene toward the end that went on way too long. As for the audience, it was half-full and wholly dead. There were numerous lines in the show that were probably supposed to be jokes, but almost all of them were greeted with silence.

We felt bad for most of the cast members, particularly the three women - Malick, Williams, and Nancy Anderson - who all did a great job.

But it was one of the most awkward theatrical performances I’ve ever attended.

5:29 PM | 2 drops of oil

Very angering therapy session today, but also really great, in a sense.

What I learned: my desire to figure out the rules of how the world works (the rules that the closest people in my life already seem to know) is overpowered by my anger at having to do so and my desire not to.

7:57 PM | 8 drops of oil

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Straight (and Not) Out of the Comics: Both DC and Marvel are making efforts to have a more diverse slate of superheroes. Marvel has had the famously gay Northstar for a while, but apparently the current efforts are more extensive.

Another effort to link old and new characters centers on Kathy Kane, the gay Batwoman who will appear in costume for the first time in a July issue of “52″ [a yearlong DC Comics series]. Batwoman was introduced in 1956, but she was one of several, often silly additions to the Bat family, including Ace the Bat-Hound (1955), Bat-Mite (1959) and Bat-Girl (1961). In her latest incarnation, Batwoman is a wealthy, buxom lipstick lesbian who has a history with Renee Montoya, an ex-police detective who has a starring role in “52.”

That’s kinda neat.

The concern is understandable given DC’s uneven history with introducing minority characters en masse. In 1988 it published “The New Guardians,” about a super-powered team that included an aboriginal girl, an Eskimo man and Extrano, an H.I.V.-positive gay man who wanted to be called Auntie, who was dismissed online by a fan as a “limp-wristed caricature.”

That sound you hear is me cringing. Yes, I’m cringing so hard it’s audible.

10:08 PM | 2 drops of oil

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Scene: Our living room, the other day.

Dramatis personae: Matt and I. I’m sitting on the couch and have just popped in the first DVD of the new adaptation of Charles Dickens’s Bleak House, rented from Netflix. Matt is sitting at his computer and can’t see the TV.

From the TV, we hear the sound of horses and carriages and falling rain. Lots of galloping and rushing and ominous music. This goes on for a couple of minutes. Then the scene changes; we hear the sound of an indoor hubbub, a crowd of people. The smash of a gavel.

Voice from TV: Silence in the court!

Second voice from TV: Now we come, not for the first time, to Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

Matt: This seems like a pretty elaborate setup for just a reality show.

Me: …

Matt: …

Me: …

Matt: Isn’t this a reality show?

Long pause.

Me (confused): Uh, no…

Another long pause, then something finally clicks inside my head.

Oh my god, are you thinking of 1900 House? Or maybe Frontier House? Those reality shows?

Matt (beginning to laugh): Oh… maybe…

Me: This is CHARLES DICKENS!

Matt: Oh, okay! I was like, “Why is Jeff renting a random reality show?”

Matt and I spend the next several minutes doubled over in laughter until our stomach muscles hurt and we can hardly breathe. I finally have to go into a different room to get myself to stop.

Exeunt.

2:26 PM | Comments Off

I just weighed myself for the first time in months, and I weigh about five pounds more than I’d expected.

But my waist size has fallen since I joined the gym four months ago.

That must mean I’ve put on muscle mass! Yay!

I could still lose a little ab fat, though.

And I really wish I could develop these.

* * *

We trekked out to Astoria yesterday to visit the Museum of the Moving Image. (We got in for free with my Bank of America card.) It was so much fun. I don’t know what was my favorite part: the scale model of the interior of New York’s long-gone Roxy Theater, the Chewbacca mask and original animatronic Yoda, the Tut’s Fever Movie Palace, the vintage Pong, Asteroids and Apple IIe, the working Tron and Donkey Kong arcade games (which were there for the playing, and I played them), or the collection of movie cameras and vintage television sets. What a great place.

2:39 PM | 1 drop of oil

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

I had a beautiful Memorial Day. It was 84 degrees out, so I decided to go for a walk through Central Park.

I took the subway up to Columbus Circle and entered the park at the southwest corner, and over the next two hours I meandered up the west side of the park: up past the ballfields and the Sheep Meadow, a stop to watch people playing lawn bowling on the Bowling Green, north along the west side of the Lake to watch people boating, past the Marionette Theater and up into the quiet Shakespeare Garden, past the Great Lawn, past the Arthur Ross Pinetum, over a little footbridge and then up along the Reservoir; then, after about 10 minutes of walking clockwise along the Reservoir, I saw a sign saying that you’re supposed to run or walk around it counterclockwise, so I decided to leave the Reservoir and walk along the bridle paths; then I walked past the tennis courts and along the edge of the North Meadow and some basketball courts and more baseball fields before somehow turning south again and winding up at 97th Street and Central Park West.

I had wanted to make my way all the way up to the northern end of the park at 110th Street, but by that point I was sweating and tired and I was ready to go home, so I left the park and hopped onto the subway.

Oh, and there was SO much eye candy in the park today.

Central Park really is a blessing on New York.

Here’s a rough map of my walk (image adapted from here):

map of my Central Park walk