new spring’s resolutions

Springtime is a better time to make resolutions than New Year’s, because you’re (or at least I’m) more likely to keep them. Thus, I will inform you of at least some of my resolutions for NOW because I need to tell someone and here you are, person who I may or may not know!

• Get my damn bike fixed and start riding it again (this won’t be hard, I just have to actually do it).
• More green vegetables in my day.
• Less caffeine in general.
• Less buying lunch out, more packing (let’s say, pack lunch at least three days a week).
• Less internet time in general; less compulsive/addictive email checking. (This doesn’t mean I’ll continue neglecting you, though, blog, I promise!)
• More unstructured me-time, less making and/or social plans.

Now I have to write the rest of this damn paper! Almost over!

Now tell me YOUR resolutions.

Also, in Marshall’s yesterday I heard a contemporary pop song that sampled(?) Satie’s Gymnopedies. What was this song? Someone tell me!

never forget

One evening last week Brian and I were eating at Kazansky’s — maybe not the best idea in the world, but a good step above the Squirrel Hill Eat’n'Park. A man of probably about 40 sat a few booths back from us with a young boy, maybe about 7. The conversation, about the sports stadium art on the wall, somehow turned to the 2001 baseball season, and then the man mentioned September 11. The boy asked what happened on September 11. The man said the terrorist attacks happened. The boy asked what terrorist attacks? My mind was blown already — I thought to myself: THERE IS SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T REMEMBER 9/11 AND DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!

The man proceeded to explain the entire scenario, returning, appropriately, to its effect on the baseball season: “So, such-and-such team had a couple weeks off to rest up, and then played really well in the playoffs!”

i was waiting for a bus and then i caught a bus

I sort of owe you a critical analysis of a bunch of cultural artifacts I’ve consumed since the last time I alerted you, but instead I’m going to tell you about this morning. On Monday mornings, I have a game wherein I take out the Monday NYT crossword as soon as I get on the bus, and try to finish it before I get off (’round about 10 minutes later). Today I waited and waited and waited for the bus, and when it finally arrived, the driver was on  a tear, attempting to make up for lost time. He barely stopped to let me on, and once I got myself situated, the distraction of hurtling down Liberty Ave., hoping not to be thrown from my seat due to a sudden stop, diverted my concentration. The trip took a lot less time than usual (I was sure this would be the case as soon as I got on, and it upped the pressure), and I only got about half done. I felt defeated, like in this “against the clock” competition, the clock cheated.

Then I went to Bruegger’s and everything was better. It was there that I formulated my new theory, which is that life would be non-stop wonderful if all the world was a Bruegger’s, and warm cranberry-orange bagels, and rosemary-olive oil bagels, and sesame seed bagels grew on trees, and lakes and ponds were filled with cream cheese, and rivers flowed with hazelnut cream coffee. And loudspeakers everywhere would spout Paul McCartney, and the Bee Gees, and Tom Petty. That would be nice. It sure would.

springtime blues

I think this awful stupid weather is having the same effect on people as a full moon supposedly does. Yesterday I watched people fighting in the middle of the street, and people almost running people over with their cars in reverse, and people almost getting run over by the bus while trying to catch it, etc. The best/only good thing about this dip back into wintry tone-poem land is that I whipped Astral Weeks back out and it felt pretty appropriate.

Upcoming: The Lives of Others, Brothers Quay, Blue Cheer at the Pub (article forthcoming), etc. etc.

Also I still have to write a paper for the independent study I’m doing this semester, and time is tight on that, so probably not too many updates until that’s taken care of.

here i am.

My niece is convinced that she is Mary, mother of Jesus, and that her baby doll is in fact baby Jesus. This resulted in two amusing anecdotes today: the first was when she told her cousin (she is two, her cousin is almost-2) that he was Joseph, and he put a blanket over his head, and she told him he was supposed to be Joseph, not a ghost. The second was when he took baby Jesus from her, and she got upset because she’s not much for sharing (especially when the son of God is the object in question), and he proceeded to give the baby Jesus many kisses on the lips.

in case you’re into creepy things

Filmmakers is showing a Brothers Quay double feature next week — April 13-19. You can get a ticket for the double feature and watch the first part one night and the second part another night, if you want, which might be a good idea. Regardless, I’m excited.

semper fi, tattoo or die

I chuckled a lot yesterday reading this story about how Marines are now going to be prevented from getting large tattoos below the elbow or below the knee, and some of them are upset at this limitation on their liberty. I’m going to presume that the irony is obvious to you and any commentary on my part would be wasted fingerstrokes.

here’s a thing

Ways in which I’m busy soon:

• Monday night is Magik Markers et al. at Garfield Artworks.
• Tuesday night is Toumani Diabate’s Orchestra at the Warhol. Not sure if I’ll make it or not; it’s probably the first thing on my agenda to be cut, but it’ll be really good I’m sure.
• Wednesday night is avant-garde film at Pitt (the next two weeks are not to be missed, from what I hear) and ALSO Woodlab at MoFo. I’d like to make both, but we’ll see.
• The One A.M. Radio plays with Sleep Little One Sleep and Lucas Sloppy’s Flying Organ  Thursday at Garfield Artworks. I loved The One A.M. Radio last time they played here, and A Name Writ in Water was my jam during the somewhat rough summer of 2004.

more fodder:

When I was sick two weekends ago, I watched a Ted Koppel special on the war on terror that concentrated for a time on a military contractor called Blackwater, USA. You should listen to this NPR report that ran on today’s Fresh Air about Blackwater.

Also, check it out: after a long two months, Bérubé returns to blogging!

one flu between you and these reviews

Hi! I was shut down by the flu for a few days. Long enough to greatly delay the things that are due to you, which include: a quick review of The Green Mango, a quick review of Frida and Under Byen, and . . . that’s about it, because I don’t really remember the weekend, unless you want a quick review of bits and pieces of fever dreams, and/or of the sensation of not really being able to convince yourself of who and where you are, even though you know these things.

Here’s the thing: right now I’m gonna clean up my room a little and probably go to bed early since I have to get up early to stop by campus before work, so I’ll probably leave you hanging on those for a tiny bit longer until I feel it. Talk amongst yourselves. Thanks.

PS — is that post title so punny that it actually is incomprehensible? Just checking.