Blackness

As my neighborhood still struggles to regain power and clear streets a week after a wind storm I wonder were all the good things have gone. As I look at the window I see people moving around with no more regard or worry then before. Maybe their used to not having power, or food. I didn't see the out pouring of help and togetherness I read about in New York and New Orleans. Maybe these were just worst situations and there is a level needed before the human gene of a village kicks in. Or maybe the poor, don't help the poor. Maybe I wasn't looking hard enough. Maybe, just maybe misery loves company, and they don't want the company to leave.

The cocktail party was the norm, filled with people and things that thought themselves more important than the person they were talking to. It was a like a bookstore, with cheese and wine. I had spent too much time talking to the millionaire duck and was decidedly finished with his, "So I 'quack' told him to sell the fucking 'quack' idiot." So, I introduced him to a longshoreman and I made my escape.
The party was in full swing. All of the elite of society was there: The president of America, the president of Disney, the president of the International Society of Talking Spiders (I steered clear of them). It was like all the parties I had been too lately pedaling my new book The Life and Times of Typewriters: A study in fact and fiction. It was getting rave reviews in The Post, and Anthropomorphic Animal Weekly. Maybe, I was pedaling myself. The Leopard in the corner looked most beautiful, but her glances were hard to read, sex or hunger?
Getting tired of the same rhetoric I scanned the room. I saw an elephant in the corner standing gloomily; People and animals alike giving her a wide birth. I meandered over to her, narrowly missing the glance of Rebecca the Duchess of Unimportant Providences. The elephant was new, maybe making the party worthwhile.
I greeted the elephant with fake jubilee.
"Great party." I said.
"Hummmph" She replied, looking grumpier.
"Problem?"
"Oh you know how it is. Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink." She said glancing at me with her black marble eyes beneath what looked like a tad too much mascara, even for an elephant.
"I'm sorry I don't follow." I said, because I didn't.
"Well sometimes," she said, "it just feels like everyone here is trying to ignore me, like I'm not even here."
I knew what she meant, but didn't find it polite conversation for the evening so, I decided it was better to not think about it or her.

My daughter and Seven Samurai

I remember the day I first saw Seven Samurai. I was riding my bike downtown and saw the Neon Movies. I had seen this place a thousand times but had never really looked at it. Die Hard, and Star Wars was about my speed in movies. But today as I rode past something caught my eye. I'm pretty sure it was a poster for some scantly clad femme fatal. As I looked thought the windows I was entranced by movies I had never heard of.
At twelve, I thought myself fairly in tune with the movie business. I watched Entertainment Tonight religiously. But this was a world unknown to me. It was playing a Akira Kurosawa marathon, and something at midnight called the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Without thinking I walked up to the counter and asked about the next two movies playing Seven Samurai and "Shichinin no samurai" that I pronounced all wrong. The guy behind the ticket counter smiled at me. He didn't make fun of me, or roll his eyes, or treat me like a twelve year old kid, he told me that it was the same movie, just the original Japanese title.
"Is it like Lethal Weapon?" I asked thinking about the idea of some guy kicking ass and taking names.
"No." he said simply. He looked at my obvious confusion. "Come on in."
He let me pull my bike into the lobby and gave me some very stale popcorn and told me that I could watch the movie for free, but I had to tell him what I thought of it when it was over.
I walked into the theater and was mesmerized. The screen was the biggest I had ever seen. At the time the screen was one of the last Panoramma screens left in the country. There was only about twenty people in the theatre. The lights went down and it began. It was in black and white, which didn't bother me at all. I had recently talked my mother into letting me watch Raging Bull and loved it.
I can't describe what I felt that day. It was something new, exciting. I love it. I went back to the Neon any chance I could get, and was let in free many times, and saw movies I shouldn't have seen at that age, even more times than that. I was changed and have loved movies, all kinds ever sense.
Seven Samurai remains one of my favorite movies to this day, and I dream about showing it to my daughter one day. As we sit on the couch and I turn it on I will feel that excitement of the first time again. We will watch for awhile, and then slowly, hesitantly, my daughter will turn to me with love in her eyes, I will look back hopeing see that excitement returned and I will hear her say.
"Dad this is boring, can we watch something else."

Computer geeks and me worrying less.

Going back to college after many years I was nervous. I'm studying Computer Programing, and was worried that my age, and experience would keep me from getting a good job. A year in, I feel better everyday. Most of the people in my computer classes know more than me, without a doubt. However I do not weight 350lbs and live in my mothers basement. It is sad on a level that I can not convey. Now I'm no small person. My Wii fit tells me I'm obease. And I don't wish to attack people who truly battle with their weight everyday. These are not those people. They sit in front of me, pounding on a keyboard, pounding down the seat, pounding down pound cake and slugging Mountain Dew. These are the fat people who have to take a break going downstairs to get more Cheetos. Their knowledge impresses me, they do not. When I go for an interview and these guys are the ones sitting next to me, I don't think I will fear my chances. On paper, they blow me away, in an interview they are sloppy and painfully socially inept. I am in no way better than they are, well I am in a couple of ways, but I'm sure they beat me in some category, just not being able to count the number of girls they have kissed with more than one hand.
I see the guy calling to set up an interview right now.
"Hello" Mom answers.
"May I speak with Robert Smith please?"
"Billy its for you! And your pizza rolls are ready!" yelling down stairs.
"Just a minute Mommy. I'm just about to get to level 70 in Warcraft!"
"He will be a minute." shes says into the phone.
I thought it was a cliche, now I know its a culture. A sad, sad, scooter, jelly bean eating, pale skinned, man boob, virgin club. I can't get in, and I'm OK with that.

Mario and how things work.

I was playing Super Mario Galaxy today (a video game for the Nintendo Wii, for anyone born before 1960, and the place you were born was under a rock). As I maneuvered Mario around avoiding nefarious characters out to get me, I realized that Mario really knows his stuff. If something bad is coming at you you: A. Jump out of the way, or B. spin around crazily and hope that it knocks it out of your way. This is a simple lesson so many people just don't get. Fight or flight. Each has its place and time, and each can be very wrong. But all and all one of the two is the best way to win at life's hard lessons. When bad things are a-comin' get out of the way. When the shit is going to hit the fan, step to the side of the fan (preferably to the opposite way of the blades). If the things are coming at something you love, take a stand. Let nothing stand in the way of the things you love. Wether it be your lovely daughter, or a 1up mushroom. Go for your Powerstar.

P.S. I do not condone the use of 1up mushrooms or shrooms of any kind. I had my time with them, and a few were very rough. But thats another story...

Tests!!

I'm tired. No. More. Tests! Must. Have. Time. For. Self. And Family! Must. Resist. Exploding. Brain!

How to be a manager part 2

The second thing that evidently is key to becoming a manager to a multimillion dollar company is the Irish Shower. Let me digress for a second and say I love the Irish and believe them not to be smelly in anyway, but sayings are sayings and they save time.
I was sitting in class waiting to observe the Borg in class when a young, very hip dressed, and slightly sagging guy comes in and sits next to me. The smell of cheep "insert rip off fragrance here" wafers in with him. Class starts and I decide to stick it out. It will dissipate. I will get used to it. NO! Nearing the half way break it starts to burn my eyes. When class breaks I get up and move out to the hall, for fresh air I literally feel sick.
I stand in the hall and hope that his grandmother dies so he will leave. Horrible, but so was the smell. As I come back in I notice that he is sitting in the same place never getting up. The smell is getting stronger. It doesn't have any underling BO smell, like he was covering up not getting into the shower, he just thinks that its a good idea. Maybe its covering up the smell of stupidity.
As I go back to my seat I know that I have to make a decision. Do I move, or not? As I near my seat the smell hits like a brick wall surrounding him at about four feet.
I have to move.
As I pick up my stuff the kid looks at me questioningly. "Suns in my eyes. Moving back a little."
He nods knowingly.
Success! I move two seats back to were it just smells like the outside of a JC Penny Mall entrance. Annoying but tolerable.
The smelly starts to shift uncomfortably. I stare, whats wrong, whats he doing. He gets up and moves two seats back to sit next to me again.
"Sun was bothering me too." He says smiling.
I'm stuck dumb. The smell is back and worse. Its spreading around the classroom like the Andromeda Strain. I get up and pick up my stuff and prepare to leave. He looks again questioningly. "Got go. Grandmother died." I say with a shrug, and escape.