Month: February 2022

  • Fight Through It

    It’s just a rainy day in New York. I would like to be reading a book on the couch right now, but I still have chores to do. Not a complaint, just the reality of being an adult.

    But speaking of acting like an adult; I seem to have stopped going to bed on time. I was doing pretty good for a while, getting to bed by 11:30pm. But for the past three days, I have returned to staying up late and watching TV. “Solar Opposites” seems to be my new obsession. I am able to watch about two episodes, but then I fall asleep.

    This has left me feeling very tired, and I think I need a nap.

    I need to fight through it.  

  • ODDS and ENDS: Farewell Dele Alli, Spring Time, and The Gym

    (Just some sketches of ideas.)

    This past week, during the transfer window in the Premier League, Tottenham made some moves – trading, loaning and acquiring players. In all the action, Dele Alli went to Everton. I know that Dele hasn’t been playing his best since he came back from injury, which meant his days were numbered, but still, I did feel bad to see him go. When I first started following Tottenham, it Fall 2015, it was Dele’s first season with the Spurs, so I felt like we came into the league together. (Yes, I know that makes no logical sense.) I hope he gets back to form, and does well at Everton.

    Well, it happened to me this morning when I was taking the kid to school. It was raining and 37 degrees, and soon the City is going to be iced over, and I said the words, “I can’t wait for Spring.” Sure, it’s freezing out, and I bet we’ll get a blizzard before the seasons is done, but I am now ready for it to warm up. If you aren’t sure, around July 4th is when I will start saying how excited I will be for Fall. And you know, I like this cycle. I like to know that at the moment I get feed up with a season, the change isn’t far away. I like the rhythm of it all. Even the rhythm of the complaining.

    I still haven’t gone to the gym yet. I have been paying on a membership for two months, still haven’t used it. Go Me!

  • Short Story Review: “Long Distance,” by Aysegul Savas

    (The short story “Long Distance,” by Aysegul Savas, appeared in the January 31st, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Sometimes it’s nice to read a love story. And sometimes it’s also nice to read a love story about “relationships where you get jerked around,” to quote the Fortune Teller from The Simpsons. When it came to Aysegul Savas’ story “Long Distance,” it’s a love story about two people who try not to jerk each other around, but might be jerking each other around.

    This was a story that seemed like it could have been published in Collier’s back in the 50’s, as it sort of had the casualness of a Post-War world where American’s came and went in Europe, like visiting a farm upstate – free of the burdens the rest of the world is dealing with. The story is basically about Lea, a student doing a semester of research in Rome, and her male gentleman friend (I don’t think he is ever referred to as a boyfriend) Leo, coming to visit her from California. Their relationship is new, starting just before she left for Rome, and has consisted of phone calls and emails. There is a large anticipation on Lea’s part, and when Leo arrives, the two never seems to line up their intentions, especially when it comes to a story about an elderly woman Leo met on his flight to Rome.

    I am a fan of the short story with subtle and small events that have impactful ramifications to character’s lives, even to the point where the reader understands the importance though the characters may not. That’s what I think this story was aiming for, and I feel it succeeded at that goal. I understood Lea’s high expectations for Leo’s visit, and how when each miscommunication occurs, she feels more insecure that the trip will be a failure. The story is from her point of view, as she is the only character we get internal thoughts from, so we have to take Leo’s words and actions, and figure out what is his truth. I like that Savas structured his story in that way, as it doesn’t make Leo’s true intentions the focus, but rather Lea’s decision on what she thinks is Leo’s true intention are. For that reason, I feel the story stuck its landing.

  • My Little Apartment

    I just might spend my whole life in this little Harlem apartment. As funny as that sounds, this is a new thought for me. I have lived in this apartment for fourteen years, and I have always thought that one day, we would leave this place for another apartment, or miracle of miracles, a house. This apartment was always seen as a stepping stone to something else.

    But you know what… after fourteen years, I think I am coming around to see that this apartment is my home, and I will always have this place as my home.

    Sure, it’s tiny. In fact, it is very tiny. Two little bedrooms, a small kitchen, an even smaller bathroom. Two adults, a kid and a dog live in its confines, and if you add one more adult in the space, the apartment feels over-crowed, like it will explode, but what you are actually feeling is the anxiety of people being on top of each other.

    Yet, we are next to two subway lines. And a park. And a library. The kid’s school is walking distance and it’s a pretty good school. We like our neighbors in the building, and a police and fire station aren’t too far away either. We have made the apartment cozy, and each person has their own space to relax.

    Just wish we got more sunlight in the place.

    Maybe we might get a place upstate. Maybe a small farm house with a root cellar, and a place we can put all of our books. Maybe have enough land for the dog to run, and an old fieldstone wall cutting through the property. Maybe, one day.

    But in my little apartment, we have marked the kid’s height on the wall. The apartment is near a grocery store, and a place where me and the wife can get a dozen oysters on the half shell, and a pretty decent dirty martini.

    Maybe I will stay her forever after all.

  • SPORTS

    I just want to get this out of the way; it really rubs me the wrong way when “artists” hate on sports. From making a Mitt Romney type joke – “I like sport,” – to the playing dumb – “I hope our team makes more homeruns then the other team,” – to outright hostility – “A bunch of dumb jocks, and your dumb for liking it!” I know some of it comes from the fact that most “artists” went to schools where the arts were pitted against sports, and that resentment never went away.

    I come from a very competitive family, and my dad had a rule which was that we had to play a sport or have a physical activity until 16. After that age, we could do whatever. I played team sports up to seventh grade, mainly basketball and baseball, but that’s when it became very clear I didn’t have to coordination, nor the killer instinct, that was needed to be successful an athletics. For the next two years, I took tennis lessons, and I was pretty good, but it wasn’t anything that I had a passion for. It was just fun. Anyway, by the time I was 16, I was theatre nerd, and in a sense, I was part of a different team sport.

    When it came to watching sports growing up, I always found it pretty boring. But as I get older, I seem to find myself reminiscing on fond memories of being around my dad, and sports being on the tv. During summers breaks, Wimbledon would be on NBC, and I remember watching that with the old man. And March Madness, that was one that he looked forward to. And when the Cowboys were really good in the 90’s, that was another moment when we would watch Troy, Emmitt, Michael, Jay, Moose, and Alvin.

    And then there was my grandfather and his never-ending faith in the CUBS, while watching them on WGN.

    The other thing I find true about myself is that I like sports because it can tell a dramatic story; Underdog and GOAT, rookie and veteran, superstar and utility player. You have to believe that your team can win, and complain about the owners.

    Anyway… sports.