Month: October 2022

  • Forgetting Things

    I’m here on Sunday night trying to create a blog that I will publish on Monday morning. Normally, I write something and publish it same day, but tomorrow I’m very busy and I still want to write five blogs this week, so I am trying to get a jump. The funny thing was that earlier in the day I had an idea that I wanted to write about, but being that I was in the middle of making lunch for the family, I thought I would take care of it a little later.

    And you can guess it; I forgot the idea. Sadly, I even have a category in my Notes app on my phone for blog ideas, and I was so sure that I would remember it and I didn’t need to write it down.

    It’s moments like this that I start to wonder if my minor forgetfulness is normal, or is it a sign that I’m getting older?

    I’m only forty-five; I’m not that old. But I’m also not young anymore either.

    I say all of this because I know I am at the age that I have to start have sections of my body, organs, and appendages examined, in some cases, annually, to make sure that I am healthy. I have had my heart checked, and my lungs. I know I need to get my colon looked at, well as my eyes, and I am due to see the dentist, so it’s like I’m getting looked at from both ends.

    But also, I have strange aches and pains. If my left arm of shoulder has the slightest pain, then clearly I’m having a heart attack. I’m having trouble seeing small print, which must mean that I am going blind. Sure, the easy thing to say is that I’m a neurotic hypochondriac, but I like to think that I’m just being very observant of my body.

    I am sure that there is a balance out there that some people achieve, where they age gracefully and enjoy the next phase in life, but…

    It was B.J. Novak’s book of short stories! I finished reading it this weekend and I wanted to write about it.

    I’ll write it down and do it tomorrow.

    (Umm… the thing with “like the blog” and stuff. It would be cool if you did that. Thanks.)

  • ODDS and ENDS: Times Square Casino, ANDOR, Tottenham, and UK Prime Minister

    (A Certain Point of View)

    As a New Yorker who stayed here during the Pandemic, I watched the City empty out, especially in Midtown. Though things are getting closer to being how they were before, there are still neighborhoods in Manhattan that have not economically recovered. Office buildings are sitting semi-empty, and ideas have been kicked around for the past two years about changing these spaces into apartments as there is a housing crisis in NYC. (Though I just read that landlords are warehousing 60,000 rent stabilized units that they refuse to rent.) But the idea that seems to be picking up steam is a casino in Times Square, because, clearly, there are not enough tourist there. Or the old Times Square hookers are looking to make a comeback. If this were to happen, I know two things will come true; One, no self-respecting New Yorker will be setting foot in Times Square (not that we ever did), and Two, the Disney-ifcation of Times Square is officially over.

    I have noticed that when my friends recommend a new great show, they always add the qualifier – get through the first three episodes. I have heard this more times than I care to count, and sadly Andor on Disney+ is following the same pattern. I think it is the reason they released the first three episodes when the show debuted. That having been said, I am truly enjoying Andor. This is the Star Wars for grown-ups who grew up with Star Wars, and now know that not all issues are light and dark. This is a universe that thrives in gray. Diego Luna is great as Cassian Andor, which is not surprising as Luna is an amazing actor. (Check out him in Y tu mama tambien if you haven’t already.) As the show has progressed, I have found myself more interested in the B-plot; Mon Mothma forging and leading the rebellion. It helps that Genevieve O’Reilly has the ability to play the smartest person in the room who is hiding the fact that she is the smartest person in the room. Not to mention that there is this whole subtext of the difficulty a woman faces trying to lead an ideological and physical movement. It seems the patriarchy needs to be fought all over the galaxy as well.

    Okay, I’m going to lay off the Tottenham stuff. It’s not because they lost to Man United, and Ronaldo walked out the end of the game like a little whiney bitch. No, it’s not that. The team has taken up a great deal of my mental space, and I think I need to narrow it down to a more compact form. That’s not to say that I won’t be writing about the World Cup in November, or any of the Champions League stuff… It just might be a little more truncated.

    My opinion: Ozzy for UK Prime Minister.

    (Speaking of Ozzy. The life blood of any blog is engagement. So please, make sure to like this blog, or share it, leave a comment, and if possible, follow it. And for doing that, I will remind you that Randy Rhoads was one of the greatest guitarists of all time!)

  • Yup, That’s a Career – Mini Golf Course Designer

    In case you missed it, I am a stay at home parent currently. Will I return to the traditional work force? Not sure yet, but it is a thought that I keep kicking around my head, as a second income would be beneficial to our family. My old career was in arts/theatre administration, but being that I am middle aged-ish, or at least I am knocking on that door, the idea of switching careers often comes when the wife and I talk about careers.

    Recently, my daughter started introducing, or insisting, depending on the evening, that we watch these mini golf videos on YouTube. They feature two people, Brooks Holt and Elisha, who go around the country playing different mini golf courses. Some of the places they go are rather basic, while others are fascinating in their ingenuity. A few courses, which are indoors, play like a Rube Goldberg machine. The videos are fun, my daughter loves them, and it has inspired us as a family to go out and play mini golf, which has been great.

    As Brooks and Elisha go around playing golf, I started wondering; do the owners of these mini golf courses design these places themselves, or are their firms out there that do this stuff?

    You guessed it, of course there are firms. Good for them, if I might add. And I wondered how one gets in that business? I am sure some are family businesses, but do these companies go out and recruit people from adjacent fields? Like, landscape designers, or set and prop builders from theatre and film? What skills do you need to have to be successful in that line of work? (I bet there is a story there.) Looking at some of their websites, a few of the companies have been around for forty plus years, so they must be good at what they do. If there is a need, you know there will be a business to provide that service.

    Not that I’m about to start a career designing mini golf courses, but I do respect the people who do it.

    (Speaking of careers; could you help me with mine? Well, it’s more like a hobby that I hope helps me buy a new laptop. Either way, if you enjoyed this blog, please take a moment to give a like, or share the post, and a comment wouldn’t hurt. I mean, following this blog would be the cat’s pajamas, but use your discretion as to what you see as appropriate.)

  • Short Story Review: “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert

    (The short story “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert appeared in the October 17th, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Millie von Platen

    Sometimes a story comes along, and calls me out on principle. Such as, a story will ask me, “If you were okay with this trick being used in that story, then you have to be okay with this same trick being used in this story, right?” That is what I feel “Come Softly to Me” by David Gilbert did. I mean, if I was okay with “Wood Sorrel House” not making much sense, then I should be okay with this story not adding up.

    Now, I’m not saying all of this to be derogatory to David Gilbert. I did like his story. I enjoyed the different elements of the family interacting with each other. The quick glimpses of issues family members had, and how they were either dealing with them or hiding them. I picked up easily on the blanket of death and mourning that was all tucked into this story, and not that this diminished the piece, as I felt it added a depth.

    Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this story was an excerpt from a novel, or had once been a part of a novel. There were a great number of characters mentioned, and it felt like even more ran in and out of this story. Everybody had a backstory, and in a few cases, I wanted to know more about them, and not so much about feeding tubes. As the story came closer to the ending, I was expecting a payoff of all these tangents being pulled or tied in together. But that didn’t happen. What occurred was a ceremony, which did connect to the theme of the piece, but wasn’t really explained.

    Hence the feeling I was being called out on principle. I have pointed out and defended many short stories that have contained inconclusive endings with the reasoning being that a short story need only have a rise in action, and not a conclusive climax, like a novel, if theme or character or mood is the driving force of the piece. As such, I find “Come Softly to Me” is that type of short story.

    Yet, I still found myself wanting more from the story. That’s a compliment to the writer and the story, and perhaps that is the reason why I felt like there was a novel connection to the creation of the story. But wanting more can also create a feeling of frustration, though I was enjoying this ride.

    (Hello again! Ya, I see you. Look, if you are here, then I want to say thank you for reading. Not that this is a transactional relationship, but if you could help me out with giving a like, or comment, or sharing the post, or even following the blog, really would be appreciated. Just trying to build a following.)

  • What’s Left in My Closet

    I used to own a bunch of shirts. Like button down and dress shirts. When I went to an office daily, I liked dressing for work. I had a bunch of khaki pants, and sportscoats. Lots of ties, and shirts; white, blue, gray, navy, and I even had some patterned dress shirts for “casual” days. I liked dressing up for work because it was like I put on a costume, and I could play the “character” of employee. Then, when I would get home, I would change clothes into something casual – jeans and a t-shirt – which allowed me to relax and forget about the day. (Not that I always forgot about the day, but I was making an effort.) This really shouldn’t be surprising as I am a theatre guy, and I still view the world through a theatrical prism.

    Then the pandemic hit, and I stopped working. During one of the especially bad waves, when we were completely stuck inside, the wife and I decided that it was time to clear out and declutter the home. One of the tasks was to clean out the closet of clothes that we didn’t wear or didn’t fit. (I will fully admit that I put on Covid weight, and I am still trying to get it off.) So, on my end of the closet were all these dress shirts that had gathered dust on the shoulders, and didn’t fit. Out they went, and it felt good to get rid of a past life that I wasn’t particularly proud of.

    As time has moved forward, and I am in my new role as stay-at-home-dad/vagabond-rogue, my daily attire is very casual, but I do still enjoy a button down and flannel shirt. Yet, as I looked at my closet this morning, I noticed that I only really wear five shirts. That’s it; five. I just rotate these five, along with two sweatshirts – gray and blue. (I did hold on to all the sportscoats. I just might still become that dad at the playground, sitting on a bench, reading a book, all tweed’d out.) This is my existence, which is not to dissimilar from my attire in college, and that brings me to believe that I want to be comfortable more than anything.

    All my life’s a circle.

    (Can you believe that we are both here at the same time? Ah, the power of words! And if you think like me, then please be kind and give a like, share, or a comment. Even a follow would be the cat’s meow! Every little bit helps.)