Tag: Life

  • Rainy Day New York Thoughts

    Rainy Day New York Thoughts

    I got up at 5:30 this morning, which is normal for a school day, and it was raining. It was the kind of raining that isn’t hard, but steady, and it whispers quietly, yet firmly, that I should go back to bed. I didn’t, but oh lord, did I get close to closing my eyes on the couch as the coffee brewed. The wife didn’t want to get out of bed, and neither did the dog. When I went to wake the kid, it only took her a second to register the sound, and quickly ask if she could also stay in bed.

    We all fought through it. We ate breakfast and dressed, and collected backpacks and a lunch bag. We walked to the subway in rain. We rode to our stop and walked to school in the rain. I ran errands, and did laundry at the local laundromat in the rain. The rain has made my clothes from this morning damp.

    It’s not that cold of a day, but the building’s steam heat is on, and to cool the apartment, we have to crack the windows. That has let the sound of the rain in, as well as a little more dampness. The influence of the rain, the mood of the rain, has creeped into our home, and is begging me to take a nap. Maybe read a book? Then take a nap? I should take a nap…

    As of now, it’s still raining, but it should taper off by the time I have to go get the kid. Walking around the neighborhood of her school, I’ll pass the brownstones with their wet stoops. It will stay cool out, like an early Spring day should, and the feeling of being a little lazy will hang off of everything.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Doing Impressions, AI Algorithms, and I Picked Yale

    ODDS and ENDS: Doing Impressions, AI Algorithms, and I Picked Yale

    (Can’t believe you fake it…)

    I’m not great at it, but I am pretty good at impressions; especially at parties where people have been drinking for several hours. Now, I would like to get better at my impressions. Being that there isn’t a school for it, I’m left to my own devices for study. Currently, I’m working on a Keith Morrison impression which is developing nicely. I need to expand, and I’m thinking that a Warner Herzog will be my next goal. Then I want to go really obscure and have an impression of Bill Hader doing his impression of Al Pacino.

    I wonder if the AI algorithms get together on the dark web and swap notes of how stupid humans are, and why people keep watching the same shows over and over?

    My bracket is doing okay. I picked four games wrong yesterday. I had Clemson beating McNeese, which was the big upset yesterday. But! I had picked Yale to beat Texas A&M. Not that I’m a fan of Yale, and I don’t hate A&M; In fact I have four family members who went there. I had mentioned the other day in my Bracket blog that I always pick the Ivy League team for silly reasons. But this year, I did take a hard look at this game. Would I make the logical choice, and go with A&M, or would I stick to my plan and just make my goofy picks? My family will give me shit for picking Yale, and for many justifiable reasons. But like the McNeese win, it’s fun when the “little guy” defies expectations. Yet, I see the irony of viewing Yale as the “little guy” here. The tournament makes strange bedfellows, I guess…

  • Short Story Review: “Five Bridges” by Colm Tóibín

    (The short story “Five Bridges” by Colm Tóibín appeared in the March 10th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Todd Hido for The New Yorker

    Sometimes when I start reading a short story, in the back of my mind, I start rooting for it. You know, cheering it on, hoping that the story succeeds. Like wishing that your favorite ballplayer hits a homerun when they’re at the plate. So you see, I found myself really pulling for Colm Tóibín’s “Five Bridges” to do well, and accomplish its goals.

    Here’s an overly simplified synopsis: Paul, an Irish guy who has been living in the United States illegally for over thirty years, has decided to move back to Ireland, but in so doing, that will mean he will have to leave his daughter, whom he fathered with woman he never married. But before he leaves, his daughter wants Paul, the mother and the mother’s husband, to all hike Mount Tam which is outside of San Francisco.

    It all starts well. The first section is about Paul hiking with his daughter, Geraldine, and then she tells him her idea about everyone hiking together to Mount Tam. Then at a very leisurely pace, we learn about the strained relationship Paul has with Geraldine’s mother, Sandra. We learn about Paul’s profession as an unlicensed plumber, his socks filled with cash, and his recovery over his alcoholism. Then the story takes a rather hard right turn with the introduction of Paul’s friend Kirwan, another Irishman, and the semi support group Kirwan creates for other single Irishmen living in the Bay Area. Then the story shifts back to Paul, Geraldine, Sandra and her husband, Stan, as the hike up the mount. I’ll leave it there as to not ruin the ending.

    As you can see, Tóibín layers his story, and generally it all works together smoothly, with the exception of that hard-right turn with Kirwan. Also, several themes play under the surface here; fathers and daughters, blended families, immigration, culture clashes, redemption, penance… And as the story went on, and I got closer and closer to the final page, that’s when I started hoping and rooting for this story to all pull together.

    I was enjoying what I was reading, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was getting it’s full due time to resolve itself. When I encounter stories that feel like this, it’s hard for me to shake the feeling that the piece needs a larger format (a novel) to explore the characters, motivations and themes. I wouldn’t go as far to say I was disappointed with the story; more like I was pulling for it, and wanted to it work.

  • Man, Am I Tired

    Not sure what happened. I went to bed at my normal-ish time last night. I did stay up and watch the Oscars, so maybe that had something to do with it.

    I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the Oscars, but it has been over 15 years since I have seen all the best picture nominees, let alone half of them. But I am a movie fan, and I like the spectacle, and it is something fun to debate with friends, and I wanted to see what Conan would do. With all of that said, it was a rather dull affair. My kid wanted to stay up and watch it with me, which I agreed to, but she was out by 9pm.

    When the Oscars were over, and the kid off to bed, I started to watch Becket. I hadn’t seen it since high school, and I didn’t get too far into it. I found Peter O’Toole’s Henry II grating on my nerves, which I understand was the point. Then I thought about watching Lion in Winter, which is also about Henry II but at the end of his life and with succession being the driver of that plot. Though Lion in Winter is not a sequel to Becket, with O’Toole playing Henry II in both films, it sort of very loosely, kind’a is.

    I bring all of this up for no other reason than it occurred to me last night.

    And this morning, I just felt off. Very tired, a little anxious, and all around uneasy about myself and the day before me. The last time I felt like this was when I was working a particular job that I started to despise, and knew it was time for me to leave. But I couldn’t pin down why I was feeling this way, especially on a day like today.

    But there is a very harsh reality with being the age that I am and also having responsibilities of my family; I had to push through it. I had to make breakfast for the gang. I had to get people up and on their way. I had to do laundry and clean up. I had to making chicken stock for dinner, and lunch for the wife. In a little bit, I will take that chicken stock and tech my kid how to make Greek Lemon Soup.

    I just have to keep pushing through, but that feeling hasn’t gone away today.

  • Short Story Review: Two Micros by Jeffrey Hermann

    (The piece “Two Micros by Jeffrey Hermann” appeared at Okay Donkey on November 29th, 2024.)

    And these are two truly micro pieces that Jeffrey Hermann created, each under 250 words. The first is titled, “The Voice of God Gives Up the Act,” and the second is, “If it’s Not One Thing it’s a Million Things.” Both are efficient, idiosyncratic works that brought to me such an innocent and lovely feeling of joy in their simplicity. Yet each micro was inventive in its imagination and storytelling, and left me feeling better about life.

    “The Voice of God Gives Up the Act,” spoke to me about how at some point parents stop being authority figures, and become people, and in some cases small people. And also, how our children can become little deities in our lives, but they, like our parents, will inevitably transmogrify to their human form, too. I appreciated that these observations were not at the expense of the gods, but more like melancholic observations. Especially with the little drama of the small god spilling the smoothie, which provided this piece with a slight bit of drama, climax and a touching resolution.

    “If it’s Not One Thing it’s a Million Things,” struck me as more like poetry than prose, but it was prose. Maybe stream of consciousness prose? It was reminiscent of my mind wandering gently as I drift off the sleep. There is an ease to these words, and how the sentences flow together, and one point repeating a phrase, like your brain is stuck on a loop. It felt like this was the memory of a good day, not life altering, but a good day where the little things and are seen and acknowledged.

    Besides enjoying these two micros, I must admit that I was rather envious of Jeffrey Hermann’s talent and skill as a writer. In a very small package, he created two works that caused me to view my day differently, and change my mood. He made me wonder about the people I love, whom I give power over me, and how they will change over time. And all those moments we spend in our short little lives – those moments do mean something.