MID-WEEK MUSINGS AND MISCELLANY

MOST FREQUENTLY INTERNALLY VOCALIZED QUESTION IN THE WORK PLACE:

OK, what am I supposed to act interested in now?

METAPHYSICAL THOUGHT OF THE DAY:

(On Indecision and the Infinite).

In the book I was just reading (“What I Loved” by Siri Hustvedt), some 20th century French writer is quoted as saying something to the effect that, in the absence of faith, indecision is a viable strategy against death.

Indeed, being indecisive keeps us infinite in a certain kind of a way. An empty and unrealized and pathetic kind of a way. But a way nonetheless.

OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:

The North Fork Bank at the corner has been renovated and reworked so dramatically as to be, essentially, unrecognizable as a bank. There are little plants and comfy chairs and cozy little nooks all over and it feels more like a family room than a financial institution. Looking around the disorientingly unconventional space, it occurred to me that it was a brilliant security measure because a bank robber would have absolutely no idea where to go to say “Stick “em Up.”

VERBAL HOUDINI ACT OF THE DAY: (OR: IN PRAISE OF BREASTS AND LUCK)

A large-breasted woman I know had been talking about some emotional issue and I was genuinely attuned to what she was saying. I guess in my contemplation of her predicament, my eyes drifted down to her mammary region. “Hey, stop checking out by boobs.” She playfully complained—trying to bust me. “I wasn’t,” I responded. “I was looking at your heart but your breast just happened to be in the way.”

I felt (to jarringly shift the metaphorical field of play) like I had closed my eyes, swung at a pitch and, by sheer, dumb luck, had hit it out of the park.

I'll have to remember that one.

PALM-RELATED ANECDOTE OF THE DAY PART I:
GETTING HANDS DIRTY WHILE GREASING PALMS AT THE PALM:

I had an interesting experience in The Palm men’s room. I went in to wash my hands before dining with a friend. Upon entering the fancy facility, I was greeted by one of those men’s room attendants who insisted on turning the spigots on for me, applying liquid soap to my hands and then handing me a napkin. I didn’t resent the implied suggestion that I was too feeble or incompetent to perform these services for myself. But here’s what bothered me: The fact that I then had to reach my newly scrubbed hands into my less than antiseptic pocket to rummage up a couple of filthy singles to tip him…thus re-exposing my hand to the very contaminants (fecal particles and the like) I had come in here to wash away in the first place. As if the germ path in a public bathroom is not problematic enough already. Anyhow, I washed my hands again and left the pretentious pissoire without proferring a second tip --although I was tempted to simply wash, tip and repeat in an endless –if financially unsound—performative loop for the entire evening).

PALM-RELATED ANECDOTE OF THE DAY PART II:
GETTING CREAMED AT THE PALM:

On the dessert tray that they tote around (nay, stagger beneath), one can find a cartoonishly large (think Flintstone brontosaurus burger) wedge of chocolate cake, a sumo sized portion of Tiramisu, a pound and a half piece of cheesecake, a coronary’s worth of cream cheese carrot cake and a nice little bowl of unadorned berries. In honor of my new year’s resolution to stop eating like it’s new year’s day every day and my having read a long and mortifying article in the NYT that same day about the unacknowledged national diabetes epidemic, I ordered the berries. Minutes later our lovely waitress unloaded from her tray this little bowl of berries, now obscured by a softball sized scoop of heavy whipped cream. I imagined the scandal that my order must have caused in the Kitchen. Emergency! Emergency! Rogue fruit cup trying to get out of the kitchen cholesterol free! Stat! Apply schlag!! Apply schlag!!

KNICKS NOTES:

I haven’t seen a Knicks game in a while. Fascinating to see that the bags underneath Clyde’s eyes (what I like to call the sub ocular scroti) are almost exactly the size and shape of the eyes above them. It almost looks like I’m seeing double.

Must be a fun job coaching that kind of talent. You’re basically just patting a preternaturally gifted behind for a living. And a damn good living at that.

Frye. With the nice shot.
Refs. With the bad call.
Lebron with the nice passes
Larry with the nice glasses.

I like the way Marbury is not getting into a pissing contest. Nice patience. Allegiance to the collective cause.

POST-MARXIST CONSUMER RUMINATION OF THE DAY

Watching the commercials (Wendy’s, Nike, Chevy etc) I contemplate that the brand (or image) is what disguises the reality. In Marxist terms, it’s commodity fetishism. The way a product is abstracted from its component parts and the conditions of its creation. (Hence a Wendy’s hamburger patty gets seen as something other than shaped and processed dead steer; The Nike sneaker is seen as something leaps and bounds away from a process of human labor). Truly fascinating-- the bizarre perceptual alchemy by which value is created. I can see why Marx was obsessed with it, but I fear his analysis was moralistic and reductive and didn’t sufficiently embrace the creative power of the consuming act and the inherent imaginariness of the human being.

Arguably our most mercifully adaptive feature as humans is not merely our ability to deceive, but our ability to be deceived.

Anyhow: Commercial over. Game resumes. Let’s go Knicks!

Lebron keeps everyone involved. As only a guy who knows the joy of being loved can do.

The Lebron James Story: Generosity. Rewarded.

OK, Nice. Cavs finally miss and Ilgauskas, under the basket, is left as alone as an ugly guy at a bar who’s just farted. He gets the easy offensive put back. That hurts.

Crawford as unconscious in the 4th as Lebron was in the 3rd. This game is a pleasure.

The Cavs are starting to miss all kinds of open perimeter shots.

The theme now seems to be: Lebron. Generosity. Unrewarded.

Huge rebound by Crawford. Loving the way Marbury’s not trying to dominate the game. Lebron on the other hand is arguably being too selfless.

Amazing 4th quarter performance at both ends of the court. Cohesive, intense team D. Nice self-less ball distribution. Great clutch shooting. Exemplary.

Huge huge. Win. LOVE the way Marbury dealt with the challenges of the game withour resorting to his old do it yourself-hood. Feels like a real milestone in the gelling of the team and the maturation of the Marbury.

Stephon with the nice passes.
Larry with the nice glasses.
And, I suppose, the nice classes.

AN INSTANCE OF WHY THE BEST DAMN SPORTS SHOW PERIOD IS UNQUESTIONABLY THE WORST DAMN SPORTS SHOW PERIOD.

They have Derek Jeter on. They ask him about the Mets’ moves in the off season. He praises the job Minaya has done and says he wishes them all the best, except when he’s playing against them. They all crack up in shameless sycophancy as if Jon Stewart or Chris Rock had just fired off the funniest damn thing they’d ever heard period. They were one step from putting on knee pads for some hero worship.

PAGE SIX THOUGHT OF THE DAY:

Sort of sorry that Angelina Jolie admitted she was pregnant. I wished she’d stonewalled with denials straight through the gestation and the delivery. I think that would have been a much cooler act of celebrity performance art.

SELF PROMOTIONAL LETTER I WAS AMBIVALENT ABOUT SENDING OUT BUT WHICH IS NOW SAFELY ENOUGH DISTANCED FROM ANY POSSIBLE RELEVANCE TO BE COMFORTABLY SHARED.

Time sensitive act of shameless self promotion

I have been made aware at the 11th hour of this thing called the
Bloggies. They're essentially the Emmys or the Oscars for the
blogosphere (in fact, many in Hollywood refer to the Oscars as the
Bloggies for people in movies.) except that unlike their less august
and venerable cousins, they are determined by popular vote rather than the decision of a small academy of experts. Anyhow, here's the thing: The voting ends today (Tuesday) at 10 p.m. If you can find room in your heart or busy schedule to vote for my blog, that'd be great. The voting is at:

http://2006.bloggies.com/

The awards carry a $20.06 award and about as much prestige as the high school honor roll. If I win, I promise to divide that generous sum among all of you good people who supported me. And even if I reneg on this offer, you can feel good knowing that you have help put me twenty dollars closer to being able to quit my day job and devote myself full time to satisfying your diverse time wasting needs.

Note: Evidently, voters have to vote for at least 3 blogs...so if you know of any other ones that'd be great. I hear that there are quite a few out there, although I think the whole idea of blogging is ridiculous and I don't read any of them myself.

Thanks.

Best,
TV

SINGLE SENTENCE PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:

He multi-tasked during condolence calls.

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Posted on 1/11/2006 ( Permanent Link )
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