10 Years on...

Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the first posting of Ye Olde Daily Aggravations and Regrets, so I thought I should somehow commemorate that fact. So here is said commemoration. Or really, just the traditional blabbering and edited thoughts of a underachieving dude. 

It's been over four years since I really kept up with this whole "blogging" thing. Back in the late '90s, we didn't call them "blogs." Most people called them "web journals." Perhaps its an unimportant distinction, like "Trekkers" vs. "Trekkies" or "Mexican" vs. "Puerto Rican." But, at least in my mind, blogging seems somewhat less... substantial? I guess maybe the crotchety old man in me thinks its too easy now. Back then, we couldn't just write something about publish it instantaneously. At least, I couldn't. I had to make every page separately, format it, upload it, and update the index page. And there was no auto-archiving. Point is, a lot more work went into it. Now, I can literally post a picture of a poop in less time than it actually takes to produce that poop. I guess I miss the little things, just like picking color schemes and fonts and headings and formats. The nuts and bolts that were necessary to post the deranged, pedantic musings. Anyway, I guess once it seemed like everyone and his transgender-midget-dog had a blog, it didn't seem worth doing anymore.

But over the past five years, as I've looked back on old entries and old journals, I've noticed a significant change in my own thought process. I don't know if its a product of not blogging anymore, or if its the reason I stopped blogging in the first place, but I'm much more guarded than I used to be. I don't want people knowing much about me. Thank god I never really used my full name in the journal. (Thanks, Past Me!) Maybe its the prolonged effect of living in New York for so long, or just getting older and not wanting to feel like an immature whiner, but I don't even think the way I used to, much less write that way anymore. Not that I write at all really. It's like the journal was my only internal monologue, and without it, I just live day by day, never spending any time to reflect on what's going on. Which might account for how quickly the last five years have passed.

Just yesterday I was talking to Rodzilla about this. I used to tell her that she should keep a journal, to keep all her crazy thoughts from rattling around in her crazy head. Even bought her one once. But she could never really let herself do it. So now, she's all "I'm keeping a journal now," and now I'm not even letting myself think about anything, much less reflect on anything in writing. I mean, part of the reason I stopped the online journal was because there just wasn't a reason for it. I started it when all my friends were kind of scattered, and it was good way to keep track of everyone, through me. Now, I don't really care that much anymore about keeping people updated, and I don't need people to know what's going on with me all the time. The whole online journal thing just seems egotistical and sort of crazy now. But I used to keep a personal journal, and I don't even do that now. 

The thing I do miss was that the journals were a good landing spot for a lot of weird, amorphous thoughts. Now those just kind of cloud up my brain until... dinner, I guess. 

Well, this feels weird now... how about a quick status update?

Me- Still living in Brooklyn. Still living with Miss Charming Melodee (there was a "break" in there). I still maintain at least two jobs at all times. I worry less about my career these days, not because my "career" is awesome, or even defined, but just because I worry less these days. I'm either more self-assured or more delusional or more in denial than ever. Not really sure there's a huge difference. At least, that's what I tell myself in my increasingly-rare moments of self-reflection. Basically, life could be much, much worse.

And what the hell... update of everyone listed in my Frequently Used Nouns:

James- Finished Journalism grad school at Columbia. Writes for the City Section of the New York Times. Moving to Germany soon. He just found out today.

Berry- Haven't spoken to her in 10 years.

The brothers: 

Garrick- lives in Harrisburg, has a two-year old son. His business card says "Evangelist." But for a software training company, not god.

Geoff- Works for a company dedicated to making one of the richest men in the world even richer. For this, he is compensated exorbitantly. 

Galvin- lives above me with his girlfriend. Has a steady temp-job.

Doug- still lives in Austin. Had his first child a few months ago.

Friends- Only one i still talk to is Jason. Lives in PA. Also had his first child a few months ago. Seems to still have all of his hair, which is rare for most people I went to school with.

Rick- haven't spoken to him in at least 9 years. Not sure why he was ever on the list. Probably his catch-phrases, which we still use to some extent today.

Caryn- still lives in NY, works for a major music mag website.

Jed- recently relocated to Austin, after a stint in North Carolina.

Jen- Recently moved back to NY, after a stint in Pittsburgh. Finished her PhD.

Matt- Lives in LA, works in reality TV programming. Films teenage girls.

Miss Charming Melodee- Finally got a job in New York, after living here for seven years. Always worked in White Plains prior to that.

Nicole- Captain in the US Army, currently serving as a doctor in Iraq.

PFCs- Don't really talk to any of them anymore. After Katey started dating Jed, she started hating me. At best now, we are frenemies.   Am still friends with Kathy, but rarely have contact.

Rodzilla- Married for three years or so... moved to Brooklyn, then to NJ. Has a dog.

Roommates- Dylan moved to LA to work in TV, but most of his jobs have forced him to move back to NY. Moved back last year, currently lives nearby in Brooklyn with his wife, who sometimes throws me freelance work.  Josh also lives in Brooklyn. 

Nora- Last I heard, living with her Mexican boyfriend. Apparently, she's cut off all communication with anyone she knew prior to 2001.

Well, that's that. 

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt

In honor of Kurt Vonnegut, who died yesterday at the age of 84.

"I am, incidentally, Honorary President of the American Humanist Association, having succeeded the late, great science fiction writer Isaac Asimov in that totally functionless capacity. We had a memorial service for Isaac a few years back, and I spoke and said at one point, 'Isaac is up in heaven now.' It was the funniest thing I could have said to an audience of humanists. I rolled them in the aisles. It was several minutes before order could be restored. And if I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke."

Kurt is up in heaven now.
So it goes...

Tell me do you miss me

Just got the new Luna DVD, Tell Me Do You Miss Me. I got to cover their last show for spin, and so I was at the after-party at the Bowery Ballroom, interviewing band members and various hangers-on. I'm socially awkward, so I just kind of hovered around people in a sort of uncomfortable way. Well, i got pretty drunk, so it wasn't all that uncomfortable. Anyway, I skipped to the afterparty scene on the DVD, just to see if I was in there anywhere, and, look ma, it's me:

Looking my best Ben Fong-Torres. Guitarist Sean Eden on the left, Singer Dean Wareham on the right.
I admit, I was looking into the camera specifically knowing they were filming for a DVD, just trying to get in it. Success!
But for the 10 seconds or so I'm in frame, I look very, very awkward.
Btw, in my left shirt pocket, if you can see a glowing red light, that's my iPod recording device. Came through aces. So basically, all night, I was just kind of hovering around, trying to record everything I could, which almost completely explains my creepy hovering.

Whaddaya call those?

On Monday, Jed and I were walking out of Target at the Atlantic Center when we saw a chubby little girl. She couldn't have been more than eight years old. She was wearing these denim coveralls and no shirt, and she had what could only be described as "man breasts." She was just so fat that she had prematurely developed breasts. Jed commented: "How's she going to know the difference when the real things start to come in."
Anyway, Jed moved out today, for greener pastures in the Southland. He will certainly be missed.

Spring was here

So once again, we been fooled. Weekend- bright, sunny, warm. Girls in tank tops.
Nice day in Prospect Park:




Last two days- Cold, cloudy, lotsa rain.

Random news- Somehow, I managed to come in second in my NCAA pool. Not only that, Jed and I both finished in the money, after being tied for 85th and last place after the first round and having drastically different brackets. We were one LSU victory away from finishing first and second. Sad thing is, I really, need the $160 I won. Also, a startingly large number of people I know did really well in their pools this year, which was arguably the wackiest year of basketball ever.

Old pictures:




Silver Jews, at Webster Hall, 3/17. Their first tour ever. Pretty obvious, that. They sounded terrible. Really bad. You can tell David Berman isn't a performer. He had to read everything off a music stand. Sad that he can't remember his own lyrics. That said, I thought it was great, just to see them play. Would've been a lot more enjoyable if they sounded halfway decent.

Questionable bread

Opened my bedroom window blinds today to get some light and a little air, and I found... toast.

I live on the second floor, a good ways up from ground level, and the ledge is pretty narrow. So I'm having a hard time figuring out how this half-eaten piece of toast got onto my windowsill. Was someone eating by their window and dropped the toast accidentally? How did it manage to stay on the ledge? Was it put there on purpose? If so, to what sinster end? Yes, these are the larger questions to be pondered in these difficult times.

I had so much fun pondering all these questions, I decided to let someone else ponder them as well, and flung the toast down onto the tent set up by the spa below me.

Don't wanna close my eyes...

Caught the end of Armageddon on cable last night. Besides starring Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck, Liv Tyler, and Billy Bob Thornton, the movie is a virtual who's-who of the "That Guy" Hall of Fame. It rivals Con Air, another Bruckheimer/Bay production. It's got Buscemi, William Fichtner, a pre-star Owen Wilson, that guy who does the voice of the Quiznos baby, some English guy who's almost always evil, and that dude who plays the German engineer in the VW commercials (he was also the guy who put Buscemi in the wood chipper in Fargo).
It's nice to think of a time, long ago, when killer asteroids were the biggest threat to humanity. Simpler times...
But kind of creeping that Bruce Willis played Liv Tyler's dad and later on in real life they dated briefly.

Anyway, also notable is that Armageddon, released summer of '98, was the last movie I cried at. I'm not kidding.
No, seriously.

on my way home...

Dude sitting next to me on the train tonight, reading a book called Natural Cures "They" Don't Want You To Know About. The chapter he was reading was called "How to Never Get Sick Again" and seemed to detail some kind of machine that had been discredited by the FDA, despite its "obvious" health benefits. I can only assume that the pharaceutical lobby was to blame. Anyway, an excerpt read:
"The most advanced technology that I know of is by a man in Southern California. He treats several well-known celebrities. His technology is so advanced that no matter where you are in the world, his equipment can monitor you 24 hours a day and adjust your energetic frequencies."
That must be nice.