...all I ever wanted...

I will be 36 in two days.

Now that I am grown up, I am going to promise myself a vacation every year...even if it is in my head.

Happy Birthday to me on Mars.

My Wallet Has More Vacation Time Than I Do

This past Saturday my wallet fell out of my back pocket. After making Greg go with me to re-trace my steps throughout Chelsea, I finally gave up. I had already canceled my debit card and was already calculating the cost of things to replace. Not to mention the CASH I'd JUST put in there.

Sigh.

But worse things have happened. [Of course they have.]

Sunday morning I get a call from a friendly voice. A woman had found my wallet and had it with her but she was about to get on a plane. I could pick it up Tuesday morning. Which I did.

EVERYTHING was still there. Including the CASH. I tried to give her some of the money but she looked at me like I had eight heads and literally walked away waving and smiling.

People is good. People is nice. [Of course they are.]

Moving, Crate-Training, Job Adjusting, Auditing, Doctor's Offices

Yesterday I was replying to an admin at work explaining why I hadn't gotten back to her the day before. My finger about to click 'send' I caught this:

"My apologies for not getting back to you sooner. I've been thin kind of spread these past few days."

I hit send anyway.

Imitating Liart

The sun is creeping out. The artists, the tourists, the fashionistas and celebrities are all strolling around SoHo.

I spot a little [Swiss?] family on a street corner taking pictures. The Mom out front instructing the rowdy little boys to stand still and close to the stroller. She counts to three and at the last second, the smallest little guy, sans stroller...has to be at most 4 years old...throws up a full out GANGSTA sign for the picture.

For the second picture he makes a 'V' with his first two fingers, holds it up to his mouth and sticks his tongue out. Yep. THAT sign.

Clearly he, nor his mother have any idea where those symbols come from.

Either that, or they are the first full-out Swiss Peace Keepin' High Rollin' Gangsta Bashin' Pussy Lickin' Family ever. Look out Bradys.

White-knucklng the Other Shoe

I try to stay on an even keel emotionally. I swear I do. But I can't help but wonder when things are going well...when will the Universal pie hit me in the face? Anxious much?

I suppose labeling things 'going well' in the first place doesn't help. Things are just going...right?

Vanilla.

Clear skies.

Life is a dream and vice verse...right?

Last night I dreamed I was back stage, completely naked except for some weird, shredded vest-thing...a fellow actor hands me a script and from behind me I hear a person run by and yell-whisper "YOU'RE ON!!!"

Reality TV

"Working is a vacation for artists. The 'work' of being an artist is looking for work." - Greg Skura

Kids Today

I support art. I support folks expressing themselves in every way possible...as long as they aren't purposely inflicting harm to others or animals or the planet.

There is an exhibit right by my office and the name keeps popping up in my life so I thought I would check it out.

--

I was told it is an on-going exhibit that has never changed since 1979.

I heard that the space where it was located has been protected somehow from rent-increases and re-location.

I saw it listed in a book of "Quiet Places to Go in NYC".

--

On the outside of the door, the hours are displayed:

Wednesday - Sunday
12 - 6pm (closed 3 - 3:30pm)
Open each year September through June

It is called, "The Broken Kilometer" by Walter De Maria.

It is pretty cool. Big empty space with five rows of polished, solid brass rods laying on the floor, measuring to a kilometer. They are spaced as such that you can see every single rod all the way down to the end of the giant room. The light hits them and they shine for you.

It is nice. It is quiet. And again, I LOVE me some art. The weirder the better. Love LOVE LOVE stuff that is for no reason except to make you stop and feel something...anything...

But I find myself asking questions a lot these days like, "we spend money on this and New Orleans is still a friggin' mess?"

Screw AIG. Screw Cheney. I blame the likes of them for making me think this way.