Today is the last day at work. Something I thought would be minor has become an incendiary issue, keeping in mind that all issues in an office are magnified to extremes. When Zfunk moved on in January, he left behind an ivy plant. Ivy plant was left on the drafty windowsill for about a week before I took custody of the thing. The long tendrils had turned brown and dry. I repotted the poor thing, trimmed it back to near nothing and nursed it back to health. Now it has new, healthy green growth. Naturally, I assumed ivy plant would move with me up north; however, Pfunk has other plans. He is carrying on loudly to keep the plant to "remember me" or use in a spell against me. It is probably a death sentence for it since he never watered it when I was out of the office previously. Kfunk advised me to give up the plant and consider it collateral damage in order to make my escape from the office. And she's right--it's not worth the fight. Good luck, ivy. Remember the sun; it's the bright thing.
Hello indolence, goodbye job?: "Those who dedicate their professional lives to idleness should do so with discretion if they hope to keep their jobs.
This is one useful message in Hello Laziness - The Art and the Importance of Doing the Least Possible at the Workplace, an anarchic anti-business bible published in France...
The book, Bonjour Paresse (a nod to Françoise Sagan's 50s novel, Bonjour Tristesse or Hello Sadness), pledges to explain why it is in your interest to do the least work possible and will tell you how to damage the system from within 'without appearing to do so'."
The only moving casualty, so far, was a tin of vanilla tea from Mariage Freres that opened inside a box. Now one box has loose tea inside and smells delicious--it was the best aromatic accident that could have happened. The rest of the furniture move over the weekend went well. Some of the furniture has lost weight since the last move. The sofa was not very heavy at all. The bedframe, however, has been packing on the pounds, maybe munching cookies during the day when I am out. That would explain all the crumbs in the bed.
'Wine is not a food like any other,' said Alain Suguenot... 'It's a special food. It has nutritional value. Of course, you cannot eat it alone. It's a food you have to eat with other food. But it is a food.'"
Separating Gracie and Rosie: "It is a basic truth that no one is 'normal'; to be normal is simply to pass for normal... But if the thought of abnormality alarms us so, it is because every normal Dr Jekyll is conjoined with a monstrous Mr Hyde; each of us has a 'secret sharer' (to borrow the title of Conrad's short story about a man haunted by his alter ego) that he is reluctant for others to meet, that he would prefer not to have to meet himself. The language of privacy, self-determination, autonomy, obscures the extent to which all our psyches are fractured, conflictual, multiple. The language of male and female, heterosexual and homosexual, ignores the ways in which we are all intersexed."
Details Magazine should finally come out of the closet. It's clearly a rag written for men who still do not understand their fascination with fashion instead of girlfriends. The coy veneer is cracking. In the new August issue an article chooses "New Gay Mascots". Rob Lowe is replaced by Jake Gyllenhaal! Gloria Vanderbilt is replaced by Anderson Cooper! Julie Andrews out; Tilda Swinton in! The sad part is those people are current favorites of mine.
Elsewhere, editor Dan Peres is a proponent of some sort of fashion revolution involving untucked shirts for a casual look! Really! One thousand monkeys must have spent one thousand very long nights thinking up such things.
Beer-loving bird barred from pub: "A pub landlord has had to bar an unusual regular from his premises for stealing food and beer from customers. The trouble-maker - a magpie nicknamed Thatcher - has been told he is no longer welcome at the King's Arms in Heath Common, Wakefield... The cheeky bird first started pecking on the windows of the King's Arms several weeks ago and fast became a favourite with the customers. 'His favourite is the Classic Blonde which we have on - he went mad for that. He used to squawk at people who used to hide their pints from him.'"
Every night after work this week is scheduled for apartment packing. Last night I found a stash of framed childhood scribbles that my parents have gifted to me. The thing is that they do just look like scribbles afterall. Genius must still be forthcoming. The legion of dust bunnies under the bed set off my allergies and left a slight tickle in my throat. I fear they are regathering their forces for a new attack on my respiratory system tonight. Brian found that the best use for that moderately embarrassing Beanie Baby collection is as packing materials for dishes and breakables. My plan was to resell the things for a tidy profit until the market fell out back in 2000. The Beanie market still has not recovered.
My next project should be whittling down my possessions to fit everything in this box desk. I could take it on the subway like a messenger bag, only much larger and boxier.
Molly's last day at the office before her new job was last Wednesday. By Thursday at noon, five people had come up to me to ask if I were "okay" or "dealing with it". By the sixth person to ask at 2 pm, I had to remind people that she didn't die or get sucked up into another reality via a random wormhole. On the other hand, she is going to be working in Midtown so maybe she did. The worst part is that everyone thinks I gave my notice to go back to school because she left. Au contraire--she just happened to give her notice first! I shocked the coworkers by telling them that she and I did not eat lunch together every day; we just left at the same time. She's just going to find a new Matthew anyway, one with better shoes. Advice to the new Matthew: she likes drinking straws; requires cigarettes at 11.30, 12.45, and 4.30; enjoys sandwiches for lunch; etc. Under no circumstances--NONE--can you convince her to wear a hat. Believe me, I tried.
Burn Ludwig burn: "There is no evidence yet of large amounts of illegal file-sharing by Brahms and Liszt-loving retired majors in Tunbridge Wells, but classical music now has its own sedate room in the Apple iTunes online music store and is performing well, according to Jonathan Gruber..."
By the narrow margin of one vote, the new motto is above. Every vote (all five of them) does make a difference. However, Boom Boom Hintz will rise again some day. Beware.
New Hampshire: E-mail free or die...for now | CNET News.com: "New Hampshire's tax commissioner has temporarily abandoned plans to tax a broad swath of online services, including Internet phone calls, chat rooms, Web mail and instant messaging...
New Hampshire's now-postponed plans to extend an existing 7 percent tax on 'two-way communications services' come as other states are eyeing the Internet as a potentially lucrative source of revenue."
From Russia, with love: "In the Letter from America which the late Alistair Cooke devoted to commemorating Charles Schulz in February 2000, he recalled the time when the creator of the legendary Peanuts cartoon strip was asked why his hapless hero Charlie Brown never won. 'Well of course, winning is great,' Schulz replied, 'but it's not funny. And there are no happy endings in my stories because happiness, too, isn't funny.'
For Cooke, this remark went a long way towards explaining what lies at the root of all great humorists. It is certainly true of Anton Chekhov, who... went on to establish an extraordinarily successful career writing poignant stories and plays about the grown-up Charlie Browns of late imperial Russia. Remember the bespectacled and painfully shy officer Ryabovich in The Kiss? After mistakenly receiving an embrace intended for someone else at a dance, he succumbs to fantasies of a happy, ordinary life (marriage, a family) until he is met with the equivalent of Lucy's eternal put-down of 'Good grief, Charlie Brown!' when his fellow officers snigger at his breathless story. You know that Ryabovich will never get his girl, just as you know that Charlie Brown will never win the heart of his red-haired sweetheart. Always the losers. And yet how affectionately drawn."
Haunted house put up for sale: "Spain's most famous haunted house has gone up for sale, with potential buyers offered the chance of sharing their home with a cast of ghosts whose faces allegedly appear on floors and walls...
It was here, 33 years ago, that María Gómez first found the outline of a human face which appeared in the concrete floor. She chipped away at the cement to get rid of it, but soon a cast of a dozen other faces and outlines of whole bodies began to appear."
"I still haven't heard about women and atheists": Dean v. Nader
Dean Hits Nader Where it Hurts: " In his rapid-fire delivery, the onetime Democratic presidential front-runner rattled off all the ways he saw Nader as a hypocrite: Nearly half the signatures Nader gathered in a failed attempt to get on the Arizona ballot were from Republicans. A significant amount of his campaign kitty comes from Bush-Cheney donors. And, said Dean, 'you accepted the support of a right-wing, fanatic Republican group that is antigay in order to help you get on the ballot in Oregon' - a reference to the Oregon Family Council, which produces a 'Christian Voter Guide' and campaigns against gay marriage."
Toddlers' plastic swords seized: "The children's father, Peter Ryan, said French officials classed the swords as replica weapons... He said the family tried to stress they went with Peter Pan outfits and would be difficult to replace...
'We get through customs, and you've got a gift shop selling large die-cast metal 11in Eiffel Tower spikes.'"
The tombstone could be coin-operated or swiped with a credit card. 'Cemeteries could basically one day charge fees to rent the headsets you need to listen to [the messages],' he added."
The best part about Fahrenheit 9/11 was the street vendor outside the theater. His table was full of anti-W pins and t-shirts. He was spouting off slogans like "thousand points of light and one dim bulb" at everyone waiting in line for tickets. The person behind me tried to ignore him. The vendor called out, "Hey, that man must be a Republican--he's not laughing". Everyone in line chuckled except the person in question. Certainly the table does brisk business when the film lets out. On equal ground with the great American right to protest is the great American chance to make a buck.
Statue theft rises as thieves take easy pickings: "According to art recovery experts there is an epidemic in stolen statuary in England and Wales that is being fuelled by the increasing demand for salvage to feed the boom in home and garden renovations.
Gangs of thieves, who study magazines such as Country Life to locate their spoils, find the lead and stone figurines, iron benches and sundials easy plunder."
A film about Tchaikovsky? You must be joking: "But when I mentioned the word Tchaikovsky, the faces of all three company presidents fell collectively. 'What's the pitch?' they said in unison. 'It's about a nymphomaniac who falls in love with a homosexual,' I answered impulsively. Ka-ching! Suddenly the air was filled with the sweet music of a ringing cash register."
Barbara Ehrenreich: Dude, Where's That Elite?: "Like the notion of social class itself, the idea of a liberal elite originated on the left, among early 20th-century anarchists and Trotskyites who noted, correctly, that the Soviet Union was spawning a 'new class' of power-mad bureaucrats. The Trotskyites brought this theory along with them when they mutated into neocons in the 60's, and it was perhaps their most precious contribution to the emerging American right. Backed up by the concept of a 'liberal elite,' right-wingers could crony around with their corporate patrons in luxuriously appointed think tanks and boardrooms - all the while purporting to represent the average overworked Joe."
Lion takes on Mouse in copyright row: "Mr Linda died penniless and was buried without a headstone in 1962 but his descendants, not much better off, hope to earn millions in damages and royalties for a tune so catchy that even those who loathe it hum along...
If they win damages and Disney refuses to pay, Mr Linda's family has the right to sell those trademarks in South Africa, said Dr Dean. 'We're detaining Mickey, Donald and all the others until proper justice is done by the Americans.'"
HappyWill informed his mother (my sister) that he is moving to New Hampshire with me. He also went on to say that Uncle Brian will not be going--Will will be going in his place. The odd part is that no one even told Will that I was moving yet. I had a feeling that something like this would be the hardest part. How useful is a nearly four year old around the house? Do they quietly sit in the corner and mark up coloring books? Can they fold laundry? It could work...
And, apparently I will not be laid off in July. Oh, yeah, hmm. I guess it's for the best in the long run though I already had a fantastic month of painting, biking, book reading, and packing for the move all planned. Qualified hurrah, hmm.
A Jersey City Teardrop for 9/11, or a 10-Story Embarrassment?: "'It's insensitive, it's heavy-handed, it's simplistic, it's a cliché,' said Leon Yost, a local artist and one of the vocal critics of the project. 'Other than that, what's not to like?'...
As one letter writer, Vincent DiPaola, wrote in the local newspaper, The Jersey Journal, on Tuesday: 'The question I pose to the City Council is if the year were 1886, would the City Council and acting mayor tell France to keep their Statue of Liberty?'"
