Sunday, January 30, 2005

The above domain name is AVAILABLE!

So is:


Not to mention:

I know I'll sleep easier tonight.


Saturday, January 29, 2005

A man's attitude...

... a man's attitude goes some ways toward how a man's life will be. Is that somethin' you agree with?

-- Cowboy, Mulholland Drive

The great caffeine fade of '05

I remember a Far Side cartoon that showed a guy with a smoking rifle standing over the prone figure of someone he just blew away, while a third character says something like: "That does it! From now on, it's strictly decaf for you!" Ironically, this cartoon was emblazoned on a coffee mug I gave to my father for Christmas.

Well, like father like son, I guess. In an attempt to make New Year's resolution #53 (I will stop flying into homicidal rages) a reality, I have chosen to detox from the insidious clutches of caffeine. This is one tough addiction to beat - I am a hard-core coffee enthusiast. The aroma of a freshly brewed pot of java is enough to make me swoon, and knowing that an invigorating jolt is but a sip away makes me the worst kind of caffeine addict.

I've quit before, and may have to again. It's never easy; life without a morning cup of Joe has often felt like no life at all. There seems to be nothing to look forward to in the morning once caffeine is Xed out of the equation. Life becomes a drag, sometimes literally, and an even deeper depression than is usual for me sets in.

Yet, there is also a palpable quality of fear that informs my relationship to coffee: I know it's not good for me, and have had this knowledge for some time. That hasn't stopped me from consuming the stuff, usually with a massive infusion first thing in the a.m. Not that I needed that much, but I made a pot, and it was there, so what the fuck? It's as if I had fallen in love with the addiction, and the substance had ceased to be of any true import.

Furthermore, there was the issue of the agonizing headaches that resulted when I hadn't consumed enough caffeine soon enough in the day. This made me very ill at ease, knowing that I was a slave to coffee, that it owned my bitch ass. What if I were to be marooned on a desert island, where there wasn't a Braun 12-cup Brewmaster handy? How long would I last before a lack o'caffeine cranial brainache set in? I have been living in dread of such a thing happening for years. This couldn't go on....

I decided to implement the "caffeine fade," a technique I found somewhere on the Web. The idea is to cut back on one's coffee intake by half a cup per day. Naturally, being me, I didn't follow this plan to the letter. My caffeine fade log:

Wed. 1-12 1 cup 8:30 a.m.
2 Tylenol 11:00 a.m.
1 cup Lipton tea 3:30 p.m.
2 Advil 11:30 p.m.

Thu. 1-13 1 medium cup 11 a.m.
2 Bayer aspirin 8:30 p.m.
2 Tylenol 12:00 a.m.

Fri. 1-14 1 medium cup 7:00 a.m.

Sat. 1-15 1 Diet Coke (can)
1 cup 9:30 a.m.
1 small cup tea 7:30 p.m.

Sun. 1-16 1 cup 8:30 a.m.

Mon. 1-17 1 cup 8:00 a.m.

Tue. 1-18 1 cup 9:00 a.m.

Wed. 1-19 1 cup 9:00 a.m.

Thu. 1-20 1 cup 8:30 a.m.

Fri. 1-21 1 cup 8:30 a.m.

Sat. 1-22 1 cup 9:00 a.m.

Sun. 1-23 1 cup 9:00 a.m.

Mon. 1-24 1 cup 8:30 a.m.
2 Tylenol 10:00 p.m.

Tue. 1-25 1 cup 8:45 a.m.

Wed. 1-26 1 cup 10:00 a.m.

Thu. 1-27 1 can Diet Coke 8:45 a.m.

Fri. 1-28 0 cups

Friday, January 28 - My first day of 2005 sans coffee. Nary a sip. Slight aches in the nogging every couple of hours, but nothing I couldn't handle. I am free! Wish me luck as I attempt to navigate my way through life without any artificial stimulants (and anxiety inducers), and hopefully steer clear of death row for at least one more year.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Je suis désolé...

...Which in English means "I am sorry."

Thus have I hit the ground running in my French level 1 class, which began last evening at the New School.

Having already memorized an expression I use with shocking frequency in my native tongue, I feel I am quite prepared for the inevitable problems I am sure to cause Francophones everywhere. To say nothing of the Francophobes. But I digress.

I get to take this course gratis by dint of being enrolled in NSU's Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing program. Of course, one must first kiss ass sufficiently, learn the Writing Department's secret handshake, and curry favor like only the most pathetically obsequious sycophant. And no, I'm not being redundant here; infiltrating the CIA would have been easier.

So, now I'm in and all is well with the world, right? Fuck no. (There's always a "Fuck no" at the ready on The Blog of Lewd Enlightenment!)

I sauntered over to Barnes & Noble to pick up my text book, and nearly soiled myself when I saw the price tag on the thing. I turned to the nearest clerk and asked: "Uhm, is this the price, or my ideal weight?"

Now I just need to learn how to say "Urge to kill" in French, and I'm all set.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Ah, the French! Paris diary: entry #1

This, friends, is what passes for a lavatory in modern day (November 2004) Paris, France.

Did someone say Pierre Francois de la Brioski? [N.B. The guy who Ed Norton mistakenly believed designed and built the sewers of Paris.]

Yes, this architechtural atrocity is housed in a broom closet under a rickety staircase within loogy spitting distance of the Eiffel Tower. Fortunately for a person of the male gender, this situation is no more mortifying than peeing in the middle of the street. But for a female, who would presumably step onto the corrugated footprints and let fly, it's "Quick! To the nearest Starbucks!"

The flushing mechanism is activated by pulling on a rusty chain, and the ensuing flood of water threatens to spill out over the basin proper onto one's footwear (flip-flops are out of the question). I just barely had time to hop onto the slimmest edge of tiling, a la James Bond when he's riding in an elevator and the floor drops out.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

The Red Sox ruined my poem!

Never mind that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series (surely a sign of the impending Apocalypse), and forever embarrassed the Yankees by overcoming a seemingly impossible 0-3 deficit in a best-of-seven game series. (Hockey fans know how rare a feat this is.) This doesn’t really bother me.

In fact, I am delighted for several friends, once long-suffering Sox fans, who can now die in peace. (New York Ranger fans know from long-suffering.)

What really bugs the shit out of me is that my poem “The Baby in the Green Suit,” has been rendered obsolete by the triumph of the Red Sox:


Rides a Hells Angels pram
With airbrushed flames
Licking chrome bumpers

Lazy dim sum waitress
Opens her trap in suck-toothed
Convenient no-speaky-English mode

The well-prepared mind
Weighs all caliber of options
Before igniting that final killing spree

Noble civilizations
Rise and fall in their time
And still the Red Sox suck

[So much for Ars longa, vita brevis!]

Friday, January 21, 2005

Oh, riiight, I have a blog!

Good Lord! Where have I been?!

I'd like to say that my absence from this blog - immediately after having begun it back in October! - is due to a deep-seated depression caused by a weird combination of the following events: New York Yankees blowing a 3-0 series lead against eventual World Series Winner, the hated Boston Red Sox; George W. Bush elected again, fer Chrissakes; continuing runaround from the company that promised to elevate me from a lowly freelancer to a salaried staffer (complete with benefits).

But life is frequently horrific, and this is no excuse for neglecting a blog. Particularly one entitled "The Blog of Lewd Enlightenment!" If I can't suck up life's sundry and horrific disappointments, how can I possibly expect my readership to flourish?

More on the events from mid-October to present moment soon, including: notes and pictures from my November trip to Paris; Christmas in Albany; my participation in a New Year's Day marathon reading at the Bowery Poetry Club; the still-continuing runaround at the "job"; my rejection from the 2005 small works art show - complete with feigned outrage expressed publicly in overly dramatic stentorian tones.

You may soon find yourself wishing I had ne'er returned!

Sunday, January 09, 2005

8-word poem

You think
That you're
Well, you're

Monday, January 03, 2005

8-word poem

It's a long
Way down
From the bottom.