It's nice to be wrong

I stopped at my usual morning coffee joint this morning to grab a cup of joe, before catching the train. There was a short line, and while I don't like waiting in line any more than anyone else does, it did do my heart some good to see that a Mom & Pop is able to keep up a clientele. In front of me were a couple of student types. They weren't being particularly obnoxious, actually they were seeming fairly human and good natured. They put in their order, ponied up their money and were waiting for order as the girl started flailing around with her purse at the counter. In her wild gyrations trying to balance cell phone, wallet and god knows what else, she managed to send the tip jar on top of the cash register flying, change sailed through the air, tinkling around the floor behind the cash register. They looked at each other in embarrassment and they both started to apologize.

Okay, so I am an old crank. Considering how people behave these days I should have been satisfied by the fact that they at least said sorry. All I could think of was that they should watch what they were doing. The man who works behind the counter is very nice and just shrugged it off, saying not to worry about it. He handed them their order and they went off to cream and sugar their coffees, the guy giving his girlfriend a good natured hard time, and continuing to apologize as they went.

I moved up to give my order, when the couple came jinking back up to the counter, dashed in behind it and began to pick up all the change and put it back in the tip cup. They scrambled around on the floor for a few minutes, while the proprietor was assuring them that "No, really it was fine." But bless their little hearts, they gathered things up, and the young man took the tip jar and but it back on the counter, saying "I think I'd better be the one to put it down." As they headed out, he told the patrons waiting in line that they had to help fill the jar back up, since he was sure some of the money got lost under counter.

So, I was wrong. I'm a big enough man to admit it. There really are some people left who are not entitled to screw up and then excuse themselves, or place the blame elsewhere. It was a small thing, but it was consideration, which no matter how small, is always a big thing. Maybe that is the way we can start to fix the mess we're all in, in this big and bad world. Taking care of the small things, and if we keep it up maybe, after we have got the hang of fixing the small things all the time the big things will start to look do-able.

Slave to the Rythmn

I was talking to an old friend, Rick, who is now living out in Long Beach. Rick has worn any number of hats over the years, among them was spinning records at dance clubs so he is always on the look out for new sources of music. Let's face it most stations are pretty bland these days and the quality of popular music, or at least that which gets air play is pretty disappointing. So I was surprised that he recommended a radio station. So for those of you who stream music, can I recommend KCRW as and alternative to the musical malaise. It really is pretty great. I know it's going to make me sound like an old fart, but the way they program the music is pretty much the way I remember music programing from when I was young. There is no real agenda, it's just the DJ's playing music they like. No play lists! So you might hear Beck, then Nina Simone and then Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks. There is never any telling. Dance, electronica, latin, pop. You have to love a station that has a program called Morning Becomes Eclectica. Give it a try and happy listening.

Oh Mary!

There is always a certain amount of amusement to be had working with people who's first language is not english, especially when it comes to idiom.

One of the faculty members who's French, was in the office this morning and was asking about some repair for his office. He asked if I had heard anything about progress from my project supervisor Mary. I told him that Mary was no longer with the department and so for the forseeable future that he should let me know about any problems and I would take care of it. We discussed his problem, and I assured him I would put in a request with facilities and try and have the repair made in a timely manner.

As he was walking out the door, he said, "So you're Mary now."

The reply came before I had a chance to think about it, "And not for the first time either."

Fuller Brush Man

Last night my FB Flip who I have not seen for some time came over for fun and games. It was the first time he had seen me since I have had the rather luxuriant facial growth and he commented that he liked it. The jury has been out as far as I am concerned. It is, well it's white. Grey hair is one thing, white is another and I have to wonder if it makes me look like Santa Claus with a dirty mind. At any rate one thing led to another, and as the British say, "I didn't know where to put my face", so put it everywhere.

Afterwards, Flip was commenting on how soft my beard was when it was down in the southern regions and said something about Fuller brushes.

"So it's a Booty Brush?" I asked.

"Booty Brush? That's not exactly what I was thinking, but I like it."

I think I'll be able to deal with the beard this winter if I keep thinking of it as a Booty brush instead of a Santa beard. Ho ho ho!

Domestica

It was, all in all, a nice weekend. Saturday I spent eating and reading. Sunday I amused myself by forgetting to turn the clock back and cleaning the house. I suppose starting to clean the house sounds like a good idea if you accidentally get up at 4:00 a.m., and you think it's 5. It also is much nicer in theory, but starts to loose some of it's gloss when you realize after getting off to an all too enthusiastic start and only to realize there are some places in your apartment that haven't been ministered to since you moved in.

I am also coming to terms with the idea of having another major purge. You know how it is. You live anywhere long enough, and all of the junk that you remember bringing into the house meets, falls in love and starts reproducing. There is some stuff that I will be willing to swear that I never brought into the house. I have to wonder, does Alice go out on shopping sprees while I am at work, hitting flea markets and bringing home shopworn items of doubtful usefulness, or do my neighbors just break in, and dump all of their unwanted crap in my place because it's closer than the dumpster?

The long and short of it is that I had planned on virtuously spending a day cleaning the house and that would be the end of it. As with all the best layed plans, it has turned into something of a long term project that is going to, in the end I believe, involve my own personal dumpster and possibly a backhoe. How one small man and one large cat can generate so much mess and extraneous garbage I don't know. I would also like to know where all these clothes I am certain I never bought which I am now going to have to take to Goodwill, convert into dustrags or simply throw out, came from. For some reason, most of the stuff I am finding is not lost but loved possessions, but more like finding that homeless drunks or raccoons have taken up residence in my closets and all clothes drawers.

Let this be a lesson to you, housekeeping should consist of giving the place a sweeping glance.

Weather report

It feels like a real October day out, though a little warm. It has been overcast, and rainy and the wind seems to be taking down a few branches. They had predicted the possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon, though those don't seem to be manifesting themselves. Still all in all it is a pleasantly dismal New England day in late October. A perfect day for staying in the house curled up with a book, eating too much fattening food that I will regret, and spend all next week working off in the gym.

That's next week and for now, I am happy just to have an excuse to behave in a slug like manner and hunker down with some tea, a book and too many snacks. Tomorrow is suppose to be sunny and pleasant and will exercise it's siren call with the urgent knowledge that there won't be too many more days that I will really want to spend the day wandering around outside until spring comes and the good weather is back. But just for today it's nice to coccoon.

Update

I really haven't been keeping up with my blogging lately and I have to say it is starting to get on my conscience! So much to write about too! Things at work are going through a shake up, major dental work with more to come, every muscle in my body aching because of the new work out and a topic of special interest, an ingrown pubic hair.

How can I have been neglecting my small but adoring public with so many fascinating topics to bitch about. I am a bad little man. I will just have to get the bit back between my teeth and get writing. Don't give up on me yet, I will make myself sit down and start writing about this, that and the other thing.

Weekend

Saturday morning I through sheer force of will dragged myself over to my garden and started getting the autumn cleanup underway. What a mess! I have been avoiding the garden for a few weeks now, and to the casual observer it didn't look all that bad. Lots of black eyed susans and marigolds still defying the cooler temperatures. On closer inspection the weeds had been propigating like white trash, and much creeping vineyness in the form of bindweed and morning glories that seem to have naturalized themselves in the gardens. So, with sinking heart I commandeered an wheelbarrow and started yanking weeds and deadheading perrenials. To my surprise the time actually flew, and before I knew it, it was noon. So off to home for lunch and a disco nap, so that I wouldn't fall asleep during symphony.

The afternoon sort of flew by and before I knew it I was meeting Clint in front of Symphony Hall. Symphony has has a recent face lift and the renovations are very nice. It had the last time I had seen it still looked like some grand lady in reduced circumstances. However with all of the gilding, painting and carpeting no one in the organization, in their infinite wisdom has seen fit to replace the butt deadening seats in the auditorium. As I observed to Clint, this is New England, so you probably can't properly appreciate culture unless you are benumbed behind. The perfomance itself was very enjoyable, Peter Serkin gave a wonderful performance of Brahms Piano Concerto #2 and Levine as usual was up to his high standard conducting both the Brahms and Schumann's Symphony #2. There were no big surprises since both pieces are warhorses, but they are the type of music that regardless of the number of times you have heard them, they are always enjoyable. Afterward it was off to home and my chaste (damnit) bed.

Sunday involved more gardening. I wound up planting about 150 spring bulbs, which will probably end up feeding the neighborhood squirrels over the winter. Regardless, it was good to be up and doing something instead of sinking further into my seasonal funk. Around noon it was time to go home and start making myself beautiful for Warren and get to the theater. The opera was very good. I was impressed by both the singing and the orchestra. I had not been in the Majestic in a long time and they too have been busy bees,renovating and it is quite the grand Victorian chocolate box now. The only sour note in the whole opera came not from the stage but from the chatting, giggling cellophane rattling idiots sitting in back of us. Against all expectation, they were not young. Not even remotely young! After the performance when we were having dinner, Warren told me that last year he had gone to an afternoon series at Symphony and it was all pensioners and that they were the worst audience he had ever encountered. His theory is that they are not so much interested in going out to listen to the music as they are looking forward to some break in their routine.

All in all I have to say it was a very good weekend. I enjoyed the company as much, if not more than the actual events. I think it is all a part of aging, I am finding it all too easy to climb into my own small personal space and not come out and look at the world around me, or make time for friends or activities that occur outside of the bounded space I create for myself. It was good to get outside of my own head and notice that there is indeed a big world out there with a lot of things to see I have not seen before and things to do I haven't done before.

The cost of war

I think like a lot of people, when Pat Tillman died in Iraq I gave the story rather short strift. Even after the revelation that Tillman was the victim of "friendly fire" the media and the Bush administration seemed intent on using this young man's death as a PR opportunity to promote the U.S. presence in Iraq.

Yesterday I came across this story by Kevin Tillman. It asks some serious questions about American policy and what a complaisant public has been willing to tolerate from a questionable government.

I have nothing to add other than to offer my sympathies to the Tillman family.

Rough week

It has been kind of an off week for me. I have not been feeling all that well, involving tummy upsets and "the dire rear". This also meant some lost work time and general feeling sorry for myself and grumpiness.

It has left me feeling a little guilty, because I have been feeling pretty self absorbed and not paying attention to what is going on with my friends. A good example being that my co-worker and friend Buttermonkey is in the middle of home buying hell and I don't feel like I have been as supportive as I should be. God knows he has an equally if not more dreadful family than I do, and they are not being of any help at all. I think if I was buying my own place, my own family would be taking the opportunity to share every home buying horror story they could think of and in general letting me know I was making the biggest mistake of my life up until this date. At least they'd take an interest!

I just need to cheer up. Aside from wondering why the top of my head hasn't caved in, since I am sure I shit my brain out a couple of days ago there are things to be cheerful about. I am going to symphony tomorrow night and I will be going to the opera on Sunday for "la Clemenza di Tito", an opera I have not seen in years, and which I quite like. Both I should add, at the largess of friends, since theater tickets are not in the budget currently.

I should also think about doing some work in my sadly neglected garden this weekend. I have been very lazy about things, and so last weekend went out and bought some spring bulbs. I am trying not to think too hard about the fact that there is a very good chance that all of the tulip bulbs will wind up feeding squirrels over the course of the winter. Not that this is a promising weekend for bulb planting. The weather is still too warm to plant. It is the 20th of October and the temperature is suppose to be up in the 60's! How they hell did this happen?

So, onward an upward. Besides, I get to do some charity work next week. I have a very expensive visit at the dentist and I am sure that will help him pay his mortgage! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that my cavity ridden teeth are in their own small way, making life better for someone.

Avast!

On our Friday coffee break, Buttermonkey, Boyflex and I were joined by the babacious Michele. We went outside so that the sinners could have a nicotine fix, and after we had finished, Michele announced she didn't want to go back. "Let's run away with the circus. We could do it, they're in town." Buttermonkey, who worked for Ringling Bros. once upon a time, vetoed the idea.

I piped up with, "Let's just tell people we were captured by pirates!" This was met with a certain amount of enthusiasm, especially after I added "Yeah, I could say I was abducted by pirates and they did terrible things to me! They didn't want to, but I made them."

Hey, Poppa?

I left the gym a little earlier than usual this morning, and decided to indulge in my 2 remaining vices, caffeine and nicotine. After walking out of my morning spot, I went across Tremont to sit on a bench in the common and watch the garbage and pigeons fly around. It is a beautiful fall morning and the sky is fading from a pale silvery blue in the east to brilliant aquamarine in the west, the air is cold enough that I was wishing that I had put on something warmer than a jeans jacket. As I was just sitting there getting lung cancer on the installment plan, I heard someone saying, "Hey, Poppa?" Looking up, there was a pretty disreputable homeless guy. "Hey, Poppa... could I have a cigarette please?" I looked at this guy who I doubt has seen a shower for quite some time. Where his skin wasn't red, it was blue from the cold. I couldn't tell you how old he was. He had obviously been living rough for quite a while and he could have been 70 or he could have been my age. I pulled out the pack and gave him a smoke. He lit up and thanked me a couple of times, and as he was getting ready to walk away he said, "Nice hat."

I'm not sure why this has struck me so much. Maybe because the way the world is working these days, I like a lot of people am only a paycheck or 2 away from the streets myself. Maybe it was because this guy who hasn't got much of anything else left, has unlike so many who have so much, has managed to keep courtesy.

I read an article yesterday about the McNews culture and how the media keeps us entertained with celebrity news, distracting us with the hijinx of the rich and famous and ignoring real issues that are just too hard to think about. One of the issues sited in the article was the growing population of the homeless in the land of plenty and the growing disparity of wealth. I don't know what it will take to make people realize that unless we do something, make some effort to be a little more selfless, that we too might wind up asking some older guy for a handout because having made bad choices or just because of bad luck we are out on the street, hoping someone will give us a handout, because the society we live in won't give us a hand up.

A Few Of My Favorite Things

In an attempt to get myself out of the cranky mood that I have been laboring under for the past few weeks, I have been trying to concentrate on some of the good things that have been making themselves available to me. Among them that Terry Pratchett has a new book out, as well as Neil Gaiman I also recently bought Raul Malo's new album, "You're Only Lonely, which if it is not one of my 5 star choices still gets 4 if not 4 and a half stars. Last but not least, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow by Jerome K. Jerome is in print again. If you've never read "Three Men in a Boat" I suggest that you run out and get a copy, and prepare yourself to be embarrassed by laughing out loud, if you are reading it on your commute. There, I feel better already!

I'll have my regular

Everyone has their routines. To the horror of my friends I have my own which involves getting up at an ungodly hour and heading off to the gym before work. I like my gym because it is small and unpretentious. I also like the fact that the early morning crowd tend to be like myself, older and no one is going to win the Mr. Universe contest. Then after an hour and half of self inflicted torture I head off to work. On the way to the train I stop here for a cup of joe. Everyone talks about how much they hate Starbuck's, the Gap and all of the other chains but they all wind up shopping there. I like my new coffee stop because it is a Mom and Pop. I have been going there a couple of months now, and as I walk through the door, the guy behind the counter is already pouring my coffee! It takes me back to when people had their regular places, knew the name of the propriator and the more social types knew the other regular patrons. I doubt my consumer choice is going to start a trend, but it's nice to know that it is still possible to have a regular place that isn't annonymous, and if you are still just a face, at least you are a familiar one.

A Couple of Views

I was walking down Mass. Ave yesterday and as I was going past the Christian Science Center, I thought I was having a hallucination. The bells started ringing and I had to stop in my tracks, because against all common sense the carillon was playing "Home On the Range"! Was it one of Mary Baker Eddy's favorites, or is it unbeknownst to the rest of the world a Christian Science hymn?




Then walking home this evening, I was treated to what I think of as "hand of God" skies, where the sun is behind some clouds and the light really does come out in rays. Fortunately, I had my camera for a switch, so here it is folks.

My final slightly odd sighting was a pair of red-tailed hawks, having and aerial quarrel over some critter that one of them had in it's talons. They were swooping and screaming over the park and nearby apartment buildings. It has to be 20 years since I saw the first red-tail that had decided to make the Fenway neighborhood its home, but somehow seeing them just never gets old. Unfortunately, my digital camera isn't good at stopping motion, so you'll just have to take my word for it. It was a sight to see, and after a slightly tough day it did my heart good.

Yo ho ho

I have had a couple of interesting experiences with people commenting on my appearance at work recently.

A couple of weeks ago, Buttermonkey and I were sneaking out for a cigarette and were joined by one of our favorite straight co-workers, Boyflex. As we were walking down the hall I was ahead, and suddenly Boyflex pipes up, “Have you ever noticed that Tony has a really nice ass?” While having some straight guy comment on my moneymaker was a little out of the ordinary, I am willing to take a compliment wherever it comes from these days.

Then a couple of days ago I was chatting with one of our visiting scholars. She had just received an express packet from her school and was a little put out. They were asking her to write a letter of recommendation for someone, and she is on sabbatical and is suppose to be excused from these chores. As we were talking I jokingly told her maybe I could get on a plane and go down to her school and beat up the person responsible. Just as I was saying this, her husband who is also a visiting scholar walked up. He said, “ I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you look like someone for the job.” I am pretty used to this and said something to the effect that I know that I look like a thug. He looked surprised and said, “ Oh! No. You look like a pirate!”
So, Pirate.

Pirate booty.

Dry spell

I have been in mental limbo recently. My job which I like has been a little funky and my situation there as someone who works on a contract basis as opposed to a regular employee has been causing some concern.

There was also the wedding event, which actually went much smoother than could have been hoped for, though it brought up some issues dating back to my childhood due to a conversation with my older brother which I have been working through. All of these things are worth talking about and more. But I feel as though I am still digesting them. Also, it is autumn in New England which is somehow always a bit melancholy.

However it is time to get back in the saddle and start looking at the absurdity that is life in the world. To help remind me of that I have had yet more bald encounters. I saw a wonderfully bad toupee on the train the other morning, and as a morning for contemplating the chrome domes of the world I saw 2 adds addressing the worries of the follicelarely challenged from 2 different angles. The first, for those who miss their glory days of having a flowing mane was regrow in case you want to give regaining your lost youth the old college try. The second was for baldguyz which is a product I would be much more likely to give a try.

All of this could just mean that I am a little too obsessed with my own gleaming pate, but hey, finally it might be fine to try to be happy with yourself as you are. It doesn't mean that the market place isn't going to try and exploit your new found peace of mind, and sell you products to make you feel even better because you are bald or older or less than the ideal of the moment, but finally there might be some hope that you can get through a day without feeling like you have to make some superficial change to yourself in order to feel like you have a right to be alive.

Photographic proof

I have been neglecting my duties as a diarist. So until I get a chance to chronicle my experiences at the wedding here is a picture of the niece and I. Yes, I wore a suit.

Take me out to the ballgame?

I saw this news item this morning. I guess they've never been over in the Fens during a Red Sox game. All those ball fans out for a little extra entertainment. Gives a whole new meaning to "take me out to the ball game".

More reflections on bald heads

I was talking with Buttermonkey the other day. We were continuing our convestation about the "bald phenomena". He had been polling friends and they were pretty evenly split between inspirations. Patrick Stewart and Michael Jordan.

Buttermonkey was suggesting that either had a fairly limited audience, but I pointed out that both were real cultural phenomenon. Non Trekkies were in front of the set watching Next Generation, and even a sports ignoramous like myself knows who Michael Jordon is.

Maybe it's both, maybe it is some even stranger curve of cultural consiousness, but whatever the reason, I'm keeping the razor out.