Nearing the Cold / Winter Albums
November 26, 2004
Let's make this official: This will be the final entry into the journal of cautious optimism.
A lot of things have happened in this world lately, and sometimes I wish I could tell you how I feel about them. The Red Sox won the World Series while my Astros watched it on the tele. Bush won the election while the country fell asleep. And somehow winter came while the warmth of summer continued to tease the City of New York.
I feel that I understand the world a bit better than I used to now. I'm no longer as emotional. (This has been reinforced lately by my tendency to play against my Titans in fantasy football.) It's kind of like high school calculus, where there was a click and a boom, and I could fit the jigsaw puzzle together in an instant. The lead time is long and arduous but the payoff is sweet.
Winter photo albums are always so pretty.
Homecomings
September 10, 2004
09/10
3:50PM - 8:10PM
New York > Hong Kong
09/18
4:00PM - 7:35PM
Hong Kong > Singapore
09/18
8:30PM - 10:25PM
Singapore > Dhaka
09/28
11:55PM - 5:50AM
Dhaka > Singapore
09/28
8:30AM - 12:15PM
Singapore > Hong Kong
09/30
10:15AM - 2:05PM
Hong Kong > New York
Erasing
September 05, 2004
You can divide up your life in several large blocks, usually by what school you were in, or what girl/friend you had, or who the president was. But each of those segments are inter-twined, so that they cut through and create even smaller pieces of memories. I'm in the process, you could say, of erasing a few blocks here and there.
Everytime I feel one of these blocks coming to an end, I sit down tight and look back in recollection. "Is this worth keeping?" It's extremely rare that I find myself leaving behind what I've come to accept as a part of my daily existence. But sometimes, one has to say, the erasing needs to be done.
When you watch things like this on film or read about them in books, it's never the same as sitting in front of a glowing screen and wondering how certain events have shaped your life, many good, many bad, some in the gray, but all important.
The single greatest victory for one, though, is exactly the opposite of this so-called importance. It's coming to realize that some events are worthless to you (or have become so in time's passing). This is crucial as it lets you move on with life and enjoy what you have remaining, which, of course, could be just another second or two in itself.
I have memories that make me happy and sad at once. The math, though, is easy: 1 (happy) plus -1 (sad) is zero. Lesson learned: The one who is cautiously optimistic erases these worthless memories without thought.
The one thing that matters in the world to me is loyalty. Apparently a few of my so-called friends don't feel the same way. Thus, I'm in the process of avenging the breach of brotherly love, and re-learning to once again trust these so-called "friends." Wish me luck.
Platform for Presidency
August 27, 2004
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
No more production.
The work will is to be reduced to 34.99 hours. Fuck the French.
Produce.
Introduction to Fall
August 26, 2004
The following is this fall's fantasy football line-up for yours truly, including a transaction that shall go through by Sunday, listed by position and then alphabetically.
QB / Drew Bledsoe, Buffalo Bills
QB / Mark Bulger, St. Louis Rams
QB / Carson Palmer, Cincinnati Bengals***
RB / Kevan Barlow, San Francisco 49ers
RB / Chris Brown, Tennessee Titans***
RB / Curtis Martin, New York Jets
RB / Ricky Williams, Miami Dolphins*
WR / Randy Moss, Minnesota Vikings
WR / Carlos Rogers, Detroit Lions***
WR / Larry Fitzgerald, Arizona Cardinals**
WR / Roy Williams, Detroit Lions**
WR / Rashaun Woods, San Francisco 49ers**
WR / Quincy Morgan, Cleveland Browns
TE / Kellen Winslow, Cleveland Browns**
K / Jeff Wilkins, St. Louis Rams
D / Dallas Cowboys
*Patiently waiting player to un-retire.
**Rookies with potential to own.
***Second year players ready to break through.
Breathing in Hong Kong
August 02, 2004
It's like sitting at McDonald's on St. Mark's Place at half past three on a Tuesday morning. The only friends there are the drunks and the homeless and the senile. Sometimes, a combination of all three. The adventure is waiting in line, making sure no one comes up and asks you a question, one when you start answering, you're either asked for money or asked "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Nothing's wrong, but it gets tiresome after a while.
It's like walking up Second Avenue in the early hours of the day, wondering how you could circle the globe if you kept on walking. But you couldn't, of course, but that never comes across the mind. Walking is good for the mind, it lets of steam and lets one formulate theories on possible actions and their courses. And the sweat makes you feel wondrous and active.
It's like listening to a Gilberto while sitting in a cab going into Queens, towards LaGuardia Airport. It'll be a temporary destination, you know, but for the moment, at six o'clock in the morning, the cold comfort of the car makes you feel at home, something that seemed far away for far too long.
It's like the buzz of the airplane engine at ten thousand feet, feeling further muffled because your ears have become numb. You know where you're going, you've been there before, but oh how you dread the fact that time has made it completely different. It's a foreign land, now.
It's like a beautiful charade, day by day, you await your departure and arrival and departure and back again. The circular trend of life never stops, and yet again you breathe a bit heavier. There is no regret, but life still feels so temporary. The goal then, it seems, is to keep it from being ordinary.
Byproducts of Insomnia
July 30, 2004
what we got here is a crash course in history / the mysteries that existed are blistering / past your eyes, identities redefined / i see that you're crying, but you gotta outstrip the lies / the child in you still wants to awake / sixty seconds and you're ready to shake and bake / so don't hesitate, just elate / your senses and clean your lenses / it's time to see the world in whole new——perspective——
Disruption is catchy + I need sleep.
Caching Some More Memories
July 25, 2004
one / Really digging that moody atmosphere, kind of like when you get out of the subway, the sky is a bit overcast and you've got some Kruder&Dorfmeister in the ears. A bit of thump-thump in the chest, taking in the air and believing that tomorrow will be wonderful plus ten.
two / Everytime I find myself looking at the clock around midnight, I feel a synaptic response yelling back at me, "Already the end of your fucking day?" It's not that I'm old or even still immature, but I guess I'm just not used to reality. And we're not even talking about the existential reality of us and who we are. I'm talking about the wake up, go to bed, eat properly and don't forget to brush your teeth kind of reality.
three / I'm going to Bangladesh for the first time since 1997 and second time since 1990 this September. I'll be 23 by then, and I'll have forgotten the names of most of my non-nuclear family members. It happens, you know. Also on the trip, I'll be in Hong Kong from in the middle of September, so if any of you will be there at that time, give me a holler.
Being Ebert
July 18, 2004
Since I have been unable to write incredibly creative, intelligent and amusing anecdotes, fake or real, about my life and the lives of others, I will talk about movies. No doubt. Note: I went back and put in a rating on a scale of 10, just so one doesn't misinterpret how I feel toward a film.
01. What can I say: Michael Moore is an amazing filmmaker. And although Fahrenheit 9/11 may be the worst atrocity thrown at the American people since the O.J. Simpson trial, the film will win over the common person moreso than any trashy romance novel ever could. The content is absolute bullshit, but one has to admire how well Moore edits and narrates the film in order to make sure that everything works out for him. Note that I've lost considerable respect for everyone who judged at Cannes this year as this will go down as the worst Golden Palm winner Marty in 1955. (Why the hell do people like that movie, anyway?) + 5/10
02. The film that should have won the Golden Palm, of course, is Chan-Wook Park's Oldboy. Mr. Park is my daddy, if you must know, as his filmmaking owns ten times over. If you haven't, run out now and grab a copy of Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and even Joint Security Area while you're at it. The man is bringing Korean filmmaking to the forefront like never before. Oldboy is good, good, fucking good. Just make sure you got a strong stomach and all will be well. + 9/10
03. The absolute best unintentional comedy of the year has to be The Day After Tomorrow. Is it the single worst disaster film I've ever seen? Probably not, but it's damn close. If it wasn't for the thrilling special effects, I would have wanted my money back. Key sentence that saved the film: In order to bribe Mexico into letting Americans into the warm country, "The President has forgiven all Latin American debt." Oh, dream on Argentina. + 3/10
04. My buddy desribed Mystic River in the best manner I can imagine: "It's a damn good episode of television." Besides wondering throughout the movie if Kevin Bacon was pissed at being the only white guy in the cast not to win an Oscar for the film, I found myself all into it and stuff. Nicely drawn out plot with one huge, albeit minor, whole: You knew everything that was probably going to happen. That being said, enjoyable. + 7/10
05. The most recent pleasant surprise of a film has been this year's Oscar winner for Best Foreign Film, The Barbarian Invasions. Typically, I've found most films in that category to be filled with drool and slow-moving bullshit that makes me fall asleep. And that fact is especially true if the film is French. That being said, these Canadiens sure pulled off a nice coup d'etat. Aside from the inventive dialogue featured in the film, the simple storyline kept me in tune, temporarily disabling my ADD issues and enjoying the two hours of virtual-heroine induced sedation. + 6/10
06. So far, the absolute biggest surprise film for 2004 has been 50 First Dates. I refused to watch it for so long, but I'm quite glad I did. It's a ridiculous plot that somehow gels together at the end and makes you smile, cry and other mushy stuff you'd never admit to your male (and possibly female) friends. Sandler is a bit annoying, but the character works. Barrymore is sweet and angelic, yet I still think of her as the girl who gave David Letterman a peepshow. Worth the watch as Rob Schneider's crude humor will keep you awake if you ever get annoyed. + 6/10
Ever since work started, all I do is play video games and watch movies. (This is after work, of course.) I also like to read sometimes, because learnings big words is cool and stuff. Anyway, feel free to give me some movie recommendations. Or start discussions that will stretch my brain cells. I'm sure I'll return soon with many more reviews.
Warfare
June 23, 2004
And this is how it begins, with a receipt of $13.50 at the dry cleaners for three ties. Not too short a while ago, that would have been incredulous, but this time, now, it's different. It's how it ought to be. $4.50 a tie is fine. In fact, $10 would have been dandy because ties are an investment for life. Ties are life.
(Alright, so graduate life isn't that corporate. To all my friends who are going into investment banking, I wish you the best. In fact, I have no choice but to wish you such now as I'll not see you for another two years minimum. Now, that is corporate.)
Going on, I have to say that the best reminder in life that we are people who strive for more is debt. In essense, we take on burden because we believe in our future. The more debt we have, the harder and loftier our aspirations, and by the end of the day, breaking even becomes a victory unto itself.
I'm highly leveraged as of now, so you may wonder why I spend that much on cleaning ties. Well, they're pretty and nice, and they will somehow, even if relatively insignificantly, have an outcome on where I am ten years down the road. Hell, even five. Or two.
Fucking ties. $4.50 a pop! Incredible.
First Day of Forever
May 13, 2004
Today, I officially received my Bachelors of Science in Finance and Marketing from the Leonard N. Stern School of Business at New York University. Four years have come and gone, and I find myself feeling naked without the guilt of not doing homework. Now, there is work, and there is life.
I keep trying to divide up my knowledge base over the last four years: I'd say classes have taught me 5% of what I've learned, which is low primarily because I've never felt like I was made for schooling. 45% I will attribute to people: Colleagues and mentors alike, a vast amount of knowledge was through conferring with them, and much love goes to my beloved Investment Analysis Group, which stood as a cornerstone of my collegiate experience. The remaining 50%? Google. No, seriously. The Internet and the world that surrounds this intangible library of wealth has made me amazingly self-sufficient at finding out what I need to know. With the proper motivation, everything was possible. (This includes learning how to tie a tie.)
Greatest college experience? The people. Seriously. You guys made the $160,000 worth every penny. Almost everyone I've met here will do something wonderful in life, and I hope I can be there to witness their achievements. Me? I have a good job with good people, and I'm looking forward to the next few years. Wonderful changes abound.
Unfinished / 001
April 21, 2004
We fell in love with New Order’s Technique and then fell in love with each other. By 1990, we had married and moved to a suburb of Houston from our native St. Louis. We lived in an apartment inhabited by mostly minorities; rent was cheap and the cockroaches came free of charge. My primary job was to deliver pizza for a nearby Domino’s Pizza—a formidable task in my 1987 Toyota Tercel hatchback when you consider the company still had their “30 minutes or free” campaign in full effect then. Over the weekends, I’d tutor some rich high school kids in Latin, one of the many useless things I’d learned in college and never had a chance to apply. My wife worked at a Dairy Queen two blocks down. Within four months of moving, she became pregnant.
It took us two and a half weeks to decide, but we chose to have the child. Unsure of how we’d get by financially, I asked the father of one of the kids I tutored about possible job opportunities for a college dropout like me. He said the world was tough and that without a diploma, I would continue scraping the bottom of the barrel. He wasn’t trying to be harsh, but I doubt he’d ever been in a position like...
Felling the Night
April 01, 2004
I was walking down the street when I saw this girl, purple hat and a ponytail. I said, "What's up?" and she smiled back. Words didn't leave her mouth, but she kissed my neck. Locked her arms into mine, and made me dance down to the 6 line. We took the subway uptown to the museum, and played hopscotch on the steps as an audience looked on. Sunshine splashed our faces, and I smiled another smile. She said, "I love you," and I felt complete for a while. Then everything became real, and she said goodbye. I didn't see her for a year, but don't worry, I didn't cry. I waited patiently until one morning, when something was different, if even slightly. I got out of bed and put on a shirt, I smelled like perfume, but didn't know the source. Suddenly I had a flashback to the night before, that I had lost myself and lost her forevermore. Christmas in August, we mirrored the moments. You, I and our unending affair with time became a photograph hung on a wall like a sonnet.
Expired by Sunlight
March 16, 2004
The center of gravity falls like this: You walk into your room, smell the scent of her perfume and notice that she’s left a small note besides your unlaundered pillows. Come meet me at St. Mark’s Place. You follow her orders by taking the next cab down—the fact that it’s only five blocks means nothing. Time is a resource that cannot be replenished.
The air is smoggy from the smokers outside the Continental. Second-hand DJ music blares as a Rastafarian on a bike sets off to rid the world of bad people. He’s become delusive, and his life is destructive to the human condition. But he lives to see yet another day.
You look around, but there is no sight of her. Has she slipped away? Where was my two weeks notice? It immediately strikes you that you should yell out her name. And you do so, in the busiest hour of the day, in the busiest street in East Village. People turn around and look at you. Some smile thinking you’re an obscene romantic. Others are annoyed and want to physically harm you. The bottom line remains: You cannot find her.
Two weeks pass, and the fervor in your heart still beats fast. I don’t like goodbyes in bed. Beds aren’t meant for goodbyes. All you wanted were two simple weeks: The first to ease in the acceptance that this isn’t going to last, to make yourself believe that everything was for the best, to learn to detach yourself from her. The second to reconciliate.
But the center of gravity fell that beautiful morning while you lay in bed. The mountains in the Pacific collapsed and volcanoes spewed forth an unending stream of solitude. Like sleep, she had come and gone. Like a dream, she had vanished as you opened your eyes.
My Nonexistent Doorman
March 07, 2004
I live in a hundred and twenty year old apartment building with a nonexistent elevator. My nonexistent doorman's name is Allen, and his wife doesn't let him eat dairy products past six o'clock in the evening. She says it's bad for his attention span, that he may let in thieves and homeless men at night without realizing. I tell him, "It's okay, Allen. Since you don't exist, it doesn't matter what you eat." I then give him a glass of milk and some cookies and wish him well on his way home.
Allen isn’t fond of the subway. But since he lives in Queens, he does his best to ride it the least amount possible. Every morning at four o’clock, he walks four avenues down to catch the F train. He lives someplace off of Woodside, in a little rundown one bedroom apartment above a liquor store. The owners of the store rent it out to him and his wife because they think they’re “safe.”
Allen’s wife is a seamstress. Her customers readily take advantage of her because she doesn’t speak English well, but she still makes enough money to put food on the table. Allen’s own income is secured into their savings account at a nearby bank. They are saving up to move to a nicer place where hopefully they can raise a child shamelessly.
Allen and his wife live a life of cautious optimism. A young man with little hope and luck in his past, he has learned to appreciate the good that comes his way. Wonderful things may happen, but he knows that they don’t last. He takes life one day at a time and makes sure that his wife is smiling every morning after waking up. For Allen, that is all that matters now. For Allen, nonexistence is the key to keep smiling.
