Home again

I come home while I can. I’m looking to the future in this place of such memory.

Music in my ears and eyes

One of my greatest pleasures is viewing music happening.  

Knightfall

Time to change my desktop background.  The only thing that would make me more excited about the July 20, 2012 release of The Dark Knight Rises would we if it were the Chicago Bears at Soldier Field getting blown up by Hurricane Ditka instead of the Pittsburgh Steelers at Heinz Field.  Second favorite team, though?  I’ll take it.

A lot to be discussed here.  Must Batman vanquish two+ villains at once?  Will Anne Hathaway pose nudie throughout the movie?  Will Bane break the bat’s back?  WILL JOKER RETURN?

My answer to these questions and many more is: No, but (in order) neither Bane nor Catwoman will die; no need; it’s possible; not likely.

I can’t imagine this final installment coming out better than the penultimate The Dark Knight.  As pumped as I was for the 2008 sequel to Batman Begins, the film surpassed my expectations.  I anticipate my anticipations will increase* as the film’s viral marketing takes off.

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*Should I skip the waiting and just have high expectations right now?

26 miles and 385 yards

Woke up, got out of bed, ate some cereal, started work. In the distance, I could hear a reoccurring din. “A vuvuzela!” I thought to myself, Alex. (I call myself “Alex”).  “There must be an international sporting contest happening nearby!”   I was compelled to investigate.

The screaming was coming from the 50 or so NYC Marathon volunteers who had set up an energy stand a block away from my apartment. At 8:45a, the first wheelchair racers started to make their way through mile 9 of the 26 mile, 385 yard expedition through the concrete jungle that are New York City’s 5 boroughs.

The race was the most inspiring display of determination and athleticism I can remember (besides this, of course).  There was Rico, Guy, Sarah and thousands of runners with names on their shirts to give the crowd a more personal touch for our cheers.  I made it a point to try to make eye contact and shout encouragement to as many people as I could.  “You’re going really fast!” was one I used a lot.  “Keep going!” was another.  “You are inspiring!” was a third.

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I must try it next year.

Enjoy, friends!

A tragedy

My phone was stolen out of my lap yesterday as I tried to learn the map on the train back from Manhattan.  I’ve been beside myself ever since for letting this happen.  “A tragedy,” I called it.

But actually…

I read this morning about the Utøya massacre.  This is an actual tragedy.  Losing my phone was a costly mistake, sure, but my misfortune doesn’t compare to the bigger things happening out there.

Here’s a first-hand account of the slaying.

The Lair

My new place in Clinton Hill, BK.  3-bed, 2-bath, a bittuvah backyard and three teachers from around the US.  Just ask for the address and you will receive.

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DJ3000

Derek Jeter is to the MLB and its fans what I hope Derrick Rose will be to the UNIVERSE!

They dedicate themselves — both on and off the field — to their craft as much as anyone in their respective games.  It’s this dedication that makes legends like Joe Torre say things like this; it’s this character that makes people aspire to be like Lou Gehrig, The Pride of the Yankees.  I hope, I wish Rose can emulate what Jeter has done for most of my life.

The Voice of the Devil

There’s something sinister about Tom Waits’ singing.

The way it scratches, the way it sounds like filthand it’s ability to stay true to its snarling all the way through.  Critic Daniel Durchholz as sounding “like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car.”

Compare this….

With this (by “DoMaJe,” made up of five Baltimore teenagers: Ivan Ashford, Markel Steele, Cameron Brown, Tariq Al-Sabir, and Avery Bargasse.)

As opposed to the youthful version by DoMaJe, Waits’ version feels to me like something that only comes out at night.  It’s a wretched, transfixing thing that makes me feel like it hates me.

Here and there

Lovers’ names, carved in walls
Overlap, start to merge
Some of them underneath
Maybe they appear
In graveyards
Maybe they fade away
Weathered and overgrown
Time has told
Meaningful hidden words
Suddenly appear, from the murk
Maybe they’re telling us
That the end
Never was
Never will
The words have gone
But the meaning will never disappear
From the wall