Start Your Weekend Off with Photos from This Week in NYC

I was just in the shower when dudes with a vacuum showed up to vacuum my apartment to rid the floors of the final remnants of sodium bicarbonate. I love that they are doing this because I don't own a vacuum cleaner.

Awkward, though.

Now two men are vacuuming my floor while I sit here watching them. I suppose I could leave, but my inner cynic doesn't trust them with everything I own.

So, dear readers, you get to enjoy my killing time! Here are some photos I took this week:

D and I couldn't get into International Short Films at the MOMA, so we ended up walking around the city to enjoy the beautiful weather on Wednesday night.



D likes the street lamps because they remind him of the alien on the War of the Worlds poster.





D said "Let's take the bus so we can see New York City!" These are a couple photos from my first NYC bus ride.





My company participated in the JPMorganChasedCharityRace in Central Park last night. I went there to be "supportive girlfriend" rather than "supportive employee." I didn't even walk the race. Instead, I eagerly awaited D at the finish line. D didn't win, but he came in like 17th out of 15,000 people! I was thrilled. He was not. It is interesting how neither of us think that what we do well at things or perform well enough, and how we're both constantly trying to convince the other that they've done a great job. With this particular issue, I felt like I had the hard data and statistics to back up D's performance, but he still wasn't having it. Either way, I am "proud girlfriend" today and realize that I forgot how powerful, ahem, post-sports pheremones can be.



Prior to the race, I thought "This will show me what being a sports photographer is like! Maybe when I grow up I can be a sports photographer! D will be so excited that I will be showing an interest in racing sports!"



I soon realized that I had no interest in the race itself after D crossed the finish line. I wonder why I don't have a competitive bone in my body. I feel like I may be the only person on the planet who finds competitve sports offensive.



When the 10th place runner crossed the finish line, the woman next to me exclaimed "He came in 10th! That means he gets the raise!" I can't believe that sports prowess is being rewarded in the workplace. This race isn't about prestige, its about charity. It's not like "Whatever company the first place runner works for is the coolest company in Manhattan!" No. Why should someone get a raise, at work, because they can run fast? Freaking ridiculous. I was mortified. I wanted to be like "Right, and the woman with the four kids at home who couldn't run this race because she had to go cook them dinner should get a raise for being an awesome single mother."



Anyway, I digress. I decided as I was snapping random photos (incidentally, at random, I managed to capture the 3rd, 4th, and 5th place runners from my company in group shots) that maybe I should be a post-sports photographer.



I really like all of these photos of people looking bizarre and in agony. I had far too much fun last night scanning the crowds for runners who were making weird faces.



For example: the guy in the background of this photo looks like he wants to kill the guy in the foreground. Awesome!



D and I went back to our company tent where everyone was like "D, you're our pride and joy! You are amazing! You are the best! WOW! ZOWIE!!!! You came in two minutes ahead of your time last year! YAY!" I was waiting for them to say "We're going to give you a $20,000 raise for being athletic even though that is entirely irrelevant to how you do your job!" It is weird to feel like "the girlfriend" amongst people you see every day. This is something that constantly bothers me. Feeling awkward (as did D, which is one of the reasons I love him), I stepped away and called M to feel like I exist.



When M got off the phone to eat dinner, I said "D, I really need to get out of here. This is weird." He said "I know." Overambitious D (who the night before said "We should go to this tomorrow - we will leave immediately after the race!" and I didn't say "Dude, you're going to be sweaty and tired and dying and it's an hour from the city and ok whatever you want but I think this is overambitious") and I headed to Prospect Park in Brooklyn to see/hear William Kentridge films. It took us forever to get there because the trains were being uncooperative. When we got there we learned that there was a suggested donation (wtf?) and that it was about a million times more crowded that we'd anticipated. We sat down on the grass and couldn't see because people were standing in front of us. D was tired and ruined from the race, so we ended up leaving about 20 minutes after we got there. I was slightly disappointed that D was a wreck, because there was an awesome playground and not a child around to use it.



The pheremones were wasted, and I returned home alone to my post-sports photos.

Vegetables

I am offended that Avirl Lavigne is a vegetarian.

I am voting for Damon Albarn .

I know you are all tempted to vote for Casey Kasem, but please, do not.

Short Cuts

As I walked down 8th Street last night, holding D's hand, I nearly bumped into a girl who was holding Matthew Modine's hand!

Gasp.

"Oh my god! That was Matthew Modine!" I said to D, who quickly turned around and tried to get a look. He had missed him. I hate the short millisecond celebrity sighting that cannot be shared.

"What did he look like?" he asked.

I explained that he was wearing a white t-shirt, shorts, and a white baseball cap that was only mostly covering his terribly bleached hair.

"Wow. Matthew Modine. Man."

I had such a crush on Matthew Modine. When I was a medical-school bound pre-teen, I watched Gross Anatomy repetitively. I enjoyed watching Matthew Modine transform into a hot but sensitive medical student, and imagined myself as the future Mrs. Dr. Modine.

When we got back to D's apartment after wandering the city aimlessly for hours in order to enjoy the nice weather and make up for being shut out of sold-out MOMA short films, I said "You know, it's weird. If Matthew Modine had wanted to trade, I'd have said no."

It wasn't the most articulate compliment. What I'd meant to say was "I used to have such a crush on Matthew Modine, but now that I am with you, I have no interest in him. If he'd said 'Swap - D can have my girlfriend and I'll take you,' I'd have been like 'No way, Matthew Modine! I have D now! I don't need to think about you in the 'Memphis Belle' and salivate any more! Take that, Matthew Modine."

"You wouldn't have traded what?"

"I'm saying that I'd have to think about it if he offered me $1,000,000 to sleep with him. Because, well, you're awesome."

D said "Huh. He's pretty awesome, though. You really don't think his Modine-itude could sway you?"

No, D, it is precisely because you say things like "Modine-itude" that I will never sleep with Matthew Modine.

Because, really, Matthew Modine was about to say "Dude, let me take your girlfriend!" but we were walking too fast.

Matthew Modine would never say cute things like "Modine-itude."

Or, maybe its just because I am a grown up now and don't have crushes on celebrities.

Right.

This all would have gone down differently had we encountered Christian Bale on the street, because right now D would be saying "I thought you said he was giving you a million dollars to sleep with him! Where's the money? What are we going to do with all that money? This is awesome!" and I'd be saying "Oh, well, actually, ummm, right. Remember that million dollars? Yeah. I made that up," and D would say "Oh, ok, cool."

So yeah.

Celebrity Sighting: Matthew Modine With Bad Hair.

Aweshummmmm.

Too Short For Short Hair

SM and I had nice, delirious conversations last night. He visited again in order "to get as much sleep as possible" before he goes on tour and has to indulge radio audiences and bar staff and bands he doesn't like.

I played some of my new music for him, and in response to one song, he said "What were you thinking of when you wrote this song?" "Content-wise?" "No, what song were you thinking of?" I said "I wasn't thinking about any song." "Just listen..." he said.

We listened, and I still had no idea what he was talking about.

SM has an amazing ability to be harsh and critical about my music without my feeling sensitive. I love people who have the innate ability to be purely constructive.

He said "You know? That Radiohead song? From The Bends?"

I quickly abandoned My Mundane Life in Song and scrolled through Radiohead songs on my Ipod until we found the song in question.

"Shit," I murmered, and was immediately thrust back into the existential crisis involving familiarity.

It's the same chord progression. Fine. This happens. But. Do I only think things I write sound good because I've heard them before?

And, back to a topic from the earlier post, is it the same with people? Are we only drawn to people because they remind us of something/someone else? Is everything we like/do based on familiarity?

SM thinks its all about familiarity. Regularity. "Everyone does this," he explained, and relayed an anecdote about his current band that threw me into convulsive fits of laughter.

But.

Am I unable to write anything new because things I haven't heard before seem wrong to me?

I am happy, at least, that I ripped off a short Radiohead chord progression, since I still get goosebumps every time I hear any melancholy Radiohead song. It would have been tragic if I'd, for example, accidentally rewritten an Avril Lavigne song.

SM said "Knowing this will help your songwriting."

Yes, but knowing this may also stop my songwriting.

I don't know. I am frazzled and crazed at work and someone I work with has started calling me "Daria."

And then on Monday....

... I walked into work and my computer was dead.

It had a black screen. Whenever I did things that usually help, such as turn it off and then back on, it did this weird sort-of-black screen thing and then said "Insert System Disk to Reconfigure."

I emailed the appropriate people from Bench Buddy's computer. A dude appeared a few hours later, looked at the computer, and said "I am just going to take this away."

Sniff.

He took the body away and I began to weep for Lost Lego People and things I hadn't backed up on the server. Most of my science was saved, but I lost all of my links to random blogs as well as some science programs that require licenses that are going to take a while to reinstall. This is not good. I can't do my work very efficiently.

I am distressed. I've lost a computer at almost every job I've had and usually they save some sort of image of the desktop or history or something. Not here. No. "It's dead" and they take it away without even trying to revive it.

I have been very efficient at the bench throughout all of this, which is good because I am getting slammed at work. I am caught up on projects and have determined that my identity has not been stolen after talking to the IRS, and have determined that I do not owe an additional $1200 in medical bills on top of what I already owe. Now all I have to do is receive my security deposit and I will be a happy girl.

I am going to write out experiments now and not figure out what primers to use for sequencing because all of my files were on my former desktop, and even if I had them, I couldn't read them because I no longer have the extremely priveleged license to do so.

The Weekend Looked Like This....

The weekend was:

Drinks on Bench Buddy's roof, followed by much drunkenness and inadvertent honesty and feeling as though I actually have friends. We went to see The Forms at Lit and I was unimpressed. R was far more unimpressed than I was, to the point where he and Bench Buddy fought. I have never seen Bench Buddy so giddy with delight, which is why I didn't feel like I had to explain how/why I thought it sucked. I just said "Wasn't my scene, sorry."

Saturday was walking in Manhattan. On my way to Eyebeam I saw a truck unloading tropical-looking trees that were "for rent." Eyebeam itself was, well, yeah. Perhaps I don't really care what a color sounds like. I spent my time there either tripping or feeling elated that I didn't bring my parents there last weekend.

Next was the Comic Con. I met E there to see the costume contest, which was adorable (I clapped loudest for The Ghostbusters, who ended up winning, due to authenticity and effort!; the little Anakin kid was, however, the cutest thing ever but I didn't vote for him because I felt that he must have been being exploited by his parents). Aerosith was a disappointment. Prior to their set, I thought "It's going to be really impressive to see people play instruments while in costume!" Apparently that would have been too impressive, since they didn't actually play instruments. They put on a tape and pretended to play. How middle school lip-sync contest of them! Not even, since they were wearing masks.

I then headed to Macy's, where I purchased a dress for The Argentina Wedding! Woo hoo. I did not, however, purchase a wrap since wraps apparently cost more than dresses. I'll just freeze.

I then went home and got 14 hours of sleep.

Sunday was comprised of repeated attempts to go to the MOMA for the Lee Friedlander exhibit that were foiled by my mood or by phone calls. Both the mood and phone calls needed to be dealt with, so the wasted day was worth it. I still haven't caught up on all phone calls, but progress is being made.

SM arrived on Sunday night and we went out and said things like "I forgot how you are..." and "You've changed... and it's good." I drank watermelon martinis with actual pieces of watermelon in them and was feeling hap py until the following morning. D met us and I witnessed his being nervous for the first time ever. It was endearing, and it is good that yet another friend approves.

Which brings me to the week, which I will write about shortly...

What if Christian Slater Was Batman Instead?

Date: 6.19.05
Style: Cheesy and Sounds Like Every Other Song On This Blog!



Description:

I had an hour to kill yesterday while waiting for my friend SM (from MA!) to arrive at my apartment. I thought "What better way to kill time than to write a song about Christian Bale!?"

It's terrible. It's my first attempt at recording piano (no keyboard anymore - sniff sniff) so pardon the hissing in the background. I had to layer 4 piano tracks on top of one another in order to get enough volume to actually hear it.

The song itself is an abomination. But, who can resist a song about Christian Bale?

Lyrics:

Ever since the days of Disney musicals
In which you sold newspapers
You were young, you were misguided,
I was there, I was excited

And now you're Batman

I was there when you were swing dancing, you were a Nazi
And all the girls they were talking about that guy from Dead Poets Society
But I couldn't stop talking about you
I searched for a poster everywhere I went
Just like Gleaming the Cube
I couldn't find either but who cares
Who are those girls talking about now

They're talkin' bout Batman

The critics say you're the best
You'll save the franchise
And then you'll save all of us from Dukes of Hazard
And things like Episode III
The first two hours sucked
But I really liked the last fight
I was psyched when Natalie Portman died
And now I won't have to see it twice

Because I can see Batman

You can chase me down the stairs with a chainsaw any time of day
I'd be your girlfriend if you weighed only 128

I've been there through thick and thin
I even sat through Little Women
I'll be faithful to you Christian

Two decades of evolving fantasies
And now I can think of you as Batman

You're hot as Batman