 |









 |
popfiend | |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
I have to explain my morning commute to you. It starts with the Missus and I driving to the train station. I let her out of the car on the corner next to the garage, then I go park the car while she makes her way to the station. I park the car and then make my way to the train station where I meet her on the platform. When the train comes in we find seats and I start checking my Blackberry (my manager asked me to do this when I moved and I started using commuter rail because now I was above ground rather than on the Subway and I could get a signal - he felt I could get several things off my plate before I got into the office just by answering email, and so I do.) Once that's done I read the newspaper. After reading what interests me, I take a nap. This is a beautiful thing, as I get to sleep until we get into Penn Station which is the final stop. From there I have a 20 minute walk to the office. My walk takes me through Times Square and right by the studios for Good Morning America and then right by NewsCorp/ Fox News. So that should set the stage. Anyway... - Our random morning starts in the car as I'm pulling out of the driveway and I point out a rabbit in front of the neighbors house. Honey, I really hope he's not going to stay in the street like that for too long, because he might not hoppity hoppity out of the wayity wayity in timety timety. Yes, I talk like this.
- Next, as we drive past a TastyKake truck. We've been seeing a lot of those lately. And I know how you feel. They really aren't tasty and you aren't sure if they're actually cake.
- The street in front of the garage near the train station was scheduled to be closed yesterday. Well someone should have told the crew, because they closed it off TODAY. This meant driving around to the other side and losing 5 critical minutes. The end result was me running a full block at FULL SPEED with my briefcase and an EXTRA BAG full of stuff I was bringing into the office as the train comes in. Then I ran up the escalator like a demon. But I did make my train. However, I discovered when I got to the top of the stairs that my lungs hate me. They don't seem to be mad now, but they were very mad at the time. I suspect my quads and calves will express their displeasure with me later today. *OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLD*
- Commuter Nap. Nap is good. Sweet blessed nap. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...Wha?
- Krispy Kreme in Penn Station. YAY! Donuts!!!
- So I'm doing my normal commuter walk, kinda half paying attention to the universe, but locking in on getting to my destination. I stop at a red light on one corner and my eyes wander around the local area. Now there happens to be a tanning salon on the second floor of one of the buildings at this corner, and you can see into the windows. Now as I look up I happen to catch a woman stepping out of one of the rooms to grab something she apparently left outside of the tanning room. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand she's BUCK NEKKID!!! And she's not in a hurry. It's a large window facing a street in NYC and she's NEKKID as a jaybird. Oh, wait...there's a thong. OK...she's might as well be BUCK NEKKID!!! And so I did what any red blooded American male would do. I noted the incident and said to myself I can't wait until I get to the office so I can post about it!!! What?!?!?
- McDonald's was advertising this site outside of the GMA studios: http://whatcamefirst.com/danceoff/intro.php - apparently it's National Dance Like a Chicken Day. O_o WTF?!?!?!
I have now had my donuts and my English Breakfast tea and I am ready to attack my day. Life at this moment...is good. Hope it's the same for you. Peace, - popfiendBTW, aside from your comments on the post, I'd LOVE to hear your commuter stories. Share if you feel comfortable. Tags: random Current Location: The 212 mood: good music: Mike & Mike in the Morning
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |

 |
thebeatblog | |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
http://pwbeat.publishersweekly.com/blog/2008/05/14/rip-robert-rauschenberg/ 
Legendary Abstract Expressionist Robert Rauschenberg has died at age 82.
A painter, photographer, printmaker, choreographer, onstage performer, set designer and, in later years, even a composer, Mr. Rauschenberg defied the traditional idea that an artist stick to one medium or style. He pushed, prodded and sometimes reconceived all the mediums in which he worked.
Building on the legacies of Marcel Duchamp, Kurt Schwitters, Joseph Cornell and others, he helped obscure the lines between painting and sculpture, painting and photography, photography and printmaking, sculpture and photography, sculpture and dance, sculpture and technology, technology and performance art — not to mention between art and life.

We were lucky enough to see the Guggenheim retrospective of his work ten years ago, and to our eye, no artist so encompassed multi media with such authority, building sheer nonsense to pure beauty. In particular, we often think of his installation “Soundings”:
Soundings is a 36 foot long sculpture made up of three layers of Plexiglas. The front layer would be partially mirrorized and behind are two layers of Plexiglas with images of a wooden chair on them. Different lights behind the sheets of Plexiglas would vary in intensity based upon the amount of sound in the room and backlight the images so they would be visible through the mirror.
Viewers would stomp and shout as fleeting images of the chairs flashed and danced. It sounds like complete twaddle, we know, but as you became part of the art with your own motions and sounds, something even more amazing emerged. He was a fantasist, a visionary, and whatever this post modern world is, he’s a big part of the good in it.

|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |



 |
batwrangler | |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
I just dropped the little dog off at Dr. K's to have his teeth cleaned, which makes me mildly anxious because it involves anesthesia, but he's a Maltese and needs regular dental care.
ETA: Cleaning was uneventful and he is yodeling as he emerges from anethesia (the vet's office called and I could hear him seranading them in the background, poor boy). I can pick him up around noon.
Kameko had her annual vet apt Monday, and is doing pretty well for a 14-year-old cat. Everyone at Dr. B's was surprised at what a brazen strumpet she is: so long as you (meaning anyone) rub her cheeks and generally makes much of her, she's as mushy as a queen in heat and doesn't care what else you do to her. "Clearly she hasn't read the tortie manual," was the universal reaction to her.
I've been insanely, but prosaically, busy the last two+ weeks, and too tired to spend much time online.
Tomorrow, I will most likely observe the second anniversary of my mother's death by staying home and catching up on house work. Mom would probably be pleased.
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |

|