I cannot hold myself, because I lack discipline in the supreme, to my new rule.
I give in. I've been making excuses all day. And the day before, and before that, and before that.
I really hope to be able to re-start the project at some point soon. Not sure when yet, but, we'll see.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Good People
First off, I’m a comic book geek. Every Wednesday, I try to make my way out to my comic store all the far-as-hell-away in Astoria (and sometimes I make it, sometimes not). But that's not what this is about. This is about Ronny.
Ronny is the nomadic comic book dealer who drives from coast to coast to sell, as he puts it, "Funny Books," but that's not all he is. He's a genuinely nice guy who really will give you the shirt off his back (I've seen it). He's a great guy to be around, life-of-party-type, can drink like a blessed reservoir, and is a great cook.
Yesterday, at the shop, he decided that he wanted to cook pasta. It turned out that he only had seven dollars on him, and since he was cooking not for himself, but for all of us, we gave him another $10 (really, we gave him more, but he only took the ten, saying that it was enough). Within an hour, he came back with a tray of pasta and sausage. And it was fucking delicious. And it cost him $13.73 all together.
This blows my mind. (Ronny's also been known to make a mean three-foot sandwich with about six bucks.) Every now and then, it's horrifically easy to forget, for me, at least, that 1) it's easier (though not for me) and cheaper to cook rather than to go out and buy food, and that 2) there are people who are nice enough to go out and work what is to me a miracle with $15 to cook up a delicious two pounds of pasta with four pounds of sausage.
The joys are in the small things and I know that it's all to easy to forget them too often.
Ronny is the nomadic comic book dealer who drives from coast to coast to sell, as he puts it, "Funny Books," but that's not all he is. He's a genuinely nice guy who really will give you the shirt off his back (I've seen it). He's a great guy to be around, life-of-party-type, can drink like a blessed reservoir, and is a great cook.
Yesterday, at the shop, he decided that he wanted to cook pasta. It turned out that he only had seven dollars on him, and since he was cooking not for himself, but for all of us, we gave him another $10 (really, we gave him more, but he only took the ten, saying that it was enough). Within an hour, he came back with a tray of pasta and sausage. And it was fucking delicious. And it cost him $13.73 all together.
This blows my mind. (Ronny's also been known to make a mean three-foot sandwich with about six bucks.) Every now and then, it's horrifically easy to forget, for me, at least, that 1) it's easier (though not for me) and cheaper to cook rather than to go out and buy food, and that 2) there are people who are nice enough to go out and work what is to me a miracle with $15 to cook up a delicious two pounds of pasta with four pounds of sausage.
The joys are in the small things and I know that it's all to easy to forget them too often.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The New Project
So, here's the deal:
-For the last month, I've been exercising. Haha, but yes. I have started working out. Not too much, but enough to make me feel better. I figured I'd have to do something, because, you know, I've been drunk for the last...five months and counting. So yes, I exercise every morning.
-I read every day. Reading online just does not really count, not in this case, but I read print every day.
With these two things in mind, I decided that I'd start writing every day (work stuff does not count), and that I'd write about the city I live in. 300 words a day. And today's the first. So, here we go...
***
Today, I didn't go to work. Instead, I called in sick and spent most of the day sleeping. Once I'd gotten my shit together, and by together I mean drank my two cups of coffee and smoked myself some cigarettes, I went out into the world, because I had things to do.
I live by Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, and I walk it every single day in order to get to the train. Today, as I walked it, the sun was already down, as it happens because when it's after six o'clock in the evening it happens to be early January, the sun's gone.
I walked down Eastern Parkway, and I realized how few people there actually were on it. Eastern Parkway is a two-way, three-lane (each) road that runs approximately from the eastern edge of Brooklyn to the western edge.
And what traverses down this road? Cars. Lots of cars. And only--for the overwhelming majority, despite the fact that everyone says that nobody drives in this city--cars. Long, long chains of cars; one ever-flowing string of white lights moving towards me, sometimes at alarmingly high speeds, and one string away, going god-knows-where, but never really stopping.
I don't have a license. I know how to drive, but the reality of the situation is that I drive like an old woman--I get scared when I have to make the car move faster than 25 miles per hour. That said, I've been on Eastern Parkway a few times in a car. It acts like a highway, never really slowing down for anyone, or anything, unless it has to, and if you're going to jay-walk, you'd better be careful, because, lord, they really don't give a shit about pedestrian right-of-way. They're out for blood. Watch it.
***
And there we go.
-For the last month, I've been exercising. Haha, but yes. I have started working out. Not too much, but enough to make me feel better. I figured I'd have to do something, because, you know, I've been drunk for the last...five months and counting. So yes, I exercise every morning.
-I read every day. Reading online just does not really count, not in this case, but I read print every day.
With these two things in mind, I decided that I'd start writing every day (work stuff does not count), and that I'd write about the city I live in. 300 words a day. And today's the first. So, here we go...
***
Today, I didn't go to work. Instead, I called in sick and spent most of the day sleeping. Once I'd gotten my shit together, and by together I mean drank my two cups of coffee and smoked myself some cigarettes, I went out into the world, because I had things to do.
I live by Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, and I walk it every single day in order to get to the train. Today, as I walked it, the sun was already down, as it happens because when it's after six o'clock in the evening it happens to be early January, the sun's gone.
I walked down Eastern Parkway, and I realized how few people there actually were on it. Eastern Parkway is a two-way, three-lane (each) road that runs approximately from the eastern edge of Brooklyn to the western edge.
And what traverses down this road? Cars. Lots of cars. And only--for the overwhelming majority, despite the fact that everyone says that nobody drives in this city--cars. Long, long chains of cars; one ever-flowing string of white lights moving towards me, sometimes at alarmingly high speeds, and one string away, going god-knows-where, but never really stopping.
I don't have a license. I know how to drive, but the reality of the situation is that I drive like an old woman--I get scared when I have to make the car move faster than 25 miles per hour. That said, I've been on Eastern Parkway a few times in a car. It acts like a highway, never really slowing down for anyone, or anything, unless it has to, and if you're going to jay-walk, you'd better be careful, because, lord, they really don't give a shit about pedestrian right-of-way. They're out for blood. Watch it.
***
And there we go.
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