Gary's dull Halloween

This is perhaps my most dull Halloween...EVER? I had every intention of goin in to witness the insanity in the Village...then, I dunno...the logistics of it just started to grate on my nerves. It really DOES suck sometimes living on the other side of the Hudson. There's a SCREAM mask in my pocket...I could walk around town with that on after I leave the library. Yes, i'm again at the fucking library. Had to at least get out of my apartment. But I didn't dress up at all. Didn't see the parade. Didn't stop by mom and dad's to...um, get the nostalgic feeling of kids coming to the door? They don't seem to come to my door...and even if they did, i'm not fucking running up and down 3 flights constantly. I guess I haven't advanced to Full Adulthood yet...where you hand out candy on Halloween. And so, I'll walk around a bit, perhaps get a pumpkin latte from Dunkin Donuts (?), go home and devour my caramel apple, and watch the glorious costumed freaks on the news. Yeah, I wish I'd gone...but it's done. I didn't. Dull, dull, dull! I'm ASHAMED of myself!! BOO!

What's with the same-time intersection entering?!

I've been meaning to bitch about this for ages. I am SO bloody (an adjective ideal for Halloween, no?) fucking tired of entering an intersection at the SAME time the LONE other person does. Example...i'm flying down the street on my bike, come to the intersection, and in the EXACT 5 second time frame that it would take for me to sail effortlessly onward, there's a fucking car crossing my path...the ONLY FUCKING CAR AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE. The rest of the opposing street is completely devoid of traffic. This leads to me coming to an irritating halt, cursing out loud, rolling my eyes, and having to start my bike momentum ALL over again. There's countless examples...the one pedestrian in sight when i'm driving, the one car coming exactly when I wanna cross a street on foot. I'll be walking down a street and see no traffic at the corner for 2, 3 minutes...until I get there. Fucking infuriating. ANYthing that impedes Gary's progress fills him with rage. **On a somewhat related note, while Asians as a rule can't drive, when they're on FOOT, they are EQUALLY infuriating...for how FAST they come up behind me. Yes, the total opposite in every way of what usually grates on my nerves. A FAST- walking ASIAN annoying SLOWER-walking ME. I have to throw myself against a building to let them by. Are they rushing to their...cars?

Goodbye, form-fitting brown shirt from '97!

It was an Old Navy short-sleeve...looked SO good on me in the summers of '97 and '98...the brown perfectly complementing my LBI-tanned skin, the fit of the shirt effortlessly highlighting my gym-honed striking musculature. Yum...I was HOT! And then it kinda got put out to pasture, but I couldn't let go of it. Is that odd? Being emotionally connected to clothing? For TEN years, it has sat in my dresser taking up valuable room. Until now. I've let go, trying it on one last time before relegating it to the used-clothes pile for the Vets to pick up at mom and dad's. I pray someone ELSE can get the same vain joy out of it that I did! It's still in perfect condition, this cheap little shirt from Old Navy. Kinda funny...I used to shop at Old Navy ALL the time back then...but shunned it for years until recently rediscovering it again...to a smaller degree. But enough of that, this blog is all about how FUCKING HOT I LOOKED IN MY BROWN, TIGHT-FITTING SHIRT. Sigh. Of course, I STILL look pretty good...

I'm a jerk

This from my mother after a fight over arugula. Yes, that's right. ARUGULA. I'm bursting with creative things to write now about MANY things, but I have to leave this insane asylum otherwise known as my parents' before someone gets hurt. Arugula. *Memo to myself...i'm actually in a GREAT mood, feeling 100% for the first time in like 2 weeks. Stiff neck FINALLY gone! I'll probably get the flu tomorrow...

RUN GRANNY RUN

This HBO documentary is remarkable. More to the point, this WOMAN...Doris "Granny D" Haddock...is remarkable. Inspirational in countless ways. The thing I can't get over...at 89, she walked across the country to support campaign finance reform. I repeat...SHE WALKED ACROSS THE COUNTRY AT AGE 89. Oh, yes, and she has EMPHYSEMA. Lazy ass fucks a third of her age bitch and moan about parking too far from the bar. If you're feeling down or that you can't accomplish something, watch this film and see things in a new light.

My newest grim online hobby...

Viewing the state police's UNIDENTIFIED BODIES list. Go have fun yourself...http://www.state.nj.us/njsp/miss/ui_counties.html. I definitely have some bizarre attraction to seedy, desperately lonely areas of life...I'm not sure where the fuck I get this from...though I'm not so bad that i'm buying serial killer shit on Ebay. Though I AM fascinated how killers become such...in the sense that i'd LOVE to explore their childhood...were they evil then? But I digress. Now in my defense, I didn't wake up this weekend wondering where I could view summaries and sometimes photos of corpses. There was a front page story on it in the Hoboken Reporter...part of their "fun" 3-part Halloween-season series of "spooky" things. Note to the Reporter staff...this really isn't in the same league as rumored haunted houses. This is grim, depressing shit...and yet, there I went ripping out the website from the paper with an almost giddy attitude, anxious to get to a computer to access potential pictures of dead bodies. Yeah, I have a dark mind. But I know i'm not the only one. Besides, as the article pointed out, the hope was that people WOULD go to the website and maybe, JUST MAYBE, help identify at least ONE of these people. And there are MANY people unclaimed by another living soul. They sit in the morgue for a bit, then are buried. Can you fathom this? No, I can't, either. How can NO ONE come forward to report a loved one missing? There's a guy found in 1981 (!) who still hasn't been ID'd. My God, how sad is that? The whole exercise is about the most depressing thing I can imagine...and yet I keep clicking on case after case...admittedly hoping to see increasingly ghoulish images. And some of these pics are VERY disturbing. It's human nature, I think...the curiousity about death. Maybe I should've been a medical examiner? As I've said in many other grim situations, I actually take something positive from it...namely, that i'm alive. And that MANY people would care enough to report me missing. *A final odd note...a man found in North Bergen in 1989 had a left inguinal hernia. Yup, that's what I have. Shudder.

I'm not a neapolitan kinda guy

I love ice cream. LOVE it. I'd say you can find it in my fridge about 350 days out of the year. But i'm bored by normal flavors. I yearn for "seasonal" or "limited edition" options. As much as I DO like vanilla, i'm not a "vanilla" type of personality. Yeah, I had to get that in there. Christ, at the very least, there should be some kind of "excitement and daring" in your ice cream flavors. Life's too short. So tonight I picked up Black Raspberry...not what I wanted really, but it's good...i've had it before. It's still too balmy for me to get into "pumpkin," though they didn't have it anyway. Oh, i'm forgetting to share that I also take sale dates into account. Gary demands freshness. Ice cream on October 21st ideally should have a sale date of at LEAST September '08. Any earlier than 9 months ahead is "eh" in my book. I could write an entire blog on Ideal Sale Dates for every item in the supermarket, but let's focus on ice cream for now. So part of the reason I picked black raspberry is due to its late Sept '08 sale date. Isn't this fucking fascinating? Such a productive use of your time...and mine.

Something else to know about me...

I don't like post-party questions. Anything beyond "how was the party?" agitates greatly. Who was there? What did they have to eat? Was it catered? Who's this? Who's that? Why did they do that? Did they like the gift? What did they SAY about THIS? Why? Who? How? Where? When? What? I HAVE NO FUCKING BLOODY PATIENCE FOR THIS. I'm tipsy, i'm tired, I don't want to FUCKING TALK. If that makes me a bloody hard-to-deal-with bastard, so be it. *For the record, I had a WONDERFUL time at today's baptism for Silas. Jesus loves all of us even more than He did 12 hours ago.

Local On The 8s: The Album

You can now purchase an album of the Weather Channel's local forecast music. Yes, that's right, there's apparently a market for this. Really. Now i'm only half-mocking this, because anyone who knows me well knows that I LOVE The Weather Channel...and, yes, that includes the intoxicating, trance-inducing lull of the local forecast. Sadly, I'm equally sedated by the announcer's voice...can THAT become an album, too? You know, a collection of regional local forecast voiceovers? Few things more soothing than hearing "currently, the temperature is 60 degrees under sunny skies." And I get to eye the dew point, humidity, wind speed and direction...it's truly like porn. MMMM...dew point.

Regis & Kelly...a student production?

I've thought this for years...this show truly is like a slightly larger scale college TV show. It's so incredibly low-rent. Stunning to me that it's considered so genius and A-list...yet inspiring at the same time. And am I the only one who recalls when Regis was considered like a C-level local TV celebrity? I'm going back like 20 years, but still.

A new library low

So the main computer area's totally filled up...for the first time EVER...so i'm shuffled off to this side room. I now sit RIGHT next to the unisex bathroom. I mean it's 4 feet to my right. I hear everything you can imagine hearing. And, wait, now SMELL, too. And the guy who just went in...the semi-slow youngish employee...proceeded to then have a cellphone chat while, I assume from the smell, on the bowl. With his unseen nag of a wife, i'm guessing. I know he's married from a previous insipid front desk loud cell chat over returning something for his daughter that doesn't fit to a Jersey City mall store. Um, THIS guy has SEX? Shoot me now. Am I just DESTINED to be put upon in EVERY situation I set foot in? This is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE. Can SOMEONE find me a FUCKING CORD!!!!!!

So here's my issue with THE OFFICE...

It's fake. Real human beings don't remotely act the way Steve Carell and most other characters do. There's a glimmer of a real workplace situation with 2 or 3 characters -- I'm thinking Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski and that uppity blonde (who's MOST amusing in real life on talk shows...a new Bonnie Hunt) -- but most are like cartoon characters, like some insipid SNL sketch. A shining example of what I mean occurred 2 episodes ago when Carell deliberately drove his car into a lake because that's what the GPS told him to do. Again, he DELIBERATELY DROVE HIS CAR INTO A LAKE. Now i've bitched about the idiot public's reliance on these systems before, so there's definitely room for satire here. But in MY universe...if I was the one writing this show...the person in the PASSENGER seat would be insisting on the genius of the GPS, and I'd be screaming profanities at him...something like "so there's NO fucking road here, dipshit...you want me to drive into the lake? Is THAT what you fucking want? OK, fine, we'll go into the lake...the GPS MUST be right!" Then at the last minute, I wouldn't go into the lake as maybe the passenger started screaming "NOOOOOOOOO, OK, OK, I believe you...you're right, you're right!" That's how NORMAL people would act. They wouldn't ACTUALLY drive into a lake. It's idiocy. And it's why I find this show ridiculously overhyped. The British version is MUCH more like REAL LIFE. It's the same reason I never got into WILL & GRACE...Karen and Jack...have you EVER met real people like them? And when you don't buy people, you don't have genuine affection for their characters. You JUST don't care. Give me REALITY, please. You can be "out there" or a complete idiot and still be relatable as a human being.

Bruce rouses my juices

Sounds vaguely sexual, I know. In keeping with my previous post about my unpublished gem, I've been thinking a lot about writing over the past 10 days...ever since Bruce's MAGIC came out. There's just been so many interviews and reviews, and the thing I always love about him is how he's pretty open about inviting the public to see his creative process. And I LOVE The Creative Process. I LOVE seeing how things come together. Particularly with writing...and when you think about it, ANY form of entertainment ALL comes down to WRITING. Beyond books or songs...a good TV show, movie or play is about the WRITING. It's like what I wrote previously about one little word or image...and how it can spark a CLASSIC in an instant. This week, I also caught Cyndi Lauper on VH1 discussing where the title TIME AFTER TIME came from...are you ready?...flipping through TV Guide. She needed a title and so she casually opened TV Guide to look for inspiration. Presto...one of the classic ballads of our time is born. Things like that just fascinate me. This is where I get pretentious...but I truly do have an artist's viewpoint on things. I see inspiration and beauty and impetus for life change EVERYWHERE, every day. I'm an observer, always have been. People peg me as a profane center-of-attention type...and I am. Dare I get even more pretentious and announce how COMPLICATED I am? I'd be SO not happy just sitting in a room alone writing all the time. The tug and pull between quiet introspection and audacious showperson is actually common to MANY performers, especially certain writers...musicians especially. I've long cursed my lack of a singing voice...being a rock star would be PERFECT!! Ugh. Why, Lord, WHY can't I have a good voice?! Music videos would be my PERFECT outlet, too. I think they're ideal for provoking thought...short and sweet. Think of Johnny Cash's HURT video...honestly, one of the most powerful things I've ever seen in pop culture. Holy Christ, I'm rambling. In conclusion, thank you, Bruce, for again inspiring me. I'll be leafing through your endlessly fascinating SONGS book later on, which I haven't picked up in too long of a time.

My brilliant unpublished poem/song

It's always interesting to me how the mind works...what you wake up thinking about...what image, word, phrase triggers thoughts of years-ago. I GUESS, now that I think about it, it's yesterday's "anniversary" of a certain event that made me think about what I wrote in response to it...11 years ago. It remains one of my proudest writing achievements...and it simply FLOWED from my pen...didn't take long at all to compose. Trouble is, it's sitting in a drawer, dark to the world. I NEED to publish this somewhere. I'd like to write it here, but I worry about copyright issues and someone stealing it. I'd finally have my aneurysm if I heard MY words on the radio. I guess I CAN at least tell you the title. HA...sigh, and again i'll be pegged as a rage-filled loon...it's called I HATE YOU.

Carson Daly + comedy skits = ulcer inducing torture

I mean, honestly...I'm still amazed he has his own talk show...NOW he's regularly trying to do actual SKITS? Like he's fucking JOHNNY Carson. First Name Carson, you're NO Last Name Carson. Hell, you're not even Pat Sajak. PLEASE, I beg of you, stick to your stultifyingly dull "interviews" with interchangeable blonde, talent-free sluts, and leave comedy skits to the pros! I don't need to be so agitated at 2am. He MUST know how unfunny he is? Maybe it's the usual dipshit producers at fault? Forcing it upon him? Good God, who knows. It just HAS to stop! By the way, forgive me if i've already blogged about this to some extent. I remind you that I don't have a salivating lackey tallying my every word and idea, making sure I don't repeat myself. Though that's certainly a goal of mine...

A very special FUCK YOU to the Hoboken Police Dept

So my car's dead. I put a note on it saying so, and when AAA will tow it. You think I DON'T get a ticket? What, pray tell, does one do in such a situation to AVOID a ticket? Should I have slept in the car overnight and totally dedicated my Tuesday to waiting for Mr. Traffic Cop to come by to give him an in-person demonstration of my key turning in the ignition and zippo happening? FUCK THEM. Yet another piece of life's bullshit. NOTHING is easy. NOWHERE can I find common sense and courtesy. So, once again, Hoboken Police Dept...GO FUCK YOURSELVES!

Seriously, they should just build a coffee bar at this library

And maybe pipe in some easy listening music. James Blunt, Sarah McLachlan, the new Annie Lennox album...people like that. In fact, just convert it to a bookstore. Because it CERTAINLY doesn't resemble the SHHHHHHH! idea of a library I grew up with. I'm in the mood to bitch...let's see what else I can come up with...

Today's "Let Gary's Day Be Ruined So Others Can Learn This Valuable Lesson" Lesson

I've still got to get out my thinking cap and charts and graphs and diaries to figure all of it out...but whether or not it USED to be this way or not, AAA does NOT currently cover a person driving someone else's car unless YOU'RE a member...even if you have the other person's membership card in hand. Instead, the person whose membership it is (in my case, daddy) MUST BE PRESENT at the scene of Said Disabled Car. Yeah, so, like, if daddy was in Hawaii and I was driving his car and it broke down on 1&9 by Newark Airport at 3am, and I had HIS AAA card...apparently the car would have to sit there until daddy got home...and I'd risk death by Blood or Crip by walking home from there. No, that's NOT what happened today...but it could have last year. So now we're all feeling pretty dense. Especially me, as I pride myself on being an overall genius. And I DID have my own membership for years, so I should've known this. I'm just beyond baffled at my stupidity...riding around for ages with a complete false sense of security. Ugh. Thank GOD, though, that I never broke down in the dead of night miles from dad's residence. Holy FUCKING catastrophe averted! *I will now be getting my own card again ASAP, and I've also learned that AAA WILL get you on the Parkway or Turnpike (a longstanding family debate)...but only a certified tow truck can come get you to drag you off the road...then you'll have to call AAA a second time to be towed ALL the way home. Whatever...as long as i'm not trapped in Linden at 3am. So, see, this experience has actually brought about positive change and relevant information. Glad I could share it all with you. Things could've been MUCH, MUCH worse.

KEANSBURG, NJ's desolate boardwalk

So my Saturday night took an interesting turn when I decided -- after a glorious few hours lounging on the BEACH in early October -- to investigate the Keansburg, NJ boardwalk I haven't been to in years. It literally felt like August outside...it wasn't one of those more typical "warm during the day, but quickly cooling off after dusk" autumn days. It was BALMY...especially surprising being right by the water. I was wearing a sleeveless tee at night and not remotely cool.

My HOW WARM IT WAS set-up has a point...how utterly SURREAL it was to be strolling the amusement park by Raritan Bay when most EVERYTHING was shuttered. And on a Saturday night, too. And only at 8pm. Where the fuck WAS everyone?! I mean, it was like a ghost town. They had two game places open...you know, with skeeball and and other games where you add up points to buy some piece of shit. And the way it's set up...you have to go through the one game place to get to the "boardwalk." It's not technically a boardwalk. You can't even see the bay...which is a narrow parking lot and one large sand dune away. But still, the effect is genuine. But there I was...LITERALLY the only person "on the boardwalk." It actually would've been a good place to be killed, it was so deserted. They had imported palm trees stuffed into planters. I proceeded to stand on a bench and rip 3 fronds from one...and i'm not sure why. I mean, now it just looks like I got back from Palm Sunday mass. I'm just always so taken with palm trees. I also permanently bent the one branch...I hope they don't have video cams and come after me somehow for destroying public property. The video would surely be amusing...the man with the hernia nervously jerking on a palm tree branch to obtain a couple fronds, while standing on a bench under cover of darkness. This is what i'm reduced to on Saturday nights.

Anyway, I used to go to Keansburg as a little kid. It was kinda the closer -- and likely cheaper -- alternative to going all the way to Seaside or Point Pleasant for a boardwalk. I can't say I have specific memories...I just remember "going there." I mean, we're talking YOUNG...while my grandmother was still alive, and she died when I was eight. So the town always will be special to me...and going back there, while most interesting, was certainly a little depressing in the whole "passage of time" aspect. But it was also sad in a general "end of summer" way...I guess, like any beach town can be in the off-season. But that's what was so strange...how it FELT just like August, yet LOOKED like the aftermath of a mass evacuation. Was there NO incentive to open at least a couple rides on a 75 degree, muggy Saturday night, a mere month after Labor Day? Eh, whatever...it worked out for me. Got to stare, absorb, stroll slowly, mercilessly rip palm fronds. I also ascended a massive sand dune to reach the bay beach, with its stunning views of NYC and gently lapping tiny waves. And the bay smell. It really was an incredible little sidetrip. Brief, but wonderful. I'd have loved to have gotten a bayside beer somewhere...but, alas, Gary has no local or available friends to call for such an impromptu endeavor. Heavy sigh. I see solo bar trips becoming a part of my near future. And so, once again, Monmouth County, NJ is the backdrop for one of my soul-searching, entertaining, SOLO car jaunts.

Let me tell you something fundamental to Knowing Gary...

Do NOT fucking repeat yourself. I heard you once. The first time. I absolutely detest having to answer the same questions or respond to the same thoughts more than once. Basically, I don't like opening my fucking mouth more than I need to. May surprise people who know me as Gregarious Gary, but if you REALLY know me -- and perhaps few do -- you know that i'm the type who is perfectly FINE with long silences on a long car ride. I like peace and quiet if i'm not in a social setting. If i'm reading, I don't want to fucking engage in chit chat. If i'm trying to write an email or surf the net, I want silence. If i'm alone in my thoughts on a beach, on a walk, in the forest, even on the subway...STEER CLEAR of me. Do not EVER talk to me during a movie or TV show or I may finally snap and punch you in the face. So, no, I do NOT, for example, need to be told 5 times in 2 hours to take home some tomatoes. I HEARD YOU the FUCKING FIRST TIME! So don't get PISSY when I talk to you "that way." And don't act like I'M the one with the problem, that I'M the one with an attitude, that I'M a nasty human being in need of an attitude adjustment. Ugh. This day's been agitating since BEFORE I got out of bed. I need a soothing trip to a well-stocked, imbecile-free supermarket...

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

I don't know that I relate more to a song title than I do this one. Unless there's one called "I Don't KNOW What I'm Looking For"??

It occurs to me more and more...

...that, say, by some grace of God this blog of mine were compiled for publishing...well, I'd offend and alienate a ton of people I knew, along with endless celebrities. And I DO use "celebrities" loosely. Not just mildly insult them, but likely infuriate. Maybe to the point of slander lawsuits. Hmm. No, I won't be getting kinder and gentler. Just saying. Hmm. Oh, look, the smelly retarded girl has just sauntered into the library again. Christ, can someone fucking dump her in a tub? Or at the very least smash a bottle of perfume over her head before she leaves the house? Does she have NO caretakers who detect her corpse-like scent?

Springsteen's MAGIC

Ugh, what I went through just to fetch a first-day copy of the new album by one of my FEW all-time faves. With a hernia. On a bike. Up and down hills. Dirt paths. A treacherous 1&9. Wouldn't have been so fucking taxing if nearby motherfucking Circuit City, located in Latino headquarters Union City EVER had a first day album available by a goddamn white artist. OK, so I DID see Matchbox Twenty and John Fogerty. Maybe it's nothing to do with Latinos and everything to do with poor stocking of surefire #1 albums? All I know is i'm fucking aggravated over what I had to endure. Of course, Best Buy -- where I got the album -- also was selling it for $9.99...so if Circuit City was ANY more expensive, I would've gone to Best Buy anyway. If you're late to my CD pricing rant...you're a fucking moron if you pay any more than $13 TOPS for any regular album. And i'm being generous there. Usually ALL new albums are $9.99 at Best Buy or Walmart and a few other places. Oh, wait, some reading this are too fucking hip to actually buy albums anymore...they'll just download a single or three. God, what i'd do to become as cool as you are. Oh, wait, i've gotten off track...back to the album. Um, well, i'm only into my 2nd listening right now...and it's...OK. Nope, i'm not ready to call this A MASTERPIECE and his best work since BORN TO RUN...both of which Entertainment Weekly said. There ARE a few songs that instantly grabbed me. With me, it's all very simple...gimme hooks, hooks, and more hooks. Rock me hard or make me misty-eyed with melancholy. Both of which you can do with HOOKS. I've loved first single RADIO NOWHERE since I first heard it on the radio...wish more of the album was as hard rocking as this one. I also like YOU'LL BE COMIN' DOWN, LONG WALK HOME, and the perfectly dreamy GIRLS IN THEIR SUMMER CLOTHES off the top of my head. And it's great to hear much more of Clarence's sax than you have in years. Don't get me wrong...I'm really liking the album and it'll be THE album constantly in my player for months on end...until new Madonna. Poor Foo Fighters only had a week of permanent residence. Just wish I was screaming from the mount how much you MUST get this album NOW! I think my expectations are always so damn high. But, listen, there's not a dud on the thing. And it's comforting. Comforting that an artist who I listened to religiously when I was 12 is still commercially and critically relevant 2 decades later. When so much (often depressing) change is going on around me, old reliable musicians make me smile and think SOME things are still right with the world. My two-listen grade (liable to change): B+

Miss Fluffernutter

This is the name of the 5th grade teacher in Madonna's series of books for kiddies. I just saw this before as I fingered through so many things at Barnes. So, I ask...she MUST mean this as an inside joke, right? FLUFFER? NUTTER? Together as one name? This canNOT be an innocently thought-up name. Oh, if only the sweet, precious tots knew the dark, edgy complexities comprising the mind of the mistress of erotica...she of such images as skinhead lesbian rape fantasies. Ahhhh.