Behind the Curve
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
So far, so...
Every single entrance to the 86th St. subway station was manned by a pair of police officers this morning. This was more alarming than reasuring, but then I am easily frightened.
One of them was about my height. Since this is just under 4'11", I'm not sure if I was overwhelmed with confidence, but no doubt she's a tougher man than I. I wonder (idly) if Neal ever passed whatever test it was he was studying for (to be a detective, maybe?), and if all 6'3" of him is out there guarding something, even as I type. I remember the showerhead in his bath was fixed in an unusual position, sort of centered over the long side of the tub. A sort of alternate dimension, Queens.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Talk me down, will you?
I am bored and I feel fat and I want to run. Maybe not kick. Kicking, in which you have to fully extend your limbs, preferably in an explosive manner with some whipping action, seems a bit frightening still. Running, at 6 miles per hour or less, on a nice, cushy, utterly predictable treadmill seems much safer in comparison.
But my knee is almost not sore and almost not swollen and I have only one more day of Celebrex pills left to take.
I ran for 15 whole minutes on Saturday, with almost no ill effect.
OK, OK. One more day
To my parents: If I promised you that I wouldn't take the subway while the Republican National Convention was in town, I'm sorry that I broke my promise. I don't remember if I promised that or not. I know you wanted me to, but on Monday mornings, I really don't have the time to wait for slow, slow buses in the open air.
Also, I dislike buses, daylight, dawdling, traffic lights when they are red. I like the subways because they are fast and I feel like I'm underwater.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
28 Days Later...
Funny, but on the Coupland thing... Since I have previously read Life After God and Girlfriend in a Coma like a good fangirl, I'm used to his visions of and metaphors for nuclear cataclysm. I'm 27, and I grew up really without fear of radiation and burning. Instead, I fear plague. I fear Stephen King's The Stand, Ebola Zaire, avian flu, pandemics, SARS, crashing and bleeding out, that story with the throat spray and the planes and the mad scientist feeding the birds.
And how casually Coupland writes, "Honey, everybody has AIDS."
Great! I guess we're officially post-Prozac, then. Maybe I'll take up drinking.
Yay!
I can now step down from a sidewalk curb without an involuntary scream of pain. And my knee, though slightly swollen, is no longer cutting off the circulation to the rest of my leg. Yay! I feel incredibly fat now, but the scale at the gym says I'm only 111 lbs. Must be losing muscle mass.
Saw my personal trainer act in a Roman comedy (The Eunich, oddly enough performed at the same theater in which Rho and I saw "Puppetry of the Penis," but I digress). I have to say, maybe I would have enjoyed it more had it not been a Roman comedy. It was kind of funny seeing all these people with New York accents (watch, they're probably all from California or NJ), wearing Birkenstocks and togas and waving around plastic swords. Wow, are my trainer's legs white! He is, of course, very built, but his legs are blindingly, shockingly pale. Very un-Roman, I would think, the UV-phobia of the year 2004. Not that he wasn't good. He was good. You can tell that everyone was working really hard.
Finished reading Polaroids from the Dead. Finished reading The Dark Tower: Song of Susannah. They were both OK. Douglas Coupland comes across as lonely. Is he married yet, to a man or a woman? Anti-marriage like everyone else I know? I have to say, if Bill Gates found a wife, Douglas Coupland should have by now at least found somebody.
Quin called early this afternoon, and we commiserated about injuries. Watched an Olympic boxing match (there's a Phantom weight division? Did I hear that right?). Cuba won; no one's ear got bitten off. Followed with an episode of Powerpuff Girls (what the hell is my problem?), and then I read an article in the NY Times about crystal meth abuse in the gay community.
There's a huge protest march going on downtown (thanks, GOP), and now I'm going to look for AA batteries for my radio, in case lower Manhattan blows up and I need it for the friggin' "Go Bag."
Thursday, August 26, 2004
As the hills
Ha! The clinic has given me arthritis medication for my knee. From this I must deduce that I am very old, as well as fat.
Oh, and the doctor who saw me (he was very nice) was named Dr. Fallus. This is kind of funny.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
But think of the children
Funny, but when Marianne said, "Are all your male coworkers really excited about the new Catwoman movie?" and I said no, she was surprised, because all her coworkers were hot to see it. But truthfully, the trailers looked HORRIBLE, and none of the guys here would pay to see the movie. Just goes to show that the guys in the porn shop have much better standards of taste than most 3rd grade schoolteachers.
Ow ow ow
Wow, my knee is really swollen! Doesn’t hurt much, but won’t really bend or straighten out. Stairs are problematic. I wonder if it would be okay to go running if I take care not to extend my stride too much.
Monday, August 23, 2004
The Girl with the Most Cake
Piri’s 2nd degree test was pretty decent. When the time came for her to fight 2 on 1, I looked to the back of the room, and saw John G., a blue belt, Kathryn, and Piri’s husband Anthony all geared up and ready to fight. Kathryn was almost jumping up and down saying "Pick me! Pick me!" – but alas, the honor went to John and the blue belt. Oh, and I was called upon to spar a 12-year-old boy. Sadly, the 12-year-old boy is taller and heavier than I am, but what can you do?
Later, we had dinner at the usual Korean haunt, and then we had cake to celebrate Piri’s birthday. Piri, being older and wiser than I, didn’t want to take cake home, so I got to eat 3 and a half slices of two kinds of cake. I love birthday parties!
Then we went out drinking, which is generally fun. My knee is still somehow injured (I have no idea what I did), so I spent the rest of the weekend sort of draping myself over furniture and reading and watching TV. Finished The Woman with a Worm in Her Head and Other True Stories of Infectious Disease. It was pretty interesting, though you can tell she was a person who went to med school in the 70s.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Ow!
My boobs hurt! Not too badly... I think it's an effect of the new birth control pills. Kind of annoying when I jog, or jump, or kick. Wait, that's every day.
Finished A Cook's Tour, which I'd highly recommend, along with Kitchen Confidential. I was especially amused by the part about the vegans. It's true -- you always do kind of want to feed them bacon cheeseburgers, the poor souls.
In Peace
Went to R's father's funeral on Tuesday. It was sad, but the family members all seem to be supporting one another and holding together well. The priest was blind and apparently an old friend of her brother's. Rest in peace, Mr. S. You'll be missed.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Is it just me
or is Lincoln Tunnel a very ominous rite of passage? Going through, I keep thinking that something, somewhere will detonate, and we will all be drowned. Would it happen quickly, in a single crushing torrent, with no time to think? Or would the waters slowly rise within the cars, giving us all a few lingering, desperate moments to contemplate final farewells, a doomed attempt to swim toward the light, a premeditated final exhalation?
If I traveled to Jersey more often, no doubt I'd be fine.
Good night
R.'s father died on Friday. From those few times our paths crossed, I know that he was a warm, emotionally generous man, and he will be deeply missed by many. Heartfelt condolences to R.'s family, who have always been kind.
Friday, August 13, 2004
Exciting Medical Drama! (Okay, not really)
On Wednesday, Kathryn invited Marianne, Kevin, and myself to her house for a good home, Sybil-cooked meal. Well, I’m never one to say no to a good, Sybil-cooked meal. Mmm! What good bruchetta! I think that’s how you spell it! What delicious pasta sauce with chili! And the wine was great too!
The down side of the evening being that we had to take Marianne to the Emergency Room because she started feeling INTENSE, EXCRUCIATING physical PAIN. She and the doctors agreed that it was probably kidney stones, as she has a history of them. This can’t be good, because her last bout was when she was 21, and she’s 27 now. When the original painkiller they gave her just didn’t work, they gave her a morphine drip. Apparently, morphine works in about 2 SECONDS FLAT. Now she’s out and about and on Vicodan.
Oh, and the next day I went to a doctor to get X-rays taken of my bad ankle, because I know within the next few months, say by November, I will have to plow through 4 boards with some sort of kick.
My bones are surprisingly pretty! A delicate latticework. My ankle looks mostly fine in spite of the incessant clicking noises it makes when I walk, but there is a small anomaly somewhere on the top of the instep. Is it bone? Scar tissue? No one knows. But Dr. Dixon did give me a handout sheet of possible exercises to do.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Great Pumpkin (ice cream)
Let the record show this: pumpkin ice cream is the yummiest thing ever! Especially with ginger flavored ice cream in the accompanying scoop. Ginger ice cream tastes like cold, frosty gingerbread men! Who cares for two scoops of raisins when you can get two scoops of yummy, delicious ice cream???
Oh, yeah, I’m as bad (or as good) as ever with the chopsticks. Of course, I was using them to eat soup, which might account for some of my difficulties. I think, perhaps, I should travel around with a spork in my pack, just in case. What’s the difference between a spork and a runcible spoon?
Yay! My parents are back from their cruise! I say "Yay!" because this means I don’t have to slog all the way back to the Bronx to cat-sit anymore. I hate long commutes almost more than life itself. By the time I get to the Bronx, it’s invariably 11:30pm, and all the Chinese restaurants are closed.
I wonder if the crew gave my father his pen knife back.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Not like Mike
My cube-mate Kam got his ass kicked yesterday in basketball by our coworker Steve! This is funny because Steve is an extremely laid back stoner. Basketball apparently is the one thing that fires him up, because he SLAMMED Kam’s face TWICE with the ball, REALLY HARD.
I admit I shouldn’t have laughed quite so hard at this story, but Steve seems like such a gentle, utterly mellow soul, and I can’t even imagine him running, much less violently elbowing Kam in the spleen. And yet he did.
Also this morning, Kam and Taylor told horror stories of their encounters with rats, roaches, mice, and other pests. From these tales, I must conclude that Queens, Chinatown, and 34th Street are all OVERRUN with GIANT MUTANT CRAWLY THINGS that JUST WON’T DIE. Good thing I am going to Chinatown later to have dinner with Karoline, who (how’s this for a twist?) will be my white chick guide to Chinatown’s crowded and fishy-smelling streets. I am going to ask the restaurant to provide me with as many forks as is humanly possible for me to wield. Chopsticks are for the sensitive, new-age types. Suckers.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
ouch
I did chest presses yesterday. Today I'm really sore. Must cat-sit this week in the Bronx, as my parents are on a cruise. I forget exactly where they're going. Puerto Rico-ish; I wrote it down. But this means I get home an hour later than usual and must wake up an hour earlier. Sigh. I guess it's good training in case I move farther away from Manhattan. But I want to sleep RIGHT NOW.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Childhood seems far away, like Canada
Mom used to make me breakfast of rolls with tomato slices and melted cheese, baked in the conventional oven. Not to mention the frozen White Castle cheeseburger phase and the frozen Jimmy Dean sausage biscuit sandwich phase. Ah, the food of my youth: Shake and Bake with a side of Kraft macaroni and cheese and some frozen string beans. College cafeteria food was such an improvement. It occurs to me now that these early meals may not have been the healthiest of breakfast choices. On the other hand, Dad was always pushing melon slices and cottage cheese. These days when I visit, they make Egg Beater scramble with soy cheese and turkey bacon. Gross.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Happy U.S. birthday to me
Today is my 27th anniversary of coming to this country. I hope very much not to be bombed out of existence within the next few weeks, even if, spiritually, I deserve it. I would also like some cake with chocolate frosting.
Visited my parents between 8 and 10pm, to drop off a copy of William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition before they go on their cruise. I’m cat-sitting in the Bronx this week. My mother bought the cats a sort of circulating drinking fountain for the occasion. My father has taken to throwing pennies into it, as a joke.
Saw Garden State on Saturday. It was okay, a lot of tender or funny moments interspersed between speeches about life being all we have. Although it felt like Zach Braff was really pushing every character to be unrealistically eccentric, I’m still a sucker for such things. It was jiving a little bit with all the Eggers I’ve been reading, quirky twentysomethings dealing with grief and death. And I guess my friends are sometimes like that. I forget that I know fencers, martial artists, e-comic strip authors, vegan musician poker players, RPGers, and aspiring accupuncturists. My roommates are what the sci-fiers would call "mundanes."
Aunt Jane invited me to high tea at the Plaza Hotel, a sort of farewell occasion for my cousin Rory’s wife Megan. He is still in Iraq, and I guess she’s leaving for more military training prior to going to Iraq. Matt was there with his fiancée Sue; Molly was with her boyfriend George. Joanne, Marina’s mother and Uncle Rick’s wife was there, as well as Uncle Pat’s wife Susan. I guess that makes them my aunts. They all seem to be very friendly people. Aunt Jane is like a cross between my mother and Shaenon’s, somehow.
