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Brief Blurbs 30 September 2004 4 09:51 Just thought I'd throw up some quick thoughts I've been having lately, so I don't forget them, and 'cause I am still alive and kicking (and sometimes, getting kicked - Yes, we miss you, Michael Hutchence), and my brain is the worst place on Earth to store information. I'm not all that impressed with any of the people on The Apprentice. I don't see what's so great about any of them, frankly, that they should deserve that opportunity. (Yeah, I think I'm better at marketing and running things, and I never even went to B-School.) On the other hand... I wonder what it's like to know me. I've been called an exhausting human being. I've been called dashing. I've been called weird. I've also been called nice things like "charming", "handsome", "talented". But I wonder what, in the end, if anything, people will remember. Do you miss me when I'm gone? Do you notice, when I'm not around (thank you, Thom Yorke)? If you like me, why? (Conversely, if you don't think too much of me, do you know why not?) And if I were gone, what would you think of most? (These are questions which tumble through my mind with a bit of smoke from burning tetrahydrocanabinol tumbling in my lungs.) I wonder is there anyone who thinks of me often? If everyone thinks of their friends and acquaintances as often as I do, yet in many cases, sees them as rarely? I'm an exposed nerve, a bare wire connected to a live circuit, lately. And I've grown very good at making myself cry without warning. I caught myself this afternoon walking down the street singing "Farewell to Tarwathie", an old Scottish whaling song, and brought myself to tears walking down Wall Street to pick up my hopefully-repaired phone from the Verizon Wireless store. "Our ship is well-rigged, and she's ready to sail. The crew, they are anxious to follow the whale, Where the icebergs do float and the stormy winds blow, Where the land and the ocean is covered with snow." And then, I brought myself back to laughing again. "We Have MetroCard!" the sign on the side of the kiosk proclaimed. MetroCard. Not MetroCardS, but merely MetroCard. As though it were a social phenomenon, or perhaps a disease, rather than a piece of merchandise. Like, "We have Britney Spears!" Really? Is she vacuum-packed, shrink-wrapped, and safety-sealed? 'Cause that's the way I like my Britney. ;-) And have I mentioned how much I absolutely loathe tourists? Yesterday, I was in the subway, running too many errands on my lunch hour, standing in the middle of the car, carefully out of everyone's way, so that more people would have space to enter and exit by the doors, and these two idiots, in the midst of a crowded car, obviously tourists, as they were carrying around and gawking at a big-ass map of the City and not dressed for work in the middle of the day, push past me from the space next to one set of doors through the middle of the car to the space next to the next set of doors. Both areas were equally crowded. What the fuck?! I growled something about idiots just fucking standing still, which sadly, I don't think they heard. Should I be nicer when I'm rushed, late, and soaked because I forgot my umbrella and the remnants of a hurricane are passing through, and I've just drained the hell out of my bank account? I don't think so. r Last Dispatch - Next Dispatch