Speaking of poems, the Firecracker and I discussed our favourite ones, and we discovered something…
Her: My favorite poem is, This Is Just To Say. Me: Mine is Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams. Her: That’s who wrote This is Just To Say! Me: What a coincidence!
You would be surprised at the regularity that she and I have exchanges like that – a “Wait, me too” kinda moment.
And I told you once that that’s the basis of all good relationships, romantic or otherwise – a shared sense of the world.
And we still share things in the world.
Me: What would you do there? Her: At Arizona Tom’s? Two step with older guys so they’d buy me a drink. Me: Kinda like what you’re doing now? Her: Nothing’s changed.
Poetry aside, it’s not like the Firecracker and I see eye-to-eye on everything, English related…
Me: I think the next thing they’ll try to get rid of will be Alcohol, Tobacco, and Fire… Her: Wait, did you just say “Ta-bock-oh?” Like “Chewbacca?” Me: What? Her: You just said, Alcohol, Ta-bock-oh, and Firearms. It’s Alcohol, Tuh-back-oh, and Firearms. Me: Well, that’s just ridiculous.
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
We went to another of our fave dive bars, Jake’s Dilemma, and realized they only gave us two, so I had to head back to get the missing one.
The lady there was so apologetic that she gave us three freshly made ones that were hot, so we had five total.
I may or may not have eaten alla them.
Told the kid recently that I was born before Google. He was floored.
So, that got the Firecracker and me to talking.
Me: I was born before all websites. Her: I was born before mp3s. Me: I was born before the Metrocard. Her: I was born before streaming shows Me: I was born before flat screen TVs. Her: I was born before mobile phones. Me: I was born before the Russian Federation. Her: I was born before The Backstreet Boys. Me: I was born before the third brakelight was a thing, man that was stupidly controversial as a kid. Her: I was born before wifi. Me: I was born before the Euro. Her: I was born before the Czech Republic. Me: I was born before the UFC.
Her: I was born before the Berlin Wall fell. Me: I was born before the Challenger explosion.
Her: Oh, I was not!
The above is the first commercial for a flat-screen TV.
I believe that it’s at least $20,000 if adjusted for today’s dollars.
It was released in 1998, when I was still working at Cnet and I remember (a) this commercial and (b) speaking to LG about their plans to make their own flat screen TVs.
Crazy, alla these things were years/decades ago, and yet, they feel like just a few years ago to me.
Me: I was born before Diet Coke. Her: WHAT?! When did it come out? Me: Early 80s? The only real option before that was Tab. (thinking) Wait, *THAT’S* where you draw the line at my age?! Her: (shakes head) I cannot believe you’re so old…
Not my pic – this is the original can of diet coke that someone is trying to sell for $425.
Me: Is zero singular or plural? Him: I dunno. Me: Use it in a sentence. Him: “There are zero apples.” (thinking) Plural? Me: Yes. All whole numbers are plural except for one – negative one is also plural, which is weird but here we are.
I spend a lotta time in my head, mainly because that’s where I’m the most comfortable.
Family aside, my entire childhood was essentially spent alone. Grade school, middle school, high school, etc.
College was different, though, which I found odd but nice.
I had a lotta friends, several close ones, and yet, I spent most of my time either at a girlfriend’s or by myself in the city when I’d come down by myself.
You get used to things.
Was chatting with Rain the other day and we both commented how similar we are when it comes to enjoying our solitude.
We’re good with people; we just choose not to interact with them unless there’s a good reason.
My son is different.
He not only doesn’t like to be alone, he craves human interaction.
I wonder if that will make his life better, worse, or just different.
The hope is for him to be happy and productive, whatever either of those two things mean to him.
In my younger years, being alone was hell.
But now that I’m older, I think being with random people is hell.
The more news I read, the more I think I want to just stay home with the Firecracker and the kid and never walk out the door.
Him: Why do I need to learn all this? Me: Because there’s a limit to strength, power, or money. There’s no limit to skill or knowledge. You can always make yourself a little smarter every day. Him: But why? Me: Because it’ll mean that you can always be better tomorrow than you were today. That’s a powerful thing.
Me: Has there ever been a thing I’ve made that you truly disliked? Her: The chicken hearts. Me: Was it the flavor, the consistency, or the general thought of them? Her: Yes
Had to pick something up from someone in my nabe the other day and I laughed when I got to her door.
I live on the upper level of a small building and I’m always telling people to go UPSTAIRS and not DOWNSTAIRS to deliver or pick up anything.
Nine times outta 10, they’ll ignore or miss that information, and I’ll have to come to outside to get them from the downstairs area.
I’m guessing that this lady had something similar with people ringing the wrong doorbell.
The Firecracker is getting used to being with someone that enjoys cooking.
We have this arrangement, similar to mine with Alison, where one person cooks and the other cleans.
It’s been working out well.
Made her some Chinese tomatoes and eggs the other day and she was skeptical, but she and the kids loved it.
On that note, I’ve been watching this channel called Made by Lau, which I use to supplement the recipes that my mom and dad taught me.
Like all home cooks, my parents never had any recipes – they just knew how to make dishes, so the website gives me better measurements and ideas for changes.
Speaking of food, I forgot to mention that the Firecracker got me a heart-shaped box for St. Valentine’s Day last month.
Except – like the previous year – it was fulla dried meats.
Him: What is that? Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.
The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.
Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.
I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.
Take the sentence:
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:
The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.
They go back at least one word, sometimes two.
You probably do it too. Try it.
Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.
At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.
That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.
Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.
Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.
It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?
That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.
There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.
Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa? Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward. Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool. Me: It really would be.
As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.
You cannot make this stuff up.
Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
The kid’s trying out for another talent show this year – I think he’ll make it, but you never know.
He’s already got a song picked out, which is a rock classic; I’ll post it after he does the show if he makes it in.
I try to show him all the songs that were meaningful to me when I was a kid because I think those songs stay with you in special ways.
A more modern song that I’ve been listening to is one called Dear Me by a fella named Eric Hutchinson.
I think I’ll play it for the kid one of these days, soon.
Whenever I hear it, I think of alla these different versions of me that are as real and immediate to me as if I were still them.
That’s a whole entry in-and-of-itself.
In the meantime, here’s the song, give it a go?
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now, dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Dear me
I know you’re scared as hell of everything right now
But don’t get lost and where you’re going
Dear me
You’re gonna fall in love with the girl that you live next door to
And you have no real way of knowing
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But I know you’re trying
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But you’re multiplying
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Dear me
Don’t keep people in your life that treat you like crap
And don’t lose sleep over them either
Dear me
Never give up on the good that rests inside of you
And don’t believe the non-believers
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they will fall behind you
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they won’t define you
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Take care of family and the ones you love
Put all your energy into human stuff
Staying young is hard to do
So, when life’s getting serious just don’t take it so serious.
I said dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Keep growing up, but don’t get old
Take care of what you can’t control
Respect the heart that you’re gonna break
Forgive mistakes that you will make
If I were you I would not care
But some old messes to beware
So you probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You’re doing ok
Dear me.
Location: home, chatting with the Firecracker who’s stuck at the airport
Mood: nostalgic
Music: get yourself together (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Steel and the Surgeon, since at least the late 90s, have turned to me for advice on all things tech.
But when it comes to food, I generally speak to Steel first, then Bryson and Pac, although I mainly hit up Bryson for Japanese food tips and Pac for Korean.
Now, when Alison first got sick, one of the first things I did was to toss/donate alla our Teflon cookware and replace it was “safer” ceramic cookware.
It’s dented on one side, but no metal utensil has ever touched it so it’s remarkably slick/non-stick. I’m loathe to toss it.
The above is a “safe” ceramic pan and was the pan I pretty much used daily for just about everything since Alison got sick.
It’s slicker than a greased pig running downhill BUT I still don’t trust it completely, despite it being ceramic.
20 years ago, I had an old cast iron pan that I loved and lent to Rain for our Bachelor Cooking series.
That was the last time I ever saw it.
A few years later, I picked up these two enameled cast iron pans and generally use those for steaks and burgers.
They are buttery smooth to cook with – I’m exceedingly proud of the season that I’ve gotten on then.
Look at that black glossy sheen on these pans – they are incredibly non-stick.
But I was intrigued with Steel’s super lightweight carbon steel pan.
Me: How do I use it? Him: (shrugging) Just like cast-iron. You wash it after every use with salt and hot water, apply some oil, wipe it down, and put it away.
The idea of using a pan that’s naturally non-stick, but doesn’t weigh a ton like my cast-iron, really got me.
I just cooked eggs with it so excuse the messy stove.
The above is what it looked like day 1 after I cooked once with it and then gave it a quick scrub.
And below is after at least six-seasonings and daily cooking; I’m proud to say that it’s pretty much the same level of non-stick as my original daily driver, above.
Because it’s carbon steel and not cast iron, it’s far less porous than cast iron and I can’t seem to get the seasoning to look even like it does on the cast iron.
But, looks aside, it’s just as non-stick as my old regular cooking pan and I know that there’s nuthin there but steel and oil.
What I love the most about it is that it should last forever and I can give it to the kid someday.
Here’s hoping he’ll be as nerdy about these kinda things as I am.
Her: …guess his name! Me: I don’t think… Her: It’s the best name for a chef. Are you ready? His name was…Chef…Bacon! Me: (amused) That is a good name. The next best name? Chef Cured Meats. Her: Or Chef Spiral Ham? Me: We can stop this now. Her: (claps and rubs hands together) I’m just getting started.
OK, maybe I shouldn’t hope for that.
Location: W 72nd and Broadway, watching the kid cross the street by himself
Mood: super anxious
Music: My sugar’s the sweetest around. (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Two good samaratins pulling a guy off the tracks at Times Square the other day.
Joan Murray survived a 14,500 Foot Fall
Last year, I saw a guy fall into the tracks at Times Square.
Two fellas immediately hopped into the tracks to save him, which I thought was pretty admirable.
But whenever I see something like that, I think of an old joke that goes something like this:
A songbird was flying one winter day when it got so cold that he dropped right outta the clear blue sky onto a farm.
The bird lay there helpless and injured until a horse walked by and, not noticing the small bird, dropped a huge steaming pile of hot poop on him.
The poop, however, was warm and made the bird feel much better – so much better, in fact, that he started to sing. But then a cat heard him sing, found him, and dug him out.
The bird was happy to be outta the poop, but the cat didn’t give him a chance to thank him because the cat gobbled him up and went on with his day.
There are three (shitty) morals to his story:
Not everybody who shits on you is your enemy.
Not everybody who digs you outta shit is your friend.
Now, there’s actually a real life version of this joke about a woman named Joan Murray who survived a 14,500 foot fall, which is almost three miles of free fall straight down.
See, she was sky diving and BOTH her parachutes failed.
Normally, this would be just a death sentence, but she ended up crashing into a huge ant hill – but not just any ant hill, a fire ant anthill.
If you don’t know what a fire ant is, it’s a venomous ant that can these intensely painful stings.
Normally, if you fell onto a fire ant hill, that would be at the very least, an incredibly painful experience – most likely you’d end up in the hospital.
In Joan’s case, however, the softness of the mound coupled with the intense pain of the venom kept her alive with the former softening her impact and the latter keeping her heart beating.
She ended up in a coma with shattered bones on the right side of her body and a few lost teeth, which required 20 reconstructive surgeries, 17 blood transfusions, a metal rod into her right leg, and 5-inch spikes grafted onto into her pelvis.
But she survived.
And she survived precisely because these fire ants were trying to kill her.
Joan actually died in 2022, 23 years after her accident, of cancer (unfortunately – fucking cancer…) with nary a parachute nor fire ant in sight.
I’m telling you this story because I see how the kid sees the world: In simple terms of black and white.
Children and the stupid see things so simply binary.
It’s difficult for me to figure out how to explain these subtle nuances in the world, especially in light of world events, to him and, well, generally stupid people, who are uncomfortable with grey.
Soupy grey is never appealing, but it’s still more realistic than stark black-and-white.
Him: If Donald Trump lies all the time, how did he become president? Me: (whistling) Hoo-boy. That’s gonna take a little while to explain. Not now though.
People that reach high levels of achievement in disparate fields have always fascinated me, with my personal hero being Hedy Lamarr.
The question is whether this kinda thing can be taught. Like, can a parent teach someone to be successful in many areas?
Long before the kid came into existence, I was trying to figure this out for whatever kid I might eventually have.
The algorithm that I came up with:
Lifetime curiosity + the ability to properly research + discipline = success in various fields
Because, at least for me, I try to keep my childhood curiosity alive.
With the internet and all the tools out there for research, it’s a lot easier than it used to be to find out information – although separating the wheat from the chaff is more difficult than ever what with the sheer amount of information out there.
Have no idea if this is correct, or if it’ll work with everyone, but I believe hope it will.
Suppose only time will tell.
Me: Try it. Nothing beats beets. Him: I don’t like beets. Me: Well, if you like candy and cake, you should like beets. Him: What? Why? Me: Well, most American sugar comes from beets. Her: Is that true? How do you know all this stuff? Me: (shrugging) I always wonder things. So, then I look it up and a shocking amount of it sticks in my head for some reason.
