e safety tips

6 months later, the party's moved.

2006-06-16T05:06:00.000-04:00

www.grundler.blogspot.com

New blog locale. Go there if you dare. It will be no better than the last, I assure you.

cloying optimism

2005-12-24T19:13:00.000-05:00

So the much ballyhooed transit strike ended on Friday to my great relief. While the walkout was a colossal pain the ass, I feel more than a little silly for raising such a fuss about a mere three-day-inconvenience. On the other hand, had it continued any longer I would have bathing with the toaster (if you catch my drift [and I think you do{I was going to electrocute myself}]).

Enough of that misery though. Its Christmas! Most people I know are down on this time of year because of the unabashed consumerism, or the crush of jerks with a shopping agenda only a London terrorist could derail (too soon?), but I love the neutrally-termed "holidays".

All things considered NPR style, Christmawanzakahvus is not that bad. It is the time of year when people are asked to be good to their fellow man, and I think that most people try. Even here in the so-called "Home of the Heartless," strangers at my job were going out of their way to be polite, and some even wished me happy holidays. I think that is nice, and I like it.

My sweet roommates even got in on the action. After hearing me speak about my love of Christmas trees, my roommate Sena (who is Jewish nonetheless) miraculously apparated a diminutive tannenbaum for our living room, which I lovingly decorated with dollar-store ornaments and pride. What a season!

Merry Christmas!

mother. fucking. transit. strike.

2005-12-21T20:56:00.000-05:00

I guess this thing is turning into more of a quarterly newsletter than a blog. Oh well.

So things have happened in my absence from the world of online hackery. I went to a couple of parties and then some bars. Drinking was had, laughs were made and this Christmas season was generally on its way to being a heart-warming holiday.

Then the transit strike silently swept across the city during the night and all was lost.

On the grim winter morn that I discovered my beloved subterranean transport to be shut off and abandoned, I almost wept. But then I realized that it meant I would not have to work. Yay!

But I recalled that I also miss out on a day's pay. Boo!

Then the dog left angry green mayonnaise shits all over the living room floor. Unnecessary!

Shell-shocked and tired, I stayed in and played video games all day.

Thousands of hipsters crossed this very bridge to make you free!

But I had to go back to work at some point and this involved an hour and a half long trek across bridges and boroughs in the sub-40's cold to arrive at my underwhelming place of employment. The city has turned into a parody of those ensemble cast movies where dozens of zany characters race to the goal using every wacky mode of transportation they can. Tomorrow I plan on chartering a zepplin uptown where I will hitch a ride in the back of a chicken truck until I am picked up by a bus full of good-hearted gospel singers who can follow me to the goal: a million dollars in gold bullion! (Or another day at work.)

Police State!

Also, my second job has been cancelled until the strike is over due to the diminished Manhattan foot traffic. The fly-covered, distended belly of my malnourished bank account looks as though it might be ready to eat itself with overdraft fees if I don't do something soon.

I am an angry New Yorker.

The last time the TWU (Transit Worker's Union) had a strike was in 1980, and it lasted 11 days. This strike has only been two days long, and already I would give my good eye for the smell of fermenting urine and urban decay that meant I was only ten minutes from downtown. If this goes on much longer I might have to buy a pair of rollerblades. Or a car.

But some good has come out of all of this. On both ends of the Williamsburg bridge, the Red Cross was there to give me coffee and cookies and hot chocolate, which was about the best thing I could have ever asked for upon exiting a freezing throughway with high winds. And one of the awesome life long New Yorkers at my job told me that I was now an honorary New Yorker because I am living through some kind of bullshit. Apparently if you walk across a bridge because of some crisis or another, you get instant citizenship.

Ugh.

i just don't have my heart in it

2005-12-07T01:36:00.000-05:00

In a twist worthy of a certain Mr. Shyamalan, it turns out that the more self-obsessed I get, the less I blog. I didn't see it coming.

I have been very caught up in my own idiotic life lately, and have not really had much to talk about, but here is a recap:

Work got so busy that I got yelled at for making a bunch of mistakes. Sweet.

One night, I went to a bar in Soho that played only Japanese gogo music and was molded to look like a cave. There, I drank whisky until my card declined.

Then another night, I drank beer.

Then my roommates were rad.

Then I was sober for...ever*.

Also, while craigslist has provided me with two apartments and a job among other things, I have never considered myself a part of "the community." But last week I was alerted to a missed connection ad that could be none other than the e-crap. That's right, some guy at the Strand has a crush on me. While it doesn't turn the arid waste of my love life into a healthy crop of discreet sex, I was flattered. He seemed to take my explanatory e-mail in stride, and we awkwardly laughed it off the next day with some conspicuous mutual avoidance.

Then I played Risk and Monopoly with the roommates for some hours. I am really lucky when it comes to matters of world domination.

P.S. I think I found a second job.

*a few days.

this is why i never eat

2005-11-26T19:47:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been stabbed in the gut? Me neither, but the apocalyptic case of food poisoning that woke me up at 5:00 AM sure gave me a good idea. After spasmodic writhing in my bed for a few hours, I called into work and commenced puking. I was in Hell's Foldgers commercial.

I ended up going to work later in the afternoon once my stormtrooper body had violently expunged all digestive dissent. The more hours I miss at work, the less I eat.

Now I must decide how best to fulfill the tacit expectation of Saturday night excitement. I will undoubtedly fail. I hate Saturdays.

i, hipster

2005-11-21T10:01:00.000-05:00

If anyone is still reading this, I’m back. After going dark for a few weeks I come back to you a man moved. And well fed.

In the darkness of the past few weeks, I located a new abode in a Brooklyn warehouse. My room is so large that I am beginning to get stress headaches deciding what to do with it. However, one of my new roommates is a carpenter and seems eager to assist in the building of an epic habitat for my continued scheming and machinating.

The Not For Tourists Guide to Brooklyn describes my new neighborhood as “desolate and crime-ridden,” but I would describe it more along the lines of “Don't carry expensive shit at night, and always keep a twenty on you because muggers get super-pissed when you don't have anything.”

But the cheaper rent, larger room, and more convenient location seem worth it in exchange for a few games of Avoid-Eye-Contact-With-The-Gang-Member. Also, my new roommates are awesome and hilarious.

In comparison to the stench of cat shit and misery that permeated my previous room, living amongst the convivial air of my new place is like being talked off a ledge.

For Thanksgiving I traveled to the idyllic hamlet of Princeton, NJ to stay with the Morleys for a couple of days. Once again, Jamie and Keith took me in like a starving urchin and turned what could have been another reason to get drunk into a genuinely familial holiday. Wine + copious amounts of food + board games + The OC Season 1= Best Thanksgiving in memory.

Despite my continuing jealousy/hatred of Seth Cohen for all of the bands/comics/lifestyles that his character has ruined through hollow, privledged, consumptive namedropping, I am now addicted to The OC. Say what thou wilt about mainstream television, but I tell you without pretentious irony: that show is priceless. It may be an unrealistic, hateful wealth and power fantasy, but so are most superhero comics, so I guess I was kind of ready for it.

P.S. For better or worse, my blogging should now resume its regularly unreliable frequency.

2005-11-17T19:36:00.000-05:00

days of comics, nights of loathing

2005-11-09T23:06:00.000-05:00

I hate this guy across from me. He's got a big dollop of silly putty which he keeps in a precious little tupperware. He just keeps it in his bag so that he can pull it out on the train for some on-the-go thumb squats or digital cardio or quirky-conversation-piece stress relief. What an asshole. Holding it up near his face and squashing in his fist like he's in second grade, saying "This is YOU!" What are you? A finger-ninja? I hope he gets arthritis.

Infinite Crisis #2? The jam.

Adrian Tomine and Seth were at the Strand tonight doing an authors in conversation thing. They talked about craft, the medium and the difficulties of producing graphic novels. I thought it was completely intriguing. A couple of my favorite authors discussing the same problems I often struggle with. It made me feel really good. Afterwards, I overheard some other guy bitching about it being boring and kind of thought he was a douche.

I feel like I am getting sick so I ate a clove of garlic. Now I smell like my social life.

i am soooo nauseous

2005-11-09T00:39:00.000-05:00

rock-bottom makes for good pictures

Remember when drinking meant going out with your friends and doing stuff that you could joke about in the morning? Yeah... its about time I ended this meaningless pageant.

they call me the indoor kid

2005-11-07T20:40:00.000-05:00

I still can't seem to catch a break, but I'm even more sick of talking about it than you are of reading about it. So today I'm taking a moment to look at some of the things that are rad:

-The Devil's Rejects comes out on DVD tomorrow! I loved this movie. It borders on a snuff film in places and features anti-heroes that aren't heroic in any justifiable way. I am the only person I know who found this film enjoyable, although I'm not sure anyone else saw it. The retail price is worth it for the last ten minutes alone.

-Then there's this:

This is Thomas Hayden Church of Ned and Stacey fame dressed as the Sandman for Spider-man 3. I just gave my underwear VD.

-Finally, Infinite Crisis #2 comes out on Wednesday. I might as well break out the Magic cards again cause this is the highlight of my coming week.

noo coont leavs till a foond out wha cunt didet!

2005-11-06T04:25:00.000-05:00

And then you want a late night snack. But then the diner breaks out into dubya-dubya-one and you have to take refuge in your booth as glass and bodies fly across the room. There is blood and yelling while you try to keep the waitress calm as she hides in your trench. When all of the shouting is done, you poke your head up, see the blood spots on the floor and decide it is time to leave. Of course, there is no discount for mayhem.

The worst part is walking home in a newly settled heavy fog. I have never experienced Astoria so quiet. If I weren't so anxious from the fight, it might be beautiful. Instead I spend the whole walk home looking over my shoulder for further attack. Fog is cool though...

homefree, not homeless

2005-11-05T22:01:00.000-05:00

shitty pants, shitty beer, solid drunk

I love drinking on the train. If I ever make it to Manhattan sober again, I'm more of an idiot than I thought. I'm pretty sure its legal here, but it just feels so awesomely illicit. And cheap.

that's about it.

STR8 SWM SKS BULIT N HED

2005-11-02T21:39:00.000-05:00

If craigslist had eyes, this is what it would see.

Yet another day of sifting through the degenerates and grammatical abortions on the c-lizzie in search of both a new apartment and a second job. Is there an emoticon for tearful frustration?

I think the stress might be getting to me. Last night I dreamt that my mom came into town to tell me she had terminal cancer, and would be shuffling off the mortal coil within days. Then I ran around terrified for a while. Way to go brain. Thanks for nothing. Deeeeepressiiiing.

Seriously though, do I just look fucking stupid?

(P.S. This buggy, useless site has been giving me attitude for a couple of weeks now. I might have to take this grievance garden elsewhere.)

application anxiety

2005-11-01T19:45:00.000-05:00

Job interviews are a real blast if you're on mushrooms or ecstasy or something that helps make the interviewer's unimpressed incredulity seem like a waterslide of colorful adoration. When you're sober, they tend to call up dystopian slices of Orwellian distress on par with that Pink Floyd video with the kids and the meat grinder. This is especially true for those open calls where you are surrounded by thirty or so wolf-eyed fellow applicants in better outfits than yours.

And after today's handy reintroduction to these horrors, I will probably get to go through it a few more times before I find a second job or throw myself in the river. Fuck.

(I swear this stupid thing will get not always be this mopey. Really. I'm pretty sure.)

But then I went home and watched Captain Ron. O Captain, my Captain, that movie is funny!

never fail to dissapoint

2005-10-30T19:53:00.000-05:00

Well, I finally went out last night.

Whoops.

Although, this guy was on the subway and he was way funnier than he looks.

While waiting for the party connection to call, a bombed leprechaun and his limey assistant magiced me off to an obnoxious night club, and bought me expensive drinks on the BBC's tab. Unfortunately every cocktail made the experience successively worse as the foreigners began demanding women and party connections that I clearly could not provide, and the more drunk I got the more convinced I was that they were going to cause me harm as a consequence. Then a twenty-year old woman of questionable venereal integrity decided to start hitting on me. This made me so uncomfortable, my insides melted and I made good my escape from so much crunkness.

Then I fell asleep on the subway until 6:30 in the morning.

Did I mention I was dressed as a priest?

fake mustache ride

2005-10-28T17:43:00.000-04:00

Halloween is my favorite time of the year. I am allowed to dress up like an idiot and get drunk. Just like every other day, accept almost nobody finds it pathetic.

Like years past, my costume this year will be homemade. I'm going as the anathema to the vaginally endowed by getting dressed and leaving the house. I'll probably buy some fake mustaches though.

too beard? or not too beard?

2005-10-27T16:16:00.000-04:00

bad ass

baby's ass

So I decided to get rid of the beard of solitude. Not because I am no longer alone, far from it. It was reaching the point of ridicule, and had to be destroyed. The jawline trim was threatening to consume my entire being. I would stare at it for hours on end trying to decide what, if anything, it said about my inner emotional state. Was it an attractive brown cloud hovering moss-like beneath my pendulous jaw, threatening rain (what?), or a lazy accessory to a defective man's societal charade. And it was lopsided and did not come in very well. Farewell my itchy friend.

Also, I need a well-fitting suit jacket. That is all my "wardrobe," and by extension my life, needs. If I had one of those, I could rename this shit The Pony Party, and we could dance for the rest of our lives in the strobing glow of my messianic aesthetics.

(p.s. Thanks go to Lemony Snicket for the finest instance of two word alliteration in the history of this blog. One love.)

wasting my time and yours

2005-10-25T13:59:00.000-04:00

I am an ugly, ugly man.

Sorry about that. Lost the will to live (and with it the will to blog) for a couple of days there.

Went insane. Made some embarrassing phone calls. Drank myself into a little blackout. Would like to say its the last time I'll do it. Can't.

Pathetic realization: I am happiest on the upswing of a hangover. That short time just as you are starting to feel okay again and your mind is coasting on the blank, serene waters of leveled body functions. All of my useless worries are gone, I no longer fear what peril the future holds and feel like I am making it. It may be a dillusional, passing fix, but its mine and I love it.

Time to start looking for a new place again. And still looking for that second job. Lots of looking. Very little finding. Its a theme see.

can nothing good come of this?

2005-10-22T13:09:00.000-04:00

Sacred Temple of Chrons

So I went to the Met yesterday. That place is cripplingly cool. And cheap. Give them a dollar, receive a shitty glare for being cheap, and you're in! Currently there is an exhibition of occult photography from the twenties and before. Mediums and fake ectoplasm everywhere. Awesome.

no man is an island, but I am surely not a man

2005-10-19T23:48:00.000-04:00

So I figured out how to put cell phone pictures on my blog. Now you can not only read anxious, jittering, C- essays about the minutia surrounding my imminent downfall, but you can actually watch it happen in the shitty technicolor from my crappy phone.

Here's me alienating my co-workers with needlessly apprehensive glares.

And here I am in the morning looking like a pretty sweet Obi-Wan Kenobi.

a trash sandwich from bullshit city

2005-10-18T14:47:00.000-04:00

I am insanely stressed out today. I'd really like to dash my skull on the corner of something and crack my head open like an egg. However cowardice is the glue in my malformed tangle of a body, and hypocritical self-preservation the unfortunate bottom-line.

I just ate an entire bag of Craisins. Were I depressingly obese, this would be the point at which I stare longingly at the empty burger wrappers strewn like a wax-paper moat around my lazyboy and lament the loneliness that no amount of grotesque consumption can abate.

But I am crooked and waifish, and staring at an empty bag of semi-health snacks carries not the same amount of guilty gravitas.

micheal j. fox eyes

2005-10-17T13:44:00.000-04:00

After years of comic books, Turkish murder porn, and Babysitter's Club novels my beleaguered eyeballs have finally had it. They have chosen to express their displeasure with uncontrollable, and unbelievably annoying spasms.

I'd go ahead and gouge them out if I didn't think people would accuse me of being derivative or Greek.

I do love my mom though.

fun-ctioning alcoholic

2005-10-16T11:29:00.000-04:00

Well, I seem to have worked out that urge to erase my brain. It took eight nights of leaden drinking, but I haven't felt the devil's thirst for a couple of days now.

This is not to say that the Rainy Days, Drunken Nights '05 Tour was unproductive. People were saying funny shit left and right, I got acquainted with many fine inebriation stations, and I learned an important lesson in not bringing your cell phone to self-pity night (@ Bonkerz! Mon, Tues, Thurs. 8:30-10:00 PM). Apologies are in order for all of my friends that have the constitution to stomach not only my pathetic/needy messages/texts, but also my increasingly unattractive personality in total.

It's a very nice day today. I'm going to the fucking park.

out of my league

2005-10-15T05:39:00.000-04:00

When naked* goddess women grab you around the neck and drag you somewhere, go with it.

Even if it leads you to an intimidating cock.

Seriously, these women are very attractive, and getting stabbed in the back of the head by a penis that makes your own phallis look like a bug bite is worth it. The jokes that girls like this will make about the whole experience will be hilarious. Guaranteed.

(*not actually naked)

its called a bender

2005-10-13T21:44:00.000-04:00

I'm on one.

It has been raining for seven days straight. I was finding it kind of romantic in that melodramatic asshole sort of way, but now I just want to dry off a little.

I saw a lady get run over by a cab yesterday. She was alright, but the cab driver dumped his fare and drove away. I had to talk to the emergency response operator on my cellular telephone. It was uncomfortable, but I sensed a subtle connection between us.

Then I bought a couple of good comics.

Later, I went out and played darts. My overall accuracy was shocking, however my bullseye skills were...fecal.

I hope that lady is really okay.

are you asking for a challenge?

2005-10-10T21:13:00.000-04:00

According to GoogleFight, I have lost the battle with life by 1,423,000,000 points.

Other things that have bested me in battle: war, suicide, and disease.

Although I soundly trounced pestilence, VD, and famine.

This explains my ability to live a life of shambling activity while eating like a third world eight-year old. Although, despite my victory over pestilence, I continue to be plagued by mysterious bug bites all over my arms that itch like the dickens. I have no idea where they come from, but I think it has something to do with this house. There's probably ticks and chiggers and all manner of backwoods horrors in this place. I gotta find a new place.

am I wasting my life, or is my life a waste

2005-10-09T17:31:00.000-04:00

It was raining so hard last night that I got drunk.

I found an alright new bar with a wild-west-popcorn-dart thing going on. I can't be sure, but the place was either filled with knuckle draggers, or indie rockers, or both. I ended up having some other drunk guy teach me how to throw darts for like, two hours. It was the last car on the fun train and I wasn't very coherent.

Then I eat something somewhere I don't remember and I'm having real hard menstral cramps this morning.

drinking where bright eyes fears to tread

2005-10-08T12:40:00.000-04:00

How fun is Brooklyn? Sure it might seem ugly and industrial, and you might feel shitty when some hipster rides by on a retooled vintage bicycle, shouting "PEDESTRIAAAAN!", but every bar seems to have some magical patio garden hidden in the back, and you can run into friends from thousands of miles away just by walking down the street. I should get drunk there more often.

the country's most cunning linguist has passed

2005-10-05T22:59:00.000-04:00

I'm probably the last one to notice this, but now you can choose which eight friends are displayed on your myspace profile. Let the brutal interpersonal Darwinism begin! Oh man I love the internet.

My attempts at finding a night job are meeting with a firm wall of unresponsiveness from potential employers. This is discouraging because I enjoy surviving. It could be the beard.

Which, by the way, is coming in like gangbusters. My rugged new look is knocking down doors and creaming off drawers. Yep, just givin' bitches itches from the rash on their gash (re: cunnilingus).

(The rhymes in this blog are dedicated to the "Poet Laureate of Television," Nipsey Russell who died Sunday at the age of 80 something.)

I'm dreaming of violence

2005-10-02T16:17:00.000-04:00

I rarely dream (or at least rarely remember them), but this morning between 3:00 AM and 1:30 PM, I had many.

In one of the especially vivid dreams I was walking through Harlem with my mom and little brother to retrieve the purple sleeping bag that someone had stolen to use to wrap a murder victim in. But then, right when we found it, this thug in gold chains walked up and beat holy living shit out of me. When I woke up in the hospital, I didn't know what had happened to my mom and brother, but felt really guilty for having brought them there. When I actually woke up, I thought I was still broken and had a hard time starting to move again. It was unique.

The J&K train rolled into town last night and I ended up in that "you're the guys!" state of affectionate inebriation. But really, they were and are "the guys." I hope we can get an apartment together. That'd be nice.

Also, the Bostonian bought cats! Two cute as hell little kitties just rollin' around being cute as fuck all over the place.

a career in suicide

2005-10-01T11:19:00.000-04:00

Today is my two month anniversary here in New York, and the rancid smell of failure is beginning to waft about me in cartoon stink lines. I have taken a new job for cripplingly lower pay and no benefits; my apartment is still a maze of surfaces irreparably sticky with grease and mung; my contact with other human beings has devolved into a state of interaction not unlike the Tamagochi of yore, communicating only via digital missives of strained feeling; my record-breaking bout of sexlesness continues furiously apace, with my lack of physical contact triggering a regrowth of my hymen; my solitude has upped my alcohol intake to financially disastrous levels, leaving me destitute by my own hand; and worst of all, these are states that I have willingly thrust myself into.

Life is one rotting fruit.

Deciding to put myself in these situations seemed like good ideas at their respective times, but cumulatively, I think I may have badly miscalculated.

Oddly, I am not altogether upset about my state of affairs. Other than the occasional panic attack and desire to throw myself in front of a subway train, I feel rather okay. The solitude is unpleasant, but I am getting used to it. Same goes for my poverty. My new job, while not lucrative is at least pretty fun, and employs beautiful, aesthetically-anarchist bicycle girls whose attention I can foolishly attempt to capture.

And there's always this.

I just peed my already shitty pants

2005-09-28T10:19:00.000-04:00

Holy shit. Its true. They've been down there all along. Just waiting. My worst fears have been realized. On film.

trying to let the news build

2005-09-27T20:30:00.000-04:00

Jake left on Monday and things are back to boring here, although I feel a bit refreshed.

The Strand is the coolest place ever though. I spilled coffee in the rather delicate rare book room, but my shoe caught the entire dollop of liquid and no one noticed. But it turned my shoe from white to gross. So I guess it kind of balances out.

holy shit...that was close

2005-09-24T00:55:00.000-04:00

At certain businesses, employees receive awards or badges of distinction commemorating their years of service. If one enjoys where they work, this can be a nice pat on the back. However, when one works for a dead end job at a lifeless corporation, that golden watch can become a deadly shackle. A scarlet letter declaring your convalescence to your dead-eyed taskmasters. In my case it is a scarlet lanyard shouting 5 years. I was to receive mine in one month.

But no longer. I have dodged this bullet with comparative seconds to spare. I now work at a bookstore called the Strand. This bookstore is, to use the Garlance of our times, chrons.

I can't remember feeling happier.

In addition, my friend Jake is now in town and we have been having the time! Jake, myself, and Mazal went out last night and drank until we couldn't. Today was recovery from last night but tomorrow we will be fresh again, and we can take Sunday getting better from that. The circle of life.

My god I feel good.

listening to Belle & Sebastian makes me feel British and not-lonely

2005-09-20T22:57:00.000-04:00

"Week-ends" are more like "fun-starts"! Right?!

Keith came into the city on Sunday and we drank until the unified language hypothisi were bandied about as though we were Derrida and Bool at a campus mixer. That was fun. Although Jamie's presence was missed, as she was in the clutches of the corporate monolith which looms large in both of our-so-called-lives. Oh how that monolith clutches. With big square hands. Clutch, monolith, clutch...

Monday, I went to the 13 & God show which was so sweet all my teeth fell out on the dance floor. They played their entire album, and some new songs while I drank some of the most expensive beer I have ever had. I felt so good after the show I went out and got faced. Then I showed up to work at seven in the morning looking haggard and still smelling a little like fun. But the best part is that my hangover was so mild, it barely even registered. Even my post late night anxiety was favorably mild.

Now I am back at the grosstead, in my alloted cleanliness annex. I am really starting to warm up to this place.

Shit, I even have things to look forward to!: The J-Kob will be coming in a couple of days, AND The Ultimates #8 comes out tommorrow.

Also, from here on in the whole tip title thing will be dropped. It was a stupid conceit that I upheld for far longer than I should have.

Tip# 18: I am a walking grotesquerie

2005-09-17T11:48:00.000-04:00

Did you know that you can get zits on your lips? I mean serious whitehead zits. And they hurt.

Tip# 17: $18.50 & God

2005-09-15T19:38:00.000-04:00

I feel good. I just bought a ticket to the 13 & God show on Monday. I never thought I'd get to see them. For those of you who don't know, check them out at anticon.com . It is worth it and you will love them. Unfortunately my 13 & God CD is still in the hands of a friend in SLC. He'll get his...

13 & God. Greatest Berkeley-Norway experimental ambient hip-hop group since Tele-Sjkorrd '78.

I lose sight of the fact that I am in New York sometimes. For instance just this evening, a Thursday, I am missing Regina Spektor, Blackalicious, Aesop Rock, and The Arcade Fire to name a few. But it doesn't concern me, because they will all play again soon within months, if not weeks or days. Its kind of nice.

-ecrest out!

Tip# 16A: Late-Breaking Heart

2005-09-14T21:52:00.000-04:00

Shit.

I just realized that I failed the disgracefully easy author matching quiz on the application for The Strand bookstore. I just second guessed myself right into more corporate bookstore purgatory. Fuck. So close.

Tip# 16: A Century of Fakers

2005-09-14T20:41:00.000-04:00

Jokes not to make during a foolishly self-important team meeting:
-Whispering "I Love You" to a coworker three feet away.
-Suggesting that a merchandising "swat team" instead be referred to as an "assault force."
-Contributing nothing else to the entire proceeding (best joke of all).

Business speak seriously depresses me. Not kidding. Hearing words like "proactive" used without a thick shellac of irony is an instant reminder not only of my own cowardly collusion within an organization that promotes the grotesque proliferation of blind greed and hateful corporate manipulation, but also of the crushing collapse of the world at large into a drooling cesspool of unthinking pleasuredrones.

The apartment's getting better though. Much cleaner, and I have a bed now. Still don't like to leave my room though. I'm safest alone.

Neurosis is creeping back in. Welcome home friend.

"You'll never get ahead givin' head to the man.''
-Bobby Conn

Tip# 15: Fahrenheit 45-Fun?!!

2005-09-12T18:06:00.000-04:00

So my house has now become a passive-aggressive version of Melrose Place, and I am not involved in it one bit. I am like the blond AIDs guy that no one would talk to/or about because his character was token and boring. The Turk won't leave and the Bostonian and his ladyfriend are surely non-plussed. I just nod and hide in my room. His quaint foreign hygiene standards are getting out of hand. It would seem that leaving detrius like most people shed skin cells is factory standard for this guy.

Gotta go to bed early tonight so that I can wake up at 5:30 and be to work on time. Working at a corporate bookstore is so crappy I wish I was illiterate. I must defect. Jump ship. Soon, very soon...

If I had an ipod Nano I would be happier. Seriously. Look at that thing. Its like a cute little musical suppository. I would shove that thing so far up my ass I wouldn't need headphones.

Tip# 14: Guinness, Gunts and Growth

2005-09-09T02:36:00.000-04:00

I'll say it again: The Upright Citizen's Brigade improv shows will make your eyes hemorrhage with laughter. A gunt, anal beads, rape with silly string, and some seriously bewildered Jews from Minnesota. Beat that for five bucks.

My new shoes are so white, I'm blind and strangers think I'm Louis Farrakhan.

And to whatever drunken saint handed me an unopened bottle of Guinness on the subway should be held on high like the indy rock guardian angel he is.

Finally, I am trying to regrow a healthy facial forest of fortitude (akin to a beard of solitude with less bands and friends) for the winter. I think the humidity is helping because it is coming in grossly.

Tip # 13: Let me clear the eric...

2005-09-08T00:18:00.000-04:00

Two things.

One: My last blog entry was not actually in response to any sort of personal tragedy or case of bad luck, but in fact my reaction to the entire Biloxi situation. I did not make that clear. It was not as eloquent as I would have liked, and served no purpose other than to make myself feel better (which, in this case is more ineffectual than anything I have ever done for anyone, and downright selfishly insulting to the actual victims of the tragedy). I have tried to write something about these events and found each attempt to be more trite and privileged than the last. I don't know what to say about what has happened in the South. I would like to say that my government's inactions and homicidally bureaucratic blunders in the past weeks have been the last straw for me, but the truth is that even if I owned a gun I would not have raised it against them. I wish the best for those struggling to survive (many tragically misrepresented as "looters"). I am also slightly impressed by the usually hurtful news media for going out on various limbs and generally reporting this event as the horrifying, subtlely sanctioned massacre it truly is. If I knew html I would post links to the number of amazing articles and clips that show the daring journalistic integrity that was seemingly erased with the Twin Towers. But I don't, so look for yourselves. I have not yet donated blood or money to a relief effort.

Two: This may be a shift in tone, but hey, its my blog... Also concerning the last few entries, it would seem that I have turned into the same sort of whiny blogger that I despised when I began blogging. I'm sorry. I was taking life seriously again. I will try and avoid that sort of uselessness in the future. I think I forgot how to have fun for a bit there. I must make it a point to relearn that important art.

"I tell you even a half-dead man hates to be alive and not be able to see any sense to it."
-Noel Constant (to his son, Malachi)

Tip #12: Primal Scream Therapy

2005-09-04T23:02:00.000-04:00

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! FUCK! AHHHHH!!! AHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH!!! SHITFUCKFUCK! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! WHY???!!! JUST FUCKING WHY???!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!

Although the weather was nice today, and I had a lovely and downright Tolkeinesque stroll through Central Park. I was like a hobbit with a cigarette on a quest to the end of the park.

Tip #11 Awkward machines with strange engines

2005-09-04T05:10:00.000-04:00

So, with everything sucking with more voracity than an internet film star, a ray of light managed to shine on me anyhow. Even though it was night time.

Reggie (of the Full Effect) bought me a shot tonight. Even if he didn't know it. Awesome.

Then, after wandering for a while, Mazal calls, and I go meet her and some awesome friend of hers who is into literary theory and jokes, and has those cool movie eyes that people talk about. Then I listened to some jams on the subway home at 4:00 AM. Empty car + enebreation + serious tunes = ONE MAN SUBWAY DANCE PARTY!!!!

Not a bad night. Sometimes New York is way fun.

"...something like a circus or a sewer..."
-Lou Reed

Tip# 10: Blogging is hard when you don't have a life

2005-09-03T18:25:00.000-04:00

Beginning today I have three days off. I have no idea what to do. Which actually feels pretty sweet. Maybe I'll get drunk. Somewhere new.

More or less interestingly, I got a free CD player today. It is no ipod, but it works. Although it did not come with those cool white headphones that separate the boho chic from the boho weak. And what a fabulously ironic status symbol those things have become. A striking visual metaphor for the thin white line that separates the bourgeoisie from the proles dangling down the same toned chests that used to feature diamonds and gold to the same effect. And they hold like, a million songs. I want one so bad, thinking of it makes me pee a little.

But at least I have a soundtrack again. And my awesome-dumpy-chunky headphones. I look like a homeless DJ. MC Needz 2 Eat.

Tip #9: The Baxter

2005-09-02T03:41:00.000-04:00

The Baxter is the coolest movie around. Many happy returns Mr. Showalter, you have once again taken the coal of despair and made of it a diamond of temporary elation. Not as zany as Wet Hot American Summer, but with 73% more heartwarming, and 100% more New York.

Michelle Williams (or suitable doppleganger), make room in your world girl...

Also, shout out to the NYPD 6th Precinct. Sitting in their underfunded hellhole of a station for three hours just to fill out a five minute form was awesome. I know that their job is one of the toughest around, but watching twenty cops mill around the station like gossipy sharks, while I "hold on for a second" sucks.

Returning to pleasantries, Jamie and Keith were again able to save me from complete solitary refinement by coming into town and proceeding to be the coolest people in the universe. They are so New York it hurts. Luckily they allow me to siphon off a little every time they come into town.

Tip #8: Side Effects They Don't Advertise

2005-08-31T20:43:00.000-04:00

Oh yeah... blogging...

Okay, so I have already accidentally erased two previous attempts at this fucking entry, so it will now be short and sweet.

As of today, I will have lived in New York for one month. It is hot and terrible out here. Most days I feel like I am in way over my head, and that I have finally made the ultimate miscalculation in the flaming aircrash I seldom refer to as a life. The place I live is a nauseating little slice of hell, and I can't spend more than 2 hours here without wanting to leave so badly I could shit blood. Also I think I am getting asbestos poisoning. Then there is the job. Imagine someone puking on your soul before gang raping it. Seriously. Think about it. How can an arguably non-existent ethereal aura such as a soul be puked on? Or raped for that matter? I don't know either, but they are doing it. My anxiety has been running in the red so consistently that I don't even notice it anymore. I think my ulcer has finished off my stomach and is now working on my intestines since I rarely eat, but often defecate. Fuck. I need more beer...

But there is still Jamie and Keith. And Mazal. And the Sparrow. And Central Park. I guess its not that bad.

(For those less dramatic/spineless, this sort of shrill shoegazing is referred to as homesickness. I hear it passes.)

Tip# 7: Vaginal Itching

2005-08-26T02:36:00.000-04:00

I don't know the exact date when my mileage rolled over, but it occurred to me today that it has been at least a year since I have had sex. There are a number of reasons for this, though I have my favorite scapegoats.

More to the point, mostly due to my own potent inability to interact with other human beings, I think I may be neurologically incapable of experiencing carnal knowledge any longer. I guess I don't really have anything funny to say about this...huh.

In any case, hanging out with Jamie and Keith is just about the next best thing. At least I can vicariously experience the joys of a happy relationship through those two. New coolest restaurant: Angelica Kitchen. All vegan organic dishes. Not cheap, but I'm full. Fuck you wallet.

Tip #6: Bedding

2005-08-22T13:17:00.000-04:00

The Upright Citizens Brigade improv nights are the poop with corn! Laugh that ass retarded!

Also sweet is the bar, Sparrow, in Astoria. Coolest dive ever? Lets not get ahead of ourselves, but the bartender did look like an indy rock Chuck Manson, and played Anti-Pop Consortium, Bowie, and Flaming Lips in harmonious succesion. Also, he gave me free drinks for being new.

Finally, Aerobeds, such as the one I am using, have various stages of inflation ranging from Serta-fied to Used-Condom. Current condition: I just came.

Tip#5 Haircuts

2005-08-16T21:40:00.000-04:00

Tip# 5

Haircuts

After receiving a twelve dollar haircut, pretend that you are not shocked to look like a medieval lesbian. No matter who recommends the place, no matter how credible they might seem, don’t believe the hype. At twelve dollars, your cut will suck. There is no cheap, secret barbershop that gives stylish cuts. It doesn’t exist. Stop looking, and shell out the cash. Please.

Tip#4 Saturday Night Crap Parties

2005-08-16T21:37:00.000-04:00

Tip#4

Drinking

This begins the first of what I’m sure will be numerous tips on the art of drinking. Yes, drinking is both the anxious man’s best friend and his worst enemy. You will find that getting drunk is one of the few harbors in the shitstorm that most of us foolishly refer to as life.

Yes, alcohol has that rare and cheap ability to erase all of the loneliness and disappointment which a life on the sidelines can accrue. However, while drinking is probably the easiest way to get rid of all that annoying anxiety and social palsy, many will thankfully find that alcohol also leads them to new highs of nervous worry, and inconceivable lows of self-loathing. Did I really say that? Was she mad? Does he want to hurt me? Why can’t I remember why my dad is dead? All these questions and more are waiting for you at the end of a bottle.

Even if you are in a new city and you don’t know anybody to offend, drinking to excess can still lead to ridiculous misadventures with startlingly worrisome consequences.

I recommend going out on a Saturday, preferably in one of the trendiest areas of the city (as though you know where that even is…) this will ensure that those around you will look anywhere from 9 to 10 times better than you. There is no way you can ignore it, so wallow in it. Let this inadequacy fuel your need for more booze. You are not going to meet anyone in this crowd, so fuck it, get drunk. Now if things have gone to plan, you should be stone drunk by midnight. Now, get one more paint-peeling cocktail because it is always a good idea to indulge that pathetic hope of the miraculous last minute walk-in (P.S. Everyone knows you are not waiting for someone, so quit looking around like you are hoping to see them. You look stupid.).

At this point, don’t walk back to your subway stop, but instead just wander. You have to sober up a bit, or something. After a few minutes in the fresh night air, you will probably get a regrettable second wind and convince yourself that you still have a chance of making that connection. This is a four o’clock town after all! Full of liquid courage, head to the next bar that looks marginally suitable, and start ordering beers even if they only come by the six-dollar bottle. You’re not cheap anymore either! Now drink as many of these as you can until four o’clock. Don’t worry, you won’t meet anyone, you’re now the creepy wasted guy at the bar! After the bartender politely tells you it is time to go, throw that bindle full of remaining dignity over your shoulder and leave.

Well, that’s about it. There is no way you are finding your way home now. All you can do is give yourself over to the mercy of the city. Why not find a park and sleep in it. Try for large dry fountains featured in multiple movies for added poetic effect.

When you wake up, if you are not being raped, beaten, or arrested, do not be surprised if your wallet is missing. However, do be surprised about the fact that the thief was courteous enough to take your I.D. from your wallet and replace it in your pocket. It’s a strange world. Drinking just helps us remember that. Stay nervous.

Tip #3: Hygiene

2005-08-12T12:40:00.000-04:00

When starting a new job, it is important to make a strong first impression. To this end, I suggest that you neglect to put on deodorant for one of your first days at work. This way, both you and your new co-workers can spend some quality time together trying to decide who wafts of rotting trash. Is it you, or the scabby, peeling mendicant sitting in the Mystery department? Only you know for sure! (*wink*)

It should also allow you to become overly self conscious about raising your arms around other people. This bizarre phobia will give you the look of a down syndrome t-rex as you flail only the bottom halves of your arms in hilarious attempts at looking casual.

All together, your scent and its fallout should soundly guarantee that you alienate your fellow employees and possibly garner a few choice looks of unfettered disgust. Stay nervous!

Tip #2: Tips for Nervous Eating

2005-08-11T10:32:00.000-04:00

Tips for Nervous Eating

If you find yourself anxious or apprehensive due to a new living situation, you may want to consider changing your eating habits. Forego food intake to the greatest extent possible. Turn eating from a three-a-day buffet into a once-a-day chore. Choose the most convenient, nutrient deficient lump of detritus billed as food to fill that annoying bitch, your stomach.

For added effect, smoke as many cigarettes as biologically possible. If done properly, you will quickly develop a slight, but painful cough and a nagging sore throat. These symptoms are terrific for instigating fears of high health care costs, lung cancer, and days off of work.

The combined effect of these steps should also leave you with the sunken, decrepit air of a glowing methamphetamine user, no matter what outfit you choose! In addition, your vitamin levels should quickly become unbalanced, reinforcing any anxieties or neurosis with unexpected mood swings. By forgetting to eat, you will also find that that you have more free time, leaving you available to explore your new surroundings or go see a movie (preferably, The Devil’s Rejects, a violent, disturbing road trip adventure that will both reinforce any fears you may have of other people, and conversely work as a cathartic release of the hatred of establishment figures which you have been accumulating. Highly Recommended).

Tip #1: Finding an apartment in the big city

2005-08-08T17:16:00.000-04:00

Finding an apartment in the big city-

1. When looking for an apartment in a large metropolis which you have rarely visited, make sure that you time your move-in to coincide with the local college move-in season. This will ensure that your options are limited, and those that are open to you are far away from any hip residential centers, or convenient locations. It will also allow you to visit spaces in the worst parts of your new city, barely fit for human occupation and rife with potential physical harm. Even in daylight!

2. Be sure that your timetable for finding an apartment is unrealistically shortened by as many logistical pressures as possible, such as: starting a job, not imposing on friends, or not having enough money for temporary housing. This will guarantee that your stress level will grow exponentially, and when you do find a marginally habitable space, you can jump into a lease without doing the proper research. By doing this, your new place is sure to have that not-as-nice-as-I-thought look that many apartment hunters miss out on.

3. Take your new roommates at face value. If they seem like good people, you won't know for sure until it is too late. Do not be put off by common criteria such as: knowing anything about them, or asking questions about prior roommates. Now, when they are not home, you are free to dread their arrival for hours on end. Who knows what they might have up their potentially homicidal sleeves! (This step is imperative to the completion of step two)

4. Finally, put all of your eggs in one basket. Give them whatever deposit they ask for, even if it empties your bank account. If they don't make you sign a lease, even better. Now, when you come home on day two to find that your key no longer fits, and your ATM card is useless, your only recourse will be to sleep in the street and become one with your new city. Since there is no official record of your transaction, legal action is not even an option, saving you the court costs and hassle of getting your things back.

In the event that the renter/roommates turn out to be legitimate, continue worrying about these, and any other negative possibilities until all trust in your new found living situation is ground to a harsh paranoia by the terrible millstone of the unknown.