Saturday, October 26, 2002

Here is a short story that I wrote a few years ago. Some of you read it back than. But as Dennis Miller used to say. It is not a rerun but an encore presentation!

A M E R I C A N MONKEYS

It seemed like the day I decided to take my own life that the weather some how knew. It was fitting what was to be my last day on Earth was one of those extremely dark days when you began to wonder if the sun still existed. I guess it didn’t even matter where I stood now. Standing in the dark, damp subway station. Finally my train pulled up and I got in. Not a moment too soon either the stench of the urine in the subway was particularly strong that night.

I took the first seat. The train was quite full for such a messy night. The only reason I was out in this mess was to say goodbye to my friend Peter. Peter and I had grown up together, although I haven’t seen him too much these days since he went to school in the city. When I got there some spaced out guy who I have met before greeted me, I think his name was Darren, or Jared, or something one of those names you don’t hear that often. He told me Peter had gone to his girlfriend’s house for the weekend. I couldn’t believe it . I couldn’t even get my most important goodbye in. To top it all off it reminded me that I was dumped a month ago. I guess I wouldn’t had been that big a deal if it hadn’t been so close to me flunking out of college. I can’t look back. I’m going to do it tonight.

Looking around the train I was on I wondered why it was frowned abound to take your own life. In fact, society would be much better off with out some of my fellow passengers. For example, the fat man two seats ahead of me. I mean this guy must have been without exaggerations 600 pounds. I don’t understand people like him, you would think when he broke 400 he would have decided to lay off the Twinkies. The man’s rolls of fat jiggled as the train moved. It was jiggling almost in perfect timing with the metal squeezing sounds the train made.

As my eyes scanned the car I found another cancer to society. Miles Peterson, I graduated high school with him. We were good friends for the first two years or so, he was acutally kind of a quiet geek type. However, one day he decided to pretend he was a bad ass. He started wearing chains, dressing differently, calling everyone YO. What really pissed me off was that everyone but Peter and me seemed to have bought it at the time. He became one of the most popular guys in school. He would tell me every Monday about the girls that he would get laid by. I never understood girls. I guess that’s why Gina left me.

I clinched a bottle of aspirin in my hand. It was shoved way down deep in my pocket. I figured that’s the way to go. It’s going to be tough enough for whoever discovers my body. No need for me to add to the horror by putting a bullet through my skull and having them not only see my dead body but my brains scattered all over the room.

When the doors opened again to let the next wave of passengers in and a fresh dose of urine air, Miles spotted me. He got up and walked towards me swinging his arms like he would turn around and hit anyone who gave him crap. Its funny I still see that quiet kid he used to be. He used to have a Ducktales lunchbox our first year of high school. Not only was it odd for a kid that age to still have a lunchbox, but to have one with a cartoon on it made it even funnier. He sat down across from me.

“How you been Yo?” he shouted loud enough to make sure everyone knew he was cool.

“ I have been”
You would think with the blatant roll of the eyes I gave him he would have gotten the hint.

“Where you working these days? he asked.
“Ralph’s market.”

“Still? What are you up to about 4 bucks an hour?” he asked followed by a fake laugh.

“About that.”
Now notice I didn’t ask him anything about his life. However, he saw fit to tell me anyway.

“I’ve been working for the Central Federal Computer Data. Its easy cash. Because, I know my shit so well. I get on the phone and sell people software and shit. I even go to their homes to help fix problems. I make commission on selling them a warranty from our company. I’ll go in there and scare the crap out of them by telling them horror stories of all the viruses going around. Not only do I get them to buy warranties and make commission, but I exploit the real dumbasses. I’ll run a disk in their computer and charge them 50 bucks telling them they are protected from all the newest viruses. Although it doesn’t even do that. It just runs through the files. Its totally meaningless.”

I started pretended in my mind to punch him and throw him into the wall of the train. I always make stuff up in my mind when I’m bored As I looked around the train I was amazed to see this incredibly sexy woman about my age sitting, alone. As Miles rambled on and on, I began to think maybe I could postpone my plans for the night and make a new friend. She had straight dark hair and a low cut red tank top on. Peter once lent me a book about how men and woman get together. The one theory was the monkey theory. That if two people were forced to stay in the same spot for a long period of time they would end up having sex. Like monkeys in a cage at a zoo. I got out of my seat while the train still moved. I figured I had at least thirty minutes until we reached Stewart Street, which was my stop. She wasn’t going anywhere. Might as well go out with a bang. I always wanted to put that monkey theory to a test.

My first move to make and impression on her wasn’t very good. I kinda fell into the seat next to her. I wondered if Miles was still talking.
Our eyes met. I had to say something other than hello. That would be pretty lame. I took notice of her wearing shorts.
“Aren’t you cold?” I asked. Although one look at her tank top gave me the answer to that question. I didn’t want to look, so I sent my eyes to look at the chair in front of me. There was a bunny sticker on the back of the seat in front of me. I just sat and looked right at it.

“Yeah well it’s always hot where I work so my boss let’s me wear shorts. She’s cool like that” I turned back facing her just to see her smile after she said that. I saw her big brown eyes widen. She has such a nice smile, that it made me feel guilty about all the sinful things I thought of her while crossing that train.

“Melissa’s my name but call me Missy” she extended her soft little hand.

“I’m James.” We shook hands. “So where do you work?”

“American Bagels you know on 45th and market?”

“Oh yeaaaah” I lied.

“Do you want one?” she asked she leaned over to get a bagel out of the bag sitting on the floor. My eyes went straight back to the bunny. I took the bagel and wrapped it up and set it on my lap for later. I wanted to talk to her, but not about me. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to hear about me going to school to become a doctor and failing. Or how everyone seemed to have better luck than I do, even guys like Miles who didn’t deserve it. Or that if this train wasn’t moving so slow, that I would be downing a bunch of pills right now.
“Where you heading?” I asked.

“Back to my apartment in Amesbury.”

“That must be so cool to be out on your own. I mean my parents drive me nuts. Everybody has it better than me. What made you finally decide to get out?”

“Actually my parents are dead”

No where in that monkey book did it mention about what to say after that.

“I’m really …”

“When I was ten my mother was killed in a drunk driving accident. My father was never the same. Six years later I came home from school to find my father lying on the kitchen floor. He was dead of a heart attack. I sat there holding him waiting for the ambulance. But I knew he was gone. I could feel it. I have some relatives down south, and a grandmother in a home. But I have been on my own since I was sixteen its been me and my Little sister. I work at the bagel place and take classes when I can. I’m not going to be there my whole life. I’ studying to become a vet I love animals”

When I first saw her I could only think about what she would look like naked. Now I couldn’t. I just thought about holding her when she was crying and holding her in sense to say it wasn’t fair that she was dealt a lousy hand in life. But its amazing when I looked at her she didn’t seem defeated. In fact, she had a look of total confidence when she told me where she saw herself. I placed my hand on hers for a second. She looked back and pointed with her head. She pointed right to Miles.

“Friend of yours?” she asked.

“Far from it”

“He comes in my work a lot. Her asks me to go clubbing with him every time. I just keep telling him no but he doesn’t listen. I told him to his face one time that I didn’t like him,but he still comes.”

Speaking of the devil. He came to us as the train had reached his station. He walked up to say goodbye. Or so I thought. He just looked at her.

“ I see you are talking to my boy Jimmy over here,” he said, hitting my shoulder. But it was the way he said it like I didn’t have a chance in hell with a girl like her that pissed me off. “Maybe I’ll stop in and see you tomorrow Missy.” As he finished that sentence missy and I both noticed the enormous piece of snot hanging out his nose. It was funny how he was trying to put me down in front of her, and he had a ten-foot booger clinging for dear life to a nose hair. When he left, we both broke into laughter. I hadn’t laughed that hard in I don’t know how long.

“Its funny most girls are into Miles big time,” I said once I caught my breath.

“Yeah there are a lot of naive girls that I could see buying into his act. I guess he sees other guys get girls who act that, and he figures he my as well pretend to be like them. Instead of actually being himself. I mean he may live a happy life with girls he dupes. But he isn’t honest with himself. I can even tell that. I guess his act is just his way of taking the easy way out.” I realized the irony of her comment as I clinched the aspirin bottle once again.

Before I knew it we arrived at Stewart station I got up. I realized what I slid on when I came over. It was little red plastic monkey, with two hook arms. It looked like it was from one of those barrel of monkeys from when I was a kid.

“Oh how cute,” she said. “ My little sister gave me them for Christmas one year. She said she liked the way that one monkey would always hold on with all his might to keep the other from falling.”

“Thanks,” I said softly. I think she thought I ment the for the bagel.

I gave her the monkey and told her goodbye. I stepped out of the train. I thought about doubling back and getting her number. Instead, I took the aspirin and threw it as hard as I could, and took a bite of the bagel. It was sweet.

Wednesday, October 23, 2002

“Jersey Girl”

There is a good chance that many of my readers (okay maybe 2 of them) have no idea that major movie stars are bouncing around in the tri-state area. Kevin Smith director of such watermark 90’s flicks as Chasing Amy, Clerks and Mall Rats, is currently making his next movie Jersey Girl in our own Garden State.

The movie which wraps production next Wednesday boasts two major Hollywood stars in Ben Affleck and J-Lo, who are apparently now GETTING IT ON! I am not sure if their love blossomed over cheese steaks or not. In addition Kevin Smith favorite Jason Lee, American Pie’s Jason Biggs (recently sighted in a Philly club), George Carlen, Liv Tyler and the fat guy from Dumb and Dumber will appear in the flick, and have been in the area to shoot parts of the film.

Most of the Jersey filming was done in Paulsboro. The town is supposed to be central Jersey though. The movie also has scene that was filmed right in the Berlin diner. The Silver looking one right on the White Horse Pike. Since the movie was to take place in the winter, the tree sitting out side was stripped of its leafs. You can actually still see it if you drive past.

Scenes in Philly are supposed to be NYC, such as the Hard Rock Café, because its obviously cheaper to film there. The people of Paulsboro were so delighted to get some press that, they named a street after Kevin Smith. As of this week there is officially a Kevin Smith Way in the town of Paulsboro.

I’m told people have been cool when people have been asking them for autographs. Sadly its about the biggest thing movie wise to have come here in a long time. This girl that writes for the Daily News became so obsessed with Ben Affleck being around, that she wrote about one time about voice mails that he left her. She also took paper space to tell him where to get soup and cheese steaks.

You will have to wait till fall of 2003 to nudge your friend and say. Hey I know that place! I have no idea what the plot is about. Maybe it is about a girl that comes back from college to work a crappy retail job and make half the garden state fall in love with her. I didn’t see any Puerto Rican cast members in the cast list though. Don’t worry loyal viewers she NEVER reads my blogg, no matter how many times I tell her to. So no harm will come on to thee!


Other movies that I know of filmed in Philly:

Rocky
Fallen
Mannequin
Mannequin 2: On the Move
Philadelphia
Witness (parts of)



Monday, October 21, 2002

You know how sometimes when you tune into a talk show you like, and there is a guest host. This is kinda like that. Im too tired, and busy to write anything today, so I have cut and pasted Ryan's thoughts on modern day life in the suburbs. It was actually a paper he did in 1999 (was it really that long ago?). Its pretty interesting though.

"Suburbia"


“Turn right at the Golden Arches and hang a left at Sal’s Pizza, go down two traffic lights, and that will bring you to Winding Way.” Are those the direction to you house? If not, I’ll bet they’re pretty close. That’s how it is in the suburbs. Middle class suburbia, which I am and always have been a part of, has become in recent years a predictable and patterned society in which almost any town in the US can be moved to another part of the country and fit right in. There are fewer and fewer distinguishing features in these suburban towns that once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I know we all have grown very accustom to our food markets, fast food restaurants, and video rental stores, but its gotten to the point to where they all seem to be in the same order and the some distance apart from each other.

Suburbs are a product of the city and country. They are a breeding ground for contact zones. Mary Louise Pratt defines contact zones as “social spaces where cultures meet, clash, and grapple with each other, often in contexts of highly asymmetrical relations of power, such as colonialism, slavery, or their aftermath as they are lived out in many parts of the world today”(Pratt 530). These zones have become so abundant in suburbia, it is almost as if there are no contact zones but just contact.

Suburbia was a new concept in the early 1950’s. It seemed to be a perfect mix of city and country. The suburbs had the food stores and restaurants of the city without the inconvenience of bumper to bumper traffic to get to them. They had the clear skies and quiet nights of the country, but had not without the occasional carnival or celebration to break the silence. The houses were just far enough apart to where you can have your personal space but close enough to where you would be able to visit your neighbor without having to travel 5 miles. They definitely had the best of both worlds. Now that they have become a world of their own, I’m not sure if those “bests” are even there anymore.

Today, it’s a little different. First, another question. How many times have you gotten lost in a development? People think it is easy to get lost in the sea of cars and buildings that is the city. They also picture getting lost on that never-ending dirt road in the country. These both are true, however, the suburbs are now just as easy to get lost in. Let’s start with where the houses are: developments. The idea behind developments is that all of the houses are designed almost identically. They all look the same! Maple St., Oak St., Washington or Lincoln Blvd., Yale or Harvard Ave., it doesn’t matter.

On the other side of my town, there is a development and I get lost everytime I go in there. It is a maze of split level houses with bushes, basketball nets in the driveway, and American flags hanging outside front doors. If I get lost in my own town, what chance do I have in another one?

Then once you get out of the development, you have to find the thrift store and Marco’s Italian Eatery. Is it two lights past Evesham Ave. or three? Do I go right at the Wawa or stay straight? These are the suburbs of today. They aren’t a bad place to live in, they are just a little monotonous. Sure, there’s a lot to do, but its all pretty much the same.

Another thing that brings out the similarity of suburbia is the seasons. With spring there is gardening. Make sure your daffodils and tulips are in the ground and ready to bloom. Memorial Day comes around and its bar-b-que time. When you really think about it, everyone is doing the same thing. Dad is grilling burgers and dogs while mom is fixing potato salad. The neighbors bring the apple pie.

Summer rolls around and it’s the town swim club for passing those long days away. As August gets under way, it’s time to get to the mall for those back to school sales. Football and soccer tryouts occupy the kids while raking leaves and painting the shed occupies the parents.

Halloween is always nice as long as no one gets lost trick or treating in their own neighborhood. Thanksgiving is a chance where we can visit our relatives in a suburb out of state and not be too impressed.

Now the days are colder and the snow is falling. Santa is at the mall, along with the rest of the civilized world and the kids are making some extra cash shoveling driveways and sledding down the hill behind K-Mart.

It is pretty common knowledge that changing schools is a nerve-racking experience. This is true but to different degrees. If a student from a city comes into a suburb to a new school, the change may be overwhelming at first. But when they come from just another suburb, the transition is much smoother.

In her article “Arts of the Contact Zone,” Pratt discusses two different kinds of cultures. There is the conqueror and there is the conquered. What forms a contact zone is the blending of these two cultures. Languages, traditions, among other customs are given and taken from both sides. Pratt uses a quote from Guaman Poma’s New Chronical and Good Government to give an example of “a conquered subject using the conqueror’s language to construct a parodic, oppositional representation of the conqueror’s own speech.” In essence, this is an example of how a contact zone is created from two cultures, a conqueror and a conquered. The common ground here is language. The Andeans dream of the Spanish bringing them gold and silver from Peru. When they end up brining nothing, the Andeans say something to express their feelings of disappointment in a “parodic” manner.

In this particular case, the result of the contact zone is negative. The Spanish were depicted as a higher power in Puman’s book. The second half, which is called “Good Government and Justice,” “combines a description of colonial society in the Andean region with a passionate denunciation of Spanish exploration and abuse”(Pratt 533). The Andeans were being decimated “at a genocidal rate” (Pratt 533).
In the case of the suburbs, however, it is positive. As time went on, views of suburban life from city and country inhabitants become somewhat negative. The stereotypes began to form. For starters, there are the snobbish, lazy twenty and thirty-somethings living at the mall and coffee shop slash bookstores. Then there’s the high schoolers with their own car (but can’t parallel park since they never have to) who drive to the mall and spend hours walking its floor without making a single purchase and sometimes not even entering a store, are among some of the many. I’ll admit that I am guilty of the latter along with a countless number of my peers. That’s what’s happening in these towns. The mall, bookstores, Taco Bell, and Blockbusters are the things to do.

With the contact zones of the Spanish and Andeans, the Spanish were the dominant culture. It is hard to say which culture is the dominant and which is the conquered when talking about the suburbs. If I had to choose, and I pretty much do, I’d say that the city has had a bigger impact than the country has. Many of a big American city’s qualities can be found in suburbia. Today, there IS bumper to bumper traffic. Ever since that multiplex cinema and new deluxe Shop Rite went up across the street from each other, there’s gridlock pretty much anytime of the day. And as far as roads go, they always need fixing. When one gets fixed, another is shut down. This creates detours, which create more traffic, which creates a mini city, if you will. Because of this, those in the country have similar perceptions of suburbians as the city residents do, but for the opposite reason, since they are on the other end of the spectrum.

Autoethnography, transculturation, critique, collaboration,
Bilingualism, mediation, parody, denunciation, imaginary
Dialogue, vernacular expression-these are some of the literate
arts of the contact zone.(Pratt 536).

Miscomprehension, incomprehension, dead letters, unread
Masterpieces, absolute heterogeneity of meaning-these are
Some of the perils of writing in the contact zone.(Pratt 536).

Pratt said this referring to literature but these terms also fit the way we live in communities. As I said before the suburbs aren’t a bad place to live in, they just have become barren. Not barren in the literal sense, but in the overall feeling they give off. They are all I have ever lived in and don’t mind them at all. I’ll probably continue to live in them as I get older. I’m sure there are many people who live in cities and in the country who will agree that there habitats are all the same. It’s just that the suburbs were the new way. They were the mixture of two extremes. Now they have just become an extreme of their own.




















"Monday Morning Blues"

The alarm goes off. Your feet hit the floor. The most possible time to exist bettween you and your weekend stands in front of you. You are almost getting yourself killed for a parking spot on campus. Perhaps your going to a job you hate. Perhaps your going off to grad school. Most likely your running into traffic of some sort. Listening to your morning show of choice, trying to ease back into the work week.

But lets face it, some times life can just be mundane. Like I have and pretend I care about my customers, or that I am doing work at my internship. You know you will be asked to perform tasks you would rather not do. I know that I would rather just go home, lay down on my bed face down and close my eyes. Lay there in total slience with out a soul around and pretend I don't exist. But there is one thing that will get you through it all. And know its not beer.
IT is simply this.
http://user.tninet.se/~prv247p/hatt/hatten.swf

When Monday blues have gotten you down. Just close your eyes, and think of these people. Think of that man with the black glasses and the beard. Think about how happy they are to be singing the Hat Baby song. Think of the haunting song. Think of the dance. Think of all the fingers pointing at the guys hat. Think of all the floating hands.

Hum the song all day. This will certainly cure the blues.