POSTING OF THE DAY (Even though I said that "of the day" stuff wasn't to be taken literally).

IMAGE OF THE DAY:

(Related to me by a friend rather than experienced directly). A stampeding herd of fully costumed Santas running through the Subway station at 34th St. Most of them are jovial but one malcontent St. Nick taunts the people he's inconveniencing: "Made you miss your train!! Ho Ho. Ho. Made you miss your train!!"

BOB DYLAN-RELATED THOUGHT OF THE DAY:

I see here that Bob Dylan will be hosting a weekly music show on XM Satellite radio. My first thought was “Wow. Pretty cool.” My next thought: I wonder if you have to pay extra to get a descrambler. It seems like a bold (read: questionable) step to take for a new medium that has not yet established the clarity of its transmissions.

SINGLE PARAGRAPH PROUSTIANLY-PUNCTUATED PORTRAIT OF THE DAY:

He was a man in search of an identity. Each new tried-on gesture, random as it might be, became, in his ongoing quest for selfhood, the cornerstone of an entirely new (if entirely temporary) personality.

PAGE SIX META-COMMENTARY OF THE DAY:

I read on the NY Post’s reliable Page Six, that Bruce Willis has been busy trying to court Petra Nemcova. Funny to have the loss-deepened Hollywood action hero pursuing the loss-deepened Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, her tragic association with the Tsunami disaster presumably lending an aura of gravitas and dignity to his womanizing ways. Already a breathtaking beauty, she has been ennobled by her tragedy. It has elevated her value in the market place of desire, offering as it does an implied association with that rarest of treasures: something as powerful and all consuming as a Hollywood star’s ego. Bruce and Petra. The deeper, more realized celebrity couple. Their souls bound together by the common experience of loss. She has lost her lover, her future, her innocence, her dreams. And he has lost his hair. It feels like the kind of thing that would have happened in a Bruce Wagner novel had it not happened in reality first.

SPORTS OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:

Speaking of courtship rituals, I read that the Yankees are trying to acquire Nomar Garciappara and convince him to play first base. If they get him, it would make an infield for the ages. A-Rod. Jeter. Nomar. It’s like a hall of fame for light skinned non-Caucasians.

GREAT CONCEPT OF THE DAY (Doing double-duty as Web-link of the day):

Love the idea of Matthew Haughey’s “My Childhood, seen by Google maps.” www.flickr.com/photos/mathowie/8496262/ When I saw the Google satellite shot of the house I grew up in, I was struck by the bizarre incongruity between these primal personal events of my life and this totally impersonal representation of the stage on which they took place. Cool to see that someone actually did something to express that collision between the personal imaginary and the impersonal symbolic and did it in an elegant and affecting way. (FYI: Mr. Haughey’s project is referenced in last Sunday’s Year In Ideas issue of the NYT Magazine section under the heading “Do-It-Yourself Cartography.)


EPIPHANY OF THE DAY:

After work, I go to Barnes and Nobles to test drive a few books I’m considering buying for my upcoming trip to Puerto Rico. As I’m reading in the library-like atmosphere of the store, I notice that two deaf people at the table next to me are carrying on a vigorous conversation with their hands. The Larry David within me (or at least the laugh whore) recognizes the comedic potential of walking over to them and reproachfully gesturing “Shhhh!” But the rest of me just marvels at how, in certain circumstances, handicaps can be advantages. And vice versa. In this environment, I am the one who can’t carry on a robust discussion without incurring the wrath of my peers. I am the one who is challenged. I’m not sure in what circumstance a quadriplegic has the competitive advantage, but discretion suggests it’s best not to venture down that road of speculation. (Related tangential thoughts associated with deaf people: 1) Can they hear themselves think? And 2) Are there deaf stutterers who actually manifest their hesitancy by repeating the same partially enacted signs?)

ABSURDITY OF THE DAY:

After I leave Barnes and Nobles, minor epiphany but no books in hand (although I have a few candidates including “Kafka on the Shore” by Murakami , “Snow: by Orhan Pamuk and “Seven Types of Ambiguity” by Eliot Perlman), I go in search of some oil to lubricate my beard trimmer. The manager at Duane Reade says they don’t have any and suggests I try the Home Depot. I wander into this emporium of domestic paraphernalia, It is huge. Vast. And, at this hour, almost entirely empty. I walk at least 2 football fields without seeing another customer. I finally find a small container of 3-in-1 oil.. But it seems like too little to show for my visit to this gargantuan temple of stuff. What else do I need? Hmm. Drills? No. Garbage cans? No. Linoleum? No. Toilets? No. But, hey, I do need a roll of toilet paper. Well, guess what. They don’t have a roll of toilet paper. They only have 24 rolls of toilet paper or 48 rolls of toilet paper. So, in tribute to the immensity of my environs, I end up getting the gigantic 48 roll cube. That’s 47 rolls more than I’ve ever bought before. I try to explain to my friend, later, that it’s not that I’ve suddenly gotten all domestic or that I have any idea where I’m gonna put the stuff,. It’s just that there was something in the size and scale and majesty of the place that made me feel that this was the thing to do. So there is Vegas on the bus, hauling this giant cube of soft absorbance on his shoulder like Atlas. Or an anally fixated Santa. Actually, despite my desire to confer some mythic dignity upon the scene, I suspect I looked a lot more like an ant toting a big white crumb. Anyhow, I have no idea where I’ll store the haul once I get back to my small apartment. I’m thinking maybe I can use it as a chair.

I tote my TP on the bus. (Needing the handicapped seat to accommodate the booty). At 57th and 8th I switcfh to catch the M10 uptown, But I suddenly see the Time Warner AOL building and have a yen for Whole Foods. I decide to make a pit stop for a little dinner down in the cafeteria section there. I take my 48 rolls down, fill up a bowl of Chana Masala and rice from the Indian food buffet and stand on the check out line. I think I’m the thing that’s getting checked out. Not for my stellar looks or my distinguished beard. But for the absurd spectacle of a guy holding nothing but a little plate of food and 48 rolls of toilet paper.

MEDITATION OF THE DAY:

Anyhow, I enjoy a surprisingly dignified little repast down there across from my absorbant mega-prop. As I stared at my inanimate (but not unpleasant) dinner companion, I reflected on how I’d experienced a wonderfully satisfying consumer trifecta; Barnes and Noble, Home Depot and Whole Foods; A rare sense of wholesome participation in the institutions of our society, a rare and wondrous sense that they are truly reflecting my needs and desires. For once I am not critical and detached. I feel grateful to be an adventurer in experience, enjoying the bounty of what our empire has to offer.

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Posted on 12/14/2005 ( Permanent Link )
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