Recent Readings

New York City is on track to have fewer than 500 homicides this year, by far the lowest number in a 12-month period since reliable Police Department statistics became available in 1963. But within the city’s official crime statistics is a figure that may be even more striking: so far, with roughly half the killings analyzed, only 35 were found to be committed by strangers, a microscopic statistic in a city of more than 8.2 million. If that trend holds up, fewer than 100 homicide victims in New York City this year will have been strangers to their assailants.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/23/nyregion/23murder.html?ei=5065&en=e317f6d8d8c57dde&ex=1196485200&partner=MYWAY&pagewanted=print

vs.

The Impact of Legal Abortions on Crime:
"Evidence that legalized abortion has contributed significantly to recent crime reductions... appears to account for as much as 50 percent of the recent drop in crime"... as opposed to higher incarceration rates, stricter gun control laws, and increased number of police.
http://pricetheory.uchicago.edu/levitt/Papers/DonohueLevittTheImpactOfLegalized2001.pdf

Journeys...

On the train headed back from the Hamptons, I watch the landscape slide by... allowing glimpses into minor moments... empty parking lots, deserted cars, industrial wastelands, seas of yellow school buses... slices that touch the railroad tracks. And backyards... with bright blue pools and century old houses with collapsing rooftops... the train slows to its next stop. in slow motion I see a family standing around in their yard - their slice - organizing the rules of family football, getting ready for the huddle. For a moment it is my field of grass where my childhood is flourishing amongst debatable touchdowns and imaginary yardlines. It is my family rolling, throwing, tackling as the train pulls away from the station... My time slips behind. I want it back. I want that moment back. I want the laughter and the stained knees. The leaves that crunch under a run to the goal-line. My mind grasps at the memories of a family now scattered but not shattered that will most likely never be in the same slice of autumn again. The train moves me forward... Life moves me forward... And a new slice of life begins... here it is spring... and there is much to do before autumn arrives for this new family.

April Dupont

Of Boston. Died Oct. 14, 2007. Devoted daughter of Raymond and Margret Schindler-DuPont. Sister of David DuPont. She is also survived by many aunts, uncles, cousins & friends. A memorial service will be held Fri., Oct. 19 at Bank of America, Boston College Club, 100 Federal St, 36th fl, Boston, MA. Relatives & friends are kindly invited to attend. Visitation 4-7PM. In lieu of flowers, send donations to the Animal Rescue League, 55 Annas Pl 238 Pine St, Dedham MA 02026 Published in the Boston Globe on 10/19/2007.

April is on the left in this pic

April was a friend of mine through my years at Carnegie Mellon. We started off in the same freshman dorm together and became roommates through our sophomore and junior years. Both stubborn and fun-loving, we cavorted across campus together, supported each other through good and bad relationships, and ultimately pushed each others boundaries until we figured out where to draw the line that separated us. Our clashes were memorable and inevitable, but our friendship deep. Her funeral is Thursday morning. And I feel I've reached a resolution about her death that excuses my absence from the service beyond my newborn son's young immune system... if there was a time to reflect on the circle of life, and if there's a time to appreciate what we have and hold dearest, and if there will be a time to live each moment to it's fullest, that time is now. Thank you, April.

Articles relaying what happened...
http://www.newstimes.com/ci_7190827
http://www.newstimes.com/ci_7212636

Crime Fighting in the West Village

SEPTEMBER 26--Bill Clinton is threatening legal action against a Manhattan restaurant if it does not immediately yank a photo of the former president's daughter Chelsea from the eatery's front window. In a September 18 letter to Osso Buco, an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village, the ex-president demands the removal of the five-year-old photo of his daughter and Nino Selimaj, the eatery's owner. The picture, which is in Osso Buco's front window, is among scores of similar photos displayed throughout Selimaj's University Place establishment (as well as several other Manhattan restaurants he operates). The offending Clinton-Selimaj photo can be seen at right. These kinds of a-celebrity-once-ate-here photo are, of course, a staple in the windows of hundreds of Manhattan restaurants. The "Dear Nino" letter, which is on "Office of William Jefferson Clinton" letterhead, was authored by Clinton counsel Douglas Band and contends that restaurant's display of the fading snapshot leaves the impression that the 27-year-old Chelsea, a "private citizen," endorses the restaurant. If Selimaj fails to comply with the removal request, the letter notes, "We reserve the right to exercise any and all options available to us."

-- From The Smoking Gun

As a southern "gentleman" I wonder if he tried using the word PLEASE first?

Get the Skinny

Want to see if you're keeping up with the Joneses? Here's a neat little site to rev up your competitive edge (or ego!):
http://zipskinny.com

The calm before the storm

Sorry for the silence lately... no big news, but I have been putting most of my adventures up in the meantime on Here I Come, the other blog with other big news, especially for the next few weeks of my life... so observations on life have been a bit narrow-minded and single-focused... There are going to be plenty of announcements and celebrations, so make sure that I have your mailing address and contact information! Send it to me already!

Burnt

I haven't been to Burning Man in years, but even over the three years where I religiously trekked to the desert with my gallons of water, I saw things change. Black Rock City was initially a place of exploration. Fantastical artwork, endless activities, loud music, instantaneous friendships... a mythical environment that one can only understand with their own flesh and blood. Branding and money has no place in BRC, but somehow the ego still found its way in the larger the party got. And the thirst that was quenched by a week of selflessness soon left a sour taste in my mouth. Here's what the city, once an empty desert, looks like during the festival from Google Map. Astounding....In the center of the civilization is The Man, who stands with his arms down until the day of the Burn. Not this year. This year some selfish San Franciscian mentalist burnt the man four days before the festival was set to alight the structure. The burning of the man is symbolic of whatever you need it to be symbolic of: a release the past, an enlightenment for the future, a chance to breathe deep and dance wildly. Apparently it was more important for this actor/writer in the San Francisco arts scene, who perhaps took his recently portrayal of Hunter S. Thompson in a play too seriously, to take this away from the 10,000+ citizens of the temporary city of Black Rock City. As much as I'm over the neuvo-hippie fest and it's pseudo-lovey self-importance, I couldn't help but feel sad for the Burners, those who had traveled far and paid considerable money to be in BRC only to have this moment taken from them. I'm sure they'll turn it into yet another anti-establishment statement.

Hot Hot Hot

From The Arizona Republic:
Aug. 29, 2007 12:00 AM Today should be the day that allows us to tell our grandchildren that we were here in the summer of 2007. Sometime late this afternoon, the temperature is expected to hit 110, and we will have set a record for misery: 29 days of at least 110 degrees in a year.

...perhaps it was the right idea not to be filming in Arizona this summer. Time to start ramping up for a spring shoot!

RIAA matrix

click for a larger image...

from boing boing

ATL Ho!

We all know the baggy pants fad is lame. Hey, I was a card-carrying, pant-sagging member for awhile myself. There is something anti-establishment about looking like shit. But illegal? If Atlanta has its way... (insert Snoop-Dogg nasal here) hell yeah.

The amendment, sponsored by city councilman C.T. Martin, states that sagging pants are an "epidemic" that is becoming a "major concern" around the country.

"Little children see it and want to adopt it, thinking it's the in thing," Martin said Wednesday. "I don't want young people thinking that half-dressing is the way to go. I want them to think about their future."

The proposed ordinance would also bar women from showing the strap of a thong beneath their pants. They would also be prohibited from wearing jogging bras in public or show a bra strap, said Debbie Seagraves, executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union of Georgia.

While the government playing the role of Fashion Police is disheartening and ridiculous, what's even more absurd is the ACLU's claim that this bill is "racial profiling".

But Seagraves said any legislation that creates a dress code would not survive a court challenge. She said the law could not be enforced in a nondiscriminatory way because it targets something that came out of the black youth culture.

Nigga please. This fad didn't come from the Black Youth Culture - unless you are guilty of committing racial profiling yourself because this trend came from PRISON where inmates weren't given belts to hold up their one-size-fits-all pants. And let's face it, MC Hammer poof pants "inspired" whites and blacks alike - but all that proved was that fashion retardation is truly color-blind if not completely blind. But let's ignore that. I would like to know: how do you "discriminate" against pants? Either they show crack or they don't. Oops! Was that crack comment racial profiling, too?!?!?

So who is worse?
The government that can't find anything to do with our misappropriated tax money than to pursue fashion trends? The parents who think it's a good idea for the government to police fashion so that they don't have to scold their children into pulling up their pants? Or the ACLU that adamantly screams for the rights of citizens while blatantly racially profiling their own defendants?

Full article at: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070823/ap_on_fe_st/atlanta_sagging_pants

Random Yotta

If human memory was put into computer memory how much would it equal?

The processing power of an average brain turns out to be about 100 million MIPS (Million computer Instructions Per Second), which is theoretically about 100 million yottabytes(10^24 ).... whatever a Yotta is!

Haight-Ashbury, update

I found a pic of what the turret that was in Rolling Stones looked like in 2001, when I lived there. Check this out and compare with the one in the previous entry...

Overheard in New York...

Occasionally, life requires a bit of streamlining - hence wondering if anyone one was out there! I happen to enjoy the little bits of life that emerge on this blog and as long as someone is reading I'll keep sharing. And I should probably remember that there's always someone listening in New York...

OVERHEARD IN NEW YORK (from Gawker):

Guy #1: Man, I don't know what to do! I can't get rid of my crazy ex! We've been broken up for almost a year now and I told her, 'I don't want to see you or speak to you any more,' and she said, 'I'm going to make your life miserable.' Then she had the audacity to send my current girlfriend a message on Facebook saying, 'We need to talk' and asked my current girlfriend to call her. Then, a few weeks later, she shows up at my office. And just this week she send me a text saying, 'I know we're not speaking, but do you want to come out to dinner with me and meet my mom?' What do I do?!
Guy #2: Oh my god, restraining order?!
Guy #1: And the sad part is that she has a dating column!
Guy #2: You mean she is giving other people dating advice?
Guy #1: Yup.

????????

Does anyone read this anymore??

Twice

This is a fun one for those of you who have been with me through the years... check out this month's issue of Rolling Stone - it's the 40 year Anniversary edition. On page 36 you'll see the following picture:

Do you recognize anything? Ok, BESIDES the Grateful Dead!
Look above the sign post...
just to the right of it...
is my old apartment at 545 Ashbury!

We spent several afternoons in that turret, often climbing out the window that lead to the next door neighbor's rooftop. An excellent view for various neighborhood street fairs and late night contemplations and cocktails.

That corner certainly looked different in 1967. By 2001 the hippies had been replaced by teenage bums and their pathetic puppy dogs... hmmm... maybe things hadn't changed too much. But where Jerry is standing in this picture would have been directly in front of a Ben & Jerry's... two guys who made hippie ice cream and even sainted Jerry Garcia with the flavor "Cherry Garcia" (we actually have a pint in our freezer right now) But the writing was on the wall I suppose and even those hippie guys couldn't hold out, eventually selling out to Unilever. Funny to read their mission statement now:

"Capitalism and the wealth it produces do not create opportunity for everyone equally. We recognize that the gap between the rich and the poor is wider than at anytime since the 1920's."

How much did you guys make when you sold out? Even better, Originally, the some of the sales from Cherry Garcia ice cream were donated to the Rex Foundation, which Jerry Garcia founded. NOW, royalties from the Cherry Garcia ice cream and frozen yogurt and pop now go directly to Jerry Garcia's estate. Don't think twice, it's all right...

It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,
It don't matter, anyhow,
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe,
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn,
Look out your window and Ill be gone,
You're the reason I'm travelin' on,
Don't think twice, it's all right.

...

Where I'm bound I can't tell,
But goodbye's too good a word, gal,
So I'll just say fare thee well.
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind,
You could have done better but I don't mind,
You just kinda wasted my precious time,
But don't think twice, It's all right.

Prison on Paradise Island

1,500 plus inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center, Cebu, Philippines reenact "Thriller"!! What could be more frightening?!





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMnk7lh9M3o

Special Fixin's

This special is available at the Drive Thru, whereas the "Bill Special" was dine-in only...

"Thought" of the Day

"Thoughts determine what you want.
Action determines what you get."

The Universal Donor

Apparently in Japan, it's a popular belief that one's blood type is predictive of their personality type as well as their relationship compatibility. Obviously it's as scientific as astrology but how much would I love that the next time I'm at a bar to hear "Hey baby, what's your blood type?" whispered in my ear rather than "So. What's your sign?"

TYPE A
Gentle, creative, sensitive.
Earnest, fastidious.
TYPE B
Wild, a doer, cheerful.
Selfish, irresponsible.
TYPE AB
Cool, controlled, rational.
Aloof, critical, indecisive.
TYPE O
Agreeable, sociable, an optimist.
Vain, careless.

This seems to be the exact opposite of how your blood can be used in transfusions...
From the Red Cross, if your blood type is:

Type	You Can Give Blood To	You Can Receive Blood From
A+	A+ AB+	A+ A- O+ O-
O+	O+ A+ B+ AB+	O+ O-
B+	B+ AB+	B+ B- O+ O-
AB+	AB+	Everyone
A-	A+ A- AB+ AB-	A- O-
O-	Everyone	O-
B-	B+ B- AB+ AB-	B- O-
AB-	AB+ AB-	AB- A- B- O-

I am Type O.
I am what is known as the "universal donor".
Type A, B, and AB can all take type O in an emergency.
Type positive can take type negative.
But O can only take O and negative can only take negative.
Only 6% of the world has O- blood.

And that I'm beginning to think that my blood type reflects much more about my life than just my personality...

The Dance

I can't remember the last time I woke up to a cloudy morning in New York. After days and weeks of brilliant sunshine and infinite horizons, today began with a sepia-toned skyline through a pointillist window... You have to look twice to see the architecture jutting through a hazy downtown mist behind a rain-spattered window. Ah, to look twice. So seldom do we ever look at all. We take our route, collect our items, do our bidding. Life becomes a series of movements. And rather than struggle to become dancers, we slip too easily into familiar machinations. Until the thunder rolls across the landscape and suddenly you have a reason to look twice. But then again, it's not like we've never seen the rain. Maybe today can just contribute to a long series of things I did before I died: perfected monotony.

Lists. Lists. Lists. Things to do. Things to get. Things to read. Because otherwise, I will forget. Still, today requires a different way of doing things. A way that allows for quick glances to watch the lightning crack across the sky and time to listen to the rain drum against the windows... that allows for today to be different. And perhaps a dance to be dreamt.