A Terrible Story

Here is a terrible story told to me years ago by my foreman when I was apprenticing in a machine shop. He was trying to illustrate the fact that machine shops are bad places for joking around cause they’re often filled by rough tough guys.
Walt ( my foreman) was working in an aircraft plant. He was knocking out pieces of aluminum that would be used in the assembly of air force planes. It was a gigantic shop the size of a football field.
In the center of this huge manufacturing floor was a welding station where the machinists would bring their completed pieces to be a assembled by a team of welders. The welding station was screened off from the rest of the floor by thick canvas curtains designed to shield the other employees from the blinding light emitted by the torches. The was a joker in the shop, a joker who couldn’t stop getting the laughs. He decided to play a “funny” trick on the welders. He took to throwing a piece of aluminum up over the top of the curtains so it would clatter to the floor in the welding station, startling the welders at their labor and ruining the bead of molten metal that they must apply precisely. The welders kept throwing it back over ,but the prankster couldn’t stop himself from repeating this trick over and over. He threw the aluminum piece up over the curtains once again. This time the welders took their torches and heated the aluminum white hot. Aluminum does not chage color when heated. They took their tongs and tossed the plate back over the curtain. Of course the trickster had to pick it up to do his trick again. You can imagine the outcome.
I cannot forget this story.
It is illustrative on a point. As Mark Twain said ” A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way”

NY DA case stinks to high heaven

So, now we know why the lead prosecutor in the NY County DA’s Sex Crime office resigned this morning. When will so called crime fighter Cy Vance clean up the sex crimes bureau which has launched so many unfounded prosecutions of consensual sex acts over the years. And furthermore , when will he direct the NYPD to make marijuana possession the lowest priority of NY county law enforcement, not the second leading cause of arrest in our city. The whole thing stinks to high heaven.

 Bon Iver-I can”t stop listening to this song. This guy is a brilliant poet

Exploding Plastic Inevitable-12 yrs old in P’Town

Velvet Underground and Nico was possibly the first concert I ever went to. Andy Warhol’s Exploding Plastic Inevitable was in Provincetown playing at the museum in conjunction with a pop art exhibit. My parents asked if kids could go and got a yes. I was 12 maybe 11. All I remember was 3 films going at once in the background while they sang “Heroin” and the dancers formed a circle and the one in middle mimed taking a shot. All while strobe lights bounced off a mirror ball overhead. I think that one experience helped warp me for life. All I know is when I got home I went about trying to recreate that as well as I could.

Ken Kesey rap on IDENTIFYING your inner WARRIOR: “How do we know we’re warriors? How do we know who we are? We do, we do! Go ahead and brighten up that little spark in your life. Brighten it up and when you see each other there, don’t turn a…way from each other. When some guy on the street needs money, give him some damn money. We can afford it. Lay a couple of bucks on him and then meet his eyes; deal with him. This is what most of them want is just to have that human touch. And we don’t have to have master’s degrees, or big houses. We can do it with funny clothes on. We can look at each other and say, “Have a nice day,” and mean it, f**ng mean it right down from where you are, Say: “Have a nice day.” The person looks back and your face lights up and then already you are having a better day. This is where it’s gonna run from…WARRIORS are revolutionaries. If you watch these people long enough you know which guy is a warrior and how much they’re dedicated to that really secret place in ourselves that wants to be a warrior. Not to be a soldier. A soldier fights for the government. A warrior is like a samurai—he fights for the people…

Ken Kesey

I wanna tell you I’ve always wanted to tell you But I never had the chance to say What I feel in my heart from the beginning ‘Til my time today

I was fifteen, sixteen maybe In the park, I was waving my arms You were wet with sweat and You sang the song that I was screamin’ I wanted you to

Another time was in South Carolina It’s always been the third encore Whose wind came blowing in Can you tell me who were you singin’ for? Oh my God, can you tell me who you were singin’ to?

A phone call from your New York City office You were supposedly asking to see me But how I want to tell you That I was just only four hundred miles away

Who could believe that you were calling I was in DC, I was four hundred miles behind Backstage pass in my hand Givin’ you my heart was my plan I wish I could tell you

My chance In the middle of the stadium in Paris, France Can I finally tell you? Can I finally tell you to be my man?

Chan Marshall (Cat Power)- Song for Bobby

Bike in the morning.

Can’t think of a better way to get to work than on my bike. Thru the sweet air of McCarren Park, past the smell of garlic frying in olive oil. Just like life there’s a doody diaper in the road. Then the bridge where I give thanks for the use of my legs, not like my sister in her electric wheelchair or my brother limping with a cane bravely over the span.

RW40827: 827: The Fortran of Solitude//

0h-827:

We can rebuild her. Finally the snot-colored clouds and oppressive air has lifted and disbursed itself to the northern climes. She walks along the water on the hudson river parkway— now pristine, jam-packed with recreationalists jockeying for position on the water front. Why do New Yorkers turn…

Aroma

Perfume is like love. It continues to give pleasure long after the first application

The clubhouse in Brian’s backyard

The clubhouse was actually an old garage had been sealed on the door side. It had a loft and old comfortable furniture. It was more of a place for men to sit together, have a smoke , listen to old scratchy records and reminisce about the past, and contemplate the future. We liked to come out there, to get away from the kids, and joke about what it would be like if we actually turned it into an office. We bought an old limo, put in an phone, took out an ad, and there you had it. Mitch and Brian’s car service. Think of us as contemporary version of Amos and Andy, and Kingfisher thrown in for good effect. We would sit out in the driveway smoking malodorous cheap Italian cigars, in plastic strap lawn chairs and make remarks to the women who passed by. We wore bowler hats , and cheap waistcoats and our shirts were often sweat stained with dirty collars. I kept my grandfathers pocket watch on a gold chain just for effect. We took small wagers on the side, and often a spirited game of dice would ensue. Local husbands would wander by, attracted by the smoke and the gambling they would venture up to the clubhouse to try their luck. Tis never turned out well for them, our skills being quite sharp. The wives soon Grew sick of us, and one who was the sister in law of the chief gendarme dropped a dime The local gendarmerie made it their business to roll by on regular basis. they started making our lives and business intolerable. They did not like our conduct or the fraternal mingling that had begun to centre upon the clubhouse. One day we received a visit from the local Major, who made it clear our antics would no longer be condoned. We retreated back inside the clubhouse and continue to meet there most nights, to smoke and listen to scratchy records, and reminisce.