One last time

In an effort to keep this blog from becoming completely pro-Gomez agenda pushing, I wont say anything about last night’s show at the Housing Works Cafe.

Instead I’ll showcase some of my own photography. Featuring Gomez.

Good ol’ Gomez

The three singers of Gomez played at the beautiful Hiro Ballroom last night. It was, as usual, a stunning concert that reminds me that I would’ve made a deal with the devil to have Ben’s voice.

The night started off with a pleasant discovery of David Ford, who’s style evokes the dark, dreamy landscapes (and arpeggios) of early Radiohead and the almost too weighty songwriting of Damien Rice. His vocals were impressive, but at times sounded a little too much like the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls. I was a bit annoyed that the guy looked like a Justin Timberlake clone with stage theatrics that would’ve rivaled that Coldplay guy. Nonetheless, the guy’s voice and talent are hard to ignore.

Back to the main event, I still have an intense love for this band that baffles and scares some onlookers. I completely relate to the band’s mentality. They tour constantly, love their fans, have no ego and enjoy each other’s antics. Imagine your college buddies getting their asses off the couch and playing music. Except that their music turned out to be really fucking great.

Plus there’s an appreciation for having three singers that share vocals and harmonize, probably rooted in my growing up listening to the Beatles and Beach Boys. You just don’t hear that nowadays. It helps to have three singers that can sing really well. Not just a frontman with another band member that thinks he can sing (the Stills, I’m looking in your direction here until you prove me wrong).

Here’s a sampling of one song that each of the Gomez vocalists took a stab at:

Silence: Ian solo

Silence: Ben live

Silence: Tom, album version

I also love these guys because they never stop evolving their songs. The live versions are always ten times better than the studio releases, but I’m amazed that they’re open to playing a bluesy version or a Caribbean version or a waltzy version. They find new sounds for old songs that they could just as easily and lazily horde for new tracks for albums. But instead they keep their fans excited and their old tunes fresh.

Yeah, I’m one of the crazy fans that stockpiles bootlegs but the reward is hearing new songs evolve and take shape. Here’s an early version and a live pre-release version of a song that’s on their upcoming album:

Working Title: Failure

Hamoa Beach

One of my favorite Radiohead songs, Follow Me Around, will probably never get released and there aren’t any good recordings of it anywhere. Yeah, that sucks but it’s also somehow still fulfilling to have discovered it.

Hopefully I’ve devoted enough of this post to ranting on Gomez that I wont have to do it ever again. But maybe not since I’m reliving the adventure tonight at the Housing Works Bookstore. If anyone can find bootlegs of these concerts let me know!

Out with the old, in with the news

I haven’t really had a chance to ponder much of what’s going on in the world lately, but here’s a stab:

Why is Bush so relentless in turning over several port operations to a Dubai company? Eyebrows are raising, especially when Republicans are starting to stand up in opposition to the proposal.

Meanwhile the talks to balk a nuclear capable Iran is not going well. The idea of a possibly antagonist nation aquiring nuclear power if definitely scary for the U.S. but it’s hard not to judge the U.S. critically as well. Like a bully who has a shiny toy but won’t let anyone else play with it, holding out on the rest of the world seems a bit selfish. But I guess it’s also a responsible approach. How could anyone realistically expect that everyone would not abuse this power? And if we’re so against the proliferation of nuclear technology then why openly assist another country in the matter? Eyebrows are raising a little more. I guess I don’t know enough of the details to completely condemn Bush for this matter but his track record hasn’t exactly been aligning in my favor.

Elsewhere, it didn’t take long for the issue of abortion to pop up after the realignment of the Supreme Court. South Dakota steps up to the plate to take the first swing at abolishing abortion. It’s a very obvious attempt at pushing the issue into the forefront of the Judiciary. I, for one, am very surprised at the blatant and bold maneuver of the South Dakota lawmakers. They’re definitely not fucking around. But if anyone thinks this is going to be swift and clean is delusional. I can see this as the first step in a long and painful journey for the whole country.

What scary and interesting times in which we live.

There’s a ringing in my ears and it’s not tinnitus

Three down and and two to go! The Stills are releasing a new album on May 9th, and I already have tickets to their NYC show in April. Add that to the Gomez trio show at the Hiro Ballroom that I got tickets for yesterday, and it makes for a good couple of months coming up.

Sounds like Radiohead is slaving away as well, so if Gotan gets their act together I’ll have a grand slam for my anticipated bands with a few concerts sprinkled in. Rock on!

UPDATE: Also, not on my list, but Zero 7 is coming out with their latest, The Garden on May 15th in UK. Not sure yet when it’ll be out here in the US.

2006 music reprise reprise

Two down, three to go! Not to be outdone by Gomez, I’ve learned that my favorite wacky duo, the Fiery Furnaces are coming back with a new album, Bitter Tea later this year. AND Matt, the apparent mad scientist in the group, is releasing two solo albums. Whew! Going to be good year!

UPDATE: Bitter Tea will be out April 18.

2006 music reprise

One down, four to go! It seems like Gomez has heard my request and answered for my birthday. A new album is set to be released in May.

The best part is that the three singers with do a small acoustic tour and New York will be one of the stops. I [heart] NY.

UPDATE: Wow, looks like I was pretty close to the mark with the birthday comment. The new album comes out May 2.

1000 lectures in your pocket

Apple ups the ante in the Information Age by providing free podcasts of lectures from Stanford University, and apparently with more content from other universities to come.

What’s amazing is that there was little to no fanfare for this occasion. The most recent MacWorld Conference was buzzing about the release of the Intel-powered Macs, but this new iTunes U seems to have the potential to affect a larger audience. After all, their great iTunes program is free and can be used on PCs and Macs.

The internet is an amazing resource so I guess this can be viewed as just another drop in the bucket. But something about this strikes me as much more special. After all, this is a highly regarded university providing it’s resources out to everyone for free. Much more respectable than those bloggers out there...

Crusading against the brown-eyed girl

The Strip in Lubbock, for the uninformed, is one of the biggest tourist attractions in the dusty town. No, not that kind of strip, but a stretch of land just outside of the county line that attracts people of all kind. Well, all kinds that drink anyway. You see, I decided to spend my college years in a town that decided to remain devoid of selling alcohol. Afterwards, I would literally stand in the beer section of grocery stores in Austin staring in disbelief. “You mean you can BUY beer right here?! No being ostracized to the outskirts of the community?”

Since there’s just about nothing to see in Lubbock, most people take their visitors to the Strip to see the glimmering lights and neon signs of liquor stores and lines of cars. I loved my time in Lubbock, but even the most devoted citizens of the town should be able to admit that the fact that a cluster of beer toting shacks constitutes a tourist attraction is pretty sad.

But God bless it anyway. I would’ve never survived Lubbock or college without the Strip and its social lubricant (still talking about alcohol).

On one of the many trips to the Strip with Chad in his Chevy pickup truck, he digs through his CD collection and asks if I’m a Van Morrison fan. I think to myself, “Sure, I’ve heard that catchy Brown-Eyed Girl song. He’s pretty good.”

Before I can say those now obviously foolish words, Chad mutters, “Man, I hate that Brown-Eyed Girl song. Worst song of his career. Makes me sick that that’s all people know of his.”

I give a small laugh and slink down in my seat a bit.

Over time, thanks to Chad, I’ve come to be amazed at Van Morrison and the music that no one ever hears. Sure Brown-Eyed Girl is a good song; even today I can admit that. But should one song cast a shadow over an entire body of work? Wouldn’t it be a crime if people only hear Love Me Do and never bothered to listen to Strawberry Fields or Dear Prudence?

I’m big on hunting for good music that you never hear, and one of my methods is to find artists that aren’t necessarily that obscure and hear tracks that no one ever hears on the radio. I always say that I like to “spread the gospel of Gomez” because I think they’re a fucking great band. People will recognize the voice on the Getting Better cover on the Panasonic commercial, but my god, so many of their songs are beautiful.

Fiona Apple will forever be tied to that Criminal song, but look past the angst, heroin-look and there is genius in the album, When the Pawn. Yeah, it’s still full of the girl angst but it’s hard to deny that there’s plenty of musical talent behind it all.

Then there’s Radiohead. One of the few bands to climb out of the 99 cent One-Hit-Wonder bin and be widely recognized as “freaking amazing”. Radiohead certainly deserved another chance after Creep (still a great song, but again it doesn’t deserve to steal the spotlight from the rest of their work).

So in the spirit of getting people off their musical asses to rediscover and redefine what they think they know of an artist, here’s a sampling of Van Morrison songs (better than Brown-Eyed Girl) that more accurately defines his body of work. I’ll admit that I’m not as thoroughly familiar with his entire music collection so I’ll direct any further exploration to the Matador.

Everyone – Bless Wes Anderson for placing it in the Royal Tenenbaums. He’s known for great musical selection in his movies and this is a shining example.

Into the Mystic – The song in Chad’s truck that truly won me over to the greatness of Van Morrison.

I’ll Be Your Lover, Too – The most beautiful song ever.

Get inna studio and whip me up some music already

I could’ve done a Top Ten Albums of 2005 List but it was a pretty lean year in my opinion, plus I had less time to explore, what with the move and job hunt. Besides I’d rather forge ahead into the future!

I’m hoping a new, exciting environment and a more stable year ahead financially will allow me to discover something great out there. But I will also be anticipating some new stuff from old favorites. So here’s a Top Five Anticipated Albums for ‘06:

Gomez
I still love these guys who are the workhorses of music, constantly touring and recording in the studio. Things have been quiet lately but they should have something out in the first half of this year and we’ll see what sounds they come up with this time. This is a great band live and I’m wondering why they never made it big. It’s like getting seeds for a gift instead of actual flowers. The flowers are an instant gratification, while the seeds, which require some time and effort, are ultimately more satisfying and surprising. That to me is Gomez. Each album has taken some time for me to accept and enjoy but once it sinks in, it’s hard to get it out of your head. These guys are more versatile and talented than given credit for.

Radiohead
The opposite of Gomez, in that you couldn’t freaking drag these guys into the studio and make music and even when you do, they fuck around for forever. They tried the philosophy of releasing albums quickly in succession (Kid A and then Amnesiac) but that didn’t last too long. It’s hard to believe that the Beatles could consistently release two or three albums a year! As for Thom Yorke and Co., I haven’t been as excited about them lately but my sheer love for OK Computer will keep me in good faith for a long time to come. I still maintain that Radiohead is a great rock band (recorded and live) but just don’t have the desire or attention span to do what they do best. On second thought, while I wasn’t gushing over Hail to the Thief, I think, like each of their releases, there is some great music on it. I think the bar is so high with them that it’s hard to surprise people anymore. If any other band had released that album, the music world would be in a frenzy. But now it’s just regular, old, amazing Radiohead at it again.

Gotan Project
Talk about another group that’s slacking off. They’re initial release was in 2001 and I’ve been waiting patiently ever since. Sure there was a DJ mix in ‘04, but I want some original material. But they seem pretty content on living off what they’ve got for the time being so who knows if they’ll whip out another album anytime soon. Here’s hoping they won’t completely vanish like Portishead did.

The Fiery Furnaces
Okay, okay so they released two albums in ‘05 so is it too much for me to ask for one this year? Well, EP was actually a collection of b-sides so it shouldn’t really count right? It’s interesting that the two releases last year were so polar; EP was their most accessible album while Rehearsing My Choir was their most abstract. I’m a huge fan but I’ll admit that RMC is a hard listen. I’m very curious to hear what they come up with next and in the meantime I’ll rock out to Single Again.


The Stills
They’re due for a release soon and there’s been some word on the internets so it’s a pretty good bet we’ll be hearing from these guys this year. I hope they don’t go through a sophomore slump and some of the lineup changes are worrisome but I’ll definitely be anticipating a new release nonetheless.

In Addition:
I’m going to say in writing that Weezer’s last album was so horrendous that I’ve lost all interest in any future releases. I loved the Blue Album and Pinkerton, and like the Green Album and Maladroit although something didn’t quite sit well with those two. But like a loyal fan, I went out and bought Make Believe without previewing it. Big mistake. Was this really Weezer?? Please tell me it’s a bad cover band. Make Believe This Isn’t Really Happening should be the complete title.

How’s my hair?

In an effort to become more professional at work, I’ve shed the t-shirts and jeans for buttoned shirts and pants. Jesus, I tuck in my shirt in the mornings too! And a belt? You betcha.

While in the past I may have viewed this as some sort of conforming to "the Man", I feel that maybe it’s time for people to start seeing me as a seasoned professional rather than the unkempt, wide-eyed newbie.

Of course all of this effort to look polished and sophisticated is moot thanks to my winter hat leaving my hair wildly matted in places and erect in others. Seriously, I look like a second-grader who was just dragged off of the tree fort at recess. I’ve braved the cold mornings hatless a few times just to avoid this situation but thanks to the NY Metro Strike, I’ve had to rely on walking the entire way to work. I feel I’ve been coping with the Northeast winter pretty well so far but leaving your head unprotected from the cold in just plain dumb. And I have my beef with the Union and the strike but that’s for another blog post altogether.

Lincoln logs

Every red blooded American knows the importance and achievements of Abraham Lincoln. We grew up listening to his heroic leadership during the dark times of our nation and the resulting steps towards a more equal and harmonious society. But somehow the true greatness of the man was always taken for granted by me. It’s just something that people easily agree to. "Yeah, yeah, he was great." But what made him such a remarkable man?

There have been countless biographies and retelling of Lincoln’s life so it’s hard to view him with any clarity. We all know about the Civil War. The Gettysburg Address. The assassination. What’s new to ponder over?

Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals strives to shed new light on the President by exploring the men around Lincoln and their perspectives on him. What’s amazing is that the people Lincoln appointed to his cabinet were the men that ran against him for office. It reveals how they all disregarded him as some country hick and eventually acquired a deep respect for who he really was.

"When Lincoln won the nomination, each of his celebrated rivals believed the wrong man had been chosen... That Lincoln, after winning the presidency, made the unprecedented decision to incorporate his eminent rivals into his political family, the cabinet, was evidence of a profound self-confidence and a first indication of what would prove to others a most unexpected greatness... Every member of this administration was better known, better educated, and more experienced in public life than Lincoln. Their presence in the cabinet might have threatened to eclipse the obscure prairie lawyer from Springfield."

The book intrigued me because it’s easy to draw comparisons to our current President. I can see the parallels and the divergence of the two men who are needed to lead this nation. We’re in a time of war, deeply divided, and have a man in the Oval Office that many shrug off as an unqualified countryboy. Still, while I’m sure many people during the Civil War were afraid and uncertain of what might come, I have a feeling that more than a few could take heart in the fact that there was a good man to guide the country. I wish I could say the same for our current state of affairs.

Like Lincoln, Bush relies on his easy-going Southern manner to disarm people and make his point. But unlike Lincoln, Bush fails to impart a sense of intelligence disguised under the facade. Bush refers to "liberty" and "justice" often in his speeches, but those words sound more hollow than virtuous when he speaks them. Lincoln was reknown for his powerful and moving speeches. Analyzers often talk about how gifted speakers like Kennedy can accurately hit the right stress points of a sentence to convey the meaning and how Bush often misses those marks.

Lincoln made a bold move by surrounding himself with his rivals, men who contemptuously believed they were better than he. He wasn’t afraid of them. And he wasn’t afraid of sharing the power with them. So what of Bush? Has he opened himself up to a forum of perspectives to help him find the best way to lead the country? After returning for a second term, Powell, the only one in his cabinet that seemed to dissent from Bush’s policies, stepped down. Consequently, Bush plugged the vacancies with the trusted and loyal. Yes, that probably streamlines the process a bit, but is it better for our country?

During the country’s various wars, the nation has had the benefit of great leadership at times. Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt. But there have also been the Wilsons and Nixons that have failed to unite and guide the country in those times. Where will Bush stand in a historical perspective? And if he’s not the one to do it, will there be a Lincoln, Washington or Roosevelt ready to take the mantle?

Sorry to sound so anti-Bush, but it wasn’t always this way. I didn’t know enough about him when he first gained office so was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, rediscovering the actions of a far greater man serves to accentuate how Bush seems like just a spoiled child. Lincoln assumed the mantle of power with a respect and gravitas for what it meant, and I sense nothing of the sort from G.W. People are waiting for the next chance to get a new guy in the Oval Office. I guess I can be counted among those who are ready for change. More than that, I’m ready for a leader who has my respect.

Confucius say Fuck off

It’s not like speaking another language is a riveting talent. Being in New York for a few months, I hear a symphony of dialects on every street corner. But why is it when someone learns that I can speak Chinese, the dreaded question always arises: Can you teach me to say curse words? (The other equally dreaded question is: Can you say my name in Chinese? Sorry but my ancestors didn’t bother to come up with the translation for Harold.)

I guess I wouldn’t be as peeved about the question if I in fact knew any curse words in my native tongue. The reaction to my inability to dish out profanities is usually met with a look of confusion, disbelief and sometimes even a cringing look of pain that seems to be emoting a stronger reaction than if I was actually able to tell them to go fuck their mom up the ass.

How in the world can I speak another language and not know how to convey the most vital aspects of communication?!

Sorry, but my only exposure to Chinese are my elder relatives, who have enough restraint to not let the expletives fly at the dinner table; younger relatives, who only do their cursing in English; and Chinese television stations that only show, at best, PG-13 shows with no cursing allowed.

I guess I could look into the matter and flat out ask my cousins or uncles how to say asshole but I think I’m about 15 years too old to start looking into that.

So I guess I’ll rely on portraying my culture in other ways than obscenities. Hell, I’m illiterate in Chinese too so I’m probably already pretty low on the list of Ambassadors of my peoples.

And if you want to get anal about it, English is my "other" language and I know plenty of curse words in that language. All you have to do is ask nicely.

Sane on the brain

NPR covers Howard Dully’s effort to uncover the truth and reasons behind a transorbital or "ice-pick" lobotomy performed on him at the age of 12.

"If you saw me you'd never know I'd had a lobotomy," Dully says. "The only thing you'd notice is that I'm very tall and weigh about 350 pounds. But I've always felt different -- wondered if something's missing from my soul. I have no memory of the operation, and never had the courage to ask my family about it. So two years ago I set out on a journey to learn everything I could about my lobotomy."

Difficult at times to listen to, yet so compelling to hear, the story goes into the history of the transorbital lobotomy and its creator, William Freeman. The procedure started off as an attempt to cure debilitating mental illness but dissolved into a cure-all for a wide range of ailments. One woman went in to expel chronic migraines and left with the mentality of a 6 year old.

The most painful moment was when Dully, after some fifty years, finally confronted his father about why it happened and why Dully was never told that the procedure was even performed on him. His father was evasive about his role and remained detached even when a tearful Dully said that he still loved him.

Families would talk about how their loved ones were severely damaged by the procedure, while other victims questioned whether or not it scarred their souls.

The lobotomy was always something of a joke to people. I would laugh at Homer getting one in a fantasy on the Simpsons, but this was one of the most gut-wrenching things I’ve heard in a long time.

Working class hero

Hallelujah, hallelujah! Can I get some hands in the air?

After two grueling months, trudging around the streets with my portfolio, whoring myself out to whatever studio would let me in the door, I got me a design position in New York City.

Now I'll have a regular paycheck, structure, familiar environment, getting up early, staying late... wait a minute. Shit, now I wish I had taken advantage of some of my days and slacked off.

Confessions of a vacuous mind

Here’s the thing. You can get immersed in city life pretty easily. Especially New York city life. People all around you are gushing, "New York is pretty fucking great." You even catch yourself thinking "New York is pretty fucking great."

But a line has to be drawn somewhere.

How is it that a person can sit down at 6 pm on any given night and manage to fill up the next SIX HOURS watching shows about New York? Even without cable, you can surf between episodes of Friends, Seinfeld and Sex and the City, or if you’re very clever, watch five episodes in a row of Friends. All of them filled with fun, young, energetic people living the beautiful lifestyle in New York. Or TV New York. That means nothing below 42nd St. No subways. No ugly or poor people. And by no means Brooklyn.

Okay, here comes the confession: I’ve caught myself sucked into the New York lovefest marathon more than once. It’s so easy, it took me by surprise. Seeing as how we don’t have a couch, living room or desk for me to do my computer work on, I have found that I use the bed for everything: sleep, eat and work. So I have the TV on while I do other things. Just in the background, I tell myself. Then it happens. All of a sudden I’m able to formulate that Chandler uses humor as a defense mechanism to cope with psychological and sexual issues stemming from his parents’ divorce, and site several sources to defend my theory. Of course they don’t make it sound so bleak. I guess if we all had a laugh track, our problems wouldn’t seem so bad either.

I wonder how many other people in New York are living vicarious New York lives through thirty minute installments on their TV. There needs to be some sort of hotline that can be called for a van to drive up to the victim’s place and have two people come in to shake him from his sitcom coma to tell him, "You don’t have a huge apartment. You have a finite source of income. You don’t have a group of beautiful friends with nothing better to do with their days than sit around and instigate wacky adventures. Not all New Yorkers are white. New Yorkers take the subway once in a while."

And I love how Sex and the City has managed to portray every single guy as having some sort of psychological deficiency or hamartia. I’ll stop complaining now. I actually think the show is written rather well. I just hate most of the characters. Go figure that one out.

It could be worse, I guess. I’m not watching the Apprentice or anything. And I don’t really have a gripe with the shows. It’s more about feeling guilty/ashamed that I’ve fallen into the habit of watching them. As a result, I’ve made an attempt at salvaging my few remaining brain cells by getting a library card. My first checkout: Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea. We’ll see how this one pans out. Of course, if it doesn’t I can always go back to The Great Gatsby, right Matador?

Here come the non-judge

While John Roberts was sworn in as the next Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Bush wastes little time in proposing another replacement to the bench in Harriet Miers. It’s still early to tell what, if anything, will impede her progress to the position, but the most glaring tidbit is the fact that she’s never been a judge. With her being a long-time White House confidant, I’m guessing the Democrats will have a few more alarm bells going off this time around.

Roberts was able to make a relatively smooth entrance into the Justice Chambers due to cleanliness and ambiguity. People didn’t have much to say for or against him mostly because Roberts refused to reveal his opinion on matters such as Roe v Wade. The optimist in me will hope that this virtue will carry on when he is in power, but the alarmist in me is wondering if he’s just smart enough to keep his mouth shut until it’s too late for us to do anything.

Fortunately, history has taught us that America’s forefathers masterfully arranged the terms of a Supreme Court Justices’ tenure in a way that would free him or her of any political ties and agendas. Most conservative appointees have veered more towards the ideologic center once on the bench, and it’s hopeful that Roberts will continue the trend.

So what about Miers? It may be too early to tell, but it seems she may be prudent enough to follow Roberts’ lead and claim to be nonpartisan and free of any political agenda. Or is she just faking it?

She won’t be the first non-judge appointee but more worrisome to me is the proximity of involvement and influence Bush will have on Miers. We’ll just have to wait for a clearer scenario.

Good music, good friends, good times

What can I say? It was hot. It was crowded. It was dusty. It was hot. But I ate BBQ and Tex-Mex ’til my heart’s content. And I got to see so many of my friends. That’s what was important to me. Sure the band lineup was incredible but it was really just an excuse to make my way back into Austin to have some beer and laughs with the people I miss. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until the date of my arrival came closer. New York and unemployment have a way of leaving very little time to be nostalgic. These people, my friends, are really why I’m here.

But the music that I did hear was pretty damn good. It was the first time that I was able to see all the biggies that I promised myself I was going to stop at nothing to see: Mates of State, Fiery Furnaces, Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand, the Arcade Fire and Thievery Corporation. The Fiery Furnaces rocked. It was a testament to their ADD nature that none of the songs I recognized sounded anything like the album counterparts. Eleanor Friedberger is my new favorite rock girl. Sorry I missed Ambulance LTD, Asylum Street Spankers and Zap Mama. Martin Sexton and Rachel Yamagata were pleasant discoveries.

The group that surprised me the most was Thievery Corporation. I didn’t know if it was just going to be two guys standing at DJ tables and totally boring. But I have to say that it was quite possibly the best show in my three years of going to Austin City Limits Festivals. They had a live band, including a sitar player and different singers for EVERY song.

Like I said, good times. But considering how much I went through to get back here and the exhausting heat, this will probably be my last hike into Zilker for ACL.


The crowd.


Wow.


The Fiery Furnaces.


Friends at Dog & Duck


Davy as the angel (devil?) on my shoulder

Travelocity killed the cat

The Austin City Limits Festival has come and gone in a haze of dust and alcohol, and as my time in Austin was drawing near an end, my biggest anxiety of the trip began to loom closer: picking up Gina’s cat, Rex and getting him back to New York. Not only would it be tough to feed a cat a sedative for the plane, and then stuff him into a carrier, but Rex is a flighty animal by nature. Add that to his being used to the freedom of a backyard for a few months and it means an unpleasant experience for me.

It was decided long ago that it would be better for Rex to not come along as we made our week-long exodus to New York. He’d have to endure long car rides, various hotel rooms and however long we’d have to stay at a friend’s place until we found our own. Even then there’d be the unpacking and painting for him to deal with. No, it would be so much better for him to be put through just one day of torture rather than two months of it.

On the fretful day that my host, Chad graciously accompanies me to go pick up Rex from Gina’s mom, I’m well beyond any initial anxiety and moved into suppressed dread. I had already sought the advice of Gina, other pet owners and even the internet for some secret trick that would make feeding the pill to a feline a breeze. Oh, so you just tilt his head back until his mouth practically swings open, toss the pill down his throat, stroke his neck, blow on his nose, nothing to it!

So Chad and I venture into the garage where Rex is holed up. It’s my hope that he remembers me from living together for over a year and the fact that I fed and pet him everyday. Spotting him behind a tool box, I crouch down and start calling him to come over to me. My hopes are raised when he steps out and then my hopes are quickly dashed when he completely ignores me and starts breaking for the door that we just walked through.

The next thing I know, Chad and I are both wrestling the cat into submission. Chad, who I forgot was allergic to cats, was bravely leveraging his weight onto Rex to keep him in position, while I was holding Rex’s head in one hand and using my other hand to pinch a pill in my index and thumb and pry his mouth open with my middle finger. After fifteen minutes of him trashing and growling at me, Chad and I look at each other exasperated. I let out a long breath and hold up the pill to see if Chad wants to give it a shot. He lets out a weary laugh and says "No way!" which is probably a lot more polite than how I would’ve responded if our roles were reversed.

Somehow after more thrashing, more growling and much more cussing, I manage to catch Rex by surprise and he swallows the pill. After that battle, getting him into the carrier was no problem so Chad and I celebrate our triumph with a McDonald’s breakfast.

It was my hope that Rex would immediately conk out and I wouldn’t have to stress for the rest of the trip. No such luck, he’s still darting his head around and letting out periodic meows. I deduce that A. the kitty valium is taking longer to kick in. B. the kitty valium is weaker than expected. Or C. Rex was being sneaky and kept the pill in his mouth long enough to spit it out when Chad and I weren’t looking. I’m trying to be optimistic that it’s A, worried that it’s B and really hoping that it’s not C. But it can’t be C because we held him for a while, and I stroked his throat and he did the licking his nose thing when I do the blow on his nose thing and the cat has to swallow when I do that. Right?

Well, whatever it is, all I have to do is get him past the security check, past the boarding people and onto the plane and make it through unscathed. All the while, I try to be discrete that I have a live animal in a big bag. I actually get onto the plane but while waiting for the people in front to get their bags in place, a seated woman spots Rex and coos, "Awwww! Whatcha got there?" I chime "A kitty!" in a sickeningly sweet tone to try and get on at least one person’s good side in case Rex starts wailing in flight. The woman lets out another "Awww!" and then her jovial face plummets into a suspicious glare and asks "Is she sedated?"

The plane takes off and lands in Houston without any incident. But the connecting flight to LaGuardia is delayed 90 minutes. Normally I’d just be annoyed, but today I’m more worried about any extra time I’m having to keep the cat locked up in a cramped carrier with sedatives (that he may or may not have ingested) rapidly wearing off. So I sit in the farthest corner so not to draw attention to Rex but also to keep away from the human traffic as much as possible to keep Rex calm. This provides the perfect view to observe a 40 year old man in a suit pick his nose while reading his USA Today. I crinkle my face in response as he gets his index finger past the first knuckle. I glance towards the CNN on TV just in time for him to scan around to see if he’d been caught in the act. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s satisfied that he’s in the clear and inspects his finger for any boogers. I spend the rest of the delayed time trying to get a view of his boarding pass and praying that he doesn’t wind up next to me.

As we finally board, Rex is definitely more animated. He meows at any jostling so it’s my hope that his calls get drowned out by the aircraft engines. He’s faint, but anyone near me will clearly hear him. I keep my eye on the people sitting around me hoping they pull out iPods or headphones to watch Jennifer Lopez’s hilarious dilemma in "Monster-in-Law".

After two hours, and the start of our descent, Rex has had enough. He starts meowing continuously but we’re close enough to landing that I don’t care to apologize to anyone. I get into the terminal and it’s shocking how loud an airport is when you hear it with new ears. Aside from the jets taking off every few minutes and the dull roar of people in the background, an airport is disturbingly noisy. Luggage wheels rumble on the tile, carts with loose wheels rattle on the asphalt, baggage claim buzzers drone on, and then there’s this one child who finds a way of entertaining himself by throwing a tin can onto the tile to hear the loud clanging as it bounces and rolls around. This is irritating enough to people, but I just wondered how many times Rex recoiled in terror as the kid tossed the can again and again. We’re beyond restraining the child, the parents need to be locked up and beaten.

Now that I’m at LaGuardia, my next task is to get to the apartment in the East Village. My weariness is begging for a cab. But my responsible side is telling me that I just spend over $200 in the last three days and I don’t even have a job. So I trudge over to the shuttle bus waiting area. Twenty minutes pass and no shuttle. Meanwhile, cab after cab goes by, laughing, just laughing at me. A man in a uniform comes out and one of the waiting travelers asks if the shuttle is coming. He gives a not very reassuring "Oh, yeah. It’ll be here in five to ten minutes." I pass the next few minutes by studying to shuttle sign and notice that the shuttle stops running at 8 pm, which is in ten minutes. In my head I start calculating whether or not that means that it’ll make rounds while it’s still in mid-route and what my chances of being in mid-route are. Just then another man in a uniform walks up and asks "You all bought your tickets yet?" Everyone shakes their head. He asks everyone where they’re headed. I say "Grand Central", another asian says "Port Authority" and a guy who looks like Paul Walker from the "Fast and the Furious" says "LaGuardia". When confronted with the fact that he said "LaGuardia" he laughs and says "No wait, I meant Grand Central." The uniformed man tells us to follow him and we all do, thinking that this is another helpful attendant who found a shuttle. Instead, he leads us to an unmarked, large extended-cab van with a black guy in a bandana at the wheel.

Now I don’t think I’m being racist by pointing out that he was black, since the uniformed man was black and I didn’t mention that. It’s just that the situation was getting surreal and not a little bit sketchy. Paul Walker nervously asks "This goes to Grand Central?" The uniformed man replies "Yeah, it’s faster than the shuttle." Ding, that’s all we needed. We all climb in. The driver starts the engine and proceeds to pull out five feet and stops. The uniformed man hops out to wrangle up more suckers and we sit in the van which smells like my uncle’s car that he had in the 80’s. That stale dusty smell. The silence and stillness gives me time to look out and ponder this situation. I’m seriously ready to make a break for it by jumping out of the van. Then the actual shuttle picks up the people at the spot we were just standing at and drives off. Paul Walker and I exchange worried glances. The scene with Ving Rhames and Bruce Willis in "Pulp Fiction" all tied up pops into my head. I start hysterically wondering if we all just wandered into something strange and dangerous and hope there’s no gimp involved. I shake my head thinking "Nah, that’s crazy. Not in real life." But then I remember all the News of the Weird stories that I ever read over the years. Crazy shit still happens. I’m sure the farmer who blew off his brother’s nuts was thinking that nothing crazy would ever happen to him.

Another five minutes passes and the uniformed man comes back with another unfortunate soul. We start to move out of the parking area and I can’t decide whether or not to be ecstatic or really worried. We drive in the rain. Since I don’t know my way into Manhattan, I concentrate on timing the trip in order to calculate what cab fare would be for the next time I end up in this situation. Then Paul Walker leans toward the driver and asks "What way are you getting into Manhattan?" Everyone else in the van looks up sharply. The uniformed man is clearly annoyed and retorts "What way do you get into Manhattan? We’re going the fastest way." Rex lets out a faint whimper and I think "I feel you, buddy. I feel you."

We make our way onto the bridge and everyone is visibly relieved. The man in the rear row is on the phone and mentions that we’re about to make it to Grand Central. The asian guy looks around and asks "Grand what? I’m going to Port Authority." The driver replies "Yeah, Port Authority. Same thing." and lets out a sarcastic cackle.

We arrive at our destination and hop out as fast as possible. The asian looks confused, and starts arguing with the uniformed man. I suppose I should’ve helped the guy out. But I wasn’t even sure what train to take from where we were at, and Rex had at that point taken up to meowing again. The trains were out of the question for me and I take the luxury of a cab the rest of the way.

In the end, Rex makes it safely to our apartment and has adjusted much more quickly than we had hoped. It feels good to have him here. It makes the place feel more like home. But I’ll be damned if I ever get on a plane with a pet again.

imPlosion

What with the aftermath of Katrina and various forms of injustice and dilemmas around the world, this might seem petty but I’m pretty upset that my iPod decided to dump its memory and erase all 20 gigs of music I had collected over the years.

One night it was playing merrily along while Gina and I prepared dinner and then the next morning, nothing, notta, bubkis. You’re never aware how much a blank screen can make your stomach drop until it happens to you.

My initial reaction is that this is a pretty clear sign that I should catch up with today’s technology and get the new iPod Nano, which I must admit is damn beautiful. But then that pesky thing called reality peeks in and reminds me that I’m unemployed and I just moved to New York. Grrrr. I don’t know whether to curse my geeky yet expensive obsession or the lack of financial resources in which to sustain that obsession.

Now I must take a deep breathe and try to rebuild my musical mecca. I should take a minute to ponder how to do this smarter than last time which, while thorough, probably wasn’t the most effective way to go about it. Then again, if anyone wants to donate an mp3 here or there I won’t be so quick to turn you away.

Some Linkage Lovin’

To further assimilate myself into New York, there’s a new link on the right for Crackers United. I’ve finally met most of them and they’re not all assholes. :)

Some funny rants, good music offerings and happenings around the town. It makes me feel like I’m slacking on this blog and should go incorporated with some other asians. Asian World Domination Club reinstated!