Search Results for “stress” – Page 5

24 – The Day I Met a President

December 5, 2009 |

I stood at the corner by the diner lost in thought waiting for the stupid red hand to turn into the stupid little man. I thought about something that seemed really important at the time, but that I’m having trouble recalling now. It was work, or a girl, or something. Normal stuff, really. The kind of utterly regular garbage a person spends so much of their life obsessing over that is, in the end, completely unimportant. It’s funny what your brain thinks is important in the moment.

Anyway, I was at this corner, waiting to cross so I could go down into the subway and then to work, which was really exciting. The air was crisp with the onset of autumn and I was wearing a jacket. Morning was bustling with people on their way to work. Garbage trucks roared down the street collecting the diverse refuse of the neighborhood. The day was starting like thousands of others had.

And then behind me I hear a man’s voice say, “Excuse me, sir?” I turned around because I am, apparently, one of those people that always looks like he knows how to get everywhere and so am asked regularly for directions. Prepared to tell this guy that Grand Street is four blocks down, he just has to keep going, I was shocked to see him standing there in what I thought at the moment was one of those Renaissance Faire costumes, but which I would later learn was formal wear of the late 18th Century.

“Uh…” I couldn’t say anything I was so shocked by this guy’s appearance. I lived in a particularly funky neighborhood in Brooklyn and I was used to seeing people dressed up in all sorts of crazy shit—dudes in dresses, chicks like they’re from the 1940s, people riding those weird tall old bicycles. But this guy in his crazy history outfit had me dumbfounded. I eked out, “Yeah?” after a moment.

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Pet peeves on the subway

December 3, 2009 |

Thoughts

I am a (fairly) understanding, (mostly) patient man. I hold the door for people. I get out of the way. I allow others to go first. I think it’s just common decency. But that’s just me. I don’t like to be a dick (usually) to total strangers. That doesn’t get my rocks off. It’s lame. It’s putting a whole bunch of bad energy into the universe for no real reason. The Space Pope is down with being chill.

As such, it always astounds me when someone goes out of their way to be a total fucking boner. I notice that it seems to happen a lot on the subway which, understandably, is an unpleasant, often stressful place. No one really likes the subway; it’s an unfortunate, unavoidable truth of life here in New York, especially for the lot of us peons who can’t afford to even have a car, much less a driver. But not liking something doesn’t mean you have to be a total cock to everyone else when you get on it. No one wants to be there, so you might as well be pleasant to the people surrounding you. It just makes things nicer.

Now, there are a few things people do that I just can’t stand. Let’s break them down.

The guy who stands in front of the door when you’re trying to get off the train. — Look, guy, I know that you saw that there’s a seat open through the window as the train pulled into the station, but GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY. I can’t walk through you, and you sure as hell can’t get onto this train until I get off. This is even worse when the train is crowded near capacity and there is literally no room for him to get on, but he tries to shove his way on anyway.
The guy who steps onto an empty train and then stops immediately so that he can stand by the door. — Are you serious? Look, this is totally fine when there’s no other people waiting to get on behind you. Great, you like to stand by the door and lean, I get it. But if you’re the first motherfucker getting on and you decide to just stop and be in the way of the 20 other people trying to get on the train, you are a fucking asshole. This is the train rider’s equivalent of driving into an intersection, throwing on the e-brake, and expecting people to just drive around you. Yeah, it sounds pretty fucking ridiculous doesn’t it? Just got on the train and walk toward the center of the car. Theres plenty of room and all sorts of things to hold on to. That’s how they designed the train.
The guy who tries to push his way onto a train that obviously has no room for him and ends up standing halfway in the doorway way, holding the whole damn train up. — Let me clue you in on a little secret, buddy. There’s zero reason to squeeze on a train like that. The train is only ever like that when there’s been some hold up way down the line and people have decided to force themselves onto the first train that arrives. 99 times out of 100 there’s another, much less full train right behind it. All you have to do is wait 2 more minutes and you’ll be able to stand in the train like a human being. Try it some time.
The guy who pushes past you to snipe a seat — Oh, I’m sorry, fuckface, that I was being polite and letting the people on the train get OFF before I forced myself onto the train. I didn’t know it was necessary for you to push me out of your so-important way so that you could sit down ON THE EMPTY BENCH because, you know, 12 seconds later that seat would have been filed with someone else. Oh the train doors are closing and we’re still the only two people sitting??? Well, thanks for pushing me for nothing, dipshit! I really appreciate that.
Anyone who asks me for anything while I’m on the train — I know that your acrobatics show was really fucking amazing, but I have a headache and just want to go home and eat some dinner and watch the episode of Dexter sitting on the table. And, no, I’m not going to give you and your brother a fucking dime. I’ve seen the show before. Oh, you’re selling newspapers, Raffie? No you’re a lying fuck junkie who’s been using the same line on this train for YEARS and the only people stupid enough to give you anything are the people who’ve just moved into the neighborhood. Curl up and die under a bridge, you swollen-hand, toothless, drug-addled fuck.

That list pretty much encompasses the things I really hate on the subway. There are some things that other people hate—delays, slow service, stopping in the tunnel beneath the river, whatever—that don’t bother me at all. In terms of the actual subway service, once I’m on I sort of just let go. It’s out of my hands. But other people on there bug the living shit out of me. That’s not to say there aren’t other courteous train riders; there are, of course. But, my attention is often grabbed by the annoying fuckers much more than the nice people who aren’t obtrusive. And, really, this article wouldn’t have been nearly as fun for me to write or for you to read if I was being super nice to the considerate people, would it?

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09 – Bobby Eriksson

November 12, 2009 |

Fiction and Writing

Sigh. Sheryl had stared at the back of Bobby Eriksson’s head during second period math every day for the whole semester. Basically forever. Throughout the seemingly unending trials of sophomore year—geometry, driver’s ed, fighting with her parents over curfew, the looming SATs—the back of his head had been her one shining point of light in the darkness. His golden locks were the north star as she ventured through the wild, wooly lands of high school beset on all sides by rogues and bandits and beasts of the wood. Bobby was the perfect boy for her too, she just knew it. He was kind and handsome and very fit, but he was also sensitive and loved drama and dancing. He dressed impeccably and never hung out with all those stupid football meatheads at lunch. And he was such a lady’s man! Always surrounded by girls after school, singing and discussing fashion. Cultured, genteel, sensitive, charming, magnificent, Bobby’s name filled her dreams and the inside of her trapper keeper.

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05 – The Barbarian

November 7, 2009 |

Fiction and Writing

Oh dark Mistress! Destroyer of men! Drinker of still living blood! they called to her. We beseech thee to vanquish our enemies with your sword! Reave their skulls! Crush their bones! Dance in their viscera! That last one she liked quite a bit. But she needed time to decide if she would hear their pleas. Would she be a virtuous benefactor and avail them of their problems, bringing peace and tranquility to their miserable peasant lives? Or would she turn her whip on them and grind them beneath her blood-stained boot? Shall she save them or shall she be the instrument of their demise? Choices choices! She turned to Puce, her unfortunately named Elven companion, and then thought better of asking him for advice. Elves were always so dreary. For once, she’d like to meet an Elf who wasn’t all, “The forest is dying” this, “Nature is screaming” that. How about a flagon of mead once in a while, guys? Like, relax, man. The trees are going to be there. Lighten up. She looked past Puce to Skinflint, the rogue who came and went pretty much whenever he wanted. He was picking something from his teeth with a dagger which just grossed her out to no end. Where else had that dagger been? She had no problem wading knee deep through the blood of her enemies, but, jeez, keep that filthy thing out of your mouth. Even she had limits. She turned to the other side to ask Grisham, the not-all-together mage. He made eye contact with her, and then tore his eyes away.

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My friend JJ

May 26, 2009 |

Thoughts

Many readers of this site know or have met JJ. He has been yutzing around South America for about six months now, stopping occasionally to send me delightful missives about his travels and adventures and women. He is incredible. A burgeoning legend in his own mind. The perfect guy to get into trouble with. Never too stressed out. Always down for a good time. I’m pretty sure that everyone has a JJ in their life. If you don’t, see about getting yourself one. You’ll be better for it.

A few days ago, JJ sent me a Word document that effectively sums up who he is. It’s written exactly like he speaks. Here it is, unedited, unabated.

Just like children hidin’ in a closet
Can’t tell what’s goin’ on outside
Sometimes we’re so far off the beaten track
We’ll get taken for a ride
GNR Estranged

So let me tell you about the best fucking day of my life. I was walking completly shitskied in Buenos Aires just wasting a little time. As i head out of the apartment in Villia Crespo i look to my left and see a lady in a tank top holding a 3 foot long steel pipe like a baseball bat. Then i take two steps forward and skinny scrapy looking cat with a jacket rapped around his left arm and a butchers knife in his right. I stood there about 30 feet away and thought,

But there ain’t no peace to found
But if someone really cared
Well they’d take the time to spare
A moment to try and understand
Another one’s despair
Remember in this game we call life
That no one said it’s fair
GNR Breakdown

“What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.
Some men you just can’t reach…
So, you get what we had here last week,
which is the way he wants it!
Well, he gets it!
N’ I don’t like it any more than you men.”
GNR Civil War

I mean fuck you dont see this shit every day. The ladies hair was a complete mess and she was yelling at the top of her lungs. She kept lunging forward but then stepping back, and he would do the same. Next thing i know she takes a swing at him. Let me tell you something she has swung this pipe before because if she would have made contact with a baseball it would have been a home fucking run. Anyways the guy jumps back and she takes two quick steps backwards. The guy then scrapes his knife against the ground, it was fucking the craziest shit. Then the two guys come running out from a side street, one goes behind the lady to her right and the other to the left. I mean this shit was getting crazy and there was no fucking way i was going to do shit about it.

Look at your young men fighting
Look at your women crying
Look at your young men dying
The way they’ve always done before

Look at the hate we’re breeding
Look at the fear we’re feeding
Look at the lives we’re leading
The way we’ve always done before

So i dont know what the fuck to do but watch and be ready to run if the shit really hits the fan. My girl friend grabs me and says “Lets get out of here, JJ. Now!” So i take off down the street going the opposite thinking “holy shit”.

I don’t need one more war
Whats so civil ’bout war anyway
GNR Civil War

So we get two blocks away and raceing down the street are the Policia. They were flying and rounded the corner at mock speeds, and you could hear the tires screaming. Once i saw the police car i could help but think of the begining of Guns n Roses – Breakdown where Axl is whistleing.

I mean think about it, “Welcome to the Jungle”, what other band would run through your mind.

So fuck it i am blown away at the chaos and slowly start to realize that i drank a little too much booze the night before. But fuck it right i dug my own grave and shouldnt bitch. I start walking through this flea bag market at Parque Centenario just looking at all the grabage. Well actually i was looking for a new shirt because all of my shirts are ripped. Anyways i get to this one booth and start looking through stuff that was obviously found in a trash can. Then out of now where i here music in my head,

Loaded like a freight train
Flyin’ like an aeroplane
Feelin’ like a space brain
One more time tonight
GNR Nightrain

Then i look at this leather jacket and i found the most amazing gem in a biggest pile of shit. I mean you would never believe how fucking amazing this jacket is. This jacket is aged to perfection, someone treated this jacket well. You can tell they went to see GNR live in Buenos Aires July 17, 1993. On the back is the GNR logo with the two guns wraped with roses. So i try this prized piece on and the thing is too fucking small.

He said turn me around
And take me back to the start
I must be losing my mind
“Are you blind?!”
I’ve seen it all a mllion times

I want to go
I want to know
Oh, won’t you please take me home

I want to see
Oh, look at me
Oh, won’t you please take me home
GNR Paradise City

We go to grab a bite to eat and the thought of this jacket was killing me. I get the menu and open and say “I am getting the fucking GNR jacket”. That was it ate some food ran back to the booth. When i walked up it wasnt there, but the lady put it away because she knew that i would be back. So i dished over the money and fucking embraced this coat with so much love. I put the coat on and from moment on i knew noone was going to fuck with me.

Well I’m a west coast struttin’
One bad mother
Got a rattlesnake suitcase
Under my arm
Said I’m a mean machine
Been drinkin’ gasoline
And honey you can make my motor hum
Well I got one chance left
In a nine live cat
I got a dog eat dog sly smile
I got a Molotov cocktail with a match to go
I smoke my cigarette with style
An I can tell you honey
You can make my money tonight
GNR Nightrain

Sorry i am getting side tracked here while listening to GNR while rocking my new jacket. So i am walking home like my typical badass self and with a ¼ of Frutilla de Crema Helado and i pass these young babes. They were checking me out from head to tow. I mean they couldnt hold themselves back . I mean who could resist a man with ice cream and a G N fuckin R leather jacket. My confidence has just sky rocketed with how these babes where checking me out. I keep strutin my stuff and….

Take me down to the paradise city
Where the grass is green
And the girls are pretty
Take me home (Oh, won’t you please take me home)
GNR Paradise City

JJ Zambrano 24/5/2009
I have to thank the original line up of GNR for inspiring my life in so many ways.

Luckily for you, intrepid reader, JJ was thoughtful enough to send me a photograph of the jacket.

Wonderful.

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Julian & Clive

January 28, 2009 |

Fiction and Writing

Julian pushes the supermarket brand hotdogs around the grill growing impatient at the fact that they are not yet ready to eat. He wishes they would spit and sizzle and flare up the way they do in the hotdog commercials, but they languish on the not-nearly-hot-enough-to-cook-anything grate. Once there was grass around his cousin Lester’s forlorn little grill, but the battle against the grease and ash from these summer cookouts has been lost, revealing the dry dirt beneath. Julian turns a hot dog over to check if it somehow had achieved doneness while he had stopped paying it attention for a moment—it had not. He throws the barbeque tongs on the table beside the grill and contemplates the cooler filled with beer before recalling Dawn sitting directly behind him, feeding their toddler applesauce. She doesn’t like when he drinks and fear of her has kept Julian sober many nights he’d rather have drunk away.

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Daily routine

December 28, 2008 |

Thoughts

I am not a daily routine kind of person. I wish I was. I would love to learn how to have that sort of discipline. I’m sure I would get more done. Unfortunately, flying by the seat of my pants has worked out well enough for me so far that I have no great pressing reason to change, no matter how much my brain knows it’s a good idea to approach my work with a more regimented schedule. It’s kind of stressful knowing that I would be better off having a work schedule, but not having the discipline to enact it for longer than a few weeks at the most. Where does one learn this skill of self-discipline? Is it something inate? If that’s the case, I’m fucked. I’ve never been a good self-motivator and I am too easily distracted by whatever the hell is going on around me. Even right now, I’ve written, what?, eight sentences?, and already I want to get up and walk around and blah blah blah blah. What’s that shit about?

If it’s not innate, where can I learn it? Again, my history of getting by winging it about 95% of the time doesn’t help at all. Winging it is great when I have to fix the Avid or cut together an animatic for clients, but not so great for more serious work. I’ve got this built in perception that if I can’t nail it right away, that’s it’s either a) fucked or b) a shitty idea to begin with. Neither of those are very helpful for seeing something through to the end. How do I unlearn that unconscious tendency? How do I learn to feel good about the work I do so I can stand behind it and continue until it be thoroughly finished? I am always impressed with my friend Jesse who has this seemingly limitless capacity for sitting down and just hacking through what needs to be hacked through like a champion. It has certainly paid off for him thus far. Where the hell do I learn that shit?

This is something I think about a lot. It’s probably my major struggle as a creative person—how do I continue to create when I already have a fairly full schedule? How can I be a creative person? How can I be a productive person? How can I produce? Oh how these questions taunt me! I had it going for a minute earlier this month, but it’s lapsed again. I need to figure out how to get it going for longer than a week or two.

If you, humble reader, are like me, then it will be inspiring to you to read about other creative people and how they schedule themselves to create. Daily Routines – How writers, artists, and other interesting people organize their days. I really like Saul Bellow and Ingmar Bergman’s routines.

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Black Friday Embarrassments

December 1, 2008 |

Thoughts

Dear America,

Do you remember my last posting?

I thought I was annoyed then, but now I am truly mortified.

Did someone working at Walmart really need to die so that you could get discounted Dora The Explora’ merchandise for your kids? Are you kidding me? Not only is this tragic, but it makes me so fucking sick I could throw up all over everything. I’ve said this before, but they are just things, people. That TV or whatever will be there tomorrow. No one needs to die for you to fulfill your consumer tendencies.

Look, new TVs are cool. I get it. I have a TV. I like it. It allows me to watch films and nature shows at home. It also allows me to waste time and sleep killing Super Mutants in Fallout 3 on my 360. I get it. That stuff is good. But no one needs to die for you to get your Rachel Ray fix. The worst part about it is that the guy died at a Walmart which means that he didn’t even die for a luxury item like a Ferrari or something, not that it matters, but come on. I walked into the store casually, purchased the television and had delivery arranged. NO ONE DIED. Amazing, right?

Call me crazy, but I don’t think saving 10% on some crap I don’t need anyway is worth the stress induced by massive swarms of people like wasps attacking someone who has violated the sanctity of their nest. It brings to mind a day last year when Juli and I went to Macy’s to buy some plates because we were going to have people over for Christmas dinner. We were in the basement and carefully tried to select plates without any chips or nicks. When we got home, she discovered a plate with a minor chip on the bottom lip and she suggested I go back an get my money for it. I nearly flipped my shit at the prospect of wading through the thronging mobs at Macy’s on 34th Street just to return a fucking chipped plate. Maybe I overreacted (just a tad), but there is a reason I do most of my shopping at off hours and online. I cannot take the crowds and craziness.

So believe me when I say I cannot comprehend the mindset that drives people to stampede a big box store on Long Island and kill someone working the door. Just crazy. In the end I am not surprised; people have tremendous potential for idiocy and mania. It is sad that something so utterly trivial prompted such bad behavior.

And India? Wow. I don’t even know what to think about that yet.

Humanity, you need a time out.

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40 search results for “stress”