Louie

"Everything is amazing and nobody is happy."  - Louis C. K.

I think I may be in love with this man.  He is not only hilarious, but extremely intelligent and thoughtful.  If you have never seen his stand-up, do yourself a huge favor and spend a couple minutes watching some clips on YouTube.  I promise you will not regret it.

Becoming Bane

This past weekend I finally saw the Dark Knight Rises!  And it...was...EPIC!  But that's not what this post is about.  This post is about something that I've been neglecting for seven months now: going to the gym.  You may be asking yourself, "Wait, what does Batman have to do with exercise?"  The answer is, nothing really.  It's just that in seeing how committed the actor playing the part of Bane must have been (Tom Hardy did some serious bulking up for the role) got me thinking about how lazy I've been.  I stopped going to the gym at the end of December and just kind of fell out of the habit.  I haven't worked out a day since, that is, up until Sunday.

On Sunday I decided it was time to get back in the swing of things.  I not only made my first trip back to the gym, but I also made a significant purchase that will go a long way in ensuring that I keep up the exercise.

I purchased this Marcy Standard Width Bench from Dick's Sporting Goods.  Now as you can imagine, this little guy wasn't exactly cheap, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.  Maybe because I spent so much on it I'll actually have to use it so that I don't feel like I wasted my money.  

This seems like a good step towards getting back into shape.  In college I was in pretty good physical condition and I miss the way that feels.  Sunday was certainly a swift kick in the nards.  The amount of weight I can lift has decreased dramatically, I got winded after just my second lap in the pool, and today I'm feeling a bit sore.  It's all a little discouraging.  But I won't give up.  This is only the beginning.  It will get easier with time.  Hopefully with my new purchase and a little resolve I'll be able to actually look the part of the beefed-up super villain Bane...or, ya know, maybe a little less puny.  

The (Cult) "Classics"

I love movies.  I love how they take you somewhere else, how they take your mind off of your life for a few hours.  Growing up, my family didn't have much money so that meant (for the most part) going to the movies was out of the question.  The movies I saw as a kid were old VHS's that my mother had picked out and most of them weren't what you'd consider mainstream.  My mom had a thing for musicals and I'm ashamed to say that I've seen quite a few (Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, The Sound of Music, 1776, etc.) and still know the words to a number of their more catchy tunes.  As I've gotten older, I've tried to make a point to see some of the classics I missed out on as a kid.  I always catch flack from my friends when they hear some of the movies on my "never saw it" list.  The following is a small excerpt from that list (some of which I would very much like to see, and others not so much):

1. The Godfather
2. Schindler's List
3. Pulp Fiction
4. E.T. The Extraterrestrial
5. Fight Club
6. The Exorcist
7. The Big Lebowski
8. Wayne's World
9. The Usual Suspects
10. The Boondock Saints

Memories: The Great Escape

The following is an account of the escape of my little sister's pet guinea pig.  I wrote it as if it were a letter.  I have no idea how old either of us was at the time.  I was originally going to try and turn this into a poem, but I couldn't get it to work; damn thing just wouldn't cooperate.  I didn't want the story to go to waste, so here we are.  Side-note: this story makes me think of a phone call I got from my sister year's later, informing me that my mother had passed away.  

Olivia,

Do you remember the pet guinea pig you had when we were kids that chewed a hole through the cardboard box we kept her in, just behind a pile of her green pellets of food?  I don’t remember the sound she made when the dog bit her, or if the dog actually bit her.  I don’t remember there being blood.  But I do remember holding her in my arms as she shivered in a dish towel, and how even the coarse hair felt cold.  I remember crying uncontrollably, having to be the one to tell you she was dead.  I remember you, stone silent as the turning of a page, still pondering the great escape.  I guess that’s how it goes for some people; time just seems to wash all of the messy details away, leaving behind the polished wound.  And tonight I’m sitting wishing I were you, chewing the cap of a pen pressed hard against a piece of clean, white paper, digging at the page, trying to remember her name.

GIRLS

GIRLS.  That is all.

:-)

On Tap: United States of Beer

Hello again.  I thought I'd start off this segment of On Tap with a little map I found during a recent stroll through the internet.  The map basically breaks down the best breweries by state, as voted on by you, the people.  I had to shrink the picture to fit it on the blog, so in order to be able to read the column on the left you'll have to go to the actual website.  I want to try a beer from all 50 states!

Okay, now for some of my recent samplings.  First up we have Goose Island 312 Urban Wheat Ale.  Besides being a mouthful (name-wise) it was fairly underwhelming.  It had a slight floral taste and a much more significant bite than I was expecting, especially considering it's a wheat beer.  A very forgettable beer to say the least.

Next up, we have the Danish beer, Carlsberg.  Carlsberg is a lager in the truest sense of the word.  While it's taste is not all that different from just about any other lager, I did notice several slight improvements.  The bitterness of this lager didn't linger nearly as long as some other lagers I've tried and on the whole it was a fairly light and refreshing brew.  It's low alcohol content also makes it a beer you can enjoy without worrying about a loss of inhibition.

Well, unfortunately that's all I've got for this week.  I keep meaning to make a trip to Wegman's for a six-pack; maybe today will be the day I finally remember!

New Poem: The Prize

I've been working on this poem for several days now and it's finally at a point where I think it's readable.  The style is a little different than my normal stuff, and was inspired by a literary group/movement known as, the language poets.  In my reading of some of these poets, I quickly noticed that many of the poems seemed to attempt to combine visual art with poetry through the use of line breaks, punctuation, font size, etc.  Now I'm not ready to start throwing parenthesis all over the place, type everything in lowercase, or abandon punctuation altogether; that's just not who I am.  I do, however, like to experiment and I hope to continue to challenge myself creatively.

The actual subject of the poem was inspired by a beta fish I won when I was younger.  It lived the best 3 days of its life in an over-sized tank in my bedroom.


The Prize

Here at the fairgrounds,
A fishtail brushing across
The inside of a plastic bag
Makes me think
This game is rigged and it is
Impossible to win.

Sometimes I worry I am not living;
The life I want seems so much
On the edge of things that I can
Barely feel it,
The prize
Just out of reach.

With my hand,
I cast a ping pong ball into the pit
Of bowls and watch as it goes
Careening this way and that over their heavens
And lands in still water.

As I hold a bag up to my eyes, shut
Tightly with a twist-tie,
Soft gills flap back and forth, wet wings
Forcing a draught beneath the thin
Armor of scales,
As bellows feeding a chambered fire,
Surrounded by a world of water
And a corpus of cold
Blood.

Sometimes I worry I am not living;
The life I have seems bound and motionless
Under a stale sea that I fear
Will never satisfy.

And with my prize in hand I think,
Is this faint thing I feel
Under my skin
Really what I want or just
Another object of desire
Dancing on the rim of it?

Elegy

I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I think about death...a lot.  I know it's a bit morbid, but I can't help it and I won't apologize for it.  As human beings, we are the only living creatures that are believed to contemplate our own mortality and with the prospect of it always looming out there, it's kind of hard not to think about every once and awhile.  And though my contemplations can sometimes put me in a funk, they can also be kind of soothing, especially when I read the words of those who've come before me.  With that, I 
thought I'd share some of my favorite lines on the subject of death. Enjoy!

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you, is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began again with a faith shakened and strengthened by your convictions. If not for which I might never have been so strong now as I cross to face you and look at you incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you.   - Chris Carter, The X-Files

Do not stand at my grave and weep
by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star-shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

from Thanatopsis

by William Cullen Bryant

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

The Secret
by Charles Bukowski

don't worry, nobody has the
beautiful lady, not really, and
nobody has the strange and
hidden power, nobody is
exceptional or wonderful or
magic, they only seem to be.
it's all a trick, an in, a con,
don't buy it, don't believe it.
the world is packed with
billions of people whose lives
and deaths are useless and
when one of these jumps up
and the light of history shines
upon them, forget it, it's not
what it seems, it's just
another act to fool the fools
again.

there are no strong men, there
are no beautiful women.
at least, you can die knowing
this
and you will have
the only possible
victory.

Some Songs

Here are several songs that are currently stuck in my head, on repeat.

The Kooks - See the Sun (Alternate Version).  The Kooks are an awesome British indie rock band.  They have a great sound and some fun tunes.  This is one of my favorite songs from them.

Brand New - Jesus Christ.  Not a huge Brand New fan, but this song deals with a subject I think about a lot.

The Weepies - Nobody Knows Me At All.  Again, not a band that I see myself getting super into, but this song expresses pretty well how I feel sometimes.

Stumble Upon

So often I'll be surfing my usual websites, looking for content that interests me, only to find the same old junk. Usually, I find new sites, articles, etc. through recommendations from my friends and family.  However, recently I stumbled upon StumbleUpon.  StumbleUpon bills itself as a "discovery engine" that finds and recommends web content to its users based on pre-selected interests.  Its features allow users to rate Web pages, photos, and videos that are personalized to their tastes and interests using social networking principles.


StumbleUpon has been around since 2001, but as usual, yours truly was late to the party.  I also could swear that someone showed me this before, but for the life of me I can't remember who.  Regardless, I started  using it today and was fairly happy with the results.  If you've never used the site before, give it a try!  You might find something you like!

New Poem: You in a Crowd

This poem was inspired by a quote from Henry David Thoreau, which is included beneath the title of the poem and partially quoted in the poem itself.  There may be small changes forthcoming, but I think, for the most part, it is finished.  Enjoy!

You in a Crowd

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.  -Henry David Thoreau

Tonight I find myself surrounded by people I do not know, nor care to know,

Strange men who in-between each shrieking cup of gin, lead lives of quiet desperation,

Who shuffle past indefinite in their choices, but uniform in sin.

In the swarming multitude I feel a warm, soft patch of unfamiliar skin

Brush past, and for a moment glancing back, I glimpse your face, as in the wind

The belly of a leaf might turn, as if coerced, and catch a bit of vernal rain.

I’ve seen your face before somewhere.  Was it you who sat there on the subway train?

Did I see you at an interview for a job we both desired, or are you the one

Whose glare I sense in the pictures of a classmate now deceased, like faded, self-reflections?

At times I almost feel as though we pass dim recollections

Of ourselves amid a crowd of old acquaintances we never made, compelled

To turning back to feel the faint touch of who we might have been.

Memories: Second Grade

What to write about?  This is a question I find myself asking every damn day.  I want to write about common experiences in an uncommon way.  I want to take the ordinary and make it come alive on the page.  I want to take those little moments that touch us, that we remember for unknown reasons, and try to unfold them, to coax from them some meaning, something tangible. 

To that end, I have recently begun attempting to compile a list of all of those moments from my own life.  It is my intention to draw inspiration from this list of memories, to use it as a source of writing material in between the less interesting parts of my life.  The poems drawn from this list will also serve as a sort of quasi-autobiography.   They will act, much like this blog, as a means of preserving my experiences for future reflection, which is something I enjoy greatly.

As I was writing the following account, I realized that it had a kind of poetic sound, which was not my original intention, however, I liked it and decided to stick with it.  Enjoy!

One time in second grade, upon returning from recess, I stood before some classmates – whose names I can’t recall – telling jokes and poking fun at a kid much larger than myself.  He shoved me as if to say, “Back off!”, and as I fell away I tipped his cap onto the floor.  And in my laughter I barely noticed him recoil in anger and punch me in the stomach. 

Bent over, smaller than I’d ever been before, I stood grasping at the air as if to say, “Come back!”, and my cheeks drew warm, unwanted tears like a damp mattress.  The audience crept near and whispered a maternal, “Are you ok?”, as the echo of a fist rang even further in my belly.

In a moment I stood up, and all the nets of reason fell away and no one could be heard to say, “Stop.  Think.”  With one crude swing of balled up flesh, I laid him down beside his cap as though he were asleep.  I didn’t stay to count the seconds that elapsed; I knew it wouldn’t last.  I grabbed my damp, discolored books and hurried out of class.

Minutes later, standing on a toilet in a bathroom stall, quiet as a mouse, I heard my fellow classmates talking of my act, a tale much taller than I felt, having pissed all of my words away, and replaced them with fists.

Born on the 4th of July

I still have all my fingers!  Independence Day went off without a hitch and reminded me a lot of some memorable 4ths as a kid.  One year in particular, I got the brilliant idea to buy a bunch of little fireworks and combine them into one giant firework.  I set it off in the alley behind my old house and it was awesome!  A shower of sparks shot a good 6 feet into the air and made for quite a display.  This year I decided to try and recreate the magic - never mind the inherent danger this endeavor posed.  Side-note: I may be a pyromaniac.

Anyway, I bought a bunch of fireworks from Wal-Mart called Crackling Salutes.  You gotta love Wal-Mart, you can buy a blender with six speeds, do all your grocery shopping, AND purchase the ingredients to maim and disfigure yourself.  I combined my entire purchase, about 60 fireworks total, in a container I fashioned from cardboard and packing tape.  Even up until I lit the fuse I had no idea what was going to happen, but I had flashbacks of that time in the alley behind my house, when things were simple, and all the moments of my life, everything seemed to condense and burn before my eyes in one great instantaneous collage of sparks and light.

Below is a picture of my creation and a video of the event.  Enjoy!

New Poem: On Having Lost My Shoes in a Bar Fight

This poem is still in the editing phase, but I think it's pretty close to being finished.  It was inspired by a fishing trip with a childhood friend.  The muddy banks were so bad they sucked the shoes right off his feet and he had to pedal home barefoot on his bike.  He got the crap beat out of him by his parents for having lost his only pair of sneakers.

On Having Lost My Shoes in a Bar Fight

Foam and an empty can come floating down

The river, a last gasp of air trapped inside

Keeps it above the rushing current,

Bobbing up and down along a thin skin

On which insects glide across.

A Coke can maybe, flung indiscreetly

From a speeding car miles from here, and now

The logo worn away, like the edges of a rock,

The last swallow sipped so long ago.

Grasping at it with my eyes and baited breath,

I tread lightly down the muddy banks.

A low tide gently scrubbing the sandy shore

Sends murmurs between the stones, as water

Follows and slips into the footprints that I leave behind.

In time, one fateful footfall splits the earth,

The warm mud clasps around my ankles,

And spills over the mouth of my empty shoes

Like wet cement poured into some die I’d cast.

But that of course, was years ago, the nights

Gone rushing by and I, now drunk, too drunk to drive,

Steal an unchained bicycle, and with my feet

Stained black and cracking, begin the long ride home.

Each oncoming pair of headlights like a drink

Slid down the bar, vanish in an instant,

Their light still felt in the memory of places

They had once illuminated that now grow dark.

The wind from each slow-passing car kisses my cheeks
Like a fever on the handlebars of a dream,

As barefoot on the pedals I recall

My lonely pair of sneakers caught there,

Counting, watching the cans go down the river.

Hollywood

I recently made my first trip to Hollywood Casino at Penn National Race Course.  Now I've been gambling before, but this was my first experience at a casino in my area and I must say, I had a lot of fun.  My favorite game to play is craps.  For those of you that have never played before, it can be a bit confusing at first, but once you get the hang of it, it's a blast.  The best part is the group atmosphere; it's not you against a slot machine or a dealer, it's the entire craps table rooting for a single shooter.

Of course, gambling is always more fun when you're winning.  I've had my ups and downs in the few trips I've been to Hollywood Casino, but I am currently in the win column by about a hundred bucks.  I'm not sure when I'll go again, but I would like to do this more often.  The only big drawback (besides the potential to lose money) is the smoke.  Since I grew up in a house full of smokers, it doesn't bother me too much, but it is definitely something I could do without.

One last thing, apparently they don't like you taking pictures in the casino.  Not sure why this is, but it kinda stinks.  It was kind of dark out the few times I went so I didn't get any good pictures of the outside either; the picture above was provided by Google.