Banksy

So here I am, on the PATH, on my way to check out the new Banksy graffiti in lower Manhattan. I'm really excited, these are all brand new pieces, the spray paint probably still aromatic.  I never remember to check out his art when I'm traveling, but now it's right here.  He said they'll be popping up all October, and with a toll-free number next to them that plays a recording of his commentary, like a museum guided tour.   His work is full of childish whimsy, which is typically lost when acquiring such a knack for social and political commentary.  It's sorta like a much more subversive Gary Larson.  I wonder if anyone has made that connection before?  Of course someone has, it's so obvious.  They probably wouldn't even bother to say it, it's such a shallow observation.  I'll give it the google test though, just to be sure.  Yep, well documented.

So it's at Allen and Canal St.  Chinatown.  Should I walk all the way there from World Trade to really get into the rhythm of the street and maybe recreate the moment of inspiration?  There are no crosstown trains to Chinatown anyway, remember when we learned that rushing for the Chintatown bus home that time?  Shit, maybe I should have taken that. But then I'd be stuck leaving the city by 10:30, and now that I'm unemployed, I can stay as late as I like. Plus I'd miss all this urban decay only viewable from the train.  Look at all those abandoned warehouses in those lots of cracked asphalt overgrown with tall grass along the Hudson, it's so toxic and post-apocalyptic.  I wonder how I would get there, there are no roads.  How would Banksy get there?  That whole building would be perfect for a Banksy piece, how many people would see it... 250,000 per day on average, according to sources.  I wonder what used to happen in that building? I wonder what their layoff notices were like?

The toll-free number is on his website... should I call it?  No, I should start trying to get into the right frame of mind. Banksy captures the human condition, the very same human condition that surrounds me in this train car.  I can see it in these people around me, all fish-eyed looking at their devices.  They need someone like Banksy to remind them of what they've all lost... by no fault of their own, of course.  I mean, what I've seen of Banksy's work he is very action-positive.  Action-positive can be a thing, right? That we can all make a choice to allow the world to affect us?  That it's not just all escapist Mickey Mouse culture? That we can do something, regardless of how ephemeral and insignificant?

It's 11:30 in the morning on a Wednesday.  I wonder how many people are victims of layoffs trying to explore the city in a way their 9-5 never permitted.  Those look like students, they seem busy and optimistic, and their faces are still taut, unworn by the "real world".  There's a tired woman with three children... why aren't they in school?  Do people wear ties to explore the city?  Do people take the subway to a job interview?  I wonder if there are other people from the Merck layoffs.  Can I claim solidarity with them even though I quit without notice after the announcement?  And I was just in the customer service pit?  Banksy says, "If you don't own a train company, then go and paint on one instead".  That's totally what sending that email felt like.  I guess since I have few responsibilities and am free to derail my life's course, it was my duty to use myself as a tiny wrench in the gears.  I'm sure that the groups I blind cc'd appreciated it, and that I did what they want to do, but had no way to show it that wouldn't get them in trouble.  That's what going to admire Banksy's street art is for me.  Showing my appreciation for that feeling of tiny revolution inside of me he sparks.

Should I listen to the recording at the number? Is that cheating?  Whatever, it's too distracting, I should just do it.  "...it's probably painted over by now".  That'd suck.  But wait, who is going to paint over it?  Especially with all the publicity for the city this is sure to draw.  I wonder if there will be police nearby guarding the wall.  What if there's a crowd?  Haha, maybe I'll take pictures of people taking pictures and post it on my blog.  No, that's too obvious, there'll probably be people doing that, too.  I'll make a people-watching project out of it and take pictures of people taking pictures of people.  Scratch that, I'm gonna feel too self-conscious taking pictures of anything, and I'd hate to have someone approach me and ask for an account of myself.  Maybe I'll look at the wall next door or across the street, sort of like performance art. No, that's stupid.  I'll just go to the restaurant across the street and have lunch, then go join the crowd. I'm hungry.  I don't really want Chinese though. If Banksy is lampooning museum tours, maybe I should go to the MoMA first.  I've always wanted to see the MoMA anyway, and they close, whereas I'm sure Banksy's piece will still be there later.  I'll hop on the 1 and head uptown, there will be more dining options there.  Today is awesome!

Laundromat

There's mud
in the washer there's mud
in the dryer
If I wash our clothes there will be
mud no matter what
If I don't wash them, they
will just keep getting dirtier, and when
I get home, my spouse will be mad, and what
will the neighbors think when
they see the kids in dirty clothes?
Everyone is fighting
Why am I even here? Sucksforthesepeopleandall,
but why am
I
here? Oh right, my reliance on foreign
groceries. Let me
explain, the supermarket is in
the same plaza as the laundromat. Oh,
and there's also that
woman who folds, she
sucks my cock
My wife won't
swallow, she holds
it in her mouth until
I'm asleep

I could buy a washer/dryer, but
there's a cost up front, and
the machines are
wasteful, at least
according to my fucking son, who is going through a phase.
My wife is on his side. Sorta.
She knows
who's in
charge. He'd have us hand wash, but
Who's got time for that? Certainly
not Mr. Up at the Crack
of Noon.  And line drying? I don't want
anyone
seeing my underwear.

There's
so
much dirty laundry, how
did it get this bad?
Normally I just throw
everything in the machine
and walk away. These people
keep arguing.
Who put that mud in there, anyway?

NYC Fringe Festival

I was reading the capsule descriptions at NYC Fringe Festival a couple weeks ago, and I noticed certain recurring themes and gimmicks, so I decided to write parody ones and present them to the general public and see if people could tell the difference.  I have provided a list that includes both sincere summaries of plays that are actually being performed in NYC for $18/ticket right now, and shit I made up.  See if you can tell the difference.  Answer key in comments.

1)  SLUT

SIXTEEEN. Pre-gaming. Empty ABSOLUT bottle. Luke, GEORGE, Tim. Back of a CAB. RIPPED underwear. HANDS everywhere. NO! Through the eyes of NYC teen girls, FACE the choices and EXPERIENCE the fallout from ONE life-altering Friday night.

2)  Snakes I Have Known

On my 16th birthday I find myself buck-ass naked and snake-bit outside my front door in Nowhere, TX. There are all kinds of snakes in my life. Some are reptiles. It's my journey from DFW to JFK, y'all.

3)  The Rise and Fall of the Kinky Wizards
Skateboarding. Pop culture references.  Kleptomania. Box after box of hair dye from CVS.  Come witness the tale of Vince and Justin, the skateboarding shoplifters from cult classic film High Fidelity as they nearly redefine the sound of the 90's.

4)  Next

Having lived on a boat for 3 years and published a hit novel inspired by it, Holly struggles to find anybody to deeply relate to. Former Gilmore Girls writer Julie McCullough takes you on a journey into loneliness and confessions over mojitos and explores difference between relief and real passion.

5)  One Way Out
What do you get when you throw a neurotic Jew, a retired Filipino stock trader with high functioning autism, a heart surgeon who is a single mother of three, a Parisian cartographer from 1850, and James Joyce and trap them in an elevator?  Not much, until Friedrich Nietzsche starts speaking through a one-way intercom and reveals that one of them has a gun.

6)  PUSSY

A lesbian couple whose love is on the rocks, their overly curious landlady and one very opinionated cat ... this love triangle is starting to get crowded. 

7)  Stanton
OH NO'S! Looks like the playground has been taken over by bullies!  But not just ordinary bullies, vampire ninja bullies. Stanton has no choice but to team up with a band of warthogs to fight the battle against not only the bullies, but mutants and cultural hegemony.  

8)  The Order of the Cape

From the ashes of a mysterious apocalypse that wiped out most of mankind, a new society forms with comic books as the guiding template. Fanfic is the new Shakespeare, Superman vs Batman is the new holy war in this deep examination of the influence mythology has on society that draws thought-provoking parallels to the world we live in.

9)  HORSE PLAY The Musical 

Horses place the bets as a NYC carriage driver falls in love with a woman intent on banning horses from Central Park. A rock score drives this universal tale about life, freedom and how love of horses brings people together.

10)  Ex Machina

Two Smartphone factory drones must learn to coexist while under threat from fascist anti-union politics, drunk guards, and a sexy anarchist unfettered by the laws of physics. A dystopian dark comedy about dancing, Nekko Wafers, and the thrill of rebellion.

11)  See Jane Give Up Dick
See Jane. See Jane Give Up Dick. A highly sexual Manhattanite attempts to give up ‘giving it up’ for one full year. See Jane discover if putting an end to her slutty ways can be more rewarding than multiple orgasms.

12)  Manic Pixie Dream Girl: A Graphic Novel Play
The darkly comic story of a struggling artist and his mysterious muse, told in the style of a graphic novel. MPDG is a beer-drinking, pop-culture referencing, punch to the theatrical gut—more High Fidelity than Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf

13)  Katie Broke Up With Me       

Guys, Katie broke up with me again, and it's for real this time. So I sold my DJ equipment and wrote a puppet show about our relationship and how bleak my future is without her. I asked Bill Oldham to do the soundtrack, but he didn't get back to me in time. I'd describe the puppets but I'm almost out of sp

14)  The Rufus Equation

Nerd + Math = Sex. What's love got to do with quantum physics? Professor Bert Rufus is awkward with women – especially with the alluring physicist Alys Smith. Bert invents a secret device that will shock the world...and might even get him laid. 

 15)  MONOCULAR MAN

In the era of Viet Nam, Woodstock, and dot-matrix, everyone's making bombs, including our long-haired, short-winded, one-eyed hero. "Explosive," "literary," and "comic," MM travels suburbs from Swampscott to Miami, taking on race, privilege (his), manhood, and fried chicken.

16)  Stretched Thin
Carolina's years working the donkey show are behind her, but the bare spot on her resume has relegated her to lousy retail jobs. Her roommate Julia has a masters degree in comparative lit and has found herself in a similar position.  Join this unlikely pair on their journey of learning what really matters in a tough job market.

17)  Step Three
Floyd is a jaded Vietnam vet who recently came out of the closet and lives with his ex-wife, their unemployable son... And a trampoline that can predict the future. Get rich quick schemes collide with old grudges and the result is hilarity, emotional healing, and the time travel paradox sometimes all at once!

18)  Just a Minute

Freddie Burks is a struggling playwright who is on the verge of a breakthrough that would save his career, his relationship, his credit score, and his dog Muffin. All of this relies on one phone call, but he hasn't paid his bill and may lose service any minute as he argues with his fiancee and his mother keeps calling.  Oh, and there's someone holding a cocked bow and arrow in the background.

19)  A Fallopian Fairy Tale
Maligaya is on a mission "to take the pink out of Princess and put it back in the pussy." With her pitch for a Disney meets "Girls" children's book at stake, stories from her life expose a less charming reality. 

20)  Mind the Gap

Have a seat as a table full of New Yorkers and Londoners hash it out over whose respective countrymen are the more insufferable tourists.  The true setting, however, is the real mystery in this cerebral comedy driven by witty dialogue and geographical minutia. If you can correctly guess the location at the end, prizes include gift certificates to local restaurants.

Tricky Weeks

Veronica and Dale are two vaguely liberal gainfully employed people at the end of their twenties just getting to know one another, digging past the typical plumage and pretense of their first few date-like events. Their outings have constituted a few meals, some romantic comedy-style grocery shopping, and two incidences of wandering the local art bistro neighborhood. Mostly they can be found in Veronica's apartment fornicating, reheating leftovers and talking about how similar their childhoods were in a very general way as they share a grope and watch Bravo and TLC reality shows online late at night. They have at this point, however, just about humped the bias out each other. Bias tends to fall out in one solid piece, ushering in starkly contrasting lucidity. Now is the time where couples feel compelled to start admitting their past indiscretions. In most relationships, there will be a long car ride or late night buzzed conversation where you give an honest description of failed romances and maybe a window into phases you've for the most part grown out of and you both adjust your expectations accordingly. For some reason they are both independently postponing this phase, or trying to forgo it altogether (1). Incomplete stories are allowed to float; reoccurring names are spoken with hesitance, and when there would normally be a confession or an elaborately festooned follow-up question, they blow right past it. Perhaps they just want to avoid unnecessary conflict and pretense, since they have been through this before and they know these confessions are often given with a defensive tone, and follow-up questions seem to be a demand for the graphic details. No matter how neutral you try to sound, a very unsexy insecurity shines through and projects telltale shapes onto the walls.

Several months go by as they continue consciously omitting shameful secrets from stories, explaining their reasoning to themselves in convoluted lines of logic until it basically turns into a religion (2) as they crab walk towards commitment and practical considerations. They try to synthesize a coherent picture of their future together out of what happens between them in the present. The result is an enjoyable stagnation as they distract themselves from conversation with more movies, shopping, and sex. They seem to be working together to build something, but the only result is an admirably efficient use of Netflicks, knowledge of the undistinguished local restaurant scene, and a highly developed group of muscles from favoring certain positions. It was beginning to seem that these things were the entire purpose of the relationship.

"Life is sweet right now, that's all there is to say." Dale was out with two close friends as he rises one of those big 32 oz glasses of Belgian-style ale to his face with his slightly unfavored hand since his other one was slick with buffalo wing goop and bits of napkin. Dale and his friends Brett and Merkins are the type of people who develop designated drinking hands. Veronica is secretly dubious of Dale's friends because to her they seem likely to encourage his old bad habits. Not that she knows anything about those old habits, but old habits seem like they would be bad, especially when they took place around Brett and Merkins. Brett is one of those friends you keep around by virtue of their attendance record and maybe a few key meaningful conversations, whereas being friends with Merkins was almost like Stockholm Syndrome. He offends the easily offended, and annoys everybody else with his constantly evolving antics. His most recent obnoxious habit is his iPhone. It wasn't enough for Merkins to be fond of his iPhone; he needed everybody else to be fond of it, too. Every night they went out, he would have some sort of iPhone power trip. If they were in a new neighborhood at a strange bar, Merkins would look up the nearest beer and wings joint, preferably a chain often attached to malls, and present a clear plan on how to get there that nobody could argue with. On top of this, he was sure to announce every update he received and there was hardly a sports, entertainment, or news-related app that was absent from his phone. Tonight, they are content at Buffalo Wild Wings talking about how great relations are with the opposite sex.


"Dale and I just have this amazing unspoken respect that we share. This might be the first truly mature relationship I've had." Veronica sips her warm sake and self consciously cuts her sip short. "Not 'had' in the sense that it's over or has hit its peak or anything, but, you know... I'm in it! Know what I mean?" They couldn't be further from knowing what she means, but weeknights aren't for confrontation. Veronica sometimes mixes up her friends names. They support all the easily supportable things she does, and every now and then try to express a dessicated version of doubt that requires no follow-up because they don't want to seem like they are only capable of providing indistinct encouragement. Dale secretly resents Veronica's friends for knowing all that they most likely know about her past. Whenever they are all out together, there are moments when her friends share a smirk over an unexplained in-joke. He assumes that it may be that he is behaving in a way that is appropriate or ironic in the context of all her ex-lovers. Veronica's friends don't get along with Dale's friends, since Merkins banged one of them and even though they don't hang out with that girl anymore they have still categorized Dale's friends as not acceptable. Hence why they are in separate bars less than two miles apart.

Dale is talking to Brett about how Teavana is always a safe yet seemingly creative place to buy Christmas gifts for girls, while Merkins acts as a news ticker for sports that he knows Dale and Brett don't follow, amusing himself by trying to be ahead of the dozens of TVs on the walls. Then without changing his tone says, "Dude! I just got an update from Wikileaks!" Brett is in the middle of a sentence, but Dale gives Merkins a slice of attention. "Holy shit! It is about Veronica!" Now Dale & Brett are both waiting for the punchline. Merkins keeps reading his device, then he shows it to Dale and sure enough, it is a transcription of three voicemails that Veronica left about 4 years ago. Five minutes later the back-story emerges in the form of leaked text messages and Facebook chats. It seems that Veronica cheated on a guy she had been dating exclusively for two years, lied to him long after this fact was painfully obvious, and then bragged about it without shame to her friends before having a truly pathetic breakdown when she noticed a pattern. She blatantly sabotaged in the crudest ways every secure relationship from college until as recently as two years ago, according to subsequently leaked data. It was almost always with this guy named Josh who reportedly wasn't even that great in bed but was at least physically reliable and always acted emotionally unstable, seemingly for the purpose of justifying the fact that he continuously works at the same bar despite having "all these crazy ideas". From a combination of leaked private live journal entries and emails found in the "unsent drafts" folders of her ex-boyfriends, they all allowed it to happen because they were either too trusting and naive to figure it out, or they knew and just felt bad for her. Either way, both parties reportedly let the relationship fade once infidelity was clearly on the table. Once the updates stopped pouring in, Dale remembered that he has to deal with this knowledge soon, since he has plans to stay at Veronica's place tonight.

Dale knows he ought to confront her in an organized manner, or in a completely spontaneous manner... both of those are impossible to do tonight, so he is driving around the neighborhood thinking. During this time, Veronica is at home waiting, going through her usual cycle of websites. Mail. Facebook. Clips from The Soup. The New York Times cover stories. She is about to call Dale as she browses Wikileaks' most recent cables. A few war diaries from soldiers. The musings of Dutch ambassadors about non-integrated Muslim immigrant population. President Calderon not very optimistic... Screen shots of Dale's old myspace page?! She looks at her phone, then starts browsing all related cables, covering dates between 2003 and early 2007. It appears that he was trolling the internet for hook-ups! There are dozens of screen shots of his profile, each one completely different. He would change his favorite movies, bands, interested, and even his pictures to make himself seem compatible with whatever girl he was trying to sleep with. There were also leaks of the messages he would send these girls and the profiles of his targets... he was a creep! Dale knocks on her front door, and for a second she thought to pretend to be asleep. She didn't want to deal with this knowledge, especially so suddenly! Unable to come up with an alternative, she lets him in. Their arms and legs are crossed as though trying to deflect not only each others stares but that of the rest of the world. They both charge in and collide with "I have a..." and "Can we please..." and " You first..." and "Go ahead..."... eventually Veronica goes first by pulling Dale over to her computer to show him the cables about him. He doesn't deny the content, and his reaction isn't the shameful pile of stuttered excuses she expected but instead one of unexpected relief, which causes Veronica to almost overflow with righteous rage until he shows her the cables about her past. She still accelerates towards explaining that her past isn't as despicable as his, but all she gets out is a very forceful "Well..." before she reconsiders. Dale is trying very hard to speak; it looks like he is about to vomit but she cuts him off and says, "We should go get a drink and talk." Of course all the bars are closed, but they'll drive through three counties trying to find an open one, spending 45 minutes sitting in each convenience store parking lot along the way, telling the most pitiful tales of debauchery and self delusion. They can barely drag themselves out of the car when they return from their big circle at 5:30 AM, but they know they'll have the best sex they've ever had once they close the front door. As they fall asleep intertwined with one another, they don't notice the clammy regions developing where their bare skin is making contact, for their minds are far away planning a bountiful future together.






(1) One possible reason could be they don't want to supply each other ammunition for future arguments and judgments. Plus it isn't really the most pleasant conversation. Not to mention that going through an itemized list of all prior experimental ventures could deflate the sense that what they have is unique and make the relationship seem mechanical, more like a bodily function.

(2) The convolutedness of the logic and more so the mantra-like mental repetition indicate that they are actually just afraid of either scaring the one another away or learning something that would make it impossible to continue the relationship.

Deadly Silence, Or Do You Just

Thunder
Deadly Silence
Who do you blame when lightning strikes
Do you retract our magnet privileges?
Mandate rubber safety attire
Or do you just
Thank God

How the Flu Can Save Christmas

Christmas season was laying into everybody as they tried to trudge through an honest days work, which has been made all the more intolerable by the people who think they're the first to recognize that stores are putting up their decorations and playing the music earlier every year. If there's anything more annoying and tiresome than seeing windows sprayed with fake snow the day after Halloween, it's having to endure people complaining about it. To make matters worse, there is a particularly nasty flu going around. Nobody had really witnessed or experienced the particular nastiness of it, but anybody referring to it was specifically using the words "particularly" and "nasty" to describe it. So at the first sign of infection, everybody was going to their doctor to get their prescription for Z-Pak antibiotics for a quick recovery time so they can get back to not enjoying themselves. As could be predicted, however, cases of an antibiotic-resistant strain of the flu started to breach 10 OClock news special reports across the country. Scientists kept up with the evolving flu for a while, but eventually the flu became self-aware and started sprouting limbs until it looked vaguely humanoid. Like everything that is man-made and loathed, the flu monsters bare a few indelible traits of its creator. When they aren't devouring people alive, the flu monsters enjoy watching reality TV and buying consumer electronics online. There were also a few isolated incidences where groups of flu monsters were turned away from Chili's and the Cheesecake Factory.

In the meantime, panic has taken over as people search frantically for a way to continue their normal lives without worrying about these walking flu monsters. It is quickly discovered that the flu monsters won't harm anybody who either has or already had the flu. Soon after this revelation, the original flu becomes a hot item. People begin to exaggerate their flu symptoms or even fabricate them altogether as a status symbol. Women in BMWs will roll down the window and launch a dark yellow phlegm ball towards the crosswalk while stopped at a traffic light. Men in chic clubs will go through several tissues amplifying every acutely angled nose cleanse while making eye contact with an attractive woman. It is especially popular to use this tactic on dates as incentive to seize the opportunity to obtain the flu as a result of spending the night together.

Amidst all the excitement, nobody cares to be annoyed at repetitive Christmas music, and nobody can be bothered with Christmas shopping or anything else other than their own safety. Parents are trying to make sure their kids catch a proper flu, and then taking care of them once they have it. Soon, everybody has the flu, and all the single people in the world are now in the bountifully snot-caked arms of a new romance. Come Christmas eve, everybody was anticipating a sound sleep without having purchased a single Christmas gift, fully satisfied in their Nyquil haze. Except for all the coughing. And then the nagging thoughts of preparing an explaination to their family and friends that being safe from the flu monsters is sufficient as a gift... not to mention concocting a plausible, G-rated reason that Santa Clause could not defeat the Flu Monsters (having left that to last minute), and that he plans to make up for it next year. News coverage has been mostly focused on the war on flu monsters, and very few have noticed the lack of reporting about economic concerns during this crucial time of the year, which given the lack of activity people assumed must be dismal.

The entire country was trying to conquer their restlessness as they allowed bumping, creeking, and other abnormal sounds pass by during the unwholesome hours of the night when even the Christmas movies have extended ads during commercial breaks that bad stand-up comedians poke fun at. Eventually, people give in and get up as the morning glow hits the last of the 5 grieving phases. Parents are preparing their surprised disappointment voices, and couples are winding up for their sheepish apologetic tone as they approach their Christmas tree/living room focal area/marijuana bush/wherever the exchange of gifts takes place when the nation is in for a shock. An unquantifiable mound decadently wrapped presents are piled up with great feng shui and grace. Actually, some people still begin giving their apologies and excuses as planned because they are too fucking jaded to notice something this amazing at first glance. Once the elation subsided enough to ask questions, people discovered that the presents were from the Flu Monsters, who had compuslively purchased trendy gadgets and indulgent food items and, unable to find a use for it themselves, gave it to those who had earned their brotherhood by overcoming the unevolved flu.


To make things even better, family gatherings were significantly less painful than normal! Not one conversation was reduced to "I read on Yahoo news that a survey found that iTunes gift cards are easier to use than amazon.com gift cards." or "You know what dad? Life isn't about things that can be said during job interviews and placed on resumes. I'm gonna live my own life!" Nor were there any outbursts of, "You don't have to whisper, I know that I got fat this year. Maybe it wouldn't seem so sudden if somebody would visit me every now and then!" People were just content to see eachother, and where there may have usually been awkward silence to be filled with passive aggressive comments or bland filler was replaced by tales of surviving the flu monsters. After Christmas, the flu monsters were nowhere to be found. But there was news that Apple, Verizon Wireless, and Williams-Sonoma had all purchased large shares of Pfizer, manufacturer of Z-Pak antibiotics.