tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-152267362024-03-07T03:51:20.801-06:00The 42nd Floor<i>"You know, once upon a time, there was a naked guy who modeled for Michelangelo. I'd love for your Mom to tell him he didn't have a job. -the Cachinnator</i>Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.comBlogger832125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-50408921226872267012015-05-27T20:59:00.003-05:002015-05-27T21:20:10.249-05:00Battlestar Galactica episodes 4.1 and 4.2<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(the following are reflections on episodes 4.1 and 4.2, seeing as how they're kind of a two-parter)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Spoilers, obvz.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Battlestar Galactica...how do I love thee?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>When episode 4-1 ended</b>, I was in the throes of utter agony. The rug had been ripped out. Characters I had grown to love were suddenly struggling with shocking new revelations about themselves that couldn't be resolved or made to go away with some clever writing. There are no take-backs once you find out you're a Cylon. The intro is different. Red Dress Six is now in a red business suit and somehow more sinister than ever. And what the frak is going on with Baltar? And we lost another ship and had our first major casualties leaving New Caprica. And can we please just have an entire episode about what's happening to Colonel Tigh? And the "I hate you SO MUCH" look on Adama's face when Lee tells him he's leaving the fleet. To become a lawyer. Which I still find rather incredulous, given how much the fleet probably needs ace pilots right now oh my gods the Cylons found us but whatever. And Starbuck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh Starbuck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh honey...I'm SO afraid you're going to be our last Cylon. Your ship, honey. Your ship is brand new. You conveniently don't remember how you got to Earth. And you have these bizarre-o headaches every time Galactica FTL jumps to a new position. You did this crazy karate-chop action on the guards and are holding Roslin hostage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When this episode ended, the whole show felt like it had twisted into something monstrous. It was a nightmare. It didn't matter what scene you saw, something weird or awful was happening with SOMEBODY. The show had officially become a runaway train. And there was nothing to hold onto anymore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Except Hotdog. He's still around, so that's something, I guess.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>When episode 4-2 ended</b>, I wasn't as wracked with woe as I was when 4-1 ended. Partly because we got a little resolution (Starbuck and Helo got their own little sewage ship and Adama's blessing to go off and find Earth. Somehow, I knew he'd work something out. ;) ).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But there were also diminishing woe-returns because there was a lot about this episode that was...unsatisfying. Lots of long back-and-forth but little payoff. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For instance--the bit about lobotomizing the Raiders. Yeah, we GET it. The Sixes think it's wrong, but the Ones (sitting in a very official-looking chair for someone who insists they're "not in charge") think it's necessary. Neither of them manage to put up a super-compelling reason for their opposing stances, beyond "things have changed". But it just kept going on and on and on. As a result, I found myself disconnecting from the debate and not really caring too much either way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Until Six came in with her now-intelligent Centurions and ordered them to blast the conference room to smithereens. Frankly, given the Centurions pathetically bad aim throughout the series (they're really good at shooting the ground right in front of their targets though!) I figured this scene would take much longer than it did. I guess removing their Intelligence Inhibitors greatly improved their aim. Continuity crisis averted!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Or is it? Why were the Ones so concerned when the Centurions went all Mega Man on them? Why did the others (I can never remember their number. The Tour Guide guy from the mini-series) run for their lives in clear terror when they realized the Centurions we're locked and loaded? They'll just re-download into new bodies! Chill out guys!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Another example of this episode's buildup with kinda wonky payoff was Baltar's new fantasy. Nope, it's not Red Dress Six, it's his own damn narcissistic self. When it started, everything in me tingled with delight. "Oh MAN. This is gonna be CRAZY!" But once they had exchanged a few little quips...that was kind of it. Huh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Still, 4-2 was by no means BAD. The scene where atheist Adama emotionally bitch-slaps Roslin while getting hammered (he's slipping!! NO! Not stalwart Admiral Adama!!) was brutal. As was Roslin's surprising conviction that Starbuck is a perfect Cylon model and her unexpected decision about how best to deal with this information (bang, bang) brought back the crazy side of Roslin that suits their whole desperate scenario like a robot hand in robot glove.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Predictions:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I had my doubts about the Final Four at the end of season 3. Maybe they were just misinterpreting what the song inside the frakking ship meant. But at this point, once you change the intro to feature these four characters under the "FOUR LIVE IN SECRET" banner, it seems like it's pretty much a done deal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">However, this is Battlestar Galactica. Just when you think you've got this show figured out, it throws you some curve balls you weren't expecting, so I'm holding out hope that at LEAST one of them isn't actually a Cylon. Maybe whatshername...Tori. Yeah. Who even IS she? It does beg the question...if the actor playing Billy hadn't wanted off the show, would HE have been one of the Final Four??</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As to the final fifth Cylon, right now it's a toss up between Starbuck and Baltar. Well, toss-up...<i>ish</i>. Starbuck is feeling a bit too obvious. Something is definitely screwy with her, sure. Those weird headaches every time Galactica jumps the "wrong way" are just too bizarre, and her being a Cylon would certainly make sense of the time discrepancies and the fact that her ship is so brand new it doesn't have any log data on it. But I've read enough Agatha Christie to know that when even the characters on the show are saying she's the prime candidate for Toaster of the Year, the writers are up to something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Which really just leaves us with Baltar. Six explained to him that Cylons can "project". Baltar's series-long descents into fantasy land and Red Dress Six's constant tormenting/real presence could very well be classic Cylon projecting. Also, his gradual coming around to faith in the One True Cylon God plays perfectly into Red Dress Six's desires for him all along. And the Hybrid that the end of RAZOR did say the final Cylon would awaken after much anguish and soul searching or something like that. Seems like Baltar's been doing plenty of that too. Right now, he's looking like our man. Er. Robot.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Screwball Prediction:</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The final Cylon is Roslin. I trust the writers enough to believe that her Cylon blood transfusion wasn't MERELY a happy device to stave off her cancer until it was more convenient. The Pythian Prophecy stated something about a leader with a wasting disease who would lead his/her fellow humans to Earth, but leader wouldn't make it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Because the human leader dies? Or because the human leader...isn't HUMAN ANYMORE?! TOASTER TIME, MADAME PRESIDENT! What if Roslin's blood transfusion not only healed her cancer, but filled her body with Cylon nanotechnology that rewrote her DNA? Or something?? We know everything about the Cylons is synthetic. What if Roslin isn't dying at all? What if she's in the process of transforming into the CYLON QUEEN who sits on a mechanical throne of toaster lies?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">It's BSG. Who the frak knows. Nothing is as it seems. And I've long held a belief that Roslin is NOT the Dying Leader of the Pythian Prophecy. So is there another character who may perhaps be unaware of having a wasting disease who could also lead the humans to Earth?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Well...there's always Starbuck...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh yeah. And I'm not ruling out the idea of time travel. Just. For the record.</span></div>
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Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-46990983440192254172015-05-27T20:22:00.000-05:002015-05-27T21:04:12.531-05:00Battlestar BlogIt's been a LONG TIME since I've been on this blog.<br />
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But I thought I'd dust it off real quick to do something I hope will be kinda fun.<br />
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At the first of the year, my friends finally got me to watch Battlestar Galactica. Every fiber of my being resisted them on this. The title. The TITLE. It just sounds so NERDY and, worse, BORING. Metal and steel and computer technobabble and All-The-Worst-Parts-of-Star-Trek boring boring boring. I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd get sucked into this massive nerd fest of mega-nerdiest proportions. <br />
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And yet, here we are.<br />
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I didn't ever want to watch season four because I knew as long as I <i>didn't </i>watch it...Battlestar Galactica would NEVER HAVE TO END. It would be out there forever, like some kind of nerd diamond. <br />
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But I've waited long enough. It's time now.<br />
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I finally started the final season a few nights ago and I have a lot of <i>feelings. </i> About what I'm <i>seeing</i>. So instead of keeping my thoughts to myself, I thought I'd post them as I watch each episode. To those of you who have already seen the show, hopefully you'll find this amusing. Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-71958755596931715892012-08-31T07:02:00.000-05:002012-08-31T07:02:10.166-05:00Fork in New YorkI'm back safe and sound. <br />
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Well, safe anyway. Jury's still out on the "sound" part. <br />
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Yeah. Back in NYC after 2 months. I was alarmed at how big my computer monitor looked and how clunky my keyboard felt after just using the MacBook Air all this time. I took that feeling of looking at old things with fresh eyes outside as I walked over to the Chipotle for dinner. <br />
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And I guess...it's just funny. 2 months of seeing all sorts of neat new things, and then, walking through Times Square, I maybe looked up ONCE just to see what new billboards are up. Let the Euros drink it in. To me, it's dirty, noisy, but hey, at least I can walk everywhere.<br />
<br />
I ran a few errands before forcing myself to
stay up until 9:30 to try and beat jet lag. It didn't work. I didn't
sleep at ALL last night. Maybe just dozing here and there, but that's it. So I'm
feeling really out of it--as you may remember, I didn't sleep terribly well the night before at the airport hotel,
and didn't sleep at all last night, and then another EARLY travel day
tomorrow. Fortunately, waking up early isn't a problem coming this
way. <br />
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Why, YES! Another travel day! You didn't think I was finished, did you? I've got one more week of pinballing around airports before I'm settled in for the fall. First up is a trip home for Labor Day weekend. Seeing the sister and just generally hoping to provide some level of moral support. Other goals include, but are not limited to:<br />
<br />Continuing to establish meaningful relationships with the kids<br />
Getting over the jet lag<br />
Going to the gym <br />
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Since it's Labor Day
weekend I wonder how crazy the airport will be tomorrow morning. At 7am. Freakin' 7am. Which means I've got to be up at something like 4am to brush my teeth, hail a cab, and get there by 5 for two-hour chicken.<br />
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Check in. Check. In. <br />
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Did I mention I haven't slept? <br />
<br />So what's on the docket for my 24 hour shore leave you axe?<br />
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I have to get a little haircut, and a beard trim (because I get things like beard trims), unpack France stuff and
re-pack with things to wear for the filming at Bible Study People for Life (yay pseudonyms!). <br />
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After that, I'm really
done for the day, however I REALLY want to hit the gym SOMEHOW. I'm not
sure... I thought about doing a bit of a leg workout day so I could
focus on upper body in SC. Reggie says I should avoid it altogether, as working out heavily the day after an overseas trip + jet lag is a recipe for certain sickness.<br />
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The thing is, things have gone just a little bit past "soft" and have moved slightly into the "I'm glad I brought my fat pants." I think what I may do, instead of freaking about losing all this vacation weight, is to see if I can't balance it out by focusing my workouts mostly on gaining size and just try to hulk out a little bit, particularly as I'm about to be locked in with rehearsals for CAROL'S 2012 CHRISTMAS PLAY (another pseudonym! I swear I'm not crazy!).<br />
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But before you start to worry that I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE crazy, take heart. I have an October modeling gig at GeeCeeAee and I'm not planning on
being a mess for that. But still, I've got to get to work NOW to regain
much of what I lost this past two months.<br />
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I know it's the jet lag and the amount of travel, but I really think I
do miss Europe. I REALLY wish there was something else I could
do...another skill I could take with me to places like that. And not live here anymore. Or at least for a while. Longer than just the 6 weeks. Like a YEAR or two. I actually really really
enjoyed Holland, in spite of its pervasive superficiality and population of young,
beautiful blondes who don't actually BELIEVE in anything. It was
nice. <br />
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Okay. Time to start stressing out about my day. More later. Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-81285778027747825522012-08-29T16:28:00.003-05:002012-08-29T16:28:39.553-05:00Still UpI'm still up.<br />
<br />
What am I still doing up?<br />
<br />
I've been wanting to go to sleep since 5:30. But I'm still awake.<br />
<br />
I feel a little bit lame. The plane ticket was originally booked to go in and out through Charles de Gaulle. I thought about trying to change it to leave out of Amsterdam, but it didn't take much to realize it was going to be a major headache. Booking a train ticket and a hotel at the airport was WAY more straightforward. So here I am.<br />
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Re: Lameness. I didn't see anything of Paris. I feel kind of bad about that. Like I should have just hopped on the train, snapped a picture of Notre Dame, and come back to the hotel. But you know, I'm feeling a bit drained.<br />
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Drained partly from the goodbye party last night. It was just me, Forko, and Waffelle, but Forko was dead-set on me having a "good time" with all those fancy Belgian beers, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. And at some point we got to talking about the family. Until 2am. <br />
<br />
What a summer. What a freakin' summer.<br />
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There's a bit too much personal stuff to post here. Suffice it to say, people aren't doing at all well. It's been a long two months of family drama, friend drama, and personal drama. On one hand, I'm glad the summer is "ending" with my return to NYC, but at the same time, it's really just getting started. It's going to be a long, hard fall. I can tell.<br />
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It's only been two weeks since leaving Argenton, where the art school is, but it already feels like a far-distant memory. Looking at pictures on the MyFace or things I snapped with my phone...I have those moments of, "Oh, I remember that!" when I see them. <br />
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Those ten days in the Netherlands. Shewww... It was like being on another planet. And yes, the rumors are true. I put on a ridiculous amount of vacation weight these two months here in Europe, what with the food and no gym and stress and a subconscious desire to feel "bigger" and more solid in the face of Hurricane Life and all that she brings. I think I really am crazy.<br />
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Having a hard time focusing on the computer screen. I swear, I really do have deep thoughts about what it means to have experienced all this and to be returning to boring old NYC, but they're just not coming at the moment. Maybe because it's back to the slog, the noise, the dirt, and all the excitement. <br />
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Okay then. Let's do it this way. Things I really remember:<br />
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The Argenton town square, particularly on hot days<br />
The house I stayed in and it's creepy bedroom<br />
The view from the kitchen window<br />
Daily baguettes<br />
Walking down those narrow streets<br />
Practicing French diligently<br />
The Orchard walk<br />
Getting the opening song from "Beauty and the Beast" stuck in my head every morning (Bonjour!)<br />
Restaurant du Lac and their excellent cheeseburgers<br />
The Friday Farmer's Markets<br />
The Town Festival - pigeon, ostrich, snails<br />
Catan games<br />
Nutella on buttered baguette. I mean seriously<br />
The Shopi grocery store jingle<br />
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And then the Netherlands. Good grief. This one's easy:<br />
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The Van Gogh museum<br />
The canals in Amsterdam<br />
Bubbles the French Bulldog<br />
Amsterdam in general<br />
Eating<br />
How awesome Leiden actually is<br />
Rembrandt<br />
Rembrandt<br />
Rembrandt<br />
The Rijksmuseum<br />
Rembrandt<br />
The Girl With the Pearl Earring being in Japan<br />
The MC Escher museum<br />
The Hague...the old part of town with the castle-y things<br />
Meeting up with my old High School Youth Group leader in the Hague<br />
The awful grocery store in the Hague<br />
Dutch Masters<br />
Belgian beer<br />
Eating<br />
Windmills<br />
The one night on my own in which I played my American Card and got crummy Italian food because at least I knew what it was.<br />
<br />
And there you go. The trip in a nutshell. Okay. Bed! Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-91378767853533641222012-08-19T04:23:00.002-05:002012-08-19T04:23:39.154-05:00In Leiden!Okay, I guess I have to give up on the French for now. Because NOBODY speaks it here.<br />
<br />
It feels like I'm on another planet, actually. There's something NOT French about this place. Something fun and slick and old but new at the same time... it feels like Ikea.<br />
<br />
Here with Forko and Waffelle and their cats. Nena had a bit of a run-in with a scooter so she's on house rest for the next several days. She's also a leopard cat, which are known for their surprising ability to communicate with humans due to their very unique and distinctive meows. She's been demonstrating them all morning, letting us all know things like, "I'm hungry" and "I want to go outside" and "please let me go outside" and "I REALLY REALLY want to go outside NOW PLEASE."<br />
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Yesterday we revved my engines a bit for the trip to Amsterdam today. And by "revved my engines" I mean "drank a lot in anticipation of drinking more once we get to Amsterdam." I'm actually a bit grateful for the accrual of the last six weeks' pastry pudge as I think it gave me about 4 or 5 free gulps before the canal started spinning. <br />
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And now that it's almost noon, everyone is up with their coffee, bracing themselves for madness in Amsterdam. Lawd, Lawd, am I ready for the red light district?<br />
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<br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-87619704361947990262012-08-17T01:23:00.001-05:002012-08-17T01:23:32.684-05:00PackingWoke up somewhere around 4:45 this morning and could NOT go back to sleep. <br />
<br />
We had the End of the Summer potluck last night. Food was eaten. Beer was consumed.<br />
<br />
There's something about beer that makes me wake up bright and early. <br />
<br />
And also the little niggling anxiety of packing. <br />
<br />
See, tomorrow is departure day. Wake up at 7, hike up the hill to the student dorm and catch the specially-rented shuttle bus to the train station at Angers. From there it's a hike across Paris and off to the Netherlands for the final part of the trip.<br />
<br />
The final part? <br />
<br />
Yep. It's already been 6 weeks. <br />
<br />
It's time to go around this little place I've been calling home for the past two months and gather up all the things that have gradually moved farther and farther away from the suitcase. I guess that means I feel like I live here or something.<br />
<br />
It's a really funny feeling. On one hand, I feel like I just got here, and on the other, I DON'T. <br />
<br />
Part of the anxiety, I think, comes from what the end of this MEANS. It means I'm about to not have a house to live in. It means I'm about to not have a gig again. It means I'm about to go back to a stressful life in NYC, wondering how I'm gonna make it and what I'm really supposed to be doing. It means I'm not going to say, "Desolee, je suis American. Je ne comprond pas" NEARLY as much as I do now.<br />
<br />
It also means leaving a bunch of people who have become a kind of...oh my goodness. I can't say it. No. Not a FAMILY. But...something LIKE a family, I guess. All the stability and security and peace and quiet... say goodbye folks.<br />
<br />
Another part of the anxiety is that, when the timer went off at the end of the last set yesterday, something felt so FINAL about it. Like, "That's it, Forky. Let's do something else now." And that has me a little bit scared. Because if I took the path of least resistance, I'd probably just do this for the rest of my life. The problem is, I don't think I OUGHT to do this for the rest of my life. This modeling thing has become a crazy career that I didn't mean to fall into. It's safe, I'm good at it, and I enjoy working with extraordinary talents and having .jpegs of portraits I can print off and give to my family at Christmas.<br />
<br />
But is that all that this little Forky is destined for? Hey, not knocking it. There are worse things. But are there OTHER things?<br />
<br />
Yesterday I guess I unofficially decided that, when I get back to NYC, I'm not going to model for a while. Go back to temping, focus on <i>Christmas Carol</i> rehearsals, work on these long put-off illustrations for these little stories I've written... As long as the modeling is there, why do I need to explore? Why do I need to ask myself, "What else is out there that you'd really like to do?" <br />
<br />
So the Nutella gut may be here a little while longer if it keeps me from leaping back onto the model stand. <br />
<br />
Is this unwise? Is this stupid? <br />
<br />
I just re-read "when I get back to NYC, I'm not going to model for a while" and I suddenly felt really really SAD. Okay, how about I put it THIS way instead:<br />
<br />
When I get back to NYC, I'm going to focus heavily on creating something resembling a 5 year plan...no. Just 2 year plan. Yeah, that's the ticket. <br />
<br />
Okay. I'll shut up now. This suitcase isn't gonna pack itself.<br />
<br />
:^\Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-69113549721990310452012-08-11T05:57:00.001-05:002012-08-11T05:57:36.717-05:00Trop Beaucoup de VinI guess the fact that the room is still spinning a little bit--just a little after noon--means that we had a really good time at the town festival last night.<br />
<br />
Seriously...the Frogs throw back a TON of wine. I don't know how they do it, but the would-be alcoholic in me probably needs to be a bit more vigilant the next time I go to a party and wine is flowing like a river. I mean, a stranger saw that my glass was empty and just filled it right on up from his own bottle.<br />
<br />
All good sense just goes right out the window. And yet, all I can think about is the Wedding at Cana. I feel like we ought not kid ourselves. The implication in the text is that people were getting HAPPY thanks to the wine. <br />
<br />
I dunno what that means for me today. I guess just that the Lord had been to parties like the one last night, so in a funny way, I don't feel quite so guilt-ridden for telling myself, "Have another glass! Party time!!"<br />
<br />
But still.<br />
<br />
We're about to begin the last week of the summer class. Friday is Departure Day. I CANNOT believe it's been 6 weeks already. Actually...as I look at my beard, which has been growing this whole time, I kind of can. It's feeling substantial again. Just the way I like it. On the road to <i>Christmas Carol 2012</i>. <br />
<br />
But back to the town festival. It was sort of a local thing, where people from the area come to sell their wares, everyone eats a ton, drinks more than is good for them, and watches a surprisingly impressive fireworks show. And yes, everyone Oohs and Aahs in the same language.<br />
<br />
Sampled some rather odd things... Ostrich sausage, pigeon fillets, and my very first escargot. At first I was resolved to never EVER eat a googly-eyed slug-in-a-shell, but then someone said they were basically oysters. Flashback to Cousin Billy's oyster roast and I thought, "Okay. Maybe I can do this." <br />
<br />
Gotta start getting ready for an afternoon modeling session. One of the instructors is bound and determined to finish this portrait this afternoon. More later!<br />
<br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-69017128527053233782012-07-21T04:24:00.001-05:002012-07-21T04:24:33.336-05:00RoutineToday is one of our "weekend" days. Because of something having to do with public transportation not running on Sundays (and because the big Farmer's Market in the next town over is on Friday), the school makes the weekend Friday and Saturday.<br />
<br />
No big plans for today. Woke up with a leftover migraine and made some instant coffee to try and shake it. Then went to the café and got the real deal. Also went to the pharmacy to see the selection as, in spite of my setting aside the bottle of Motrin specifically for the purpose of relieving the post-migraine pain, I must've left it in my bathroom in NYC. <br />
<br />
However, the place was pretty crowded (I like speaking my broken French when there aren't a lot of people to point and laugh "hau hau hau!"-style at me) and none of the boxes looked familiar (that is, no "Advile" or "Tylonelle" or some sort of French extra-E variation on an obviously American brand).<br />
<br />
So I bought some bread instead. But I DID run into the wife of the owner of the school on my way back home. She was just leaving the house and was kind enough to run back inside and grab me a handful of headache pills. <br />
<br />
Thrilling update, I know. But you take the excitement when you can get it here in Argenton.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow is the beginning of week 3/6. Already getting close to halfway! Feels like I just got here. Things are very routine and there's not a whole lot of variety. Breakfast, morning pose, buy bread, nap, lunch, afternoon pose, dinner, email, French lessons, bed. And throw a couple of trips to the Barn in there for good measure. That's about all. It's a nice change of pace. And, as much as I sort of miss New York, I'm kinda glad to not be there. I see why people move out to the middle of nowhere France. <br />
<br />
That's all for now! All I'm doing today is working on more French and possibly working out at the Barn if this leftover headache goes away by the afternoon.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-73506992856086426172012-07-20T10:03:00.002-05:002012-07-20T10:13:40.167-05:00SleepI sent out a rather cryptic prayer request to some of you a few nights ago that has left a lot of you guessing as to what in the world is going on out here.<br />
<br />
I've been hesitant to talk about it, as I already tend to lean toward the more sensational explanation of things. Except when something sensational DOES happen--then I become a bit of a skeptic. <br />
<br />
When I was a kid, I thought I saw a halo around this man who was preaching during our Mexico mission trip. I decided it was a miracle and told everybody about it with an air of saintly piety that would have made Joan of Arc blush. But then I learned that if you look at something too long, your eyes get tired and you start seeing all sorts of blurry colors and things.<br />
<br />
So, for fear of this being a similar sort of thing, I've restrained myself until I could get a little more information.<br />
<br />
We'll start with the most basic part of this story.<br />
<br />
Regardless of what conclusion we land on about what REALLY happened, Sleep Paralysis is, apparently, a THING.<br />
<br />
So that's at least something. If the rest of this turns out to have been a dream or my imagination, okay. The main thin is, this is something that DOES happen to people and my experience fits the description.<br />
<br />
What is Sleep Paralysis, you ask? It's basically when your mind wakes up, but your body is still in "sleep mode" and hasn't caught up with your brain. So you can think lucidly, but you can't move. <br />
<br />
Okay. Great. Fine. It's annoying, but eventually your mind and body get it together and you wake up for real. Nothing wrong there.<br />
<br />
Oooh, but that's usually not ALL that happens during these episodes.<br />
<br />
It seems that most people do not have pleasant experiences when they awake in this state. That is, they don't feel cozy and snug in their beds. Rather, they virtually always describe feeling an intense evil or dangerous presence in the room WITH them.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6R3K1PyaQms4978LwAgB61p7ustWvxAk-bgxpE_UMRP0fg2Tf1r1jU0XwaSz3U42TqWDHC_5YwdJOkFd78j1gzuCljTk2fxx0TGRKIZNATw-IAtKsyarvsRmNTP6suX_dh9yw/s1600/sleep-paralysis-hallucinations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6R3K1PyaQms4978LwAgB61p7ustWvxAk-bgxpE_UMRP0fg2Tf1r1jU0XwaSz3U42TqWDHC_5YwdJOkFd78j1gzuCljTk2fxx0TGRKIZNATw-IAtKsyarvsRmNTP6suX_dh9yw/s320/sleep-paralysis-hallucinations.jpg" width="320" /></a>This has happened to me twice since arriving in France. The first time I just remember THAT it happened. I don't remember anything else. The second time, however, was a bit of a different story.<br />
<br />
But before I go into the details of what happened, let me give you a little background.<br />
<br />
I had unwittingly learned about Sleep Paralysis--what it is and how to stop it--while doing some research in the Internet Rabbit Hole that is the UFO phenomena. Scoff if you like, but this, like Sleep Paralysis, is also a THING. People want to know about them. Christians want to know what they are and if their faith in YHWH and Jesus Christ could survive if one day they turned on the news and saw ships in the sky.<br />
<br />
Sleep Paralysis is also connected with what is commonly known as alien abductions. Again, people are sleeping, they are unable to move, they feel something in the room with them... only they may actually SEE things and feel the things touching them, etc. <br />
<br />
Seems like a pretty awful thing. You're lying there in the dark. You can't move. You can't defend yourself. Looks like you're stuck.<br />
<br />
Aha, but there is one thing you CAN do. You can call on Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know. It's crazy. But it's true. There is a spiritual side to all this.<br />
<br />
The first time this happened to me this past spring, I remember feeling there was something in the room that hated me and wanted to eat me. No joke. I remembered in a FLASH what I was supposed to do. I SCREAMED the Name with every fiber of my being--but I remember vividly that I wasn't just calling a name. I was calling TO HIM because I knew He was the ONLY ONE who could help me at this point. My mouth wasn't working and the only thing I could get out were the vowels ("EE-UHH!!!") but that apparently was enough.<br />
<br />
It stopped INSTANTLY and I could move again. A feeling of peace such that, after I thought about what had just happened, I was able to go back to sleep.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to a couple of nights ago. <br />
<br />
I was asleep. The first thing I remember in the sequence of events was waking up ALREADY SHOUTING the Name. <br />
<br />
I could hear footsteps in the house, in the room outside mine. I could somehow FEEL that something was in the house. Then there was the sound of the door downstairs opening and closing. Impossible, I thought. I locked the door and left the keys in it. There's no WAY someone could just open the door and come inside!<br />
<br />
Then I heard the floorboards in my bedroom creak, right by the foot of my bed. At that point, I really began to panic, and I redoubled my efforts to say the Name as clearly as I could. <br />
<br />
There was another sound of the front door somewhere below me, and more creaking on the floorboards in the room outside my bedroom. Then my eyes snapped open and I saw a red glob disappearing into the ceiling. You see weird colors in the dark all the time--it's what our eyes do as they search for something to SEE. But I can't EVER remember seeing RED before. Red, oval-ish shape. I could move again and I rolled over and snapped on the lamp.<br />
<br />
Just like the first time this happened, the feeling of panic and fear melted away with my ability to move again. In other words, whatever I thought was in the house with me had gone. I sang a verse of "Jesus, Name Above All Names" (what else do you do?) and I fell asleep again.<br />
<br />
The next day was kinda bad. I was angry and crabby the whole morning. I kept thinking about things that made me upset. Maybe some sort of PTS. I don't know.<br />
<br />
As the day went on, I decided that I must have dreamt the whole thing. That it was probably just a neighbor coming in late (uhh...4am? Hey, it's the only logical explanation). <br />
<br />
I couldn't even remember the floorboards upstairs ever creaking. It was probably just in my head. I was ready to go with the scientific explanation--that these sounds or things people see are just a normal, physiological response to finding yourself vulnerable and unable to move. Hallucinations.<br />
<br />
So I went upstairs to my bedroom and walked around for a minute. No creaking anywhere...except...<br />
<br />
Yep. That spot by the foot of my bed. Creaked nice and loud when I put my weight on it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Still, I couldn't quite believe what happened wasn't all just in my imagination. I mentioned it to a friend of mine who is a relatively new Christian who had been involved in attempting astral projection (don't worry, you don't need to know) and he assured me that the "limbo" between waking and dreaming is a kind of glimpse behind the veil. That these things are very real.<br />
<br />
<br />
Last night, however, as I was brushing my teeth around midnight, I heard the sound of a door shutting. It sounded EXACTLY like what I'd heard a couple of nights ago. But now I knew what it was. It was a neighbor who had just come in (we even exchanged "bon soirs"). <br />
<br />
So okay. We've got the fact that Sleep Paralysis is a real thing. And the sound of doors opening and closing was probably just this neighbor who came home at 4am. Sure, why not?<br />
<br />
<br />
This morning after our trip to the farmer's market, I sat and had coffee with one of the students. She asked how I was liking the place and we talked about the view of the valley and the little gardens and river. <br />
<br />
She's been living here taking classes for two years. She told me that, when she first moved here, she had the bungalow downstairs (the house is divided into an upstairs area and downstairs) and that, while her view was good, she knew the upstairs one was even MORE amazing.<br />
<br />
I thought I'd ask her...<br />
<br />
"Hey, when you stayed here, did you find that when your neighbors would open and close their doors it would sound like YOUR door? It's so weird. I find it kind of alarming, actually, because it sounds like it's coming from MY apartment. Like someone just let themselves in and are walking around inside my apartment. It really freaked me out the other night around 4am."<br />
<br />
She gave me a funny look. Took me a second. Then I realized it was a look of recognition.<br />
<br />
"How easily freaked out are you?" she asked.<br />
<br />
"I'm good," I said.<br />
<br />
She then went on to explain that there's something very ODD about this house. That people who stay here for any length of time consistently report having had "visitors" in the night, usually little things, like children. I got the impression that's actually why she requested a move. But the owners of the art school--who are aware that funny things happen here--continue to rent it from the landlady because she gives them a good deal.<br />
<br />
Then I remembered something. The owner of the school told me, the day after the night of the second occurrence, that he had received a letter from the landlady asking if I liked the house. But he asked in such a curious tone that my response was, "Why? Should I NOT like the house...?"<br />
<br />
The girl I was talking to went on talking about new agey things--suggesting I use sage to ward off evil spirits or try "making a deal" with them. She suggested I mention it to the owners of the school. She seemed curious as to why I wasn't more frightened. I guess I could point her to the part in Matthew where Jesus gives His followers power over demons and spirits?<br />
<br />
So that's what happened. I feel like I can post about this now because I have more information. <br />
<br />
1. Sleep Paralysis is a Thing. It happens.<br />
2. The floorboard in the middle of my room creaks when you stand on it.<br />
3. Weird things involving demonic ghost children are said to happen here on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
<br />
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There's a lot more to this--thoughts as to WHY this happened (these sorts of things are not "supposed" to happen to Christians)--but I won't go into it. The big thing I learned from this one was this:</div>
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When the episode was going on, I remember saying the name "Jesus" as a magic word. I wasn't calling TO HIM, I was just throwing the Name out as if it, by itself, would do something. Since coming here, I have not had much contact with my Christian friends, I haven't prayed almost at all, my Bible study time has dwindled, and I've indulged heavily in France, France, France, and haven't thanked God ONCE for any of it.</div>
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The thing is, I haven't really been walking with the Lord. Not closely anyway. </div>
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At some point in all our lives, we're going to die and we're going to call out to Jesus. That name is not a magic word. It's the name of a PERSON. And if you are using that name as a magic word to save you, you need to be careful. Because He even said that lots of people would use His name to do all sorts of things, but He will turn to them and say, "I'm sorry. I have no idea who you are." </div>
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It's not enough to SAY you're a Christian. You have to actually BE one. You have to KNOW HIM and WALK with Him. If you don't, THAT'S when you're truly vulnerable. You have to throw yourself at His feet and acknowledge that there is nothing you can do to save yourself--that it's all HIM.</div>
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<br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-50416666304231637322012-07-14T16:35:00.003-05:002012-07-14T16:35:45.752-05:00Bastille Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today was Bastille Day! Slept in a bit, then headed to the grocery store to get a few items before they closed at noon. Then I went back to the studio and the instructors and I set the pose for the coming weeks. Then it was back to the house to cook!</div>
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I made Dad's Tomato Casserole out of all the Frenchy things I had lying around, plus some tomatoes and onions I picked up at the Farmer's Market yesterday. They don't have cheddar cheese in France, so you wind up using something that's sharp...but distinctly flavorful! It turned out really well. I'll have to double the recipe next time though as it made about enough for me to eat all by myself!</div>
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There was a bonfire set up in the backyard of the student's house. Someone suggested we burn an effigy of a political figure in honor of Bastille Day. I suggested Ben draw his greatest fear--a spider--with a powdered wig playing a harpsichord. Humor won.<br />
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That's not a margarita.<br />
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There's the bonfire!Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-54741006571293587172012-07-11T15:09:00.003-05:002012-07-11T15:09:53.194-05:00Je travaille.I don't know if I spelled that correctly. The important thing is that I think it would be correct if I spoke it.<br />
<br />
I've been taking a French language course that I downloaded for my iPhone. It's based on making logical associations with what you already know about English and I'm learning a TON. It's become part of the routine.<br />
<br />
Ah, routine. I need one. And I have one.<br />
<br />
Morning:<br />
Make breakfast (usually farm-fresh eggs, cheese, yesterday's baguette, and honey)<br />
Go to the barn for workout #1 (depending on the day--otherwise I sleep in later)<br />
Go to the studio and climb the stairs up to the third floor where the studio is (hence the name ... studio stairway)<br />
Drink coffee<br />
Model for the Drawing Session. This pose is a seated one very similar to the "Ezekiel" sculpture, only I'm holding a pole. They're going nuts over it. Drawing session is 3 hours long.<br />
<br />
Lunch:<br />
Lunch break is two hours. I usually go to the bakery and buy a fresh baguette at this point and begin eating it on the walk home as I'm usually pretty hungry by now.<br />
Once home, I check a few emails (not usually very many as it's 6:30am in New York) and then go upstairs for the pre-lunch 25 minute power nap.<br />
Lunch lately hasn't been anything as involved as breakfast or dinner. Bread, peanut butter, fruit, cheese, water, and maybe a bite or two of leftovers from the night before.<br />
<br />
Afternoon:<br />
Head back up the hill, past the ruins of the chateau, and back to Les Escaliers. <br />
Model for the Painting Session. This is a different pose. I opted for a standing pose that I'm not just nuts about. It's a LOT of work and pain for something that isn't really all that dynamic. The students like it though, as they've had little else but reclining females for a long time. Standing male feels new. Fortunately, tomorrow is their last day with this pose so I can change it. We'll give them something even better in the next go-round.<br />
<br />
Evening:<br />
Lately, it's been a trip to the Shopi (show-pee...the one grocery store in town) for more foodstuffs.<br />
Followed by a trip home...<br />
Then maybe another trip to the Barn for workout #2<br />
Either way, then it's back home to make dinner. Since the kitchen is so big and well-equipped, I've been getting back into cooking and eating a bit more of a balanced diet. I'm sort of holding off on the veggies until the farmer's market on Friday. More on that as it comes.<br />
Oh, and it's the local rosé before, during, and a little after dinner. When in Rome...<br />
<br />
Night:<br />
Email, email, email<br />
Followed by French lessons on my iPhone<br />
Read a chapter of the Gospel of Matthew<br />
And lights out.<br />
<br />
That's what's been going on of late! Things may change a little here and there, but that describes the past week pretty well. I'm super-tired from the 6 hours of poses and when I get home, I switch on the classical music, open the wine, and just want to crash right there. But it's wonderful and the more French I learn the more determined I am to stay here FOREVER.<br />
<br />
We'll see if I change my mind by the end of six weeks. But so far, life in the idyllic little French town is pretty awesome.<br />
<br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-3430541123225644522012-07-07T11:49:00.001-05:002012-07-07T11:50:29.816-05:00Ma MaisonClick here for a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVl8OVndEkA">tour of the house!</a>Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-68143901401966055572012-07-07T09:41:00.002-05:002012-07-07T09:53:54.030-05:00En FranceWell, I'm here. Arrived at Argenton les Vallees (aka Argenton-Chateau) yesterday afternoon. It was quite a journey.<br />
<br />
I left my hot little studio apartment at about 3:30 and caught a cab to JFK. My light was Delta operated by Air France, so I thought telling the driver I was going to the Delta International flights would suffice. <br />
<br />
Nope. I wound up at the Delta terminal when I NEEDED the terminal that had the Air France flights. No worries. One stop further down on the air tram and I was right where I needed to be.<br />
<br />
The International terminal is definitely the place to be. It felt like Ellis Island or something. It was nuts. Very modern with all kinds of people speaking all kinds of languages. The Air France automated check-in was (unsurprisingly) in French, although you could select "Anglais" (which I did). <br />
<br />
Flew on the A380 which is the enormous double-decker jumbo jet. I arrived almost two hours early (which was nice as I got to chill and sit listening to my Michel Thomas "Learn French in 8 Hours" app), and even though the plan was there the entire time, we boarded more than 30 minutes late because they were still cleaning it and loading it with food. <br />
<br />
When we finally boarded, there was one line for the lower deck and one for the upper deck (where I was sitting). There were four classes of seating and starting at the front really sold the premium packages well. Of course, I wasn't thinking clearly at first, so when I saw the enormous chairs that looked fully reclinable, with TVs and magazines and huge arm rests and your own personal book light, I thought, "THIS is going to be an AMAZING flight." But the further back we went, the smaller the seats got until we got back to "steerage class" which looked like a normal plane, only crammed with seats (including those dreadful four-seat rows in the middle).<br />
<br />
I booked my seat in the very last row by the window. The window seats were, fortunately, only two-seaters, so if I wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, I only had to crawl over one person.<br />
<br />
The map of the plane on the Internet gave the impression that the bathroom was actually a little bit removed from the seats. <br />
<br />
Nope. Every time someone flushed the pressurized toilets, it sounded like someone opened one of the plane windows and all the air was being sucked out. That is to say, it was loud and startling every time. The lady I had to climb over was not terribly attractive... older, frumpy, and pretty sour, actually. She looked annoyed the entire flight. <br />
<br />
We were delayed even more before we could take off because of all the traffic on the ground. So even though our flight was at 7:15, we didn't leave until about 8:35. Which meant there was a huge rush for the bathroom once the captain turned off the seatbelt sign.<br />
<br />
I became just a little nervous when I saw that my iPhone battery was pretty low. I wanted to keep going with my French lessons, but didn't want to completely drain it in case I needed to access my email or something once in France. Fortunately, the TV on the seat back in front of me (we may have been traveling 4th class, but everyone still had a TV and pretty fancy tray table) had a USB port and I JUST HAPPENED to bring my iPhone USB cable with me. So I plugged in and charged up.<br />
<br />
The flight itself was actually really smooth. Even when we hit turbulence, it felt more like a rocking than a lurching. Don't know how they did that. <br />
<br />
Sleeping didn't really happen. I was a bit too wired from trying to take in all this new stuff, language included--the staff on the plane would initially speak to you in French and when it became clear that you were American, they'd switch. I wanted so badly to TRY speaking some French, but my vocabulary is still pretty limited and I didn't want to give the impression that I was ready to talk about their favorite part of <i>Les Miserables</i> au francais. <br />
<br />
It was very strange to see how short the night actually lasted. The French passenger in front of me opened his window shade just a few hours after closing it and WHOA. Broad daylight. It made me think that, while the premium seats looked comfortable, the plan to sleep on the plane and wake up refreshed at 8:30 just before landing wouldn't actually work, since you lose so much time. You'd still only get something like 4 hours of sleep anyway.<br />
<br />
We landed and de-planed in Paris (or outside of Paris, I guess. I didn't actually see the city at all). Went through customs, got bags (which took forever), got some more Euros, and walked down to the train station to catch my TGV to Angers Saint Laud (pronounced Anschay San Lau). Even though we were very late coming in and getting our bags took forever, I still had about two hours to wait in the station...and then even MORE because the train was 30 minutes late! Some bullet train.<br />
<br />
So then began the next leg of the journey, the almost 2.5 hour train ride westward toward Spain. Riding through RURAL France. The people on the train and the places we passed looked like something out of my high school French textbook. The young men all were trapped in some sort of fashion time-warp. Something I've noticed with European fashion, in general, is that the styles are some strange mix of early 90s with an 80s color palette. And NOBODY works out. That much was obvious. Not that there were lots of overweight people, but rather, all the men are a bit on the slender side and the bodies tend to have a bit more of a softer, average quality. VERY different from New York City.<br />
<br />
The beginning of the train ride was probably the most nerve-wracking part of the trip. By now I had figured out that I was totally cut off. If I wanted WiFi in the airport/train station, I needed to pay for it. I decided I could probably manage without it, since I knew my stop and had my ticket with the train number and seat assignment. Once on the train, I couldn't use WiFi even if I wanted to--and in taking in all my surroundings, I forgot to take my brother's advice and buy a prepaid cellphone at the airport. <br />
<br />
The problem with the train ride was that if I missed my stop, I didn't know what I would do. And there were no maps or signs on the train indicating the order of the stops, and the first few stations were only sparsely marked with the name of the stop. I envisioned pulling away from one of the stations, only to spy the one sign that read "Angers Saint Laud" and then having to figure out how to ask someone for assistance ("<i>Assistance!"</i> is actually not a bad place to start!).<br />
<br />
Fortunately, that didn't happen. The stops became better-marked and I managed to hear the conductor over the loudspeaker SAY the name of the town when he apologized for the fact that we would be about 20 minutes late to this town and this town and this town. That was very comforting to know that I would understand him when he said the name of the town, because he spoke so fast I was afraid I wouldn't understand. He also repeated some of the information in English, but his accent was so thick and he switched without any sort of preamble (no "Ladeez and gentlemen") that you just had to hold on until you caught some English words.<br />
<br />
Also, I knew I could figure out which stop was mine because it was clear the train was NOT making many stops. Angers was supposed to be the 3:08 stop (9am in New York and really starting to feel it!) so if I added 20-30 minutes to the trip because of the delay, that meant wherever we stopped around 3:30 would be where I needed to get off.<br />
<br />
But if things got even dicier, I managed to cobble together some French so I could ask the lady to voulez-vous ditez-moi quand(?) nous arrivons en Angers parce que je suis American et je parle francais un peu, mais il parlent trop vite pour moi. (Will you tell me when we arrive in Angers? I am American and I speak a little French, but he speaks too fast for me.) I was busting with pride over my ability to put that together, but I never had to use it.<br />
<br />
It was a BIG stop. Lots of people got off. I hadn't found my contact yet, but I was so relieved to know that my part of the journey was pretty much over. Someone was picking me up and would drive me the rest of the way. My brain started to decompress as SOON as I set foot off the train.<br />
<br />
It didn't take long for me to spot Tim, one of the teachers and owners of the school. We'd never met before and I didn't know what he looked like, but I was trying to make eye contact with every man just standing in the station--figured one of them would say, "John?" at some point. And sure enough.<br />
<br />
I paid 50 cents to use the bathroom and then we hopped into his car and we were off on the FINAL part of the journey, the 45-60 minute drive even FURTHER out into the country. So yes. Planes, trains, and automobiles.<br />
<br />
We had a good conversation and I got to know more about the school and ask questions about its history. The country we drove through was VERY Europe. Everything was old and had a settled, cultivated feel to it. Old stone crosses were scattered here and there. <br />
<br />
I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to make it to this town after non-stop travel. But we made it and I got settled in (more on the house and town later). We went to the grocery store to stock me up on a few basic things--thus relieving me of the final "unknown" of the trip; what I was going to EAT. Once that was done, I took a picture of the view from my window, emailed it to friends and family as a way of wordlessly saying, "I'm here" before taking a BRIEF nap around 6:00.<br />
<br />
Around 8, Tim and Michelle, the owners of the school and its instructors, came to my house and we walked to the one restaurant in town and had a big "welcome to France" meal.<br />
<br />
Came home, emailed a bit, and crashed.<br />
<br />
So that's where things are now! I've taken loads of pictures, but this memory card is the "bad one" that has problems being read by the one SD card reader I brought with me. So pictures may not be uploaded for a while, but I'll keep taking them in the meantime!Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-41309961113519690852011-12-30T17:41:00.002-06:002011-12-30T17:52:37.657-06:00In case you were wondering...My home has become a warzone.<div><br /></div><div>I just got back from the Duane Reade with some sleeping pills.</div><div><br /></div><div>Leo let his apartment out to his friends from Florida. Yeah. He's gone, but that doesn't mean I get a break from the noise. </div><div><br /></div><div>They have NO IDEA how loud they are. </div><div><br /></div><div>I left them a note. That seems to have helped (I asked them to keep it down after midnight), but every other minute of the day, they are coming and going, or hanging out in the doorway. I swear, it's like a hotel room. People shouldn't come and go like this! This is an APARTMENT BUILDING. </div><div><br /></div><div>Having just turned the corner on this stomach bug, my stomach is still a little fluttery. The irritation from the constant stomping and slamming of doors on the other side of the wall wasn't helping. So I went outside to get a little brandy and some sleep aides to see if that wouldn't help calm things down a bit.</div><div><br /></div><div>The noise of the helicopters was worse when I stepped outside. Holy cats. What are the helicopters doing up there? New Years isn't until tomorrow!</div><div><br /></div><div>The crowds. Oh my LORD, the crowds. I know it's bad every year, but COME ON. It is a freakin' NIGHTMARE out there! All of Midtown has become a theme park. I'm hearing baristas in every Starbucks giving directions to nearby points of interest...it's like in my Six Flags days. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's awful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why do I live here?</div>Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-36059252477185683222011-07-29T12:39:00.002-05:002011-07-30T20:19:12.645-05:00Some UpdatesI'm back from yet another trip to Precept in Chattanooga, TN. This time around was a study of Ezekiel (part 1... ch 1-32). It was intense and difficult and informative and incredible. I love going down there. <br /><br />I'm back in New York now. Modeling work is at a halt. The schools don't do much in the summer and the artists I usually work one-on-one with are all busy with other projects. I've got a little something--another Jesus painting--lined up for August, a little school thing for evenings September, and a full-blown religious painting in October. I'll have to go to Connecticut for that one but it should be interesting. In November and December evenings will be devoted almost entirely to <span style="font-style: italic;">A Christmas Carol</span>.<br /><br />So the current scarcity means I'm looking in earnest for more part-time work. With previous office experience being the most easily marketable batch of skills I have, it's unfortunately not <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> as easy to convince employers that just because I have hair all over my head doesn't mean I can't WORK. Guys like me are stuck doing hippie work. I'll probably swing by Trader Joe's this afternoon and pick up an application. A friend at a video game news blog company sent my resume to her boss. Maybe that'll lead to something.<br /><br />I feel like transitioning. Maybe it's just the old 3-5 year itch from growing up in an always-moving military family. But I feel like I'm ready to try new things. Maybe put the acting stuff on the side for a few years and go back to school. Get an IT degree or something and have a job where I can make rent and enjoy just being me without the stress of having to worry that I'm throwing away an acting career.<br /><br />I know, I know. I've already put the acting career on the side, according to outside observers. I've spent the couple of years making an unexpected career out of being a figure model at New York art schools. But in my head I haven't put it away. In my head, I've been nervous, I've been stressed, I've not been able to shake the feeling that I'm failing every time I say "Yes" to another modeling gig. I've so enjoyed being away from the audition culture, being able to do what I want to do, look how I want to look, away from the fear, away from the constant rejection, away from being sized up all the time...<br /><br />But the enjoyment of all these things is ruined when the "Acting Thing" rears its head. My stomach tightens. My pulse increases. "Enjoy your freedom while it lasts because next year you have to audition for soap operas and get your career back on track" casts a shadow over it all. Maybe for someone more self-assured, less wrapped up in nuance and detail of the intricacies of life, it makes no difference. <br /><br />But I'm not like that. I'm an ISFJ. I'm the Little Old Lady of personality types. Everything is felt, everything is remembered, everything is stored away, but worst of all, everything <span style="font-style: italic;">matters</span>. Things aren't so easily discarded. As the helpless, dependent "baby" of the family, what I <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span>, what I <span style="font-style: italic;">really really want</span> out of life, is to just be able to KNOW and IDENTIFY with some degree of certainty, is <span style="font-style: italic;">who</span> Forky is and <span style="font-style: italic;">what</span> Forky wants. That's it. Maybe that's why I don't have dreams. I don't have career plans. I don't have a 5 year goal. I don't have high hopes of starting a big family or becoming famous or whatever. <br /><br />I guess, to some extent, that's a dilemma everybody faces. They just don't think about it so much. <br /><br />Or maybe I'm just another of the 30-something indecisive man-boys that are so prevalent these days. <br /><br />Whoa. Sorry for getting all deep on this post. How about we end on a silly note?<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KHb-HQTA2zc" allowfullscreen="" width="460" frameborder="0" height="249"></iframe><br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-61745942723382830872011-05-28T19:56:00.002-05:002011-05-28T20:39:17.215-05:00Who Needs Seminary?Gearing up for Names of God...<br /><br />Prepping to assist with Central's Psummer of Psalms Adult Sunday School...<br /><br />Getting ready to start my Ezekiel homework for this summer's trip to Chattanooga...<br /><br />And just for fun, how about the Precept Joel Rosenberg Last Days study? Why not?<br /><br />I barely have time for video games anymore.<br /><br />I'm really surprised by how little I really know about the Bible and about God. I'm still something of a human train wreck, but man, I'm having the time of my life here.<br /><br />Ack! Getting a migraine. And from my studies I know that God is sovereign over blindness and intense head pain and the inability to form sentences! Hallelujah!Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-52375219496275095662011-04-28T15:30:00.003-05:002011-04-28T16:00:30.575-05:00Back at CrossFitOkay, I'm down to somewhere between 175 and 180. I've still got a little chunk around the middle but I've also put on a bit more muscle too. My diet has eased up a little and I'm going to CrossFit every other day or so. All in all, things are tightening up a bit, but I'm still bigger than I was.<br /><br />So the next step would be to cut the french fries and donuts and go back to salads and organic eggs and chicken and that sort of thing. I may try to find a balance... do Paleo for 5-6 days a week and have a pizza day. Or something like that. I've never felt better than when I cut out the grains and the sugar, but at the same time, I was also never as LEAN. And while cutting all body fat is the goal of most people, in my line of work, a little chunk, a little MASS, a little SIZE isn't necessarily seen as a BAD thing.<br /><br />Besides, pizza is WAY cheaper than organic everything.<br /><br /><br />In other news, I did the first week of the Precept 'LORD, Where Are You When Bad Things Happen?' study and I think we're gonna hafta switch gears. I'd been hoping to lead a group at our church in this study, but dang. This study.<br /><br />See, you expect a Bible study to be all sweetness and pleasantness and rainbows and bluebirds and stuff that's just supposed to make you feel GOOD.<br /><br />Like the last one I completed (the darkest Bible study I've ever done EVER 'LORD, Heal My Hurts'), this one is unexpectedly HEAVY. And it's heavy because it's not skimping on the TRUTH. The problem is...<br /><br />THEY CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!<br /><br />Seriously. I don't think they can. Instead of being in agreement, I'm afraid the folks participating in the study would throw their hands up in politically correct horror when she compares sacrificing Israelite babies to Molech with modern-day abortion.<br /><br />I may not be giving them enough credit. But then again, I've moved WELL beyond the scars I acquired from Southern Religion gone bad. Instead of being quite so defensive, I've learned to separate the facts from a study from the editorializing.<br /><br />The #1 thing I'm dealing with right now is commentaries. People would rather read commentaries or full books on God rather than studying the Bible. As a result, they know what C.S. Lewis thinks about God (which is FINE! I LOVE that guy!) but the problem is they don't know for themselves what the Bible says about God. They wind up Biblically illiterate. People think I've been to seminary. No. I just found a teacher that I liked and started doing daily Bible studies. Not just READING though...actually STUDYING.<br /><br />Might I encourage you to do the same?<br /><br /><br />In other news, I did a google search for 'is Carol Channing a man' and got nothing.<br /><br /><br />And speaking of conspiracies, I just have to say ONE thing here.<br /><br />Why is everybody on TV telling me not to look at that thing?<br /><br />No, I'm serious. The man goes to such bizarre lengths to keep it under lock and key for so long. It's got people all upset. Then he releases it, and everybody on TV tells me, "It's out, OKAY? Now stop looking at it and let's focus on talking about fixing the economy which we can't fix anyway."<br /><br />Why? No, really. Why? Isn't that why you release a high res pdf file for millions of people to see? Shouldn't they be ENCOURAGING people to pore over this thing? You want to see this thing? Go right ahead! You want to send in the forensic experts? Be my guest! I assure you they'll find it's perfectly authentic! Put all your doubts to rest once and for all!<br /><br />Instead, EVERYBODY is saying, "Okay. It's out. Drop it. Now. And if you don't, everybody's going to hate you and call you crazy. And you don't want people to call you CRAZY, do you? Your reputation is VERY important to you and you wouldn't want anything to HAPPEN to it, WOULD YOU?"<br /><br />Which <span style="font-style: italic;">naturally</span> makes me even MORE suspicious of it! Why is everybody on TV telling me NOT to look too closely at this thing?!<br /><br />Do you know what I mean? THAT'S what's making <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span> crazy.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-17339782044268419342011-04-08T10:34:00.009-05:002011-04-08T11:28:23.149-05:00April Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9SIGtPM7oHO3vm7aRD3HvMgSDlOkEvr_37NXgwuOiznpJsLdWEE3nsNCwn3zea9O52-9ABqbVoJpflarfTBPNN8BhnXP6QcDyHxB4F_Frb6ocuSE20UvPVhRuuBfmaGCKwXmV/s1600/pancakes.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9SIGtPM7oHO3vm7aRD3HvMgSDlOkEvr_37NXgwuOiznpJsLdWEE3nsNCwn3zea9O52-9ABqbVoJpflarfTBPNN8BhnXP6QcDyHxB4F_Frb6ocuSE20UvPVhRuuBfmaGCKwXmV/s400/pancakes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593246947473047474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />So much to talk about. Where to begin?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">BODY EXPERIMENT UPDATE</span><br /><br />I'm now somewhere VERY close to 180. And we have a slight problem.<br /><br />I'm completely unmotivated to re-enter the works-based religion of having a six-pack. I hate that stupid thing. It's funny. It's getting to be springtime up here in NYC and people are just itching to wear their latest not-clothes and show off their ripped bodies. Me, I continue to wear medium shirts that show to the world I'm magnificently average and have NOTHING to prove to ANYBODY. I'm not competing with you appearance-obsessed New Yorkers! I'm not playing your never-ending comparison game that only leads to self-loathing!! I feel relaxed, self-assured, and for the first time in five years my abs aren't constantly flexing.<br /><br />That said, I'm done with the donuts and pizza. I'm going to see if I can <span style="font-style: italic;">maintain</span> this current weight and put on some muscle mass while I'm wearing an extra 15 lbs.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Gqhv7suiF5S64RtqPhIfanWtOyOrk3W35FiM3iVhNH-xCO6H-VtHKSEn6urOtFSVicqqIjBmIDNLo4fwD_jdPWPip2D2Igbc8BFIRBR9VlqfQvZmQ50A79L6FUUWs1I7xZ9Q/s1600/salad.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Gqhv7suiF5S64RtqPhIfanWtOyOrk3W35FiM3iVhNH-xCO6H-VtHKSEn6urOtFSVicqqIjBmIDNLo4fwD_jdPWPip2D2Igbc8BFIRBR9VlqfQvZmQ50A79L6FUUWs1I7xZ9Q/s400/salad.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593247220221015010" border="0" /></a><br />For you <span style="font-weight: bold;">Primal fiends</span> out there, I did a TECHNICAL-Primal day yesterday.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Breakfast:</span> 4 eggs with organic cheese, two spoonfuls of organic peanut butter, coffee with cream<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lunch:</span> Small Tomato Cheddar soup and small salad from Hale and Hearty. Spinach, carrots, cucumbers, red peppers, bleu cheese, and a little shot of dressing<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Snack:</span> Organic baby carrots and two spoonfuls of peanut butter<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dinner:</span> Chipotle burrito bowl with rice, beans, and guac<br /><br />Yes. That's TECHNICALLY still Primal. I didn't eat ANYTHING (that I was aware of) that had <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">wheat</span> in it and I'm pretty sure the <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">refined sugar</span> was at a bare minimum. The 80/20 rule.<br /><br />I didn't get hungry once yesterday. My energy levels were steady. I felt great. Yeah, I know. Beans, rice, peanut butter. First, I'm not paying $12.75 for almond butter when I can get the same amount of organic peanut butter for $3.50.<br /><br />I'm just curious to know what's the ABSOLUTE LEAST I can get away with and still experience positive results. That and I'm not interested in having .3% body fat right now. I don't care if I'm eating legumes or dairy. My struggle has always putting mass ON, not taking it OFF. From my experience with Primal last year, this is NOT a diet that helps you bulk up. Everyone at CrossFit jumped on the Primal bandwagon and they all shriveled up. Yeah, the ones struggling to lose that bit of extra chunk now had totally flat stomachs, but the already-fit ones looked a little shriveled.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Job</span> (the thing you do for money, not the guy from the Bible)<br /><br />This is probably connected with the lack of motivation to get back in tip-top shape and remain a little chunky. But I'm tired of modeling. I'm really tired of it. I'm tired of the physical demands of the job and the pay not balancing out the costs of gym classes, protein shakes, etc., etc. I've been sitting for portraits this past month and it's turning my brain into tapioca.<br /><br />Meanwhile, all my friends have families and babies and big-time careers. I realize I'm the most interesting friend ever--working at Dog Shows and NofriendoLand World and playing the ukulele and nude modeling--but I've just about had it.<br /><br />Yes, you heard me. I want a boring office job. I want to type up memos. I want to do my work and get paid a nice salary and have health insurance and not have anybody yell at me. On the side, I'll write plays and do a show here and there and find places to be creative. Everybody else is moving on with their lives and doing stuff and moving into nice apartments and getting raises and having families... Meanwhile, I live as a pauper in NYC with no prospects for the future.<br /><br />Plus, I can't afford CrossFit classes. How am I supposed to get back in shape without someone yelling at me, telling me to move my butt and pick up heavy stuff?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Bible Study</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJUN0Zvb585WXHE-4LH6dwdotJjN5bntaEjaIkwW20f_d_mJOjtZaVIuwwxUQrcWNQL41y64diRLaUVI6KWdSL95TlbDqiEqQIRSEcQf0nAjWnL4vg0R_TI1eOiu6FjbJwVW1/s1600/lordheal.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJUN0Zvb585WXHE-4LH6dwdotJjN5bntaEjaIkwW20f_d_mJOjtZaVIuwwxUQrcWNQL41y64diRLaUVI6KWdSL95TlbDqiEqQIRSEcQf0nAjWnL4vg0R_TI1eOiu6FjbJwVW1/s400/lordheal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593246837701473554" border="0" /></a><br />This is the best Bible study I've done yet. It's also pretty dark. Just when you think, "Okay, SURE, Kay Arthur. A sweet little lady like you couldn't possibly know anything about pain and suffering," she pulls out a story about someone who--I can't even say it, it's so awful. And not just one story. A BUNCH.<br /><br />Suffice to say, this isn't the feel-good Bible study of the year, but it's changing the way I think. It's really excellent. And, surprise! it's all from the Bible. Sure, she ties it together with some anecdotes here and there, but the philosophy at Precept is getting people into the WORD--because man's words are just man's words and may be very nice and very true, but they're not the supernatural word of God. THAT'S what ministers to and transforms people.<br /><br />I love these guys at Precept. Every Christian who is tired of impractical, overly-emotional Christianese <span style="font-style: italic;">needs</span> to do inductive studies. I used to be majorly cynical about the Bible. Not anymore. It's really REAL. But until you experience it for yourself, you won't understand what I'm saying.<br /><br />They're workshopping their new study of Ezekiel (part one!) in Chattanooga this summer. Anybody out there want to sponsor me? Or come with? I'm desperate to go! UFOs baby!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Portraits</span><br /><br />Oh yeah. Here's what I sat for this past month.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD4NtcCF83qWXz8f2d9KFz-NPTJ7a5MY3SxB8aHCxbjz9fzVSNKDMA5-Ow87pQNdkyAOuJCei8q7rbgCdHi7gxjmePrWS_5n4X-3fvx8V6NFjlQywhT6zFOZZl4l7_q0MSnd5/s1600/bob+portrait+1.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTD4NtcCF83qWXz8f2d9KFz-NPTJ7a5MY3SxB8aHCxbjz9fzVSNKDMA5-Ow87pQNdkyAOuJCei8q7rbgCdHi7gxjmePrWS_5n4X-3fvx8V6NFjlQywhT6zFOZZl4l7_q0MSnd5/s400/bob+portrait+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593247076451465090" border="0" /></a>Portrait #1 (above) is supposed to be a plainsman. I think I look like a very sad Mad Hatter<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1P7j0B6BPYRi2VABEr3iC1dQxrXN2AT5SE81KMVef_DhXD6eDJgR1Y3HOl7DnuEmZBjbJpc8kTCeMw4dborF0kT8hRVx02KoyXnoHScSY2RK31z5GlR9DuLzBDP-MWSdsl48/s1600/bob+portrait+2.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1P7j0B6BPYRi2VABEr3iC1dQxrXN2AT5SE81KMVef_DhXD6eDJgR1Y3HOl7DnuEmZBjbJpc8kTCeMw4dborF0kT8hRVx02KoyXnoHScSY2RK31z5GlR9DuLzBDP-MWSdsl48/s400/bob+portrait+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593246747772103570" border="0" /></a><br />Portrait #2 is what I look like now. Shorter beard, long hair pulled back to avoid drawing comparisons to Renaissance Jesus as I knock people over on the sidewalks in Times Square<br /></div><br /><br />That's the update. Maybe I'll go for a walk to the pier on this Friday afternoon and think about life and where I'm going. Yeah. That sounds good. Oh yeah! And work on illustrations for my cool new book!Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-78111639271598639472011-03-24T21:34:00.002-05:002011-03-24T21:35:49.088-05:00Fitness Experiment 3/24Just weighed in. With shoes on and if I stand right in the middle of the scale, I'm a whopping 178lbs.<br /><br />One more week to go. Should I slow down or go for broke?Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-28249151041407134222011-03-17T15:03:00.004-05:002011-03-17T15:40:21.807-05:00Fitness Experiment Update 3/17I'm really uncomfortable.<br /><br />I've put on about 7 or 8 pounds since the last update. Almost ten pounds since the beginning of the month. Slouching toward the 15 lb goal. On someone who's as lean as me, it shows VERY quickly. I've got the unmistakable beginnings of a gut going on down in the spare tire area, the lovehandles are back, the six pack is on temporary hiatus, and I have to suck in a little to button my jeans.<br /><br />Energy levels are a bit on the low side. Not SHOCKINGLY low...I'm not falling asleep standing up or anything... but I'm not feeling quite as perky, that's for sure. It's a lot more difficult to wake up in the morning and I have to be careful what I eat for lunch. Too much food/bread almost knocks me out.<br /><br />Worst though--It's HOT. Uncomfortably warm. It's a sunny, warm-ish St. Patrick's Day in NYC. Not a cloud in the sky. And I'm HOT in this t-shirt and jeans, which is most unusual. I want to attribute some of it to my long hair, but there's an unmistakable uncomfortable feeling of hotness all over. It's enough to make me want to give up on this whole experiment right now. But, for the sake of the people who have long told me, "Yeah, diet and exercise work for YOU. You're MAGICALLY SKINNY. I could NEVER get in shape like that", I'm gonna try and ride this out.<br /><br />I think I've proven that I DON'T have a magic metabolism. Muscle tone and six pack are not necessarily the result of insane genetics. I got those things because I ate small portions, was careful with my diet, and kept physically active. This month, I've let myself go. Bread, cereal, pasta, beer, lots of birthday cake, french fries, all that sort of thing. Normal foods. Big portions. The only cardio I'm doing is walking around NYC.<br /><br />HOWEVER, I have also noticed that I have NOT lost any muscle mass in the past week of skipping the gym. I have stayed the same size. In fact, unless I'm mistaken, I'm filling out my shirts in more than just my gut area.<br /><br />Also, my face looks healthy for the first time in forever. I've always had a thin face and slightly sunken cheeks. Not anymore. <br /><br />ALSO, today I finally managed to make it back into the gym for some lifting and I was quite surprised to find that I was lifting, on average, about 10 lbs more than my usual!<br /><br />I guess this is why a lot of gym rats go through the "bulking" phase. Normal folks don't really know this, but during the fall and winter, you often see muscle-heads starting to get a little bit on the chunky side. That's the bulking phase of the year, when everyone eats more, weighs more, and because of that, lifts more. And lifting more = more gains in muscle mass.<br /><br />Then in the spring and summer, it's all about cardio and cutting the fat, while ideally keeping the muscle.<br /><br />I'm really hopeful my friends will see what I'm doing here and realize I'm not making this up. You CAN change your bodies through diet and exercise. Don't misunderstand me--I TOTALLY understand that some people are more disposed towards being stocky or lean, but for those of you who thought I was "special" because I was blessed by the skinny fairy at my christening, hang on. I'm about to prove how normal my body really is.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-52404197704814309002011-03-02T07:50:00.001-06:002011-03-02T07:50:11.362-06:00Fitness ExperimentOn the train, headed to my March portrait gig. Yes, portrait. Which means I'm keeping my clothes on all month. <br /><br />The cost of the CrossFit class I'd been a member of shot up 100 bucks just after Thanksgiving and I haven't been doing any significant cardio since then. I put on 5-10 lbs between Thanksgiving and Christmas (as usual) but because I haven't had my regular gym classes, that weight hasn't dropped off as it usually does by the end of January. <br /><br />I'm banking it this month--lured out to Riverdale with promises of gold. So in April I'll have enough dosh to buy a $200 month-long unlimited CrossFit pass. <br /><br />But that's still a month away. <br /><br />The Cachinator and I were talking about this when he got a nutty idea that I kind of like.<br /><br />I'm going to do a little fitness experiment. I know. It's a little crazy. But I think it could be really interesting. <br /><br />So this month, it's all about eating the average American's diet, going to the gym for light workout every now and then, but not thinking of it as a priority. In other words, I'm going to see how out if shape I can get in a month. <br /><br />In April, it's back to CrossFit. It's also back to the primal diet (no grains, refined sugars). <br /><br />How long will it take to get the six pack back? I don't know. But I've got plenty of motivation, seeing as how I can't very well model for my gigs this summer with saggy love handles. <br /><br />In the meantime, I'm bringing on the grains, bread, the occasional trip to McDonalds, five dollar foot-longs from Subway, big Chipotle burritos...the works. <br /><br />I'm going to post diet and weight progress at least once a week. Probably Wednesdays (Weigh-in Wednesday. Has a nice ring to it!)<br /><br />Can I do it? Will I lose my nerve? We'll see!<br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-32549791406115161962011-02-07T11:31:00.002-06:002011-02-07T11:35:46.551-06:00Radiator UpdateI just got off the phone with the landlord.<br /><br />Again.<br /><br />This time, I said, "No, YOU listen to ME. I am NOT your ENEMY."<br /><br />He seemed to listen to me this time.<br /><br />They SWEAR the radiator CAN'T run 24/7.<br /><br />I'm here today to tell you that, somehow, it can. And it did. <br /><br />But seeing as how it just shut off (holy COW! It SHUT OFF!), I was finally able to stand before that little metal doggie-door to HELL and screw the knob as far to the righty-tighty as I possibly could. I doubt that will stop the evil thing. But I'm not going down without a fight.<br /><br />I'll take the freezing temperatures.<br /><br /><br />In other news. While talking on my cell phone to the landlord, I got crapped on by a bird. But not just once. Twice. What are the odds?<br /><br />I feel like a winner.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-58280513384572870512011-02-07T09:46:00.002-06:002011-02-07T10:43:18.726-06:00Radiator<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArNaAtz46nWzzhvVjPqpu_CeC2PaXj3aYWCNZcPpAI6PkpDrzXzp0UXPn4eVrcrPlnoCJY9FDKdfSgPYAxZWlGEaoVf46qt1d15Mq2kWW2j1BWpAaDdP-YkvJhXTRSO2re156/s1600/radiators.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgArNaAtz46nWzzhvVjPqpu_CeC2PaXj3aYWCNZcPpAI6PkpDrzXzp0UXPn4eVrcrPlnoCJY9FDKdfSgPYAxZWlGEaoVf46qt1d15Mq2kWW2j1BWpAaDdP-YkvJhXTRSO2re156/s400/radiators.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570975474342740994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">What nightmares are made of</span></span><br /></div><br /><br />Last night I got really hot in my little New York studio apartment. <br /><br />REALLY hot.<br /><br />I'd noticed that, for about two days, the little radiator in the corner had not stopped hissing. Normally, those stupid things go on and off somewhat unpredictably and you spend the winter stuck in this sweat/freeze cycle as the thing bangs to life and blasts your room with waves of heat just after you've gotten all comfortable and cozy under three blankets. The blankets and Snuggie come off, the radiator shuts down, and the room returns to its natural state of iciness.<br /><br />But this winter in NYC has been a little different. For all the snow we've had, it's also been unseasonably warm in between storms. Yesterday was one of those days that felt sort of like a chilly spring day.<br /><br />And yet, my radiator was running FULL BLAST. Hissing. All. Day. Long.<br /><br />I came home from church and was quickly forced to peel my clothing off due to the fact that I was, almost immediately dripping with sweat and having trouble breathing.<br /><br />By evening, I decided enough was enough. I had heard people talking about their radiators a few days earlier. Apparently, (and this was news to me) the little knob on the side of the blasted thing can actually be TURNED. This either opens or closes the thing so you can decide if you want a little randomly erupting volcano in your apartment or if you'd rather play it old school and take a chance with the elements.<br /><br />I touched the knob of the hissing radiator quickly. Yep. Pretty hot. Looks like I'll need a towel or something. Ow! One towel isn't gonna cut it. This thing is HOT. <br /><br />My hands awkwardly covered with a towel and a thick pair of exercise pants, I began turning the knob.<br /><br />Now which way is it? Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey. But is that right TOWARD me? Or right in relation to the KNOB? Hmm. This thing sure feels loose--<br /><br />BLAM!<br /><br />The knob flew across the room and high-pressure, boiling-hot steam LOUDLY blasted out of the radiator and singed my hands.<br /><br />And it wasn't stopping.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Think quickly. You've got to plug up that hole.</span><br /><br />I can't plug up the hole. There's hot steam coming out of it and a frightening rate. And it's LOUD.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't care. You HAVE to plug it up or stop it somehow.</span><br /><br />Okay, okay. Uhh...holy crap. The apartment is getting really full of steam.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yes it is. Quick. Stop THINKING and open the window as wide as it can go.</span><br /><br />Done. Whoa! It's like a sauna in here! There's so much steam I can't see anything!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't just stand there! Open the door too!</span><br /><br />Okay! Okay. That's a little better, but the steam is still blasting out of the radiator.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Find that knob and try to put it back on.</span><br /><br />What? Are you crazy? How am I supposed to do that??<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You HAVE to do that!</span><br /><br />Uhh...okay. There's the knob. It's cool enough that I can hold it without burning myself... <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Get that towel and maybe something else to cover your hand while you do this!</span><br /><br />Okay. Here goes--bwahhh! It's like trying to stop the flow of a stream of water! I'm getting hot steam in my face!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Almost there!</span><br /><br />THERE. It's back in. Sort of. But there's a lot of pressure behind it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whatever you do, don't let it go.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >BLAM!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What are you waiting for? Call the super!</span><br /><br />Yes! The super! I'll call him! Let me go outside. He won't be able to hear me over the noise of the steam.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Did you call him?</span><br /><br />Yes! I told him it was an emergency but he didn't believe me! He said he'd come check it out tomorrow morning.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What?? </span><br /><br />I begged him to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come down NOW and check out what was going on! That this was a MAJOR EMERGENCY for the entire building! He finally sighed and said he'd come down here in a few minutes. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What??</span><br /><br />Yeah. I know. Holy cow. There's the neighbor. He looks concerned that something bad may be happening to our building.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You might ask him if he knows what to do.</span><br /><br />No dice. He's now standing in my doorway, looking at the steam and smoking a freakin' cigarette. Great. Now I've got steam AND smoke in here!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Jerk!</span><br /><br />Holy crap! My new TV! My computer!! They're being STEAMED!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Steam rises! Put the TV flat on the floor NOW!</span><br /><br />DONE! Holy crap! I just paid it off YESTERDAY and now THIS happens! It's going to be destroyed! I just know it!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You can't win, Fork.</span><br /><br />I can't! Oh man! There's the super! He's got a look of fear and horror in his eyes!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He didn't believe you! He's a jerk too!</span><br /><br />He believes me now though. And...oh no.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What is it?</span><br /><br />He doesn't speak English.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Quick! Use sign language! Pantomime!</span><br /><br />I am! I am! I think he's starting to understand! <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Quick! Where's the knob? </span><br /><br />Here!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Give it to him!</span><br /><br />Okay! He's got the knob back in! <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >BLAM!</span><br /><br />It came out again! Oh GAWD, what am I gonna DO??<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You could always call 911.</span><br /><br />That's a dumb idea. What are they going to do? It's not a fire. Why can't this stupid super go down and turn off the boiler??<br /><br />I don't think he understands how it works. <br /><br />Wait, he said he'd be right back. He's leaving.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Well, you can't just stand there while your apartment gets steamed! Try to plug it up until he gets back!</span><br /><br />Okay--OW! The knob is freakin' HOT. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">TRY!! You have to TRY!</span><br /><br />All right! I'll do it!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Did you get it? The hissing seems to have stopped.</span><br /><br />YES. It's in. I'm holding it here but it's not on right. It's plugging the hole but I can't screw it on. Oh man. I'm not moving. I'm going to stay RIGHT HERE all night. I can't let this come off again. When the super gets back, I'll BEG him to go down to the basement and turn off the boiler so we can screw the knob back on without getting third degree burns.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Smart move.</span><br /><br />The super is back. No, Pancho, everything is NOT fine. Go to the basement and TURN OFF THE BOILER.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He doesn't understand you. He just stood there and blinked.</span><br /><br />Great. This is just great. I'm just going to sleep here tonight and hold the knob. I'm not letting this thing go again.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He looks like he's got a new knob.</span><br /><br />It looks exactly like the old one. What difference will that--? NO! No. I'm not chancing it. What if he can't get the new knob on? What if one of us gets seriously burned?? We're not equipped to deal with something like this!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">He looks pretty confident. Maybe you should trust him.</span><br /><br />Maybe he should just TURN THE FREAKIN' BOILER OFF!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't think that's going to happen. Unless you know the Spanish word for boiler. </span><br /><br />Boilerema? Boileremo? Boilamento?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Nope. Not working.</span> <br /><br />Okay. You're right. I'm giving it to him. But I can't bear to watch. I'm going downstairs to the front until this is all over.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I can't hear the steam blast anymore. </span><br /><br />Do you think it stopped?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There's Pancho. Ask him.</span><br /><br />He said, "Is good." Oh thank GOD. I was afraid he was going to say, "Is bery bad."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">So the ordeal is over, huh? You can rest easy.</span><br /><br />Not quite. The radiator is still running full-blast. It's not turning off.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Don't those things usually cycle on and off?</span><br /><br />Yes. But this one isn't doing that at all. It's been hissing like this for two days straight and it's boiling hot in here.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At least the steam has stopped though.</span><br /><br />Yes, that's true.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It was like that episode of I Love Lucy.</span><br /><br />Yeah. But--shut up, this is serious. Now what do I do?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sleep with the windows open and all your fans on. You can call the landlord tomorrow. </span><br /><br />Oh man. This was the most horrible...I'm going to have nightmares about this.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Why?</span><br /><br />Because I felt so helpless. It was so awful and there was no sign of it stopping. All that steam. No way to stop it... I mean...look. There are burn marks all over the towel I used to hold the knob in place.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It was a nightmare.</span><br /><br />Yes, it was a nightmare. And on one level it still IS. What if Pancho didn't get the knob back in all the way? What if it blows out again while I'm sleeping? The radiator isn't cycling on and off like it's supposed to. What if there's something wrong with the boiler? What if the building is in danger?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whoa whoa whoa...</span><br /><br />I feel like I've been traumatized. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Well, you have been. A little. </span><br /><br />And what's worse, in situations like this, I feel like God doesn't exist.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Whoa there Fork. I think you're just overexcited.</span><br /><br />No, I'm serious. Why does this kind of stuff happen? This was utterly terrifying. My fingers are burned. My stuff has been damaged. I have NO control over this. I feel helpless and small and nobody cares. Where the crap was God when this happened? I feel like He exists at church and in spiritual matters, but when it comes to the physical, real-world problems...what the crap?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The radiator blew up because you don't live in a whimsical fantasy world where you make a wish and bad things stop. There's order. And sometimes that order results in unpleasantness.</span><br /><br />Yeah, but what? What am I supposed to walk away with here? Was this some sort of life lesson? Am I supposed to think there was a REASON for this happening? The only person affected here was ME. And possibly the super.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't know. Maybe you'll see it a couple of days. You never know. Maybe there's something wrong with the building and this needed to happen so the landlord would come and discover the problem before something REALLY bad happened?</span><br /><br />Possibly. I'm going to ponder this for a few days. In the meantime, the radiator is still hissing full-blast, the apartment is still super-hot, the fans are on, the windows are open... And I have no control. I'm helpless here.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">You're being dramatic.</span><br /><br />I'm being dramatic because I'm THINKING about this. I'm trying to rationalize. Good grief, you're just like my parents. They think I'm ridiculous when I try to process deep thoughts and feelings in front of them.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Just try and relax. Everything will work out. It always does.</span><br /><br />Yeah. I guess you're right.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-20401808050405174762011-01-05T18:56:00.002-06:002011-01-05T19:06:50.718-06:00Entertainments<span style="font-weight: bold;">Brief Encounter</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">the Pee-wee Herman Show</span> were both great fun, packed with theatrical tricks and surprises. Too bad they're closed now. <br /><br />As is the dreary <span style="font-weight: bold;">Haunted</span>, starring a dynamite Brenda Blethyn. Why playwrights insist on writing things nobody would WANT to see is a mystery to me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Illusionist</span>--Sylvain Chomet's follow-up to his wonderful though somewhat meaningless look at the grotesque side of how we entertain ourselves, <span style="font-weight: bold;">the Triplets of Belleville</span>--does, indeed, have a moral. Points for that. The downside is the moral is--well. I won't spoil it for you. In spite of that, the film is still well-made, mostly dialogue-free and aurally rich (as <span style="font-weight: bold;">Triplets</span> was), and mature in the way that the really great anime films of Japan are.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15226736.post-24877893938512776302010-11-18T21:25:00.002-06:002010-11-18T21:44:02.897-06:00Odd CoupleForkish review of Broadway play 'Elling'.<br /><br />Wonderful show, delightfully performed by a cast of television and Hollywood character actors who--surprise, surprise--can do theatre. O'Hare is magnificent and Coolidge does her trademark thing to hilarious effect, even if the old folks didn't quite get it.<br /><br />I've long been a secret fan of Mr. Fraiser as I've suspected he knows full well how absurd the Hollywood "thing" is as he seems only to choose projects that are fun. He's a far cry from his George of the Jungle days but he's clearly having a ball on the stage and gives the show much of its heart.<br /><br />Scene changes are also helped along by a soundtrack that feels deliberate and part of the show, either fading into a radio playing in the background or stopping as soon as the lights come back up. Whoever came up with that, thank you. It feels so clean. The slow audio fade out as lights slowly fade up needs to go.<br /><br />This Norwegian 'Odd Couple' is an absolute breath of fresh air, pure escapism in a time when such entertainments are sorely needed and greatly appreciated. Deftly directed, graciously apolitical, and mercifully NOT GAY, the story shows us a deep friendship between two very 'rare' men (to use their word) in an unassuming relationship that American men can no longer have with one another. <br /><br />Loved it. I'd see it again in a second.Forkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17285857730926721337noreply@blogger.com1