Now Open | Nights and Weekends

Now Open | Nights and Weekends: "Five Leaves, the Brooklyn cafe and bar, is about to expand its laid-back Aussie vibe with its new spot on Bedford Avenue."

I ate brunch here last Sunday with Keith. We split the big breakfast with sides of marinated mushrooms and fried tomatoes. It came with 2 eggs, 2 hashbrown patties and wheat toast. It was delicious, though I wish we splurged and got the pancakes too. Next time....

Oh and they stuck us in the tightest corner in the place. But it was still nice.

Mind Haikus

A.M.
The bells ring out harsh
I notice clothes on the floor
I want to sleep still


Lunch
Everyone eats
they like cheap sandwiches
"Let's get burgers."


P.M.
The day is gone now
Maybe it will be back yet
find yourself a laugh

Next Pursuit: How-To Series

Due to the overwhelming response from my avid readers, I have decided to revive a 7th grade project. We had to write How-To speeches. Now I will write How-To blog posts. Up first: "How To Swim," That's right, boys and girls stuck between concrete buildings of inner-city wastelands. Here on this blog you will soon get step-by-step instructions on how to swim. I'm thinking freestyle, 25 yards, without dying is a qualified success. So look forward to it because swimming is one of the finest activities available to mankind. We are terrestrial animals who can slip into a speedo and enjoy an extensive amount of time underwater. I wouldn't want anyone to miss that experience for lack of instruction and know-how.  

Time For a New Blog Mini-Series

I am done for now with History of Homes and thinking of where to go now. So far I'm considering:

(1) Great coworkers series. Profile all my favorite people from my history of jobs.
(2) Moving movie series. How specific movies have impacted my life.
(3) Stepping on cities series. A little bit about all the places I've been.
(4) Future wheel of fortune. Writing about my theoretical future from different angles, depending on what I choose to do next.

Any thoughts?

Renewal Art Show // Norfolk // Long Division

In response to an article...

Article About Creative Disruption

"...it’s simply false to say that the choices are only (a) get a degree and get a comfortable middle class knowledge job, (b) luck out as a massive statistical outlier (Gates, Zuckerberg, Jobs, etc.), or (c) work at McDonald’s.

There’s a fourth choice, (d): Become a part of the disruptive generation creating workable, realistic self-employment on the free-agent knowledge market."

In response:

If I could be 17 again would I do it differently and skip college to go straight to work? Probably not. Because at that age there is more to life than the rat race and salary hikes. There is value to college that you cannot receive from (most) public high schools. In my experience, high school is where you learn and practice social skills, and college is where you learn how to think, write and participate. Then you face the reality of paying bills and are forced to apply what you've learned to make money.  I think more interesting than this outlier who obviously has incredible confidence (a.k.a. parents), is the idea is that all of us--with or without college degrees--live in a society that is more accepting of flexibility and encouraging of a work/play balance than the generation before ours.

Figuring out how to apply what we've learned is work in its own right. Gone are the days of people happily walking into corporate America and saddling up for a lifetime career in the same building. We (my generation and younger) crave the variety of life. We grew up playing sports, taking art and music, traveling in minivans and speaking whenever we wanted. Our parents were hippies who let us be free--and selfish. Now when we're asked to suit up and be responsible, are you really surprised at our resistance?

A creative, self-administered "job" is not possible for all of us. Especially if we want to get paid. But it's a worthy goal that I hope will become easier over time. I'm a 27 year old freelance copywriter who chooses to get paid less and have no health insurance in order to take off of work when to mood strikes. Maybe in a couple years I'll need that insurance and will be looking for something secure. But I predict that in the future we will have less giant corporate monoliths, and more communities of self-sustaining and hard-working individuals who are more than happy to forfeit a few 00s on their salary in order to go surfing in the mornings, take month long trips to Spain, and work in an environment that is both challenging and enjoyable.

Maybe we need a new word for "work"-- something less pejorative and more meaningful.

Recuerdos de DF

1. Today is 5 de Mayo and we're having a themed potluck at the office. I wore my embroidered Mexican shirt I bought (along with some pulque) on the side of the road while driving through Hidalgo. I miss my Mexico City today. I miss all those cheery faced programmers from the office with their crass jokes, terrible eating habits and supreme love for the strangest of candies. I miss my friends who would scour the city for the most oddball events taking place and drag me out of my bed on the weekends to attend. Gay parade, street art festival, world culture fair--plus all the national holidays for this battle or that general so-and-so. I miss the food. The tacos that don't come with shredded cheddar cheese and sour cream, but rather a couple corn tortillas soaked through with grease from the slab of hot beef substance. Then perhaps you add some cilantro, onion and fire-laced salsa. Squeeze about 4 limes on top and you eat that thing standing up with your knees bent a little bit so you can athletically avoid grease dripping onto your polyester suit that you are forced to wear even though it's hot outside and you only make $5 a day.  I also miss the mezcal--specifically drinking copious amounts of it in dark small corners. I even miss the commuting! That's when I could practice my Spanish with greasy old men, 90% of which have lived in the US at some point in their lives. I know taxis have a reputation for express kidnapping, but I never once had a bad experience. Even in the green VW bug taxis, which were cheaper and supposedly more dangerous than the "iron man" taxis with new paint jobs and usually rocking the Jetta. I miss the parks and walking my dog along the tree-lined streets, doing my best to avoid stepping in a huge pile of poop. Once, on our way to catch a cab, Greg stepped in the biggest pile of poop I have ever seen in my life. It was like someone walked their pet elephant out for the morning business, watched as the elephant defecated an entire half of a sidewalk, then said hello to the neighbors and walked back inside. Luckily for Greg and his poop shoe, about half a block down the road was a convenient bucket of soapy water. The Gods punished him, then immediately felt bad and gave him a break. I also miss the smells of the metro stations...oh wait. I don't at all.


2. On the contrary, This is where I work right now as a freelancer, and our attempt to win the City of Norfolk account. I never even heard of Norfolk before I moved here. Apparently the Navy Seals who killed Bin Laden came from here.

Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive!

Believe it or not, the girl on the motorcycle is yo. 

Mexico Homes Part X

It's harder to comment on these more recent abodes. I think as time passes it's easier to recognize the significance of them. Right now as I look back on home #10 I can only think of odd, specific memories. Like the process of finding it. With the help of a dear friend I drove around after work for weeks until I felt like I just had to settle.

Part 9: Penthouse 9

Never again will I have the chance to live in the penthouse apartment overlooking a giant cosmopolitan city--with a pool table. I just simply will never get that lucky twice in a lifetime.

Roommates Stand and Rose

Visitor Wes. Spending the sunny days practicing and mastering Koyunbaba

Visitors Meg and Maggie. 25th birthday nonsense on the roof. 

Visitor Zach. After a long day of walking. I think he walked the entire length of the city.

Visitor Patrick y novia.  We dared him to eat the entire tub of green salsa. He puked outside and ran for milk.