Ugly Love

You ever see two ugly people walking on the street together holding hands and you look at them and you think good for you guys; you did it. Congrats at beating the overwhelming odds and finding that someone special. You look at these two ugly ducklings and give that nod of approval. Not only did these two uglies find love but they got the approval of me, one of the beautiful people. Now naturally after you pass these two ugly but in love people your kind thoughts turn negative. How is it that these people, or rather these ugly people were able to find love and you, a beautiful person, are still lonely and single? What the fuck?

But then you think, is that really what I want? I mean sure, those people look happy and for all intents and purposes they are, but is that really what life is about? Shouldn’t we be dating out of our comfort zone and try for the hotties upon hotties. Who wants to end up with an ugly? Is that the life for me? These questions linger in your head and then you start to get mad and even a tad bit jealous at those two ugly people you saw holding hands down in the village. I mean how did they even meet? They must be using the same methods as the rest of the human population. It’s got to be some combination of online and app dating. Could it be real life? Is that what I’m missing? Is that how all the undesirables meet – sans dating application? You then dismiss the thought because it’s obviously absurd – it had to be through some online apparatus.

So maybe, your mind begins to wander, it wasn’t the medium but the purpose. Could they have been so worn down by rejection that they just accepted their fate in life and decided to become one half of an ugly couple sandwich. Woo, what a terrible thing to have to think about. What an internal monologue that must be. Sure I’ll be in the ugly but that’s something and something is better than nothing. Then you think, what a sad thing to do. To settle so early and easily. To romantically die without a fight and never try to punch above your weight class. What a tragedy indeed.

Jesus, but who am I to judge on such shallow criteria goes the part of the brain you wish would pipe down more often. Should ugly people have to live a loveless life just because they don’t fit your arbitrary standards of beauty? Why that’s absurd you go, what was I even thinking? Maybe they complete each other emotionally and intellectually, isn’t physical beauty only one of the legs of the relationship chair. But then retorts the part of the brain you wish would speak less, isn’t physical beauty as important as an emotional and intellectual bond. That’s what brings the spark and magic and turns a magical friendship into a passionate relationship. The bonds of the mind and spirit are important but try explaining that to a flagging hard on or a rapidly drying pussy. So in the words of our genitals, let’s not downplay the importance of looks.

Maybe, just maybe, these uglies both find each other beautiful. And not that fake inner beauty nonsense but they truly have the hots for each other. It could happen, people are into weird things. You think about your own body. You certainly have some “eccentricities” and “peculiar parts” that some would find attractive and others would find downright unappealing. Hey to each their own, but then again don’t we have at least a baseline to judge beauty on. Could these people just have hit the baseline or found one appealing physical notion about each other and been like “that’s all I need I’m out”. Could they have been the person that only tries one flavor of ice cream, enjoys it, and then orders it on the spot without trying anything else? Is this the pair of people you just saw passing hand in hand in the village?

Now your mind takes a detour to the past trying to answer what could be a disheartening question. Have you ever in your dating career gotten the approval nod that you gave to the uglies? Has anyone ever given you, “one of the so called beautiful people”, that condescending good for you look when you were walking down the street with a love? The ego leaps into defensive mode saying no never, but then you think back on every walk you’ve ever made in public. You scour your memory banks like some 70’s reporter scanning microfiche at the library for any traces of the look. The results: inconclusive you’re positive it has definitely happened. In a city of 8 million people someone was bound to find you and your lover part of the select group of uglies and thought aww good for you guys, you did it. You overcame the odds.

The thought just sickens you. How could you be a willing accomplice in a vicious cycle that helps nobody at all. Love should be celebrated not ridiculed. The ugliness of the participants should be irrelevant. What a noble stance you think and you become instantly proud of yourself. And to think, you thought this wouldn’t be a productive walk. Never doubt yourself, now that’s a motto to live by. Until of course you see an even uglier couple holding hands as you hit the Chelsea neighborhood of the city (it’s been quite a walk) and think are you fucking kidding me? How did this one happen?

A Macy's Debacle aka I'm Not Crazy!

So get this. I’m in Macy’s because I need to buy a pair of pants. More specifically brown skinny jeans. Now for some reason purchasing this particular pair of pants has become a Don Quixote like quest for reasons beyond me but whatever. I like me some brown skinny jeans. Why this is less popular than fucking red or purple Joker pants is again beyond me. If I ran the world’s supply of jeans (rather than just the banks and the media – I’ve said too much) things would be much different. Much, much different believe me. But I don’t so I guess I can go, in the words of Mr. Levi Strauss, “fuck myself”. Pearls of corporate wisdom like that are why he became the powerhouse jeans manufacture he is today.

Getting back to whatever point I was making, I’m in Macy’s looking for brown skinny jeans at the Levi’s store in the contemporary men’s floor aka what used to be that weird floor one and a half which was only accessible by a middle escalator when I find me some brown jeans. So far so good. Well way to get ahead of yourself because they only have them in the slim cut. Jesus, don’t you get tired of always being wrong? Terrible. Just terrible. I see that these are the only moderately skinny pants in the brown color persuasion that Macy’s offers so I decide to be generous and see how they fit. I’m just in that kind of mood. So I go to the dressing with my said pair of slim brown skinny jeans and try them on. They don’t fit or rather they don’t fit my European normal or American anorexic body, so I figure I’ll just drop them off and continue my seemingly endless search. And here’s where the problems begin.

Normally dressing rooms have a clothing rack or a hook or something to put your unwanted clothes on after you try them on. Usually they take up the entrance or exit (yes we have taken a minor philosophical detour on how entrances can double as exits) of the dressing room and serve as a way of making sure clothing doesn’t end up on the fucking floor, preserving a sense of decorum in this rapidly declining society. As I exit the entrance of the Levi’s dressing room with my pair of unwanted pants draped over my shoulder I find nary a clothing rack to place them on. Since I’m not, as the kids would say, “a fucking asshole” I decide to ask someone where I should put said clothing. I go up to an associate at the register and ask if there is a rack or place to put my clothes. The lady looks at me and starts talking to me like I’m an insane person. What do you mean you need a rack just put your clothes anywhere, what are you talking about, and so on and so forth.

Is this the way we like to run our store? This is Macy’s, which prides itself on being the premier department store in the world and you can’t provide a basic store accompaniment? Mind you this is not some outlet store Macys, this is the Herald Square Thanksgiving Day Parade Miracle of 34^th street Macys. This is the one that murdered Gimbels. What a steep decline to the excellence I for some reason falsely believed Macy’s prided itself on providing.

After suffering such injustice I decide to do the only logical thing and check out every other dressing room on the floor to see if they have a clothing rack. Well welly welly welly well, they all have places or racks to put unwanted clothes. I snap a picture of every single one and proudly walk back to the lady at the Levi’s store register and show her and her manager the clothing racks, basking in my petty glory. Actually that last part didn’t happen (but I did check out every dressing room and they did have racks – let the record show). Instead I simply folded my pants and put them back where I got them, muttering and ranting until I was kicked out. Well not really the kicked out part. I left on my own free will. But I was a ranting and a raving.

So fast forward to yesterday when I’m still looking for brown pants and again I find myself back at this forsaken Heralds Square Macy’s where again I have been disappointed by the selection of skinny jeans. Why I expected things to dramatically change in a week, I have no idea. Just call me an optimist. So I go back to the Levi’s store and its dressing room and to my surprise I see a sign telling people to put the clothes they do not want on a clothing rack. Good advice I think. I turn to see where this clothing rack is and again it is nowhere to be found. Instead I see a couch filled to the gills with jeans and people looking mildly confused looking for a clothing rack.

In short I’m not crazy. I swear.

A Primer on My Favorite Bob Dylan Tracks

3 Favorite Songs from each Bob Dylan album (studio/selected live/bootleg series): A Primer (subject to change on a whim)

Studio Albums (Plus Greatest Hits with new songs)

Bob Dylan – Song to Woody, Talkin’ New York, House of the Risin’ Sun

Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan – Masters of War, Blowin’ in the Wind, A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall

The Times They Are A-Changin – The Times They Are A-Changin’, Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll, Boots of Spanish Leather

Another Side of Bob Dylan – It Ain’t Me Babe, Spanish Harlem Incident, Chimes of Freedom

Bringing it All Back Home – It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, It’s Alright Ma (I’m only Bleeding), Love Minus Zero/No Limit

Highway 61 Revisited – Like a Rolling Stone, Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues, Desolation Row

Blonde on Blonde – Just Like a Woman, Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, Visions of Johanna

John Wesley Harding – I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine, Drifter’s Escape, Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest

Nashville Skyline – Lay Lady Lay, Tell Me That it isn’t True, Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here with You

Self Portrait – Gotta Travel On, Wigwam, Copper Kettle

New Morning – Man in Me, Went to See the Gypsy, Sign on the Window

Greatest Hits Volume 2: I Shall Be Released, Down in the Flood, You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere

Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid – Knockin on Heaven’s Door, Billy 4, River Theme

Dylan – Mary Ann, Lily of the West, Sarah Jane

Planet Waves – Forever Young, Hazel, Never Say Goodbye

Blood on the Tracks – Tangled Up in Blue, Idiot Wind, Simple Twist of Fate

The Basement Tapes – This Wheel’s on Fire, Tears of Rage, Goin’ to Acapulco

Desire – Isis, Black Diamond Bay, Oh Sister

Street Legal – Changing of the Guards, Senor (Tales of Yankee Power), Where are You Tonight? (Journey Through Dark Heat)

Slow Train Coming – Gotta Serve Somebody, Slow Train, Precious Angel

Saved – Pressing On, Solid Rock, Covenant Woman

Shot of Love – Groom’s Still Waiting at the Altar, Every Grain of Sand, Heart of Mine

Infidels – Jokerman, Neighborhood Bully, Union Sundown

Empire Burlesque – Tight Connection to My Heart (Has Anybody Seen My Love), Dark Eyes, Clean Cut Kid

Biograph – Up to Me, Abandoned Love, Positively 4^th Street

Knocked Out Loaded – Brownsville Girl, You Wanna Ramble, Under Your Spell

Down in the Groove – Silvio, Let’s Stick Together, Ugliest Girl in the World

Oh Mercy – Most of the Time, Shooting Star, Political World

Under the Red Sky – Handy Dandy, TV Talkin’ Song, Cat’s in the Well

Good As I Been to You – Blackjack Davey, Sittin’ on Top of the World, Froggie Went a-Courtin’

World Gone Wrong – Blood in My Eyes, Delia, World Gone Wrong

Time out of Mind – Love Sick, Tryin’ to Get to Heaven, Cold Irons Bound

Love and Theft – Mississippi, High Water (For Charlie Patton), Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Modern Times – Thunder on the Mountain, Someday Baby, Workingman’s Blues #2

Together Through Life – My Wife’s Home Town, Shake Shake Mama, Beyond Here Lies Nothin’

Christmas in the Heart – Must be Santa, Little Drummer Boy, Winter Wonderland

Tempest – Long and Wasted Years, Pay in Blood, Tin Angel

Shadows in the Night – The Night We Called It a Day, Stay with Me, That Lucky Old Sun

Fallen Angels – Young At Heart, Melancholy Mood, On a Little Street in Shanghai

Triplicate – I Could Have Told You, Stardust, Stormy Weather

Selected Live Albums

 Before the Flood – It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding), Most Likely You Go Your Way (and I’ll Go Mine), Like a Rolling Stone

Hard Rain – Idiot Wind, Shelter from the Storm, Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again

At Budokan – Shelter From the Storm, Love Minus Zero/No Limit, I Want You

Real Live – Tangled Up In Blue, Ballad of a Thin Man, It Ain’t Me Babe

Bootleg Series

Volume 1 – 3: 1961-1991 – Idiot Wind, Angelina, Series of Dreams

Volume 4: Live 1966 – Like a Rolling Stone, Tell Me Momma, I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)

Volume 5: Live 1975 – Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll, It Ain’t Me Babe, Romance in Durango

Volume 6: Live 1964 – Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right, Mama You Been on My Mind, Talkin’ World War III Blues

Volume 7: No Direction Home – Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues, Visions of Johanna, Maggie’s Farm

Volume 8: Tell Tale Signs – Born in Time, Most of the Time, Red River Shore

Volume 9: Whitmark Demos: All Over You, Gypsy Lou, I’ll Keep it With Mine

Volume 10: Another Self Portrait: Time Passes Slowly, Pretty Saro, Thirsty Boots

Volume 11: Complete Basement Tapes – Edge of the Ocean, I’m Not There, Sign on the Cross

Volume 12: The Cutting Edge – Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window, Instrumental, Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again

Can We Pass Over Passover?

Does anybody really like the Passover holiday? Along with Yom Kippur, Ramadan, and Lent it falls in the ever popular holiday category of “don’t do this”. These can’t be popular with the faithful because nobody likes to be told what they can’t do or more importantly what they can’t eat. It’s one of the main reasons Michelle Obama’s very smart maybe we should give our kids heathier dining options program was met with such scorn from a select group of morons (other reasons in no particular order: “don’t tell me how to raise my child”, racism, and reactionary partisanship). But let’s get back on track to the completely real events (my eyes have now rolled completely to the back of my head) of how the Jews left enslavement in Egypt. Do we really think that on the one year anniversary of leaving Egypt the survivors thought to remake that flavorless yeast free shit bread dubbed matzo? I’m going to go with the opposite. I bet they made the yeastiest most leavened bread they could muster as a hilarious final fuck you to the Pharaoh. Like fuck you Pharaoh now that I’m free and not being chased by chariots and an army I don’t have to skimp on the yeast and can make a delicious bagel and stuff it with the finest lox and cream cheese (no low fat nonsense on this occasion) while complaining about how for the last year we’ve been blindly following Moses and we seem to be wandering around in circles. Coincidence, hardly! I mean, I can’t be the only one who notices this aimless wandering right? If I am, I’ll shut up, but people c’mon. It’s been a year and well that Promised Land ain’t looking anywhere closer, but that’s just me and Bathsheba, and the lately the Cohen family bringing this up. But fine I’ll give it a rest today and enjoy this delicious leavened bread and give thanks that we don’t have to eat that matzo shit. Am I right in saying that “bread” was the roughest part of that day? Man was that gross. So a toast to yeast…and somebody asking Moses what the hell is going on because seriously I’m not going this for another thirty-nine years. If that isn’t a perfect historical recreation of the second Passover I don’t know what is.

Also let’s talk about the movie The 10 Commandments staring Charlton Heston, Yul Brynner, and Edward G. Robinson. It’s a great film and all but man are the Jews in that movie not the smartest. For some reason, despite all of Moses’ many miracles time after time without fail the chosen people decide to listen to Dathan. Moses has the staff that turns into a snake, he caused the plagues that ravaged the Egyptians and did no harm or rather “passed over” the Jews, and for the grand finale he parted the Red Sea to allow safe passage to freedom. Now any fully functioning human being would think this would earn Moses the benefit of the doubt. Oh no, not with crowd because apparently parting a sea can’t match up the dulcet mobster tones of Edward G. Robinson’s ever convincing “where’s your God now Moses” speech. Naturally the people listen to Dathan, the Jewish informant to the Pharaoh and the biblical equivalent to Uncle Tom. This is the guy who left bondage being carried on a bed-throne while the rest of the Jews had at most a basket and a three legged donkey. So this is the guy they chose to listen to when Moses leaves to take a twenty minute breather. Despite all God has done for them in the last week, the Jews somehow listen to Dathan’s idea to build and worship a golden calf while somehow roping Aaron, Moses’ brother, into the scheme. Again, what are we doing Jews? Why a golden calf and why Dathan. The guy has been wrong and against you the whole movie. Why would we decide to follow this guy over the person who performed actual miracles? What a fickle people. So anyway, Moses comes down, gets pissed, kills all the sinners with the Ten Commandments tablets and then wanders around until he decides to give the reins to Joshua and ascend to heaven at the ripe age of 120. And that’s the story of Passover and reason we can’t east bread for a week. What a ride.

Observations from an Adult Dinner Party

Parties with actual food are amazing. Not just perfunctory nonsense but things I would like to go back to for a second and even third helping. The food took effort and naturally it taste delicious and it makes an excellent chaser for the red wine and vodka I’ve been mixing and chugging. Sure, I like a bag of cool ranch Doritos as much as the next guy, but it really can’t hold up to miniature steaks, caprese salad, and pasta puttanesca. Plus it gives me something to do when my mingling hits a snag. Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the party in my own way: by stuffing my face.

From our first middle school dance to our last retirement home shuffle, dance parties will always be the same. Women will take up the center going crazy and having the time of their lives while most of the guys (there is always a Travolta superstar in the mix) will awkwardly stand to the side clutching a drunk until being forced to join in and pretend like they are doing these lovely ladies a favor. Okay I’ll totally buy the fact that you’re not having a time a half. Whatever you say man. Is it sad or comforting that we never escape the same holding patterns from our preteen years? An existential question for the ages.

Nothing makes somebody at a party feel old than when you refer to their friend as your friend’s mom. Also it takes away their agency as a person. Here is an accomplished woman and yet I only know her as the woman who gave birth to a dear pal of mine. A male pal too. The loathing I felt, oye I would never wish on anyone else. Oye!

This one is exclusive to me, but I can talk about things before 1995 and not be seen as some sort of weirdo. Ah the pleasures of listening about 1970’s New York with artists and former hippies will never cease. Add in the occasional story of meeting Lou Reed and all is right.

Funk music with the occasional disco aside kills with all crowds. Everybody loves dancing to the hits of the 80’s. “Bad and Boujee” on the other hand is a song meant for a very specific generation.

If You Can't Handle Me at My Worst...

“If you can’t handle me at my worst you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best”

When did this quote become a badge for people to wear around them like it’s some sort of universal truth? First of all there is no evidence off of my quick Google search that Marilyn Monroe ever uttered these words in that succession so let’s leave one of our cultural icons alone. She deserves better than to be associated with this ode to unfunny narcissism.

Let’s unpack this quote. If you can’t handle me at my worst than you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best. Why is this person assuming that their best is so goddamn special that it outweighs all their negative qualities? Like what is so redeeming about this person that I’d be so willing to overlooking all their worst aspects. This imaginary person is setting a bar that they can’t ever live up to because they’ve already created a scenario where anything but a large payout in good qualities is a waste of time. Nobody wants to break even, we need some hefty returns on this investment and that means you need to have a best that is fucking golden. Nothing else will do for such boasts of narcissism. You’ve set the bar that high.

And another thing, do you think you could handle yourself at your worst let alone pawning it off on some poor, unsuspecting sucker? Take a deep dive into your psyche and confront your personal demons. I’m talking about the deepest darkest ones that keep you up at weird hours of the night endlessly pacing the floor while muttering and twitching. Think about what would happen if you were to give in to that side of your personality and just run with it. You’d probably hit some places and realizations that you wished you kept buried away. Sounds like a nightmare to the say the least, huh? Doesn’t sound much like a fun person or a good time Charlies, eh? So why would you want to pawn this monster off on some unsuspecting schumck? Exactly. It’s selfish is what it is and downright irresponsible to try and bring somebody down in the hole that you’re in by promising glimmers of personality sunshine. Terrible, just terrible you make me sick!

So in conclusion, just stop it. It’s so annoying. Nobody ever wants to see themselves at their worst let alone other people. I’m sure your best is great, but if you keep making people muck through the mud of your worst nobody is going to care or want to see it. Then that’ll really bring out your worst and boy, you better have a fantastic best to make up for that one.

3 Times When Lying is Acceptable

3 Times When Lying is Acceptable

When I asked you what you’ve been up to lately and your only answer is some combination of nothing and working. That’s a lame ass response that I don’t have time for and it makes you look bad. You really can’t think of one exciting or interesting anecdote to share in the time since we passed. I mean we live in New York City, you must have a horrific subway story or have witnessed a crazy person or at least have been on an exciting date or hook up. So if you can’t rack your brain for something, please start lying. You can even tell me it’s a lie, I won’t mind. It’ll at least be more interesting than hearing about that “world changing start-up” you keep grinding away at. But if straight up lying isn’t your style do what I tend to do and exaggerate or change some details to make your tale all the more exciting. The truth is good and all but sometimes a key exaggeration just takes the story to a whole new level. Like one time I hooked up with a circus clown and when I relay the story I like to say that she kept on her makeup and had a unicycle. Now parts of that story are true and others aren’t, but I think the combination of the muddled truths and obvious falsehoods create a rich tapestry that comes from the experience of hooking up with a former/current circus clown. So in short learn how to tell a story people. Our species has a strong oral tradition and I’ll be damned if it’s going to descend into a series of “nothing much, just working” conversations.

Writing in your online dating profile bio that you hate liars. Suuuuure you do. Who doesn’t just love the totally truthful among us? You know the type of person who dumped you by going through all your specific character flaws in a candid, honest, and mature way that brought you to one of the numerous dating apps that doesn’t have an “e” in their name. So go on be that person with the supremely unique pet peeve of hating liars (what I’ve never heard of such a person who hated being deceived) and I’ll pretend to believe that you’re into me for a reason other than my resemblance to John Lennon/Harry Potter. See lying helps us all!

When you don’t want to tell the truth. Can’t get more obvious than this people. Hey someone asked me a question and I don’t want to give the honest answer but I have to respond. How can I get out this one? Oh wait I know, I’ll just lie and make my life that much more manageable for the foreseeable present and let future me deal with the consequences. Problem solved. Again, easy stuff people