Don't Fake The Funk

What Was I Saying?

Throughout the course of a normal day my brain comes up with a half-hundred weird ideas, only a handful of which are engaging enough to write about. My problem is that when an idea comes to mind I am usually nowhere near a computer to type it up. So the idea shrivels and dies.

An obvious solution to this would be to carry a notepad around. This is not viable for me because not only is my handwriting beyond horrendous, I also often wear short sleeve shirts and a tie to work. If you add to my typical ensemble a notepad and a pen… well you get the picture.

On the rare occasions when an idea surfaces and I am sitting close to a keyboard, I seem to be unable to fully articulate the idea enough to flesh them out. My thought process resembles the jumbled, half-formed and distracted pattern of a stand-up comedian wired on caffiene.

Uh... I just lost my train of thought.

Gifts From My Love

Material things are great. But what I cherish most are memories. Today is the love of my life's birthday and I am compelled to tell the world (or at least, the two or three of you that still read my weblog) the gifts Beth has given me: the memories of her that are, and will always be, vibrant in my mind.

• sit here - At a presentation for Gawad Kalinga, Beth invited me to sit next to her in the front row. She smiled her smile, tilted her head just so, and gave me her famous wink as she patted the seat next to her. My reaction was instant, without hesitation, without thought: I sat down.

• first touch - My forearm was sore from mixing cookie dough. We sat on her couch and she took my arm in her soft hands and massaged me, gently scolding me for developing tennis elbow while baking cookies. I heard none of it. She was so close that our thighs were touching and the feel of her hands on my skin banished the pain completely. Her scent was of bergamot coriander and cookies.

• cross the street - During a crisp winter afternoon in Manhattan, we stood on the corner of Canal and Mott. The light was changing so she started crossing Canal street and as she did she reached back with her hand to grab mine. She said playfully, "Come on let's go." For a moment I stood still, dumbfounded at the thought of holding her hand.

• intensive care - In an Albany hospital, Beth was in Step-Down ICU. There was a limit to how many visitors a patient could have at one time. I stopped at the entrance and peered in. Her bed was at the far wall and she saw me. She smiled her smile and my knees buckled so suddenly I grabbed the door frame for support. I barely remember what we said to each other when I finally walked to her bed. Intellectually I knew I she wasn't mine, and yet I was so happy I didn't lose her. So happy in fact that later on that day I locked my keys in my car.
  

Birthday

Jessica Simpson is still not talking to me because two years ago, I forgot her birthday. Well, happy birthday anyway Jessica.

Ancient Measurements

Have you ever noticed that every single National Geographic show and Discovery Channel program dealing with ancient and/or lost civilizations has this statement in it:

"This extraordinarily ancient pyramid/temple/burial site, built by presumably scientifically primitive cultures in the farthest, most inhospitable swamps/deserts/mountains/jungles is the size of three/ten/fifteen football fields."

I find it amazing that ancient civilizations used the modern football field as a unit of measurement.

Eww.