somewhere between Newark and Syracuse
it is now that my life has calmed to back to its usual insanity. the crazy "go to work/go visit girl/go to sleep" sequence has ended, at least for now. and just as well, too, as the long work days and long nights in front of the dashboard lights were wearing me down--not that i didn't mind the attention from a certain Scandinavian chica.
so, for the next couple of months, i will wait and wonder about the future.
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Alpha Zeta: my Ithaca home. at age 26 and 10 months, i feel all too old to be returning to my Cornell frat. in the back of my mind each time i return is the feeling that i will not come back again until i have transformed into one of those old alumni who shows up only for the annual meeting, completely disconnected from the active members and only faintly identifiable by the composites on the wall. but in the last 3 weeks, i have been back to AZ more times than in the whole last year. i've been on the road more lately than the dogs and cat in The Incredible Journey (the classic 1963 version, that is.)
i blame Karin for this completely.
she has made me have more fun in the last three weeks than i've had in ages. lately i've been drowning in the Sea of Piss--also known as Reality and the Workplace. but her visit to the US pulled me out a little bit and i felt like a young foolish buck all over again.
partying 80's style with leighanne
i was under the impression that AZ could no longer throw a good party. hell, we were shaky at best even in my era. but the recent 80's party actually went off pretty well--with some help from some alumni, of course. it was no surprise that my beloved Finnbar IV* has been gutted--keg parties are a thing of the past now with new york's tight keg rules. bottled beer is now the container of choice. i was tempted to bring my DJ gear but decided against it for fear of looking like a wanna-be active, and because i had other things--her, in particular--on my mind. but as the party warmed up it was clear that things would simmer down into the typical AZ doldrums if someone didn't start lighting a fire under this party's ass really quick. surprisingly enough, my old mixerboard was still in use and hadn't yet been destroyed by drunken tomfoolery and spilled beer. and the Miracle of Miracles--my Hard Rock Cafe 80's Party CD--kept things on life support til my little bro chris got out his CD collection for me to DJ with. what are the chances i'd just happen to have that CD in the car, anyway?? a DJ must always be prepared.
it's KARIN! (oh yeah, and pat too)
Karin also accompanied me to the Wetwerks gig at Club Tundra here in syracuse. it was a great show, and it was great to catch up with seth again. it's been a couple of years since we've seen each other. another sign of age--i've known seth for nearly 27 years--if you can count infancy as time spent "knowing" someone. other than my family, i would say i've known him the longest of anyone else on earth.
dammit, now i'm really feeling old. enuff of this shit already.
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change of subject.
random topics percolating thru blarfdom:
my neighbors across the hall, formerly known as the Newspaper Thieving Bastards, have come clean--sort of. it turns out that we both have a newspaper subscription and the Post Standard has been screwing us all by leaving us one paper a day so we can quietly and politely steal it from each other. and the worst thing was, neither party realized the other was also entitled to the paper, so we both thought the other was a complete asshole. screw you, Post Standard! your circulation department will be getting a phone call monday morning. but until then, whoever wakes up first gets tomorrow's sunday paper! whuh ha ha!! or maybe neither of us will dare to touch it and it will sit there for weeks, equidistant from each of our front doors. only time will tell. not that it matters--i usually just kick the papers in my doorway and throw them out at a later date since i never have time to read them.
at least diplomatic relations have been restored.
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after dropping Karin off at Newark airport last sunday, i decided to take a dogleg through NYC. this turned into the Worst Idea Of Ben's Life as i passed the point of no return--the holland tunnel. i spent 2 hours getting through the tunnel and then another hour and a half getting the hell out of the city via the lincoln tunnel.
actually, i can't say it was an awful decision--a quite adventurous one, actually--perhaps just poorly timed. i guess 5:00 on sunday is still rush hour in new york. i didn't get to do anything I wanted to do, like go to the southern end of manhattan (i'm sure there's a name for southern manhattan but i don't know my districts too well.) but with the traffic, all i could do was try to leave as soon as i got there. i feared i might not escape without some kind of scrape or ding since every vehicle in NYC looks like a damn bumper car, but i "kept the fenders on it" and made it out ok.**
no escape: in line for the holland tunnel
i did get to see some of the city, and it had a strong effect on me. i've been in NYC many times before but usually via the airport, so it was cool to be on the ground again. i can see the attraction to living there--tons of fun stuff to do; a bazillion people to see. in fact, i could see myself enjoying being there--at least temporarily. but i also had a claustrophobic feeling. i wanted to start swinging elbows to knock all of those damn buildings and people out of my country-mile-wide way. it's a cozy place--fun to visit--but not enough room. not enough trees. not enough front yards. not enough cows. not enough garages. not enough dogs running through hayfields. and you'd better forget about driving a tractor down one of those streets. the clincher was seeing the parking lots with cars stacked on lifts, warehouse-style. that was absolutely freaking ridiculous. maybe if i had a career opportunity of a lifetime, i could live there.
that probably won't happen, but my mind is open to the possiblity. if it pays well.
can someone tell me why there's no photography allowed in the lincoln tunnel? i simply HAD to break the law and take this picture.
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*also known as a keggerator, but with a Finnish twist. thanks go to the Finn brothers of AZ for building the originals back in the 80's, one of which is buried in the new house's foundation, according to legend.
**hint for non-rednecks: that's a racing term for not beating up the car during a race.
