Purgatory is a half packed apartment

Packing sucks. Almost as bad as the moving part. Most would argue that the moving is much worse but i argue its the opposite - I've lived in my current place now for about 2.5 years, and I've accumulated so much SHIT that I'm ashamed of myself... so packing involves organizing, organizing involves prioritizing, priorities preclude the question of what to toss/donate and what to keep - a major headache.

The new joint is killah. Positively gi-normous, open floor plan sunlight strewn magnificence. More than enough room for all the aforementioned SHIT yet i will cut it down, shed some skin, grow some new bright plumage and finally get to throw some serious parties that will maybe breathe some life into an otherwise stagnant social scene here in ol' Kingston.

It seems that every couple of weeks i run into someone who looks me up and down and begs questions like: "What the fuck are you doing here in Kingston?" or my favorite: "You know, you like, BELONG down in Brooklyn, why are you living here instead of there?" I don't know, family, decent job, and while my circle of friends is very small, they are a pretty kickass crew of people; but it never grows, it only shrinks. And i understand why people ask me those questions - its not whether or not if i belong here, its that i feel completely alienated and different from 99% of the people who DO live here. Browse myspace for 10 minutes and see what i mean, peeps who tout glitter tags and claim that they are proud to be a 'redneck', a 'crazy bitch', 'thug' or 'party 24/7'. The essential American ingredients: Arrogant about being Ignorant. Pride in self centered egomania. Being better than you, in every way. Its the epitome of the small town existence, people get settled into roles that were set in high school or maybe even roles that their parents set for themselves at the same high school 30 years earlier - a family legacy of social recognition. The 99% might cling to this as the definition of home, i consider it pretty fucking tired and lame - then again, I'm still here aren't I? The 1% that i could potentially identify with? Well. I probably know them all, or they... moved to Brooklyn. Yeah.

When i think about when i moved into this place i remember how it seemed less like an exciting change and more like a frenzied escape from my previous situation - lets just say that something changed after 8 years - and while i don't regret the situation at all whatsoever, the move was a need, not a want. I had to change and it was because of this that packing was a slapdash, frenzied mess of throwing random shit in any box that would accommodate it. This time, the move is friggen exciting and awesome, and the motivation is to trim all the crap, whittle it down.

But that's not the whole reason packing sucks. Its all the rocks you have to turn over, all the surprises waiting for you at the back of a closet, in a forgotten drawer, an old shoe box. Things that were put away because they needed to be put away - i would say that when it comes to precious memories, I'm a pack rat. I guess i always had this feeling that way down the road, 50 years from now i would like to be able to pour over movie ticket stubs, wine bottle labels, dried leaves or say a torn up receipt from a meal at a choice restaurant. I'd like to hold this stuff in my own hands and try and remember why i saved it, have a physical tie to these memories that might be hazy and distant by then.

Now its impossible to come across this stuff and not fall into it, the problem is, I'm too goddam young for some of these memories to be simply precious and sweet. Its not that I'm stung with regret over these things, its just that I can't appreciate it - i can still connect dots from those memories to where i am right now and I can't simply enjoy, it all makes me think too much. They need to... brew for another 50 or so years before they ferment into something resembling a fine wine, something that will be 'oaky and full bodied', memorable of the time and place it was from instead of some bitter concoction that has been tapped too early and hastily imbibed.

Time capsules. What a concept.

Here's hoping 2009 in the new spot brings the change I've been waiting for, and Kingston maybe shows me that one doesn't have to move to Brooklyn to find a pretty smile with a brain to match.

2009 NY Yankees: The Empire Strikes Back

I'll have more to say about this after the holidays, but needless to say, the straight NINJA MAGIC that Brian Cashmoney dropped on the Teixeira deal was nothing short of masterful. After listening to John William's 'Imperial March' on a loop for inspiration and fantasizing about being universally feared again in the MLB, heres my projected lineups:


Ol' Reliable:

CF Damon - L
SS Jeter - R
1B Teixeira - S
3B A-Rod - R
DH Matsui - L
C Posada - S
2B Cano - L
RF Swisher - S
LF Nady - R


Late Defensive Alt or Rest Damon Day:

DH Damon - L
SS Jeter - R
1B Teixeira - S
3B A-Rod - R
C Posada - S
RF Swisher - S
2B Cano - L
LF Nady - R
CF Cabrera/Gardner - S/L


Alt. Catcher Day:

CF Damon - L
SS Jeter - R
1B Teixeira - S
3B A-Rod - R
DH Matsui / Posada - L/S
RF Swisher - S
2B Cano - L
LF Nady - R
C Molina - R

Righteous Change

Even though November 4th 2008 is going to be the day in the history books, July 27th 2004 will always hold more weight in my mind when i think of this election. We had just endured the first 4 years of Bush, Iraq was turning into the nightmare that we all worried it would become and the wound from 9/11 was still raw. I was one of the many who ran with John Kerry on the 'anyone but Bush' platform, and i was never more aware of this de facto sentiment when on that day - July 27 2004, i watched Barack Obama give the DNC keynote speech. While it was impossible for anyone to be swayed by Kerry's droning rhetoric, Obama moved me so much that i thought to myself: Fuck Kerry - this guy should be running for president, this is the type of man America needs right now. I called my girlfriend at the time into the room and made her watch it - i needed to validate the idea that I had indeed perceived something real, something heartfelt and true - coming from a politician. She was moved, as were my parents a few days later, and over the next several weeks, i would tell more and more people.

That November, while Kerry lost the presidency and we were all shocked that 51% of this nation could re-elect W, Barack Obama won his Senate race in a landslide. That christmas, my parents gave me his autobiography, Dreams from my Father and after reading it i swooned at the idea of a man like this as president - but was also convinced that this was a reality that would never, ever happen.

During the democratic primary, i felt trapped between friends i knew who were too cynical to care and others who felt that a good democrat should go for Hillary Clinton. It was a personal affirmation for me, knowing that before i was a democrat or a republican, liberal or conservative, i was a progressive - and the progressive candidate was Barack Obama. Each month that primary dragged on, i felt more sure that he wasn't going to win, that they would run a 3 party election before the old guard Clintonista camp allowed him to take the nomination. But it seems as if the bright, new campaign for Change was resonating too loudly against the forces of old. Up next, John McCain and Sarah Palin. Surely lies, deceit and manipulation would win again.



But he won. Yes We Did. Mr. President Barack Obama. This campaign of change will now need to evolve into administration of progress. An entire generation of people were doomed to grow under a dark shadow in the 'new post 9/11 world', maybe now we've given them some light instead, and a hope that better things are coming tomorrow.