So, it was an exciting weekend of apple-picking and catching up on paperwork. We didn't really do much on Saturday, which was really nice since I was so tired of doing stuff. on Sunday we went to Masker's Orchard to pick apples with the whole family. It is surprisingly tiring, considering we weren't picking thousands of apples. Just walking around can really take it out of you sometimes.
Anyway, the main thing that happened this weekend was that I saw Being John Malkovich again, for the first time since I saw it in theaters. Way back when I saw it, I remember thinking that it was the most original movie that I had ever seen. It really was. It still is. But I do not wish for it anymore. The DVD had been on my list for the longest time, but seeing the movie again made me wonder why it was there. It isn't there anymore. While I still think it is a good movie, I don't think I want to own it.
The other thing is that my god-daughter started trying to say my name, which is really exciting. She's going the same route my sister Diane did when she first started talking. She's calling me "Mop."
All right, I guess I'll go on a little bit about Paul Auster last night since my two companions, Kate and Tony, have already done so. It sucked. To a packed auditorium, the author read the first chapter of his most recent novel, which was on sale in the Hall of Mirrors outside. That might have been interesting, but it wasn't. It went on and on until it felt like freshman year Western Civ. No banter. No smiles. We eventually got in line to get stuff signed and, although he signed it, I came away so disappointed.
How could you be so mean to your fans, Mr. Auster?
It was a little bit like when I saw that documentary on Paul Simon. I'm no huge fan, but it was the music of my childhood. Watching the documentary, it doesn't take long to see how much of an egomaniac this guy is. It was repulsive and put me off of him for life. He wrote some really good songs, but I don't love them the way I used to love them.
Now, I never felt that Paul Auster was an amazing author. He's good at his thing, which is writing simplistically and putting in all sorts of strange coincidences. There is great talent in that, of course. But, I always have an empty feeling after reading one of his stories. I come out the exact same person as I walked in. I am not changed and I have not had any new thoughts. It was simply a way to pass the time. I'll probably read his latest book, since he's read half of it to me already, but I'm not sure it will go much further than that.
But what should he care about disappointing his fans, he just depends on them to make a living.
Oh, and I forgot to mention my extra-special welcome from Eddie. Thanks Eddie. You give good hugs. And thank you for that wedding gift. We are SO excited, you can't even believe it.
When I wash dishes I always think of Rose Murphy. I think of her because when I was visiting her one time, we made some food and she washed the dishes. She filled the sink about half-way with soap and water instead of having the water constantly running. I often think about the drawbacks and benefits of the two methods.
I have been giving a little thought to blogging this weekend. I was thinking about how blogs are like journals, but journals that you post to the world. I have been thinking about how people sometimes use them to tell others how they really feel, without having to actually tell them how they feel. I was thinking about whether or not it was really that interesting to read about someone's day-to-day thoughts. And I was thinking about the narcissistic nature of the whole thing. It really nearly makes me sick.
So, do we blog to get things off our chests? Are we trying to entertain others? Do we think we are funny? Are we trying to keep our friends updated with our lives?
After posing all these questions, I think I figured out that I write to get things out of my head and to let people know a little bit about what I've been doing. I'm not really into it.
Actually, one of the biggest reasons I keep posting is because I feel like I'm building something. I'm building a long story of the stupid things that pop into my mind. It's probably one of the longest things I've ever written. If I keep at it for a year or two I'll have more useless thoughts then I could ever have imagined. And what's better than that really?
So, I'm going to see Paul Auster tonight. That should be fun. This weekend we saw "Spirited Away", had some drinks at Tosca's (in the Bronx), slept, ate Dim Sum with Kevin and Maxine (although Kevin rode around in a car looking for a parking spot for most of the time we were there), saw "Igby Goes Down", went shopping at the Virgin Megastore on 14th Street, ate dinner at Home (the restaurant), went to see Tony's show, went bowling, slept, ate at the not-so-good diner, watched "Say Anything" on DVD, went to a wake, waited in front of my cousin's house until they got home (hey, we didn't call to tell them we were coming, we just assumed they'd be home), and watched The Sopranos.
Consider yourself updated and entertained.
Still at work. Waiting for Kate to pick me up so we can go to dinner. The dinner followed by a movie, with friends. Ran out of steam for work-related projects. I have free reign of the Internet and yet I am pretty bored. Nothing to do except create some web content myself. Interesting. Probably not.
All of a sudden I would like it to be autumn. The leaves and sweaters and the cool weather. I was expecting cool weather when I got back from PR. I know I'll regret saying that after two days of cold weather, but I'm ready for the season to change already. It's been summer forever.
So, I'm back from Puerto Rico, self-introspection, hurricane season, beautiful beachfront views, cute flight attendants, and running around like a headless chicken.
But I think we had some fun. We went to that Palace of Sin called Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, the sin in question being gluttony. We went to all my other favorite places, including the Italian place, of course. We even stopped by at Shannan's on a Wednesday night, no less, but Kate wasn't feeling so well (and I don't think she was quite as impressed by the lack of clothing and overabundance of cleavage as I was) so we left early, before the band even.
Then there was that great time where we got up early to go to Monkey Island with Las Tortuga Adventures and our tour guide never showed up. We made up for it by hanging out at El Conquistador to pass the time before our flight.
Now we're back at home, with that same kind of cramped feeling that we left with, but forgot about. I am so ready to move on to a place where we can buy a house with tons of room and spread out all our stuff all over the place. That would be really cool. Where that house will be, we don't know. When that will be, we also do not know. But a boy can dream, can't he?
No, don't get excited, it's not Marc, it's just me his friend Artie, taking advantage of his good nature and trust, and using his webpage for my own diabolical purposes. Apparently, they have not yet discovered the telephone, or internet hook-up in good 'ol Puerto Rico, because I haven't heard from them in weeks. But in the meantime, come visit my page:
Its full of all sorts of goodies that friends of Marc and Kate may find entertaining, but probably not as intellectually stimulating as what you're used to. Monday's update focuses on who I'd cast in a movie about my life (including your favorite recently married couple!). Remember thats:
Where the slogan is: "You give us 22 minutes...and you're spending way too much time on my site!"
-Artie