I apologize for being out of touch for awhile. However, I have been accumulating random thoughts and ideas for this space, and today I decided to just put fingers to the keyboard and eyes on the screen to hammer them into some sort of coherency.
First of all, drunk astronauts. I was completely amused by the shocking (gasp!) story about astronauts going up into space drunk. Then again, if I was sitting on top of that much liquid oxygen and combustible fuel, I would be a wee bit tipsy too.
Still, astronauts are living the whole space dream, but maybe there's a bit of a let down. What do astronauts really do these days? Go up and fix the space station. Go up and launch a satellite. Yawn. Same old earth stuff. No strange new worlds, new life, or new civilizations or ladies painted green.
Speaking of drinking, word recently reached me that Rocky Sullivans on Lexington between 28th and 29th streets is no more and will reopen in Red Hook. Even though I hadn't set foot inside Rockys for years and remember it as a smoky hole-in-the-wall bar with good beer, I can't help thinking that my New York (everyone has a New York by the way) is rolling away in the brown water of the East River. Nothing left to do but settle down, sober up, and make babies.
Wait, I didn't mean that. I was being melodramatic. Sorry. I hear they're actually going to serve food at the Red Hook place. Food! Our food at Rockys use to be tins of Pringles bought from the corner deli, and we liked it, darn it.
I was up in San Francisco last week for a mini break and made a trip to the Muir Woods, the national park where the Redwood Trees are. Redwoods grow in a circle, so they can support each other. As I stared up the trunks of these giant trees, I found myself not feeling awe or amazement at their endurance and size. Rather, I found myself hoping that the little bird up there would not shit in my eye. It didn't.
This past weekend, I went hiking in the Cleveland National Forest which burned back in 2003. The underbrush next to the trail had grown to about six feet high and was bright green. Occasionally, I could hear the little animals scurrying around in the bushes. It was a little unnerving.
Hillary Clinton recently got some press coverage for wearing a V-neck top in the Senate. Yes, Mrs. Clinton showed two millimeters of cleavage. Damn, she almost foiled the great female plan. Yes, there's a whole cleavage conspiracy.
Do I risk revealing the cleavage conspiracy? If I do, I will never be allowed to appear on Oprah. Okay, I can deal. Here it is: Women want to rule the world, and we are slowly and methodically working to make that happen. Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears–-they're just pawns and minor distractions. I can't go into depth about the cleavage conspiracy and how the female gender will achieve world domination, but it is in motion. The cleavage is a sign.
Moving on from cleavage to hair, I was talking with a female friend recently. She was feeling stressed and started listing all the stuff she had to do.
‘And I need to wash my hair!' was the last thing on her list.
‘Well, I think you should wash your hair first. That will make you feel so much better.' I said, and I believed what I said. I had just washed my hair that morning and was having a good day.