Jet Li Hottie Blog
After seeing House of Flying Daggers last month, i finally saw Hero. All in all Yimou Zhang just rox. HoFD is purty, fer sure, and therez no doubt that Takeshi Kaneshiro is a hottie, but Hero is just brilliant and by far a better movie.
Still, I bet Jet Li could totally kick pretty boy Takeshi's ass anytime.
A warrior's ultimate act is to lay down his sword
Span of Control
I am sure i would have felt a lot more rested and ready for work this morning if i hadn't spent my last REM cycle dreaming i was already there. By the time i woke up, i was just wrapping up a non-productive conference call, trying to assign action items. My first waking thought was "Damn! i guess i will have to email them their action items."
It's bad enough when you don't get to finish tasks in real life. But it's really a bitch when you're sleeping.
Barbarian d'Asti
So, Friday nite (knowing the Sat/Sun blizzard would pretty much shut my wknd down), i met up with dear Victoria at Caffe Taci's new home in the Washington Square Area. Many of the regulars are still faithfully in attendance, despite the relo from 110th street - but i guess it really is the still only place you can get real on-demand opera arias along with serious italiana rustica fare. We split the rabbit, with handmade fetticini. And although the wine list is reduced during the move, H. the bartendress pulled out a phat 2001 Barbera d'Asti for us.
And i always love the people i run into at Taci - knowing a couple of the baritones and tenors through Victoria certainly helps - but for the most part they are amazingly intellectual while still warm people. Let me confess that I only really know the top 40 Opera hits. Toreador, Solo Mio and all that. But even the more complicated arias are accessible when sung in the Taci atmosphere, and even if you don't know a mezzo-soprano from your elbow, you can still tell when someone is singing well.
So anyways, the V-ster, as always, was introducing me to various patrons et patrones as the evening wore on. And at one point, referring to the gentleman to our right at the bar, whispered in my ear, "And of everyone i know, you might actually be smart enough to get him." Er, not on my agenda, i laughed, i dont have time in my life for more than i got going on.
Still, as he struck up conversation, i was polite and civil. But when he announced that "Newton was wrong about gravity", well that got my attention. It seemed we were heading into String Theory territory, and of course, i couldn't pass that up. Thirty minutes later into the conversation i was convinced that he was on the up-and-up, and furthermore, i was learning a few things. So far so good.
Another bottle of Barbera.
And then, somehow things wandered into metaphysics. Now we were on my turf. In all likelihood, i took the conversation there. I can't help it. Hell, you can't call it a 'theory of everything' without implicating metaphysics. And while i had patiently (in fact, excitedly) listened through his physics references and proofs, he was non-plussed with my Philosophy references. Even Kuhn wasn't relevant he stated, but proferred no evidence. I noted that he seemed rather stoicly empiricist. And mentioned that using an empiricist perspective was very likely exactly how "Newton got it wrong".
Finishing off the Barbera.
Strangely, now, the conversation becomes focused on how women think differently than men. Now, I know i didn't take the conversation here - although i don't fully disagree (in a non-valued sense), i find such discussions are rarely productive when had with intellectually hostile men after two bottles of Barbera.
So of course, i go gestalt on his ass. So, you weren't close to your mother, then, were you?
I wasn't close to either my mother or my father he counters. I laugh. Regardless, what exactly do you need to prove to me - to anyone, and why? I ask. I don't have to prove anything to you or anyone, he huffed. I put my hand on his shoulder, visibly startling him.
So it would seem, I said... except to yourself, maybe.
The Fuck You Fund
I first heard of the "fuck you fund" from Orley. He was waiting bar in midtown, right after nine-eleven and right before everyonez lives caved in. Things were shit in midtown - Broadway not selling and whatnot, seriously impacted his income, not to mention the fact that the bar changed ownership and was becoming a bitch to live with...
What the hell is a Fuck You Fund?!? i asked.
Itz a decent pool of money, he said - that i've saved aside from savings - it allows me to make better decisions, allows me to say "FUCK YOU" to any job or activity i just don't wanna do. Itz different from retirement or "buffer" - itz specifically for that three or four months you need when society asks too fucking much from you - and you realize you're off track - the FUF lets you pay the rent and bills without prostituting yourself....
Wise old Orley had that shit right. Itz different from retirement or savings - itz operational - an inline
application for those frikt up positions we all can end up in no matter
how many letters we have after our names...
I have started on my FUF. No matter how much i love my co. - we're growing still... anything can happen. And well, i still
will ever only
work
for
myself.
The FUF is now at 5K. It wont truly be a FUCK YOU fund until itz near 20-K with the price of shit here.. but give me a couple mos...
Cruel Unusual
Itz firpin thirteen degrees right now. Itz frikkin 7:23am. I hate you katie couric. The last thing i needed to know right now is that the Hudson is showing signs of freezing over upstream. I am sure that will be all i can think about while i am waiting for the bus this morning.
And screw every single one of you weathermen, too. Using cutesy names like "Alberta Clipper" isn't fun for anyone but you.
Retirement Options
Our firm is now large enough to have a 401K plan. The official enrollment was this week, replete with a snazzy little workbook wherein you can estimate just how much you need to save and the best approach to balance your portfolio in order to not have to live on the street or eat dogfood when your 65.
Teammate: I did that first worksheet and it says that basically i can't retire until i am 80.
Pwylla: Yikes. Well, i am so far behind, i think my only hope of making my money last would be to retire to a third world country. Like Nicaragua.
Teammate: Yeah, my only hope is to die before i am 80.
Pwylla: Shit, I didn't plan on living this long. I'd really planned on checking out by age 25. I've been completely plan-less for the entire last decade.
Teammate: Did you really plan on dying by the age of 25?
Pwylla: Yes, i actually did. But i was having fun, so i stuck around. Still - as soon as you all stop amusing me, i'm fucking outa here.
Teammate: (laughs)
Pwylla: I'm serious.
Teammate: What are you gonna do - one day just step in front of a bus?!?
Pwylla: Itz an option.
The Art of Low Expectations
I had a plethora of exciting plans for today. I was gonna: do some personal shopping, watch a couple of netflix, clean and order my home office, read some of the three books currently in my queue, do some work-related research, move some files around on the home network, pay some bills, play around on the internet, and write.
Of course, that was before i slept until 2pm. And now a darwinian process of natural selection comes into play, and i am pretty much just watching to see which, if any, of these great plans wins out over my current desire to just sit and veg. But you know what? I am so not troubled by any of this.
Conversation with Teammate Last Friday
Teammate: So do you have any big plans for the weekend?
Pwylla: Well, i think am going to do laundry.
Teammate: But don't you send your laundry out to be done?
Pwylla: Yes, but it will take me all weekend to do that.
Teammate: It takes you all weekend to call them to come pick up your laundry?!?
Pwylla: No, that part only takes a few seconds. Itz the getting around to it part that takes me all weekend.
Semi-Automatic Coffee Making
If i prep my stovetop coffee maker the night before, i can roll out of bed when the alarm goes off the next morning, turn the oven burner to "5", and then get two snooze cycles in before the coffee burns or boils over.
In all, i think itz about 8 extra minutes of half-catatonic rest that i am able to squeeze into my schedule this way, but lemme tell you, i need every extra bit of hypnogogic stupor that i can get.