9/11
Six month anniversary. Headed to the roof with my trumpet, played Taps facing downtown. Read the Mourner’s Kaddish, a hebrew prayer of remembrance. Never forget.
one last liquor thought
“Extensive interviews show that not one alcoholic has ever actually seen a pink elephant.”
–Yale University, Center of Alcoholic Studies
explanatory notes
Regarding the previous post:
1. Organic chemistry, my boy. That will clear your titular confusion right up.
2. Context: NYU, at a party being held by my ex-girlfriend’s best friends, thereby explaining the need for heavy drinking.
3. Perhaps a more appropriate quote than Lincoln’s would have been:
“The devil made me do it the first time, and after that I did it on my own.”
–Robert Fulghum
4. Also on the topic of liquor and college women, Bobby and I head down to the Bahamas next weekend. Debaucheries will include: severe temulency and sorority girls gone wild.
5. In preparation for the trip, I’ve fallen back on the miracles of modern science: Twinlab’s E/C/A stack (Ripped Fuel). My body fat is at the lowest it’s been, largely due to preparation for an upcoming No Holds Barred tournament. Hopefully, this will help me drop to a Bruce Lee-esque 6% or so.
6. Anyone heading to GNC for some Ripped Fuel of their own would do well to cut the dosing in half. The lowered level has been demonstrated safe and effective (See Fuentes, Rosenberg & Davis, 1996; Allen & Hanburys, 1996) whereas Twinlab’s recommended dosage contains enough ephedrine to kill a small elephant.
CH3CH2OH
“It has been my experience that people who have no vices have very few virtues.”
–Abraham Lincoln
Yes, thats it. I only drink to become a better person. I’m building virtues, so this hangover is entirely worth it.
three notes about peeps
Easter is just around the corner, which means the time of Marshmallow Peeps is at hand. Not for me, as I’m Jewish and stay far, far away from those fluorescent little birds. But for many other people. Therefore, in a selfless show of great humanitarianism, I’m taking time from my busy schedule to share these three crucially important pieces of Peep information:
1. While the US budget for basic science research has plummeted in recent years, some enterprising young academics have managed to obtain private funding for research on science’s most important topics, such as Marshmallow Peeps. A compendium of their Peep findings has carefully been collected on the web.
2. Balancing science with art is an indication of human intelligence expressed at the highest level. Therefore, sites such as this careful literary analysis of Marshmallow Peeps can enhance our understanding of the Peep phenomenon. Sadly, unlike the relatively optimistic scientific findings, this analysis seems to imply that Peeps may be, as foreshadowed by Yeats, harbingers of doom for the human race.
3. Two years ago, for Halloween, one of my coworkers seized upon the idea of taping Peeps to his clothing, thereby dressing as a ‘chick magnet.’ Sadly, Peeps are only produced during the Easter season, and he was forced to use marshmallow black cats instead. (Nota bene: While most women find the Peeps idea cute, they are not similarly amused by a ‘pussy magnet’ costume).
regarding sappy garbage
Don’t worry, boys and girls. My momentarily earnest previous posting wasn’t a sign of my heart, Grinch-like, growing two sizes bigger. Rather, the cantankerous vitriol remains, momentarily overwhelmed by lack of sleep and bright, cheerful lighting. Anyone looking for more such hackneyed ‘Chicken Soup’ had best back-button before they get in too deep.
cliche #468
In conversations over the last week, I’ve been shocked to discover how many of my friends hate their jobs. And I don’t mean vaguely dislike. I mean hate. With a passion.
A small percentage, however, are thrilled with what they’re doing. By and large, those happy few actually have worse jobs than the unhappy ones. Lower pay, less respect, more grunt work. The difference, it seems, is that my happy friends have a sense of where they want to be and how their job is a step in the right direction.
One happy friend, for example, recently realized that his dream in life was to become a restaurateur. Problematically, his experience in the field was mainly limited to occasionally eating out. He left a cushy investment banking job and is now working as a backup maitre d’ and glorified busboy. His hours are terrible and his pay a small fraction of what he made before. But he’s thrilled.
The rest of my happy friends fit the same mold: they’ve spent serious time soul-searching, achieved some initial clarity to their dreams, and taken concrete (if perhaps trivial ) action.
Tritely enough, they’ve followed their hearts. It’s clich
starfish leadership
Today, in my pile of incoming junk mail, I noticed a ‘leadership skills’ newsletter featuring the oft-told story of the starfish-saving boy. For the sake of those spared years of ‘professional development’ seminars, the story in a nutshell:
Man walks onto the beach and notices a storm has washed ashore thousands of starfish. A boy is on the beach, picking up the starfish one at a time and hurling them back into the water. “There are too many starfish,” says the man. “You’ll never make a difference.” Boy throws another starfish, then replies “it made a difference for that one.”
Thrillingly inspirational, I know. And repeated perseveratively in leadership courses the world over. Frankly, though, I think the story sucks. It doesn’t demonstrate leadership at all; it demonstrates the shortfall of good intentions without innovation and organization. A real leader wouldn’t be standing on the beach chucking starfish. He’d be at the local diner, pulling people from their breakfasts and directing them to the beach, getting enough tossers involved to save every last echinoderm.
Of course, a real innovator would save himself and the breakfasters a bunch of effort. He’d rent a bulldozer and drive down the beach, rescuing all the starfish in one fell scoop.
in good company
What an egotistical bastard, you’re thinking. True. But I’m in good company; after all, I’m a trumpet player. A few quotes to illustrate:
“We grow up hearing that trumpeters blew down the walls of Jericho, that Gabriel’s trumpet announces the will of God, and that the largest, and hippest, of all animals, the elephant, has a trunk mostly for trumpeting. These grandiose images shape the classic trumpet persona: brash, impetuous, cocky, cool, in command. Anyone who has ever played in a band knows that if the conductor stops rehearsal because a fight breaks out, if somebody takes your girlfriend, if someone challenges every executive decision no matter how trivial, it’s got to be a trumpet player. That’s just how we are.”
— Wynton Marsalis
“[Trumpeters] don’t want to wear black tie; they want to wear capes and swords and tassels; they want to play as loud as they can and see mallards drop from the ceiling.”
— Garrison Keillor
Ah, you’re thinking. This explains so much.
tooting my own horn
Last night’s concert with the Center Symphony went well. Very well. Nailed the solos in Fine’s Diversions and laid down the principal trumpet part of Dvorak’s thunderous 6th Symphony. I’d like to thank the Academy…