Thursday, July 31, 2008

Tally. Ho! Artists and Copywriters on Math™

It all started when Andrew got the ball rolling last night and afterwards I couldn't get it off my mind. I spent most of this morning fantasizing about calling up my Intellectual Property attorney and telling him that I want to get a business process patent for "Math." Not old arithmetic, mind you, but New Math.

First thing my IP lawyer will ask if we created "Math" less then a year ago because you have to file within a year. Absolutely, yes. It's fresh. It's shiny as a polished multiplication table. As far as you're concerned anyway.

Then the lawyer will ask if every time we've used our "Math" we've noted that it is our proprietary methodology. Oh certainly. Math.™ ©2008. For sure, every time any kind of numeral sniffs around any other numeral for any purpose whatsoever.

Ok, the lawyer will say, can you describe the functionality that your Math offers. Snort. Of course. Anyone can see it's so obviously revolutionary.

Then I will patiently explain that the next-generation Math we employ is relatively incomprehensible to Old Math practitioners. For example, in our style Math, six to the sixth power could be anything between 36 and several hundred, depending on how many people are involved in figuring out the answer and whether it is before or after 10am.

In New Math, the answer to any problem, from your basic addition/subtraction to trigonometric function action, can be determined vis-a-vis lengthy heated conversations and people crawling around on the conference room table. Snacking can speed progress. Everybody needs a pencil sharpened just perfectly and a lot of time and energy is exerted in this area.

At the end of the maximum length of time that think-tank participants can possibly take it, someone decides what the answer is. Or what the answers are. In New Math™ sometimes there is more than one answer. I mean, one answer is good and all, but more is better. If you have more than one answer, then you can give a rotating answer every time you get asked the question. Based on the reaction you get, you can adjust your response the next time. Or maybe decide to use particular answers with certain demographics or in certain situations, as deemed appropriate.

I'm thinking we charge a modest licensing fee if anybody wants to deploy our methodology. It'll be closed-source because we're money grubbers. And also because the complete lack of repeatable process makes any sort of interfacing mostly unattainable. We will offer Certifications in Math.™ Could be the math of choice for investment bankers and sub-prime lender types, I'm thinking.

Dig it, Digit?

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Flea Market Ahoy!

The real problem is the general public’s inability to deal with the hazards of flea market culture. That’s why most go retail. But for me, there’s nothing like the thrill of wondering if must-have rubberized binoculars are covered in some kind of dramatic and dangerous fungus.

My fleamanship circumference extends from West 17th north to 25th. Sometimes I take the free shuttle to the Hell’s Kitchen market but Deborah the ex-glass blower has a booth on the corner up there and man can she talk a blue streak. Plus she tries to sell me repurposed safari gear that’s like the household goods equivalent of a comb-over.

Personally, I think the famous Antique Garage on West 25th is overpriced. But it’s a good shortcut to the Goodwill flagship store if you go in on the south side. Then you can stroll over to the open-air market down the street. You can wheel your Smarte Carte right over everybody’s feet on 6th Avenue. It doesn’t bother the tourists because they all wear adequately padded leather sneakers but the omnipresent flip-flopping New Yorkers sure get pissed off. Whatever. (One time I saw a chick in flip-flops sideswipe a piece of stray birthday cake on the sidewalk and icing oozed up between her toes. The horror of it all turned me anti-flip-flop.)

My rule of thumb is to offer 75% of the asking price after a long pause where I do the math in my head. If you offer less, you might get yelled at. I took a big chance the other day when I offered $5 for a pair of faux leopard skin loafers. I didn’t realize how big a chance until later on when I witnessed the same vendor turn tomato red and burn out his larynx screaming at a guy for offering a purported ridiculously paltry sum for a box of buttons.

Today, I scored two mid-century sofa tables, 6 African silver thingies, and a string of green glass beads (the big ones). Plus the dishes from the Boonton Auction, but that's a whole other tale.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

The Ink Problem

I had this enormous tattoo. A full back plate depicting some swarthy military hero in a pith helmet and a colonial jacket. A banner fluttered out under him that read "Viva la Columbia."

Shit. I never saw the "Viva la Columbia" in the tattoo book when I picked it out because there was a smear on the page. I don't have any family from Columbia. I never lived in Columbia. It would be weird to get a tattoo in commemoration of a country because they export a decent coffee bean. I could not wrap my head around how to justify this tattoo.

Thank God it was only a dream.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Sofa Tour 2008

We concluded The Sofa Tour yesterday. The journey had stretched on endlessly, but we persevered. We knew the meaning of privations and of hardships. We looked at every sleeper sofa in this entire city. The very last one we saw. Was the One.

Participating in the victory celebration was Kirstie Alley. No, she really didn’t participate in the victory celebration. She just happened to be in the store at the exact same time that the Farewell-to-the-Sofa-Tour credit card transaction went down. Truthfully, she couldn’t have seemed less interested in our triumph.

Nonetheless, we did view the appearance of Rebecca Howe mid-Sofa purchase as an auspicious sighting. The next leg of our journey, The Sofa In Situ, bodes well.



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Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Tom on Tour De France Logistical Considerations

21 days. 10 guys on a team. summer. Wow.

That's a lot of laundry. They probably have a washing machine on the team bus.


Sunday, July 13, 2008

清少納言 Things that are Loathsome

When someone has wrapped their entire body around a pole in a crowded subway train and someone else coughs to indicate their annoyance. How loathsome. If a person is sufficiently clueless to body block all the other strap hangers, then hacking up a lung nearby will only communicate you have a tenuous grasp on the purpose of language.


When you share a moment with someone who exists five seconds in the future, she will always finish your sentences for you. When she realizes she’s skittered too far ahead and can’t see you behind her, she frantically gropes backwards through the darkness of time to find you. She jitters wildly between her moment and yours. It is exhausting to be around her.

When you share a moment with someone who lives inside her own mind, for her, the moment is like a dream. When you dream, no matter what anyone does, it is done for you or against you. When you dream, your perception becomes a reality in which you are the only driving force. When you dream, your reactions are always dramatic because you’re the star of your own daytime REM talkie movie.

When you share a moment with someone who lives in the past, his eyes roll back in his head as he recalls the time when this moment transpired. He will tell you with certainty that your plan won’t work or you’ll blow out your knee. Or he will tell you the long and winding story about the time when it happened. Nothing important occurs in the present, everything meaningful has already finished.


It is loathsome when you only realize the price was negotiable after you bought it.


You managed to get tickets for the third row and have just seen a magnificent show at Lincoln Center. The clean light memory of the experience fills you up like helium and holds you aloft. It is loathsome when some nebbish who got in for free complains the show ended so shortly after his late arrival and he thought it should have gone on for another hour so he could have seen more.

Sunday, July 06, 2008

Local Housecat Spends Holiday Weekend at Home

In a surprise move, local housecat, Alexander T. Nash, forewent the opportunity to spend the long weekend in the city. He cited a need to curb the recent surge of lawless chipmunk activity on and about the left perimeter sidewalk area.

Nash, 5, said, "Someone's got to do it [sweep the property of rodents.] These striped lawn monkeys are no petty foe to toy with."

He further noted, "Besides, why would I want to be seen with a person who actually forgot to pack ANY clothing and walked around Chelsea for three days in a sweaty green Gygax-era dungeons and dragons T-shirt? So 'Lost' reject. I don't understand how it is possible not to realize you are hauling a TravelPro with nothing in it but a couple magazines and a pair of brown socks."

Asked if his three days guerilla solo had produced results, Nash commented that he had tirelessly prowled around for a minimum of 2-2.5 hours daily. He did take a short break to watch the Macy's Independence Day fireworks on NBC.

"Despite the pyrotechnics being the biggest and most spectacular in the world, everybody knows you can't see anything but the FDR elevated highway if you spectate outside in the rain like some people I know."

Friday, July 04, 2008

How We Knew It Was Gay Pride Week

1) Our waiter had on a rainbow colored T-Shirt with "I had a bowl of bitchy this morning" printed really big on the front.
2) He was also wearing a matching skirt.
3) He greeted Tom and me as follows: "Hello, ladies."

Pad Thai in Chelsea, 8th Ave at 16th St.