“We Fell Together”
Hanging from a branch, unaware you exist
I wink with the green freedom of a leaf.
Then, a force that I could not resist
Flung me loose and high as the massif.
And as I fluttered above the forest, I saw you.
I saw you tossing in the brute wind.
I saw you circling without tether.
I saw you plunging to timber’s din.
And when we fell, we fell together.
-Text by MSG, photo by Mr. Pinault
Posted in Culture.
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– September 17, 2007
At 4340 feet, Mount Osceola is the most dominant peak in the Waterville Valley range of the White Mountains. This may sound daunting, but the trail starts halfway to the top (vertically), making for a steady raise of 2025 feet over 3.5 miles. That’s a damn pleasant walk in the forest, albeit a rocky and muddy one.
Mount Osceola’s summit looks out over the east, giving a spectacular view of Waterville Valley. We sat and ate sandwiches with an ever-changing crowd of hikers and dogs. “How ya doing? Exceedingly good weather!” a woman said to me. Indeed, it was sunny and crisp, with the promise of autumn underscored by a slight coloring in the foliage. Some people were bundled in jackets, wool hats, and gloves, while others basked in t-shirts and shorts. Everyone seemed comfortable.
The picture below is on the summit looking north-east; in the distance are the middling mountains of the scenic Kancamagus Highway. We ventured onto Osceola’s north face so we could see the Presidential range, but the frigid wind from Canada repelled us. Not ready to freeze for a few more months…
Posted in 4000 Footers, Trips.
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– September 16, 2007
Posted in 4000 Footers.
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– September 16, 2007
Researchers have determined that women are innately better at shopping than men, leading to the conclusion that shopping is the modern-day gathering, which refers to “the primordial bargain of human hunter-gatherer societies, it is the men who do the hunting and the women who do the gathering.”
While I normally adore research that explains away our behavior with evolution, I am loath to equate foraging for nuts and berries with the consumeristic frenzy that pervades our every waking moment. However, it does explain the pleasing brain buzz that I get from rummaging through a bin of clothes at Filene’s Basement. (To my great dismay, the original Filene’s Basement is closed for 2 years for renovation).
Our males, the descendants of the hunters, are typically better at navigation, but this study found that women’s navigation skills were comparable if the end goal was a high-caloric food. Yes, it’s true. We will work for chocolate.
Posted in In the News.
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– September 14, 2007
Our neighbors seem like such nice people. I can’t understand why their wireless networks are named such vulgar things (see screenshot below).
I mean, “Selene.” How disgusting. Like I want to be reminded of the Greek goddess of the moon – that pagan whore – every time I look at the wireless.
Posted in Existence.
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– September 13, 2007
The issue is so hot, it’s scorching the glue off of Post-It easel pads in meetings of highly-developed Human Resource departments across the country. Savvy, slothful, and sloppy Generation Y is entering the workplace and clashing with the staid, stolid, solid Boomers. “What we’re finding is a lot of differences between the culture of the established company and this new crop of workers,” says one keen-eyed, brilliant HR professional. Differences lead to conflict, conflict leads to violence, and the next thing you know, you got sobbing 60-year olds trying to strangle near-naked 22-year olds with their antiquated mouse cords. And there goes the HR director’s annual bonus.
Manpower experts have determined key points of contention include appropriate dress, working habits, and general attitude. “Boomers respect authority; millennials question it,” says the article. Wait, didn’t boomers once define themselves by their youthful questioning of authority? Could this conflict simply be the normal result of old people and young people being placed in the same room? Isn’t the real problem that boomers no longer have relevant knowledge and skills for today’s marketplace, and hence lord their seniority over everyone’s heads while fiercely guarding their ignorance in order to preserve their livelihood?
I mean, come on. Everyone knows that the boomers created flex time in order to spend more time with their children, and the millennials are merely demanding their fair share of it so that they’re not stuck having to do all their Facebooking at the office while their manager is “working at home,” which really means buying a vacation home on Cape Cod.
(The article scarcely mentions Generation Xers like myself, but we’re the ones who are actually working.)
Posted in The 9 to 5.
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– September 13, 2007
Given the hurried pace of my new job, there is little time for leisurely web surfing breaks. To quell my raging inner newshound, I regularly scan the Google News front page, just to make sure I’m not missing the story of the century.
Today I pinged Google News and saw the headline “Putin Picks Surprise Nominee for PM” accompanied by a picture of Vladimir Putin and GW Bush shaking hands (see screenshot below). It suggested a wholly insane scenario: Putin asked Bush to be the Prime Minister of the Russian Federation!
And Bush accepted!
Well, why not? Is there anything specific in the US constitution that prohibits the US President from serving as the Russian Prime Minister?
Suddenly, everything is becoming clear. The Kennedy Assassination. Ronald Reagan and Gorbachev’s chumminess. The dissolution of the USSR. The poisoning of ex-spy Alexander Litvinenko. The ill-fated invasion of Iraq and subsequent impotency of the executive branch. Karl Rove’s resignation. It’s all been one big conspiracy theory to throw the United States under Communist control!
(I know… get back to work, Green…)
Posted in In the News.
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– September 12, 2007
After the September 11 attacks, the entire country grabbed a flag and waved it around in a profound display of shock and grief. But some people secretly had inappropriate reactions of selfishness, annoyance, indifference, excitement, even happiness. 5 years ago, on the first anniversary of 9/11, Salon.com published a fascinating compilation of people’s “forbidden thoughts”.
(Doesn’t “forbidden thoughts” sound so naughty? Like “Ohh, I couldn’t stop thinking how sexy Guiliani looked standing in the rubble, on all those dead bodies!”)
These are knee-jerk reactions to the attacks in the following hours and days. One woman was relieved to get out of work. Another hoped that enough Manhattanites had perished to snag a 212 phone number. Many felt racist or xenophobic thoughts, while others were thrilled to witness an event of historic proportions. “It was the most exciting day of my career in journalism,” said one reporter. A few people revealed themselves as heartless realists, like a woman who read memorial profiles of all the deceased and thought “Yeah right. Was everyone in the WTC a super amazing person? Someone who worked there must have been an asshole.”
My prevailing emotion at the time was panic for my own personal safety. (I watched way too much hysterical cable news.) Certainly millions of Americans felt terrified, but since I lived and worked in Boston, I reasoned that my fears were more justified than the Midwestern crazies who imagined fanatical Jihadists blowing up the local mall. And I never admitted this, but this fear for my life was exhilarating. Is that forbidden, or is that human?
Posted in In the News.
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– September 11, 2007
“Bernice Bobs Her Hair” is a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, published in 1922 in his first collection Flappers and Philosophers (though I recall reading it in a Best-Of anthology during a particularly solitary summer vacation many years ago.)
The catchy title is a clue: The story is not superbly crafted, expertly worded, or sublimely meaningful. It’s just deliciously entertaining and one of my favorite short stories of all time.
Fitzgerald’s enduring power comes from his talent for rendering characters that transcend his Roaring Twenties milieu. In “Bernice Bobs Her Hair,” awkward Bernice and her mean-girl cousin Marjorie are timeless teenagers, instantly recognizable in their preoccupations with dancing, boys, hairstyles, and conniving vengeance.
So, if you’re in the mood for some light literature, or if you want to prepare for the next resurgence of Flapper fashion, I recommend “Bernice Bobs Her Hair”, which can be read online here.
Posted in Culture.
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– September 10, 2007
The New England Patriots crashed the New York Jets 38-14 this afternoon at the Meadowlands. As you can imagine, my head almost exploded in jubilation at seeing preppy Chad Pennington vanquished on the field with an injured ankle. Poor, poor Chadwick.
It was the season opener for the Patriots as well as my television, which has sat dormant for the past 6 months except for some tennis matches and the occasional episode of Absolutely Fabulous (“My name is Patsy Stone, and I’m wearing thick pants.”)
Oh, Television, I profess to loath you and want you smashed, but you’re not that bad. It’s those beastly tagalongs, those commercials that I find morally noisome. Those blaring nuggets of pop culture that appeal to our most primitive instincts: Sex, status, high-caloric energy intake, inebriation, and hilarity over things like Oreo dessert pizza mustaches.
Yes, Oreo dessert pizza mustaches, the “hook” of a Dominos Pizza commercial that initially caught my attention because one of the characters is named Meredith. Which is grosser: The commercial, which features two characters (not Meredith) with mustaches of Oreo cookies… or the product itself, which is essentially chopped Oreos sealed onto a pizza crust by high fructose corn syrup? I’m glad someone found a way to restore Oreos to their demonic nutritional values since Nabisco scrubbed them of trans fats. And coming after a meal of sausage and pepperoni-packed pizza that you are encouraged to dip into sauce! I can actually hear America’s blood sugar spiking underneath all the uproarious laughter over the Oreo dessert pizza mustache.
See what I mean? Commercials are so distracting. Back to the football: Tom Brady is still my foxy Lord of the Pigskin. Randy Moss is a preternatural talent. Ellis Hobbs set a NFL record with a 108-yard kickoff return for a touchdown. And Coach Belichick got a new sweatshirt. The Patriots are so in the Super Bowl this year.
Posted in In the News.
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– September 9, 2007
