Current mood: I Hate Clones, GO AWAY!!!
Two days ago I walked from the Pit in Harvard Square to the Harvard Book Store three blocks away. Walking to the book store, I encountered the usual summer weirdos, the kind I love--drunken poets talking in rhyme, ex-military types stoned out of their minds, the street booksellers with the dog and cat fairly comfy in a rear bike tote, Asian girls looking for grungy Reggae musicians to spice up their lives, and then the usual assorted sundry of tourists, locals and students. But the weirdos were, thankfully, clearly present, and not outnumbered by the dullards.
It took maybe 15 minutes in the bookstore to find the book I wanted (a breezy summer mystery with a female protagonist, perfect for the beach). I paid for the book (only $4 from the used book section in the basement) and walked out the door. I headed back toward the Pit.
I suddenly felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Had I been abducted by extraterrestrials? Or was I experiencing some kind of Cambridge flashback? In the space of a short 15 minutes, it seemed that the CLONES had landed, en masse. As I forced one foot in front of the other, wave after nauseating wave of CLONE people streamed past me, where only a handful had been just minutes earlier. Denizens of the Village of the Damned, all blank stares and stiff movements, inhabiting the sidewalks, cafes and streets, overwhelming all the weirdo summer energy with empty repressed rage, bringing all life to absolute zero. WTF???
The Clones are the soulless occupiers of space, lacking personality or joy or sharp edges, having been smoothed to smithereens by a forced education, adherence to the party line, bland vacations to theme parks, too many video games, too much Fox News, too many nannies, too much CONTROL, no crazy spontaneity, no LOVE.
Suddenly the Square was overrun with these nightmarish figures. A very perceptive person I know once said, "The strange thing about Harvard Square area is that you can see that the people are physically there, but they SEEM completely absent." She was right on. And it is totally creepy. Makes you want to shake someone, "Hey YOU!!! Are you home in there? Where ARE YOU??? WAKE UP!!!"
But I'm pretty sure if I ever tried that, the clone would think I was nuts, on drugs, or worse. Clones don't understand beings outside their own limited sphere, and even WITHIN their sphere, they haven't a clue. But they don't care.
These clones are cold, cruel, rude, self-centered, dull, privileged, mostly very very wealthy, the children of the corporate elite. I have actually seen these clones step over an old man passed out on the sidewalk without bothering to check if he was dead or alive. I have seen these clones chastise a homeless person "Get a job, you lazy bum!" I have seen the mother of one of these clones, herself a senior clone, laugh at the Asian man who plays his special violin in the square, laugh because he is different, seems a bit strange, someone not totally cloned, and so, a total threat to her world view.
Go AWAY clones!!! You are messing up my life and our world, and I DON'T like it!!! Go live in the jungle for awhile, or get your heart broken in a sordid affair, or live with a dozen cats and hoard lightbulb boxes, give all your money to charity and sail around the world, go to Iraq and visit a family with a child missing limbs blown off by Dick Cheney and his friends in their search for MORE oil for the company YOU invest in, ANYTHING to get your REAL self BACK into your body. It's got to be there SOMEWHERE. Maybe then you will find your heart, and get off this insane greed and power treadmill you run on every day of your sad horrible life--the deadly treadmill that is turning you into a life-sucking vampire clone.
Yes I am that optimistic. Or foolish. I have hope, against all odds, and despite many tears shed, that even insanely wealthy vampire clones can come back to life. And heal. And begin to help HEAL this earth. Yep. I believe in magic.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Saturday Night Impressions, Harvard Square Again
Roger Nicholson again playing his sad songs, this time in the Pit. People sit and listen, and actually applaud. As the night wears on it gets crazy (I leave and then come back again later). A group of shirtless drunken frat boys are yelping and shouting. There is a full moon, so maybe that explains it. But actually Roger has fewer problems with this insanity than some rockers I know. I believe this may be due to the low-key plaintive nature of his music...but Roger claims its because he "has done this a lot" and knows how to handle people.
Peter the automaton guitarist has his sound turned up WAAAYY past 80 db. Where is that monitor when you need them? Roger says he plans to play in the Pit a lot more often, which no doubt means Peter will be blasting his music a lot more often too. And as I have said before, I really HATE Peter's automaton playing. Thankfully, I'm not the only one. The other day, a guy was yelling out "YOU SUCK!!! PLAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR ONCE!" I went to talk to the guy and no, he wasn't drunk. He was trying to do some work on his computer and he just hates the automaton guitar stuff too.
I chat with a couple. She is second generation Pakistani from Ontario, Canada, and he is a blond, sharp-eyed MIT researcher from Australia. They seem nice together, affectionate and respectful. I think maybe a pretty good couple, for once. But...they love the Ryan Adams song about "screw all my friends behind my back, with a smile on your face" and look lovingly at one another as Roger sings it. It occurs to me, "Maybe this will be their First Dance song at the wedding?" That would be hilarious!
Several students next to me are talking loudly. "Well, she said it was the BEST SEX she ever had!" The Ontario woman, a young researcher, throws a piercing glance their way, and suddenly they are completely befuddled. I am impressed by that piercing glance. I'm going to practice it. And use it whenever appropriate.
Once again, I don't like my new roommate. What else is new. I accepted him sight unseen, in the middle of dealing with a sick cat and another roommate I absolutely hated. This guy too is German, and he speaks in such a clipped aggressive way. I KNOW all Germans don't speak this way, do they? I mean, Heidi Klum doesn't speak in such a clipped aggressive manner, although maybe she does, in German.
Because I don't like him I didn't sleep so well, which puts me in not the best mood, and I hate that. So I guess I will kick him out, sooner than I thought. Boring boring boring.
I went to Singing Beach again, and it was SO foggy that the fog was blowing in off the water like clouds across a mountain. It was SO BEAUTIFUL!!! But not too warm. So after an hour I went to check out the arts fair in Manchester. One Man, B.Art (Bart) from Gloucester makes the most AMAZING and fun sculptures. Funny creatures, all of whom seem to be dancing, which makes sense, since he was a dancer and choreographer in another chapter of his life. If I had $350 to spare I would definitely buy one. A REAL artist, pretty hard to find these days.
Good night!!! I need to win the lottery!!! Come on people!!! Send me some numbers!!! I will accept them in my sleep!
Peter the automaton guitarist has his sound turned up WAAAYY past 80 db. Where is that monitor when you need them? Roger says he plans to play in the Pit a lot more often, which no doubt means Peter will be blasting his music a lot more often too. And as I have said before, I really HATE Peter's automaton playing. Thankfully, I'm not the only one. The other day, a guy was yelling out "YOU SUCK!!! PLAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR ONCE!" I went to talk to the guy and no, he wasn't drunk. He was trying to do some work on his computer and he just hates the automaton guitar stuff too.
I chat with a couple. She is second generation Pakistani from Ontario, Canada, and he is a blond, sharp-eyed MIT researcher from Australia. They seem nice together, affectionate and respectful. I think maybe a pretty good couple, for once. But...they love the Ryan Adams song about "screw all my friends behind my back, with a smile on your face" and look lovingly at one another as Roger sings it. It occurs to me, "Maybe this will be their First Dance song at the wedding?" That would be hilarious!
Several students next to me are talking loudly. "Well, she said it was the BEST SEX she ever had!" The Ontario woman, a young researcher, throws a piercing glance their way, and suddenly they are completely befuddled. I am impressed by that piercing glance. I'm going to practice it. And use it whenever appropriate.
Once again, I don't like my new roommate. What else is new. I accepted him sight unseen, in the middle of dealing with a sick cat and another roommate I absolutely hated. This guy too is German, and he speaks in such a clipped aggressive way. I KNOW all Germans don't speak this way, do they? I mean, Heidi Klum doesn't speak in such a clipped aggressive manner, although maybe she does, in German.
Because I don't like him I didn't sleep so well, which puts me in not the best mood, and I hate that. So I guess I will kick him out, sooner than I thought. Boring boring boring.
I went to Singing Beach again, and it was SO foggy that the fog was blowing in off the water like clouds across a mountain. It was SO BEAUTIFUL!!! But not too warm. So after an hour I went to check out the arts fair in Manchester. One Man, B.Art (Bart) from Gloucester makes the most AMAZING and fun sculptures. Funny creatures, all of whom seem to be dancing, which makes sense, since he was a dancer and choreographer in another chapter of his life. If I had $350 to spare I would definitely buy one. A REAL artist, pretty hard to find these days.
Good night!!! I need to win the lottery!!! Come on people!!! Send me some numbers!!! I will accept them in my sleep!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
The Unhappy Rich People of Harvard Square
Today I took the commuter rail to Singing Beach, my favorite beach in Massachusetts. Even when it is hot and a little crowded, like today, I still love it. I body surf and play in the waves and most of the grown-ups look on, befuddled, but a little girl being held by her grandma laughs joyously every time I dive into the surf, so I know I am on the right track. One man my age watches me dive in over and over again, and finally, tentatively, dives into the waves along with his 10 year old daughter. When he surfaces he looks really surprised, like, "Wow, what did I just do?" and almost immediately heads to shore. Oh well. Maybe next time he'll do it again. And again and again and again. And finally have some real FUN in his life.
On the way back I had a nice long chat with a Swiss boy, I'll call him Emil. He had been biking to the beach with his Mom and older sister. He thought the sand was too hot. He said he didn't have enough toys with him. We discussed ways to make a bike-friendly beach umbrella that would dismantle to a size of about 16 inches by 6 inches, perfect for a bike rack. And I told him how a small shovel and small ruler are all you need to make a sand pyramid on the beach.
Then we talked about witches in Salem (Emil hoped that none would get on the train at Salem--I assured him all the people looked like tourists, not witches,unfortunately), UFOs (my daughter saw one once, hovering over her and a younger friend, in Quebec--maybe THAT explains everything!), snakes and how fast they can slither away and how they tend to eat things much larger than they are, and the alligator that came pretty darn close to eating a teenager in Sanibel Island, Florida until I yelled at the teen to quit bugging the poor beast. Emil told me about his two cats, and how one had run away, and then about the rat which took residence in their home and ate their potatoes. I thought this was very funny, the idea of a rat hunkering down behind the cupboard to munch on potatoes. His mother, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed. She said the rat ate the pumpkin too.
So for 40 minutes Emil and I had a most entertaining and fun time. Then we got off in Boston and said our good-byes, and I headed to Harvard Square, happy and full of sun and sand and salt and stories.
But arriving at Harvard Square...My God!!! It was even worse today than yesterday. WHY is everyone SO unhappy? Come ON people!!! If you are so bored in Harvard Square, go to the beach! Or take a trip to Vermont, Maine, NH, Canada, anywhere!!! But WHY hang around Harvard Square in a foul sour mood, grimacing and snarling at everyone you pass? Did someone designate H Square the "Nasty Mood Depot" or something?
On top of that, Peter the robotic Russian guitarist was playing. I really really hate his playing. A young know-it-all tried to educate me recently about my lack of openness and how I could really ENJOY Peter's robotic elevator music if I just opened my heart. I told him, "Nope, no way. This guy's music is totally repressed rage and sadness and it drives me nuts and I hate it with a passion." The young know-it-all suggested I TELL Peter how I feel. Hah!!! Peter feels he is at war with the world. Generally I never tell a musician I think their music sucks, and I'm definitely NOT going to make an exception with him. Too dangerous.
So I hung around, listening to my own music, earplugs in, read the paper, watched the shenanigans of Sam, high again, yelling at people about how they are all being controlled (probably true, but people tend not to listen when they think you are crazy or high), watched how the cop did not mind the thug guy parking his car in a no-parking zone, even told the thug it was OK if just for a short time, even though the thug was there for about an hour, and I was reminded of Sam talking about the Russian mafia in Harvard Square and corrupt cops.
But as hard as I tried, I just found it harder and harder to hang onto the happiness I felt from body surfing at Singing Beach and discussing witches and snakes with Emil on the train home.
I once told someone, "I don't do drugs, but honestly, I think a dose of Ecstasy for everyone in Harvard Square might be a GREAT idea!" Or maybe just get everybody off their psych meds and see if anyone feels any better? I can see why Sam resorts to screaming. Harvard Square will do that to you.
On the way back I had a nice long chat with a Swiss boy, I'll call him Emil. He had been biking to the beach with his Mom and older sister. He thought the sand was too hot. He said he didn't have enough toys with him. We discussed ways to make a bike-friendly beach umbrella that would dismantle to a size of about 16 inches by 6 inches, perfect for a bike rack. And I told him how a small shovel and small ruler are all you need to make a sand pyramid on the beach.
Then we talked about witches in Salem (Emil hoped that none would get on the train at Salem--I assured him all the people looked like tourists, not witches,unfortunately), UFOs (my daughter saw one once, hovering over her and a younger friend, in Quebec--maybe THAT explains everything!), snakes and how fast they can slither away and how they tend to eat things much larger than they are, and the alligator that came pretty darn close to eating a teenager in Sanibel Island, Florida until I yelled at the teen to quit bugging the poor beast. Emil told me about his two cats, and how one had run away, and then about the rat which took residence in their home and ate their potatoes. I thought this was very funny, the idea of a rat hunkering down behind the cupboard to munch on potatoes. His mother, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed. She said the rat ate the pumpkin too.
So for 40 minutes Emil and I had a most entertaining and fun time. Then we got off in Boston and said our good-byes, and I headed to Harvard Square, happy and full of sun and sand and salt and stories.
But arriving at Harvard Square...My God!!! It was even worse today than yesterday. WHY is everyone SO unhappy? Come ON people!!! If you are so bored in Harvard Square, go to the beach! Or take a trip to Vermont, Maine, NH, Canada, anywhere!!! But WHY hang around Harvard Square in a foul sour mood, grimacing and snarling at everyone you pass? Did someone designate H Square the "Nasty Mood Depot" or something?
On top of that, Peter the robotic Russian guitarist was playing. I really really hate his playing. A young know-it-all tried to educate me recently about my lack of openness and how I could really ENJOY Peter's robotic elevator music if I just opened my heart. I told him, "Nope, no way. This guy's music is totally repressed rage and sadness and it drives me nuts and I hate it with a passion." The young know-it-all suggested I TELL Peter how I feel. Hah!!! Peter feels he is at war with the world. Generally I never tell a musician I think their music sucks, and I'm definitely NOT going to make an exception with him. Too dangerous.
So I hung around, listening to my own music, earplugs in, read the paper, watched the shenanigans of Sam, high again, yelling at people about how they are all being controlled (probably true, but people tend not to listen when they think you are crazy or high), watched how the cop did not mind the thug guy parking his car in a no-parking zone, even told the thug it was OK if just for a short time, even though the thug was there for about an hour, and I was reminded of Sam talking about the Russian mafia in Harvard Square and corrupt cops.
But as hard as I tried, I just found it harder and harder to hang onto the happiness I felt from body surfing at Singing Beach and discussing witches and snakes with Emil on the train home.
I once told someone, "I don't do drugs, but honestly, I think a dose of Ecstasy for everyone in Harvard Square might be a GREAT idea!" Or maybe just get everybody off their psych meds and see if anyone feels any better? I can see why Sam resorts to screaming. Harvard Square will do that to you.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Saturday Night In Harvard Square
Roger Nicholson is playing his sad love songs. At about 9 p.m. I am the only one clapping. People are hot, and as usual, not very enthusiastic. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE HERE??? WTF??? Are they all on mind-numbing anti-depressants? Man, I really do not know what happened to the JOY in this area. Maybe Harvard is a secret soul-sucking Vampire-type institution. Maybe.
But I left at about 10 to go home and deal with my psycho roommate (Is there any other kind, especially when they are male, MIT researchers, and German?). He leaves on Sunday YAYAYAY!!! His girlfriend was present (here for a visit) so no confrontation at all. He is really a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde creep. When he first moved in a few months ago, I kept dropping things whenever he was around. I knew it was my inner self warning me to get rid of him. And she was right. I managed to avoid him almost entirely for 3.5 months. When I didn't he turned into a real prick.
So on to the next psycho? I am getting reaaallllly tired of this crap.
But back to Harvard Square. So I returned after eating a cheese and olive omelette and dealing with my roommate. This time a few people actually CLAPPED for Roger. Maybe because he had the sound turned up pretty darn high. Ha ha!!! Take THAT Cambridge Arts Council Monitor, who surely left by 11 p.m.
A young-ish Italian guy near me was checking out all the women. It was actually kind of nice to see, since so many Harvard Square guys seemed positively neutered. That, or gross frat boy types who make my skin crawl.
Speaking of which, a few days ago I was walking from the Concord train station to Walden Pond. Finally got into the last stretch, walking up the hill, only 5 minutes til park property. Coming down the hill were a group of six junior frat boys. Junior as in high school jocks. Normally I ignore this type of little brat. But I was hot, sweaty and annoyed so when they looked at me, I just stared back at them defiantly.
As soon as they passed me, they all started making weird animal noises. Sounded like rutting antelopes, except I have no idea what rutting antelopes sound like. I figured it was the heat and the hormones. I never did like jocks and frat boys. No subtlety whatsoever. I went for a ride with a frat football player when I was 14 (he was 16) and I swear if I hadn't been strong enough to fight him off, things would have ended very badly. Ugh ugh ugh ugh. Not sure why I went for a drive, oh yeah. He was a neighbor from across the street. It was summer, he had a convertible, and I was bored, young and curious. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.
Back to Harvard Square. So Sam the mandolin player yelled hello to me. But I didn't want to talk with him because yesterday he might have been high and started explaining to me about the Russian mob in Harvard Square (maybe that explains Peter the robotic guitar player!) and the corrupt police and on and on. I was tired and wanted to just go home, so I finally cut him off.
A week or so ago, Sam came up, glowing and sweating, eyes dilated. "Hey, since I saw you an hour ago, I dropped acid!" I haven't heard anyone say something like that in years. I said, "Hmm... That's not too good, Sam." But he waved his arms as if to fly. "No! It's beeeyoootiful!!!" I walked on. Sam did a dance. I crossed my fingers that the police would not arrest him. Again.
But flying reminds me...on July 4th I went to Singing Beach in Manchester, and as the train approached the station, I saw three people falling out of the sky. Literally. Except they were attached to wings and had motors on their feet. Sky divers. It was pretty cool, especially since I first thought they were kites or birds, and only gradually realized these were three humans with wings and motors on their feet!
Yes I know, this is scattered. No doubt I have ADHD like my new favorite young cute soap star, Finn Wittrock, who plays Damon on AMC. I don't think any of the old-timers like his storyline. I might be the only one, but I just started to watch AMC (actually via youtube, so I can just watch his storyline) a couple of months ago, and some of the old timers have been watching for 30 years!!!
Anyway, Damon is a troubled youth who is really smart and snarky (also Finn is a very good actor) and is falling in love with his girlfriend's smart snarky lawyer Mom, sexy Liza. It is a pretty HOT storyline. I can't figure out why so many of the old-timers hate it. OK, there is a history there. It seems Liza's Mom slept with Liza's boyfriend back in the day. But I think that was a different scenario, since Liza's Mom Marian was pretty much a sex fiend. Whereas Damon and Liza actually seem to like one another.
As I've said before, I would LOVE to be a soap opera writer. Characters bury people alive, steal babies, cheat and lie and con each other incessantly. It's so GREAT!!!
OK, Harvard Square. Last vignette. So I went to buy a small ice cream at JP Licks. I don't really like ice cream that much, but when it is really hot in the summer time, I might have a small cone once or twice. This was my second visit this year.
The guy who served me last time was there, and he was really hyped up. I realized I like him, just liked his vibe. He reminds me of someone I knew a few years ago in Montreal. He and I and the girl serving me started having a pretty incoherent conversation, and laughing a lot and no one knew quite why, and none of us were stoned! Maybe the proximity to so much sugar? Who cares? It was FUN!!!
But I left at about 10 to go home and deal with my psycho roommate (Is there any other kind, especially when they are male, MIT researchers, and German?). He leaves on Sunday YAYAYAY!!! His girlfriend was present (here for a visit) so no confrontation at all. He is really a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde creep. When he first moved in a few months ago, I kept dropping things whenever he was around. I knew it was my inner self warning me to get rid of him. And she was right. I managed to avoid him almost entirely for 3.5 months. When I didn't he turned into a real prick.
So on to the next psycho? I am getting reaaallllly tired of this crap.
But back to Harvard Square. So I returned after eating a cheese and olive omelette and dealing with my roommate. This time a few people actually CLAPPED for Roger. Maybe because he had the sound turned up pretty darn high. Ha ha!!! Take THAT Cambridge Arts Council Monitor, who surely left by 11 p.m.
A young-ish Italian guy near me was checking out all the women. It was actually kind of nice to see, since so many Harvard Square guys seemed positively neutered. That, or gross frat boy types who make my skin crawl.
Speaking of which, a few days ago I was walking from the Concord train station to Walden Pond. Finally got into the last stretch, walking up the hill, only 5 minutes til park property. Coming down the hill were a group of six junior frat boys. Junior as in high school jocks. Normally I ignore this type of little brat. But I was hot, sweaty and annoyed so when they looked at me, I just stared back at them defiantly.
As soon as they passed me, they all started making weird animal noises. Sounded like rutting antelopes, except I have no idea what rutting antelopes sound like. I figured it was the heat and the hormones. I never did like jocks and frat boys. No subtlety whatsoever. I went for a ride with a frat football player when I was 14 (he was 16) and I swear if I hadn't been strong enough to fight him off, things would have ended very badly. Ugh ugh ugh ugh. Not sure why I went for a drive, oh yeah. He was a neighbor from across the street. It was summer, he had a convertible, and I was bored, young and curious. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.
Back to Harvard Square. So Sam the mandolin player yelled hello to me. But I didn't want to talk with him because yesterday he might have been high and started explaining to me about the Russian mob in Harvard Square (maybe that explains Peter the robotic guitar player!) and the corrupt police and on and on. I was tired and wanted to just go home, so I finally cut him off.
A week or so ago, Sam came up, glowing and sweating, eyes dilated. "Hey, since I saw you an hour ago, I dropped acid!" I haven't heard anyone say something like that in years. I said, "Hmm... That's not too good, Sam." But he waved his arms as if to fly. "No! It's beeeyoootiful!!!" I walked on. Sam did a dance. I crossed my fingers that the police would not arrest him. Again.
But flying reminds me...on July 4th I went to Singing Beach in Manchester, and as the train approached the station, I saw three people falling out of the sky. Literally. Except they were attached to wings and had motors on their feet. Sky divers. It was pretty cool, especially since I first thought they were kites or birds, and only gradually realized these were three humans with wings and motors on their feet!
Yes I know, this is scattered. No doubt I have ADHD like my new favorite young cute soap star, Finn Wittrock, who plays Damon on AMC. I don't think any of the old-timers like his storyline. I might be the only one, but I just started to watch AMC (actually via youtube, so I can just watch his storyline) a couple of months ago, and some of the old timers have been watching for 30 years!!!
Anyway, Damon is a troubled youth who is really smart and snarky (also Finn is a very good actor) and is falling in love with his girlfriend's smart snarky lawyer Mom, sexy Liza. It is a pretty HOT storyline. I can't figure out why so many of the old-timers hate it. OK, there is a history there. It seems Liza's Mom slept with Liza's boyfriend back in the day. But I think that was a different scenario, since Liza's Mom Marian was pretty much a sex fiend. Whereas Damon and Liza actually seem to like one another.
As I've said before, I would LOVE to be a soap opera writer. Characters bury people alive, steal babies, cheat and lie and con each other incessantly. It's so GREAT!!!
OK, Harvard Square. Last vignette. So I went to buy a small ice cream at JP Licks. I don't really like ice cream that much, but when it is really hot in the summer time, I might have a small cone once or twice. This was my second visit this year.
The guy who served me last time was there, and he was really hyped up. I realized I like him, just liked his vibe. He reminds me of someone I knew a few years ago in Montreal. He and I and the girl serving me started having a pretty incoherent conversation, and laughing a lot and no one knew quite why, and none of us were stoned! Maybe the proximity to so much sugar? Who cares? It was FUN!!!
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