Guitars, dogs, bikes, skirts, and smiles in the sun

I wore a skirt yesterday.  I shaved my legs, moisturized them, put on some cute shoes, and wore a skirt.  Because it was lovely out.  And the lovely weather draws people outside and it revitalizes this city in the most amazing way.  Although the streets get more crowded and walking is more difficult and my pace is broken more often, I can't help but love what sunshine does to this city.

I saw three times as many dogs outside yesterday, lying on the street outside cafes while owners casually sipped iced coffees.  I saw a man sitting on his front steps just jamming on a guitar and singing his heart out with whatever lyrics he conjured on the spot.  I saw a boy reading a book, sitting on the side of the street under the shade of a tree.  I saw artists sketching I saw children with facepaint and people with bunches of balloons, tons of joggers and loads of bikers whizzing down the streets.  With some good music on, I wanted my walk to last for hours.

I didn't wear a jacket.  I could feel the sunshine.  I walked along the Hudson.  I went for a drive with the windows down, and it felt wonderful.  I turned off my air conditioning and left my room windows open, sleeping under the breeze.

I don't have much to say about the weather, just that it was lovely and I smiled all day.

I. Love. Sunshine.  (taken from http://www.flickr.com/photos/virgomerry/11227682/) 

Get outside,
The A.S.S.

Hot Chocolate Streets

My last post was about how lovely Thanksgiving is--what a nice, pleasant, gracious, inflective, personal holiday it is.  This post, unfortunately, will be about how terrible Christmas is.  SORRY IN ADVANCE, hate me all you want, but Christmas makes me feel down right despicable.

Just the Genetic Me

Several times within the past week, I have gone out with no makeup on.  I didn't have any blaring pimples, the runs were nothing of significance, and I was just too lazy to put on the few dabs of makeup I usually do.  And every one of those times this past week, I've either gotten compliments on the street I've never heard before--such as "DAMN girl, you sexy as FUCK"--or close friends like Volcano and Lavender asking "what's different today" or why I "looked so good."  And remember, the boys never compliment me.

Literally, all I wear on a normal day is mascara and cover-up where I have zits.  If I feel like jazzing it up a bit, I might put on some eye shadow or eyeliner as well.  No foundation, bronzer, blush, lipstick, etc.  Mascara.  Yet apparently, its absence makes me more attractive.  Who knew!

Moral of the story?  No matter how little you may do to impress the world, you're still doing something to impress.  You're not being entirely you.  Less is more and you may be more beautiful when you're simply the raw, bare you that your genetics coded for.  Now, that being said, I'm not going to never wear mascara again.  I like it, I like how it makes my eyes look.  And I certainly am still going to dab a little cover-up when I breakout, because I don't like people looking at my acne.  But if I don't feel like it one day or I'm not worried about impressing Drifter or someone, I probably won't wear anything anymore.  And I, my purely genetic self, just might be confident doing so.

Heidi Klum--SO beautiful!

Makeup-less and sweatpants-ed,
The A.S.S.

A Little Stumble, A Little Ridicule

It was a long day, I was exhausted and I was power-walking my way home.  All I wanted to do was just get off of my feet, lie down, get into my bed and simply relax.  So I'm walking really fast in order to get to that bed.

And I'm walking.  I'm walking for ten minutes.  Twenty minutes.  When I'm twenty-five minutes in and only a block away from home, my shoe catches a crack in the pavement and I stumble a bit.  No flailing around, no falling, just a little bump and a quick pull of the foot forward to compensate and catch my momentum.  Really, not a big deal.  Slightly embarrassing, since I was power-walking and dodging in and out of people, but really not a big deal at all.

Which is what I thought.  But apparently, some girls walking behind me disagreed.

Some Money, a Boy, and a Man

Just a little story to warm your heart:

I was sitting in the park yesterday afternoon doing a bit of reading. It was a gorgeous, perfect fall day out--a light breeze, cool temperatures, and lots of sun. I had my music, I had my own bench, I had a good lunch, I was dog-watching, I was happy.

After only about ten minutes of being there, I saw this kid approach this man who had just walked past me. The kid had literally run up to him and tapped the man's shoulder to get his attention. The man seemed upset that he was being disrupted, but the kid just held out his hand and said "Hey mister, you dropped your money." It couldn't have been more than three bucks.

The man stared at the money returned to his hand and had this look of utter astonishment. When he finally looked back up, the boy had already started running back to wherever he came from. The man shouted after him "Thanks, kid!" And then he lowered his voice since the boy was gone and muttered, "I really appreciate it..." He slowly turned away and kept on walking.

And I was enamored. With a HUGE smile plastered on my face, I was so touched by such a beautiful display of innocence, selflessness, and sheer kindness. It was like a movie. What's more, however, was the unspoken communication shared between the observers. I turned my head after the incident and could see several people to my side who had all also seen the scene unfold--they were smiling too. We made eye contact and shared a new smile that said "I'm glad you appreciate this as much as I do." Something in me knew that a "pay it forward"-esque train had just picked up a lot of momentum.

Inspired,

The A.S.S.

"I think you're ignorant and dead wrong."

In New York, I feel it goes without saying that many people are liberal. Staunchly liberal. And I am not. I have some liberal tendencies, but I identify myself as an independent and actually lean right on many issues. Blasphemy! It's shocking, right? Well, that's just how I've always been even since I first started paying any attention to politics. I am not ashamed of my political beliefs, but I do tend to keep them quiet due to the persecution I know will come about as soon as I open my mouth and contradict anything extremely liberal in conversation. You see, that's just how it's always been for me.

Summer of New Love

Well, hello there! Fancy seeing you here! What has it been, half a year? Well, not quite. But, I'M BACK.

And I'm sorry that it took me so long to do so. The past few months have been a whirlwind or work, emotion, time, friends, family, everything. It all raced by and I'm still struggling to keep up with Father Time as he races onward. Who knew such an old dude could run so fast!

But, I know no one cares about this blog, so I won't dwell on apologies. I'll just pick it back up where I left off--sort of.

So where were we? Ah, yes, springtime in New York. Well, with lovely springtime comes not-so-lovely finals. So that was a black hole that I couldn't escape. And then came summer. And soon, I was completely enveloped with the fact that I ACTUALLY had FREE time to do nothing and NO responsibilities, and I was enamored. It had been so long! So I literally laid around ALL day, EVERY day, just enjoying the calmness of nothingness. But you can just call me a lazy shit. That works too.

And next? Well, what happened next changed my life irrevocably.

Whistle Wonders

As I walk down the street, I'm frustrated and angry and upset and generally in a bad mood. Things are pretty shitty so I'm walking it out, storming down the street. My muscles are tensed up; if you'd said anything to me, I would've walked right by. I was NOT a happy camper.

Then I heard whistling. It wasn't a particularly nice day out, and Hall & Oates wasn't playing over loudspeakers somewhere, so I assumed that people wouldn't automatically be happy and smiling and whistling. But someone was. Who was happily whistling?! I needed to know who and why.

Study Lounge Mayhem

As I sit in a lounge area of the student center, I notice several types of students. The studious ones, the socialites, the lovebirds, the slackers, the obnoxious, and the "I'll take what I can get"s.

It's Clapton, BITCH

A little while ago, I had the fortunate pleasure of seeing Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton in concert. To say the least, it was an experience. Such pioneers in the music scene live and right there in my face was just incredible. The show did lack some iconic songs, such as "Layla," but was nonetheless a fabulous show and performance. I by no means left the Garden with a lack of musical satisfaction and elation.

But the musical euphoria was interrupted on my way out by a woman who I can only nickname as Clapton BITCH. This may seem harsh and callous, but she was a bitch. She was a perfectly stereotypical ditz. Fake blonde hair, fake boobs, obviously fake Coach purse, corn-chip nail tips (not really, but hideously fake), heels so high and uncomfortable she had that very noticeable I-have-to-lean-forward-to-attempt-to-walk-because-if-I-don't-I-know-I-won't-make-it-anywhere waddle, etc. And the man she was with was this big, rugged, tough looking guy who just kept a completely blank face the whole time she was bitching at him.

And she would NOT stop BITCHING at this poor man! He clearly dished out a LOT of money for probably the biggest show in all of Manhattan that night, and she was standing there, endlessly complaining about it! Talk about ungrateful. She kept insisting Clapton should have played more acoustic songs. He opened with about five or six consecutive ones. She bitched that he didn't play "Layla." Okay, well he has SO MANY hits, he's bound to not play ONE of them. She proceeded to say Clapton played "too much of that new shit." Well, lady, he is touring NOW and not THEN. "Jeff Beck shouldn't have stayed on as long as he did. And there was NO reason for him to come out again at the end and stay for so many songs!!" Ma'am, he was the opening act and played an appropriate number of songs as such. He came out at the end to play with Clapton because they got their starts with each other. Without each other, without the Yardbirds, neither of them would be where they are now. And the best part, she left off with this gem:
"Next time, we should go see 'WICKED!!'"
Complete with jazz hands and all.

I wanted to scream. Okay, yes, I have seen 'Wicked;' yes, it was a good show. But not crazy great, as many critics had led me to believe it would've been. I can appreciate Broadway very much--I have substantial experience in acting and I can absolutely cherish all the work and dedication every individual show takes. ...but does a popular Broadway show about teenage acceptance and fairy tales and love and cheesy shit really outrank Eric Clapton?? Seriously? Come on, lady.

Where have our values gone? We don't cherish the pioneers, the raw talent that created so many followers and grew so many branches of variations, the very men who shaped so much of music that today would not be the same had they not done what they did. Instead, we cherish make-up, fancy dresses, and splendor. So I guess this post is turning into a "oh, the superficiality of it all!" one. In all seriousness, this woman exemplified superficiality to me. From her appearance to her tastes, all of which she showed me in a matter of seconds, this woman was trash to me.

Call me a bitch for being so judgmental of her, but honestly. When someone conforms THAT much to societies pressures and stereotypes, something HAS to be wrong. Be it a lack of confidence, a personal image issue, a superiority complex, whatever, no one is naturally like this. No one naturally thinks those huge fake nails actually look good. No one thinks their platinum blonde hair looks real, especially when their roots are showing a deep brown. No one thinks that a Coach bag with only backward "C"'s looks authentic. No one can say and believe that an Eric Clapton concert was a waste of time and money. She is the epitome of conformation. She believes "all you need are looks and a whole lot of money." She thinks that bigger boobs are better, blonde is prettier, those shoes flatter her, the purse makes her look fancy, and loud-mouthing her bashing opinions of Clapton to all the people herding out of the arena will make her stand out and be intellectual and different and smart and superior. Wrong. SO WRONG! You look fake, handicapped, stupid, and just plain pathetic.

So, I suppose the motivational, activist message of this all is to just stop. Stop valuing lame shit that everyone else says you should value because it's popular right now, at this moment. Stop glorifying the sparkling, glittered, beautified stuff and glorify the ground-breakers, the innovators, the milestones. Stop conforming to societal pressures regarding your physical appearance and if you truly want to change yourself, do it in a way that YOU WANT and that will compliment you, not the way that you see on TV. Stop dissing men who may very well be past their prime but are still extremely capable and still ridiculously talented and still deserve nothing less than respect for their incredible accomplishments. Dig in, get down and dirty, and value the roots of today's foliage.

I apologize for this post being more emotionally driven and less artistic and well-written. A bit of a rant, yes. A bit of a commentary on modern society, yes. A denunciation of superficiality, yes. A judgment call, yes. A statement on musical legitimacy, yeah. But was it my honest opinions? Absolutely. This is my blatant, blunt truth. While "everybody's talkin' 'bout the new sound," "it's still rock n' roll to me."

Clapton, you had a brilliant show.
The A.S.S.


Disclaimer: As is the case with everyone, my judgments are not always accurate, and I am not claiming them to be. At that very same concert, a bassist came out to play with Jeff Beck. She was this gross looking lady with 80's hair, a leather sleeveless top, TIGHT pants, and KILLER heels. My first reaction (before I saw those BALLER heels) was "dyke," no joke. Yes, offensive, but I'm sure many people would've thought the same. Then she started playing. And she fucking ROCKED that whole arena. She was amazing! One of the best bassists I've ever seen! She absolutely blew me away. Her name is Rhonda Smith, for the record, and she's boss.