Night of the Living Dead

Tonight's the night. You still have some time incase you haven't been preparing for the Zombie Attack like I have. After all, I do live next to a cemetery. For a few quick ideas from some young bright minds, see the following video:

However for a more professional, well informed approach, you still have time to read The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks. He breaks down the zombie attack to the "z" (get it, like to the "t"?). I'll spare you a lot of details but give you his basic 10 Lessons for Surviving a Zombie Attack:

Organize before they rise!

They feel no fear, why should you?

Use your head: cut off theirs.

Blades don't need reloading.

Ideal protection = tight clothes, short hair.

Get up the staircase, then destroy it.

Get of the car, get onto the bike.

Keep moving, keep low, keep quiet, keep alert!

No place is safe, only safer.

The zombie may be gone, but the threat lives on.

I Helped a Pigeon

Why did I do such a thing? Those things are flying rats. Disease ridden filth soaring above your head. I normally don't thrive on the misery of animals, but while traveling Europe my friends and I had a kitty going to pay the first person who attempted to kick a pigeon and actually made contact. Don't know who actually won that money, but I gave who ever it was a run for their money. Long story short, I hate those birds. Yet, I helped one survive.

I was on the subway platform, the J line, Myrtle-Wyckoff stop to be exact. This stop is above ground, straddling the road along the way. I was staring out over Manhattan when this bird got a bit too close to me. I heard him before I saw him. He was shaking his head vigorously. Good, I thought, this little p.o.s is having a seizure, one less rat in the sky.

Upon further investigation, however, I saw what the bird was trying to do. He was attempting to break apart a large piece of bagel that he couldn't quite get down his little gullet. He would shake, set the piece down, pick at it a bit, then grab hold again, and shake again with all his might. This continued for some time. One of his intense shakes sent his remanence of bagel my way. He took a couple steps toward me. I shifted my weight, and he took this as a sign of aggression and subsequently backed off.

I felt sorry for the guy. He was only trying to get by like everyone else in this over-crowded city. So I stomped on the bagel bite, grinding it into the ground, breaking it into pieces. I then took a few steps away from it, letting the bird know it was ok to advance toward the food. As he nibbled, he glanced up at me and did one of those cute animal head tilts (any dog owner knows what I'm taking about) as if to say thank you or perhaps, why the hell did you do that. I'm not quite sure, I don't speak pigeon.

As I thought about that bird on the remainder of my subway ride, I found myself comparing his life and my own. I'm like him in a lot of ways. Sometimes I need help from strangers just to get by. Sometimes I flap around with the rest of the flock not exactly knowing where to go. Sometimes my neck and eyes dart from side to side to ensure there is not any danger... mostly when I run. But lately that hasn't been a problem since I've been running in a cemetery.

Oh yea, to take this post in a completely different direction, I have been living in a new apartment for the month of October (which is right next too a cemetery). And I'll be here till next October. That's right, I walked the plank. This is no longer a little experiment to see if the city suits me. I'm here... well for a year at least. But I'm going to give it my all in this year. See what I can make of myself here. Hopefully, I'm like the pigeon in some ways, finding opportunity where least expected, but I also hope that I'm not like him as well. I hope to keep my feathers relatively clean and not have to get my food after it's been stomped on by a stranger.

Our Precious Town: A Play Review

Scroll down the page, and you'll see a post in which I relayed a story to you. Yes relayed, not copied. It's a story about living in the present, not taking for granted the life we live everyday, not letting this gift we've been given slip away before it's too late. So too is the message of Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize winning drama Our Town.

Not-so-ironically, I was given tickets to this show by the same man who shared the story Precious Present with me. I had seen the play before, back in high school, but at the time I thought the show was boring and drawn out. After all, I was young and the acting in the show was... well, high school. So before I went to see the show this evening, I read the play.

In reading the story, I got the gist. The first two acts are pretty basic: a simple town, with simple people, living simple lives that include the usual dramas that accompany most people's lives. A narrator, or stage manager as he is referred to by Wilder, guides the reader through the story: the first act introducing the town and the people in it, followed by the second act's journey of love. The third act is the bombshell. The reader doesn't see it coming. It's not really a plot twist or something like that, it's more of a revelation. A heart-wrenching revelation.

I don't want to give it away, but give it a read. Better yet, see the play.

Best play I have ever seen. Period. Even though there was a period at the end of that sentence, I feel it necessary to once again write the word Period for emphasis. If given the opportunity, see the play at the Borrow Street Theatre in New York City. If you're really lucky, you'll see it with the incredible cast I saw it with. Just for my own purposes, I'll list the prominent characters here... incase I lose my playbill.

Stage Manager...................................................Jason Butler Harner

Mrs. Gibbs..........................................................................Lori Myers

Mrs. Webb.........................................................................Kati Brazda

Doc Gibbs.................................................................. Armand Schultz

Joe Crowell, Jr. .........................................................Jason Yachanin

Howie Newsome............................................................Adam Hinkle

George Gibbs.......................................................James McMenamin

Rebecca Gibbs................................................................Jacey Powers

Emily Webb..................................................................Jennifer Grace

Simon Stimson..............................................................Jeremy Beiler

Mr. Webb.............................................................................Ken Marks

The show has minimal scenery, a couple tables at best. The show takes place in the early 1900s, yet no period costuming is used. A lot of the show is placed on the imagination of the audience, but the acting allows it to be so. This play is not about scenery or razzle-dazzle. It's about people, it's about life... and how we need to live in it while we are living it.

Not Much of a Challenge

I designed a little game for your time-wasting pleasure. Copy and paste the following code into the game to play my designed level. 23de53c21141ed1b5824341a91674c00

"I hate to disturb your ride but..."

No doubt if you've been on an NYC subway ride, you have heard one of these suspiciously similar speeches by a supposedly unfortunate soul. Goes something like this:

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I hate to interrupt your ride this evening but I'll just take a moment of your time. I am a (vet, homeless person, etc.) trying to get by living on the streets. I don't drink, do drugs, or steal. I am simply asking for your help with any spare change or extra dollars you may have on your person. Have a good night and God Bless."

As soon as the train is in motion the speech starts. More often than not, their sob stories aren't that obtrusive, lasting a minute tops. Majority of the time, I'll listen, staring at my book or iPod acting like I am immersed in whatever I am doing. But I'm listening. Afterward the individual will walk around with a hat or bag, hold it out in front of each person in the car, and 95% of the people won't give anything, including me.

Giving money to panhandlers and beggars is always a touchy subject. I've gotten in heated debates with friends over the topic. The one, more selfish, view being, "It's my money, they've made their mistakes, they are just going to buy more booze, drugs with it." The other mentality being, "these people haven't had the opportunities I've had, I don't know what it's like to have those hardships, help your fellow man." Tough decision really. But I think I've made up my mind.

I don't do it. Especially when they all these subway stories sound like the same cookie cutter speech. Like there is a meeting somewhere they all attend to learn the best ways to manipulate people into giving them money.

However tonight on my way home I heard a speech on the train that had me digging to my bag's bottom to find some change. I couldn't even see the man during his speech as my chair was facing the other direction. But there was an urgency in his voice, a true-sounding cry for help. He said he had been kicked out of his home by his family for being HIV positive. Now he was on the train trying to get money for him and his dog. Maybe it was the dog part that got to me, but I wanted to give him some change. If not for his situation, for the gifted acting and delivery of his speech. In my opinion, worth twenty-five cents.

For more on the topic, check some articles:

NY Times

Tripcrazed.com

Legality

Working at a Fruit Company

Today I started working at this fruit company.

I'm the one in the middle.... except with male parts, and I'm not as good at arithmetic.