Do me a favor, if you blog or your spouse blogs, take Jennie’s survey.

I just finished watching The Italian Job(2003).

This is an excellent example of the beloved gentleman thief movie genre. While the movie smacked of annoying product placement it was fun to watch. It held my interest and I loved watching the heists occur with split second accuracy, but in the end the movie didn’t grab me in any special way. I’ll give it two and a half stars out of four.

Due to my suggestibility, I now want to buy a Mini in the worst way, of course.

I am amazed by the minds ability to replay past events. In the course of an ordinary day, something someone says or does will bring me back seven or eight years, and I can relive an event as if it were happening today. The intensity fades over time but the emotional surge can still be quick and powerful as on the day the remembered event occurred.

The difference between the event and the remembered event is the framing and perspective offered by time. The remembered events benefit from the frame and perspective of interpretation informed both by hindsight and emotional maturity.

Maybe the gift in memory is that the wounds of the past turned out to have been pregnant with the possibilities of a future reality shaped and made possible only by the wounds we suffered. Do I then covet the wounds or glibly tell myself in the middle of crisis that “what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger?” No, mostly I’m glad I lived to tell the tale, but I wish I didn’t have such interesting stories.

I’ve been informed that at least one friend thinks I post some weird stuff and that it is very strange that people should share their thoughts on such personal subjects with such a wide audience.

Next week, I’ll talk about my underwear, just for you, I promise.

The judge ruling that the U.S. Government must charge or release Padilla is both a triumph for democracy and the rule of law.

I have no tolerance for terrorists nor for Presidents who lock people up indefinitely. This notion, might explain why I savaged President Lincoln in an essay in my 9th grade civics class.

[Link courtesy of Joel, who doesn't yet have his own blog.]

I ran across the following phrase in a book review in the Minneapolis Star Tribune today.

That’s a great description of a female character in a book.

Beauty is an interesting topic to me at the moment. People who saw the pictures I took of “The Gates” or heard me talk about the experience, often asked “What does it mean?” I wasn’t surprised to hear this question, but I was surprised at my own reaction. While I explained patiently, sometimes at great length to people what this work of art might mean, I was often thinking to myself, “Beauty doesn’t require meaning or interpretation.”

This take on life, that beauty is sufficient without meaning, might seem to place me in the minority, but I don’t think it does. While people can’t always wrap their head around avant-garde works of art that cost $20,000,000+, they all seemed to intuitively understand the joy and beauty of sunsets and fireworks.

Note to Self: Next time I self-destruct, do it with beauty.

I am so disturbed that if you plug the phrase ‘placenta lasagna’ into google, you get 559 hits. Someone convince me it’s a hoax. Convince me that no one eats placenta, please, I’m begging you.

I just got an email that an old friend is blogging at quarterlifecrisis/vegan chai.

Welcome to blogging. I can’t wait to see you “write yourself into existence on the web.”

I love the phrase “quarterlife crisis.” As someone who had a doozy of a time in life when I was about 25, it’s a phrase I’ve thought about a lot. I still don’t know why that was such a strange time of life for me. I know what led up to that point, but why did it reach a crescendo so suddenly?

I’ve been thinking a lot about my trip to New York. Rather than write one lengthy entry about the trip, I decided I would just drop the highlights one at a time into the blog. I’ll start with the reason for my trip, The Gates.

The Gates were mind blowing. They were so odd; they seemed almost alien, like they had dropped from the sky. On Monday, when I was there, it had snowed in the morning, so the gates were starkly set apart from the white landscape in ways that probably made them even more of a contrast from the rest of the park. The day was cool and very overcast. The overcast and fog conspired to hide much of the city skyline and the caused the entire landscape to take on a muted gray coloration. The muted gray tones served as the perfect contrasting backdrop for the bright saffron gates.

While it might seem obvious, the fact that the viewer actually has an opportunity to enter into the art is a very powerful and palpable part of the experience. Since you don’t just go through one isolated gate you become a very real part of the art. No matter where the eye fell on the landscape, it seemed like you could spot a gate somewhere. There are so many gates, the gates actually appear to recede into an infinite distance. This sense of an infinite landscape mirrored my experience in Manhattan as well. I am used to downtown areas that end, but Manhattan just seems to keep going in every direction as far as the eye can see.

I appreciated the fact that the color was a relatively non-political color so there weren’t any nationalistic overtones. The fabric was very dense and had an interesting texture to them as well. Some were wet, probably from the occasional thrown snowball. At the same time the fabric was light enough to allow them to allow light to illuminate them from behind.

There was a sprinkling of volunteers in the park, who would answer questions and flip the fabric back if it got tangled around the gate in the wind.

The experience left me feeling very contemplative. I was with traveling companions, which made the experience a little strange for me as I felt like I had to engage in conversation or think about what they wanted to do or which direction they wanted to walk. The companionship I had on my trip with Larry, Eric and Rachel was hands down the best part of the trip and I loved the great times we had. At the same time I would have been happy to spend the day quietly walking without having to worry about anyone else. It’s not out of selfishness, but rather having the time to really drink in the scene and stop when I wanted to stop, without worrying if I was bugging anyone else.

There were a ton of people walking in the park, including the actor Ben Stiller, who was pointed out to me by my compatriots. I loved people watching especially the people taking photographs. I took quite a few pictures of people taking pictures, which I call meta-photography.

Although my tickets were quite cheap, and my lodging was free, I’ve never spent so much money on art. When I look back at the trip, it was worth every penny and I would gladly do it again. The more I think about the trip the happier I feel about it.

Don’t forget to check out the photos of the gates, if you haven’t done so already.

It will take me a while to completely digest my whirl wind trip to New York City. It was an amazing trip.

While I digest my thoughts about the trip, feel free to look at some of the photos I took.

General New York photos

The Gates

The People I went with.

Recently, I had a full body massage. This was a first for me. I had two shiatsu massages in a massage chair a few years back. Both of those previous experiences were negative for me; it felt like someone was poking me repeatedly. I didn’t feel any better afterwards than I did before.

The massage I had most recently was awesome. It was initially a little odd as the masseuse was both my acquaintance and the close friend of my wife’s. I got to Jean’s house and she escorted me to a basement office, which was equipped with a professional massage table. I was instructed to disrobe to whatever level I felt comfortable, after she left the room, and then I was to lie under a sheet. That moment, where she gave me those instructions felt odd. This experience was 100% professional and therapeutic mind you, but having this conversation with someone who I have a much more formal (and non disrobing) relationship was disconcerting initially. I followed her instructions and waited.

She came back in the room and started in on my shoulders. It was fabulous. She is a relatively small woman, but I learned that she is very strong and gave all my muscles a thorough going over. I felt fabulous afterwards. I can’t remember feeling as relaxed as I did after my massage that night.

Two weeks later, she sends me a thank you note. I got a thank you note for laying there and grunting like a happy pig. How fabulous is that?

I’ll be going back for more guaranteed.