Words to Live By

October 3, 2012 By in Random Tags: Leave a comment
st. augustine

Unfollow.

Looking for inspirational and motivational quotes to help you face life’s challenges?

As a matter of fact, I am!

Actually, this is just another lame excuse for me to make fun of all of the gobbledygook found on Beliefnet (and so much for ever blogging for those guys).

Continuing on:

These famous quotes will uplift your spirit and inspire you to follow your dreams.

OMG! I think I may have just heard an angel sing! Let’s take a look at their top 5, shall we?

1) The mind is like a parachute. It doesn’t work unless it’s open. – Unknown

Are you fucking kidding me? This is the Number One quote?! It sounds like one of my old tweets … that I immediately deleted. Of course it’s by “Unknown.” I wouldn’t put my name on it either. And yeah, maybe this quote is “famous” … in a special circle of Henny Youngman Hell. Take my open mind — please.

2) Patience is the companion of wisdom. – Saint Augustine

Note to self: Immediately unfollow @SaintAugustine. This is the kind of vague drivel that you sometimes find in fortune cookies and it makes you angry when you read it because you just had fried dumplings and scallion pancakes and General Tso’s chicken and it was so delicious, and then they ruin the whole meal by giving you this stale crap that leaves such a bad taste in your mouth. And anyway, we all know that patience is a virtue, Saint Dipshit!

3) If man is man and God is God, to live without prayer is not merely an awful thing: it is an infinitely foolish thing. – Phillips Brooks

Who the hell is Philip Brooks and why is he making me feel like such a goddamn idiot? I’ve been doing just fine living without prayer, and if I ever change my mind, I’ll call up Bon Jovi. So what Albert’s brother is basically saying here is that we non-believers are a bunch of retards for eternity. You know what, Phil? If man is man and God is God, you’re a stupid asshole!

4) Anyone who is indifferent to the well being of other people and to the causes of their future happiness, can only be laying the ground for their own misfortune. – Dalai Lama

Now I’ve always liked the Dalai Lama – all 14 incarnations of him. And I’m not sure which one of his holiness’s uttered this particular axiom, although I’ve always heard rumors that most of his material was written by the South Park guys. On further reflection, it actually sounds a little too Mother Teresa-ish to me, which ironically lays the ground for a fortune … to be made in a copyright lawsuit that will help the poor and sick. Win-win. I take it back. This really is uplifting.

5) My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. ­– Dalai Lama

Not sure how the DL got two quotes in the top five, but I suspect Richard Gere had something to do with it (Jesus H. Christ! What a cheap ass joke!) In all fairness, I really do feel that these are words to live by and they’ve inspired me to follow my dream – creating a new site called Disbeliefnet.

I’ve Just Seen a Face

October 2, 2012 By in Women Tags: , Leave a comment
mary louise parker

MLPC.

I’ve gone out with hundreds of women recently. Really it’s only been two, but over the course of dinner and brunch, it seemed like I was with every woman who I’ve ever known.

This happens pretty much all of the time. When I gaze across the table at a new face, it’s like looking at a group portrait. Sometimes it’s the way she tilts her head or a trick of the light. Sometimes it’s just a recognizable expression or the easy way she laughs at one of my stupid jokes. Her eyes may shine or narrow into soft slits, it doesn’t matter, because it’s in these moments where she shape shifts into a completely different person.

One who I’ve found especially attractive in the past. My heart tends to see what it wants to see, working it big time like a fashion photographer shooting a model. “Okay, angle your head a little to the right and try to look like my ex-wife’s hot friend, Julie.”

I’ll imagine what these women looked like as young girls and what they’ll look like as elderly ladies. For a moment, they may resemble my mom or my fourth-grade teacher, Miss Toback, and then transform into Caryn or my most recent girlfriend. Sometimes they’ll morph into a celebrity; oftentimes Mary-Louise Parker.

I envision what it might be like to be with them and even what it might be like to be with them forever. It’s such a strange phenomenon, and will make a great montage sequence (cue the Beatles’ “I’ve Just Seen a Face”) when filming begins on the story of my life. And most of the time, this is all going on before arriving at the main course.

Which, of course, is love. And that’s what this is really about. “Is this a face I can love?” asks a secret voice somewhere deep inside of me. And the faces keep changing and changing until the answer is “yes.”

Moving Day

October 1, 2012 By in Family Tags: , , Leave a comment
stuff from my house

The things I carried.

Sitting on my dining room table are several videotapes of my children when they were little, my autograph album from the sixth grade, a baseball from the 1992 All-Star Game and a mini-version of Harold and the Purple Crayon. These are the last things that I took out of the house where I lived with my ex-wife and kids for almost 20 years.

I went over there the other day to help Caryn pack up and move to her new place. After what felt like forever, we were finally able to sell our house in Long Island, allowing us to officially get on with the next part of our lives.

It’s strange how an empty house can overwhelm you with memories. We started up in the attic, boxing up old books, which is where I found Harold and the Purple Crayon. I flashed back to reading it with Rob and Zach, and still think I loved Harold more than they did (the simple half moon that followed him on every page always killed me). There were books about adoption, child rearing, marriage – the last remnants of all of the homework life had given us – and, to be honest, I’m not sure we ever got anything out of any of them.

“Remember this?” I asked Caryn while showing her a dog-earred copy of The Ghashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey. “I think I bought it for you right after our first date. Along with that book of photos by Diane Arbus. Those were your clues, babe. You should’ve run for the hills right then and there!”

“Would’ve been so much easier,” Caryn said and smiled.

We then went into the bedroom because Caryn needed me and my tallness to take down a bunch of board games at the top of a closet. We were both big game players (I’ll let that allusion pass), and all of the boxes were thick with dust, and the first thought that hit me was how I used to bug the shit out of Caryn by taking forever to play a word in Scrabble. She always got her revenge with Boggle, where she’d routinely kick my ass. Scrabble and Boggle – cleverly making points with words – was one of the many storylines of our marriage.

There were boxes everywhere, filled with artifacts of our thirty years together. Photo evidence — from the summer we met at the Jersey Shore to hundreds of  family snapshots, would be going to Caryn’s new house. A dozen or so videotapes (in 8mm format, shot with a Sony Handycam) of the kids first birthdays, steps, words and all the other new parent thrills, came home with me so I could have them digitized. Neither one of us particularly wanted our Ketubah, which is a Jewish marriage contract, for obvious reasons.

After a few more hours of boxing shadows, I packed up the kid vids along with Harold and a few other odds and ends in a small shopping bag, took one last look at the house and closed the front door.

Caryn drove me to the train station.

“Thanks for helping me today, babe,” she said as I got out of her car. “I really appreciate it!”

“You’re welcome,” I said and waved goodbye.

Permanent Smiles

September 28, 2012 By in Family, Love Tags: , Leave a comment
zach tat

Zach’s back.

Don’t be mad, Zach IMed, but I’m getting this tattooed on me.

He then sent a photo I took of him and Rob when they were maybe 13 and 14. Zach’s wearing an Arizona hoodie and Rob’s in an AND1 long-sleeved T-shirt and they’re both smiling so hard, but it’s not the usual cheesiness for the camera. I don’t remember what anyone said that day or why they look the way they look, but the picture captures a moment of pure joy and brotherly love. It’s one of those things that parents live for.

Why would I be mad? I texted back. I love it!!

Before Zach went back to school a few weeks ago, we were hanging out at my apartment one night and I was telling him all about my feng shui-ing and how Laura had pointed out that no one was smiling in any of the photos I had of them.

“These photos are for your own peace of mind and for when your sons come to visit,” Laura said. “If you change them, they’ll see themselves not looking sad, and this will help you all reconnect with happy moments.”

Well, Zach loved all of the new smiley-faced pics of he and Rob, and was obviously enamored with the one he had just texted me. And that just about kills me! Not just that Laura was right (again!). And not just that Zach chose that particular photo, but that he chose to have it with him forever. It’s such a deep expression of the way he feels about his brother and I know Rob feels the exact same way about Zach, and I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can make me feel any prouder of the both of them.

Which is not to say that it was always fun and games in our house. We all went through some pretty tough times for various reasons, and maybe that’s why this gesture of love is even sweeter. I remember talking with Zach in his room a few years ago when Rob was going through an especially rocky patch. “No matter what,” Zach said, “I’ll always have his back.”

Not to sound too gay about it, but Zach’s new tattoo has given my heart a permanent smile, and I needed to tell him that.

I’m glad you like it, he texted back. That makes me very happy!

I Dream of Jann

September 27, 2012 By in Random Tags: , 2 Comments
jann

Like a complete known.

Jann Wenner haunts my dreams. Or at least inhabits them on a regular basis. Some have been quite pleasant like the one where I was sitting in his office and we both took off our shoes and put our feet up on his giant desk, laughing about who knows what. There have also been others where he’s yelling at me, and all I can remember the next morning is the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I somehow let him down.

These dreams are always so vivid, like watching a movie of myself from a past life, and when I wake up from them, it takes a few seconds to reorient. I worked at Rolling Stone for more than a decade and left the magazine about five years ago, but not a month has gone by where I haven’t dreamt about Jann.

In my golden slumbers, I was sitting next to him in the back of the cab in Almost Famous. We’ve traded guitar licks at the Fillmore and have gotten high together backstage any number of times. He yells at me in about one out of every four dreams, which is far less than he ever did in real life when I worked for him. There’s a recurring one where I’m in his townhouse on the Upper West Side at a party and “Like a Rolling Stone” is playing in the background and he sings, “Larry, how does it feel? How does it feel?”

Some people believe that dreams are a message from God (insert Bono joke here) and I think you know me well enough by now to know that I’m not one of those crazy people, but this is still pretty fucked up, right? I told my friend Doug, who worked alongside me at RS, about my Jann dreams and he admitted to having them too!

“We wanted to please him so much,” Doug said. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he was a father figure for us.”

Totally true. I had that whole love/fear/father/son-thing from A Bronx Tale going on with Jann and would do almost anything for him. I wanted and needed his approval, probably because I despised my own father, who was in and out of prison for most of his life.

And now that I think of it, I’ve never had a single dream about my dad.

Atone Deaf

September 26, 2012 By in God, Religion Tags: , Leave a comment
rainbow cookies

Break fast of champions.

Today is Yom Kippur, the holiest and most solemn day of the year for we Jews. It’s a day of atonement, repentance and reconciliation, to say nothing of generally picture-perfect weather. You’re also supposed to fast and abstain from having sex, and I usually go one for two there.

Here’s the deal: Other than slimmer thighs, fasting is about atoning for sins against God (using His name in vain, parking in His spot, drinking His last Red Bull and so on). Atonement is supposed to bring about spiritual cleansing — “wiping the slate clean” was what we called it in Hebrew school — because God is merciful and forgiving (as long as you don’t fuck with His shit), and genuine repentance must ultimately be rewarded with forgiveness and love.

If only I believed in any of this crap.

I’ve been atone deaf for what feels like forever. The last time I seriously observed the high holy days was almost 50 years ago when I was in the second grade. I remember going to shul in Brooklyn with my grandfather, having absolutely no idea what I was doing there, other than trying to be a good Jewish boy. I also remember being scared to death of God. I thought if I didn’t pray along with Pop, something really, really bad was going to happen, like the Holocaust 2, starring Zombie Hitler.

So I imitated Pop the best I could, bobbing my head back and forth to the rhythm of his davening and occasionally muttering a Hebrew word here (“Adonoi”) and there (“Elohim”) to show God that I at least knew His name. At the end of the service, Pop said how proud he was of me and held my hand on the walk home where we subsequently ate like pigs.

That, of course, was the best part. “Breaking fast” by stuffing our fat faces with bagels and lox and whitefish salad and sponge cake and my grandmother’s noodle kugel was my version of hitting the jackpot on Christmas morning, and the only remnant of this holiday that I still observe.

This rainbow cookie is for you, Pop.

The Other Side of No Tomorrow

September 25, 2012 By in Spirituality Tags: , Leave a comment
Big Sur scenic view

Every word we sang I knew was true.

If you’re looking for some kind of a spiritual experience, driving on Route 1 through Big Sur on the way to San Francisco is a good place to start. It also helps if you’re with an old friend who you adore and are listening to just the right music.

For those of you who’ve made this awesome run before, you know exactly what I’m talking about and for those who haven’t, there are no words to do it justice. I don’t believe in God, but this place is certainly one of the best arguments that He exists. Every twisting turn reveals another breathtaking view of mountains plunging into the ocean. It’s one of those fucked-up-nature-things that makes you feel small and insignificant and at the same time, more alive than you’ve ever felt in your life.

I was riding shotgun and playing DJ all afternoon and promised my friend Pamela that I wouldn’t torture her by playing Steely Dan (which, you should know, is my all-time favorite band).

I lied (and that phrase would’ve been so perfect if my name was Katy).

“Doctor Wu” has always been the song I play when I’m very happy or very sad. It somehow amplifies whatever I’m feeling and I can’t really explain it any more than that. Like most Steely Dan songs, the lyrics are romantic and enigmatic (and also about drugs), and the opening lines have given me chills since the first time I heard it more than 35 years ago:

Katy tried

I was halfway crucified

I was on the other side of no tomorrow

You walked in and my life began again

Just when I spent the last piaster I could borrow

Now I’ve always associated those words with the women in my life – for a long time, my ex-wife, as well as with any number of fantasy girls, but when I heard it this time and looked out the window at the ocean below and the cliffs above, it meant something entirely different.

I felt a deep connection — maybe for the first time — to myself, and was overcome with a sense of hopefulness that I’ve only ever experienced on the days my sons were born. And if that’s not spiritual, I don’t know what is.

What I Wrote On a Flight to L.A.

September 24, 2012 By in Women Tags: , Leave a comment
heart on love seat

Sitting pretty.

When it comes to sitting next to interesting people on airplanes (read: women), I’ve always had pretty good luck. I had one of the great conversations of my life a few years ago with a fascinating older woman on a flight to Las Vegas. She was married to a semi-famous actor who was on one of those doctor shows in the mid-sixties and I don’t remember what it was called, but we spent the entire flight talking about how her husband had cheated on her and how my ex-wife had cheated on me.

And speaking of luck and interesting people, today’s another perfect example. The woman sitting in the window seat looks to be a few years younger than me and is extremely cute. But that’s not the thing. The thing is that I saw her even before we boarded. We were both hanging out near the gate at one of those counters where you can plug in your phone or computer, and I kept glancing her way because she looked so damn familiar.

And the thought that keeps running through my head is something that my friend Laura, who believes in all of that woo-woo, spiritual mumbo jumbo crap, told me about noticing the little things around you, and how the smallest detail can be significant, and how that’s the way the stupid universe works. And here I am thinking — the motherfucking universe, you sly dog, you!

Hold on a second. I’m gonna talk to her.

“I can’t believe there’s no one in the middle seat,” I say. “That never happens anymore.”

“I know, right?” she says. “Remember in the old days when you’d take the red-eye and you could just lay out across all three seats?”

That was just her!

Cute, right?

We’re about to take off and how come no matter what time of day or night you’re flying, something like a roofie kicks in and you just pass out and begin to drool like a zombie baby? I’ve always been the world’s worst sleeper, but it’s lights out for me on every trip.

And look! It’s the same for her! Which is my cue to wake the hell up and check her out a little bit more. (And how pervy did that just sound?) The first thing I noticed was the ring on her left hand. On her middle finger. Hmm, what’s the universe trying to tell me here?

She’s very much my type — tall and thin, long dark hair, pretty in a natural way; she could be Mary-Louise Parker’s Jewish sister. I was watching her eat potato chips before and she was crunching so loudly and, of course, I registered that as flirting.

Wait! I’m gonna talk to her again.

No, no, wait! I have a better idea. I’m writing this on my iPad and I’m just gonna hand it to her to read.*

Here goes nothing.

*Update: Her name was Sara, a fifth-grade teacher from Bed-Stuy, who was on her way to visit her “one true love” for a long weekend.

Are We There Yet?

September 14, 2012 By in Spirituality Tags: Leave a comment
jules in pulp fiction

The righteous man.

I have to admit that I’ve been feeling frustrated lately. Nothing keeps happening! When will all of this spiritual crap kick in already and make me a Bodhisattva? I’ve been meditating until my head hurts and … that’s bullshit. I’ve actually been watching a lot of TV. And I know, I know, the road to enlightenment is a lifetime journey, but all I keep thinking is: Are we there yet?

Tony keeps reminding me that I just need to stay on the righteous path (and it’s impossible not to hear Samuel L. Jackson’s voice when he’s saying that). What he’s really saying is that there are bound to be some fun adventures awaiting a newly single guy trying to be metaphysically good. And this is also why he is my best friend.

I also thought that maybe this would be a good time to check in with Laura, my feng shui guru and de facto spritual guide. If anyone could set me straight, it’s her. So I emailed about my disappointment and impatience with achieving a higher state of awareness (and if my kids are reading this … dudes, this doesn’t mean what you think it means) and this is what she had to say:

That’s part of your own blockage and the lesson you need to understand. When you become aware of the greater happenings, life opens up and you understand your purpose. So stop rushing the process, you need to go through the experience. No one said it would be pleasant all the time. This is how you’ll learn, evolve, understand and gain experience, which leads to wisdom and the understanding of spirituality. The entire world is going through this process. It’s called ascension. Amazing things are happening every day. So have patience, young grasshopper 😉

Now the secret of being a kick-ass spiritual guide is the ability to impart simple truths while occasionally goofing on Kung-Fu dialog, and nobody does it better than Laura, although Tony is equally genius when it comes to Pulp Fiction quotes.

So in the spirit of heeding Tony’s advice on “fun adventures” and accepting Laura’s assertion that “amazing things are happening every day,” I’m going on vacation. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find whatever it is I’m looking for. See you in a week.

Nothing Else Matters

September 13, 2012 By in Family, Health Tags: 1 Comment
house

Calling House.

“As long as you have your health, nothing else matters,” my grandfather, Pop, used to say. And probably your grandfather, too. I guess you need to reach a certain age (read: old) before you can fully appreciate the simple joy of waking up in the morning not feeling like complete and utter shit.

Apparently, I’m not yet at that age. In fact, I’ve been feeling kinda crappy these last few days. My neck and shoulders were aching, my stomach’s been upset and I’ve been generally dragging my ass. So, of course, I just assumed that I was about to have a heart attack.

Maybe it’s because my brother has been on my mind lately (btw, he’s out of the woods and back home, thanks for asking.) Or maybe it’s just that this is the way you’re supposed to feel when you’re in your mid-fifties. I blame WebMD. And fuck you too, Mayoclinic.com!

As you may have already gleaned, I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. When your mom kicks from breast cancer at 51 and your dad drops dead from a heart attack at 58 and you’ve already had testicular cancer, well, it’s kind of easy to connect the dots, la la la and merrily skip along to Pee Wee’s Big Playhouse in the sky.

So when I cough, my expert diagnosis is black lung disease and when I’m out of breath, I’m suffering from ALS and every mosquito bite is a carcinoma. Like most hypochondriacs, I’m quite adept at making myself sick.

In other words, I’ve become a Woody Allen cliché and not even from one of his earlier funny movies. If only House was still on, but since it’s not, I decided to call my sister. Patti isn’t a doctor nor does she play one on TV. When our mom died almost 30 years ago, Pat took on the role of family caretaker and has starred in our wacky sitcom ever since.

“I don’t wanna make you nuts or anything, particularly after Mike,” I began, “but I’ve been feeling like shit for the past couple of days, and thought I’d call you for a consultation before I go to the emergency room.”

“Larry, do you remember a million years ago when you thought you had leukemia?” she reminded me, “because you had a few brown freckles you had never noticed before? You actually looked it up in a medical book!”

“Guilty!”

“So what’s the matter?” she asked and I ran down all of my symptoms just like I had entered them on WebMD Symptom Checker.

“First of all, stay off the Internet when you think you may be sick. It’ll just drive you crazy,” she said. “And second of all, you’re fine. You’re not having a heart attack.”

“Well, now if I do, I can blame you for not doing anything about it!”

“Fine,” she said. “Blame me!”

“You know, I just wanted to hear you say those words. I’m not even sure why exactly. I just needed to hear you say it, you know?”

“I know,” she said.

“Are you sure, though?”

“I’m sure.”

“Remember what Pop used to say?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Boy, was he right!”