Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
NPR calls for listener comments: IF you're a writer, why do you do it?
I'm planning to leave a comment about insanity. Here's the link: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128849596&ft=1&f=1032
Thursday, July 29, 2010
We are living inside a black hole. No really.
As demonstrated by scientists who may or may not be smoking some killer weed.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Arch evil of the tea party variety coming to Philly
Andrew Breibart, the dude who released the slanderously edited video of Dept of Ag. Shirley Sherrod, is coming to Philly 7/31 to talk to a tea party rally about, I dunno, maybe Evil 101? And yes, Andrew, I would like to punch you in the dick. Come up Upper Darby, and I'll edit you, yo.
Upper Darby woman slashed in road rage - The Delaware County Daily Times : Serving Delaware County, PA(DelcoTimes.com)
Upper Darby woman slashed in road rage - The Delaware County Daily Times : Serving Delaware County, PA(DelcoTimes.com)
Aaaagh! The weird thing was that I was on the bus when this happened and heard the bus driver get a call about watching out for a woman in a Durango. May I repeat: Aaaagh?
Aaaagh! The weird thing was that I was on the bus when this happened and heard the bus driver get a call about watching out for a woman in a Durango. May I repeat: Aaaagh?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Top 20 Most Livable U.S. Cities for Wheelchair Users - Spinal Cord Injury - Paralysis Research Center
Top 20 Most Livable U.S. Cities for Wheelchair Users - Spinal Cord Injury - Paralysis Research Center
Sadly, Philly and NYC are nowhere on this list.
Time to wage some accessibility war.
Sadly, Philly and NYC are nowhere on this list.
Time to wage some accessibility war.
Man Booker Prize longlist announced
Man Booker Prize longlist announced Peter Carey is on it again. Damn, that dude works hard.
Monday, July 26, 2010
NYC to Philadelphia in a wheelchair: Take Three
To continue on with the crime theme, a bunch of kids were shot and killed around Philadelphia, one in broad daylight at the El station at 52nd and Market, which is very near to where I do my banking.
So shortly after learning about this, I go to do some banking, eying the area more uneasily than before, thinking that maybe West Philly beyond University City is just not a good place to be at any time of the day.
While taking the 21 bus to 54th and Chestnut, I feel this tap on my shoulder; turned around and this little old lady said, smiling, in words I could barely understand, “Look at [unintelligible] sitting all proud in your wheelchair.”
I smiled at her, nonplussed; I’d only been looking out the window, checking out the various cool old buildings in various states of decay. Then there was a long sort of conversation in which she said a buncha things I couldn’t understand and I nodded and smiled and she nodded and smiled back.
I’m reading one of the alt-weeklies and startle half the bus by hee-hawing when, while reading a restaurant review, I unexpectedly come across a description of salad dressing that employs a metaphor of the semen of Peter North.
Some ten minutes later it’s my stop and I turn around to the nice old lady and I say in a blast, “Nice talking with you!” But after the words are out of my mouth I see that behind me are two different old ladies, and although they look nice and all, they give me a look that is clearly, Who the fuck are you?
A few blocks south of Chestnut on 54th I find myself behind a group of four to six boys, maybe, ten-twelve years old. They are just goofing down the street happily. But then one them runs into or pushes a really big garbage can off the sidewalk into the street and it goes clattering around. The kid cheerfully sez, “My bad,” and I’m like, hmm, is this some fucked-up-ness with which I have to deal.
They’re walking more slowly than I’m wheeling, and finally I just say fuck it, come up behind them and say cheerfully, “Excuse me!”
One kid turns around, eyes me for a millisecond, and then sez urgently to his peers, “Get outta the’ way! Get outta the way of the lady!
The group splits to let me through and they all say, “Sorry! Sorry!” I tell them it’s no problem and go my way.
Then I hit a streetlight and they catch up with me and surround me.
One kid sez, motioning to my wheelchair, “Can you lift that up?” I half think huh? And half think that they are going lift up the chair with me in it and carry me around West Philly like a queen on a dais until they reach some location wherein they proceed to strip my chair of saleable parts, or something.
The kid sez, “I have a friend with one and he can lift it up.”
Oh. He’s talking about wheelies. Fuckin’ wheelies, and here I thought it was some preface to an assault. I demonstrate a couple. They are lame, and I apologize for this.
The light turns and I tell them all to have a great day. All the kids break into a chorus of, “You too, miss! God loves you! God will help you!”
Philly: Brutal and sweet.
So shortly after learning about this, I go to do some banking, eying the area more uneasily than before, thinking that maybe West Philly beyond University City is just not a good place to be at any time of the day.
While taking the 21 bus to 54th and Chestnut, I feel this tap on my shoulder; turned around and this little old lady said, smiling, in words I could barely understand, “Look at [unintelligible] sitting all proud in your wheelchair.”
I smiled at her, nonplussed; I’d only been looking out the window, checking out the various cool old buildings in various states of decay. Then there was a long sort of conversation in which she said a buncha things I couldn’t understand and I nodded and smiled and she nodded and smiled back.
I’m reading one of the alt-weeklies and startle half the bus by hee-hawing when, while reading a restaurant review, I unexpectedly come across a description of salad dressing that employs a metaphor of the semen of Peter North.
Some ten minutes later it’s my stop and I turn around to the nice old lady and I say in a blast, “Nice talking with you!” But after the words are out of my mouth I see that behind me are two different old ladies, and although they look nice and all, they give me a look that is clearly, Who the fuck are you?
A few blocks south of Chestnut on 54th I find myself behind a group of four to six boys, maybe, ten-twelve years old. They are just goofing down the street happily. But then one them runs into or pushes a really big garbage can off the sidewalk into the street and it goes clattering around. The kid cheerfully sez, “My bad,” and I’m like, hmm, is this some fucked-up-ness with which I have to deal.
They’re walking more slowly than I’m wheeling, and finally I just say fuck it, come up behind them and say cheerfully, “Excuse me!”
One kid turns around, eyes me for a millisecond, and then sez urgently to his peers, “Get outta the’ way! Get outta the way of the lady!
The group splits to let me through and they all say, “Sorry! Sorry!” I tell them it’s no problem and go my way.
Then I hit a streetlight and they catch up with me and surround me.
One kid sez, motioning to my wheelchair, “Can you lift that up?” I half think huh? And half think that they are going lift up the chair with me in it and carry me around West Philly like a queen on a dais until they reach some location wherein they proceed to strip my chair of saleable parts, or something.
The kid sez, “I have a friend with one and he can lift it up.”
Oh. He’s talking about wheelies. Fuckin’ wheelies, and here I thought it was some preface to an assault. I demonstrate a couple. They are lame, and I apologize for this.
The light turns and I tell them all to have a great day. All the kids break into a chorus of, “You too, miss! God loves you! God will help you!”
Philly: Brutal and sweet.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Twitter moods across the country
Science! has determined where in the U.S.A. has the happiest tweets. Sadly, the East Coast seems to be in a permanent mood of "I AM GOING TO CUT YOU"
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
NYC to Philly in a wheelchair, Take Two
To contextualize this a bit, I should mention that I am writing these entries as part of a metafilter project, wherein a bunch of folks are writing how-to articles. My 'how-to' is how to move from NYC to Philly and deal with this adjustment on four wheels. It's quite a specific audience this piece has. But disability issues are often pretty fucking funny, and there's ample opportunities for humor in the NYC/Philly transition, for a variety of reasons. So perhaps this will amuse those of the ambulatory variety.
I think that there is a measure of difference in how New Yorkers respond to weird shit as opposed to Philly folks. Sometimes in Philly it just feels like weird shit is par for the course. Case in point: The Phils fan who intentionally projectile vomited over a fellow fan and two children. There is something quite fascinating about a man who decides that the best course of action,when told to keep it down, is to stick his fingers down his mouth and vomit all over children. I mean, really, what is the thought process there. It seems like punching or maybe kicking would be the go-to activity there. Who likes to projectile vomit on children, anyway?
I can't stop thinking about the vomiter. Yet nobody that I've been around has seemed interested in discussing it. Am I wrong in thinking that in NYC it would be a hot topic? Would there not be debates about whether or not it was bad-ass vs. totally fuckin' stupid to intentionally vomit upon children?
In other local disturbing news that is interesting to contemplate, some arsonist torched a children's playground in Camden, melting the slides and swings and everything into a puddle of plastic.
I am opposed to arson. However, if one was an arsonist, why would one choose to melt a child's slide? I am opposed to arson, but if one was an arsonist, why not go after the gazillion BP stations in the area? I am opposed to arson, but wouldn't the torching of a gas station, with the accompanying giant fireballs of burning gasoline, be more satisfying then melting a child's slide?
Maybe whoever did it just really loooooooved watching plastic slides melt. I can think of no other motivation.
I think that there is a measure of difference in how New Yorkers respond to weird shit as opposed to Philly folks. Sometimes in Philly it just feels like weird shit is par for the course. Case in point: The Phils fan who intentionally projectile vomited over a fellow fan and two children. There is something quite fascinating about a man who decides that the best course of action,when told to keep it down, is to stick his fingers down his mouth and vomit all over children. I mean, really, what is the thought process there. It seems like punching or maybe kicking would be the go-to activity there. Who likes to projectile vomit on children, anyway?
I can't stop thinking about the vomiter. Yet nobody that I've been around has seemed interested in discussing it. Am I wrong in thinking that in NYC it would be a hot topic? Would there not be debates about whether or not it was bad-ass vs. totally fuckin' stupid to intentionally vomit upon children?
In other local disturbing news that is interesting to contemplate, some arsonist torched a children's playground in Camden, melting the slides and swings and everything into a puddle of plastic.
I am opposed to arson. However, if one was an arsonist, why would one choose to melt a child's slide? I am opposed to arson, but if one was an arsonist, why not go after the gazillion BP stations in the area? I am opposed to arson, but wouldn't the torching of a gas station, with the accompanying giant fireballs of burning gasoline, be more satisfying then melting a child's slide?
Maybe whoever did it just really loooooooved watching plastic slides melt. I can think of no other motivation.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
NYC to Philly in a wheelchair. Take One
It's been as hot as hell, as my sister in law says, so it is, yes. Bought an air conditioner for the first time in decades. It (the AC) is really fucking loud. Glad it doesn't sound broken-loud, or I'd be worrying about whether I'd broken it in the amazingly stupid trip I'd taken it on from the bed to the wheelchair, in the wheelchair across the room to the window.
Is there NYC-ish stoop culture in Upper Darby? There's a bit o' action on Long Lane, but not much. I've seen some gaggles of youth, although they seem to be really quiet and doing a lot of texting on their cell phones.
In addition to being hot as hell it has rained. Rain and rain and rain and rain.
The most wonderful thing in Upper Darby, as far as I am concerned, is H-Mart. Try the marinated chicken! It's brilliant!
Biggest bummer ever in the hood happened a few days ago -- dead cat on the sidewalk, same markings as my cat Trudles. Made me think of the number of cats I see outside (many) here vs. NYC (only the occasional, lost looking one). Long Lane gets as much traffic as many a street in NYC; don't see why people don't care for their animals. Indoor cat. Say it with me.
One not significant but noticeable difference in my life has to do with the disposal of trash. Last apartment in NYC: Garbage chute ten feet from apartment, would throw my trash out wearing stained sweats and my hair wild. Second to last apartment: Flung bags of garbage out of lobby exit into a dumpster that was a few feet away. Upper Darby apartment: Balance bags of garbage on lap, go down a hill, through a big puddle if it's been raining, wrench open this rusty iron door on the side of the dumpster and hope that rancid whatever won't come steaming out, and throw trash in.
My life! The panting drama!
Is there NYC-ish stoop culture in Upper Darby? There's a bit o' action on Long Lane, but not much. I've seen some gaggles of youth, although they seem to be really quiet and doing a lot of texting on their cell phones.
In addition to being hot as hell it has rained. Rain and rain and rain and rain.
The most wonderful thing in Upper Darby, as far as I am concerned, is H-Mart. Try the marinated chicken! It's brilliant!
Biggest bummer ever in the hood happened a few days ago -- dead cat on the sidewalk, same markings as my cat Trudles. Made me think of the number of cats I see outside (many) here vs. NYC (only the occasional, lost looking one). Long Lane gets as much traffic as many a street in NYC; don't see why people don't care for their animals. Indoor cat. Say it with me.
One not significant but noticeable difference in my life has to do with the disposal of trash. Last apartment in NYC: Garbage chute ten feet from apartment, would throw my trash out wearing stained sweats and my hair wild. Second to last apartment: Flung bags of garbage out of lobby exit into a dumpster that was a few feet away. Upper Darby apartment: Balance bags of garbage on lap, go down a hill, through a big puddle if it's been raining, wrench open this rusty iron door on the side of the dumpster and hope that rancid whatever won't come steaming out, and throw trash in.
My life! The panting drama!
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