Been too busy to update here in a while. Sorry. Lots of stuff going on. Big things in the works. Could I even be more vague? Yes. I could have not said anything at all. That would have been pretty vague. Here's some hints: It doesn't involve me starring in a new reality show or me winning the lottery. Everything else is up in the air. Stay tuned...
Read MoreWhen I rubbed her belly she rumbled; and when I scratched her chest she purred. They say dogs can only sleep when and where they feel safe. I kissed her marbled head and she closed her eyes when I closed mine. I know because I peeked to check. She was smiling; asleep. She could somehow sense me watching her doze off and would open her eyes wide to catch me in the act. She'd lick my face with her awful but endearing breath after a few short scratches on her soft stomach as if to say, “Thanks for that but please continue" and I did. I could have lain there with her all day. She was silently inviting me into her nocturnal winter world of hibernation while master goes to work. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay but thought to myself, "Is there really anything more important than this small moment in time?". I had a conversation with a dog and spoke no words.
Read MoreHas everyone seen the promo for NY1's "Sports on 1: The Last Word" show? With the guy wearing lipstick? Its disturbing.
Read MoreI was late for something but couldn’t remember what. I took solace in knowing that by the time I remembered it would be too late anyhow. I had an appointment later to interview this professional protestor from California. It was a family business. You know how in some families all the men serve in the armed forces or become cops or firemen, well this guy came from a long lineage of professional protestors dating back to the famous Boston Tea Party in 1773. This guy was even at İTÜ when they stood up against the American Navy Sixth Fleet arriving at Istanbul port. Random protests, he was there. Underground these guys were known as “Flints”; they were professional fire starters; mercenaries or “dissidents of fortune”. They traveled the world writing rhyming slogans and organizing uprisings. It was good work if you could get it. There’s always someone upset about something somewhere. In fact, that was their somewhat unofficial motto; passion for a price. The history of the Flints is shrouded in mystery and controversy, due in part to the fact that various individuals have been solely attributed to its founding, and also due in part to a very strict code of secrecy and what can be construed as a practice of deliberate mythologizing by some Flints. Flints don't use last names, even with one another. They just use a first name and a number or a color – think “John 3” or “Bobby Green” (Yes, that’s where Quentin Tarantino got the idea from in Reservoir Dogs). Due to the colorful history of the Flints and the confirmed links of some of its members to organized crime, the Illuminati and various “shadow governments”, speculation and rumor about both the history of Flints and their activities are rife. These guys were practically unionized unlike most rogue protesters who tend to be a bunch of colicky college kids with rich parents up on Society Hill. There were other groups of failed street theatre players, actors and mimes but they weren’t as organized and didn’t have the clout to land themselves on the guest lists for the bigger, high profile protests. Some protests, you see, were, behind the scenes, just as competitive as getting into Studio 54 for Bianca Jagger's 27th birthday. Take Tiananmen Square for instance. That was huge. Tiananmen Square on your résumé was like having a Wharton MBA on Wall Street. If you were there for Forbidden City ’89, it meant you were a player; a real “Flint”. Tiananmen Square was like Woodstock for hippies or Altamont for The Red & White. Do you remember “Tank Man” – the “anonymous man” who stood defiantly alone before a line of Type 59 battle tanks? He was a Flint. He retired after Tiananmen and started his own firm of professional dissidents. True story.
Read MoreWhen you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Eastertime too
And your gravity fails
And negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs
When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there
And they really make a mess outa you
Now if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength
To get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor
Won't even say what it is I've got
Sweet Melinda
The peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind
And careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice
And leaves you howling at the moon
Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick up one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're lookin' to get silly
You better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you
And man they expect the same
Now all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up Angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost
I started out on burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me
There was nobody even there to call my bluff
I'm going back to New York City
I do believe I've had enough
