Operation: Motorcyle, part 4

Today, I went to the DMV and got the reading material for taking the motorcycle learner's permit test. On my way back out I was completely spaced and jumped right in front of a car and I'm not sure how it didn't kill me. I then was spaced and in shock from my near-death experience and so I promptly stepped right in front of a second car, this one coming from the opposite direction(!). Now, thoroughly concerned about where my head was at, I got in my car, drove off in the wrong direction, drove back, missed my turn, missed my turn a second time, pulled over, yelled at myself in the mirror for a minute, and then got going again. (They really shouldn't let people like me on the road.)

I went to Borders and got The Idiot's Guide to Motorcycles (endorsed by Jay Leno!), and Street Strategies by David L. Hough. Street Strategies was recommend to me by some old-school cruiser guy who was hanging out in the motorcycle section. He was bald and pot-bellied and said he's been riding for over 35 years, so I will trust in his wisdom re: the book.

Then I stopped at the motorcycle dealer and inquired again about the used Z1000 and an SV650. I tell ya, I'm starting to get a little skeptical of these guys. I talked with a different sales guy today than I did last time, and it turns out that the Z1000, which I originally heard was an '05, is in fact an '03. So it is no longer the amazing deal that I thought it was (though it's still not bad, and still within my price range). They have an '05 SV650, which the sales guy said he could knock down to $5500 from $5900, making it the best deal I've seen so far for a new bike. However, today's sales guy kept saying the SV650S is the "standard" version of the bike, while the non-S is the sleeker "sport" version. This didn't sound right, so I checked the Suzuki site when I got home and sure enough it's the reverse -- the S is the slightly more expensive sport version. Not a killer mistake, and I can understand how someone would make it, but that's the second time I've walked out of their with some degree of wrong information. Regardless, at $5500, the SV650 is hard to beat.

I also saw a Kawasaki Vulcan while I was there. It's a nice bike and costs less than $5000. However, it doesn't have fuel injection or a rear disc brake, and it has a smaller engine than the Suzuki, so since I can get the SV650 for only $500 more, I think the extra niceties are more than worth the price. (The one possible down side on the SV650 is that I forgot to ask which color it was and they've only got the one '05 in stock. If it's the fugly yellow color, I'm not sure I could stomach it.)

And I got info on a good riding instructor from that guy at Borders. Allegedly there's some dude in Ronkonkoma who has a bunch of small bikes that he teaches n00bs to ride on, so I'm going to check that out. It sounds like a cool deal.

The ethics of continuing to shop at Small Dog Electronics

I try to shop at Small Dog Electronics as often as possible when I need computer stuff. I prefer to support them because I like to support smaller, mom and pop type stores instead of big chain monsters. And I like that as a business they support a number of lefty causes. But pretty much every order I've ever made through them has had something wrong with it. I've gotten the wrong stuff, I've gotten broken stuff, I've gotten broken stuff that was then replaced with the wrong stuff... on and on and on. It's maddening. They did once go above and beyond the call of duty, getting me a laptop overnight, which was great. But it's hard to let that outweigh my annoyance at so many other orders having gone wrong.

So, should I stick by Small Dog no matter what? Should I tolerate these inconveniences and take comfort in the knowledge I'm helping to keep the world safe for the little guy and for businesses that give a hoot? Or is it time to move on to Mac Mall, who has not yet made a mistake on one of my orders and who also has great prices -- even though one day they might turn into the next Wal-Mart?

I suppose it's a question of values: reward the business that actually does the best job at being a business? Or reward the business that does the better job at being a socially conscious corporate citizen?

Braces off

Twenty-seven months later, the braces are finally off. Amazing. Everything still isn't finished, however. I have a temporary bond holding one of my teeth in place because it has suffered a lot of bone loss, and I'm getting a temporary bridge on Feb 6 to replace a missing tooth, and the final bridge goes in about a week later.

It's been a weird experience, having braces as an adult -- one I'm still reflecting on. Somewhere within it all is a commentary on American values. I'll write more about it later.

Today's Wisdom

Leftovers for dinner are a disappointment, but leftovers for lunch are a treat.

Done with white girls

As I was mentally chronicling the last week or so of my new dating experiment, it occurred to me that the top three best dates I've been on have all been with non-white girls.

The number two and three spots are held by girls who are black or half-black, half-other, and the number one spot is held by a Chinese girl who believes in UFOs, astral projections, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, telekinetic movement, full trance mediums, the Loch Ness monster, the theory of Atlantis, rock 'n' roll, national healthcare, sailing, fancy wines and cheeses, omelets instead of pancakes, leather-bound books, and kicking people in the face. With them I've been to all sorts of bars and clubs and scenic overlooks and other crap I might not have ever gone to otherwise, and I've had an all around great time. There's even a chance that me and the Chinese girl are going to take a one-hour "flying lesson" together (for $100, an instructor takes you up and lets you steer the plane around for a bit. Pretty cool.).

By contrast, the white girls have seldom been up for more than the standard movie-dinner-beer triple play. Not that that can't be a fun time, but you figure the singles scene is just a non-step merry-go-round of dating and you'd want to raise the bar instead of doing the same 'ol same 'ol all the time. Especially since the triple play is what you'll be doing all the time once you're an old and tired established couple. Why dive into the rut so soon?

So I'm done with white girls for a bit. Hopefully one will come along soon and show me she's got more going on than the suburban blues; but until then my eye's going to linger a little longer on the ethnic honeys.

Operation: Motorcyle, part 3

After another day of 'cycle browsing, the Suzuki SV650 has emerged at the top of the running for my first bike. It's such a deal, in fact, that I'm wondering what the catch is. Going to go check it out more thoroughly this weekend, I think. Plus there's a motorcycle show at the Javitz center that my dad and I might go to. If only the weather were nicer I'd be inches away from owning a bike any day now. Alas.

Operation: Motorcyle, part 2

Went to the Honda motorcycle dealer today. Turns out the Honda Rebel, at less than 250 ccs, is going to be way too underpowered. I'm not sure who that bike is for -- wafer thin 16 year olds or something -- but regular-sized adults need something in the 650+ cc range. So now I'm looking at spending a minimum of $6000. Which isn't horrible, just more than I was thinking. But insurance is dirt cheap, and gas for it will also be very cheap, and lessons won't be too expensive either.

And, since I'm now mentally preparing myself to spend a minimum of $6000, I get to take a serious look at the BMW 650 CS, which is about $8000. It's quite a cool bike, and my first choice if I can get the money together.

It's a shame the weather is all shitty right now, because now that I've gone and looked at some bikes up close, touched, got a sense of how physically big they are, how much they weigh, I'm eager to start learning to ride one. But I need time to sock away some cash, so it's for the best.

Speaking of my casual sex quota...

I decided that since I've been bored, and have my evenings free, I should start dating people again. To facilitate this, I've revived my Match.com profile. I've been on a handful of dates the past week or two and have had a good time and met some cool girls. I don't think any of them are going to become long termers. I'm not emotionally ready for that at the moment, I think. And because of that, I realized that in a sense I'm lying to my dates about my intentions, which I guess makes me a dick. Well, I don't enjoy being a dick (even if it is convenient, and even if I suspect most girls secretly prefer to date dicks who treat them like shit), so to assuage my conscience I took out an ad on Craig's List that basically said "Who wants to meet tonight for some sex?"

Ads like that glut the casual encounters section of CL, and I always suspected they were posted by desperate people who knew the ad was going to go unanswered. Oh how wrong I was. It turns out there are lots of girls who are willing to meet you on a moment's notice for a good romp. They don't care who you are or what you look like, as long as you're clean, disease free, and can supply a solid pounding. Amazing. However, I have not yet taken advantage of any of these girls. I was too shocked that they even exist to respond to the first few emails I got. But I've emailed a few just to chat, and went on a "date" with one to see how we clicked and if we might start up a "friends with benefits" relationship. (So far it's looking promising.)

Turns out there is a world of rampant casual fucking that one only needs the courage to enter. Money, looks, age, personality -- none of the usual factors apply. Balls are everything. And I am tempted. Oh, so tempted. I want to dive right in. Hump every girl on Long Island. And I've got some big balls, but I'm not sure they're quite that big just yet.

Operation: Motorcycle

I've decided to buy a motorcycle. I have to save up, first. And then I'll have to learn to ride it. But I want one, and they're cheap enough, so I'll get one. At $3,100, the Honda Rebel is my current favorite. (I'd put a link to it here, but I forget how.)

Every time I tell people that I want a motorcycle, they invariably tell me that motorcycles are fun but super dangerous. This is probably true, but it seems like a weird thing to keep coming up. Aren't most things fun but dangerous? Casual sex, even casual safe sex, is fun but dangerous, but you don't hear people saying "I'd like to go have casual safe sex, except it's fun but dangerous." No, people go around fucking each other's brains out willy-nilly with nary a second thought. Well, I'm well behind in my casual sex quota, so I'm going to make up for it by buying a motorcycle.

Lower Education

As I work on my statements of purpose for my grad school applications, I've come to the conclusion that academic writing is a crime against humanity.

I've hired an "admissions consultant" to look over my stuff before I apply. She's got like 30 years of experience doing this, works at Harvard, and, from what I can see, knows more than most about putting together a solid college application.

She just returned the first draft of my statement of purpose for Stanford. And she made very few comments on the essay's substance, but has strongly advised me to change the tone from casual (and humorous) to formal. Which, to me, means boring. I don't doubt that that's good advice, either. Anyone who's ever written or read an A+ college essay, knows that they're written in a suicidally dull tone. Not that students should be encouraged to distract from their paper topic by goofing around on the page, but at what point did dead and oblique jumbles of sentences become the signature of "intelligent writing"?

From my experience with students, it seems this style of writing hasn't accomplished anything except to turn people off from learning. Which, obviously, is the opposite of what academia is trying to achieve. Of course, it's typical American to put tradition and formality over quality and effectiveness.

Battle against bureaucracy

Turns out I never graduated college.

"What?" you say. "But! But! Mr. Mond," you say, "you graduated in 2003!"

That's what I thought. Until today, when I started getting ready to have my transcripts sent out for my grad school apps. Hunter College, apparently, has three "stops" on my record -- and those stops have been sitting there for nearly 3 years. They've never once mentioned them to me, and thus I'm only finding out now when it's absolutely critical that my transcripts get sent out ASAP so I don't miss my application deadlines. Better still, the Hunter Registrar is only aware of one of the stops. The CUNY Grad Center, which ran my degree program (it's complicated), says Hunter has three stops on my record. So how does Hunter only know about one while CUNY GC knows about three? Good question. No answers. It's a safe bet, though, that the answer has something to do with whatever bureaucratic nonsense let them keep any stops at all on my record for three years without ever once notifying me.

So tomorrow I will spend all day in the city, driving two hours to get there, then ten hours in traffic on the way home, and hopefully when all is said and done I'll actually have graduated from college and my transcripts will be on their way to my grad schools of choice.

And just for the record -- just so the alien overlords who dig this blog up in 10,000 years know -- this is the year 2005. We are days away from it being 2006. There is absolutely no excuse for any modern American institution to be run this poorly. Alas, it turns out city agencies continue to defy our lowest expectations.

Book book book

The first draft of the early chapters of the book is now available for friends and family who want to read it. Email me if you haven't already.

I've already sent copies to a bunch of people, and I'm excited to get their feedback. The best thing about this stage of the process, actually, is hearing what's not working and then starting to make changes. I already have gargantuan rewrites in mind, and though some of it feels like I'm back to square one, I'm actually really looking forward to it. Anyway, it's time for me to get back to work.

More on the book

I'm about 4,000 words behind schedule right now. Wanted to hit 30,000 today, but I'm only at 26,000. And those 26,000 aren't quite consecutive. The last few thousand are choppy and need a lot of work before they feel like a whole. Fortunately, that's what I'm planning to do with the missing 4,000 words.

Anyway, I wound up doing a lot of rewriting, so I've actually written a lot more than my 30,000 word target, but I cut a bunch of it and started significant chunks anew. Rewriting is, I think, where the true art of writing takes place. You read what you wrote, are unsatisfied, and begin to craft it into what you want. It's also the most painful part, because, at least for me, I oscillate between feeling like a genius and a hack. And a lot of what I've written so far is hack. Avoiding hack writing is tough, especially with fantasy. There's a cliched hack tone that pollutes most fantasy novels, and its hard not to absorb it unconsciously and then use it in your own work. So I keep rewriting whole sections in order to get the tone -- the voice of the piece that I'm looking for. Because, in my opinion, there are two things that separate a good fantasy story from a lame one: the voice, and the characters. The stories are all generally the same -- save the princess and defeat the evil wizard -- and that's fine with me. The world's are generally the same too. Dragons, magic, elves, dwarves, etc. etc. etc. And again, I don't mind. In fact, it's comforting. Having similar stories played out in similar places makes it easier to get into the things I look for most, which is good characters and thoughtful writing -- or rather, characters who come to life via the way they think about the world.

So far my characters are coming along the way I want them to. I'm enjoying getting into their heads and making them think. Unfortunately, in setting everything up, getting the characters in place, getting the reader the info he/she needs to understand what's going on -- that's the part that's kicking my ass. As a story teller, you want everything to come across as clearly and quickly as possible, and you don't want the reader to feel like you're pushing exposition on him. But you've got an unusual and complicated world that, much as it's like every other fantasy world out there, needs explaining. And all the models for how to do this are where you find your hack writing.

So what to do?

And the answer is rewrite and rewrite and rewrite until everything flows the way you want it to. It's not easy, but once you've finally chipped away all of the stone that doesn't look like a statue, it's an amazing feeling. You say, "I wrote that," and you can't wait to wow people with it.

Book update

So, what I'm referring to as "my kids' book" (which is actually a young-adult fantasy type book) reached the 22,000 word mark yesterday. In less than a month I've written more for it than I wrote for my memoir over many years. Crazy. Anyway, this feels like the book I'm "supposed" to be writing right now. It's moving along quickly and I'm having a great time working on it. In fact, I haven't had this much fun with my writing in probably seven or eight years. Anyway, if all goes as scheduled I'll reach 30,000 words by the end of the week, at which point I'll send out sample chapters to any friends and relatives who want to see how it's going and who hopefully will provide useful criticism that will guide the book to its completion. Get psyched!

Dogs eat bees

Turns out my parents' wiener dogs will eat bees. We have a bunch of bees in the house (don't ask) and when they make the mistake of falling/flying down to wiener dog level, the dogs eat them. Somehow they do this without getting stung (or, if they are getting stung, they don't seem to care). I'm tempted to try it myself. Maybe bees taste good.

Shin splints

I'd been having pain in my shins during my runs, so I went to 2nd Wind Sneakers and the sales dude looked at my feet and said the pain was from lack of arch support. So I bought a $100 pair of Nikes (selling out my principles for the sake of comfort, which is basically the definition of "American") and went for a run first thing this morning, and man, do these shoes make a difference. No pain. At all. My calves aren't even sore. The old dude who I sometimes encounter while jogging to the beach, and who I saw this morning, still kicked my ass though. Sometimes the high school girls' track team kicks my ass, too. I try to do all my jogging while they're in school so as to preserve some of my pride.

Eye of the Tiger

Jogged the full three miles to and from the beach today, without stopping. A personal best. I jumped around with my hands in the air and sang the Rocky song. Actually, I felt like I was going to throw up. But it felt good to feel that way.

Since the weather was crappy I hadn't been running in days, so it was nice to put some miles on my feet. I need to buy some foul (fowl? I forget which -- there are lots of ducks and geese and swans out here, so maybe either is appropriate) weather running gear (been saying that for weeks now), and I need to take advantage of the nice weather we're supposed to have thru Monday. Viva la weather!

I read in Runner's World (my mom got it for me! hooray mom!) that you shouldn't try to increase your running distance more than once a week, so I'll probably go shorter distances over the next few days, then push for an increase, then even out at the full three miles for a week or so after that, and then push again. If I could get up to five miles a day, 20 miles a week, I'd be thrilled. Plus, my main motivation for jogging, other than that I want to look good naked, is I like to pig out every once in a while. So the higher I can push my metabolism, the better. Viva la pig out!

Gay Blogging

Those of you who aren't reading Absorbascon are missing out on one of life's true pleasures. It's all about crazy comic book stuff, but you don't have to be into comics at all to laugh at it. I haven't read a comic in ages, but I still can't get enough Absorbascon. The "Superman is a dick" series, and the "Loneliness of Aquaman" week were personal favorites.

Anyway, I'd been reading the site for weeks before I realized that the dude who writes it is gay. In 99% of the posts, sexuality is a non-factor, but every now and again that 1% pops up where he makes no secret of his gayness. In today's post, he's trying to get hooked up with a designer at DC Comics. (Is that redundant, Detective Comics Comics?)

Anyway anyway, this has made me wonder if the dude's gayness effects his readership at all. Based on the number of comments, I'd say his site is pretty popular. But are there people being turned away by knowing this guy is a homo?

I especially wonder because comics are very masculine, yet very sensitive. The heros, like WWF wrestlers, are symbols of hyper masculinity. The women are drawn as sexily curved and scantily clad as possible. Yet the comic book audience is stereotypically your shy loner kids who can't get girls in high school because they genuinely like girls and don't act like dicks to them. And comic book story lines often reflect this sort of conflicted adolescent complexity, sensitivity, and general nonjudgmental attitude that lets one in ten of their friends come out as gay without fear of being abandoned.

I'd like to believe that in 2005, everybody was cool with the fact that some people are gay. But I know there are still tons of people who'd love to get back to the dark ages of burning witches and stoning homosexuals in the public square. I'm especially curious to know which percentage of each group makes up the comic book reader demographic.

Like Shaking Hands with God

Banged out a few thousand words of the new "fantasy novel" almost instantly. It's a great feeling when the words and ideas just flow, as if from nowhere, each burst of imagination giving life to another and another. Vonnegut described this phenomenon as "shaking hands with God" (in his small book of the same name). It's an amazing experience and it's the reason why I think everybody needs some form of creative outlet in their lives. I sit down with maybe a sentence or two in mind, type them out, and then a third and fourth sentence follow with no planning on my part. At this point in the writing process, I'm out of my own control. I don't know where it all comes from. It's creation but with no act of conception (an immaculate conception!) Later, I'll dig in, sculpt and refine, word by word, thought by thought. But for now I just open myself up to whatever force, internal or external, drives this creative process.

I used to have this feeling all the time when I wrote fantasy in junior high and high school. My head used to keep me up at night imagining everything I wanted my characters to be and do. Somewhere during college I lost the ability to write like this, however. I don't know where it went. Maybe it's a product of writing "serious fiction." I wish I could experience it more often while working on my memoir, which, at this rate, hard as I work on it, will soon be dragging far behind the fantasy novel. In any case, I'm glad to be able to shake hands with God once again on at least one of my projects.

Beautiful Stack of Pancakes

For the longest time -- from that moment in June 2003 when I was handed the rolled-up blank piece of paper that symbolized my college diploma, until roughly 5 days ago -- I couldn't stomach the thought of reading another book. Which is not to say I didn't read anything during that time. Somehow, reading always sneaks itself into life. Mostly I read short stories -- stuff from One Story, which my pal Jarrett got me a subscription to for Xmas, stuff in the Atlantic Monthly, the New Yorker, whatever. I have a sense that I did read a few actual books during that time, but I can't remember what they were. I also read a lot of blogs and news, though those things don't seem to qualify as "reading" in the sense that I mean it. Anyway, I basically went more than two years without even wanting to walk into Border's to browse the new releases -- something I used to do weekly, if not daily.

At last, however, the spell seems to have broken. I now have a beautiful pile of books sitting beside my bed, and I can't wait to get through each one of them.

The stack at present:

The Intuitioinst
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
Eragon
Freakonomics
Fast Food Nation
Children Playing Before a Stature of Hercules
Don't Get Too Comfortable

Eragon is the book I'm looking forward to the most. Pure candy. And hopefully it will serve as inspiration for my newest writing project. I'll be reading it and Zen at the same time (while finishing off Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa-Puffs, which I'm about done with), and I'll be writing my memoir and my new "fantasy novel" simultaneously as well. My brain seems to enjoy being spread around lately.

My brain is hungry.

My body is hungry.

My creative urges are hungry.

I almost feel like I'm back to a form of myself that I haven't been in years. It's nice. There's a sense of contentment waiting just out of reach. And that's not a bad thing. I didn't used to be able to feel it at all. But if I can get my writing projects done by my self-imposed deadlines, get my grad-school apps in order, keep losing weight (down about 8 pounds since joining weight watchers, and more than 10 since I started tracking it on the blog), and keep my freelance marketing gig going, I suspect I might actually start enjoying life again. Weird how such a simple thing like happiness can be so elusive, but it's been avoiding me for years without me even realizing it until recently. Anyway, positive strides are being made.

I wish I were funny again, though. I vaguely recall being quite witty, especially in writing. Now, it's a farce if I manage it at all. And my writing is suffering, I think, as a result of it. Hopefully that quality will return as my brain, body, and creative passions become more and more fulfilled.