Category Archives: Throwback Blogs

“American TWIX vs. European TWIX…”

Just in case any of you cared whatsoever and had absolutely nothing else to read right now, I thought you’d like to know…

A little while ago I had the pleasure of eating two TWIX candy bars. One was from Europe and the second was the American version. I know, I know…it’s unhealthy. But seriously, I’m like three times your size so I think I can take it.

American TWIX

Here are the major differences:

1) The American version was softer on the outside, but a little less caramel-filled than the European version. The European version was exactly opposite…tons of caramel, but a tad brick-like on the outside.

2) The European version doesn’t have the itty bitty grooves running along the top of the two bars like the American version…who knows why. Maybe Americans consider themselves a little ‘groovier’ than Europeans.. No…that can’t be it.

3) And finally: the American TWIX has less carbs but more fat than the European version. The European one had almost twice the calories…which I find interesting as most Americans are twice the size as Europeans, statistically speaking.

European TWIX

So, in conclusion…

…your life must be really boring if you had time to read this.

…either that or you just really like TWIX.

– F

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Filed under Blog Quickies, Globetrotting, Throwback Blogs

“Deep Down Inside, Shakespeare Is What I Want.”

I find myself writing.

The time is, well, too late to be early and too early to be late…insomnia has struck again.

(Just for the hell of it I throw on “Romeo & Juliet”, the Baz Luhrman version of course. You know, the one with the fantastic soundtrack and colorfully speedy cinematography? Right, that one.)

And then it hits me…the reason I can’t sleep. The reason many of us in the world can’t sleep.

…something is missing.

(I love how Baz Luhrman takes a young, hip, violently elaborate approach to Shakespeare’s words. Because seriously, Shakespeare knew what he was talking about and that was over 500 years ago. I also enjoy how guns replace the swords in not only a metaphorical but also literal sense….fantastic.)

…now where was I? Oh yes, I’m missing something.

Often times it’s simply something to eat or drink. Occasionally it’s throwing in an old DVD, like Romeo & Juliet for example. And every now and then it’s to devour those final few spoonfuls of Pralines & Cream I tried to courageously leave for another day.

But could it be more than that..?

(When Romeo first spots Juliet through the glass of the giant fish tank…classic! And if I’m not mistaken, that song “I’m Kissing You” sold, like, a billion records the year the movie came out.)

…but I digress.

Could I possibly be missing something else? Something not as materialistic as fancy food or films? Something with more meaning perhaps? I mean, could it be that my soul is actually missing something..?!

Tybalt’s words when he spots Romeo at the party: “What, dares that slave come hither to fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honor of my kin, to strike him dead I hold it not a sin.” Wow.)

 

What if something deeper inside of me craves more and I just haven’t realized it? What if it’s not just a physical need, but an actual, real to life, “holy crap I should probably feed my soul” need..?

(Juliet: “My only love, sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown and known too late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love a loathed enemy.”)

What if I need to stop my passions of freelance photography, traveling and writing and trade them all in for an actual to goodness job? Or perhaps I should just give up on New York City entirely and move to one of three cities to pursue one of three women that could have very well been “the one”.

(Prince of Verona: “I will be deaf to pleading and excuses…nor tears, nor prayers shall purchase out abuses, therefor use none! Let Romeo hence in haste, else, where he is found, that hour is his last…Romeo is banished!”)

Maybe I should move to California to be a better father for my daughter and stop chasing my own old dreams so I can help her focus on her new ones? Or maybe I should go back to college…I never did finish. It just wasn’t my style. I learn faster than most and I’m intelligent enough…I just couldn’t stand all those strangers teaching me things I didn’t want to learn before I got to the things that I did.

(Friar Laurence: “I do spy a kind of hope which craves as desperate an execution as that is desperate which we would prevent. If, rather than to marry with this Paris, thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, then it is likely thou wilt undertake a thing like death…to chide away this shame. And if thou darest…I’ll give thee remedy.”)

…so many reasons I have to not sleep.

…so many things that I need to do or could have done differently.

(Romeo: “Let me have a dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear as will disperse itself through all the veins that the life-weary taker may fall dead.”)

…but I guess thinking about the past is just wasting the now.

(Apothecary: “Such mortal drugs I have, but Verona law is death to any he that utters them.”)

…and wasting the now can’t be any good for your future, so what do I do instead?

(Romeo: “The world is not thy friend, nor the world’s law. Then be not poor, but break it and take this.”)

…I toss and turn and think and think some more.

(Apothecary: “My poverty, but not my will, consents.”)

…then I get out of bed and eat Pralines & Cream while watching Romeo & Juliet on DVD.

(Romeo: “I pay thy poverty and not thy will.”)

…after that I wash it all down with something to drink.

(Apothecary: “Drink it all and if you had the strength of twenty men it would dispatch you straight.”)

…then I hop back in bed and thank the Lord for giving me one more day to think about things and one more day to change things.

(A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned some punish’ed. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo…)

Crap.

I’m still awake.

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Filed under This Thing Called Life, Throwback Blogs

“$40 Million Dollar Slaves & The Woman On The Train.”

A couple days ago I boarded the downtown 4 express train, headed for Union Square. As the doors closed and the train began to move, I found myself a seat and began to fumble with my iPod. Before finding the song I was looking for (Coldplay’s Viva La Vida…for those of you that are REALLY into details) I happened to glance across the subway car to the seats in front of me and saw one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Her hair was long and the darkest of browns, almost black…dyed slightly lighter at the tips and pulled into a single large braid behind her. Her skin was light, internationally mixed and absolutely flawless: the kind of color you get when you pour a little too much fresh milk into your morning coffee. Her eyebrows were dark and thin, her face classic, the only modern touch was a single tiny golden stud in her left nostril. She wore a sleek and perfectly fitting top and a simple skirt, which in my opinion happened to be exactly the length and style that a perfect lady would wear. Her long, full legs were in a pair of black heels that you just wanted to buy ten more pairs of in ten different colors for her JUST because she looked so good in them.

Her big, brown eyes acknowledged my presence with a quick blink before looking away just in time to avoid that “uncomfortably long stare”. She reached down into her shoulder bag and pulled out a book that I had never heard of…$40 MILLION DOLLAR SLAVES. This enhancesd the attraction, as her reading such a book denoted character and intelligence. How do I know..? Because I was reading the comics section of the Daily News…

As she found her place and began to read, I found myself daydreaming about what I would say to her should the opportunity arise for conversation. I could have just admired her beauty in awe and silence without interrupting her. But what would be the point of that? Even Outkast once said “Everybody knows you can’t let a pretty one pass you by…without saying hi.” For those of you that have no clue who Outkast is, how about a different analogy, “If you saw a sparkling diamond just sitting there within your grasp…wouldn’t YOU try to pick it up?”

But I digress…where was I?

Oh yeah…

The point is, how does one start a conversation with a woman who has probably already shot down ten other men better than you just in the last hour?? What perfectly original, sincerely smooth, ear-opening comment do you make to such a woman?

“Hello there young lady, I see you’re reading my favorite book of all time…$40 Million Dollar Slaves.”

No…that’s not it.

“Hey girl, I noticed you sitting over there, looking all good, reading $40 Million Dollar Slaves.”

Nope…definitely not gonna work.

“Excuse me miss. I seem to have lost my copy of $40 Million Dollar Slaves and I was wondering if I could borrow yours?”

Geesh…shoot me.

How do I speak to her? How do I tell her that she’s absolutely stunning and even though I don’t know her in any way, shape or form, I feel that my day might be a little more grey if I don’t continue to look in her direction? How do I explain to her that if she’s at all as interesting, funny, cool, or understanding as I THINK she might be, than she should let me take her out, wine and dine her, meet her parents, prove my love, propose and grow old with her until we both die happily like those two fools in The Notebook…???

How do I tell her…?

“Um…hi…”

I look up…she’s standing above me, $40 Million Dollar Slaves in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” I say, pretending to turn down my iPod to buy some time, “What were you saying..?”

She blinks her baby browns at me again. “I was just saying hi.”

“Hi,” I mumble, shyly.

She sits next to me and reaches into her purse.

“I feel a bit foolish,” she continued, “but I saw you looking in my direction earlier and I thought you might introduce yourself, but you didn’t.”

She blushes ever so slightly.

“Well, the thing is, I don’t really know anyone in New York, the subway’s a short ride so I never know how to start a conversation with anyone…and you’re really cute.”

She pulls her hand from her purse…it’s holding a business card.

“…anyway, if you’d like to…I don’t know, get coffee or something, my number’s on the card.”

Before I can part my lips to speak, the doors open, she smiles again and leaves me sitting there on the downtown 4 express train.

I don’t say anything.

I don’t do anything.

I simply put the card in my jacket pocket, go back to fumbling with my iPod and begin laughing aloud like some kind of crazed lunatic.

– F


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Filed under Love Life, New York City, Throwback Blogs

“Just Like That…Your Wallet’s In The Mail.”

A little while ago my mind was blown.

I found myself enjoying the regular, run of the mill, average, old, everyday grind…when out of nowhere, my wallet arrived in the mail. Now it wasn’t the fact that my wallet was actually in the mail and not on my physical person that surprised the hell out of me.

You see, because last week (I believe it was thursday) I stupidly left my wallet inside of a taxi cab after paying for my ride (and tipping nicely if I do say so myself). Leaving one’s wallet inside of a taxi cab in this big bad apple we all call New York City is nothing new. I mean hell, I must have lost 3 wallets, $100’s of dollars, 4 cellphones, and a miniature Doberman inside of various taxicabs in the six years that I’ve been living here.

But THIS time was different…

THIS time I had just received my spankin new NY license.

THIS time the wallet was 2 days old, a small Perry Ellis perk left over in a VIP giftbag after one of the insanely expensive events hosted at my job.

THIS time I was having a bad day, week, month…whatever period of time you wanna say it was, I was pretty pissed off.

So I cursed New York City.

That’s right my friends.

I friggin cursed this friggin piece of s**t city that keeps friggin kicking the friggin s**t out of me every friggin day when all I friggin wanna friggin do is just friggin LIVE my damn life in peace and friggin loneliness without getting the friggin piss stomped out of me every time I friggin turn the friggin corner…

…but I digress.

The point is I was mad at New York, and I couldn’t understand why after six years of ups and downs, after six years of trying and trying and trying and trying, after six years of standing up for her…she was letting me down again.

I thought to myself “No one is going to return my Perry Ellis wallet. No one is going to give a damn that it contained my money, cards, contacts, and brand spanking new NY id. No one.”

So I got over it.

I accepted it.

I took it all with a grain of salt.

I chalked it up to experience.

Whatever the hell you call it, I gave up.

And then it happened.

I checked the mail. I opened the letter that someone had ACTUALLY paid $1.06 at the post office to mail to me. I carefully checked the contents inside the wallet. I noticed that EVERY SINGLE THING was there. I smiled. I almost cried. I giggled like a little red headed schoolgirl on her first day at 1st grade in her first new red dress…

The good news is they used the current address on my new NY id to mail it to, the bad news is they put no return address…so I’ll never be able to write them back and thank them. I just have to thank them internally and keep on keepin on.

I love you beautiful stranger.

I love the fact that you went that extra mile when no one else would.

I love that you’re faceless, nameless, gender-less, race-less, but in all those seperate ways more human than most.

Thank you my friend.

And thank YOU New York.

– F

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Filed under New York City, The Good In Mankind, Throwback Blogs