Charlie Kaufman is my friend

Well, a friend of a friend.

Actually, he exchanged words with the friend of a girl that works at Borders. Yes, that one.

This is what happened:

Act I.
Saratoga Springs, inside the public library.
Gabriel walks in to Higher Grounds Cafe, enters set from the left.
Mystery girl at the counter, talking to an old lady who fusses about the chocolate cake on counter.
Gabriel waits for lady to be done, then timidly approaches counter.

Mystery Girl - "Hi, what can I get you?"
Gabriel - "A small cafe au lait please."
MG - "What coffee would you like me to use?" (MG proceeds to list a number of coffeehouse-sounding coffees, like toasted cinnamon and hazelnut vanilla).
G - "uh, I thought cafe au lait was done with french press"
MG - (taking an air of confidence in her coffee skills) "No, that's a latte, do you mean the one with the espresso shot in it? Yeah, that's a latte. I can make you a latte."
G - (secretly knowing that a cafe au lait indeed does have french press coffee, whereas a latte is espresso mixed with steamed milk, and depending on the crema of the espresso, can yield beautiful latte art - he knows this because he accomplished a half-assed apple once while showing off at the Humble Bean) "OK, a small latte then".
G - (quickly realizes that this is his chance) "Do you know they're filming a movie right across the street from us?"
MG - (looks up) "Oh?"
G - (feeling empowered and bold at MG's response to G's poor pickup line) "Yes, you know the building right across from us?" (points at window behind MG) "That's where I work. Yesterday we were told not to come in during Sunday, because a film crew would be using part of our offices to shot a movie. See that orange sign in the parking lot? It says No Parking, Temporary Police Order".
MG - (looking truly interested, replies while working the espresso machine) "Oh, maybe that's why I saw Charlie Kaufman."
G - (interrupts, now on a roll) "Really? Kaufman? When?"
MG - "I was at Borders and a friend of mine, working with me, points it out, that Charlie Kaufman had stopped by, and I didn't know how he looked, but she did. Anyways he forgot his cellphone and comes back for it, I ask 'Excuse me are you Charlie Kaufman?' and he says yes."
G - (rather excited, maybe too much) "Wow. That is very cool. How did he look?"
MG - "Plain, black curly hair. Two fifty-five please."
G - (realizes this is it, the end of conversation, and manages to keep it going while searching for change) "Have you seen any of his movies?"
MG - "Yes, Being John Malkovich."
G - "How about Adaptation?"
MG - "Oh yes, that's right, he also did that one. Yeah I saw it, kind of weird."
G - "Well if it's Kaufman writing this one it'll probably be weird as well."
MG - (nods in approval).
G - (silently happy, glad he took the chance, already expecting her to become his one true love, constructs scenarios in his mind, fast-forward 2 months and they're going out together, he buys her flowers, comes to pick her up at Borders after work, takes her to his place, cooks european food, serves expensive wine, thrills her with his dashing spanish looks and that oh-so-subtle je-ne-sais-quois, sophisticated flair, quasi-mystical aura, after dinner they sit on the couch, his rather expensive 17th century Tibetan couch, and he thanks his lucky stars, as she leans forward and whispers, "oh gab..." ---)
MG - "Thanks, have a nice day."
G - "Thanks" (Walks out the door into library, sweaty armpits, feeling victorious).

If it would have ended here, no harm would have been done, I'd almost say some good would have been done, I mean at least we had a 3 minute conversation! I'm laying the foundation here folks, I'm working my magic.

But.

Idiotical creep alter ego manages to convince me and I walk back in to show her the "cool" pictures I took of our office yesterday on my cellphone so you can say that if the movie makes it big well you can say that you saw pictures of the set before anyone else, neat huh?



?????

What a moron.

Damn!

I lost my links.

The DB's are to blame. I'm a sucker when it comes to pleasing friends. Even better if they're good looking females. And I know their favorite color is pink indeed.

I KNOW YOU HAVE PINK SHOES SARAH.

On a Saturday night?

Yes. I am posting on a Saturday night.

Came up here to the office to reiterate, this is awesome! I just listened to an hour of quality jazz, the Jon Leroy trio, at 9 Maple Avenue. An organ player with two keyboards, left hand doing the walking bassline thing, right hand flying away. Solid drummer, constantly switching stick ends, and the guitarist, good grief! Very nice Gibson L5 (I think) routed through an EQ to get rid of feedback usually caused by open jazz boxes (most jazz guitars are built like cellos, and the L5 has the f-holes a violin would have, thereby causing feedback when you're too close to the noise source, but I put you to sleep already. sigh) and plugged into a rather bluesy sound Fender JazzKing. All in all a quality time. A free concert every night, beer or not. Which leads to the next thing: in Howards End, Anthony Hopkins' character tells Emma Thompson, when they go out for tea, "Always tip the waiter, if you tip the waiter he will remember you". Following that advice, I am tipping the 9 Maple Av. bartender a dollar per beer. Instead of $4, I give him a fiver. Before too long I shall become the Godfather of Maple Avenue.

Too bad there's only one establishment on that avenue/alley...

Back to jazz. It takes me 47 sec. to get there from work, and I think their smoke break must be over by now.

Shirley.

Coming soon to a theater near you

This entry is being written in short spurts, while I wait for the screen to stop being busy and let me continue my work. I'd love to give more details, but I can't. Suffice it to say that I still love what I do! I brought in my electric guitar today, and as I walk in a USPS guy holds the door and remarks, "guitar to work huh? Must be a good job!". "It is a very good job", I replied. When I got to our room upstairs everyone crowded around Pantalones' guitar. C. (the resident guitar guru, he's quite good, fast and heavy-metal inclined - we usually hear about 20 min. of good and loud Metallica every day, courtesy of his Gibson/Fender guitar/amp combination) plugged it in and rocked away, while all 11 of us watched. 8 minutes later, "what's the verdict, C.?" I ask. "I hate the tremolo, but it's got a nice fat sound". Ever since changing the strings my old electric sounds so much nicer. I put really thick strings on, makes it hard to bend a note, but delivers a warm tone. Good for my soon to come previously mentioned Smooth Jazz Vol. 76.

Four of us went to Little India for lunch. Not a daily occurrence, since it's more of a sit-down meal. My Keena Mutter was verrah spicy. Was sweating like a greek mad cow who sees the health inspectors stealthily approaching with a double-barrel shotgun. Sorry, I was trying the "use-images-in-your-writing" approach, maybe it makes for interesting reading.

-------------------------------------

It's Saturday right now. Last night at happy hour the CEO bought everyone beer, which was nice. Everyone is very friendly here, the complete opposite of what I thought corporate America would be. Then E. and I went to jazz clubs to watch a guitarist and his looping pedal, a quartet (old geezer on drums, had a hard time walking around but did put a very aggressive beat to Miles Davis' So What, bassist that kept thinking he was playing a guitar and so burned away on his fretboard with phenomenally fast lines and comped fat chords, a trumpetist, and a saxophone who could really blow), and then back to the first venue for the guitarist plus pianist. A lot of fun, and good food and free beer (mostly). Went home a satisfied mind.

Then, today, here at WurldMedia to check my email, and there is a commotion going on in our building, I can see people coming in and out carrying boxes with film equipment. Turns out tomorrow part of this floor will be used for an indy film featuring Tim Daly and Tom Arnold, "The Skeptic". It's safe for me to walk around work today, but come Sunday no one is allowed to be in the building save for the film crew and one of our IT guys that will make sure everything is OK. Pretty exciting huh? There's a white van parked outside with less and less boxes inside of it as we type, a square-glasses guy wearing an Elvis Costello hat tipped sideways and a Dick Tracy grey coat, and two bossy looking, fashionably tight jeans and silk knee-high boots ladies walking around with cellphones and pointing fingers at walls. Of course when it's shown at Cannes the WurldMedia logo will be replaced with something else. Naturally.

I have no

excuse, Sarah, for not posting earlier. Last week I told Ismael that I'm not about to become a heavy poster only to comment on daily trivial things such as the guy that walks in a bar and starts yelling because he has no cigarettes and anyways there is no public smoking in New York so this story is going nowhere but you get my point. Life here is good, and simple. Hence, if at any point in this post you yawn, please go here.

See? It's been a minute and still searching keyboard for inspiration. I will say that every morning I wake up and laugh of joy. My bedroom window overlooks the backyard. There's lots of trees, but since the yard slopes down to the river, sometimes it feels like the leaves are at my eyesight level. The morning sun doesn't come in through the east-facing window, but tries to penetrate the yellow foliage of the trees. The rays bounce off the river and make it silver. Combine that with a gentle breeze that sways the trees, and squirrels searching for breakfast, and I tell you, it is like a postcard. But true! And sorry if I ventured into kitsch with my description, but it was accurate. You'll have to come and visit.

Every day I get to work at around 9-9:30pm, but usually stay here until 7. I've been trying to figure out why I can't get home earlier. It always happens that when I go to bed I wish I'd come home before, so as to get more stuff done. But in the evenings, even when all my daily programming is done, I find myself browsing the web, or walking around Saratoga. I think it's the presence of other people. As a matter of fact even during the weekends I try to be out a lot. In the end this is nothing more than cowardly covering up the truth: I'm alone (not lonely, there is a difference). And by this I do not mean, Sarah and Scott, girl-less, but simply friend-less. It would be nice to have someone with whom to hang out, someone who already knows me. But wait a moment, this is also venturing into oh-I'm-so-sad-because-college-is-over-and-life-is-lonely-oh-poor-me territory, so no more.

Had my second jazz lesson this Monday. I've a feeling after Christmas I'll be with someone else. Sure, Joe is a very nice, patient, kind, etc. man, but he's not terribly qualified to teach jazz... or so I get the impression. Feels like he picked up all these things along the way, during the past 63 years. Besides, my methodical mind needs a firm hand, and he isn't giving me weekly exercises. I kind of feel lost, aimless.

Good grief this is tedious and boring. But you asked, folks.

NO I'm not a stalker. It's simply that she is beautiful, a rare face, makes me look down when she takes my order. And no, I don't go to Borders every day. I'm not obsessed (yet), merely observing the fact that God made some women rather pretty, for us mere mortals to sigh at.

And no, I will not let this go to the extent that my previous, ahem, obsession with, oh, ahm, a person that I saw often in a musical ensemble, maybe a, uhmm, keyboard player of sorts. None of that will happen again.

Or so I hope.

Onto other things: did you read about WurldMedia and Culligan Ball? It seems we're famous. Today at Chotchkie's (the affectionately named Uncommon Grounds cafe a minute from work), during lunch, one of the hippy (they're all hippies, probably pretend-hippies) girls taking our bagel-and-soup orders, upon seeing some of us wearing the t-shirt (yes we have one) runs to her fellow employee, drags him back, and says with a slight nod of the head, "do you see it? culligan ball, I told you!". Turns out some of them go to watch us play on Wednesdays. Very neat, I must say. My shirt should be here next week. Which nicely segues to the following:

I have been nicknamed "pantalones!" and everyone says it when I get here in the morning. Also been called "G-Money Pants", "G-Funk", "Gabe Pantalones", etc. Guess what will go on my Culligan t-shirt?

Jazz trivia: the Lee Shaw trio plays at One Caroline Bistro (the place next door) every week, and the pianist is an old lady that used to be John Medeski's (Medeski Martin & Wood) teacher.

Scott posted something about finding passion. I was, curiously enough, thinking about that on Monday. An italian chef being interviewed on NPR mentioned that for him, food was his passion (along with rock'n'roll and fast italian cars). I don't think I'm passionate about programming, I mean it certainly brings me satisfaction... but if I say I'm passionate about music, well how cliche and meaningless, such a standard answer. It's still true though, and the funny thing is it takes on different "persons" depending on the circumstances. Right now music seems to be a constant companion - oh gag this is trite and makes me cringe.

See, people, nothing I have to say is very interesting. Or in other words, I'm no writer. But I will continue posting bleh as long as possible.

But it is late, almost 9pm, and I've to go home and make dinner. On the menu for tonight: bread and sausage and beer, so it can be over quick and make room for jazz guitar.

In no time you will hear my lovely tunes while you enjoy the Weather Channel.

Or even better,

Scott V- "Uh, I don't like this place, Maria."
Maria (italian supermodel) - "Oh Scottie my darling, it doesn't matter, JC Penneys is my favorite place to be!"
(kisses Scott very affectionately)
Scott V- "Uh, Sarah, anything interesting to be bought?"
Sarah DB- "Uh no, this place makes me sick! Good Night!!!"
Roberto (italian supermodel)- "Oh Sarah but it is best place in de world, I sure to find bella clothes for you my apple pie!"
(grabs Sarah, twirls and kisses her)
Sarah DB- "Oh this must be heaven!"
Scott V - "It sure must be. Oh wait a moment, do I hear Gabe's latest Jazz Platinum Record coming through the speakers carefully placed so we can be lured to buy buy buy? Yes! It's his "Smooth Jazz Vol. 76"! Unmistakeable sound. Gosh I love J.C.Penney's!"

(Maria and Scott drive away in a Ferrari Dino to the latest Wilco concert (touring in Tuscany), Sarah and Roberto take the tram to Ted Kooser's lecture at the Alberto Muscatini hall)

(end of scene)

I almost shaved ...

... my head this past weekend. But first, other news.

1 ) I finally decided that rotting shrimp smell is most definitely not a good thing to be had in my very small kitchen. Called a garbage pickup company, they charge $26.80/month for weekly pickups. Good grief! I paid 8 dollars in suck center. Complained about this, and my long-haired fellow employee noted that we have tons of cornfields on which to dump our garbage, and that makes it cheap. Had to agree on that one...

2) I haven't mowed my lawn in 3 WEEKS! This is an accomplishent, but if you haven't rented or kept a place in Iowa previously, let me explain that in the past 5 years I was indoctrinated and came to accept that The Lawn Must Be Kept Short or Else. I was wrong! Also, I have moles on my lawn. Keep killing their subterranean mansions every time I go to work, I can feel it.

3) Was called a midwesterner, after I spammed the entire company with the following: "Chalking lady seen walking south of the library, at around 10am". A seemingly innocuous email, but my keen sense of the 4 cardinal directions is not a skill to be found in east-coasters.

4) I cut my hair rather short. In other words, I had her use clippers. The next day the Saratoga DMV was graced with my presence, and upon furnishing the lady with my US passport, 4 out of 6 points needed to prove that I am indeed who I am, she exclaimed (rather loudly) "oh!". I have to live with that terrorist picture passport until March 30, 2011. What was I thinking??????? I looked horrible!

5) Wurldmedia was on the front page of Albany's Time Union newspaper. No mention of PeerImpact! Someone should have told the reporter what we actually are developing.

6) Was half-dragged to a bitchin' bump-n-grind club! Yeah baby! After a late-night event at someone's house (the party was dying) we drove to Albany, and hit this apparently popular club. On its opening night, of all days... I liked it for about 3 minutes, but then my gin and tonic was over and I went outside, to sit on the steps and wait for almost 3 hours until they were done partying. I should have driven myself.

7) I am now a very proud student of jazz guitar! This one place called One Caroline St. had a hip jazz duo one night, and it got me thinking: I have an electric guitar. I have an amp. I don't know how to play an electric guitar. I have tons of free time. Next logical step: weekly sessions with a rather amiable grey-haired man called Joe Gitto (he also plays at One Caroline often). Am loving it.

8) Two weeks ago I went to an Episcopal church and not only did I eat the body and blood of Jesus Christ, but my previous sins were forgiven! Woohoo! I went there twice, the first and the last. Beautiful cathedral, reverent liturgy, lots of candles and smoke, intricate patterns on the Father's robe, but... the sermon, excuse me, exhortation, lasted 5 minutes. I'll be frequenting Hope PCA instead. Praise & Worship (not all the time, but it manages to make me cringe), warm and friendly people, got invited to someone's house on the first day, and the pastor delivers a good exposition. I guess it just makes sense.

9) Still fancy the girl at Borders. She happens to work at another coffeehouse too, run by a lady that attends Hope PCA. Tons of possibilities there. Dreamt about her last night. This is the beginning of another obsession, I know... But she has black hair, folks! I'm helpless.

a brief description of my life

Since I haven't written letters to anyone yet (despite promising numerous times before my departure), and since both SDB and MDB have more-or-less current blogs, I've decided to try and keep this one updated as well.

I'm writing from my desk at WurldMedia (there's no internet at my house, I'm going to try and survive without it for 10 months), which is where I work, of course. I'm an entry-level server-side Java programmer, and we're developing the first legal peer-to-peer, PeerImpact. Work is so much fun that sometimes I come here during weekends to program a little bit more. It's hard to leave if you haven't finished or at least arrived at a good leaving point: I've already noticed that if it's time to go home and my code isn't working, I'll be in a foul mood all evening! It must be a programmer thing.

Saratoga Springs, NY, where WurldMedia is, seems to be a really hip and happening place. Well, when I arrived here it certainly seemed so. During 6 weeks every summer this place hosts thoroughbred racing, and I got here 3 days before the end of the season. Racing brings a lot of money to this place, obviously. Besides that, there's a very snob college in town (Skidmore) and the students drive Saabs and Audis, so they too have money (this makes my '98 Windstar feel very inadequate). Downtown (which is about 127 feet from where I am right now) is always busy. There seem to be very distinct groups of people here. The college students are either 1) jocks with teflon shirts, rolex, blond spiky gel hair, top button undone, gold around the neck, one silver earring, usually saab or mercedes or bmw, they come in hordes, crowding bar doorways, eyes glued to their female companions, who do not have enough money to buy winter clothes (or any clothes for that matter) and walk around with very tight shirts/skirts/etc., all look the same (like some one working the streets) but I won't describe them. Let's keep this blog PG-rated, kids! 2) less physically gifted (meaning uglier, the jocks are the best-looking crowd) pseudo-goth type, wearing black everything, but still driving a saab, 3) long dreadlocks, tube-like clothing device to keep the dreads in place, baggy shorts, patchouli smell, turquoise earrings, lots of facial hair, lots of hair in general, usually has a guitar handy, plays on the street but still drives a saab, 4) the rest are regular looking people, but still with a "my car is nicer than yours" attitude. Which in my case is a fair assumption.

However, not all is lost. One Caroline St. Bistro has live jazz almost every night (some of it VERY good), and I go there 2 or 3 times a week. There's a Borders and two used book stores. Plus, the girls (it always seems to be girls) working at the coffeeplaces are good-looking, so that helps.

I will continue this at a later date, since talking about food/music makes me hungry. It's about 7pm, and I'm ready for a night out! by myself. Accurate prediction of my itinerary tonight: 1) grocery store, for yoghourt and bread, 2) Borders, to try my luck and maybe meet a girl and get married, or at least buy a Hitchcock, 3) someplace else for espresso and quiet so I can finish The Greenlanders, 4) One Caroline St. for music and melancholy, 5 ) my house 13 minutes away from here, which by the way is quite a place, 3 bedrooms, completely furnished (including TV/DVD player), 2 bottles of wine, and a garden with herbs and a creek for fishing. The river does lull me to sleep.