Snow Day.

Below is a cool little video essay about the recent blizzard in New York City. I stumbled across it on Bloomberg News of all places. I wish I knew how to make things like this. Probably I just need a bunch of pictures and a pretty song, right?

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Pebble.

Pebble
by james bezerra

You know you’ve seen trouble
when your heart is worn smooth like a pebble.
Small and round,
it’s tossed around
by the unforgiving sea
until, after eons, it’s finally
abandoned on the shore.

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How I Feel.

Man, today I am just filled with the futility of life.

Am I generally in a crappy mood anyway? Absolutely.

Am I a smidge hung over? Very much.

But even the fact that someone brought donuts in to work this morning was not enough to part the clouds of this funk. And I am pretty sure that is a textbook sign of depression right there. I feel like the imaginary therapist in my head just sat bolt upright, suddenly shaken out of the mundane monotony of our session and asked, “Whoa there, not even donuts made you feel better? Yeah, we need to get you on some Zoloft STAT. ‘STAT’ by the way is a doctor word that I use because I went to medical school.”

I feel like a depressing indie movie that a TV star makes to buy some cred (yeah, I’m talking to you Rainn Wilson in “Hesher”).

I feel like the sales of Lady Gaga’s new album.

I feel like the only octopus at the Octopus High School prom who only has seven legs.

I feel like I brought a knife to a gunfight.

I feel like the very last cookie on a plate at the party that no one wants to eat. Even though the cookie is just as good as all the other cookies and the reason no one is eating it is because everybody is trying to be polite and not take the last cookie. But the cookie doesn’t know that. It just sits there and wonders why everyone thinks that it is not as tasty as all of the other cookies.

I feel like a wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore.

I feel the way you would feel on a Friday if you know you’ll have to come in on Saturday.

I feel like I am, in fact, the last one of the Mohicans.

I feel like a Jenny Craig spokesperson who gets so fat that she losses her endorsement deal.

I feel like Tiger Woods’ reputation.

I feel like elementary school teachers on Pluto who have to explain why they’re not a planet anymore.

That is how I feel today.

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Parallel Universe Weather.

Parallel Universe Weather
by james bezerra

Gish Patel was a web designer living in Palo Alto. The world that he lives in is exactly the same as the world that we live in except for one curious difference. In the world in which Gish lives everyone in American has been given an extensive meteorological education, which means that TV weathermen do not exist. When it is time for the weather report, the local news just puts up the raw weather and radar data, allowing viewers to draw their own conclusions as to what the forecast will be. But in every other way the world Gish lives in is just like ours.


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Emotional Weather Report.

Here is a wonderful and lovely little Tom Waits ditty that I had completely forgotten about. I have been in a greasy, dirty, drink-y, bluesy, Tom Waits-y kinda mood lately.

LISTEN TO IT HERE.

Here are the lyrics:
late night and early morning low clouds
with a chance of fog
chance of showers into the afternoon
with variable high cloudiness
and gusty winds, gusty winds
at times around the corner of
Sunset and Alvorado
things are tough all over
when the thunder storms start
increasing over the southeast
and south central portions
of my apartment, I get upset
and a line of thunderstorms was
developing in the early morning
ahead of a slow moving coldfront
cold blooded
with tornado watches issued shortly
before noon Sunday, for the areas
including, the western region
of my mental health
and the northern portions of my
ability to deal rationally with my
disconcerted precarious emotional
situation, it's cold out there
colder than a ticket taker's smile
at the Ivar Theatre, on a Saturday night
flash flood watches covered the
southern portion of my disposition
there was no severe weather well
into the afternoon, except for a lone gust of
wind in the bedroom
in a high pressure zone, covering the eastern
portion of a small suburban community
with a 103 and millibar high pressure zone
and a weak pressure ridge extending from
my eyes down to my cheeks cause since
you left me baby
and put the vice grips on my mental health
well the extended outlook for an
indefinite period of time until you
come back to me baby is high tonight
low tomorrow, and precipitation is
expected

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