“You can’t have most of the world living in the 21st century and the rest of the world living in the 8th century, unless they’re going to limit themselves to 8th century weapons.” — Newsroom
an anecdote that found its way to my inbox:
“In line at the grocery store, a cashier told the elderly woman checking out that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment. The woman apologized to him and explained, “We didn’t have the green thing back in my day.”
“That’s our problem today,” the cashier responded. “The former generation
did not care enough to save our environment.”
He was right, that generation didn’t have the green thing in its day.
Back then, they returned their milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over—so they really were recycled.
But they didn’t have the green thing back in their day.
In her day, they walked up stairs, because they didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. They walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time they had to go two blocks.
But she was right. They didn’t have the green thing in her day.
Back then, they washed the baby’s diapers because they didn’t have the throw-away kind. They dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts—wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.
But that old lady was right, they didn’t have the green thing back in her day.
Back then, they had one TV and/or radio in the house—not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a hankerchief, not a screen the size of Montana. In the kitchen, they blended and stirred by hand because they didn’t have electric machines to do everything for you.
When they packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, they used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.
Back then, they didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. They used a push mower that ran on human power. They exercised by working so they didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.
But she was right, they didn’t have the green thing back then.
They drank from a fountain when they were thirsty instead of using a disposable cup or plastic bottle every time they had a drink of water. They refilled their pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and they replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor when the blade got dull.
But they didn’t have the green thing back then.
Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or rode the school bus instead of turning their moms into a 24 hour taxi service. They had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And they didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.
But isn’t it sad that the current generation laments how wasteful the old folks were just because they didn’t have the green thing back then?”
ie, a zillion megan amram tweets, in reverse chronological order
There's no "i" in "a list of real numbers"
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) August 7, 2013
"Life" is like a box of chocolates: they're both food that come in boxes
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) August 1, 2013
With inflation, a blow-up doll from 1981 is just as good of a girlfriend in 2013
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) July 25, 2013
It would have been way more anticlimactic if the video game had been called "Where in the World is Carmen? San Diego."
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) July 16, 2013
After my ex and I broke up, I was in a really bad place (Florida)
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) July 15, 2013
If embryos are people, ultrasounds are child pornography
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) June 28, 2013
Congrats to Oprah! Just heard she made the cover of next month's O Magazine!!
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) June 18, 2013
My perfect heaven: you die and fall into a field full of Post-It Notes upon which are written every idea you've ever forgotten to write down
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) June 14, 2013
Las Vegas is what would happen if a spam filter came to life
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) June 7, 2013
I'm going to request my last meal with fresh ground pepper & when the waiter tells me to say "when" to the pepper I'm just never going to
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) May 25, 2013
It's so insane that humans go to dark rooms to watch humans pretend to be other humans
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) May 20, 2013
When I show someone my bedroom I like to say "this is where the baggage happens!!"
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) May 17, 2013
I wish you guys could see this sunset right now. So shitty. It's just such an awful fucking sunset.
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) May 17, 2013
You say tomato, i say marinara water balloon
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) May 3, 2013
If I sent you a DM about new iPads: DO NOT OPEN IT!!! I decided I want all the savings for myself!!!
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) April 28, 2013
Squirrels are TV for homeless people
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) April 21, 2013
Is 5019 a good PIN?
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) April 12, 2013
Show me on this Georgia O'Keeffe painting where the bad man touched you
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 27, 2013
Top two sprees: 2) killing; 1) shopping
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 26, 2013
I don't want to learn karate but I really need a new belt
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 19, 2013
"Hey, it's five o'clock somewhere…" – old person eating dinner at three pm
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 15, 2013
Stocking up for the week at Whole Foods pic.twitter.com/sto2Y72bkH
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 11, 2013
"Expires 4/2013"??? What a boring-ass Snapple Fact
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 11, 2013
Gross fact: Taco Bell burritos contain less than 10% real bell
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) March 1, 2013
Things are getting serious with my boyfriend: I'm about to meet his wife!!
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) February 25, 2013
I'm giving up spell check for Lant
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) February 12, 2013
Is that a bottle of Prozac in your pocket or are you just sad to see me?
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) February 11, 2013
Plastic surgery = tailoring your birthday suit
— Megan Amram (@meganamram) February 8, 2013
“I saw you on the Manhattan-bound Brooklyn Q train.
I was wearing a blue-striped t-shirt and a pair of maroon pants. You were wearing a vintage red skirt and a smart white blouse. We both wore glasses. I guess we still do.
You got on at DeKalb and sat across from me and we made eye contact, briefly. I fell in love with you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you’re looking at and fall in love with that person. But still I think there was something there.
Several times we looked at each other and then looked away. I tried to think of something to say to you — maybe pretend I didn’t know where I was going and ask you for directions or say something nice about your boot-shaped earrings, or just say, “Hot day.” It all seemed so stupid.
At one point, I caught you staring at me and you immediately averted your eyes. You pulled a book out of your bag and started reading it — a biography of Lyndon Johnson — but I noticed you never once turned a page.
My stop was Union Square, but at Union Square I decided to stay on, rationalizing that I could just as easily transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street, but then I didn’t get off at 42nd Street either. You must have missed your stop as well, because when we got all the way to the end of the line at Ditmars, we both just sat there in the car, waiting.
I cocked my head at you inquisitively. You shrugged and held up your book as if that was the reason.
Still I said nothing.
We took the train all the way back down — down through Astoria, across the East River, weaving through midtown, from Times Square to Herald Square to Union Square, under SoHo and Chinatown, up across the bridge back into Brooklyn, past Barclays and Prospect Park, past Flatbush and Midwood and Sheepshead Bay, all the way to Coney Island. And when we got to Coney Island, I knew I had to say something.
Still I said nothing.
And so we went back up.
Up and down the Q line, over and over. We caught the rush hour crowds and then saw them thin out again. We watched the sun set over Manhattan as we crossed the East River. I gave myself deadlines: I’ll talk to her before Newkirk; I’ll talk to her before Canal. Still I remained silent.
For months we sat on the train saying nothing to each other. We survived on bags of skittles sold to us by kids raising money for their basketball teams. We must have heard a million mariachi bands, had our faces nearly kicked in by a hundred thousand break dancers. I gave money to the beggars until I ran out of singles. When the train went above ground I’d get text messages and voicemails (“Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”) until my phone ran out of battery.
I’ll talk to her before daybreak; I’ll talk to her before Tuesday. The longer I waited, the harder it got. What could I possibly say to you now, now that we’ve passed this same station for the hundredth time? Maybe if I could go back to the first time the Q switched over to the local R line for the weekend, I could have said, “Well, this is inconvenient,” but I couldn’t very well say it now, could I? I would kick myself for days after every time you sneezed — why hadn’t I said “Bless You”? That tiny gesture could have been enough to pivot us into a conversation, but here in stupid silence still we sat.
There were nights when we were the only two souls in the car, perhaps even on the whole train, and even then I felt self-conscious about bothering you. She’s reading her book, I thought, she doesn’t want to talk to me. Still, there were moments when I felt a connection. Someone would shout something crazy about Jesus and we’d immediately look at each other to register our reactions. A couple of teenagers would exit, holding hands, and we’d both think: Young Love.
For sixty years, we sat in that car, just barely pretending not to notice each other. I got to know you so well, if only peripherally. I memorized the folds of your body, the contours of your face, the patterns of your breath. I saw you cry once after you’d glanced at a neighbor’s newspaper. I wondered if you were crying about something specific, or just the general passage of time, so unnoticeable until suddenly noticeable. I wanted to comfort you, wrap my arms around you, assure you I knew everything would be fine, but it felt too familiar; I stayed glued to my seat.
One day, in the middle of the afternoon, you stood up as the train pulled into Queensboro Plaza. It was difficult for you, this simple task of standing up, you hadn’t done it in sixty years. Holding onto the rails, you managed to get yourself to the door. You hesitated briefly there, perhaps waiting for me to say something, giving me one last chance to stop you, but rather than spit out a lifetime of suppressed almost-conversations I said nothing, and I watched you slip out between the closing sliding doors.
It took me a few more stops before I realized you were really gone. I kept waiting for you to reenter the subway car, sit down next to me, rest your head on my shoulder. Nothing would be said. Nothing would need to be said.
When the train returned to Queensboro Plaza, I craned my neck as we entered the station. Perhaps you were there, on the platform, still waiting. Perhaps I would see you, smiling and bright, your long gray hair waving in the wind from the oncoming train.
But no, you were gone. And I realized most likely I would never see you again. And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.
I stayed on the train until it got to Union Square, at which point I got off and transferred to the L.”
original post here
emily just finished a huge project at work so we threw a surprise dinner party for her—
colorful letters on computer paper, with stamps and drawings and colored with rainbow chalk, strung together on twine to say “congratulations emily” and hung across my living room. flowers in mason jars and scotch bottles. a huge multicolored mylar parrot we named bernie, “laying” a blue farmers market egg in a brown bag nest. a moleskine with a bookmark stamped with emily’s name and a heart that alex and i made with our thumbprints. the coffee table set with candles and flowers and and mugs of lavender rooibos tea and a pitcher of lemon water with party straws that looked like peppermint sticks, and cushions from the couch to use as seating.
there were no leftovers.
it was a perfect night, full of love and warmth and caring and belonging and joy and gratitude.
(and a killer soundtrack.)
spring mix, roasted lemon brussel sprouts, toasted pumpkin seeds, chia cider vinaigrette.
wild king salmon pan seared and finished in the oven, with some delicious mystery rub that matt concocted, and sliced avocados.
steamed artichokes with a dipping sauce of grapeseed oil, minced garlic, minced basil, salt and lemon juice.
cold cucumber soup: chopped cucumber marinated with leeks, garlic, lemon juice, dill and salt and pureed with chicken stock, finished with grapeseed oil.
i let itunes shuffle and here is the magic it produced:
the equals — baby come back
ed askew — my love is a red, red rose (live, 1970)
hoots and hellmouth — the ache
sonic youth — sacred trixter
waterstrider — let them stare
moon king — appel
fatty acid — sax rush
gaby moreno — que voy a hacer
slava — file
johan blomgren — california sundown
sonia montez — learning to sing
sleeping at last — snow
jamaica — i think i like u 2
andy morris — wasteland
mister loveless – nineties children
the weeknd – lonely star
public enemy — everything (ft gerald albright & sheila brody)
sean bones — here now
yellow ostrich — mary
jeff buckley — last goodbye
pale seas — sleeping
pepper rabbit — older brother
hoots and hellmouth — ocean open wide #daytrotter
emperor x — rural pakistan
primo and hopeton – loving and kind
suckers — a mind i knew
terry malts — nauseous #daytrotter
great lake swimmers — changing colours
hotfox — the dollar theatre
jill sobule — sweetheart
borrowed beams of light — half life
yo la tengo — the point of it
the sea and cake — covers
father john misty — hollywood forever cemetery sing
quiet man — she stayed home
dave matthews band — crash into me [yes this happened, now please stop laughing]
TAB the band — she said no (i love you)
japanther — come back home #daytrotter
brother pacific — bite the bullet
sonny & the sandwitches — throw my ashes from this pier when i die
sun kil moon — sunshine in chicago
little ruckus — promise land
REM — pop song 89
maps & atlases — israeli caves
john holt — you must believe me
asian pear, chevre, multigrain toast, bacon fig jam /// multigrain toast, goat cheese, smoked salmon, granny smith apple
answered in user comments
“There is no such thing as a modern Patti Smith.”
“So the millennial generation is now just being referred to as Lena Dunham’s generation? I dissent.”
“I figured the point of Patti Smith was that there was only one Patti Smith.”
Miley Cyrus: “HER LYRICS SPEAK TO ME.”
Colin Quiche #ComedianMeals
— LaughSpin.com (@laughspincom) August 7, 2013
Bill Burrito #ComedianMeals
— LaughSpin.com (@laughspincom) August 7, 2013
#comedianmeals Rodney Danger Field greens
— Eddie Della Siepe (@EddieDellaSiepe) August 7, 2013
#ComedianMeals Eddie Dairy Queen Blizzard
— Rove McManus (@Rove) August 7, 2013
— Alex Marin y Kall (@esewey) August 7, 2013
#ComedianMeals is trending, and the only thing I can think of is Jim Gaffigan's "Hoooooooooot Pockets" line.
— Jim B (@JimB_1985) August 7, 2013
#ComedianMeals Ramen noodles with a side of our parents' disappointment
— Tim Durham (@TheTimDurham) August 7, 2013
Don 'Garlic' Knotts #ComedianMeals
— John Poveromo (@JohnPoveromo) August 7, 2013
— Leigh Hintz (@LeighHintz) August 7, 2013
— Shannon (@Shannon3n88) August 7, 2013
— Emily Boyle (@EmBionic) August 7, 2013
Xanax and Alcohol. And chicken strips. #ComedianMeals
— Kirk Novak (@novakkirk) August 7, 2013
Margaret Pho #ComedianMeals
— Matt Quagliotto (@totalquailure) August 7, 2013
This #ComedianMeals game is at least 20 years old. While we're at it, I'll have the linguini with Marc Maronara sauce please.
— Judah Friedlander (@JudahWorldChamp) August 7, 2013
roasted rainbow beet. goat cheese, lemon, parsley quinoa. red leaf lettuce, cherry tomatoes, feta, white balsamic vinaigrette.
roast fig/rosemary balsamic caramelized onion/bacon jam
“In the picture where you’re holding the baby, do you keep him in the cage behind you?”
shredded potato hash browns, bacon, tomato jam
jess and her fiance were back in town for a wedding so i made sunday brunch (artichoke heart, sundried tomato and goat cheese quiche and a stonefruit salad) and we had it al fresco in dolores park.
i wish my apartment had room service
my citrus zest, ginger, and garlic are always freshly grated, and it makes a tremendous difference.
“I see that you are good at parallel parking, how long does it typically take you to park?”
I love when itunes seems to somehow know what I’m doing and shuffles me up the perfect soundtrack
then why did you send me this message???
“I’m not the droid you’re looking for”