Occupy Wall Street - My Two Cents

I'm reporting to you live from home. Not from Zuccotti Park or Washington Square Park or a holding cell. I haven't been down to the protest site. Me, Miss Rebel Rouser. I most certainly have reason to. I am part of the 99%. Don't have a job to call out from to join Occupy Wall Street (one of the reasons I'm in the 99%). Yet, the protest, the movement, doesn't feel organic. Would I be more inclined to participate if there was tear gas involved? If I had the opportunity to hold hands with Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson? If they were burning effigies? For a protest, there seems to be a lot of rules and regulations and scheduling. Are they simply trying to bait the NYPD into committing brutality?


When they said Occupy Wall Street, that's what I thought they'd do. Block entrances to buildings, camp out in the lobby of 60 Pine Street, clog the Wall Street subway stations. Granted, many of the workers on Wall Street can work from home but maneuvers like that would make the "corporate bigwigs" think twice about coming to work. The protesters are in a park providing walking lanes for commuters. I've read their "list of demands"; there's that tiny sliver of haves that need to realize that the have-nots are pissed. We need to go Robin Hood on them. As result, I haven't ventured to Occupy Wall Street. I've viewed some photos online. Barely sat through 30 seconds of coverage on livestream.


I guess I expected more of this:

Instead of this:

Photo Credit: Ijeoma D. Iheanacho

Those are my current feelings. They are subject to change.

*   *   *

I Didn't Ask To See Your Penis

Note: The above was NOT forcibly removed
"Storm Drain", Man. Toy.

These men...no matter how old, they just love to whip it out

That's a text message I received from a girlfriend after I told her I'd received a dick pic seconds before. I replied to her: Yeah! It's like their badge or something!


Men and their penises.

They love to show them off.

Even when you didn't plead to see it.

Even if they've never met you.

Rhythm And F'n Blues

While hanging with a friend a few nights ago, a song came on his shuffle that perked my ears right up. It was raw. At first I thought it was a spoof but he informed me that it was an actual recording by Lucille Bogan -- "Till The Cows Come Home". He gave me a brief history lesson on the life of Lucille Bogan (aka Bessie Jackson who was a known prostitute and would at times fuck men with strap-ons).

I know the blues are very sensual and sexual. I got a recent dose of blues' lyrics in Too Much Boogie by Cole Riley. But they were a bit "milder". I'm used to double entendres and euphemisms but Ms. Bogan plunged in head first (see what I did there?)!

Frasier Meets 3rd Rock From The Sun

I would love to see Dick Solomon (John Lithgow, 3rd Rock from the Sun) and Frasier Crane (Kelsey Grammer, Frasier) meet one another. I think their character dynamic would be very entertaining and competitive. Just imagine all the polysyllabic chest-pounding!


Setting:
Seattle, Washington circa 1999


Premise:
Dick Solomon and his family, Sally, Harry and Tommy are new tenants in the Elliot Bay Towers. But how/why do they meet? Dick is a new member or Frasier's wine club, or Frasier is giving a psychiatry talk at the same university Dick where teaches.


Character Dynamics:

Both Frasier and Dick are pompous, multilingual and intelligent but Dick's naivete about Earth and total lack of respect for personal space would become glaringly obvious to Frasier. He interprets it as some sort of psychiatric problem that he must diagnose and treat. Dick mistakes Frasier's interest as friendship but when Frasier begins to label him and insist something is wrong with him, Dick is offended (Nothing is wrong with my brain! My brain is far superior to yours!) and the competitive nature of their relationship begins.

Waving The Red Flag

My online dating experiment continues...


I received this note in response to one I sent after reading someone's post/profile:

Hey Abigail,

Thanks for answering my little post. I forgot to mention something that may be very important to you: I'm short. 5'7 ... just thought I'd mention it. ;)

By the way, I try to stay fit also. I run every day. And try to avoid unhealthy stuff. It's too easy to let yourself go. And it's depressing to throw your health away. I think most American are obese because they're sad. It's just filling a void.

3-Day Chocolate Binge

My chocolate binge has lasted a lot longer than three days. I've lost track of the number of Snickers, Pret A Manger brownies, chocolate chip granola bars, chocolate coated graham crackers and Peanut M&Ms I've downed recently. Last week, three treats really stood out.

Table Manners

I had a meal with a man on Friday. As we walked through the LES we decided to go to Clinton Street Baking Company. So far so good. Chose the Chicken and Waffles off the menu. Ok, nothing to report about there. Then dinner was served.

He ate like a Neanderthal (no disrespect to any other Neanderthals who may be reading this). He attacked the chicken like it wasn't already dead. I took a photo of my plate and sent it to a friend who I'd made plans with the night before to go Clinton Street Baking for that very meal next week. By the time I looked up from my cell phone, he'd already devoured two pieces of the half chicken we were served, grease and food all over his face.

It's A Small WWE Universe

The WWE Universe is vast yet small. Especially to a die hard fan and in New York. On Sunday morning, September 11, on my way home from my doggy weekend, I boarded a bus. I noticed a man sitting in the back. He had a very familiar face. I stole glances and got caught looking several times. I was trying to figure out where I knew him from. My initial thought was his name was Vladimir. I remember him from the 1980's and 1990's--he was always at ringside at all the then-WWF PPV's and house shows at Madison Square Garden. I learned his name when he was featured in the then-WWF magazine.

A Dog's Weekend

First cats, now dogs...


My friend hired me to pet-sit for a few days. There was also a cat present but rarely seen.


Meet Oscar and Lucy!

Oscar

Lucy

Day 1: Not a full day. I arrived at my friend's apartment after work and was greeted with unbelievable enthusiasm and energy. I could tell I'd walked in on a play session they'd organized for themselves. It took about 45 minutes to actually leave the apartment for the walk--I couldn't figure out how to get the harness on, nevermind the instructions that were left. You know you've reached a new low when a dog gives you the side-eye. Oscar stood stoic, waiting to be strapped in. Lucy was high on coke I'm prone to believe. The walk itself went off without a hitch--2 square blocks, 2 poop-and-scoops.

"Empire State of Mind" 9/11 Tribute

Never forget

Sunday Jam Session

Music.

It took me to 1960's Brooklyn and 1980's Harlem.

Took me through Argentinian pride and Uruguay strife.

It celebrated the West Indies and declared independence for Brazil.

Music took me to lovers' beds and hearts. The trips and falls in and out of love.

Took me to the great State of Texas.

Music took me to New Orleans to march with the saints.

Took me to a blues joint.

Music tugged secrets from our souls with each slide of the trombone.

Took me into the soul of a blossoming songwriter.

It softened angst and broke outer shells.

Music tasted like Guinness and Malbec and Mate.

Music filled the room. 8 people in a room and music will make it feel a hundred deep.

It softened a love cynic's heart and brought tears to eyes.

It sounded like throaty laughter on the 3 and 16 count.

Music left it's mark with the power of words.

It wrote this prose.

Music is the bass Griot.

It evoked cravings for cuchifritos.

Music was the glue that held handshakes, hugs and hips together.

It instructed the 2-step and the way he twirled her this way and that.

On a sticky September Sunday, it wasn't too hot for music.

Kali. Abbie. Baby.

I had another "Aha!" moment this morning. Yesterday, I had a photo shoot for the upcoming Asana Exposed -- a photographic essay book on the transformative power of naked yoga from the creator of Naked Yoga NYC, ISIS Phoenix, with photographer Mike Cinquino. I've mentioned my naked yoga history briefly on this blog before. Very excited to be a part of this project!


During the photo shoot, ISIS Phoenix chose asanas that personified each of us (Cindee Rifkin, yoga instructor, was also a model at the shoot). One asana ISIS chose for me was Kali (Goddess) Pose. I'd never done it before and had a lot of fun doing it. Visually, it's a very simple pose -- wide squat, hands out to the side, tongue sticking out and a vocalization -- but internally, it's very powerful and freeing -- immerse yourself in Kaliasana and you'll quite possibly evoke Kali.

Music, Inspiration And "Too Much Boogie"

I received goodies in the mail last week -- two erotic short story collections. I just finished reading one of them, Too Much Boogie: Erotic Remixes of the Dirty Blues by Cole Riley.

After looking over the "track list" on the back cover I immediately turned to "Effects of Moonshine" by Dorla Moorehouse. Due to recent happenings in my own life after drinking actual moonshine, I had to read this story. I wasn't disappointed. The heat, the dancing, the bodies...

Planet Of The Apes Meets Jurassic Park

"Caesar, we found an island for you. It's in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, 
off the coast of Costa Rica. I think you'll really like it." 
"Caesar will go. No more stupid humans."

I spent a rainy Sunday afternoon watching a Jurassic Park marathon. I'm a sucker for a good creature feature. In the third installment of the Jurassic Park (2001) franchise, part of the storyline is the Velociraptors (raptor) are intelligent and can communicate with one another with specialized calls. That aids them in hunting and they can also call one another for help. Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill) gives a lecture in which he theorizes that had it not been for the cataclysmic event that wiped out all dinosaurs, raptors could have become the dominate species on earth.

Hmm...

In come the apes. 

One intelligent species against another.

Mixers And The Single Woman

Recently I found out about a mixer/meet-up. I emailed the invite to a few friends to see who'd be interested in going. Geraldine and I decided to venture to the Empire Hotel on a Friday night.


I rarely go to mixers. Well, mixers that are advertised as mixers. I attended one earlier this year hosted by WTF Is Up With My Love Life. The object was to find new members for your gaggle. Admittedly, I was more interested in boosting my career.

Can't Blame It On The Alcohol

I can honestly say no sexual intercourse took place in this bed. It was after 2am, we'd met at a cocktail lounge, kissed in the cab and I marveled at the Danish he spoke in a slight British accent that escaped out his Colombian-tanned complexion.


I don't have drunk sex. I rarely have tipsy sex. I stated that fact when he invited me back to his hotel. And I told him again about half-hour later when he told me the invite still stood. Sex is very physical for me. I'm not the type to just lie there. Alcohol is a depressant. I just want to (try to) sleep after I drink. I also want to remember who, what, where, when and how. So I don't do drunk hook-ups.


Do you have any sex-alcohol rules? Do you have the willpower to stop if faced with temptation? Do you remember everything you've ever done and with whom?


The only thing I can blame alcohol for is sex not happening. That bed was very comfortable, the bedding blindingly white and I only needed one pillow, they were so plush. The Colombian-Dane respected my decision despite his desire. And I still have respect for myself.

*   *   *

My Afternoon With The Italian Architect

I spent a few hours with a 33 year old architect from Milan. He responded to an ad I posted online; he was in NY to learn English and wanted to meet me. I chose the time and place where we met in Brooklyn on a gorgeous afternoon.


We walked and talked. He's a professor of architecture in Italy. He taught me a lot about the history of NY architecture; he's very knowledgeable and passionate about his work. It was strange for him to now be the student (he's taking English classes during the day) and have homework.  He's the only Italian in his class; the majority of the students are Spanish-speakers. He was a bit disappointed because as he put it, he's close to Spain when he's home. He didn't want to cross an ocean for more Spanish. I mentioned that it was interesting that the Spanish-speaking students in his class were all European not from Latin America.


Throughout the afternoon he shared his take on the New York culture (and American culture, in general) that he's been exposed to and I pointed out local points of interests all while teaching or correcting his English when necessary. The prayer alarm blared as we passed a mosque. Sitting outside were two woman wearing burqas and niqabs. A few blocks away he asked about the America view of Muslims after 9/11.

Cyber Contact And Communication

Before the internet, there's no doubt people were curious about how their exes, one-night stands, could-have-beens or former friends were doing after they'd come and gone from their lives but they didn't have the means to find out without hiring a PI or asking a friend of a friend. There wasn't instant access to someone's day-to-day life. Nowadays, there's frequent trolling of someone's Facebook page, Twitter stream or coincidentally running into someone at the location they just checked-in on Foursquare (that last part is their own fault). I even know folks who get somewhat irritated or annoyed if they log-on to check-up on a former down-low and there are no recent posts; there's an expectation that the "ex" will keep them in the loop with updates. Then the freak out begins: What's up? They not using Facebook anymore? What are they doing? Who are they with?

Can't Afford Free

Photo credit: Fred Guenther

As I sat in the corner two-seater of the Q train, under the refreshing air conditioner blast, two men boarded the train at DeKalb Ave. I went back to my reading until one of the men  began to fill the car with the sounds of his accordion. Girl you look so sharp every time you pass in dem pum pum shorts It was an unconscious distraction as I sang along to the familiar melody in my head.


My phone rang indicating I had a text message. I joined many of the other straphangers in checking our phones while we had service above ground. Halfway across the bridge, I decided to put away my book; I was getting off at the next stop.

Dress The Part

I met a man a week ago for Sunday brunch. We'd confirmed plans the night before. On Sunday morning I received a text from him:

I'm up. Don't know what to wear. Lol. today is beautiful.

Ok I thought, he just wants to strike up conversation. He'd never used "lol" before either so I let that one slide. I wrote back that he should just dress comfortably especially if he was going to be out and about all day. I told him my motto is all about comfort to which he replied:

My comfort is old cutoff jeans and a t shirt. That's not what u meet someone dressed in.