gratifying squish

from: journal entry 4/14/04

it is a monday morning after a long winter, 7:50 am. i’m on the red line, heading outbound towards cambridge. towards the front of the car there is a pool of coffee with cream, partially absorbed by a discarded metro that is slowly seeping across the marbleized grey linoleum floor. it’s a menacing mass of animate liquid, about three feet across, growing larger and more out of control with every bump and sway of the train. there is a suspicious froth at the edge in some areas – a reaction with whatever godforsaken substance winds up on a floor of a subway car.

the train is so crowded between south station and downtown crossing that it is impossible to avoid it. the odd jolt produces tentacles that strike passengers who mistakenly thought they were strictly spectators. those of us closer to it are looking down with nervous anticipation and fear. i am trying to stand on the outside edges of my feet, without really understanding what good that will do. others in more expensive shoes are trying to get on their tip toes, which, as evident by the strain on their faces and their failing ankles, is the first time they have tried to do so in a few decades.

enough people filter out at downtown crossing that i am able to escape, taking a seat far enough away to observe other’s clumsy attempts at avoiding the spill as it expands and attacks. i am mortified, realizing that only moments before i was guilty of the same irrational fear and ridiculous gesture. i had promised myself when i started doing this commute that i wouldn’t be one of those uptight, heads-down, cattle-people that i took such pleasure in scoffing at only months before. now we were no different.

the doors open at park. on walks a college-aged asian girl in flip flops and hip hugging jeans – the excess fabric of which is dragging precariously on the floor. those close to the situation look at her exposed feet and dragging jeans as if she were the guy in hitchcock’s “the birds” who was lighting a cigarette over a pool of leaking gasoline. she catches herself in time, freezing in front of it and staring, petrified. her unexpected stop causes a temporary back up of commuters colliding into each other – all confused, all dancing around the pool, loosing their balance and risking injury every time the train accelerates.

as the crowd further thins, it parts around a man, mid-twenties and well dressed; with the tell-tale white earbuds of an ipod stemming from his ear. he is planted defiantly in the thickest area of the spill, glaring down at it while playing subtle air guitar. as we lurch over the longfellow, i stare out the window at various crew teams – performing their early morning warm-up under a promising spring sky. their wake leaves a shimmering herringbone pattern across an otherwise placid charles. somewhere between this guy and the river, i feel, for the first time in my life and with great confidence, that the secret to life is in the appreciation and enjoyment of it while it sloshes beneath your feet, or passes outside your window. as i get off at dendall i make a point of stepping on the coffee-soaked metro – it lets out a gratifying squish as i continue out the doors.

5 Names of Things That I Always Thought There Should Be a Name For

This all started with squelcherflange, which my fiancé still won't let me say in her presence, as she has an easy-to-trigger gag reflex. Please feel free to use these whenever possible; many of these wouldn't come up frequently, but both gipe and squm should be part of your daily vernacular...

Squelcherflange

n. Entrails, used only when protruding out the rectum of roadkill.

“My god, did you see the size of the squelcherflange on that raccoon?.” -- anon

Gipe

n. Any unidentifiable substance, deposit, or residue that is a place is shouldn’t be.

“Hold on a sec, you’ve got some gipe in the corner of your mouth.” -- anon

Squm

n. the result of accumulating sweat between your legs – or any other place that there are long durations of skin on skin contact. See also: swaint, swass.

“Remember to Gold Bond whenever possible, nobody likes the smell of squm.” -- anon

Twink {additional definition}

n. A politically correct artist’s rendering of the genitalia of a young boy, similar in shape to half of a miniature Twinkie.

See: Maurice Sendak’s Mickey in the Night Kitchen, or Family Guy episode where Stewie addresses the UN naked.

Hackulty

n. A teacher or instructor who is either; working well after they have stopped caring, or, never good at what they do in the first place.

ice creams and misdemeanors

yesterday i ate astronaut ice cream for the first time in about fifteen years. it was exactly as i remembered it. granted the only thing that makes it cool is that the astronauts ate it, and it doesn't taste like shit, which is more than i can say for tang, which is closer to the filling for a fun dip pouch than it is to o.j.

this morning i spent two hours in the providence municipal court to contest a $100 dollar parking ticket that i got in january. it had since tripled to $300 and therefore worth my time to show up. when i used to watch people's court i always thought that what i was watching was complete bullshit, but rest assured that this is the one program on television that does a fair job in representing the other side of america, the side that would surface if you were ever to do a core sample of the public at, say, a food court in a large mall. not to mention this is providence, which makes everything more interesting. you would think that this state was founded by religious and social outcasts from other states.....oh wait!

there are times in my life where is become hyper-aware of just how grateful i am to have the good fortune of my education and background. you would think that most people would know to address a judge as your honor, or to speak up, or to maybe wear more than a wife beater and baggie pants to a court appearance. my favorite part of the morning was when there was a teenager, again, with pants around his ankles and a wife beater, who was joining us that morning as a result of three counts. the first was eluding a police officer, the second was disorderly conduct, the third was resisting arrest, here is my best attempt at the actual conversation flow:

judge: this is ridiculous. you almost hit someone with a car and you get disorderly conduct? it should be attempted manslaughter, what do you have to say to yourself?

kid: well, you see, i was running away from the police for a really good reason...(pause)

judge: be careful what you say next!

kid: ummm, well, you see there is a really good reason. the officer was hostile...

judge: oh, and i am sure that he was really calmed down when you ran away from him.

kid: (silence)

the kind of sad part of this was that he plead guilty, she threw him a bone and gave him a reduced fine. when he walked away, he stopped, turned around, and nervously leaned over the microphone.

kid: "ma'am, is this a felony."

judge: "no son, it's not a felony. you'll be ok."

that, i admit was kind of heartbreaking. but it was reassuring to see that beyond her playful and sarcastic wit, that she actually cared.

i felt a little over prepared with my brooks brothers shirt, notebook, and pictures of the “tow zone” that didn’t have a sign. my entire hearing lasted about ten seconds and i was on my way. she wouldn’t even let me finish my sentence. i felt like a geek, i felt lucky, i felt out of place, i felt grateful for that.

That's what happens when you go from infant to teenager in three seasons...

child stars grow up too fast.....no, really. brian bonsall, who played the lesser-known andrew keaton on “family ties” apparently drank a half pint of jim beam and then drove around the streets of suburban boulder with a friend of his, occasionally stopping so his friend could puke out the window. when asked how much he drank, he told the officer "plenty." creativity on and off the set. beautiful.

i know that child stars can have it tough, and it must be even more painful for child characters that are the physical manifestations of writers running out of things to do with available cast members. he was the write-in kid. the writers milked mama keaton’s pregnancy for all it was worth, then had andrew grow from infant to an articulate button-faced six year old in one season. it must be tough when everyone associates your character with the beginning of the end of an otherwise successful sitcom. other examples: sam mckinney, the redhead freckle-faced whitey on diff’rent strokes, and chrissy seaver on growing pains, the mini pre-benet-ramsey who also had the same growth issues that andrew keaton had.

there are, however some other forms of tv kid syndromes that could be comparable, if not worse than the write-in kid:

….to grow ugly in front of america. that poor ben from growing pains. what an eyesore. he got so ugly and awkward you know the writers had to have talked about killing him off, potentially in a social message episode on heroin, or drunk driving or something. i recall that the cocaine episode left a little to be desired.

….becoming really, really, flaming gay in front of america, like jonathan bower in “who’s the boss?” who was so clearly gay by ten years old that most of america knew before he did. it started with that aquanet cowlick and ended in a lisp so thick that even the best Hollywood speech coach would run the other way. all those years so close to alyssa milano...what a waste.

….diff’rent strokes syndrome. guns, anorexia, heroin, prison, etc. the list goes on. no further explanation needed.

i would like to personally thank each one of them for living such miserable post-tv lives as to squander any jealousy that i may have had of any child star back when i was watching them.

**props to mcgoldrick for his suggested addtions to this article: olivia on the cosby show (when rudi started growing a moustache) and oliver on the brady's. not technically the baby addition, same concept**

Link to story: http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=796&e=2&u=/eo/20040603/en_celeb_eo/14235