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I'm just saying...

  • I would pay extra for an edition of the New York Times with no opinion pieces.
  • Evite should run reviews and ratings from party guests.
  • Prius drivers are the worst.
  • Someday I'd like to have a washing machine that's not at knee-level.
  • Train travel is better in the abstract.
  • Artists should have websites indicating where their works are on display, the way musicians' websites list upcoming shows.
  • Why is stand-up comedy in movies always so terrible?
  • Nothing kills the vibe at a restaurant bar like a laptop.
  • Is a "knowledge base" ever useful?
  • Houseguests are like newborns: Great pains should be taken to keep them asleep.
  • Sometimes I think everyone I know is on the spectrum.
  • Best to avoid any gas pump that also offers diesel.
  • Skip the exit interview.
  • When did car windshields get impossible to clean on the inside?
  • Cookbooks should be very clear about which recipe is featured on the cover.
  • Penne is the saddest pasta.
  • Don't eat a dish named after a volcano.
  • Nobody cares about your app.
  • It's time to remove that note at the end of your emails asking people not to print them.
  • If you think about it, gum is weird.
  • Business idea: TV channel devoted to terror attacks.
  • Please don't tell me about your favorite TV show.
  • The more reachable I've become, the less likely I am to answer my phone.

previous lyrics

  • This may come as some surprise, but I miss you
  • I walked home smiling—I finally had a story to tell
  • I kissed you in a style Clark Gable would have admired. I thought it classic
  • If you knew how I felt now, you wouldn't act so adult now
  • Under the kitchen light, you still look like dynamite
  • The culture is lit, and if this is it, I had a ball
  • I was dreaming when I wrote this, so sue me if I go too fast
  • I never wanted to be your weekend lover
  • Sometimes I wish for a mistake
  • Downstairs the party is going full swing. The people we came with haven't noticed a thing
  • It’s not safe to go out, it’s not right to stay home. Listen, my advice is to carry a gun
  • And anyways I'd rather listen to Coltrane than go through all that shit again
  • Up to Lexington, 125—feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive
  • Whoever brought me here is gonna have to take me home
  • I hear you knockin', but there ain't nobody home
  • What's practical? What's logical? What the hell, who cares?
  • I don't know what I knew before, but now I know I want to win the war
  • Tell me something that you mean, not just what comes to mind
  • I don't know my future after this weekend, and I don't want to
  • I see you driving sports cars, ain't hitting the throttle, and I'll be down to do a hundred, top down and goggles
  • Sing me another love song, but this time with a little dedication
  • You got a look in your eye when you're saying goodbye, like you want to say hi
  • I'll settle for a cup of coffee, but you know what I really need

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25 January 2010

On and Off Broadway

Sashay shantay
I was crossing Broadway today, agog at how the street was closed down by my apartment because strong winds had blown debris off an under-construction building, when a man with a camera approached. "I'm a newspaper photographer and I just took a sick picture of you," he said, handing me a New York Post card and showing me the image on his screen. "Can I get your name?" I saw no reason why not. And when he offered to send me the image, I said that'd be great. It is pretty sick, isn't it? (I'm not crediting him yet because I don't want this post to jeopardize the chances of my picture ending up in the paper—that's what a filthy whore for publicity I am.) His name was Chad Rachman. Funnily enough, I was once shot by a New York Times photographer while on Fifth Avenue, but I only learned about it when I came across myself in the paper. It's here somewhere....

NYT photo 2001 jpg

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