There's no accounting for a sense of humor...

October 1, 2002:

moochermeg (12:06:01 AM): the amtrix!
keebers1 (12:06:05 AM): LOL
moochermeg (12:06:05 AM): matrix
keebers1 (12:06:12 AM): oh!
keebers1 (12:06:19 AM): I totally forgot!
keebers1 (12:06:26 AM): The amtrix is the one about the train
keebers1 (12:06:33 AM): that flies through cyberspace
moochermeg (12:06:40 AM): lol woosh!
keebers1 (12:06:45 AM): LOL woosh!
keebers1 (12:06:48 AM): ROFL
keebers1 (12:07:11 AM): I really have not had anything to drink
keebers1 (12:07:19 AM): but that sound effect made me laugh
moochermeg (12:07:21 AM): what so funny then?
keebers1 (12:07:25 AM): woosh
moochermeg (12:07:28 AM): just the "woosh"?
keebers1 (12:07:34 AM): I pictured a train just flying off into space
moochermeg (12:07:39 AM): oooook...sleep deprived a little maybe?
keebers1 (12:07:47 AM): with this cartoonish whoosh sound...and the fearful faces of all the passengers
keebers1 (12:07:55 AM): their terror fulfilled by a cartoonish woosh

Dali-ances...

Last evening, after work, I navigated through Tampa Bay, across the Howard Franklin Bridge, into St. Petersburg, in search of the "Tampa Bay Verve" meeting. Verve is a networking/community club for young professionals who want to make the most out of Tampa Bay. Founded under the idea that young professionals could stop complaining about the state of community in Tampa Bay and start doing something about it, Verve meets once a month with the idea that participants can pool their talents and resources into projects designed to making Tampa Bay more friendly for 21 - 35 year old "knowledge" workers.

Despite my trips to the amazing museums in Moscow--they might not have the market economy down, but they sure pour a lot of money into their history, with compelling results--I was not prepared for the Salvador Dali museum in St. Pete, this month's meeting place for Verve, to be so astounding. Inside the unassuming beige concrete building, I found the museum to be very modern, with an edge that doesn't normally adorn art museums in Florida. "Dali and Mass Culture," the current exhibit, was ripe with commentary on contemporary social and political events and the tour guide didn't shy away from some of the more "distasteful" sides of Dali's personality and art. And I had a feeling that we weren't just being "put on" by docents aware of Verve's 21-35 status.

The tour of the museum ended in a wide-open conference area, which seemed to actually be a converted mural room normally housing Dali's large-scale works. What a surreal experience to have a meeting five feet from images that are burned into our consciousness in countless posters and prints scattered through so many high school art rooms and businesses trying to cover for the fact that they don't have any "real art".

I wonder if Dali realized that he wasn't just commenting on mass culture; his art would become mass culture.

After the meeting, I met my new acquaintances at a local restaurant for drinks and some more discussion. It seems like a bright, lively group, with diverse backgrounds. I wish I could say that there was actual "diversity," but everyone at the meeting happened to be white, middle-to-upper class, and well educated. But even within this self-selection, I felt a bit challenged and hopeful that I would learn something if I kept attending.

My only pet peeve: does one really need to go through these slightly uncomfortable social situations, middle-school social politics playing about the edges of our "cultured" discourse, in order to meet some really great individuals?

At the moment, I'm guessing so. However, I'm really fighting my aversion to anything that resembles the race for popularity that I ditched in high school.

I've been in a funk lately. Not depression, but just a general lack of being "me."

I'm usually one with his heads up in the clouds, but, lately, if feels as if I'm analyzing the cracks in the pavement, trying to trace them back to their origin.

But then I saw "I Heart Huckabees" and, although it could qualify as the "glorious disaster" that a few critics have tried to frame the movie as, the film has enough cloud gazing to break anyone out of their concrete shoes.

And there's something foward-thinking and progressive about a movie that can attempt to weigh two contradicting philosophies of life--that everything is connect or that everything is meaningless--and come to some sort of convergence...much to the dismay of the movie's Existential Detectives.

But that's what I've always found to be encouraging--finding some sort of convergence between things. I was just getting rusty at it, that's all.

Don't scare the crap out of your hairstylist...

Justin and I woke up on Sunday and realized that we should probably get our behinds in gear and get haircuts before the beginning of the work week. Sleepy and without our morning coffee and food, we trudged off to the Brandon "Shoppingtowne" and our regular salon of late, Toni and Guy. Justin got his regular stylist, but I was given an appointment with an elvish guy who had never cut my hair before. He was nice and quiet and seemed like he wanted to have a relaxing morning.

While Justin and I were getting our hair washed in side-by-side shampoo chairs, Justin asked his stylist who was playing on the store's stereo system. Jorge didn't know, but my stylist, Todd, answered, "Gavin Degraw."

As I walked by Justin, towel on my head, I told him, "You know, Gavin Degraw...he was on 'Dead Like Me' and he got killed in the park."

"That's right! That was him?"

"Yeah."

I turn to notice that Todd has lost all color in his cheeks, his arms hanging limp by his sides.

"Gavin Degraw...got...killed?"

I spent the next five minutes explaining the premise behind "Dead Like Me" and that it was only fiction and that, of course, Gavin Degraw is still alive.