Seymour's · Audience

Excuse me but I have one more exciting announcement (though my last one you never bothered to read wasn't very compelling). I have registered for classes and got all my first choices. They are listed below.


20437 ENG 201 Writing in the Disciplines
W 10:10 am-12:00 pm
F 11:15 am-12:10 pm

20168 ART 216 Art History: American Art
W 06:00 pm-08:45 pm

20282 LIT 212R Romanticism and the Modern World
T 10:10 am-12:00 pm
R 10:10 am-11:05 am

20862 SPA 284 Intermediate Spanish Composition
MTR 01:25 pm-02:20 pm

23024 ART 297H Children's Book Illustration
W 01:25 pm-04:10 pm


The Spanish teacher is awesome and considering I converse with the cooks verbally, a writing class can only further benefit me. Not sure who any of the other teachers are, but I'm infinitely happy how things panned out, especially with that last class(!!!).

In other news, I'm heading to Mexico for a week in December. Why? I'm asking that myself, just time to move I suppose. Pretty good deal, I have the guidance of natives and gringos alike to help me out but I have a feeling it will be a calm trip. Probably a lot of writing and Spanish studying.

I'm finding people I once thought invincible exposing their fears, anxieties and insecurities.

So today at work I burned myself on this lamp for the fries. It's a little white mark on my right wrist. On my left bicep is a funny square-shaped scar from Piccolo when Va Va opened the oven door and Edmar moved me slightly by accident into the corner of it. I think that for every restaurant gig I get I'll burn a mark on myself to prove I worked there. Who needs battle scars when you have oven scars???

BOO so...I'm thinking of making a food blog of some kind. Not Julie Powell-like (the non-Julia Child human from "Julie & Julia")(how could she afford all the groceries?) but more along the lines of Bronx Flavor or even Michael Ruhlman. Blahhhhhh, I explained to my co-workers my three goals with cooking (or at least those pertaining to confectionery goodness):

1. Outdo Max Brenner
2. Outdo Cake Boss (that fucker)
3. Become Willy Wonka

Is it that unrealistic to morph into an ass-kicking Gene Wilder? Is it? Didn't Gene Wilder already prove himself as a genuine ass-kicker??? BOOM. Like John Locke from "Lost" says, "DON'T TELL ME WHAT I CAN'T DO"

This has been more carefully thought over than anyone seems to comprehend. Nothing has more made sense than this, nothing has felt more tangible.

( Mocha with Orange to Compliment )

One social system lacerated, second social system wired and (out of frantic oblivion) I find yet another ripping off their smiles for somebody's consumption. Work is a convenient word, but just to make things complicated let everything go on. Thursday woven cloth every thread falls row by row into place and it's all so set...he planted two seeds and waits patiently by the windowsill for them to grow but ohnono! Okay...and we run back to the same place for a little five dollar alchemy. One homeless man comes to bless my family and yes Sir, I will believe you ("put the change in his cup along with the trying forces of nature")(please, we can wash your hands). Be it 3 a.m we can be ecstatic blessed creatures crawling around some fake retro den we all by some convoluted sense of validation in our lives collided...this is a tragedy because you folks know what this is about and no, it's not okay that your brat throws crayons on the floor. One more minute minute minute and I'm out!!!

.

...but I wish I could stay with you guys.

i walked all day in manhattan today (WTC to 80th st and meandering down to 33rd st) so when i got back i took a wonderful two hour nap and now i can't sleep. i'd like to say that i had an unexplainable epiphany of the 4th 'o july after seeing conor oberst and the mystic valley band (FOR FREE)(AND OUTSIDE). it was easily the greatest show i've ever seen in my life, never has the sound wrapped around me so much, GAH it was awesome. and all the songs sound so different on the album than live (live is better). so i walked a similar distance then like i did today because i was happy. then i played geetar and slept some more. wait...what was the purpose of this? not sure, but tomorrow i end my slavery at johnny rockets and start making some money (you don't make nuttin' during training). i also started listening to bowerbirds which is incredible like conor oberst.

the purpose of this was a pleasant thought i had in central park. i saw an old man playing an accordion and gave him some change. he smiled an old man smile and said - Thank you - and i realized that's how i want to spend my senior years. i really hope i'm a nice old man playing music in new york city, can't shake the feeling that will be the peak of my life. old man smiles, folk music and central park, that's how i want to go out.

i can finally explain it, finally it makes sense. for the longest time i've questioned why new york seems the only place for me to live, the only place i'm comfortable inhabiting. i get it now, i refuse to die in any other place under any other circumstance.

So. Stanley Kubrick movies have been playing all month at the IFC Theater and I haven't been there. What the fuck Sam??? This weekend is The Killer which is an early noir film of his. I should inject more noir into my veins.



I only knew this girl by the blue skirt she wore; from my southwest eye sight I saw it fall below the seat. She sat next to me on the C train where I stuck forever, tar gum being stepped on till matte black. Crap day today, miserable sun, why did I wear jeans (don't ask a real question, scrap the mark). But this blue skirt girl sat next to me as I carved the day on the inside of my skull. She couldn't hear the scratching, I suppose, for when the person next to her got off, she stayed put. Like....walking down the street and someone smiles...the clerk says it's okay you don't have enough..you push the elevator button and it opens making you feel infinitely powerful,,,,,,,,,,,just, listen, she didn't move. Never saw her face, her hair, her age, her name. She was wearing a blue skirt from 72nd to 14th.

No good movies were playing, I don't feel like donuts, the Path is very beige, Fiore's is delicious. Tonight is a chilled summer night where a sweater would be nice but not necessary and AH I wish she could be here. Let some truth in: I'm lonely, lonely summer, lonely times, blue but never black...

,I GOT A JOB!!!



I go in to get a milkshake and strike up a conversation with the guy. Barely out the door, he sprints over to me and says "Hey, this might be awkward, but are you looking for work? Because I can just tell that you're perfect for the job." ikyh,ytjyjjfkkuf In the middle of a recession I got sought out for a job! At a restaurant! So excited, so pumped! I got really depressed after they couldn't afford me for the taco truck; I basically sat around and watched video with Audrey Hepburn, Adrien Brody or Micheal Moore. Now I'm doing something, finally! And I don't care that I pretty much work entirely for tips and have to do little dances, I'm active and moving which has me thrilled.

Lo-dee-do-dee-do...and Ridgefield was mellow this weekend. Kelly's party was fun, then my grandma's birthday with that delicious chocolate-raspberry cake. I also got to see Lovely Lana and Ugly-ass Sister Lucy and we had a wonderful time cruising around The Ridge despite my moodiness. Now all is well, thank goodness. And the guy actively sought me out, that still gets me! Hmmm...I will watch another Audrey Hepburn movie now and dream happy dreams of laughing friends.

I miss you so much!

Sam's Outline for the Summer (6/10/09):

[x] Confirm job driving a taco truck
[ ] Clean my room/keep it up
[ ] Keep up on Spanish blog
[ ] Write music, poetry and stories
[ ] Record the above via their associated medias
[x] Barn lock-in staffing
[ ] Find another apartment
[ ] Find a school year job
[ ] Edit the "Out in the Open" tapes
[ ] Bonnaroo
[ ] Get in shape/develop healthier eating habits
[ ] Create a summer book list and read them
1. Rabbit, Run by John Updike
2. Franny & zooey by JD Salinger (again)
3. (In the process) The Making of a Chef by whats-his-face...
[ ] Keep in touch with friends throughout
[ ] Develop a culinary style menu

When you really think about it, cooking is an absurdly impossible art form. Each media embraces a sense, right? Painting embraces sight, music embraces hearing, so on and so forth. With that, coking is meant to embrace taste. But when a person is painting a picture they can see what they're painting, when a musician is writing a song they can hear the sound they make on their instrument. Cooking is different though, you don't continuously taste while you cook like you continuously see and hear. The sense that cooking ultimately surrounds is never realized until they're done cooking, and that could take hours, days, weeks, or even years! There are blind artists, deaf musicians, and chefs. And how does all food eventually end? As crap, flushing down crooked pipes beneath our beds as we sleep. That (seemingly simple) onion soup you just ate, that took 6 hours to cook and was only truly enjoyed in a matter of minutes, will soon leave your taste buds, latch fat to your bones, and then get shit out of you as if it were any other food from any other restaurant. How pointless, what a waste! The most temporary art form of all time...

...and that's why I love it!

Some people think it wrong to look up to anything. It's not exactly my aspiring to be these people or conform to their image, but the sense that they give off makes sense...if only I could make better sense. These are all inspirations I suppose, I've been encountering a lot of them recently.

( Everything I wish I could be )

First piano lesson went well, the guy said if I practice hard enough I'll be improvising jazz by summer's end. Afterwords I saw "The Brother's Bloom" which blew my mind, I'll never be able to pick up every piece again. It was a comedy too, how can a comedy have any kind of effect like that? That's the real joke I suppose. The movie ended, I stepped outside into perfect sun, perfect temperature, perfect New York. Walking through SoHo I stumbled upon a man selling old books on a table. We talked for 15 minutes over these amazingly elaborate books with brilliant covers and brilliant content. "Four Cautionary Tales" I picked out, a book of centuries old Chinese short stories made in 1948. The guy originally priced it at $8. I pulled out my wallet and he said $7. I took out $7 and he said, "Nah, make it 6. Ha, I'm haggling with myself!" How awesome, and the guy wasn't pushing me to buy anything, he was just genuinely interested in where these fantastic books came from. My kind of guy, I'd love to put his photo in with the others.