Day 182

Today’s soundtrack: yesterday I was, half the man I used to be
Today at 8:02am: Sitting upright in bed.


I work (intermittently, on the whim of others) at a large, multinational conglomerate where I have a dedicated desk. The Corporation has global influence, name-brand recognition and manufactures products you can buy worldwide. Millions and perhaps billions of dollars change hands every day due to the workings of this particular corporation.

Anyways when I came into work this morning, someone stole the fucking lightbulb out of my drafting lamp. Again. This is the third fucking time. I’m sitting there turning the lamp switch and getting no light, then I grab the lamp and turn it over and see an empty socket gaping back at me like the Grim Reaper’s left eye.

On this particular morning I haven’t had to talk to anyone yet, so my first words in the office were “Those motherfuckers.” I walked five feet to the cabinet where I now keep the extra lightbulbs and screwed one in. Then I hunkered back into my chair, put my nose to the monitor and began grinding the mouse down on the tabletop.

Today at Hapkido the Sabumnim said I taught a good class! I was beaming. I teach every Thursday and try to be genuinely helpful to as many people as I can. It is my one weekly event where I connect with members of society whom I don’t know well. The rest of the time, on the subways and sidewalks of the city I mostly avoid people like the plague. If SARS, the Black Death or any other human-communicable disease ever breaks out around here, trust me, I’ll be fine.

Then again, lately I have been giving directions a lot on the street. I used to hate doing it but now when I come upon a tourist furrowing their brow over a map, I can’t stop myself from saying “You lost” and pointing them in the right direction. I do it because there were times when I was lost in foreign countries and strangers gave me helpful directions.

It amazes me though. The people who are lost here are often looking for major landmarks that are easy to locate, I believe, by universal standards. The times I got lost was because I was seeking out obscure locations and became befuddled by nonexistent signage or a multitude of angled and unlabeled streets; Manhattan, in contrast, is mostly a grid with each street clearly labeled at least twice at every intersection.

Today the tourist freaks I helped were looking for Times Square--in Chinatown. After I helped them I felt a little irritated, I mean these people weren’t even trying. Read the fucking guidebook. Buy a compass. Rent a Sherpa.

I should start a business where I rent out Manhattan Sherpas. I’ll call it Sex and the Sherpas. I’ll add that to the pile along with my business where I rent muses to creatives, and the other idea I have where I lobby the city to rework all the plumbing so that every apartment building has milk on tap. And fresh coffee, and shampoo and any other kind of liquid you want; you just push a button and it comes out of a nozzle. Why should I have to buy a half gallon of milk that will go bad when I only need a little at a time.

So if I ever get rich my house is going to have milk, orange juice and other popular fluids on tap. Even sperm. No just kidding.

Of course this does bring with it the possibility that inattentive houseguests will accidentally end up washing their hands with hot coffee, but I will circumvent this by providing my guests with an apartment guidebook they must read. I’ll also have Orientation for any friends that come to stay over. We’ll start off with some icebreakers, next I’ll tell an ethnic joke or two and then I’ll break out the guidebook and get down to brass tacks.

Holy cow I forgot to tell you, last week at Hapkido this girl almost passed out in my class. I wasn’t even working them that hard but she collapsed. I went over right away and took one look at her and for some reason I just knew what the problem was.

“Did you have anything to eat today?” I asked.

“I...I forgot,” she admitted, sheepishly. Well, it’s not the most unusual thing in the world. If you live and work in Manhattan it’s a good possibility that breakfast is a novelty, lunch a luxury and dinner something you’ll get around to eventually.

In my bag I had a Power Bar I’d taken two bites out of, so I gave the rest to her and had her sit off to the side. I made her drink some water too.

Eventually she regained her energy and even rejoined class, which was a relief. Like I said I wasn’t even working them that hard (compared to some of the other, more Navy-Seal-like Assistant Instructors) but in my class I make sure everybody sweats. My attitude is, if you took the trouble to come all the way down to the dojang and get into your uniform, you should be rewarded with a worthwhile workout.

The only thing I might make the students do to the point of endurance is leglifts, because I believe strong kicks come from having strong abs. Bruce Lee was a skinny little whip of a man but he had ripped abs, and people who trained with him said that when he kicked you it was like getting hit by a car.

The student breakdown at my dojang is pretty diverse. (And I mean the breakdown of the students as a whole, not the breakdown that girl had from not eating.) Some Russian cats, some guys from Africa, some Asians who speak English like me and some Asians who speak English like they’ve got fresh stamps in their passport, a French dude, Latinos both native and alien, a South Asian here and there, black Americans, and grip of white people. It’s a regular human Noah’s Ark.

Speaking of which, one of my favorite cartoons from The New Yorker is the one that apparently explains the extinction of a certain species. One of Noah’s buddies is standing next to him on the Ark and whispering “Bad news--the unicorns are gay.” Well, it’s funny if you see it.

The Corporation is pretty multicultural too. You see all races in the hallways. I think they make the full-times go to Sensitivity Workshops too because some of them are fluent in super-P.C.-speak.

Anyways there’s a room on Six called “The Learning Center” where they give free lectures on heart disease and work stress and whatnot. Today they had a sign in front that said “February is African-American Heart Month!” It was either a typo or I read it wrong, or read two signs at once and confused it. I’ll go back and check tomorrow.

Black people have February, Asian people have April. I’m not sure what month the Latinos have or if they even have a month, although if I know me some Man I bet it’s in March.

I’m also not sure what all of this means, anyway. It’s not enough to “celebrate diversity,” they need to throw in some economic benefits. I wish that during Asian and Pacific American Heritage Month all Asians wouldn’t have to pay their taxes. For Black History Month I want some Black History discounts. For Latino History Month I want a 0.0% APR.

For Passover I want free DVD rentals. Christmas, free chicken at all major supermarket chains. Ramadan, everyone gets free computer upgrades.

One thing APA Heritage Month does mean to me is college gigs. I may have a gig lined up for Princeton in April, and I just got an e-mail from somebody at S.U.N.Y. Buffalo. Basically, every once in a while a school invites me to lecture or read some of my fiction or do backflips. A few years back I wrote a column on urban dating for this website, and after it built up a little readership the college offers started pouring in.

It’s an amazing thing, the internet.

Case in point: Yesterday I was writing about Eskimos and at the bottom of the entry, urged any Eskimo readers to drop me a line. Well, one actually did. (What’s up, sled_dawg.) I keep forgetting that the internet goes far--it even goes into Canada!--and further north. So if there are any Martians reading this, or people who have weapons of mass destruction, or people who know where Osama bin Laden is, drop me a line. Or book me at a college.



ME
Thank you for having me! It’s an honor to be speaking at...what’s the name of this school again?

MARTIAN ZELROG XT-427
Xrnkcvtlgb College.

ME
Right, at Xrncvtlgb College. An honor. And I’ve gotta tell you folks, I don’t know much about this school, but I’m loving the atmosphere!

AUDIENCE
[Dead silence.]

ME
I’m loving the atmosphere!

AUDIENCE
[Distant coughing.]

ME
Right, er...well I’ll also tell you, I’m surprised to see so many females in the audience. Because I thought that only men were from Mars, and women were from Venus!

AUDIENCE
[The sound of Martian crickets.]

ME
Er...is this thing on?

MARTIAN ZELROG XT-427
Yes. And you know what else is on? ...My ray-gun.