Pasteur Pharmacy

I was looking for mouse glue. I have lived in various apts. in Manhattan for the past 20+ years and this is the first apt. that I have had univited visitors. They visit every several months (like once every season). They are cute. About the size of my pinky but plump. I have caught tan, black, grey, black, once a spotted tan and brown one, would luv to get a white one. They're really cute squirming on my trap. They chirp like small birds. Unlike cockroaches, which I actually don't have at all here, that I just step on, these guys, I look at them while they squrim. I feel bad for them when they do land on a trap but they are unfortunately unwelcomed. Apparently, even Jerry Seinfeld has these little visitors from time to time in his multimillion dollar apt. Btw, I do not leave food lying around. I take out garbage every night.

So anyway, I go out to Duane Reade to get some more of these glue traps but they only have those wood traps with auto guillotine. I don't like those. I don't want to see the result. So, I walk over to another and another and none of them have the glue trap. I grab lunch then head back home. Half a block away is this pharmacy that is 1/10th the size of a regular Duane Reade. I have been there before and marvelled at the variety of shampoos and conditioners there. Ranging from regular L'oreal stuff to $40 shampoos. I stop in and look for mouse glue. They too only had the guillotine one. I obviously did not get those. Too cruel. Plus, these are Park Avenue mouse, they wear top hats and ascots. Respect.

So, I'm just browsing and my god! there is an entire mens' section (albeit it small) that I had never seen. It had all sorts of stuff, and most impressively, gentlemen's grooming items straight from London. They had shaving bowls, colognes, mosturizers, after shaves, talcum powder, etc. ALL from London. I tried almost every cologne there and they were all great. They all came in very small spray bottles the size of a tic tac container. They ranged from $50 to $60. That's comparable to my L'artisan cologne prices (at $130 a bottle). I was just amazed at the variety of men's grooming supplies and I felt like a peasant. Needless to say, the women's stuff is even more amazing. Face mask cream for $85 for a container the size of a scented candles vase. I was in heaven.

The only thing is that I am not a metrosexual. I don't get manicures or do skin exfoliation, etc. Not against it. I used to have a gallery of Bulgari skin care products but I hardly ever used it. My skin is naturally youthful and I don't want to jinx it by applying extracurriculars to it. But I did see a beautiful packaging. It was Eye gel for puffiness under the eyes. The picture above does NOT do it justice. It also comes in a little box. It's one of the best packagings that I have ever seen. It belongs in a museum! I opened the box and the equally impressive white jar (very small jar. fits in my palm. almost the size of a lip balm jar)and it looked half empty. I looked for finger prints to see if anyone may have taken some. But I saw none. So despite the fact that the jar looked half empty, I assume that it was the way it's supposed to be and bought it ($13, Given the volume, I can probably, at best, use it for 12 applications. I don't care.). I have it sitting on my coffee table now. I just look at it. Will use the gel later after my nap(s).

The funny thing... I brought it to the cash register girl. The price was clearly marked on the box and I saw her punching in the price and the receipt coming out but the girl held the box in her hand for literally a minute, just staring at it and turning it around and staring at it. Then finally, she put it into a bag.

Btw, DR Harris is over 200 years old family run pharmacy with their own brand as you can see. They are the official 'chemists' to the royal family, namely Queen Elizabeth and Prince Charles. It's on the label.

Crying

I saw 'The Sea Inside' last week. I cried 3 times. I'm proud of it. That fckn movie was relentless. Tears ran down my cheeks for 3 mins. straight. I felt like a school girl. Now I am watching 'The Pianist' again after having seen it a few years ago. I am almost in tears. I like crying from time to time. Actually, I would like to cry at least once a week if possible. Crying makes me feel human the most and quite therapuetic for my soul. I encourage everyone to cry at least once a month. It feels really great. Equivalent to 10 great laughs. I have never cried looking at a painting or reading a book. That's more of an intellectual exercise. But I have cried over a few songs (usually Beethoven Piano Sonatas and Concertos or a nice Tony Bennett tune) and a few times watching world news (for real). But great movies get me everytime, Casablanca, The English Patient, Gone with the Wind, the Color Purple, etc. My heart aches and I weep. I wish I had the vanity enough to put my tears in vials and label them and keep them frozen in the fridge. A frozen catalogue of my tears. Then one day, in a middle of a party or dinner party at my place, I want to debute my tear gallery and show all that-- I remain human after all these years (in chronological order). Tears of joy, tears of sorrow. Human, all too human. Btw, once, like a true dandy, I cried out of envy. I was particularly pleased about that one. That particular species of tears don't occur that often, if ever.

Retired at the Age of 29

So, after having done absolutely nothing all day except watching bunch of nature documentaries on cable and writing a blog about 'doing absolutely nothing,' I got bored after midnight and decided to stop by my bar for a break from doing absolutely nothing.

I usually don't go to my bar on weekend nights after 11pm because it's usually a zoo and I can't even find a seat. But having accidentally gone into Marquee on Weds. (their popular nite) and seeing the zoo in there, I figured anywhere I went, it was going to be a zoo. So, why not go to one that's 2 blocks away vs. cab downtown for a quickie. Well, thank the gods for Passover. There were less people last nite and it was quite nice. I love Passover, Manhattan is a third empty during Passover.

Well anyway, I was having a smoke outside and I saw a new regular there who is a friend of my bartenders. I said hi and said "hey, your frequency has increased." He said "yeah, my daughter works on Broadway and I dropped her off earlier." Then we have a convo about something which I've forgotten but my curiosity peaked when he mentioned that he gets up at 5 or 6pm everyday. Another idle man? I asked, "so do you work at night?" He said, "no, I'm 36 and and I retired at 29." and he smiled nicely. He apparently started early and went into real estate. No place that's fancy. A 45 family unit in Brooklyn, another in Montreal, a beauty shop, and a couple of restaurants. Retired.

Doing Absolutely Nothing

"May I introduce to you, my friend, Lord Kwon, the idlest man in Manhattan." I have told some of my friends that this would be the highest level of introduction for me and I would totally adore that introduction. It is actually, and most likely, not untrue for those who know me. My life is equally divided between work (when I have to), sleep, and sloth (sloth includes texting with my friends, hanging out at Bungalow, writing blogs from time to time. In a nutshell, leisure).

I hate the obligation of busyness (business?). I hate the obligation of productivity and industry. I like to be a sovereign of my own time and decisions. Today, more than ever, we are all under the tyranny of obligations. Obligation 1) Work- generally, this is appx 10 hrs. of one's day. After 7 hours of sleep, one only has 7 hours left to oneself and the remaining 7 hours after daily upkeep like grooming, eating, errands, and miscellaneous, one has very little time for doing absolutely nothing; 2) Social- with more friends one increases the chance of disappointing them or oneself. It's also a burden to harmonize with one and all. It's quite stressful and strenuous. I prefer to have less than 5-7 great friends. I prefer to be known for my great taste and judgment vs. quantity of my friends. All of my friends are exceptional. Attractive, intelligent, loyal, quirky, fun, and have fantastic tastes (and of course, get into any exclusive club-- which is important-- that is, the ability to out rank others). I have, however, separated from a few in the past when we grew apart. I will cherish the memories but I will not miss them. To thineself be true; and 3) Expectations-- One needs to live free without the obligation and the expectation of a 'should' placed at the doorsteps of one's own house by strangers! Expect nothing from me nor demand that I should do this and that, I live for myself and for those I care for. Period.

I enjoy doing absolutely nothing. This is one of the only activity that makes me feel free, alive, and rejuvenated. The other 2 are when I am with friends having a great conversation or just fun in a great atmosphere or if I were to have a hobby (e.g. making art which I used to-- pastels, poems, aphorisms) and being totally in the zone. Sex? Well, yes, but after a few months with the same person, the excitement naturally wears off, so that's more ephemeral and therefore, less distinguished for me. Actually, I am alittle apprehensive of sex, girlfriends etc. because it'll become an eventual burden unless the gal is divinely unique.

Doing absolutely nothing takes balls. Balls to say, "yeah, I have been completely unproductive today" and potentially get the facetious response of "oh, that's great" from someone who totally thinks that you are a loser for not having accomplished anything that day just being lazy. It's so unamerican to be so unproductive! But you see, I like being lazy. It keeps me from going insane from being over obligated and consumed by endlessly prostituting my brain, energy, and youth to things that are not my priorities. My priority in life is gaining wisdom, obtaining serenity, a peace of mind, and happiness. Activities besides the ones that I mentioned that I enjoy don't do anything for me. Like going to Central Park and laying down and people watching on the Great Lawn, having brunch with people, going to birthday parties,... none of these things mean that much to me. It's herding. It's group grazing. It adds nothing to my life. Albeit from time to time, I like doing it because I'm with friends and a part of their lives. Afterall, one should strive for some balance. Total anything, selfishness or selflessness is a sign of a cripple.

But the ultimate test of my sovergnty and where I feel like I am somewhat in control of my life is when I choose to do absolutely nothing. I believe that without leisure and indolence there is no time for inspiration and true achievements. I gestate my own greatness to be realized at an appropriate time when I allow room for myself and cultivate me. Activities and obligations rarely add to who or what I am but only supplies the veneer of productivity. This is consistent with the Tao and Siddharta's last temptation (that of princely obligation to his subjects while he medidated 'selfishly' under the tree journeying into himself to find himself. So, I go offense on this not defense. "It takes character to endure the rigours of indolence!"- Wilde

Post Script-- ALTHOUGH, I must admit that some positive activities and hobbies won't break the bank either and that I should put some more structure to my life towards this end. Afterall, routines become habits and habits can be self fulfilling destiny, and without some goals and milestones, indolence alone would lead to nothing but postponements until death arrives-- when any achievements hereto in gestation would go to nought. So, indolence can be good if confidently placed and smartly paced but may also be malign if it is out of control. But I also know that I do not have a busy nature nor the psychological need to be busy like so many of our city dolls today and that I am more a creature of leisure than a busy bee booked for the rest of the month for brunchs, parks, birthday parties, and other similar self enforced obligations. This is abit of a conundrum.

Dancing In The Dark

I have decided to start a new genre of blogs for myself. The genre will be called 'Guerilla Blogs.' It/they will be temporary postings only lasting a few days max. Most to all will be from YouTube. The sole reason being indolence. I will put these on whim. It is an age of multimedia and fast food afterall and my compositions will be either my own,borrowed, stolen, permanent or ephermeral. I will exercise caprice. It's a sort of an experiment for myself. Thanks.

Barbarella (Note: If you have speakers, crank up the volume. It's groovey and yummy.)

Welcome Back Baby

When Ferrari is the daddy and Maserati the mommy (for real),you get this baby: 2009 Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione. Alfa Romeo discontinued selling in the U.S. in 1994. This baby is back in the U.S. in 2009. 90 babies arriving in 2009 in the U.S.

Khakis Shorts and Pleats Oh My!

I was just outside running a few errands and admiring the newly planted red tulips up and down Park Avenue then smack... guys in khakis, white pants, shorts, and pleats. I wanted to go up and urinate on their legs while we waited for the 'walk' sign. "Ooops. Sorry. My bad. You can Shout that out. "

Being a dandy, one is naturally a bit of an iconoclast so rules are exercised on whim. But there are rules that even dandies must keep and insist that other's uphold as well and one of them is no khakis or linens before Memorial day. I don't know why that rule was created. But some traditions seem instinctually correct, and thus, one should respect and try to uphold... like going home for Thanksgiving. It's a show of respect for tradition. Shows that even in this hectic dog eat dog land that we live in today, we shall endeavor to keep ourselves anchored to some traditions worth keeping and keep degeneracy at bay.

One Spring day on my first year as an Analyst at an investment bank (Merrill M&A), I wore a poplin khaki colored suit to work. One of the VPs there saw me and said hi nicely. Then equally nicely he said, "Fred, no khakis before Memorial Day." I was stupefied. It was the first time that I was ever told something like that. I was embarrassed and couldn't wait for the day to end and go home and put the suit back in the closet for at least another month. But I believed in my heart of hearts, that the VP was right. There's a time and place for these things... decorum.

Once I did the Gilded Age tour with my ex in Providence, Rhode Island. The Great Gatsby with Robert Redford was shot there and we visited that mansion and more. In one of the tours, there was a plaque in front of the solarium where the original residents breakfasted and the plaque discussed in detail that while the people summered there, they would often change their outfits 4 times a day... for the morning, for the afternoon, for the evening, and for the night. I was impressed by that. It showed what can happen when boredom conjugates with extreme wealth. I change twice a day. For work and for play. I think that most people do. I think. But I see so many people now a days dressing the same 24/7. Guys-- shirt and jeans/khakis, Girls-- alittle more diverse but by a hair. Even when they go out. "Hey, let me put on these Diesel jeans on tonight. It's a special night."

Anyway, when I see guys wear Khakis, etc. before Memorial Day, I can immediately tell their socio economic station. Girls, I can usually tell which part of the country they are from by their ensembles and that alone usually tells me their socio economic status. I can even tell the girls apart who have been here in Manhattan for a couple of years who are mimicing "Sex and the City' or 'Gossip Girl' look. It's like my fashion gaydar and it's frckn state of the art. Perhaps, more accurately speaking, I consider my eyes to be like a bar code reader tied to my own wikipedia brain, not organs as is with most folks. I thank the gods that my friends have the same ability.

I experiment alot with my friends (incldg. my bar staff while we're out having a smoke outside) to see if my calibration is in line with reality. I tell them "look there, see those girls..they are not from here. That's West Coast (or that's South)." Then I have the friend go up to them and ask where they are from and 9 out of 10 times, I'm right. I can also spot Europeans immediately.

Remember in the Silence of the Lambs when Clarise Starling first meets and interviews Hannibal Lechter in the super max. prison? He approaches the glass very cordially then looks at her then starts to sniff through the perforation on the glass. Then later after being offended by Clarise's blunt questions, he starts to rattle off her history? Down to where she's from (West Virginia) and what perfume she is wearing and comments on her cheap shoes and what her ambition in life is? Then jabs her also just for his own perverse amusement. "Did this uncle, sodomize you? Make you perform fellatio?" Well, I think that having lived in Manhattan for 20+ years, I am getting to that point.

Khakis before Memorial Day. It's for the 'free range' bipeds.

FlipFlops

Unfortunately, for every good there is evil. Gorgeous day, flipflops. The name itself sounds shabby and lazy. Flipflops and Birckenstocks. Ladies (who wear them), usually granola hippie chicks-- Please Manhattan is not a beach (there's one on the west coast) nor is it ancient Acropolis where one is running to an Agora to listen to Socrates debate the authorities of his age.

I have noticed too that most women with flipflops have very manly, ugly, Statue of Liberty feet. So unless, you are on sand at a beach or cafeing or shopping in one of the Meditteranean towns like Capri, Positano, Monte Carlo, Casablanca, or Marekesh, please wear heels or flats by Channel, Burberry, Tory Burch, or Tod's in Spring and Summer. Remain the farer sex and inspire us (gentlemen) with your elegance and feminine beauty 'from head to toe' at all times (except in bed where we would like you to be savage and present) (and no, you can not gain weight even after child birth but if you do you must lose it-- think Heidi Klum) and we shall reciprocate by buying you romantic dinners, opening cab doors, and gifting you with our admiration, appreciation, and gratitude (and in many cases, a large alimony).

I do however dispense amnesty to those ladies with lily white feet, high arches, and impeccable pedicures. Ideally, even then, a ff would have something like a family crest or jewel like decorative on it. Think Jackie O. not Lin Lo. (Lindsey Lohan).

Remember how a few months ago, a high school or college women's volleyball team, was invited to the White House and they all wore flipflops? It was a disgrace and the media all covered it. They were chided for their impropriety. I blame all of it on hip hop culture. Ghetto mentality. Had I had it my way, I would of have sent them all to Guantanamo for week... all expenses paid. Barbarians.

What a Gorgeous Day!

After 5 months (Nov., Dec., Jan., Feb., March) of Winter and Winter like temperatures, it's great to have a day like today. Mid-60s, slight breeze, completely sunny, the trees budding with pink and white buds trumpeting their return on the canvas of a crisp, sky blue sky. The world is anew.

This is probably why there is Easter (knock off of Ishtar Day-- Babylon) and Passover representing the crossover from slavery/death to life. Easter (spiritual ressurection-- the conquest over the slavery of the flesh which is sin-- thence, absolution) and Passover (a cultural resurrection of the Jewish people). The Pagans (the Druids, followers of Mithra, Sol, Ra, Osiris, etc.), the Jews, and the Christians all have a day or time in which they celebrate(d) rebirth-- Spring. It's fairly universal around the globe and throughout time. On a gorgeous day like today, after months of being in the belly of the whale so to speak, it's completely clear to me what drove them to celebrate life.

I feel renewed today. Rain tomorrow. Live now. Die later. Cheers my lovelies.

A Blog About MY Blogs

My writing style is not for everyone and it isn't meant to be either. It's for me, my style. Although I must admit that many (to majority) of those who read my blogs think that I am actually a pretty good writer. I congratulate their excellent taste and phenomenal erudition. Btw, my favorite blog to date, the one that I am most proud of so far is 'Polar Bear Milk'!

Now, consistency... I wrote about frequency of my blogs earlier and that I am a spontaneous blogger. I don't try to keep up with other bloggers who are dailies. I write when I want and not obligate myself to a schedule. Same goes I suppose to a certain extent to the consistency of my blogs, specifically, the quality of it. Succinctness, Cadence, Humor, Seriousness, the Length, the Proportion, the 'Harmonics,' etc.

Being human and not a machine, depending on how things come together, some of my writing will be 'wow, nice' to 'ney, so so.' But overall I am confident that my writing, in general, will be above average. As for editing, I do go back to all of my blogs (but not past 2 weeks) and edit them until I feel that it's as good as I want it to be. It's kind of like sculpting or painting, or in fact, writing. One starts then finishes then reiterates then polishes. But the key is to get started. Some blogs that I post and edit several times after may still may lack vigor, vitality, vivacity and fall flat. Well, at that point fck it. It is what it is and it reflects me as well. Certain days, my complexion and hair are perfection, certain days not so good. This may not be a perfect analogy but I hope that you get the point.

I am not submitting my blogs for the Pulitzer. It just has to pass the scrutiny of my satisfaction, and sometimes, I'll expect it NOT to get the stamp of my satisfaction. But I will move on anyway. Tis life;Tis was. I am hopeful that the readers will do so likewise. I also encourage the reader to blog, not simply comment on blogs. It is far easier to criticize someone else in the trenches then to actually dig the trenches oneself.

I blog for a few good reasons: 1) When I am 80+ yrs. old or even earlier perhaps, I want to look back on the things that were going on in my life and the thoughts that I had while I was going through those things. It's a catalogue of me for me; 2) I want to share my thoughts with whomever finds them interesting, and simultaneously, update my friends who I may not speak with on a daily basis on a civilized plain, that of thoughts; 3) At some point, I would like to use my blogs as a starting point for a book of essays and thoughts. These blogs will serve as sketches and ingredients to that end. Once published, I want them on my bookshelf and I would like to give them away to friends and if I ever have children, give it to them. I want my books to be peppered with wisdom that I have collected over the years through hands on experience and through reading the giants of wisdom such as Emerson, Seneca, Nietzche, Schopenhauer, Socrates, etc. and 4) I also want to leave something behind beyond just-- considerable amount of debt (re: it's a dandy-must), fantastic wardrobe, and a plaque with my name on a stool at the Mercury Bar :).

The Importance of being NOT nice

That wasn't nice! I hear that from time to time. The funny thing is that they assume that I don't know that. I ask, excuse me but do I know you? Or equally, do you KNOW me? And btw, excuse me, but nice... why? I tell them that I am a nice guy (e.g. in my neighborhood, I kept alive many bums with the weekly allowances that I dispense to them.. for real) but I can not always be nice. I choose not to be.

When I see a bum, I don't go out of my way to go up to him or her and say, here you go my good man (or woman), I know that you need this $10 bill more than I, and therefore (hencewith immediately), I am going to be 'nice' (Jesus John and Mary, you need nice... don't we all brother?!) and give it to you (this paper) for it does not take away from my lifestyle but gladly improves your life today and for that reason alone my bum friend, I am giving money away. It's a nice thing.

When I give, I do it because I want to help and want to feel human by being human.

But in general, this below is the balm that I have prescribed for myself in the matter, manner, and the world of charity and "nice" whether it be with money or with words. It's from Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson (one of my Avatars circa 1860s)...

" Your goodness must have some edge to it, — else it is none. The doctrine of hatred must be preached as the counteraction of the doctrine of love when that pules and whines. I shun father and mother and wife and brother, when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why I seek or why I exclude company. Then, again, do not tell me, as a good man did to-day, of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent, I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison, if need be; but your miscellaneous popular charities; the education at college of fools; the building of meeting-houses to the vain end to which many now stand; alms to sots; and the thousandfold Relief Societies; — though I confess with shame I sometimes succumb and give the dollar, it is a wicked dollar which by and by I shall have the manhood to withhold."

Mr. Emerson is not telling one to be mean but to be true to oneself. If someone were to say, listen here, everyone here likes the color yellow, it's our favorite color in this town and we want you to like it too and make it your favorite color. One can say alright, my favorite color is blue but I will accomodate yellow to be my favorite color becuase I don't want to rock the boat or one can say, I understand what you are saying but I choose to like blue instead of yellow for that's the truth and I can not lie to myself even if it costs me popular opinion or makes me seem steely. Now, a mature person will, from time to time, compromise on trivial matters and tell white lies. Truth sometimes needs to be drawn out mildly.

Yes, become a better person by becoming a larger person at heart. Giving (money, time or kind words) is indeed better than receiving. One's appetite for things are endless and one feels even more empty in the end. But by giving one fulfills oneself at the highest level (i.e. the spiritual). But never do it bacause you have to or somebody says that you should; but because you want to. Make choices. If one acts out of fear or by habit that is not moral. Morality is where one knows the bad but chooses the good.

There is an old samurai tale that I adore that follows this thread of thought-- making individual choices... not just giving into expectations. One day, a samurai caught up to his adversary who killed his master. They fought an epic battle. I'm talking, thunder, lightening, blood spewed on trees everywhere stuff. The adversary lost and was about to be killed himself. Then he spat on the other samurai just as he was about to deal him the death blow. Immediately, the winning samurai wiped his face and put the sword back in his scabbard and walked away!

Hmmm..why? Because he did not want to taint his act of honorific revenge with... a base emotion like, anger. He was sticking to his inner code. He was conscious even in the heat of battle. That's high level. Choices can be moral. Habits, by definition, can never be.

Charm

Charm. To charm. To be charming. It's a faded art. It's actually a very rare flower these days. Everyone is in a hurry. But I say, no. stop. Have you ever seen a car that's dirty? A finger nail chipped or cracked? It's ugly.

Most people don't recognize ugly. But they accept it as routine. "It is what it is!" But I say no. Stop. Think. Rethink. Polish.

How can one present oneself in such a way? One must always, no matter the time constraint nor the hurry, be always POLISHED. This not only applies to outward appearance. Charm is beautiful. Charm seizes time on it's own terms. It's magical.

What I actually love more than being charming is being around charming people. I love charming people who are not fake. Charm is the flower of conversations.