I am enjoying a long and happy career, into which I've put a lot of hard work and faith in the job, myself, and others. It gives me opportunities for creative expression, breadth of knowledge, and the joy of being part of a collective. It demands sometimes that I travel, but it also has allowed me to live and work with people of different cultures, which I cherish.
After running and lifting for twenty-five years, four years ago I became an avid Ashtanga yoga practitioner. According to a recent study, those who practice daily experience a specific genomic response to the harmful genetic effects of stress. Still, as my yoga teacher said, "It's just yoga."
My Jeep is my summer house, so I'm in the mountains and at the beach.
I received an 8 on the Narcissistic Personality Inventory, a very low score, but that doesn’t make me special. #veryhumblebrag
(That joke was written in Manhattan. I have since moved to Brooklyn and have a larger kitchen. But fuck it, it's not bad, it stays up.)
Currently reading The Eiffel Tower and Other Mythologies by Roland Barthes. Just finished Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning and Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, re-read Philip K. Dick's Ubik, and waded into Orlando Figes's The Whisperers: Private Life in Stalin's Russia.
Thomas Piketty's Capital in the Twenty-First Century is on my nightstand, a purchase that was sheer optimism on my part.
Favorites include L'étranger, Pride and Prejudice, Have Space Suit—Will Travel, The Quiet American, Lolita, Ubik, Neuromancer, Alan Hollinghurst, mid-career Martin Amis, Ian McEwan's Saturday.
Movies: in 2013 I liked Amour, Captain Phillips and Gravity; in 2014, I liked Inside Llewyn Davis, Snowpiercer and Boyhood, but nothing held a candle to 2001: A Space Odyssey in 70MM; 2015 didn't leave me with time for much other than Mad Max: Thunder Road, Tangerine, and The Best of Enemies, but if you had to pick three, those were good choices; 2016 got off to a quiet bang with Brooklyn, which slew me. I love a lot of Buster Keaton’s work, The Gold Rush, Rules of the Game, Nights of Cabiria, Wild Strawberries, From Russia with Love, Goldfinger, Jean-Pierre Melville thrillers, early Jean-Luc Godard, the Soviet War & Peace, Stalker, Law of Desire and a lot of Almodovar, Tarantino, Princess Mononoke, the Bourne trilogy. Seriously, the Bourne trilogy comprises three of the best movies of the century (and I just got to play a small role in the fifth! Dream realized).
Music: Bob Wills, Leon Russell, Missy Elliot, Lil' Wayne, Wayne Hancock, Girl Talk, Alarm Will Sound, Hot Club of Cowtown, L7, Watch the Duck, many others...
Television: I rarely watch it, and when I do, I can tolerate a six episode season, and that's about it. Fargo is terrific, but Slings & Arrows is the high water mark; apart from being funny, poignant, and well-observed, the psychopaths in it are not its heroes, but obstacles whom the heroes must overcome in order to create something that betters and illuminates the human experience. Why is this so rare in prestige television? I think because while it's interesting to watch good (if flawed) people make their way in the world, they're harder to write than this endless stream of anti-heroes.
Theater: I always love to see what those crazy kids are doing downtown. Or in Bushwick. Not one for the musicals, but Hamilton was profoundly moving.
Food: the crispy lamb with cumin and chili pepper at Fu Run, a Mongolian restaurant in Flushing, is the best thing ever and should be the official state food. I once, however, ordered braised sea slug, and that is on the top of my list of musts-to-avoid-in-future. I've taken that bullet for you: don't order braised sea slug.
All in all, I'm up for something that challenges me.
Nous sommes tout le monde ici sur OKCupid les passe-murailles, cherchant pour amour par wifi, et nos ondes quittent nos ordinateurs et nos iPhones, et elles volent à travers nos murs et elles pénètrent les murs des autres comme flèches d'Éros.