Alex Geana

Nancy Reagan Sighting

My friend, the illustrious Kent Brasloff sent me this oh so funny first person account of a brush with Nancy Reagan.

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Nancy Reagan is alive and well and visiting the Big Apple...or at least her remains are.  It was a perfectly ordinary summer afternoon today when I went into Lee's Art Supply to pick up my new calling cards.

Whilst waiting to take the elevator to the 4th floor, a GRANDE DAME of a woman, the kind that hasn't been seen in these parts in 15 years, swept in on the arm of her gigilo/driver/bodyguard.  The woman (un-recognized by me at the time) leaned heavily on one of his arms for support while his other arm was loaded with packages.

In this heat she was swathed in more Chanel chains to-the-waist than you could shake Scaparelli at, ankle-cropped white linen gouchos, a criss-cross cotton blouse of soft pink, SILVER metallic sneakers, an up-flip-brimmed straw hat with the most perfect tufts of Kenneth's honey-hued hair peeping out, ENORMOUS rose-tinted glasses and (quelle scandale) FLESH-colored opera gloves at tea-time...in town (they do hide the liver spots you know).

Well I must have been agape and agog as they approached because the g/d/b placed himself firmly between us.  Of course that's not enough to stop this self-respecting busybody!!!  I peered...ever-so-graciously over my sunglasses; and I  can say -strictly entre-nous of course- that her latest face-lift is fresher than homemade bread!

I knew you'd be delighted to know.

At that moment the doors opened on the second floor where she stepped off, the scent of death and Bal a Versaille unmistakably in the air, and I was sure it was HERSELF.  It could have been no other.

GAWD, I just love being a small town boy in the BIG CITY!  I haven't been this excited since the late Nan Kempner came out with her own cook book...RSVP.

Want your name in Side Step Me?

Everyone,

I am on the last legs of fund raising for Side Step Me so I can get it out there. Sooner then later. For $50 as a small donation, you'll be able to get your name in the book. The donation is tax deductible and processed by The Field the 501(c)3 that sponsors my work.

Donate, Follow the link ------> Donate Here

Also send me an email so I can add your name to the book.

Thanks
Alex

I bought Eye Cream

I'm turning 29 soon. My response has been to buy eye cream, Birthdays don't really freak me out. It's the not the coming of age that gets me. It's the memories of childhood past, the carry clowns as a kid or the balloons or the fact that my parents thought it would be fun to invite all the elders of my church on  year  a long time ago. My mother needed to orchestrate the perfect occasion and everyone knew that, my birthdays as a child were never fun. Anxiety was always in the air because she would wonder if her efforts were ever enough.

I love my mother and I understand as an adult what she went through. But now, I'd much rather do away with the formality of the birthday occasion. So I've opted for simple eye cream, they tell me if I put it on at night, it'll help stop the aging process, well, a bit anyway. As much as an eye cream can. But I have faith in this cream because the sales person told me about it's merits. It isn't made by Parisian monks in the foothills of the Alps (is that possible) but it has super fine molecules that will smooth out the wrinkles that are sure to form.

I'm not obsessed about wrinkles. Frankly my family ages really well. I've seen pictures of my grandfather at sixtyish and he looks great, still a full head of hair, my wavy hair will probably stay with me for a while.

But 29, is an important number, both in numerology and with astrology and with tarot even. Because in a lot of ways, it's the end of childhood.  Yes, I know, we equate the end of childhood with the teens, but because I've done so much self discovery, I'm finally filling my skin, understanding what I want to be doing, I have many choices ahead of me. Not only how I treat other socially, but who I hang out with, most importantly. How do I produce work and find a partner. For strangely. This will be the time for me. Strangely by 32 I'll probably be married. I'm saying this on a limb and it's just come to mind. I don't believe this myself. But for a cancer to wholly function, we need a good partner. It's not fare, we are an independent sign, but we need to have a home life with a partner that understands us, to truly flower and discover potential. I've done a lot of naughty things and fucking around. I'm kissed many a frog and many a prince. My taste in men is realized and I see personality more. So it's different.

29 is the year, I will either find my freedom or my failure and need to start over again. I have fantasies of simply sitting at home writing poetry, that would be amazing. 

But as I stand up and feel unmoved by the adversity that will surly come and I've learned, I've learned. Life has taught me.  I have no faith, but all the faith in the world at the same time. I have also learned to trust in the force that is the divine.

Yes, you probably weren't expecting this post but fuck it. Why not. Maybe I'll start writing more like this.  And see what happens.

 

Good Cause and Depesha

Depesha invites you to raise money for a good cause, please join me at the party.

[Link Stephan Rabimov]

Being Personal

I never know how personal to get on this blog. I never do. I know, being personal leads to hits, yet leading to hits is sort of a moot point. Because I know boys Google me before they go on a date with me, I tell them I'm a writer, I know they want to verify it. Hell, I've Googled guys but they often, don't have the same unique name. Also employers and clients and this post will never actually go away even if I delete it. I feel like my voice is often different from who I am, for me, they are one and the same, because my words come from the deepest part of me. But the many parts of myself never seem to work just right in the world beyond my keyboard.

Sunday, I was really sad, btwn the never ending rain and the dull spring, my point of being completely overwhelm. I just crashed, watching romantic comedies and movies, saddened that the Housewives are almost off the air, the enormity of my many projects, falling into the strange organizational pattern that involves the planning I do on Sundays. I often draft emails and plan, sort receipts and statagize as soon, sometimes, often not being able to be still.

An NYU student actually took cyber dating to the next level, by creating a virtual bedmate. Sigh. I spent a lot of my weekend wondering about couples. Also about success as a writer. Surviving on my own without the tether of a corporation.

The CA marriage laws have made me ponder about the first. Why I haven't been in a relationship for a while, a real relationship, do I hop into bed with the boy to quickly, do I seem to needy, am I to smart. I've had people break up with me, saying "I'm about to fall in love, so I need to break up." or the other "I think you're husband material." Somehow I spent the weekend watching couples make out at four am.

I normally wouldn't feel this lonely. If my mother didn't remind me all the time, that I can't make it as a writer. Every time I talk to my grandparents, they tell me I can't make it as a writer. They constantly tell me this, every weekend. I can't even tell them I don't have a day job anymore because my mother says they can't deal with change. My father failed at business, my mother failed at business. So they have passed on fear, memories of my fathers many failed attempts at making money haunt me. That is the gorge I look into as I watch my new week and new tomorrow unfold. Yet somehow strangely, when the week starts, and the email starts buzzing and the phone rings and people reach out asking me to work. This fear goes away, is replaced by adrenaline and happiness, by falling into that perfect zone of doing what I love. Yet on the weekend. I am silent, strange and hidden.

Marriage

The CA same-sex marriage ruling, makes me want to get married. But finding a husband seems almost impossible in this city; so that's how it is. And this rain isn't making it any better. Then again, watching Erik Rhodes cry is a bit surreal.

Dickens immortal words keep coming to mind, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times." So it has been written and so will it rain perpetually.

I'm done being melodramatic, I promise.

Skye dancer

In union square.

Getting behind Obama

I've been a Clinton supporter for a long time, although not on this blog, in person. I've donated money to her campaign and I've watched the race unfold. I've shed a tear or two as I've seen her lose. There are many factors at play. Dean should be shot. But that's another post. Also, because we as Dems strive for fairness. Well, We're more likely to lose elections. The cut-throat Republican way, sort of ensured that the conservative guy would win. Is that better ... I don't know, but they have more time to rally their wagons and troops. More time to dig up dirt, simply more time to win.

The last primary was divided on race. Bigotry has sadly one many elections, recently and in the past. This will not change. What must change is the Clinton camps need to artfully swing support his direction. I don't know how this can be done. But it must be.

As Democrats we can not have a hobbled nominee. That only plays to the Republican strength of being able to forgive and forget for the party good. Something we can not seem to do. People are already talking about swinging their vote to Nader in disgust of altruism.

If we can not grow a political spine, we will surly lose an election that should be won by a landslide and also must be won for the good of the country.

 

The Exhibit

Here's a You Tube look of the show I was in. Chelsea Through the Eyes of Photographers. I'm toward the tail end, the large piece in the alcove. Check it out.

fresh

In April it felt like the universe insisted my old life be washed away, a little like the non-existent showers that showed up in May, or the cycle of fortune. In May, I'm rebuilding. Even though the weather itself has not cooperated with the age old pattern of death and re-birth. My life surly has.

Outsourced

I kept the blog silent because I was losing my job, outsourcing. I wanted to write about it many times but that would have been the worst thing possible, my old company, is strangely secretive, I lost a promotion because of a hearsay story, that showed up on Huffington Post about my need to wear black and white, the possibility that I would say something to endanger my ability to collect unemployment or truly dent my future. Well, I tend to blog about things that I shouldn't, so silence is better.

In the end I screamed at the human resource director, simply doing the dirty dead of the company. "This is how our democracy crumbles. we are forced to sign our rights away." Seven people lost their jobs due to outsourcing, the company glossed over the strangeness of losing employment, in some cases, some in the mail room had worked for the company for twenty years. In lue of severance the new opportunities, were, sort of offered, with a different company. For me the Deja Vu of my NASDAQ days, was too great.  I have seen this massacre play out before. I did not want to be in it's path again.  Because the company i was working for, simply deferred the task of firing it's long term charges, to another. Where there is no longevity. I will never again, trust a corporation, unless I am the head of it. The laws themselves favor the employer and only a lawsuit remedies the wrong. Instead of encouraging responsibility and what is right. Employers are asked to roll; the will-they-sue-me-dice.

Re-Building

Financially my book is in danger, I'm trying to come up with freelancer work and it's going better then I expected. Yet, the quest to come up with my old, meager salary is strong. Yet, for the first time in my life, I'm actually surviving because of what I write, how I think, the relationships I've brought into my life, it's strangely invigorating and wonderful. Maybe just maybe ... I'll transition to a company, where I can write. This is in the ether, the transition will take a bit. I'm innately hopeful. I must be.

Success

I don't know which to put first, as two recent successes. The fact that I was mentioned and recognized by the New York Times as a playwright, yes, you have to hunt for the quote, yet they said it. The back of my head has also been made famous, in the slide show. 

At the Chelsea Hotel my work was front and center, although I fear that it went over some people's head, it took up an alcove in a stunning place. I gave lots of interviews, I'll see if any press is generated, I did give an interview to a videographer. The blog Bubblegum Pop mentioned it. Thanks! It was a wonderful and mesmerizing evening, to be included with such developed and great artists. I'm clearly honing my voice, yet it's going in a strong direction. I want to tell a story through photo and poetry, in an innovative and great way.

Now I can update my blog more often, because I've dealt with this odd transition, so hopefully I'll be able to make it. This time.