One year?! And I remembered....

Not enough going to try to explain the past 365 days. However, the website will be re-designed, and hopefully will go live in the next month or so. Hit me up at joshuareid (at) gmail (dot) com

a 30/90 moment

wow-interesting that i finally chose to post something, and in regards to what I'm posting, the amount of time it's been since my last post is telling. a 1/4 of a year is gone in the blink of an eye.

i give to you,

au·to·pi·lot

1 : like you are set on autopilot, your body is just going through the motions, your mind is gone

and then,

re·fo·cus

1 : to focus again
2 : to change the emphasis or direction of


30/90 lyrics, jonathan larson
Stop the clock
Take time out
Time to regroup
Before you loose the bout
Face the thrill
Back it up
Time to refocus
Before they lap it up

Years are getting shorter
The lines on your face are getting longer
Feel like you're treading water
But the riptide's getting stronger
Don't panic, don't jump ship
Can't fight it, like taxes
At least it happens
Only once in your life

Notice: Vocal Recital

Short notice, but:

Saturday, August 6th
6pm
8th Avenue New York Spaces, Studio 3B
939 8th Avenue (btwn 55/56 streets)

E-mail or call me for more info!

Tasha Barrino!!

Three months ago I celebrated my birthday in Pittsburgh with a wonderful big party full of people, many of whom I hadn't seen for a very long time, at least since before I moved to NYC. At the party we had a karaoke machine set-up, because we're tackily fun like that. At one point, slightly inebriated, I sang "Unchained Melody". For being fairly tipsy and obviously then not warmed up, I sounded pretty good.

But...the best part of it all was my mother's co-worker, Tasha. This girl is crazy, but in the best possible way. She reminds me of all the black girls I used to sit with at the lunch table in middle school, haha. Anyway, I'm hesitant to put up the video of the performance, but at least here is a transcript of how it started, and why Tasha cracks me up so much...

Me: EVERYBODY has to sing!
Tasha: We--I SING, JOSH!
Me: Right now!
Leah: (operating the camera) Alright, baby!
Me: Let's go!
Leah: Rock 'n roll.
Tasha: (into the microphone, addressing the crowd) I'm Josh's manager, I get two percent...of whatever's goin' on tonight. We take Mastercard, Visa, EBT--anybody knows what it is, transfers, and bus passes; I got kids!
Stacy: Money orders?
Tasha: No no, money orders is for poor people. No money orders.
Josh: We got Fantasia Barrino in the house! (Tasha looks a LOT like her.)
Tasha: I'm her cousin.
Josh: Tasha Barrino!
(Tasha and I look at each other cracking up, and tap our microphones together as if clinking wine glasses together during a toast. Probably only funny when you see it, but it still cracks me up everytime.)
Steve: Ladies & Gentlemen, Josh Reid!!!
(Crowd Cheers)
Tasha: We didn't introduce his partner, so he ain't goin' on!
Josh: Wait, what's your last name?
Tasha: Moore!
Josh: (into microphone)Tasha Moore, from the Hill! (Anyone from Pittsburgh will understand how great that is.)
Tasha: Oh no ya didn't, no ya didn't! No no Josh, honey.
...then the song starts...
Me: ....I hunger for your touch...a long, lonely tiiiiiime..and time,
goes by...so slowly, and time can do so much.
Dawn: He needs somebody to make out with!
(we all crack up)
Me:....still miiiiiiine..I neeeeeed your love. Iiiii need your love. Godspeed your love to meeee.....
Stacy: Uh-oh now!

//That's basically it, then the song kept going and ended as normally as it could considering everyone in the room being well on their way to happily 'feeling' the alcohol, let's say. I'll try to get some pictures from the party up on Flickr.com..Until then, see ya!

Now Showing on Flickr.com

I'm trying this new thing where you upload photos from your cellphone's camera or any other random photo from your computer to this site called www.flickr.com, linked with my blogspot and main site.

It's sort of like a stream of conciousness of photos. Completely random, only sometimes interesting, but still...don't you wanna look?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/theonlyme

Check-ch-check-check-check-ch-check it out
What-wha-what-what-what's it all about
Work-wa-work-work-work-wa-work it out
Let's turn this motherfeckin' party out

She speaks the truth...

Every young (and even some not so young) person living in New York City knows that this girl, Claudia Alick, is speaking straight truth, as seen on 'Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry'.

I give to you, 'Employed Poor'.

Living in this city ain't no joke.
I'm working 40 hours a week just to stay broke.
Property? Property is still the great divider because land owners,
they hold all the power.
If you can't afford to live in the neighborhood you work in,
then something is not right my friend, can I get an Amen?!
Thank you!

I mean, what's the difference between me and an indentured servant,
when more than fifty percent of my paycheck is going
just towards my rent?
I've got collectors syphoning me off,
just a little at a time,
these monthly bleedings have got me losing my mind.
I'm talking gas, electric, phone,
I ain't even got cable!
If luxury is the Garden of Eden,
then call me Cain and Abel,
because I am fighting with myself,
struggling to retain my drive,
'cuz ya gotta keep on hustling,
if ya wanna stay alive.

See, I gambled on education,
but all I got was loans.
I went for the chicken, instead I got the bones.
Now I'm living in a Lilliputian apartment and
I'm feeling like Gulliver.
I got a bedroom slash dining room slash living room slash other.
I've got a loft bed where I sleep up high in the sky,
and I climb that ladder each night reaching for my
piece of pie!
I rise before sunshine,
alone and in pain. I shower, unconcious dreams dribbling down the drain.
I'm always running late, the train doors wake me with a jerk.
I'm riding the middle passage each morning from home to work.
I'm getting sick of this Sisyphean struggle, but
all the alternatives only seem to spell trouble.

What am I supposed to do?
Quit my job, become a bum?
I tried that...
turns out, not being able to afford food: not fun!
So, I'm just gonna stay on this treadmill,
headed towards wealth, but I'm about to drop dead,
doin' this shit for my health.
Employed poor, ya'll.

New York, Induced

So...here I sit. This feels too personal, just inner ramblings really. You should just close this window but..whatever. I have a love/hate relationship with New York. I hate to love it but I do. There is a quote I saw on HBO tonight that sums it up perfectly,

"I like New York. It's honest. There's no big smile on its face. It's dark, painful. I like it."

Don't get me wrong. I don't consider myself a depressing or down person. But New York just is what it is. No pretenses, no bullshit. Or--if you look at it in another light, nothing but pretenses and bullshit. The funny thing is, and it seems so cliche and foolish, is that I realize these things sitting in the middle of my Manhattan apartment WATCHING a television show set in Manhattan. There is some weird art-imitates-life thing going on there. I want to live in the Manhattan that they live in on tv.

New York, at least for a person who is a transplant-New Yorker really makes you question yourself. It is such a mess, really. Manhattan (and its various inhabitants) tries to present itself as the be-all-end-all of perfection. Yet when it comes down to it, it's just a small island with a strange breed of people who choose to confine themselves within filth, pretensiousness, and small apartments which cost $1600 a month. It's like a drug though. You try it once, and you don't know why, but you need it more. You keep taking little bites experiementing with it more, and before you know it you're addicted and can't get out. But unlike drugs, Manhattan (I believe) makes you a better person if you can deal with as much shit as it spits out.

Today I had one of my Manhattan experiences that I'm lucky enough to have every once in a while. I was working the 'lines' at Hairspray and had a group of eldery black women I had to accomodate. They needed a place to sit down before we opened the house and after a bad encounter with one of my co-workers, they were a bit beligerant. I helped them out as best I could and got to talking with them about just such random stuff. Shows they've seen, how they were on a trip from Philly, that I was from Pittsburgh, and just life in general. The oldest woman wanted to go outside to have a ciggarette and her friend was telling her she shouldn't be smoking at her age, and the third one says, "Excuse me, how you gonna tell her she can't smoke when she's 80-some years old? She is older than you, ain't she? Leave her alone. God bless her if it gets her up and moving." I agreed with her, and one of the other older women gave an appropriate "Aight now, tell it!"

The one lady (in a key lime outfit, no joke, so you know I loved her right off the bat) was telling me that in my sunglasses I looked like Elvis. I never have heard that in my life, but she was telling me that I looked more like the man who is playing Elvis in this week's CBS mini-series than the King himself, but that "You go look in a mirror and look at yourself and you might see it. But listen don't be goin around thinkin' you all cute now that I say you look like Elvis." She asked what I was living in NY for and we talked about the acting profession etc., and she wished me the best of luck. I know some people will read this and think I'm a fool, but I think that when you have complete strangers...pulling for you and putting those positive vibes out there in the universe, even if only for a moment and they never think of you again, that it makes a difference.

As we finally opened the house at 2:35 and the ladies were walking to their seats I was a few steps behind them, bringing in the folding chairs they had been sitting on in the outer lobby. They didn't realize I was behind them and I overhead, "Wasn't he just so kind? That was so sweet of him. He was nothin like that other lil nasty-thang I had to deal with earlier." After the show was over, on the way out they ran into me and let me know how much they enjoyed the show, what a wonderful day they'd had, and again wished me all the best. I of course was so happy that I was able to help them in the small way I was able to, and sent them on their way.

I don't even know my point in this story except that...in this ridiculous New York environment, it is just so nice to experience a genuine human connection, and to show kindness and be given it in return. And to have this woman who was a complete stranger just fully "wish me all the best" in my career and for her to truly mean it with and say it from her heart, it's just special. I don't know, this is all getting too existential/Oprah/feel-good stupidness now.

See, I told ya'll you should have just closed the window at the beginning of this entry.