Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Everything it seems I like's a little bit stronger, a little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me.

Like Rufus, I have a hankering for short-term pleasure bought at the expense of long-term risk. At least the desire for that short-term pleasure, anyway.

Anyway, without spoiling the most recent Mad Men, I hope that the clues dropped (the Menken's shopping bad, Don's use of Rachel's husband's name at the club) mean that the Complicated Brunette in Don Draper's life is returning. I can so identify with Don's fall for her. A no-brainer, really: she's smart, hot, and amusing. What's not to like?

Friday, September 26, 2008

I met God this afternoon, riding on an uptown train.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the financial markets -- what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches toward Wall Street to be born?

Jesus. I should know better than to read Yeats these days. Especially after having a cocktail or two. I blame my high school humanities teacher, who carved that poem into my psyche.

At any rate, my mood is dark because I spent most of this week in a conference room trying to hammer out an amicable resolution to a spat over a buy-out -- my gal sold her stake in a business, and her former partners stopped making the payments she is owed. The main guy on the other side is convinced that my gal is behind some big client pulling their account. (She assures me that she isn't, but also isn't hiding the fact that she is pleased by this.)

Anyway, back to the markets. I suspect that the economic turmoil will actually be a financial plus to me -- litigation is one of the things that increases when the markets decline. People sue more -- to force people to comply with deals, to get out of deals, to make their advisors pay for putting them in bad deals, etc. But the bigger picture concerns me. Since the debate appears to be back on (at least as I type this), it will be interesting to hear what the candidates will have to say about it. I suspect that lots of us will be watching tonight.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives, and I decline.

I sit here on this beautiful autumn day, and simply cannot believe how difficult a time I am having in getting through my work day. I am suffering a rather severe bout of paralysis by analysis.

I just now forced myself to call opposing counsel on a case – I mean, I literally screamed at myself (uh, silently, natch) to pick up the FUCKING PHONE and call the guy NOW, AND I MEAN *RIGHT NOW* GODDAMMIT!

So I did. And got his voice mail. Doh.

Dark humor of the situation aside, it is just so frustrating. I have plenty to do. In fact, I am behind on doing some of the things that I need to do. It’s like for some reason I just need to play that degree of difficulty thing. Drives me crazy.

Update as I spell-checked -- dude called me back. So one thing accomplished today -- woo-hoo!

Friday, September 19, 2008

The minor fall, the major lift.

Ye gods, the world is truly spinning weirdly lately, no? I will (at a later time) sing the song -- a dirge, sadly -- of the once-mighty Merrill Lynch a/k/a "We, The People," the firm of Charlie Merrill, the man who saw 1929 coming; the firm of Irish Catholics -- Fordham boys and Marine Corps veterans, eager to show the WASPs on the Street a thing or two; the firm who epitomized the term "wire house" and brought capitalism from Wall Street to Main Street by opening branches in towns big and small; the firm of Don Regan and his "fuck you" money; the firm of Win Smith and Don Komansky and the culture of "Mother Merrill"; and, finally and sadly, the firm of Stan O'Neal and the quarterly profit numbers. Sic transit gloria mundi.

Uh, where was I? Ah, yes, weirdly spinning world. The biggest financial crisis in a long time. The political season, with the rise and fall and rise again of poll numbers -- like a high-scoring college football game, it seems like the candidate with the ball at the end will win in a squeaker. My case load, with the fierce urgency interspersed with slackness. My imaginary friend Philalawyer, and his book (Happy Hour is for Amateurs: A Lost Decade in the World's Worst Profession, coming soon to used bookstores and garage sales near you) coming closer and closer to actual release. (That fucker has a book deal? It is a weirdly spinning world, indeed.)

And, so, on this Friday afternoon, I plan to skip out a bit early, and slow things down a bit. Try to restore a bit of balance to the gyrations, and find some inner calm and sense. I think that some Bushmills is called for, maybe sipped in a comfortably quiet bar filled with dark woods and polished brass. The kind of place with the Easter Proclamation on the wall and old photographs, and a friendly yet reticent bartender who will pour it neat (without waiting to be told) into a heavy rocks glass.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Who's that girl?

So, I went to go see Woody Allen's latest -- Vicky Christina Barcelona -- the other day. Now, sure, I was expecting to see a little eye candy (hello, Scarlett; hello Penelope). But I was totally not expecting to fall for the other woman. Wow. Rebecca Hall was simply amazing -- she stole the film as the endearingly confused Vicky (seen here with Javier Bardem, who was also amazing -- especially if you saw him play a very different character in No Country for Old Men).




Anyway, check it out.

Friday, September 5, 2008

I used to rule my world from a pay phone.

Now I deal with conference calls ruling my world. Here I sit, trying to coordinate common ground with a bunch of other lawyers who all are sorta on the same side. But lawyers all like to hear themselves talk, and so everyone has to put their two cents in, and I am pulling my hair out in frustration.

That's another thing that the popular vision of the lawyer (thanks, Perry and Ally and Denny!) doesn't seem to address. We don't have a trial every day; no, we sit at our desks, sipping coffee while disembodied voices argue over the speakerphone. Surfing the web, updating our blogs. Interjecting reluctantly (at least one lawyer) and only when absolutely necessary (because we don't want the damn call to last any longer than absolutely necessary).

Another coffee? I think I need it, thanks.