Monday, March 13, 2017

‘‘Ensnar’d with flow’rs, I fall on grass...

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find,
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas;
Annihilating all that’s made
To a green thought in a green shade.’’

Friday, January 27, 2017


Recently I saw a man dressed like this (above).

Friday, January 20, 2017

A Hotdog At The Met

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Sleep on a Diesel Train

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Pathetic Snowman In Brooklyn's South Slope

Monday, December 12, 2016

Sesame Street Memories

Once upon a time, I met someone, and we traveled downtown on the A train from Washington Heights at around 4, 5am. I can still remember sitting opposite him in an empty carriage, chatting, as the train breezed through the local stops; as almost no one was on board, the train conductor clipped each stop to its bare minimum of what seemed like a couple of seconds: doors open, doors closed, gone. At 14th Street, we switched to the L train, and went all the way out to Jefferson Street, which I remember because I made a mental note that Brooklyn confusingly has a Jefferson Street and a Jefferson Avenue. At dawn, an easy stroll through empty streets to where this guy lived -- he was a newcomer to the city. He was certainly odd, but in a pleasantly eccentric way.
His apartment turned out to be slightly larger than a broom closet. And that pleasant eccentricity? His space was crammed full of dozens of Ernie dolls, of Bert & Ernie fame, all sizes, including a life-size Ernie...

Years later, one evening in Washington Heights, he passed me on the street again, with two friends of his, and I remember my mind weighing for a split second, whether to say "Hey Jefferson Street man!" or "Hey, Ernie doll man!" as I couldn't remember his name. I think I went with "Jefferson Street!" And we had a brief chat.

As we talked, there were mobs of teenage Dominican girls passing by, in various states of teenage hysteria: it was the annual Dominican version of the "sweet sixteen" coming-of-age event. That was the moment when I remembered why I didn't really like my Ernie doll friend. Gesturing to the young women, he pointed out that as a stupid, privileged white person, I would be completely unaware that Dominicans celebrate a "sweet fifteen" coming-of-age event, and not sweet sixteen.

"Ah, yes, the quinceañera," I said to him, and gave him a hard look. He took himself off with some annoying minor crack about white privilege.

I do not have the rapier instinct. I guess I could have made fun of his stupid Ernie doll fixation (and I think he also sucked his thumb), but I didn't.

All this memory was triggered by that Sesame Street doll in the photo, which isn't even a Bert or Ernie doll...!

Thursday, October 13, 2016

That's A Relief!

I'm so glad to hear that, Bethenny Frankel!

What's Small, Round, Red, And Speaks In A Whisper?

Today, from the archives: things that are red. For the answer to the question in the title, scroll to the bottom.

A hoarse radish.

Monday, September 12, 2016

Summer, 2015

These photos were taken over a year ago, then completely forgotten. 

Me, walking.

Archie, a dog.

The Empire of Light and Day

A whisk.

191st Street Subway entrance.


Broadway and Flushing Ave, Brooklyn.

Tuesday, September 06, 2016

Schubert, Trio op. 100 - Andante con moto

Monday, August 08, 2016

Some Yellow Things

 These photos are a little old...

 This was when someone I know lived on Bergen Street, Brooklyn, near this bright little BMW.

 I really don't know what was being suggested on this yellow... thing...

 A cool chick seen through a speeding express train... waiting for the local.

 A snowy day in Queens, probably two winters ago. The Harris Shutter app.

The Wrong Continent

This is a world-famous address... It's No. 10 Downing Street... but in Brooklyn, NY.

Looks like they're doing some serious renovations.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

At Least It's Not A Rat

Saturday, July 16, 2016

Putting The 'Ugh' Into 'Outer Borough'

This is of course the 'ugh' in 'borough' adorning the outside wall of the Queens Public Library's HQ, in Jamaica, Queens.
Let me ramble on a bit more.
In Washington Heights a few years ago, there was a room renting service on whose business card were the unforgettable words: We Cover All Four Boroughs!
Last night, I had the unpleasant experience of walking just one and a half blocks of 42nd Street, the lower end of Times Square.  Not only was the area c r a w l i n g with uniformed cops, there must have been scores of undercovers too.
Normally that distance might take six, seven minutes to walk.  Last evening, amongst the hordes of rowdy locals and gawking tourists, I think it took 25 minutes... and we were penned in: guard rails of the crowd control/ crash barrier variety now run all along the length of 42nd Street. Was this a safety measure after what happened in Nice?  The Police Commissioner says no... but the sense of being penned in, of having nowhere to run, only added to one's tingling anxiety.

Friday, July 08, 2016

Float Like A Butterfly,

...spell like a moron? How can you screw up spelling the name of someone as famous as the late Greatest of All Time? Especially when you are painting it on a wall.

A couple of people have tried to argue with me that the spelling is not wrong, that it is somehow... not spelt wrong. But it is! That has never been, nor will it ever be, how one spells 'Ali'. 'A-L-I'. 

Monday, July 04, 2016

Heroic Moment In Central Park

An Associated Press photographer took this very unusual photo yesterday, after an 18 year-old visitor to NYC lost part of his foot after stepping on what the cops sort of concluded was an abandoned homemade firework.

Poor kid. But what a dramatic scene: it almost seemed staged in this image, the lush, deep, green forest as background, in the foreground both as barrier and terrace, the familiar granite rocks of Central Park, the dark blue uniforms, with bright blue stripes on their pants... how carefully has the artist concealed the victim's face and upper body!... The splashes of bright reds and oranges and the various poses of the EMT guys make it all seem staged and lit. Or, to quote Robert Browning! ~

"Paint must never hope to reproduce the faint 
Half-flush that dies along her throat"!