Queens and Manhattan skyline behind, soaked!
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
This afternoon, I visited my friend Matt in his new home near Wall Street. Afterwards, I dared to tread on the Street itself, down as far as Federal Hall, where in the past I took occasional photos of the statue of George Washington, gazing toward the New York Stock Exchange.
Today was blazing hot in lower Manhattan. I walked through touristy crowds from Wall Street up to City Hall, where I discovered some curious bits of art.
In honor of July 4th, an artist has recreated sections of the Statue of Liberty, in copper, and scattered them around City Hall Park. These sections appear to be to scale, and are largely of various folds and creases in the original's, shall we say, robe. Each has a marker with a guide to whereabouts on the statue the replicas would fit.
It is at first a fascinating concept, but sadly, what sprang to mind immediately and would not easily depart, is that the pieces of Liberty's robe resembled airplane wreckage, just days after the downing of a passenger jet over Ukraine left fuselage sections scattered across fields…
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Friday, July 11, 2014
I was checking my spam email folder the other day, and noticed an email had very faint text showing in the background. What could it be? A *secret* spam message? Even cheaper herbal Viagra from even farther away??
I am none the wiser for reading it. This is the text:
Take care of course not really. Something about me but nothing at that.
Turned in beside her face. Ruthie and Abby had taken care. Dick to feel up his hands.
Whatever it would have enough to smile.
Wanted him smile to look.
Looking up his hand reached for them. Nothing but since he took Terry. Hands in with me for Maddie. Everything all right hand on John.
Lizzie said turning to hope.
Please God would call home.
Before but he could handle this. Neither one here she stood. Sounded as John said nothing more.
Victor had once he could almost ready.
Stay calm down and start the thought. Because she shook his own place. Jake are new every morning.
Three girls had only get everything. Ready to Emily had she swallowed hard.
Stood at our place for dinner. Despite the movie had kept his hands. Right next time you want it open.
Three girls came into that. Abby had forgotten about all right. Okay but since she nodded.
Every morning Terry opened then turned away.
Bedroom with Izzy said she know. Got in front door handle it away.
Yeah well but kept her own place. When we going with both hands. Daddy and pain that before long moment. Heart the hard to sleep.
Pick up some sleep on John. Tomorrow morning had never said.
Wednesday, July 09, 2014
Tuesday, July 01, 2014
One of NYC's finest free daily newspapers had this asinine ad recently: 'Is there anything more American than America?'
We could fill an hour with jokes like 'Is there anything more French than…? ~ Yes, if you …etc!'
But wait! There's more…
The ad was for Chrysler. And in fact, it was first seen as one of the famously-expensive Super Bowl commercials, and it starred Bob Dylan, because, one supposes, there's nothing more American than… etc.
Except, of course, (and I know everyone has pointed this out already), Chrysler is now owned by Fiat. In fact, just to conclude with an irritating pun, Chrysler was acquired by Fiat through governmental fiat.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Friday, June 27, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
At Myrtle Avenue, from the J, M, Z station.
I've posted this poem by Gwendolyn Brooks before on here, but it bears revisiting. It's where I got the title of this post:
THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Earlier today, I was eating peas straight out of the pod!
This was prompted by seeing them for sale in the Union Square market. It took me back to my childhood, when grownups would say: "taste the peas, they are so sweet," and I take the hard pea pod in my hands, and feel it crack inevitably along its natural seams, to open and display the peas in the pod.
Then I would eat them, and they would give way with a delicate crunch under my teeth, and reluctantly I would think "yes, they are sweet, but not sweet like sugar...or…maybe yes…but no, it is a citric sensation?"
And so, today, I savored some peas in the pod, likely picked only yesterday upstate, yet they also came from far away in my past.