Saturday, December 31, 2011

Ask. The. Bust.


Mr. Bair bought a phone: my friend Paul at a Verizon store on the Upper West Side.


The cars from on high in Harlem.


1 World Trade Center already looms over the vertical city... from Seventh Avenue South.


Grand Army Plaza in Brooklyn at dusk.


It's in Prospect Park... cannot remember the name of this edifice, which is most beautiful at night.


Newark Public Library: still beautiful in an age of brutal budget cuts.


In the foyer of Newark Public Library there is a bust of Julius Caesar, which I was photographing earlier today, when the security guard had a fit and yelled: "You can't do that! you have to ask permission!" 

So I said: "Come off it! Permission to take a photo of a work of art?"

She yells back: "Yes!! You needa ask permission!"

So I replied: "Whose permission do I need? The bust's?"

Then I went outside, sat down on the steps. About a minute later, the security guard comes out and lights a cigarette.
"May I ask you for a cigarette?" I said, sweetly and trillingly. She gave me a hard, long look, then she says:
"ASK. THE. BUST." 

Thursday, December 29, 2011

If You Cannot

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Nostrand Avenue and Fulton Street, early evening rain, 12/27/2011


Thank you for the pizza, Ren!

Monday, December 26, 2011

An out-of-shape America

Depressing but good:
The Iraq war was a kind of stress test applied to the American body politic. And every major system and organ failed the test: the executive and legislative branches, the military, the intelligence world, the for-profits, the nonprofits, the media. It turned out that we were not in good shape at all -- without even realizing it. Americans just hadn't tried anything this hard in around half a century.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Around Town


The cars they drove: a Dodge Challenger parked across Eighth Avenue from Madison Square Garden.


The things they worshiped: strange family of totem-starers on the Upper West Side.


The Man in Red: Santa, everywhere. As I keep reminding people, Santa is just an anagram of SATAN.



Bike-lit. 



Don't forget, times are tough this Christmas. Above, one of many small, independent-y
businesses, heading for the history books. 


Apposite for the neighborhood: a ramshackle Christmas decoration thing in Spanish Harlem.


The secrets she told: gossiping outside a West 21st Street night club.


I: The food they ate: fruit stalls are everywhere in New York City these days. 


II: The food they ate: chicken with rice stall; nearly as ubiquitous as the fruit stall (see above).


Their lives, our memories, memorialized: a First World War memorial in Central Park.


Accursed Claus! Christmas everywhere on 125th Street.


On 175th Street, the invitation still goes forth from that famous church:
"Come on in! Or, smile as you pass."


And in Spanish Harlem again: not a neon Bible, but a neon Cross. 
Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you all. 

Friday, December 23, 2011

Freewheeling on Freylinghuysen


To quote Wikipedia,
Route 27 crosses into Newark, Essex County at the Virginia Street intersection, where it becomes Frelinghuysen Avenue, a road that heads north through the Dayton neighborhood of Newark, passing through urban areas and by Weequahic Park.
Ah, Frelinghuysen Avenue, you are my darling, Come sit you down upon my knee, And tell to me the very reason, Why I am slighted so by thee... It's not just me feels slighted by this desolate street in Newark, New Jersey. I'd think anybody who pitched up there late at night, as I did recently, would wonder about the ill  luck or terrible fate that brought them to this stretch of poisoned post-Soviet pavement.


When looking at these photos I hope you will agree with me that there is even serenity and peace on the edge of desolation, under the silent halos of the streetlights.


I felt at times that the streetlights were in some kind of secret conversation with the leafless trees.


A thoughtful reminder from some steely locals... I did not need any for my nerves.


The ghastly green afterglow from a visiting fliegende Untertasse.


But it was the trees that struck me as most alien... silent, still, gnarled, angular...


...stark in the glow of the neon streetlights... 


...that, and Chicken Holiday and Pizza!

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Christopher Hitchens


Christopher Hitchens succumbed to cancer of the oesophagus last week, at the age of 62. He died in Texas, of all places, which I personally felt was kind of apt. 

Why apt? Texas is a place of extremes -- extremes of weather, terrain, people, and events. Hitchens has been eulogized, even lionized in the (American) press as an extreme contrarian, a man for whom nothing was sacred, not even Mother Teresa or Princess Diana -- or even his long-held left wing ideals, which he ditched with utter finality when he came out in support of President George W. Bush's War on Terror, after September 11th. 

I can't say I had much admiration for Hitchens, though his last stand against religion and superstition was courageous. He did seem a bilious, unpleasant type, at least in public. Also, I feel that his adulation in some quarters of U.S. society came from the well-known American tendency to be suckers for anything and everything that comes with an English accent. And I feel that in argument, he wielded an intellectual bludgeon, where perhaps a sharp stick might have worked just as well. The hideous monsters he took arms against (the Catholic Church, religious bigots, Henry Kissinger) would never have afforded him nor anyone, graciousness in defeat, but that is no reason for him to be ungracious. If you're going to kill a man's argument, it seems unkind to not give him an arm up out of the hole he dug himself. 

As it was clear he was suffering terribly from the effects of his cancer and treatments, Hitchens physically looked terrible, so in deference to all our vanities, here is a photo of him in his heyday, the piercing stare, pursed lips, "Looking as if she were alive..." Or about to explode!


UPDATE: Others with greater insight have committed their Hitchens hatchet-jobs to the public sphere, including this conclusion, bringing us back to the lone-star state: "the older Hitchens was so full of shit that you could use him to fertilise all of Texas for decades.

Indeed. In 2006, one of his Vanity Fair columns trumpeted a study that he said claimed to show that women had less of a sense of humor than men. There followed an unfounded, uncalled for, appalling screed of misogyny:
There are more terrible female comedians than there are terrible male comedians, but there are some impressive ladies out there. Most of them, though, when you come to review the situation, are hefty or dykey or Jewish, or some combo of the three.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

The Craic from Midtown Manhattan


Thank goodness some quick-thinking citizen spotted a huge fault line opening up on West 40th street, and taped it closed before disaster struck.

[Note: "Craic" or "crack" is a term for fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation, particularly prominent in Ireland].

A Miracle on West 22nd Street


The Van Alen bookstore at 30 West 22nd Street opened a while back, but I only made it through the door yesterday morning. It's cute, in lemony yellow, with a sort of stairway / shelving area and an invitation on the web site invites you to linger among the books and periodicals on sale, which are largely Van Alen Institute-related. And what does the Van Alen Institute do?
The Van Alen Institute is an independent nonprofit architectural organization that promotes inquiry into the processes that shape the design of the public realm.

I say this only because I feel it deeply: book stores are closing everywhere, and people and society will suffer for their loss, in subtle, incalculable ways. The last independent book store in the Bronx is closing this month (or closed in 2008, depending on who you believe). So the specialist Van Alen Books deserves continuing support and browsing visits, even if it may not be your interest in reading material.

Recently I met someone who is fairly newly-arrived in New York City, and they noticed that within 15 or 20 minutes, I had twice mentioned books I have been reading. Perhaps they were seeking to wrong-foot me or deal with their own inadequacies, but they suddenly declared: "Reading is for people who can't think for themselves." Well. Yet you'd think after a year in the city, the same person would have a basic grasp of the subway system, why the concepts of east and west are slightly vital ones to grasp, and why Grand Central Terminal is not in Harlem. "And tell me what street / Compares with Mott Street / In July?"

Friday, December 09, 2011

The View From Dean Street

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Peel Me a Grape!


Or rather, do NOT peel me a grape, if it comes via Eataly... That's the name of celebrity chef Mario Batali's new gourmet food porn store at the Fifth Avenue end of 23rd Street. Despite its name -- a pun about as effectively corny as the tourism commercials some years ago during which a posh English accented voice would intone "Aaaaaah... Indiaaaaaaaaaah!" -- the Italian food joint is: a)  packed to the ceiling with Italian fine foods; b) crammed with shoppers who seem not to have heard the news about the recession; and c) expensive.

How expensive? This expensive: in an August Q & A interview with New York Magazine,  Batali slipped in this crass store policy regarding pre-prepared vegetables (by the store 'vegetable butcher', an artist (!) called Jennifer Rubell).

And it’s true that artist Jennifer Rubell is running the vegetable department?
Yeah, she’s the vegetable butcher.

What does a vegetable butcher do?
Anything you want. If you’re not familiar with how to trim an artichoke, we’ll trim you an artichoke. If you don’t think you have time to peel your baby carrots, you can leave them with us and go shop in the other parts of the store, and we’ll peel them. We’ll do anything but cook them. On your way out, we’ll put the peels in a little separate bag—because they’re going to weigh them at the checkout counter—and then they go into a compost can up front.



Monday, December 05, 2011

The Saps


Never homeless, never hungry, always certain, reassured daily of the complete and utter truth of their truth, David Brooks and Thomas Friedman are the Great American Cheerleaders, from their special playroom at the New York Times, where both men are columnists.

Friday, December 02, 2011

Thank You, Mr. Mayor!


While I disagree with Mayor Michael Bloomberg on many issues, I support his signing of Introductory Number 656-A on November 22nd last. This bill limits cooperation between local and federal law enforcement. Here's a summary by WNYC:
Mayor Michael Bloomberg signed a new bill into law Tuesday that limits the city’s cooperation with federal immigration authorities on Rikers Island. 
The law will prevent the Department of Corrections from turning over immigrants with no criminal convictions upon their release, who are not known gang members or who are not on the terror watch list to Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents. 
City Council Speaker Christine Quinn said it was an historic day for the city and immigrant communities in New York. "We are sending a strong and unified message that this city will no longer allow innocent immigrants who pose no threat to be unfairly detained and deported due to an antiquated immigration system," she said in a joint statement with council members Daniel Dromm and Melissa Mark-Viverito.
Bloomberg initially endorsed cooperation with ICE at Rikers, but later this year came out in support of the bill.
Information about prisoners at Rikers is shared with federal immigration authorities under an initiative known as the Criminal Alien Program. Agents from ICE, who are stationed at Rikers, can interview foreign-born inmates and decide whether they want to place the inmate on an immigration hold or detainer.  
If a detainer is lodged against an inmate, the DOC will hold him for an extra 48 hours at Rikers after his case is closed to give ICE an opportunity to assume custody of the individual.
“Under the new legislation, if an inmate gets an ICE detainer but has no record of criminal history or pending cases, and no other record of being a threat to the community, the Department of Correction will not honor the detainer,” said Sharman Stein, Deputy Commissioner for Public Information at the DOC.
The Criminal Alien Program, ICE argues, allows them to target an illegal alien with a criminal record and prevent them from being released into the general public and potentially committing other crimes. 
But immigration advocates and some politicians have argued the city works too closely with ICE and that many individuals with no prior criminal record end up being deported

Monday, November 28, 2011

UPDATE: He Came In Third >>>Martin McGuinness For President of Ireland

Martin McGuinness, the former IRA chief-of-staff deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland and Member of Parliament for Mid-Ulster, has announced his candidacy for President of Ireland. McGuinness, seen above campaigning for votes getting the vote out* in 1972, is a member of Sinn Fein, the only political party in Ireland the entire world that has No Connection Whatsoever With The IRA. As a politician, McGuinness is known for being flexible while never selling out his core principles. "I always stick to my guns," he never said, no, not once. He also enjoys socializing, and his parties are huge successes. "They always go off like a bomb," someone else didn't actually say for fear of being whacked.

In keeping with the carefully cultivated message of peace and reconciliation that Sinn Fein has fostered since the IRA cease fire and Good Friday peace agreement, McGuinness plans to campaign under a simple slogan:    Vote for me! or I'll blow your fockin' knees off.


* As in: get that vote out and put a bullet in its head noy!


UPDATE: Michael Higgins won the Irish Presidential Election held on October 27th, 2011. Martin McGuinness came in third. In other words, although McGuinness was gunning for the job of President, he totally bombed. Still, he gave it his best shot. So shut up or I'll knee-cap you. Ohohohohoho...the old jokes are the best!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Days

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Images, November 26th, 2011


Many moons ago, a woman called Brooklyn Hilary commented on my photos on Flickr. At the time, she was dating a guy called Blaine, and before Hilary and I met and went on many a photo expedition, she and Blaine concocted an idea of me as 'Irishman!' -- see Blaine's sketch above.


From Taschen, a new, beautifully illustrated edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales...


Taschen has opened a pop-up store at 998 Madison Avenue, in NYC. Red Riding Hood, presumably, above.


In other news, there will be an annular or total eclipse of the sun, visible from eight western U.S. states, next May.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Forty-eight Years Ago Today

Perfect Lives

Mayor Bloomberg: 'so I prophesied as commanded...'

I know next to nothing about this story (above) except that the bare bones details do not give me confidence in the authorities that rule over us. It seems all too easy to point (as Mayor Bloomberg did) to the so-called 'lone wolf' terrorist theory, when deflecting people from looking at or seeing something else that's going down. All you need is a suspect.

During his statement to the press on Sunday evening, Mayor Bloomberg said that the suspect arrested, Jose Pimentel of Washington Heights, "represents exactly the kind of threat FBI Directer Robert Muller and his experts have warned about."


OK, great. Except now it seems that the FBI declined to arrest and prosecute the suspect. Allegedly, the suspect smoked marajuana with the NYPD's secret informant, and also...


...and also, the suspect tried to circumcise himself when he decided he had in fact converted to Islam. 


For these reasons among others, it seems that the FBI declined to arrest and prosecute Pimental. Perhaps the thought of a defense attorney standing up in court and saying: "my client is a pot-smoking self-circumciser, and the chief witness against him was high at the time,"gave them concerns about the case's merits.


Since Sunday, other details have come out: the suspect was considered mentally unstable but harmless by neighbors and friends of his family in the Hamilton Heights neighborhood in Harlem, where he had recently been kicked out of his home by his mother, and had moved in with his uncle.


I'm reminded of Ezekiel chapter 37, though I'm taking the words completely out of context:


So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.



And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them.


Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.



So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army...

You can scare people up into an exceeding great army, by just breathing that word, terrorism... or can you, Mayor Bloomberg and Commissioner Kelly? Aside from anything else, as the headline from NBC at the top of this posting says, 'Suspect had expressed anger at U.S. soldiers.' This alone seems well and truly covered as a right under the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.