In New York City, the world is your kitchen. We eat on the train, in the park, in cabs, on the street, not to mention in restaurants. And you are never alone at it. We are a city of spazzes. Eating, talking, walking, scoping.
As we speak, or I write, anyway, I am eating a cranberry scone on the R train and drinking a coffee from the Mud truck. Portable food stands are essential to the NYC experience. Water dog vendors, halal food, coffee trucks, random meats on portable grills, any food desire and on any block is granted here. Can you imagine wheeling your job down the block to set up shop on the corner?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Freebies
Today my mom flies back to Singapore. We met at her hotel for snacks on the Hilton Executive circuit and wow, did we almost get mowed down by by a swarm of older women. A spread of fruits, cheeses, you know, finger foods buffet style with a cash bar, the way these folks attacked, you'd have thought that they hadn't eaten all day. Neither of us could pinpoint where they were from, but my mom had to retreat when they refreshed the fruit platter. Dag, people! On a New York budget, I guess free is free.
Safe flight, Mom. All 18 hours of it.
Safe flight, Mom. All 18 hours of it.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Moo Moo Moo Moo
My mom got in to the city tonight, a two-day conclusion in the city before her trek back to Singapore. We had a bite to eat and then saw Gypsy, starring Patti LuPone. Hot diggity, she is a hit in my book. I've loved her since Life Goes On, that show that had the kid Corky in it...remember? Anyway, Patti does a great job, no surprise. I've never seen this show before and don't have any other actress to which to compare her, but I had a blast. I laughed. I was captivated, touched, laughing...out loud. There is this scene with a cow on stage. Hilarious!
At other moments, Miss Patti sent chills down my arms and legs. Now, that's rare. While I neither have the training to judge this type of work, nor do I have the Broadway bug exactly, I did grow up singing in a choir, at times with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, and even abroad. And I love singing. In a church, in the bathroom, even just rockin' out in the car! What a wonderful show and inspiring performance.
At other moments, Miss Patti sent chills down my arms and legs. Now, that's rare. While I neither have the training to judge this type of work, nor do I have the Broadway bug exactly, I did grow up singing in a choir, at times with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, and even abroad. And I love singing. In a church, in the bathroom, even just rockin' out in the car! What a wonderful show and inspiring performance.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The self
I claimed myself as a writer on my tax return this year. I wonder if that's accurate. Do you have to make money at something in order for it to be your "occupation"? I don't think so. You are what you love. Anyway, I'm hoping that the more I claim myself something, the more viable it shall become!
A kid named Sean came into the restaurant today. He had worked there a short while, years ago; I remembered his face. He came in to confess that he'd stolen money every shift he worked, an estimated total of a grand. His parents passed away this year, one right after the other, and he said that losing them had spurred him to take stock of his life. Part of his realizations involved righting the wrongs he'd done. In his hand he'd brought $1500 which he gave to the owner with deepest apologies. So obviously nervous and ashamed, he shook through the entire conversation. I wanted to touch him, show him some kind of comfort but didn't interject. It wasn't my place. And in New York, you mind your business.
This morning, as well, a co-worker came directly to work from court in tears. She's spent the last 2 two and a half years fighting for full custody and adoption rights for an adorable two year-old who's lived with her since day 29 of life. The unstable biological mother has popped in and out of the process, one month asking for rights, the next few missing court dates. Today was the last of it. The judge put an end to any further objectives from the bio mom's lawyer and severed visitation rights. My friend had just hired an expensive, super savvy attorney, and for a pretty penny. But after having read the file, the new lawyer called my friend to agree to take the case pro bono. She admitted that she'd never seen a case quite like this one.
So the owner comes up on her way out to lunch and says she's going to blow the $1500 on her 50th birthday celebration at the end of this month. I told her that it seemed a pretty serious karmic moment, that maybe she should do something good at least with a part of the money. She talked about donating to the ashram she attends. Me, I mentioned the two-year old who'll now have a chance in life. Turns out, the owner gave the newly official mom-to-be a large chunk of the money for her new official daughter-to-be. It's a day for good things. On a day so dreaded, taxes due, money wasted or gained, it's nice to see evidence of what really makes each of us human.
A kid named Sean came into the restaurant today. He had worked there a short while, years ago; I remembered his face. He came in to confess that he'd stolen money every shift he worked, an estimated total of a grand. His parents passed away this year, one right after the other, and he said that losing them had spurred him to take stock of his life. Part of his realizations involved righting the wrongs he'd done. In his hand he'd brought $1500 which he gave to the owner with deepest apologies. So obviously nervous and ashamed, he shook through the entire conversation. I wanted to touch him, show him some kind of comfort but didn't interject. It wasn't my place. And in New York, you mind your business.
This morning, as well, a co-worker came directly to work from court in tears. She's spent the last 2 two and a half years fighting for full custody and adoption rights for an adorable two year-old who's lived with her since day 29 of life. The unstable biological mother has popped in and out of the process, one month asking for rights, the next few missing court dates. Today was the last of it. The judge put an end to any further objectives from the bio mom's lawyer and severed visitation rights. My friend had just hired an expensive, super savvy attorney, and for a pretty penny. But after having read the file, the new lawyer called my friend to agree to take the case pro bono. She admitted that she'd never seen a case quite like this one.
So the owner comes up on her way out to lunch and says she's going to blow the $1500 on her 50th birthday celebration at the end of this month. I told her that it seemed a pretty serious karmic moment, that maybe she should do something good at least with a part of the money. She talked about donating to the ashram she attends. Me, I mentioned the two-year old who'll now have a chance in life. Turns out, the owner gave the newly official mom-to-be a large chunk of the money for her new official daughter-to-be. It's a day for good things. On a day so dreaded, taxes due, money wasted or gained, it's nice to see evidence of what really makes each of us human.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Fantasy
I'm on the 6 train, never ride it. I went to visit a friend uptown but he wasn't there. So there are four people, three guys and a girl, sitting across from me in the car. The guys are wearing masks backward. It looks like they were playing some fantasy game like Sumo Samurai or something. The guys have long nails, long hair, facial hair. They're wearing white and black only, maybe one has on a cape. The girl is licking a lollipop. One of the guy's hands on her knees and I realize that in this life there's someone for everyone.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Brooklyn Museum
The Brooklyn Musem is a blend of classic and modern. 
Even from first encounter does the museum juxtapose new upon old. An immense columned structure, the prior museum, is fronted with a crescent, glass atrium covering what one can only imagine was a huge grand staircase.
Upon further exploration, there is a reflection pool at one end and a
rainbow of cement and green grass extendin zen serenity out into the city block. Yet, names chiseled above gargoyles on the old structure read Aristotle, Socrates, Mohamed.
Once inside, the atrium partners traditional stone sculptures with the fiberglass of Murikami. Age-old myths of pegases and men contrasting today's fiction of anime.
I visited the museum once before, for a graffiti exhibit in 2006. But the special exhibition of Takashi Murakami inspired my friends and me to visit today. His first pieces in the atrium are huge fiberglass installations of fictional bubble-like characters. Jelly-fish figures of all colors, one on top of the other, equally innocent and yet psychedelic.
Up into the exhibit, the opening is a five-story cylindrical expanse. On display, three figures, all the same woman. The first she is upright, all curves with a tiny waist, huge hair, painted all sorts of colors. In a outfit ready for battle, she is a comic book warrior. In the next, her body parts contorted like a Transformer, she is changing into something. The third, she is a jet. Her female parts the nose of the fighter, her legs tucked underneath, her hair the wings, her are feet pointed at the back, the tail. Honestly, I'd never thought about my body as a fighter jet until right then. Fully multi-media, there is also a showing of Murakami's film work, coupled in one short film with Kanye West, as well as his bag designs for Louis Vuitton. He is the epitome of art in commerce. Or commerce in art.
We also visited a feminist exhibit and Japanese prints. In the feminist exhibition, a huge dining room was erected, the artist's impressions of the place settings famous women would have, Georgia O'Keefe, for example. Ironic. A feminist artist using such a home ec display to represent her celebration of and homage to women. The table is a huge triangle, too. There is no head of the table.
I loved the Japanese prints most of all. The sketch feeling, yet the work is so intricate and rich in color.
Of all the art I've seen today, these may be my most favorite, or most near to my heart. They inspire the notion of romance, a life of tranquility, enjoyment, struggle, fighting for love and honor, and even still beauty.
Even from first encounter does the museum juxtapose new upon old. An immense columned structure, the prior museum, is fronted with a crescent, glass atrium covering what one can only imagine was a huge grand staircase. Upon further exploration, there is a reflection pool at one end and a
rainbow of cement and green grass extendin zen serenity out into the city block. Yet, names chiseled above gargoyles on the old structure read Aristotle, Socrates, Mohamed. Once inside, the atrium partners traditional stone sculptures with the fiberglass of Murikami. Age-old myths of pegases and men contrasting today's fiction of anime.
I visited the museum once before, for a graffiti exhibit in 2006. But the special exhibition of Takashi Murakami inspired my friends and me to visit today. His first pieces in the atrium are huge fiberglass installations of fictional bubble-like characters. Jelly-fish figures of all colors, one on top of the other, equally innocent and yet psychedelic.
Up into the exhibit, the opening is a five-story cylindrical expanse. On display, three figures, all the same woman. The first she is upright, all curves with a tiny waist, huge hair, painted all sorts of colors. In a outfit ready for battle, she is a comic book warrior. In the next, her body parts contorted like a Transformer, she is changing into something. The third, she is a jet. Her female parts the nose of the fighter, her legs tucked underneath, her hair the wings, her are feet pointed at the back, the tail. Honestly, I'd never thought about my body as a fighter jet until right then. Fully multi-media, there is also a showing of Murakami's film work, coupled in one short film with Kanye West, as well as his bag designs for Louis Vuitton. He is the epitome of art in commerce. Or commerce in art.We also visited a feminist exhibit and Japanese prints. In the feminist exhibition, a huge dining room was erected, the artist's impressions of the place settings famous women would have, Georgia O'Keefe, for example. Ironic. A feminist artist using such a home ec display to represent her celebration of and homage to women. The table is a huge triangle, too. There is no head of the table.
I loved the Japanese prints most of all. The sketch feeling, yet the work is so intricate and rich in color.
Of all the art I've seen today, these may be my most favorite, or most near to my heart. They inspire the notion of romance, a life of tranquility, enjoyment, struggle, fighting for love and honor, and even still beauty.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
"Into the earth they go, the lovely, the wise."
We buried Granddaddy today. He was covered with an American flag, which they folded and passed to my Nana. From what everyone has said, he would have wanted the service simple, respectful.
My aunt and uncle, Roxane and Ed, renovated Granddaddy's and Nana's house a few years back and it's so welcoming. I sat on the back deck and watched the sun set behind the house out into the mountains. While Lynchburg may not be the place for me, I can certainly see how it could be for another.
My aunt and uncle, Roxane and Ed, renovated Granddaddy's and Nana's house a few years back and it's so welcoming. I sat on the back deck and watched the sun set behind the house out into the mountains. While Lynchburg may not be the place for me, I can certainly see how it could be for another.
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