Sunday, August 24, 2008

Neighbors

Living in a city in which there are so many different ethnicities -particularly living in a neighborhood which has a major concentration of a couple of similar seeming ethnicities- is a real challenge to one's appreciation and understanding of different cultures.

Case and point:
I am working very hard right now, at nearly 2:30 in the morning, to be really specific when I say, "I hate these people" to mean my neighbors in the green house to the left of our apartment building and my other neighbors in the white house to the back of our apartment building and not the ethnic makeup of my neighborhood as a whole.
And when I say, "I hate this music" I mean it specifically in reference to the music that blares loudly, from hours on end and well into the morning (see above and time stamp of this post) which makes it impossible for me to find quiet in any of the rooms of our apartment. And by "quiet" I mean, possible for me to hear my television that I've turned nearly all of the way up or, say, my thoughts.

It would be easy for me, given my ethnic outsider status (as American Black), to make false generalizations about all of the members of my neighborhood based on my limited experience with these specific neighbors because of what appears to be their shared ethnicity (Caribbean).
This is something that I am conscious of and work on diligently. The country, city and neighborhood that I live in requires this kind of work. This is not a bad thing. I honestly think that a little bit more personal frankness about these sorts of thoughts and experiences (and a commitment to work on them) will make a better country, city and neighborhood.

Given all of this, I do think it's fair to say that my neighbors do not help me to like reggae. Or reggaeton.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Arthur and Gustav.

If you want a quick little smile on your face, or something to add a little spring in your step, check out this delightfully charming bit of business about a young pair of brothers and their fondness for the NY Subway System.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

No Stuart Little.

Squirrels in New York City don't have any natural kind of fear.

These are city-squirrels. They're unimpressed by people and unhurried by the hustle, cucumber-cool when caught up with the cars and unabashedly bold.

There's a squirrel who spends the better part of the day scampering up and down our fire-escape. It's huge. It comes right up to the window and peeks in. When I make sun-tea on the fire escape I have to make sure that the tea's in an airtight container or the squirrel will tip it over. I've seen him eying me from the floor above ours with a look of pure annoyance.

I don't know what his problem is. He doesn't even pay rent.

Team New York

I'm not sure if you know this, but I am a HUGE fan of the Olympics.

The only thing on television bigger than the Olympics this year has been the primaries. And now that the Olympics are winding down I am pleased as punch to be able to look forward to what I consider to be the biggest night in television: The Presidential Election coverage.

[Michelle Obama: Honorary New Yorker.][She can bring Barack and the kids too.]

Anyhoods... the Olympics have been great viewing fun for me. They've brought to my attention so many people who ought to live in NYC because they're just too awesome for the places that they live now.

Today, I've decided to offer Honorary New Yorkership to The Entire Chinese Diving Team. They roll so freaking deep that it's getting a bit sad to watch the other countries try and compete. Because they can't. We've got ONE Michael Phelps swimming impressive laps. They've got an entire TEAM of Michael Phelps' diving for glory.

So live it up ya'll! You're New Yorkers now!

Also on the list:
  • The Japanese Softball Team for their handy upset of the American favorites.
  • Rafael Nadal: He's had an incredible year; outplaying Feder in Wimbledon and then out-playing the world to win the gold medal at the Olympics.
  • Usain Bolt deserves to be on the list because, say what you will about his youth exuberance during the 100 finals; in the 200 finals he really showed us all what he could do if he put his head down and ran the race to the finish. And he showed us in double-gold double-world record fashion.
I could go on and on.

But I'm going to stop because this post is about my 2nd favorite story of The Games: Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh. They have successfully (and, for beach volleyball, historically) defended last Games' gold medal. In the rain no less. And showed the world (unequivocally) who rules the fucking beach.
The final, at 42 minutes, was their longest match of the Olympics. They'd won a total of 108 straight matches. The last match that they'd lost was in July of 2007.

They're smart. They're strong. They're badass.

They're New York.

And the best freaking beach volleyball team in history.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Weird but true.

Sometimes when I close my eyes these new trains running on the Q line make me feel as if I am about a small boat floating gently among the waves.

It is a strange but welcome sensation especially as we cross the Manhattan Bridge.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

I cover the waterfront.

It would appear that Brooklyn is currently the Featured Borough on NYTimes.com's CityRoom Blogs page. I am hard-pressed to think of another borough that deserves it more.

One of the many snippets is about a photographer capturing Brooklyn's fading industrial waterfront.

He's part of an exhibit at the Central Branch of the Brooklyn public library which I thought was pretty good when I saw it while getting my library card.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Gold Standard

Here's a really great article on New York City's Olympians.

(Note, as the articl points out, that none of these are former Olympians. Much like the mob, or WoW Cafe Theater, once you're in the family (of Olympians) you can never get out.

Atta girl!


I know that this Olympics has been all about Michael Phelps' achievements. And indeed, he has made history and more importantly, he's made it to the status of Honorary NYer.

But.

That's right, but.

Natalie Coughlin hasn't exactly been resting on her good looks and sparkling personality. (Both of which she has in abundance.)

Natalie has gone gold this Olympics. Defending her title in the 100-meter backstroke. And! Natalie has won six medals in this Olympic Games. That's more medals in one Olympic Games ever won by any female swimmer. Ever in history!

She has handled her intense schedule with aplomb. And I have no doubt that she would handle the hustle and bustle of our fair city with the same aplomb.

I am proud to name her an Honorary New Yorker. I'm also proud to offer her a place to crash if she's ever in The City. (Sorry Michael.)

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Just around the bend.

It’s about a thirty to forty minute train ride on the Q from our house to Coney Island.

The train takes a turn between the Sheepshead Bay and Brighton Beach stops and you can see the ocean. When the doors opened at the Brighton Beach stop I could smell the salt air. I was listening to Ave Maria and the warm salt air through the doors and the swell of the music filled me with such unexpected happiness that I closed my eyes so that no one could see the welling tears.

I think that Proust said it best.
...The sea is not separated from the sky; it always harmonizes with the colors of the sky and it is deeply stirred by its most delicate nuances. The sea radiates under the sun and seems to die with it every evening. And when the sun has vanished, the sea keeps longing for it, keeps preserving a bit of its luminous reminiscence in the face of the uniformly somber earth. It is the moment of the sun’s melancholy reflections, which are so gentle that you feel your heat melting at the very sight of them. Once the night has almost fully thickened, and the sky is gloomy over the blackened earth, the sea still glimmer -who knows by what mystery, by what brilliant relic of the day, a relic buried beneath the waves.
The sea refreshes our imagination because it does not make us think of human life; yet it rejoices the soul, because, like the soul, it is an infinite and impotent striving, a strength that is ceaselessly broken by falls, an eternal and exquisite lament. The sea thus enchants us like music, which, unlike language, never bears the traces of things, never tells us anything about human beings, but imitates the stirrings of the soul. Sweeping up with the waves of those movements, plunging back with them, the heart thus forgets its own failures and finds solace in an intimate harmony between its own sadness and the sea’s sadness, which merges the sea’s destiny with the destinies of all things.

Yup, the ocean is purdy.

Grrr.

The weekends are hard for me as far as getting along with my neighbors in the house behind us.

The weekends make me hate them.

At least once a month there's some a loud party that starts in the early evening and lasts until about two ay em. I believe that I've ranted about the noise from these parties before.

And then there are the Saturday (and Sunday) mornings, like today, where someone from the house gets up early and begins to do loud outdoor tasks.
Like hammering on the pigeon coop that's right below our bedroom windows. Or using an electric saw to cut tin for the roof of that coop. This morning's favourite seems to be the use of the car alarm to tell time. Everywhere 5 to 10 minutes the car alarm would go off making it impossible to stay or return to sleep.
This has been going on since 7 ay em. There's nothing like waking up with a headache brought on by your inconsiderate neighbors.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Making Progress

So, as of June 21st my Summer To-Do List looked like this:

  1. Go to Coney Island. Spend some money in Astroland trying to win prizes and eat carnival type food. Take a picture in front of The Cyclone and buy a T-Shirt.
  2. See at least one of Olafur Eliasson’s NYC Waterfalls and possibly take in his Take Your Time while it’s still here.
  3. Buy Bighead Swedish Meatballs at Redhook’s IKEA.
  4. Trek up to the Bronx to get a gander at The Floating Lady (and maybe dip my toes in).
  5. Go kayaking.
  6. Join the Brooklyn Central Branch of the NY Public Library.

I am proud to say that I've actually been able to cross a few things off my list.
So today it looks like this:

  1. Go to Coney Island. Spend some money in Astroland trying to win prizes and eat carnival type food. Take a picture in front of The Cyclone and buy a T-Shirt.
  2. See at least one of Olafur Eliasson’s NYC Waterfalls and possibly take in his Take Your Time while it’s still here.
  3. Buy Bighead Swedish Meatballs at Redhook’s IKEA.
  4. Trek up to the Bronx to get a gander at The Floating Lady (and maybe dip my toes in).
  5. Go kayaking.
  6. Join the Brooklyn Central Branch of the NY Public Library.
And tomorrow, we're going to Coney Island.

I don't think that we're going to make it up to the Bronx; nor do I think that we're going to go kayaking but so far we've managed to check some things off and have quite a lovely summer doing so.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

When the morning rush hour gets slow.

As of the late the mornings have been cool.
The breeze rolling down 7th Avenue from Central Park carries the scent of coffee and roasted nuts and sometimes the sound of a Children's chorus of violins from Carnegie Hall.

I wish that tourists could see New York like this. The City that we live in and work in. One that is more subtle and nuanced than the I<3 NY amusement park ride.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Yeah buddy!

P.S. Michael Phelps is definitely worthy of being deemed an Honorary NYer.


Welcome to the club, Mike.

Never can say Goodbye.

So much of this Summer has been defined by the time that I have spent with my new friend.
She is leaving this Friday to embark upon a two-year graduate school journey.

This Autumn in New York won't be the same without her.

Monday, August 11, 2008

An Olymic rant against Boston.

At a party the other night (at Superfine which turned out to be aptly named, as it was a superfine spot for a mellow yet quite hip party by the bar on Saturday evening) I made the comment that if Boston ever got to host the Olympic Games before New York did I would be beside myself with anger.

Perhaps I am biased. I do, in fact, hate Boston and most things from Boston. Having spent my later childhood in the Hartford, Connecticut area, it would always blow my mind that people would chose to go to Boston rather than NYC when the two were pretty much equidistant. Really, Boston has nothing to offer than New York does not.
New York, not Boston, is the premier city in the East. Always has been. Always will be.

Now, of course, the Olympics here would be a total hassle. I mean, I can't even deal with the regular tourist traffic. It would be madness, absolute madness, if there were Olympic traffic on top of that. London is trying to get its Olympics completely accessible by mass transit. That would never happen with the MTA.

So yes, while I acknowledge that an NYC Olympics would be a logistic nightmare it would be even greater nightmare if Boston got it.

Because Boston completely sucks Titan toes.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

I bitch about the subway but it's got its high points.

I love that living in NYC means that you don't need to Designated Driver.

...Not that I can drive.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Straight, No Chaser

Music divides time into rhythm.
Or does rhythm divide time into music?

That's what I was thinking heading home on the train tonight. Listening to Blue Monk (followed by Straight, No Chaser) when I saw the Brooklyn Bridge waterfall. They light it up at night and it's simply elegant. For that stretch of time on the bridge I didn't think about anything else except how pretty the Harbor is at night.


**Photo by Dietrich. (This is in no way an endorsement by the artist.)

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Remember me to Herald Square.

Today while waiting to the Q Train at 34th Street an Uptown N Train passed.
It was packed to the gills.

I watched as car rolled through the sweltering heat towards 42nd Street and thought, "Yuck. All of those sweaty strangers on that steaming train. And most of them are standing. How miserable."
And then, in the 3rd or 4th car from the back, there was a man pressed, face against the window (with everyone else's back to his), grinning. Just GRINNING.

One NYer's "Yuck" is another NYer's "Whee!"

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Clickity-Clack down the track

When I close my eyes I can hear the moment that the Q Train begins to cross over the Manhattan Bridge.
The sound riding along the rails sits higher in its register and vibrates with greater ease. Like it's been waiting for this thrill all day long.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

I've always been terrible with moves.

In Midtown, where my new office is, the buildings are tall and pressed tight together like all of my fellow commuters on the Q train.

I miss the sounds of the Harbor and most of all, feeling like I could smell the ocean.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Just another Saturday.

I am always surprised by the range of sound that I can hear through my apartment's closed windows.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Scary


Here's updated info about the fire. Unfortunately (for me) there's more information about the firefighters than the tenants.

Oh no!

Walking home through the Park I noticed that there were a number of police and news helicopters flying about overhead.

Walking northbound on Flatbush from Parkside towards Hawthorne I saw why. The smoke stood out against the soon to be dusk sky.
There, on the corner of Lincoln Road, was an apartment in flames. No one seemed injured and no one on the street seemed alarmed. Apparently the fire'd been burning for about an hour by the time that I arrived.

I hope that no one was harmed.
I just realized that I won't be able to see the waterfalls from the conference room.
I'm going to miss them.

I what I will be able to see from the small window in my office.