Tibet

It is bitterly cold today. I just walked a few blocks from the subway to my office and I feel like I've been wrung out like a washcloth. Frigid temperatures make your whole body clench up, and when you get into the warmth again you're surprisingly exhausted!

Last night I made a quick trip up the Hudson River to Nyack, to meet up with cool cat Chedwick and surprisingly timid Dennis, and their human doppelganger. (Turns out Chedwick and Dennis have a third feline crony, Jeffrey, who I'm told "doesn't like to blog." Who knew?)

Anyway, Chedwick's human doppelganger and I went to an event called "An Evening in Tibet," which featured Buddhist monks performing deep, resonant ritual chants, followed by an excellent film about the Dalai Lama and a panel discussion. The evening was a fund-raiser for the Tibetan Home of Hope, a school for Tibetan children dedicated partly to maintaining Tibetan culture. It was an interesting evening. The movie, "Compassion in Exile" by Mickey Lemle, was especially enjoyable.

Audience members pledged hundreds and thousands of dollars for items like a boiler and a playground. It was heartening to see such generosity, including gifts from celebrities like Jonathan Demme and Didi Conn. (I bought a t-shirt, so I did my part, commensurate with my financial status.)

Then I stayed over at Chez Chedwick - which had a terrific view of the sunrise over the Hudson - and made my way back to the city this morning. Thanks to Ched and household for a terrific exurban experience!

(Photo: Chelsea, Feb. 2008)

Starbucks and Sondheim

Thanks to those of you who weighed in on yesterday's mystery photo. Now I'm leaning toward the Bulgaria/Russia possibilities. At any rate, it's interesting how cats are the same the world over, right? (My cat is lying on me as I type.)

I forgot to mention that on Tuesday evening, as I was walking to the theater, I passed three Starbucks stores during their mandatory training period. You may have heard that all Starbucks stores nationwide closed for a few hours Tuesday to refresh employees on coffee prep and customer service. It was heartening, as I passed each of these outlets, to see the employees inside in their little huddles. Will Starbucks get better as a result? Well, it certainly can't hurt -- if nothing else, maybe employees will be more conscientious about the customers. (For the record, I got a hot chocolate last night and the employees were unusually courteous -- and the drink was perfect.)

I went to see "Sunday in the Park With George," which is a brilliant show in its staging and artistry. As you may know, it's a Sondheim musical based loosely on the life of Georges Seurat and his painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte" (which I've seen at the Art Institute of Chicago). The painting gradually comes together on stage, which is fascinating to watch. The show has less emotional impact than other Sondheims, but it's worth seeing.

(Photo: Window in Chelsea, Feb. 2008)

Man with Cat

Several years ago, at a flea market on Sixth Avenue, I was combing through a big box of old photos when I came across this snapshot. I loved it immediately, because it says something about the universal behavior of cats (and cat owners). I bought it for something like 25 cents. (Click on the photo to enlarge it.)

I have no information about it at all. It seems to have been taken in the Middle East. I've tried doing some Google research based on what little info I can see in the photo (EVA on the gas bottle, for example) but couldn't really get anywhere.

What do you all think? Where was this taken?

Oscars

I didn’t watch the Oscars this year, so everything I know about the awards and the ceremony I learned from reading the paper and other people’s blogs. But I have very few gripes about how things turned out.

I’m so happy Javier Bardem won. I haven’t seen “No Country For Old Men” yet (remedying that this week) but I’ve always thought Bardem was robbed of his rightful Oscar for “Before Night Falls,” which was an amazing movie. So this helps correct a past injustice.

The same goes for Tilda Swinton. I also haven’t seen “Michael Clayton,” but Swinton has been great in many films, such as “The Deep End.” It’s about time she won.

I haven’t seen “La Vie En Rose” either, so I’m not yet sure how to feel about Marion Cotillard. I was rooting for Julie Christie, because as I’ve said, I’m a huge Julie Christie fan and I loved “Away From Her.” (Besides, is anyone more beautiful?)

I was appalled by the omission of Brad Renfro from the “in memoriam” segment of the ceremony, when the Academy looks back at the significant movie people who have died in the past year. Brad Renfro was screwed up, but he wasn't insignificant; he appeared in several high-profile movies like “The Client,” “Sleepers” and “Bully.” Whoever put that tribute together ought to be ashamed.

(Photo: Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Feb. 2008)

Spring-ish

Yesterday, just a few days after the biggest snow of the winter, I felt the first hint of spring. As is so often the case when seasons change, the light -- more than the temperature -- sent the alert to my animal being. Yesterday was a brilliant clear day, and the sunlight was bright and warm, even though temperatures were chilly.

I went to the Zendo in the morning for our first service in the new space. It’s a nice space but it felt a bit cramped ("intimate” would be a friendlier way to put it). Yesterday we had unusually high attendance, though -- I doubt it will feel that tight during the course of a normal week.

Then I zipped out to Brooklyn to meet my friend Bryn for lunch and exploring in Greenpoint. We found some great graffiti and later Bryn’s partner Jeff made dinner, which was fabulous. Greenpoint is an interesting neighborhood, traditionally Polish but, like much of New York, changing and gentrifying. It was nice to be outside in that bright slightly spring-ish sunlight!

(Photo: Greenpoint, Brooklyn, yesterday.)

Animal Stories

I recently read two amazing animal stories -- one sad, one happy.

First, the sad one. Apparently, in Florida, common fresh-water turtles are being voraciously hunted, partly to feed an appetite for turtle meat in Asia.

When I was growing up in Florida, I lived on a lake. So when I read this article, my mind immediately jumped back to the turtles I’d find there as a kid -- the weird-looking softshells with their long snouts, the menacing snappers. When we took our rowboat out on the lake we’d pass half-submerged logs that were covered with turtles, lined up and sunning themselves like little old ladies in Miami Beach.

It astonishes me now to think that those turtles, so abundant in my own backyard, are being hunted en masse for food. (Occasionally we’d catch one on a fishing line and view it as a terrible accident. We never ate them, though some Floridians do.) It’s even more mind-boggling to think they’re now being eaten by people on the other side of the planet.

Somehow, in thinking about globalization, this is not a scenario I ever envisioned.

The happy story was about Nubs, a mongrel from Iraq who was saved by a U.S. Marine and sent home to live in America.

I lived in an Arabic country for more than two years, and I’ve seen how dogs are treated there. Dogs are considered “unclean” and street dogs are often subjected to all sorts of torment. It’s a cultural thing.

Nubs went through his own traumas, but thanks to the Marine, he’s got a new lease on life. It can’t have been an easy task to get that dog back to the states. Some of my Peace Corps friends adopted animals while in Africa and brought them back -- including my roommate Juliet, who brought our cat home -- and it was a heck of a lot of work.

So kudos to Maj. Brian Dennis and his fellow Marines. Nubs is a lucky beast.

(Photo: Random cat in Brooklyn Heights, Feb. 2007)

Starbucks Fatigue

I saw on the news that Starbucks is laying off several hundred employees. I know the economy is bad, but this is scary. And yet, not wholly unexpected, as I’ll explain in a moment.

In New York, if there’s one thing that’s a constant in life, it’s a packed Starbucks. Sometimes the line is only a few people deep, but often it’s more like six or eight people deep, and forget finding a place to sit. (I’m usually stuck behind people getting triple-skinny-latte-mochachino-somethings, when all I want is a tall coffee -- but that’s another story.)

Everyone jokes about how there are too many Starbucks in this town -- and it’s absolutely true, because sometimes there’s a Starbucks across the street from a Starbucks -- yet they are always full. So apparently the demand is there.

Quality, however, is another issue entirely.

Years ago, in the late ‘90s, going to Starbucks was kind of a special event. In my corner of Florida, the only Starbucks cafes at that time were in Barnes & Noble bookstores. I’d take my journal there, get a coffee and write for a while. I felt like I was getting an exceptional product from skilled staff.

Now, pressing into these crowded New York stores, I no longer feel that way. Customer service (if it can be called that) has been in a precipitous decline at Starbucks. There seems to be a lot of employee turnover, and I don’t get the impression that anyone working there has been very carefully trained. (The other day I heard a customer ask the guy behind the counter which of two drinks was better. His response: “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” D’oh!)

Far from being special, Starbucks has turned into just another fast food experience. The tables and condiment stations are grimy, the furniture is worn -- it’s McDonald’s with earth tones.

Now, some of this has to do with our culture. Ten or fifteen years ago, quality coffee and cafes were new in many parts of the country, leading to a certain level of consumer excitement that inevitably subsides over time. And in New York, as I’ve said, these are busy stores -- they’re bound to experience wear and feel a bit like a cattle chute.

But still, I’m not surprised that Starbucks has lost some of its mystique and, consequently, its business. I continue to go to Starbucks, but lately I’ve also made more of an effort to patronize other, independent coffee purveyors. The coffee may not even be as good, but somehow, I enjoy it more.

(Photo: Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Feb. 2008)