Head

Wow. I really do feel like I have just run a marathon. The past few weeks have been so unbelievably busy -- I think I’ve eaten about one meal at home, and last night was my first free night in ages.

I love just coming home after work, and relaxing with my cat and a book or movie -- yet it happens so rarely!

Last night I watched The Monkees in “Head,” their movie from 1968. Of course it’s pretty silly, which I expected, and it doesn’t make much sense, but it’s a fun piece of ‘60s culture. I think they were trying to mature from a fluffy kiddy band into something a little more relevant, so their music was heavier. Lots of psychedelic clothing, and cameos from the likes of Annette Funicello and Victor Mature. Very strange. I think I'd have needed a doobie to enjoy it properly.

(I always wanted hair like Peter Tork. Instead, I have hair like Telly Savalas.)

I’m going to Florida to see the family in a couple of days, so I’m also preparing for that -- getting spare keys made for the cat sitter, for example, and laying in a few supplies. I hired the sitter to look in on Armenia every day, so she won’t have to be boarded at the vet. She’s grateful, even if she doesn’t know it.

(Photo: 11th Avenue, June 2008)

Back to Normal

We wrapped up the family visit yesterday. I relaxed in the morning while they went on a Circle Line boat tour around Manhattan, and then we went to Central Park in the afternoon. We went to the zoo (which always makes me think of the Simon & Garfunkel song, “At the Zoo”) and watched the seals being fed and the red pandas snoozing in the trees. My nephew acted alternately interested and bored, like he’d seen it all before. For example, when I showed him an anteater, he said, “It’s just another animal.”

Ah, to be 10 again.

For dinner, we went to the Brasserie, where we were practically the only clients and we had an excellent meal. Then I packed them into a cab and walked home.

I had fun, but I’ll be glad to get back to my routine. I’m off to the gym this morning and then to work!

(Photo: Shadows in SoHo, June 2008)

Heights

My family is still in town. Yesterday we went up to the Bronx to see Yankee Stadium at my nephew's request. He loves sports and has an amazing memory for statistics and players -- we saw a mural featuring famous players from the past and he could name them all, even though they weren't labeled. I was impressed! He enjoyed just walking around the outside of the current stadium and seeing the new one being built next door.

Then my stepmother and I went to see "In the Heights," which is a terrific Broadway show. It won the Tony for best musical, and I can certainly understand why. It was moving and the music was terrific. We had a ball.

(Photo: Mysterious box on a trucking company fence in Red Hook, Brooklyn, June 2008)

Fireworks

Yesterday was a marathon of activity! In the morning, I met my family at their hotel in the financial district, and we walked down Wall Street and through Chinatown, the Lower East Side and the East Village. In Chinatown I bought a beautiful fruit called a Dragonfruit (above) -- I’d never seen one before. Sweet and slightly tangy, it looked better than it tasted.

We had lunch at Katz’s Deli and then came up to my apartment, where we relaxed with the cat for a bit before heading off to the American Museum of Natural History. We saw the blue whale and the dinosaurs, and went to the space show at the planetarium. Then we had dinner and went all the way back downtown to their hotel.


That’s when the real fiasco began! We’d been ambivalent about trying to go see the fireworks on the East River, because it’s such a mob scene. But their hotel was nearby, so we decided to brave the hordes. Problem is, the police narrowly restrict where you can watch the activities -- many streets are closed off, so thousands of people wind up being funneled through very small openings onto the closed FDR Drive, which is elevated and runs along the river. We were backed up on the sidewalk for about half an hour, scarcely able to move, before we inched our way up and finally got through the bottleneck onto the FDR.

Why we can’t just walk over to the river unimpeded is beyond me. But I digress.


By this time, my nephew was grumpy and it was beginning to rain. Then the fireworks began and he immediately put his fingers in his ears, closed his eyes and said “PLEASE LET IT BE OVER.” That’s when my stepmother explained that he doesn’t like loud noises! (He has Asperger’s, so he has some special sensitivities.) I thought, “Well, why are we even here? This was a really bad idea!” We watched for a bit but the kid was so clearly not enjoying it that we got out of there pretty quickly.

As quickly as we could, anyway, given the five zillion people around us and the strange police notions of crowd control. And you should have seen the subway home. Whew!

If I ever decide to try that again, talk me out of it.

Happy Fourth!

I went trolling through my archives to find some patriotic photos, and these were the best I could do. They're authentically American, at least!

My stepmother, stepsister and nephew are visiting this weekend. They're staying way down near Wall Street, so last night I took them over to the Fulton Fish Market and the South Street Seaport. My nephew, who's about 10, said he wanted seafood. So we walked around until we came to an Italian seafood restaurant -- and then my nephew ordered spaghetti marinara. Go figure.


We might try to see the fireworks tonight, but I'm not sure my relatives will want to brave the crowds. At the very least, we have a day of wandering ahead. It's great to have a day off!

Happy Fourth of July, everyone!

(Photos: Top, graffiti on East 15th Street, January 2008; Bottom, Sunnyside, Queens, July 2006.)

Culture Report

-- I saw “The Marriage of Bette and Boo,” an off-Broadway revival of a play by Christopher Durang, on Monday. A very peculiar show, darkly funny and disturbing, about the ways in which our lives, relationships and flaws all collide. Good, but definitely dark. I laughed, and then couldn’t believe I laughed.

-- I rented “Cross Creek,” the 1983 movie featuring Mary Steenburgen about the life of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. I’d seen it about 20 years ago and wanted to refresh my memory. It’s a good movie, and I like Steenburgen and her excellent co-stars (Ike Eisenmann - remember him?). But the real star is the scenery. Filmed around Orange Lake in Alachua County, Fla., it made me homesick for the woodsy Florida I used to know.

-- I also watched “Shelter Dogs,” Cynthia Wade’s documentary about the lives of animals in a dog shelter. It wasn’t nearly as depressing as I thought it would be. In fact, if anything, it was a bit hopeful. But as this particular shelter practices euthanasia, there were definitely some tough moments. (I was inspired to rent this after recently seeing Wade’s “Freeheld.”)

-- Over the weekend I finally finished “Jane Eyre,” and I’ve started “The Kite Runner,” which my mom gave me for Christmas. (I know, I’m practically the last person in the country to read this book.) It’s great so far. I’m about 90 pages in.

(Photo: Street art by Swoon, Red Hook, Brooklyn, June 2008)

Parade Revisited

I’ve been thinking about the parade I saw Sunday. Some of my commenters said they weren’t too crazy about parades, and I’m not crazy about them either -- in fact, the only one I ever regularly attend is the Pride Parade, though New York has a parade practically every week in the spring.

I suppose one or two hundred years ago it was kind of exciting to see the military march by, with all their cannons in tow, accompanied by a big brassy marching band. For people who weren’t overstimulated by a constant stream of media and digital “infotainment,” a parade would have been quite a spectacle.

Nowadays, it seems to me, we’re better served by retreating from loud, lengthy productions. Quiet is what we need. Hence, our societal appreciation of the parade has dwindled.

And as long as we’re talking about subjects of previous posts, I was also thinking about my “flow” post from Saturday. I think I may have ironically left the impression that I’m somewhat rigid in my insistence on flow. So let me step back a degree or two from what I may have seemed to say -- for example, I do not number my clothes and rotate them in precise order. I just try to wear everything regularly.

I’m a little insane about being organized, but I’m not that insane.

(I do think I’d be an excellent personal organizer, though. I always figure if I get the ax from my current job, that’s what I’ll do!)

(Photo: Gas meters, Los Angeles, April 2008)