Tina Louise

OK, I know I said I was taking a break. But I had to bring you this little story -- a tale of Internet wandering and the strange places it can lead.

Yesterday, my boss and I were discussing a mysterious communication from one of our readers that mentioned “Jubilation T. Cornpone.” My boss wasn’t sure what that meant.

“I think it’s a song,” I said, and got on Google to find out.

It turns out that, indeed, “Jubilation T. Cornpone” is the fourth song from the first act of the Broadway show "Lil’ Abner," from 1956. (The song is named for a fictitious Confederate general.) Through subsequent Web wandering I also quickly learned that:

1. Actress Tina Louise, best known for playing Ginger Grant on “Gilligan’s Island,” starred in that same Broadway production. Her character’s name was “Appassionata von Climax.”

2. “Tina Louise” is also the name of an Asian Fusion restaurant in Carlstadt, New Jersey. It has nothing to do with the actress; Tina and Louise are sisters who own the restaurant.

3. Tina Louise (the actress, not the sisters) also starred in the movie “God’s Little Acre,” from 1958, as Griselda.

4. A co-star in that movie was Michael Landon, who played a kidnapped albino.

See? Don’t say you never learned anything useful from this blog.

(Photo: Parking lot, Chelsea, Jan. 2008)

Break

Well, it's time for me to take a little blogging break. Everything is fine -- I'm just in a busy period and feel the need to back off the blog for the time being. I hope to be posting again in a week or two.

In the meantime, enjoy the silence!

(Photo: Blue wall, Bronx, Jan. 2008)

Slippers

I had an interesting experience at the Zendo yesterday that taught me something about the freedom of not knowing.

I can be insecure about being caught not knowing. If I’m having a discussion with someone and they mention something I’m not sure about -- political or historical facts, for example -- I often let it go rather than asking them for clarification.

I mean, if we’re discussing a book I’ve never read, I don’t pretend to have read it. I’m not that insecure. But sometimes I’m genuinely unsure whether I know something, partly because my memory is so terrible. I coast along and wait for a spark of recognition to ignite in my brain. (And sometimes it does.)

Anyway, on Sunday, as I was entering the Zendo, another guy came in who was visiting from San Francisco. I took him to the cloak room and as we hung up our coats I explained to him a bit about the Zendo. He’d sat before, so this was more practical advice -- the location of the bathrooms for example. I told him where the keys to the bathrooms were, and then a senior student standing nearby said, “and slippers.”

So I said, yes, we also provide slippers to wear to the bathroom, so you don’t have to put your shoes on to leave the Zendo. Then I turned to the senior student and, instead of thanking him, gave him a look that probably conveyed great exasperation.

See, he’d caught me -- “not knowing” something. I mean, I knew about the slippers, but I didn’t know, at least in that moment, to tell the visitor about them.

My reaction was purely defensive. But later, during the dharma talk, I realized how silly it was. “Not knowing,” always my bugaboo, is actually a position of great freedom. To not know something leaves you open to everything.

If I'd been in my rightly not-knowing mind, I would have simply turned and thanked the senior student for pointing out that, yes, we have slippers available. Ah, well. At that moment, I didn’t know to do that!

(Photo: Bronx, January 2008)

Playground

Isn't this a great set of playground equipment? It's made to resemble the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building. Instilling community pride in the kiddies, I suppose. I found it while wandering in Chelsea a couple of weeks ago.

Wandering is again on the agenda this weekend, naturally. I have a blissful weekend of unallocated time, which I'm really looking forward to.

Saw a couple of movies last week: "Atonement," which was grim but beautifully filmed and well-acted, and "Cloverfield," which I saw because I was curious how a monster attack on New York would be portrayed. It was chilling to see how closely "Cloverfield" borrowed from 9/11, actually - debris whooshing down the streets after buildings collapse, fluttering paperwork in the air. But otherwise, it's a pretty silly movie.

Duck

I was walking in Chelsea a couple of weeks ago when I found this little stuffed duck on a subway grate. I bent down to take a photo, and as I was framing the shot a guy walked by and said, "You should HELP him, not photograph him!"

It was funny - this full-grown man wanting me to come to the rescue of a stuffed duck. Still, I left the duck to his own devices. I'm sure someone found him who appreciated him more than me.

Gum

This is the blog entry that will fully illustrate my own personal craziness.

I was on the subway a couple of weeks ago, heading out to visit a friend in Queens. I was standing at one of the center poles, along with two kind of rough-looking guys who were engrossed in conversation.

In mid-sentence one of the guys, who was chewing gum, opened his mouth and spit his gum onto the floor of the subway car. He and his friend resumed talking like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

Now, even by New York standards, this is foul behavior. I’ve never seen anyone intentionally spit gum onto the floor of a subway train.

I stood there, looking at the shiny pink blob near my feet. I imagined all the nightmare scenarios to come: heedless passengers stepping in the gum, cursing as they tried to wipe it off their shoes, tracking it all over the otherwise clean linoleum of the subway car.

I debated what to do. I’d just been to Starbucks, and I had a napkin in my pocket. My choices seemed to be:

1. Pick up the gum.
2. Hand the napkin to the guy and ask HIM to pick up the gum.
3. Ignore the gum.

No matter how hard I tried, #3 wasn't an option. I seriously contemplated #2, but risking a confrontation didn’t seem smart. You never know who has a weapon or who will resort to a smackdown. There were other people in the subway car, but I doubted that any of them would come to my rescue should this guy get pissed at me.

So I steeled myself, grabbed the napkin, bent down and picked up the gum. I wadded it up and put it in my pocket, looking pointedly at the offender. He had a surprised, sheepish look on his face, but did not look me in the eye. We said nothing to each other. His conversation with the other man halted entirely.

I got out at the next stop and threw the gum away. I’m still not sure I did the right thing. Did I debase myself entirely? What would you have done?

(Photo: Feelin' Groovy in Chelsea, Jan. 2008)

Mermaids and Mountains

I had a great time last night with my friend Bill -- we went to see “The Little Mermaid” on Broadway. I am one of about three people on the planet who have never seen the movie version of “The Little Mermaid,” so I was starting from scratch when it comes to plot and characters, but let’s face it -- it’s not very complicated. Your basic Disney princess romance with fins.

The costumes and the sets were spectacular, cleverly evoking an undersea atmosphere with lots of glimmery translucence in shades of aqua. The performances were good, too, though some a bit generic. I particularly liked Sherie Rene Scott as Ursula, the evil octopus, and Brian d’Addario as Flounder.

So there, you see -- I’ve reviewed the show. I earned my press seat!

I was so sorry to hear about Heath Ledger’s death yesterday. (Brad Renfro’s, a week earlier, was bad enough.) I’ll never forget Ledger’s lanky, drawling presence as Ennis in “Brokeback Mountain.” It's hard to imagine dying at 28. I can barely remember being 28.

(Photo: Street art, Meatpacking District, Jan. 2008)