Alec Bryce (Jan. 31, 1917 - Dec. 4, 2006)

This photo shows how we will always be.

The iceskateer. The iceska-who?

(no, you're right, it's probably never a good idea to make Rocketeer allusions for humor)

Marie the Swede and some of her friends and I went ice skating at Bryant Park tonight. Now, you may have heard me mention before how totally inept New Yorkers are at walking in anything even vaguely resembling an orderly and considerate fashion, so to understand tonight, just apply that idea to ice, and speed it up. Yep. Ridiculous.

And yet, I had a really wonderful time. That's the thing I'm noticing more and more these days. As much as you might not want to, New York City will make you love the holiday season. It's crazy. I'll walk around thinking about how I don't really even like Christmas, I hate the throngs of tourists/holiday shoppers, and I don't like that it's getting cold. Then they'll go and put Christmas trees on the street corner so the air smells like pine, or they'll add decorations which, however cheesy, find some way to warm your heart. It's crazy, but it's New York in December and there's no place like it.

pARTy, or, As if I needed ANOTHER reason to love Brooklyn

Where else can you arrive at 9 p.m. to attend a dance party in the middle of a room full of expensive artwork, and take a break by heading downstairs to see the Ron Mueck exhibit? Or a huge selection of works by Walton Ford? Or a massive collection of photos by Annie Leibovitz? And all for free? The Brooklyn Museum is the place to be on the first saturday night of the month, and that's that.

Andrew, Rachel, Marie, Mingo, Brian, Brian's old college friend and I attended the festivities this weekend, and it was so much fun!

By the way, Ron Mueck's work (above is a picture I found online of one of his pieces being finished, and beneath that, a Walton Ford watercolor) is even more impressive (or creepy, depending on your style) as you think it might be. I found his strange-scale, perfect-replica people amazing.

Take THAT, corporate bookmobile!

Saturday was the Independent and Small Press Book fair. It was really interesting to see all the stuff that's being put out by these small companies, and I had to fight pretty hard to resist buying huge piles of the stuff. So many good books! I ended up buying just two: a collection of writings by Latin American Jews on Judaism in Latin America as a present for Andrew, and a book for myself about understanding Islam. I'm glad I got out of there when I did, though, or I'd have needed a wheelbarrow to get all my purchases home.

These, right here, are good people. And then I'm in there, too.

On thursday I was overjoyed to attend a soiree held by Annie, the sister of one Mango Pancakes, in honor of Ms. Pancakes' trip to NYC. The event afforded me the opportunity to catch up with some great people, three of whom are pictured here. I want to single two of them out, although, really, it's like singling out just one.

Margusie. Sugaret. Margaret and Susie, hetero life partners, have been an inspiration to those aspiring to friendship for as long as I have known them, lo these many years, and they are both such wonderful people in their own rights, too. Margaret does amazing things incorporating theatre into learning for children, and Susie teaches 2nd grade better and with more heart and dedication than anyone else, ever. These are two people who push the scales of the world balance back toward good while the rest of us jerks are out there screwing it up. Seriously, these two are so great and deserve such wonderful things. Which is also why I'm happy that susie has found herself engaged! Congrats, susie. And mingo, well, she's not engaged, but she's got herself someone who makes her very happy (and is so nice it almost creeps me out).

And as for Zack, pictured here, I think he'd appreciate being left undescribed. He knows what he did. It was great to see folks like these, as well as Annie, Brendan, the other Graham, Max, and Brian.

Freemasons (with purchase of regular masons)

This picture is of a large meeting room in the Grand Masonic Lodge of the Freemasons here in New York. All of the other meeting rooms are smaller, and have measurements determined to be of the same proportion to rooms within Solomon's Temple. The building is a very strange place, full of remarkable and mysterious history.

I met with the head of one freemasons' lodge this past wednesday for donuts. We'd been in contact since I first took a tour of the Lodge building during Open House New York (a yearly event where you get to go cool places you couldn't normally go). We met at the lodge, and talked for over 3 hours. He told me about his life, and about Freemasonry - well, except the stuff he couldn't talk about. That's the most entertaining part about these guys. They're great, and affable, and they continually drop hints of there being secrets they have which you can't know. It's kind of a lot of fun.

Now I have my reasons for considering getting involved, most of which stem from the idea of accomplishing more charity work in congress with one of the largest charity organizations around, and from what they have to say about self-improvement. But I'd be a liar - and you'd know I was - if I said I also didn't love the mysterious ways and history. I mean, c'mon. Name a major male figure in American history, and most likely that person was, or had ties to, freemasonry. Ben Franklin assisted in Voltaire's induction. These guys are old school.
We'll see what happens.

" 'Cause everyone's your friend, in New York City. And everything looks beautiful, when you're young and witty."

I recently ran into Katie Schorr, from college days, on the subway, and she's in this hilarious new improv show called "The NYC" at the People's Improv Theatre (the PIT). It's an improvised teen drama, and does an hilarious job of mocking shows like 90210, the O.C., and maybe even a little Degrassi. It's even serialized, so each week picks up where the last week's stories left off. I went monday night, and it was great! The less-than-stellar part, though? Katie's older aunt and uncle, who had never seen her on stage before, chose this show to attend (complete with its section where the guys need to pay off their debts at the Shake Shop and so film and sell a "guys gone wild"-style porno film in a janitor's closet). Hilarious for me, awkward for her.

Incidentally, I feel like I know a lot of people named Katie. It's like 128 Hot Katies up in here. Oh, and Katie Knott, whom I dated post-college in the D, just told me she is getting married! That seems to be happening a lot...

This is awful. Here, you try.

I'm kind of surprised that I don't blog more about music. Recently someone told me that they had never seen me without my headphones either on or in my hand, and the person in question sees me pretty frequently. I walk with music, section and dissect at work with music, fall asleep to music - you get the idea. And while somewhere in the back of my head there lurks the vague beginnings of a "my NYC soundtrack" blogpost, I thought I'd take this opportunity to mention a few eccentric bits of music I think you would find fun because of their sheer terribleness:

1) Harry and the Potters - this is a band that performs songs based on the Harry Potter novels. Do I even need to say anything else? Their songs are awful both musically AND lyrically. The emo theme,"I am a wizard," is particulary awesome.

2) Starsplash - I'm not sure how many people know this, but I thrive in a work environment filled with terrible trance techno music. Seriously, I can pump out 50+ page papers like nobody's business when there's bad, mind-numbing trance music in the background. And if you've ever taken the time to listen to the lyrics, they're like horrible 7th grade poetry. One need look no further than Starsplash's "Travel Time":
Take my hand to travel time,
So we can run away forever,
There's a chance we cross the line,
And we can do this thing together,
And my heart goes out to everyone,
A light will shine on him,
So please lay down your heart,
'Cause this is who I am.
[drum breakdown]
Bass in your face!

3)Remixes that just don't work - Say, what's better than listening to one song you like? That's right: listening to two songs you like! But who has time for all that? Oh, I know, let's just lay one on top of the other and call it a remix. Don't worry if they clash horribly. Snoop Dogg and Riders on the Storm? sure, why not! An Eminem track and a song by Shaggy AND Survivor's eye of the tiger? Ooh, a hat trick of auditory trauma!

4) Anything with Lil' Jon - This man is a genius. He's the illegitimate musical love-child of Flava-Flav and James Brown and he has exactly ONE brilliant performance which he recreates on every single track on which he appears. And he's on DOZENS from countless rap artists. And a commercial for Subway sandwiches. The coup de grace? I once heard a music critic from the New York Times describe him as being the new minstrel show. The man shook his head in shame just from seeing Lil Jon dance! How is this not all you listen to?

There's a LOT of terrifically horrible music out there, just waiting to be found.

On a night like this

The city was a ghost today. Even the Medical Center was eerily quiet, and everyone I saw seemed to be doing their best just to laze along. I went salsa dancing last night, but the event was about as exciting as a damp rag. And while yes, this is the city that doesn't sleep, it is apparently also the city that refuses to get off the couch following an overdose of tryptophan. So, take that, Friday.

Overheard on the way home, outside a movie theater: "That movie was great, even though it wasn't like the thing it was...even without being the thing it was. You know? And really both could have been good." Well, I didn't even see the movie, but I mean, YES. There's no way a statement like that can't be true.

Good Times with the Goodmans

Thanksgiving can be kind of a tough time for me. And not just because the Lions always lose. This is a holiday for family, and if I can't be with them, I'd usually rather occupy myself with something entirely different.

But this year Andrew would hear none of it, so I was brought to Woodbury, Connecticut for his family's holiday dinner. The best part about this story is that there really isn't much to tell: we made food, joked around, his mother made us sing Dona Nobis Pachem together in the kitchen, and we ate too much. That's pretty much it. And you know what? It was great, and I'm really glad I went.

Risotto-tastic (risotto-riffic?)

So I'm learning to cook. I had wanted to take cooking classes, but it turns out they're crazy expensive here and didn't actually make learning to cook sound like much fun. Well, it just so happens that a little while ago I ran into someone I met during my college orientation at UM right here in the neighborhood. We'd never really gotten to know each other, but we were always on good terms and would say hello, that sort of thing. It turns out she's a chef at a well-known fancy restaurant in NYC - and here I cannot over-stress the importance of the following credential - the very same restaurant which has been reserved for Thanksgiving dinner by David Bowie.

Anyways, long story short, we struck up a deal for her to teach me to cook. We get together and shop for ingredients for a menu, preare the food under her instruction, and then host a dinner party. We had out first one Sunday, and it was so much fun!

We made risotto with roasted candy-stripe beets and kale, and a salad of roasted squash, bitter greens, and walnuts in a walnut oil and balsamic vinegar dressing. We finished it up with an apple crisp with soy cream. Perfect for a chilly fall evening with friends.

I think we'll be doing these every couple of weeks, so I'm very excited!

Crazytown checks in

Every once in a while New York will flex its crazy-muscles just to remind me that it's top of the weird pile. Tonight was one such time. Roaming around and deep in thought though I was, something caught my eye and snapped me back to reality as I walked through Washington Square Park. And I could not regret more my not carrying my camera at the time.

The item in question was a taxidermied squirrel standing upright with a large paper model plane in its mouth. On it was a sign that read:

"Hello, my name is Kitty Boo.
I was electrified.
A nice man gave me this hat and airplane.
TAKE ME HOME."

The hat, sadly, was nowhere to be found; and no, I did not take Kitty Boo home.

This concludes our gentle reminder. Thank you for choosing New York City, where our motto is, "Yeah, sure, why not?"

This Sundae Would Kill Most People

See, Carol, I thought they wouldn't understand - couldn't understand what we had to do. It was a matter of survival, man vs. nature and all that. Not a thing to speak of on a civilized blog like this. Children read this blog. How could I accurately describe the hugeness? The deliciopumpkinositude that trapped us in its carmely death grip and forced us to eat our way to freedom?

You know what I'm saying. You were there.



They'll never understand.

And that's not all!

As for the rest of my trip, there were a number of great things. It was very hectic, and at times frustrating, but overall it was really, really good for me to be home. So, the highlights and lowlights, for your perusal:

- Spending 16 hours at Laguardia because stupid Spirit Airlines is managed by a bunch of stupid jerks. Never again, if I can help it, will I lash my fate to their bargain basement enterprise.

- Saw Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D!!! It was fantastic and looked great. I'd forgotten how good that movie is.

- Attended the Halloween Bang, which was filled with a very different crowd from previous The Bangs I'd been to, and not different good. Definitely the other kind of different. The drunken, ruiner-of-faith-in-humanity kind.

- Attended a co-op party where my good old pal JP's band was playing. This turned out to be, incidentally, the exact same co-op party as every other co-op party anyone has ever been to, ever. Just as strange, just as many people trying to have drunken sex on the floor of a crowded room, just as many kids smoking on the porch. (shakes head)

- Cooked pheasant. Pheasant! Who does that? My sister Hilary and I do. Pheasant, lamb, and lobster tail.

- Danced tango, salsa, and merengue. Sometimes in socks, and twice in Angell Hall.

- Made the annual family visit to Haunted Greenfield Vilage in costume as dead monks and were, again, confused for being part of the event. Ended up in a LOT of pictures again.

- Attended a workshop on theatre and social justice, where I talked about Matrix and its relationship to the RC, and was made to stereotype members of the Rotary Club for dramatic purposes. Not my shiningest theatre moment.

- Saw two of my oldest friends in the world, Craig and Naomi. It's funny how certain people can just make you feel more like yourself than you have in a long time, more comfortable and capable and happy. We recorded an audio-card for our friend who is getting married in New Zealand, and made sure to include vital marriage advice. I'm sure you can imagine how simultaneously helpful and misinformed our words will be upon reaching her.

- AND saw lots of friends, loved ones, and family. Ate lots of food, walked great distances, told stories, laughed, and had a very wonderful time.

This was Halloween, this was Halloween

Sorry, kids, I've been occupied with other goings-on lately, and, when one posesses precious few mental faculties to begin with, getting distracted is tough to avoid. But, I mark my return by bringing photos of mirth and fantastic creativity (click for larger versions). Most of these were taken on the evening following the 31st, because the night itself we were all busy being pirates. You know, keeping our priorities straight.









This year saw the much-anticipated return of the pirate ship to our front lawn. My father attested to having folks stop by well in advance of halloween to inquire whether we would be doing our stuff again this year. I myself had to field questions from a surprising number of people who balanced their questions with compliments about how much fun they'd had in previous years at our house. Folks came from all over.










This was easily the biggest and most complex display yet - and of the new items, I think my favorite was this masthead my dad made. He carved the entire thing out of blocks of styrofoam, and it's just beautiful. On Halloween proper, we received overwhelming expressions of thanks from parents and kids alike for all the work and detail which had gone into making something everyone could enjoy (secretly, we enjoyed it most of all).





We tried to show folks the power of creativity and imagination. I think that is tremendously important, and inspiring, at the risk of sounding immodest. Putting together stuff from cardboard and other people's garbage and then acting like pirates for a few hours may sound crazy, but you'd be amazed how into it we can get, and the neighborhood can get. I have the most fun working with my family on making something from almost nothing - it's a really fantastic experience. And for our visitors, we offer a simple message, and it is those words, pictured here, which with I leave you. Happy Halloween, all!

What do you mean it's only barely monday? WHY IS IT NOT FRIDAY YET?!

(While several months old, that is still the strangest AND least attractive picture of me. I mean, I hope.)

I've been working more than I'm entirely comfortable with lately to try and get as much done as possible for our major grant renewal application for the lab. In addition, the time I have is shortened because.....

I am going home on Friday to celebrate Halloween! Highlights include attending a masked dance party at Jose's all of a few hours after arriving in michigan friday night, seeing Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D with Kitty-Chan, attending a Halloween Bang at the Blind Pig, going to a haunted Greenfield Village, AND preparing for/pulling off the most fun Halloween display in the free world at the Atkin house.

Man, could I use a break from New York. I love the place, don't get me wrong, but it's been pretty nuts since I returned, and at times very, very stressful. So this trip will be excellent for me. I'm excited to see my family and Sarah and my friends at home.

Now, of course, because it's very late at night/early in the morning, I will allow a modicum of sentimentality onto the tail-end of this post by saying that my reading about recent life-events in the blog posts of certain friends have reminded me that they will not be around ann arbor when I go there, and that that does make me kind of sad. But then I recall that if they were in ann arbor hanging out with me, they wouldn't be out brightening up other areas of the world (Margaret's in Chicago, Susie's in Boston, and Jim's in Medicalville, for examples). Which, I think, you'll agree is pretty necessary given the news these days. So I guess it all evens out. That's it. End of sentimentality; back to the cold, iron fist of science.

Science!

Dr. Science answers: What's your deal with pirates?

For reasons that will become clear at the end of this post (don't scroll down just yet!), I have decided to answer a question I get asked all the time: "what's your deal with pirates? Why do you like them so much?"

I've actually taken years to figure out this answer for myself. So let's start at the beginning, with what I believed to be the colossal failure of the staging of my The American Superhero Applies for a Job. Here I term it a failure because the discussion I was trying to provoke with that piece, one about the incompatibility of the superhero mentality with the modern-day business-driven world, did not once appear in the comments or feedback I received, which overwhelmingly identified the play as "funny," and only just that. In response, I wrote a new play that moved as far away from meaningful subtext as possible - a play about a lonely pirate becoming the new gym teacher for an elementary school. He said he just wanted to be able to be a pirate captain again, even if only of a gym class full of youngsters. In truth, the resulting piece, The Loneliest Pirate, is the same play as American Superhero, with all the meaningful subtext replaced with what I believed to be the insane ramblings of a lonely pirate. Whereas Superhero had eccentric characters with stark truths, Pirate had cartoonish characters with nonsense to offer. It, too, was received as "funny."

But something happened to me during the staging and performance of that show: Cap'n Scourge, my loneliest pirate, started to make sense. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to leave me wondering about things. This play, too, would be the moment identfied by the Fanciest American as beginning the "resurgence of pirate culture."

I've always liked pirates - who doesn't? - and after a number of pro-pirate events (parties, nights in the dorm, etc.) in the following months, pirates were more of a mainstay among my social millieu. Not much later, I found myself crafting, out of two cheap purchases at Kiwanis, the now-ubiquitous PIRATE sweatshirt. And I found I took great pride in wearing it.

At this point, against thet backdrop of piratey-fun goings-on, an author named David Cordingly makes his appearance in our narrative. His book, Under the Black Flag, became a favorite read of mine for the simple fact that it was tremendously interesting and had stories about pirates. But, to my fascination, Cordingly revealed a number of critical truths about his subject. Namely, that most of the pirates started out as honest sailors, working back-breaking labor for bad wages, who were forced to deal with inept captains - captains placed in charge by their ship-owner fathers with no experience to earn them their position. Too poor to own their own boats, these sailors toiled on some Fat Cat's boat with no say in their working conditions.

Those sailors made a crucial decision: that rather than continue in the unfair system, they could seize control of the boats, give every man an equal say in the decisions and an equal share of the profits they'd be taking from the Fat Cats. Pirate ships were, as Cordingly points out, some of the first real democracies the world had ever seen. He also notes that a great many sailors on those ships robbed by pirates elected to join their robbers' crew in order to get a more agreeable job.
In effect, the pirates decided they didn't have to take the deal they were being given; they didn't have to play the hand they were dealt.

Example? Cheng I Sao, the cantonese prostitute who decided she'd rather build the largest pirate fleet in history - one which frightened off the British Navy.

These stories told by Cordingly began to remind me of someone else. Namely, the pirate-y-est guy I can think of today, my father. A man whose tremendous artistic talents have (in the years I've been around) been grossly underappreciated and under-utilized by his employers, and has forged his own ways to express his creativity, with breathtaking results. Perhaps his greatest talent is taking garbage - literally, discarded materials - and turning it into beautiful works, not least amongst which are the displays that capture the interest and imagination of adults and children by the hundreds every Halloween. How's that for not just accepting things as they're offered to you?

In my own life, I think this defiant sense of being entitled to self-determination has largely underscored my theatre work. Whether dealing with teens in an area of extreme improverishment, who are told to strive for nothing more than mediocrity, or with adults with mental illness, who are told they are fundamentally flawed and undeserving of fair treatment, I have been proud to carry and spread the conviction that you don't have to take the deal you're given, and just because you were dealt a bad hand doesn't mean you have to follow the rules. And I have been very proud of what has come from that belief.

And from my father leading a hacksaw raid on an old stat camera being thrown out and making off with several hundred dollars worth of lenses, back to my rum-running relatives during prohibition, to my ancestors whose clan was synonymous with doing things in their own way, the pirates (albeit in an editorialized fashion) stand as colorful and tremendously fun exemplars of the aforementioned beliefs.

So now I'm proud to carry these beliefs in a new way, as I have with other fundamental tenets of my life:


I guess Cap'n Scourge needn't feel so lonely, after all.

The Big Reveal

I don't usually like to jinx things. I take particular care to not let out bits of optimistic chatter when things might still not come to pass as I'd hoped. But, in this case, I've slipped up already to a number of you. And, after yesterday, my exciting secret plans have gotten even more exciting, so I'm just going to risk it and let you all in on my enthusiasm.

Fountain House is the oldest, largest, and most well-known clubhouse (read: member run support organization) for adults with mental illness in the world. It is also the clubhouse on which all other clubhouses are based, and, as one administrator there said, "If Fountain House does it, everyone else will do it." The Fisher Clubhouse, with whom I collaborated to create the Fisher Players, is one such clubhouse and ineed does have ties to Fountain House.

To make a long story short, it was through these ties and a performance by the Fisher Players attended by Fountain House staff that I was recently asked to start a program for Fountain House as I had done at the Fisher Clubhouse: a troupe to create plys based on members' experiences and focused on combatting the stigma around, and mistratement of, those with mental illness. I had one meeting and found that there was genuine interest on the part of Fountain House, and yesterday I went back for another meeting. This time, the meeting was even more successful - somehow, more sincere and meaningful that the previous one. In describing my previous work with the Fisher Players, one of the administrators with whom I was meeting said "this, what you are describing, is what Fountain House should be about."

Their reactions were tremendously complimentary to me and to the idea of this work (one even got a little choked up talking about his experiences with the power of applied theatre) and they were very serious about making this program a reality in the best ways possible. So I've still got some more planning to do and folks to talk to over there, but at this point I can't help but be really thankful to God, and Matrix, and the Fisher Players, and everybody who helped to bring me to this opportunity. Can you tell I'm excited?

Dr. Science meets The Strange Dr. Weird

I just discovered the fantastic world of podcasts. You can download things like radio shows and lectures on a vast spectrum of topics FOR FREE and listen to them on your iPod. So while I've been enjoying this really well done lecture series on the origins of Hinduism, I decided to take a break for some lighter fare this morning.

The Strange Dr. Weird, voiced by Maurice Tarplin and broadcast on the radio from 1944-45, offers the listener chilling tales of suspense and the supernatural. Also included - at least in the stories I heard - is a bizarrely high ratio of characters present in the story to characters killed in the story. One episode has the murderer shoot every other character in the story in a span of five or so minutes. And each time a story ends, the Strange Dr. Weird returns to taunt you. "I'll bet you didn't expect that," he'll say, or, "If only he had known there was but a single pool of quicksand, but he didn't, did he? (spooky organ flare)"

So, if you ever find yourself in need of a good laugh, particularly one sponsored by Adam brand hats, then look no further than the preamble to each episode and "just look for the house on the other side of the cemetary - the house of the Strange Dr. Weird."

Good luck, Jen! Though the rest of you may really need it.

Saturday I was at work until past nine, but I was able to rush over to a bar on the west side for a farewell send-off for my friend Jen from grad school. She was one of the few with whom I developed a real bond of friendship in grad school, and although she is going to be very happy working with a really fabulous organization providing arts opportunties to kids in Los Angeles, all of New York city will miss her.

And at that same event I crossed paths with two other friends from grad school, one of whom regailed the rest of us with disturbing tales of her apartment in a haunted old hospital in Brooklyn. The creepiest of many strange occurences described was the disembodied giggling of a young girl which will sound when someone else laughs in the apartment.*shiver* I advised that she and her roomate make sure to sleep under a blanket of crosses.

I was a Craig's List Missed Connection

Yes yes yes, I've been sick and am behind on my updates. Well I'm also behind on my laundry, so we'll get to both of those later. For now, though, there's this:

For those unaware of the Missed Connection section of Craig's List, it's where people post messages about someone they either had a moment with in passing or just admired from afar while riding the same subway train, that sort of thing. I, and several of my close friends, read it quite regularly because it is brilliant for people watching - reading about moments shared and missed, unrequited love from someone you see everyday on the same train, and that certain totally random someone you just can't get out of your mind.

And now, after years as a reader, I am the subject of such a message.

I noticed this headline and message among the missed connections, in the woman looking for man category:
tall guy reading on the N from brooklyn - w4m - 28 I see you some mornings- usually you are reading a book and looking serious under your fraying baseball cap... What would it take to get you to smile?

So I think, "well, I take the N from brooklyn in the morning, I'm tall, I'm usually reading and not smiling, and I wear a frayed baseball cap." So I send a very simple message asking if this was about me, with a picture, and here's the response I got:

"yup, you are the tall stranger :)
I'm surprised (and a little
embarrased) that you actually saw my post! I didn't think these things
ever worked- what are the chances?? I just put it out there on a whim.
but I'm glad it made you smile :)

So um, I guess you know I think you're cute-- do you have a
girlfriend? Would you like to meet up sometime?

Colleen
PS- here is a pic of me from July"

Honestly, more than anything else I just find this flattering.

Free to good home: One horrible stomach flu

Although it no longer fits in with my life, I should like to say up front that there is nothing wrong with the stomach flu I have had since saturday and am looking here to give away - as far as they go, this flu will fulfill all your expectations: stomach cramps, headaches, chills, a fever, lots of sweating, and a few other best-left-out-of-print symptoms. These latter features of the stomach flu make it an ideal match for the aspiring supermodel looking for that anorexia-chic. Why, eating will become a futile gesture useful only for social purposes - you won't retain a thing! Eating will be like the hood ornament on the car of your body. Your fashion forward body car, ladypants. Also, there may be some delirium included, I think.

Now a yearly tradition

Mondayborday was labor day, and if you've been reading this blog and the Fanciest American before it, you should know that means I attended the West Indian Cultural Festival. Boasting an attendance figure from last year of 3.5 million - making it the largest parade in New York - this event has come to be my favorite single event here. The colorful costumes, the music, the food, and the overwhelming sense of fun combine for a really great day. Unfortunately, I've been very sick since saturday (which I will write about later) so I could only stay for about half an hour, but I got some photos and got to see some good stuff.

I took the russian novelist's mother out for a nice dinner and then never called her again

By which I mean to say that I finished Fathers and Sons on saturday. Why was it so easy to read this time, and so impossible the others? I think this time benefitted from some combination or factors beyond my comprehension and also the realization that the book really picks up after the first few pages. All told, this is a fantastic book - is there anyone better than the Russians at subtext? - but Tolstoy worried for no reason. He's still the best.

I have since started reading Brave New World.

Do you want some good reading? Here's the story of the only POW dog (you have to scroll down a little).

Where's Clubber Lang when you need him?

You have no doubt by now heard of Katrina survivor Rockey Vaccarella, depicted in the media as this common man on a mission, who drove his FEMA trailer to D.C. hoping to meet with the president and make sure he remembered the job unfinished in New Orleans.

What's that you say, Rockey? You're thanking Mr. Bush for the job he's done, and you have something else you'd like to offer? "But now, I wanted to remind the President that the job's not done, and he knows that. And I just don't want the government and President Bush to forget about us. And I just wish the President could have another term in Washington."

Um...that's...odd. Isn't it? This is pretty great for Bush, what with the Katrina anniversary and all, if it's all good, but why would this guy say that to Bush, whose handling of this crisis was, at its very best, totally incompetent?

And if Rockey intends to hold Mr. Bush to task, why would Bush - who's known to be insular as far as dealing with the public is concerned - agree to meet with him but not with Cindy Sheehan?

Who can help us unravel this mystery?



(That's our special rocky-themed, i-made-it-in-45-seconds graphic. I'm sure you can understand)
Anyways, it turns out that things are too good to be true. This guy was a GOP candidate. He's hardly a "small man," as he claims: he's a very successful businessman who owns 31 restaurants. And his meeting with Bush was scheduled beforehand. I'm not saying the guy didn't suffer greatly from the Hurricane. But things here are not as they are presented. Rove's up to his old tricks again, plain and simple. What's worse, though, is that the administration puts forth this schill (that's what he is) as though he were the mouthpiece for all the victims who therefore appear to have no ill will toward Bush. Meanwhile, things in New Orleans are still downright terrible and the government is still wasting time and money. Ugh. Heck of a job, eh?

The Devil vs. Billy Markham and Dr. Science vs. the Russian Novelist

While I'm stuck at work - literally waiting for water to evaporate - I thought I'd offer a quick note on what I've been up to. Last week I took my chances again on the Fringe Festival and attended The Devil and Billy Markham, a one-man show presenting an epic poem by Shel Silverstein. That's right, the author of Where the Sidewalk Ends and other enduring children's classics wrote a poem about a human blues guitarist trying to out-trick the Devil. No, scratch that. The author of enduring children's classics wrote an incredibly profane and obscene epic poem about an anti-hero out-cheating the devil and god. (yes, you can follow that link to the text, and yes, it is actually very entertaining)

Who knew? Apparently Mr. Silverstein has a large body of adult-oriented work, even larger that that of his children-oriented work. It was very, very strange to hear those words being said with the same lyrical facility I recognize from poems read as a child. As for the play itself, it was a bit of well-played raunchy fun.

And now for literary matters from a different continent. In need of a new subway book (for which the criterion is that it must fit into my pocket), I have decided, once again after four failures, to try and tackle Turgenev's Fathers and Sons. Listen, this shouldn't be that hard - I love Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. Tolstoy felt like he was always trying to live up to Turgenev's work, especially this book. But for some reason...I just haven't been able to get into this book enough to read it. Yet. 5th time's the charm, right? Right?

Anyways, I'm posting my subway-reading challenge here in the hopes that doing so will in some way hold me accountable for finishing what I set out to do. We'll see.

In which I meet with a Titan and attend a mediocre play, all before cupcakes

The blooming of the Titan Arum was quite a thing to behold. It opened up at a time that was not so convenient for me (how rude!) but I was able to dash over on Saturday to check it out. Simply gorgeous.






I included a person in that image for size comparison. Pictures don't do it justice. It's this huge, dark flower that blooms desperately once, maybe twice in a person's lifetime. It didn't really smell much, and I was told that when it first opened it was sweating some kind of horrible putrid liquid, but by the time I got to it that had stopped, thankfully. It really was a sight to behold!


Later than evening, after a fabulous dinner at a nearby cuban place, my ex/good friend Elizabeth and I took in a show from the Fringe Festival. Although not the show we intended to see - there were some complications wth our plan - this show was not all awful. It was about two boys, friends, who are accused of planting a bomb at their school. The play examines the roots of violence in the home, although in a not terribly enjoyable/captivating/moving production. Well, that's Fringe for you. You spin the wheel and you take your chances.

From there we went to Magnolia for some cupcakes. At almost midnight on a saturday night, the line was around the corner and down the block! I recall when my sister Patience first took me there years ago, and informed me that they have a limit of cupcakes per customer. The place is still as busy as ever!

Because Al Qaeda hates PowerPoint, or, Today it's no liquids; what's next, no snakes?

Via Arms and Influence, from Thomas Ricks' new book Fiasco: the American Military Adventure in Iraq comes this, an explanatory powerpoint slide created by the Joint Task Force IV, the group responsible for planning the final transitional stage of the US presence in Iraq. He includes this slide with the account of one senior military officer's problem that Rumsfeld's command failed to give clear orders with clear goals.



Um...you think? Seriously, if we're trying to put this plan into action it is no wonder everybody thinks we're jerks. My favorite is the arrow that points toward "stability." Why didn't they just make one pointing to "awesomeness?"

And while I've talked to a few of you about this, I just want to underscore my uncomfortability with the security response to this most recent plot against air travel. We get a big show, and people feel better sacrificing their conditioner and Fiji Water so that they feel safe on a plane. But medications could still be take on, right? And are they really going to check every prescription to make sure it's legitimate? It's not like they can make you take a big swig of your medication in front of them - some medications are lethal in high doses.

Maybe..I don't know, I'm just saying...maybe we could work on our foreign policy a little so that fewer folks would want to blow us up? It seems like all those civilian deaths in lebanon might not be a bad place to start.

sigh...only 5 more days 'til snakes on a plane!

Well, that used to be good news.

I was informed today that my microscopy and imaging hero, Dr. Bechara Kachar, saw our lab's most recent paper, and more specifically, my pictures therein. He said, I am told, that he really liked the pictures and found them convincing.

Which was great to hear for about six and a half seconds, before I realized that the guy whose work I've been trying to match will probably see my stuff in the future. Hooray for more pressure!

Le Sigh.

p.s. Yes, these were the same pictures I didn't find convincing and asked that we hold off on publishing, which now have been described as "convincing" by the reviewers and Dr. Kachar. So maybe I just don't know what I'm talking about.

A Very Busy Week (part five of five)

Whew! I'm getting winded just typing about all that happened this week, and you're only getting a few of the highlights! Restaurants, walks in the city, and more had to be left on the blogging room floor, so to speak.

In all this adventure, I was very strongly reminded of what a fantastic place Brooklyn is. Yes, all of NYC is a fun-and-garbage-filled wonderland, but Brooklyn has such heart, such honesty and sincerity and it feels so family-friendly. On saturday I passed by a free reggaeton concert where some costumes for the upcoming West Indian Cultural Festival were displayed, and this girl was standing with her family, and, I don't know, she just looked like Ms. Brooklyn, or something.


Afterwards we swung by Celebrate Brooklyn for part of the African festival, where good-smelling food and happy-sounding music were on display.



I mean, c'mon. Brooklyn even has its own Statue of Liberty! (though, admittedly, it's in a parking lot)


Next weekend at Celebrate Brooklyn it's Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, and Queen Latifah! Maybe this very busy week will become a very busy month.

A Very Busy Week (part four of five)

What's this? Back at the Tokugawa gardens in Nagoya? Wrong! Brooklyn! This is the Japanese pond garden at Brooklyn's unbeatable 54-acre Botanical Gardens.



The Gardens, with flowers and herbs from all over the world, is a lush environs for spending a summer day with friends. You get to see all sorts of beautiful flowers and plants, from the lily pools to the rose garden and on and on.






BUT! There is excitement afoot! Big happenings! The BBG's Titan Arum plant (pictured here with people for a size reference) is about to bloom! This hasn't happened in NYC since 1939, and won't happen again for forty or fifty years! When it blooms, it produces a four-to-seven foot flower that is one of the largest in the world! Also, it will smell like death (hence its nickname, the "corpse flower."). I will go to see it when it blooms, and until then you can read more about it - and even watch it bloom online - right here at the Garden's website.

A Very Busy Week (part three of five)

KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIJUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kaiju Big Battel! At the Warsaw in Brooklyn! Danger Happened!

It was Hell Monkey vs. the Grudyin in an intra-tag-team battle for a new team name! Shrooma Tango vs. Powa Ranjuru (which became Powa Ranjuru vs. the CIA, which became the CIA vs. Powa Ranjuru and Dusto Bunny!)! Hero-in-Training vs. all comers in a test to protect the new Brooklyn Bridge! Call-me-Kevin vs. Super Wrong in a "biggest loser in Kaiju" match (which, when super wrong roller-skated off the stage, became Call-me-Kevin vs. Louden Noxius)! And, in the biggest main event ever! Pedro Plantain, seeking revenge for the recent murder of his brother, teaming up with Kaiju Champ Kung Fu Chicken Noodle to battle Pablo Plantain's murderers, the brainwashed hero-turned traitor Silver Potato and the nefarious mastermind, Dr. Cube!












Oh, you want more? More better? How about the show opened with my favorite Japanese punk band, Peelander-Z? Although my company was a little unsure at first, by the end of the evening everyone agreed it was a night of monster-sized fun, not to be forgotten!

A Very Busy Week (part two of five)

The Brooklyn Museum of Art is hosting an exhibit on Graffiti. While is is quite limited in terms of size and the time span it represents, the exhibit does showcase some beautiful pieces by very important artists.






I just wish there had been more by modern writers, as the stuff kids are doing today is crazy, all 3D and photoquality and whatnot.