Alone on the bus, a few blocks from the final stop, I looked around and also alone in the passage way was a piece of kale. It had fallen out of the Trader Jo’s bag of the disembarking man at the stop from which we had just pulled away from the curb. There was tenderness in the lonesomeness of the kale piece on the cold metal floor. I felt empathy and then the exchange driver boarded the bus. He walked the length of his bus, before beginning his shift. On his return from the back of the bus, -you see him approaching in the final picture,- he kicked the kale aside. I let out an involuntary gasp.
Rats
Could Not Resist
Courtesy of the o
Airborne
This post has nothing to the with the City, but with the city. Not everyday does a longtime friend start and finish building a plane in 19 months and fly it. And live to tell it. Congrats Rich. That is a lifetime accomplishment. What’s next?
A Perfect Day
Yesterday was one of those days that reminds me why I love living in the City. Took two hours to put myself together ‘casually’ for a national commercial audition. With a commercial, one is either the face or not; real simple. However, my haircut did match the story board exactly. When finished there, went to visit a convalescing friend on the UES for ‘lunch’ and a gym session. Returned to the Village in time to make the dinner date, prior to attending an exciting new play:The Nether, by a young woman playwright. She was behind us in the audience, so had the opportunity to tell her how brilliant it was. The staging was only 90 minutes, no intermission, home by 10 pm [in the bitter cold]. Using shanks pony- taxi- subway, is so easy to get around. Oh yes, and the cherry-on-the-cake-part-of-the-day: best shoeshine at the shoeshine stand in the 86th Street Subway station. Last year I showed up there weekly wearing a different pair of boots. The charge of $5-$6 for a full boot is outrageous. [perhaps they are counting on the tips thus being larger]. Afterwards I walk around like a little kid with new shoes. [Today I squeezed in a visit with another pair of boots}
Someone Had to Try It
I often read about making cheese sandwiches in the toaster by turning it on it’s side to keep the cheese in place. It wasn’t exactly a cheese sandwich, but was something that should bake in the oven. In my small space, my oven is used for storage, so the toaster looked attractive. The resulting story is not whether it worked for the food toasted, but rather the side effect. All those little crumbs which normally lie dormant in the bottom of the toaster, sprang to life, attached themselves to the hot coils and promptly caught fire. The fire was large enough for more crumbs to jump in. I set the toaster in its upright position, at the same time unplugging the cord from the outlet. Neither of these actions stopped the burning. The fire about half way up the inside of the toaster walls, continued to burn with seriousness. The next move was to put a towel over the two bread slots to cut down on the oxygen and with some reluctance the fire went out. None of the articles I read mentioned this side-effect.
Kickpleat, Side Vents and Labels on Sleeves
It is all I can do, not to tap them on the shoulder and tell them that the kick pleat on the coat they are wearing, [the bottom point of the pleat is stitched together,] is meant to be cut prior to wearing so that it moves to open as they walk. Saw it on a young woman today as she walked down Bleecker St. I see it too on young men wearing a sport coat or a suit jacket: the vents are still tacked shut at the bottom. These ‘pleats’ and ‘vents’ have been stitched only for packing and transit. It used to be that the tailor or the department store section manager, clipped the stitch prior to hanging the garment on the rack. The last decade or so, no one has snipped. The final one is the label sewn on the cuff, of a cashmere coat or suit jacket. The brand name on one cuff only, was to make it stand out in a row of hanging garments. But it was never meant to be worn out of the shop. Saw one the other day. The man wearing it looked so pleased with himself. What can I say.
Skye Ferrante
Met this artist on the street in SoHo, 2010 Revisited him- he is now well established. His continuous strand wire portraits are of real people. The titled ones are of burlesque personalities. These are signed with his signature in the bends in the corner. His work is wondrous to behold.
The Bewitching Hour
It’s Sunday afternoon, the street is silent: minimal vehicular traffic: not a police siren for hours, and not a voice under my window. It’s SuperBowl Sunday! Amazing it is, that no one needs to do all the usual things. The folk is tucked away in cafes, apartments bars, watching grown men fight to the death in Romanesque style.
And how much money is wagered on these games? According to the articles read – world wide- billions. For a game. For Rome. For the betterment of the players health after knocking out their brain functions?
if you dare:
http://www.sbnation.com/2015/1/27/7916937/breaking-madden-super-bowl-2015-seahawks-patriots
Score Again
for the Doubting Thomas side. Awoke this morning to a non-event. It actually looks like less snow than when I went to bed. The traffic ban is lifted, cars are driving and I can see the pavement from the plowing. The subway will soon be up and running. All is well and I have an abundance of goodies, clean linens and no power outage.
What I do not understand in this day and age: why the meteorologist can not get it right?
What I do think happens is that the ‘media’ grabs onto the worse case scenario and won’t let go. It apparently made the news all day yesterday. If the meteorologist backs off the dire prediction, no one wants to hear it.