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Tired at the End of November? (National Novel Writing Month)

November 30, 2010

Horse Cart? Horse Cab? So Much To Brush Up Against

Back in New York City and find myself tired tired tired.

All that physical energy that seemed so boundless in the fresh and cooked air of a Thanksgiving break in the country now seems sadly dissipated.

What has sapped me?

The grind/stress of the job?

The lack of frolicking!?  (Unpopulated spaces somehow lend themselves to dashing and dancing in ways that don’t quite work in most urban settings.)

Or, I wonder, as I drag myself to the subway through all the faces and vehicles, bodies and clothes, concrete and glass, is it the entropy of brushing up against so many different beings and energies–all that collected history, mortar, CO2?

I could point to the end of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month).  Am I tired simply from having scribbled and typed 50,000 extra words over the course of November?

And then I look about me on the train and see that a whole bunch of people have a slumped (non-)edge to them.    Were we all plotting throughout the past month?

(Is that why we’re plodding now?)

Did they also do Nanowrimo?

Mouse Plotter(?) on Train???

Categories: Nanowrimo, New York City
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Week Begins With Both Bang and Whimper (i.e. Towed Car)

November 15, 2010

Cars, like nature, abhor a vacuum.

My work week (and third Nanowrimo week) started with both bang and whimper.

Lesson of the day:  there is no such thing (and I repeat, no such thing) as an unrestricted legal parking space in New York City, i.e. no sign is a bad sign.

Did you get that all you forever-hopeful types who think that maybe the City just “forgot” to post a “no parking” sign, that maybe you lucked out for a change?

Woe to you justice-minded souls who believe that the NYPD couldn’t possibly give you a ticket, much less tow you, in such circumstances.

Did you not realize that the absence of a visible sign means that the open parking space in front of you, even if framed by other parked cars (which appear to be made of steel and/or aluminum or some metallic polymer) is in fact an illusion?

Did you not understand that the space is only there in the sense of a void, a vacuum, a black hole, as, in other words, an absence of space?  And that if you drive your car into this void/vacuum/black hole, it will vanish into the alternate universe that lurks around the edges of New York life (i.e. Pier 76 located at 38th Street and 12th Avenue).

Yes, the car can be reconjured.  But that trick will not be performed for free.

(BTW, Nanowrimo novel could be going better; there’s nothing like a car–even a rental car– towed from a space that you now just knew was not legal–for interrupting “flow”.)

Categories: Nanowrimo, New York City
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Questions of the Placement of Man (And Woman) In the Grand (or not so grand) Scheme of Things – Tea Party/Here and Now

October 23, 2010

At a kind of center

Dashing across Broadway to the corner of Fulton, late for work, and thinking about my next blog post–an off-shoot of “Lord Help Us!”, about the Tea Party’s doubts in man-made climate change.

One major distinction between Tea Party types and students of science and history is their view of Man’s place (especially the place of American Man) in the whole big scheme of things.

Swing past the thick green posts at the top of the train entrance, the heavy iron scrollwork now muted by a zillion and one paint jobs; to my left, a T-Mobile (I think) store, petals of yellow ad flash in the darkly reflective glass.

Tea Partiers, pattering down the stairs, especially those who identify themselves as Christians (with a capital “C”), believe that Man (particularly American Man) is made in God’s image, the apple (only not the apple) of His eye.  As a result, creation revolves around Man; the Earth is at his disposal.

By American Man, I also mean Woman. I grimace in frustration as I slow for one carrying a baby carriage.  (I usually do offer to help women with carriages but this one is already mid-stairs, and taking up the whole stairs too–no way will I get past her.)

Few serious students of science or history can truly believe this.   Scientists tend to be conscious of the fact that the Universe (and even the Earth) have had a long life span that didn’t include Man in a starring role, and also that it’s possible for Man to write him/herself out of the future script.  Serious historians, for their part, cannot truly believe that all of human history has been one big build-up to Sarah Palin.

I chuckle inside, feeling suddenly energized by snarkiness.  But now I see with absolute certainty, even though just from the corner of my eye, the dull sliding silver of the train.  Still moving, meaning it’s pulling in, but there’s that baby carriage and mother, and now an older lady too, and it’s a narrow entrance, but there are three turnstiles–THREE!–the rectangular lights of the train windows slow–

If all of the Earth is supposed to be FOR man, how can we wreck it, thinks the Tea Party–

I really don’t want to be rude, but oh come on–train doors opening–I jog to the left of the baby carriage, the mother, the older lady in black wool coat, slightly bent, carrying a bag, Christ–got to get around that too–determined not to discombobulate them,veering to the farthest turnstile that I never use–what did someone say the other day?–that that turnstile didn’t work, no, that the closer one didn’t work?  Random notes of random sentences depress the fervor of my Metrocard slide until the green “GO” magically appears and I push the heavy slots (it’s one of those floor to ceiling turnstiles), galloping towards the bright rectangular squares at the end of the dim concrete–

Ohnoohnoohdamn.  On hands, ouch, knees, face burning–I really should never wear a scarf–this purse–did I break anything?  The older bent lady in the black coat alarmed–I try not to think about how my hands sting and what kind of germs are crawling onto them, looking up  around tangle of neck–

The doors are still–open–I scramble upright, lunging stiffly, mumbling apologies to the old lady–oh no, my necklace unclasped, my lucky necklace, about to fling itself–grab it with one hand as I stumble into the white light of the car, the other holding open the door, turning back to those left behind.   The mother with the carriage hasn’t yet gotten through the turnstile, the old lady at the far edge of the platform–

“No no.”  She shakes her head with a smile.  I can’t tell if she’s wise, or heading for a whole different line.

I let go of the door, reclasp my necklace, resettle my scarf, wipe my hands on my pants, then don’t wipe my hands, then–ah–sit down, pretending that no one is looking at me.

Head in the clouds, theories, egocentric snarkiness, leads to–scraped knees, stinging hands, I bend down over my notebook.

Wait–that’s my stop!  Already??!!!

(Isn’t the “here and now” part of what science is all about?)

Hurry hurry hurry out the door.

Categories: elephants, New York City, news, Sarah Palin, Uncategorized
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New York Gubernatorial Debates–Madam, Muttonchops, MTA, Mess

October 18, 2010

 

New York A Mess, The MTA Worse--Holding Breath?

 

I got to watch (I should say, I made myself watch) the last half of the New York gubernatorial debate tonight.  Some of the “little” (i.e. lesser known) candidates were surprisingly interesting, including Jimmy McMillan who had by far the best facial hair (white mutton chops extending to mustache and beard), gloves, and party name: “The Rent Is Too Damn High Party”.   Kristin Davis, an ex-madam representing the Anti-Prohibition Party, was another favorite.   (She may have had the best line of the evening, calling career politicians, “the biggest whores in the State,” as she claimed that she was “the only person on the stage with the right experience to deal with them.”)

Charles Barron (of the Freedom Party), who appeared to be more of a professional pol than McMillan or Davis, seemed mainly there to needle Cuomo while not supporting Paladino.  Howie Hawkins (the Green Party) and Warren Redlich (Libertarian) came off as wonky but sincere and irritated with everyone.

Cuomo’s most memorable line (to me at least) was “Go Yankees!”, and Paladino’s (when asked to give a yes or no answer as to whether he believed in gay marriage) was:  “Gay marriage is an issue; it’s very important to the people….”

What was reassuring was that there was, at least from the lesser known candidates, a bit of candor, difference, eccentricity. ( This is New York, after all, a place where even middle class people traditionally have openly collectws their furniture from used stuff set out upon the street–it’s awful to think that it’s gone completely slick. )  The lines of the lesser known candidates were practiced–Ms. Davis seemed tied to a pad, Mr. McMillan a litany–but not their positions.  Davis and McMillan, like the Libertarian Redlich and the Green Party Hawkins, seemed to try to convince the audience of the rightness of their views, but not to camouflauge them as universally appealing.

Cuomo was, as leader, painfully careful–even the references to New York’s glorious political past (presumably when his father was in office) seemed calculated to gain points while also maintaining absolute deniability.

Paladino was a bit more willing to be himself, but his self is, well… worrisome.

What was heartening (in a way) is that everyone agreed that New York was a mess right now: that corruption had to end; the schools improved; the MTA, specifically, disemboweled.

We’ll see what happens.   (I won’t hold my breath.)

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Obama – New York City Cab Driver

October 3, 2010

Mid-term Coming

Like many who voted for Obama in 2008, I’ve found the news these days, particularly prophesies of the upcoming elections, very depressing.  I do think O’s in a slump;  he seems to be having a hard time rousing himself, much less others, his conviction and confidence worn as thin as his person.

I find it hard to fault him for this, given that almost everything he says is greeted with knee-jerk misinterpretation, misinformation, distrust.

My personal advice is that he should be himself as fully and unapologetically as he can, even if that means being subject to even more distortion.  Americans, though divided in terms of issues, almost uniformly dislike perceived artifice;  even a super-careful reserve can be interpreted as phoniness.

The fact is that you can’t please everyone.  Better to be rejected for who you actually are than for who you are carefully trying not to be.

That doesn’t read quite right–what I mean is that it is better to fail for your whole, real self, than for a carefully promoted dissection of yourself.

In the midst of my depression, I had an experience that made me feel better both about the situation (and the country)–a New York City cab ride.

I don’t take many cabs these days;  good for my pocketbook, but a loss. I’ve always found New York City cab drivers to provide a wonderful window onto the greater world (if not the smoothest ride).  This guy, for example, who was from Mali, explained that his first language, and one of the main dialects in a country filled with dialects, is Bombara.   (I had never heard of it before.)

The driver also spoke French, which he briefly practiced with me, sweetly tolerant of my linguistic clumsiness.

In Mali, he explained, children learn French for the first seven years of school, and then have a choice of English or German.

I asked if his mother spoke French.  A long-term postal worker, she spoke it very well, he said.  But his father, who had died in 1971, after a trip to Mecca, had only spoken a dialect called Hasani (which seems to be somehow connected to Arabic).

The driver loved the French language, but had less patience for the French people, whom he felt had no sympathy for Africa.  He spoke proudly of his U.S. Green Card, which he described as a real protection for him on a recent visit to France.  He expressed strong feelings of gratitude for the openness of Americans as opposed to the French.

I gingerly mentioned that some Americans were not all that open, that there was sometimes a certain racism here too, but he brushed that aside, beaming that the United States had elected Obama.

I noted that the country was giving Obama an awfully hard time.  He shrugged.  The fact that the United States had elected Obama–had elected Obama–was enough for him.

He turned off the meter then, though we were a couple of blocks from my destination, and even when we reached it, drove somewhat further to get me to what he thought was the best entrance.

I thanked him.

Categories: New York City, Obama
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Bernadette Peters and A Chocolate Egg Cream (With Fry)

September 25, 2010

Bernadette Peters With Egg Cream

I really like Bernadette Peters.  She is all the things a musical performer should be–supremely professional and uniquely graceful with a vast range (not just of the vocal but of the dramatic).   But I realized recently that my affection for her was based on more than all that.  There is also a certain warmth by association, the kind of personal, Proustian aura that may incite much fandom.

It started with her wonderful performance in Annie Get Your Gun on Broadway years ago.  My children and I went to the show because we had a friend in the cast.   He very kindly arranged for us to meet Peters backstage.  She seemed then (and now) just about the prettiest person I’d ever seen, like a creamy bouquet of purplish pink flowers.  My younger daughter especially was entranced.

But my affection for Ms. Peters really sparked the second time we saw that show (my daughter was extremely entranced).  We went with another set of friends, also with children.  I was feeling a little guilty.  Seeing the show twice was a huge extravagance–I had recently separated from my husband and had moved back from Brooklyn into Manhattan to be near my children’s private school–all factors which made money extremely short.

As a result,  I was happy that we settled on HoJo’s, a place that seemed both affordable, but had real seats, for the post-Broadway snack.

Oh HoJo’s!–I hadn’t been there for years and had almost forgotten the HoJo mojo–that wonderful creamsicle orange, swimming pool turquoise, giddy scent of fried clams!   (Oh childhood!   Oh tartar sauce!  Oh New Jersey turnpike!)

The father of the other family, Alan, was the only male in the group so he tended to fill a rather large spot in our table’s center stage.  A friendly, wise-cracking and rather short guy (otherwise completely unlike Bernadette Peters), he ordered a chocolate egg cream, which, when it was brought to the table, had one small crisp french fry floating below the foam–at  first  a source of mystery (was it a bug?) then amusement, as was the egg cream itself.  It all just seemed so New York.

Which brought me to the bemoaning of our new apartment.   It had been the best I could afford, but had turned out to have several significant drawbacks–features which I felt I should have noticed before I signed the lease.

Ah, but there was a learning curve in assessing urban real estate, Alan said.  On renting his first apartment, for example, he had not noticed that there was only one electrical outlet–in the whole apartment–which was located in the bathroom ceiling as part of the bulb light fixture.

He recounted the next several months, hooking up a full-size fridge to the light socket, unplugging it to shave  (with electric razor), reaching in (once he squeezed into the bathtub) for the occasional cold beer.

Whenever he rented an apartment after that, he said, he was very careful to check for electrical outlets.

With a rueful grin, he ordered another egg cream, asking the waitress to hold the fries…errrr… fry.

We could not stop laughing.  Alan had great delivery, but there was something more –the reflected brilliance of Times Square/Broadway/theater–whatever–that evening became imprinted as a silly, happy, children-in-New York memory, indelibly linked to Bernadette Peters.

Which is one reason that I recently went to see her in the revival of A Little Night Music. by Stephen Sondheim.

Frankly, there were several times in the production when I wished for a little less night music.  The actors were good, and though I admire the type of mind that can coherently rhyme “raisins” and “liasons,” good actors and cleverness alone can’t quite carry me through three hours.  There is just too much of everything in the play except for likeable, fleshed-out characters and/or an intriguing plot.

Except that there is also Ms. Peters.  Send In The Clowns, her big number, is not a favorite song, with all its potential for the hackneyed.   But her sensitivity, vulnerability, voice, timing, expressions, put one in touch with what is the best in performance–the sculpted but true moment–the poeticized real–something that is both wondrous and immediately recognizable; an empathy-inducing shimmer that, incredibly, is reproduced again and again, night after night.

I was so happy to see that my affection wasn’t all based on egg creams (with or without fries.)

Categories: New York City, Vicissitudes of Life
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More on “Ground Zero” Mosque – CBS/New York Times Poll, Goldman Sachs building, that guy with the flag draped on his car, Cherries!

September 3, 2010

More on Park51, the mosque and Islamic Center proposed to be built two blocks from Ground Zero:  a CBS/New York Times poll says that a substantial majority of New Yorkers feel that the statement: “it should not be built because, while Muslims have the right to do it, they should find a less controversial location” comes closer to their views than the statement ”it should be built because moving it would compromise American values.”

The poll also finds that many New Yorkers (of the whopping 892 randomly asked) oppose (rather than favor) the construction of the mosque near Ground Zero.

Boy, do I hate polls.  They carry the aura of science–black and white data–when in fact they are often reductive, self-fulfilling, and manipulable.

I’m not saying that the findings of the poll are inaccurate–I’m quite sure that many New Yorkers would just as soon (i) that the controversy would go away, and (ii) that if Muslims have to build a mosque, they budge it over a bit.

But one problem with the poll – despite the self-fullfilling terminology- is the fact that the questions had no control, no placebo, as it were–no context.  (No one was asked, for example, if they were actually familiar with the topography of Ground Zero.)

Here are some other questions that were not asked:

Which of the statements below reflects your opinion about construction at Ground Zero?

1.  Yes, Burger King has a right to have a franchise at the corner of the site, but they should move large outdoor pictures of Twilight’s vampires, such as Robert Pattinson, to a less morbid location.

2.  Yes, shoppers have a right to get great discounts on designer goods at Ground Zero,  but the huge “SALE” banners should be draped more decorously.

3.  Yes, N.Y. Dolls can have a strip club two blocks away, but they should drape some banners (maybe from Century 21–oops, maybe not) over the outlines of naked women.

4.  Yes, that guy with the big U.S. flag with all the stenciled names of victims can hang out, but he should not scam tourists on Sundays.  Ditto the people with all the burning WTC postcards.

5.  I don’t love Jeff Koons, but his balloon-flower sculpture looks like cherries.  (Who can can argue with cherries?)

6.  Okay, Silverstein has a right to some bucks, but should he really construct an office tower on a de facto burial ground?

7.  Yes, Goldman Sachs can (even perhaps should)  build its $2.1. billion headquarters just across West Street, but perhaps, after getting over $115 million in NYS and local tax breaks PLUS the use of $1.65 billiion in tax-exempt Liberty Bonds, it should not have been so active in the collapse of the U.S. financial system.

8.  Yes, the 9/11 attackers were Muslims, but they do not represent all Islam.

Categories: 9/11, New York City, news, Uncategorized
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More On Mosques – Reverberations of Obama’s Remarks – Freedom Tower

August 16, 2010

Freedom Tower - What Will It Stand For?

An article today by Victoria McGrane and Siobhan Gorman in the Wall Street Journal today discusses the reverberations of Obama’s remarks supporting the rights of Muslims to build mosques in the U.S., including in downtown Manhattan.

One conservative blogger, Pamela Geller, said that the President “has, in effect, sided with the Islamic jihadists.”

I understand that many are upset at the idea of a mosque near Ground Zero.  For some, it feels almost immoral  – like a murderer inheriting under their victim’s Will.  That discomfort may stem in part from President Bush’s original and unfortunate characterization of the events of 9/11 as the opening salvos in a war involving foreign statelike entities rather than as a crime by heinous criminals with no independent statehood.  That backdrop has become such a part of the overly simplistic body politic that for some Americans, anything that seems to favor (or even to not disfavor) Muslims is deemed to give aid and comfort to a broad and amorphous enemy.

Putting that aside (which, frankly, is almost impossible for many), the current attacks on President Obama just don’t make sense:

  1. Jihad means holy war.  By supporting freedom of worship, Obama is saying that the U.S. is not fighting a war about religion, but a war against terrorism, a war, moreover, in favor of democratic values.  What’s being constructed on Ground Zero is called the Freedom Tower, after all.
  2. Security.  Gary Berntsen, running as a Republican candidate for New York State Senate and a former CIA officer (oh yes, the CIA did a great job for security around 9/11), has charged that the proposed mosque would be a national security risk: “[Militants] will be drawn there in large numbers, and they will seek to impose themselves on that mosque, regardless of who the leaders are.”   This one is also illogical.  First, disallowing fundamental freedoms is one sure way of fueling anti-American propaganda among extremists.  Secondly, a known extremist Muslim center would seem almost a boon to the FBI rather than an additional security risk.  (Instead of having to track extremists all around New Jersey and Buffalo, they could just set up a couple sets of cameras in downtown NYC.)Further, if, like many NYC downtown residents, Berntsen worries about the new Freedom Tower becoming again a target for terrorists, then what better insurance against massive attack than having an extremist mosque a couple of blocks away?!
  3. “Seemliness.” For some a mosque near Ground Zero is simply unseemly. They understand the political rhetoric but wonder why not just build the mosque somewhere else?  I guess a primary answer is that this is New York City–all kinds of things are jammed together – -on the Lower East Side, you’ll see old synagogues now housing Dominican dress shops; the Limelight was an abandoned church turned into a night club; the homeless sleep on heating grates on Fifth Avenue.What I frankly find unseemly about Ground Zero is the fact that they are rebuilding on the site at all (rather than turning it into a memorial park).  It’s amazing to me how the rapidly rising construction has diminished the sense of “hallowed” as quickly as it has swallowed up ground.  It looks increasingly like almost any New York City construction site.  (Tourists standing right in front of it ask me where Ground Zero is.)I am very sorry that the victims’ families must feel that they are once more political pawns.  Unfortunately, the deaths were politicized from the start – from all the heroes funds to the use of victims as a justification for war.

    5.   Some object to U.S. mosques, when what they truly oppose are Muslims in the U.S.  But their ire is misspent – freedom of worship for Muslims already here is simply a different issue than immigration policy.

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Apology re Misplacement of Park51 (Park Place Not Park Row – Same Difference)

August 11, 2010

Apologies, apologies!  In yesterday’s post, I said that Park51, the proposed mosque in downtown Manhattan was to be located on Park Row (two blocks east of the World Trade Center site);  in fact , the proposed location is Park PLACE, which is two blocks north of the site.

So sorry to add to the misinformation about this issue, especially since misinformation was what I was complaining about. (My cheeks are burning.)

I live in downtown Manhattan and should definitely better.  The problem is that Park Place is an undistinguished street which, frankly, I often overlook even when I am walking around.  It houses a jumble of junky little stores (other than the wonderful Tent & Trails- a camping equipment store).  Park Row, in contrast, a slightly more prominent street, mainly houses all the arms of J&R music.

My basic argument from yesterday is the same;  downtown Manhattan is relatively small; Ground Zero is relatively large within it.  This means that virtually everything downtown is “near” to Ground Zero.  And yet, at the same time, the spaces are big enough, the crowding of buildings within those spaces is intense enough, that the differentials between blocks feel immense.   Immense enough that, even putting arguments of religious tolerance and what the country and city stand for aside, the claim that the mosque would somehow be a shadow on Ground Zero doesn’t make much sense, especially given the invasive, and sometimes ghoulish, commercialism that currently haunts parts of the site.

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Mosque Near Ground Zero – Really? (Park51)

August 10, 2010

What's Going On Now at WTC Site

I’m not a huge fan of Islam–I don’t know enough about it to have a position of any substance.  I admit that I am suspicious of any faith which seems to keep women in a subordinate position (but that makes me suspicious of many orthodox faiths).

As a result, perhaps, I haven’t much followed the “Ground Zero Mosque” debate, even though I live in downtown Manhattan.  Based on the extent of emotion stirred up, I thought the mosque was planned for the actual Ground Zero site; that it was somehow, with other shrines, to be on one of the memorial “footprints” of the two towers.   Despite my own strong bed towards religious tolerance, I could understand why this might upset some.

After actually reading more, however, I’ve realized how misguided I’ve been; that the whole issue is another tempest based on stewpot of misrepresentation.  The planned Mosque isn’t to be at the Ground Zero site at all; but on Park Place (Park51) , a couple of blocks away.

Okay, Park Place is near Ground Zero in the same way that anything in downtown Manhattan is near Ground Zero.  Downtown Manhattan is the thinnest part of the island; the World Trade Center site is large.

If you live down here, you quickly realize that everything (especially the subway stations) is both close and far – that is, technically, just a few blocks away, but a long frigging walk.  Blocks are big, and the differentials in blocks–in cityscape, tenor, view, even in weather (wind shear)– are consequential.

The news accounts highlight factors such as “500 yards” and “13 stories” in a way that gives one the  vision of a face-off–  Ground Zero on one side, the Mosque (whose visitors will surely be tittering inside) on the other.   These terms are just ridiculous in the context of downtown Manhattan.  500 yards = if that’s even accurate–is many buildings away;   13 stories is a shrimp.

What makes the debate stranger – setting aside the whole issue of what this country and city stand for – are the facts of what is currently happening at Ground Zero:

Hawking.  People selling ghoulish photo albums and NYFD hats and cheap American flags with the names of victims stenciled in.

Posing.

Shopping.  Right opposite the site stands a true world trade center – Century 21.

And, on the site itself,  which, as some 9/11 families have pointed out, is a de facto burial ground due to the impossibility of recovering ashen remains, a large building is rapidly rising, destined to lease commercial and office space.

(THIS POST HAS BEEN CORRECTED; An earlier version mistakenly referred to the location of the proposed mosque as Park Row – a couple of blocks east of the WTC, rather than Park Place, a couple of blocks north.)

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