Tuesday, June 8, 2010
I Know Who You Are!
Fascinating new database I've plugged into The Smoking Nun, which offers me detailed stats on who is visiting, what time, how long you stay, what posts you click through to, and where you're based. Hello, Frankfurt. Hi Naperville, Ill. What's happenin' Rio De Janeiro? Howdy Va. Beach and Blacksburg, Va.! Cool shit!
Listen To This
As I continue to spring clean and streamline the apartment, I was reminiscing about the greatest piece of audio equipment 
I ever owned, my Sharp RT3388 cassette deck, which I bought for $250 around 1978. Despite the fact that I did my research before purchasing (Consumer Reports was all we had in those days), I had no idea how advanced this machine was.Not only did it offer computerized circuitry and a lighted LCD screen—revolutionary—this miracle worker allowed me to record and pause to the split second.
I was able to splice recordings with the kind of precision that is difficult even in today's digital age.I had that poor baby repaired three times before it wore itself out and not only lost its advanced functions, but sounded like a blurry foghorn. Sigh, off to the audio graveyard.
(ADDENDUM: My sentimentality has overtaken me. I just make a Best Price Offer on this very unit on eBay. Believe me, it costs a lot less than $250 now... Wish me luck.)
We've certainly come a long way in the past 60 or so years.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Manic Monday
An ideal pre-summer setting in the greatest city in da world on this wondrous manic Monday. It went something like this...
12:45 p.m. For once, the MTA delivered me on time. Brooklyn Heights to 34th Street, Penn Station...
1 p.m. My destination: Ripley Grier Rehearsal Studios at 
Eighth Avenue and 36th Street, to view a reading of "Southern Rain," the new theatrical musical written by my beloved friend Lina Koutrakos and her longtime drummer and songwriting collaborator Dan Gross—based on 
her latest album of the same name (which I had the honor of scribing liner notes for).
I made the mistake of sitting in the front row—a strategic error since I pretty much wept through the entire two-hour production. Just beautiful in its story of a collection of high school friends that reunite some 30 years later, reflecting on integral moments that impacted the rest of their lives. The show cleverly offers a double cast—the adults and their youthful counterparts—who deliver the story with depth, sentimentality and universality. I have little doubt: With proper backing, I hear the call of Broadway, baby.
3:15 p.m. After the show, I proceeded into midtown for my next glorious slice of life in the city...
3:30 p.m. With time to kill, I stopped by Bryant Park east of Times Square on Sixth Avenue and I sat. And observed. And soaked up the green. And set my mind at total ease.
I am particularly pleased with this pic below. The time of day was utterly ideal for capturing the reflection of a building on the other side of the park. Ten minutes later, this view had vanished. All about the moment.
4:30 p.m. Still have a half hour before the next event, and here I am right by the historic New York Public Library, which I had never ventured inside of. My god, what a glorious display of architecture. Oh, and books, too.
The place was packed... loved loved loved that.
Remember these? They're called dictionaries... on paper and everything.
5:00 p.m. Exit to Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street...
5:15 p.m. Pera Mediterranean Brasserie on Madison Avenue 
for a launch reception for this summer's second-annual Istanbulive concert in Central Park. Last year, Sertab Erener and Demir were headliners, along with our pal Emre. This year, the central theme honors the great producer/record label honcho Arif Mardin. My longtime pal Paul Miraldi met me for the event, where we chatted with Arif's son Joe.
6:45 p.m. Next stop: Back to Bryant Park to chill and catch up with Paulie, before navigating through a packed Times Square and sitting on the Duffy Steps, admiring the view.
Hey, it's Johnny Dep! Or at least Madame Tussaud's version.
8 p.m. The evening's other main event. Paulie invited me to see "39 Steps," the Tony-winning 
play that has moved off-Broadway. We sat through the first act, watching the highly stylized performance, forcing a chuckle every few minutes.... Fortunately, at intermission, we were both on the same page: "This is god-awful." And we took our exit. I worked back down to Times Square once more, admiring the lights at night, before heading home to Brooklyn. What a phenomenal day in the city.
How do, tourists! Having fun?
12:45 p.m. For once, the MTA delivered me on time. Brooklyn Heights to 34th Street, Penn Station...
1 p.m. My destination: Ripley Grier Rehearsal Studios at 
Eighth Avenue and 36th Street, to view a reading of "Southern Rain," the new theatrical musical written by my beloved friend Lina Koutrakos and her longtime drummer and songwriting collaborator Dan Gross—based on 
her latest album of the same name (which I had the honor of scribing liner notes for).I made the mistake of sitting in the front row—a strategic error since I pretty much wept through the entire two-hour production. Just beautiful in its story of a collection of high school friends that reunite some 30 years later, reflecting on integral moments that impacted the rest of their lives. The show cleverly offers a double cast—the adults and their youthful counterparts—who deliver the story with depth, sentimentality and universality. I have little doubt: With proper backing, I hear the call of Broadway, baby.
3:15 p.m. After the show, I proceeded into midtown for my next glorious slice of life in the city...
3:30 p.m. With time to kill, I stopped by Bryant Park east of Times Square on Sixth Avenue and I sat. And observed. And soaked up the green. And set my mind at total ease.
I am particularly pleased with this pic below. The time of day was utterly ideal for capturing the reflection of a building on the other side of the park. Ten minutes later, this view had vanished. All about the moment.
4:30 p.m. Still have a half hour before the next event, and here I am right by the historic New York Public Library, which I had never ventured inside of. My god, what a glorious display of architecture. Oh, and books, too.
The place was packed... loved loved loved that.
Remember these? They're called dictionaries... on paper and everything.
5:00 p.m. Exit to Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street...
5:15 p.m. Pera Mediterranean Brasserie on Madison Avenue 
for a launch reception for this summer's second-annual Istanbulive concert in Central Park. Last year, Sertab Erener and Demir were headliners, along with our pal Emre. This year, the central theme honors the great producer/record label honcho Arif Mardin. My longtime pal Paul Miraldi met me for the event, where we chatted with Arif's son Joe.
6:45 p.m. Next stop: Back to Bryant Park to chill and catch up with Paulie, before navigating through a packed Times Square and sitting on the Duffy Steps, admiring the view.
Hey, it's Johnny Dep! Or at least Madame Tussaud's version.
8 p.m. The evening's other main event. Paulie invited me to see "39 Steps," the Tony-winning 
play that has moved off-Broadway. We sat through the first act, watching the highly stylized performance, forcing a chuckle every few minutes.... Fortunately, at intermission, we were both on the same page: "This is god-awful." And we took our exit. I worked back down to Times Square once more, admiring the lights at night, before heading home to Brooklyn. What a phenomenal day in the city.
How do, tourists! Having fun?
Holy Shit!
A perfectly typical street in Brooklyn's Cobble Hill. Walking without a care in the world to meet with my Census Bureau staffer and... suddenly... there's... Jesus in a box! Good god almighty. How can He breathe? Is He being protected from the evil world out there or something? How can He do good when locked in a big plastic upright tomb? It was altogether disturbing. Try as I might to figure out what aid I might offer, I paused and wondered... WWJD? And then I walked on to the coffee shop. Amen.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Smoking Journo
With my awesome adventure as a temp Census Bureau Crew Leader winding down, it's time to polish up my other site, the "hire me cause I'm qualified" expose: Words Neatly Arranged.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
It's Your NYC Nanny Calling (Again)
"Hello? This is your nanny, New York City, calling. You've been a bad boy. You think as an adult, we're going to let you make choices for yourself? No sir, we know better." And the city is spending millions of taxpayer dollars to prove it.Since September, the NYC Board of Health has mandated that a series of repulsive "public service" posters insinuating that smoking will make your teeth fall out and fingers fall off, must be displayed at the cash register of any vendor selling smokes.
The city claims that smoking kills more New Yorkers than AIDS, drugs, homicide and suicide combined. But what about calories? Isn't that why they forced restaurants to post detailed food content information on POP signs last year?
Please, NYC, I am capable of deciding how I want to spend my money. Leave me the fuck alone and spend some money on restoring subway service—so I won't be so damn frustrated I want to pull out that ciggie.
P.S. Ronald Reagan died at the age of 91 from Alzheimers.
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