June 09, 2008

NYT Widget

Not that anyone reads this blog anymore, but the NYT has a very cool little tool that lets you create the following from any collection of RSS feeds:

Since there are tons of NYT Topic pages with RSS feeds on all sorts of subjects, this is pretty customizable. Plus, it's semi-open-to-the-public (in that I'm allowed to post this, and you're allowed to view the source and figure out how to add your own). A widget-building tool will be available to the public soon.

Posted by csageday at 12:32 PM | Comments (1)

June 05, 2008

Times Climber

So I looked up from my desk just after 11 or so today and saw a guy climbing up the outside of our building (I work on the 8th floor of the NYT building). He was about 20 feet away, moving steadily up the ladder-like metal rods that form an exterior next to the glass floor-to-ceiling windows. Just above our floor, he stopped to talk on his cell phone and tie a green banner (it said "Global warming kills more people than 9/11 every week.") to the metal rods. It was windy, so he spent a little time adjusting it.

By then, a crowd of NYTers had moved to the 8th floor window, and the construction workers across the street were all gawking. A coworker said it was Alain Robert -- the "climbing guy" who has done other stunts on skyscrapers. Someone said he was wearing climbing shoes and had chalk, but there was no safety equipment. City Room has more.

As we watched (I had to look away a couple of times -- sympathetic vertigo), some police officers arrived on our floor and started putting on climbing harnesses. There was talk of "glass cutting equipment", but Robert started moving again and the police went upstairs (they didn't end up cutting any glass). I hear that people were watching from the cafeteria on 14, and I guess he must have moved pretty quickly because he made it to the top (52 stories) and was arrested by about 12:30.

I headed downstairs just after that and people outside the port authority were confused (did someone jump? he climbed up and he's gonna jump? Was there another crane collapse?). 41st was closed off and there were police and guards everywhere.

Here's a video from someone who works on my floor. No boring days here!

I imagine I'll see someone come to take down the sign eventually. Maybe I should start bringing my camera to work, huh?

Update: ANOTHER person is treating the NYT building like a giant jungle gym. This time, it's on the 8th Ave. side and since it's rush hour, there are throngs of people outside the port authority staring up. This climber's t-shirt says "Malaria". Architectural flaw, perhaps?

Posted by csageday at 01:04 PM | Comments (0)

February 03, 2008

About the New Image Up Top

Sony Wonder Technology Lab, where D works, is undergoing a major redesign. Old exhibits are, sadly, part of the current demolition phase. The above photo is from the partly dismantled "Log In" area, and shows how the fiber optic star panels are put together. Long, thin strands of fiber optic cable are bundled to a light source at one end, and the individual strands poke through black fabric to create a "star field effect."

Update: If you're not seeing a new image and a black, white, and gray design instead of a green one, hit Shift+Refresh.

Posted by csageday at 11:29 PM | Comments (0)

March 19, 2007

Opera Collective

While walking through the tourist- and commuter-clogged Times Square subway station the other day, I came across a tenor from the Opera Collective singing solo. I couldn't help but stop and listen. It was wonderful, and all the more so because it was completely unexpected and in such an unusual setting. I'm not sure how often they sing in the subway (it's not without challenges: one listener approached the tenor mid-aria and seemed to want to start a conversation), but judging from the level of cash in the bucket, it was much appreciated. The group has some lovely mp3s on their web site, and I like their mission, which is "to make opera accessible and affordable to the general public by presenting engaging evenings of vocal music, including opera, art song, operetta and musical theatre." Nice.

Posted by csageday at 12:25 AM | Comments (0)

January 11, 2007

Sleepwalkers at MoMA: Sneak Preview

As D and I were heading up the escalator after a movie at MoMA tonight, we looked out the window and noticed very large images being projected on the exterior walls of MoMA in the sculpture garden. We looked for a while, admiring what we saw. We were curious about what it might be and hadn't seen it when we'd been to a MoMA movie the week before, so we knew it was new. We commented on the clarity of the picture and speculated about projectors.

After a minute or so I heard someone say D's name, and it turned out to be someone he'd worked with, and also someone who was helping to install this projected work (he'd seen D from the garden -- lucky for us, no?). He led us into the garden for a special tour. The picture we'd seen pieces of before stretched out across three surfaces -- there were four different projections going at once, and the building was acting as four giant screens. It's part of a new installation by Doug Aitken called Sleepwalkers that officially kicks off on Tuesday. The concept is great, the execution is really well done, and the film itself looked fascinating. The cinematography and color and tone of the scenes we saw were wonderful. I can't wait to see more, though I'll have to brave the cold to do so.

Scenes will also be projected on the front of the building (from a building across the street). It's a great comment on public and private space, as the images I saw were pretty private -- sleeping bodies in bedrooms, a detail of someone's hand, a close-up of something just seen from far away. The web site has more information on the story line. It seems like something very enjoyable to watch, although a bit complicated to watch (by design) since there are four different scenes playing on four different walls at once in the garden -- you can't possibly see all of them at once, so you have to participate and choose a narrative. I suppose you could watch it several times, focusing on a different screen or screens each time -- the possibilities are endless.

The concept also got us thinking about public art installations using projectors -- there are so, so many possibilities. There was an interesting piece in Union Square over the holidays, for instance. Bright stars were projected on the sidewalk from above -- when you walked through the space, your movement displaced the stars and flung them in all directions -- it was a bit like scattering pigeons. I wasn't in a great mood and was skeptical about the whole thing, but it was too fun to be annoying. It would be great to see an interactive experiment with a more serious theme and images that force you to either reconsider your surroundings or recognize your role in a larger urban landscape.

I'm jealous of the people who live in the building across the street from MoMA (the one with the semi-circular windows) -- they have a three-sided projection right out their window, and circular bay windows to watch it from (and it's WARM in there). Someone should have a party and charge admission.

Update: Somewhat related: there's an interactice LED project going on.

Posted by csageday at 11:19 PM | Comments (0)

December 23, 2006

A Prairie Home Christmas

Derek surprised me with a lovely Christmas present yesterday: tickets to last night's show of A Prairie Home Companion at The Town Hall. We were only a few rows back from the stage and it was a wonderful performance. Garrison Keillor is a gifted storyteller -- he doesn't use notes and stands right at the edge of the stage, gesticulating while elaborating on Lake Wobegone stories with his calm, measured tone and serious expression.

My favorite part was a funny "commissioned work" for "out of work instruments," during which a gong, piccolo, baritone saxophone, contrabassoon, and other neglected instruments performed a medley of Christmas pieces (the gong and piccolo provided a rather exaggerated emphasis at the end of each stanza). The ragtag musical bunch was hysterical.

The whole cast generally seems to be having a good time, and I felt like Garrison might be my wise, funny, sometimes-distracted grandfather. Odetta sang several songs -- her voice is so complex and grounding and beautiful. I felt very lucky to hear her sing in person.

The whole audience sang O Holy Night in both French and English, and then Silent Night in both German and English (my two favorite Christmas songs, btw). We were exhorted to sing in Polish by Walter Bobbie, but didn't manage much. The regulars on the show were so fun to watch, too -- now I finally know what they look like (and how they simulate telephone conversation)!

Posted by csageday at 11:08 PM | Comments (2)

November 08, 2006

The NYC Marathon

There's a lot of joy in running a marathon. A lot of pain and doubt and fear, too, but every time I go to watch the marathon at 4th avenue, I get a lump in my throat. It's just so emotional. Thousands of people of all abilities are doing this torturous, but very life-affirming thing. And with all of the cheering and music and sun, there's a lot of smiling. I never seem to be able to catch this well with a camera. And my reaction time is so slow that whenever I see a runner-in-costume, by the time I take a picture it's a side view and so fairly uninteresting. This year, I wandered down to 18th street and found a spot where people were waving at a camera suspended above them, which helped, but I still don't seem to be able to catch whatever it is I'm feeling in a photo.

Posted by csageday at 12:33 AM | Comments (0)

November 07, 2006

Vote Today

Can't seem to muster the energy to post anything here these days, but I don't want y'all to forget to vote. Here's a last minute voting guide for NYC. If you're elsewhere, the lovely Internet can help you find information.

Posted by csageday at 10:45 AM | Comments (0)

September 26, 2006

Indoor Opera, Outdoors

I had a lovely, unexpected experience after leaving work today. I wandered by Lincoln Center, noticed a screen and large banner announcing Madame Butterfly, and realized it was opening night at the Met. The plaza was full of people and press, and the screen meant that the opera would be broadcast live for an al fresco audience sitting outside. This is all thanks to Peter Gelb, the new general manager for the Met, I think (last week he let random people into rehearsal, and on 10/6 he's doing $25 tix for La Boheme).

A red carpet was set up for somebodies on their way inside, and I caught a glimpse of Baryshnikov walking by (his appearance generated spontaneous applause). I wasn't enough of a gawker to hang around just for the celebs, so I went to run an errand or two, and planned to come back for a bit of the opera later. On my way out, I saw a collection of gorgeous opening-night-appropriate opera attire -- gowns, shawls, and designer-wear of a much more tasteful variety than what I usually see over there. It was a little strange to find it on the sidewalk, mingling with normal people. I couldn't help but stare at some of the dresses I liked. One woman was standing on the corner dressed like a true Madame Butterfly aficionado -- she was wearing a kimono.

Later, on my way back, I could hear the tenor from a block away. I wandered into the plaza, found a decent spot to stand, and got completely drawn into the story.

The story goes like this: An American Navy officer visits Japan, becomes enchanted by a Geisha, and marries her. She takes the marriage seriously, he doesn't. He sails away, she waits for three years with his son, remaining faithful to the hope that he'll return to stay with her. He does return, but with a western wife, and you can imagine how heartbreaking the whole thing gets at the end. I had forgotten that the beginning is sad, too, though -- you know it's going to turn out badly for Butterfly from the start.

It's an impossibly sad story, and Puccini does a very good job at tearing out your heart with the music. I had seen the opera before, but this was a new production, and the new minimalist set brought the story into relief and focused more attention on the two main characters. Isolation, abandonment, and longing are all conveyed a bit better by a mostly dark set. Floating globes of light (maneuvered by invisible dancers) also did a good job of adding a surreal element to the scene.

Something about the music outdoors and the close-up of the action on stage -- and possibly just the unexpected nature of it all -- made everything very enjoyable than I think it might have been inside. I hope they do this again with another opera.

Posted by csageday at 12:38 AM | Comments (0)

August 27, 2006

Long Island?

We went to a wedding in Long Island yesterday, after which we drove up to Oyster Bay and Bayville, since we know nothing at all about Long Island and thought we should educate ourselves. We found a beach-side parking lot and strolled along the beach for a while in Bayville. Though it was a bit chilly, it was nice enough, but it seemed very odd that we were able to walk along a beach at 6:30 p.m. on a Saturday evening in August and see not one person. Nobody was grilling on a beach house porch, no couples were strolling along the beach. We just saw seagulls and a dying crab. Maybe everyone was on vacation in the Hamptons?

The circuitous drive back to the LIE took us by some very tony and secluded houses and some horse farms, which was entertaining, but I think we're still pretty clueless about the island.

In other news, friend and co-blogger Lloyd is now the father of a very cute Orlando. Orlando is joining the ranks of babies-that-Derek-and-Cindy know, along with Asher (who already has a blog), Keith, and Xander. Congrats Lloyd and Kathy!!

Posted by csageday at 10:38 PM | Comments (0)

June 27, 2006

Battery Park City

This is the walk we took on Sunday.

I had never been to Battery Park, so we started walking in that general direction after meeting friends for brunch in Tribeca. The path we followed falls into the category of places-in-New-York-I-should-know-about-but-don't. It's part of Battery Park City and is called, loftily, the Esplanade (map).

It's really well kept up and is embellished with benches, elaborate landscaping, observation points, a Water Taxi station, two mini-meadows, a high-end volleyball court, and a little harbor filled with boats. I'm pretty familiar with the path and piers along the West Side Highway, but I had no idea the walkway kept going--all the way to Battery Park. I also had no idea it was so tony. It feels a little like the people running past you with iPods might possibly be stockbrokers, and some of the boats in the harbor were larger than our apartment building.

It's a nice walk, though. It's right along the water, and all the extra money being spent on keeping things beautiful doesn't hurt. The Statue of Liberty, Jersey City, Ellis Island, and various sailboats and ferries are on view.

Derek said it reminded him of Disney--specifically, Epcot, where one might visit "New York" and see the Statue of Liberty in forced perspective. The railings and decks are newish and very clean, and there were a few Disney-appropriate tourists mulling about.

It doesn't quite have the old-school charm of the Brooklyn Heights Promenade or the Red Hook piers, but it's long on ammenities and is definitely the most polished of the three. And since I love being anywhere near the water, especially when it doesn't smell like sewage, I'll be back.

Posted by csageday at 12:05 AM | Comments (0)

June 24, 2006

Wave Hill

I've been reminded, again, that New York City is rather large, and has many, many hidden spaces that I do not know about. For example, Wave Hill. Wave Hill has popped up in a friend's Flickr photostream many times in connection with photos of his kids running down a grassy hill. Because I am an ignorant and poorly-informed New Yorker, I filed Wave Hill away in my brain as the name of a grassy hill somewhere in the Bronx that looks vaguely like a wave.

Later, a co-worker of Derek's got a job at Wave Hill, so I surmised that it might involve a bit more than a grassy hill. In fact, it's a "public garden and cultural center" that has been open to the public for 30 years.

Derek and I went there after work one day last week (the aforementioned friend invited us for a sunset gathering) and discovered that it's a beautiful spot. A former family estate, it includes several buildings, a horticulture center, gardens, a beautiful expanse of green grass with adirondack-like chairs placed in twos and threes, and a terrace overlooking the Hudson and the Palisades beyond. The view is fantastic, especially when the sun is setting. It feels a bit like the Cloisters -- it's quiet, private, old, and there's so much greenery that it feels luxurious after you've spent a sweltering day looking at Manhattan concrete.

The grass seemed so inviting that I took off my shoes. On a walk from one building to another, we saw two rabbits. Not rats, not pidgeons, but actual wild brown rabbits. The first one we saw was directly in our path and didn't seem fazed by our approach. I thought it was a strategically-placed sculpture, but then it hopped away, and we noticed another one in the bushes. I'm still kind of amazed by that.

As we walked around, Wave Hill kept getting more complicated and impressive. One of the buildings houses art installations, and a beautiful and quite large knitted chandelier is currently on display. It was felted to resemble dark green vines and drooping pink flowers, and I highly recommend a visit for any crafty New York-based readers. Other exhibits explore how we experience our environment through smell, sustainability, and birdsong (the birdsong one was installed in the surrounding trees). A big old stone house at one end of the property has some gorgeous trees out front with big wide trunks. Apparently Mark Twain had a treehouse in one of them once. Here's a bit of history, with a photo of the view.

A downpour sent us into the conservatory (see photo, from Wave Hill website), where we found hundreds of plants. I am still upset about forgetting my camera -- there were so many unusual plants in there. We found cacti with leaves arranged like a rose bloom, plants with peach fuzz, and plants that looked nothing like plants at all. The herb garden out back included many familiar spice names (think Indian spices) that we'd never really thought about as living plants. (There's lots of information on the Wave Hill site about the various gardens and plants.)

Here's the visiting info. In June and July, you can have dinner and watch the sunset on "Sunset Wednesdays." We got lazy and drove there, but you can take MetroNorth (it's a $3 ticket or something like that) and easily walk from the train station. Too bad it's not closer to Brooklyn!

Posted by csageday at 01:42 AM | Comments (3)

April 17, 2006

No Common Sense

Derek and I were driving from Brooklyn to Jersey on Saturday, and just as we pulled into the lane on the West Side Highway that leads to the Holland Tunnel, we noticed that a little triangle of cones indicated that it was blocked off. There were about five cars ahead of us, and to our right was a gas station. There was a convenient lane at the edge of the gas station (it was on a corner), which people seemed to be using, gingerly, to get into the Holland Tunnel entry road. I noticed one driver do this but Derek didn't. When we pulled up to the cones, I said, "Go ahead, you can use the gas station lane," so Derek did. Bad idea. A tall, mustachioed cop yelled "Whoa" and flagged us down like we were a car full of bomb-toting terrorists. I tried to counteract the talking-to by apologizing profusely:

Me: "I'm sorry -- it was my fault. I thought it was okay to use that lane. Is the tunnel closed?" [Okay, this is a tiny bit of a dumb blond routine and I'm trying to change the subject at the end there.]

Cop: [menacing look] "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Me: "We're trying to get to the tunnel -- I really thought it was okay to go that way."

Cop: "There could be 300 bodies in the road!"

Me: [I'm completely, utterly dumbfounded. Did he say 300 BODIES? Is this REAL? Not only the power trip, but the total attempt at instilling fear in a New Yorker with some thinly-veiled reference to a terrorist attack? Oh, and if there were 300 bodies somewhere, wouldn't there be more than 10 traffic cones and a cop with a mustache, flagging people by at random and harassing others? My line of thinking didn't get this far until later, actually. At the time I tried to look confused, to indicate that he didn't have a frightened Fox News watcher on his hands, and also to indicate that I am completely taken aback by this line of reasoning. 300 bodies, sir? Where exactly are you going with this?]

Cop: "Did it ever occur to you that I might have this road closed for a REASON?"

Me: [Complete silence. Now I'm just trying not to let the problem-with-authority portion of me get too affected. I'm also fighting impulses to stand up for myself for fear of being indefinitely imprisoned for non-American behavior in this Patriot Act state.]

Cop: "There's just no fucking common sense in this country anymore!"

[pause for dramatic effect]

"Turn around."

Derek: [possibly sensing my inability to respond at this point] "Yes, sir."

Now, I've always had difficulty dealing with cops. I'm scared of them. I've met some wonderful cops who have helped me out when I needed it, but whenever cops do this type of authoritarian fear-mongering, it completely messes with my head. Also, did I mention that the people using the gas station and passing through it were all being flagged by while we were being interrogated by Officer No-Common-Sense Mustache?

I was a blubbering mess all the way through the tunnel. Derek was unfazed and actually happy about not getting a ticket (he doesn't seem to have a cop complex). Still, this is a little absurd, no?

Posted by csageday at 09:28 PM | Comments (0)

February 14, 2006

The "Blizzard"

We sat inside and watched the snow like everyone else for most of the day, chuckling at the breathy "Blizzard of '06" coverage on the local networks. It was hardly worthy of blizzard status -- the ones we've had over the past decade have been much more impressive as far as snow build-up and heavy snowfall. This felt more like a windy regular snowfall. The mood of a snowy Sunday is great nonetheless -- you feel you can curl up inside and drink hot cocoa or knit or cook because how can you really be expected to go outside and get things done? Snow days are awesome. For some reason, the reprieve from responsibility to get things done spurred me to go to the gym for the first time in months. My mind works this way -- take away the pressure and things get done immediately.

Posted by csageday at 03:59 PM | Comments (0)

February 02, 2006

Penn Station is Ugly and Impossible to Navigate and I Hate It

Can I share my little nightmare-at-Penn-Station scenario? I was looking forward to a nice quiet train ride to Boston on Thursday. I had a ticket for the 6 p.m. train and I got to stinky slimy Penn with a half hour to spare. I looked at the board to see where to get on my train and no gate had been assigned to it or any other train in the next 20 minutes. So I figured I had time to go shopping. I browsed in the airport-style bookstore and as usual, became paralyzed by indecision. I was anxious about catching the train, but typically, I felt the stress might yield better shopping results, so I continued to browse. And it worked! I found a good gift for a friend. I also found a Boston map.

Then, since my nervous energy was bubbling up in my chest, I checked the time. 5:36. Time to check the board. I check the board, but at first glace it seems the same. I roll my eyes, look again. No, wait, it's not the same, there's one train boarding and it's mine. Shit. Gate 9E. Where the hell are the gates? I see a sign and start walking in that direction. I get to the huge NJ Transit area and see tons of people waiting around. I see signs for gates 1-5 and 10-11, but no 9. There are two huge stairways in the middle of the waiting area. I look for signs. There isn't a fucking sign anywhere about where they lead to, but everyone's going down them and I figure it's worth a try. Bad move. I go down, see only NJ trains, and have to lug my luggage back up again. I look around wildly now, hoping there's someone official-looking I can ask for help. No. Then I spot a little sign saying gates 9-10. Someone is checking tickets. Yes! I get in line, a guy checks my ticket, and I go down the escalator. I get on the train under the 9E sign, and start walking through each car looking for seats. There are only double seats, and it seems like poor etiquette to sit directly next to someone, so I look for my own row. It takes me the length of the train to find a place, but finally I do. I'm sweaty and tired. I haul my suitcase up to the luggage rack and collapse into my seat.

Seconds later, the conductor starts the departure announcement: "Train 2320 is about to depart. If you are not traveling on this train, please get off. This train will make stops at Newark..." Newark? That's an odd stop for a train going to Boston. "...Baltimore..." Okay, now I'm freaked out and I start to grab my stuff. Thinking that I followed the rules, though, I ask someone where the train's ending up -- she can't hear me. I say it again, loud. "D.C." It must be almost 6 now. There are people standing up in the aisle, just standing there, so I have to fight my way off, bumping and shoving and explaining myself. Once on the platform, there are no stairs or conductors in sight at first. Then I see one stepping off the train, so I yell, "Where's the Boston train?" He looks confused and says, “Uh, about two platforms over?”

I'm completely fucking panicked now. I hate Penn station. How the hell to they make getting on to a god damned train so difficult? Grand Central handles it beautifully. There is a sense of calm, and the architecture lends historical perspective to your trip. The ceiling is beautiful and the main hall is majestic. If you miss your train, you can go to the oyster bar and drown your sorrows with a Bloody Mary and some clam chowder. There are classy stores where successful business people can buy gourmet food and educational wooden toys from Holland. At Penn, everyone exudes disgust. It's like the station froze in time in 1979, when the city was dirty and ugly and people hated each other. The lighting is depressing, it's crowded to the point of feeling like a rush hour train in some spots, and everything is gray. There are airport-type chain stores lining the halls. Bad neon signage makes thing look sad and impersonal. The layout makes no sense -- there's some sort of huge column right in the middle of the place that you have to walk around. Depressed, frustrated people mill about. There are lines. It feels like a maze, or a rat cage. People gather around the announcement board waiting to be assigned a gate, their heads tilted back, staring.

So, on the wrong platform, I run toward anything that might be a stairway. I find an escalator going the wrong way. I feel like I'm losing precious time. Finally, I find stairs. I pick up my luggage, which is now starting to feel extremely heavy, and heave myself upstairs. At the top, again, there are NO signs indicating anything useful. I find a TV with departures, though, and stare at it hard. Boston. 5E. I want to make sure this time. Boston... 5E. Okay. I'm at 11 now. I see no 5. I run the other way. I see "Gates 4-5" in a small sign, not like the others. But the entrance under the sign has an escalator going the WRONG WAY. I briefly consider running down it, but think that with luggage that might be a bad idea. I'm in some sort of underground nightmare scenario. I move to the other side of the tunnel and find another 4-5 sign, thankfully with stairs. I run down it like a maniac and ask the train people, breathlessly, "Boston?" They say yes. I'm a complete mess. I can barely get on the damn thing. My face must be beet red. Such a close call. Once on the train I ask a passenger again, just to make sure, if this is indeed the Boston train. She nods. I find a seat and spend approximately the first 30 minutes of the train ride recovering, hoping my next-door-neighbors don't think I'm an idiot because I'm red and sweaty and seem to be coughing a little too often for comfort. Oy.

Next time, I am not, under any circumstance, to go shopping, and I'm going to ask the conductor where the train is going before I get on.

Posted by csageday at 03:53 PM | Comments (0)

January 15, 2006

Roosevelt Island Subway Stop

I tend to have subway accidents when I'm tired or inebriated. Either I miss Jay street on the A and have to endure a 12-minute non-stop express ride to Bed Sty, or I forget to transfer to the F from the B or D and end up at Pacific Street. I endure these lapses of consciousness nonchalantly, pretending to purposefully travel 20 minutes out of the way. I usually notice just as the doors are closing at my transfer stops, but god forbid I should curse and run to a closing door at the last minute -- no, one must read one's New Yorker as if nothing has happened and get off at the next stop, even if it's 12 minutes away and means you'll be waiting 20 minutes for a train to take you back.

This happened to me on Friday, because I had a wee bit of beer and was exhausted, and was paying too much attention to my new camera to notice that the train I was getting on was going uptown, not down (it wasn't my usual station). Since I was still obsessing about the camera at the next stop, I didn't notice my mistake until I was at a completely unfamiliar station: Roosevelt Island. It felt like my train had suddenly beamed itself to Washington D.C. or Staten Island. The station is full of chrome and is devoid of the usual tile. I got off and found myself in an echoey, nearly empty station, and since I was feeling creative (beer does that), I took some pictures.

I have yet to get to the actual island (we're planning to do that sometime soon since we know some people who live there), but this is a start.

Update: Here's a little history on the station.

Posted by csageday at 12:42 PM | Comments (0)

January 12, 2006

Swan Lake

If you ever have the chance to see Wendy Whelan dance a ballet, please take it. We saw Swan Lake (NYT Review, photo, NYCB schedule) on Tuesday and she was breathtaking as Odette. She was extremely swan-like, floating over the stage with smooth, fluttering arms and perfect form. The scenes with a stage-full of swans are also mesmerizing -- the dancers weave in and out of formation, moving together and then gracefully breaking off to form undulating patterns and sad nocturnal dances (the story involves an evil sorcerer who turns women to swans --they become human again at night and dance in the woods). Derek was also very taken with Tschaikovsky's score. It shifts quite a bit between upbeat, fast tempos and slower music (there's a harp to accompany the swans), and seems to have inspired a great many movies scores (Harry Potter most recently, perhaps).

Posted by csageday at 09:57 PM | Comments (0)

December 22, 2005

Ridiculous

If out-of-towners are wondering about the strike, it sucks. I can't finish Christmas shopping and we sat in traffic with 5 people in my car for 3 hours last night.

Carpooling isn't all that bad, of course -- I've gotten loads of homemade cookies out of it from my passengers, and I've gotten to work very early, which is nice.

I will be doing my usual last-minute panic wrapping and buying during the next 24 hours, and I'll be recovering after that, so I won't be posting much.

Here's wishing my loyal readers a fantastic, happy, non-strike-affected holiday -- thanks for checking in.

Posted by csageday at 11:26 PM | Comments (3)

December 11, 2005

Holiday Happenings

On the holiday front, I have made it through the phase of Christmas shopping where I browse for hours and buy nothing. I've moved on to the phase where I buy and buy and buy with hardly a thought about whether a gift is suitable for the recipient or not. This I blame on all of the holiday candy that has appeared in our apartment. We have party leftovers: fudge, cheesecake, and gingerbread. We also have sugar cookies and baklava from Derek's annual pilgrimage to Sahadi's. And we're planning to make more fudge and sugar cookies shortly. I'm on a sugar high. I blame the bad gifts on the sugar. And Christmas-is-two-weeks-away panic. Last year, I started early and managed not to BUY so much. I also asked everyone else not to buy so much, to avoid all of the unnecessary commercialism and waste. This year, there's so much going on that I've fallen into some old bad habits -- mainly buying stuff because I can't be bothered with finding substitutes (like museum memberships, tickets, donations, etc.). I did buy books from the used bookstore, and I'll get tickets to something, but I have not been as good as I was last year.

I also have a chronic habit of buying way too much for two people on my list. My mother (because she has reminded me of four thousand things she might like to have, and I know what she likes, so everything jumps out at me as a possible Mom gift), and Derek's almost-one-year-old nephew Xander (toys and baby clothes are just irresistible). Luckily, Xander's birthday is December 26th, so I have an excuse.

Today, thanks to Derek's superior knowledge of discount shopping in the city (if there were a degree offered in this area, he would be a good candidate), we shopped ourselves silly at Pearl River -- a chinese department store on Broadway and Canal. I had never been but I think it will be a standard holiday shopping destination from now on. It has aisles full of great stocking stuffers -- art deco alarm clocks, fancy chop stick sets, unusual Asian candy, slippers, bowls, etc. It was fun just to walk through the place and gawk. I bought a new teapot, which I hopefully will not lose the whistler for and burn to a crisp. We visited a favorite Chinatown restaurant afterwards -- Vegetarian Dim Sum House, for corn cimcheecongee (great corn soup) and dumplings.

Posted by csageday at 11:36 PM | Comments (5)

December 05, 2005

Jingle Bell Rock

My brother Nick and I officially kicked off the holiday season with city holiday activities on Friday. The first stop, naturally, was to see the Rockefeller Center tree, of which my brother is an avid fan. We took pictures and had our pictures taken (by NBC photographers who later sold us prints for exhorbitant sums), watched the skaters in the rink, and did a little shopping. The atmosphere was festive and the tourists were out (there seemed to be a good deal of midwestern holiday camaraderie), but it wasn't too crowded.

Next stop, the Top of the Rock -- the newly opened observation deck at the top of 30 Rockefeller Center. The access is very organized -- you are assigned a specific 15 minute interval in which to show up, watch a couple of videos, then shoot up seven stories in an elevator with a glass ceiling (nice touch). At the top, there are three levels and the 360-degree views are fantastic. It was quite windy at the second level (the uppermost one was closed because of the wind), which added a little drama, but there are tall plexiglass barriers all around so you don't have to worry about falling to your death amid skating tourists below.

I had been itching to go to Top of the Rock ever since those vintage photos of art deco detail and tourists in the 1950s started appearing in ads. It did not disappoint. There's something gratifying (and exhilirating) about seeing the city from above -- you get a sense of the immensity of New York and the tremendous collective effort it has taken to build. It's also beautiful to look at. I kept jumping up and down like a kid when I got off the elevator. It was a little ridiculous. (Lots more photos are on Flickr.)

Next, Derek hosted us at the very well-appointed and comfortable (I'm so jealous) Sony Commissary. I miss fancy corporate cafeterias with made-to-order pasta. Damn non-profits! We also wandered around Sony Wonder for a while since I hadn't seen the redesigned second floor (shameful, I'm told, given the blood, sweat, and tears that D has put into it over the past few years), checked out the employees-only Sony Family Store, and visited the public Sony store downstairs.

Finally, we spent the afternoon wandering through the Union Square holiday market. I always spend an inordinate amount of time in there and emerge with very little, possibly since it's so damned cold. It helps when there's hot cider to be had from the greenmarket.

Posted by csageday at 10:49 PM | Comments (0)

November 26, 2005

Russia! and MoMA

Yesterday, along with half of the European tourists and art fans in the city, Mom and I visited the "Russia!" exhibit at the Guggenheim. I know nothing about Russian art (and my art critiquing skills are pathetic) but I do have a minor Russia fetish, and the portraits in the ads looked fascinating. Despite the crowds and a little post-Thanksgiving exhaustion, I enjoyed what we saw, and I also got reacquainted with the great upward spiraling exhibit space in the Guggenheim building.

The 18th century portraits were vivid and complex. In some ways they capture the subject's character more than modern day photography does. The play of light, the facial expression and pose, and the exquisite detail convey both the sitter's personality and the moment the artist is trying to capture. They're wonderful to look at. The detail in the fabric of a sitter's dress or shawl can be mesmerizing.

A few of the portraits we liked: Tropinin's portrait of his son (great light, evocative of a certain part of childhood), a profile of Catherine II and one of her in "traveling clothes" (she looks benevolent, proud, and resolute in each, like a proper empress), Briullov's Portrait of Countess Julia Samoilova (great dress, great scene), Nikitin's Portrait of a Field Hetman, and Rubens' Head of a Franciscan Monk. The portrait that has been on the cover of most ads -- Kramskoy's Unknown Woman is also fantastic.

One thing that was missing from the exhibit is a collection of communist party propaganda. True, it's political and not the expression of one artist, but the clear message and high contrast and drama of it is a huge part of Russia's pop culture of the last century. Many modern Russian artists worked on those posters, too. It would have been interesting to see some of the more interesting pieces, but then again it might have been out of place.

Since I'm on the subject of museums, I should mention that museum memberships make fantastic holiday gifts. I got one for Mom last year and we used it to spend the day at MoMA last month. It was great -- while she was waiting for me she picked up a gift membership for me (thanks Mom!) and we were able to visit the "SAFE: Design Takes On Risk" exhibit before it opened to the public. MoMA also put me in a really great mood. The Design and Architecture wing was full of modern design innovations -- there were Eames chairs and Apple products and a chandelier made out of broken dishes. The photography wing is too small for my taste (too much of the good stuff stays in storage), but it's full of fantastic classic photos.

Overall, MoMA left me with a desire to talk about what I saw and to be more creative. It wasn't overwhelming or overly exhausting. The exhibits of recent art were also impressive -- there was a room full of TVs (~120 of them) functioning as a huge self-portait of an artist. They had been positioned throughout the artist's house to tape every part of his daily routine -- from making toast to working on a project to sleeping. It was an introspective, intimate display of the the artist's private life -- the quiet and solitude of living alone was very familiar. There was also a collection of portraits of four sisters over a thirty year period. As you approach it, you're not aware that all of the photos are of the same women -- they change so much. All of the portraits are so well done that it's kind of a tour de force -- you see dramatic changes and a collective aging, but not at the expense of the individual personality of each woman, if that makes any sense.

At both MoMA and the Guggenheim, we had very pleasant lunches at the museum cafes -- cucumber soup at MoMA and mortadella sandwiches at the Guggenheim. Both cafes seem to have "ladies' lunch" fare -- wine, soup, sophisticated sandwiches, so we always feel quite civilized and satisfied and refreshed, like proper museum-going cosmopolitan ladies.

Posted by csageday at 03:55 PM | Comments (0)

November 15, 2005

Whole Clothing

I meant to post this a while ago but forgot. A little eco-friendly clothing section is now open inside the Time Warner Center Whole Foods (where the wine used to be). A lot of smaller organic or eco-friendly brands that I recognize from the web are there (Blue Canoe, Green Babies). I'm usually too cheap to buy anything from those vendors, but I always follow the shopping links from Treehugger just in case I'll find an alternative to H&M and The Gap. Now I can browse through everything at once AND try it on. It's still pretty expensive, but I might buy some of the baby stuff (I love the "Give Peas a Chance" onesie) or find Christmas presents there.

Posted by csageday at 10:46 PM | Comments (0)

November 12, 2005

Cars in the City

D will probably be thrilled about this plan to charge drivers for driving in Manhattan. He has been talking about a car-free city for years. And as much as I get a rush from driving in New York (I like the no-rules, anything-goes, agressive driving, but don't worry Mom, I participate in SAFE ways, really), there are too many cars in the city. There's just no room. And the air quality is bad enough. If we could improve the bus system and get rid of some cars, we'd have a plan worth considering. Oh, and let's introduce Smart Cars! Please? I love those things. Mom and I came across one in the SAFE: Design Takes On Risk exhibit at MoMA and it was adorable. In Rome, we found whole blocks of Smart Cars parked vertically (as in, not bumper-to-bumper, but side to side since they're short enough to do that).

One more thing while we're on the subject of cars in the city -- there's a new car service that uses hybrids only: OZOcar. Seems a little high-end for us, but maybe there will be a lower-end spin-off. We've seen a few VW car services around -- so there's definitely interested in our neighborhood in non-Lincoln Town Car options.

Posted by csageday at 12:40 PM | Comments (0)

October 21, 2005

Car Talk

I have an excuse for being a pathetic blogger, really I do. All of my free evening time has lately been spent giving this a (phase I) redesign, and it's getting another (phase II) redesign shortly, so my readership may dwindle from 2 to 1 (not counting evil comment spamming bots). Also, I had to take my car in to get inspected last night, and that took, as usual, about four times as much time the mechanic said it would when I brought the car in.

As a car owner in New York City, I've had various NYC car-related experiences. I've had a nasty note left on my windsheild. I've gotten parking tickets for things I haven't done, fought them, and lost. I'm familiar with holidays like "Shemini Atzereth," which allow me to keep my current parking spot longer than 10 minutes. Finally, I frequent places like gas stations, car washes, and, most frighteningly, auto repair garages. I would avoid them completely if the state and federal governments didn't require an annual $37 inspection.

It's somewhat embarrassing. I've owned my car for 6 years and my father used for fix and sell cars for a living, but I am clueless about the innards of my Chevy Lumina. Each time I'm forced to interact with someone who does, I vow silently to myself that I will enroll in some sort of Automotive Basics 101 course so I won't feel so helpless the next time around. I never do. When a mechanic explains what needs to be fixed, I try really hard to understand what's going on, but I can barely hold up my end of the conversation. I always end up paying lots of money.

For instance, last night, I walked in to Pep Boys and asked for an inspection. I remembered to bring the registration and everything. I asked how much it would cost. $37.

Then, when I came back to pick it up, I found out that my car had failed.

"The brakes need an adjustment," they say. "Why?" I ask. "Blah blah brake pads blah blah [gesticulating] blah blah parking brake blah adjustment blah blah could kill some children," they say.

Honestly, it ended with "could kill some children," said with a completely straight face. I stare, trying not to laugh, trying to seem concerned. I also try to come off like I know my car so well that the "blah blah parking brake" couldn't possibly be the problem. I thought we'd gotten "the brakes done" recently, and I know I wrote a hefty check to have some other part NEAR the brakes replaced a couple of months ago. I try hard to remember some jargon from those adventures, but "rotor" wasn't the right word, and my Dad kindly sheparded me through the part replacement, having a grand old time with his friends at the garage all the while.

So I throw up my hands (mechanic-style) and say, "But I thought we just did that! We just got that.... uh, that THING replaced."

The mechanic stares. I start describing the THING.

"It's, you know, that metal bar that connects...[here I realized I have no idea what it connects to]...I mean, that's in the back. It's, like, a metal rod? [I use my hands to convey "metal rod" here, expecting that my vague image of it might help things along.] I think we, um, dealt with the brakes too?"

"Did you have the brakes replaced?" mechanic guy asks.

"Uh, no, but, um...." I say. I debate calling Dad or Derek for backup. Then I give in. "How much will it cost?" I ask.

This is how all my conversations with automechanics go. It's humiliating, because I have no idea if I actually need whatever I've been told I need.

One time, when my battery died while parked (we left an interior light on), I called AAA to get a restart. Some very shady-looking guys came over, made a suspiciously lame attempt to start it with one of those charger things, and gave up. They needed to "bring it in" -- which is automechanic speak for "this chick knows nothing about cars, let's convince her she needs to buy stuff she doesn't need." (Next time I'm calling a friend for the jump.)

Years ago, with my previous car -- a station wagon -- some Exxon guys tried hard to convince me that if I drove another foot all four tires would blow. "I wouldn't leave this garage," they said, raising an eyebrow. I'm very proud that I had the confidence to leave that garage and get just one tire replaced at the Sunoco next door. But still, I barely know what I'm talking about, so I'm easy prey. While Pep Boys is much more reputable and I probably did need the brakes adjusted last night, this is based completely on trust, and I'm still suspicious.

For twenty minutes, I sat in one of those greasy garage waiting rooms staring at an army recruitment brochure holder that said "MONEY!" in huge font and "The Army Reserve" in tiny font. Then, it came to me.

"It was the stabilizer bar!" I say triumphantly to the mechanics standing around.

"Oh," one says.

Apparently this is unrelated. Still, a shred of my self-confidence is restored.

Later, another mechanic rolls out one of my tires to show me a nail clearly embedded in it. I'm releived to hear that only adds another $15 to my bill, but I say, "Those tires are new!" and get a pained expression on my face. I roll my eyes and look around indignantly, like maybe they'll give me a refund or something. I thought they might be new, sort of. It seemed like the right thing to do. I can't shake the urge to try to be one of the boys, ridiculously inappropriate as that may be.

Anyway, as a result of last night's adventure at Pep Boys, I'm on a crusade to get another course introduced to the standard high school curriculum (in addition to Personal Finance 101): Automechanics 101: How to Change a Tire, Change the Oil, Jump Start the Car, and Talk to Mechanics. This may not be necessary in Des Moines, but it should probably be incorporated into the Regents exams for New Yorkers. Listening to episodes of Car Talk on NPR just isn't doing the trick.

Posted by csageday at 12:23 AM | Comments (1)

October 13, 2005

Dream, Dream, Dream

Although we missed the Laurie Anderson opening, we were invited to a screening of her hour-long high-definition film "Hidden Inside Mountains" at the Sean Kelly gallery last night. We drank wine and nibbled at chicken-on-a-stick and tried our best not to stand out like sore thumbs while Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson and friends circulated about before and after the screening. We didn't know a soul and didn't feel like risking mortal embarrassment by talking to anyone. Other than that it was fun pretending to mingle with the artsy folk. The film itself was beautiful and largely abstract, sometimes with English and Japanese text (haiku) superimposed. Anderson plays with shadows, movement, and language, and there are plenty of self-reflexive references to art and film and spectatorship. I would love to see it again.

The entire exhibit, along with the film, arose out of a series of dreams that LA was having. There's a large book with illustrations of dreams and simple written explanations. The centerpiece of the show is a looping film of a dream-like scene in a dark room that includes LA herself watching the scene in the foreground.

In "Hidden Inside Mountains", one scene in particular reminded me of sick dreams I used to have when I was little. In these dreams, my body is gigantic -- blown completely out of proportion (I can only see part of it at a time) -- and my skin is unnaturally smooth and blank. I'm like a cartoon or a parade float. Something about the vision is grotesque and wrong. (In retrospect, it makes sense: I was projecting an image of myself that reflected how physically wrong I felt at the time. The repulsion I felt was the nausea.) The scene that reminded me of this in the film is of a man dressed in white. He lies down in front of two perpendicular screens -- as he does so, you notice that a camera on the floor near his head is transmitting real time video to the two screens. Once he's lying down, he opens and shuts his eyes, and a grotesquely large image of his head fills each screen. It was disturbingly familiar to me. It works as a metaphor for dreaming while at the same time clearly evoking that sense of distortion and dislocation you sometimes feel in a dream. There's also the sense of being both in the dream (at the mercy of it) and outside of it (aware that you're dreaming) at the same time.

After drinking a reasonable amount of free wine, we wandered through the meat packing district throngs, aimlessly looking for something worthy of a post-gallery visit with famous people. Pastis was packed with people from out of town. Another place required cash and we didn't have any, so we started walking south. I had no idea where Fatty Crab was, but it appeared out of the blue so we got to try it sooner than expected. The menu is one of the more unusual ones I've seen. For starters, we had quail egg shooters (good if you like raw quail eggs -- not sure I'd do that again) and an oyster omlette. The omlette had a nice sauce on top and had a bite -- Derek liked it more than I did. Both of the entrees we had were great: slow cooked pork ribs in delicious sauce for Derek, and "Nasi Lemak" -- coconut rice with chicken curry and a poached egg -- for me. The meat was falling off the bone in both dishes, and sides on mine were good, too. Interesting side note: The waitstaff was all male, young, and damn good-looking (Derek mentioned it -- I was just quietly enjoying the scene).

Posted by csageday at 12:00 AM | Comments (0)

October 07, 2005

Open House Heaven

Real estate voyeurs unite! Open House New York is this weekend (thanks Rose). Here are the Brooklyn listings. Last year, we went to the top of Grand Army plaza (after waiting in line for a while), which was very cool. This year, I'm interested in seeing the inside of the Montauk Club in Park Slope. I passed by the building on my way to the Brooklyn Museum last Saturday and caught a glimpse of a very tony party inside -- I saw a few 60s style cocktail outfits and thought the gathering resembled something more suitable at the Colony Club or some private Upper East side ballroom. It could have been a wedding, but it had a very exclusive society club atmosphere, so my curiosity is peaked. The Brooklyn Historical Society might be worth a visit, too. More details.

By they way, I love this photo from RedKen.

Posted by csageday at 02:43 PM | Comments (0)

September 30, 2005

Swanky Stationers

High-end stationary stores are such a throwback to an earlier, pre-internet age. I spent my lunch break recently walking around Lincoln Stationers, near Lincoln Center. It's the kind of store that is thrilling for anyone with a passing interest in writing, and it completely turned my mood around. Every possible type of writing utensil, paper, or related paraphernalia is available and elegantly displayed.

There are rows of leather-bound journals, fancy notecards, and every possible color of standard paper. Two entire floors are filled with things that I would buy if I could think of any practical reason for owning them. European-style notebooks, which I love, are available with solid, graph, or lined paper. Office supplies of the sort that might appear in an Upper East Side antique writing desk are plentiful -- custom paper clips, specialty envelopes, etc. There was large display of little wooden cubby holes with at least a hundred types of pens, and another wall had larger cubby holes filled with folders and binders. There are scrapbooks, frames, and beautiful calendars.

The effect of browsing in a store like this is that I begin to feel inspired to write something -- anything. The sheer volume of pens and paper is intimidating. On the other hand, I'm not sure that anything I could write (or my handwriting) would be worthy of the paper I would be writing on. It's always so much more perfect on the shelf. I felt that I should have a regular correspondence with some Rich Ladies Who Lunch, so I might have a valid reason to send out little green "Thank You" cards. I mean, why is my social life so lacking that I have no use for thin decorative paper printed with blue and green polka-dots and costing a fortune?

Despite the inferiority complex, I managed to leave with a very swanky (but reasonably-priced) little journal. I highly recommend visiting your local upscale stationary store -- it's mecca for crafty people who know what to do with polka-dotted paper, and it's inspiring for the rest of us. I mean, why go to Staples and Office Depot (unfailingly decorated with large steel shelving and concrete) when you can pretend to be a Rich Lady Who Lunches (And Writes Elegant Thank You Notes)?

Posted by csageday at 12:56 AM | Comments (1)

September 28, 2005

Fall Foliage

If you like heading upstate during fall to see the trees turning all sorts of colors, check out this site, which tracks the "percentage of color change" throughout New York State in a handy little map. They also have a leaf guide, which I might print and take to Prospect Park (D and I were starting at a beautiful tree in the park the other day -- I'll post a photo eventually -- but we had no clue what kind of tree it was. Seems like I should be old enough to know these kinds of things).

Posted by csageday at 12:00 PM | Comments (0)

September 26, 2005

NYT Says Rent

Remember when I was obsessing over buying vs. renting? Well, the New York Times has vindicated our decision. So there.

BTW, Derek's favorite blog is sadly not Blue Sage, but this: The Housing Bubble 2.

Posted by csageday at 01:53 PM | Comments (0)

September 19, 2005

Negativlandland

A trip to Disneyworld is scheduled for D and me in November (it's a family affair). I have mixed feelings about it. I'm thinking I have to see this Negativlandland exhibit before I go.

In celebrating their 25th anniversary, the "culture jamming" and collage group Negativland parodies the theme park, catapulting us into deconstructed attractions of the gallery as entertainment destination in the exhibition, Negativlandland.

Posted by csageday at 08:55 PM | Comments (1)

Smart Art

It's fall and while we're still dressing, acting, and eating like it's the middle of summer, the rest of the city is getting on with it. Fashion week came and went, there were elections, and the art world is doing it's thing, with exhibits opening and whatnot. I'm never ready for fall when it gets here. It's the season where everyone comes home from vacation and does something really productive. People start school or big projects or have art shows, and I'm always sitting there, going, "can we spend one more weekend at the beach?" I'm a little slow.

Anyway, this week was art gallery week for Derek and me. Clay and his wife, Rie, are both currently showing artwork at Planet Thailand in Williamsburg. We went to the opening (pdf) on Tuesday and had a great time drinking free beer and wine (perhaps a bit too much) and chatting up whoever happened to be nearby. The impressions of two manhole covers in New Orleans that Clay did just before the hurricane were there ("Alarm" and "Water"), along with some larger pieces and some digital animation from Rie (all intriguing and worth a look, here's a description (pdf)). I tend to take pictures when I'm drunk -- here are a couple from that night.

Derek has also been helping out with the Laurie Anderson exhibit, since a Sony projector is involved. We missed that opening but are thinking of stopping by some other time.

Other exhibits we might see are The Obsessive Drawing exhibit at the American Folk Art Museum (seems like doodling gone mad, or, what your absent-minded meeting/phone drawings might have been, had you quit your job and concentrated on them for a month) and the Russia! Exhibit at the Guggenheim.

Posted by csageday at 01:20 AM | Comments (3)

August 05, 2005

Are You Still Here?

While I'm off communing with leeches and loons upstate, entertain yourselves with juste milieu. JM can happily rant about everyone who annoys her because she was smart enough to make her blog anonymous. God, I should start one of those. Man, I have stories to tell. btw, somewhere in the JM archives there's a post about moving into Williamsburg a decade ago -- before the hipster invasion. WB has never really appealed to me -- I'm much too attached to brownstones and trees and the Coop, but the post might be interesting to fellow WB alumni (or residents).

Posted by csageday at 06:14 PM | Comments (0)

July 15, 2005

Plastic Bags and the One Tonne Challenge

I was psyched to read about a possible tax on plastic bags in the city, and even more happy to read the most of the people commenting also support it. I have been waging my own "I don't need a bag" campaign against delis and other stores for years. Even for larger stuff, I usually have a canvas bag on hand to use instead. Despite these efforts (and even despite doing all my grocery shopping at the Coop sans plastic bags), I still have a large stash of used bags at home that I can't seem to get rid of. It's amazing how wasteful we are with these things.

Also on the eco front, I'm envious of the One Tonne Challenge happening up north (Yarn Harlot mentioned it today). Canadians are working to reduce emissions in a big way to keep their Kyoto promise. There should be a coordinated stateside effort to do the same thing in spite of the current administration's Kyoto snub.

The suggestions in the little booklet are great -- some are obvious, some not. Try carpooling, turning off the lights when you're not using them, don't let the car idle. Choose the green energy alternative (ahem, Derek, ahem). Buy local produce -- it's fresh, it's in season, it did not burn jet fuel to get to your table. Collect rainwater to water the plants, etc. I'm familiar with many of the suggestions, but getting the word out to everyone else in this oil-greedy country might be nice. People often think they are saving energy one way or another -- maybe they buy organic food or use an incandescent bulb -- but usually the case is that the extra fridge or minivan they use is more than canceling out their effort.

The Canadian booklet has numbers and a method for keeping track, so it goes beyond creating awareness. There are tips about cleaning the refrigerator seal and using a different dryer setting -- all good reminders that actually make a difference. We recently had our car fixed up and the difference in fuel efficiency is significant.

At least we New Yorkers can look forward to hybrid taxis in the near future, given that the beaurocrats stop whining about legroom (oh please! -- don't beurocrats ride buses or airplanes or F trains? Give us the hybrids already!).

Posted by csageday at 12:09 AM | Comments (2)

July 14, 2005

Governor's Island

I like islands.

City Island is highly recommended, but I've never been. ForgottenNY has some good City Island photos.

I've wanted to go to Roosevelt Island forever simply because there's a tram ride involved, but we never seem to get around to it.

Governor's Island has the appeal of a ghost town, but it hasn't been open to the public until recently. This Saturday, an art show called "Set and Drift" is opening there. I love these photos of the abandoned spaces on the island, so maybe this is good excuse to get my ass out there. There's a ferry and everything (I also like boats).

Posted by csageday at 01:00 AM | Comments (3)

June 22, 2005

I Ran the Corporate Challenge and It Didn't Kill Me

Today, despite my inability to adapt to long-distance running of any sort, I managed to 1) find the courage to wear the headband outfit, 2) go to the starting line, and 3) run the entire race WITHOUT STOPPING.

The running at the gym -- infrequent though it may be -- must have helped. I still don't have any desire to put on running clothes and head to Central Park voluntarily, but given a clear strategy and some cheerleading, I can run a race-for-non-running-people (like the Corporate Challenge) any day.

D had done one of these before and told me to keep it nice and slow or I would burn out around mile 2. I kept it slow. Walking people passed me at one point. But I didn't stop. Derek cheered me on at mile 3 (Lloyd, Clay where were you?) and then ran faster than me (argh) in business clothes just to be at the finish line to cheer me on again. A bit embarrassing -- kind of like your mom showing up at track practice saying, "Honey, wait!! You forgot your blue gatorade! You're doing great!" -- but he told me at mile 3 that it was downhill to the finish so I could speed up a bit. Which was nice, because as much as I can't stand the endless running I do like to sprint. Take that, fast finance and publishing people.

Which reminds me, the range of corporate team T-shirts was interesting. One said: "T-shirt: $5, New running shoes: $89; Monthly gym membership: $105; Getting out of work before 7PM: Priceless." The MTA one said something about "running for over 100 years," and one team had shirts AND matching running shorts. Can't remember the other shirts, though they were all clever in a that tame, corporate marketing kind of way, so you're not missing much. The running (and subsequent beer to, um, replenish carbs?) has done something to my brain.

Posted by csageday at 11:25 PM | Comments (1)

June 19, 2005

Phildanco, Love Camp 7, and Lamahjun

It reeeeeally smells like summer in our apartment right now. Specifically, it smells like our house upstate when there's a big fire going in the fireplace (our neighbors downstairs are grilling something and we have the window open). I think just about every grill in the country is probably being pressed into use today. For Father's Day, we're heading out to Jersey for a cookout of our own, which means we'll miss Seventh Heaven -- the big annual Park Slope 7th Avenue street fair. I got a mug that cracked and a too-small "Breuklyn" tee-shirt last year (and I ate a crepe that I shouldn't have), so maybe this is for the best.

Last night, we saw Phildanco at the bandshell (Celebrate Brooklyn) but missed the first part because a) we forgot about it and b) they wouldn't let me in with a can of Coke. I find this rule to be idiotic. Beer cans I understand -- they don't want rioting drunken idiots crashing the party, even though everyone sneaks wine in anyway and the only rioting going on is by five-year olds catching lightning bugs -- but the Coke can thing pissed me off. Can't they ease up a bit? This isn't an airport. Plus, they almost lost our (small, $6) contribution by doing that. We watched from outside for a bit but the show was hard to see from there so I eventually finished my Coke (don't ask my why I was drinking a Coke in the first place -- very unlike me) and we went inside. The show was great -- it was a very energetic, feel-good, celebrate-life type of performance, and since it wasn't too well attended we snagged some pretty good seats up front.

After that, we headed to Parkside Lounge on Houston to see Love Camp 7, our new friend Dan's band. It was fantastic -- the songs were great, the band has a great sound, and Dan has a good singing voice -- we could actually understand and appreciate the lyrics for once (amusing in the case of a song about an angry bus driver). A couple of songs borrow titles from the Beatles -- Rubber Soul, Abbey Road, Revolver -- and use them for lyrics, which was a nice twist. Each of the four band members can sing well together, and their style ranges a bit. They were pretty polished, too. I'm absolutely not knowledgable about music in general, and I have no musical talent (which is too bad bcz D and I could do some cool stuff together if I did), but I did like this band. Dan flaked and didn't bring CDs or I would have pirated one and posted an mp3 (if it was okay with him).

We hit Bereket on the way home for Lamahjun, which was ooooh-so-goooood and not vegetarian. It's hard not to eat meat in the summer, or when you're near a barbeque. Or Bereket. Mmmmmmmm. I think I'm hungry.

Posted by csageday at 02:37 PM | Comments (1)

June 16, 2005

Everything But The Kitchen Sink

For some reason I'm just not that into blogging these days. There's a ton of stuff going on so I'm preoccupied and don't spend time ruminating about coffee or running or some other pointless blog-friendly subject. On the other hand, I've come across some interesting sites and information so I'm going to pass them on, sans self-deprecating allegory.

First, there's PledgeBank site, which is primarily British but a great concept. You pledge to do something if x number of people visit the site and say they'll do it too. How you make sure everyone does their thing I do not know. Seems good for badgering people into doing environmental things, though.

On Tuesday I spent the evening with Pam, Lloyd, and Clay from work at the Boat Basin Cafe on 79th and the Hudson. It's a bar housed in a stone highway structure (I'm sure there's a better way to put this) with lots of arches, and it overlooks the Hudson. It had a bit of a Brooklyn Brewery feel (lots of 20-somethings with beer), it was relaxing, and it offers a great view of the sunset. Didn't have my camera with me or I would have taken some photos. Also, Riverside Park is right there so you can walk off the beer afterward.

The Celebrate Brooklyn concert series began last night and I would have missed it completely if a friend hadn't called to remind me about it. It marks Park Slope's official start of summer. We brought cheese and crackers, sangria and chinese iced tea (love that stuff), and sat on blankets on the grass to hear Ricky Lee Jones. The music was great, the company was great, and it was amusing to watch little kids run around with light sticks and dance and tackle each other.

What else? Restaurant week is next week -- so go make reservations somewhere. And outdoor films start showing all over the place.

Oh, and since it keeps coming up in conversation -- there's a great new use for iPods. Via Make, I learned about an effort to have arty people submit commentary about art exhibits to a website, where it can be downloaded to your iPod and used as an alternative walking tour for MoMA. Very good idea.

That's it for now. Off to see apartments tomorrow -- we still haven't found a place to move to (hence the title above) and it's getting a bit close to the wire, so we've stooped to working with those scheming, dishonest, exuberant swindlers: brokers.

Posted by csageday at 11:28 PM | Comments (1)

May 27, 2005

TV Culture

I stopped by the Time Warner Center this evening and found tourists swarming around various Time Warner TV exhibits. Sets from Friends and Seinfeld are reproduced on two floors and costumes from various prime time shows are scattered about the hallways. The whole thing is sort of creepy and corporate -- the same way that tours of CNN studios or talk show sets seem like big ads. You start to wonder if the tourists realize that they are paying to see the real version of something that's not real in the first place. The out-of-towners were eating it up, though. One over-eager twenty something was gleefully quoting from episodes of Friends while taking pictures of Joey and Chandler's leather armchairs (omigod!!). I almost puked. I thought a picture of this group of friends taking pictures of the Friends set might be interesting -- perhaps a little silly, though. Still, I found a few interesting subjects for my Flickr-induced photo frenzy. Here they are (click to see the larger sizes).

On an entirely different note, I was looking at the Time Warner Center site and noticed a curious photo of the bronze sculpture. The male one with the, um, appendage? There seem to be a few first graders hanging off of it here (here's a direct link).

Posted by csageday at 01:34 AM | Comments (1)

May 17, 2005

The New York Public Library

After a picnic in Bryant Park on Sunday we ended up at the main branch of the New York Public Library on a whim (well, actually, we were looking for a bathroom and pretended to be interested in the Before Victoria exhibit). I had tried to do research there once when I was writing my thesis at NYU but wasn't allowed in with my backpack, so it's one of those New York institutions -- like the top of the Empire State Building -- that I have never seen.

It is gorgeous. Everything is made of marble or mahogany and it has a very quaint, Ivy League feel. Most of the signs look like this (with engraved letters filled in with gold paint). The doorways and ceilings are elaborately decorated. Even the fire hoses are beautiful. The Rose Reading Room wasn't exactly what I expected -- I had imagined less wood and more blue in the ceiling, but if anything it was more impressive. I love old, traditional roman architecture and I especially love old libraries. My grandmother had a collection of books from around 1875 -- all of Dickens, all of Jane Austen, etc. -- that filled up a wall of dark shelves in her living room. It always made me want to grab one of the books and start reading in an armchair nearby.

The logistics of the NYPL are still a bit of a mystery to me. There are flat screen terminals for CATNYP everywhere, and I think you can request to see a given book from downstairs and read it upstairs, but the architecture made it all a bit intimidating. We saw some fantastic Charles Addams sketches upstairs in a hallway, though, and took a look at a Gutenburg bible and a globe from 1510 that was missing North America. Oh, and the bathrooms were nice, too. :)

Posted by csageday at 01:44 AM | Comments (0)

April 27, 2005

More Miscellanea

Entertain yourself -- watch the photos on this page change for a few minutes.

There's a new story by Haruki Murakami in the New Yorker this week.

Here's the status of the sakura in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where we'll be this weekend.

Apparently the Daily Star and I are on the same wavelength -- they did a version of the American Idol logo with "Pope Idol" that's similar to my Catholic Idol.

A brainy, pontificating celebrity bunch is starting a group blog (NYT article, Gawker post). Can't decide if this will work or not. Could be a bunch of random grandstanding or it could work. Each contributor would have to use something of a group voice (like Gawker, Gothamist) to make it pull together, though.

I hate to think what people are doing at our open houses. This NYT article is depressing. We were going to set up a microphone to record "omigod these people can't decorate" comments, but I'm kind of glad we didn't. I just don't want to know.

Oh, and this is funny.

Posted by csageday at 12:07 PM | Comments (2)

April 26, 2005

Gefilte Fish and JSF Gossip

It's Passover, and since I've never been to a seder I was glad to find The Amateur Gourmet's step-by-step Passover seder post. There's liver pate and wine and you get to play with your food -- this is definitely up my alley. That chicken soup description and photo makes me want to hit the 2nd Ave Deli tomorrow for matzoh ball soup.

On the real estate front, I'm annoyed that the NYT is all excited about Jonathan Safran Foer buying in Brooklyn because it somehow legitimizes the borough. Brooklyn is not Queens. It's been around for a while and the neighborhoods here have been at Manhattan prices -- and Manhattan people have been buying houses here -- for years. So how is JSF spending too much money on real estate here any different? Do people who live in Manhattan live in complete ignorance of our borough unless houses pass the $6 million mark? Wait, this is a Sunday Styles piece. Okay, they're usually about a year behind the rest of us. But still.

Maybe JSF's golden-author-of-the-moment status charms everything he does. I mean, he's young and somehow made it big with good-but-not-brilliant writing and now can finance a $6 million house. I'm trying not to jump on the bandwagon of people so jealous/bitter about his success (what's with the three names anyway?) that they feel they need to lash out against him. He is, after all, a funny oracle (here's the original Talk of the Town piece on that).

I heard him give a reading and field questions from a packed room full of people a few weeks ago and he's totally got the successful-young-author role down. It was on the top floor of the Union Square B&N and I could barely see him at all behind the throngs of admirers. He had short, funny answers for a lot of the questions and played the crowd pretty well. He managed to come up with a foreign policy speech that was impressive enough ("art...expresses the humanity of a culture"). It's sort of hard not to hate him just for that. Here's an interview with him. I've just started the new book -- I'll try to block out the golden-boy stuff for a while and form an independent opinion.

Posted by csageday at 01:25 AM | Comments (0)

April 21, 2005

Spring, Finally

We saw The Big Lebowski at MoMA tonight and laughed our asses off. I'm no good at movie reviews but this is a must-see. Go. See it. It's awesome. MoMA has lots of other good films to see, too (we might try to catch the shorts this weekend). And one of these days I have to get myself to one of these Brown Bag Lunch Lectures.

The weather this week has been very therapeutic. My impending tenth high school reunion (more on that later) and other annoyances are making me extremely anxious these days, so getting outside for lunch is a necessity. It takes the murderous edge off so I can actually talk to people instead of gritting my teeth and spitting. Today I sat on the Fordham lawn, where a giant dogwood tree was fully in bloom and already shedding petals. The dogwoods and cherry trees around Park Slope are also in bloom and lately I've stopped just to smell them. There's a fleeting moment in early spring where dogwoods, cherry trees, and forsythia are all in bloom at once and it always feels like a gift. It's definitely worth celebrating next weekend at the Cherry Blossom Festival (Sakura Matsuri) in Brooklyn.

Posted by csageday at 12:18 AM | Comments (0)

April 14, 2005

Miscellaneous Bits

Ashes and Snow, an exhibit of photos by Gregory Colbert, seems worth a look. It's being shown in a very cool looking "mobile museum" made of shipping containers. It's at Pier 54 in Chelsea until June. I like this photo of the museum and this one.

Dine In Brooklyn is still on (until 4/22) -- you can get three courses for $19.55 (Dodgers theme) at any of the restaurants on the list. There are a few good Park Slope choices -- Blue Ribbon, Scottadito, Applewood, Stone Park Cafe, Rose Water, Belleville. Might also be nice to hit The River Cafe or Patois.

We saw the Martha Graham Dance Company perform Friday at City Center and it was incredible. We saw three pieces -- Embattled Garden, Deaths and Entrances, and Sketches from Chronicle. Hopefully I'll be motivated to write it up sometime soon but if not -- the last piece was my favorite and my god do those dancers have stamina.

Derek found this for me -- I think this thing might save my life. It's an alarm clock that monitors your sleep cycle (nevermind that you have to wear a thing on your head) and wakes you up at the most gentle moment before your desired wake-up time. I HATE waking up and am a nasty morning person. I don't care if I have to wear a biker helmet to bed, I have to try this once.

A whole bunch of great supermarkets are converging on my neighborhood. I'm a huge fan of Trader Joe's. And Fairway. And Whole Foods. But I will be loyal to the Coop. I think. (Even though their blog is lame.) This is heaven. It's like having MoMA, the Met, the Guggenheim, and the Whitney all move to within 10 blocks of our apartment. Clearly food takes precedence over everything else in my life -- visiting Fairway is like going to church for me -- there's wonderful interesting fresh beautiful food EVERYWHERE! Hallelujah! And the Coop just makes me happy -- I LIKE working my shift because I discover new foods while stocking the shelves. Why my cooking skills aren't better is beyond me with a food obsession like this.

Posted by csageday at 11:24 PM | Comments (0)

April 06, 2005

NYU and New York Magazine No Longer Recognizable

NYU students are so spoiled these days it's obscene. First, they get prime West Village real estate. (My junior year dorm room was most likely the nicest nyc apartment I'll ever have -- it had a kitchen and two balconies, one on Union Square and one on a courtyard. True, I shared it with three other people, but still.) Now, NYU kids get gorgeous dorms AND instead of eating at Weinstein (an ugly freshman dorm), they can use their meal plan dollars at the Union Square Whole Foods. This is old news but I finally went there for the first time today and I'm so jealous. NYU was all bad taste and purple and mediocre classes 5 years ago. Now it's still all bad taste and purple but they have really good food. The classes are better, too.

Then again, there's the whole suicide/balcony thing. I'm an overachiever so I was pretty stressed out in school, but it's NYU! It's hard to take the place seriously when it's trying so hard. Students there now are obviously dealing with more pressure. Possibly because they're taking themselves way too seriously. (Gawker has a great parody of that last link here.)

Note to Whole Foods Columbus Circle Location staff: The Union Square WF has totally figured out the line situation. They have MORE THAN ONE LINE. Novel concept! Can you give them a call?

Finally, someone explained what's happened to New York magazine (and why they have lame articles like the NYU one above). When I worked for a literary agent in college, New York was a must have item simply for the socialite gossip. It gave people with money and people in the status-conscious publishing community something to talk about. Now, apparently, snooty New Yorkers on the Upper East Side are reading something else and somebody is trying to make the mag into a hybrid of Vanity Fair and The New York Times. It's not going well. The issue I picked up a few months ago was awful. I don't even care about gossip (except for Ben's), but without that and with mediocre writing I couldn't see the point of reading it.

Posted by csageday at 01:01 AM | Comments (2)

March 31, 2005

Macy's Flower Show

To avoid stewing in frustrated indecision about whether to buy or rent, I joined elder members of distinguished suburban garden clubs everywhere and took a tour of the Macy's Flower Show this evening. I had never been before, and don't know a tulip from a rhododendron, but it seemed like enough of a New York institution to merit a visit. Plus, I'm up for anything free these days, what with the unmentionable bank-account-freezing crisis at hand.

There was something very retro 50s about it. I can picture well-dressed women with matching handbags strolling around, naming flowers and discussing gardening. It's very proper to know all about plants and how and when they grow -- probably something that used to be taught in finishing school. And the Flower Show seems a bit quaint, like that annual event in Central Park that all the New York socialites go to in fancy hats.

On the other hand, the flowers are gorgeous. Plus, the scope of the show is impressive. An eye-catching fish-shaped flower sculpture is suspended over a pond at the Broadway entrance. On closer inspection, you find that there are large, active, spotted orange fish in the pond (these turned out to be Japanese koi). There are beautiful flowers everywhere -- some familiar and some not. I loved a large, deep red flower with a thick stalk (no idea what the name is), and the orchid section was full of Orchid Thief-worthy samples. Many of the orchids seemed almost unnatural in their complexity, with unique shapes and dramatically contrasting colors (like bright purple and white, or red veins of a yellow background). Some remind me of hummingbirds, or, as The Orchid Thief suggests, of large insects. Amazing feats of indoor gardening were achieved -- the sunglasses area was full of mean-looking cacti, grapefruit and seville orange trees with nearly-ripe fruit were near the stairs, and healthy-looking plants in bloom were everywhere. The flower displays in the windows are also very colorful and bright -- the theme is "the muppets do the Wizard of Oz," which is amusing.

I was glad to learn that the flowers aren't all cut and transported, but are still firmly planted in soil. In the 40s, 50s, and 60s, fresh flowers were brought in each day but that proved to be too costly. Now, the show has beds of various kinds of flowers, bushes, and small trees, along with a few bouquets in the aisles. The tour was full of references to what a plant was doing yesterday or last week.

The show is almost entirely on the ground floor and is split up into different "gardens" -- there's a Spring garden, a Meditteranean Garden, a Royal Garden, a Tropical Garden, etc. Since I'm flower-illiterate I wandered around thinking dull thoughts like, "Pretty flowers. Nice topiary," so the free tour (which should be called "Flowers for Idiots Who Don't Appreciate Them") was really helpful. I learned that the big green thing in our apartment is called a ficus, and you can also change the color of hydrangea leaves by altering the makeup of the soil. Just having different flowers named and pointed out with a laser-pointed helped me appreciate the variety and scale of the show.

Overall, there were just flowers EVERYWHERE, which helps to drive home the impression that it is spring (also allergy season). It was somewhat overwhelming. Especially in a place I associate with sucking all of the moisture out of your body and frustrating shopping attempts. The pairing of Gucci and Prada "spring collection" bags and the actual, natural colors that inspire their design is probably boosting sales. The high concentration of plants felt kind of luxurious and expensive. Like the Tuileries had been transplanted to Bryant Park for fashion week or something. All of those living plants completely transformed the dry department store space.

Posted by csageday at 01:03 AM | Comments (0)

March 29, 2005

Underwater Windmills

Given the high rate of asthma and generally crappy air quality in the city, this is one of the alternative energy projects that I'm really rooting for: underwater windmills that are powered by nothing more than the tide coming in and out in the East River.

It seems like a relatively simple concept, so it's odd that "tidal power" is still in its infancy. Then again, given that any new energy technology needs tons of venture capital and government support, and our current legislative agenda favors oil (say that with Texas accent -- sounds like "all") and other ancient, polluting, global-warming-inducing power technology, it's not all that surprising. Pilot projects aimed at harnessing tidal power in England and elsewhere have been successful, but the kinks still need to be worked out.

Professor Jameel Ahmad, of the Cooper Union Engineering Department, gave an entertaining lecture at Cooper last week about the tidal power project that will make its East River debut this May. The project was spearheaded by the start-up Verdant Power and is proceeding with help from Cooper students and government agencies set up to support such ventures. Though the tides in the ocean are arguably stronger, the hope is that installing the turbines in the East River will make more of a media splash, especially once the six pilot turbines start powering a Roosevelt Island grocery store (an eventual goal).

Here's how it works. A missile-like tube contains a turbine, and a three-armed fan rotates slowly in the water. The contraption sits entirely underwater and turns around based on which direction the tide is moving. The top will be about six feet from the surface, and divers will be used to perform installation and maintenance. The area will be marked by bouys so large boats don't interfere.

My first thought after hearing the basics went something like this:

But the truth is that the arms of this thing spins far too slowly to make "sushi" (Professor Ahmad's word) -- there's about one revolution every two seconds. There is also evidence that "fish are not stupid" and can sense the change in pressure and avoid the area. Still, the environmental impact has yet to be measured. The Verdant group had to cut thought miles of red tape to get permission to put anything in the water at all. As Professor Ahmad explained, corporations grandfathered into environmental protection laws can suck up water, heat it up, and put it back -- killing thousands of fish in the process -- and nobody says boo. But introducing something new, even if it's eco-friendly at the core, is very difficult.

If this effort can maintain its financing, continue to secure permission to operate, and if the pilot project is successful, we could eventually have "farms" of underwater windmills generating power. Unlike big hydro power (dams), an eco-system isn't disrupted and no huge construction projects have to take place. Unlike traditional power sources, nothing is burned or used up in the process and there are no harmful waste products. Even if there is some unforeseen environmental impact, turbines would be relatively harmless compared to the combined effects of drilling for oil in the ocean, transporting it, refining it, and burning it.

Hopefully the popular interest in hybrids and conservation these days will fuel the development of this project (and fund solutions to any environmental problems that do arise). It kills me to think that if we hadn't dropped out of the Kyoto treaty, the U.S. would be required to invest in projects like this (instead, Canada has all the fun). New York State is doing something, at least. Every little step away from oil-dependence counts.

Posted by csageday at 12:02 AM | Comments (1)

March 23, 2005

Dear Whole Foods (Columbus Circle location),

You've taken the concept of the New York supermarket to new heights, accommodating New Yorkers' need to eat out for every meal and spend wads of money on "specialty" foods. The superior square footage and colorful visual displays of lunch options, produce, and organic products have transformed lunch and grocery shopping in the neighborhood. Given this success, and the wisdom of your marketing team, would you consider fixing two EGREGIOUS problems? Please?

1. The LINE
2. The location of the DRINKS

Countless Whole Foods customers are dazzled by the selection of lunch options upon entry, but end up wandering around with a bowl of Indian food for ages looking for a drink. The drinks, mysteriously, are tucked away in a corner of the store that these customers will not find until they've waited in line for 15 minutes.

Even if you know where the drinks are, the line moves just fast enough to prevent a quick side trip to grab a Naked juice on your way to the cash register. And since there's always a line extending beyond the soup station, no one has the time to make that detour before getting in line if they want to make it back to work before 5. Are your store designers playing a cruel little joke?

I promise I'll spend even more money if you put the Vitamin Water near the Cold Bar (I'm getting sick of drinking cranberry juice because it's the only drink not in the drinks section). Maybe the drinks can go in the refrigerators behind the coffee?

Now, about the line. I've heard that it can stretch back to the FROZEN FOODS. That's a half a mile at least. 300 people must have been in line. Yes, I understand that it moves quickly, but I could finish my lunch in the time it takes to purchase it on some days.

Seeing a long line snaking through the store also puts a damper on your happy, healthy, organic food shopping experience, no? Can you build in another switchback? Or add a self checkout? Allow payment of goods at different places throughout the store? I mean, the line is enough of a reason to deter customers from stopping by. I'm not THAT loyal.

Isn't it time to come up with a clever solution for these problems? I know you can. You're not just some evil money-mongering corporation that deliberately forces customers to spend more time in the store than they want to, right?

Thank you.

Posted by csageday at 06:13 PM | Comments (3)

March 19, 2005

Stand. Clear. Of. The. Closing. Doors. Please.

I wish I could blog on the train. When will the entire subway system be a wireless hotspot? With all the extra money the MTA is getting now, maybe they could start working on that?

On my way home this evening, there was a B/D train mixup at Columbus Circle. I heard this professional-sounding announcement about 10 times: "The B as in Brothel [okay, my hearing is bad -- it was probably "brother" or something but I kept hearing "brothel"] and D as in Delta train will be running on the 8th Avenue line [pause] from 59th street [pause] to West 4th street."

Here's my question: The announcement was made in that familiar MTA male voice. Each word was enunciated well, the cadence was slow and careful, and there was no strong NYC accent. It sounded automated, but that type of train re-routing is rare so it's not like the MTA would have that specific message on hand. When the announcement changed a bit to include the word "normal" it sounded like "nawmal" and "fourth" sounded like "fowth" -- dead giveaways for a New York accent concealed underneath lots of training.

It seemed like some MTA employee -- expertly trained to pause between every word and schooled in the art of announcing delays in the MTA-sanctioned way -- might have been making the announcements. Do MTA employees go to special announcement-school to lose their Brooklyn and Queens accents and learn to speak like machines?

If a real person was repeating that message over and over, where was he sitting? Was someone tucked away in a special station office hidden above the platform (where those little doors go)? Or is there a staff of MTA announcement specialists sitting in a office somewhere, waiting for the chance to have their voices piped into stations?

On the Union Square 4, 5, and 6 train platform, this recorded message uses a similar style: "Please stand clear of the moving platforms [pause] as trains enter and leave the station. [pause] Your safety matters to us." While waiting FOREVER for a 6 one day it sounded like maybe they were practicing -- I mean, the thing repeats every 5 seconds, and it alternates between a male voice and a female one. I had to pick out a specific speech pattern (the combined "to-us" at the end) to assure myself it was a recording -- just the same thing infuriatingly repeated ad nauseam.

The MTA has more likely spent all the public's money on some 6-train-like voice automation software, and MTA employees provide pre-recorded pieces that can be pieced together. But wouldn't it be so much more interesting if there were this special discipline? Not that it's effective -- the crowd on my train seemed to trust the heavily accented conductor more than the automated guy. And as much as I love the 6 train for the lumbar support in the benches, I'd hate to have those automated announcements on the F train. The real conductor's don't-hold-the-door lectures are so much more amusing.

Posted by csageday at 01:32 AM | Comments (0)

March 15, 2005

To Buy or Not To Buy

We knew it was coming. Sort of. The dreaded news that our landlord is selling our place when our lease is up. I LOVE this apartment. The location is perfect, the neighborhood feels like home. But the damn real estate market is a joke. We could buy it, but there's some kind of catch that involves not eating at restaurants or traveling to foreign countries for the next ten years. For some perspective: We could have bought my grandmother's (falling apart but gorgeous and huge) house, including indoor tennis court, bungalow (read: other house), barn, pool, and 12 acres for less than our tiny 2 bedroom in Park Slope would cost us.

Funny how a real estate crisis can rearrange your perspective in the space of a day. D and I have to decide if a) we want to stay together for the next ten years and b) we want to live in NYC for the next ten years. We are also painfully aware of our exact net worth and the average cost of a Park Slope two bedroom. (And a Prospect Heights one, a Ditmas Park one, a Windsor Terrance one, etc.) Whatever Mexican disease I contracted is NOTHING compared to the dilemma we're facing now. We've been renting for ages -- we should be buying, but have you LOOKED at Corcoran lately? Where the hell do people dig up that kind of money? Do all the harmless-looking couples walking around have secret lives as hitmen? Are they trust fund kids? Are they all just really smart people who bought a decade ago? What's the secret?

Before the CRISIS arrived I was going to write a glowing entry about how nice it was to be home. Every weekend, I usually walk from our end of 7th Avenue to the Food Coop on Union Street, stopping at various favorite spots along the way -- the used bookstore, the kitchen store, the flea market, La Bagel Delight, etc. It never fails to cheer me up (or make Derek go mad with impatience and frustration). I have all of these casual acquaintances with people who work at stores -- I know my pharmacist's name and he knows mine, Adam at Urban Optical knows who I am, there's a chance I'll run into someone I know at the coop. On top of that, there's a huge community of writers in Park Slope. Take this conversation at 7th Avenue books, for instance. I had promised D I would NOT BROWSE in the bookstore for 3 hours (he was waiting outside, hands in pockets, starting at me) so I asked for Murakami's Norwegian Wood (I really liked The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle).
Store guy: "Did you look under 'M'"
Me (looking again): "Yeah, don't see it there."
Other browser: "It's really hard to find Murakami in second-hand stores."
Me (surprised): "Oh. Too bad. [to Store Guy] How about Jonathan Safran Foer's new book?"
Story guy: "Sure, it's right here ... [points to large empty spot on shelf] ... oh, wow, I guess we sold out."
Me: "Shoot, maybe it's cuz he was just written up somewhere ... can't remember where ..."
Other browser: "He was written up everywhere."
Me: "Yeah, but I really liked his last book."
Other browser: "I didn't really like it."
Me: "I didn't like it at first, but it grew on me."
Other browser: "Well maybe I'm just bitter that he was written up everywhere at 25 years old."

Interpretation: O.B. is a 30-something writer who's still making peanuts while J.S.F. is the publishing industry's golden child from Brooklyn, just because he wrote a clever novel that has mass appeal. The entire community probably resents him. How can I possibly leave a community made up of jealous writers who shop at the food coop and frequent secondhand bookstores? This is obviously where I'm meant to stay.

Posted by csageday at 10:43 PM | Comments (6)

February 26, 2005

Taking Off...

Leaving for Mexico in three hours. We've decided to head up to Patzcuaro -- inland and up in the mountains -- for a couple of days before settling down to do touristy things -- kayaking, sailing, drinking -- in Zihuatanejo for the week.

If you're in the city, check out the Meatyard exhibit at ICP before it closes on Sunday. He's one of my favorite photographers and I'm kicking myself for having missed this show.

Posted by csageday at 01:13 AM |