The Bronx

Do people really, truly, call it 'Sobro'? PS: Real estate brokers aren't 'people'.

Two articles on my borough: Goths on Fordham Road and Hipsters and tragedies in Mott Haven.

Just yesterday I was watching local public access and there was a hiphop video feature the repeated newscaster sample "The Mott Haven section of the Bronx". What a great neighborhood name.

Graffiti in Cos Cob, CT

Spotted this a few weeks ago but didn't get a picture until last weekend. It's decaying, but you can still see the trout.

And when I left the house

I went out over lunch yesterday, and then again in the evening. Over lunch I saw many wonderous things, including:

A guy with a table on the sidewalk, between the fruit stand and the bootleg DVDs, selling health insurance. He was a barker! "Health insurance here! Get your health insurance!"

A guy with a cooler full of ice, with a large fish tail sticking out.

So then that evening, Anne and I went to the Van Cortlandt park. We hadn't been there before and just began following a trail demarked by turtle/hare signs. What a nice walk! 

Daily project; Leave the house

Today I went to my local branch of the New York City Public Library! Exciting. I took out The Two Towers (been re-reading that since we moved) and ... walked back.

BUT that's ok. It's the plan to leave the house Every Day. A little disruption of the comfort zone. Tomorrow: CVS for envelopes!

Secrets to a good cookout

Anne and I went to see Pirates of the Carribean Sunday night. The movie was fine, but someone needs to take away Hollywood's computers for a year.

Graffiti in Carmel, Indiana

In high school photography class I won a ribbon taking a picture of this grain elevator in (otherwise very suburban) Carmel, Indiana. I went by there on a walk with my mother and took a few more; it now has a bit of art on it.









































Go France!

Space Invader

Spotted in Broad Ripple in Indianapolis.

My Mom

My mom is totally hipper than your mom.

Amber Waves of Pain

Our United States Air Force is currently recruiting with photocopied fliers posted (with permission? unlikely) at an Amaco talking about their great benefits ... and mentioning their Myspace page. Freaking awsome.

I had a great dinner this evening with MNO. Dude has some much positive energy. Not in some hippy way, I mean, he's got a lot of energy and he's totally upbeat. We ate Bazbaux and drank Hennepin.

Tomorrow evening I'm having dinner with my father.

I was driving home from MNO and it was warm and I took off my shoes and socks. I've always heard it's illegal to drive barefoot -- probably because it feels so good. Only barefoot do I really understand the spring mechanism of the gas pedal. Only barefoot can I wrap my toes around the top of the accelerator. I love to drive barefoot in Indiana in the summer. Driving home this evening I had that ever-so-slightly out-of-body feeling that I always associate with visiting California -- the sun rises and sets at the wrong time and it's all flat and green and new and the people are all wearing shorts. Indiana is not California, but for a few minutes I could listen to the radio and pretend.

I wonder if the recruiter tore off any of the number slips at the bottom of the sign himself. I know if I was putting signs like that up I'd take one off to make it look, you know, popular. 

Hack Bone Again

Here I am in Indiana. I'll try not to bore you, but I had a great weekend: Arrived Saturday morning, went with my mother to the Indianapolis Museum of Art. The IMA is renovating and slowly opening more galleries. Since I had last been there they've opened their African gallery (with a random Polynesian annex) which I thought was great - fantastic selection of art and some examples on how it informed European impressionists. Anyway, more excitingly I suppose, there was a temporary exhibit of the neon work of Bruce Nauman. The woman who gave us tickets warned us about the "Adult Content In The Last Room" - she practically shouted it at us - and, sure enough, there was a giant neon boners conga line in the last room. Where I was standing with my mother. Aye.

Saturday night I spent some time with the always-excellent Matt Allen and his poochito Seigfreid. We had a walk and listened to a nearby wedding. It's been nice this weekend to drive around Indy alone. Familiarity after a couple months of no-fixed-location and then moving to a new city.

Sunday morning I did the God thing, made breakfast with my mother (eggs and fruit), and in the early afternoon went to see my fantastic friend Steve. Not to be mushy, but I always get so much out of seeing him. The guy is an endless fountain of creative energy. I wish I could bottle it, or, alternatively, become his patron so he can make crazy all the live-long day. For example, one of the 100 throw-off ideas he had was to take the Gospel Bill show and dub Deadwood dialog over it. I also got some Chicago Ted CDs.

Anyway, also, saw A Scanner Darkly and then had dinner with Andrew, Barb, and Matt Allen at, as always, the Broad Ripple Brew Pub.

Now, it's Monday and I'm working from my mother's house.

Travels update

First, Lee and Katia are having a great time in South Africa, and documenting it in their blog. I'm jealous!

I'll be going to Indiana this weekend (arriving Saturday, returning Wednesday). I'll have to work during the weekday business hours, and have some plans to see family (the purpose of the trip), but would otherwise like to see any friends there! Get in touch.

Last night we went to Hoboken for dinner with Anne's sister and brother-in-law. We drove, and zipping down the west side highway New York didn't feel so foreign anymore.

Finally, the blogger spell checker doesn't know the word "blog". What?

Big Pleasure Point

We saw this great and crazy sculpture by Nancy Rubins at Lincoln Center this morning.

Pigeon repellent

Hoot!

When I was a kid in Indiana my dad raised homing pigeons. Really, this was a mostly positive experience. All the same, the first night we had them, my father told me over dinner that we'd have to go in and wipe their bottoms with toilet paper. "They're just pigeons! They don't have hands; they can't do it themselves."

So I dutifully climbed into the coop in the garage with a wad in my hand. The pigeons themselves weren't too pleased with the proposition. After a few minutes of me chasing them around the cage, my parents let me in on the joke.

OK, I'm still bitter.

So, now, I'm here in New York, with a new balcony that's covered in pigeon poop. It's gross. Soon I'm going to go out there with a rag, hot soapy water, and thick rubber gloves. But why bother if the birds are going to return and re-foul it?

So, I've heard, no worthwhile source, that an owl statue will deter these sky-rats. I'm not going to run out and buy one, but a quick search on Google Images led me to some pictures. I grabbed one, cropped it, made it black and white, and printed it up full page.

I stuck it on a piece of cardboard (plenty of that) and propped it up in the window. In the fifteen minutes since, no pigeons have landed on rail.

We'll see how long this lasts. Do pigeons see in color?

Oval Pharmacy at night

 

Flickr Graffiti Roundup

Stripes, Alarm man, Danger, Maze, Fish, Mattress, Mother's Day, Flock, Pastoral, Cone.

Unpacking

We hired packers for our move, and they used a simply ridiculous amount of paper on our kitchenware. They did a good job (one casualty: a blue bowl) but what you see here is less than half of the paper. I've been dragging it down the hallway to the recycling room, from which it disappears.

Also, the Bronx smells awful when wet.

Gun Hill Road, facing east

The view east on Gun Hill Road from our balcony. About midway you can see elevated subway tracks, and in the very hazy distance is Co-op City.

Tennis, anyone?

The view straight down from our balcony. This is the roof of a parking garage. There used to be a tennis court here, but it now houses a giant HVAC unit.

It looks like there's also an abandoned park area here, with planters, benches, and lampposts. 

The Bronx

View from our new apartment.