The Bar at the End of the Cycle

In the picture to the left, you can see my bike, sitting tranquilly outside the large, friendly windows of Little Giant, a nice little cafe in the Lower East Side. Yet this post is not really about Little Giant, it's about what it took to get my bike there.

According to Google Maps, the shortest route from my house to this spot would have been about six and a half miles. To get there, you need to go through Park Slope and Downtown Brooklyn, cross the Manhattan Bridge, and then navigate through a bit of Chinatown. (Of course, the shortest possible route does not include riding under the Williamsburg Bridge, yet I managed to do that...)

Previously, I hadn't gone anywhere further than Park Slope, so my longest ride was likely three, maybe four miles. But I figured it was worth it to try and brave the wind and my out-of-shapeness to see if I could make it to Manhattan. And I did, and felt reasonably good about it. As a reward, I stopped at Little Giant for a glass of a very nice (and expensive!) French white, and some water, then unlocked my bike to ride back...and felt like my underwear had been replaced by 120 grit sandpaper.

I won't describe in excruciating detail the ride home. Suffice it to say that it was a very gratifying moment when I reached the high point of the bridge going home, and I was able to coast back onto Brooklyn soil. I did need to stop at Miracle Grill in Park Slope for a little more liquid fortitude, but I managed to make it home.

I'm not sure when I will next attempt a ride into Manhattan, but the views and the pride of achievement made me know I'll do it again at some point. Maybe after I invest in a cushier bike seat.

Photo Tour - 15 Minutes on Bond Street

One of the reasons why I have been so neglectful of my blogging has been the recent acquisition of a new Nikon D40 SLR. Last Friday was a dreary grey day, but I still set out to take some photos. Here is what I took from Bond Street, Soho on a 15 minute camera tour.

This is at the corner of Bond and Broadway (I think).

Just a taste of the graffiti there was to behold...just me and Teddy taking it in.

The windows had some of the coolest things...this was a mod 60's wall hanging in front of a mirror.

"...and everything looks good in black and white."

New York Happiness (Part 2)

With my bike getting snatched yesterday, a couple of disturbing car keying incidents, and some smaller stuff that has just made me feel out of place and less than happy in my own skin, a large part of my day has been spent dealing with problems and trying to avoid punching someone. So you'd think today's crappy, rainy weather would just make things worse. And yet, I had a really good day. 

A bit was work related, but a few other things happened that made things seem better. First, I had the growing realization that despite what I think is a less than ideal incoming President, the world has not and will not end, and that I should know better than to fret about the future of the country when EVERY election since I've been old enough to notice had been described as crucial to the future of the country. And Dubya has made an art of screwing things up without any major parts of the nation slipping into the

 sea or being ceded to Canada.

But most of my buoyant mood has to do with the city I now live in, and

 it's subtle, everyday charms. Like the way Grand Central looks in the drizzle, with the Chrysler Building looming in the background. Or the way umbrellas bob up and down to avoid the hats and faces of the pedestrians walking in the other direction. Or visiting the New York Public Library for the first time, and seeing architecture and art that would fit nicely in a European metropolis, but is just steps from where I exit the subway every morning.

This city bestows life and opportunity in ways other places simply cannot. Even if my time here is relatively short, how I think and see the world will be permanently enriched by it. I am so, so glad to be in New York.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly in Park Slope

Sadly, I'm Kimless for most of this week. Which means, among other things, that I have to feed myself. So I've been eating a lot of hamburgers and hot dogs, until I said to myself, "Geez, I need to get out of the house." So, feeling frisky, I went out to one of my new favorite places here in Brooklyn, the Dram Shop, and had...a hamburger. But it was a damn good burger.

The Dram Shop is officially the Good part of this post. The food is spectacular (that was a good bleeping burger), the atmosphere is congenial, it has a pool table, and the beer selection is quite good. (Love that Sierra Nevada on tap.) 

I'd probably have more to say, but then the bad happened: I walked out after a few beers and my burger to find my bike, which I've only had for a few months, was mysteriously unattached from the bike rack I had chained it to. After walking confusedly up and down the block a few times, I managed to convince myself that it was indeed stolen.  Fortunately, among its many other virtues, the Dram shop is only a few blocks from a subway in both directions, so it wasn't much of a problem to get home. 

As for the ugly? Well, the ugly would be the Obama-loving dude sitting next to me at the bar. As beautiful as the mullet-moustache combination is, I gotta say that I was very surprised he had female companionship. But I appreciate the guy...anyone who makes me look that good by comparison is always welcome at the bars I frequent.

New York Happiness

I can whine with the best of them, and there are many things that are worthy of complaint in New York City. (My car keeps getting keyed, the F train is evil, there aren't enough basketball courts, etc.) But when you walk around here, you feel more locked in to the moment than you do anywhere else I've been.


Take Bryant Park. I just walked by it today to see that The Pond, a free skating rink, is now operating. (I took a picture that didn't come through, so you're stuck with the stock shot to the left.) People were cruising around the ice at 7:00 looking content and relaxed. Young couples tried to stay together while the more skilled skaters cut through and around them at breakneck speed. It was kind of glorious.

Later Kim and I went to Rhythm and Booze, and watched as a Phillies fan screamed so loud that the whole bar was ready to punch him, and laughed when they all cheered at once when Tampa Bay tied the game.

Silly things, but a reminder of how the city will provide sights and moments you can't experience anywhere else if you're just open to them.

Crushing on Brooklyn Heights

You'll find, if you look through the photos I've taken since I moved here, that there are a decent number of pictures of the downtown Manhattan skyline taken from Brooklyn. I took a half dozen more today when I ventured for the first time to Brooklyn Heights. As you can see, the fascination is justified.

Brooklyn Heights, as I understand it, is the first neighborhood really settled as a suburb of Manhattan. And today, the evidence of the well-heeled stock brokers and financial gurus who live there is hard to miss. The streets are lined with Porsches and BMWs, the houses are immaculate and many are being worked on by teams of laborers, and the only adults in evidence were nannies, the afore-mentioned construction crews, and cleaning ladies. All in all, I wouldn't trade it for where I am now, but man...that view.

The promenade that hangs over the BQE is simply an amazing public space. To be able to walk along an elevated path and glimpse the skyline, the Staten Island ferry coming and going, the Statue of Liberty (can you believe I had not ever seen it before I moved here?), and the Brooklyn Bridge is enough for almost anyone to be happy.

In fact, the neighborhood is so ritzy and exclusive that it is the appropriate setting for filming a drama about spoiled rich kids. Or at least, that's what I gather Gossip Girl is about from the people I have heard talking about. Anyway, if anyone would like to see the cast, they will apparently be in Brooklyn Heights on Friday. Tell 'em Dan sent you.

If you're interested in more modest pursuits, Henry Street seems like the place to go for a drink or a bite. If you want the most convenient stop, try the Clark Street station, which is a few blocks from the promenade and right near some good-looking bars and restaurants on Henry Street. As you stroll, you might be able to convince yourself that you, too, are one of the captains of commerce who can actually afford to live there.

Fall in Windsor Terrace

We've been swamped for the last month trying to finally unload our Rhode Island house, and succeeded at last only this past Friday. Next weekend we're going to a wedding, so it seems that most of fall will be gone before we reach that nirvana that we refer to as "being settled."

But we have been trying to explore, especially just getting to know the streets near our apartment. (I've been really enjoying biking around here and up to Park Slope.) One thing that you can't help but notice is that our neighbors are really, really into Halloween.

There have been some truly amazing displays, including the picture above. Someone had to get these Halloween statue/decorations up to the roof and secure them. Never mind the expense. But 3rd Street here seems to be in some kind of competition, with fake spider webs coating bushes and porches, ghosts that run across yards on motorized rope-and-pulley systems, and some pretty realistic decorations that look like dead and bloody bodies. (There are a few that definitely would have freaked me out as a kid.)

There is lots else we should have reported over the last few weeks: some interesting shopping in SoHo, a few fun nights out, a bit of Advertising Week, and more that I've already forgotten. (I'm going to try to get Kim to do a post about DUMBO and the River Cafe, which is fantastic.) I also went to London for a few days, which was a lot of fun, even if it doesn't quite fit into the topic of this blog. Suffice it to stay that we're definitely not regretting the move, and in fact are finding more reasons to love living here almost daily.

If only the F train would run more often!

We're Doomed, Doomed!

I'm sure you've all heard by now that the gears of our economy are about to grind to a halt, and soon us New Yorkers will have to hunt pigeons for sustenance. (They should, at any rate, last a while.) I was sitting in a bar in Park Slope today where, as the bartender put it, they had on, "a 90210 rerun, the White Sox game, and the End of the World".

Now, having a rent I can afford and, hopefully, being very close to selling my Rhode Island house may make me a little less panicky than if I was more maxed out, but I have to say that this bailout hysteria is getting a little ridiculous. Some people are going to go through hard times, and decent people should do whatever they can to help. But constantly trying to bail out the economy with more and more desperate measures is just going to kick the can down the road until the problem is too big to fix. We've forgotten that hard times happen every once in a while, and you just have to muddle through and do your best to come through it stronger and smarter.

But for those of you who can't stop watching your rapidly diminishing 401k balance, may I recommend having a happy hour drink at the Lighthouse Bar on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn. And try to focus on the TV with the game or the dated teen drama.

A Grey Day

Well, today is the first rainy day we've had here in NYC since the move and it's quite a sad day as well. As I sit here facing the countless windows across from me in the New York Life building, it's hard to rouse myself into doing anything positive while I listen to NPR for the smallest morsel of hope that the stock market isn't going to crash and leave me unemployed.


So...I'll think about my new dinette set that I purchased last weekend from Atlantis Found in Red Hook (http://www.atlantisredhook.com/). Here's a picture of it.




One of the reasons why I like to buy old things is because of their history. It's fun to wonder who sat at this table and ate dinner...what the chairs looked like when this set was brand new. Someone obviously cared for my little grey and silver dinette set...the formica table is completely spotless.


I was never a fan of history or memorizing all of those dates and names, but I do know about all of the wonderful "stuff" that was created during that era. People back then knew a lot more suffering than we do now, but they still created art and beauty nonetheless. I would think because they couldn't just go out and buy it the way we do now.


Maybe this country could use a little sobering...maybe I could too. I think that human beings thrive in times of difficulty and perhaps a little less prosperity could force us to be more creative and thoughtful and less consuming and materialistic...myself included.


Maybe that's why for so many years we've been regurgitating the design and fashion from bygone eras...because our own lives have become so "store bought" that we don't have the experience to create our own.


It's time for me to get up off my ass and do something different...and interesting...and meaningful. Shit...I live in New York and I have no more excuses.


“The great thing is, if one can, to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in one's "own" or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one's life.” - C.S. Lewis

Senseless Acts of Brilliant Vandalism

I have been meaning to blog about this for a few weeks now, but my camera wasn't charged and I don't have a good camera on my phone to do this artwork justice. This particular work of art is one of my favorites...especially because Rod's last name is spelled incorrectly. The palm trees (fireworks?) make it extra special.

...and as for the below, I really love the use of media here. I really wish I knew the person who created this one.

More to come! The camera is charged and waiting.

Demon Dog

The one downside of moving to Brooklyn is that your dog becomes possessed by the demon spirit of the Italian housewives who inhabited this land before all the upper-middle class social climbers moved in.

Kim and I should be blogging more, but the lack of updates should tell you we're having a great time. We've been busy going out a lot, getting the apartment in order, and adjusting to new routines. But the weekends are pretty great. The past few days, we went out to the Lower East Side (very fun), shopped in Red Hook, saw the Pats get destroyed at the Old Carriage Inn, and went on a major expedition to Target. Now it's time to make it through another work week and get charged for the weekend to come.

Thank You, Time Warner Cable

What's worse than waiting 30 minutes in line at the post office? Waiting 30 minutes in line at the post office, only to go to the Time Warner Cable office to wait in line 45 minutes to swap out your non-HD cable box for the HD cable box you were supposed to get in the first place.

This was last weekend, so my burning, raging anger has somewhat abetted, which is why I need the picture I'm including to bring it all back to vivid focus. The women in the center of that shot stood at the counter for more than half of the 45 minutes I was there. I can only assume that they had some sort of dementia related to syphilis. I was not amused.

Basically, in case you ever move to Brooklyn, understand that Time Warner outsources its cable installation to third party contractors who spend their whole visit scratching their heads, wondering where the HD box is, and worrying that they're going to be accused of stealing them, while in their next breath bitching about their child support payments and describing their exciting trip to go gambling in the Bahamas. When you call Time Warner to bitch, you are told you'll pay another $30 for a second visit by a tech, of course still with no guarantee he has the right box. Or, "You can just come into the office and swap it." Judging by the line, there's been an epidemic of lost boxes in the recent past.

I'd suggest Time Warner set up a separate, "We screwed you over" express line, but everyone would be in it.

A Sober September Day

I'm working on a pitch, and Kim and I went out to a restaurant in DUMBO after work. So it wasn't until about 8:30 when I walked out of the subway to see the beams of light shooting up from the WTC site. It was a visceral reminder of a day that can seem almost unreal when you're anywhere else.

As new New Yorkers, thinking of that day makes me exceptionally grateful both to the soldiers oversees who were inspired by that day to defend our country, and the cops and firemen here who stand ready to put themselves in harm's way even though the worst case scenario can always happen here.

Welcome to the Super Cube

Can anything be perfect? I love my apartment, am thrilled to be in New York, have been having a lot of good food and good times, and of course am madly in love with my wife and only slightly less pleased with my dog. And my job has been great so far in every aspect save one.

I hate, hate, HATE where I sit everyday.

If you walked into the offices of my agency, you'd see a modern, sophisticated lobby. You'd find an elegant, high tech series of conference rooms for impressive client meetings. If you went upstairs to the creative area, you'd see a funky kitchen with pub tables, high-end espresso machines, and funny graphics on the walls. There's even a brainstorming area surrounded by translucent orange panels that just screams, "you are in a creative place, dammit."

However, if you happened to walk through the kitchen door and take a left down a little hallway, you'd find a dark, depressing, poorly lit corner. And if you poked your head through the doorless entryway, you'd find me ensconced in my Super Cube.

There is no furniture but a desk and a weird old armchair. The back corner is so dark you assume it will eventually be a crime scene on Law and Order. The walls are grey cube fabric up to small window-like glass panels that don't really let in any light. There's a panel missing that exposes a bunch of wiring. In short, it's loud when someone's talking near me, isolated and hard to find, depressing to be in, and the poor lighting gives me a headache. I hate the Super Cube.

As you can see from the picture, I put up my "happy wall" much as I had it at my old job, which does help a bit. But some days I sit there and think of my huge window and light, airy office at my old job, which made the happy wall look much better. What will really make me happy is if and when I get a new office, which, to his credit, my boss has said he will work on. Hopefully it won't be too long. When the weather gets crappy, it will really ruin my days to go from a dreary New York street to a semi-office that feels like a dark alley.

A Good Weekend

Well, I certainly enjoyed myself the past few days. (I suppose the fact that we might be about to sell the house in RI doesn't hurt.)

Because it was kind of a whirlwind, I'm going to just drop the events of the weekend onto the page rapid-fire.


FRIDAY:

Flew back from Chicago. Got the towncar home. Hung out waiting for Kim to get home from her haircut. Went out to dinner on Smith Street. Ate good Italian food and drank Sangrita for the first time at Caserta Vecchia. Went to the Gowanus Yacht Club for a nightcap. Went home.

SATURDAY:

Woke up. Had a relaxing morning. Kim made me an omelet. Went to the Key Foods for the week's food. Hit up the movie theater by Prospect Park to see Tropic Thunder. [Tropic Thunder made me piss myself a little bit.] Hung out at home while the rain raged. Had some delicious Italian wedding soup. Watched Glengarry Glen Ross. Went to Rhythm and Booze (my new neighborhood bar) for a drink once the rain stopped. Came home. Went to sleep.

SUNDAY:

Woke up. Watched Joe Biden babble on Meet the Press. Went to our new church, Immaculate Heart. Watched football (no Patriots!), drank beer, hung bar stuff. Walked the Stell Block through Prospect Park. Saw a woman walking a parrot, and listened to some Rastafarian music. Went to Park Slope. Had cheap margaritas and good tortilla chips at Barrio. Went to the Old Carriage Inn (see the picture) and discovered my pool-playing bar. Came home. Gassed Kim's car. Panicked about Tom Brady's knee. Started blogging.

I love Brooklyn

Snack Thoughts - September 3rd 2008

I often find myself thinking of short little puzzling questions about New York whenever I am out and about, so this is my first post called "Snack Thoughts" to capture these midday musings...it's also an homage to the wonderful New York bagels that tempt my fat loving taste buds on every corner...


....what are they doing to the bagels here to make them taste so good...they're narcotic for god's sake!


....how do women where high heeled and platform shoes walking around all day? my feet hurt just looking at them.


....is the legal age for acquiring a tattoo lower here? it seems like 5 years olds are sporting ink.


....is it safe to eat Mr. Softee? it's really good, but i am somehow nervous that is comes out of a truck.


....when is Polar Seltzer going to increase it's distribution to the tri state area?


....are you uncool if you accept the things (free posters, gum, etc) that are being given away on the street? speaking of which, does anyone want a poster of Roger Federer or some Stride gum...

....why does "cholo" keep tagging the walking bridge to the Fort Hamilton Parkway subway station? i wonder if we'll ever meet him....hopefully he won't mug us.

....how do they teach the dogs to all walk together in bunches. stella would never stand for that!

....can you complain about ANYTHING by dialing 311? who picks up the phone? can they track back to where you're calling from like 911?

....do any of the take out places in Brooklyn deliver dessert or beer? they deliver everything else.

....why do people sit outside of their houses on the sidewalk in folding chairs to play cards or just talk?


....was the asian man in the liquor store on Church street mute or was he angry about something?

....how long do you have to live here to feel like you actually live here?

A Day at the Museum

It's weird to now live in a cultural center. It's wonderful to be able to decide, on a random weekend day, that we're going to head out to a museum. However, you can no longer blame your slacking off on not having any interesting things to do or see. The MoMA, for example, is less than an hour away on the subway.

This weekend, they had some cool exhibits: a study of how Dali worked in film, and how it was reflected in his paintings, and a display of modular housing technology from yesterday and today.

I don't really have any coherent thoughts about the museum...I don't think my review is going to make anyone go check out a modern art museum who wouldn't have gone already. I will say that my favorite part wasn't any of the abstract art or funky design...it was our friend, the helicopter.

Just Another Day at the Office

Work doesn't always offer a lot of spontaneous moments, but when you walk in the lobby after lunch and there's a giant double-stuffed Oreo traipsing through the lobby, you can have a moment of levity.

I have no idea why he was there, being led (awkwardly) through the security gates and into the elevator. Is there another agency in the building? Was my shop somehow placing an Oreo in a pharmaceutical ad? Who knows?

All I know is that nothing quite that stupid and random happened in over 3 years working in Boston, and it's been less than 2 months before this guy showed up.

Lesbians to Locals - A Park Slope Bar Hop

I think that Dan has finally learned his lesson when it comes to letting me choose what new "drinking hole" we are going to try next. The reason why I have to choose is to prevent the fight that usually ensues when Dan chooses the worst looking dive bar he can drag me into. Dan has a penchant for the types of bars that most people avoid...case in point, the Lithuanian Club back in Providence (http://www.rhodyrocks.com/2007/10/dive-bar-tour-of-providence.html).

So last night when we were walking past all kinds of trendy bars along 5th Ave., I was trying to scope out the most non-girly drink serving, neutrally hip bar I could. We stopped at a nifty little place with a cool...but not too cool exterior. We sat down at the bar and ordered 2 beers from a very nice older gentleman bartender. Then Dan realized he had no cash and had to walk out and find an ATM. This is when I had a moment to take it all in...the plasma TV playing the Democratic National Convention, the weathered walls and jukebox, the 2 lovely ladies seated next to me looking very cowgirl with neckerchiefs on, the other 2 ladies sitting next to them looking a little butch, the gay pride rainbow flag, the numerous Zagat's reviews on the wall next to me indicating that Ginger's Bar was in fact the BEST lesbian bar in Brooklyn...hell...all of New York City.

Dan returned to with money to this revelation and to his credit handled it pretty well, noting that it was really ME who had the least in common with everyone there, my not being interested in the female anatomy and all. So we sipped our beers next to a huge canister of ginger soaking in vodka and when we were done the bartender said "Thanks a lot, ladies" apologizing with a chuckle that it was a force of habit.

Having chosen poorly with Ginger's, we ended up at Jackie's Fifth Amendment on our next stop where we were served up 7 oz. bottles of Coors Light in fantastic stemmed glasses that I think will be featured in the Reed and Barton Crystal line for Spring. Of the many acoutrements that make Jackie's a definite stop on the Park Slope tour is the faux wood parquet bar top complete with uphoulstered edge in case you fall off your bar stool. As the photo shows, there's a clock in Jackie's for convenience...it wasn't 4:48 in the morning or afternoon but when you're at Jackie's time is irrelevant. We capped off the evening by scrounging up $1 to play Sweet Child of Mine on the jukebox and listened to the local flavor at the end of the bar.

It was a short hop, but an eventful one...proving that our quest for new hangouts in our new neighborhood will be an adventure for many weeks to come

This post was brought to you by - the letter L and the number 5.

F Train Follies

So maybe things have been a bit too easy lately. I had been thoroughly enjoying almost everything about our move in the last few weeks, but I hadn't yet experienced the joys of a screwed up commute into Manhattan. But today I had it in spades.

Sitting (not moving) on the elevated tracks between 4th Avenue and Smith Street, the conductor got on to announce that the train was going to be switching to the G train tracks after the next spot because of track problems ahead. So I got off at Smith, where they further announced they had no idea when F Train service would resume. I already knew I was going to be late, but now I didn't know if I was going to be able to get there before lunch. I checked the map, and it looked like my best bet was to take the G to the A, then switch from the A to the F in Manhattan. With the plan in place, I jumped on a passing G and got on the A in two stops (It's already 8:45, but I'm making progress.)

Well, the conductor on the A Train announces that THAT train will be doing a bunch of the F's stops. But not all of them, only a few into Manhattan, when it would go back, apparently, to the A track. But it was going to skip the transfer stop to the F that I needed.

Now I'm at who-knows-what stop, and it's almost 9:00. All the sudden I look out, and even though it wasn't an F Train stop, there's an F Train sitting across the way. So I burst out and across the platform just before the door closes, thinking I'm all set and will maybe be 15-20 minutes late. But no, because the track is doing double duty, and they're taking so much time to make announcements, we sat in the tube between every stop, and I didn't get to mine until a bit after 9:30. Which means I got to my desk almost 45 minutes later than I intended to.

On the way home, I had to McGuyver myself an alternate route (6 to the R to the F) to avoid the problems Kim said she had going back. Of course, I waited 10 minutes for the F at 4th Ave.

The good news is that the R seems to be both fast and easy to get to...I might be trying that option again in the future.

I'm home...thanks to the Bleecker Street Bar

There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of bars in New York City. I will never go to most of them. And while there may be a bar that better embodies the fun and fellowship that I love in a drinking establishment than the Bleecker Street Bar, I am doubtful such a place could exist.

Last Friday, thanks to the summer Fridays at my new job, I got out early and was committed to go to my favorite New York watering hole. (I discovered it before I lived here...it formerly served as the place I would go after a long day of walking and shopping through Greenwich Village with Kim.)(

There are a few keys to a great bar in the city. First, it should let you drink without breaking your budget. The BSB (for short) delivers by offering a 24 ounce Yuengling for $4. In other words, you get a bottle's worth of beer for $2.

But if that wasn't enough, the place has a battery of dart boards and a pool table in the back. In other words, it's not just a place to drink, but a place to play games and socialize. A good bar lets you meet other people and feel like, even for a moment, that you are connected to another person.

But no bar is worth the cost of a pint if it doesn't have a certain atmosphere, a certain sense of both comfort and energy. I don't know if it comes across in the picture to right, but the BSB has that in spades. The crowd is diverse and low-key, and the place fills with a light and energy that makes you feel like you're in a friend's house more than in a bar. When I was there last Friday, the bartender was asking me about where I was from, and a few other people chatted about sports or the news of the day.

That gets at something that's even bigger than a bar...New York is a lot more friendly than people want to admit. Just today, I had a 10 minute conversation with a woman on the train who used to own a Basque restaurant and recommends heading to the East Village for sushi and raw food. She could have sat and talked to her daughter, but she detected that I was new in the city (probably because I was flipping through Zagats) and thought she could give some good advice. For all the talk about the grumpy, self-absorbed New Yorker, I find them to be caring and personable. And there's no better place to experience it than the Bleecker Street Bar.

F Train Play List # 1 - Techno / Electro

If you ever get on the subway or walk the streets anywhere in New York, you'll notice that most people have their Ipod permanently lined into their ear drums, the reason being that it helps you to not notice the horrendous acts going on about you...take my ride home last night for instance. In the midst of a sardine packed F train sat a completely normal looking male - completely innocuous looking at first, until he started picking - DIGGING - into his nose. I mean, the guy must have been close to touching gray matter, yet no one around him seemed to notice, except for me - who was completely horrified and entranced at the same time..

This is why the Ipod is perfect for any subway situation. The importance of having playlists is crucial. It is NOT cool to hold your Ipod in your hand for the whole ride scrolling from song to song. Mostly everyone keeps it in their pocket or hidden away so all you notice are the little white wires extending into your ears. You just sit (stand mostly) back and sink into another world with your music, watching sublimely the things around you set to your chosen soundtrack.

The techno / electro genre lends particularly well to subway listening. There is something about the squeaking of the breaks and wooshing noise the train makes that is complemented by the beats and electronically produced noise that is techno / electro. This playlist starts out slow - for the walk to the Fort Hamilton Parkway station - and ends strong - inspiration to conquer (or at least survive) the day ahead.


Thee Playlist - F Train Techno / Electro
13 Songs, 1 hour

1. 100 Billion Stars - Lux
2. One Too Many Mornings - The Chemical Brothers
3. Sinnerman - Nina Simone & Felix Da Housecat
4. Every Word - Ercola
5. Moan (Vocal Version feat. Ane Trolle) - Trentemoller
6. Extreme Ways - Moby
7. NYC Beat - Armand Van Helden
8. I Love to Move In Here - Moby
9. This is Miami - Sander Kleinenberg
10. Cry for You (Radio Mix) - September
11. Harder Better Faster Stronger - Daft Punk
12. Playing House - Armand Van Helden feat. Kudu
13. F**ck the Pain Away - Peaches

The Neighborhood Park

So there's this huge freakin' park right near the house: Prospect Park. Interestingly, it was designed by the same guys who more famously created Central Park, and it's even been said they consider this one their masterpiece. So, yesterday, when I was home after taking a red eye from California, I decided to take the Block (aka Stella) for a walk to check it out.

You can see from the map that there's a lake in the southern part of the park, right near our neighborhood. So I decided, just for a kick, that my first walk would be around it. Now, it isn't THAT big, but it took me an hour and a half, so that was plenty of time for something odd to happen. And sure enough, some couple's puppy decided to go a little crazy and jumped right into an algae filled corner of the pond. I came two seconds from jumping in after it, because the way this guy was yelling, I thought it was a child. Other than that moment of drama, most of the walk was just staring at different birds and accepting people's compliments as they gawked at my very cute dog. (Just once, I want someone to come up to me, start petting the dog, and start saying, "You're such a lucky dog, you have such a good looking owner!" I'm starting to feel like maybe my dog is too attractive for me.)

The problem with leaving right near a great park is that you feel guilty if you aren't regularly taking advantage of it. Like, tomorrow I have a half day and the weather's supposed to be perfect. But what if I want to go to a bar or work on fixing up my basement? Then I wasted the nice weather, and (I can hear that guilt-trippy little voice in my head whining) THE PARK IS RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER!

New York Seen

Yesterday was my first day riding a crowded subway home...people watching GALORE, but I didn't get a seat until Carroll Street. I wish I could have taken a photo of the guy that walked onto the train in a Harley Davidson tshirt and this huge, chunky, brass belt buckle carved with the phrase "69er" on it. It was definitely a crime as the mere thought of this man existing in the same universe as that particular act was completely apalling.





Walking from the subway to the apartment, I noticed this sign posted about a stolen 2 headed turtle. It's completely for real and the pet store owner needs him back because he requires special feeding so that the 2 heads don't fight over the food. I hope they return the little guy so we can go see it. We'll get our tortoise Dmitri on the case...he really has nothing better to do, quite frankly.

This is Stella looking all tough in our mud wrestling pit in the yard. The really loves rolling in this massive pile of dirt so she's generally not allowed out there often unattended. We're trying to figure out exactly how to make good use of our dirt pit...most likely some sort of garden. Dan had a really good idea about moving some of the stones to make a path cutting across it and creating different garden beds. We haven't discussed this with Stella yet. We're sure she won't approve.

Yesterday at lunch I walked over to the massive Farmer's Market on Broadway and 17th street...just a few blocks away from the building I work in. There were amazing orchid plants for sale, although I can't imagine myself carrying an orchid home on the subway, or keeping it alive for that matter. I was amazed at how massive the market was...it stretched all the way to 14th street and it had EVERYTHING. I bought some vine ripened tomatoes that were perfectly ripe and they tasted every bit as good as ones we had grown in the yard on Lyman Street in Rhody. I also bought some beautiful peaches that are also perfectly ripe and ready to eat. I have to say that eating healthy is pretty easy here. There are salads everywhere and delicious produce available easily. The market runs every Monday, Wednesday and Friday...so tomorrow I'll stop by again for lunch.

God Help Me...I Live In New York

So today marks my first day working at the showroom on 41 Madison. It all started out so well...my colleague - and the only other person that works in the showroom - brought me flowers and set up the most awesome coffee machine in the world for my first pot. I set up my office and got straight to work...all was blissful...had lunch with Dan over by Grand Central...then by the time I got back to the office, the downward spiral ensued.

My "Virtual Private Network" decided to crap out on me and I couldn't access my Outlook folders...for an anal retentive, that spells disaster. I made it through the afternoon and decided to leave my laptop at the office so my folders could fix themselves. All remains to be seen in the A.M.

At about 5:30 pm, I head for the F train, feeling all cool with my Ipod and not making eye contact like a true New Yorker. I avoided getting on the V train, which would have been a mistake and got on the F train...or so I thought. Turns out the F train was marauding as the A and C train...only for 25 stops before it got to Brooklyn. It was the point of no return and I was assured that it would become the F train again once we got to Jay Street...which it did...about 45 minutes and 8 additional stops into the ride. I arrived at the Fort Hamilton stop about 1 hour and 5 minutes later.

I was greeted at the door by Ms. Stella, our wonderful bitch of a dog, who had torn through her crate in an effort to escape to the front bedroom window. After a thorough inspection of the whole apartment to make sure nothing was destroyed (or poisonous thing eaten) I took her out to the dog park for a walk to do her thing. By the time we returned a wonderful little note was left on the door by a man named Joe alerting us to the fact he would be back tomorrow to "work in the basement." Not sure what this entails, but it was a problem. I called the broker to tell her this was not possible and she agreed....all was right once again. I put a pot of water on for a sad dinner of spaghetti and bottled Classico 4 Cheese Tomato sauce and a glass (more than 1) of Cavit Pinot Grigio purchased from the mute Asian liquor store man on Church Ave in Kensington (another story for another day). I was just sitting down to my white trash dinner and reached down to pet Ms. Stella, when I felt an odd lump protruding her skin...which would be the dog tick.

Now I hate bugs of all kinds. I can't even be in the same room. On autopilot and knowing that there would be no one around to rescue me from the plight I was in, I went into the bathroom for the tweezers, located the disgusting flesh colored, engorged lump (about the size of a raisin), affixed the tweezers as far up as I could on the thing and yanked. There was a yelp (not sure if it was me or Stella) and then blood...lots of blood...on the floor. Then came the freak out. I had dropped the tick on the floor somewhere. What to do? Clean up the blood and make sure Stella was not bleeding to death or find the tick??? Luckily, I spotted it while trying to corral the bleeding white wonder that was my dog. I trashed the tick into the trash can and applied pressure on Stella's wound. It was all under control in about 10 minutes but the two of us remain traumatized and are about ready to head to bed. The insomnia I once had has been cured by complete exhaustion and paranoia of what tomorrow entails since today flew such a banner.

Needless to say, if Dan ever bitches to you about purchasing me handbags or Tiffany jewelry, note there are many good reasons for why these obligations occur...case in point.

Real Unreality

So, there's nothing left but to move. And while I've wanted this change for a while, in fact need it, the feelings of fear and confusion are definitely building. (As a side note, it's adding a degree of difficulty to start a new job while in house limbo.)

Someone dropped a charming cliche on me a while ago: Three moves equals one fire. I think I'd rather move three times than be burned out, but the stresses of moving are very real, and a lot more complex than the fear of the unknown. I think for me the idea of 'reprogramming' is the real pain point. I don't just have to re-organize my home life, but reconfigure every routine from where I go for a drink to what I do on a sunny weekend. It all feels both incredibly vivid and inescapable, and yet fictional, ephemeral.

The truck pulls up to the house on Thursday. I won't be there, so I'll be wondering the whole time what is happening. But Friday morning, I'll be opening the door to my new apartment and letting the movers start setting up my new life. It's impossible to know for sure, but I think at that moment, the start of my first New York weekend, will be the start of something great, and the nervousness will disappear.

Finding the local watering hole

I'm still in shock that I'm actually moving to New York. That everything seems to be progressing, if not smoothly, at least at a level of crazy I can handle.

The strangest part of the last few weeks has been that I've started my job, but I'm not a New Yorker yet. Until we move in on the 15th, I'm staying with my parents (something I NEVER thought I'd do again) and commuting in from Bridgeport. So I have long, long days with only the smallest bit of New York experience coming at lunch or in a few minutes after work. (Excepting my first company party, which deserves its own post.)

However, yesterday I had to go to the new apartment to drop off some paperwork and to measure the rooms for furniture. And, since I was already all the way to Brooklyn, I figured it was as good a chance as any to have my first brew at a local bar.

All anyone who knew the neighborhood could talk about was Farrell's, an ancient Irish joint on the border of Windsor Terrace and Park Slope. It's a dive in the best sense (this from a man who organized a dive bar tour of Providence not long ago) and features one beer on tap (Budweiser) that you can order in three sizes. A small is 5 ounces, and perfect for chasing the popular shot of Jameson. A medium is a typical pint, and a large is a 32 ounce monster served in a styrofoam cup.

Farrell's has a few other claims to fame. First, it is stubbornly a man's place. In fact, in the 1970's, Shirley MacLaine integrated the place, which had previously only admitted guys. Even when I went, it was pretty much populated by firefighters and old boozers. Second, they filmed a scene from As Good as it Gets here. (I find the first point a bit more thrilling.)

I'm not sure how often I'll get to Farrell's. With no pool table and no food, there's no denying you're walking in the door to tie one on. However, I know I've found the perfect place to spend my first Brooklyn St. Patty's Day. (Friends, make your reservations now.) And I have now officially had my first local drink in my (soon to be) new home.

The Big Leap

George: Tell me I've done the right thing. Tell me we're going to be happier in New York.

Gwen: Yes, George. We're going to be happy in New York.

George: -ier! Happier in New York.


- The Out of Towners, Neil Simon, 1970


Happiness is a relative thing. It's a Friday afternoon drive home from the office at 5, leaving it all behind you. It's a moist vanilla birthday cake topped with buttercream frosting flowers on your 7th birthday. It's being comfortable, safe and secure. It's the sweet space between laziness and boredom where you are just busy enough to be occupied but have enough time to enjoy the atmosphere. But sometimes happiness can be just the opposite - the thrill of the unknown, having the whole world laid before you on a map, closing your eyes and heading toward that first place where your finger lands.

For us, the finger (it may have been the middle one - not sure just yet) landed in New York City and we're packing up our lives to make the move to our new apartment in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn. We're leaving behing the miniature world of Rhode Island for the macrocosm of the big city and we're sure to either end up happy (ier?) or will have destroyed each other in the process.