some incongruity

you know what's funny? a monk (a franciscan monk, in full-on vestments) with a brooklyn accent. a tough guy of the cloth.

the last picture show

i will admit to loving mom and pop businesses, little home-grown stores or organizations operated out of crazy spaces, with a shoestring budget and plenty of charm. new york has plenty of those, seems to nurture their odd independent businesses, although my favorites are the movie theaters.

when we lived in park slope, we could easily stroll down to the pavillion, and often did to catch a new release on their old screens. the theaters were aging and somewhat ill-tended, but it was such a neighborly audience that i loved going to see movies in that place. there's a big fancy multiplex on court that is maybe 10 minutes away, and it was perfect for "up" and "harry potter" this summer, but my favorite movie theater in the nabe is cobble hill cinemas, just a few minutes in the other direction. they run special deals on thursday nights, though their regular tickets are still much cheaper than the fancy screens down the street, and they sell delicious popcorn, and they have painted film scenes on the walls (which is both funny and terrifying, when you come face to face with a four-foot-tall crazy-jack-nicholson-in-the-shining picture) and old movie posters, and signs on the stairs saying "only 20 more to go!" ("i counted 19" said s, last weekend when we went to see "inglourious basterds"), and comfy seats (though not such great speakers) and they play a mix of wide-release and indie films, and i just love it.

probably secretly (or not-so-secretly and maybe i'm just totally clueless) they're owned by someone more incorporated than my next door neighbors, but it still feels like a local spot, the kind that seem to be holding out better in new york than anywhere else, the kind that help to make this city so unique.

hey soph

today in my new cool work nabe (described perfectly by a reviewer as "on the transitional frontier between proletarian chinatown and posh soho") as i was headed out in the late afternoon for some much-need warm caffeine, i spotted sofia coppola walking towards me. she is distinctive looking, and yet also fairly normal in appearance at the same time. (i was on the phone with s and told him about my sighting, and he said "i wouldn't have recognized her." but he doesn't love marc jacobs or "the virgin suicides" as much as some people i know, so that makes sense to me.) anyways, i was overwhelmed by a desire to say hello to her.

i'm sure we're all glad that i did not.

home sweet home

we moved into a new apartment a little while ago. did i mention that we moved? i must have. it was a big process (i've written about the hunt before), and we ended up finding something nearly-perfect (it's always nearly)--nicely sized and in great shape in a cute building plus a balcony with just barely-there views of governor's island. there are so many things i love about our new apartment, but the biggest thing is that it makes me feel like i have finally arrived in the new york life i always planned to live. it's funny, isn't it, how little it takes to make us feel like we're living the life we dreamed about? for me, it is our stairs. we have these real, honest-to-goodness brownstone-brooklyn stairs leading up to our double front doors, and every time i walk up them i think "ah yes, i live in new york, in an apartment i picked out and pay for, that i furnished and keep clean and love in the morning when the sunlight comes in perfectly from across the water."

the inside makes me happy, too. from the staircase in our little brownstone, i can hear our neighbors listening to music and washing dishes and laughing at the tv. i love our communal domesticity. one of my most favorite things about new york is getting to live in an apartment building. i much prefer shared spaces, even small ones. as a child, i hated living in a house, it made me too nervous; the unexplained sounds in daylight and dark, too many doors and locks to keep track of safely, the silent little-town nights outside my window, the space between neighbors too far to walk comfortably without shoes. (i used to tell myself i would only live in a big house some day if i got really famous and could hire people to hang out in my house all the time.)

this place we live in, that we picked out--it’s what i always thought new york life would be. i admit to being inspired by a vague pastiche of old tv shows where everyone knew their comic-relief neighbors (tv new york of the 80s and even 90s, before everyone got rich enough to live in fancy lofts by themselves.) i wanted the cramped spaces and the lived in rooms, the real life that says "this city is mine, i made it so." it was never a glossy new york that i craved, but a familiar one. i’m not one for stilettos and taxis and fancy drinks (at least not very often)—i wanted (and i got) bagels and coffee from the same little place every saturday morning, a favorite bar for date night drinks, good friends who will meet me at our spot.

and an apartment, small and charming and surrounded by other people living out their new york dreams.

commuter coincidence

i like to say that new york is the biggest little small town in the country. i feel like people stick to their neighborhoods and social spheres, so that even in this city of however many millions, you tend to run into the same people.

yesterday morning i saw the same girl on my morning commute in to work and on my evening commute home. (a funny coincidence because i was running a little late to work, and had left a little later in the evening.) i noticed her in the morning because i liked her dress (unusual color and draping, looked comfortable but chic), so then when i saw her on the stairs of the court street station as i was coming home, i thought "oh, there's that dress again!"

comedy/drama

we've had lots of lovely visitors this summer, which always means getting to be tourists in our own city. it also usually means getting to see at least one broadway show, and this summer i was lucky enough to see three!

the s family came to stay (in our teeny-beany bk apartment) for a week-ish in july, and it was a lot of fun. they touristed by day while i worked, and then i'd take them to dinner or a show in the evenings. through tdf, i got us tickets to mary stuart, which was absolutely phenomenal. we expected it to be a bit dry (it is a history play, after all), but the story and writing were extremely engaging, and the action moved along quite well. the cast did a fantastic job, which helped as well. it is (unfortunately) rare that a show has one, let alone two, strong dramatic roles for women, and both actresses blew me away in their parts. harriet walter as elizabeth takes on an icon and humanizes her, letting her vulnerability show through her icy reserve at key moments in the play. janet mcteer is a powerhouse as mary--it was impossible to take your eyes off her onstage, and her vocal and physical life held such power and passion. it was a really powerful night at the theater, and i felt very lucky to get to see such wonderful women at work.

s' mother is a big american idol fan, so when she saw that constatine maroulis was performing in rock of ages, she decided she wanted to go for her birthday. i always love a good campy musical--and am an unabashed 80s hair metal fan--so i was happy to tag along with the family to the show. it was a surprising amount of fun. the music is loud and goofy and it was hard not to sing and dance in my seat. the cast was clearly having a great time as well--especially franz, who (among other things) just wants to make chocolate, and lonny, the over-the-top narrator. constantin has a surprisingly strong voice, which certainly helped sell the show. all in all, i had a lot of fun, and was happy to get to go.

we rounded our summer of shows out with the norman conquests at circle in the square (the show sadly has now closed.) it was my first time at an alan ayckbourn play, and i enjoyed myself immensely. i don't often laugh out loud at plays, but it was incredibly funny, and the cast (imported from london and the old vic) was really very talented. it's part of a trilogy--you can see one or all, in any order--and centers around a family house in england and the crazy family that's descended upon each other for the weekend. s and i meant to see the other plays, but we ran out of time, which is too bad. it was really a wonderful revival, and i'd love to see more.

the land of lost souls

this is not post about a magical part of new york, but about an important part nonetheless. my book club has been reading "the land of the lost souls" by cadillac man, a homeless writer who's lived on the streets for years and chronicled his life and loves and those he's lost. his original article about life on the outside ran in esquire back in 2005, and much of it is expounded upon in the book. it's a difficult read. the things he describes are not pretty at best; awful and heart-breaking at worst. it's not always a nice depiction of our city, but at the same time there are a lot of bright moments of human interaction. he has a love affair with a young woman that he saves from an attack; there are friends that he can count on from all walks of life; diner owners and kindly waitresses offer extra cups of coffee or food to go.

it's a hard read but worth it. it opened my eyes to the people that i often don't see. i think that most people have a hard time interacting with the homeless in this city. it makes me sad to see people so down and my heart goes out to them, but it's difficult to know what a donation is actually going to. cadillac man is honest--most of the money that people beg for goes to alcohol or drugs; those who don't use and are homeless by choice often prefer to work (by canning or doing odd jobs) to pay for their small living expenses. and many people are dangerous, to fellow homeless and to "outsiders" as he calls those of us fortunate enough to go home at night. this is a tough city to survive in no matter what your means, but the world cadillac lives in is rougher than any i think i could imagine. it just made me feel very blessed that i came to this city with a job and a home and a support system, and that i am able to make a living and keep myself comfortable. in these economic times (how sick are we all of this phrase?) it's a good reminder: i have a roof over my head and food on my table, and i am very lucky indeed.