I’m having some last minute mayoral primary panic. I should know enough by now to realize that no candidate is going to cover public sector union raises, pensions, or health care plans, or be specific about how they would tackle NYCHA’s deficit. But I still wish they would. Indecisiveness is one thing when it comes to breakfast choices, but I should probably learn to stand by a decision maybe sooner than the night before the primary.
Not to mention my district’s city council race, which has featured more clip art and bad photoshop jobs clogging my mailbox than I ever thought possible. Still, I think that’s a clear decision.
Now can we just bring back the lever machines? Now they were a good time.
Babies with tiny headphones, breezes, beer, and big guitars all make an appearance in my latest for Brooklyn Based. As does my new and improved (for now) attitude towards festivals.
"no radio, coins or valuables."—sign on car in Washington Heights. #nyc #cars #WaHi #Manhattan #NotThe1980s
file under nyc childhood memories.
Tig Notaro made me laugh like the idiot that I am tonight with her set at Soundcheck live. I had no idea this would occur after a story about wisdom teeth removal. But that’s my fault for being dumb enough to question whether she can make anything funny.
Then, my broken foot and I chair-danced to to the Randolph Family Band, who did things with pedal steel guitar that I have no words for. Tina Fey was in the audience as her husband was the second person on the bill, and he’s even charming too. Dense New Yorker that I am, I almost didn’t notice, but when I did, I still stared like a creep, but at her cute red sandals. Her daughter is illegally adorable.
And then I did a shot with the bartender at Nancy Whiskey, which also makes me unreasonably happy.
New Neko Case. Did she know today was a little stressful and I needed a new song?
She gets upset when I tell her I love her. She tells me that I’m quite “dear” to her, but she can’t reciprocate all this “love,” because of Kevin (not his real name), the not-quite-ex-boyfriend. “Oh, the complexities of modern life!” I write to her. “So many goofy, earnest middle-class boys to choose from.”
I’m such an easy mark for almost anything Shteyngart writes.
Also, between this and the 10 pages on Kim Gordon last week, I feel like the New Yorker really has my back. At least until the next article on the secret life of mold.
A Letter From Istanbul
“The protest started 5 days ago. People were gathered to protest against the only park in Istanbul being turned into a shopping mall. Gezi park is the equivalent of Hyde Park or Central park. It started as a calm protest, many people reading and young students exchanging ideas.
Things really escalated when the police burnt down their tents and started to tear gas the non violent protesters. Tanks currently patrol the streets and gas bombs are being dropped by helicopter.
The Turkish ruling party has recently really started to show its fierce authoritarian side. last week alcohol laws were put in place and they are also planning on banning ‘public displays of affection’ aka kissing in the street!
There are other things too.
The big thing is that the Turkish media is NOT broadcasting the protests. 40,000 people walked over the bridge to protest on the weekend. Nothing is on the TV or in the newspapers. Turkish people in towns and villages have no idea what is happening. This media censorship is a huge part of the problem.
Many are injured, and Istanbul is becoming a police state. It is not just the park that has caused this reaction, it is because our basic civil liberties are being taken away from us by a man who was not voted into power democratically.
It is rumoured that Facebook and Twitter will soon be shut down in Turkey. We want people to know what is happening. Many countries in the Middle East look at Turkey as an example of how a country can be run, but young people, writers, artists and musicians are beaten by the police, looked up in jail and tortured. these figures can be seen on Amnesty International’s website.”
- Selvi May
Parks and public assembly are essential.
Despite mostly enjoying Frances Ha, I was absurdly jealous at how at least one aspect of her life turned out, and I realized I’ve reached the point where I’m jealous of fictional characters simply because their day jobs are more stable and full time than mine.
As much as I go to the movies for escape, to have a two hour vacation in a dark room with a Diet Coke the size of my head, sometimes snippets of my life are reflected back at me. Sure it’s in more stylized but still piercing ways and then I’m reminded of what I fear I’m doing wrong.
Aside from projecting my personal issues onto the beautifully filmed black and white screen, I was happy to watch a non headache inducing portrait of a woman in her late 20s.
Frances Ha doesn’t glamorize the title character’s untethered life, but subtly portrayed the feeling of watching friends move ahead in careers and relationships, and while a small part of you wonders if this is giving in or selling out mostly you just wonder why you didn’t get the chance to do the same, and so comfortably and with such nice health insurance.
I fell and broke my left foot leaving GoogaMooga last Friday night. Fortunately this happened after seeing the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, who manage to make me dance and make me cry, a rare feat that I had forgotten about since the last time I saw them, probably eleven years ago, when Karen O. poured beer all over the audience.
I wish I could say the fall was because I saved a baby from an active volcano before gifting it with a kitten that I just happened to have saved from a tree. There was uneven ground, and we had a fight, and well, the ground won. I can’t believe the Prospect Park Alliance only got $75,000 from the festival, and I felt a bit ashamed reading about the effects on the park, but for once my reserves of guilt were already assigned, so that particular shame will just have to wait for a refill.
Two doctor visits later, I’ve got a boot that makes my leg look robotic, but it’s better than the crutches, which I’ve decided are an evil tool of the patriarchy. I can’t wait until I can take long walks again. I also can’t wait to go back to job 1 (the park). I’ve met my writing deadlines (job 2), but I legitimately miss the office.
Perhaps the boot would be better with some bedazzling.