Gotcher Fresh Monday Here

Monday Again

There isn’t coffee enough in the known world for this kind of day. Which starts with me gazing out the window at the pattering rain, the ceaseless placid can’t-be-argued rain, the gray skies, the peaceful lap of city showers.

On the radio a forecast of rain continuing through the day, news of flooding in the Southwest. A calm and almost stately morning, and I have the sense that there’s a simple thought lurking just out of reach, wanting attention. If I don’t chase it, I figure, it will come to me on its own.

your. umbrella.

your. umbrella.
is. at. the. office.

Posted in General Musings |

It’s Astounding

The Time of Brian

Lately I’ve been churning up the textwaves with The Communist Conspiracy, who isn’t from these parts but probably should be. (She’s not actually either a communist or a conspirator, really, which is why I’ll call her that.) Sometimes — all right, often — we discuss how the days of the week have certain clear characteristics, one of which is that they are mostly Mondays in one guise or another.

Along the way, we make an important discovery.

Linus (on a Wednesday): Hey, it’s Monday again. How did that happen?
The Communist Conspiracy: You are obviously stuck in a time warp.
Linus: I can’t imagine why. Though I guess I did make a jump to the left. And then a step to the right. Were my hands on my hips? They might have been.

Note to self: no more jumping to the left before coffee. One Monday a week is plenty.

Posted in General Musings |

Cherry Chatter

Close Encounter

For a couple of days there I kidded myself that I might miss the Sakura Matsuri cherry-blossom party at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, but when yesterday rolled around there I was sandaling along the Cherry Esplanade, just like every year.

It’s a mixed bag of a season, what with winter ’til April 20th and spring up through the 22nd or so — and since then we’ve entered the rainy season, which I imagine will lead us, monsoon-like, right into steamy summer. The cherry trees along the main drag are just starting to bud their blooms, and along the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden the flowers are peaking (whoa dude, check out the colors). The day is warm and partly clouded. My new cell phone has the mandatory pointless camera, so I am able to menace an innocent late-sleeping set of friends with blurred pictures of cherry trees. That’s technology for you.

Two momentary pebbles, snatched from the hand of the day:

Moment #1: I dawdle along the marge of the pond in the Japanese Garden, past the koi and the turtles, shooting pictures of a spray of flowers dripping down a mature Higan Cherry tree (Prunus subhirtella, which my brain immediately renders as “undershirt prune”).

An elderly gent wearing a Kahlua cap edges up and watches me focus and frame. After I take a picture he looks at me pointedly. He indicates the tree with his chin. “Yep,” he says. “Cherry tree. They don’t make ‘em like they used to.” And moves on.

Moment #2: What there is of sun is making “gotta go” moves, and the crowd follows suit. People congregate under the two or three trees in full bloom along the Cherry Esplanade, taking posterity pictures against a backdrop of straining petals.

Three high school boys pose together for a pretty girl trying to put them all in the frame of her tiny camera. There’s a good-looking guy who hasn’t turned cynical yet, a non-conformist guy who hasn’t gone bitter, and a lissome buzz-cut razor-thin boy who may not have had occasion yet to have a good long talk with his gender preference.

He wears a black tee that says No, I will not fix your computer. As the girl jockeys for position, he thrusts out his hip. “Be sure,” he says pointedly, “not to miss the Lizard Man action figure in my pocket.”

Posted in General Musings |

A Safe Bet

Guess Where Windows

I’m having a beer at Rockwood Music Hall, as one will, when my phone starts to dance. It’s a friend with strong opinions, sending a text message from the clubs of Williamsburg.

Friend With Strong Opinions: Klezmer-punk rap. What an unnecessary idea…
Linus: But you don’t see it every day now, do you.
FWSO: I just fervently hope it’s not the start of a trend.

I don’t have any photos of klezmer-punk rap bands, so this photo shows a detail of a beautiful building downtown. As with most of my pictures on the blog, you can click on the image to see it on Flickr in more detail.

Posted in General Musings |

The Flatlands

Red Door, Shadow Slice

I’m at the office, extracting coffee from the blue light Star Trek Keurig rig. One of the secretaries comes in and starts fussing with the refrigerator. She excavates for a bit, and retrieves a bottle of Pepsi.

Martina: I left this here over the weekend. I bet it’s flat.
Martina: (opening the bottle) It sounds flat. I hate flat soda.
Martina: Guess I should try it. It’s probably flat.
Martina: (tries it) Oh, yuk. It’s flat all right. Ech. Flat as a doorknob.

Posted in General Musings |

No Sale

I Love Cash

I head in to work last week, on a morning pendling between coming spring and late lashing winter. Outside the escalator at Bowling Green the usual motley scatter of winter merchants hawk the usual motley wares — we know it’s spring for real when the Woolly Hat Table is replaced by the Sunglasses Vendor, but that’s still weeks away.

At the end of the market the Tchotchke Guy is in full commerce mode.

Tchotchke Guy: One dollar! Everything on my table, one dollar! One dollar only!
Tchotchke Guy: One dollar! Ooooooooone dollar! Just a dollar for anything you see!
Inattentive Passing Woman: How much is this?
Tchotchke Guy: … Two dollars.

And people wonder why we have gun control laws.

Posted in General Musings |

Dot’s Entertainment

Dot (After Kandinsky)

My Inbox Problem is starting to resemble my Laundry Problem, and I’m not sure which is worse.

In any case, I dip in there — I’m not talking about laundry — after a sweet walk in today’s ridiculous Globally Warm day (up around 70° here in the City, and there hasn’t been a nip of snow yet since winter, or rather “winter,” started). The mission is to send some pearls to the trash. Along the way, I find this Pearl:

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him … a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create — so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

- Pearl S. Buck, novelist, Nobel laureate (1892-1973)

I’m tickled to learn that Pearl S. Buck was born Pearl Comfort Sydenstricker, daughter of Absalom and Caroline. That’s some serious nomination there, that is.

Posted in General Musings |

Syne Language

Happy New Year!

A safe healthy happy riotous ribald cheeky sexy flirty inspiring notorious warm rousing peaceful tasty potbellied zipper of a night to all, and Better Letters to the Scrabble players among us — and may the 007 to come be James Bond to all of our creaky leftover supervillains.

Last year at this time I was just learning how to push all the little buttons on my new camera, and wasn’t I lucky to have Miss Harvest Moon to point it at along the way? Does wonders for a learning curve, if you know what I mean. And I know that you do.

Posted in General Musings |

A Tree Broods in Brooklyn

December Tree

This is prime time for musing on where I am and where I’ll be, what with that New Year’s Thing coming up fast, but there’s sun outside — pale sun perhaps, but sun nevertheless — and I think it’s calling to me. Which is, pretty much, where I am and where I’ll be, if you’re looking later on.

Posted in General Musings |

2006: The Year of Tottering Duckly


Moving by degrees to the blank reach of 2007. I like it. Those ripe green ones that still have juice in them.

This year has been one of hysterical extremes; I’ve gone through more of what I like to call road learning (as opposed to “book learning,” and I forget who used to say that to me back when but it came up often, book larnin’, yep) than I expected. I’ll be glad to put it down at the last of December, look up, and whisper my goodbyes to the year that was.

(Lame duck. See? Tottering duckly? Hmm … more coffee might be just the thing, now that you mention it.)

Posted in General Musings |