Archive for the 'city' Category


Wednesday, August 27th, 2008


Wednesday, August 13th, 2008

It started to rain on my way home but I had my umbrella. Once I was on the bus it began to pour down. I thought about the idea of letting myself be bored so instead of reading I watched the pattern of the water on the windows, and noticed how people were standing under awnings, waiting for the rain to pass. I saw 3 dogs tied up outside a store and they were doing the same thing as the people, staying close to the building. One of them looked up at the sky as if he was trying to guess when it would stop.

The rain seemed to make people friendlier, hanging out together when normally they’d be rushing along alone. Then the sun broke through and the light was extremely white and reflected off all the shiny wetness so that people looked like silhouettes walking down the street. It was so beautiful.

skip sunday

Monday, May 5th, 2008

It’s warm enough to open the windows. There is so much to hear. An ice cream truck has taken up residence at the end of our block and throughout the day the constant jingle comes in and out of my consciousness. Guys working on a car, dropping tools on the sidewalk. A couple fighting. Sirens. A helicopter. A girl yelling, “Come jump with us!”

the montauk club

Saturday, April 5th, 2008

I was in Park Slope last week and took some pictures of the Montauk Club. It’s a fabulous, ornate building.

What struck me this time was how the faces of the gargoyles initially appear identical but they’re actually very different. Each has his expression: grumpy, scared, bored, peckish…

They make me think of the lion in the Wizard of Oz. I want them to talk to me.

free poems

Thursday, March 20th, 2008

I went upstate again today for some further house-buying investigation. This time I took the bus.

Photo courtesy of brilarian on flickr.

Leaving New York by bus mostly involves going through the Port Authority terminal which is vile – an urban level of Dante’s inferno designed specifically for human discomfort.

I was standing in line waiting to board and a soft-spoken young man wearing a white cap and carrying a backpack approached me. “Free poems,” he said, holding out a sheet of paper from the stack of photocopies he was carrying. Out of habit I shook my head and he moved on to the next person, who also shook their head. Everybody turned him away.

I wish now that I had said yes. He was so gentle and he wasn’t selling anything; he was giving away his poem. I wish I had accepted it.

flying bicycle

Friday, January 25th, 2008

I’ve been walking down this block several times a week for months now, but I only just noticed the bicycle. What else am I missing?

city mouse, country mouse

Sunday, December 16th, 2007

Driving home to Brooklyn we came through Times Square. Culture shock on a grand scale.

For months now I’ve been thinking of New York as a demon lover – the one who doesn’t treat you well, who throws you just enough crumbs to keep you stumbling along in the relationship, who endlessly promises and rarely delivers. The one you stay with too long, can’t find a way to leave.

I’ve had a growing suspicion that my relationship with this city may be over. I no longer feel a deep sense of relief when the pilot announces the approach to La Guardia. I crave a garden and limited entertainment options. I’m even nostalgic for driving, for goodness sakes.

Our trip upriver was not merely a vacation, it was as a scientific experiment exploring the city-leaving premise. I didn’t expect a clear answer but within a day I knew. I felt the wide open sense that I could leave New York. Walk away. Like the moment when you look at your husband/lover/partner, the person you see morning and night, who is central to all your days and decisions, and realize that one day, possibly soon, this entire life you’ve constructed together will be gone. This person will be friend or memory. Your paths will part and start new.

But before anything changes there is today. And tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow. M and I just shacked up; his job isn’t as portable as mine; we may never want to revisit the trauma of moving which is reason enough to stay put. It isn’t clear where we would move to, and it isn’t enough to want to go.

Who knows where this will lead.

first snow

Monday, December 3rd, 2007

We had snow yesterday, making for a cozy day of making earrings, sewing in the studio, old movies, and hot tea to stay warm in between bursts of rattling heat in the old radiators.

M was busy with all things computer in the office. We visited each other to deliver peppermint patties and progress reports, and yelled companionably between rooms.

Today the snow has disappeared; just another damp city Monday.

late fall

Wednesday, November 28th, 2007

I walked by this building a lot before noticing the intricate tiles above the main windows.

Somehow they manage to be bold and subtle at the same time, and remind me of this page from the 1989 Quilt Engagement Calendar, which I kept.

The quilt is called Late Fall, by Junko Okuyama based on the Broken Dishes pattern. I just googled the artist and found that Wee Wonderfuls blogged this same quilt 3 years ago. We should start a fan club.


Sunday, October 21st, 2007

I was meeting a friend uptown and arrived early so I walked a little along the reservoir in Central Park. There were lots of skinny people in high tech running gear, talking on cell phones, their ipods in their other hands.

The sky and water looked glum, which is how I’ve been feeling. Like I’ve fallen down and lost my way a little. I know that my mood will change, same as the weather; I want it to happen soon.