Suburban Malaise

Postcard Stand • Broadway

Reflections, Manhattan

Embankment • London

Flea Market Buddha

Hampstead

Museum of Modern Art in a new space

The Museum of Modern Art opened its glitzy new building on 53rd street. It's unnerving to see the paintings I've been looking at for years in this grand space. The "old" museum was fine with me. When I worked at various souless jobs in midtown during my youth, I used to go there during my lunch hour and sit on a bench in the sculpture garden and eat a sandwich. I would feel artistically replenished enough to go back to work after taking a quick look at a few Matisses on my way out the door. Now it's just another museum with huge, echo-y rooms where people walk around reverently, monitored by guards and hidden cameras—always there to remind us that the art is more valuable than we are.

autumn sunlight

On late afternoons, the sunlight in Manhattan is eerie—all the windows in the buildings reflect back in on themselves and the effect is disorienting, but magical at the same time. I wandered around Soho yesterday afternoon with a friend. We thought of all the Manhattan apartments, lofts, etc. that we let get away. But back then neither of us had the money to buy the real estate that costs millions now. We went for marriage and kids instead. Oh well. We had a coffee in a relentlessly chic cafe surrounded by people younger and more fashionable then ourselves. Then we headed home to our humble and, for the moment at least, affordable abodes.

marchers and the media

Yesterday I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge in a pro-choice march prior to the Republican convention opening in New York. Walking across the Bridge is one of the great New York walks and it was good to start off in Brooklyn, my home base, for the march. As is usual these days, it was innundated with media. Not only were the marchers taking photos, videos and yakking on their cellphones, but since it was the only protest going on at the time, there were loads of journalists, all with their accompaning camerapeople. I'm awed by their expensive equipment. I got so fascinated that I had to slow down and watch them at work. Strangely enough, even though the broadcast media don't hesitate to violate the public's privacy by sticking a camera whereever they want, they get annoyed when a member of the public turns the tables on them and records them. Like many of the marchers, I photographed the media photographing us. And met with their subsequent irritation.

Some Things Never Change

I took my dance-obsessed daughter into the city for dance classes. Our train was delayed and we could see the beginnings of the draconian security that will overtake New Jersey Transit and Amtrak as the Republican convention draws near. Bomb-sniffing dogs, etc. People are being encouraged to take vacation time or work at home that week. There may be some hope that by making it hard to get into the city, less people will come in to protest. Fat chance.

We ate a quick dinner at a coffee shop that has survived the gentrification of a nondescript part of midtown. I used to eat here when I was student years ago. Everything around the diner is changed, but inside it's as tacky as ever. No doubt it will soon disappear and be replaced by a sneaker store or Manhattan's thousandth Starbucks.

Cold Front

Well, I take back what I said about the heat. Today was cool with a constant rain, it felt London-ish in a way. But I prefer it to the baking sun any day.