Here’s a form of traditional publishing that isn’t in trouble.
While I confess to writing on my wooden desk in junior high and high school, I’ve never felt the urge to grafitti on bathroom stalls. But I do appreciate the reading material I’ve observed, as I go about my daily life.
I don’t have a photo of my favorite, a piece of grafitti that says “shitfuck,” because I only see it from the window of the subway, as it crosses over the East River.
But I like visiting this one:
I realize these are technically defacements, quality-of-life diminishing property crimes, but I really appreciate these writers and their urge to communicate. That’s such an innate need. It really hasn’t changed very much since humans started writing on cave walls.
A tiny tooth is embedded in the center of gold ring. It’s set amid sparkling stones, so it’s not immediately apparent that the cream-colored fragment is, in fact, a child’s tooth. The idea behind this ring is not grotesque, but sentimental –- a semi-precious bit of a little darling. And the child didn’t bite the… Continue reading On Jewelry Made from Human Remains
Machinal, a play written by Sophie Treadwell in 1928, just wrapped its revival run at the Roundabout Theater Company. Feel good theater this is not. Machinal is the story of a young woman who murders her husband. The woman’s name is “Young Woman,” the idea here is that she stands in for every woman, driven… Continue reading On Being Angry at Machinal
Here’s how I define “interesting”: an experience that leads me to ask (and seek to answer) compelling questions; causes me to plan follow-up experiences that would have never occurred to me otherwise; and (at least slightly) alters the course of my intellectual, creative or physical life. So, last Friday night was interesting. I went to… Continue reading Rats Giggle, The Importance of Play, and a Night at the Rubin
Innocent baby bagels, about to be born in Montreal — with no notion of the trouble they’d soon cause me. As a native New Yorker, I spent much of my life pretty smug in my sense of the city’s superiority. Then I started traveling. The Bagel Betrayal – The Beginning The Bagel Betrayal – Now… Continue reading The Bagel Betrayal – About.com
Families in coordinating stretch jeans, sneakers and laminated folding street maps posed for photos in front of cut-rate electronics stores. Young couples in backpacks with bottles of water and complicated leather camera cases around their necks snapped cell photos of the gaudy lit signs advertising the latest movie to be made into a musical. A… Continue reading How to Ruin a Spring Walk in Manhattan – Perceptive Travel
In this heat, the air holds everything. It contains sewage and sweat and metal shavings and gray fine dust. It forgets nothing, not the garbage that rots in the can, not the dogs and (or the men) that ever took a pee on the sidewalk. Nothing can hide from the heat of this air, and… Continue reading In This Heat – Perceptive Travel