de/composition

I saw another of those subway poster reappropriation art pieces yesterday that made me laugh out loud and John was all 'I'm glad there are some things you like about New York.' Of course there are such things and they are kind of all around. They have nothing to do with things in general or in any one thing but about small things. Like the subway graffiti - mustaches on poster supermodels; different commentary on the same advertisement in different places; an abandonded bicycle locked on my route to the subway that I have watched slowly be destroyed over the past few weeks, like watching a time-lapse of a dead animal decomposing. I'm sure that in a few months all that will remain is a broken U lock. I guess that's the thing that is most surprising - that it isn't the New York of the movies and the lifestyles of the rich and famous that make me like it. It's the urban erosion and simultaneous growth that I find so fascinating and enjoyable. And I don't think I'm the only one for whom this is true. It's kind of been the very nature of this place, just as real as the glamor it also touts. We went to the Philadelphia Museum this weekend and they had a bunch of early to mid 20th C American paintings on view and quite a few were New York City scapes either in fact or in abstraction and I felt happy that not only are the details still pretty much the same, but that I am not alone in history in finding them remark-able.

Next step: Peace in the Middle East

Nekko (left) & Fred (right). Hopefully the beginning of something beautiful.

They've been growing accustomed to each over these many months and I've watched them work out ranking and hierarchy in their own feline way. But having known Nekko since she was discovered in a garbage dump at a month or two of age, over these past 10 years 'cranky' is a better 'c' adjective than 'cuddly' when it comes to describing her. With the exception of when I take a nap in a prone position. In this case, she uses me as a hammock everytime and that, to the untrained eye, might be misconstrued as cuddly (and not manipulative). Needless to say I was surprised, neigh, SHOCKED to find Nekko sitting next to Fred on the couch with their butts touching. I don't know what it says about me that I immediately documented this moment with both my camera and my iPhone, archiving it as perhaps a good omen of things to come.

Beautiful decay; This is where I live.

Spreading the yang to the yin of love

As you all well know, I am doing my best to keep with the positive in these times of trials and tribulations, but...well, I can't help but love the haters. This here is part of a rant from the blog 'Monkeys for Helping' that was started by a guy I knew at Con College. (I've started dropping the second N after watching Trailer Park Boys. I can now proclaim my alma mater with something perhaps not unrelated to pride.) Thank you Eric for your rant. And, I hear you, man.

Monday, March 16th; excerpt from Sipping on Haterade: a brief but profanity-laden essay detailing why I hate the Subway.

I make an executive decision to keep my sunglasses on. Yes. I look like a douche bag. I don't care. I need them. They allow me to spend my 35 minutes of misery doing what I enjoy most in the morning: Rolling my eyes and sending invisible hate beams in the direction of those I hate. Specifically..

1: Anyone engaging in any form or variation of what can be considered Ipod dancing.

2: Those clever little Cosby sweater type dude he guy who thinks he's a Sommelier for microbrews, plays bass or DJ's in 4 bands, and definitely would have sex with Brooklyn if Brooklyn somehow transformed itself into a artsy Japanese girl.

3: Blissed-out passengers that whisper-sing Dave Matthews violin solos. Fuck the fuck off. Go buy another scarf and choke yourself with it, you horrible, horrible, person.

4: Air drummers. WTF? What's the functionality and purpose of air drumming a Rush solo at 9 in the morning? God help you.

5: Yawners, moaners, T-Mobile walkie-talkie people, and any and all that engage in repetitive motions, excessive paper folding, sneezing, chewing, coffee slurping, etc. you know what I'm talking about. To the dude grossing me out in the seat across from me: Eat your Everything Bagel like a ninja, not a Golden Reteriver, barbarian. Shut the fuck up already.

Wow, I'm kind of a dick, huh? Oh well. (PS: Don't call me a dick.)

I heart NY and NY hearts me

Living in a city that is constantly being characterized to me by others as having hard edges, I am doing my best to find the love it has to offer wherever I can find it:

in a piece of tofu

in paint chipping from a door frame
in spackle
in a skid markin eroded concrete and a paint blob

and in community center sponge paint graffiti