I was walking along Hollywood Boulevard today. You know, the Walk of Fame, where all the stars are embedded in the sidewalk.
A father and two sons stopped in front of of me, the father pointing excitedly at the star beneath his feet. I stepped around him as he spoke excitedly to his kids.
"Look, Orson Welles! He did 1984 and Animal Farm."
Nice of him to think authors get stars on Hollywood Boulevard, I guess.
This is long, so I haven't listened to it all yet, but so far I haven't said anything embarrassing. But I'm only five minutes in...
Day Four. Project: Work at the Office All Week.
You'd think I hadn't done this for years on end, based on the internal whining going on in my brain.
Four times a month, a falconer, falcon, and two bird dogs visit the grounds of our new office. They are there to scare away pigeons.
Slice of life at the bus stop yesterday, the one at the Grove Street PATH.
One of those "Via" shared rides SUVs stopped at the bus stop and opened its doors. A young man at the bus stop noticed a woman inside and proceeded to try to get her attention.
"You're looking good, you want to talk? Hey, you disrespectin' me? I just want to talk."
She either ignored him or didn't even hear him. As she continued to ignore him while other passengers got into the Via, he started talking to himself.
"You can't even say hi to the ladies no more. I ain't no ugly dude."
No one said a word to the not-ugly dude, but I probably wasn't the only one who thought it might be a while before not-ugly dude figured some things out about how to talk to women.
I went by the old Frying Pan today.
What a glorious 30th birthday that was! It was a few years ago. Just a couple.
This morning I wanted to go swimming, but the August morning was a little colder than I'd expected, so I went for a bike ride to Liberty State Park instead. My plan was to visit Caven Point, a migratory bird habitat currently under siege from a golf course developer. (shakes fist.)
“Did you know espresso is Italian?”
I stared blankly at my inquisitor. I was a captive audience, waiting in line for coffee beans on Bleecker Street. Before I could muster up a response, he continued.
“Cappuccino is Italian too. And you see that?” He pointed at the shelf behind me.
“You know what Bialetti is?”
“Yes, Bialetti is Italian,” I finally got a word in.
“It’s Italian! And you know Japan is our ally now, but we hit them with the atom bomb.”
He wandered off, then. Thankfully. I was able to get my coffee and depart, but he’d wandered to the back of the shop—I heard him talking baseball to a British grandma as I headed out to the PATH.
I showered last night and steeled myself for no food or coffee until at least 7. Nothing would be open before sunrise this time of year, and I didn't want to get up early enough to make coffee at home. I scoured Google Maps for options--indeed there were none save Duane Reade and 7-11. Herald Square isn't known for its 24-hour diners.
Riding a Citibike so early was fine. There was no traffic and the Jersey City bike lanes are well lit. And while the trains only run every 20-30 minutes that early, they are fast once they get started.
At 33rd Street, there were two food carts, so I was wrong about no food options--one was a halal cart should I have a craving for rice or chicken (I didn't), and another a breakfast cart where a man sold me a two-dollar croissant, which I consumed while standing in line at the Empire State Building. Herald Square also featured an enormous bouncy castle, its security guard pacing back and forth by the front entrance.
