If you live in or frequent downtown New York, and I say “Joe Mangrum,” you might or might not know who I’m talking about.
But if I say, “He’s the guy who does those amazing sand mandalas in Union Square Park” – you’ll know who I mean.
Here’s a few of pics of him in action.
September’s theme is ART.
Anyone who frequents this blog knows I’m always hunting down and photographing public art projects. And there’s a lot of them here in NYC.
I also belong to a really great group of women bloggers – She Who Blogs – and many of them are artists.
So for my first post let me introduce you to a few SWBers who put the heart in art.
Let’s hear you say that 3 times fast!
downtown manhattan
Friday afternoon I sent the remainder of 16 years of notebooks & journals on to their next incarnations via a shredding truck. Some would say I should have saved them, but I felt it was time to let the good, the bad and just so-so go.
Svaha is usually uttered when you make sacrifices to the fire pit, but fire pits are not readily available in Manhattan. And the authorities would surely frown upon a home-made one, so friends and I gathered for a shredding party.
the container was brought to a location we could all get to easily with our bagloads
a press of the button and it’s over in moments
Coney Island has a intoxicating scent all it’s own; grilled hot dogs, 40 kinds of suntan lotion, and a dash of ocean spray.
For the past few years I feared one of my favorite New York spots would be sanitized and plasticized into a standardized amusement park. Fortunately while there are new additions; dear Coney still looks quite like herself..
This group of strollers dressed in 1920′s gear turned heads on the boardwalk.
Treasure hunter among the surf seekers.
Coney Island History Project Homepage
See you on the boardwalk.
I must thank my friend Will asap. He told me about The High Line. A park created out of an elevated railway? Down Gansevoort Street? I just had to go.
My photostroll began in Central Park, and I didn’t make it down to the Meat Market District till nearly seven. Before I made my ascent I caught a few ground shots.
The High Line
These photos were taken just before dusk. I will be returning for some light o’ day ones shortly.
Just finished my second helping of tuna noodle casserole while watching a Lifetime movie. Haven’t spent an afternoon like this in years. It’s dark and damp outside; I doubt if I will stray far from home today.
The movie I’m watching is ‘The Interrogation of Michael Crowe.’ It’s about a 14 year old who is coerced into confessing to his sister’s murder. Ally Sheedy is in it. She went to school down the street from my Dad’s corner grocery store. I would see her walk by all the time. She still looks the same. After she got ‘famous’ I would see her walking around the Upper West Side, she always struck me as very down to earth.
Cynthis Nixon and I rode in an elevator together once. It was the early 90′s – very pre-Sex in the City. Like a lot of Native Manhattanites I usually will not approach celebrities. The notable exceptions were Harvey Fierstein & Cynthis Nixon. Amazingly enough Meryl Streep approached me at the Public Theatre in 2001. We were standing at the lobby desk together, and she turned to say hi and ask how I was doing that day. She’s quite the lady. But I digress…
So Cynthia Nixon and I are in elevator together on West End Avenue at 86th Street. Her hair was longer and blonde then. She smiled at me, and I said, “You’re Cynthia Nixon, and I saw you in ‘Little Darlings.’ You played the hippie kid who said, ‘This is what happens when you eat meat.’
She was delighted that I remembered her role, and best line in the film. So friendly. So sweet. Every time I see her on TV or in a movie I am delighted with her continued success.
This Michael Crowe is pretty intense. Every one of us should familiarize ourselves with the Miranda Rights asap.
Uh oh looks like the trial part is coming up soon in this movie. Come on Ally show ‘em what you’re made of!
Back again soon.
It doesn’t take long to come across a Where I’m From poem in the blogosphere. A hard copy of the template around in my notebook for weeks now. Every couple of days it comes out, but goes back in again undone. Last night I was up on Columbus Avenue, just down the street from the building where I lived from age eight to twenty. The neighborhood has changed so much. High rise condo buildings rising up like urban mountains. Swanky stores everywhere. Even I was toting a Whole Foods shopping bag. As I walked down the street images from my childhood and teen years flashed up on my mind’s screen. It gave me sort of a push, so here’s my own take.
I’m From
Fiesta Ware, Bosco chocolate Syrup & Ivory Soap – the one that floats
Three bedrooms & one and a half baths off Central Park West, shag carpeting, a Marcia Brady bedroom
Pink begonias, pinker azaleas & the fresh basil Grandma grew in endless pots on the balcony
I’m From
Every other relative being named Joe, Mattie or Louise
The renegade Italian who married a Wild Irish Rose
Abondanza!
gravy not spaghetti sauce
paper thin slices of fried eggplant sprinkled with parmesan cheese
salami, provolone, proscuitto
fresh sliced peaches in red wine
I’m From
one giant step for mankind
The Old Math
Analog not Digital
I Love Lucy Reruns
And I’m Heading for 50 aka the new 40 & lovin’ it
part of a New Age
in the New Millenium
This morning I decided to re-read No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog by Magaret Mason.
And I thought why not try one or a few? So here’s my take on number 36: Swallow Your Pride.
I was brought up Catholic in the 60′s & 70′s, and back then you made your First Communion in the 2nd grade on Mothers Day. My grandmother, who did things in a big way, bought me a frou frou dress, a veil with several tiers of lace hanging from a tiara, and took me for my one and only permanent.
My grandmother thought it would be just the boost for my very fine dirty blonde hair. And it did look sensational that Sunday, I have the photo somewhere to prove it. Then a week later my hair got washed; I looked like a two legged dirty blonde chrysanthemum. But I was what? Seven years old. It wasn’t as earth shattering as it would be now.
Okay, now let’s fast forward to the 90′s. I’m married, I have a child, I still live in the same neighborhood. One day I went to a local Super Cuts for a quick trim. The stylist did a nice job, so about 6 or 7 weeks later I returned to her.
She was delighted to see me, and threw the big apron over my clothes with a flourish.
“Remember when you were here a couple of months ago”
“Sure it’s why I returned – you did a nice job.”
“Well, I was hoping you would come back. When you were leaving the store last time my husband saw and recognized you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he said that you went to parochial school with him. His name is E****** S**** – do you remember him?”
“No, and I’m surprised that I don’t – I’m usually pretty good with names.”
As I sat there in the chair, former classmates faces began to appear on my mind’s screen.
“That’s why I brought this to the shop, and kept it here.”
She puuled open the big center drawer of the counter, and pulled out – my third grade class photo. There I was in my little plaid uniform with my half grown put permanent, and the pronounced overbite that took four years of braces to correct.
Of course, all the other stylists wanted to see it too. It was all I could do to keep from bolting from the place, huge apron flapping, down Broadway.
I kept my composure, and managed a smile. Just before she finished my hair E* came in, and I was genuinely delighted to see him again.
Hopefully I will never see that photo again.
I almost entitled this post, “A Gift of Carlin.” Why? We’ll get to that very soon, but first let’s go to this past Friday the 13th.
It was noon and I was standing in front of one of my favorite Chinese restaurants waiting to meet Lissa. Though of you who frequent my blog know that Lissa is my BBBF – best blog buddy forever.
She is my total right hand over at She Who Blogs. And we have a photoblog together: the daytrippers. The logo, made by Lissa of course, is in my sidebar. She’s the blue sneakers. Actually every bit of graphics on all my blogs is her work.
We live in the same city, but we had never met or even spoken in our three year friendship. A few days before the 13th she shot me an email about meeting up, and I was totally for it.
Such opposites. Lissa’s tiny and quiet; I’m big and sassy 
We had lunch, and then went photostrolling. It’s interesting to watch Lissa take photos; totally fearless. Not afraid to just hold her camera up and take a totally random photo. I’m different. I have to stop, find just the right spot, line it up in the viewer, and only then will I shoot.
We stopped in at Starbucks for iced teas. When I returned I dug around in my bag for my phone, and felt something unfamilar. It was a bag from the Strand Bookstore. In it was a beautifully embossed leather covered journal, and a tiny book – The Best of Braindroppings by George Carlin. The books were wrapped in two layers of baby blue tissue paper with ribbon and a tiny card that read enjoy.
And I did Lissa. I enjoyed the conversation, the photostroll, every moment of my time with you.
Lissa gave me the Carlin book, because she knew how much I loved GC’s comedy from reading my blog. What I appreciate the most is she read the book, and marked her favorite part with a tiny ribbon. I read it around at the table and we laughed. Me loudly. Her just gentle giggles.
I’m hoping my dear little friend will return one day for another lunch and stroll. Meeting Lissa was like finding a fairy in an enchanted wood. And how nice to have someone who thinks so much of me on the other side of my laptop’s screen.
Ciao.
