My book/blog/podcast project Give Me Seltzer
, as well as a number of side projects, is taking up so much of my time Noemi and I decided to put this blog on hold for now.
Perhaps one day we shall return. Until then...
Yeah, I know the photo sucks (even if you can barely see the light-saber) and this is not really only in New York (should I say Only On Earth?), but how can I avoid posting the opening night (12:01 got pushed back to 12:30 - did we really need all those previews?) of Revenge of the Sith, the best Star Wars of all time and, as Anakin was redeemed in Episode VI, the redemption of Lcuas' second trilogy.
Must also say the brilliant move (spoiler alert) of having Palpatine fight Yoda with the pieces of the Senate as he literally dismantles the architecture of the democracy was a brilliant example of "show me, don't tell me" story-telling.
Bravo, George. Bravo.
Yup, I dare to make the claim. Better than Junior's or Gem Spa. Better than the Second Ave or Carnegie deli. I decided today that Eisenberg's Sandwhich Shop
makes the best Egg Cream in NYC.
In fact, I want to go beyond that statement. I felt like it was a perfect Egg Cream, as if it was the first time I had ever had a TRUE Egg Cream. As If I could now say, "Ah, so that's what they're all about."
Why would theirs be different from any one else. Everyone uses milk, seltzer, and Fox's U-bets. Maybe it's the chill of their milk. Maybe it's the force of the seltzer spigget combined with the simultaneous stirring of the extra long spoon. Maybe it's the extra dash of vanilla sauce they throw in. Whatever it is, it's magic.
Of course, don't lose focus on their magnificent meatloaf (only on days that start with the letter T) or their Pastrami on rye. Even if you don't need a meal, just sitting on a stool at this deli (that first opened in the last 1920s) to watch the guys working behind the counter is a show in and of itself.
In case you don’t know, the hole above which the Twin Towers once stood is now called, informally, the bathtub. It used to be something you looked down upon from outside a tall fence. But recently the path train was reopened. This space used to be the entry way on the Path from New Jersey to NYC. However, there is nothing else around it. It is REALLY strange.
You walk from street level down some stairs, then an escalator, to an open air train platform, surrounded by the vast, deep walls of the bathtub. It is like being on a space station surrounded by space. I mean, this is some VAST space. And it is where the towers collapsed. But it gets worse.
When you enter and exit this station by train, going to or from Jersey, the train goes out from this platform, stuck out from the street-level like the branch of a tree, winding its way around the bathtub like some macabre Disney World ride. Very odd! And of course, there is some interesting graffiti on the platform.
I loved the almost child-like simplicity of this street grafitti/philosopher:
For years I have meant to go to the Brooklyn Museum of Art
. I really enjoyed my visit. Inside, I saw their regular and permenant art. However, oddly enough, my highlight was the works in storage. Instead of sticking it away like the crates at the end of Indiana Jones, they pile them up in a side room, but a room designed to show off all the items within. Nothing is spaced out, or even explained, so it feels less like a contemporary museum that an old fashioned wonder cabinet or a section at K-Mart. That allowed us, in an unanticipated way, to find out own connections with the art.
Outside we chedk out the new design and entrance way, which removed part of the lower steps and replaced it with a modern and elegant glass entrance way. By the side is the Dancing Water Foundation. I can watch those forever.
Afetrwards, we moved down the block for a quick bite at Tom's Restaurant
. We ate cookies and oragnes and drank an egg cream, - and that was BEFORE being seated and for free. This classic diner from the 1930s is a blast to visit, less for the food than for the decor and the way they welcome you. The food, however, is still decent, with their wild array of pancake offerings. Make sure to say hi to Gus, Tom's son who now owns the place, and until they get more carbonated seltzer, I recommend skipping the egg cream. (p.s. This is the diner Suzanne Vega named her song after).
I thought this piece of commentary on the R line, especially given the face of the actor, was priceless.
I appreciated how two words turned around this ad campaign for this exploitative tv mini-series about the "end of days."