when you're a jet

I finished work last night at about 10.30pm and while I've lately been riding home, the trip taking about 6 minutes, this time I thought I'd walk. It was a balmy and quiet night, perfect for a stroll. I set off from Mulberry Street, right into Spring, a couple of blocks along to Broadway, taking a left and then making it home. I mention the directions because I suddenly caught myself walking home without a second thought about which way to go. Things are now starting to happen automatically. I found myself not having to take a moment to ponder the course. Instead, I took that moment to decide which course, out of many, I would take. Not through the heart of Soho then along West Broadway, until Church Street, the way I usually ride, but a slow perambulation along Broadway until Leonard Street, then left onto Church then right to Reade. Finding the way home felt as commonplace now as coming across yet another film shoot which was taking place along the way. I stopped to consider for several seconds the enormity of the production and, asking one of the crew what the name of the film was, he replied that they weren't allowed to say. Oh well, never mind. I walked on passing two paparazzi and asked the same question. 'Some shitty movie' said one of the guys out the corner of his piehole. Humoured, I kept strolling along, passing some actor emerging from his trailer. 'What's the movie?' I ask. 'Remember Me', exclaims the actor. 'Nope', I say. 'No, no,' he says, 'that's the name of the film.' 'Yeah. Good luck', I say and walk on. The lights are all bright down Broadway.

Dumbo

This is taken in an area called Dumbo (Down Under Manhatten Bridge Overpass). We were walking down the street and thought it looked like that poster/shot from the film, 'Once Upon a time in America...'

Having a good old picnic at Brooklyn Bridge park. Tis the season.

For the record...

Tracy Grimshaw has apologised to me and I have accepted her apology.

surfacing...

...been a couple of long weeks of work and life and strife and while the late night gripe has been on my mind I havent had time to jot a post. We went to Brooklyn the other weekend to visit a friend who was moving out of her house and having a stoop sale....have always wanted to sit on a stoop and share a beer. Done! Then walking around Brooklyn visiting markets then buying a couple of pushbikes at another sale, $20 each...and now the proud owners of two ye olde style bikes...anyone passing thru NY pls feel free to take them to the park for rides! Also, Brooklyn is worth a visit - the few times we've been have been great fun. People are really chilled...think inner west Sydney...um...what else off the top of my mind...oh yeah, okay yesterday I was working at one of the restaurants here in Tribeca and a couple walked past. I said to them 'oh we were on the same flight from Australia to NY, back in March and then we caught the same train from JFK to Chambers St station'. Naturally they asked if I was their stalker, seems everyone has one, but no I wasn't...they too remembered us as we had engaged them in conversation at the time...anyway seems they run a film production company here in Tribeca, (of course they do)...so I might try and follow that one up and push for an internship of sorts....what else...oh Geoffrey Rush won his Tony Award oi-oi-oi!!! ... it feels good becoming a 'local' and becoming familiar with shop keepers and neighbours...funny how the price of say, a six pack of corona drops from $15 to $10 in the space of a couple of months after visiting the same joint...

240 Mulberry

One of the places where I am currently working is located at 240 Mulberry Street. It's now zoned in an area called Nolita (North of Little Italy). Mulberry Street, along with some of the nearby streets such as Christopher and Elizabeth, are historically so important in the history of Italian immigration into the states. These days so little of Little Italy remains and sadly it's more a sideshow than possesing the colour and flavour it once did. My workplace has a downstairs bar and then a bar/restaurant on street level, which goes back to a 'beer' garden. Yesterday I saw a photograph which had to be at least 100 years old. It was of an old Italian man standing at the front of the shop with his daughter beside him. Hanging from the front window were curing hams. The photograph was one that provoked the imagination to consider the numerous stories that must have evolved within the walls of this establishment as it has changed one business enterprise to another over the decades. Downstairs, built into the wall is an old brick bread oven. It's almost as deep, fourteen feet, as it is wide and like the photograph, is a beautiful remnant of days gone by. Talking with the owner yesterday he mentioned that bread was not been the only thing to have been baked in the oven. Across the street a notorious family once ran this neighbourhood in their 'traditional' way. When someone made trouble for them, the oven in the basement of 240 Mulberry was lit and the individual met a fiery finish. Sour dough anyone?

they're like...um spiritual

Over heard in a bar in Nolita: (North Of Little Italy)
Lady at bar chatting to heavily tattooed barman;

Lady: So you've got quite a lot of tat's?
Barman: Yeah they're dragons. I've got dragons on this arm, and on this arm. I've got dragons on both legs, and I've got a dragon on my chest.
Lady: Oh, so were you born in the year of the dragon?
Barman: No. I just missed out. I'm the cow.