This week I love ... the MTA?

Among the many things I love this week is this sweet little poster by Leonard Quiles for the (gasp) MTA. For all of the times the MTA has let us down (let me count the ways), I have to give the Establishment for Fare Exchange props for supporting the visual arts. This poster is one in an ongoing series about New York transit. I love seeing it everywhere. It makes me want to draw more. And something about that bunny is wonderfully off.

The bunny poster made me think of two other MTA landmarks I adore: the 14th Street/Eighth Avenue station on the E line and the Prince Street stop on the N,R,W.

At 14th/Eighth are Tom Otterness's Life Underground figures in bronze. It is sort of like Disneyland took over the station, with all these unspeakably cute figures acting out scenes of daily life. Think dozers from Fraggle Rock. Freaking pinchably cute. Except they are bronze, which is not so pinchable.

Prince Street station is adorned with "Carrying On" by Janet Zweig and Edward del Rosario, featuring 200 silhouettes of people carrying things. I admired this work for a while, mostly trying to figure out how the mosaics fit so cleanly (cut with waterjets). But then I heard the story behind the frieze and it took on a whole new meaning, placing it firmly in my heart as a piece of real New York. The artists spent time photographing actual people all over the city who were carrying things. They translated some of these images into the silhouettes. In the artists' own words: "People on the streets of New York are almost always carrying something, sometimes something huge and outlandish. After the 9/11 tragedy, New Yorkers felt that they must carry on with their lives. Finally, New Yorkers are notoriously opinionated and lively; they really do 'carry on.'"

Signing off, lest I, too, carry on ...

This is ridiculous (or NYM wants to wear Underoos, just Underoos, all day)

Well, it finally happened, an event so immensely irritating that I could no longer sit on my duff and continue to *not* blog. So now, thanks to rain+tornado?+heat+the ever-loving MTA, is the first-ever New York Minute blog post. Let's get to the good stuff:

Ah, rain. Not only did you rob me of hours of sleep by tripping some stooge's car alarm right below my window—not once, but twice, at 45 minutes a pop—but, rain, you also saw fit to shut down THE ENTIRE NEW YORK SUBWAY SYSTEM. And for good measure, you took out New Jersey Transit, Metro-North and the LIRR. All hail the mighty rain.

But surely the MTA has had to deal with rain before, no? Oui, my friends. On average, it precipitates 121 days a year in New York City. For those of you keeping score at home, that's a third of the year. Granted, it isn't all rain. But a goodly portion is. So what gives? Apparently the infrastructure of "the world's best transportation system." (Direct quote from MTA website http://www.mta.info/mta/network.htm, which apparently shut down during the critical times when people would have actually needed it to get information today.)

But, truly, I tell you brothers and sister of Gotham and beyond, I am *not* here to kvetch about the MTA (today). I am here to ask, nay, demand to know what became of the Future? You remember the Future, don't you? It is that golden age of telecommunicating telecommuting we were all promised. Why do we even need the MTA? Why must I leave the comfort of my air-conditioned apartment to put in eight hours of hard, grueling labor? Why can't I labor from my living room? Or kitchen? Or, for the risque, bedroom? Where is my teleconference? The one where I wear a suit jacket and blouse with just my Jockey shorts in the southern hemisphere? You know, business up top, party on the bottom. Or better yet, where is my IM-based workgroup, so that I can sit on my couch in my Underoos all day, no one the wiser?

I see how telecommuting won't work for everyone. Certain careers are dependent on location; waiters, doctors and my Starbucks barista lose some meaning if they aren't where I need them. (Closest barista: 981 feet.) But imagine, if you can, a commute without the desk jockeys, such as myself (proud member since 1999). It would be so easy! No sweaty bodies packed into a metal tube like Spam. Just half as many sweaty bodies, with more space to breathe. Trust me, this is a good thing. There is only so much good will to be spent in one day and if you have to sink it all into your morning commute, things don't look so good for the afternoon. Not even with a venti iced green tea.

Until next time, hang tough. Underoos optional.

Underground activities

I spend a lot of time on the subway, probably about 50 minutes a day, sometimes more. And I've noticed there are about a million ways to spend your time on the underground love train.

The very industrious read things such as The Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. But let's face it, a broadsheet is difficult to manage; it's just so ... broad. And sheety. That is why the Post and the freebie tabloids around the subway station are big faves. Also, the Post and the tabs are just more hard-hitting. For instance, I bet the NYT story about the coyote in Central Park lacked any reference to Wile E. Coyote, a journalistic transgression the Post would never, ever commit. (http://www.nypost.com/news/regionalnews/65817.htm) [Sadly, Hal the Coyote died in captivity. Now he is a martyr. For more extremely reliable breaking news you absolutely need to know about Hal, Google "coyote Central Park New York Post."]

In short, the folding factor plays a big part in reading choices. I see more magazines jammed in people's bags and in people's hands here than I ever saw in a doctor's office. Also popular: used paperbacks (usually fantasy or action/intrigue/adventure) and the Bible. (Minus the Book of Judas ... http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2002916272_judas07.html ... a tip from Dad.)

But not everyone reads. Some sleep. Some sing to themselves, oblivious we can hear them over their MP3 players. And they are out of tune. Some meditate, which I have tried while sitting, but it is hard to focus with someone's bum in your face.

Mostly, we all just sit there, gazing off into the ether in a pre- or post-work daze. I spent a whole ride home one night trying to remember the last name of Maggie on Northern Exposure (O'Connell). I spent another trying to remember all of the main characters from King of the Hill. (I was stuck on Dale's last name -- Gribble -- and Bill's -- Dauterive.) So you can see I'm really making good use of my time.

Speaking of Time, G often gets a copy of that magazine from his place of employ for me. And here is what I learned last week while actually reading on the subway: Alaska and the British Isles are on the same longitude, so if the Gulf Stream shifts, it's going to be mighty cold in the motherland. Also, the polar ice caps are melting at such an astonishing rate, polar bears are turning up drowned because they have no place to swim to. Extinction is on the horizon. (If you are interested, I recommend the Time with the sad polar bear on the cover. And if you are spurred to act or learn more, I recommend undoit.org. If you buy Silk, Clif, Odwalla or Stonyfield Farm products, you're already supporting the cause.)

So now you've learned just about everything I've learned on the subway in the past month or so, plus a little more. Feel educated? :)

Until Tuesday, I'll be taking reading recommendations.

P.S. The bugs appear to still be here. Something is biting me at night. I'll assume it is bugs. Grrr, bugs. Grrrr.