NYM Book Review

I've gobbled up a few books lately, some tastier than others. As everyone is a critic, I give you a second installment of the NYM Book Review:

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
I had extremely high hopes for this book. How could I not? The Wall Street Journal review included "Monty Python, Harry Potter, Stephen Hawking and Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Nothing could live up to that, so shame on WSJ for overselling and putting the bar way, way too high. Shame! That said, it was a fun read, though not quite what I was hoping for. I'll probably read another Thursday Next book and I couldn't read this one fast enough. I bought it Saturday afternoon and finished the 374er tonight (Monday), with oodles of football-watching in between. You can't really go wrong with a New York Times bestseller.

The Moorchild by Eloise McGraw
Perhaps this has been previously addressed, but NYM loves a good "young adult" novel. The Moorchild certainly is no Harry Potter (will the world ever meet such a phenom again?) but it landed a Newberry Honor and certainly deserved it. It is the story of a changeling who doesn't fit in and how she eventually confronts her past and future. One of the reviews says it is a great read-out-loud book and I can definitely see that. It's a good story and will speak to anyone (which is everyone) who ever felt like they didn't belong.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City by Jonathan Mahler
Thank you, thank you, thank you Dan for this recommendation! I thoroughly enjoyed this book and recommend it to anyone. It has delicious vignettes, scrumptious profiles and succulent factoids. Read it; you'll like it!

The Nanny Diaries by Emma Mclaughlin and Nicola Kraus
V. popular novel-cum-box-office-bust. It was an easy read, entertaining while infuriating. Sometimes you just want to take characters by the shoulders and shake them really, really hard. Sure, the X's deserve a thrashing, but Nan really needs some sense let loose in her head.

The Godmother by Carrie Adams
If you liked For Better or Worse by Carole Matthews or later-day Nick Hornby, you'll probably enjoy The Godmother. Our herione is godmother to many, mother to none. We follow her circle of friends (and their families) through some noteworthy times. It's a poor, poor woman's Bridget Jones, but still an interesting (if predictable) read with more of life's down-and-dirtiness than Bridg ever saw.

OK, until next time, reading is fundamental!

House of Mouse

NYM recently came back from a bitchin' trip to Disney World with NYM's sister. So for those of you considering visiting the House of Mouse, I give you my review:

Things supercalifragilisticexpealidious
Port Orleans Riverside: We stayed here and it was a really relaxing, spread out resort. Because it is on the Disney property there is free transit to all the parks, Disney downtown and the water parks. Lots of pools and very fun housekeepers who left us towel animals and TP'd our room on Saturday.

Soarin': This is a new ride at EPCOT in The Land and it is AWESOME. NYM is definitely afraid of heights so I was leery, but after an initial twitch this ride was tremendous. You feel like your are gliding over all these beautiful places in California. And the best part: I got to take off my shoes!

Extra magic hours: If you stay in the park, a world of things is at your disposal. Among the most useful are extra magic hours, in which the parks open early or stay open late for park dwellers. You just have to get a bracelet near closing time and you can stay late to frolic! Not all the ride are open, but there are special schedules out and about so you can plan your day and do some of the more in-demand rides after many folks have left the park.

Fast pass: If you stay in the park (notice a theme?) you can use your card to get fast passes for certain popular rides. The ticket gives you an hour window to return to the ride, allowing you to get into the fast line.

Big Thunder Mountain Railroad: Awesome.

La Nouba: It didn't make much sense to me, but Cirque du Soleil is pretty freaky neat.

Things amusing
Sci-Fi Dine-In Theater: The food wasn't any great shakes, but the trailers were hilarious. Cat-Women of the Moon may be my favorite. Apparently this is a real film. This is even funnier.

The Magic of Disney Animation: Learn to draw a Disney character while sitting in air conditioning! Pretty much awesome.

Affection Section at Animal Kingdom: Not only can you pet goats, you can *brush* them. This fulfills my OCD on many levels.

Kilimanjaro Safaris: Premise is a bit lame, but the animals are real and really close.

Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin: Laser tag while sitting. Requires coordination I apparently lack, but still fun.

Peter Pan's Flight: Surprisingly not disappointing.

Things disappointing to the point of making my mouse ears droop
The Seas with Nemo & Friends: First, this used to be a highlight for my Disney trips. Now it is just a sad pathetic attempt to repurpose something to incorporate a new movie. Cheaply.

The riverboat: We waited an hour and a half to get a ride to Downtown Disney for our 9 p.m. show of La Nouba and were almost late. What should have been a relaxing night out became a pretty stressful one. The boats were supposed to be coming every 10 minutes but the line was ridiculously long and no one seemed prepared to deal with that.

Hot hot heat: I don't recommend Florida in early September. It's hot. As a mildly irritating side note, this is also training time for all the new "cast" members, so even though there are 20 people behind the counter, don't expect them to be able to help you.

Despite the ear-drooping bits, we had a super awesome trip and I highly recommend the House of Mouse to all looking to escape the every-day hubbub.

Until next time, see you real soon!

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 ...

Gym Rat

I finally gave in to peer pressure and joined the gym. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it. My gym membership doesn't really qualify, though, since it is for the work gym. Most New Yorkers join the gym to "get in shape." This is code for "meet people." But since I'm just sweating it out with coworkers, there's not a lot of interaction. It's more of a don't-make-eye-contact-while-sweating environment. But that's OK by me. I actually did join the gym to get in shape, overcoming terrible intimidation to do so. Remember gym class? I didn't go so well for me.

Anywho, I recently turned 30. It was right around that time that I noticed my clothes were shrinking. Sure, it could be an evil plot by the rats, who, theoretically, are running my threads through a dryer while I'm at work. Or perhaps they have those Cinderella mice taking in my clothes whilst singing in freakishly high-pitched voices. But as my good friend William of Ockham says, the simplest answer is usually the best one. I had to face facts: The rats were injecting me with fat while I slept.

There's only one way to fight this, which, sadly, involves hard work. Thus, the gym. I'm total rubbish at working out at home. I'll do it for a little while, get into a routine, but the first whiff of something else comes along and that's the end of tae bo with Billy Blanks. I figured joining the gym would provide me incentive, since it is at my place of employ and I do have to pay for it. So far it's working out all right. So far.

However (and isn't there always a however?), when I was orientated to the gym, the trainer showed me how to use some of the weight machines. I have been using them faithfully twice a week for about a month now, in addition to the cardio machines. Yet I am just putting on more mass—2.5 lbs. of mass to exact—which is not what I was looking for. So I'm strictly an elliptical machine/bike girl now. And it's back to yoga at home. Until I get distracted by ice cream sandwiches, or blogging, or youtube, or the book I'm reading, or the phone ...

Until next time, drop and give me 20.

NYM (hearts) Richard Serra

It has been a very weird day, even by New York standards. I woke up and discovered the water wasn't running in the bathroom, though mysteriously it was working in the kitchen. I waited it out a little, thinking that maybe they were doing plumbing work or something. But when the water still wasn't working an hour later, I called the Super. Here's where the day hits bottom: The Super tells me that a girl on one of the floors below me died, with the water running. Because it is a crime scene, they can't shut the water off in her apartment, so they had to shut the whole valve down. So no water in the bathroom until the police move the body.

I was pretty seriously freaked. I even woke up G to tell him. Then emailed my mom and sister. Then I waited. I occupied myself by posting some old NYMs to the blog (from the email-only days of NYM). Then after an hour, I couldn't take it any more. I had really, really wanted to go to the Richard Serra show at the MoMA and this was the only day I was going to have a chance to do it. But, due to my 80 levels of OCD, I cannot leave the house unbathed. So I got twitchy. I called the Super again. He said it might be another hour. The MoMA's hours of operation were dwindling away. I pitched a mini fit to G.

About 20 minutes later, the water came on. I hopped in the shower, eager to start my day. I was on the conditioner stage of my shower when I realized what an extremely insensitive git was being. I mean, someone died. She could have been killed, or had an accident, or (what I deem most likely) ended her own life. It is a real tragedy and I still can't seem to wrap my mind around it.

I headed out to the MoMA seeing and appreciating the world like I rarely remember to. I was thankful to be. And from there on I had a really amazing day. The MoMA is a wonderful, yet expensive place, so I don't go too often. But I really wanted to see this Richard Serra show; I am so glad I did.


Serra started with smaller sculptures, but now works in giant pieces of steel, creating environments you can walk through. He says he wants you to experience his pieces on a psychological level and I totally did. There is something very natural and cave-like about these large works. I'd even call them womb-like. Definitely feminine. If you go—and please do if you have the chance—walk close along the walls. The first time the angle changes and the wall starts to fall away from you, you have this overwhelming feeling of space and motion, even vertigo. All with slabs of metal! It's so simple and beautiful and powerful. I seriously almost cried while I was walking through Band on the second floor. The only other time I've been so struck by a piece of art is when I saw David in Florence.

Of course, I was/am probably emotionally ... er ... unbalanced. Well, more than usual. I hope, though, that wherever the girl from downstairs is, she can rest in peace. And I hope you can all find a bit of peace today, too.

Until next time ...

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 ads

The thing about subways is that you get up close and personal with billboards. That means everyone else does, too. And let me tell you, a spare square of white space doesn't last long in this city.

Most times it's not very creative graffiti tags all over the billboard. Once in a while you see something exceptionally odd, such as the proclamation that Nazis are going to wipe Iran off the face of the earth in 2008 and call this number to find out more: Number goes here. I've also seen notes to seemingly lost loved ones scrawled on billboards. (There is one to My Angel from Your Beating Heart at 23rd Street.)

The smartest billboard designers are the ones who use loads of black, such as the X-Men 3 ads. It takes the taggers more time to find white markers and paint, so the billboard stays cleaner longer.

The billboard designers who missed out are the ones who designed the New York Sports Network ads. Not only are they mostly white, they make direct references to the platform culture. Sure, it's witty to see an arrow pointing to the platform saying "Get your army of white headphone-wearing people here," and another pointing to a TV saying "Get your New York sports here." But when the billboard says "Get your wrong-side-of-the-platform tourist here" and is located no where near the platform, it loses a lot of punch and mostly seems stupid.


And of course there are the visual jokes, such as various mouths and facial accessories added to the "Silent Hill" poster. But my absolute favorite is the "Pepper Dennis" billboards. I've tried to recreate it for you here. It's not easy being beautiful!



Until Wednesday, remember to brush your teeth!