Best a Day of Independence

The Fourth of July, Two thousand and Nine. My first Saturday independent from the workplace in ages. I celebrated by rising and going out into my Upper Western sided neighborhood. I'd heard a rumor that the uptown Shake Shack would be serving corndogs this day. The rumor proved to be patently untrue.

So I did what I expected I would, traveled downtown for a long longed-for breakfast. There is no way you could possibly guess where I had this. (Hint: I opted for the biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs that I had been craving over the day's special, a sweetbreads McMuffin.)

Morning hunger taken care of, I proceeded to do what I do naturally when time is mine: wander the Eastern and Western villages.

At around Broadway and 10th or 11th you can find these school projects:








Union Square, Farmer's Market in effect.

Washington Square, the fountain was happening. Lots of little jazz trios and quartets battling for attention and change.

Over on MacDougal I discovered they tore down the building where the Law School paper office (a.k.a. my home away from home away from home during those years) was. What will be built in its place? A new building to be shared by the Law School and Theatre School. Of course. I suppose this is the sort of thing I'd know about if I read Alumnus publications more closely.


INSERT HERE: A gap of many hours mostly spent in a wonderful nap and involved in a half dozen gchats and phonecalls centered on one topic: No one knew what to do for the 4th and has hoping someone had an idea. The fireworks were to be launched this year over the Hudson River between the high twenties and the fifties (as opposed to the usual East River show) and this had everyone feeling confused and clueless.

But by 7'ish we had met on 23rd street and headed for the river.

I noticed a trend amongst my fair company...


When in Rome!

The masses, we headed for the sun.

Staking out a spot on the West Side highway.

A favorite.

Collin brushed those pesky helicopters right out of Hillary's hair.

That's me. Figured I should show up for this post. I was too much the absent presence until now, correct? I have a horrible cold but a summertime shirt.

Environs.

Turns out, totally coincidentally, that we had sat ourselves down on the highway right by where Di and her friends had sat down...when we arrived, only the friends of Di's that were strangers to us were there, so it was a surprise, a total surprise.

Di and Traci and others had been involved in a covert and clever operation: grilling hotdogs at the end of a nearby alley. Ingenious. American ingenuity, really.

The darkening...




Night falls, final touches of grooming attended to before the celebration of our nation

Ka-BlAmmO! Obligatory fireworks photos to show it happened, to prove we were there.



Injured gravely, carried by a friend.

Nearby, after a lot of yelling by me into several different cellular phones, Jared and Laura were found. Patriots all.

And now, these pictures are for you and your heart:



A city aflame with pride. For our nation.

Best Thing I Heard at Work Last Week

When, during the post-firedrill briefing, we were told "This building is fully sprinkled."

Delicious.

Best I'm Serious

Name a month and a year and I'll tell you what I was having for lunch in those days.

Seriously.

Best It Must Have Been Love Because This Breaks My Heart

Moving out of my old apartment was just about the saddest thing to happen to me in New York. I haven't taken much time to dwell on it as I've been too caught up in the excitement of my vagabond lifestyle, but I know there's definitely a part of me, not too deep inside, that fully believes that any day now it'll just walk right back into the John Adams and on home to old 15B.

That part of me, the 10011 part, was delt a savage blow today when I learned that Joe Jr.'s, my old across-the-street diner, lost its lease and is shutting down this weekend.

photos via Eater

It's just a terrible thing to have happen to the spirit of the neighborhood to which I'm still endeared, no matter where I'm laying my head for the month. I know that not everyone who ever ate there had the best meal, but it was a fixture and it worked for me...a place for an early meal with visitors, coming of going, the place where I unwisely had the Lumberjack Breakfast before beginning my Trademarks take home final, the place where I watched the gruff lady packing gratis dinners for the neighborhood's homeless at night, the place where I eavesdropped on some of the most ridiculous conversations I've ever heard in New York while eating what had become my latenight comfort staple: a BLT with a split pea soup. One night I sat there taking in a trio of identically dressed and coiffed sinister New Jersey meat heads who had parked their drophead Bentley right in front, a few times I passed by to see Steve Forbes sitting in a front window seat. One time I went there the fellows and Duane impressed the gruff waitress by telling her in Greek that he had lived in Greece as a missionary, the result: a whipped cream dessert on the house.

I must have become a "real New Yorker" at some point because here I am, bemoaning the transformation of "my" neighborhood, looking back on the way things used to be. So many remember whens, they just pile up one after the other.

Perhaps the neighborhood will save it, who knows. Continuing coverage available at Eater.

Best Suddenly So Interesting

Frank Lloyd Wright. The Guggenheim Museum. What do they have in common? Frank Lloyd Wright designed the Guggenheim Museum. Okay, we know that. But another thing they have in common is that I thought they were both neat, but was feeling over both of them. You see, I'm from Oak Park, that's where Wright had his home and studio, living in Oak Park you see a lot of Frank Lloyd Wright houses, you hear a lot of Frank Lloyd Wright talk, you show your visitors a few of the houses, you feel some pride...but, yawn, you know? A little over it. Nice houses, yes. Let's move on. Same with the Guggenheim: truly iconic, extremely photographical. Pretty much impossible to walk by it without taking a picture. You visit it, you walk up the windy ramp, you take a ton of pictures from the main floor...but, yawn, you know? Pretty over it. It's something to see but how many times can you see it? And if you want me to go inside, it better have something pretty cool inside, right?

Well, let me tell you something: Now I'm totally about Frank Lloyd Wright and I'm totally about the Guggenheim. There's this new exhibit there called "Frank Lloyd Wright: From Within Outward", an exhaustingly exhaustive exhibition on Wright featuring his designs, new models based on those designs, old models based on those designs, and totally unexpected things like a theater curtain he designed. I guess what I was sick of, re:FLW, was seeing his houses and being told who they were built for and when they were built. But what it turns out I've got near boundless energy for is looking at his drawing and designs. And the drawings of houses of his that I was well familiar with was good and well, but my favorite things to see were projects of his that never got built.

Such As:

• The Donahoe Triptich (there were more and better pictures at the show)
• The Automobile Objective and Planetarium
• This apartment building that was going to be on St Marks Place

etc., etc., it goes on and on, check it out for yourself. Some of the designs were so magnificently not entirely of this world that I thought it a terrible shame that Wright and Tolkien (or Lucas) never got to work together.


As you reach the top of the Guggenheim you finally get to the history of the construction of the museum and by then it's exciting. The very last thing in the exhibit is a bit of wall text with a picture of Frank Lloyd Wright inside the Guggenheim looking it over while it's under construction and looking at that picture I realized, "Wow. Wait. That picture was taken right where I stand." Suddenly, after looking at his work all afternoon, it's you and him on top of the museum. To me, this was striking.

This exhibit will wear you out (it might as well be Epcot there's so much to see) but I give it a major thumbs up.

Best Last MJ Post

Well, Monday was Wear White Socks for the King of Pop Day and as far as I know, it was an enormous success. Here I have gathered all the photographic evidence of participants I've received thusfar. If you participated and have got a picture I'd love to see it.

Your Honor Guard:

Me in NYC.

Mitch in London. First submission of the day.

Niall in London.

Jeff Butler in NYC, first domestic submission.

Cher, probably in Newark.

Amber, in like Queens or something. I'm not sure. Update: Turns out it was Loma Linda.

Greg in Oak Park.

And Meredith in Dubai. That's right, Dubai. White Socks for the King of Pop was an international sensation of epic proportions.