December 18th, 2018
Cookie monster.
Spying on Carol Walsh, proprietor of Native Leather in the village since 1968 (a lost lease in 2017 meant a move from Bleecker to 46 Carmine Street). This week, she made my third belt in 20 years (still have the other two), and invented a gorgeous green stain to do so. Goddess!
Tasty Dumpling and other Chinatown views made as we left town.
December 16th, 2018
The atelier of Margaret Braun: artist pictured above, art-inspired smooch stolen below.
A couple views from favorite zinc bar of Cafe Luxembourg.
34th Street drizzly fog.
Satanic messenger bag spotted at the Frankenstein show at the Morgan Library.
Detail of Henry Fuseli’s The Nightmare. Smaller than I’d imagined it, but gothically grand.
A lock once belonging to Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.
December 12th, 2018
Belated 10th wedding anniversary celebration at Frank,
where we went on our second date, 18 years ago. Getting sentimental (and tiramisu) in NYC.
Sunrise on Empire State.
Another familiar window.
The great jelly doughnut massacre.
In Berlin these (berliner, or pfannkuchen) are eaten especially around the new year holiday.
Or that was Alfonso’s rationale for this one.
Delacroix’s Méphistophélès dans les airs.
Splendid, if tiny, Medusa/gorgon/siren/maenad exhibit.
This piece is a plaster cast made by Antonio Canova as a lighter alternate to the installed marble head
grasped by the Perseus who stands in the euro sculpture hall.
Check out those front row infidels.
December 7th, 2018
Soccer in the Village.
Washington Square Park.
Waverly Diner.
Backside of Ireland House.
Old Haunt.
Times Square — someone shilling “naked” nuts
dressed Botticelli’s Venus in “punk” clothes, then undressed her, pants first.
Annual work party, Bowlmor Lanes, Times Square. Ali was all strikes and spares.
This Pizza Cake with fireworks also happened.
December 1st, 2018
Morning ice, guest bed sawing, Hudson Winter Walk, first storm of the season.
November 28th, 2018
We woke yesterday morning to four ravaged frozen pumpkins–stems flung, guts tossed, one dropped down the stairs and dragged along the front walk.
I suspect our resident squirrels, and snow tracks reveal they were egged on by the bunny who lives beneath the porch, and the posse of deer who scat about, and I don’t mean jazz improv.
Last night, we scooped up the lot and tossed the offering at the edge where the yard meets the forrest. In the morning there was nothing left, not even an errant stem, such as the one below in the left lower corner.
November 12th, 2018
We drove to Kingston to test-drive cars we didn’t buy. The light was lovely.
October 31st, 2018
A four-block stretch of our street becomes a Hallowe’en hub for kids from all over the county.
The local Democratic chapter holds a candy drive
and donates supplies to the residents of the 80-some-odd houses.
So we’d been warned, but were unprepared to host—too much moving in still going on this year.
Instead I walked among 400-500 kids,
digging that autumnal, twilight, dressed-up, sugar-buzzed thrill in the air.
