Tuesday, October 24, 2006
No Pithy Title Comes to Mind- Suggestions?
See last item for image link.
Apple picking in Warwick, NY: lovely. Turning foliage vividness: optimal. First apple pie: accomplished last night to good reviews. Despite my crust worries, the pastry was great. However, the filling was more liquid than I'd hoped. I dusted the slices with flour, obviously not enough, because the apples didn't set up properly until I'd removed the first slice, and dumped out the scrumptious but pooling juices within. Fortunately, that was the test pie, deliciously edible if imperfect. Next pie: the Nirvana of which all ripe apples dream while swaying from their leafy hammocks.
As happens fairly often, someone's filming around here again. Across the street from my aerie, Be Kind, Rewind starring Jack Black, Mos Def, and Danny Glover will be on site Thursday. They've posted promo flyers along with No Parking signs. I like these actors, and I think the concept of amateurs remaking famous movies for a demented old woman is an idea that could be very entertaining. However, NYers will put up with a lot of inconveniences to support their claims of superiority, and this will be also a big pain, as usual. Last week, the water was off two different days for maintenance. Or there's a parade, or a strike, or the elevators are down, or the train's sidelined. Or something. This city is so interlinked, and operating constantly at the limits of its capacity, that it's inherently unstable. The sites of chaos bloom like pesky mildew until they're banished to reappear somewhere else. To even the nobles of Trump Island, such disturbances happens with relative frequency. Tomorrow, simply walking down a neighboring street will be enough to get you yelled at by some Production Assistant in a canvas chair to Shut Up, Tourist, because all cosmopolitan NYers understand that fake lives outrank real ones.
Though we're making exciting leaps ahead in teleportation and invisibility, it's no reason to lose our senses, to shun the personal loveliness embodied in that marriage of art and craft, the fine timepiece. One may adapt and assimilate rather than simply abandon.
Both are awful, but I can imagine there are people who'd be more humiliated and haunted by the latter than the former. Would you rather be caught behind the wheel, stoned and naked after killing a pedestrian who was a former prosecutor for the District Attorney's office? Or, would you prefer to be the man who's picture's been publicized across Britain as a serial train defecator?
I loved Bookgasm's review with examples from Craig Damrauer's New Math: Equations For Living. You might easily resuse the above formula for more than Modern Art. For example, try swapping in Standing Next to Rock Guitarist at Concert = ...