I love animals. I especially like the part where he walked through the Bronx, swam the Hudson and crawled across upper Manhattan to get to Central Park. Wily coyote finally captured in Central Park

The Lazy L

No, I'm not talking about myself. Though I do fit this description.
I am talking about the L train, lame as it is to blog about a train, I am forging ahead and doing so.

This train runs slowly in the morning, especially, and is only efficient after midnight. For all the young, "hip" people living off this line, they are a rare site during rush hour. They do however, emerge in jeans and scarves throughout the work day. Do any of them have real jobs? I don't think so. The morning L is instead filled with high schoolers and mostly Hispanics and African Americans, some young white people too, but they're mostly squares (unless this is how hipsters dress to work). I'm one of them, with my loafers and my orange North Face book bag.

At night, however, this lazy train is ideal. It is a 2 second cab ride from the Lower East Side, it runs into the Meatpacking District, it links with almost every possible train and takes you straight to Williamsburg. There are always people on this train at night that don't look like they want to murder, fondle or stab you. You get a safer feeling.

Essentially this train is ideal for those who have a lax schedule and everywhere to be at night. Otherwise, take the A.

Nasties on the Subway

This morning I got into a tiff with a 350 lb teen on the train. I sat next to her on one of those tiny benches near the door. She tsked and then snarled, while moving her gigantic arm.

So, I turned and asked, "what, I can't sit here?"

After waiting for the train for 20 minutes, watching two trains pass before I could even squeeze onto the third, I was in a nasty mood.*

Equally unpleasant, she spat out, "you sat on my purse."

I didn't see the purse under her arm, and am damn sure I didn't sit on it. It was, though, the tiniest purse I have ever seen. A little Guess one, like Raquel, my old roommate used to carry. You can fit your keys and credit cards in there, not much else.

After she left, two other chicks got into a verbal brawl. The one was a white lady who had a large, flat cardboard box which was apparently "jabbing" a rather loud, pretty Hispanic lady in the leg. "It is jabbing in my leg!"
"No it's not, I can see it."
"Who are you to tell me that it isn't."
"This is the Subway, you have to deal with it."
"I don't have to deal with it!"
Blah, blah, blah. I love coffee-less mornings in the City. So filled with friendly compassion and sisterly love. I love you guys!

*Please see next blog on the L train.

Bringing it home with the Bring 'em Home Concert

So I went to this big show last night. The concert was soaking with stars and musicians who spoke out against the war and Bush.
As is appropriate for these peace/Democrat events, it was disorganized and took us 30 minutes in the freezing cold to get inside the Hammerstein Ballroom. Once inside, Fischerspooner was already on stage with a performer spurting blood on the audience. I couldn't see much from where I was standing, but from what I could tell above many heads, the stage performance looked impressive.

As I was slugging down a Jack and Coke, I spotted a 20 second window period for my friend and I to sneak up to the VIP section. We filled up on free vodka and popcorn (my dinner, ew) and shot the shit as the performances ensued. Peaches was fun and the audience sang "Fuck the Pain Away" along with her. I wish I had really paid more attention to Devendra Banhart, but I was getting much needed sustenance and it honestly sounded sort of boring (don't hate me). I also chatted through Bright Eyes though I could see he was really into it, putting on probably one of the better shows this evening. The sound system left much to be desired, but Rufus Wainwright really rocked the NY house. He is really not that popular anywhere else, is he? His voice is lovely and he sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and we all loved it. Moby popped up to promote some musician buddies of his, boring.

Susan Saradon, who had just gotten off stage with Cindy Sheehan walked directly in front of me and that was pretty neat. Um... what else. Oh! At the end of the night, I saw Fred Schneider from the B-52s, which was the biggest thrill, because he was just hanging out.

Finally Michael Stipe sang with James Iha playing in the back. It wasn't so bad, but I really wanted him to sing "It's the End of the World As We Know It" or "Nightswimming." Of course he didn't. I also was hoping the Boss would show up, since he's an activist and from around here, but it didn't happen. Whatever. I had a good time and it's always fun to be VIP at a VIP show.

I really hope that they do more of these not just every year on the many anniversaries of the war. I pray that we get, not just press, but political attention. It is disgusting that this long after the start of the war, everyday people are still dying and the progress being made seems to be in bloodshed, not in peace.

Here's a Village Voice article on the concert.

Winter

This winter is apparently never going to end.
Everyone thought that it was mild this year. "Oh, how lucky to have such a warm winter," their voices cracking in the cold air. I mean, for me, 40 degrees isn't ever warm, but then again, I think it's freezing when the temperature is 70.
Last week it was in the 60s, and it actually was a fabulous change. I bought a cheap Spring coat, actually started to feel good, when winter decided to come back full force.
I feel like I just got here from Miami all over again. I cannot believe how frigid the air is and it's only back to 40-something. There is something in it that's extra cold, enhanced chapping power. And it's almost April!
It feels like Spring is the guy you dated and stopped calling you so now you sit by the phone at night, check your e-mail early every morning for any word, just a quick hi, maybe your friend ran into him at the mall. But every morning you get no e-mail or call. And that's just sort of like how I feel. Rejected by Spring.