Tag Archives: sun

It has been sunny

29 Jul

and I am redder then ever. I will not illustrate this time–am too embarrassed.

Yesterday brought me to a treasure trove of rock memorabilia. I came in close contact with: Elvis Presley’s jumpsuit, the Michael Jackson outfit Eminem wore in his music video, a lifesize Ahnold dummy used in Terminator 2, Madonna’s love letter faxes and erotic video, artwork by John, Ringo, and Paul, and Jimi Hendrix’s first contract.

That was a ton of fun.

And today took me to the streets, where I asked New Yorkers to weigh in on the NYPD’s slim pickings of the federal stimulus fund. People were particularly talkative and open today near Penn Station. I liked that! But during this brief amount of time, the sun did its damage on my fair complexion, and I look like a brunette tomato.

Meanwhile, I am in the middle of reading the TNY Kindle article. I’m not done yet—and as Betsy pointed out, it’s self-perpetuating that the culturally snobbish (I say that with love!) New Yorker would run an anti-Kindle story—but I haven’t warmed to the idea of the device yet. People like the Kindle because it’s clean and smell-free, but I like the worn textures of books that have been places. When my high school English teacher gave me books to read, I didn’t mind that it smelled like his cigars, because the eau de tobacco comprised his reading experience. And that’s powerful, and in a sense, becomes part of the text, if you let it. But, on the other hand, it would probably be cheaper and logistically sound to use a Kindle. Still, I’m holding out as long as I can.

(Good) morning

8 Jul

Contrary to reports of rain, it’s a bright and sunny day. Oh well, too bad I have food poisoning. I guess this has to happen to me once a summer? Well, there’s a silver lining, I guess: at least this time around, I don’t have a phone interview for a job I really really want.

I just wish I could fall asleep and avoid all of the nastiness.

Chesil a go

1 Jul

After reading other reviews—and following Ian’s (oh, not McEwan! I don’t think that I channel the author’s guidance in my head…) advice—I decided, despite my unfiltered reaction to the “lazy” NYT review, I would forge ahead with On Chesil Beach. Plus, the New Yorker already got me 45 pages (or 1/5 chapters) in. So why not?

It’s okay so far, pretty good, not awful, not amazing. Worth reading, of course.

Aaaaanyway today my work assignment—not crime!—brought me close to school. It was good to be back and to bump into lots of people I know after hours. Also the sun has turned my cheeks red. But then it rained. And, of course, I was caught in it. Some things never change.

Also, I saw the South Pacific revival last week with my family. This well-done musical doused my parents and grandparents in nostalgia (my grandma sang in my ear…). I enjoyed the excellent performance, but question the value of reviving a play so historically and ideologically topical. The different reactions from different generations (at least within my family) showcased a conceptual divide: my brother and I initially had trouble grasping that a huge chunk of the plot turned on questions of marriage between different races.

This stuff was revolutionary when Rodgers and Hammerstein produced it way back when. Now, it seems sort of meaningless: the overcoming of these barriers is a conclusion that does not need to be told, let alone celebrated with three hours of music, dialogue, and elaborate sets. But its lack of dramatic intrigue in 2009 could be considered an artistic feat—a barometer that illustrates how far we’ve come.