Sunday, August 31, 2008

A chance for redemption


In 2002, the late writer and historian Stephen E. Ambrose described New Orleans as "the city that care forgot". Little would he know the prophecy of his words.

As I've mentioned several times, New Orleans is very dear to me for countless reasons and experiences. This time around they are doing things better, according to my friend who is down there on assignment. He is a brilliant photojournalist who has spent extensive time there and in farther flung places I have never traveled. This time around he saw people rounding up the homeless and driving them to safe shelters.

But the city is still miles away from being as prepared as it could be and is still, physically and emotionally, suffering the aftermath of Katrina, and I place the blame entirely on the unbelievable corruption and idiocy of this current administration.

My heart broke during Katrina, and these feelings are surging inside me now. I will try to keep the vitriol at bay.

This time around I plan to do more.

Friday, August 22, 2008

...upon my doorstep


I really do wish I wrote in this every day, but here's one of the problems: when I write here, I'm aware that I should be working on my book. When it comes time to work on my book, I realize that the apartment's a mess/the dog needs to be walked/there's laundry to do/I need a nap.

Procrastination is one of my strong suits. As are erratic driving and the ability to trace the origin of any conversation, no matter how tangential it's become.

I'm out in LA right now, where I briefly lived 130 years ago. Nice to be here, spending quality time with sister and niece and friends. Yesterday we went to the beach in Santa Monica and then came home and took a swim + jacuzzi in their saltwater pool. Their pool, by the way, is about the size of every apartment I've lived in in NY put together. When I visit the rest of the world, I question my decision to reside in NY. But when I see a free outdoor concert, amazing Broadway play (August: Osage County ... see it!), walk to just about anywhere I need to go, order in just about anything I feel like eating, and spend time with my parents and amazing friends, I remember why. Still, it would be nice to have an apartment that takes more than 11 seconds to tour.

There is either a very industrious gardener or an automatic sprinkler system outside. It's not yet dawn here so I can't tell, but the aforementioned woke me up a little while ago.

Tomorrow we are having a couple of friends over to swim and snack. Among them is my best friend from third grade whom I haven't seen in nearly as long. Through the magic of the Internets (please vote for Obama, people), we reconnected earlier this year. We're so oldschool that we did so via Myspace, not Facebook. Anyway she was a beautiful gal back then and is a beautiful woman today, and I'm really looking forward to seeing her!

What else, what else ... reading a good book recommended to me by the woman working in the bookstore in Woodstock, Vermont, where we were last weekend for a wedding. It's called Loving Frank and is a fictionalized, though thoroughly researched story about the love affair between Frank Lloyd Wright and Mamah Borthwick Cheney. Poor thing probably longed for a simpler last name. Speaking of Cheney ... VOTE OBAMA.

Today we are hiking Runyon Canyon, my sis and me. Last time we did that we ran into Will Ferrell at the top. Of all the canyons in all the towns in all the world, he hikes up mine.

Speaking of hikes, remind me to tell you of our harrowing, treacherous, and vastly understated "hike" in Norway last year. Now I'm going to attempt to sleep a little bit more.

Love you! Miss you! So does this guy:
Triangles make excellent pets.

Gadget's looking happy, isn't he, shyguy?

Will write more.

UPDATE: I just rescued and put outside a bug that had more legs than the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Blech.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Levee's gonna break ...

There is the most incredible rain storm happening outside right now. I have never seen anything like it.That's one of my favorite things about this apartment, it's a great place to watch storms as they drift off the Hudson. I would photograph this one if I could but as I CAN'T FIND MY CHARGER, I can't take photos. This has been driving me nutso since August 1, when I took a bunch of great photos during our sailing trip for Erika's birthday. Alas, I have nearly given up hope and may go get a new one today, after which I will inevitably find the first one. Louie is staring at me as I type. He's taken to jumping on the couch and l-e-a-n-i-n-g against me while I'm working on my laptop. Strange little gadget, that one.

In lieu of today's weather, I offer you other rain photos:


Thursday, August 7, 2008

Don't stop believin' ...

Me, my pants, the front hall, the piano I miss. 1974-5ish

Jules in our kitchen, Easter. As opposed to Passover, which we celebrated too. Confusing, but festive.

Jules on horseback, me riding shotgun in a bouncy thing. Jackson Heights, 1971.

I've mastered my scanner. I love it when things work.

Tonight we heard the above-named song, which has become an iconic one, due in part to its brilliant placement in the Sopranos' finale. One of the first MTV videos I saw was by Journey -- the one with the quick angle changes, that appears to be set in a warehouse. The Buchwalds were latecomers to the cable TV trend -- among the last on our street to install the faux-wood contraption with the three-tiered switch and the stubborn push buttons. My very first cable experience was an HBO presentation of Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet -- of which I have vivid childhood memories. I had a crush on Tybalt.

As long as it took us to get cable, it took us double that to embrace the answering machine. We held out for years, the yellow wall phone in our kitchen echoing aimlessly through the empty house. When the four of us would come back from dinner, my sister and I would play a rousing game of Pretend Answering Machine. One would beep and deliver the outgoing message, the other would re-enact messages from family members, our parents' friends, and all those cute boys whose calls we were certain we'd missed.

We finally got a machine and left the requisite outgoing instructions, that the caller leave his name, his number, the time of his call, and that he wait for the tone before doing so.

I got a care package last week from my new friends in Moab -- a book, some sagebrush, a piece of local artwork, and the water bottle I'd left in somebody's car after spending the day on the river. It's a beautiful gift and memento of that strange, mystical, life-changing day.

I wish that I had time to see the whole world.