TESTING...TESTING...CHECK ONE TWO...

Will this one work like the good old blogs? Who knows? I'm just going to throw some stuff up and see...

Here's a movie of a talented lady who was singing and playing a Casio keyboard at the Hell's Kitchen flea market I called you from last Saturday...

I only caught the jazzy vamped-out end of that number. She was either singing The Look of Love or the jingle from the Empire Carpets commercial. I wanted to film her more, but I could feel her watching me from behind her dark glasses, so I became unnerved and moved on. She was also wearing gloves, which seemed suspicious to me for a keyboard player.

Is that video going to end up being too small to make out any hilarious details? Goddammit! It's fine, it's fine. Let's just keep going...

Here's the only item at the flea market I even remotely considered buying...

One of the extras from Babe.

It could be nice over the mantel, right? I don't know. I guess I'll go back this Saturday and if it didn't get snatched up already, I'll take it as a sign that it was meant to be mine. Those fangs might just be big enough to hang coats off of. Or stick some daily affirmations onto. You know what, I'm not going to decide right now. I'll let the universe guide me.

They also had an old steamer trunk sitting open and this picture was on the inside of the lid:

This makes me wish I went to fishing school, but oh no! You insisted I study theater in Sacramento.

I think there's a chance that steamer trunk once belonged to Molly Malone and that's the sticker she used to put on all her stuff to let people know it was hers, cockles and mussels and whatnot. 

Hey, have you noticed that this is all working out great so far? Pictures going where I put them, captions for the pictures going where they're supposed to, the whole sheblog! (Sorry. That was terrible.) 

Except for how tiny that movie may or may not turn out to be, I think I'm back on track. Let's just forget that mess of a blog yesterday ever happened. 

I Really Tried

Dad- It used to be so much easier to be a blogger. I'm not sure what changed. Maybe I've begun to take this magical city for granted. Maybe I've stopped taking pictures because of the constant purple halo that keeps appearing when I use my camera phone. (It's actually my phone cover getting in the way. I finally figured that out. I secretly hoped it was ghosts.)

I haven't done anything compelling since my last post, except for one lovely day trip.

Don and Adam thought it would be nice to go to Cold Spring, about half and hour outside the city, so we could see the fall colors. We climbed a mountain. It was very cathartic.

.
That second picture is the Hudson River valley. You can't see it, but West Point is right there at the bend in the river.

I would've explained that in between photos, but it's not working and I'm getting mad.

And somehow, I've lost the ability to write captions for the pictures now. And that was my favorite part of blogging!

That and the glory. I also can't seem to control where the pictures end up when I upload them.

To be honest, I kind of feel like throwing this computer on the ground and screaming, "JUST FORGET IT!" as loud as I can.

I won't. I want to, though.

I have to stop trying to make the best of this post and just bail so I can fix the settings on this blog site.

Might need to reboot the entire system. Maybe hack into a mainframe somewhere.

I'm going to fix it and try again later. Because that's what blogging is all about.

The Sunday Guilt Edition

Oh, hi Dad! How's it going? Good, good. Me? I'm just blogging to you on my blog. You know, the way you like.

First of all, Go Giants!

Is one of these guys Barry Bonds?

I didn't get to see any of that game, but I hear it turned out well.

I spent the day on 110th and Broadway, shooting man-on-the-street stuff for the show. In the business, we call it MOS. That stands for Man On Street. We feel the "the" is unnecessary in the shortened version. Makes it take too long.

Turns out, we were shooting a block away from the cathedral of St. John the Divine. After lunch, Page took me and our two APs Hannah and Tennile (yes, she was named after Captain and Tennile) down there to look at it while the crew was setting up the shot. AP is short for Assistant Producer. That's the person who assists the producer.

So, here's what it looked like when we first saw it from a block away...

What's all the fuss about?

Then you get up to it...

That double decker tour bus really adds to the majesty.

Then you go inside...

There was a wedding ceremony taking place while we were in there, so we couldn't go up near the altar area, but we could hear everything they were saying. The acoustics were great! I could barely keep from belting out a few bars of 'Jesus Light of All the World'.

After the shoot, we walked across the Columbia campus, which was also just a couple blocks away. That's where Page went to college, so she gave me the tour, which consisted of her pointing to buildings and explaining how much better Columbia is than NYU. Enlightening.

Central Park 2: The Reckoning

This is Don and Adam. Aren't they pointy?

Two different men, two different pointing fingers. 

All right, so back to the virtual tour of Central Park.

I really liked this next part that you're about to see. I didn't know what I was walking into, I just heard the singing and hit record. And now you get to enjoy it exactly as I experienced it.

Awesome, right?
OK, then we walked out of there and found ourselves here:

Those lilly pads are the only unused surface in the entire park. 

It's Bethesda Fountain! Isn't it pretty? Here's a wide shot that some professional took:

Copyright 2004. Impressive.

That pond back there was chock full of tourists in boats. No one tipped over that I saw, but Adam said he once watched a couple totally flip their boat and then start screaming at each other, each accusing the other one of ruining their vacation. He said it was hilarious and sad. It made me think of you and Mike Christie on that ridiculous canoe trip we took down the Russian River so long ago. You guys were more fun about your flipping over, probably because you had more Budweiser in you.

And finally, my proudest achievement of the day:

I screamed out loud.

This was taken as we were walking around the reservoir. You know, the place Dustin Hoffman jogs around in the beginning of The Marathon Man? Click on the link below for a reminder.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDx6h251XFc&feature=related

Please note: They've decommissioned it as a true reservoir, probably due to rats or bad vibes, so that chain-link fence isn't around it anymore. Now they have that black wrought iron gate that reminds one of Halloween. Much in the same way that man's pants remind one of Valentine's Day. Or Pizza Hut.

I've Been Doing Things!

I would just like the other 12 people who read this blog to know that my father e-mail guilted me so bad this morning about my lack of posting that I RAN to my computer to update. (By RAN, I mean took two steps to the coffee table.) Here's the exact quote:

"Karen, this one reminded me of the blogs you use to send to me and I found it kind of nostalgic.  (Followed by an overly-forwarded email with a mildly racist joke and about seven pictures attached. Then a bunch of crap about David Letterman, all ending with...) ...and even if you don't send any more blogs (which I loved) I'm still very proud of you."

Oh my god, right? That last line chilled me to the bone. I was already starting to feel kind of bad about not updating, but now I've been sucked down into a serious shame spiral. My inconsiderate blogging has turned my Dick Butkus of a father into a weepy Michael Landon. Hideous.

All right, Dad. Back to you. 

So, Don and Adam and I went to Central Park last weekend.

That's the very famous mall of trees. It's the one they use in movies all the time. My camerawork is a little shaky there. I'm looking into getting a steady-cam for my iPhone.

What's really hilarious about Central Park is that every inch of it gets used on the weekends. People were really sucking up any nature they could get. Blankets were being thrown down on any free patch of green that could be found. It was kind of nice to see citizens really using their civic services that way, although at certain times it almost had a shantytown feel to it.  I kept expecting to hear someone complain about Herbert Hoover.

Hold on...shit. This machine isn't letting me load any more stuff and now I have to get into the shower, so I'll have to add part deux later on today. 

Get ready for: a fountain, some guys pointing to a sign, an awesome tunnel and...A MAN IN RED PANTS!!! I know! I can't wait either!

 

  

And That's The Last I'll Say About It.

Dad! You'll be so relieved to know-- the humidity is GONE! It just left overnight without an apology or an explanation and the rest of the population immediately transitioned to sweaters and scarves. I thought there'd be an official announcement or a parade or something, but no. Or maybe the parade is just that everyone can now walk around without sweat dripping down their face. It relented just in time. I was about to start wearing a towel around my neck like Rocky.

Here's a lesson I learned this weekend- you shouldn't leave the house in outfits that don't transition from day to evening. You simply don't know who you'll run into or what might happen in this town. I'd leave my apartment in the morning thinking, "Oh, I'm just going to pick up a few things." Cut to me at midnight in a rock club wearing sweats and an oversized t-shirt that says 'Real People' on the front of it. That's a gross exaggeration, of course, but an emotionally accurate one.

None of the following is going to be in chronological order. This is more of a free-form post. It may remind you of the poetry you used to enjoy at that hippie bagel shop in the 60's. In fact, if you want to change into your black turtleneck and put on your beret, that would be far out.

So, at one point I saw this:

No means go.

That's actually a very realistic New York crossing signal. It says, "Do not cross, except for you people who are going to cross anyway. You guys should totally go for it. And really use your arms for momentum." I've never noticed how the walking guy has such swimmy arms. That part is unrealistic, seeing as there's always someone at least half a foot behind you everywhere you go. If you threw your elbow back like that you could clock some businessman in the chin. That settles it, I'm swimming to work today.

I like this picture:

Reminds me of my time in Paris before the war.

It's from our walk through Washington Square Park after we had that fancy dinner I told you about. They light this thing up so nicely at night, I guess for the bums and stoners who sit around it, panhandling. And why not? After a long day of heroin and chess, looking at some historical public art can really help you wind down.

I took a short movie of our fancy dinner:

Why didn't I put this before the picture of the arch? Because that's what The Man would want me to do. (snap snap snap snap- that's me applauding for myself.)
This place had a side dish they called Crispy Goosefat Potatoes. That's when you know you're in a high-class joint; when they brag about the fat in their food. We also ate mac and cheese with truffle oil and creamed corn. There's a good chance I developed gout there. I'm fine with it.

I saw this last night as I left my apartment to go eat dinner with NYU professor and former Gap pacesetter Dawn Fraser:

Even the sky is glad the humidity's over. 

Pretty pretty pretty.

Life In The Incredibly Crowded Lane

PLEASE NOTE: I'm not sure if these videos will actually work when I post this. Because it's an all-video installment, the logic and quality of the writing depends on you being able to see them. I can only know if they uploaded correctly once I post it, so if they won't play for you, don't get mad. I'll just write another one. We can't know until we know. Such is life.

Dani (Vetere, our writer's assistant and expert NYer) and I walked to a J. Crew sample sale after work the other day. Here's what part of our walk up 7th Ave looked like:

I've talked about this before, but you really have to know how to walk down the street here. It's an acquired skill. You need to keep the correct pace, weaving through wandering tourists and packs of jerks who insist on walking four abreast, if you want to get anywhere in a timely manner. I like the part where the guy passes directly in front of me really fast. He had to get to his train! Or away from the fuzz! Either way, I was definitely the jerk walking incorrectly on his trajectory.

Next, we have a little video of the writer's room. Our intrepid host Tom Papa is actually the one taking notes here, which is kind of hilarious. Not a common practice in this business we call show. (I'm using that phrase with sarcastic intent. Please read it as such.)

And that's what work looks like to me. Chuck Martin is the writer on the left across the table from me. Laura Krafft is the one in front of from me. We enjoy ourselves quite a bit. Lots of laughing, lots of Starbucks. It's a pretty sweet deal.

I have more, but the videos aren't even loading now and I don't want to make myself late for work. Although it would be kind of a great story if I lost my job because of blogging about my job.