The Wedding; and Reflections: NYC Trip

Like the trip we took to Central America, our temporal proximity to this event makes true reflection difficult.

We got to see my cousin Liz marry her Englishman Chris in a beautiful ceremony at my Uncles' place near Hillsdale, NY. Corrie took the picture's for that, and we're still sorting them for Liz and Chris, so none will show up here. I oddly didn't have my camera on me...

New York remains one of the few places to which both Corrie and I would happily move. A tiny visit makes you long for more time, if you're a weirdo like us, one of the self identified New Yorkers who can't understand why anyone would want to leave in the first place.

The trip, while physically draining, was emotionally rejuvenating, and I can't think of a better complement of New York City itself, if, you know, you're into the place, a weirdo like us...

Until next time...just waiting for the train...

More Walking; Old friends; Spontaneity vs Plans: NYC Trip

An Aussie friend of mine from high school, whom I hadn't seen since freshmen year of college while we were both visiting Sacramento nearly seventeen years ago, is living in the Lower East Side and enjoying the hell out of the energy and nightlife of the area. She just finished up a master's degree in something at NYU. We met up for dinner after the museum, or it was the next day...maybe it was the next day...no, it was after the museum...

In any case, we ate at a fancy little place called Pig and Khao, a Filipino-BBQ fusion place that was very tasty. I would recommend it. Afterwards we remanded ourselves to a watering hole for cocktails and reminiscing, and I didn't have the heart to remind her that I had never been to her house for parties, nor had I been to the river for parties, not that she would have believed me had I tried. I had been neatly pasted into her memories of those times back in school. We were close, sure, in class, and in the Wilderness Club with Imai, but I'm fairly certain I wasn't partying at her folk's big house with the rest of them. I may have had a few beers since then, and many memories of that time are fuzzy, but I know I didn't hit up any of those parties.

In any case, the evening was pleasant and nice, and we chatted into the wee hours of the night before peeling off to go back to the hotel, riding the train instead of walking. We were exhausted.

The next day we made it over to Wine:30, the wine restaurant operated by an old Turkish friend of mine named Vulcan. Vulcan and another friend Ben, opened the place together back in 2009, and I lent my hands, back, knife skills, and general expertise to the cause, and was on hand for the first few shaky weeks. It got a little dicey between Vulcan and Ben as well, and I was the mediator during the times when they weren't speaking.

But that was four years ago, and now the place is booming and Vulcan figured out a way to expand his space twice---which is nigh impossible in Manhattan. He's got a son and a pregnant wife and still carries himself with that harried look of someone who doesn't sleep enough. When he saw me he said, "Patrick! Life must be good--you've gained weight!" Vulcan's great.

Photo Dump Section

Here comes another barrage of pictures from walking around.

The first picture is from inside the scaffolding-clad St. Patrick's Cathedral: (The outside was hidden.)

This next picture is of the St. Bart's Byzantine Cathedral, the only one like it in the City, and the site of one of the fine cuisine restaurants I worked at while living in Brooklyn. I know the labyrinthine halls of that church better than I probably should:

This is a random angle shot of Grand Central Station:

The lion from the NY Public Library, as seen in many films and pictures (like Ghostbusters):

From inside the library, everything is marble:

From the Irish Hunger Memorial. Like the Highline, this is a must see hidden gem for visitors:

We had plans to do and see things, but we didn't want to be rigid about them. Also, we tried to resist the other desire: to sit in a bar and drink. We didn't go to shop, or see a whole lot of shows, but we did feel like tourists in our own town. Take away shopping and shows and you get our sights; walking; and drinking.

But one thing we did need to rigorously plan, and hold to the plan, was the WTC site. It's still a construction mess, and we only had time to go on our last day in the City proper, Friday, after which we would be collecting Dan and Lupita and heading north on a train.

Because of the construction, the Port Authority, which governs the site, requires a ticket and lets in large groups, but the snaking line goes for nearly a mile around the perimeter fence. The actual memorial, when everything is said and done and anyone will be able to visit and there won't be any need for fences and tickets, will be quite solemn and quietly spectacular. The footprint waterfalls show off how humongous the towers were, and the Freedom Tower, directly adjacent, is nearly beyond comprehension at that proximity.

Here's part of the snaking line:

Here's one of the waterfalls, Tower 1 I believe:

Here's the waterfall-footprint for Tower 2, lined up better that the previous picture:

Here's the Freedom Tower, still being worked on and not as striking as I had hoped, or imagined maybe, but it is staggeringly big, a sensation sadly lost in photographs:

I'm trying to rush through these last few posts because 1) I want to be done by the end of August; and 2) I got a new lappy and I need to start moving photographs over to our cloud device.

Not that anyone really cares about that...

Highlights from the Museum of Natural History: NYC Trip

The American Museum of Natural History is one of the classic jewels of the New York City museum circuit. Established over a hundred years ago by Teddy Roosevelt---the idea that children are able to learn about nature and the world was paramount for Teddy.

We'd always wanted to go while we lived in Brooklyn, but we never had time. We got pretty close once, but then needed to rest on the specific day we were to go. Oh well.

Upon entering on pretty much any day, you get in a long line in a zoo-like atmosphere, in a grand entrance with a  few allosauruses trying to take down a big brachiosaur:

The lines, two total, one on each side of the great hall, while incredibly long, move at quite a clip, as there are maybe ten banks of "entrant tellers" who collect the now non-mandatory "donation". There had been a lawsuit that the museums lost about their "suggested donations" being mandatory, and about how that becomes an entrance fee instead of a "donation", and that having "entrance fees" changed the nature of the tax exemptions and City subsidies that these establishments enjoy. So now they ask you if you'd like to donate the $44 for two adults that is the suggested donation.

I paid it because the institution of the museum my be my favorite...maybe libraries...my attitude changes from week to week...

So once inside, there are a few important staples, like the blue whale and the [most] famous T-Rex head [in the world].

But, along the walk there are some cool things, like the giant clam shell, complete with a sign that says "No Sitting!" (or something to that effect):

(Corrie almost sits in it)

When you get to the sea life hall, the full size model of the blue whale is more spectacular that you imagine it'll be, stretching off far across the hall's breadth:

There are some of the craziest dioramas I've ever seen inside this room. My photographs don't really do them justice.

One mollusk I couldn't resist putting in: it's called the "fat gaper" and looks, eh...you can't make this up:

Then there are lots of models, life size of course, but made out of plaster or plastic, and they let you know how exotic and crazy life gets on this rock.

One of my favorite sea critters is the living fossil coelacanth. The lobe-fin fish is closer to terapods (walking animals from long ago) than to regular ray-fin fish (every other type of fish besides sharks). I think they're pretty cool:

Then you eventually get to the DINOSAURS! Not sure why I used all-caps, but everyone's inner-child loves dinosaurs.

Here's the main bad-ass, Tyrannosaurus Rex:

And here's deinonychus, a close cousin of the velociraptors from Jurassic Park imaginations, but it seems like today's science agrees that they most likely had a furry coat of feathers:

This is my favorite vegetarian dinosaur, the stegosaurus:

Then you come to, eventually, the ice-age era rooms, with the skeletons of the mega-fauna of the mammalian variety. And here we get super moose:

There's even a primate wing, and I especially like this gibbon skeleton, stretching, I like to imagine, human like to get some top-shelf liquor:

And then my camera's battery died. A very long day having "ended" at nearly four pm, we walked back down to a place for drinks and snacks, before heading to dinner with a friend I hadn't seen in some seventeen years.

Here's one last shot of me:

Walk walk walking...New Lateral Forces: NYC Trip

We rode the train from Beacon to Grand Central, like so many other times, and were getting giddy watching the Hudson River scenery:

That depleted castle on a random Hudson island always piqued my imagination, and it took me nearly too long to get my camera out to get the picture.

We made it Grand Central and hoofed it to our hotel in Hell's Kitchen, about four avenues west and eight blocks north (the avenues are the long stretches), and it felt like home. We were weighed down and sweaty, and dodging tourists, and it felt like we'd just got back from a  week stay in California.

There were a whole new slew of lateral forces acting on my knee, forces that I never get living in California. Juking and side-stepping and walking round slow walkers is different. I ride my bike almost ten miles a day, which tires out my bolted and rebuilt knee, and five minutes of dodging tourists was totally new and novel, and a new kind of achy-ness was discovered.

We were too early to check in to the hotel, but we were able to drop off our gear. We took off for Lansdowne Road, our West-side Manhattan bar. We know the owner (we communicate over Facebook), and were regulars when they opened, and were occasional mainstays, if such a thing exists. It was so comfortable and quiet and nice, and we chatted with the bar-keep while the owner had a meeting, and then chatted with the owner for a while.

We told him how it felt for us, that even though we'd been gone for three and a half years it only felt like ten days, and the only real change, besides a few noticeable establishments having changed, was that Broadway now had a major bike lane added, and there were city bike stands all over Manhattan; these were rental stands that allowed you to rent a bike mostly anywhere, lock it up near your destination, and grab a different bike later on in the day.

After we checked into the hotel, we walked. Walky McWalkerson and his walking wife were we. We walked pretty much everyday for hundreds of blocks, for miles and miles, and did things that we never had time for while living in Brooklyn.

The following pictures showcase some of the walking we did, and I'll post separately for things like the American Museum of Natural History and maybe the Library. I haven't thought that far ahead...

This first picture I like since it's of one of the buildings along Central Park West, as seen from the Park, through the trees:

This was a hazy and humid day at Washington Park, where we sat and relaxed for almost an hour:

A quite street Greenwich Village:

The Freedom Tower, almost done, from south(?) of Chelsea Pier along the Hudson River Walkway:

Looking Uptown along 8th Ave from the Highline. I'd have to look up the cross streets to be fully accurate, but probably between 25th and 35th:

From the Highline. I'd absolutely recommend anyone visiting New York to walk at least a portion of the Highline, a reclaimed elevated train that's been changed into a park:

Also from the Highline, a psychedelic painting of the famous Victory Kiss on VE Day:

It was rainy day when we made it out to Bed-Stuy, walking around like a couple of crazy white folks. It was nice, though, to see the trees bigger and bushier, to see how much that improved the neighborhood. It was a small change, and, coupled with a few erstwhile empty storefronts now full of businesses, the neighborhood had a new feel. It wasn't too different, but it was there. I'm pretty sure I even saw a call center business staffed with a few white people. Malcolm X Blvd as an occupational destination? Fantastic!

Here's Corrie macking on one of our 'hood's otter pop-deals, as we walked up Ralph Ave to the J and Z trains. It was drizzling and warm:

Umm...

The American Museum of Natural History; the New York Public Library; and maybe the World Trade Center site...those are probably the next three City-themed posts...

We did meet with a few old pals...maybe I'll do a post about them as well...

Quiet Morning Strolls and Arrival Weekend: NYC Trip

I scrambled around on a Friday with Tony in town to get a bunch of homework done and ready to send off with a trustworthy individual. Later on I had to redo some of it, but what can you do?

Ultimately that Friday Corrie and I were headed for a red-eye into Kennedy, arriving just before daybreak on Saturday. We had a few, er, refreshments, but only I got some sleep on the plane. Zoned and blitzed and all bunched up from the airplane ride, we strapped our bags on and walked straight from the airplane out of the terminal and into the Air Train--the inter-terminal train that connects to parking lots and subway stops.

It took all of four seconds to be back in New York Mode, walking quickly and aggressively, literally moments off the plane. "...Tourists..." we grunted under our breath as we powered through the bleary eyed throng.

We took the Air Train to the E train stop, watched the sun come up along the way, and then entered the personal hell of all New Yorkers: the wildly stuffy and humid underground subway station, feeling as hot the surface of the sun, sweat beading everywhere on your pack-mule-loaded body, and the train never comes.

Obviously "never" is inaccurate, but when you're there it's a far more tangible concept.

We were heading that morning to the Union Square Green Market, my old stomping ground, to stash our bags in the truck's cab of the the dairy for who I used to work while we we waited for Marc and Linda and baby Marco to come down and meet us. We would be spending Saturday night in Dobbs Ferry with them. Sunday we were spending with Corrie's cousin Joshua, his wife Elizabeth, and their baby girl Emlyn.

We got off the E train at West 4th, the main Greenwich Village stop, and decided to walk the maybe mile distance to Union Square, between 14th and 17th, but east of 5th Ave. That walk, though, passes right by Washington Square park, and I snapped the next picture of the Washington Arch before 7 am, trhe new Freedom Tower visible off in the distance:

After stowing our stuff, Corrie found a shady bench to try and catch some sitting-up-style-zzz's, and I, having giving up on catching some sleep before nighttime, went for a walk.

I found a cheese shop that seemed to have just opened for the day, and I went in looking for some guanciale for Norm (I found it and purchased it a week later before flying out). There was just a lone dude working inside, and through small talk we learned that we were both from Sacramento, that we both up and left for New York City, and that we both lived on Halsey St in Bed-Stuy, us at 619 and he at 710. Nothing like a random dude from your hometown living on your street to help you realize how small the world can become.

Soon we met up with Marc and Linda and Marco, and we had a great time. Lunch in the City, drive up, nice dinner out, chatting like old times, playing with the baby like new times, and it felt like we'd been gone only a few days. We realized how much we missed the friendship we had with them.

The same experience was had with Josh and Elizabeth and Emlyn, but that's more family than close friendship. The experience and camaraderie was different, but fulfilling and full of love.

The hand-off, as it were, of us from the Piazzas to the Morris', was over breakfast in a town between Dobbs Ferry and Beacon, a mid point named Cold Spring, at a diner where we could mob the place up with babies and mugs of coffee. On a walk along the main street of that town after brunch, I snapped a picture specifically for our San Luis Obispo people:

Also that morning, I walked by something I felt I needed to take a picture of:

It's like the planter broke away but the roots were intact.

Monday morning we hopped the train to town, dropped our luggage off at the hotel before we could check in, and felt home. 'Spose that's the next post...

A Midsummer's Trip to the Big Apple

We made a trip to our erstwhile home, the City of New York (a borough of which shows up in the URL of this blog), just a month ago, and the next few posts might cover the trip.

Corrie'd made the trip back in December to see Linda for her baby shower, but spent very little time in the City at all, and all that really happened was a whetting of the palate for our big return.

My cousin Liz's wedding in August was just the opportunity. She and her beau, Chris, a Briton from the Midlands, got married at our Uncle's place upstate on a Saturday, and we spent the preceding week in the City doing many things we couldn't do when we lived there.

Like walking hundreds of blocks, mostly aimlessly, everyday.

Corrie took the pictures for the wedding, most of which won't be appearing here, but here's one, to cap off this mostly introductory post---the brother of the bride, my cousin Mike, and myself:

(The iron at our hotel in Hudson sucked.)

Here's just a taste of New York:

Two Books and Opposing Storytelling Techniques

I've been thinking about this post for a while. It showcases some of my personal views on novel writing and fiction and storytelling, but through the lens of two books I was reading simultaneously, but have since either finished or abandoned.

Here's a start: Imagine a protagonist, an over-educated but out of work fella who's been trying to get some writing published while mostly mooching off his long suffering wife. He get's involved with a teaching-credential program and meets various folks, four of which are ladies who pique his interest in one way or another. Lady #1 is a fan of Irish whiskey, and Lady #2 likes to write, and both are into the fella something fierce, while Lady #3 matches politically with the protagonist and trades barbs with him. Lady #4 is more mysterious and the one that the protagonist begins to have feelings for, despite being happily married.

Now, most of this "story's" beginning I pulled from, eh, obviously my own experience this summer, with some translations and projections that are made with creative liberty.

Okay: the type of story this is has all sorts of drama and conflict built in: Will the protagonist commit adultery? Will a marriage fall apart? Will an old relationship be strengthened? How does all the drama effect an "old married couple"? See? This story could be good and exciting and, as a writer, I'd say it "could write itself."

But this isn't the type of story I've ever been interested in writing.

Now some books:

The book on the left, Between the Bridge and the River, by CBS' own Craig Ferguson (my favorite, if never seen anymore, late night talk show host), was purchased by me for a penny plus shipping once I heard he'd written a book. It's about Scots in Scotland, then in America, and sex and death and religion. Sex, death, and religion---that's pretty much it. It's good, and unfolds well enough, and is mostly predictable, to the point where after a few dozen pages, a keen reader would be able piece together what will eventually happen, if not exactly, then reasonably well enough.

That doesn't mean it isn't well written or not totally enjoyable. And it is just like that that the story about the married writer and the five ladies in his life would unfold. You may not see the exact ending coming, but you get the idea, no matter how great the writing or exciting the story. It's one type of novel or story or storytelling technique.

The book on the right, Villa Incognito (a Dollar Bookstore purchase), by who I've occasionally described as Pynchon-lite, Tom Robbins, starts with forty pages of Tanuki seducing the young women of the Japanese country-side. Tanuki is constantly being lectured by his more mature cousin, Fox, if that gives you any idea as to what Tanuki is (a tanuki is an Asian raccoon/badger critter with an enormous scrotum Seriously, the kids all over Japan have pretty silly playground rhymes involving the tanuki's scrotum)).

After the stretch with Tanuki in feudal Japan, the story shifts to Seattle, and then to Laos and Bangkok with the main characters being a ragtag collection of heroin smugglers and circus performers, and the possible descendants of Tanuki and one of the country maidens. Like any great Pynchon or Murakami book, never knowing quite what the hell is going on is part of the lure, the draw.

That's the kind of stuff I like to read, and that's the kind of stuff I aspire to write. The novel I'm working on has nothing to do with a lazy writer working towards becoming a teacher and struggling with interpersonal relations...it has bobcats and cowardly cowboys and the earliest immigrants and buboes and rockets.

I'm hoping it is a little out there.

Early July in San Luis Obispo

Some time has passed since we took this trip in early July to San Luis Obispo. Part of the motivation for the trip was to get some pictures for our anniversary, while another was to get out of Dodge for a weekend.

Corrie hadn't been up to campus in years, and hadn't spent any time just frolicking around San Luis in, maybe, ever? 

Then things got all sorts of busy, and I lagged in posts. That's nothing new.

So, here are a few pictures from campus. The first is the new Math and Science hall, or center, taking up the job of the outdated and sprawling Spider Building:

I had many a class in the Spider Building, since I started as a Biochem major. I remember the long hallways open 24 hours a day, and how one of the equipment windows, even while closed and locked, had books of matches available constantly. Funny what you remember, eh?

This next building is Fisher Science, and it hasn't changed at all. I had an anecdote about this building that I was thinking of when I picked this picture from my list while compiling the ideas for this post, but now, typing it, I've decided against retelling it. So...here's an out of context picture:

Ryan and Corrie and I drove up to the top of Highland Drive, a quick drive I probably hadn't made since 2002. We got out and walked around for a while, and I tried taking some perspective shots of Bishop's peak, with limited success:

That same day we made it out to the Rock for sunset, and I played with the settings on my little camera and got this darkened picture:

I think my original idea for this post was to be a reflection on returning for the first time together to SLO for Corrie and I, but too much time passed, and as other things have entered my brain, the weak feelings I had for this exact weekend were drummed out, like so many other faulty and foggy memories from San Luis. This wasn't originally a picture-only post.

Like the town of Bishop in my novel, the flow of time is haltingly foggy while spent in SLO County...

We stayed with Jimmy and Christina, as Ryan is living in a tiny bungalow originally erected for railroad builders. "Cramped" is a nice euphemism for it. Corrie and I were amazed with how easy it was to jump in the car, drive over to campus, then to the top of Perfumo Canyon, then drive out to Morro Bay and take some pictures of the Rock and give Corrie a moment for her and Grandma June's sendoff, and have that all only take one afternoon. In LA that's like a full week's worth of getting around and seeing stuff.

San Luis...some things about it will never change, while other things will never be the same, not the same as the first time I was there in 1997, not the same as when we were regulars at the OG McCarthy's, and not the same as this last trip we just took.

Wedding Dress and the Dunes

For our fifth wedding anniversary, Corrie and I had wanted to pack up our wedding clothes and head out to the desert for some striking photographs---the bright and beautiful sky meeting the lush desert floor mixing with the natural silk and beading on Corrie's dress? It would be fantastic.

But the day came and went, and our plans were affected. Soon, the excursion was shifted to Montana de Oro and a trip to San Luis Obispo, and the weekend shifted later, down to the Fourth of July, which would give us more time.

We made the trip, and alas, while fitting into the clothes wasn't hard, getting the sun to burn through the marine layer was more of a timing issue, one we weren't able to best.

This is one of the better pictures my camera got, and when I find the great pictures Corrie's camera picked up, I'll do something with them:

As we were leaving the dunes and heading back to the car, still in regalia, a husband and wife team passed us with their three-year-old-ish daughter on their way to the dunes. "Congratulations!" the lady said to Corrie.

"Oh thanks," Corrie started, "but we're just out taking pictures for our fifth anniversary."

The mostly invisible wall of anger and resentment was pulled down over the lady's face as she turned and moved away. Corrie and I snickered about it later, as we drove on to a spot with easier access to the eucalyptus groves across the street.

Transitions...

I know it's been almost a month since posting anything before the just posted Ry-Birthday post (which I habitually lag on...). I was wildly busy with this program, riding my bike all over a tiny slice of South Central Los Angeles, and now that this summer program will be ending, I'll be transitioning into a different role.

I will, I'm guessing, have a bit more time open to get to this creative outlet. This past summer (which technically is still on the calendar) the bulk of my hours not spent out and about was spent writing papers, which was right up my alley, but took time away from my book and various blogs. That's just how things work sometimes.

Then, Corrie and I went to New York to spend a week before my cousin Liz's wedding in the Berkshires, and while that was great and easy to transition back into being New Yorkers, my laptop was at home and I was trying to avoid wordsmithing. Which, for me, is difficult.

I'll be getting to all that--the trip, the wedding, the weird feeling that we'd been away from the City for only a week--but probably after I get a new laptop in the coming weeks. That's when I'll get to the small list of posts I mentioned nearly a month ago.

When we got back to the apartment after nearly ten days away, there was another critter that was having a difficult time with transitions: Tuxedo. The first night back, Sunday, he was all over us, meowing and needing attention. After we went to bed, he waited until maybe 4 am, and started screaming in our face and using a new move I guess he taught himself: head-butting us in our foreheads. Literally, like a ram fighting another ram, he was butting us with the crown of his skull--just to wake us up! I don't think he was being needy for food, since his calls at those times have more of demanding urgency. This was more of sad longing "pay attention to me" type of whine.

It got better by Tuesday night, mostly, and Tux seems to have finished transitioning back to us being at home.

Here's a link to an article in the LA Times about the program with which I've been involved. I have a story about the writer of this article, but I need to do a little research before going into it.

I'll be back, just maybe in a few days...

Happy Birthday Ryan! (Late Again...)

At least this post wasn't as late as some of my other Ryan-birthday posts. Yesterday was the day, so, we're talking a single day.

My lagging with has nothing to do with my friendship with the man, just my own activities. So...eh...

Ryan and Jimmy Berlow and I went to an A's/Angels game down here in Anaheim a few weeks back, and I've been meaning to write about it but...you know...life and all. That game saw Angel pitcher C.J. Wilson pitch into the ninth inning while giving up only two hits. The A's rallied a bit after he was pulled, but they still lost.

It was great to go to a game with the boys, as the only other time I didn't drag Corrie to a game was a long night at Shea Stadium that ended with me riding the A-train all over the city. But, I did get the chance to wear a visiting team's jersey to a sporting event: Ryan brought his 1989 Dennis Eckersley jersey for me to wear (he wore his golden Reggie Jackson jersey, which was very nice).

Thanks, buddy! I know you had to work, but I hope your birthday was good.