Broadway and 58th st looking downtown.

 

  A view out the wondow of my wife's office in downtown Manhattan.  You're looking from the bottom of the Island of Manhattan where the Hudson and East Rivers meet.  The land mass in the background is Brooklyn.

 

   We finally got one.  Two weeks ago we went out to the Island -- North Shore Animal League -- and we found a black Lab mix -- a beautiful one year old named Layla.  I cannot tell you how happy we all are (especially me!) to have a dog.  All these years I had been telling myself that it was way too much trouble, what with the walking, the scooping, and the general dog-mess around the house.  But you know what?  Those things are incidental to the visceral joy that this creature brings. 

  So now we're into dog routine -- my oldest boy walks her when he wakes up at 6:30.  I take her out when I take my daughter to school at 8:30.  Then she gets a mid-day walk and a late afternoon walk.  I also take her on the late-night walk since I'm often arriving home from my gigs anyhow. 

    We take her to this dog-run around the corner and it is just amazing to see her run -- she's incredibly fast -- and to interact with all the neighborhood dogs.  Like most labs, she's good-natured, playful, and great with kids. 

   Life is good. 

     Here is something that has become a pet peeve of mine.  Has anyone else noticed that 20-somethings seem to hold onto their valley-girl/preppy articulation for an inordinately long time?   Well into their 30s. 

   This is a very difficult thing to describe in a blog -- I would have to play you a tape to really do it justice because, to tell you the truth, I can't even imitate it.  It's a way of speaking that sounds childish to me - like a teenager.  And I'm trying to figure out -- could this be a dialect?  Southern?  Midwestern? I don't think so, but perhaps someone could set me straight. 

   I know one thing that confounds me is the hard O.  For instance the O sound in Tom or com.  It sounds like it comes from way back in the throat.  Not quite British and not quite New England.  If any of you listen to WNYC there is a woman who does the promos and she speaks this way.  This is the way that I imagine a Vassar or Barnard grad speaks.  "You're listening to WNYC dot cahhm."     Brick comes out sounding like "bruck."  

   Then there is "Thank you so much" (I hate that expression)   That comes out sounding "Think you so much."   And the general elongating of the vowels leading to that valley-girl sound.  Towtally.  

   I believe there is a time when you should put this kind of speech away and go onto being an adult.  Think about it....you don't hear anyone over 50 speaking like this.  What happened?  They must have been kids or preps at some point.  

   My 2 cents. 

     

   Thinking about all of these fools hysterically screaming about socialism because Obama has funded a few programs to help the needy though his stimulus packages.  These are the same folks who were fine with the top one percent controlling over 90% of the wealth.  In fact the average middle class salary went down (adjusted for inflation) between the 1970s and the present. 

    Thank you, Ronald Reagan, for this shit storm we're in.

   When I moved to New York from L.A. some 25 years ago I embraced the Mets/Giants/Knicks/Rangers like a Republican embraces a flat tax.  For awhile I still rooted hard for the Dodgers and Lakers.  I was thrilled when the Lakers beat the Celtics those two years in the 80s, and I rooted hard for the Dodgers over the Mets in 88.   But slowly, as I began to feel more and more like a New Yorker, I stopped caring about the L.A. teams.  It helped that my father grew up in Brooklyn so there was that connection.  (it helped him that he happened to have moved to the same city that his home town baseball team did)

   They say the funniest things!  I have this student -- full of energy -- she bounds into the room and notices that there is now chalk at the chalkboard.  (I went out and replenished my supply since I realized that drawing on the chalkboard, for a grade school kid, is one of life's greatest pleasures) 

 "Oh you have chalk!"  She runs to the boards and draws an enormous star, takes a step back, and gesturing like a game-show model, proclaims proudly, "Big star!"  She proceeds to run the length of the board drawing a straight line with the chalk.  Then she  makes another line underneath it.  It looks like this:

------------------------------------------------------------------

 

------------------------------------------------------------------

  She goes on to draw some decorations in between the lines.  I patiently wait for her to finsh and when she does she asks me, "Do you know what this is?"  

"No."

 "Snack bar!"

 

I'm doing a solo gig Oops! So much for live blogging -- break's over!

OK, I'm back....2 days, 10 hours, and 52 minutes later.  Well it seemed like a good idea at the time -- to blog on a break -- but no sooner did I begin the entry when the caterer came by and offered me dinner, at which point I thought "fuck blogging."

I hit massive traffic on the way there  -  it was a gig at a BMW dealership.  They were premiering their new 7 series so they spruced it up with a little catering and music.  As I said, I hit monumental traffic -- it took an hour to drive barely 5 miles -- and soon I realized that I would be late.   I ended up arriving 5 minutes before start time but by the time I had set up I was 10 minutes late.

I made up for it, however by playing incredibly long sets and taking short breaks and by the time the gig ended the ol' poultry charm had won them over and they were wishing they could have music there every day.  How about that?  A 9-5 five day a week gig.   

 

 

    One of the great fringe benefits for us guys, over the past few years, due to the lower cut of women's jeans, has been the plethora of cracks on display.  What a treat it has been to gaze adoringly at the exposure of 1/6 of an ass.  I don't even mind if it's a huge ass.  It's such a wonderful forbidden pleasure to catch a glimpse of this manna from heaven, that the shape is, in a way, incidental. 

   Airports are great spots for crack-sightings.  Thank you, TSA.  So are markets, library's, and subways. 

    Interestingly enough, when a man's crack is exposed, it is not met with as much enthusiasm; rather with ridicule.  Plumbers-butt.  Ugh.  Would it make a difference if it was Tom Cruises ass, or who's that guy from CSI? Oh yeah, George Clooney.  Would you like to see Clooney's keester?   How about Don Knotts?  Just kidding.  He's dead, anyhow. 

   Now, my question to all my female readers is:  How easy is it to notice when your crack is exposed?  it seems to me that you would notice a draft, especially in the winter months.  And if you do notice, do you care?  Maybe you like that we can see it -- an exhibitionistic pleasure.  If that's the case.... hot. 

    This has been a brutal winter.  It got cold and it stayed cold -- not that much snow in the city, but very harsh weather nonetheless.  These are the dog days, indeed.  Football is over, noone cares about hockey and basketball for another month, and baseball does not begin until April.  Academy Awards are history, and anyway, they're always anti-climactic.  

   So what does that leave us?  Sigh....blogs.