Here is New York

Before “50 Shades of Grey,” there was Anne Rice & her erotic trilogy…

Posted: 17th May 2012 in sex
Tags: 50 shades of grey, bondage, erotica, S & M, The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy

I was talking to a woman the other day about 50 Shades of Grey by E.L. James, the by-now ubiquitous erotic fantasy novel. This woman, named Terry, makes no apologies for enjoying pornography and says she’s been a fan since she was a teenager BUT she does not like E.L. James book. She prefers an erotic trilogy written by Anne Rice in the 1980′s.

I had never heard of it, partly because Anne Rice wrote the so-called “Sleeping Beauty” trilogy under the pseudonym A. N. Roquelaure. It includes the books The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, Beauty’s Punishment and Beauty’s Release. Terry says the trilogy, loosely based on the Sleeping Beauty myth except this Beauty is trained to be a slave, is far superior in writing, plotting and everything else when compared to 50 Shades of Grey.

Terry is nonplussed and somewhat annoyed by all the hoopla being given to 50 Shades of Grey partly because it’s now become so casually acceptable. “I’ve been reading erotica and watching porn for years and my friends thought I was insane,” she said. “I never had a problem admitting it or telling people I got turned on by it but I always felt judged.”

Today, with everyone but Hillary Clinton reading 50 Shades of Grey — and who knows if she is too — Terry is pissed at all the judgement that previously was directed her way but says she certainly understands the allure of the book and its two sequels. “I think it’s the submissive thing — not the whips and chains — but the idea that ‘you’ll do what I say.’ Women get turned on by that,” Terry says.

The books have tapped into a universal truth about a lot of women, says Terry. “Women think about being taken forcefully — not raped — but kind of rape-ish,” she said. “I would love to be taken against my will but…well, yes, against my will. The thing is, men are great because they’ll agree to pretty much anything you want but women won’t, even if deep down inside, it’s what they really want.

“Men are great because they give women a chance to be sexually free,” she said. “I’ve been blindfolded and it’s awesome. The first time I was with my husband in bed, he pulled my hair and I was so turned on by that. It was sexual turn-on for me. There is kind of a pain thing and it does have to do with domination. When he bites my nipples, it hurts but I don’t want him to stop because it feels so great. I just wish more Americans would be more open.”

In case you’re wondering, Terry is American and was raised Catholic. “I think we’re all human and have sexual urges and feelings but women are less apt to express their true feelings because they are judged,” she said.

What’s up with the sex scenes on HBO’s “Girls?”

Posted: 15th May 2012 in Television
Tags: Allison Williams, girls, HBO, HBO's Girls, Judd Apatow, Lena Dunham, sex scenes on "Girls"

Allison Williams

Simply put, the sex scenes depicted on “Girls,” the hot new cable show about four young women in NYC, are some of the most disagreeable, uncomfortable and ugly sex scenes ever put to video.

It’s like none of the characters on the show has good sex, except maybe sometimes the character who plays the beautiful British babysitter. Even then, in the most current episode (5/13) her sex scene, when viewed from the point of view of her virgin roommate, appears tawdry and awful.

If you were a virgin watching this show, you might want to swear off sex before you even started. The most satisfying sex scene shown so far is Allison Williams’ character masturbating. Finally, a woman in the show is satisfied by sex but of course it’s with the one she loves the most.

Still, it would be silly to think this is not all done to make a point. I’ve read that a number of young women totally relate to the bad sex because it depicts the truth about the act as something that is exchanged and negotiated between two parties, one of whom is usually less than willing.

The sex between Lena Dunham’s character and her fuck buddy — who has yet to wear a shirt or leave his apartment so far this season — is misogynistally brutal yet she keeps going back for more. Clearly, this guy has watched way too much pornography and treats Lena as such. At least in the most recent episode, she gets a crisp $100 bill for her humiliation.

Then there is the painful-to-watch tepid sex going on between Allison Williams and her longtime boyfriend who is only concerned with making her feel good. Ugh. One just wants to take a bat to this guy and put him out of his estrogen-induced misery.

When looking at either Lena or Allison’s character, the point is clear — these women are not getting what they want from the men in their lives. The saving grace is that the women are clearly complicit in the arrangements. In fact, when Allison’s boyfriend walks out on her, she begs him to stay (I’m not going further than this right now in case you have not seen this episode.)

Maybe that’s the real message of “Girls” — the characters might be unhappy but they’ve created their own unhappiness and are not mature enough to find a way out. Perhaps they will. There’s still plenty of time for someone of Mr. Big’s carriage to appear on the scene.

Should I apologize for publicizing my memoir?

Posted: 13th May 2012 in Books, e-books, ebooks and publishing
Tags: anna quindlen, books, leaving story avenue, memoirs, meyer berger award, new memoirs, new york times bestseller, publicity, publishing, social media, Twitter

Sometimes I feel like every living being in my world knows that my memoir – “Leaving Story Avenue; my journey from the projects to the front page” — has been published but then, as happened Saturday night, I run into someone I know pretty well who knows bupkis about the book. And that pains me because — believe it or not — I try not to overdo the social media promotion. I really do try to be measured and not beat y’all over the head with it but then I run into someone who has no idea the book even exists and I feel like I’m not publicizing it enough.

Here’s the thing — when you work with a small boutique publisher, as I am — you’ve got to beat the drums for yourself or no one will.

I happened to notice this week that Anna Quindlen’s memoir “Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake” landed at No. 2 on The NY Times bestseller list. I’ve always liked Anna’s writing and, though she’s vastly better known than I am, we’re nearly the same age (she’s one year older, meow) and our careers have gone down similar paths. I always felt a little competitive with her even though she probably is barely aware I’m alive.

Still, when I was a reporter at The Daily News, she was a reporter at The NY Times. Back in 1983, we were co-winners of the Meyer Berger Award, handed out by Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism for best and most evocative writing about New York. She won a Pulitzer for her column; I won a Peabody and two Emmys for my television work. She’s written many very successful books and I’ve written books that were well-received but nowhere near as successful. And now we’ve both come out with our memoirs at the same time.

I’ve received fantastic reviews; her’s are not quite as good but she has the upper hand in being more well-known and working with a major publisher. Anna doesn’t have to hit the social media drum quite as hard as I do. So I guess what I’m saying, dear readers, is forgive me if you’re seeing too much about my book — I’m just trying to level the playing field in the smallest way possible. I can’t compete with Anna in the publishing world, only in other ways. For instance, I was reading about how she is proud that she was able to stand on her head after years of working with a personal trainer.

She finally achieved that goal, she says, when she was 58 years old. Hey Anna, I’ve been able to stand on my head since I’ve been 54! Not that I’m competitive or anything.

A remembrance of things past…

Posted: 10th May 2012 in Life
Tags: cardinal hayes, career day, dean of discipline, high school

Yours truly talking to Hayes students

So there I was this past Wednesday, talking to a bunch of teenagers from my old high school — Cardinal Hayes in the Bronx — and telling them about my career and answering questions about journalism, life and my salary (a question asked by every one of the six classes I spoke to.) It was mostly fun. As with any group of teenage boys, some were engaged, some slept, some picked their noses non-stop.

If you had told me in high school that’s I’d be a school supporter, both of time and money, I’d have said you were nuts but….time softens the hard edges of memory, doesn’t it? It’s no secret that Hayes could be a rough place. In the years I went there, I was hit by priests and brothers on at least two occasions and we were emotionally brow-beaten within an inch of our lives with rules, rules and more rules. We really did have a Dean of Discipline and, the kids tell me, the school still does.

And yet, I learned a great deal in high school, far more than in college. I guess all those rules paid off in forcing me to toe the line. It’s not like I’ve forgotten the bad parts but, looking back at my life, I can see that there was a method to the apparent madness of the school bureaucracy.

And here’s the other thing — I support the school because of the current students. Hayes has long since ceased being an incubator of Irish and Italian-American kids as it was when I went there. Now it’s all Latino and African-Americans kids; I saw one white kid on Wednesday in those six classes. When I went, the school cost $200 a year annually; today it is $6,000 and that doesn’t seem fair. Sure there’s been inflation but not that much inflation. I’m sure the families of those kids are sacrificing to send them there.

And they all assured me that teachers do not hit the kids anymore. That’s a good thing, right? These days, the teachers who hit me would probably be hauled off in handcuffs but it was a different time. And you know what? I survived just fine without arrests, lawsuits or anything else. Hell, I never even told my parents. It’s interesting to think how far all of us as a society have come.

In a technological world, a loss of introspection….

Posted: 8th May 2012 in Life
Tags: cell phones, don draper, introspection, iphones, mad men, meditation, revolver, smart phones, the beatles, tomorrow never knows

It’s become de rigeur to say that, in this age of the iPhone and texting, sexting, and just plain babbling, we’ve lost the art of conversation. I think exactly the opposite — I think there’s way too much conversation and what’s actually been lost is the art of introspection.

Ever since my daughter got a cell phone — some ten years ago — she’s barely walked down any city street without pulling it out and having a conversation, any conversation, with someone. She’s not alone of course. I challenge you to walk a single block in New York without seeing someone talking on a cell phone. Impossible.

All we do is talk, whether it’s by phone or texting or on Facebook. The communication with others is non-stop. What we rarely do is take the time to reflect. I still do but, then again, I’m over 50. I actually enjoy my time on the subway (where there is still mostly no cell service) when I can observe my fellow humans or even close my eyes and think!

I thought of all this again Sunday night while watching the last couple of minutes of “Mad Men” when Don Draper drops the stereo needle on The Beatles revolutionary song “Tomorrow Never Knows” from the LP “Revolver.”

Suddenly, amidst all that psychedelic rocks, comes John Lennon’s nasal voice:

Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying…

Of course, Lennon meant the song to mimic an LSD experience but, indeed, it’s not “dying” to unplug your mind and give it a break. In the 1960′s many did it with drugs but meditation works too. We should all do more of it.

A beautiful day for a street fair…

Posted: 6th May 2012 in new york life
Tags: american express, cake baking contest, henry street settlement, hulu hoops, lower east side, partners in preservation, street games, vote for henry street

Today, the Henry Street Settlement hosted a street fair to raise awareness for the Partners In Preservation Program in which Henry Street is competing against a slew of other deserving non-profits for funds earmarked by American Express. The weather cooperated beautifully and many people wound up voting for Henry Street on their on-site computers so what’s not to like? There were old-time street games, a cake baking contest, balloons and even temporary tattoos. I even nearly got a tan it was so nice outside. So remember, vote for Henry Street here.

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How to combat bookstore Armageddon…..

Posted: 3rd May 2012 in Books
Tags: big 6 publishers, bloomingdales, book stalls, books, bookstores, independent bookstores, macys, publishers marketplace, publishing, retail outlets, sephora, shelf awareness

Room for a bookstore near the cosmetics counter?

Nearly every day brings news of yet another independent bookstore closing somewhere in this country and, nearly every time, the scourge of e-books and e-readers are cited as the reason business has gone south. Let’s face facts — e-readers are here to stay.

Owners of Kindles, Nooks and iPads actually buy more books than they did previously so reading and publishing (despite the howls of protest from the closed-minded Big 6 publishers who are so set in their ways they are in danger of missing out on the e-reading revolution) are not threatened — just bookstores.

So what’s to be done? I have an idea. It’s clear that stand-alone bookstore can no longer make it on their own but why can’t they partner with other businesses, specifically businesses that cater to women?

What people fail to realize — and I feel this acutely as I travel around a country with fewer and fewer bookstores — is that bookstores were one of the few retail outlets where men felt comfortable browsing. Women have an endless number of options, from Sephora to clothing stores to shoe outlets etc. etc. Men, not so much.

In fact, take away bookstores and men are pretty much left with coffee shops.

So, what if booksellers opened a small ‘store’ in a Sephora outlet or a women’s show store or in a boutique? Hell, maybe bookstores can partner up with places like Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s to open small shops within those department stores so that men would have some place to go while their partners shop.

This would be good for business both ways. Women would no longer be rushed by impatient men having nowhere to browse, their men-folk would be happy and even the book sellers would make a few books.

I know this sounds a tad old-fashioned but it’s better than bookstore Armageddon where they are completely wiped the face of the earth.

Disappearing New York…

Posted: 2nd May 2012 in new york life
Tags: automat, dave's, disappearing new york, egg creams, horn & hardart, muni meters, new york, new york street parking, parking, parking meters

For those of us who’ve lived here a long time, it’s interesting to see old movies of New York and think, ‘Hey, I remember that’ and then realize that whatever ‘it’ was disappeared right before our eyes.

In the case of a movie like “Taxi Driver,” it’s easy to forget how grimy NYC was in the ’70s with all its street hookers and three-card Monte players and porno theaters — all of it now virtually gone. I was watching an old Woody Allen movie the other day and marveled at the antique-looking subway cars with those giant dials used that could be twisted manually to show where the train was headed. Poof — gone.

And it’s not just movies. There are memories too. The street corner diner Dave’s on Broadway and Canal where I used to stop on my way to Brooklyn for egg creams and hot dogs. No more. Or the old Horn & Hardart automats; the last one I remember was at the corner of E. 42nd Street and Third Avenue. One day it was there, the next it was a Gap.

Well, my friends, you’d better take a long hard look at street parking meters. I know we all hated them from time to time but better think of them fondly now because they too are on the way out. Most of them are non-operational these days, replaced by the butt-ugly Muni Meters that swallow credit cards and money and spit out little paper receipts for you to put in your car’s window.

If you don’t think you’ll miss the parking meters, which were once a dime for an hour’s worth of parking, then you never had the good fortune to pull up to one that still had time on it from the previous driver or, better yet, one that was broken which meant that you could park there free. Try doing that with a Muni Meter!

But maybe all is not lost. I was waiting for another driver to pull out of his spot the other day. He was halfway out when he stopped and jogged back to my car. “Here,” he said thrusting his Muni Meter receipt at me, “I still have 20 minutes left.”

Chivalry — New York style — lives on.

What does this subway sign mean?

Posted: 30th April 2012 in new york city subways
Tags: new york, new york subways, subway signs, subways

Can you guess? I asked one of my crack researchers at the Transit Authority who gave me the answer.

Can I give you a boring architectural lesson with that ice cream?

Posted: 29th April 2012 in Brooklyn
Tags: brooklyn, coolhaus, ice cream, ice cream sandwishes, pretentious, williamsburg

Used to be, if you wanted an ice cream sandwich, all you needed was a couple of bucks and the use of speech. Sometimes you didn’t even need to use your words. But today, in some of Brooklyn’s more pretentious neighborhoods, you need to read a boring sign about the name of the company while you’re waiting for that artisanal treat. All I want is the damn ice cream! Where have your gone Mr. Softee?

Writers need to be more like high-priced escorts….

Posted: 27th April 2012 in Books
Tags: 99 cent books, books, david simon, erace to the bottom, free books, free content, publishing, writing

One of the most shocking things about the Eliot Spitzer sex scandal (aside from the obvious) was the astronomical prices that Spitzer and other men of means were willing to pay for sex. Spitzer went for the high-priced spread — women who cost him $5,000 an hour!

A lot of commentators at the time were astounded that anyone would pay that much for sex, especially when you consider that you can get the same thing (or the equivalent) for much less. Someone finally came up with an answer as to why some escorts could charge such extravagant prices — they simply set their price and told men they were worth it. And it worked. Escorts and their pimps/madames found that, if you tell a client you’re worth that much, he’ll believe it.

I think writers could learn a lesson or two from those escorts! If you tell someone your book is worth 99 cents or nothing at all, well, then that’s what you’re worth. On the other hand, all of us should take a lesson from those high-priced escorts. Our writing is not worth nothing, not worth 99 cents — it’s worth a lot!

Whether that figure is $9.99 or $12.99 or whatever, you’re telling the reader that, hey, this is something of value and I’m not giving it away no matter what other writers are doing. The message is clear — I’m not like them. I’m valuable!

The act of charging nothing for books and other online content has once again become a hot topic thanks to producer David Simon who, in a new blog post, has decried “the e-race to the bottom.” I totally agree. There are very psychological forces at work here. I know I pay a lot more attention to books that I pay good money for than books that are free. In the back of my mind, I’m always thinking — how can it good if the author is giving it away. Books don’t work that way and, if that’s the only way some writers can get to the top of the Amazon rankings, well that’s sad indeed.

I don’t want to be on top under those terms.

Can’t anyone here have a childhood?

Posted: 25th April 2012 in children
Tags: childhood, etan patz, extreme parenting, new york, new york city childhood, playground slides

Once upon a time....NYC kids dive into East River unsupervised...

The latest “hazard” facing our children, according to an article in the NY Times, is the dreaded playground slide. Well, not really the slide but a parent’s involvement/interference with their child’s ride down the slide.

It seems that toddlers are breaking their legs with some frequency when they travel down a slide on mommy or daddy’s lap. As anyone who’s traveled down a slide knows, a sneaker will often get stuck for a momentary second or two while going down and, normally, nothing happens. But when a child is traveling on a grownup’s lap with an adult’s weight behind them, that stuck foot or leg can easily snap.

The best thing for parents is to allow their kids to go down the slides by themselves — you know, just like it’s always been done. Until now, that is and that’s because today’s helicopter parents will go to any lengths to prevent their children from experiencing even the most common childhood injury. I’m totally convinced that we’re just a few years away from seeing perfectly healthy kids wearing helmets when they walk down the street. Hey, ya never know what can happen and better to be safe than sorry, right?

That’s the mantra of modern parenting. The delicious thing about the whole slide controversy is that the parent’s quest to ‘help’ their children down the slide and make sure there are no unruly bumps along the way, actually causes more harm than good. Sounds like a metaphor of modern parenting to me.

I wrote last week about how the disappearance of six-year-old Etan Patz in 1979 changed the face of NYC childhoods forever. No longer could parents (myself included) allow their children to wander New York with little supervision. The modern era of parenting began and, while there are many good things about it, I think some people are taking it to extremes.

Don’t believe it? Read this article from the weekend Times about the way adults are breaking up their friends after certain friends become obsessively child-centered. One woman refused to let anyone say ‘no’ to her son. Another instituted such extreme nutritional guidelines for her child that one dinner consisted of scallions in water. Yet another required her friend’s house be “detoxified” of ordinary cleansers.

In the 25 years since Etan Patz was abducted, we’ve gone from parents who let their kids do pretty much anything (It wasn’t all that long ago when kids would dive unsupervised into the East and Hudson Rivers! Can you imagine anything like that happening today?) to parents who will not let their children do anything. They are never out of sight and, when they are, the rest of the world better clear a path because Junior is in town.

Somewhere down the line, Junior is going to grow up into the world’s biggest brat and, dollars to donuts, he’ll drink beer and carouse and do all those things his parents never allowed, including having fun.

The thrill of discovery…

Posted: 24th April 2012 in new york life
Tags: 1970s new york, catherine polachek, CBGB's, chairlift, dumbo, lower east side, new york, new york city, regina spekto, soho, the mudd club

Caroline Polachek of "Chairlift"

Someone asked me the other night why there is so much nostalgia for the NYC that existed back in the 1970s. For sure, the city is, in many measurable ways, a better place today.

There are fewer murders, less street crime, less graffiti and an absence of malice in the air, as existed back then. But there was also no internet and that was a good thing because, for my money, what made 1970s NYC so cool was the thrill of discovery.

There wasn’t a stinkin’ website for every club and off-beat bar. We did not rely on the New York Times and New York Magazine and Time Out (which did not exist back then) to tell us what to do. You could discover CBGB’s on your own. Your friends would tell you about the dearly-departed Mudd Club (which today only exists in a Talking Heads song). I still thrill to the night I wandered into the Mudd Club to hear some unknown band do two sets. They had talent and were kind of quirky. They were the B-52s and I stood just a few feet from the stage watching them go through their gyrations.

It was the same with various sections of the city. There were no giant real estate articles telling everyone to move to SoHo. The artists, God bless them, discovered those giant, airy industrial lofts on their own and knew a good thing when they saw it, not when some magazine told them it was the hot place to live. In the 1960s, I can still recall as a young teen walking through SoHo (not that I knew it by that name then). The streets were deserted! It was literally a ghost town. You could look through dust-caked windows at row upon row of sewing machines that had been abandoned when businesses up and left.

That’s not to say nothing can be discovered these days. A friend told me how he used to go to a club in the East Village to hear a piano player named Regina Spektor play for a small crowd. Last summer, I wandered into a festival in Brooklyn’s DUMBO to watch a group called Chairlift with a dynamic lead singer named Caroline Polachek. It was thrilling to see her and her band precisely because no one had told me about them.

I miss that kind of thrill of discovery. These days everyone has a website, everything is in Wikipedia, people read lists in The Times of what’s hot and not when what really is hot is something or somebody you’ve never heard of….I just wish someone would tell me about them.

Etan Patz & the end of the classic NYC childhood…

Posted: 22nd April 2012 in new york life
Tags: etan patz, missing children, missing kids, new york, soho child missing, soho missing child

Is Etan's body buried somewhere in this dirt?

Growing up in the 1960′s, I had one of those classic NYC childhoods, leaving my family’s apartment first thing in the morning, playing ball or exploring empty lots and having adventures with my friends all until I finally returned for dinner. My parents had no idea where I was, I carried very little money (if any at all), and there was no way to get in touch with me. I thought it was great and recall a lot of in my new memoir.

Having children of my own and witnessing the crazy lengths to which helicopter parents go to these days (Of course, eight-year Dylan needs a cell phone. We need it call him.), I wondered to myself how we got to this state, how childhood had changed so much from when I was young. And then, this week, the infamous Etan Patz story reared its ugly head. That’s how we got here.

It was 1979 and kids were still having the kind of childhood I’d had. There were no cell phones, the streets of the city were home to adventures and six-year-old kids could still walk to the corner store and buy a piece of candy. The Etan Patz case changed all of that. It was a huge national story and Etan’s face became synonymous with missing children. It made people aware that children could just vanish off the face of the earth.

I’m sure there are those who were always aware of child predators but the Etan Patz case made everyone aware. Someone took poor Etan and, over the years, we’ve heard all the stories about what might have happened; the prime suspect has always been a jailed pedophile. The thought that Etan may have spent his last moments on earth being accosted by this monster is too much to comprehend. Now there is a new suspect — the handyman who befriended Etan and had given him a dollar the day before the disappearance — and the basement of a building in SoHo is being excavated to determine if someone buried Etan there under a then-new concrete floor.

It’s not surprising today’s parents are so apprehensive about their kids, not when there seemingly is a pervert behind every door, including many classroom doors. But it was the Etan Patz case that ushered in the era of over-protective parents. It should have been obvious but I never put two and two together until this week’s big dig began. I hope for the sake of Etan’s parents that they find his remains and bring a very small measure of peace to their lives.

Why I wrote my memoir…

Posted: 18th April 2012 in Life
Tags: alaska, angela's ashes, frank mccourt, great new memoir, housing projects, journalism memoir, leaving story avenue, memoir, michael j. agovino, natalie kusc, new memoir, new memoirs, new york, the bookmaker, the bronx, twisted head, vivian gornick

A couple of years ago, I was having lunch with a friend and telling him about the memoir I was writing.

“What makes you think anyone would want to read about your life?” he asked.

It was a reasonable question because I’m not famous, drug-addicted, bulimic or any of the other things that some people look for in a memoir.

“Well,” I said, “You could have asked the same question of Frank McCourt before he wrote ‘Angela’s Ashes’ and in fact, you could argue that, up to the point when he became famous, I’d had a more interesting life than a high school English teacher.”

Now we all know that McCourt, whose writing I adore, certainly had an interesting tale to tell but, except for his friends, family and drinking buddies, who knew that before he published his memoir?

My point is that most of the memoirs I read are by people I’ve never heard of and I prefer it that way. I would never read an autobiography of say, former President George Bush and, likewise, I’d never read one by former President Clinton either. Who cares? In my mind, they’re too well known.

People think you have to be a raging narcissist to write your memoir but, you know what, all writers are narcissists! But that is not the point of memoirs. For me, it’s all about story — presenting them and preserving them.

The reason I wrote my memoir — “Leaving Story Avenue: My journey from the projects to the front page” and being published today -- is that I didn’t want the stories of growing up in a Bronx housing project in the 1960s and 1970s and working for a daily newspaper before the age of computers, I didn’t want those memories to just disappear. They are to be valued.

That’s what the best memoirs do — tell stories of lives you’d otherwise know nothing about. One of the best memoirs I’ve ever read — it was at least ten years ago but it sticks with me to this day — is “Road Song” by Natalie Kusc. Never heard of her, right? But her memoir of growing up in Alaska and having her face nearly bitten off by Alaskan huskies is one damn great piece of writing, vulnerable and memorable. If that description turns you off, pick up the book and bathe in her struggle and ultimate triumph.

Other memoirs that I loved in recent years: “The Orchard” by Theresa Weir (my vote for best book of 2010) a love story that takes place in a pesticide-laden field of dreams, “Twisted Head” the hilarious story of growing up Italian-American in the Bronx (sounds familiar) by Carl Caportorto, “The Bookmaker” by Michael J. Agovino, a memoir about growing up in Co-op City in the Bronx with a father who has one foot in the world of classical culture and the other in world of bookies and numbers, “Her Last Death” by Susanna Sonnenberg about a mother who is craaazy, and the classic “Fierce Attachments” by the powerful writer Vivian Gornick.

These books do what the best memoirs are supposed to do — bring us into another’s life to understand what makes them tick. I can hear the doubters saying “Who cares about these unknown people? I don’t give a rat’s ass about their lives!”

If that voice is you, nothing I can say will convince you otherwise. All I know is that every life is extraordinary.

Thomas Kinkade and the foreshadowing of self-publishing…

Posted: 16th April 2012 in Art, Life
Tags: art for art's sake, painting, paul larosa, self-publishing, susan orlean, the new yorker magazine, thomas kinkade

A painting by Thomas Kinkade

I never really thought all the much about the populist painter Thomas Kinkade until he died earlier this month. Then as I began reading the obits, testimonials and the great piece in The New Yorker published more than ten years ago by Susan Orlean, I thought — hell, yeah, Kinkade was my kind of guy and, in his own way, a revolutionary.

Art critics hated his paintings and lithographs, belittling them as pap for the masses but Kinkade carried on and became fabulously successful by opening retail stores of his art work in malls and doing an end run around “the art establishment.” He thought it important for artwork to be beautiful and available and couldn’t understand those who didn’t.

As he told Ms. Orlean in that article,

“I’m thinking of starting this program of loaning a few of my paintings to some of these critics and let them live with them for a year or two and see what they think then. Because art really grows as you live with it. See, I have faith in the heart of the average person. People find hope and comfort in my paintings. I think showing people the ugliness of the world doesn’t help it. I think pointing the way to light is deeply contagious and satisfying. I would want to argue that I’m not an antagonist to modernists. I just believe in picture-making for people. I’m a firebrand. I will sit down and debate the grand tradition with anyone. I am really the most controversial artist in the world.”

By going around the establishment, Kinkade reminds me of nothing so much as those who self-publish their books, people like Amanda Hocking. She too went around the establishment (although I’m aware that she is no longer self-published) by publishing her own works and not waiting for the “official” validation of others. Her validation came from her faithful following. Tens of thousands self-published writers are trying their hand at replicating a degree of her success. Many will fail, some will succeed but why shouldn’t the people get a vote? If there’s anything true about the internet revolution, it’s that the gatekeepers have been overthrown. You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows and you don’t need an editor to tell you whether or not you can publish a story on your own blog.

Now, unfortunately, the truth must be told and, although Kinkade was a rebel who did it his way, in the end, it did not turn out all that well for him. The news from the west coast in the San Jose Mercury News is that Kinkade ultimately was worn down by his critics and, probably more importantly, also emotionally adrift after a split from his wife and four daughters. His last night on earth, alcohol seems to have played a big role in his passing at the age of 54.

As Kinkade’s brother told the newspaper,

“As much as he said it didn’t bother him, in his heart deep down inside it would sadden him that people would criticize so hatefully his work and his vision when people didn’t understand him.”

It’s too bad he met such a sad end but it doesn’t take away from the joy he brought so many or the revolution he foresaw. I’ve always felt that painting is maybe the most subjective of all art forms and who are we to judge what’s good and what’s bad? RIP Mr. Kinkade.

The disappearing ink of our cultural literacy…

Posted: 12th April 2012 in Life
Tags: cbs news, in a gadda da vida, iron butterfly, lil wayne, mike wallace, paul larosa, roger daltrey, the super bowl, tommy by the who, tommy the rock opera, walter cronkite, zooey deschanel

Roger Daltrey of The Who. Back in the day, he was “Tommy”

Last summer, I was driving around Georgia with a female colleague who was approximately 40 years old and, for whatever reason, the conversation made its way to the subject of music and I casually mentioned “Tommy” the rock opera by The Who.

“What’s that, never heard of it,” my colleague said.

I was astonished. “You never heard of The Who or ‘Tommy?’ I asked.

“‘Tommy,’” she answered.

Well you could have knocked me over with a praline. Having come of age in the 1960s, I must have played the LP “Tommy” a hundred times, if not more. I probably can recite most of the lyrics by heart. But more than that, “Tommy” was a major Broadway play for years in the 1990s. We’re not talking about ancient history here. The Who actually performed “Tommy” at the Metropolitan Opera House back in the day and played “Pinball Wizard” — the big hit from “Tommy”– at the Super Bowl halftime show about 3 years ago. This was no obscure song like “In a Gadda Da Vida” (maybe you never heard of that and that’s okay but, fyi, it was recorded by Iron Butterfly).

I retold this story this week to another colleague who is in her 30s. “I never heard of that either,” she said.

What’s going on here? It made me think of a recent conversation with my 22-year-old son where I mentioned that I had seen the documentary on George Harrison and thought it was pretty good. “Who’s George Harrison?” he asked.

What??!!!!

He then recognized the name in the context of The Beatles but, without that, no way. I mean, George was one of the most famous and photographed people on the face of the earth not so long ago.

This is not an isolated case. I was speaking at a major college recently when the professor told me her communication students had never heard of Walter Cronkite or — get this — Mike Wallace!! (This was one week before he died and presumably everyone now knows what a great broadcaster he was but who knows?)

Cultural literacy was a catch-phrase not so long ago and basically, it’s the concept that we all need to know certain things about our culture to function intelligently in society. Like the reference to someone having an “Achilles heel” or being able to name the four Beatles. These days, that whole idea seems to be disappearing like invisible ink on a page and I’m not sure why.

Is it because there is so much information overload? Maybe. Am I just an old goat? I don’t think so. When I was in my 20s, I certainly had heard of Bing Crosby and knew who he was though I didn’t have any of his records. I knew who Eric Sevareid was though I never watched him on television.

These days, some of the young — though smart when it comes to the internet and Twitter and Facebook — are kind of clueless when it comes to cultural touchstones. Not so me. I’ve kept up. I’ve heard of Lil Wayne and Zooey Deschanel. I even have their records, er, I mean cassettes, er, I mean MP3 files on that whatchamacall it — my iPod.

Ugh, spare me from your cries of ‘spoiler alert…’

Posted: 10th April 2012 in mad men
Tags: cable, delayed viewing, dvr, mad men, netflix, spoiler alert, television

Joan from "Mad Men"

I’m officially sick of people calling ‘spoiler alert’ just because they want to view a program days, months, sometimes years after it’s aired.

The DVR is great. You can watch a program anytime you want. Now people can put off viewing a television show until its convenient for them. At the same time, there’s a movement to watching entire seasons of a popular program — like “Mad Men” — years after its official run. [Note: For the last time, I'm going to give you a heads up -- don't read the last line of this post if you have not seen the most current episode of 'Mad Men.' There, I've done my part for humanity.]

But here’s the thing — just because you want to watch broadcasts years after it’s originally aired, don’t bug the rest of the world with chants of ‘spoiler alert.’ Recently someone chided me for writing a blog post about ‘Mad Men’ — the current season, its fifth — because they had not yet viewed the second season. I mean come on! In another era, would you ask me not to reveal Neal Armstrong walked on the moon? Oh please, don’t say anything yet. We’ve been saving that up to see if he really makes it.

Sound ridiculous? That’s because it is. Twitter especially is filled on certain nights with people from the west coast begging those of us in the east not to reveal this or that about some hot show. You know, west coast people, you should just not go on Twitter if it’s that important to you.

I have a friend who I lunch with often who insists on watching hit shows days or weeks after the rest of us so that, when he comes along, the rest of us are forbidden from talking about said show.

I mean where is it written that the world has to go along with YOUR desire to see an event well after the fact? You can do that, bud, but it’s YOUR responsibility to avoid hearing about it — don’t put it on the rest of us. I’ve got news for you — Neal Armstrong did land on the moon and Don Draper did not kill his former lover in the last past episode. It was all a dream. Oops! Spoilsport alert!!

So I want a $30 million apartment — is that unrealistic?

Posted: 8th April 2012 in new york life, new york real estate market
Tags: 29.6 million apartment, barbara corcoran, john lennon murder, mia farrow, roman polanski, rosemary's baby, the dakota, the dakota apartments, west side

One of the apartment's many rooms (Photo courtesy NY Times)

Actually, the apartment I have my eye is only $29.6 million so that’s a little more reasonable, right? And it’s in the Dakota apartment building — a building I’ve long festishized — which never loses its value so I think it will be money well spent.

This quest reminds me of an episode of “Louie” from last season when comic Louis CK told a realtor that he was going to “take” a $7 million co-op. Then he went to see his accountant and his accountant calmly asked him, “Do you really want me to explain why you can’t buy a $7 million apartment?” “Yes,” said Louie. The accountant then laid out all the costs and it turned out Louie’s monthly nut would be something like $8,000. A crushed Louie had to turn down said apartment.

Well, I have not made an offer yet on this beauty but I’d love to. There is just something about the Dakota apartment building (the site of John Lennon’s murder) that gets my juices flowing. I think I might have seen “Rosemary’s Baby” too many times when I was younger. The flick starring a very young Mia Farrow was shot on location at the Dakota. It was made so long ago that Roman Polanski was the director and everyone knows he hasn’t set foot in the USA since pleading guilty to having sex with a 13-year-old girl back in 1977. Back in the day, you could still shoot a movie in the building. Now you couldn’t get near the place with a camera, even shooting in your own apartment. The murder of a world-famous resident will do that.

The building of course still has its famous residents: Roberta Flack, Yoko Ono, Maury Povich and wife Connie Chung and I believe Lauren Bacall still hangs her hat there. Used to be you could see a small replica sailboat in Bacall’s window that was made out of the sails from Bogey’s boat…or so the story goes.

Anyway what brings to mind my unceasing desire to live in the Dakota is a story in Sunday’s NY Times which features my dream apartment complete with photographs. It’s really perfect, fully restored and situated on the sixth floor just above the tree line of Central Park. It seems you can look the Macy’s balloons right in the eye during the annual Thanksgiving Parade.

Yes, the price is a little steep but I’m thinking of making an offer. All I need is 29.6 million of you to chip in a dollar apiece and it’s a done deal. And I promise to invite you over.

My all-time favorite story about the Dakota comes from famous realtor Barbara Corcoran who swears it’s true. It happened in the 1970s when NYC nearly went bankrupt and no one wanted to live here. I’m going to let Barbara repeat that story here in her own words. Just goes to show what can happen in a mere 35 years or so.

“One of the more interesting calls I got the second year I was in business was from a guy that owned a 14-room apartment at the Dakota on Central Park West. He said to me, ‘If you can sell it, they don’t have to pay me. I’ll give it to the buyer for free, if only they’ll take up the $1,200 maintenance for me.’ And you know what, I advertised that Dakota for months and never found a buyer, go figure! What was I thinking? I should have robbed a bank and bought it for myself!”

Man, oh, man!

Happy Passover or Easter….

Posted: 6th April 2012 in Life, new york life
Tags: easter, passover, psychics

…and to those of you who believe in other higher powers, well, there are places for you too here in NYC!

The madness of the alternate side of the street New Yorker….

Posted: 4th April 2012 in new york life, new york parking
Tags: alternate side of the street parking, brooklyn, new york, parking

Like I always say, I love NYC but it does have issues. We all embrace living in this dynamic city in exchange for a heap of hassle pie.

Exhibit A is my sometimes maddening search for a good parking spot. I usually don’t let the parking situation get to me but yesterday was slightly irritating even for me. Part of this is my own neurosis — I absolutely refuse to pay for parking. I’m hard-wired this way. When my son was born, I drove to the hospital with my wife, parked in a doctor’s spot and left a note in the windshield “Having a baby upstairs.” I did not get a ticket so, you know, it was a great day!

These days, site of the Bartel-Pritchard 500

On Monday, I had to use my car which I knew meant moving it to a “good” spot Tuesday morning. (A quick primer for those not familiar with this crazy concept called ‘alternate side of the street’ parking — twice a week (once if I’m lucky), I must move my car to make way for street sweepers.)

Luckily, I wake up early and Tuesday I got up at 6 a.m. refreshed after 6 1/2 solid hours of sleep. I meditated 5 minutes, had a cup of coffee, read part of the newspaper, and by 6:45, I was out the door on the hunt for an elusive ‘good’ spot.

6:45 to 7:15 — No spot in sight, I give up, park in a ‘bad’ spot (meaning I’ll have to move the car from 11:30 to 1 p.m. which is kind of hard with a full time job) and go to the gym.

7:15 to 8 a.m. — I work out.

8 to 8:30 — Drive to another ‘bad’ spot a few blocks away right outside my house, eat breakfast and complain about not getting a spot. I also leave a note for the handyman, who’s expected any time now, to call my cell phone.

8:30 to 8:40 — Still cannot find a ‘good’ spot. This calls for desperate measures.

Always, my last resort is to engage in what I call the Bartel-Pritchard 500. Bartel-Pritchard Square is a roundabout near where I live that has a precious few spots where you can park for the whole day after 9 a.m. BUT you cannot park there between 8:30 and 9 a.m. since that’s when the street sweeper comes by. In truth, the street sweeper is usually gone by 8:40 and then, if you’re lucky enough to get one of these spots, you can sit and wait until 9 a.m. when you’re golden.

Here’s the big catch. If you’re sitting there waiting and the street sweeper comes by, you must move, meaning all the cars pull out and race around the roundabout to get back to those good spots once the street sweeper goes by. It’s tricky because there are only six spots and another car could come from another direction and take one of those spots, meaning you could get shut out. It’s like a game of musical cars except it’s not funny.

8:40 to 9 a.m. — The street sweeper passes and six of us sit and wait for the golden moment of 9 a.m. when we can leave. I pass the time reading the newspaper and head home, about five blocks.

9 to 9:30 — Still no sign of the handyman. I take a shower and get ready for work.

9:30 — The handyman calls. He’s running late because he can’t find a spot.

Number of people hit by NYC subways on the rise…

Posted: 2nd April 2012 in new york city subways
Tags: new york city, new york subway system, people hit by subways, subways, suicides, transit authority

Daily News photo

It happened again this past weekend — two more people in the NYC subway system were hit by trains. One died and one miraculously survived. That’s on top of a transit report unveiled last week showing that 147 people had been hit by trains last year, a 15% jump over the year before. What’s going on here?

Well for one thing, not every accident is remotely the fault of the Transit Authority. A fair number of people decide that jumping in front of a moving train is the way to commit suicide while many others are homeless or intoxicated. That seemed to be the case this past weekend when the fatality was blamed on alcohol and the other incident involved a man walking on the tracks. There are still, in this day and age, homeless men who live in the subway tunnels.

But let’s face it, as good as the NYC subway system is — and it is mostly very efficient — it was not designed for 2012. If it were designed today, it would look something like JFK’s Air Train. There would be a plastic wall preventing anyone from falling or jumping onto the tracks and only the sections where the doors are would open up.

On top of its 20th century design, there are 21st century distractions — blackberrys, iPhones, iPods, iPads. There’s a tendency because it’s such close quarters in the subways, to block out everything around you. I’ve done that myself but I’ve never done that while standing at the edge of a platform as I’ve seen others do. Maybe because subway trains are such a common part of our lives, people underestimate how dangerous they are and sometimes stand so close to oncoming trains that it’s almost like they’re daring the train operator to hit them.

This doesn’t take into account all the construction going on underground. Some platforms, like Broadway-Lafayette right now (my least favorite platform in the city — filthy and smelly) have such narrow strips of platform for straphangers to walk, it’s almost a wonder more people don’t fall onto the tracks.

And then of course, there are the mentally ill roaming around NYC. I’ve moved away from guys myself when I’ve detected a menacing vibe in the air. Of course you cannot detect that vibe if you’re listening to Rhianna blaring into your ear drums.

Should the mentally ill be held to account for their actions?

Posted: 30th March 2012 in CRIME NEW YORK CITY, Current Affairs
Tags: captain clayton obson, jetblue, jetblue captain, jetblue flight, L train assault, L train murder, man killed on L train, ryan beauchamp

Captain Clayton Osbon

If not for the heroics of a Jetblue co-pilot and several passengers aboard the Jetblue flight initially piloted by Captain Clayton Osbon, this story would have had horrendous consequences and may have resulted in the deaths of everyone aboard. But in light of what we now know about Captain Osbon, does it make any sense for him to serve time in prison?

Everyone who knew Osbon before the flight — when he freaked out, babbled incoherently and ran up and down the middle aisle screaming about Al Queda — says this episode was so out of character that they are all in disbelief or shock. Clearly, something happened to this man’s mental state, either organically or through prescription drugs or perhaps through a combination of alcohol and drugs (although at least so far, there is no evidence alcohol played any role).

If it turns out that Captain Osbon suffered a mental breakdown, should he even be charged with a crime and threatened with up to 20 years in prison as he is now? I think not although certainly he should never be allowed to pilot another commercial plane. That seems to be punishment enough and it has the added benefit of protecting the public. Throwing him in prison doesn’t seem warranted in this case.

Suspect Ryan Beauchamp

I’ve been thinking about the mentally ill who commit crimes lately because of another incident in Brooklyn aboard the L train. Ryan Beauchamp, described as being mentally ill since he was a teenager (when he attended boarding school with Donald Trump’s son), apparently had been berating subway riders aboard the L train last week. He then allegedly stuck his finger into the shoulder or chest of a young man named Joshua Basin who took offense, no great surprise.

Basin got off the train and reportedly pursued Beauchamp and the two began fighting before falling onto the subway tracks. Beauchamp was able to scramble onto the platform as a train approached. Basin, a college student, was not so lucky; he was hit by the train and lost his life.

Beauchamp, who reportedly was homeless, has been indicted for attempted assault and harassment but not murder.

It’s a tough comparison with the Jetblue pilot. Poor Joshua Basin had no idea Beauchamp was mentally ill although, even if Basin felt Beauchamp was an unruly drunk, should Basin have reacted the way he did and followed trouble onto the train platform? It was a fatal mistake.

How do we as a society treat people like Beauchamp and Osbon? If Osbon had caused the plane to crash and he had survived, he would be on his way to prison. Because a crash was averted, chances are Osbon will serve no jail time. But what about Beauchamp? His actions allegedly led to a death and, if that’s proven in a court of law, he will be punished and serve jail time.

So is the standard for the mentally ill that they receive a prison sentence only if someone suffers from their actions? Tricky questions and I don’t really know the answers but it’s something to think about.

Our “Jetsons” future is now…

Posted: 28th March 2012 in Life
Tags: 2001: a space odyessy, george jetson, paul larosa, portlandia, the future, the future is now, the jetsons

Like a lot of baby boomers weaned on “The Jetsons” and “2001: A Space Odyssey,” I thought surely by now — good God, man it’s 2012 — we’d all be flying around in jetpacks, have robots doing the dishes, and eating pills that tasted like a steak dinner with mashed potatoes.

The future has turned out very different. We’re still sputtering around in earthbound cars that run on fossil fuel and, as far as food goes, we’re hurtling backwards more than forwards. Who’d have predicted the locavore movement when we were kids — people making their own pickles? As the crew from “Portlandia” said in a recent episode, what is this, 1899?

But…but…there’s no denying that there are some inventions that have made our lives so much easier than they were 20 years ago. Here are my five nominees for inventions that make me feel like I’m George Jetson:

1. The Metrocard — Growing up in NYC, I remember when bus drivers actually made change for passengers and it wasn’t too long ago, we all had to stand on line and buy little packets of tokens. Now I have a Metrocard that adds money from my checking account whenever it goes below $35. No more standing on lines.

2. EZ PASS — Being a New Yorker, I drive sporadically but whenever I cross a bridge or tunnel, I thank the genius who invented EZ Pass. In fact, I find it incredible that some drivers refuse to pay because of privacy fears. Who could possibly be watching? Big Brother? So 1984.

3. The iPod — Twenty years ago, did you ever think something the size of a quarter would be able to hold hundreds of songs with pristine sound? Wow.

4. The DVR — We all now take it for granted that we can pause a TV show, rewind it, tape it and save it for later, spin through commercials but this technology is barely five years old. It’s like it was there all along. No more skipping phone calls and being afraid to go to the bathroom for fear of missing something.

5. Digital photography – Digital photography gave us something we all crave — instant gratification! No more taking film to Photoshops or mailing it in, no more waiting to see if a photo was framed correctly or if your cute little baby was too backlit. Now you can see everything immediately and shoot accordingly.

So we’re not “The Jetsons” but even they never had these five goodies.

“Mad Men” — and sexy 1960s chic — is back…

Posted: 26th March 2012 in mad men
Tags: don draper, january jones, mad men, matthew weiner, megan, new season mad men, sexy french song mad men, sophia loren version of zoo bisou bisou, zou bisou bisou

Don Draper and wife Megan...

Okay so I can’t get that damn song out of my head, the one sung by Megan, Don Draper’s uber-sexy French wife, at the surprise birthday party she threw for him. Who knows what “Zoo Bisou Bisou” means or was intended to mean back in the 1960s — it only meant one thing when it was sung and danced by Don’s wife Sunday night. As the actress playing the role said, “Everyone will go home from this party and have sex!” Indeed. (Here’s the Sophia Loren version.)

That was the highlight of the show for me and almost made me forget that Betty, Don’s ex-wife, was nowhere to be seen in the first episode. Something tells me that January Jones, the actress who plays Betty, will be back with a vengeance. For now, though, we’re ‘stuck’ with Megan and that ain’t a bad thing. She was pretty much the highlight of the first episode although Roger’s great one-liners were coming fast and furious.

Aside from doing the sexy dance, Megan was also required by the writers of the show to open her blouse in the office to show a drooling Don her cleavage, and to crawl around in her sexy black underwear while cleaning the mess made by party-guests. Not only that but she pouted at Don, told him he was too old for her, and that his job was to sit there and merely watch her crawl around on all fours. Well, just like “no one puts baby in the corner,” no one tells Don Draper to just watch when confronted by the sexiest of women. In a move that I’m betting reminded a lot of women of the book “50 Shades of Grey,” Don promptly gets down on the floor and ‘takes’ his wife, allegedly against her will. Her refusal to give in lasts about one second, maybe less.

The first episode was a lot of catch-up. (Spoiler alert) Joan had Roger’s baby though it’s unclear if Roger realizes that. If he did, he was playing it very cool. Pete is still annoying but vital to the firm. Lane has grown creepy and sex-deprived. And Don’s oldest child — his mesmerizing daughter — is about to hit puberty. It’s going to be the ultimate payback when she turns into the female version of her old man.

It wasn’t a great episode. The show has lost something now that everyone, including the building’s elevator operator, knows Don’s once dark secret but the show is still a fabulous trip back in time and Don — who showed his cold side last night — is still the coolest guy and sometimes the cruelest guy in the room.