Friday, August 22, 2008
There are roughly three New Yorks.
There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh yes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company. . . .
The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. A single flight of planes no bigger than a wedge of geese can quickly end this island fantasy, burn the towers, crumble the bridges, turn the underground passages into lethal chambers, cremate the millions. The intimation of mortality is part of New York now; in the sounds of jets overhead, in the black headlines of the latest editions.
All dwellers in cities must live with the stubborn fact of annihilation; in New York the fact is somewhat more concentrated because of the concentration of the city itself, and because, of all targets, New York has a certain clear priority. In the mind of whatever perverted dreamer might loose the lightning, New York must hold a steady, irresistible charm.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Weekly Horoscope (8/11 - 8/17)
September 23 - October 23
When Saturn moves through your 12th house you are asked to face the unknown and refuse to give in to fear. You have just completed chapter one of a three part series that is designed by the universe to move you into the deepest parts of yourself with a wide open heart.
Your ruler, Venus, meets up with the Great Teacher on Wednesday, which means you’re about to be asked to believe in yourself enough to stand in your power and create the life you want to live.
Mercury meets the Teacher too, later in the week, for a conversation that can be life altering for you. (This conversation could be your inner guidance). Saturday’s full Moon eclipse in your 5th house asks you to be creative in ways that may be a stretch for you. Your efforts will be rewarded in unprecedented ways.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
A truthful excuse I once used to explain why I couldn't make plans with a friend at work this Spring:
* Two ducks
* Three squawking geese
* Four limerick oysters
* Five corpulent porpoises
* Six pair of Don Alverzo's tweezers
* Seven thousand Macedonians in full battle array
* Eight brass monkeys from the ancient sacred crypts of Egypt
* Nine apathetic, sympathetic, diabetic, old men on roller skates with a marked propensity towards procrastination and sloth
* Ten lyrical, spherical diabolical denizens of the deep who hall stall around the corner of the quo of the quay of the quivery, all at the same time.
According to a Jerry Lewis website, this is called the "Announcer's Test". It originated at Radio Central New York in the early 1940's as a cold reading test given to prospective radio talent to demonstrate their speaking ability.