You are currently viewing the stories for “October 2002.”
1. Well, that’s it, Noppi, I’m up early again, I can’t sleep. My throat is killing me and I’m coughing. I think it’s the smoke because everyone else has it too. The subways are quiet. People bump into each other and don’t apologize. A woman slips in through the closing doors and takes the seat beside me. Opens her newspaper, [...]
"Hello! If you would like a free internet website, plus a chance to make a lot of money, press one now."--Automated telephone sales pitch delivered on Easter Sunday My God, those heady months of January through April 13th, 2000, when every internet IPO went through the roof and Black Friday was a reference to a bad day in the market [...]
We convoyed out to a house in Connecticut. The swimming pool was very warm. There were huge trees in the backyard and they swayed in the breeze, and beneath them, an expanse of lawn. We went shopping at the local Haymarket--which is sort of a Balducci's for Connecticans--and my friend left the key in the car while we were inside [...]
Charles McAlexander is a big man, maybe 220 pounds and 6 foot 1. He wears an old work shirt that used to be bright red but now is more of a calm royal maroon with the inscription of Brass Lab in gold cursive on the chest pocket of the left-hand side. The button up shirt is having trouble deciding which [...]
Illustrations by Elisha Cooper Some people come to New York for the thrills. Some for romance. My desire starts lower down--well below the knee--in a hidden, private erogenous zone, where I get my kicks. This is the story of my socks life. I was travelling along Broadway in one of those reassuring black Town Cars. My agent was with me. [...]
We arrived at Giants Stadium. There are four huge spiraling ramps through which the stadium's population of 80,000 enter and exit. They wind their way from the ground level up to the top, a huge cement coil faintly reminiscent of the Guggenheim Museum, though with a more prison vibe. My friend explained that it was a tradition for all the [...]
Department of Open Minds The William Alanson White Institute, founded in 1943 by Clara Thompson, among others, is known for its interpersonal approach to analysis. The interpersonal approach suggests that the patient is part of a complex social network that includes the therapist, and therefore the patient’s relationship to the analyst is less formal and more intimate than traditional approaches [...]
The first time I heard of the Tango Hotline, I laughed. The name was so apt. A hotline for the tangueros and milongueras who desperately need to find a "milonga" where they can dance. My tango obsession began after I had broken up with a long-time boyfriend. It was May. So I took ballroom dance lessons. At first there was [...]
Photographs by Rachel Sherman Inside Miguel's Barbershop on 942 Amsterdam Avenue, Spanish speaking men sit in barber chairs facing the mirror. It is a sunny Friday in the early afternoon and the shop is busy. I ask a guy named Anthony, who is sitting in the back, about Miguel's. "This is a guy's place," he tells me. The barber working [...]
“Graffiti is alive,” is one of several bits of agitprop that appeared not too long ago on the side of the Brooklyn Bridge. The more drastic any act of suppression is, the more extreme will be the reactions to it. In our zero tolerance, quality of life, war on drugs, law and order prison-industry age, you have to wonder when [...]
The woman sits. Pant legs are chewed. A blue parka soiled with what looks like oatmeal. It’s the Waiting Room. Institutional seat cushions, easily cleaned in case of vomit, spit, coffee, or feces. I pretend to read. The woman’s tongue stabs the air. She has no teeth. "It’s 11:30," she insists, speaking to the receptionist. "Where’s Dr. Forrester?" She’s told [...]
A photo is due soon of this basketball court, along with some anecdotes, the usual bloody minded gasping for words to explain basketball prose to be found on this site and http://www.thebasketballdiaries.net
I try to call my Great Aunt Doris every day. She's ninety-years old and lives alone. I love her desperately and as she gets older, especially of late as she becomes more feeble, my love seems to be picking up velocity, overwhelming me almost, tinged as it is with panic -- I'm so afraid of losing her. I usually call [...]
I heard that Jack died. I take that back. I heard he was killed. I take that back too. I heard he was put to sleep. It was one of those pieces of information that had a hell of a lot more resonance for me than it did for the person who told me. In fact, the person who told [...]
Our protagonist, Skunk, in action. Dan a.k.a Skunk and his girlfriend, Erin, pick me up on the corner of Broadway and 116th Street. Skunk briefly reminisces about his days at Columbia University: after a few years of "getting stoned and sitting on the couch" he dropped out and found what could be said to be his calling. Skunk aspires to [...]
I was born in Brooklyn and to my understanding it was a fait accompli that I would be a Mets fan. I was taught that all Brooklyn residents had been Dodgers fans and four years after the Dodgers sold their souls and moved to Los Angeles we became New York Mets fans. As a child raised in a non-denominational home, [...]
In the 60's, I lived with my brother and my parents in The Eldorado, an apartment house on Central Park West between 90th and 91st Street. My Dad was a Member of the New York Stock Exchange, My Mom was a Mom and my brother and I were in school (Bronx Science). It was and is a great old building, [...]
We were on our way to a downtown loft party in Emily's Volkswagen, Emily, Kay and I, when we stopped off to see the ruins of a fire in the waterfront district, on Thirtieth Street and Twelfth Avenue. This whole neighborhood, along the western spine of Manhatan, has always been mysterious to me, with its deserted steamship offices that look [...]
Pictures by Josh Gilbert I dropped by the New York Academy of Art with my spiffy digital camera, feeling like an artist and ready to snap a few pics while I waited for my friend, Beag. Needless to say, it didn't take long for me to feel like a fraud. For one thing, my friend was taking an exam. An [...]
Thomas Beller: Is the book you're writing now like your first two? Fran Lebowitz: No, it's a novel. It's called Exterior Signs of Wealth. I don't have quirks about discussing it, but there isn't enough of it to discuss at length. TB: How about in brief? FL: It's set mostly in New York. It starts in 1970 and goes up [...]
It was January 1st, 2001. New Years Day. The sky was exceptionally blue. Snow had fallen heavily two days earlier. It was still on the ground in drifts, white and pretty, but the air was balmy. My girlfriend and I were taking a long meandering stroll in search of a place to eat brunch. It was such a nice day [...]
Esteban Vicente died in January, 2001, shortly before his 98th birthday. He was one of the last surviving members of the famed New York School of Abstract Expressionists. We visited him in his studio in 1993 and are proud to present him as the first our or "Studio Visit" series. Esteban Vicente arrived into the world in Turegano, Spain, in [...]
Just east of Amsterdam Avenue, in a section of Harlem called Hamilton Heights, a newly poignant obsession of mine was given life. I had spent my week with the DVD of Wes Anderson’s third movie, The Royal Tenenbaums. I sang along with the quirky soundtrack songs (Nico, The Clash, Paul Simon); listened to the director’s commentary, amazed at his penchant [...]
The next kid who tries to sell me M&Ms on the street is going to get his ass kicked. I’m agitated, not because these youngsters can be a little rough around the edges, and not because they sometimes stalk a hard-sell for a quarter block, whining, "Come on! Please! Please!" I’m even okay with the kid who put his arm [...]
