You are currently browsing stories tagged with “Sweet and Sour.”
Jimmy’s Corner isn’t like other Times Square bars--those oversized Irish pubs made of dark, polished wood or the theater-crowd cocktail lounges with big windows, people inside looking like they’re drinking in a department store display case. Jimmy’s is a dim, narrow cave of a bar, a hunk of coal in a glittering craton. Late in the afternoon and into the [...]
My radiant, delusional mother, my two older brothers, and I lived in second-rate hotels and one-bedroom apartments in Manhattan from 1961, when I was five, until 1967. We’d sporadically get locked out of wherever we were staying for not keeping up with the rent, have our possessions confiscated, and spend the night sleeping in Central Park, or nursing hot chocolates [...]
Saturday night, I had smelly cheese, cashews, black bean dip, spooned Hellmann’s and three Coronas for dinner. I over-bought crap for company, it’s causing me stomach problems, but I have to finish the stuff. Sunday morning, I met a writing editor on Cathedral Parkway who took too much money to tell me too little about my work. I left her [...]
I was standing in the basement of Macy’s Parkchester in The Bronx, in a line of what seemed like a thousand teenagers, smoking both cigarettes and weed, chanting and cheering and waiting for Ticketmaster to open. Adult shoppers were non-existent and salespeople had abandoned their posts either in foreknowledge or in fear, except the lone Ticketmaster employee at the window [...]
As always when I break up with a boyfriend, I go back to trusted Craigslist. There’s something comforting about shopping for sex on the internet. Safety behind the screen. This time, I was more daring. I wanted a dominant man. This much I knew for sure. I’ve had a lot of mediocre sex in my time. And over the past [...]
“No, it should be to your left,” I whispered into my cell, trying not to disrupt the hushed conversations of the infatuated couples around me. Jeremy couldn’t find the bar, it was tucked away upstairs from a bakery, so I guided him to it over the phone. With each direction I spouted out, I grew giddier, like a sixteen-year-old thinking [...]
Edgar was a nice kid. He was soft-spoken and respectful and called my mom “Ma'am.” (I had never called anyone “Ma'am” in my life.) Edgar had to be coaxed over and over before he relented and agreed to call my dad “Artie” like the rest of the kids did. Edgar wasn't handsome like Peter, or stocky like Mark, the freshman [...]
It’s mid-afternoon on a Saturday in April 1973, and my first-day tour on the job, when that seminal alarm sounds. The disembodied voice of the dispatcher booms from loudspeakers throughout the firehouse, “Attention the following units…Engines 83, 60, 41-1 Ladders 29, 17-2 Battalion 14…Respond to…” The box number and address are given, and then the dispatcher adds, “We are receiving [...]
This passage appears in the novel, The Sleep-Over Artist. Alex hadn't really believed that Katrina would agree to visit him in New York, and so he threw himself into the task of convincing her with a kind of easy abandon, as though it were a joke really, and he was teasing her. She had children, after all, and couldn't just [...]
I live where the wide expanse of Houston Street, in crossing 6th Avenue, suddenly dwarfs down to the little tributary of Bedford Street. It's an old Mafia neighborhood, where people sit on the stoop for hours. I've lived here 12 years, long enough so my neighbors and I know each other, or so I thought. I have one neighbor, Joe, [...]
Autumn, 2000 It is fall in London, where I now live, but I spent ten years in Manhattan so it comes as no surprise that I would remember early dark evenings, dark so suddenly that you know with a flash that summer has gone, and that I would think of crisp mornings when leaves first shuddered at my feet and [...]
Here is a note Isaac Mizrahi wrote to Grace Mirabella shortly after she was replaced by Anna Wintour as the Editor of Vogue Magazine.
I had come to New York for spring break in search of fixing a broken heart. Probably a silly reason, but the cause and focus of that broken heart was spending the semester in New York at the Hotel Windermere with other theater students from my college in Indiana. Why I thought I could patch things up I'll never know. [...]
In April, 1992, I was in Los Angeles preparing to go to the Academy awards as the date of someone who had been nominated for an Oscar--my mother. The Oscars are about Hollywood, about bright, ephemeral glamour, about surfaces that reflect. My mother is not about these things. Yet there we were, an unlikely pair, preparing for our big night. [...]
A new customer took the stool next to me at the Morningstar Diner on 59th and 9th on the West Side. His name was Rich, a thin, white, middle-aged man carrying a plastic Gristede’s grocery bag that must have contained books. He took a seat, ordered a coffee to go, and I asked him about how the Chelsea/Hell’s Kitchen/Jetlandia neighborhood [...]
A good map will not only show where you are, it can also tell which way you’re headed. I’ve always resented the way New York City claims such a large portion of Long Island, its landscape and culture, the layers of people and the stories they keep. Does Queens have anything to do with Montauk? Does Brooklyn even know the [...]
So you’re teaching again. No, not the cushy adjunct work at the college where you got the MFA. This will be the crack your knuckles, roll up your sleeves type of teaching that New York City has to offer. Once you realized that The New Yorker was just as happy to ignore you with or without those precious writing awards [...]
I’m not the first nor will I be the last writer to wait tables. More illustrious authors in this category include Tennessee Williams, Michael Cunningham, who tended bar before he penned The Hours, and Cynthia Huntington (who was once told by her boss that she was the ‘best-educated barkeep in New York.’) While I don’t aspire to become what Anthony [...]
"And three weeks later I found him dead in his apartment," I overhear an old man say to his friend as I pass them on a street in the West Village. It's all I get--the one, disembodied line. Another day, another street. I pass a man and a woman, and at that instant the man says: "I LIKE eating raw [...]
The introduction to this column, and its first episode, can be read here. ** Episode #2: I expected freaky racial—and class—‘episodes’, which are inevitably intertwined, when Brookti touched down. I knew the most common ones to expect and assumed I’d easily brush them off. What I didn’t expect: how intricate the race/class hiearchys are (I did expect the level of [...]
I grew up in Manhattan, and for most of my life the tuneful chimes of the Mr. Softee truck have been a regular feature of the warmer months. That creaking melody is probably one of the most familiar tunes I know. It’s consoling and calming and ever so faintly haunting. Jerome Badanes once remarked that he found it very disturbing [...]
When I was in college, I spent an entire night dancing at the Palladium in New York City with Spalding Gray. We danced and danced to every song- danceable or not. I didn't know who he was but my friends did and he was a very cool older man who seemed to still like the things I'd assumed you stopped [...]
The high ceiling lofts feel more SoHo than Lower East Side, though the view of Seward Park High School to the north and tenement bricks from the terraces facing south easily reorient you. This freshly painted blue building gracing Grand Street between Essex and Ludlow Streets originally housed a piano showroom and warehouse before the Sunray Yarn factory took it [...]
First it was the remote control. Then it was a pill bottle, which jingled some before its contents spilled out, and last, a Yellow Delicious apple—boom! It is four o’clock in the morning and my cat, Alabama, has been knocking things around, dropping them to the floor from their perches, trying to jolt me out of sleep with every rattle [...]
Michael had long used us as a test audience for his trendy nihilism, togging up in punk, new wave and goth to suit his status as a Parsons grad student. We, his undergrad pals from Syracuse, continued to feign shock, through ten shades of hair color, safety pins inserted in various extremities, kilts, bondage pants and all-black wardrobes. But there [...]
Phoebe’s is the local coffee shop, and it isn’t a bad place to be in the summer. The patio in the back hosts a leafy tree that sprawls between the fire escape above and the duplex behind, shading the tables and chairs and making it cool. A rusted watering can props open the screen door. There is a sink off [...]
K.Y. Grocery, near the corner of 83rd on the east side of York, is run by a Korean family who are friendly with the Japanese fish market that lies next door. If you are a regular, they will let you run small tabs if you’re short on cash, and they always round up or down to avoid pennies. Since it’s [...]
I pointed them out to you just a few weeks before you left. They were a couple–a man and woman--a few years older than us, maybe in their late forties, traipsing along the sidewalk in that odd way they had of walking–taking funny little unbalanced steps, but steps that moved them hastily along nonetheless. Neatly dressed, yet incongruous: the man [...]
I. It is a popular misconception that autistics can count hundreds of matches in the blink of an eye and draw fantastic pictures. In reality, few are like this and less than one percent fall into the idiot savant category. Most are mildly to severely retarded and autistic. Some are autistic and emotionally disturbed. Some have Ausberger's Syndrome (a mild [...]
I was sitting on the floor of my older sister's East Village apartment helping her pack up her things, when I found her diary. She was in the kitchen wrapping plates and bowls in newspaper, so I thought I’d take a break out of eyesight and read a few pages. I went up the steel ladder to her tiny lofted [...]
8-21-03 Next Wednesday, Mars will be closer to the Earth than it has been in 60,000 years. Already it’s the brightest object in the night sky. I assume by then I will be no closer to having a job. That’s not so bad, really -- by next Wednesday, I will have only been living in New York for a week. [...]
It all started about a year ago in the summer time. We all finished going shopping, me and my mother, who is about five foot seven inches tall, wears glasses and is kind of chunky. Along with us was my little sister. We then decided to stop on 117th Street at 3rd Avenue for a bite to eat. Since we [...]
Not too long ago I sprained my ankle playing basketball and was unable to walk for several days. I had no food in the apartment during my ordeal so I was forced to order all of my meals in. It was a great indulgence which I thoroughly enjoyed. Yet by the eighth meal on the fourth day, with my ankle [...]
I met her on the Brooklyn Heights promenade the day I turned thirty. "Pardon me, but would’ja help me up?" she said, holding out a gloved hand. The stains on the polyester were yellow, the rest of the glove so white it was vein-blue, the color of cheap wedding dresses. I rose from the bench I’d been sitting on for [...]
Yesterday, after visiting my family in my small hometown of Wilmington, Delaware, I took the train back to New York City, my chosen home. Though it was a weekday, the platform was congested with people. Some stood naively about and others, like myself, train-savvy, were waiting in the place where the train's opening doors would stop, poised to board ahead [...]
Tuesday night some friends and I were sitting on a bench in Union Square, talking about the new game shows and dating shows and how there were so many hyped-up programs these days that were really just Candid Camera remakes. If you live long enough you see everything twice. Then we kind of ran out of material and fell into [...]
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