Well, your young tenor is growing up! We are out in the middle of the country now and I commute back to NYC for gigs.
And yes... there are gigs... a plenty.
Life is good and very, very different. Gone are subway rides and $1 pork fried dumplings. Now, we find our joy at the local pool and library.
To mark this transition, the Chocolate Room is going dark. This is my last dispatch as a resident of New York City.
Instead, here is a link to my personal blog for life on Walden Pond, our code name for life in the Burbs.
http://welcometowaldenpond.blogspot.com/
Update your links, subscribe, stay in touch and may all your dreams come true.
Cheers,
The Tenor
Kitty
The Spud
Little Heartbeat
Baby Maraca
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Saturday, November 02, 2013
The Next Big Thing
Many adventures have transpired since my last posting. The Spud has started school in NYC. Little Heartbeat is now talking and playing and riding the subway like a pro. And we have been joined by Baby Maraca, a son only three months old today.
Today after a lovely morning taking the kids to the Winter Garden to see Canstruction, an art display of canned food to raise money and awareness for City Harvest, Kitty picked up the kids from her haircut and kid-free time and Baby Maraca and I went off in search of a food adventure.
Walking east on Bleeker, checked out a couple of random sites in the Village that I had not seen in years. It is amazing how so much changes yet there are so many landmarks that remain. Stories surrounded me as I walked in the warm autumn sun.
There are so many "next big things" that hope to dethrone the cupcake as the pastry du jour of the city. I still haven't had a cronut...
A musical friend had advised me of a new delicious treat that is getting notorious in New York. Lard Bread. Baby Maraca and I found our way to Parisi Bakery and tried it out. It is a chewy bread with plenty of moisture inside. It almost was as buttery as a croissant but studded with small pieces of spicy ham.
It was plenty big, so I brought the balance home. The Spud raved about it. Little Heartbeat was not as into it.
But don't worry about Kitty. I grabbed her a sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon... Curried Mock Chicken. We all eat well here.
Today after a lovely morning taking the kids to the Winter Garden to see Canstruction, an art display of canned food to raise money and awareness for City Harvest, Kitty picked up the kids from her haircut and kid-free time and Baby Maraca and I went off in search of a food adventure.
Walking east on Bleeker, checked out a couple of random sites in the Village that I had not seen in years. It is amazing how so much changes yet there are so many landmarks that remain. Stories surrounded me as I walked in the warm autumn sun.
There are so many "next big things" that hope to dethrone the cupcake as the pastry du jour of the city. I still haven't had a cronut...
A musical friend had advised me of a new delicious treat that is getting notorious in New York. Lard Bread. Baby Maraca and I found our way to Parisi Bakery and tried it out. It is a chewy bread with plenty of moisture inside. It almost was as buttery as a croissant but studded with small pieces of spicy ham.
It was plenty big, so I brought the balance home. The Spud raved about it. Little Heartbeat was not as into it.
But don't worry about Kitty. I grabbed her a sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon... Curried Mock Chicken. We all eat well here.
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Murmurs in the City
My commute on Thursday showed a marked change from the Wednesday commute.
On my way up from the train, I saw that the line for the shuttle bus was much less crowded than Wednesday. I was a couple of hours later, so it could have been that too.
Again, I skipped the shuttle bus and hoofed it across the Manhattan Bridge. I could definitely feel yesterday's 10+ mile commute and my pace felt brutally slow. There were more people crossing the street by daylight but by the time I got to Canal Street I could see that most stores were still closed, but a couple of places had found generators and I saw one of the stalls had reopened in complete darkness. It was not a huge improvement, but it was a sure sign of life.
I turned up Sixth Avenue and my legs gave out. I saw a line for the bus and hoped to catch one uptown. After three packed buses went by I gave up and started walking. I walked up to the village and saw that Grey's Papaya had opened to serve hot dogs (gas stove). None of the $1 pizza joints seemed to be open yet.
It was at Lenny's Bagels on 6th that I saw my first real sign of life. It wasn't the tourists or electricity, but rather the fact that Lenny's was giving away a sandwich and drink to anyone who walked by. I wish I knew who paid for it. It was a site to behold. New Yorkers of all stripes were standing around having a snack and talking. I grabbed a cup of coffee and listened to the stories of the workers who were fixing buildings and removing debris. I heard moms and dads talking about normal everyday things to their kids in strollers. It felt like the first edges of community reappearing.
The power turned on in the 20s as I headed north to rehearsal. By the time I got to 34th Street, all memories of the quiet was gone and New York City was in full swing.
After the early end to rehearsal I walked over to Lexington and 52nd Street to catch the shuttle bus back. The line wrapped around the block and after about a half hour I found myself standing on a packed, jerking bus racing its way down to the Manhattan Bridge.
The trip was much less eventful than Wednesday and I could see that power had been restored to more swaths of the city. I saw lights all down St. Marks and then through to Chinatown.
Oddly enough, the commute ended up taking 3 hours in (thanks to my exhausted legs and the lack of bus services) and just over 2 hours home. exhilarating exhilarating I definitely did not want to repeat that night run. As exhilarating as it was to experience the solitude and darkness of a city, I don't think I had the physical endurance to make it safely back.
As I mentioned, the next post will be some thoughts and reflections that Kitty and I have shared with each other as we have lived through the hurricane.
On my way up from the train, I saw that the line for the shuttle bus was much less crowded than Wednesday. I was a couple of hours later, so it could have been that too.
Again, I skipped the shuttle bus and hoofed it across the Manhattan Bridge. I could definitely feel yesterday's 10+ mile commute and my pace felt brutally slow. There were more people crossing the street by daylight but by the time I got to Canal Street I could see that most stores were still closed, but a couple of places had found generators and I saw one of the stalls had reopened in complete darkness. It was not a huge improvement, but it was a sure sign of life.
I turned up Sixth Avenue and my legs gave out. I saw a line for the bus and hoped to catch one uptown. After three packed buses went by I gave up and started walking. I walked up to the village and saw that Grey's Papaya had opened to serve hot dogs (gas stove). None of the $1 pizza joints seemed to be open yet.
It was at Lenny's Bagels on 6th that I saw my first real sign of life. It wasn't the tourists or electricity, but rather the fact that Lenny's was giving away a sandwich and drink to anyone who walked by. I wish I knew who paid for it. It was a site to behold. New Yorkers of all stripes were standing around having a snack and talking. I grabbed a cup of coffee and listened to the stories of the workers who were fixing buildings and removing debris. I heard moms and dads talking about normal everyday things to their kids in strollers. It felt like the first edges of community reappearing.
The power turned on in the 20s as I headed north to rehearsal. By the time I got to 34th Street, all memories of the quiet was gone and New York City was in full swing.
After the early end to rehearsal I walked over to Lexington and 52nd Street to catch the shuttle bus back. The line wrapped around the block and after about a half hour I found myself standing on a packed, jerking bus racing its way down to the Manhattan Bridge.
The trip was much less eventful than Wednesday and I could see that power had been restored to more swaths of the city. I saw lights all down St. Marks and then through to Chinatown.
Oddly enough, the commute ended up taking 3 hours in (thanks to my exhausted legs and the lack of bus services) and just over 2 hours home. exhilarating exhilarating I definitely did not want to repeat that night run. As exhilarating as it was to experience the solitude and darkness of a city, I don't think I had the physical endurance to make it safely back.
As I mentioned, the next post will be some thoughts and reflections that Kitty and I have shared with each other as we have lived through the hurricane.
Silence in the City
As you all know, Kitty and I have spent the last few years living and loving our life in New York City. Our brownstone has been our base of operations for the past five years and many of our adventures have been documented on this blog.
On Monday, our family lived through our very first hurricane. We were abundantly blessed as we did not have any damage to our home, loss of power or even internet service. Seeing the devastation of lower Manhattan and New Jersey was an experience is cognitive dissonance. Our lives have been normal in almost every way, while the lives of friends and co-workers have been disrupted beyond anything I wish to imagine.
Despite our blessings, life has changed dramatically for us in New York City.
On Wednesday I had to get to an appointment and then rehearsal in the city. As you know, the trains only go so far as Brooklyn near the bridges. From there, you have to get a shuttle bus to go across a bridge and then get to points in Manhattan.
When I came out in the sunshine of the day at Jay Street Metrotech station, I was greeted by the largest crowd I had ever seen. All were waiting on line for the shuttle. I could see the line was moving fairly quickly, but I could not find the end.
I knew that this would be a possibility and I had left the house in running gear and with the minimum supplies for the day. Armed with that and an opera-singers almost pathological need for self-determination, I turned left and followed Jay Street to the pedestrian entrance to the Manhattan Bridge.
I picked up pace to an easy run and it took about ten minutes to cross the bridge to Canal Street. Following the vacant thoroughfare of Chinatown to Broadway, I saw every shop gated at 11 a.m. What should have been a packed street was almost devoid of cars, trucks and people.
I followed Broadway up to East 8th Street, running through the hollow streets to East 8th where I cut west to Greenwich and then up to 8th Avenue and 14th Street. No traffic lights or significant number of people presented themselves to slow my pace. In daylight, the city was serene and silent but for the occasional sirens or police convoys.
Only at 31st Street, did I start to see lights of the city again and by 34th Street, the city was almost completely back to normal. There were more police, but otherwise, business carried on as usual.
I spent the rest of the day alternating between my day job and rehearsal. I walked out of the rehearsal space at 7:50 p.m. Darkness had settled over the city and the lights and life of the Lincoln Center area and Broadway prevented any real running pace to be achieved.
I alternated running and walking through the crowds of Columbus Circle, down 8th Avenue where I saw the crane dangling over Carnegie Hall. The trip to 34th Street and 8th Avenue took almost a half hour because of the crowds and occasional police barricades.
It was again at 31st Street, south of Madison Square Gardens, that I felt the scourge again of the hurricane. I ran, lit only by the headlamps of cars down to 23rd Street where there was a large police lighting system set up.
On the dark sidewalks I could pick up my pace and I ran by occasional people trying to live a normal life- walking dogs, going for walks with flashlights and talking on their cellphones on the way back to their homes.
The run down 8th Avenue was lit by flares that marked intersections. Police officers guided traffic. I retraced my steps down Greenwich. The whole street was pitch black, there were no flares and the street was completely deserted. The only lights I saw were Gusto and Fiddlesticks, bars lit entirely by candles. They were so empty and strangely beautiful and inviting that I nearly stopped to go in.
From there, I continued down the flare-lit Sixth Avenue until Canal Street. It was near pitch dark as I followed Canal East to the pedestrian entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. As I moved up the dark west side of the bridge, there were a few more people making the commute in both directions. Almost halfway across, I met the first lights of Brooklyn.
I finally ended up at the Jay Street Metrotech station where I walked onto a train that then took my the last stretch home.
All in all it took about 1.5 hours each way to do the commute.
In my next post, I'll tell you a bit about my Thursday commute. Following that, I'd like to share some of our families reflections on how this experience has colored our experiences of New York.
On Monday, our family lived through our very first hurricane. We were abundantly blessed as we did not have any damage to our home, loss of power or even internet service. Seeing the devastation of lower Manhattan and New Jersey was an experience is cognitive dissonance. Our lives have been normal in almost every way, while the lives of friends and co-workers have been disrupted beyond anything I wish to imagine.
Despite our blessings, life has changed dramatically for us in New York City.
On Wednesday I had to get to an appointment and then rehearsal in the city. As you know, the trains only go so far as Brooklyn near the bridges. From there, you have to get a shuttle bus to go across a bridge and then get to points in Manhattan.
When I came out in the sunshine of the day at Jay Street Metrotech station, I was greeted by the largest crowd I had ever seen. All were waiting on line for the shuttle. I could see the line was moving fairly quickly, but I could not find the end.
I knew that this would be a possibility and I had left the house in running gear and with the minimum supplies for the day. Armed with that and an opera-singers almost pathological need for self-determination, I turned left and followed Jay Street to the pedestrian entrance to the Manhattan Bridge.
I picked up pace to an easy run and it took about ten minutes to cross the bridge to Canal Street. Following the vacant thoroughfare of Chinatown to Broadway, I saw every shop gated at 11 a.m. What should have been a packed street was almost devoid of cars, trucks and people.
I followed Broadway up to East 8th Street, running through the hollow streets to East 8th where I cut west to Greenwich and then up to 8th Avenue and 14th Street. No traffic lights or significant number of people presented themselves to slow my pace. In daylight, the city was serene and silent but for the occasional sirens or police convoys.
Only at 31st Street, did I start to see lights of the city again and by 34th Street, the city was almost completely back to normal. There were more police, but otherwise, business carried on as usual.
I spent the rest of the day alternating between my day job and rehearsal. I walked out of the rehearsal space at 7:50 p.m. Darkness had settled over the city and the lights and life of the Lincoln Center area and Broadway prevented any real running pace to be achieved.
I alternated running and walking through the crowds of Columbus Circle, down 8th Avenue where I saw the crane dangling over Carnegie Hall. The trip to 34th Street and 8th Avenue took almost a half hour because of the crowds and occasional police barricades.
It was again at 31st Street, south of Madison Square Gardens, that I felt the scourge again of the hurricane. I ran, lit only by the headlamps of cars down to 23rd Street where there was a large police lighting system set up.
On the dark sidewalks I could pick up my pace and I ran by occasional people trying to live a normal life- walking dogs, going for walks with flashlights and talking on their cellphones on the way back to their homes.
The run down 8th Avenue was lit by flares that marked intersections. Police officers guided traffic. I retraced my steps down Greenwich. The whole street was pitch black, there were no flares and the street was completely deserted. The only lights I saw were Gusto and Fiddlesticks, bars lit entirely by candles. They were so empty and strangely beautiful and inviting that I nearly stopped to go in.
From there, I continued down the flare-lit Sixth Avenue until Canal Street. It was near pitch dark as I followed Canal East to the pedestrian entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. As I moved up the dark west side of the bridge, there were a few more people making the commute in both directions. Almost halfway across, I met the first lights of Brooklyn.
I finally ended up at the Jay Street Metrotech station where I walked onto a train that then took my the last stretch home.
All in all it took about 1.5 hours each way to do the commute.
In my next post, I'll tell you a bit about my Thursday commute. Following that, I'd like to share some of our families reflections on how this experience has colored our experiences of New York.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A Mandate for a Man-Date: Three Neighborhoods, Two Boroughs, One BBQ Joint and a Million Zombies
Talk about a day out...
Drove up to the Rock Star's house to hang. The family is on vacation. I thought it would be video games and cocktails for most of the day after a quick lunch out.
"Actually, just last week, I was at the Upper East Side for BBQ for lunch and when my buddy and I got there, it was closed..." Rock Star's voice trails off. "Oh... you have GOT to be kidding me..."
We are in Williamsburg in Brooklyn, crossing Metropolitan Ave. All I can see is an alley leading past a building with a locked gate in front of it. If this is a BBQ joint, I've certainly seen prettier exteriors.
"Well, I guess I'm two for two... since BBQ is closed, let's grab a beer," says Rock Star. We head over to Spuyten Duyvil and I get a Belgian Weiss and Rock Star has a Weiss draft. We sit in the back garden catching up on old times. We've known each other since high school and are still both in music, even if we are at two opposite ends of the spectrum.
The Zombies Come Out...
It's one p.m. There are four hours to kill before the BBQ joint opens. We are two survivors of a zombie outbreak. The infected are everywhere and we are shooting them and moving as quickly as possible. We travel through the decrepit cityscape. Occasionally swarms of them appear and we must hunker down and fend them off with all manner of guns. In between defending ourselves, Rock Star goes up to his extensive home bar and says, "Check out this cocktail, it's got some custome bitters from back home. It's tart yet sweet and oh so smooth..." The zombies start to blur a bit on the screen. It's gripping stuff and at 6 p.m. when we finally put down our Xbox controllers and shamble ourselves off to eat, we recount the stories of how we survived the zombie apocalypse.
The Bass Player's Story...
He jams a cell phone into my face. Rock Star knows The Bass Player but we haven't really been introduced. "I was walking around McCarren Park when... Watch this video." I look at the postage stamp sized screen and I see a giant pink ape playing the bass and a man in a skunk costume playing the xylophone. "Listen, man! I thought it was shit but then I see these kids around him, dancing. They are going fucking nuts and then I realize. These guys are tearing it up." He is so excited his PBR is splashing a bit on his blazer and khaki cargo shorts. They are called the Xylofolks.
We are having a pre-dinner drink and hearing a band play in Greenpoint. I don't know the bar. I barely know how we got here. The music is good but dinner awaits.
We are having a pre-dinner drink and hearing a band play in Greenpoint. I don't know the bar. I barely know how we got here. The music is good but dinner awaits.
And They Ate Meat...
We didn't just eat any old meat, but we ate home smoked meat. Because of the war with the zombies, we didn't arrive at Fette Sau until well after the dinner crowd was in full swing. We waited for close to an hour until we got to the meat counter. You point at hunks of cooked tongue, sausage and ribs. You point at sides. You get everything on butcher paper and then hit the bar for micro-brews and scotch. You head to the picnic tables where you sit with strangers and melt into dinner. We ate with our fingers and took the split leftovers to take back to our respective homes for hash and eggs the next day.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Top 10 List for 2009
10. Each year Kitty and I designate it "the year of..." and choose a seasoning or cooking technique. One year it was the year of Adobo seasoning. Another it was the year of salt & pepper. This year? The year of Baker's Chocolate Chunks! I try not to be a corporate shill too much, but these are clearly superior to all others.
9. Bronx Opera. They hired me for a bunch of shows and I've learned so much. On weekends when the train service is disrupted, I could get to Maryland faster than I do my round trip to rehearsal.
8. HPD of NYC. This exists in the toughest city in the world? Sign me up.
7. Because we don't need just one Chinatown. We have two... um... make that three. And yes, I no longer have to cross a river to get myself some Prosperity Dumplings.
6. The Xbox 360. Now I have a chance to do grown-up gaming for myself and actually play with friends online! I'm killing zombies in Left 4 Dead and saving the universe in Mass Effect.
5. The Flip. Keeping distiant family members up to speed on the Peanut is easy and fun. It helps that Kitty is doing all the editing and emailing. Shout out to Web Wendy... you made the top 10!
4. I did my first audition for an international opera company. It was humbling. The second one went much, much better. (but still no word yet.)
3. The 2 train. Kind of a sleeper hit. I switched to it on my regular commute and all of a sudden it shaved 25 minutes off my commute. Sometimes you have those NYC moments when you smack yourself on the head and say, "what were you doing for the last 3 years?"
2. The ice cream sandwich at http://www.xiexieproject.com/. And the bahn-mi. But especially the ice cream sandwich.
1. 2009 was the Year of Media. Discovering that my film debut is now available. Actually, I'm a little embarrased. Back in '96 when it was made, it took about 10 takes to get my one line right (it was in freakin' Czech! Give me a break!). I was broadcast on TV as Tamino in Bronx Opera's "The Magic Flute" (thank you Bronx cable access!) and my website got a facelift. While that is all well and good for me, Kitty and The Peanut got in on the act when we were featured as the family face of the Breastfeeding Initiative for the NYC Department of Health. (sorry... no links... but I'm sure it is out there somewhere.)
9. Bronx Opera. They hired me for a bunch of shows and I've learned so much. On weekends when the train service is disrupted, I could get to Maryland faster than I do my round trip to rehearsal.
8. HPD of NYC. This exists in the toughest city in the world? Sign me up.
7. Because we don't need just one Chinatown. We have two... um... make that three. And yes, I no longer have to cross a river to get myself some Prosperity Dumplings.
6. The Xbox 360. Now I have a chance to do grown-up gaming for myself and actually play with friends online! I'm killing zombies in Left 4 Dead and saving the universe in Mass Effect.
5. The Flip. Keeping distiant family members up to speed on the Peanut is easy and fun. It helps that Kitty is doing all the editing and emailing. Shout out to Web Wendy... you made the top 10!
4. I did my first audition for an international opera company. It was humbling. The second one went much, much better. (but still no word yet.)
3. The 2 train. Kind of a sleeper hit. I switched to it on my regular commute and all of a sudden it shaved 25 minutes off my commute. Sometimes you have those NYC moments when you smack yourself on the head and say, "what were you doing for the last 3 years?"
2. The ice cream sandwich at http://www.xiexieproject.com/. And the bahn-mi. But especially the ice cream sandwich.
1. 2009 was the Year of Media. Discovering that my film debut is now available. Actually, I'm a little embarrased. Back in '96 when it was made, it took about 10 takes to get my one line right (it was in freakin' Czech! Give me a break!). I was broadcast on TV as Tamino in Bronx Opera's "The Magic Flute" (thank you Bronx cable access!) and my website got a facelift. While that is all well and good for me, Kitty and The Peanut got in on the act when we were featured as the family face of the Breastfeeding Initiative for the NYC Department of Health. (sorry... no links... but I'm sure it is out there somewhere.)
The Peanut Changes Things
It's now been just over a year since the Peanut showed up and upended our time in NYC. There are certainly the big changes of having a baby. You can read about them in one of ten thousand books, blogs and newspaper columns. I'll spare you the stories of my daughter's golden dumps and magic spit-up.
Our neighborhood has not exactly "arrived" yet. There is still an edge to it. The police presence, the pharmacy under the train station that specializes in methadone, the graffiti and the public urination still reflect New York City from another era. Please note, we don't ever feel unsafe, we just haven't had the influx of cash yet that allows cafes, bakeries and boutiques to show up yet.
The Peanut has really changed our overall experience, though. Now when we walk through our neighborhood, people recognize us. Our checkout lady, Zenab, who wears an outfit one piece of cloth shy of a burkah, calls the Peanut "her little friend." The Peanut obliges by giggling and squealing and smiling whenever we are on line at the store.
When our neighbors noticed that Kitty was pregnant, I found out that they started a neighborhood watch of sorts. From their front windows, noted when she went out for her morning run and always made sure that she made it back safely. They also questioned me on a regular basis as to whether or not she would "rattle that baby right out" with all the running.
In the week after Millie was born, the neighbor down the street sent over a dozen roses for Kitty-- the first time we ever really had contact besides some cursory "hellos." The neighbor across the street stopped us as we all left the house to introduce herself to her new neighbor and give a card and a ten dollar bill for the college fund. The guys on the stoop now ask me how that little boy is doing when I walk by in the morning. (The Peanut is a girl and I've reminded them a couple of times and lately she has been sporting a giant pink snowsuit, but I'll take their warm but inaccurate greetings over the cool indifference of the past.)
On a very rushed trip to the grocery store, I was getting ready to grab English muffins and run back home when Zenab cornered me. "I have birthday gift for my friend. Wait here." She returned with a giant gift bag with an toy telephone that talks. I was so touched that I returned to the store ten minutes later to get the English muffins that I had forgotten.
Our neighborhood has not exactly "arrived" yet. There is still an edge to it. The police presence, the pharmacy under the train station that specializes in methadone, the graffiti and the public urination still reflect New York City from another era. Please note, we don't ever feel unsafe, we just haven't had the influx of cash yet that allows cafes, bakeries and boutiques to show up yet.
The Peanut has really changed our overall experience, though. Now when we walk through our neighborhood, people recognize us. Our checkout lady, Zenab, who wears an outfit one piece of cloth shy of a burkah, calls the Peanut "her little friend." The Peanut obliges by giggling and squealing and smiling whenever we are on line at the store.
When our neighbors noticed that Kitty was pregnant, I found out that they started a neighborhood watch of sorts. From their front windows, noted when she went out for her morning run and always made sure that she made it back safely. They also questioned me on a regular basis as to whether or not she would "rattle that baby right out" with all the running.
In the week after Millie was born, the neighbor down the street sent over a dozen roses for Kitty-- the first time we ever really had contact besides some cursory "hellos." The neighbor across the street stopped us as we all left the house to introduce herself to her new neighbor and give a card and a ten dollar bill for the college fund. The guys on the stoop now ask me how that little boy is doing when I walk by in the morning. (The Peanut is a girl and I've reminded them a couple of times and lately she has been sporting a giant pink snowsuit, but I'll take their warm but inaccurate greetings over the cool indifference of the past.)
On a very rushed trip to the grocery store, I was getting ready to grab English muffins and run back home when Zenab cornered me. "I have birthday gift for my friend. Wait here." She returned with a giant gift bag with an toy telephone that talks. I was so touched that I returned to the store ten minutes later to get the English muffins that I had forgotten.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Pulp Fiction
I had a moment when I felt like a true New Yorker yesterday.
I finished an old novel by Lawrence Block called, "A Stab in the Dark." It was a juicy little murder mystery that took place in both Manhattan and Brooklyn. As I read the book on the train, I could visualize every location in the book- from Midtown to the streets of Cobble and Boerum Hills. I knew every intersection and almost every building mentioned. At the same time, the book evoked a New York City completely unknown to me. My imagination was stirred by grittier streets where the boutiques of today were replaced by bodegas and the trees on the sidewalks had not yet been planted.
I wonder if, years from now, I will think back on my time here and falsely remember the gentrification of these neighborhoods and think back to the good old days of New York that I never lived except through dime store novels.
I finished an old novel by Lawrence Block called, "A Stab in the Dark." It was a juicy little murder mystery that took place in both Manhattan and Brooklyn. As I read the book on the train, I could visualize every location in the book- from Midtown to the streets of Cobble and Boerum Hills. I knew every intersection and almost every building mentioned. At the same time, the book evoked a New York City completely unknown to me. My imagination was stirred by grittier streets where the boutiques of today were replaced by bodegas and the trees on the sidewalks had not yet been planted.
I wonder if, years from now, I will think back on my time here and falsely remember the gentrification of these neighborhoods and think back to the good old days of New York that I never lived except through dime store novels.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
We were young. We needed the money.
It all started in 2005. Kitty and I had been married a little over a year. We were living in Denver while I sang a contract with Opera Colorado. The money was good, but we were still a little short on cash.
Keep in mind, this was before the Greatest Depression that we now live in. Denver was awash with money. There was real estate, arts funding, excessive consumption at Cherry Creek and, most importantly, medical research grants.
After I had finished my contracts, Kitty and I found ourselves very under employed and we were gearing up for a move to New York City. How do you get money quickly?
Kitty's brother, "Dr. Navy", a medical student at the time, found a drug study. We would stay in the hospital for a week, all meals provided, potentially be injected with a "very safe drug" and have our vitals and blood done on a regular basis. Successful completion would mean a thousand bucks each. Initially, we were skeptical but Dr. Navy assured us that the drug was safe and, after all, he was getting married the week after the hospital stay. Would he "really" do it if it wasn't safe?
I initially thought that this would be like a free week at a "all-inclusive." We would have free food and drink and we'd hang out, I'd bring some video games and dvds and relax. Sure, we'd be giving blood every four hours (24 hours a day) but how is that different from recovering from the toxic shock of unlimited drinking at Hedonism?
Well, there are certain differences. For one, we couldn't have caffeine. As you know, Kitty and I met in Seattle and fell in love in the Met Park East Starbucks. The cement that holds the foundation of our relationship together is morning coffee. Second, we couldn't drink alcohol either. I wouldn't compare that to the foundation of our relationship. It's more like a really cool chandelier that you have in your house and you have to have sent away to be repaired. The house loses a bit of light and a little class but is mostly untouched while it is away.
Despite these reservations, we discovered that we would be put up in the new wing of the hospital and provided food from the new chef who took over the commissary. The food wasn't amazing, but it was plentiful and satisfying. We could also order up their 5-star desserts and cookies at breakfast time if we wanted.
After a week of being pampered and only one disturbing incident involving Kitty and a doctor taking blood from her carotid artery because they couldn't find a vein, we walked away with enough money to fund the move to NYC.
So what does all that have to do with New York City? Kitty and I have found that there are little opportunities like this all over. Case in point: Kitty is part of a weekly breastfeeding group in our neighborhood. It is a wonderful support provided by the City government in "at risk" neighborhoods like ours and is provided at no cost. Last week, it was announced that the City was preparing to update their breastfeeding brochures. They were having a photo shoot and moms and babies could come and receive $150 if they participated in the shoot. Husbands and partners could come too and receive their own $150.
Sure enough, we rose to the challenge. We arrived at 9 a.m. with The Peanut in tow. Coffee and pastries were provided and they staged numerous shots of Kitty and The Peanut nursing in various positions. The Peanut cooperated like a champ and the two of them managed to get pictures taken in all four "official positions" and I joined in for some family pictures. Everyone joked that The Peanut was a natural actress following stage directions... only natural for the child of an opera singer! I only hope that it will last through her teenage years.
As it turns out, if they use our pictures we will receive an additional $500. (Perhaps each... we couldn't decipher the contract). Keep your fingers crossed for us!
Keep in mind, this was before the Greatest Depression that we now live in. Denver was awash with money. There was real estate, arts funding, excessive consumption at Cherry Creek and, most importantly, medical research grants.
After I had finished my contracts, Kitty and I found ourselves very under employed and we were gearing up for a move to New York City. How do you get money quickly?
Kitty's brother, "Dr. Navy", a medical student at the time, found a drug study. We would stay in the hospital for a week, all meals provided, potentially be injected with a "very safe drug" and have our vitals and blood done on a regular basis. Successful completion would mean a thousand bucks each. Initially, we were skeptical but Dr. Navy assured us that the drug was safe and, after all, he was getting married the week after the hospital stay. Would he "really" do it if it wasn't safe?
I initially thought that this would be like a free week at a "all-inclusive." We would have free food and drink and we'd hang out, I'd bring some video games and dvds and relax. Sure, we'd be giving blood every four hours (24 hours a day) but how is that different from recovering from the toxic shock of unlimited drinking at Hedonism?
Well, there are certain differences. For one, we couldn't have caffeine. As you know, Kitty and I met in Seattle and fell in love in the Met Park East Starbucks. The cement that holds the foundation of our relationship together is morning coffee. Second, we couldn't drink alcohol either. I wouldn't compare that to the foundation of our relationship. It's more like a really cool chandelier that you have in your house and you have to have sent away to be repaired. The house loses a bit of light and a little class but is mostly untouched while it is away.
Despite these reservations, we discovered that we would be put up in the new wing of the hospital and provided food from the new chef who took over the commissary. The food wasn't amazing, but it was plentiful and satisfying. We could also order up their 5-star desserts and cookies at breakfast time if we wanted.
After a week of being pampered and only one disturbing incident involving Kitty and a doctor taking blood from her carotid artery because they couldn't find a vein, we walked away with enough money to fund the move to NYC.
So what does all that have to do with New York City? Kitty and I have found that there are little opportunities like this all over. Case in point: Kitty is part of a weekly breastfeeding group in our neighborhood. It is a wonderful support provided by the City government in "at risk" neighborhoods like ours and is provided at no cost. Last week, it was announced that the City was preparing to update their breastfeeding brochures. They were having a photo shoot and moms and babies could come and receive $150 if they participated in the shoot. Husbands and partners could come too and receive their own $150.
Sure enough, we rose to the challenge. We arrived at 9 a.m. with The Peanut in tow. Coffee and pastries were provided and they staged numerous shots of Kitty and The Peanut nursing in various positions. The Peanut cooperated like a champ and the two of them managed to get pictures taken in all four "official positions" and I joined in for some family pictures. Everyone joked that The Peanut was a natural actress following stage directions... only natural for the child of an opera singer! I only hope that it will last through her teenage years.
As it turns out, if they use our pictures we will receive an additional $500. (Perhaps each... we couldn't decipher the contract). Keep your fingers crossed for us!
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