Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Rare Air

After a Sunday spent running in the hills around Beacon, NY, then running around the Lower East Side with KR and Karl, Lily and I decamped Brooklyn for the Upper West Side. 

Rachel & Michael's place is on the 15th floor, so we get a view all the way down Manhattan...

And down on the rooftop gardens of 101st St.

Once settled, we headed to the Rose Room of the NYPL for some reading and writing...

Late afternoon sun streaming in...

Back on the street, we got caught in a downpour in the 30s...

I had a cloth bag with notebooks. We had a tiny umbrella. There is always scaffolding to wait out passing storm.

It passed by the time we got up to the high line, an old elevated subway track that has been turned into a city park.   http://www.thehighline.org/


We scooped up Addie...

And Eric...

And watched the sun set over New Jersey...

Eric had just copped a new iPhone... He already hates it.

On our travels, we walked past Westbeth, where Merce Cunningham had his studio. Merce passed yesterday at 90. Rest in Peace.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Gottta love it, Williamsburg edition

#1 Fred shows up

#2 Holiday lawn ornaments/ stuffed animals as self expression ... beside Our Lady of Guadeloupe

#2.5  Reaction shot to above

#3  Our favorite Williamsburg hipster

Counting to Twenty

Panoramic views from a rooftop terrace on Rivington Street last week with Zoe.  We watched the sun go down and the lights come up.  She fended off the guys by telling them we were from Germany.  As if that would deter them. 

"Germany?" he slurred, "Eek sprecka deutssh too!  Eins, drei, vier...sechzehn, sieben, achtzehn, some other zehn...."  

Sunday, July 19, 2009

NYC Lineup

First days back in the city, featuring: 

Sunset on the Hudson River

The Queen of Midtown

Midget Cooking on the Upper West Side

Date night 

Bushwick hipster art opening

Ladeez...slow fade version

And a little something live from the street and the club.  Money Can't Buy Me Love in Wash Square Park, a DJ mashup of Annie Are you Ok, and African lyrics layed over that MIA track everybody loves....

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

jetzt geht's richtig los...

tschuss kassel...hallo new york!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

invisible berlin

There are no pictures from the last few days in Berlin, but it's not because there's nothing to see. When it rained, the puddles -"little seas on the sidewalk" as they were christened at 2 in the morning by a man in a top hat - reflected the defiant old buildings, shimmering with a glaze of mud. When it was sunny the sky stretched wide and blue across a checkerboard of cafe tables, and it was easy to feel that the late afternoon would never end, that coffee could be followed by 2pm breakfast by wine without effort, and that dusk's slow arrival would seem fitting, inevitable, like the start of something and not the end.

There are no pictures because most of what happens in Berlin happens in the dark. Yes, the babies are pushed through the farmers market at 11 on Saturday, and the pretty girls stream down the bike lane on Monday morning. But it's not until around 6 that the city starts to really move and pulse and come alive.

It is a city of layers, a second hand city, a city of double meanings. History's mutations have left their marks, and show through the cracks. A former watertower is now a cylindrical apartment building, a power plant is a throbbing night club, a long stretch of the wall blocks the view of the river though it keeps no one out, no longer insists that a border between people must be kept. Girls on bikes wear remixed flea market finds, the languages are switched depending on what one is trying to say to whom, and if you stop walking for a second and listen for the thump of electro music, you might be able to find the party. Perhaps this is why Berlin is best seen under the cover of night. Half-obscured. Incandescent. Sound winning over sight, echo and shadow winning over the clear light of day.

And when the dawn starts to come, tugging at the corners of the night, and you want to stretch night just a little bit longer, you go to the club. Follow the djs past the long line waiting to get in - the birds are singing - past the tatooed doorman and the lesbian frisker and enter a cavernous cement room where it's night all day. In the center of the dance floor, put your hand on your chest - it's vibrating from the bass - the body also porous, also susceptible, as mutating as the city. You feel it too, don't you.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Current Issues

I've got poems in a few new magazines, plus new work online this week.
Consider this beach reading for the poetry set.

This week I'm the featured poet at No Tell Motel, with new poems daily. Their archives are a lot of fun, too. Dig in.

Issue #8 of A PUBLIC SPACE includes "The dead of winter."

LUNGFULL! #17 is Mr. Yuck green and includes "The line ending forever," a page of its typescript first draft, and a description of the process of writing the poem.

issue #20 includes "Birdsong trumps dumptruck" among its poetry, recipes and industrial safety tips. Better wear a helmet.

vol. 2 comes out this month and includes a section from my poem "Stains." This magazine is so cool - the covers are old matchbooks, so it is very small. My copies haven't landed yet (and they're not for sale yet on the SFP website), but Hoa Nguyen got hers and found a dollhouse music stand on which to display it. Savvy.

My MATCHBOOK will look even smaller on our new furniture find, which I can't resist posting because it's so HOT. It's the bottom of a 1930s bureau, found as an older man was cleaning out his mother's home.

Two meters long...

Lovely details...

Happy reading!

Monday, July 6, 2009

Before America

Every Thursday and Saturday and sometimes on Tuesdays we buy our vegetables and eggs from The Ladies. The Ladies are the Schminke sisters, who own and run a farm just outside of Kassel in Ihringshausen. Yesterday they invited us to visit.

We biked the 5 kilometers with Eva and Bettina...

and landed at the house, where we were fed smoked fish, grilled speck, brotchen with butter and cheese, and of course, tons of vegetables.

Burgit, who is a big Obama fan, explained to us over lunch that the farm has been in the family since the early 1700s. The early 1700s, people. Before America.

After lunch, the highlight: a tour of the greenhouses and gardens and fields. It was incredible to see everything growing and to learn about how they work. Because they don't spray pesticides, weeds grow up next to the vegetables in the fields. The prettier the fields, Brigit said, the less the taste.

It's an immense amount of work. Every vegetable is picked by hand, and they're not getting rich doing it. "Wenn man mit K├Ârper und Geist zusammen arbeitet, verdeint man immer weniger," said Petra's son Michael, who also works the farm. If you work with the body and mind together, you will always earn less. The dancers and poet knew exactly what he was talking about.