evnyc

LEAPING

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 14:57:40 -0500

A strange apparition appeared that must have been transported from the lower bowels of the Upper West Side called Croxley Ales. Unlike most apparitions this one can you not only enter but order hot wings, fried clams, nachos, pulled pork, chili cheese fries and potato skins while watching a variety of sports on a number of flat screen TVs. Many abhor its appearance ...I find it quite hypnotizing. ....What were those bars on West 72nd Street with the ancient wooden interiors and cathode ray tube sets? ...Kinda like 7B. ...I remember one on the corner with a bright neon sign advertising Steaks and Chops. That must have been a long time ago. ...My train of thought seems to have started a long time ago, as well.
For those that so find the scene nauseating I suggest leaping up a block to Affaire and calm yourself with a plate of Buffalo Frog Legs. I find the ambiance quite hypnotizing as well ...yes, I'm referring to the lighted poodle picture.

Loss

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 15:40:31 -0500

I remember discovering there was no Santa Clause through the Easter Bunny. I don't know why my parents decided it was time to reveal the Easter Bunny's non-existence but maintain the farce of the Santa Clause. I was not precocious enough to put 2 and 2 together ...right away. Then one day over the horizon swooped an evil dark entity and the scales flew from my eyes. The Easter Bunny was disappointing but he just brought jelly beans, Santa Clause brought race cars ...I felt my very being violently ripped away from all that I had know was good and pure.
A good lesson of the assaulting unfairness and mocking senselessness of life that was soon forgotten as a child. Fortunately with age come the wisdom to reflect and empathize with loved ones taken from you as you try to pass confused acquiescence for mournful acceptance. Recently this tree was planted in the middle of the park in memory of Steve Jobs. The needles fell away almost immediately ...in response french gates were planted around it and it was forgotten. A difficult sight to take in. Especially on these gloomy winter days. And even more when you keep asking yourself, "Why can't I forget?"

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 14:21:29 -0400

As I look upon the crypts that fill St. Mark's churchyard—they say Peter Stuyvesant is buried here on what once was his land, with the only true east-west street in Manhattan that once was his driveway—I try to catch a character that seems out of place. ...everyone in that group acts if that woman doesn't exist ...he's been in that spot too long ...is his body completely above ground? I used to search out for ghosts. I visited places people told me they were seen ...jump around corners and in front of mirrors, trying to catch one unawares, lost in the past.
I never saw anything though as I grew older and those around me passed away... the loss of their love, their comfort, even their simple presence ...becoming a never ...becoming that person that I once knew being lowered into the ground ...covered with a stone ...my path following their corpses into the silent, cold dirt becoming clearer and closer. No scares, no ghosts, no shocks, just the utter helplessness as death continues to fill my life. I notice someone watching me from outside the gates.

Pleasure So Wrong

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 16:47:16 -0400

Sick of the loss of the midtown cinemas with balconies, seats that sloped backwards and wooden interiors that creaked even when the light changed... why did so many become theme restaurants? I demanded my classic films be seen in the back of long corridors with columns blocking the view and subways interrupting the sound... and then ...then ...stadium seating on Houston.
This German church/meeting hall—victim of the exodus after the Slocum tragedy—converted to vaudeville, to nickelodeon and then to abandoned warehouse ...and now a luxurious cinema. Sunshine Cinemas ...how so wrong and so beautiful.

I Don't Even Know Who Les Dawson Is

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 16:05:46 -0400

There are many restaurants around the neighboorhood that don't make the mistake of Americanizing their recipies. ...more like Mother's but a bit different. ...more like my Aunt's but I prefer the way I do it. ...Though I don't think I could make a molé quite like La Palapa's.

Keep Your Eyes Peeled

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 11:37:32 -0400

In 1977, Walter De Maria stuck 400 metal rods in the ground to call out pretty slivers of lightening. He also banged around with The Velvet Underground clan. With those kind of references it's wise to keep an eye on his quaint little studio here that was a ConEd transformer container. Rumor around the park is there have been some quiet festive happenings happening there. ...a Edison vs. Tesla charge-off set to White Light/White Heat?

I'll Turn In Around 8

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 14:29:28 -0400

Around 4th Street, shows always hit or miss, venues occasionally mold-odorous and some of the best Italian restaurants. ...if you don't mind waiting two hours for a table. Within the ghost of Frutti de Mare ...another place you thought would last forever... comes another to make the gustatory decision ponderous. Belcourt, self-described as Parisian, ever changing menu, ..everything is good... wins one with one of the best mixologing -ist, cocktailing(?) happy hours... mmmm, bourbon.

Still Mysterious After All These Years

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 14:13:53 -0400

I have heard the tales of the theatre heydays in the 1800's. ...huge audiences, elaborate productions, stages so big you could float ships. Gone for over a hundred years as they moved up to the Great White Way. The Jefferson Theatre tuned into the Mysterious Lot on 13th, the Variety became a fuck-off condo, the 12th Street became a cinema. ...still with it's artwork in screen 1.
This has been a deli for as long as I can remember. As far as I know they use the theatre for storage. What was this place? What's inside it now? Are there any treasures in that cave? I still sit across in 7A longing for her secrets.

What!?!

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 11:42:32 -0400

Even before old, roaming about Friday night, finding every place just too crowded, too noisy, ...if they call them ass “holes,” why do they take up so much space? More often than not, popping our heads into Joe's Bar we'd find plenty of space, a welcoming, jovial bartender with the quaintest way of telling foreigners ...everybody... to tip, and a jukebox filled with country songs that never became cute no matter how much you drank. ...“The jukebox has great songs. Why'd you play those?” ...And who owns that back yard!
I wonder if it's still like that... I've asked as I've walked past it the past 10 years.

Now You Tell Me

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 15:39:02 -0400

Remember when friends came in and said, “I just go mugged.” You asked where and they said, “On 11th Street.” Then you said, “Oh yeah, don't walk down that street.” Now walk past the luxury garage ...Christ, did that place change..., deli ...hasn't changed at all..., and Beaux Arts Public Bath House ...once a relief from the cold water flats, now a fuck-all studio space..., and Holy ice cream ...uhm..., to find yourself at an astounding Italian place ...around here?!?... called Spina.

Some Good Coc

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 17:23:58 -0500

La Belle et la Bete is the one with the arms holding the candelabras, Orphée uses mercury and La Regle du Jeu has a great role for the director ...and isn't’ Cocteau. Nestled between the lot where wanker-banker Preserved Fish rots and the ever accommodating Daycare for Drunks... rots, the former courthouse, Anthology Film Archives, answers all your... Escape to where Disney’s sun don’t shine.

evnyc

nospam@example.com (evnyc) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:41:33 -0500

“...it is glorious and it sits right next door to death,” ends Luc Sante’s Low Life. So many come in looking, fighting for the dream, the excitement. Each unique in the beginnings or last hopes but united in the thirst for a chance... The swarms started coming in during the 1840’s from Western Europe, then Eastern Europe, then Latin America, then Jersey. Too expensive, too small, too crowded they raved through the maze eventually dropping off from exhaustion or success.
Now we startle at the bridge and tunnelers, the strollers, the chain stores, the SUVs and wonder for the low life which awakened and killed, perplexed and asking, “What is death?”