Thursday, October 6, 2011

Some things don't change


1967 on Wall Street by Larry Fink

Also Steve Jobs died yesterday. I don't think I've ever had one person's name cover my entire facebook feed. It seemed like facebook itself was in mourning. The next day there seemed more room for criticism of the billionaire who didn't donate to charities. (Occupy!) Sometimes grief turns into indifference faster than NY cops can grab their pepper spray on liberty square.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Occupy Wall Street


Because you couldn't really get around it, and I'm not one to miss out on public expression of discontent, hope of a fair democracy and a need for a revolution. Also every once in a while I like to be part of a big group of people. Maybe it's a biological thing, I don't know.
The protesters were not allowed to use loudspeakers, so they communicated in a sort of echo. The person with something to say, sometimes one of the 'leaders' (Even though they kept declaring that there were no leaders) and sometimes one of the random protesters, would say it, and the people around them would repeat it loudly for the people around them. It was touching to see people who all had iphones in their hands constantly, for twitter, film and texting, had figured out a way to communicate messages to a huge amount of people in such a simple and primitive way. Some of the signs up in the air were straight out non sense ('Hitler's bankers!'), and discussions with the people that held them were mostly useless (I asked why bankers were nazi's according to him, and the man said they were worse than nazi's, because all millionaires were Jews. On a side note; he had about three teeth left in his mouth.) and there was an overall lack of humor on them which was disappointing. Politics are in constant need of a good pun. At least a nice alliteration. But the amount of generosity people showed and the interest and overall togetherness was moving. Something was happening-even though what exactly wasn't always clear. Not yet a 'movement,' but definitely in motion. Everyone was using cameras and filming everything that was happening just in case something was about to become history. And who knows. Today a group of five thousand people tried to occupy the Brooklyn bridge. The police started arresting people almost immediately. At the Manhattan side, the police stood in front of the entrance so no one could enter. Someone had put a camera in a plastic bag, and attached it to twenty colorful balloons. They held it by three separate strings so they could control where the balloons went, moving across the crowd.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

My street


A conversation today:
Man: Gucci bag?
Me: Oh, I'm ok, I live here.
Man: Oh yeah?
Me: Yup.
Man: What about a boyfriend? You need a boyfriend?

Also, when guys blast rap out of their cars, bobbing their head with the beat, driving past, this makes me happy.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Irony

is when you call a blog 'before I forget' and you think of a great thing you want to write about, and then the next day when you sit behind your computer and you forget what it was.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Irene


Is it strange that part of me is jealous of all the people New York? It's like all your friends are off to war, and you have to stay put and read about it in the newspaper. They come home and have been through something together. It might be a trauma, but still.
I imagine everyone sitting in their cosy homes, playing endless games of monopoly and finishing bottles of whiskey and gin. I could've read War and Peace in its entirety, while outside trees and houses soared by, and streets filled up with water.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Poster

Things in Italy I forget when I'm not there


How to say things like, Can I have, please, and my name is, in Italian.
Views that look like posters or set pieces.
The preference Italians have for gold, strappy shoes and sitting in stools in front of their house.
The taste of different kinds of ham.
The amount of wine it is possible to consume in one day.
That old Italian women sometimes look a lot like old Italian men. (One of them was exactly Christopher Walken)
The amount it work it must be to clean a house with so many useless antique trinkets.
Saltless bread.