New York: Hygiea & Aesculapius

Wednesday, the family was going to Atlantic City.  Mark convinced me that...

1. all the riff-raff Giuliani drove out of NYC had resettled in Atlantic City (I've since been corrected by LGL that Giuliani drove no one out of NYC and that all New Yorkers hate him equally), 
2. the beach is uninviting (apparently, there are Biting Flies Which Leave Scars), 
3. I'd be kicking my heels in some casino hotel with flamingo decor unless I decide to 
4. get stabbed to death for my new super-zoom camera as I "wander around aimlessly photographing buildings." 

So I opted to stay with our friend LGL for the night and catch a plane home next next day.

I managed to wake up, kiss everyone (well, almost everyone) goodbye, take a bus to The City, get to LGL's apartment, and by 10 AM was more or less hoofing through the streets of New York City's Lincoln Center District and headed in the general direction of the MET.

"Oh! Paparazzi!" LGL's doorman said as I left the apartment.  "Nice camera."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm going to bag me some gargoyles!"

Many years ago, on 70th Street near Amsterdam Street (which I keep wanting to call Holland Street), there used to be a place called "Cafe Motzart," that served hot chocolate and pastires -- alas, it is no more.  However, across 70th are some pretty fierce looking gargoyles that I took pictures of long ago...possibly  with film.  This time around I managed some close-ups.   And then I got the old Knights of Pythias Temple next door--complete with Sphinxes and Lamassu.    

Eventually I passed Strawberry Fields in Central Park, and retraced our path to Bethesda Park.   I  should say at this time it was about 11 A.M. and close to 90 F, with a heat index of 95.   "Sweat is fat crying," I thought to myself as I found a water fountain.   A street musician played his guitar along with a recording of "Black Magic Woman."   The sun was in a different part of the sky from that last time Mark, The Child and I visited, and new panels were in shadow.  I found the Owl and Bat from last time, and a Halloween Witch sculpted into one of the columns.  More Bethesda Terrace pictures here.


I walked and walked and found Cleopatria's Needle.  By now it was close to noon, and the concrete plaza around the needle was fiercly bright and hot.  The needle seemed to be on a bike path--there were little chalk arrows directing traffic around the needle, and cyclists kept wheeling around it.   I took some obligatory pictures of the needle and then found a water fountain to drink from (while a virtual Mark reminded me to stay hydrated).

I was on a mission to find a freize of Hygiea & Aesculapius at 1213 Fifth Avenue.  I thought it was near the MoMa.  But it wasn't.  I thought it might be beyond the Museum of Jewish History.  But it wasn't.  I thought it might be beyond the Engineer's Gate.  But it wasn't.  By this time I'd convinced myself that the address was 1513, and as the building numbers slowly climbed my heart slowly sank.

Fifth Street went over a small rise.  I walked past Mount Sinai General Hospital and then The Children's Hospital and then the Woman's Hospital, and I thought, OK.  Maybe,... just... one... more... building.

But it wasn't.

Despite hydrating at various water fountains, I was feeling like I'd sweated a half-gallon, and I was kind of hungry.

  

There was one more building that looked like it could be interesting, and then I should turn around and head to the MET for lunch (and water and shade).  

As I drew closer, I saw ... animal grotesques!  This was it!  I went around the corner of 101st and Ascepilus and Hygea were there, arms wide with bowls and a serpent.  And a ton of other grotesques. The reference book I'd seen them in had only really covered one or two of the many figures decorating the building.

And then the half-full battery icon appeared in the camera's screen.  I photographed the whole building with wild abandon, capturing more snakes, and pigs, and healers, and gargoyles, and other building motifs.  Full photoset here.

Then it was time to head back to the MET.  Along the way I took photos of gargyoles and other interesting features I'd missed coming back the other way.   This stretch of Fifth Avenue was slightly sketchier than the bit around the museums, but not horrifically so.  I reminded myself to be aware of where I was and who was around -- but really, downtown Eugene at Broadway and Charnelton is much worse.   The trees shading the west side of Fifth Street gave welcom respite from the sun and occassional support for super-zoom shots.  The small of my back and my forearms were sweaty.

I entered the MET.  Normally, I might have eaten somewhere else, but I was hungry and resigned to the sticker shock of lunch.  I traipsed through the "Heavenly Bodies" installation in the Medieaval Wing and to the cafeteria.  Actually, traipsed isn't the right word because there were tons of folks in the way and gawking at Catholic Mass Inspired Haut Couture.  I have a vague recollection of a mannequin crowned with a wide swath of crumpled black ribbon...  

After lunch -- by this time it was 1:15 -- I returned to the Mediaeval Hall and looked at the fashion.  There was an Over The Top Crown and some other, sort of Madonna-or-Billy-Idol-inspired, bridal dress, and nuns and choir gowns.  I took a few sculpture shots, and a better shot of the brass bird finial, and then the camera's battery died.  I love the camera, but I wish it gave a more nuanced reading of the battery's power level.  

I kicked myself for not having the spare battery I'd charged on me, and then I went to look at all my old MET friends.   I spent long moments just looking at Death Staying The Young Artist's Hand, and the Elamite Cow (yay! The Cow was back!), and the Temple of Dendur, and the Matte Black Sarcophagus That Defies Photography, and the Statuette of Falcon-Horus Protecting Phaoroh. I visited Queen Hapshutsut Seated ("Oh My Queen...") and lingered over the gazelle head crown of a Harkonian Princess.   The Music Wing was open, and I went up to view the Pipe Organ -- which I don't remember having visited before.  I enjoyed seeing the cut-away view of the brass reed pipes and the risers.  I especially appreciated how the curators had arranged various horns so that they radiated away from what is probably the oldest horn ever:  a conch shell.

There's something to be said for walking through the halls of the MET without a working camera.  When I'm taking photographs, the artifacts of the MET become subjects to arrange into a 3x5 composition, my relationship to the items becomes acquisitional--if I can't own the object, I will collect an image of it--and the visit turns into a kind of birder's checklist; when I don't use the camera I can take time to appreciate the pieces as art, or religious tools, or scientific implements, or luxury goods.  

My legs were sore from so much walking, so I wound down in the final hour of my visit with the Babalonian Lamassu with the lion claws (the other one has bull hooves).   I'm not too keen on the texts of Ashurnasirpal's ordering everything, but something about the bird-headed genni tending the tree of life with their pinecones and wrist-watches and little purses is relaxing.  

I managed a quick jaunt through the Greek and Roman wing, gazed at a collection of Medusa's heads, and then MET security began shooing people out.

New York Summary. pt 1

Friday night, we drove up to Portland and stayed at a motel.  The bed was hard, and the walls were thin.  We  didn't sleep well, and Mark commented that it was the most amount of money wasted in a long while.  (Next time around I think we should just leave the house at 2 AM.)   This is is a usual problem with flying from Portland or Eugene to New York:  the flights either leave at 5:30AM or they're red eyes.

Saturday morning at 4, The Child, after sleepwalking and sleep-whispering to the bathroom half the night, turned on the light to make coffee for Mark.  I think he was excited to see everone in New York, and that made his sleep odd.  We drove to the airport, found pakring, and then hung out in the concourse.  Our flight was uneventful.  I sort of napped; The Child passed out 20 minutes away from Newark.  (He did this about three years ago when he willed himself to stay up all night so he could watch the sunrise over New York from our flight.)

In the past, we've either had someone pick us up from Newark Airport or else we've taken trains.  This time around, we rented a van, and Mark drove us to Suffern.  It was shockinglly easy (and not exactly cheap).   When we arrived, Mark's mother had been busy frying chicken, and we had a nice dinner with Melora, Melissa, and Christina.   Veronica joined us a little later. 

Sunday, I helped Melisa replace the kitchen sink's faucet.  I'm not sure how the old one broke, but the super-glue fix only lasted about two weeks.  Replacement involved several wrenches, a screwdriver, and shears.  And a trip to the hardware store.   Later, we made a trip to downtown Suffern to photograph historical landmarks.   I think the Laffette Theatre was my favorite landmark because it had all sorts of curley-cues on it; but the old bank building was a close second.

In the evening, we atteneded a Rockland Boulders baseball game.  We met Veronica's husband, Joe; and his dad, Joe Senior; and son Joey.  Our seats were behind and a little above home plate.  I tested the camera by taking a picture of the family from the opposite side of the stadium.  What struck me was how much the Boulder's game was like an Emerald's game:  people in food costumes raced, someone in a birthday cake outfit led the fans in a round of "Happy Birthday," the local high school cheerleaders shook tinsel pompoms, small children had eating contests, and the MC was a big guy.   The home team was shut out by The Jackals.  

 Monday, Mark, Arthur and I took a train to New York, where we met LGL for lunch in a Kosher Deli (no bacon cheeseburgers for us!)   Our waiter was hilarious (and kicked out of Hebrew School).   I managed a few gargoyle and building shots -- Mark and The Child were very tolerant of my stopping  as we walked our way to the United Nations.  (We passed by "Africa House," which The Child reminded me had been renamed "Wakanda House" in the recent Black Panther movie.)

I hadn't realized that the U.N. is neutral territory, so visiting was like visiting another country.  Mark had to be our contact person and get profiled; The Child and I got special bracelets but no fancy ID stickers like the one Mark had to wear.   We made our way across the sculpture courtyard and into a visitor's center, which was a little like going into an airport concourse.  There were folks of various ethnicities mostly wearing suits and clutching folders and briefcases as they walked between meetings.  Our U.N. tour was interesting -- our guide spoke about the U.N.'s mission to prevent wars, remove active landmines, and promote education.  There was a lot of inspirational art inside, and I tried not to get too distracted by The Things as our guide led us through the building.

 We hooked back up with LGL, found a yarn store (Mark is knitting socks for LGL) and found a pizza place in Greenwich Village (more photos).  Then we took the train back to Suffern.  We listened to a British family speaking about table-top games and American movies.  Someone in the lower deck was singing AC/DC's "Big Balls" which meant I got to tell The Child how his Aunt got into big trouble for singing the lyrics over the telephone to a friend when The Grandfolks listened in on the line.

Tuesday started out slowly.    I still felt a little bit like I was on West Coast time; sort of awake, but tired at the same time.  

Megan and her sons came to Suffern in the afternoon and everyone except Grandma and Melora went to Playland (where they filmed "Big").  I'm trying to think when the last time I went to Playland was -- at least five or seven years.  It was smaller than I remembered it... I think seven years ago we spent a lot of time in Kiddie-Ride area, but all the kids are 13 years or more old now, so that cut out about a third of the park.  Which is a little too bad, because some of the more old-timey signage and figures are there.

I had hoped to photograph some of the old carousel horses there -- there are some from the early 1900's -- but the carousel was completely shuttered up.  I don't know if there was a fire or a hurricane or what:  all the metal garage doors on the carousel's shack were down.   



Most of the rides bother Mark's balance, so he took some pictures while the rest of us whirled about.  I rode the Dragon Coaster (which I'm always convinced is going to decaptate me because I'm taller than the average 1920's person).  

I think my favorite thing about PlayLand is the light tower, which looks like it should be the lair of some mad scientist, or the citadel to a Utopia from Yesterday's Tomorrow.  

Moon and Writing

I've been going to the gym this last week.  Alas, the four extra pounds that I picked up during my absence are sticking around.  I've been avoiding the machines downstairs to keep from straining my shoulders and elbows, slicking to about 30 minutes on the elliptical and about fifteen on the seated cable row machine (set to 5 our of 10 resistance level).   I will have to ease into some free-weight work.

I wrote a short, 1000 word essay and edited it yesterday.  After sharing it, it's possible that I've been less motivated to write lately because Ursula Le Guin, Dianna Rodgers, and Kate Wilhelm died in the first part of 2018.  Okay, and other reasons, too; mostly dealing with various Deadly Sins and poor semi-colon, colon, and em-dash usage (I'm re-reading Fowler on stops). 

In other news, I've continued to photograph the moon.  What's most interesting to me is how the moon's terminator picks out details of different craters as it sweeps along; individual features creeping into the sharply contrasted light recede into a grey-scale texture by the next day.  I will have to re-aquatint myself with some of the more prominent craters and mountains, because I think the only ones I can name are Aristarchus and the Bay of Rainbows. 




I visited my folks yesterday.  The picture I took of all of us looks absolutely dreadful I'll share better photos of us when I take one.  In the meantime, have a lotus. 

Vancouver, Washington

Last night I was hoping to see the crescent moon next to Venus.  The smoke from various fires -- I'm not sure if the haze was from British Columbia or California -- obscured Venus completely and turned the moon into a ribbon of orange rind. 


Over the weekend we visited some friends in Vancouver, Washington.  I had some time, so I wandered around the old downtown.  I didn't visit the old Bell Exchange Building, mostly because I can never quite remember where it is.  I managed to get a close-up of a stone lion's face (see Aug 11's photos), which when I showed a local resident expressed surprise that it was there (just two blocks away from her shop).

I strolled by the city's fish bell tower, and took some obligatory bronze salmon statue photos.  The downtown park features a house from the 1880's, similar to Eugene's Shelton McMurphy house, and I took a few pictures, but the lighting wasn't the best and there was a huge beer-garden party going on in the park with unaesthetic cyclone fencing all around everything and lending an air of internment camp to the day.  Only with 80's rock.

What I like best about old houses like this is the detail work around the locks and door nobs and nooks.

When The In-Law Visits...

 Cicero's brother, Spencer, came over to the house.










He came for breakfast, but we're only supposed to feed him the stray snack or two, so I put up the unfinished breakfast bowls Cicero and Smokey had left behind (I suppose I qualify as a crazy cat lady, because when I heard Spencer rustling around in the kibble, I could tell it wasn't Cicero or Smokey).

(I got lucky with this mid-pounce shot.  A second later and my camera strap was a kitty toy.)







Spencer stayed for some chin skritches, and then went outside.  I wasn't sure where the other cats were, and Spencer seemed to be looking for them.  Since he's a photogenic cat, I got out my camera.





The cats in general seem to not like having the cameras too close, but the new zoom lens lets me stay far enough away that they don't seem to mind it too much -- although Spencer did want to come up and sniff the lens mid-session.


And then it was time to go on with my day...

Mid August Update

Once again I've gotten behind on my blogging.

Mark and I recently celebrated our fourteenth year marriage anniversary.  We got each other nice little gifts and treated ourselves to a fancy dinner out (the fancy dinner also combined with his birthday celebration.  It's not all rainbows and unicorns, but being married to Mark makes me a better person, and I hope that I bring as much joy to Mark as he brings to me.

Today is pleasant (70-80F) and the sky is clear; but the previous weeks have been in the mid 90's, with a lot of haze from a large fire south of the Willamette Valley.  The smoke is not as bad as it was last August, but there's still enough smoke and dust and pollen in the air that I wake up with runny eyes and nose.   

The gym... has gotten out of my routine, and I need to fix that.  On the plus side, my left elbow joint feels much better.  On the minus side--and I wish it were a little more minus--I think I've gained about five pounds.  Certainly my girth has summoned my abdominals to siege.   

Writing... on the plus side, I submitted a short story to a market.  It's a good story, and I expect it's chances are as good as previous stories I've sent out -- which is to say I expect a "this is a fine story but we're going to pass for unarticulated reasons" rejection.    In the minus side, I looked at the word-count report for the novel . . .  and I'm about ready to chuck the whole thing.   The writing has become mechanical and the plot sort of "a day in the life."  Sigh.  Well... OK, maybe not chuck the whole thing; there's probably four or five short stories hiding in there, so maybe I should rework the corpus into linked stand-alone stories.  

Casting back to longer pieces... I've got one long piece that has been alternatively critiqued as visually stunning an descriptively exhausting -- I suppose technically it's ready to send out, but I've been reluctant to because the negative critiquers' voices have been stronger.   I've got a series of five short first-encounter stories which straddle the boundary between short story and chapter -- and I haven't looked at them in about a year because I had a sense that most critiquers hated them or were confused by them. I've got a stalled novella that deals with some sexual taboos, and I need to figure out why I keep backing away from it -- which is tied up with wanting to write about male sexual pleasure without the piece sliding into erotica/porn.   I've got an attempt at a science fiction novella/novel length story that has been living in a drawer for over four years... which stalled out and I'd have to remind myself why, but I think I was trying to do too much.  I suppose there's some writers' guide to not stalling one third of the way into longer pieces that I need to read.

Taking the long-view.... I found the latest round of "we're not looking for/we can't use this story" rejections has been really frustrating and it's almost enough to make me want to give up on writing.   On one hand, I know I could do better market research, but on the other hand it seems like the stories I want to write simply aren't popular with paying markets.   

Oh well.  On a more cheery topic, I've been able to take some nice pictures of the moon and architectural details.

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