Damn Yankees

My buddy Eric flew in from San Francisco and took me to my first and last game in Yankee Stadium. There's no way I could have afforded the incredibly expensive tickets to the last homestand, so thanks to Eric for his charity. The game was set for Friday night, and after an hour of standing around in a stupid looking $5 poncho, the game was called off.














Last night we made it to the makeup game. Because of the rainout, the stadium was only half full and half the regulars were on the bench, but it was a great game. I somehow managed to check off almost everything you would want to see in your first and last game at Yankee Stadium.

Grand Slam landing in our section? Check
Appearing on the Jumbotron? Check
A Nathan's Coney Island dog? Check
A Mariano Rivera save? Check
Derek Jeter scoring the game-tying run thanks to his hustle? Check
Crazy woman behind us yelling about how she was going to "Bite Derek Jeter's ass"? Check (unfortunately)
A-Rod striking out on a called third strike in a clutch situation followed by the entire stadium booing him? Check

Apologies, Dear Readers...

I've been incommunicado.

Turns out there's not much to write about when you spend all your time job hunting.

For those of you who don't have much regular contact with me, here's the latest:

I'm finally gainfully employed. I'm teaching at 2 different private language schools. The first is in Flushing in the morning. It takes me 1 1/2 hours on the subway to get there, but the class is nice. And it pays ok. In the evening (and Saturday morning) I'm teaching on the upper west side. That job's only 1 hour away. 40 hours a week, but 5 hours a day commuting between the two jobs. That will change soon. Once I can afford my own place, I'll probably dish out the cash to get an apartment closer to the night job so that I only have to commute in the mornings.

In addition, I'm doing a little writing work for a friend (thanks Deb) and I'm just starting up some writing for a series of community newspapers under the moniker The Brooklyn Star and/or the Queens Ledger. I'll post links when I have some stuff printed.

So, them's the breaks. New York is great. Within a few weeks I'll actually have enough money to enjoy it. I spend a lot of time on the subway.

Yeah. But at least now I'll have a little time to write.

Take My Hand, It's Off To Nether-Netherland

I had been planning to write about the parakeets in Greenwood Cemetary. But Joseph O'Neill beat me to it in his latest novel "Netherland". To punish both him and you, I'm going to post an excerpt from his book, which you should all read. If you already have, read it again?

We drove through Park Slope. A plotter's grin formed on his face. We took a sharp turn, passed under a huge pair of arches, and halted at a prospect of grass and tombstones.

He had brought me to Green-Wood Cemetery.

"Look up there," Chuck said, opening his door.

He was pointing back at the entrance gate, a mass of flying buttresses and spires and quatrefoils and pointed arches that looked as if it might have been removed in the dead of night from one of Cologne Cathedral's more obscure nooks. In and around the tallest of the trio of spires were birds' nests. They were messy, elaborately twiggy affairs. One nest was situated above the clock, another higher up, above the discolored green bell that tolled, presumably, at funerals. The branches littered a stone facade crowded with sculptures of angels and incidents from the gospels: a resurrected Jesus Christ prompted Roman soldiers to cover their faces with their hands, Come forth, a second Jesus exhorted Lazarus.

"Parakeet nests", Chuck said.

I looked more carefully.

"They come out in the evening", Chuck assured me. "You see them walking around here, pecking for food". As we waited for a parrot to show he told about the other birds--American woodcocks and Chinese geese and turkey vultures and gray catbords and boat-tailed grackles--that he and his buddies had sighted among the sepulchres of Green-Wood during his birding days.

I was half-listening at best. It had turned into a freakishly transparent morning free of clouds or natural inconsonance of any sort. Huge trees grew nearby, and their leaves intercepted the sunlight very precisely, so that the shadows of the leaves seemed vital and creaturely as they stirred on the ground--an inkling of some supernature, to a sensibility open to such things.

There was still no sign of parrots. Chuck said"This is by the by. There is something else I want to show you."


That about sums it up. If you're still reading this, you get a cookie.

This is how New York makes me feel

Picture courtesy of James

The New Fero

His name is Bucky. And unlike Fero, he has a nasty temper. I'll see if I can get some video of him mauling me for no good reason.