I hate to employ a cliche in my opening line, but New York really is the city that never sleeps. I don't know what it is about this place, or my life here, but I've had more nights that end with the sun coming up than ever before. A few weeks ago it was eating cheese with my roommates after getting home and seeing the dull light blue morning light streaming through the kitchen window. This weekend it was greeting the new day on a roof in the East Village and then crashing on a friend's floor.
Maybe it happens because bars are open so late. They do close eventually, though, as this poor guy found out. If I was locked in a bar in Williamsburg, I would be hella cranky. At least this guy retained a positive attitude.
literati
While perusing used furniture listings on Craig's list, I found this image of a dresser (that currently resides in Williamsburg) that's being supported by David Foster Wallace's classic humor novel Infinite Jest.It's certainly the most creative use of the big, sprawling novel I've seen yet. Almost as good as the collection of Kafka short stories that helped my butchered desk teeter over the radiator in my East Village bedroom.
Needless to say, I doubt this is what they mean when they say "Literary Brooklyn".
i love this
Just a moment ago, I was flipping through a dingy paperback of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, which I bought at the Strand for $0.48. I found the following message scrawled in black ink inside the front cover:"To Alison - This is not really a Christmas present, just something that you can read while you're waiting for the train. Your real present is far too precious to send through the post so it will have to wait until I see you. Take care, I love you. Graham."
I fear that something terrible must have happened between Alison and Graham. Maybe she dumped him. Maybe he died. Either way, this lovely memento ended up in a cart on the street. So, we can add the Strand's sidewalk sale as another place where relationships, or at least the vestiges of relationships past, go to die.
"she doesn't want to live off camera"
The subject line comes from Warren Beatty in Truth or Dare, the infamous Madonna documentary that rocked theaters in 1991. Madonna has always been on the forefront of overexposure, blazing the trail for the underwear-free, camera crew-addled reality starlets of today. The difference, of course, is that she had the albums to back it up.
My point, broad as this connection may be, is that oversharing is nothing new. I was fascinated, like many who write and read blogs, to read Emily Gould's New York Times Magazine cover story a few weeks ago. To my account, Gould has positioned herself as both a star and victim of the digital age. In the self-written deconstruction, she pours over the details of her stint at Gawker, her personal blog and the (inevitable) fallout of oversharing online. She does it with all the wit and insight of an emotionally prepubescent college English major, you know the type, who drinks gin and tonics and smokes Parliaments alone in the corner, all the while scanning the room and taking copious mental notes (I was an emotionally prepubescent college English major, so this is only meant to be mildly scathing). Just like the mid-90s era Madonna seemed unable to live off-camera, so too does the past and present Gould.
I'm in New York, but I don't run in the same circles as Gould and her ilk, those who seem to go through relationships and alliances by the keystroke. But Gould's self-portrait of victimization got me thinking: Why do we blog?
When I started this blog nine months ago, I wanted to track the movies I was watching and create a space where film could be discussed and enjoyed. Shortly after delivering on this promise, with posts on Death Proof and Back to the Future, I moved to New York and re-joined the living. Since that moment, this blog has been more about my life, and the New York existance I've created for myself. I still write about film, but more often than not there are posts about media, local news and odd observations and happenings. That's why I'm glad I chose a title like Bad Lighting ... it's obscure and nebulous and therefore all-encompassing.
After reading Gould's piece, I think all bloggers should ask themselves if their lives and actions would change if they weren't blogging. Or, better yet, is life worth living if it's not recorded and consumed? I would venture to say that Gould, like Madonna, isn't capable of functioning without making her life a traveling venue, except she's substituting the tour bus with the blogosphere. Who knows how she would act - or if she could exist - if she wasn't broadcast.
I've never hit a level of over-share worthy of a cone bra or cover story, so I think my life without this blog would be just the same. For me, this writing is an infrequent sidebar and a welcomed bright spot when I get the chance to post.
So, yeah, I'm not going anywhere.
My point, broad as this connection may be, is that oversharing is nothing new. I was fascinated, like many who write and read blogs, to read Emily Gould's New York Times Magazine cover story a few weeks ago. To my account, Gould has positioned herself as both a star and victim of the digital age. In the self-written deconstruction, she pours over the details of her stint at Gawker, her personal blog and the (inevitable) fallout of oversharing online. She does it with all the wit and insight of an emotionally prepubescent college English major, you know the type, who drinks gin and tonics and smokes Parliaments alone in the corner, all the while scanning the room and taking copious mental notes (I was an emotionally prepubescent college English major, so this is only meant to be mildly scathing). Just like the mid-90s era Madonna seemed unable to live off-camera, so too does the past and present Gould.
I'm in New York, but I don't run in the same circles as Gould and her ilk, those who seem to go through relationships and alliances by the keystroke. But Gould's self-portrait of victimization got me thinking: Why do we blog?
When I started this blog nine months ago, I wanted to track the movies I was watching and create a space where film could be discussed and enjoyed. Shortly after delivering on this promise, with posts on Death Proof and Back to the Future, I moved to New York and re-joined the living. Since that moment, this blog has been more about my life, and the New York existance I've created for myself. I still write about film, but more often than not there are posts about media, local news and odd observations and happenings. That's why I'm glad I chose a title like Bad Lighting ... it's obscure and nebulous and therefore all-encompassing.
After reading Gould's piece, I think all bloggers should ask themselves if their lives and actions would change if they weren't blogging. Or, better yet, is life worth living if it's not recorded and consumed? I would venture to say that Gould, like Madonna, isn't capable of functioning without making her life a traveling venue, except she's substituting the tour bus with the blogosphere. Who knows how she would act - or if she could exist - if she wasn't broadcast.
I've never hit a level of over-share worthy of a cone bra or cover story, so I think my life without this blog would be just the same. For me, this writing is an infrequent sidebar and a welcomed bright spot when I get the chance to post.
So, yeah, I'm not going anywhere.
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