Of Birthdays and Balls

Sadly I haven't been reading enough to write anything even mildly insightful about books, current events or anything at all. I can only write the second installment of what may become a lengthy series about my utter lack of productivity at the weekend, coupled with overindulgence in coffee and other beverages.

The downward spiral began with a Thursday afternoon shopping spree, followed by a day of coffee and cake at home with the family. Even without heat and sitting three-blankets deep in front of the fire for several hours, laughing with Mom and Dad made home feel like home.

Next came what can only be called a birthday extravaganza at a unique, if not somewhat confused, jazz-or-something-like-it bar in Chelsea.  This very queer venue has a restaurant vibe, yet with bottle service and guests dancing between tables, plus holograms on the ceiling, a fish tank through both floors of the space and what seemed like a Swing band disguised as a Bryan Adams cover band.

Birthday Girl

NYU's Charity Ball raised money on Saturday for Hurricane Sandy victims. 750 of us turned up and had a good time for a good cause.

Why This Page Exists

… not why I write per se (still trying to answer that question), but why I write here and to a faceless audience. Not surprisingly, another's insight prompted not only introspection, but a reconsideration of blogging in general: 

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
           - - Cyril Connolly

I suppose this means one should write secretly by candlelight with a feather pen and a jar of ink, then slip  the parchment into some secret compartment under a creaky floorboard to forever waste away in obscurity, all the while relishing in one's own brilliance and superiority over others who couldn't possibly undertake such a feat. Though a romantic notion that your long lost letters might be discovered (there's probably a Nicholas Sparks novel about it…), I'm not convinced that writing publicly renders the writing insincere. Bloggers (most of us, anyway) have no incentive to pander to the readers. 

I'm inclined to think we write because we have something to write about. And it's up to others whether they want to listen. So, in a sense, Cyril Connolly is spot on… write for yourself, irrespective of the (your) public. 

Escape from the Usual

Can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday than strolling through Greenpoint, popping into coffee shops and wandering aimlessly. Led by my favorite Brooklynite, was given a warm and sunny introduction to a previously unfamiliar part of town. Quaint and quiet side streets, casual brunch spots and coffee shops with enough seats to stay a while... I think I could get used to this. And maybe am already a little too comfortable. After returning to my own borough (3 coffees deep),  I've spent the rest of the afternoon browsing antique furniture shops and local book stores. Am now sitting at yet another coffee shop and doing… well, nothing at all.  And certainly not studying as planned. A silent protest against a school that apparently thinks any professor will suffice for introductory courses, regardless of experience or credentials? Perhaps. Ah, well. Off to drinks.  

Do the Happy Dance

Go-Bama, Go-Bama, Go-Bama! [Insert nerdy dance moves here]. I don't generally try to mimic the news and post real-time updates, but I'm overwhelmed with energy just itching to get out, even though we all knew who would win (thanks, Nate).

Saw my life with Romney as Commander in Chief flash before my eyes during those fleeting moments when he was ahead in the polls… the "haves" over the "have nots," Donald Trump's hair getting more air time than it already does, the sense that we better all fight for our own well-being because no one else is looking out for us, Ann Romney ('nuff said), repeal of healthcare reform, Dracula - er, I mean Paul Ryan, more military spending to pile onto the deficit and the return of polo shirts tucked into khakis.

… what a nightmare. Glad that's over. Back to work, Mr. President. Sorry for the diversion.

And the Empire State Building has been lit blue.

[not my own picture unfortunately]

The Boss Wants You to Vote

… and said so by campaigning in Wisconsin with the president today. I don't have a cool video about it, but I do have a video to remind you of how incredibly cool Springsteen is.

Behold Jimmy Fallon impersonating Neil Young impersonating Willow Smith (Will Smith's teenage daughter who released an album last year). Oh, and also Springsteen as himself... circa 1975?

Really doesn't get any better.

Grace

Was reading a Reader's Digest article a minute ago and was touched by a nice sentiment by our president. Just wanted to spread the word:

RD interviewer: What is your favorite word in any language?

Mr. President: Grace. I love the word grace because I think it captures what we strive for in life. It's not just an individual thing. It's not just a matter of excellence or something you've achieved. It's something internal to you, but it's something that's given to you. It's not just individual, but it has to do with your relationships with others. You know - those moments of grace that we have. Grace notes that we have in our lives."

...Eloquent and sincere, as always.

Will Ferrell Wants You to Vote

He'll make you angel hair pasta. Vote.

Welcome to New Jersey

It's like Hotel California. You can check out any time you'd like, but you can never leave. In this case it's because there's no public transportation back to the city and I'm not keen on hitch-hiking through the Holland tunnel with a trucker.

The thought of Sandy is still too raw to comment on - I've hardly processed it all. The photos from last night's telethon were alarming. A time to stay close to loved ones. If their support is all we have, then we have a lot.