A blog that was supposed be made up of bits about cab rides and blurbs about beauty products but, instead, is about other things.


Two Truths And A Lie

You can just hop on trains. Fixed focal length lenses are fine. It was totally awesome that you kissed that Dutch girl who looked like a cross between Kelly Osbourne and Mena Suvari when you said you were just running off to the bathroom.



Been around the world and I...

Uh, I don't know you and even I can't believe you just decided to sing that song.



"We share the cab. We live in the same building. That building, there. I park the car and I leave the key on top of the tire. The front tire. On the passenger side. Then the other driver takes it, drives a shift. And then he does the same."

I'm not sure why he told me this.

Perhaps he thought that by virtue of me being in his cab, I'd have no means by which to travel to it at another time to steal it.


Following Directions Is Fun

It is "The Weekly Newsletter You Print Out At Work," and although I usually read it on the computer screen, today I printed it out at work, and I read it in a cab, and I enjoyed it! Maybe even more so than previous issues! Issues I read while not following directions! You should subscribe. And then print out your issues. Even if you're not at work. Paper is cheap and The New-York Ghost is special. And not scary.


Short Trips

  • LA art? Not my scene. (NYT)

  • Today, little appeals to me less. (NYM)

  • I love this vase. And this. Because sometimes other people's dishes are dirty. (Fred)

  • This is sad. And a little confusing. But it's tangentially about Levittown, so I'm in. (NYM)

  • Hey, hot shot, you should apply. (Jen Bekman Gallery)

  • I'm about to buy a pair of glasses. This method, a new low. (Ebay)



From the backseat it sounded like 25 minutes of:
"Blah blah blah Brooklyn. Blah blah blah blah — Brooklyn — blah blah blah. Brooklyn? Blah! Blah, blah, blah, Brooklyn, blah, blah, blah, blah. Brooklyn. Blah, blah Blah, Brooklyn! Blah blah blah Brooklyn. Brooklyn. Brooklyn. Brooklyn..."


Bring Back

I pulled up in a cab just as yours was driving away.
I noted the medallion number. (Of your car, not mine.)
I took bets, with myself, about what you'd left in it.

I didn't expect you to tell me it was a toaster, a travel alarm clock, and a box of magazines.



  • Something about sincerity.



Not East.
It says so on the street sign.
W. Not E.

(I'm not sure how to respond to your claim that you cannot read.)



Not A Taxicab Confession

I do not know how to whistle and I cannot wink.


Short Trips

- Sufjan Stevens defines Friend Rock. (Finally. And from a performer, yet.) Speaking of the genre, I'd be a bad friend if I didn't tell you that on Sunday night, you should be here. (AK)

- Jonathan Lethem's You Don't Love Me Yet is out. There was a party at Bookcourt Tuesday (mid)night. The crowd, community-based, which is sort of cheesy, in a really sweet, supportive way. The Night Time (another fine example of Friend Rock) played an acoustic version of an appropriately cheesy/sweet rock-out song they recorded at Lethem's request. We got mix cds made by a character in the book. (Echoing his Promiscuous Materials Project is Lethem's generous offer -- titled "freelove" on his website -- of the rights to adapt this story too. I'd love to ask him to sit on a panel on art and copyright. With David Byrne? Who else?)

- Rachel Sklar sends a message to snark-for-the-sake-of snark, stands up for girls. Admirable move, Ombudsblogger. (ETP)

-"People can consciously suppress laughs, but few can make themselves laugh convincingly." (NYT)

- The World, Explained. (826NYC)


Things, Some

  • Something about a sound-proof booth.
  • Something about sitting in the front seat.
  • Something about one-shouldered shirts and two and a half piece suits.
  • Something about waiting for the weather.
  • Something about her voice shaking. And cobblestone.
  • Something about tonight that smells like the bottle of shampoo we bought in Italy the week we shared a shower with strangers we never saw. (Now that I smell it again, I think we might have had dish soap.)
  • Something about remembering to forget the receipt.


Moving Violations

A paper arrest?
Is this even possible?

Either way, I'm pretty sure the proper response to "What does this mean?" isn't:
"You can't drive, but I bet you can read. You wear those 'smart' glasses, so read it yourself."

I guess I'll ask him again in court.



Yes, it is nice that your wife packed a bagged lunch for you.
No, I don't want a sip of your juicebox-sized Lactaid.

Yes, I can see that it fits into the slot between the handle and the door. Yes, it is perfect.

(I'm not tolerant of much, but I can handle lactose. Never fake milk, and never anything from an undersized straw that's been in a strange driver's mouth. Sorry.)


The Gulf War Did Not Take Place

I sort of loved The Gulf War Did Not Take Place.

Baudrillard's NYT obituary, however, is a pretty poor piece of work. Mentioning The Matrix in the first sentence? Ending with a bored retort to banal criticism? I saw the man speak only once and I know that he deserves something much funnier than that.

(And the cover of the new paperback is not nearly as pretty as that on the first.)


Sumimasen (Or, I Am Sorry To Bother You And Thank You For Doing This.)

For the past few years, a common refrain has been, "Let's quit what we're doing and open a Muji store in New York!" Luckily, it's being done for us. I'm happy. Even (especially?) if they keep knocking-off Asfour bags.



Yes, that's your tip.
No, I don't want one from you.


Short Trips

  • THINGS WE DON’T UNDERSTAND AND DEFINITELY ARE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT is "a tale of heartbreak and obsession that is so familiar you could tell it yourself." And Miranda July is, as always, spot-on and gorgeous. (The Kitchen)

  • On Wednesday night, at Union Hall, I saw Changing Your Life One Song At A Time, a super bill made up of: Tim Fite (uh, who knew there was more talent in Little-T than the magic that created Shaniqua?), Will Kidman/Woolly Leaves (such sweet strum-y songs), and Marla Hansen (who turns the viola on its side, literally, and to beautiful effect, and who was backed on two songs by "Steve Stevens." If she wasn't so great, her joke and her giggle about that allonym -- and her own: Marla Maples -- might have stolen the show).

  • Not a short trip: SA goes to Iraq, tomorrow. (THFTNR)

  • The Vegas Diner is closed by the Board of Health on the same day that it was featured in The Village Voice (in a story by CZ and beneath a photo by me). CZ closed a chapter with the VV this week too. We're proud of her. (VV)

  • I like Libertine. I like the copies I've made (with stamps and lots of newspaper spread on top of my kitchen table) of Libertine clothing even more. And now, a Target line. (I doubt there will be a down-market version of the Libertine/Goyard collaboration, though.) (RADAR)

  • Ceci n'est pas un cab part two. (NYT)



A short school bus spent the night in the yard with two taxis.
(I passed it on my way to work.)
A pair of regulation-size school buses slept there too.
jensnow(AT)gmail(DOT)com. All content Copyright 2008. You can visit me at Things I Don't Understand And Definitely Am Not Going To Talk About (thingsidontunderstandand.tumblr.com) and at www.jensnow.com.