Hollyhock House

The Hollyhock House is amazingly gorgeous, and in this NYT slidehow it's blocked by unnecessary adornment. I'd rather a slideshow of the renovations and recent reopening.

4D13

The driver shared a name and a face with the young-yet-retired investment banker I met while moving out of Tompkins Square Plaza.

I don't think it was him.

Recommendation

Here is where I recommend that you not read Shalom Auslander's Foreskin's Lament in a cab.
But, read it. It is good.

Plan

Tuesday night plans for the rest of the summer: dinner and a movie at The Farm on Adderley.

Last night, Eat For Victory and I sat in awe of:

1. the fact that they were willing to serve me the striped bass entree minus the striped bass. I'm allergic, but I was really interested in the mussels, asparagus, radish, pickled fennel, and fava beans that were supposed to be just on the side.

2. the fact that Saturday Night Fever is an amazing movie. Until the disappointingly slow dance number and the downer drama on the Verrazano Bridge.

We plan to be there every week.

Live-Blogging The Birth

They decided to live-blog the birth.

I won't link to it here because I think they'd prefer it to remain semi-private, if possible.
But, still, they did it. (The birth! And the blog.)

A relevant bit, posted via mobile phone:

"Twenty-four hours later, little [redacted] seems to be enjoying his first NYC taxi ride. After initial terror over the carseat, he’s sleeping like… well, a baby. We’ll see what he thinks about the potholes when we get downtown."

Baby's first NYT Sunday Styles piece?

826 on 8/26

Some children like to write books, some children like to eat books: buy tickets and support them both.

Tickets will be on sale today at 10:00 a.m. for the revenge of Revenge of the Book Eaters: a benefit for 826NYC at The Beacon Theatre on 8/26.

We promise a show in which: A.C. NEWMAN sings alone. GRIZZLY BEAR is a band. FEIST reads from a book. JIM JAMES croons. SARAH VOWELL speaks. DEMETRI MARTIN hosts.

www.bookeaters.org

The Funny Thing Is

That the cameras are broken, not lost.

New Rule

No talking.

I Think That

You should drive.

Ramp-Infused

I'm having trouble not thinking about the ramp-infused vodka with walnut oil served to me at Marlow and Sons. It was like drinking an amazing alcohol-based brine. I realize that that probably sounds gross. But, I promise, it was delicious. And, they publish Diner Journal.

Victorians Are The New

If all my friends are the New Victorians, does that mean that I get to be part of The Great Social Evil?


(via The New York Observer)

Things, Some

• Something about a close-up of a cockroach and a kind word from a friend.
• Something about I'm Not There, the trailer. (But it wasn't real.)
• Something about using antiperspirant on your face.
• Something about your attorney's lack of power.

Sounds Like You're A Slut

It was raining and windy and I had lots of important papers, and a camera, but no umbrella, with me. No cabs in sight, I called a car service. "5 to 10 minutes," they assured me. "He's just a few blocks away." After 20 minutes, I called to check the status. After 30 I called to cancel the car. I tried my luck again at the corner, and eventually I flagged a cab.

A few minutes into my ride, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, and I answered, unsuspecting of the wrath I'd hear when I did.

A man screamed at me in Arabic.

I know some male Arabic speakers, none of them have reason to scream at me, and the number didn't belong to any of them, anyway, so I hung up.

The screamer called back. I answered. This time he yelled, "I AM WAITING IN MY CAB." And then he continued with the screaming in Arabic. Mostly repetition of one word. He sort of howled it.

I hung up and the man driving the cab I was riding in told me that he'd heard all the yelling. I explained what I thought happened and he offered to tell me what the caller had yelled. It was so loud, he'd heard it all.

I called the car service and asked if they'd given my phone number to their driver. They had. Before or after my cancellation? Not clear.

They'd taken it from caller i.d. when I called initially. Just like I took the screaming driver's number from my caller i.d. when he called to scream at me two more times in the next few minutes.

(Q: Why did you answer your phone every time, Jen Snow? A: Because my name and my work number are on my outgoing voicemail message and I didn't think it wise to let him have that info too.)

The last time he called, I just said the word for "police," in Arabic. It sounded a little like the word he'd been screaming at me.

Refrain

I'm still not excited by pretend parties; i.e. birthday, "holiday."

(I'm surprised that this still surprises you. No offense.)

3B99

During my first (finally) ride in one, I noticed that the hybrid really is very high. And the driver, boxed in with plexiglass. Not just a partition. I couldn't even ask how much he saves on gas.

Things, Some

• Something about you writing a song for me and then running away and I'm tone deaf so I've no clue how it goes.
• Something about a yellow cab, an orange cab, and a green cab, in a line, but not in a race. The hills and the prices were steep.
• Something about shomer negiah.
• Something about now it's official: I own no working cameras more sophisticated than toys.

Itinerary

Today I will take a few taxis, and I'm not looking forward to any of them. I will carry lots of stuff to work. Then I will go to East New York, which is actually still in Brooklyn. There, I will hang out in the post office bulk mailing center which is actually a lot like a warehouse where they have no clue how to handle what they sell and they justify the low price you pay by making you do all their work (nonprofit rate, sorting, stamping, counting, sorting again) while they stare at you and complain. The cab will wait for me there, then take me back to work, and then, a few hours later another cab will take me to a wedding, on Long Island. Yes, on a Tuesday night.

Bonus round: Wednesday morning, 5:00 a.m., another cab, the airport.

Dizzy With Excitement

BOMB magazine's 100th issue came in the mail today.
Yes, you know someone who was an intern there.
Yes, Ed Park has a story on page 90 and I'm going to read it on the trip home!

6E99

Too hot to handle, too cold to hold.

Not really, but that song was playing on the radio.

7K40

Sounds almost like a weapon.
No, not very close.

Out

Even I wouldn't have advised you to take a cab to the Cyclones game. You can take credit for that not-smart move.

You missed many scoreless innings and a stop at L&B Spumoni Gardens. We had a real estate history lesson and I spilled stuff all over my dress.

I Passed Fresh Kills, But I Couldn't Hold My Nose, Because I Had To Keep My Hands On The Wheel And I Was Sort Of Holding My Breath Already Anyway

It seems that my family thinks that the way to cure anxiety attacks is to send me on long road trips alone and at night. They printed out directions, and added in handwritten notes, they promised it would be okay, and then they left me to find my way home. This wasn't when I was learning to drive, this was last night. I cried, and my hands are still sort of stuck in the position I held them in while gripping the steering wheel the entire ride, but I'm home, and I didn't take anti-anxiety pills because I was more worried about them making me fall asleep at the wheel than I was about finding my way. I guess my family won.

Remember The Time

This looks familiar.

Neither Stale, Nor Stuffy

Today is sort of stuffy and stale so maybe it's time for news about a place that is neither. On Sunday afternoon, the man at Gertel's told me that they are closing up on Hester Street on June 22. The building was sold. They'll operate, after then, wholesale only, in Williamsburg. He wouldn't sell me their sign.