Peace, Love and Sandy Feet

In recent news: I was shocked to learn that the Duchess was willing to put aside her differences with NYC's Fire Island and deign to return to its sordid shores.  

So she, Tess and I got in the van with some of my favorite NYC imports, sorry Rachel, you're Canadian now so it's true, eh? We drove to Fire Island, hopped on board a boat, sung several verses of the Lonely Island song most likely to get stuck in your head, felt the wind in our hair, befriended a dog, got annoyed at people who were not us and coveted the houses that lined the shore on our way to our destination.

Once there we made a bee-line for the beach. It was hot, and as you can tell from this picture,
so were we.


The water, however was freezing. Dave and I were happy to brave the waves and the cold

Thomas, not so much.

We napped, noshed, laughed, read magazines and loudly mimicked the obnoxious behavior (and Long Island accents) of the one party that had to sit next to us on an almost deserted beach. We marveled in awe at the world's largest beer belly and split our time baby slash Sun worshiping all the live-long day.

We spent the late afternoon walking through the town. Boardwalks span the entire island. Fire Island's terrain varies from jungle fever to beach couture. Everyone (and I mean everyone) rides bikes to get to and fro. There is lots of to and fro to be had.

The island is so laid back. It was an ideal place to chill with Rachel. She is one of my top three people to beach with, and considering my background, that's saying something. We fell in love with a thumbprint of a shop on the most leisurely walk I could desire.  I longed for Hawaii and an excuse to buy ocean things to furnish a sandy house with a view of the pacific.

I sketched on the sand. Once the sun fueled me enough to lift a pen, I abandoned sand sketching for my sketchbook. I penned lots of little thumbnails, each tiny line mocks of people far enough away to look like they were shot with Super 8. These were my favorite.

The day's end found us walking along the boardwalks or sitting, exhausted at the edge of a pier. People watching was prime and the company was grand. That evening on the boat back to shore, the sun waved good bye - a sunset cherry on our sundae of calm and happy content.

Here On the Street Where I Live

I love my neighborhood. If you google 'Carroll Gardens' it is not hard to see why. 

This weekend, after my eight hour Children's book intensive, I walked a new friend to the train. She could not stop gushing, 

"It's like you live in EUROPE!" 

--um...Yeah, I know.

I've said it before, but this is the best part of sharing the best part of New York my home with people. I look at it with fresh eyes when I am explaining its significance in my life.

Today I was going to review a book I bought a while ago on a visit to Community Book Store, but I decided -frack that. Instead I'm going to start by telling you about Community Book Store. I'll review the book later, and you'll appreciate it more, knowing that it was a diamond in the rough.  First, Let's look at this beautiful picture of my favorite neighborhood bookstore, taken in 1972....

LIES.

This was taken two weeks ago.
Have I mentioned that I love it here?If you make it through the front door, this is what you will find: 

This is the sorted part. As you fight your way further into the recesses of the store, things get sordid. It smells like dust and like books that have been well loved.

The part I like best is that you will never ever know what you will find. Like, for serious.For instance, I once found a turn of the century porno. It had a lovely dove blue cover and a letter pressed title. Five pages in, petticoats were being ripped off in hot passion, or excuse me in piquant moments of rapture. It was published in 1902. I've never used the word "score!" more appropriately as when it I unearthed it from a box of dusty tombs.

I have found long forgotten, terribly important children's books from my past here, cook books that fill me with glee (and butter), instructional encyclopedias that later assisted me in the fixing of sink pipes and the kind of monumental beautiful picture books that are made with hand etched plates.

The store is owned and presided over by The Bookman of Cobble Hill. I was going to put a picture that I took of The Bookman here, but Jacob Murphy, always does it best. See the rest of his beautiful series here.

The amazing thing is that even with the chaos and depth of The Community Book Store, The Bookman, knows where everything is. 

I showed up there a few weeks ago needing a copy of 'A Town Like Alice' for a birthday gift. We had one of our typical exchanges:

Me: 'Do you have A Town Like Alice?

Him: "A Town Like Alice, A Town Like Alice... A Town Like Alice............"Nevile Shute?"

The process is ten kinds of wonderful. He will give you a brand new copy, new releases and stuff publishers are releasing now (usually for 10-20% off list) are up front behind his 'desk'.

If a new copy isn't in his possession, he'll climb deep into the store, moving boxes, re-stacking piles of hardbacks, sometimes even reaching behind books in the shelves, they're stacked two deep. Then he'll simply hand you the volume you're in need of. 

A lot of times if I know I want something new, I'll have him order it for me. Afterall, I'm always looking for an excuse to stop by and see what's 'new' on the corner of Court and Warren.

Simply adding to the eccentricity of this dusty shop of horrors/wonders, The Bookman doesn't really keep typical hours.

On  breezy Summer nights you'll find him smoking his pipe on the  open store's steps well into the late hours of the night. Other times there will be a hand lettered cardboard sign in the window saying something like 'Gone until August - Vacation'. That is what I wanted to tell you about the street where I live today.

Coffee Break

Remember a few weeks ago when I blogged about my daily afternoon constitutional NYC side? Remember when I told you all about Starbucks and my fancy new coffee tumblr?



This morning I got texts from all over the globe alerting me as such:
"I JUST SAW THE STARBUCKS COMMERCIAL. SO RAD!!!"

Now you can see the Starbucks Commercial too!!



AND. AND. If you are reading this and it's still the 15th of April, you can shimmy on down to your local Starbux and get yourself a cuppa on the house, if you're taking the pledge and saving the world, that is, one cup at a time.

First Night At BroMu

Once a month the Brooklyn Museum (among many other museums in New York) hosts 'First Night'. This remarkable event occurs every first Saturday. It is something to see and something to celebrate with good friends and good food and interesting art.

These are my dancin' feet:

They are not to be confused with my 'just standing there feet'. For one thing, they are on this sick lit dance floor and even if I wasn't listening to crazy drum beats with hundreds of crazy Brooklynites I'd be dancing, just. because. of. the. floor.

One of the major perks about First Night is that it's always accompanied with an outrageous dance party.
out"RAGE"ous.
.

OH and it's ABSOLUTELY, TOTALLY, COMPLETELY, FREE.

Oh and it's open until way crazy late (as I think all museums should be all the time).

Oh. AND all the exhibits are open and free too.

What a recipe for fun.

Here's the one thing I illegally unknowingly snapped from the Kiki Smith exhibit. It's a clump of thorns.

No. It's a heart! Check out that shadow.
"Life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something."
Kiki just gets it. In that 'I hate men' kind of way. High-five, sister.
FYI - Kiki Smith's Sojourn is going strong 'til Fall
If it's been a while since you've been to First Night I suggest dusting it off. This is my favorite 'just girls' picture of the evening. With all that feminism everywhere it just didn't feel "right" to document any men.

If you're in the neighborhood for fun, and for Brooklyn - a beautiful combo. I suggest this white wonder of bloom and spring and Brooklyn - museum that is.

It is Time

Pratt's Annual Draw-a-Thon will commence at 7:00PM this Friday.

I will be there.
Will you?

Speak of it in hallowed tones.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAA!!!

A Serious Subject - A Typical Day in New York

This morning at 11:42 AM I recieved a phone call. This call came from my good "friend" Christian who has been MIA from Manhattan for far too long. He called me why? To tell me A) That he loved my NYC - centric post from yesterday and B) That he just didn't believe it.

When I challenged him he airily replied, "Oh, I believe that you saw all that stuff yesterday, I just don't believe that's typical."

-- "Oh yeah, Christian? I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!"
(Thanks Shakespeare) Seriously, there were probably better things to say but that's my go to when someone tries to throw down. The Bard is often my first defense.

I decided to deny the hunger pains that set in around 1:30 and wait until 2:48 When Christian promised he would meet me so I could recreate the events of yesterday for his jaded eyes.

He showed up and told me that he had to run to 18th Street to pick up a book he'd ordered from our favorite travel store there. He'd already eaten! I was indigent. The nerve! He explained that he was STARVING by 1:30 and he couldn't hold out. Even though he couldn't get to the Flat Iron District before 3, he could get to Chinese food by 2.

FINE.
I called my mom and sulked in the sun while I woofed down my lunch. Seriously, how does lunch taste SO much better at 3:15 than it does at 1:00? My need to win this battle became more acute. OH we'd just see who'd win this one...oh yes we would. (Spoiler Alert - I probably wouldn't blog about this if it documented my defeat).

Coffee Tree Art being meticulously built by Starbucks in the main court in front of the Flat Iron?
CHECK

One of the happy results of going out there to see this again was the baffling progress on it.

Also one of the cute boys from yesterday actually remembered me (score!) and let me look at the grid they were using to arrange these cups. It looks like a gigantic cross stitch grid. Yay for needle crafters.

OH AND he let me get in past the barriers they'd had to put up to keep the crazy crowds from stepping too close to the coffee and cocoa filled cups of color.

I'll admit that if I hadn't been given the chance to get this close to them I might have died. They were the flame to my moth. They will totally serve as prime inspiration for the next set of coffee illustrations I tackle. It was so hard to not touch them.

"Seeeeeeeee?" I demanded of Christian.

--"Yeah, but what about a model shoot. I bet that doesn't always happen here."

I scanned the crowd of late afternoon lurkers. "OH YO, OH YO" I found several small groups of women who were for some reason unable to keep the attention of their husbands/boyfriends/coworkers. Why? Why were these women suddenly powerless? Why did they sound like Charlie Brown's teachers? Why were the men ALL staring slack jawed into space?

Oh I know:

I had to get back to job-job so we didn't have time to go wandering in the park.

On the way back we almost walked smack into Chris March, who I see at least three times a week. He was carrying a huge bag from MJ Trimmings - typical. In a sad display for gay-men-who-hate-stereotypes everywhere, Christian practically fell over in signs of awe amazed worship. "I LOVE the dress you designed for Marlyn at the OSCARS" he practically yelled. I about died. Fawning over celebrities and designers is so not New York, especially when you're just going through a typical NYC day. Sadly for Christian by this point I'd buried my camera in my bottomless BoHo bag.

"Do you think if I come out next week we'll see him again and I can take my picture with him THEN?!"
--"Oh yes, my friend, I'd say it's pretty likely...."

Yay for Spring, Friday, Friends, and WINNING!
Happy Friday! Thank Goodness it's here.