5:45 waiting for the A train

And back again
 

The District Sleeps Tonight

On the Coast
 

Such Great Heights

To LA 

"New Post"

This post will be about the fact that this is a new post. I'm busy. With things. I'm excited for an article I'm writing for the magazine PresentTense, but I can't even think about that now, as I'm doing too much other shit. I will no longer use the word shit on this blog. I might be going to Barnes and Noble tonight, just so I can feel intellectual and smug. How stupid is that? Anyway, I'm really busy, and this blog has been getting too many hits. Stop coming here. I'm just a megalomaniac. There was a really good article I just read on Slate about how the internet is all about being a megalomaniac. I agree. But my site is different, because while whatisdavedoing.com is about a boring person, bibliophile is about me, and I lead an exciting life. And am too cheap and un-computer savvy to have my own real website.

Also, I wrote half instead of have today. I am a genius.

Words of Wisdom from Regina Spektor

This is how it works
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took

8 pm warsaw tomorrow - I'll be there

Dream Catcher

I've been going to sleep incredibly late lately,almost early, between four and five. In consequence, I'm guessing (because I can't figure out any other reason why) I've been having incredibly strange, vivid dreams.

Last night, I dreamed that I was in the San Francisco, California area for Pesach with my extended family. It was the first night of Pesach, although it was daytime, and we were all outside our hotel hanging out and getting ready for the seder, which would be in the next room. Suddenly, there was a huge explosive sound, and we saw a space-ship flying through the air, leaving a thick trail of black smoke. "Oh," my father said, "that's the new space-ship". So then I wasn't worried, because I knew it was planned, and was going into space. But then the space-ship skewed off course and the bottom part fell off, and into the hills above our view. The top of the space-ship made it into space though. Suddenly, there was a nother, huge explosive sound, and an entire house, or housing complex, flew into the air. This was a couple of hills away.

I decided that I wanted to see this, even though it was the night of Pesach, and we had just started the Seder. So I walked away, and followed these paths that went between and through streets and constantly kept going up the hill. After one big street, I came to a winding path and there was an old man on the path, coming down. There wasn't room for both of us, so I moved to the side as best I could, climbing on rocks to do so. The old man made a comment about how the cars ruined the city, and how it was so hard to get around anymore. "At least," I said, "they have these walkways. I think they're really great." "Yes," the old man said, "they are really great." And I couldn't tell whether he just wanted to agree with me or whether he really agreed with me.

I kept walking up the path, which had by the time I met the old man begun to zig zag. Suddenly, I was through some barrier and could see all the hills around me, but then, suddenly, I was also incredibly afraid of heights. For some reason, the path ahead seemed incredibly jagged, and I couldn't take a step forward. I just couldn't take a step forward. So I turned around and went back.

By the time I got back, the whole Magid part of the Seder was over, and the family had, in fact, moved rooms, or I had been confused about where they had been before and they were actually at an adjoining room. I went in, and everyone in my immediate family looked disappointed. They were all either eating the meal or were done. Then they were going visiting. There were two troops of visitors. The first, stopped not so far away at a very vertical street, almost at a 90 degree angle, and they took a van I think, one of my cousin's and I (I remember who, but in the interest of privacy am not saying) took a scotter - he was driving, and I was behind him, to his or her friend's hotel. I remember getting there, and we went inside the hotel, and it was a lot lower class than the hotel we were staying at. The hallways were thin and the lighting was dim. And there were a lot of people there. We went down a hallway and turned right, to the elevator bank, and then my cousin gave me a wink and gently tapped the elevator button so the light turned on. Then it turned out that next to the elevator bank there was a semi-large foyer or living area, where people were gathered, to read Megillat Esther, before it was read in the morning. I was thinking that there was something wrong about this and then I woke up.

Just one comment - although there are many I'd like to make. The winding paths, while reminding me, in my dream of San Francisco, reminds me now of Jerusalem, and walking to my cousin's house there through Rechavya.

Mr. Ripley as Idol and Target

I just finished The Boy Who Followed Ripley, the fourth book in the Ripley pantheon and the third that I've read. You probably know Ripley - the creation of Patricia Highsmith - from the 1999 movie with all those hot guys in it, you know. I think Matt Damon, Jude Law. Anywho, I read the first book two years ago, and here's a brief plot summary oh wait, spoiler alert - Ripley, a poor kid from the 'other side of the tracks' in Boston, goes to New York, hooks up with this rich guy who thinks he went to Princeton and is rich, and is sent to Europe to bring the guy's son home. Badda bing badda boom, Ripley kills the guy's son (whom he ambiguously had a thing for, but for Highsmith, ambiguity is never that ambiguous), impersonates him, kills another guy, and gets a bunch of money.

Ok spoilers over - for the first book, hahaha. Anyway, this book, TBWFR (for the boy who followed, you get it), takes place years later. Ripley is married (practically sexlessly, to a beautiful Frenchwoman with incredibly wealthy folks) and living south of Paris. Then basically, the opposite of what happened in the first book occurs. That is, Ripley gives himself a new job, to find a rich person's child and bring him back to America. Except this time, Ripley does all the right things, he brings the boy home, and then the boy kills himself. Ooops, I just ruined the book for you. Sorry. It's worth it, though, because now I get to make a point.

The point is this: Highsmith, in her typical subversively tricky way, is saying that there's no point to doing good, because, while Ripley, in book 1, follows his animal instincts to get what's best for him, and thereby ends up rich and happy, in book 4, Ripley tries to be good, does everything right, basically does pennance for his misdeeds of book 1 by totally reversing them, but in the end Ripley just feels sad and empty. He comes away with nothing but hurt. Good book.

Pre Shabbos Jitters

I always never do anything on Fridays. Maybe this is why I love Fridays so much. I mean, today for example, I spent pretty much the whole day outside, and accomplished pretty much zero, but it's been the best day of the week, by far.

Rainy Days

I love rainy days. I have a great window and I can just stare out of it for hours, when it's raining. Looking at the drops on the glass, and how they attach themselves to the horizontal pole outside my window that I think is there to keep me from falling, and how they fall, and looking into Harlem and seeing the GW bridge all wet and foggy in the rain.

I also love still sitting here, in shorts and a t-shirt, when it's cold and wet outside and I'm warm and happy. Very very happy.

In other, not entirely unrelated news, I've been doing a bunch of writing lately.