This awning stretches out over a Park Avenue sidewalk and is attached to the Waldorf-Astoria.
Built in 1931, The corners are accented with beautiful art deco flourishes.
The best part of this iconic NYC logo? The words are separated by an equal sign. Genius! The Registered mark kind of spoils it.
Fun fact: Gangsters Frank Costello, Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel and Charles “Lucky” Luciano once lived in the Waldorf-Astoria.
Krapp, 39 is the fine, funny monologue currently at the Soho Playhouse that was inspired by Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape. In Krapp’s Last Tape, a 69 year old man ruminates on his life while listening to a tape he recorded when he was 39.
Krapp, 39 is the invention of Michael Laurence. The clever premise is that on this, his 39th birthday, Laurence records a tape that he will use 30 years from now in a production of Krapp’s Last Tape. The tape is a jumping off point to examine his life. Could you sit alone on a stage and reveal all your personal and professional failures to an audience? Not I.
We learn what it’s like to be an actor barely scraping by. Actors cannot plant roots. They travel from town to town looking for work in regional theater. Relationships don’t flourish and having children is out of the question.
Although he lived that way for many years, Laurence isn’t having a problem right now. This show overlaps with his work as an understudy in the upcoming Broadway production of Eugene O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms with Brian Dennehey. To accommodate this overlap, curtain for Krapp 39 is at 5:00. After his :90 minute monologue, he dashes uptown for rehearsal. I suppose it’s an actor’s dream, although I would need a nap between gigs.
For the Easter weekend we drove down to lovely Arlington, VA to visit my in-laws. They live just across the river from Washington D.C. I’ve never see an area so saturated with traffic jams. And I live near New York City!
I wish I had a device in my car that would vaporize aggressive drivers on the freeway. I would only use it if someone really deserved to be vaporized. Just like my cell phone jammer. When I see a car fast-approaching in my rear view mirror weaving in and out of traffic, I get some very un-Zen like thoughts running through my brain.
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Saturday we took the kiddies to the Capitol building while waiting for the storm clouds to part. It’s the seat of government, you know!
We sat through a 13 minute film about the Meaning of the American Government. There was a stark contrast between the idealism portrayed in the film and the cesspool that Washington D.C. actually is. Frankly, I think the kids were bored out of their minds.
The architecture of the Capitol dome was quite nice.
And the sun finally broke through.
The baseball season is just underway and I thought it might be fun to take my family to Yankee Stadium to see my beloved Cleveland Indians (hopefully) pound the hell out the New York Yankees in this, the inaugural 3-game series at the brand spanking new Yankee Stadium. The Indians were instrumental in dismantling the Joe Torre dynasty and I hope they continue to be a thorn in the Yankees side for many years to come.
I hopped onto the Yankees site to shop for tickets. I had heard rumors that ticket prices were raised at the new stadium but was unprepared for what I saw. Just for fun I clicked on “Best Available Seats” as an option. Using that parameter, the four tickets would cost me a grand total of:
That’s not a typo.
Each ticket costs $2,625 and there’s a “Convenience Charge” (whatever the hell that is) of $59.70 PER TICKET. That doesn’t factor in parking or food or souvenirs.
They’re called “Legend Seats.” I guess that’s because only a fool of Legendary proportions would spend $10K+ to watch a fucking baseball game. Have they lost their minds?
The Yankees are owned and operated by the Steinbrenners—a family of greedy, bottom-feeding parasites. I can’t wait to watch the games on TV and see all the empty seats behind the Yankees dugout. Bend over and grab your ankles Yankee fans. Play ball!
7-Year Old Daughter attempts to unlock the mystery of unconditional parental love while I tuck her in:
“Daddy, will you always love me?”
“Of course, I will.”
“Even if I punch you in the eye?”
Daughter, you can punch me in both eyes. Just don’t break my heart.
Exile on Pain Street 