Times Sqaure dining al fresco with a side of therapy

Posted on November 3, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

I had to work late again last night. It never seems to end. I walked out of the office, turned south on Madison Avenue and then west on 42nd Street, through Times Square, and towards the station. I was starring at the ground. Sulking. Missing my family. Felling sorry for myself.I don’t eat street meat very often. I like it, but it’s not good for you in large doses. I save it for when I need to feel better about life and nobody is around to cheer me up. So I walked my dreary ass up to a food cart on 42nd and Broadway. Crossroads of the world.

The chef said, “Why ya blue, boss? It’s a beautiful night! Have something to eat. You’ll feel better.” So I bought a chicken kabob on a roll with hot sauce ($4), walked to the corner, put my bag down, leaned against a street light and ate my dinner. I read the headlines on the Times Square zipper, felt the balmy breeze and watched the tourists dance through Times Square. The happy, carefree tourists. Where do they all come from? Sure enough, about halfway through my chicken kabob, I started to feel better. I wonder what he put in my sandwich?

* * *

At the gym this morning, a guy was working out in bare feet. Gross! I don’t want to have to look at a pair of disgusting fungus-encrusted feet while I’m trying to exercise. I started formulating the perfect sentence to cut him down to size when he got up, casually walked over to the heavy bag that hangs from the ceiling by a big chain and gave it a series of very quick, very convincing, roundhouse kicks.

Bam-bam-bam-bam.

I judged the point of impact on the bag to be approximately the same level as my face.

So I spared him my sarcastic wit. This time.

Art Deco photo blast (by request)

Posted on November 1, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

Last week I posted a few photos of the crown of the RCA Victor building on 51st and Lexington. The top of that building is one of my favorite art deco flourishes in all of Manhattan and it is little noticed by passers by. In the comments section, Pueblo Girl suggested I post a few pics of the interior. So here they be. All are clickable.

The building went up in 1931 and contains a wealth of art deco accents. Here’s the exterior at the corner of 51st.

It was deeded to GE before construction was complete and this beautiful clock was installed. It features two outstretched arms holding radio waves.

Also along the exterior are a series of fists clenching radio waves.

Here’s a few interior shots. The elevators all have inlaid wood.

Here’s one end of the lobby. Again, with the radio waves. Nice clock.

And here’s the other end.

This is probably the most elaborate mail box in history.

In the spring, I did a post featuring interior shots of the Chrysler Building—another lovely art deco building. They are here.

Not a fair fight. Not even close.

Posted on October 31, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

3-Year Old Daughter was Snow White for Halloween.

Right after I took this, she laid the old “Daddy, I love you” routine on me.

This is SO unfair. How am I suppose to put up any kind of resistance? In the immortal words of Ed Grimley, I’m as doomed as doomed could be.

Public art that mocks my plight

Posted on October 30, 2009 by Exile on Pain Street

All art isn’t housed in stuffy old museums. New York is littered with public art installations.

There are two ways to get from the vile Port Authority to the Times Square subway station; you can either walk above ground down 42nd Street or you can take the underground walkway that connects the two. The tunnel is a dreary, Soviet-style passageway that’s all function and no form. It’s an avenue-long tunnel of concrete, white tile, steel I-beams and exposed florescent bulbs.

In an effort to cheer up the walk a bit, the Metropolitan Transit Authority has commissioned a series art installations (as they have in MANY subway stations throughout the city). When you walk eastward towards Seventh Avenue, as a multitude of commuters do every morning, this is the installation that greets you. It’s inspired by the classic Burma-Shave ads of the 40s where a series of sequential signs containing a word or two reveal a poem.

Remember: This is the first thing that harried commuters coming from the dark New Jersey suburbs see at 6:30 in the morning on our way to the salt mines.

I don’t know who to attribute this work to. There’s an accrediting placard on every piece of public art but I can’t find this one. On a good morning, this makes me laugh. Some mornings? Not so much.