If you stand on the balcony that overlooks the main entrance inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art and look up, this is what you’ll see:
Arches within arches within arches. Do you see the smallest one at the bottom center of the photo? Artistè Florenza pointed this out to me and I thought it was simply beautiful. I don’t know. Maybe you need to see it in person…
I treated myself to Shakespeare’s Henry V. It was three hours but they flew by. I loves me the King plays.
When it began, I had my usual wrestling match with the dialog. It takes at least :10 to :15 minutes until I settle down with the cadence of Shakespearian English and acclimate myself to the iambic pentameter. (Whatever the hell that is. If you know, please explain.) It’s like trying to grab a garden hose that’s turned on full blast and is whipping around.
Henry V was one of England’s more successful monarchs. By the end of his rein, he ruled over a united England and France. His son, King Henry VI was a zero who lost everything his father built and started the War of the Roses. What a dickhead.
Shakespeare’s historical dramas are based in fact. When Henry fought at Agincourt, a hungry and weary English army was outnumbered 10-1 by a fortified French army but England routed France! That’s a fact!
Take that, Frogs.
My comprehension of Shakespeare is tenuous at best. Do you know what helps? Jamming Cliff Notes the day before the play. I do it every time I see a Shakespeare play. Otherwise I’d get lost. I didn’t attend a University after high school so I’m a bit behind on all that stuff.
Winter gave the East Coast of the United States its great big final “F.U.!” of the season. Many inches of snow lead to school cancellations, a LOT of shoveling and a trip to a nearby hill to ride sleds.
Do you know how you can tell you’re an adult? Snow isn’t fun anymore. It’s a pain in the ass. I simply cannot understand why anyone would want to go skiing. Supposedly, there’s some really great skiing not too far from here, but the best skiing weather also happens to be the worst driving weather. If you have some disposable income allocated for a vacation, why wouldn’t you go someplace that has turquoise water (instead of frozen)?
Damon Runyon was an American fiction writer who wrote short stories about New York City in the 1920’s and 1930’s. His style of writing employs the New York City Wise Guy vernacular of that era. His street smart characters were the inspiration for the musical Guys and Dolls starring Frank Sinatra and Marlon Brando.
Since we here in the U.S. are slipping into a new depression (Canada is laughing their asses off at us) the New York Times thought it might be interesting to revisit Runyon’s world, since the depression figured prominently in many of his stories.
I had not read any of Runyon’s stories in a long, long time and I forgot how beautiful and rich the language is. He’s Dashiell Hammett with a sense of humor. His prose drips with atmosphere. Do you know how if you hear a riff by Keith Richards or The Edge, you know instantly it’s them? After you read a few of Runyon’s tales, you’ll be able to identify him within three sentences. The Times printed several wonderful examples of Runyon’s New York on the ropes. (A Runyonesque phrase if ever there was one!) Here’s my favorite:
There is very little scratch anywhere and along Broadway many citizens are wearing their last year’s clothes and have practically nothing to bet on the races or anything else, and it is a condition that will touch anybody’s heart.
He describes a winter day as being, …colder than a blonde’s heart. God, I wish I could write like that. He even looked the part:
Fun fact: Runyon was born in Manhattan. Manhattan, Kansas!
Here’s US Airways Flight 1549—the quickest way to the Hudson River—being towed through suburban East Rutherford NJ on its way to…actually I have no idea where it’s going. A new lawn ornament for Captain “Sully” Sullenberger? The tin can factory? You can click on them for a better look.
I’d credit these shots but I don’t know who took them. My sister forwarded them to me.
Exile on Pain Street 