Haiku #97 - Bathroom Dispatcher

what did this guy do
to deserve the sentence of
bathroom dispatcher?

Mom, Dad and I went downtown again, hoping to wander Trinity's churchyard before they closed at 3 (according to their website), but it turns out they closed at 2 today (according to the placard on their padlocked gates at about 2:30 this afternoon).  So we did what any good American family would do, and went to Century 21 to help the economy and use the bathroom.  The line for the loo was about a mile long, but it moved quickly, thanks in part to the young gentleman standing at the entrance to the ladies' and gents' directing traffic and hating his life.  

Haiku #93 - Lower East Side Tenement Museum

Beer: Making life tolerable for generations of immigrants
(across the street from the museum)
escaping hardship
maybe wishing to sow a 
pocketful of dreams


Mom really wanted to go to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum.  I offered to show her around my building for free, but apparently she wanted to see a "real" tenement, so she booked us tickets on the tour of garment workers' apartments. Longtime readers will know of my tenuous relationship with museums, but I'm happy to report that this one was really fascinating, and our tour guide was great.  Also interesting to note how some things (housing and labor laws, immigrants' countries of origin) have changed, and how other things (human nature, corruption, hope of a better life for one's children) haven't.  


And they had a good gift shop!

Haiku #92 - New York Philharmonic

in lieu of applause
please cough between movements - it's
sophisticated


Took Mom & Dad to the NY Phil tonight - Haydn, Schubert, Ravel.  The first movement of the Haydn was rather long, and the classical music fans knew it was a faux pas to clap between movements.  Yearning to show their appreciation, however, the audience erupted into a cacophony of midwinter hacking instead.  


A blurry ovation.
My favorite was the Ravel Valse, which closed the concert. I commented to my parents that both halves ended with the opposite of a musical theater button: the first half ended with Schubert's Erlkönig (part of a set orchestrated by Britten and Reger, performed by Anne-Sofie von Otter), in which the last word is "dead."  Dad said both halves ended with death - the Erlkönig literally and the Ravel metaphorically.  Happy new year?  Maybe Alan Gilbert goes by the Mayan calendar.  Anyway, it was a lovely evening, metaphorical death notwithstanding.

Haiku #90 - Tourist Attractions

tourist attractions:
parks, bridges, concerts, shopping, 
emergency rooms


Everyone's fine now, but we did have an episode last night and had to pay an (as it turned out) overnight visit to that darkest horse of New York attractions, a major hospital's ER.  It's kinda like Times Square at New Year's - you do it once to say you did it, then you hope never to have to return.  

Haiku #88, 89 - Christmas Dinner

there is something to
be said for sticking to your
core competencies:


mom and dad and i
had a sumptuous dinner
cooked by fresh direct


I hate cooking, a trait I inherited from my mom.  Dad likes cooking holiday dinner, but he's a pain in the ass in a kitchen he's familiar with, so imagine a miniature kitchen he doesn't know.  So... I consider it money well-spent to have gotten a heat-and-eat turkey dinner delivered straight to my door on Christmas Eve.  It was yummy, and super-easy to prepare.  We hung out and relaxed and enjoyed the day in each other's company.  And Mom cleaned up (I did not inherit her affinity for cleaning.)


Merry Christmas, everyone!

Haiku #86 - Diminished

G#dim7! Take that, you grumpy neighborhood fart, you!
does this old geezer
know he's messing with the wrong
music theory nerd?


Spanish Harlem, December 23: an anecdote


My parents are staying in a studio sublet about a 15-minute walk from my apartment.  I just got an acoustic guitar, and decided to take my new toy with me when I went over this afternoon.  It's light, so I completely forgot I had it strapped to my back as I strolled down 2nd Avenue.  


Thus, I was completely taken aback when I passed a guy, probably in his 50s, who took a good hard look at me and said, "You probably don't even know what a diminished chord is."  What??  Pause to regain my wits.  I hollered ineffectually at him as he continued walking the other direction, "Actually, yes I do!"  How does he know?? I thought.  About two blocks later, I remembered - ohhhh, the guitarrrrr.  


Hah.  Well, he picked the wrong snowflake to start a music theory brawl with!  As soon as I got to the sublet and related my tale of indignation, I set about figuring out a diminished chord (see pic).  I am not a hipster poser!