Gothamist gives the 12 best movie theaters in New York. Nice to see the Ziegfeld made the list.

I have some good movie memories at that theater: Gandhi, with my grandmother–oh, the agony for an 11-year-old kid;  Karate Kid, a few years later, revved up to kick ass when it was over; Roxanne, in high school, sitting next to a beautiful woman who I followed out of the theater and then walked to the Upper West Side with–she worked in music videos and said she’d try to cast me on her next job, gave me her card, then I never heard from her; The Last Temptation of Christ, around the same time, first showing on opening day, with my friend Matt, making fun of all the protesters; Twelve Monkeys, seven years later with a German girl I was trying to get with (and when I did, came to regret it); Star Wars Episode II, Attack of the Clones, with friends and The Wife in the afternoon before we went to see the Yanks that night–the game where Giambi hit the game-ending grand slam in the rain in extra innings.

[Photo Credit: Joel Zimmer]

Enter light. And it was nice out this weekend as the clocks changed.

This morning I heard two women on the subway talking about the weather. One, in a Rosie Perez accent, said, “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. They say it will be in the ’40s and chilly but I find it chilly today, dammit.”

[Photo Credit: Jamel Shabazz]

I see this guy selling papers every day when I come out of the subway on my way to the office. We nod our heads and smile hello, though he doesn’t always smile. I bought a paper from him only once–when the President was re-elected–and he seemed so happy that ever since he makes more of an effort to smile back.

It’s snowing in New York this morning and here he is, undeterred,  doing his job. Hard-workin’, money-earnin.

Thanks to Kottke for pointing out the dope Tumblr site: NYC Past.

You don’t have to be from out-of-town to look up at the buildings in Manhattan. I do it all the time. Like last night on 57th Street and 8th Avenue.

A quick reminder to keep diggin‘.

I Know You Got Soul…

NPR gives Russ and Daughters.

[Photo Credit: Afar]

Jim Dwyer has the latest on the Central Park Five case.

Seen on the street. Nice mix. That’s my favorite Eddie record, probably because it was the first.

Michael Crawford from The New Yorker.

Gothamist hips us to a time-lapse movie made by Samuel Orr. Sweet.

[Photo Credit: Esther Bubley]

Top of the Heap. Yeah, still nuthin’ to fug with.

[Photo Via: Boys Don’t Cry]

Because I can’t get enough of Saul Leiter:

“There are certain people who like to be in the swing of things, but I think I’ve been out of the loop a lot of the time. When Bonnard died, one critic accused him of not participating in the great adventures of Modernism. And Matisse wrote a letter in which he defended Bonnard, saying that when he saw the Bonnards in the Phillips collection, he told Mr. Phillips, ‘Bonnard was the strongest of us all.’

I’m not like those photographers who went up to the top of the mountain and hung over and took a picture that everyone said was impossible and then went home and printed it and sold 4,000 copies of it and then went on and on with one great achievement after another.

Max Kozloff said to me one day, ‘You’re not really a photographer. You do photography, but you do it for your own purposes – your purposes are not the same as others’. I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I like that. I like the way he put it.”

Still Diggin’.

“Manhattan of the Mind” by Becky Cooper.

There’s a slightly surreal quality to a subway station during the day when the light from outside falls inside–through a grate, or in this picture by our man Bags, through the stairwell.

Any day is a good day to see what James and Karla are doing.

I’m reading Richard Ben Cramer’s Big Book, “What it Takes,”–which was dubbed “What it Weighs” by the Boston Globe back in 1992. The book is a good excuse to think about buying a Kindle or a Nook and believe me I’ve considered it. But there’s something about lugging the thing around–dealing with the weight of it–that I’m compelled to do in honor Cramer’s exhaustive efforts.

And so I lug. (Oh, and also, I’m entertained. The book is a ton of fun.)

I was standing on the uptown platform of the 7th Avenue line at 42nd street last night with a friend when we heard a young woman’s voice. It was clear and also annoyed. She was climbing up the stairs from the 7 train. “We’ve been in New York for a couple of hours and we’ve already walked five miles.” She was holding a McDonald’s cup and she stomped up the steps, looking ready for a fight.

Not everyone from New York enjoys walking. But it sounded so strange to hear someone bitching about it. I just take it for granted that this is a place for walkers. Then again, when my sister and I were little we complained about having to walk all the way from 103rd Street to 96th to McDonalds. Our babysitter used to make fun of us. But we were four-years-old, so I’ll give us a pass.

Always waiting for the smell. That combination of dirt and warmth that signals not just the coming of spring but more distinctly: baseball. I caught a trace of something related this morning–closer, it’s getting there–but it wasn’t it. Still, it was a reminder and sometimes that’s enough.

Meanwhile, check out this picture of two kids playing one-on-one a few weeks ago at the famous West 4th Street court. Hey man, when you’ve got to play, you’ve got to play, right?