Found on the subway platform this morning…
Meanwhile, down in Tampa, the young guns are getting some burn: here’s John Harper on Manny Banuelos, and Jack Curry on Jesus Montero. And for you old fogies, check out Harvey Araton’s column on Yogi and Gator.
We see homeless people so often that they don’t even register. But sometimes, especially during the winter months, the sadness, illness, and isolation is enough to break your heart.
Picture by Bags
Fresh direct from our man Mark Lamster’s Twitter feed this afternoon, a tourist shot of the Empire State Building from the 1940s:
It feels like spring today. Dig the moment, it’ll be brick again tomorrow.
[Picture by Bags]
I am always impressed when I see a blind person on the subway or walking down the street. Sometimes, I’ll close my eyes and pretend what it is like to be blind. But I don’t last long and it is just pretend. Still, I am filled with humility at that moment.
I don’t mean to suggest that blind people are saints. When I was in college there was an angry blind guy who walked around and always had a remark if someone accidentally bumped into him. “Oh, I’m sorry, that must be my fault, I guess I’m blind,” he’d say.
Navigating the streets and subways might become second nature for blind people, because getting around when you’re blind isn’t really a choice, it is a fact of life. This may seem daunting as hell for people who can see, but some blind people have never seen, it’s just the hand they were dealt.
I am still struck with admiration for them all the same.
What games do you play while riding the subway?
Here’s a few: What if the train stopped and this became like an episode of “Survivor”? Who would take charge? Who would be the Alphas, who would be the trouble makers, who would crack first?
Who would I bone, and in what order? There’s lots of variations of this game, of course, like “Which beautiful women are lousy in bed,” and “Which regular-looking girls are tigers?”
Who is carrying a concealed weapon?
I used to play, “Who could I beat up?” but I’ve given up on that one.
Another favorite is guessing what stop people will get off.
Check out this cool post from the always cool spot, Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York.
Via Subway Art Blog, check out this wonderfulness–an artist who makes collages and gifts them around town.
Click here for a mess of New York City photographs.
One of the benefits of living up in the Bronx is that I always get a seat on my way to work. By the time we reach Washington Heights, the train is packed. Today, it was crowded and a few people in my car were short-tempered. Nothing dramatic, just cranky on a Monday morning, negotiating space. I looked up and took it all in and thought, It’s amazing that more fights don’t break out. But the social contract holds together–most of the time.
Sometimes I wonder what life must be like away from so many people? Would it be peaceful and a relief? Or would I miss the agitation, conflict, and the pleasure of meeting a stranger’s eye and smiling ever so slightly?
What? The Pro Bowl ain’t good enough for you? The SAG awards isn’t doin’ the trick? How about chillin’ with some pals?
[Picture by Bags]
Last night on the uptown IRT, packed train, rush hour. As we approach 181st Street, the conductor says, “I would advise the passenger who is smoking to get off at the next station. The authorities have been notified.”
I’ve seen people smoke on the train before, kids used to love smoking blunts in the last car back when. Mostly, anyone who smokes on the subway is furious or crazy or both. But to do it on a crowded train? That takes chutzpah.
[Photo Credit: John F. Conn]
Couple of flix from the Big Apple, fom the BX to money-makin’ Manhattan.
Who is gunna clean up this mess?
Snow in New York today with more expected to dump on our skulls tomorrow…y’all be safe now, y’hear?
There is nothing that depresses me like the sight of an empty token booth, like this one on the downtown side of a midtown stop on the IRT. The station has been without a clerk for some time now but the booth remains (and there is a clerk on the uptown side). The place feels haunted to me.
Brian Cashman made headlines this morning because he is candid–some call it cunning, others call it self-destructive. He’s in the news because Andy Pettitte hasn’t made up his mind about pitching in 2011 yet, the Yanks are short a starting pitcher and because there isn’t much else going on. Oh, and because Cashman isn’t shy about talking.
I’m still amazed that the Yankees have had a GM for as long as they’ve had Cashman. It’s only natural that at this point in Yankee his career, Cashman has as many, if not more, detractors as he has supporters. I’ve always found him appealing enough as a public figure as far as suits go, and wouldn’t pretend to offer any kind of sound evaluation of him as a GM. His time in New York won’t last forever and Cashman’s place in team history is already secure (fantastic survivor, ineffective underachiever). One thing is sure–he’s good copy, and in New York, that’s half the battle.
Bags Grooves to Matisse at the Modern.
