I suppose the comic book stores have went the way of all small mom and pop shops, the predecessors of the plight of independent bookstores… No, don’t comfort me with the selection at Barnes and Nobles or Borders… I don’t even care for the comic book store near Union Square (if it’s still there) not because I have anything against it… it’s just not my hood.

Ode to the comic book store! A recently rejected-by-a-literary-agent- nerd-girl’s strip club, drug den, and escapist paradise.

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Bianca and Nova have been in a bit of a salsa rut this past month. Not so much in sucking, but low in the spirit that beckons you to the dance floor and takes over your body with a partner.  Which reminds me of Star Trek, The Next Generation Episode  166 when Doctor Crusher was regularly visited by an alien ghost that entered her body, and well, did delightful things to her from the inside out. But I digress slightly off topic.

The Holy Salsa Spirit had left us and I was prepared to lodge a complaint in the lost and found department of salsa dancing or go to a salsa church, consult the salsa priest, or perhaps consider giving up some of it (to an addict that means trimming down from three classes to one, plus going out once a week instead of maybe three), and whine here on this blog.

BUT THE HOLY SALSA SPIRIT HATH RETURNED.

Nova experienced one of those moments-and you know those moments-when you realize you are inhabiting what will become a fond memory, when you are realizing some sort of dream… You barely inhabit the now, time becomes all fuzzy- you become some sort of witness to yourself in a certain place and you sort of become one with it. Sounds all funny but this is what happened dancing street salsa with an old-timer PR in the pouring rain, drenched with a live band playing in el barrio. I just had my pasteles fix from a toothless old man selling them out of a water cooler that was sitting inside a “borrowed” supermarket shopping cart, and was pretty content with that until the rain came down and I was dancing.

It just was one of those moments that make you want to cry because life seems, well alive. In that moment you are filled with some type of timeless euphoria.

No, I assure you it was just pasteles I bought from the water cooler. But enough of this for now. I have to save something for a chapter.

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This one was found by C-mixto. Highly recommended for the cynical, the nerdy, the intelligent, the social outcast- this book is comical with a healthy dose of chaos. It also has a halo of tragedy.

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Another way to have an odyssey. Let the world move around you.

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I stumbled upon this fact at 12am, Dec 14th, 10 minutes before the supposed peak for NYC viewing. That didn’t stop this superhero: I rushed outside in my pajamas, in clumsy snow boots, a puffy winter coat, winter hat and (what else?) my tri-corder (iphone). Sky gazing is a great way to reconnect yourself with a certain peace: to witness the vastness of the universe, its glories and mysteries.. it humbles you and reminds you that you are something outside the persona of your offices, families, friends…  The fact that this meteor shower happens during the month of Chanukah, the Festival of Lights, and Christmas and the Winter Solstice, the Return of Light, makes this spectacle even more special. Take your little watchers outside for a real holiday gift next year: it’s only going to get stronger and more visible with every year. And if you have a cool iphone Star Maps application, you can aim your tri-corder into the sky and sing out the names of each star to your tyke like a soothing lullaby.

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There you might catch a glance of her personal life: the purse sitting half open on the floor just beneath the alter of hair products, a picture of a smiling kid or two in graduation caps. Lunch that has been put on hold until she’s finished rolling your hair.

When you’re done looking at these, you find yourself reading all the labels of the hair products she has. Olive oil this, silicon that…. but I have to say I was taken by surprise by the orange and yellow canister with a picture of a runny nose gorilla, greenness dripping from his nose. Yes, it really is a product, and they call it “Gorilla Snot”. How they managed to really market this to people is a mystery to me. But there it was, moco de gorila.

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Hail the hustle in Cuba! Done with a straight face, intelligence and craft, you got to respect it. Recognize and ascertain whether you should accommodate the hustle. How much is it for you to loose this battle? Can you acquiesce without being cheated and everyone’s dignity maintained? If not say, “I respect the Hustle”, then walk away.  If acquiescing you have a choice of either remaining a passive participant, or leaning close to the Hustler and whispering with a tilted head and squinted eye, “Asere. Don’t try to hustle me. I got you anyways.”

More to come on some specific hustles.

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When in a cab migrating north or south on the Henry Hudson during evening hours, if I’m not scanning the Hudson river sparkling with city lights, then my head is often turned towards that interesting territory adjacent to the highway where the city starts. One thing that always captures my attention but never the lens of my camera is the lonely taxi stand outside of Hustler. That’s a strip club, for those not in the know. Taxi stands are not a familiar sight, at least in the parts of the city I find myself in. Usually every where you step is a taxi stand, created by your very own self when you peak outside the sidewalk with a raised hand. Voila. Taxi stand. But right off the highway is a canopied (glass?) stand with a large sign, “Taxi” around the corner (but out of sight of) Hustler’s doors. I’ve never seen someone standing in it, and I’m always looking whenever I pass. And I just have to think that it is the loneliest taxi stand, without a person and more so if someone’s in there. There is no hiding your nocturnal activities if you’re standing in this glass box with a glaring sign,-Hey, I’ve just been enjoying some gyrating, pole happy tits, fantasy is over and now I need to go home… if you are trying to be discreet. And if you weren’t in Hustler and just need a cab, people will probably never believe it. I’m waiting for the day I see someone waiting in it,  to imagine all the stories that accompanies standing in the taxi stand in front of Hustler on the West Side Highway. What probably bothers me is that it is a scene set for a character who hasn’t walked onto the pages yet. 

Have any other lonely taxi stands, or thoughts on this one?

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I often hear of some Greeks advising potential tourists to the patrida to skip Athens in their itinerary. If the Greek islands are your destination with limited time, I can see that. BUT… here’s why Athens works, either to visit or to live in, despite some of the harshness found in any city, in its own form.

• The Acropolis. Could very well be personal taste, years of Euro-centric schooling- Nah! Shut up. The sight of the Acropolis at night, draped in moonlight with an eerie glow… is breathtaking and surreal. How many times have I shed a tear just catching sight of it, wherever I may be in the Athenian night? Visit during the hours of 12pm-3pm during the months of July and August and you’ll swear you’ve just hiked into the atmosphere of the sun.
• Coffee culture. Try a damn frappé, for goodness sake, and people watch behind black sunglasses. If you’re a man, have black hair with Adonis wavy locks– you’ll blend right in. If you’re uppity, go to Kolonaki for your cafe. But you will have a nice frappé atmosphere almost anywhere. If coffee is not your thing, try a frosty beer with some feta-cheese flavored Lay’s chips.
• The beach. It’s just a drive away. You don’t have to island hop or go broke. City dweller by week day, beach god or goddess during the weekend. 
• Island excursions. Just a short plane ride away (or more true to the Greek experience) a ferry away. See above!
• Meet Greeks from all over Greece. It’s a city. You’ll find Greeks from all regions.
• Find scattered ruins of temples and old civilizations in the middle of a street (sectioned off of course). It’s part of the natural landscape. Find scattered ruins off the beaten path (like I did during a hike (though in Milos), near the site where they unearthed the Venus de Milo. Pick it up, get chills, almost shit your pants, then drop it where you found it in and run your ass off before the Greek government agents think you’re stealing.  No-one tell me it was a fake. If you went to the places where C-mixto takes me off the beaten path, you’d probably find Atlantis.
• Abundance of farmers’ markets. Not just in neighborhoods. On different streets!
• Cool flea market on Sundays under the Acropolis. Find some old relics, ignoring the tail end of it with crap from China. Wish list: someone get me a coin of the Phoenix currency of the new nation of Greece.
• Because it’s Athens. It’s got some haunting history and it’s cool.

That’s all I’m coming up with now, thought there’s tons more. Anyone care to add to the list?

Inspired by a great meal at Snack on Thompson Street, NYC and a highly caffeinated frappé. Try one yet?

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