Currently browsing 'paradise'
Where have all the comic stores gone?
What’s a girl-nerd to do? Some people take to booze, some drugs, some a little bit of both, others chocolate… Comic book stores used to offer a paradise of fantasy for those who need a little something more than the life of an urban odyssey. You’d save your allowance, or blow your measly first-job paycheck on X-Men, X-Force and Excalibur, crossing over to DC territory only for a Supergirl or Wonder Woman. Inside the pages of a comic book, bodies are perfect, men are heroes, you can sore through the sky and toast people who are bad. But now… now where are all the comic book stores? Big Apple? All that’s left of you are the markings of of where your bricks were ripped away to give way for the building of a new race of condos on the Upper West Side. Oh, the agony of seeing what is left of you advertised on the streets like a billboard: lines and lines of scratches against the building where you were once nestled, like a trail of scratches from bloodied fingernails.
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.
When the Holy (Salsa) Spirit Leaves You… And Returns
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. When the Holy (Salsa) Spirit Leaves You… And Returns – continue reading …
Summer Book Rec: How to Be Idle
I am reposting something from last year because it’s summer (in the northern hemisphere) and your minds are more easily prone to indoctrination by this manifesto. Free your soul!
“I have a dream. It is called love, anarchy, freedom. It is called being idle.”
-Tom Hodgkinson
How to make a Frappe
For those who haven’t been paying attention. The crack of all coffees.
Darwinian Salsa
A little over a year ago, two unknowing souls embarked upon a journey into a universe whose name they thought was salsa. To the surprise of the two naive girls, that universe turned out to be prism of multi-verses. An innocent journey of couple’s dancing suddenly became an adventure down a rabbit hole.
Some universes are ruled by 1 dimension. The one that Bianca and Nova stumbled upon was on-2. They are still trying to figure out if its a hospitable place for them, or if they have been tricked into a heartless black hole.
Salsa on-2 seems to follow some type of weird evolutionary process. It’s evident as you pass by the different planets, with their abundance of species (The Topsy-Turveys, the Fred Astaires, etc, etc). But Bianca and Nova have recently stumbled upon something startling, something that goes a little further than “salsa characters”. It’s Darwinian Salsa. And there exists the Nietzschean “Superman”. Darwinian Salsa – continue reading …
Fanciest so far
My love for diner coffee has reached an all-time-high. I am pathetically in love with diner coffee. I now find myself critiquing the cups they are served in, and am forever spoiled by this cup here, served to me in a diner in Murray Hill, Manhattan. Look at that saucer!
I know, I know, the heroin in this love affair is the temperature… Nobody else gets it anymore. Diners are the last bastion of hot, unrushed coffee. But it’s also the ceramic cup, the dainty spoon, the cream, the cozy atmosphere… I’m in love!
Give me some Arabian Formula
C-mixto spotted this uptown pharmaceutical in a local b odega. Who needs illegal over-the-bodega-counter viagra when you can down some Arabian Formula? Not only will it rub your genie the right way, it will turn your woman into a groveling harem sex slave. Available in any fine bodega that also carries beet dietary supplements (because in the Heights, beets cure everything).
a festival of lights
Watchers: Thanks to yahoo news some of us were alerted to the magnificent annual Geminids meteor shower. Who knew that once a year, the twilight sky is streaked with the orange, yellow and green remains of the extinct comet, Phaethon?
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.
More diner talk
I’ve been enjoying more of our classic NYC Greek diners. What pleasure to know that even though there may be an abundance of Starbucks, I can still roll the die in passing them in faith that the NYC Greek diner is still a steady part of our urban landscape and I will find one to enjoy a good cup of coffee.
We already talked about part of the secret to their great cup of joes, Cecilwares Fe 100’s. But here are more reasons I’ll take my coffee there over other places:
- sitting at the counter top is like being in someone’s living room. There is a feeling of hospitality. The people behind the counter are like mother hens to your needs.
- the cups are a heavy ceramic that retains the heat of the coffee. The feel of the china in your hands is real, not a flimsy disposable cup, a plastic nothingness that separates you from the world and implicates you as an eco-sinner. That ceramic cup is endless. It’s always hot, and when it is not, you’ll get a refill.
- the experience seems tailored just for you. You don’t have to speak a stupid branding language, you don’t have to order like a robot.
- they can make the cheapest bean taste good.
So ode again to the Greek diner and its coffee.
