When I received the offer to read and review this book it had me intrigued.  Even the title had me wondering right away what it was all about, and I have to admit, I was laughing out loud laughing, shaking my head, and open mouth shocked at some of the stories in this collection from the Heeb Story Collection.

From scoring drugs for your uncle, to spending a New Year’s Eve with porn stars (yes, you heard me correct) it was a hilarious ride into what is to be Jewish, and the stories of living anywhere in America , and what it could have in store for you.

There are 50 stories from the downright laugh out loud laughing funny to sentimental of what it meant for these people to be “Jewish”.

Strangely unique, it had me reading story after story wondering what was next in the queue.

I loved it.

View Video

Uniqlo decided to do a bit of advertising rather than buying the Gap, and they did so on a subway in NYC. The shuttle bus between Times Square and Grand Central is notorious for being covered in ads. After a film screening I caught a glimpse of  this subway. BTW it was pretty cool, normally I see the shuttle covered in ads for shows, but this time it was for clothing.

16.
Grand Central。

手邊剛好沒有經典的中央車站照片, 只好放一張車站裡的market。中央車站很大, 裡面藏了些有的沒的東西。當然除了火車巴士地鐵和月台之外, 有個博物館(New York Transit Museum Shop and Gallery), 旁邊緊接著凱悅當然還有無數的餐廳和美食街。

自顧自的覺得中央車站其實是很經典的紐約場景, 比如説像是The Campbell Apartment。

下次應該來坐火車去Upstate小旅行的。

[FYI]
Grand Central。

Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Waxing Moon
Uranus Retrograde
Partly sunny and mild

I’m up early because I went to bed early. I’m trying to find info on how to get the DC metro to actually give you a Day Pass — what it does is eat your money and then spit out a card that’s NOT a day pass. Most logical cities have you choose your option and THEN put in the money, but not DC — they’re going to take your cash and give you whatever. If that’s not a complete analogy of government, I don’t know what is.

The trip down was quite pleasant. No problems getting the train into NYC, got in so early (we took an “earlier” train that was late rather than waiting for a later train that would probably be later), that we walked leisurely, dragging our little suitcases down 5th Avenue and over to Penn. We realized that we packed less for a four day trip than most poor commuters cart in on a daily basis.

Grabbed sandwiches to take on the bus and newspapers. We had a double-decker bus, and I was every bit as excited as any five year old. Yes, we rode on the top level.

For the most part, it was great ride. Across the aisle where an annoying young 20’s couple who alternated between making out, spilling orange juice everywhere, and taling really loudy about how ecologically responsible they are — of course, spouting misinformation and dropping contents out of at least half a dozen plastic grocery bags instead of canvas bags! You know, in the slice-and-dice movies, the arrogant couple that are amongst the first to get chopped up? These two were THAT much of a cliche. It was pretty funny.

Once we hit DC, it was only two blocks to our Metro, and, once the fare card kerflamma was dealt with (for at least yesterday), it was a quick 5-or-so stop ride up the red line to Van Ness. Our hotel is only about 4 blocks from the stop. The neighborhood is really great — UDC Van Ness campus, lots of little stores and restaurants, and, if you head towards downtown, the embassy residences. Quiet, green, feels safe.

The hotel: mixed feelings about it so far. The positive side: Enormous, comfortable beds, Wi-fi. Good desk, good desk chair. Nice shower. Lots of natural light. Heat that works and that I can control (which is more than can be said for home). The towels are decoratively folded (yeah, i know, silly, but a nice touch). The downside: They made us line up in the lobby before “official check in time” started. WTF? The “coffee maker” makes one cup at at time, they only give you the ability to make ONE cup of coffee, and there’s no creamer, which I didn’t know until I tried to make a cup of really bad coffee early this morning. Can you say “cranky”? There are no drapes or blinds — just sheers. There’s heavy fabric along the edges of the window, but it’s for show and doesn’t pull across the window. On top of that, the lights for the well-lit parking lot shine into the room so I can read without putting lights on. Not all the lights in the room have light bulbs in them.

Let’s say I’m having a chat with the desk when I go down. I’ve stayed at this chain a lot, although never at this hotel, and this hotel does not meet the chain’s usual standards.

We walked around late in the afternoon, enjoying the embassy residences — somehow I ended up over by the Czech Republic residence — CZK turns up everywhere in my life lately. There’s some lovely architecture in the neighborhood, and you get the sense that people really live here.

And everybody runs. That’s the big thing here — running. I guess they spend so much of their day sitting that, the minute they get out, they run. I’ve never seen so many runners in the early evening in my life outside of marathon training sessions.

There’s a little cafe down the street, so we’re going there for breakfast, and then heading first to Arlington National Cemetery,then to the monuments on the National Mall, and then to the various Smithsonians. Tomorrow is Library of Congress and Folger, and maybe sticking my head in at Capitol Hill to say “hey”. We left timing loose. (And yes, I have solid enough relationships with those I’d see at the Captiol that they said, “Just stop in whenever you have a minute; we’re always glad to see you.”) I’ve also got a couple of work appointments for Confidential Job #3 that are scattered across the days, but everything’s pretty close together.

I’m going to try to get a little writing done in the next hour or so before we leave.

Enjoy!

Devon

Sharon was walking back to her offices to retrieve her cell phone when at the same time someone was breaking into her offices to take whatever information she had on a case her team was working on when the intruder finds her and shoots her in the head.

Later on at the hospital, she is diagnosed as being “locked in”.  Locked in syndrome is a rare phenomenon where the person is completely paralyzed but yet can still understand and interpret the world around them without being able to communicate.
Her staff wonders if it is connected to one of their cases that they have worked in the past or if it is an active case.  As they comb their case files for clues, the thought in the back of the minds of everyone is will Sharon survive? Is she alive? Will her husband survive himself after being such a hardened and angry person before he met her? Will he have what it takes to find what and who ever did this to his wife and get the justice that they deserve?

As the case continues on, more clues are uncovered; Sharon is recovering more and more as more clues come to surface.  Will she be in this state for ever and live out her life communicating with only her eyes or will she rebound and come back to the self she once was and live her life with her husband and live happily ever after?

Filled with action, intrigue, and a bit of personal loss and suffering in San Francisco between many classes of people it was a fast paced thriller/ action/ adventure book that will be a great book to read on a rainy / snowy Saturday or Sunday covered with a blanket drinking a cup of tea or hot chocolate.

Read an Excerpt

Google has purchased Gizmo5 Technologies for about $30 million, Financial Times reports. California-based Gizmo5 will provide a wide set of technologies for completing and managing voice, text and video communications for the search company. The Gizmo5 workforce will be joining the Google Voice team, a service based on Google’s acquisition of another internet communications start-up, GrandCentral. Gizmo5 is a start-up that handles internet-based voice calls and instant messaging.

Information from the Google Voice Team

“Today we’re pleased to announce we’ve acquired Gizmo5, a company that provides Internet-based calling software for mobile phones and computers. While we don’t have any specific features to announce right now, Gizmo5’s engineers will be joining the Google Voice team to continue improving the Google Voice and Gizmo5 experience. Current Gizmo5 users will still be able to use the service, though we will be suspending new signups for the time being, and existing users will no longer be able to sign up for a call-in number. We’ve acquired a number of small companies over the past five years, and the people and technology that have come to Google from other places have contributed in many ways, large and small, to all kinds of Google products. Since the GrandCentral team joined Google in 2007, they’ve done incredible things with Google’s technology and resources to launch and improve Google Voice.”

I spent a few minutes today talking to Celia Johnson, an editor at Grand Central about, among other things, the editor’s role, agents, the acquisition process, Sarah Palin and Zombies.  Wanna listen in?

For more information on Grand Central, visit http://www.hachettebookgroup.com/publishing_grand-central-publishing.aspx.

I guess the best place to start this wedding blog is at the latest news.

On Thursday, Nov. 5, I gave my dearest sweetie Elizabeth her much anticipated engagement ring.

Some of you may not know that I proposed to her without a ring on Aug. 28, while we were talking about our future in her apartment in Murray Hill. She said yes but at the time I could not afford a ring.

I found out later that proposing without a ring was common practice years ago. My parents and Elizabeth’s parents were engaged with outone. So I figured I was in good company.

Elizabeth had an idea what she had wanted and looked online but we didn’t start going to jewelry stores until a few weeks after the engagement, mostly because we went on vacation the following week.

The shopping began just as I would imagine it would for any other newly engaged couples… at Tiffany’s.

I was a little nervous about visiting the famous shop on 5th Avenue not because I was intimidated, but because I was there once before and was afraid that old memories would arise again.

Yes, I am divorced and Tiffany’s was a first stop then like it was now.

Once I got over that initial feeling of dejavu, the shopping experience was actually very insightful.

Learned that Elizabeth has very small, delicate hands and fingers.

She tried on a TON of rings from the low key, simple Tiffany’s classic engagement ring to the most gaudy, sparkly ring I’ve ever seen.

Elizabeth originally wanted a Princess cut but for some reason she didn’t like the way it looked on her finger.

I’ll be honest, I couldn’t tell the difference and was a little afraid this would be about as exciting as watching the Yankees win another World Series, boring and thinking, “God, why again?”

She then proceeded to look at the Tiffany trademark ring, the Lucida, which as far as I can figure out is a marketing term they created to make that ring seem more special than the rest.

The Lucida was nice but again, not for her.

Next up the Emerald. Very similar to the Lucida and one thing Elizabeth started noticing was that the two were not as “sparkly” as she wanted.

She shook her head vehemently when the sales lady mentioned pear shaped, heart shaped and Marquise.

Then all of the sudden when Elizabeth put the Round, Solitaire, Platinum Tiffany setting her eyes watered up with tears of joy.

Yup! That’s how I knew what she wanted… The only problem? The price tag ranged from $6,950 up to $7,700.

The caret size was not that big, thank god, since Elizabeth has such small fingers. She looked at .78 ct and .70ct.

In a little of a sticker shock we left and walked to Cartier and Elizabeth looked at the plain solitaire .62ct at $6,900, then the pave .70ct at $8,700.

I couldn’t grab my jacket fast enough to get out of that store… Note to sales people, if you offered wine, champagne to the men while looking it would be a lot easier to see the numbers, I’d still run while yelling, “run away, run away, run away” but at least it would feel like the store is making an error.

After getting back to her place, my place has become a no mans land and a waste of rent since I’m stuck in an un-cooperating co-op with my lease ending in January 2010, Elizabeth proceeded to look at rings online.

Looking online for rings is like looking for shoes online. You never know if they will fit and if they are indeed what you were looking for, its very similar to online dating… sometimes you just have to make that extra effort to meet in person to see if there is a match.

Two weeks after our initial look at rings we stopped back at Tiffany’s after meeting with a salesman for a wedding photographer, its crazy that some of these photographers don’t even meet with you in person unless you ask specifically for a face-to-face.

This time during our visit we got a salesman. I felt a little better having a saleswoman I guess because Elizabeth and her could talk “lady talk”. With a man I felt like I hadn’t spent the time doing my research and was slightly embarrassed.

Elizabeth picked two different versions of the same ring this time.

1: .67ct, G VVS1 at $7,350.

2: .74ct, D, VS1 at $9,800.

WHAT! $9,800 dollars, not pesos? We had were on vacation in Cancun the month before and my mind slipped into a cerveza, sun burned induced coma.

Okay enough of the looking around. I knew what she wanted and it was obviously time to research and possibly rely on the black market offering blood diamonds and a beautiful little gem called a Cubic Zirconia.

Luckily, during our first visit to Tiffany’s a few weeks earlier the saleswoman noticed the deer caught in headlights looks I had and offered me a little book they give out explaining all the differences and what to look for.

For the rest of the week this little titled, ” A Tiffany Diamond Ring: The Gemological Standards for Superlative Brilliance”

When I originally was handed this I thought, great more propaganda to make me think that spending most of my journalist pay check on a ring is going to change the world and bring me, yes ME, joy… What a crock.

I gave the little book a try though and read it daily while on the can, while waiting and riding the subway. I love living in this great city it gives me time to do things I wouldn’t normally had done while I was on the west coast.

The book really helped me understand the meaning of diamond clarity. It helped me decipher the strange color rating and helped me see the difference in carat weight.

After reading the hand out I felt like I stayed at a Holiday Inn ready for a diamond industry board examination.

While studying up for my new board exam it seemed like everyone and anyone was recommending me to their fabulous, not to expensive, reliable, trustworthy jeweler.

I know you all meant well but I really wanted this to be from me and my family since it already felt like I had no say in anything that was being planned while I was slowly becoming an expert miner.

A few weeks went by and after relaying all the information back to home base, my mom and I were able to pull off one best kept secrets.

My mom and pop went to the same jeweler that my brother got his rings some 10 years ago.

With my expert descriptions and my mom and pops smarts we had the ring ordered, yes ordered. They had to make it, and at a fraction of the cost that we were looking at here in the city.

The ring arrived on Tuesday, Nov. 3 and just to keep the scent off I had it sent to work. Then after holding on to it for a couple days I decided to give the sparkly ring to Elizabeth in a re-do proposal since I didn’t have one during the first proposal.

Thursday, Nov. 5 after work was time for part two, the redux, the directors cut.

I called Elizabeth from work 10 minutes before I left and asked if she could meet me at Grand Central with the coupons for the special sale at Banana Republic.

She was a little annoyed that I was asking her to meet me but I had “left” the coupon on top of my laptop at her place.

As I was about to duck down into the stop across from Penn Station I called her again to tell her I should be there in about 15 minutes.

I was so nervous. I was scared that I was going to get mugged. That a bus was going to hit me. That some how a creepy person was going to know that I had a nice ring and was going to pull a Gulum and say, “PRECIOUS!”

Made it to Grand Central unscathed during a typical busy rush hour… I read too many novels and watch way too many movies.

When I got to the west side of the station where the stairs lead back out to street level all I could see was tourists and B&T crowd running for Metro North.

So I called Elizabeth and to my surprise she was still at home! Chicks! They don;t get it that sometimes us guys are trying to do something romantic.

To calm my nervous I called my pop and chatted with him about what I was planning. I mentioned that this was it, after this there is definitely no looking back.

He laughed and said that she is good and what do I want to do be single forever? “Brandon, age will catch up to you and one day the ladies will stop looking your way,” he said. Thanks pop but that’s kind of messed up, “Ha, I don’t think so. My genes are good.”

Right about then Elizabeth showed up. I quickly got off the phone with my own personal Yoda.

Elizabeth was wearing her purple hat that made her look like a throw back to Audrey Hepburn, well except for the blue jeans and vintage t-shirt.

As Elizabeth stepped closer to me I bent down to pick up my gym bag, only this time I got on one knee and held up the ring and said, “This is your last chance to change your mind. Will you marry me?”

Her mouth dropped, she quickly covered her mouth and nose in shock with both hands, all I could see was her eyes.

She then bent down and kissed me, grabbed the ring and put it on, que all the single ladies song.

Oh! Oh! Oh! If you love me you better put a ring on it!

Still in shock she stepped back looking happy for a good 5 minutes before passer byes started staring wondering what the heck I just did and if she was mad or happy.

We then ended up sitting at the Cipriani’s right next to the spot and had a glass of prosecco to celebrate.

To see her so happy and to think that it was because of me was something very special. I wish I could have frozen that moment in time for as long as we live.

Check out the latest production of Improv Everywhere.  More about them later.

I wish my lunch break were half as exciting as that.  Yes, that was Ann Curry.  So Improv Everywhere is a group based here whose mission is simply to “create scenes and chaos of joy in public places”.  I’m sure you recall this video they did last year.

This city is never want of people doing strange yet creative things just to get noticed. Only in New York…love it!

I love Google Voice, I’ve been using it since before Google bought it when it still went by Grand Central. Its a great program that has saved me a bunch of money.

I got rid of my cell phone since I can check my Voicemail/Texts from any computer. Also because Voice “tricks” land-line phones into thinking they are receiving incoming calls I no longer require expanded Toll or Long Distance service to make land line calls.Yes, I have to make my calls from my computer and they are then routed to my phone; with all my savings and the fact that my home phone sits on the same desk as my computer this not a big deal for me.

Currently my home phone bill is 17 dollars and in this economy you can’t beat that. Voicemail, caller id, call filtering, unlimited calling, call recording, three-way calling,  manage multiple phones routed through one number, and still have a land line for better 911 and other emergency services when the lights go out for the price of basic Touch-Tone service….really this is one of the few services that has come out that is useful within my definition.

My definition of “Useful Technology“: A technology that helps customers be more productive than with the services it replaces, while at the same time saving the customer money over the services it replaced.

Google Voice does just that. Yes it is a bit different, but if you’re tightening your belt like me its a great option and worth the effort to learn a new system.

Currently I have three invites to Google Voice, if anyone is interested feel free to shoot me an email at: nightarcher141@aim.com

My invites will go out on a First come, First serve basis.

On my daily commute to work, I walk from Grand Central here in NYC to my office 5 blocks away. Most of the time I walk above ground but when the weather is bad I take a tunnel that runs from the station to within a block of my building. I don’t even think most people know about the tunnel except those that commute in on metro north. Recently, I was making this walk and after a minute or two (the entire walk probably takes 5-7 minutes total) it occurred to me that I was walking by ad after ad for the same product. In this case it was the liqeure brand Grand Marnier. As there was nothing else in this tunnel to look at, I began looking at each ad noting that they were different. Some had images of the packaging, others had images of cartoony people, and some even had recipies for cocktails incorporating Grand Marnier – they all had pictures of the Eiffel Tower. My stream of conciousness thoughts went something like this (and, no, I don’t use capital letters when I think):

hmmm…grand marnier. haven’t had that in awhile. that’s the orange liqueur, right? all the ads have drawings of the eiffel tower. makes sense i guess since it is a french brand. i like the imagery. seems sophisticated. colors are nice too. maybe i should try one of these cocktails. how am i going to remember the recipe though. it’s probably on their website. i’m sure i’ll forget to check. who am i kidding, i don’t drink alcohol at home much anyway. maybe i’ll order one in a restaurant next time. what time is it? shoot, i’m late for work again. wish I didn’t have to go to work. wish I could be like the cartoons in the ad – enjoying a grand marnier cocktail in paris. aaahhh, paris. i need a vacation.

…and so on. 

The point of this illustration is that a seemingly inoccuous out-of-home advertisment, an advertisment that I would have skipped over without noticing were it in a magazine, became a 3-5 minute engagement with the brand. In fact, it was the best kind of interaction a brand can hope to have with a consumer, it was a positive association. A not particularly strong set of Grand Marnier ads got me to associate the brand with very positive imagery and a sensorial setting – relaxing in Paris. Not bad. But the genius of this interaction was certainly not the creative, and the source of it was quite possibly lost even on the agency that did the media buy – they may have viewed it as just another OOH placement. The genius was the setting. Unlike other traditional OOH placements in bus shelters, freeway billboards, even subway cars, there was next to nothing for me to look at or be distracted by. I was walking at a steady clip so I couldn’t easily read a paper or use a cell phone or get distracted by traffic jams. That led me to start thinking about other potential settings for ad placement with such few competing distractions. Tunnels come to mind but again you have the traffic as a distraction. Sometimes subway cars or airplanes provide this setting, but there you cannot provide the diversity of ads that I was forced to walk by and over. And airplanes have lots of other distractions in fairness.

In any case, 3-4 minutes of engagement is branding gold. Outside of the product experience, getting 3-4 minutes in which to carve out mind space is a marketer’s dream. I for one haven’t given a brand that much thought (when wearing my consumer hat – not my marketer hat of course) in ages. And this kind of communication with the consumer is key. This is the chance to tell the consumer about the brand identity as the marketer views it – this is the chance to shape their perception. During the product interaction, the consumer shapes much of their own brand perception. If I went out and bought a bottle of Grand Marnier, I might view the brand identity very differently because there is only so much I can gather from the bottle or packaging. But while walking through the this tunnel, I learned a lot more about what Grand Marnier thought their own identity was: Paris, sophisticated, sexy, playful, a mixer and a stand-alone apertif. And I could have learned a lot more.

I was a beta tester of Grand Central.  It was a great service but one that I could not directly use.  Why? I could not port my number.  Without number porting, I could send calls to my Grand Central account but could not dial out.  In practice, this meant that I would give my friends and family my Grand Central number but if I ever called them back, they would see my cell number provided by my carrier.  This meant that these people would be required to have two numbers for me, which was more work and confusion than I wanted them to bear.  Due to this, my Grand Central account received almost no usage.

Google bought Grand Central in what, about three years later (might be off by a bit), is turning into a prescient move.  Google is slowly but surely making Grand Central (now Google Voice) into the pre-eminent, centralized place for all of my calling that is outside of the carriers control.  This should (and does) scare the carriers.  It is a powerful idea, which will force innovation (avoided like the plague by carriers).  However, Google Voice, despite all the rucus earlier this year when they were slowly opening the beta, changing names and launching their cell phone apps (and being rejected by Apple/ATT), still had the one glaring flaw carried over from Grand Central – number portability (and the subsequent hassle required).

What changed today that incentivizes me to finally use Google Voice?! Enablement of non-Google numbers for usage with Google Voice.  Read about it here, here, and here.  I enabled call forwarding on my cell phone and now all calls that are not answered go to Google voice.  Goodbye Verizon voicemail and hello, in no particular order (since they are all great features, none of them offered by VZ on my phone), my new Google Voicemail: 1. Voicemail transcription, 2. Automatic email of the transcript (plus the voice message), 3. Customized answer messages for different people.

The first two options are great and will now allow me to actually manage my voice messages (instead of listening to each and every saved message to find the one I want).  However, it is the third option (answer messages for different people) that has me the most excited (even though it has the least utility).  I can now make specific messages for my brother, mother, father, girlfriend, boss, friend abc, and so forth.  It is personalized and fun.  This is the wave of the future.  In five to ten years, everyone will be able to customize their voice messages (assuming we are still leaving them).

Thank you, Google, for innovating and pushing the boundaries.  My life just became easier and more fun.

p.s. Google is going to fix the glaring number portability problem.  It is on the way (supposedly sometime soon).

From the beginning, Spooner was difficult.  When he was born in the back office of a rural doctor’s office along with his twin who died, it was difficult even in the best of situations back in 1956.  Even after the birth, she has even thought of it being the other way around, Spooner should have died and the twin that did should have lived.

Completely opposite from his older sister Spooner was always getting into trouble.  From the break-ins at the neighbours next door with the theft of cheese, and then urinating in a pair of shoes then placing the shoes in the freezer ( yes, you can laugh) in the middle of the night undetected.  His mother had just about enough of him, and started dating a man.  His name was Calmer.

Calmer for the most part was a loner, quiet, inquisitive, smart.  He was enlisted in the Navy when one day while burying a former member of the Navy which all goes so horribly wrong; he is discharged and off on his own.

Spooner’s mother and Calmer start dating and eventually marry.  Calmer has always taken Spooner under his care and tried to show him time and time again the right way of doing things, but then again Spooner hasn’t always been the sharpest tool in the shed.  But when it came to sports – football, baseball, he was fantastic.  After being signed to play ball after high school and being seriously injured he had to stop his sports career and start anew….well, in a different place anyways.

Eventually, Spooner becomes a reporter for newspapers, and carves out a bit of a niche for himself, he isn’t a great one, but, he does as well as he can.

I think in all honesty, Spooner was one of those boys where not just one thing clicked with him.  It was a multitude of things racing around his head not knowing where or what he would do next.  His father died shortly after he was born and then Calmer entered the picture;  taking over what his real father never really had a chance to achieve given the short life.  Calmer was the patient, caring one who had Spooner’s best interests at heart.  But in the end, was Calmer just tired out from the antics? Wondering if it ever got through to him? Some have said or even if you look at the Author’s bio at the end of the book, it has some striking similarities to what the book was all about.  Somewhat true elements about both Spooner and the author?

You make your own assumptions…

Listen to excerpts

Have you ever heard of Cancun Cantina?

Or Club Pheonix?

Ok, one more: Grand Central? No? Me neither!

But, there is a list on 10best.com of the Top 10 places to party in Baltimore and I must say that these places could not have been reviewed by anyone I know, or anyone that parties in Baltimore for that matter.

The number one club is Paradox. Who has partied in the Paradox lately that’s NOT in middle school? Whose idea was this? More importantly, who did they interview to compile this list?

So, I’ve decided to make my own list! I’ve already interviewed a handful of college students and at least five of them have proclaimed that Bourbon Street is their place of choice.

Christie Boden, for example, is a Junior majoring in Mass Comm at Towson. She proclaims she doesn’t party that often, but when she does, “Bourbon Street is where I usually have fun.” Coincidentally, Bourbon Street isn’t doesn’t even make a guest apperarance on this list! Shameful!

Ashle Walker, a senior majoring in Finance says, “Red Maple because they have good music and a nice atmosphere.”

Do you think Red Maple made the list? NO!

Help me make a new list because I’m still in shock that Paradox is number one! Comment below & name the place that you like to party the MOST in Baltimore and why!

Forty-second Street and Park Avenue is a place full of hustle and bustle. Men rush along the street to office buildings and meetings without so much as a glance around. On the street, life moves at a brisk, hurried pace, but it also moves on each individual’s own time. The businessmen walking down the street have control over their time.

These things change upon entering Grand Central Station. Time takes on its own meaning. Business men, wearing suits and ties, slow down or sped up as their enter, completely dependent on the schedules of trains and the aura of the station.

Standing in the center of the main concourse, an ominous, but elegant space, time is the one thing on everyone’s mind and tongue.

“What time is it?”

“What time does the train come in?”

“What time does the train leave?”

“Do you have a timetable?”

“We have time. What do we do while we wait?”

A large round clock with four faces sits atop the center kiosk. From almost any angle in the open, echoic room, the clock is visible. Below the clock, on the round countertop sits piles upon piles of timetables. Those who don’t already have them memorized stand idly round reading them over, glancing up at the clock every so often.

A man stands anxiously several feet away from the central kiosk, a guitar at his feet, wearing a canvas jacket and glasses. He stands idle but is constantly searching the room, waiting. After several minutes, the wait becomes unbearable and he picks up the guitar and walks aimlessly away.

A voice comes over the announcement system to tell of a train about to leave. Immediately, several of those who had been idling in the concourse pick up their bags and hurry away to an unseen track. Their movements dictated by a voice with no face, a train timetable, and the clock.

Time is the name of the game in Grand Central, the preoccupation of everyone inside.

This was my first visit to the USA. Ashes series meant that I always went east out of Heathrow. But an increasing number of friends Stateside made it more attractive to visit than ever. Accommodation and guided tours would be free. All I had to do was turn up.

The flight was entertaining. Departure was late because of a Spanish-speaking prima donna. The entire plane could overhear her complaints. She was booked into first class but had turned up late and her seat had been given to somebody else. So she had to sit next to me in cattle class. “This is so unfair,” she moaned. Life is unfair, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t get that extra six inches of legroom you paid for. She decided that being sat next to me for six hours was intolerable, so off she went.

“Close the door behind you, please.”

She cut me a filthy look.

There was also a group of Hasidic Jews, who made such a fuss of finding their seats. It must have taken them 20 minutes to be happy with their seating arrangements. They made a bit of a mess with their nibbles and biscuits. A (white American, presumably well-off) lady seated close to me said, “My, they’re a bunch of slobs.” It would not be the last time I heard such casual racism on this trip.

I was met at Newark by the delightful Bernardette Lyon, a friend of a friend who I’d met only twice before. For my first night in NYC she had very generously invited me to stay at her mother’s house in Brooklyn. We drove into Manhattan, me grinning like Joe Buck in Midnight Cowboy as he looks around NYC for the first time.

SDG and Bernardette in Brooklyn

Bernardette took me on a tour of Brooklyn, including Saturday Night Fever territory in Bay Ridge. I think we went through Bensonhurst, too, where that brilliant car chase was filmed for The French Connection. The obligatory pizza was followed by dinner at Tatiana in Brighton Beach, or “Little Odessa.” There are lots of Russians in London (in Belgravia, anyway) but I’m sure Bernardette and me were the only non-reds in the hood.

We walked along the boardwalk towards Coney Island, sat underneath the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge (Saturday Night Fever again), walked down Cranberry Street where Moonstruck was filmed, and then refuelled at Junior’s, a Brooklyn joint famous for its cheesecakes. A slice about the size of the Isle of Wight (or Staten Island) was put in front of me. Bernardette and the waiter were amused by my horror at the amount of calories on my plate.

The final pit-stop was at Farrell’s, just up the road from Bernardette’s place and where a scene in As Good As It Gets was made (so many films today!).  Bernardette had never been in there, which seemed surprising at the time but once inside I could see why… It is a very macho, Irish/cops place, though the regulars turned out to be friendly enough and we stayed there until 2am. Bernardette has vowed not to go again unless it’s with me, bless her.

An American Football match was on the TV in the bar. I have not yet grasped how this sport works but today (22 October) I was at The Oval cricket ground to see a friend. The pitch was being prepared for a “top secret” training session by the New England Patriots (or Tampa Bay Buccaneers, I can’t remember which) ahead of Sunday’s NFL match at Wembley. They are completely paranoid about their practices being filmed, my friend told me. She won’t be allowed in the The Oval tomorrow (she works there!) and the Americans had expressed great concern about the flats that overlook the ground. They were politely told that nothing could be done about that. My friend also said that the team’s cheerleaders have a full-time (male) manager. The best job in the world or the worst? We couldn’t decide.

After one night chez Bernardette, I spent the next three nights on the other side of Prospect Park with Lisa Granik MW and her partner Sandy at their splendid house.

Lisa is smart, funny and very candid—which is to say she speaks with great honesty and integrity. Her brilliant mind (and palate), lesbianism and links to Russia mean that she does not fit easily into the mainstream.

Lisa invited me to a dinner in Chinatown with several of her friends and colleagues. Before coming to the restaurant I met Lisa and her friend Gaetano and we tried the esoteric Domaine Ferret Pouilly-Fuissé Le Clos Tête de Cru 2004—as puzzling as The Times crossword—and a quite lovely Huet Le Mont Sec 2005, with not a discordant note anywhere. I brought with me to the restaurant two vintages of Dr von Bassermann-Jordan’s Deidesheimer Kalkofen Riesling Spätlese Trocken. The 2001 was very tightly coiled, with acidity like the lash of a bullwhip. By comparison, the 2002 was a big softie. It was hard to believe that two such different wines came from the same vineyard and cellar.

We also tried some Champagnes—a simple Jacques Lassaigne Les Vignes de Montguex Blanc de Blancs NV; a good Piper Heidsieck Rare 1999 and Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Rosé 1999 (though not at all flattered by the restaurant’s glassware); and a woody and fat Vilmart Grand Cellier NV.

Lisa, being a responsible adult, went back home after dinner but the rest of went for cocktails in the West Village. I was asked by one of our dinner companions, “Don’t you ever laugh?” It’s true that my natural expression is a curmudgeonly frown. But I do laugh at things that I find amusing (as this picture taken at Santiago airport proves).

By midnight only Gaetano and myself were left standing. We went to a bar where he knew (and fancied) the manageress. A youngish bloke and four younger ladies parked themselves on the table next to us. I struck up a conversation with one of them, “Kath, from Michigan.” She was blonde, had lips that implied the assistance of collagen, and wore a skirt slightly narrower than my belt. At first glance she was attractive She told me she had studied Victorian Literature in Glasgow. I was excited—perhaps finally I had found an intellectual soul mate wearing a two-inch skirt.

“And who is your favourite Victorian poet?”

“Oh, I think that would be Edmund Spenser.”

SDG and Kath from Michigan

Kath then made me an offer that normally I simply could not refuse. But, having put Spenser in the nineteenth century, I declined. Perhaps they do teach Spenser as part of the Victorian Literature course in Glasgow. But more likely Kath was a dumb blonde who was drunk or stoned or both. She looked thoroughly discombobulated by my refusal. As Spenser wrote: “But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,/And vertuous mind, is much more praysed of me.”

Gaetano did not believe that I had received such an offer. I told him to ask Kath. Then he was downright disgusted at me for refusing it.

The chaperone, who spoke fluent Italian, claimed to be an “erm, historian” and blinked nervously like the villain in Hitchcock’s Young and Innocent, was a very odd fellow. Think of Ed Balls’ (the UK Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families) twitching eyes, too—would you trust him? I suspect that accepting Kath’s offer might have meant an exchange of cash before anything else.

I got back to Brooklyn at 5am. Fortunately I did not have any appointments that day and was able to sleep off my evening of over-indulgence. But in-between the cocktails, interesting offers and hangovers, I did actually do some work. I went to the “California Wine Rush” tasting at Grand Central station, Terry Theise’s “Tasting Grower Champagne: Your how-to Guide” and a Sauternes tasting at Vermilion Restaurant.

I interviewed Jamie Ritchie, Sotheby’s head of wine, and have written-up this for Harpers. Rik Pike of Christie’s was met on an informal basis. I also caught the train from Grand Central to Scarsdale to speak with Jeff Zacharia at his enormous and copiously stocked Zachys store.

After four nights in New York, I went to California for the weekend before returning to NYC  for one night. I had planned to stay in the airport but all the best sleeping spots had already been taken and I needed to wash and rest. So I paid $170 for the privilege of staying in a very basic Best Western hotel next to the airport. Ouch.

That left me with a full day to kill before flying to Brazil in the evening. I raced around the city, doing all the cheesy things that English tourists are supposed to do— walking through Central Park, going to the top of the Empire State Building, eating hotdogs, seeing the Yankee and Citi Field stadiums, the Chelsea Hotel, walking over Brooklyn Bridge, the Staten Island Ferry… I also did a few things that would only occur to me, like going to the building at St. Mark’s Place in the East Village that was used for the cover of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti. (My dad was at school with John Bonham!).

Other things that amused me during this first trip to NYC included the umbrella salesman on the subway and his rhyming sales rap—“It’s going to rain, it’s such a pain, buy an umbrella, it’ll last forever” or something similar. At the Chinatown restaurant there was a reassuring sign in the loo: “Employees must wash their hands before returning to work.”

I will write about my travels in California, Brazil and Chile soon…

La minute était à l’origine connu comme “temps de porte”, datant de l’époque où les portes ont été utilisées pour bloquer les rampes qui mènent à la plate-formes. (Les portes sont encore parfois utilisés à Grand Central.)

À l’heure affichée publiquement le départ, les portes seraient fermées, ceux qui l’avaient déjà fait par le biais aurait une minute pour monter sur le train.

La pratique s’étend progressivement aux trains à Long Island et du New Jersey qui débutent dans la gare Pennsylvania Station et le Long Island Rail Road’s administration Brooklyn.

Fonctionnaires de chemin de fer semble quelque peu méfiant lorsqu’on les interroge sur la minute.

Un porte-parole d’Amtrak a admis que quelques-uns de ses trains de chemin de fer dans les grandes villes attendre 60 secondes après l’heure indiqués, mais il ne précise pas exactement quels trains ou les villes.

Riders parlé de la tacite 60-sursis secondes ont été tour à tour émerveillés et reconnaissants.

«J’ai été surpris que le train était toujours là, pour vous dire la vérité», a déclaré Christian Riddle, 28 ans, un peu essoufflée et en regardant de plus de un peu soulagé, car il s’appuyait sur un siège en cuir sur une Brewster-bound locales au Grand centrale, l’autre jour.

Selon le conseil de départ, le train a quitté à 8:22 pm, tout comme le calendrier promis.

Mais M. Riddle, un charpentier repartis chez eux à Hawthorne, NY, courut de toute façon, de saut en arrière de la voiture tout comme l’horloge coché 8:23. Dix secondes s’écoulent encore avant que les portes de l’EDTR fermés.

Manquer le train aurait signifié une demi-heure d’attente pour M. Riddle, qui jugeaient la politique minute secret “pretty cool.”

“Mais j’aimerais quand même essayer d’y arriver à temps», at-il ajouté. “On ne sait jamais.”

First impression of Kolache Mama: pink tiles, stainless steel interior, pop-y, cutesy, logo and fonts — some kind of Beard Papa’s copycat?

Then I read a blurb in Time Out NY, which describes a kolache is “a type of stuffed pastry from Central Europe.” Huh? I did not get that at all.

Truth is, Kolache Mama is all of the above — and then some. It has more sweet-style kolaches than savory — 10 of the 25 on the menu are listed under the “SweetieMama” section. But, there is a conspicuous bottle of Sriracha sauce sharing a counter with coffee sweeteners and stirs. And the whole interior is pretty, in that anime sort of way.

Which brings me to the menu: Many of the “MeatieMama” and “VeggieMama” options are even more difficult to grasp than the idea of a central European snack food gone anime rogue.

Options include everything egg-topped versions (presumably for breakfast but sold all day); a “Street Dog” version, in which the lightly-sweet buns that are used as the base for all of the kolaches — sweet or savory — are wrapped around an All Beef Hebrew National Frank; and the “Combo Nosh,” a veggie version, which is topped with hummus, tabbouleh, tzatziki and spices — and just about everything in between.

All are priced equally: $2.99 ea. or a pair for $5 ($5.44 with tax). Given that common denominator, I picked my two based purely on looks: The reuben, which, according to the menu, was a roll topped with corned beef, Russian dressing, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese and caraway seed, and the twice baked potato one, one of my favorite styles of potatoes, and came topped with mashed red potatoes with flecks of red potato skin, cheddar cheese, sour cream and chives.

Surprisingly, I preferred the potato one, although the idea of starch-on-starch seriously unsettled me, at first. The corned beef version was okay; I ended up eating all of the topping and only about half the bun underneath, plus the whole thing was a little dried out — in part because, so far, people aren’t buying them quick enough. The only other people to stop in while I was making up my mind about the prettiest kolaches to try were two guys, who said something along the lines of, “We’re just stopping by to try to figure out what this place is about.”

My thoughts exactly.

I am simply speechless.

All of us know Marilyn Monroe was one of the most famous actresses in her day, who is still as iconic as she was before her death – her natural beauty, her tumultuous relationships with men,  the men she married, her controversial link to powerful and influential men who include the Kennedy brothers, who died way before she should have.

In her young life, it started to go wrong very early.  Her mother, who was thought of as having something wrong with her – erratic behaviour, which left Norma Jean with neighbours as an infant never knowing who her real biological mother was, or even who her father was.

Being shuffled back and forth from her mother to her foster parents to orphanages and back again certainly displaced her and displaced her sense of who she really was, with not knowing specific details which would haunt her as if a puzzle always had a few pieces missing where in fact it should have been filled.

On her way to becoming a Hollywood star in the 50’s, the people which surrounded her seemed to hang off her like they could get something from her, or just be there in case that she needed something from them.  The mood swings, the drugs, the alcohol, and the seamless illusions of her being perfectly sane, but at times the exact opposite – depressed, lifeless, not being able to take care of herself.  The mental illness which was like her mother and grandmothers; said to be paranoid schizophrenia also known as manic depression, then the mysterious nature of her death at the age of 36.

I think there was just something about Marilyn that had everyone wanting to get to know her – her complete transformation as soon as she hit the stage, or was in the company of people that she wanted to be around.  The women who were jealous of her, and made men intimidated with her poise and intelligence.  (She was actually quite intelligent).  But behind the confidant exterior it was quite clear she was because of her childhood, her intense therapy sessions, who she was or where she came from.  It was said that she used her not knowing who her father was or her childhood to draw from during dramatic scenes in the movies she acted in.

It seems as though she was very much living a double life, the one in public, and then the one in private.

Hachette / Grand Central

The Marilyn Monroe Collection

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