More deltas

Wait!
When folks are chatting in a group, let's say someone starts a joke by saying something funny and everyone laughs. If another member wants to add to the humour or chip in, they say 'wait!' or 'but wait!' e.g. 'wait! She was also the one that was late for the after-party' ah haa ha haa hahaa.. etc.

Very mixed feelings about
Pet shops (of which there are very many) sometimes feature puppies or kittens in the window. Very sweet to watch tumbling around in the shredded paper.

Advanced society
There is a hardcore cyclist presence in Manhattan and especially Brooklyn. An undergoundy group called times-up organise all kinds of free events from moonlit park rides to fountain rides, involving jumping in public watery areas in the heat and most inspiring of all to me: on a Thursday night you can take your bike to a free drop-in workshop and fix it/ change it/ service it using tools and kit provided there, helped along by an expert volunteer cyclist.

Salmoning

Cyclists who cycle the wrong way along NY streets/avenues which are mostly one-way. They irritated me a lot at first but now I just steer around them and that's that.

High temperatures
The first milks I bought here, I enjoyed the creamy taste of and felt fortunate in a shoulder-shrugging way at just how long the large carton lasted in the fridge (well over 10 days!) But then I always did like the taste of UHT milk when camping - which doesn't need refrigeration and lasts and lasts because the bugs/bug-supporting stuffs in the milk have been blown into high heaven by ultra high temperatures. And unsurprisingly this treatment destroys the enyzmes and some of the other good things in the milk.
So I read on the packaging of even the organic milks here that they are 'ultra-pasteurized'. And on the web I learn that UHT = ultra-pasteurized. This suits the retailers/providers who can manage their supplies better but makes for a lower quality product. So far I have only found one store in Manhattan (Food Emporium - an expensive chain) which carries a non-UHT milk, which happens to be organic too. Which makes me feel like I'm getting something terribly earthy when it is just basic pasteurised stuff (60oC treatment) normal to the U.K stores.

Improv 1

My improv class ended this week.
It's been great, a wonder-choice for entry into New York city life. Partly because it gives me instant contact with people socially at least once a week. So my Tuesday evening 7-10pm slot has been enjoyably anticipated (I even took to having a tasty 'mini-tiffin' thali at one of the celebrated Indian restaurants in the area around 28th/Lexington beforehand, to add to the routine!) Also because playing about like children is great after serving the machine all day. But mainly because a fundamental part of improvising with other people is to develop a sense of trust and rapport, which involves of course listening, taking risks and inevitably looking stupid and breaking ice pretty quickly. So quite quickly I had some new friends, including 2 who I am sure I will continue to see now that the 8 weeks is up.
And part of the course is that we get to do a 'grad show', a 50 minute set of improvised scenes based on audience suggestion. We are still pretty bad at it of course but it went well. Interestingly the qualified regular actors on our 'level 1' course, weren't necessarily the best at improvising, but were the best at doing characters/emotion, being on display and projecting.

There are no less than 3 improv schools in NYC - they all have their own impressive premises with lots of studios for classes and a big theatre and bar - which are a bit studenty but great for that too. So interesting that there is such a buzz of improv in New York. The equivalent in London has a pretty loyal following and is very good quality but it does not have the turnover of students evident here.
Standing backstage having been told 'places' by the front of house, I loved the signs on the stage entry door like 'what to say next is in your partners eyes'. Also 'yes, and...' which is the universal improv chant, the idea being that when your partners on stage imply or direct the scene a certain way (e.g by saying "so it's great that you agreed to come and get a Brazilian done with me Janine", you must  comply and then build on it rather than deny their idea either subtly or crudely ("er, we're fighting a war in Iraq!"). Which means you really have to bend as the idea you just had may not fit.

I did a scene where Chinese Emelda (BioChem Phd student moved to US 7 years ago) taught me to shoot a pistol as a keen apprentice cowgirl.
And I did a scene where Stan (Chicagoan young buck commercial realtor who uses the word 'man' in sentences addressing men so very authentically) helped me to prepare a shepherd's pie for new girlfriend, which began with me celebrating love with moans as I mashed the potato.
Good fun!

And tonight I saw one of the dozens of nightly improv shows on every night of the week. The suggestion was the Olympics of course and the team of 3 women pulled out the most entertaining set of scenes for us - so convincing and natural. They ranged from a female archer who was denied being seen in press interviews by her team because of her unsightly mustache. In another scene later on, a news TV show, she was then announced as being disqualified for turning out to be a man....etc. They did it very well.
Olympics! I youtubed the opening ceremony to find it wasn't on there disappointingly. I wonder how it is for y'all in London.
Anyhow their skill at making interesting moment to moment scenes reminded me of something that buddy Darren said once, something that I realised I had assumed too but hadn't crystallized into words. And that is that he gets the sense that good improvisers are fundamentally different from good tennis players, knitters, cooks, musicians etc. in that we (Darren and I) get the sense that they are just better..... people somehow - because the art seems to be part of being human in some intrinsic way. It has totally to do with having your attention on yourself and others in balance, empathy, tracking the moment as it unfolds and being able to draw naturally on everything you have ever experienced as well as abandoning control to your silent instincts as they flow. All this as a simple thing rather than as a mighty conundrum. Children seem to do it effortlessly before they get self-conscious and sassy.
I haven't concluded that this is all true at all, but it is an interesting one.

A few times in yer life you get really really wet

This Sunday night was good:

4 of us on bikes through the city. We follow Mona who rides like Spiderman in her red poker-dot dress which flies up above big pink knickers, through the skyscrapers - a daredevil! We wait for each other at junctions. Solidarity! Yellow cabs parp! We make it to Central Park after dark in search of the Woody Guthrie family concert. It has finished but we don't care. The park is beautiful and empty in the moonlight, we cycle fast down the hills and Mark says his long bike is his pirate ship. He has a pirate's beard and loopy mustache. He says my name for no reason. We sing a pirate shanty. We head towards the drumming. We lean our bikes altogether in a locked huddle. It has begun raining. There is a big group of French-speaking North Africans drumming and piping on huge homemade colored trumpets in a very foreign manic rythm. We dance in the rain on and off madly. Mark hides in the shadows. We dance with children. It feels a bit hippy, a bit wild, slightly dangerous but mostly just warm and wet and matter-of-fact. I feel the abandon is anti-doting the hours in front of the screens. Mark says he senses psychoticness in the vibes. Barbara says lets go. We saddle up and then her sister joins us. Then it REALLY rains, torrents and waterfalls. It makes us laugh. We head for the huge stone bandstand where another group of black guys are listening to my favorite other music on a big speaker: Shalamar (early 80s black soul). Mona dances in the rain while we watch from the bandstand catching the water dripping off our noses with our tongues. Mark says it is like the jungle: the lions, cheetahs and gazelles shelter near each other even though normally they are not friends. The rain is literally a rain-check. I liken it to not shooting at tea-time in Burma. I enjoy being near the black guys in the rain. Then we go for late night burritos and cocktails(virgin for me) before bed. There will be more screens in the morning.

Spoken things


These exerpts seemed somehow a bit American - or maybe not. But they seemed slightly different to the banter I'm used to....


Mona: Did anybaardy see the new Men In Black movie yet?
Jo: 'Black in time'?
Mona: That what it's called? - that's so stoopud
Jo: Not that but somethin like that
Mona: yah-ha
Andy: Right - it *is* as stoopud as that, it's just not that.


 * * *


Judy cowering on her bike as it starts to really pelt it down:
Yikes! I furgaart my invisible shield


 * * *


We were talking about the different places we had to get back to in Manhattan on our bikes at about 11.30pm and realised how near we were to Judy's (77th) whereas I am on 61, Mona on 45 and the others further down. We'd only ended up on 77th because of the Guthrie concert in Central Park and then sought refuge in a nearby eatery from the rain.
Judy in the middle of the throng of conversation: 'Yeah thanks for coming uptown to see me guys'


* * *


Barbara, 47 years of age, on being asked how she would describe herself in one word by Mona:
C*nt.
(I have no idea where that came from by the way - but it was very funny at the time.)


* * *


Mike (guy sits near me, describes what it's like being in his new team to an ex-team member in the elevator going down):

There's quide a lard of starrt-up time workin out what's going arn up there

How I would say it:

It's taking me while to get used to everything before I can actually be useful to the team

First night with native showing me lots of fun things

Online dating is great for socializing, whether or not it is for anything else I've always found. I have many times wondered how there could be a 'friends' equivalent, but I guess it doesn't have the same massive evolutionary force behind it. Anyway it seems like folks in US, or NYC anyway, are quite keen to meet daters fairly soon after making contact. So I have met one lady who has certainly shown me some good times. And I'm not in the market for other than good company just now, when everything sparkles so much that I can't think of focusing on one sparkly person, and therefore the good times I speak of, can be spoken of in detail here! If you get my drift...

So Mona, we'll call her, told me she liked me after about 3 minutes like this "I like you!" Funny how you do know pretty quickly. Even funnier when people say what they think, especially if it's good news. I think another lady I met could have said the opposite equally quickly. I met Mona at an intriguing spot in NYC, actually a very well known one which she named and which I had never heard of.

She was sitting on the grass next to her very flowery very hippy bike, wearing a pink dress, shoes off, having just been woken up by a very cute little boy which brought tears to her eyes. We were inbetween the glory of 2 bridges: Manhattan and Brooklyn, which spoke off over the river in their spectacular paths. There is a park area underneath the overpass (flyover) which leads up and around to the bridges. Infact we were down under the manhattan bridge overpass aka DUMBO. There was a Jewish wedding going on next to the beautifully restored old carousel there and the sun was setting - the best of which I caught on the ferry over the river from 35th street. I chatted to an English woman whose hair shone and blew in the wind next to her lacy white dress on her way out for the night with her fellow holiday-making friends. We established that folks are not friendly in New York. Nice, helpful, yes. But not friendly. A curious thing to feel more and more resident, accentuated by talking to a fellow Brit as tourist.

But my talking to strangers has got absolutely nothing on Mona's - she demonstrates unwittingly throughout the whole evening. She plays with fierce looking dogs out with their tattoed muscley owner, chatting to him who stands their coyly proud of his dogs. She asks a group of girls on the grass if they know the song 'Call your girlfriend' - as she is trying to win a competition with me about song lyrics. She asks as if she was their sister. They reply as if she was their sister. 

She asks the people next to us at a gorgeous little bar in Red Hook in Brooklyn what they ordered, covetting their dishes. This we cycled to - first on cycle path and then through the very quiet residential but funky streets. There are cool warehouses turned artist studios around, like at Hackney Downs and lots of sunbleached young folks literally hanging outside bars in the heat with flip flops, looking gorgeous and young. And they are more friendly - especially because of Mona though I think, who has the open to connection vibe a bout her, despite being many years older than most of them, and a good few more than me.

I particarly enjoyed how she says to the barman in one breath: "what's your name? Oh I love that name" (Zak his name). She flirts with him and then speaks across to the guys around the corner of the bar, who are finishing up their delicious plate of mushroom-stuffed chicken breast with kale (big in USA is kale - you can get it dried as a snack, shredded raw as salad, fried with meat, steamed with garlic dressing - it's everwhere) and roasted polenta steak. I know it is delish as we order the same to share with a cocktail that I don't recall, but it has whipped eggwhite on top dotted with orange bitters. All very exciting and tasty to me. 3 cocktails and one main (entree in US parlance) = $60 = £40 ish.

When she speaks to the guys she asks if they know the black lady next to them who has just left. They say she's local which interests her. She then asks them where the girls are. They dutifully excuse their partners and she teases one of them about not going to the wedding with the girl in question, who has gone to the wedding. He responds saying it's early on in the relationship.

So you can see what good value a date Mona is. I get to hang out with locals and watch her at work, and eat at fabulous little places that do thoughtfully cooked food.

It gets better twice though. First we head off to Sonny's, owned by Sonny who Mona knows, a music bar nearby which features a fantastic blue-grass jam every saturday night. The great things about it were:

- 10+ musicians taking part on the low stage, rotating

- some musicians were girls

- banjos and guitars and passionate vocals everywhere

- beards everywhere (the sudden appearence of beards as you cross from Manahattan to Brooklyn is I expect a well-used source of standup humour)

- guy on harmonica *very* animated with his long swingy curly hair bob and short beard - plays it mean

- house double bass! - this I have no problem picking up and playing along to a few - love the way the next singer approaches me to teach me the chords in 20s to the next song. The harmonica guy says later on to me "you don't have to slap it  - your are putting other musicians off". So I 'walk' the next 2 numbers before joining the audience who are very attentive and into the music. Great atmosphere and they play til very late.

Secondly we go back via the famous Brooklyn Heights. There is a cycle path which leads up to a silent benched lookout. And boy does it lookout. It's tremendous and I now learn is famously so at night. For a few hundred metres across the black water is the statue of liberty, very small and lit up all green and splendid in the distance, tourists subsided for the day. To her left the low bright lights of New Jersey and a couple of islands. And then to her right Manhattan rises up out of the black like a stretched up space city of lights. Breathtaking.

We cycle back over Brooklyn bridge at gone 2am and I am in bed by gone 3am. I suffer terribly from the exhaustion of it all the next day with a class A migraine. Cocktails with not enough water probably didn't help. Mona apparently is fine. She is a casting director for commercials and she is up and bright-eyed for work. Some people's constitutions, my oh my.

Shot is Brooklyn bridge from DUMBO.

Sunday p.m. quickie

OK I really need a camera now as it would really enhance things here.
I missed the last 8.20pm East River ferry bus home from Williamsburg, Brooklyn tonight on account of the open mic session being worth it.

Therefore I cycled back over Williamsburg bridge. It's a good 15-20 minute ride across as it spans a lot of land from high up, aswell as the river, to plonk you down near 1st Avenue. The land part is fun in itself as you get to peer down into villagey areas with planned blocks of accommodation, and spy Manhattan bridge in its majesticness playing peekaboo behind the blocks as you scoot along.

Most poetically tonight, the metal caging around the wide cycle-path forming one of the corridors that is Williamsburg bridge (there is a separate corridor for subway trains and others for vehicles), is colored a dark pink which matched the gorgeous sunsetting sky straight ahead as you go. Really beautiful balmy evening, and several lone people going hard with their cameras at getting a great shot of the sky and the buildings.
I like the cage as on Manhattan bridge the cycle path has less protection from the side and I couldn't stop fantasizing about slipping under the railing and falling down down - it's a long way up. Exhilerating though.
It made me want to keep a second bike for visitors as there is nothing like the freedom of cycling these beautiful routes at the right time of day. Eager to taste everything, I did hold my hand out for the slightly painful high-five which was offered to all, by a guy coming fast the other way.

And what a fun offering I returned from. An open mic afternoon before the real live set of the evening in a characterful wooden bar called Pete's Candy Store in Brooklyn. Very similar to London of the same - a line of white guys with their guitars patiently watching while they wait to go on. Only this one this afternoon anyway had lots of women too and to my equal joy a black couple, who won the prize for me:
Guy with afro and beard on funky stratocaster guitar who did some very soulful backing vocals in the bridge to chorus "oh no no no no noooooo". And a beautiful woman with long hair and a yellow dress, very many white teeth and excellent microphone control - holding it down for the high loud held notes. It was a step towards Womack and Womack or Minnie Riperton. The chorus went:
Tight (pause)
Tight (pause)
Tight (pause)
...our love is...
I laughed at the upbeat soulful sincerity of their song. Solid as a rock...that's what this love is.

Hard to look cool at the moment in the heat. Or at least to look vintage for guys. Shorts and t shirt, which is all that is tolerable under the furnacing sky just now just isn't very retro. And everyone looks the same.