east side west side
Driving yesterday into the city to meet Son on the East Side, I did what I always do, which is drive down the West Side. Basically I hate the F.D.R. I take the West Side Drive - a lovely ride, far superior to the potholed, prison-island mess of a parking lot along the dull East River. How can you compare the ungainly Triboro to the grace of the George Washington Bridge (even with the after-thought lower level stuck on) with its little lighthouse on one side and sandy beach that Betty took the kindergarten kids to on the other. I ask you: is there a song about the Triboro? NO. But you all know the one about George. Go on, sing it out. The West Side, children, that's the only way to roll.
From the absurd Henry Hudson Bridge that my father always drove way-way out of his way around so as to avoid the 10cent toll which is now what, $2.50? ... to the sadly always odiferous, but Trump-Apprentice-venue sewage treatment plant (with park and skating rink atop) that they couldn't find anywhere other than Harlem to locate, I chuckle at the latest Fairway electronic wisdom, ignore the billboards (there shouldn't be billboards - this is New York, not Ohio), exit at 95th or the marina and arrive on the Upper West Side: familiar, normal, a little grimy but lovable Upper West Side. Where buildings have names associated with them like Shlomo Carlebach and Leonard Nimoy, rather than Archibald Gracie (a rich guy who went bust and had to sell the house which continues to bear his name, thereby rubbing his nose in it) or William Waldorf Astor (a really rich guy who inherited gobs of money and later... bought a couple of magazines to amuse himself). Okay, it's not perfect - there's a fair amount of conspicuous consumption and private-school bullshit on the West too - but it has Murray's and Jerusalem and Rosita's and Columbus Bakery and lighted menorahs in the middle of Broadway. And it has real non-white people who aren't just there because they are delivery men - it's actually integrated. Even has homeless people, and people who talk to themselves out loud, and bodegas, and the occasional street fair. I mean, it's New York.
So I always take the West Side - meander around, getting a good dose of West Side grime and normalcy before plunging into the park and emerging on spiffy, stuffy, so-not-me Fifth Avenue. I always sort of think I should have hit the car wash somewhere around the police station midway through the park, because on the East Side you really don't want to be driving around in an unwashed Subaru, do you. The ladies just might pick up stones in their white gloved hands and throw 'em at you. Or maybe they'll just throw their diamonds. Anyway, fuck that, my 'Ru can take any of their Lexi, any time. Clean or dirty.
So, yesterday as I was driving over to Grandma B's to pick up Son, from the West unto the East, I noticed two women pushing baby carriages on either side of the park. One was an earth mother, wearing colorful socks and Birks, hair in a braid, also half-carrying a recalcitrant 2 year old - looking like a refugee from the City College of my 60s youth. The other was an impossibly thin, blond, beauty queen wearing black leather stiletto boots over spandex and a Missoni* -type long sweater that cried out "I'm still hot even though I just had a baby!" ...
(*TAKE THAT, A**** K*******, whose name I am bleeping so that she doesn't Google herself and find this and then retalitate against my own flesh-and-blood ... V-Ls, especially Lil' One, know lots about European fashion - and by the way that "D-" Zola paper was damn good, with all its metaphoric style, you fascist.)
Anyway, so what's my point? I don't remember. Oh yeah - the point was: Beauty Queen was walking on Amsterdam, a fairly grungy part of Amsterdam at that, and Earth Mother was on Park.
Go figure.
I was going to add some artwork to this post - you know, scenes that illustrate all of my finer points - but it's late and I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow. Oh wait, I do have to add one.
From the absurd Henry Hudson Bridge that my father always drove way-way out of his way around so as to avoid the 10cent toll which is now what, $2.50? ... to the sadly always odiferous, but Trump-Apprentice-venue sewage treatment plant (with park and skating rink atop) that they couldn't find anywhere other than Harlem to locate, I chuckle at the latest Fairway electronic wisdom, ignore the billboards (there shouldn't be billboards - this is New York, not Ohio), exit at 95th or the marina and arrive on the Upper West Side: familiar, normal, a little grimy but lovable Upper West Side. Where buildings have names associated with them like Shlomo Carlebach and Leonard Nimoy, rather than Archibald Gracie (a rich guy who went bust and had to sell the house which continues to bear his name, thereby rubbing his nose in it) or William Waldorf Astor (a really rich guy who inherited gobs of money and later... bought a couple of magazines to amuse himself). Okay, it's not perfect - there's a fair amount of conspicuous consumption and private-school bullshit on the West too - but it has Murray's and Jerusalem and Rosita's and Columbus Bakery and lighted menorahs in the middle of Broadway. And it has real non-white people who aren't just there because they are delivery men - it's actually integrated. Even has homeless people, and people who talk to themselves out loud, and bodegas, and the occasional street fair. I mean, it's New York.
So I always take the West Side - meander around, getting a good dose of West Side grime and normalcy before plunging into the park and emerging on spiffy, stuffy, so-not-me Fifth Avenue. I always sort of think I should have hit the car wash somewhere around the police station midway through the park, because on the East Side you really don't want to be driving around in an unwashed Subaru, do you. The ladies just might pick up stones in their white gloved hands and throw 'em at you. Or maybe they'll just throw their diamonds. Anyway, fuck that, my 'Ru can take any of their Lexi, any time. Clean or dirty.
So, yesterday as I was driving over to Grandma B's to pick up Son, from the West unto the East, I noticed two women pushing baby carriages on either side of the park. One was an earth mother, wearing colorful socks and Birks, hair in a braid, also half-carrying a recalcitrant 2 year old - looking like a refugee from the City College of my 60s youth. The other was an impossibly thin, blond, beauty queen wearing black leather stiletto boots over spandex and a Missoni* -type long sweater that cried out "I'm still hot even though I just had a baby!" ...
(*TAKE THAT, A**** K*******, whose name I am bleeping so that she doesn't Google herself and find this and then retalitate against my own flesh-and-blood ... V-Ls, especially Lil' One, know lots about European fashion - and by the way that "D-" Zola paper was damn good, with all its metaphoric style, you fascist.)
Anyway, so what's my point? I don't remember. Oh yeah - the point was: Beauty Queen was walking on Amsterdam, a fairly grungy part of Amsterdam at that, and Earth Mother was on Park.
Go figure.
I was going to add some artwork to this post - you know, scenes that illustrate all of my finer points - but it's late and I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow. Oh wait, I do have to add one.
PS - Where I said "yesterday" above I actually meant Thursday, because it's still Friday until I go to sleep. Coming up soon, unless I change my mind: my thoughts about farmers. Happy April Fool's Day. Good night.
posted by teevoz | 1:38 AM
1 Comments:
you tell me, does that woman look normal?
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