Well, we’re back. We’ve been back since Monday night, but as so often happens when you take time off, work falls on your head the minute you walk back through the door.
Also, laundry. Also, snow and ice and more snow.
So now there’s a moment, and here I am. Back! We went here:
That’s an architectural detail outside the Dakota, John Lennon’s old apartment building on Central Park West, in New York. This was a spur-of-the-moment trip, which we threw together at the last minute and lucked into, with a good Airbnb, a decent flight and four days away from Detroit. It was cold, but not as cold as here. We wandered here and there, shopped a little, and did the two NYC museums I’d somehow not seen — MoMA and the Whitney. We went to this show at the Whitney:
The permanent collection was more impressive. With Warhol, you see one, you’ve seen …most of them, anyway.
The true revelation of the trip came Friday night, when we went to the cabaret space at the Public Theater to see Salty Brine, a performer whose Living Record Collection is a series of shows that mash together contemporary albums with other stories. We saw “And If You Listen Very Hard,” a combination of personal stories, Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Treasure Island” and “Led Zeppelin IV.”
It was truly one of the most original, entertaining, funny, poignant and moving nights at the theater I’ve had in years, probably because it was so unexpected. Alan found the listing in Time Out, the seats were dirt cheap ($20), and we got the last ones. Write down the name; you don’t want to miss it if you can.
Otherwise, it was just walking and the subway and eating and all that. It’s been a while since I’ve been to New York; I should go more often.
And now we’re back, with the snow and ice and misery of mid-to-late winter. Good to keep up with all your stories via the comments.
As I continue to cough. Yes. It’s fully tuberculosis now, I figure. So I’m heading to bed.
Here’s a column I wrote. Read it. Traffic is important.
I’ll try to be back Friday. Thanks for holding the place up in my absence.