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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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Saturday, August 24 2002

Today was an incredibly busy day, typical of the sort one has when showing out-of-towners the things they want to see in New York. There is so much here to see: the museums, the parks, the subway system, the theaters, Ground Zero. Really, it's hard to understand why people continue going to Ground Zero when there is really nothing left to see there except a bandaged lesser-skyscraper and several sidewalk blocks of disaster kitsch, but all our visitors always want to make the pilgrimage.
Today's adventure began with a brunch at home, and for this we were joined by David the Rabbi. Unlike last night's dinner, the conversational dynamics of this brunch were nearly ideal. The ensemble were tuned for maximal witty repartee and brilliant insights, although I can't remember what any of these were.
Later Gretchen was engaging David one-on-one on a matter of rabbinical policy. Though David had nothing personally against relationships between Jews and non-Jews, Gretchen wanted to explore his personal policy of refusing to perform marriages of such couples. It was interesting to hear him defend this policy, which he did not do especially vigorously. Indeed, by the end of the discussion, he was saying that he might well change this policy in the future. I keep noticing that when it comes to issues of religious doctrine, there's a surprising amount of weasel room. This shouldn't come as much of a surprise, since religions aren't constructed on rigid logical frameworks because they were never designed to address logical issues. This is why I find theological discussions so tiresome. To me it's like a game with no rules that is played in the dark.
In the early part of the day our destination was the Neue Galerie on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. David rode with us part of the way there from Brooklyn because he had some rabbinical business on the Upper West Side, home of his congregation.
The Neue Galerie features early 20th Century art for which Gretchen and I have a special fondness: German Expressionism. The decorative Art Nouveau details and the powerful existential themes seem to perfectly capture the zeitgeist menacingly pervading World War I, the Influenza Epidemic, and the overthrow of long-established scientific paradigms. Unfortunately, though, the collection of the Neue Galerie was disappointing small, particularly given the inflexible $10 charged for admission. It was spread out over only two floors of a medium-sized building and featured nearly as many artifacts (particularly clocks and dining equipment) as it did paintings, though there were almost no sculptures. Aside from one beautiful Gustav Klimt landscape, there were no real surprises.
Security at the Neue Galerie was unusually tight, with several uniformed guards pacing around suspiciously in every room, sometimes telling people to back away when they moved too close to the art. At first the guards told me that I had to keep my lens cap on my camera, but then later they told me I had to go leave it with the big chuckling woman down at the coat check. As usual, I had been taking covert photographs while I could, but I had to be so secretive about it that none of them really turned out.
While we were at the Neue Galerie we were joined by Ray and Nancy, who always seem to be available when a museum tour is planned. Nancy had brought a set of plastic hill billy teeth which she demonstrated as out on the street while Brian and Jen nibbled on a street vendor pretzel. I'd never tried a street vendor pretzel in my entire life, but I had a bite of theirs and found it unexpectedly delicious. Maybe now I'm finally a legitimate New Yorker.
The oddest thing about this afternoon was that it was raining. What with the accumulated damage done to Mother Nature since the Industrial Revolution, it's barely rained at all since I returned to the East Coast from my stint in the California desert. It wasn't raining very hard, mind you, but it was enough to occasionally necessitate an umbrella. Gretchen, Brian, Jen, and I split up from Ray and Nancy and headed across Central Park to the Upper West side, passing along the edge of "the reservoir," a body of water that looks truly massive on the ground (it's much bigger than, say, Iceland's Lake Tjörnin). Central Park is organized specifically to induce geographic confusion in those who venture within; its forms are organic, not rectilinear, and (especially on a cloudy day) it's not difficult to get turned around. We weren't sure we'd made it to the West Side until we'd seen the street signs.
We caught the subway and rode it down to Chambers Street in Lower Manhattan, where we got out and did a tour of Ground Zero, such as it is. All the terrorist-induced chaos as long been cleaned up and now it's a very tidy hole in the ground. Most of the damaged buildings around the site have been repaired, with the notable exception of flag-bedecked Banker's Trust Building, still shrouded beneath acres of black tarp. You can always tell the places where the terrorists have achieved their greatest victories, because they are usually plastered with patriotica. What better example can I give than the greatest victory of the terrorists to date, the USA-PATRIOT Act?
With nothing to see at Ground Zero itself, our attention was drawn to the circle of kitsch surrounding it. Sidewalk vendors continue to do brisk business selling pictures of crying eagles and the World Trade Center in all its pre-September 11th boxyness. In addition to this commercial component, there is also an accumulation of plenty of non-commercial artifacts: crosses, tee shirts, baseball caps, and many square yards of plastic covered with hand-scrawled messages.
I bought some blank CDs in J&R Electronics and then we proceeded to walk northward uptown through Soho, stopping now and then to check out various stores, particularly a place specializing in cheap gangsta shirts. (Brian had only packed two shirts for this trip and suddenly he felt the need to buy some more.)
Eventually we caught a cab and rode it up to our favorite Italian restaurant, Uguale. The place had been completely renovated since we'd been there last and now it seemed to be emphasizing French themes. The food and service, however, were just as exceptional as ever. Brian picked up the tab; Uguale is great place to go but it's even a better place to be taken. [REDACTED]
We took a subway up to 42nd Street and went to the Henry Miller Theater to see the musical Urinetown. Out seats were cheap $35 stools way up in the rafters, but we still had a good view of the stage. We could also hear everything, but for whatever reason we couldn't make out the lyrics to many of the songs, which was disappointing since from what we could make out they seemed pretty clever. Everything about the musical was clever, from the nature of its self-referentiality to the way it sampled and parodied all the important musicals that had come before. On occasions it reminded me of the Simpsons, which does a very good job of presenting musicals to a person of my temperament. Nonetheless, I'm not a big fan of musicals, and many of the parodies were lost on me. From what I can tell from what I've seen so far, I don't particularly like the musical form of drama, except in certain specific cases dramatizing the lives of certain musical people (such as Dancer in the Dark and Hedwig and the Angry Inch). Despite the few moments of Urinetown that I liked, I spent most of it waiting for the time to pass so it would be finished.
When Urinetown was over, Gretchen and I took Brian and Jen to Times Square (which is really more of a triangle) so they could marvel at the advertising-laden city of the future. Times Square is what most Americans think of when they think of New York City, but for most New Yorkers, wading through its slow-trudging, neck-craning mobs of out-of-towners is an experience best avoided at all costs.


Jen, Brian, and Gretchen. Brian is seated at Gretchen's computer.


David the Rabbi explaining to Gretchen why he wouldn't marry a Jew
to a non-Jew at this point in his rabbinical career.


Gretchen helps her brother Brian work the MTA card machine
in the Grand Army Plaza subway station.


David the Rabbi talking to Jen in the Grand Army Plaza station.


People on the subway.


Nancy with some fake teeth outside the Neue Galerie.


A vendor selling memorabilia outside Ground Zero in Lower Manhattan.
Two of the remaining lesser towers of the World Trade Center complex loom in the background.


Near Ground Zero, Lower Manhattan.


A foam rubber cross near Ground Zero, Lower Manhattan.


A large banner covered with hand-scrawled September 11th sentiments.
(Click to enlarge.)


Another such banner.
(Click to enlarge.)


A "New Car Smell" air freshener in a Manhattan cab.


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