Clown for a New Day

Clown for a New Day
Dagwood might make it in today's emasculated circus

Thursday, June 17, 2010

In the City That Never Sleeps, I Can't Say No to More ...

New York, New York, 1:30 EST: In the cool suave red lobby of the Gershwin Hotel, near some cool looking foreign youth fiddling with their latest electronics, great day for a brief sit down and shout out. This AM, took the 6 Lex up to 110th Street, bottom of Harlem, top of Central Park. And walked all the way down to the south side at 59th street.

My digital camera earned its price. Gorgeous warm sunny morning, breezy people and their leashed dogs out for brisk strolls. Maybe this afternoon, I'll walk back up on the west side. Came down east way.

Why do I keep coming back to this place; Broadway does not always deliver. Neither weather, neither Grandma and Big Apple. But, but, it's simply a great town, and it has those rattletrap subways. I'm subwaying out, spreading my vistas on underground rails where the stubborn cars making big jerking sounds in start up, where no matter how pretty they are made to look, down below they still bear the unmistakable music of Gotham.

And they embrace this wonderfully symmetrical city, with the great park giving it a great big soul it otherwise might die for. All around, the buildings are brighter, more gentler cause of the vast sea of green.

Yesterday, I got acquainted with Lexington when I needed to subway up to Grand Central Station, glorious restoration it is. There, I caught the Metro Northeast train for a little place one hour/one half up the rails called Brewster. Called up my local contact, Omero (I'd called his taxi service in advance from California), who drove he and cab out to the train station to take me on route 22 few miles out of the village, there to get out and hopefully not run through flash floods to see a circus called Kelly Miller.

Thank God it did not rain! At least not until I get under the tent. Me and early comers stood under the marquee while a feel wet twinkles came down, but after the show, no rain, no way. I'd asked Omera to meet me across the street in front of a Burger King. We hooked up, he motored me back, and I was soon on the return train to Grand Central.

In New York, you get lifted sky high, and let way way down, which only reminds you and them that you and them are human, and they can flop as easy, in fact easier, than they can hit gold. On Broadway, critics and others amazed that Memphis landed Best Musical Tony, so I skipped it (even it was offered at steep discounts), resisted Fella, but now wished I hadn't, cause the PC-pandering revival of West Side Story which I saw left me less than thrilled. Too much dialogue and song rendered in Spanish; something about updating an aging work. Other possible tinkering may have not helped either. If only they'd left it alone, like they did the superior South Pacific.

But NY has to hype something, and "Best Musical" only means best of the seasonal crop. Which is why I've lost my zeal for Broadway-going. You can get let down, too.

But, just around the corner, up the block, bell'll ring out, door will knock, and the Big Town wins you back. They don't call this place the Big Apple for nothing. I checked out the fabulous photo exhibit of Henri Cartier Bresson at MOMA. Through a lens like his, I am finally convinced that photography is an art form.

And at the overpriced NBC Studio Tour (really, they should give it out to us), we get so much promo, I really didn't care to know all that about Dr. Oz) and then photos turned into DVDs you can buy for a price (I refused to lend my mug to the cheap exploitation), and YET, there I learned that in the same studio where Jack Paar and then Johnny Carson filmed The Tonight Show, the new guy on the block, Jimmy Fallen does the same. Which made me want to return to this A Number One Top of the Heap place, after swearing it off for a few hours.

Tonight, I'm off to Coney to see Ringling's new under the tent thing. Might post some photos later.

This might go out under spelled, call it first draft fearless. I've got hours before Coney, and those subways are making such sweet and sour music today. They actually squeal like a sick pig at times. And bang bang bang. They know who they are, and they're not gonna go silent under anybody's fey makeover.

Just like the great big metropolis they mix up and toss around, push this way and that, take in and let out, grinding and screeching away from, knowing they'll all be back, back for another ride and another ride and another ...

Helluvatown!!

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