Pop quiz #2. What does the above mean?

a) The food here is ‘OK’;

b) When you order something, we’ll say ‘OK’;

c) OK is the name of the man who owns the store;

d) The store was originally a ‘clock market’, but the letters ‘C’ and ‘L’ fell off.

All answers to be submitted via the comments section.

06/24/09 -- New York -- 4 Comments

I was going to go to MoMa, but Daniel told me to go to PS.1 instead. He said, “It’s way better.” I took his word for it, but not his map, and ended up walking the streets of Long Island City asking strangers where I could find it. It turned out to be the large brick building, next to the subway I walked out of, with ‘PS.1′ written in bold letters three stories high on its side. I, on the other hand, turned out to be the fool with sweat patches and sore feet.

Once inside I hobbled into the multi-room solo exhibition by Jonathan Horowitz titled, And/Or. His work critiqued America, the media and pop culture in the best way possible. If you can imagine me crouching next to a wall, my ear hovering close to a speaker, listening to Jonathon whisper sweet somethings in the voice of Marilyn Monroe, while Britney Spears’ vagina stares at me from the adjacent wall - that’s what it was like.

Tofu on pedestal in gallery was another favourite of mine. It’s just as you imagine: A soggy piece of tofu, in a glass jar filled with water, sitting on a pedestal. It had been kindly shipped over from a Berlin gallery with the help of a host of small business sponsors. People care.

Then I caught the G train, transferred to the F train, and ended up in Park Slope looking for this place - The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. It’s there that they sell things like Secret Identities, Particle Guns, Anti-Gravity, and the supremely annoying Thunder Inducer. For those that don’t know, it’s the New York City chapter of the Dave Eggers’/McSweeney’s empire. Basically, the store is a front to the writing and publishing workshop in the back named 826NYC, run for the benefit of young writers in the greater New York City area. I bought a magazine they published called First Magazine, written exclusively by high school students in New York. It’s really very good.

When you buy something you need to recite the vow of heroism. So while surrounded by young children, all fell silent while I spoke aloud:

“I, Tait Ischia,
also known as Lord Eyeball, (I know… WTF? Don’t ask.)
promise always to use my superpowers for good.
I promise to use the items I’ve purchased here today safely,
and in the name of justice.
I promise to remain ever vigilant, ever true.”

After this I went to a BBQ in Brooklyn and ate Lion. True story.

06/20/09 -- New York -- 3 Comments

When it rains you can’t do shit. You can’t walk. You can’t see. You can’t be dry. You can’t sunbathe… You can sit inside and read. That’s kinda cool. But not when you’re in New York City. That fucking sucks. So today I cursed the Gods who were pissing on my trip and decided that if it rains tomorrow I’ll go to MoMa.

06/19/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

I could live my entire life in Central Park. The rolling hills and ancient rocks remind me of the New York that exists in my mind’s eye. This is a good thing because, you see, I’ve got a problem and it’s a big one. New York is not the diner on every corner, Gershwin playing, Woody Allen muttering, J.D Salinger paradise I thought it might be. It’s a dirty, over-populated, consumerist hell-hole, fit for only the overweight mid-western so-and-so’s that spend all their fat moments talking loudly in Times Square. Disappointed? I sure was. But I found that there are more people that think this way, and one person in particular is the Vocalese extrordinaire, Kurt Elling.

Kurt Elling is a jazz singer from Chicago. His records have earned him many Grammys and fans around the world. Tonight he played a show at Charlie Parker’s old haunt, Birdland, on 44th St. After the show I asked him, “Kurt, I hear you’re living in New York now. Why? Gershwin’s New York doesn’t exist to me yet. Where is it?” To which he replied, “Everyone wants to live in New York sometime in their life. Just like everyone wants to live in Paris or Milan or…” Then he wailed his arms in the air like a bat with enormous wings. “New York is hip, you’ll find it. There are pockets where Gershwin lives. You just gotta know where to look.” Then he signed my record and I walked to the Flatiron building and decided to stay a while.

06/17/09 -- New York -- 3 Comments

The Meatpacking District is where all the ‘meatpackers’ hangout… Apparently. There are a few stores and cafes where these ‘meatpackers’ spend their time, packing meat and other such things. I don’t know if they really do that. I didn’t take much notice, as I was heading straight for The High Line.

The High Line is this new public space/pseudo park that used to be a train line running above the streets of New York. It’s really a good example of how New Yorkers understand public space. Especially now that it’s summer, everyone is out and about drinking up the sun with their skin. There are parks literally everywhere. And these parks are generally where they do the majority of their skin-drinking. Every park has an assortment of places to sit, play, shade, talk, relax, play chess, play table-tennis… Lots of good things.

On the High Line there are lots of benches to ‘chillax’ on and even a theatre-type seating area where the ‘play’ is the cars driving by on 10th Ave below. There were lots of people milling about today, so I assume it’s a success. It’s a nice urban alternative to hanging out in a traditional park.

Oh and there’s this big amazing building on-top of the High Line named The Standard. It’s a hotel owned by the uber-everything entreprenuer Andre Balazs. Apparently the thing to do at the moment is to hire a room and have sex up against the window. Patronage at the cafes below is skyrocketing.

06/16/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Pop quiz. What does the above mean?

a) Fresh food is funny;

b) The full-stops are there to make the laugh-sound ironic, therefore playing a joke on the reader;

c) Ha and Ha own a grocery store named Fresh;

d) If you’re looking for un-fresh food, the joke is on you, because you won’t find it here.

All answers to be submitted via the comments section.

06/15/09 -- New York -- 3 Comments

The couches in New York are very comfortable. They are both wide and long and can accommodate most girths. If you tuck your face into the crack between the cushions it feels nice and will block out the light.

I’ve walked across the Williamsburg bridge twice this week. It’s pink and ugly but does its job of transporting many walkers and bikers across the Hudson river well. On friday night I carried a six-pack of Brooklyn Brewery beers across it to Sunni’s house in Brooklyn. She cooked lamb balls made from beef and we all drank framboise. Then we went to Lit in the East Village - a dive bar filled with an assortment of characters - because Sunni and Larry were DJing there. At 7am the next morning we climbed on her roof and enjoyed the morning Manhattan skyline. We all agreed that we’ll never get tired of that clump of buildings. Then we passed the joint.

06/15/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Today a pigeon pooped on me in Union Square park. I used a subscription card from inside the New York Magazine I was reading to wipe it off. A couple sat arguing next to me, telling each other to, “Go eat a fuck” and some such. I peered over and realised they were reading lines from a play. My feet ached from walking to Times Square in plimsoles and a bum managed to squeeze me for two dollar-bills outside the New York Post Office on 8th Ave. I must have looked like a stupid fucking tourist with a camera around my neck and a straw hat.

Now I’m reading the Apartamento magazine I bought from a bodega in SoHo yesterday, sipping tea and wondering what I’ll do tonight.

06/12/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

I really like the East Village. It’s such a swell place. Everyone lives in cute little apartments like this one with decks made from Ikea slats. In the morning the village citizens get coffee from 9th St Espresso, then ride their bikes to their authentic day jobs. This could possibly be a generalisation based on Tom and Helen, my profoundly sweet and considerate hosts, but I’d like to think everyone here does the same.

Today I saw Terry Richardson on Prince St in SoHo holding a bouquet of flowers. Then I was almost stopped by a hippie standing on Broadway rallying support to save the pandas. I told him, “Sorry man, I don’t have much time.” To which he replied, “Neither do the pandas!”

06/12/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Hey all. I’m in New York City. Are you here too? If so, shout my name really loud as you walk around the East Village. No one will care. It’s New York! Then we’ll go buy some bagels together and eat them in a park.

06/11/09 -- New York -- 2 Comments