Baby, It's Warm Outside

An official high of 62 degrees today, January 9, 2008 in New York City. One week ago, the high was 16 degrees, the lowest since I’ve been here.

On the news yesterday, they showed video of people practically swimming at the Bryant Park Pond (an outdoor ice skating rink). Very eerie.

Satire

Possibly the two best (and scariest) works of satire of the Bush Years have been Stephen Colbert's bravura performance at the Washington Correspondent's Dinner and this piece from the The Onion in 2001, which is so difficult to read simply because you want to laugh, but you are struck with horror as nearly every one of its tongue-in-cheek predictions for a Bush administration have come to pass.

Being Sick Sucks

Jus' sayin'.

The Devil is in the Details

I saw Connor McPherson’s (The Weir, The Shining City) newest play The Seafarer on Tuesday night, in its third performance after the strike ended last week. The play is mostly good, though it ends with a too-neat narrative trick. The story centers around Sharky (David Morse), who has returned just a few days ago to this rundown Dublin suburb to care for his brother, Richard (Jim Norton, having the time of his life), recently blinded after a drunken fall into a dumpster. Also featuring prominently is Ivan (Conleth Hill, in a brilliant turn), Richard’s longtime friend and drinking buddy. It is Christmas Eve, and the gentlemen make a run for supplies (whiskey and beer, and as an afterthought, some mincemeat pies). While they’re out, we learn, Richard invites Nicky (Sean Mahon) to stop by for a game of cards, which annoys Sharky as Nicky is now serious with Eileen, his former flame. And Nicky shows up as promised with a guest, Mr. Lockhart (Ciaran Hinds, dark as ever). Long story short, without any spoilers: they drink heavily, secrets are revealed and they play a game of high (ultimate) stakes poker, wrapping up with the weak ending mentioned above.

Love (and the memory of love), even from afar, can be redemptive; the devil is bitter and lonely and hates to lose; the past is lurking just behind the veneer of the present; family is paramount, even though they can be a pain in the ass—these ideas live in this play, and all have treaded the boards in similar forms before. The true delight was watching Jim Norton—even if a bit too broad at times—and especially Conleth Hill’s performances as old friends. There is a touch of Waiting for Godot in their characters, playing sad clowns with wonderfully developed physicality, there is a whole history of the Irish dramatic tradition in them.

UPDATE: A superb review from the New York Times. Why trust my word when you can read the superlative Ben Brantley?

Cui bono?

An interesting op-ed in today’s New York Times advocates for the (re)introduction of Latin courses in American high schools and universities, coming fairly close on the heels of Pope Benedict XVI’s easing of guidelines for the use of the Tridentine Mass, which further raises the point that a traditional Roman Catholic Church is one of the few places in the world where you can hear spoken Latin for a sustained period of time.

I don’t think it’s such a bad idea for kids to study Latin today, especially as it is the basis for many European languages, as well as a large proportion of English. Furthermore, I agree with the author of the op-ed that Latin offers an excellent foundation, inter alia, in rhetoric, a skill sorely lacking in today’s political realm (not to mention academia). Latin is concise, precise, and does not lend itself to verbosity (though students of Cicero may disagree). This post might have been three words in Latin.

Plus, what better way for kids to communicate on the sly and dupe the parents than with a dead language that no one knows?

Not So Real Estate

Apartment hunting in New York City and environs can be overwhelming. Vacancy rates in Manhattan are close to the lowest in a decade, and that is pushing up rents, even in the outer boroughs, with the cheapest (least gouging, I should say) rents being on higher floors (in walkups at least) and situated furthest from the subway.

About 32% of the housing stock is rent-controlled, so you can imagine how much competition there is for those places (including a willingness to pay brokers 12%-16% of the annual rent, depending on the neighborhood). And many of those people are already paying an agent to hunt for them (at 10% of annual rent). After paying first & last month’s rent and a security deposit, you can end up looking at $5500 to $7000 just to MOVE IN. Factor in moving costs and furnishing, and you can easily reach $10,000.

Going Down Slow

A man fainted in front of me on the crowded subway this morning. It had a swooning sense of the surreal, one of those moments where time seems to slow, as he almost floated downward, his legs appearing to gently buckle under him, still holding the stainless steel pole at the center of the car. He didn’t lose consciousness for more than a few seconds and was standing again almost faster than we could call the train’s conductor over the intercom. We tried to help: someone stood so that he could sit, someone offered a bottle of water, but he waved us off saying he had the flu and a cold. We continued to talk to him, trying to make sure he was alright—did he have medicine, could we help in any way—but ten seconds later, we arrived at 14th Street/Union Square and he was rushing off the train. Those of us in that section of the car exchanged worried glances before resuming the requisite reading, staring-into-space, or iPod characteristic of a packed train.

It was an odd experience, to say the least…hope he’s okay.