Dear Sir or Madam
I know how this feels. (Another useful tidbit unearthed by the folks at Metafilter.)

Disney and the Trains
Remember that Hong Kong subway decorated with Disney characters? No, never mind, it doesn’t matter. But in case you missed it: the MTA in NYC went and joined the advertising onslaught, if only temporarily, with its theme-train entry of the Times Square-Grand Central shuttle done up with ents, hobbits, etc. All this for a DVD. I can understand if you really, really want to go ride that train: you are a geek.

PS: I can also understand if you go and ride the PATH train today: you want to commemorate the resumption of service to the World Trade Center.

I Am Matisse
O.k., the collage machine is more Colorforms(tm) than Rauchenberg (and it's for kids, but shut up), still it's pretty fun and a nicer use of Shockwave software than you'll see more often than not. So go ahead, play with the pre-set forms, pretty colors, and cut up a caper.

Memento Mori
Of the 8 designs for the WTC memorial, as much as I like the votive candles (a maintenance nightmare), my preference runs towards the outdoor designs (except the Mya Lin knock-off). Some of the indoor memorials are effective, evocative, emotive, etc., but they tend to make me feel a bit oppressed. And I'm not even a claustrophobe. Perhaps it would be different being there, and I concede a park-like setting might be less inspiring of reflection.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Oi, Oi, Oi!
This sports-related chant will soon replace the former Number 1: "U-S-A, U-S-A . . ." following the results of a BBC poll in which Australia outranks the US for must-visit tourist destinations, particularly in ranking Sydney over New York. What else is on the list? #13 - Uluru vs. #15 - Niagra Falls; the Great Barrier Reef at #1 is ranked well above #23 - Yosemite, which is probably enough of a disparity to also account for #24 - Hawaii. If not, we'll have to find a way to get the Whitsunday's on the list. Since New Zealand should probably be part of Australia anyway, let's also add #4 - South Island to compete with #3 - Florida; #25 Aukland vs. #7 - Las Vegas (and how did they make the list anyway? It's all cigarette smoke, neon, and eyeball-drying heat). Look, I'm just pleased my new city outranks my old city, really.

Welcome to the Sydney Real Estate Market
Government sponsored housing developments here in Sydney might perhaps be the envy of those administering or living in other such projects back in the U.S., scattered as they are throughout the entire municipality, including the most desirable areas, low rise, low density (mostly - there area couple of notable exceptions around town, one of which belongs in a science fiction prison movie), and except for the cheap brick that characterizes their facade, not entirely unattractive: they could be condos (strata, as such units are known here) anywhere. And now NY: the City and State have long been chipping away at the control systems set in place to provide housing for their low- and no-income denizens, but it appears to be reaching a head, particularly with the end of Mitchell-Lama programs in the city. Sure, it's only been a 2% decrease in three years, but don't discount the effects of loosened rent control and rent stabilization on the overall pool of housing for the poor. Not to mention the effects of the Bush II imperium's economic direction. NYC housing prices are certainly steep, although San Francisco has traditionally outstripped them, but as the reins are let loose, look to see the prices rise accordingly, and before long - public housing notwithstanding here - the real estate market will be as overheated as it is here in Sydney, and without the natural amenities we have here.

Being at Bondi
This Sunday, M. and I took the Bondi-to-Bronte cliff walk, where Sydney Water sponsored the "Sculpture by the Sea" exhibition. It was the last day, so the walk was packed, but the sun was out, the breeze was cooling, and the sculpture - some of them at least - were pretty good. There was an inevitable bit of Christo, and some flat-out "why?" pieces, but others actually suited the environment, and these seemed to me the best of the lot. It's one thing to sculpt, but if it's for an outdoor exhibit, especially where the environment itself is so much on display, there ought to be a fit between the two. In any event, here's the NY Times getting gushy about Australia, a seasonal event, specifically with Bondi. The picture captions are backwards, by the way: Bondi Icebergs is the 2nd picture (and if you're planning a visit, plan also to stop at the bar there for a coldie, as the view is worth pausing for, as is the beer).

Watch the Watch
I've been a big fan of Madison Smartt Bell for many years, although his output can vary in quality from book to book. Washington Square Ensemble, Soldier's Joy, and his novelization of the Haitian slave uprising, All Souls Rising were terrific, but Ten Indians, the Haitian follow-up Master of the Crossroads disappointing. I was also disappointed with Doctor Sleep, but I'll have to give it another go, even if the movie that's now been made from it, Hypnotic is getting mixed-to-negative reviews. That way, I'll know if I want to see it or just have to.

La, La, La, La, La, Means I Love You
Actually, it's the sound the Bush administration is making these days to avoid hearing questions from Democrats. Yes, George II doesn't want to even hear so much as a peep from the opposition, so he's stuck his fingers in his ears. Any questions? Put them in writing and send them through the House or Senate Committee Chairperson (Republicans, for the most part) for submission. And good luck. First, he stops taking questions from the press, now he's stopped taking questions from the Legislature. Is this the Madness of King George all over again? Well, Dean's a doctor, maybe he can help.

"It's Not Us, It's Cuba"
We've got nearly a dozen non-Afghani prisoners in Guantanamo, held as enemy combatants, including a couple of Australians, whom the Supreme Court will decide can or cannot use the U.S. court system to get out of their present circumstances. The Justice Department is arguing that Cuba has jurisdiction over the U.S. military base, not the U.S., because we lease the property. So Fidel Castro should decide? Look, I understand the argument that we need to have these guys available because they're Al Qaeda-trained and may know others who trained in the terrorist camps. So when we break up a cell and arrest some suspects, they can be paraded in front of the Guantanamo prisoners for identification. That makes a certain amount of sense. Except we haven't really caught anyone else, have we? The Lackawana Six or Seven or was it only Five? That doesn't appear to have required the use of anyone in Guantanamo, and neither did those guys they picked up in the Northwest. In fact, other than actual members of the Al Qaeda hierarchy, has there been any value in holding the Brits or the Aussies? If they can make a case in court, they should be allowed to, whether military or civil. Military if they were captured with weapons, civil otherwise. But it's all supposed to be rule-of-law in America, so let the law happen. But let the lawyers work it out, and don't hide behind the razor wire.

Appropos of the Shark . . .
O.k., it's a little strange to go to the theatre when you're unemployed, but the tickets were cheap and we hadn't been out much and it was the Belvoir Theatre, whose Company B are one of the most respected theatrical troupes going, and I've never actually seen the Three Penny Opera, even though I have heard a lot of Kurt Weil in my life, including, but not limited to, the Bobby Darin rendering of "Mack the Knife." It was a good enough production, although in the end I'd have preferred if they'd avoided the common error of contemporizing the content, which was done without a full effort at relocating from Soho (London) to King's Cross (Sydney), despite the use of Australian colloquialism. This is the same group who worked on the theatrical adaptation of Cloudstreet, the celebrated epic novel by Tim Winton set in post WWII Perth, which M. and I saw at the Brooklyn Academy when their Next Wave festival featured a lot of Australiana. That was a major piece of theatre; this was just o.k. But now I know the story and have a better sense of the Brecht/Weil collaboration.

Puzzles
I must not have been thinking clearly - certainly I didn't think it through - but when I named this 'blog, I set myself up for a wealth of visitors none of whom would actually want anything to do with me or what I post here. My weblog appears to turn up in every Google, MSN, Yahoo, etc. search by gamers looking for on-line crossword puzzles. I spent years filling out these word grids myself and don't fail in my estimation of their entertainment. I even grew to appreciate the variations in clue styles (and I still think the NY Times is the best, although the Sunday themes can be more than a little too obscure, a failing I share, according to some). Still, maybe I should have thought up a better title.

Talk Radio
I enjoyed having comments and Squawkbox was a good service - I particularly enjoyed the ability to ban the obstreperous and to edit out blank submissions - but if they're not going to let me continue, fine. I've gone over to the Klink Family's Blogout service, already in use by Outside Counsel, Make 1, and Berlin Blog, regular reads all. Now, remember, this commenting service doesn't include administration, so play nice.

Bye, Bye, Redbird
When I moved out of Mom & Dad's on Long Island, the best apartment I could afford was a gigantic one-bedroom in a pre-war building in Elmhurst, Queens. The Manhattan apartments in my price range, what few there were, were unrenovated pits with wavy floors, to walk upon which left one feeling distinctly drunk, and the Brooklyn units were in rather unsalubrious neighborhoods. So there I was, situated equidistant between the E/F/G line and the number 7 elevated. At first, working as I did in midtown, the 7 was the train of choice, to be supplanted in later years by the E/G when I moved employment to the Wall Street area. Shortly after moving in, the MTA declared the need to completely refurbish the entire 7 line before it collapsed into Roosevelt Avenue, and announced a 5-year moratorium on express service. It didn't matter too much to me, although the effect on Flushing residents was fairly extreme. Every morning I rode the "Redbird" into Grand Central and back again every night. These ancien regime carriages have now reached the end of the line. I know they're old and that the cars that will replace them are sleek, more efficient, even roomy (comparatively), but there are aspects of these trains that anyone would miss, and probably should, primarily among them the "wishing spot," a childhood story that claimed a place in the front car as a magical location. It was, too, if not in a fairy tale fashion. The lead car, with the motorman's compartment, was no differently constructed than any other, any car therefore capable of serving as the "engine," if you will. Each car had a doorway at either end so that passengers and crew could pass between the cars (although you weren't supposed to, especially while the train was in motion, a hazardous undertaken routinely employed by subway riders to achieve a more desirable situation, a seat, even). The lead car's front door was located next to the motorman's compartment, the door to which was sometimes left ajar, and it had a window, making it the most coveted spot of all - for subway enthusiasts and children. Many times I made it a practice to insist that out-of-town visitors stand with me in this spot. Even underground the view thus afforded was spectacular, magical. I particularly enjoyed the burst of light that occurred upon leaving the tunnel and arriving at the Grand Central platform, but also the expansiveness that lightened my heart once we left Hunters Point for the elevated tracks through Queens. There was also the little thrill of seeing the rise and fall and gentle curves of the track ahead once Queens Plaza had been left behind, and the suddenly looming presence of Shea Stadium as you approached Willets Point. There will be windows in the new trains, but not that front one, so no more wishing spot and a forever altered commutation, one that lacks the communion with the trains themselves.

Eh? Speak Up, Sonny, I'm a Little Deaf
Comments by Squawkbox have expired. They said I had until May next year, but that appears to have come sooner than I expected somehow. And there I thought Daylight Saving meant only 16 hours difference between here and the Northern Hemisphere. I had considered upgrading, although I'm unemployed and can't afford it, but now I'll just have to consider finding a new service. Meanwhile, if you don't have something nice to say, you have to say nothing at all. (O.k., fine, yes, you can always email.)

Dullness and Depression
Not working has got to be the most consistently dull situation of all. A boring job would be less dull than the tediousness of looking at the same jobs advertised week after week after day after day, not to mention the depression of not getting any of them (sorry, so many candidates - and you're not one of them). Sure, I could sit around and watch t.v. all day; I could even watch endless videos if I had the income to support the rental volume required. I am reading "Look Homeward, Angel," and that will take up a bit of intellectual effort and the time dripping through my fingers, but I think more is needed for a fulfilling life than catching up on re-reading my entire library. Unfortunately, blogging doesn't seem to pay (not that I have a large enough audience to even warrant sticking a Paypal account link here). Perhaps I should learn a musical instrument. Recorders are probably pretty inexpensive. Twinkle, twinkle, little bat . . . now I know I'm losing it.

Hands Across the Waters
I've added Expats Against Bush to my weblog community block, although I'm not technically an expat myself. It seems worthwhile, however, to remind and provide a resource for expats who may come here that Bush II is bad for America in the world at large and there are others out there - a support group of a kind.

Years
I don’t know how I missed it, although the flu may have had an effect, but it’s been a year since I moved to Sydney. A lot has happened: M.’s grandfather, Johnny, died, we got a new apartment, I got a job and the job dried up and blew away. . . . A year’s a long time, although it doesn’t seem so when you look back at it. When I think of all the years yet to come, depending on the perspective I bring to it, the next twenty can seem short or long, but I know that there will be a lot happening in the future that will affect me (even more that won’t), and I know that as each year passes I’ll look back on it and wonder where the time all went to. It’ll probably be a while yet before I have an Australian accent, but.

Have a Copy of Argosy While You Wait
When Bush II was still just the dauphin, running for office against Gore, I lived in fear the country would be stupid enough to elect him. It was a very close thing, close enough that he did become President. Even at my far remove geographically from the incipient race of ’04, I take great interest in the Democratic doings, particularly those of Dean, Kerry, and Edwards. I don’t put much stock in Gephardt, and none in Mosely-Braun or Sharpton or the little UFOlogist, but the others look like the contenders needed to unseat the usurper, so I’m keeping my eye on them. I was put on to Edwards by an article in the New Yorker, and I still find him a viable candidate for all his campaign’s lack of momentum, such as that enjoyed by Dean. David Brooks’ op-ed piece in the NY Times points out a failing in my party that I think Dean ought to look at, but probably won’t. Although Gore had the election stolen by the Supremes, and arguably Bush won in the Electoral College, the popular vote is what swings these events if you have the real numbers – not a few hundred or a thousand in Florida, but the big numbers in the fly-over states. Edwards’ campaign may have the appeal in those places more than Dean’s, but if the doctor could get in with Floyd the barber just as well. It also makes me think of Flannery O’Connor stories, but that’s a fear with a slightly different source, so we’ll let that pass for now.

350 Covers and Beyond
Back in the day, when Outside Counsel and The Knitter were living in Brooklyn, Smith Street wasn’t much of a place one wanted to be after dark, neither was it noted for the culinary arts, despite the corner grocery with the fresh smoked mozzarella. For the past few years, this area has been coming up, by all food critic accounts, and suddenly, it’s got the best restaurant in town. Statistically, anyway, and we all know about statistics.