See below

From NYT writer/novelist/J-school grad/my idol Anna Quindlan (via Natasha):

I found one of my best teachers on the boardwalk at Coney Island maybe 15 years ago. It was December, and I was doing a story about how the homeless survive in the winter months. He and I sat on the edge of the wooden supports, dangling our feet over the side, and he told me about his schedule, panhandling the boulevard when the summer crowds were gone, sleeping in a church when the temperature went below freezing, hiding from the police amidst the Tilt a Whirl and the Cyclone and some of the other seasonal rides.

But he told me that most of the time he stayed on the boardwalk, facing the water, just the way we were sitting now even when it got cold and he had to wear his newspapers after he read them.

And I asked him why. Why didn't he go to one of the shelters? Why didn't he check himself into the hospital for detox?

And he just stared out at the ocean and said, "Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view."

The sound of silence

I sat in the audience of the open mic night at The C Note tonight the whole time without putting my name on the list, without listening to Rick, the emcee, when he tried to get me up on stage, without moving from my stool or drinking more than one hard cider. It’s one of those scenarios where, normally, I’d invoke my inner journalist and say I was hanging out there looking for a story. But I wasn’t. I was planning to play and I chickened out, for the first time since I started running the open mic gamut in September.

I had a good time regardless. It was somewhat comfortable to bask in anonymity, to hear and not be heard. I talked to a handful of very interesting characters: a cute guitarist who works as a personal trainer by day; a girl named Blake who sang Martina McBride covers a capella, glorified-karaoke-style; a guy named Clinton whose soft touch reminded me of Teitur Lassen’s; Pete Sorkin, who recently got dumped and is shaking off the pain playing guitar and piano with a talented vengeance. "When are you going on?" they all asked. "Ehh," I replied.

I felt, sitting in the audience, like I’d calcified, plateaued, or — as I explained to Matt Brody, a recently married culinary school grad who’s one of my favorite C Note/Paddy Reilly’s performers — become a stagnant pond, the kind that mosquitos like to fly around. I’m very self-conscious about my songs: I worry that they’re trite, too simple, and speak only to me. As a trained classical piano player and a journalist, I feel like I should be writing diamonds but I’m writing stones.

I’ve got seven songs now. I haven’t finished memorizing the most recent one yet (part of the reason I couldn’t bring myself to play.) I was going to cover The Postal Service’s/Iron and Wine’s Such Great Heights in lieu of that one. It was pretty well-received when I played it last night for a few people who were over at our apartment. But instead I just sat there.

Speaking of having people over to the apartment: last night’s party, the first one ever in Mara-and-Jen-roommate-land, was a smashing success. I’m so happy we did it. About 30 people came, I think, in total and we didn’t close up shop until a respectable 2:30 a.m. I suspect we’ll be having another party before we leave good old J-school.

Cheney's coat

Cheney wears a green parka embroidered with his name, ski cap and hiking boots to a formal ceremony recognizing the liberation of Auschwitz... From Reuters, not The Onion. Read about it here: http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=615&e=2&u=/nm/holocaust_cheney_dress_dc

I get the feeling this won't help our image abroad.

"Fun" facts

Year by which the median full-time wage of a U.S. woman will equal that of a U.S. man, based on current trends: 2050

Average total cost for a U.S. 80-year-old to live out the rest of his or her days on a luxury cruise ship: $230, 497
Average cost to live them out in an assisted-living facility: $228,075

Number of states where women seeking abortions are required to be told that abortion increases the risk of breast cancer: 3
Number of the 89 experts convened in 2003 by the National Cancer Institute who found any evidence of such a link: 1
[For more on how the press has covered this issue, see Chris Mooney's article, Blinded by Science, in the November/December issue of CJR: http://www.cjr.org/issues/2004/6/mooney-science.asp]

Number of black U.S. senators during the entire 1800s, the entire 1900s, and today, respectively: 2,2,1

(source: Harper's Index, Harper's Magazine, Feb. 2005, www.harpers.org )

Zzz

Reuters photographers are allowed to take photos like this? I'd think they'd photoshop Jenna a big grin for publication (source: The Wonkette, www.wonkette.com)

Ben R. wearing his big idea 

Samson 

Samson 

Samson 

The Bush dresses

Go here for the best coverage, by far, of the dresses to be worn at the Inauguration:
http://www.villagevoice.com/nyclife/0502,yaeger,60008,15.html

Look for "soupcon of heinie crack," the kind of phrase only an alt-weekly reporter could turn.

Nancy and Wihbey... what a shot 

Rochester's best BBQ came to Harlem:
http://www.newyorker.com/goingson/tables/?050117gota_GOAT_tables

Words

I'm getting paid to read a book: Adam Canfield of The Slash by Michael Winerip. It's my first assignment at CJR, and it's wonderful. The book's a children's book, and the book review has already been annotated for me to make my job easier. And, the font's big, which means I can read it at the gym without much trouble. (I've been using stairmasters this week as library-tables.)

On a somewhat horrifying note, I got an e-mail from Sandro, the adorable, curly-haired water. He read my anecdote about our evening together, having found my blog address on Friendster. At this point, I guess all I can do is laugh and hope that he doesn't think I'm a toadstool.

Such Great Heights by Iron & Wine and Rose Parade by Elliot Smith have been in my head all evening. I'm also really liking some of my Master's Project musicians: Be Like Water by Sarah Fimm, Words by Dan Haas and even some of the pickled political ruminations of d_Cyphernauts. I can't believe Draft One is due Tuesday, but I'm really happy with my satellite radio-emerging artists topic.

That's all for now. I'm going to bed early for the first time this century.

One of my favorite pictures from last semester: Jim from Sarah Fimm's band 

Puttering 

The drum set left Jimless 

Check out this article on the Bush Administration paying for propaganda:

http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&e=3&u=/ap/20050108/ap_on_go_pr_wh/bush_commentator

Mod squad

Peonypink candle wax just spilled over the side of my dresser and hardened in two pulpy strings. On the upside, it smells wonderful in here.

I went to the re-designed Museum of Modern Art today with Drew Abrams and Dan Nathan-Roberts. Some of the self-portraits were oohsomuch fun. In one, an attractive, 20something journalist type photographed herself dressed up as the lead actress in several staged movie stills. In another, a beautiful 17-year-old girl with brown hair poofed to one side started straight into the camera in a precocious self-portrait. Then there was this beautiful woman who looked years younger in the second of two side-by-side pictures, which were taken months apart (the nicer looking one was taken about 8 months after the first, so she was older, which boggled my mind for a minute.)

Another really interesting photographic feat was a set of prints taken with exposures that lasted up to three years. A young guy got commissioned to set up cameras around the site where the MOMA was being rebuilt, and he made some really thought-provoking pictures. The motion, light and textures were incredible. In two, you could see lines of sparks, probably from men working. You could see the sculpture garden sort-of being built. i think i saw rain and snow, too, but that might have been my imagination.

There were also crazy wacky images like a guy's series of his hairy, flabby chest, and then him pinching his nipples to try to make them look like a breasts. And then there were breath-catching shots like people pictured milliseconds before their executions.

Things I wouldn't do for my very own Canon 10D: Hmm. Can't think of any.

Bizarro stuff I saw today: three brightly colored bath sponges arranged neatly on a shelf, a chair made of white honeycombed paper that folded into a sheet about an inch thick, posters with the pictures and stories of murder victims, subway signs.

MOMA is free for Columbia students, which means I'm going to go there again and again and again. And hopefully I'll visit the "donation suggested" Met this weekend with Kathleen, who'll be staying with me Sat. to Tues. (i absolutely cannot wait!), because I haven't been there since the summer.