Mango salsa

New Web site

2006-09-25T22:10:00.000-04:00

www.jenniferweiss.com

2006-05-02T23:34:00.002-04:00

Kiss: San Francisco

2006-05-02T23:34:00.001-04:00

Lombard Street

2006-05-02T23:34:00.000-04:00

A neat scene, close to Fisherman's wharf

2006-05-02T23:33:00.000-04:00

Building

2006-05-02T23:32:00.000-04:00

Fisherman

U.S. Government: Where are the Women?

2006-02-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

I can't help but post this recent story by a friend too. Caitlin Johnson wrote a great story for ABC about America's gender politics and Hillary's uphill battle for president. She interviewed Pat Schroeder, Carol Moseley Braun and Geraldine Ferraro, and really did her homework.

For instance, did you know that according to the Inter-parliamentary Union, the United States ranks 67th in female representation in government? According to Moseley Braun, we are behind Rwanda, Sierra Leone and all of Latin America. I had no idea we were so low down and dirty. Why is the national mindset so set against women leaders? Or are there simply far fewer women than men running for office? I'm sure the nuanced reason for the disparity includes our patriarchal past, some male voters' distate for strong women, and the fact that people can't picture an American president fixing her lipstick.

I bet if Hillary were elected, we'd see Reuters and AP photos of her primping before big talks. But to see a male president put on makeup, you have to watch a Michael Moore movie like Fahrenheit 9/11.

Cyrus on my radio

2006-02-07T21:39:00.000-05:00

I was annoyed at 3 p.m. today. Because I was working on a story, I couldn't listen to my friend Cyrus Farivar's radio piece, which aired today on the PRI show The World. Then at the ungodly hour of 8:50 p.m., as I was nearing the tail end of my drive home from work, I heard Cyrus's story. My 3 p.m. glum turned into 9 p.m. delight. You can listen to it here - it's a great informative four minutes about audio books read by everyday people and then uploaded to the Internet so everyday people can enjoy them.

In searching for the Web site of The World on Google, I did what I sometimes do when scanning a globe or thumbing through the dictionary. I browsed around. I found the CIA World Factbook, the World Health Organization and Volcano World, "the Web's premiere source of Volcano info." But check this one out, from Wikipedia:

The World is an archipelago of artificial islands, shaped like the continents of the Earth, being constructed off the coast of Dubai. The project is inspired by the artificial Palm Islands also being built in Dubai. The World will consist of 250 to 300 smaller private artificial islands divided into four categories - private homes, estate homes, dream resorts and community islands. The entire project is slated for completion in 2008.

Each island will range from 250,000 to 900,000 square feet (5.74 to 20.66 acres; 23 226m² to 83 613m²) in size, with 50 to 100 metres of water between each island. The development will cover an area of 9 kilometers in length and 6 kilometers in width, surrounded by an oval breakwater. The only means of transportation between the islands will be by boat and helicopter. Each island will cost an estimated average of $25 million USD.

American Dreams

2006-01-22T12:02:00.000-05:00

My story on the Hungarians' imperfect reunion is out today on the front page of the Star-Ledger and right up top on www.nj.com. It was also linked here this morning, on a blog called NewsGems, by a lecturer at the Medill School of Journalism. (I love how stories get around. Instead of staying on newspaper pages they creep onto blogs and radio, into classes and conversation. )

I met the Wilsons and Cathy Eff before the Hungarians arrived on Oct. 18, and I've been spending a lot of time with them since. That day in the airport was extraordinary. Cathy Eff, Tamas Pusztai's mother, was pacing and fretting for hours, afraid to leave the International Arrivals gate at Newark Airport for even a moment for fear she would miss that first glimpse of him coming in from customs. When Pusztai finally walked toward the crowd of family waiting for him, dressed in his pale plum suit, he looked like he had stepped out of another time. I can't recall ever seeing a happier group of people.

I'm going to continue to follow the Hungarians' story, because I don't know for sure what will happen next. I can surmise what will happen next - Philip Skotte at the consul general in Budapest told me no one jumps the immigration queue - but don't they, sometimes?

Jack=Hillary?

2006-01-04T00:13:00.000-05:00

When I go to this story at The New York Times' Web Site and hover my pointer over the first reference to the dealmaking lobbyist Jack Abramoff, the message that pops up is "more articles about Hillary Rodham Clinton."

Is this a mere slip, or someone's two cents?

In any event, my money's on the error being caught and fixed by the time I wake up tomorrow.

2005-10-13T00:50:00.000-04:00

Portrait, Union Square

2005-10-13T00:49:00.000-04:00

Portrait, Union Square

2005-10-13T00:48:00.000-04:00

Portrait, Union Square

2005-10-13T00:47:00.001-04:00

Zane's checkered shoes

2005-10-13T00:47:00.000-04:00

A guy named Zane, Union Square

2005-10-13T00:46:00.000-04:00

That was such a great summer day

Adam, Kanye, The Nation

2005-09-07T00:33:00.000-04:00

Adam Howard's recent story on Kanye West in The Nation is one of their most e-mailed articles today! And I know him!

Read it here.

Journalist in the news

2005-09-01T08:35:00.000-04:00

Speaking of Mike, one of my former classmates... here he is in a Reuters/Yahoo! news photo Monday morning.

Caption: Mike Keller, a resident of Biloxi, Mississippi, runs through the rain of Hurricane Katrina just after dawn August 29, 2005. Katrina may be the most expensive hurricane ever to hit the United States, costing insurers as much as $25 billion, a storm modeler said on Monday. (Mark Wallheiser/Reuters)

Link

Katrina

2005-08-31T23:46:00.000-04:00

I felt ridiculous today, reporting one of those charming neighborhood stories - on tomatoes - while hundreds of thousands of Americans have been displaced by a hurricane. I know life goes on, and New Orleans isn't the only news, but who wants to read about heirlooms and hybrids when a large portion of our nation is under water? I don't think anyone would.

The Times-Picayune, the city's paper, had to stop publishing for the first time since 1837 as its downtown offices flooded. I'm interested, mainly because The Times-Picayune is one of the Star-Ledger's sister papers.

I was interested in learn on the conservative Druge Report, of all places, that former Clinton advisor Sidney Blumenthal criticized the president for drying up flood control funding. In 2001, the Federal Emergency Management Agency said a flood in New Orleans was one of the three disasaters most likely to befall the U.S. (Another of those, an attack on New York City, has also already been realized. Should someone check out what the third one is?)

Mike Keller and Josh Norman, former classmates of mine at Columbia, have a blog on Katrina. They haven't published since this morning, possibly due to power failure. Check it out if you too are a disasterwatcher like me.

Meanwhile, the American news media have pushed an incredibly important story down the page (how can it not?) The death of more than 950 people in Iraq due to terror during a religious procession of Shiites.

2005-06-02T22:36:00.000-04:00

remedies, Chinatown

2005-06-02T22:35:00.000-04:00

three bins, Chinatown

2005-06-02T22:34:00.000-04:00

Me and my mom

platza

2005-06-01T22:54:00.000-04:00

Hear my final radio documentary about the Russian platza here. Just scroll down to "Who doesn't love a good beating."

2005-05-21T12:08:00.000-04:00

Yann's photo of Cyrus, me, and the rest of the class Wednesday morning at graduation. It's up on the J-school web page, www.jrn.columbia.edu!

Arthur article

2005-05-06T21:18:00.000-04:00

I haven't written a post in ages, probably because I've been writing so much for school. School's finally over for me, though --- I turned in my last assignment on Wednesday. As soon as I figure out how to cut and paste it here (it's a radio documentary about the Russian platza) I will.

Life is good. I have no complaints, except that I just ate stale Chips Ahoy! and my allergies are making me grouchy. My time at journalism school is coming to an end, and I am starting my first job at a daily newspaper in about three weeks. I'm searching for an apartment, singing and playing around town, and freelancing more than ever before. Speaking of which, I just wrote this short ditty for Dave Cuomo's new startup, Urban Folk. I'd appreciate any suggestions that you, in this void, have for the piece. (That and I don't feel like writing anymore. It's time to go out.)

Arthur explained

At night, after everyone has fled home from a long day of work,
New York City is still eight million people thick. I became one of
the eight million in August, when I moved to Manhattan from
Rochester, the medium-sized city in Upstate New York where I’d
grown up and gone to college. About a week before I moved in, the
longest relationship of my life dissolved. I was distraught, but
oddly comforted by that number: eight million.

The graduate program I was starting had a reputation for being
tough, and I’d just started to write and perform my own music. I
knew I’d be busy. I hoped early on, though, that I’d find a new big
love. I figured I’d have little trouble, sharing sidewalks with
millions of men.

This isn’t the story of how lucky I was. It’s not the story of
the one who got away. It’s more of a cautionary tale about how my
idealism turned into realism, and how a guy – first name Arthur,
last name Unknown – became my best-ever song.

We met on the subway at 11 p.m. He looked at me like he thought
I was a movie star. His name was Arthur and he was in acting school
at NYU. I thought he was cute.

That’s how the song, which I call "Arthur," begins. I’ve sung
it at various bars around town, including the Underground Lounge, C
Note, and the Sidewalk Café. The lyrics are true-to-life, and while
I’m a little freaked out that Arthur might one day hear it, or read
this Urban Folk article, I’m not so freaked out that I’ll scrap it.
After being trained as a reporter, it seems frivolous to write
songs that aren’t honest. Arthur is more literary journalism than
hard news, but it’s a rough account of what happened that night.

What happened that night, which happened to be the night of
Valentine’s Day, was this: I shared a few dances and a sandwich
with a 20-something guy named Arthur, and then we parted ways. As
the chorus of the song explains, he licked mustard off of my
fingers, then he never called.

For me, the kicker was how into me he seemed. Arthur talked
about synchronicity with respect to our meeting each other, and he
asked if I liked musicals as he punched my number into his phone.
As an actor, I have to reason that Arthur does this sort of thing
now and again to brush up on his skills. As a musician, I have to
stop complaining to my friends and sing about it.

Many of New York’s eight million become more self-centered
after having been here. They insulate themselves with, rather than
introducing themselves to, sidewalk-strangers. They take what they
want from you and they leave.

When people tell me they relate to this song, it makes me feel
good. I think a lot of them, like me, figured that finding love in
a city of eight million would be like playing the world’s easiest
dating game. We were wrong. Now that I’ve been schooled, I’m
writing a few theme songs.

2005-05-02T23:20:00.001-04:00

Two guys on a bench, Coney Island Boardwalk

2005-05-02T23:20:00.000-04:00

Katarzyna and Alex in shadows at Ballroom on Fifth

2005-04-27T23:48:00.000-04:00

People and pigeons on the boardwalk, Brighton Beach

2005-04-27T23:47:00.000-04:00

The Starbucks in Brighton Beach, where people play chess and a poster on the wall describes what lattes, cappucinos, mochas etc. are in Russian

2005-04-27T23:46:00.000-04:00

Ida and Zoya sit under a sweet leopard-print umbrella near the boardwalk, Brighton Beach

2005-04-27T23:44:00.000-04:00

Fruit shopping in Brighton Beach. Just a few moments after I took this shot, the woman pictured ate whatever she was about to pick up and walked away

For starters, Superpope

2005-04-06T23:35:00.000-04:00

Read this.

It's just funny. I can't seem to get over my addiction to Yahoo! News. As a budding journalist I should probably try to start an addiction to a healthier news source, like, say, the Wall Street Journal. I do read The Times, New Yorker, Harper's and New York Magazine regularly, and I listen to NPR (my latest radio craze, though, is Democracy Now!) Still, Yahoo! News? I guess it's a good way to keep up to date on important events like the death of Hogzilla, the trial of Michael Jackson, and Heidi Klum's impending marriage to Seal. Or it's a waste of time, depending on how you look at it.

I received a wonderful compliment tonight from Wale, my Nigerian friend. He said if I were being married off in Kenya I might draw a dowry of one hundred cows. According to a girl who was intially told she would draw ten cows, I should be pleased with that assessment.

I think I played well last night at the Underground. I played two new songs, Ghost and Arthur. Another one started to brew in my head today as I was running. It was so nice outside, especially in Riverside Park. I had a nice long talk with Mara as we ran downtown, and stared at people as I ran uptown. I saw a homeless man with his socks full of holes, a couple sleeping head-to-head on a bench with one big hat over both their faces, readers, thinkers and kissers. I saw dogs of all shapes and sizes, and I saw a fat, neon-yellow snake wrapped around a guy's neck. I saw parents pushing kids in strollers and on swings, playing catch with them, eating ice cream and talking to other parents. I stared at the buildings on the other side of the water.

I can't believe I have to move away from this glorious place in less than two months.

Newsday story

2005-04-03T10:45:00.000-04:00

This story of mine is in Newsday today. I really like the head they put on it: Lost in translation: Russian 'Harry Potter' mere muggle for some city immigrants, but magic for others

Because it's only live and free for a week, I'll paste it here...

On the cover of one book, Tanya Grotter rides a double bass and brandishes a bow. On another, an armor-clad Porri Gatter stands beside a dwarf with hairy feet. On still another, a Woody Allen look-alike named Parry Hotter runs from the gates of the Warthog Approved School of Magic and Wizardry.

In city neighborhoods populated by Russian immigrants, these characters compete with J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.

Mike Ize of Midwood is a passionate fan of the "Tanya Grotter" series, authored by Dmitry Yemets and published in Moscow by the Eksmo publishing house. He is not a bit put off by the charges of plagiarism and copyright infringement brought by Rowling and lawyers for Time Warner Entertainment, which were validated in November 2003 by a court in the Netherlands.

"They're great, and they're funnier than 'Harry Potter,'" said Ize, 42, as he flipped through a "Tanya Grotter" book at Mosvideofilm on Brighton Beach Avenue in Brooklyn's Brighton Beach.

"They are largely based on Russian folklore," he said. "Rowling was writing about magic characters that existed, before her time, all over Europe. Yemets did the same thing, but his characters existed only in Russian folklore."

Russian bookstores in Brighton Beach and Rego Park carry a Russian translation of Rowling's series on Harry Potter - or, as he is called in those books, Garri Potter. Lined up near them, in many stores, are parodies and spin-offs. The Belarussian "Porri Gatter" books and British "Parry Hotter and the Seamy Side of Magic" are among them.

Tangle over copyright

The court fight against a Dutch publisher that had planned to release a Dutch translation of "Tanya Grotter" was part of an effort to stop unauthorized versions of "Harry Potter," said Neil Blair, a lawyer and business manager for Rowling's British literary agent. During the legal battle, lawyers for the Dutch publisher, Byblos, unsuccessfully argued that the books were parodies. "We have taken considerable steps to protect J.K. Rowling's copyright both in the U.S. and elsewhere throughout the world," Blair wrote in a recent e-mail. "We believe, and the Dutch courts agreed, that the Tanya Grotter series is both copyright infringement and plagiarism."

It is legal for "Tanya Grotter" books to be sold, in their original Russian, in the United States, but the Dutch court's decision "has actually had the effect that no potential licensee has dared to bring a translation on the market," said Eric Keyzer, a lawyer in the Netherlands who worked on the case.

Such books have been available in New York's Russian communities for years.

"Everything that has a fair amount of readership in Russia makes its way to New York because there are enough Russian speakers around to want it," said Eliot Borenstein, chair of Russian and Slavic studies at New York University. "Russia has a huge reading public."

Borenstein said the Russian market for rip-off books is small compared with the market for more expensive fakes such as videos and CDs, but nearly impossible to control.

"In Russia, there is a long tradition of piracy and not respecting copyright," he said. "There's very little being done to stop it and very little that can be done to stop it."

Leo Gindel, 33, who owns Mosvideofilm at 227 Brighton Beach Ave., said the "Tanya Grotter" books have dipped below most of his customers' radar. "When they came out at first, people were buying them because they were curious," Gindel said. "Now they are not that popular."

He said the real Russian-language "Harry Potters" sell much better - so much better, he said, that his store was sold-out at the moment. (In fact, a lone copy of "Garri Potter i Kubok oknia" - "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" - was hidden behind a row of Yemets' "Grotters.")

At a nearby bookstore called Dom Knigi Sankt Peterburg, saleswoman Svetlana Cheryachukina gestured toward a row of "Tanya Grotter" books and said, "We buy these books rarely. They're interesting, but I do not think they are popular."

Cheryachukina estimated that the store sells one to two "Tanya Grotters" each week, compared with a half-dozen Russian-translation "Harry Potters."

At another Dom Knigi farther down Brighton Beach Avenue, a manager named Oleg echoed those sales numbers. He would not give his last name.

The classics

In addition to being sold in stores, four of the "Tanya Grotter" books are in circulation at the Brooklyn Public Library.

On a recent Sunday at the Multilingual Center of the library's Central Branch, Tatiana Chkourenko, 23, who is Russian, knelt contemplatively in front of a shelf of Russian-language books.

After a few minutes, she pulled out a volume by Fyodor Dostoevsky. When it comes to Russian literature, she said, she reads the classics. She has not so much as glanced at Yemets' books. "Personally, I find it odd that people would be trying to expand on things from abroad or do spin-offs when they can come up with perfectly good ideas of their own," she said.

None of the copies can woo Tatyana Albert, 41, from "Harry Potter." She and her daughter, Aleksandra, 13, spent part of a Saturday browsing the Russian titles at Mosvideofilm. Albert said she has read Rowling's books in both Russian and English.

"She buys the books before they come out," said Aleksandra, who clearly is not a "Potter" devotee like her mom.

"I read all five of them," Albert said proudly. She said she has glanced through a few volumes of the "Tanya Grotter" series, and she spoke of them with disdain: "I think the copy is always worse than the original."
#

Fox News, apparently, rules

2005-03-30T18:28:00.000-05:00

Fox has the three top spots. All of them!
From Drudge:
CABLE NEWS RACE TUES, MARCH 29 VIEWERSHIP FNC OREILLY 2,428,000 FNC HANNITY/COLMES 2,121,000 FNC GRETA 1,700,000 CNN LARRY KING 1,529,000 FNC SHEP SMITH 1,402,000 CNN AARON BROWN 1,160,000 CNN COOPER 748,000 CNN PAULA ZAHN 664,000 MSNBC OLBERMANN 490,000 CNNHN NANCY GRACE 420,000 MSNBC ABRAMS 412,000 MSNBC HARDBALL 396,000 MSNBC SCARBOROUGH 386,000 CNBC DENNIS MILLER 110,000

Easter eggs

2005-03-27T16:02:00.000-05:00

Walking past Labyrinth Books Friday, a mass of blankets came toward me in a wheelchair. A woman, maybe in her 40s, was pushing it along the sidewalk.

As I got closer, I saw a face peering out from the blankets. It was gaunt and frail. The eyes looked right at me, staying stuck on my face like they do sometimes on portraits at art museums. What would it be like to live that way?

I’m about to let another cup of coffee run through my system, because I’m barely awake. I went to church this morning for the first time since Christmas, at St. John the Divine. Easter doesn’t seem like much now that I’m in New York. It used to mean lunch or dinner at my aunt's. Occasionally it meant the gist of the ritual, which was that life followed death, that someone once made an unimaginable sacrifice. Now that I’ve fallen out of love with faith it meant little more than the voices of a faraway choir and a cafeteria-style brunch with Erin: cornflakes, Crystal Light and scrambled eggs with cheese.

C Note

2005-03-25T00:51:00.000-05:00

One of Yann Nicolas's photos of me, last time I played at The C Note

The outfit of a guy in Butler Library

2005-03-20T15:22:00.000-05:00

Black shirt, black pants. High-top Converse sneakers the color of Pepto-Bismal. Two-inch-tall, gold-plated bullets strung along his waist like a belt.

Peelander-z

2005-03-12T12:21:00.000-05:00

You've got to read this story Caitlin wrote about Japanese punk rockers. It's hysterical.

At least these are fluffy snowflakes

2005-03-11T11:00:00.000-05:00

It’s happened --- I’ve become a New Yorker.

I wasn’t worried about the possibility of becoming one before I moved here, mostly because I hadn’t watched Sex and the City, read New York Magazine, or known any brats from the Big Apple. In the past six months I’ve done some of the best work of my life. I’ve also bought more shoes, had more meaningless flings, and consumed more just-because treats like mochas and Jamba Juice than I ever have. I don’t attach the same kind of importance to certain things that I did even a year ago. In Rochester I was earthier. Here, I’m sky.

Maybe I’m ranting because I just spent $3.79 on my favorite kind of orange juice. Maybe because I don’t converse with myself as easily as I used to. I used to ponder life’s questions. Now, I try to convince myself I’m answering them.

On another note, I just got back from my first-ever first amendment breakfast at the Columbia Club. I was late, of course --- but it started at 8 a.m. so I wasn’t expecting to be on time. The panelists talked about decency issues and censorship. Frank Rich was charmingly loose-lipped. At his most quotable, he called Michael Powell a hypocrite.

The neatest piece of information I gleaned from the lecture was the increased number of complaints the FCC receives. I think the panelists said that number was in the hundreds four years ago. Last year, it was above a million. (They cited new methods of electronic complaint-making as a reason for that trend.) Religious groups complain a lot, the panelists said, but when it comes time to offer a-la-carte cable channels they balk at the idea. They know people like, say, New Yorkers would cut their religious channels first.

It’s true that mainstream media didn’t cover the Cheney f-bomb on the Senate floor with as much delight as they did Bono’s. Why?

Women's history month?

2005-03-02T22:25:00.000-05:00

Should journalists be allowed to blog? Donate money to political parties? Some employers don't think so. Some don't even let them. How much freedom is "too much" in the industry? Read a good story about that here.

From this point on, March is going to be Women's History Month. George Bush came out with a press release about it yesterday. Read it on the wonkette.

I played at the Underground again last night. I'm becoming a big fan of some of the other musicians --- their songs replay in my head long after I've left the bar in a fuzzy 2 a.m. wooze. Dan Slobak is one of my favorites, and I really like the guy who wore the crazy collared shirt last night... and the two girls... I need to improve my name-retention skills, methinks.

Lloyd of Keygrip fame came over two days ago to help me make a demo. Apparently crappy demos can cost upwards of $500. Lloyd is giving me mine for the price of approximately five lattes at Starbucks. Who could ask for anything more? Once I have songs that are streamable, I'll put some on my blog.

Speaking of technological advancements that seem to come easy for everyone but me, I am working on a website. The address is www.jennyweiss.net. I'd appreciate any and all advice as I continue to build it, brick by brick.

funny Craigslist post

2005-02-27T22:52:00.000-05:00

Check out this post on Craigslist's "missed connections" forum, 2/17/05 ---

I don't want to sound like a jerk, but if you were the girl at Columbia Pres Hospital today who just found out her parents died in a car wreck i just wanted you to know how HOT you are! damn you fine girl! I just didnt know how to approach you. but i wanted to so bad. i hope its not a bad time for me to be desperate? hey, drop me a line and lets see where this goes? ya never know.

Can you believe that guy? Can you believe I browsed the "missed connections" forum? Hmm.

2005-02-27T11:57:00.000-05:00

Flying

2005-02-27T11:56:00.000-05:00

A couple

2005-02-27T11:54:00.000-05:00

The Gates, Central Park

2005-02-27T11:53:00.000-05:00

Shadows over ice

She said, furrowing her brows

2005-02-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

I run a mile in 7:30 now and I'm crazy proud. In high school gym class, I used to run it at least two minutes slower. I did 3 miles tonight at the gym, listening to my newest obsession, Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls, over and over at full volume. I don't know why I don't take to mixes like most people. I find one song and I latch on like a leach, listening to it until I can't stand it anymore. I got three Indigo Girls CDs in Rochester this weekend for a total of $3 at a tag sale. Aditi got the most beautiful bike I'd ever seen, for $20. I definitely coveted it, but it would have been quite the chore to bike it back to NYC. So I just brought back the Girls.

I gained an interesting nugget of wisdom from Professor Benedict today: you can furrow your brows, but not your eyebrows.

Clear Channel and Howard Stern decided to drop their mutual lawsuits. Read about it here:
http://www.forbes.com/2005/02/24/0224autofacescan04.html

2005-02-23T11:31:00.000-05:00

Between the bars

2005-02-23T11:29:00.000-05:00

Arthur

2005-02-23T11:28:00.000-05:00

Foosball

Songs, squash

2005-02-17T23:48:00.000-05:00

I am now one of the zillion smart music-lovers who love Radiohead, thanks to Grant on 9 and the CD he lent me. It’s in my computer now, making me wish I had big speakers to shake this place, making me thankful I’m not still listening to Diana Krall. Although I discovered something interesting yesterday: the song A Case of You is actually Joni Mitchell’s. I’ve been listening to Mitchell lately, too, for the first time ever. I guess I’m a late bloomer to the classics.

The Underground is such a cuddly venue to play/sing. I performed there Tuesday for the first time and will probably be back there regularly. The place is at 108 and Amsterdam, and the music starts circa 10:30. I’ll be there this Tuesday, unless I’m snowed into Rochester, where I’m flying for the weekend to see Sam Haddad’s voice recital.

I accomplished what might be the most-ever consecutively lost games of squash yesterday. I didn’t want to give up and go home but I did (we would have been there all night otherwise. My arm got so weak and rubbery at several points that I couldn’t even get a serve in.) Thankfully, Tom Randall, my squash buddy, confessed that his mom used to be some sort of Badminton champion in Canada. So he’s genetically programmed to win. Unless he invented that Badminton line to cheer me up.

2005-02-16T17:02:00.000-05:00

The Gates. More to come.

[censored]

2005-02-12T01:43:00.000-05:00

The chief news executive at CNN quit over remarks he made that U.S. soldiers meant to target journalists in Iraq (you need a free login to access this):
www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A17462-2005Feb11.html
More here: http://apnews.myway.com/article/20050212/D886M8800.html

And the subhead to this article is "Bloggers are forcing truth to prevail."
http://www.webpronews.com/news/ebusinessnews/wpn-45-20050211BlogExposureGetsCNNNewsExecFired.html

One of the most gripping parts of The Control Room, which I saw at SIPA last semester, was when an Al Jazeera reporter was killed. The other Al Jazeera staffers, in the movie, seemed convinced that the attack was intentional. The U.S. did shell the Palestine Hotel, where foreign journalists were known to stay. This guy, Eason, had won the duPont and the Peabody. (He wasn't some schmo.)

People have a right to express their views. It boggles the mind how much our society has regressed lately --- it's as though people want to be censored. And some bloggers are perpetuating the attack on freedom of speech and of the press, which is ironic because blogging is the freest publishing format out there. I'd say vigilante bloggers should watch the subjects they choose to attack before it bites them in the rear, but it already has (this story is about some hapless twentysomethings getting fired because of their blogs): http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=1804&amp;amp;e=3&u=/washpost/a15511_2005feb10

I'm certainly not an advocate of restrictions on blogging content, silly ethics codes or the like. I just think people who utilize freedom of speech daily should seriously consider whether their actions could strip those freedoms from others. Should we be attacking people like Lawrence Summers and Eason Jordan, or should we let their remarks spark conversations, arguments and debates?

Aruba, Jamaica

2005-02-10T14:31:00.000-05:00

There's an awful 80s song playing in my head right now. The name of it might be Hold on to the night, hold on to the memories. I can remember my mom joking once that she thought the words were hold on to the mammories.

Speaking of my mom, she's decided to fly us to Aruba for Spring Break. This strikes me as an opulent and entirely welcome development. My goals that week will be as follows: swim, read a book, get a tan.

I wrote the following piece, an event, for my literary journalism class. I'm going to post it below, and then either a) run a nice big chunk of miles or b) take the world's longest nap. Peace out, scouts.

The man in the front row

The room wasn’t hot, but the man sitting in the front row, middle chair, could have used a towel. Beads of sweat had been forming on the folds of his neck since he arrived. The neck, spotted with stubble, disappeared almost entirely into the collar of his shirt when he moved. And he moved often.

In front of him, two panelists who had noticed his awkward presence from the start of the lecture were trying not to look at him. The room at NYU’s Bronfman Center for Jewish Student Life was crowded, but it seemed that looking at anyone besides the man in the front row was, for them, impossible. They shouldered their burden of discomfort in different ways: Udi Ofer, who represented the New York Civil Liberties Union at this casual Monday-night meeting of student journalists, flashed an occasional game-show-host smile after allowing himself brief glances at the man in the front. Village Voice writer Alisa Solomon, when she looked at him, set her jaw and looked to be willing her pixy-cut hair to not stand on end.

The moderator of the discussion, a solemn Betty Page lookalike, looked infrequently at the man in the front and appeared alternately shocked, bemused, and shocked by what she saw.

The subject of the talk was First Amendment freedoms. Certainly, no one in the audience could have argued that the man didn’t have the right to be there.

As Ofer began to cite search tools like Google’s National Security Archives and the Reporters’ Committee for Freedom of the Press, the head of the man in the front row began to droop. As Ofer discussed the Des Moines Register’s fearless story on subpoenaed peace demonstrators, the man was a disgruntled six-year-old. He pushed back on his heels, sending his chair back a good two inches on the floor. His coat crinkled like a candy wrapper.

The Page twin’s green eyes widened, her nose scrunching in a brief portrait of pain and disdain. The inner-workings of her brain were clear: is this man distracting people from the lecture? Yes. Should I do something?

Solomon briefly talked numbers. The percentage of cargo-bearing ships that entered U.S. ports unchecked before September 11: two, the same number of nostrils it took to become nearly paralyzed by the pungent smell of the man in the front. The percentage that entered unchecked after September 11: four, the number of conspicuously empty seats beside him.

When the event was drawing to a close, the man’s flabby arm shot up. The Page twin nodded in his direction, wearing apprehension on her face like so many freckles.

He ahhed, ummed, then asked a question. His voice was a hesitant, deep baritone. When he turned to the side, as he did several times during the asking of his question, his profile revealed a snub nose, plastic glasses and a beard.

Ofer praised the question as a great one, and then began to answer it. But before the first full sentence had fallen from his lips, the man in the front row had very clearly decided to call it a night. He picked up a thick piece of Na’an from the paper plate beside him. (A Middle Eastern dinner had been served before the talk began, and the man hadn’t, apparently, finished his meal.) He chewed loudly, staring not at Ofer, but at the bread.

When he’d finished devouring the Na’an, the man in the front row began to rummage like a squirrel through a paper bag he’d brought with him. He crunched, bunched and tore the bag, apparently not finding the nuts he sought within.

When Ofer finished his response, the man in the front row did not even blink in his direction.

A man three rows back asked a wrap-up question that looked, from the relieved expressions of the weary panelists, to make him the hero of the evening. A ripple of calm went through the room, followed by loud clapping. The lecture was over.

Ofer, Solomon and the Page girl looked pleased, as though they’d beaten their strange heckler. But as the man in the front row stood up, collected his belongings and began to trudge toward the bathroom, they realized nobody would emerge from the room smiling.

See below

2005-01-31T00:32:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-30T22:52:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-28T23:57:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-27T23:49:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-26T23:36:00.000-05:00

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)

2005-01-24T17:47:00.000-05:00

Ben R. wearing his big idea

2005-01-20T00:44:00.000-05:00

Samson

2005-01-20T00:43:00.001-05:00

Samson

2005-01-20T00:43:00.000-05:00

Samson

The Bush dresses

2005-01-17T00:05:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-01-16T00:54:00.000-05:00

Nancy and Wihbey... what a shot

2005-01-16T00:49:00.000-05:00

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

Words

2005-01-15T00:14:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-01-13T01:39:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-13T01:38:00.001-05:00

Puttering

2005-01-13T01:38:00.000-05:00

The drum set left Jimless

2005-01-07T20:54:00.000-05:00

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

2005-01-06T23:33:00.000-05:00

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.

Road trip

2004-12-30T15:30:00.000-05:00

Adam and I are on our first long ride together since our trip to New York City to get him a visa for France. He’s still the only guy I know who gets giddy over Cher, Natalie Merchant or good 80s love songs (a good variety of which, and as far as we can both figure, are most often heard in central PA.)

We’ve been singing for hours. We traded bu dat dahs on The Proclaimers’ I Would Walk 500 Miles, a perennial favorite, which I had stored on my computer. We collectively gasped when "I’m a Believer," from Shrek, came on 107.9 FM. We sang solos alongside Toni Braxton, Aerosmith, and Phil Collins, and double-duetted with Don Henley and Patti Smith, Nelly and Tim McGraw, and Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock. My voice hurts.

The trip itself was great, and the Washington Auto Show, sponsored in part by XM Radio, is going to comprise a chunk of my Master’s project. I only have two hours of battery life remaining in my laptop, and I’m trying to use them to write before the scenes erase themselves from my working memory, but it’s hard to concentrate in a car that’s full of songs with sing-alongable lyrics.

Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m excited to spend it with Kathleen and a few other friends, maybe at a random party in Webster. I can’t wait to see Ben, the adorable TV post-producer with hair that stands up by itself. I just met him a few days ago, and he lives in Los Angeles, but he’s swoon-worthy and I’m sure his friend's party would be a good time.

Adam and I stayed at Kimberly Chesebrough’s for the past two nights. She’s a great friend and a terrific hostess, calling frequently to check in and even inviting us out on her date (the guy couldn’t get tickets to the jazz concert, it turned out, so Adam and I went to see the National Christmas Tree and other DC ornaments.) I couldn’t drink without a valid photo ID (part of what was stolen from me a few weeks back) so we left the one bar we entered. We watched a guy clean an ice skating rink with a zamboni for entirely too long of a time.

I love Pennsylvania’s thoughtful road signs, in bright neon orange and pink: Buckle Up Every Time; Beware of Aggressive Drivers. I feel like this state really cares. The cheapest gas we’ve seen so far was a few miles ago: an unbelievable $1.65 a gallon.

Outside of one white, dilapidated church in Allenwood, this guilt-tripping sign was plunged into the dirt:

Jesus Came To Earth
So
We Could Go To Heaven
Service: 10:30

We just passed Purity Candy, where we stopped on our way to DC to get 50 percent off all Christmas candy. It’s the only place we took a picture on the whole trip, besides the car showrooms where friendly 20somethings offered to snap our pictures and post them on the internet. We were photographed in front of a yellow Dodge Viper and a funky, boxy concept car made by Jeep.

Despite a big Styrofoam cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee, I’m tired. I want to take a nap, but it’s rude to sleep when you’re not driving any of the 7.5-hour drive. (Adam drives standard. Driving standard freaks me out a little.)

Route 15 would be so much cooler if we had time to stop at random places to check them out. Adam has to pick up one of his fraternity brothers at the airport this afternoon, so we left at 9:30 without looking back, forward, or to either side. We’re stopping only for pottybreaks, dismissing signs for veritable hotspots like Tom’s Leather Goods, Farmer Boy Furniture, and various adult video stores and scenic overlooks.

The trees on the mountains in front of us are a fine fringe. They grow on the horizon like hair. We’re almost in Lycoming, wherever that is.

Post-Christmascookie hungover

2004-12-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

I've eaten enough chocolate in the past week to kill a dog. This contributed, in part, to the merry Christmas I had yesterday. I spent it at home with Mom, saying goodbye to the puppy we were watching for Adam Devitt and then opening gifts for most of the morning. The lab was also chocolate --- a gift for Adam's dad that stayed with Mom and me so she'd be a surprise --- and eventually got named Abby even though she looked like, to me, a Cecelia. She slept with me Christmas Eve Eve and was a perfectly well-behaved live teddybear.

Christmas Eve we went to Aunt Mary and Uncle Dale's for wonderful cookies, cheese and crackers, bread dip, and a game of Risk. It was good to see the cousins, as usual. They're closer to siblings than anything I've ever had, and it's been fun to watch them grow up/change hairstyles/get jobs/fall in love/fall out of it/ pick careers/ pick new ones. I'm the oldest, which means I'll be annoyed when they each get married before I do, one by one.

I have a lot of calls to make today. There are a few people I still really want to see while I'm home, and I have a sh*tload of work to do on my Master's Project. If I set up some interviews today with reps from major record labels for the week I get back to New York City, I'll sleep easier. This does not necessarily mean I'll do it.

I read David Sedaris' Holidays on Ice to get me into the Christmas spirit, and am now snowplowing through The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri. The latter is beautiful but the former is laugh-like-you-know-you-shouldn't-because-it's-so-offensive funny. Here's one of my favorite parts, from a story called "Santaland Diaries" that features David Sedaris getting a job as an elf at Macy's:

We were standing near the Lollipop Forest when we realized that Santa is an anagram of Satan. Father Christmas or the Devil --- so close but yet so far. We imagined a SatanLand where visitors would wade through steaming pools of human blood and feces before arriving at the Gates of Hell, where a hideous imp in a singed velvet costume would take them by the hand and lead them toward Satan. Once we thought of it we couldn't get it out of our minds. Overhearing the customers we would substitute the word Satan for the word Santa.

"What do you think, Michael? Do you think Macy's has the real Satan?"

I got two books of essays by Joseph Brodsky and Gideon's Trumpet by Anthony Lewis (one of my law class profs) for Christmas. I also got some hot jewelry, a teal travel coffeemug, a Diana Krall CD and a Palm Pilot identical to the one that got stolen a few weeks back.

And some more chocolate. I thought the other day that I should go to some sort of camp, where I am sequestered and forced to eat only chocolate for two weeks, to drink only melted chocolate in to-the-brim-filled plastic cups through a straw. I think this would sufficiently cure me of my chocoholism.

Enveloped in thank-you notes

2004-12-21T13:06:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything particularly electrifying to put down right now, except that I'm swamped with thank-yous to write and we're still pre-Christmas. It's great that I have so many people to thank, right? Recommenders, references, interviewees, interviewers, friends who helped me after my stuff got stolen. I hope I can find the stamps.

I'm meeting Contessa for lunch soon, and then going to the Spot to stare at a computer screen. I have a load to do over break: a personal statement; a few more interviews for my live-in re-do, which I promised Tom Curran I'd hand in over break to save my honor; master's project writing.

And sleeping til 11 every day. Not sure if that last one should be a top priority.

Employee me

2004-12-15T02:02:00.000-05:00

It's super late because I got back recently from hanging at Mod Lounge. I'm exhausted after getting minimal sleep last night due to extreme anal-retentiveness on the law exam.

But I wanted to blog my news: I got a job today, a flexible part-time fact-checking position at the Columbia Journalism Review. I'm going to be a metawatchdog, watching the watchers. Or, a bigger dork... You choose.

Check out the magazine's websites sometime: www.cjr.org and www.campaigndesk.org.

Spooky

2004-12-11T09:32:00.000-05:00

Yushchenko was poisoned, after all:
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&u=/ap/20041211/ap_on_re_eu/yushchenko_health_13

Making the rules

2004-12-09T00:37:00.000-05:00

Even if Viktor Yushchenko were your worst enemy, would you want to pummel him the way his sickness has? Whether his disfigurement was natural or state-induced seems still to be in question, but the director of a hospital in Ukraine today said it wasn't caused by poison. It's heartbreaking to look at him, especially considering how hard it has been for him, I'm sure, to campaign in a country where the leadership is dead against him and willing to go to great lengths (extensive voter fraud, for one) to prevent him from having a fair shot.

An AP story, including an "after" shot of Yushchenko's face that isn't for the flimsy, is here:
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&ncid=1756&e=3&u=/041208/481/xel10112081636

When Ukrainians re-vote Dec. 26, if the government hasn't finished off the opposition leader by then, Yushchenko will inherit a job with a watered-down job description. After changes President Kuchma signed into law today, the parliament has more say in budget-balancing, and some high-ups once appointed by the president will now be appointed by the legislature. Many Yushchenko-supporters in parliament abstained from voting on the "reforms" today at the same time that new election law was being considered, at the request of opposition leader Yuliya Timoshchenko.

Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty has good coverage of the Ukraine election crisis. The latest is here: http://www.rferl.org/featuresarticle/2004/12/d8d6c286-df70-4388-90d1-e338956c6cd3.html

This just in

2004-12-04T01:18:00.000-05:00

Naive me got all her stuff snatched tonight by two women, apparently, who raced out and spent $200ish on subway cards. I lost my only phone, my palm pilot, three notebooks full of notes, my subway card, three credit cards, a health insurance card (complete with my soc. sec. number) and *terrifying organ interlude* a j-school camera. I was initially upset over the camera because I took pictures this week that were better than anything I ever thought I could produce. I'm really going to miss the shots I took of the holiday market at Union Square, Stephanie the seventh grader in Red Hook, and the guy reaching into his pocket on the subway escalator. I'll save the swear words, because I'm sure the robbers will get theirs.

But apparently if I don't get that camera back I have to pay a whopping deductible. I can't afford it. And I don't see how it's fair, especially since the camera was stolen at The Heights, where I was having a mandatory (albeit fun) margarita with my master's project adviser and classmates. I guess another chick got her wallet stolen in the same hour my bag disappeared.

The bartender I spoke with got my goat. As soon as I told him my bag was missing, he told me about two women who'd been lurking around the bar earlier looking reeeally suspicious. "I would have done something," he said, "but I wasn't managaing."

?

Nine. Nine!

2004-12-02T23:44:00.000-05:00

Dan Nathan-Roberts, my friend from college with three first names, came to visit just before Thanksgiving and the pics below are some of what we took. I hadn't cracked out my Photo Microskills camera yet, so these are all zapped from his digital camera. The trip across the Brooklyn Bridge was my first, but I hope to go again soon. The views were worth a gawk.

Hopefully Dan will come back soon, so we can open up the first of a chain of high-quality peanut butter and jelly sandwich shops. (C'mon, if cereal specialty stores are opening up, why not a store that's all about the best sandwich since sliced bread? For a good story on Cereality: http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-cereal02.html)

It's such fun in New York to see freckled faces that remind me of home. Before Dan's visit, I'd done Planet Hollywood with Lisa Herzig, almost done the elusive Central Park rummage sale with Jan Wong, gotten crepes and homework with Drew Abrams, and had sandwiches and politics with Audrey Stewart. Jon Koehler was up this past weekend and I spent a lovely morning of almond-crusted french toast and real estate speculation with him and Josh. And of course, it was nice to see my mom this weekend. I love when people bring Rochester to me. (I'll be coming back to it on 12/18.)

Speaking of friends and Rochester, I'm really excited to plan the Ninth Annual Christmas Party with Adam when I get back. Dip my head in a tub of cold water --- we've been throwing holiday parties the week of Christmas for NINE YEARS. We're all aging faster than dogs.

2004-12-02T23:41:00.000-05:00

Tires: generally terrible drivers

2004-12-02T23:33:00.000-05:00

You know you're a tourist when...

2004-12-02T23:31:00.000-05:00

A nice shot from the Brooklyn Bridge

2004-12-02T23:30:00.000-05:00

Dan and the funny lit-up girl thing

Banzai

2004-12-01T08:25:00.000-05:00

My Banzai story's in Newsday today! (I did not come up with that headline.)

http://www.newsday.com/mynews/ny-nynabe014061237dec01,0,196342.story

Phones

2004-11-23T22:55:00.000-05:00

Soo. Sometimes when people say they're blowing up they actually are.

Exploding Cell Phones a Growing Problem

By ELIZABETH WOLFE, Associated Press Writer
WASHINGTON - Curtis Sathre said it was like a bomb going off. His 13-year-old son Michael stood stunned, ears ringing, hand gushing blood after his cell phone exploded. Safety officials have received 83 reports of cell phones exploding or catching fire in the past two years, usually because of bad batteries or chargers.

Read on:
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=562&e=1&u=/ap/exploding_phones

Bushbot

2004-11-23T09:30:00.000-05:00

Bush reveals little of 9/11 testimony given, distracts press corps with robot dance

(AP) - President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney spent more than three hours behind closed doors Thursday with the Sept. 11 commission charged with finding ways to prevent a repeat of the worst terrorist attack in American history. "I answered every question they asked," Bush said. Bush declined to disclose details of the Oval Office discussion, instead, the president mesmerized the press corps by performing the 1980s dance commonly referred to as "The Robot," slowly shuffling his way back into the White House before anyone realized what was happening.

from www.americanidle.net

Links galore

2004-11-19T19:40:00.000-05:00

I haven't blogged in a week, citing (in my head) an investigative project to start, internship applications to finish, news to read and sleep to get. But two people replied to my last post, which made me so happy I figured it wouldn't hurt to post some more. Besides, Mike Mitchell just sent me a funny, sick link that I want to share with the world: www.furnitureporn.com.

The main reason I haven't been blogging, I think, is the post-traumatic election disorder I have. Going to Tuesday night's panel discussion didn't help --- Thomas Fitzgerald from the Philly Inquirer practically told the two bloggers on the panel, one of whom was the Wonkette (www.wonkette.com) that they should go for beers instead of, say, post exit poll results next election. He looked so far down his nose at them that he grew a double-chin.

What also didn't help was talking to Tim Green on the phone last night. His page, www.livejournal.com/users/timiathan, is a good hub for information on what he thinks "really" happened Nov. 2. He recommends www.blackboxvoting.org for studies of voter fraud and Republican-sponsored election theft. I recommend www.sorryeverybody.com for giggles if you've lost the energy to conspiracy-theorize.

Ever notice how the far right has a way with words? Its cronies will weaken pollution controls and call it Clear Skies, kiss logger's rear ends and call it Healthy Forests and give words like "conspiracy theory" the credibility of a deck of Tarot cards. Tim pointed out that the word "liberal" has been hijacked, too --- it now carries with it a connotation of craziness. Hoity toity author Anne Coulter helped the cause when her book came out earlier this year.

I have my first mini-photo skills class tomorrow. I can't wait to learn photography.

2004-11-11T23:40:00.000-05:00

Russians wait for a bus to shuttle them home on Election Day

2004-11-11T23:38:00.000-05:00

Two sisters, Tamara and Lidia, sit innocently after voting for Bush

2004-11-11T23:33:00.000-05:00

Brighton Beach poll worker Yelena Kozodoy on Election Day

Ashcroft and I like to sing

2004-11-09T23:19:00.000-05:00

In honor of Ashcroft's resignation today, one of the best stories to come out of his tenure: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/1788845.stm

And, of course, his Let the Eagle Soar performance in Charlotte, NC:
http://www.cnn.com/video/us/2002/02/25/ashcroft.sings.wbtv.med.html

I'd comment on Charlotte here if not for Matt Goad, who provided me with my first-ever clip... about me. He was beyond kind, and seeing it today made me so giddy I'm posting it:

Sing us a song, Ms. Piano Lady
From Columbia's J-School Journal

Could a budding superstar singer be killing time at J-School?

If the reaction to Jen Weiss's open mic performance at Paddy Reilly's on Second Avenue on Saturday was any indication, the answer is yes. Weiss played piano and sang to a supportive crowd. The men in the audience were especially appreciative, making a point to crowd around her after the gig to say how great she was.

Weiss, who has studied piano for a long time, was playing in public for the third time. All of her performances have been at open mic nights at New York City bars.

One song included at least one word that would not be suitable to print in a family newspaper.

I certainly didn't feel I was all that and a bag of chips, but I had fun and was grateful that people came. Paddy Reilly's is a great little joint on 29th and 2nd, with a Guinness tap for every letter of the beer's name. I didn't even have time to drink one, because I arrived late and had to set up as soon as I got there. I think I'll test-drive two new songs Sunday night at The C Note this weekend, and then play at PR's again next Saturday (before Caitlin's gala karaoke-night birthday party.) Rick Johnson, the booking dude, invited me back --- but I'm unsure whether it was because I'm talented, because I drew a crowd of people who bought drinks, or because I was ruthless and flirty when I walked around with the tip bucket later that evening and raked in a sizeable amount of dough.

How much did Rick let me keep? Enough to buy 20 coffees from the J-School's 6th-floor vending machine.

Clog

2004-11-09T01:02:00.000-05:00

I have so much to do I don't have paper big enough for the to-do list. The most popular internship application deadline, 11/15, is days away --- one day, to be exact, if I don't want to spend hundreds on postage. I have an article to finish and pitch, and a master's project to morph from think to print. On top of this, the bathroom sink is clogged and the plastic fish soapdish is submerged beyond reach in the primordial soup.

Red v. Blue

2004-11-05T23:45:00.000-05:00

"Liberal, quiche-eating, Kerry-supporting" northeast? Why is the left being perceived as more elitist and rich than the right? http://www.trinidadexpress.com/index.pl/article_opinion?id=45220369

I was talking to Moises today about secession along red and blue lines, which Gwynne Dyer of the Trinidad & Tobago Express suggests in that article. If the northeast and a few western states break away, I asked Moises, what will we call ourselves? He brought up a good point: there’s no copyright out for "United States." Let the other guys worry about finding a new name.

While I think Dyer’s labels of "proto-Canadian" and "pseudo-Iranian" for blue and red residents are oversimplified, I agree with him that moving the U.S.-Canada border is a far better idea than dealing with the repercussions of a pro-Kerry move north. As Dyer rightly points out, Canada is cold, and we’ll all quickly run out of elbow-room.

From The Onion: God puts His tool back into office. http://theonion.com/index.php?issue=4044

e-Day

2004-11-03T01:30:00.000-05:00

It's 1:30 a.m. and we're all still here at school. No one has been declared the winner yet, but it looks like it'll be Bush. The middle of the country is so red it looks like it's been punched in the gut. In terms of telling contests, it looks like the first lady cookie competition trumped the Nickelodeon endorsement after all.

Our class website is here: http://www.jrn.columbia.edu/studentwork/election/2004/e-Day-News.asp. More articles and photos will get posted as they come in.

Ash art

2004-11-01T22:15:00.000-05:00

Claire Anderson and I walked around Union Square tonight with heavy, bazillion-dollar camera equipment slung on our backs. We needed a story for our TV skills class. In two hours, we found more than we could ever do in a night: a group of GLBT homeless teenagers that gathers nightly in the square; a clearly insane man playing a guitar he “got for free”; a late-night recruiter from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints; and a Puerto Rican, 9/11-inspired artist named Edwin Class.

We picked Class. He was a gem of an interview subject. It didn’t matter to him that Claire and I were bozos with the camera and tripod --- once we got the camera rolling, he talked with the ease of someone married to Barbara Walters.

The best part of the interview began when he took out a pair of scissors and a book of matches. In less than a minute, he’d snipped off the heads of most of the matches. After a few more cuts in slants and jags, only two matches were standing tall. We were looking at the New York City skyline, he said, as it was before the towers fell.

Class scraped the skyline against another matchbook and the towers ignited in a tiny puff of flame. Two black marks were left behind the charred matchheads. Those are called the footprints, Class said. He explained how people became ash that day; how the buildings fell seven floors below ground level.

For someone who said his favorite artistic medium is people, he worked well with a matchbook. And I got to keep it --- it’s tucked away for now, in my purse.

Fall back

2004-10-31T22:42:00.000-05:00

The J-school Halloween party and afterparty last night stole my Sunday. I always have a productivity hangover after a night of fun, even though I generally take care not to get sloshed.

My evening ended where it began: at Natasha del Toro's, where she'd cut a wig for me around 8 p.m. Nearly 10 hours later, half a dozen people sat around her place eating meat pockets and homemade pumpkin pie, which was a much yummier combination last night then than it looks right now, in sentence form. We listened to wonderful music by a Portuguese band whose name I can't remember. I got back to 10J so late that I brought in the newspaper.

It was fun to watch people I'd only seen around in all-class lectures get lusty with one another. The costumes were current-eventish and rad --- just what you'd expect from journalists. We were Abu Ghraib prisoners, Arabs and Bush-Cheney loyalists. My personal favorite was Victoria Schlesinger's Romenesko.

I spent some time in the library today, editing my immigration story and doing research for my master's project. (Speaking of the library at Columbia, the Library Musical is a must-see: http://www.prangstgrup.com/lm/lm.htm.)

If a pol were a sandwich, would he be a hero?

2004-10-28T23:47:00.000-04:00

Francis X. Clines is a pearl within the Tiffany oyster of The New York Times. I was apparently wearing my reverence on my sleeve yesterday when I went to the Times building to interview him: as I was leaving, a grinning security guard in the lobby asked me if he should laminate my guest’s name-tag and mail it to me.

Ha ha ha, I responded.

I talked to Clines, a veteran political reporter who now covers national politics, Congress and campaign finance as a member of the editorial board, for 50 minutes in his office. During that time, Clines shared with me his opinion of Bush ("the worst president" in Clines’ lifetime), tips on editorial-writing (trust your instincts and don’t put initial reactions "through a shammy of profundity"), and an assessment of the pressures between the liberal ed board and a Times ownership that gave three quarters of a million bucks to the Republican National Convention (they don’t exist).

My favorite thing he said was this; pure inspiration in a column-inch:

"The funny thing is, I love politicians because they’re the best way to get at the ultimate story of humanity, which is what? It’s a mixture of idealism, audacity, opportunism, the inevitable survival of humanity, and someone has to step forward, and that sort of thing. So I admire them ultimately. And they reflect all of our flaws. They’re human. It’s a great story because they’re human."

He put it simply, and it sounds almost Homeric. For all the sound bites they dish, and all the bubble-wrap with which their staff separates them from probing media, politicians are human and their role is a noble one.

It must be awfully hard, in the first place, for them to step onto the chopping-block. For all the respect they earn, politicians are talked nastily about, publicly scrutinized, and often made to sit through boring meetings. I can’t imagine talking in press-release-speak and having to plan my outfit (or hairdo) around whatever color makes America feel the safest. (And you know advisers to both Kerry and Bush consulted the same website the night before the final debate. The candidates were wearing the same thing down to the polka-dot.)

Chat disenfranchisement

2004-10-26T15:03:00.000-04:00

I attempted to join a live chat session today that I found on President Bush's website. My nicely worded, NYC-based question about first-time registrants was not chosen for airtime. The questions that were chosen poured in from the far reaches of America's swing states. They were answered by Bush Campaign worker Terry Nelson, whose writing had a distinct flavor (possibly envelope glue.)

You can read the transcript of the chat here: http://www.georgewbush.com/Chat/LiveChat.aspx?ID=47&refresh=man

Highlights of the chat include the questions posed from residents of Arkansas and Nevada, probably chosen because a slim Bill Clinton campaigned there for Kerry last weekend. Of the two token non-swing-state questions chosen, one came from Texas. The author said he feels that this time around, voting will result in a "solid win for someone (Bush I hope)." He later used a creative spelling of the word "polls."

The other, which came in from California, criticizes journalists for our liberal bias:

Miguel Raya from Los Angeles CA wrote: I read a newspaper article in the LA TIMES last weekend noting that the voter registration effort across the country may actually help democrats. Do you think this is true? I hope not and hope that people stop writing politically charged stories like this about the non-political monumental effort that everyone involved with the vote effort has accomplished the past few months.

This question-answer combo sort-of sums it all up. And it makes reference a magic book, which is something everyone can enjoy:

Alex Dominguez from Tallahassee FL wrote: Campaign management is an amazing thing; the management of ideas, actions, people, resources becomes bunched into one role or position. My activities as a volunteer have allowed me to see these factors in play (and I love it) but I have not been able to grasp how, or where, one picks up the knowledge. Is it experience, is it inate talent....is there a magic book somewhere in a secret library one can read?

Terry Nelson answered: Alex, you're learning it in the best possible way, by doing it. If you love being a volunteer, you should try to go work on a campaign. Most folks start out like you making phone calls, knocking on doors and sealing envelopes and go on to be field staffers, and political directos, and campaign managers. There are plenty of opportunities for people who are hard-working and dedicated to our candidates. Keep it up and thank you for your help.

Interventions

2004-10-26T01:04:00.000-04:00

I go to bed late lately, but there are always a handful of lit-up windows in the neighboring apartments to keep me company. Occasionally I'll see the shadow of an arm, a pant leg, or an actual arm, a leg, a hand. More often I see the silhouettes of people sitting on their beds behind their curtains in my imagination.

I wonder what 10-U is doing. I wish he didn't live right across the hall from Bashed-in-the-Mouth Guy and his wife.

A little background: I met BITM Guy on the elevator after he'd recently fallen off a roof, broken some ribs and bashed his mouth in. He and his wife are South African and in their mid-20s.

BITM Guy told me I'd make an adorable couple with his friend, who works as an underwear model. I laughed when he told me, so BITM Guy invited me over to his apartment and showed me said friend's modeling portfolio. Pictures of an iconic blonde man were pressed beneath the plastic sleeves of a large photo album. BITM Guy's wife, a cordial and curly-haired girl, invited me to come swimming with them in Central Park the next day. BITM Guy told me to stop by later on that evening to meet said friend.

I said I'd come by after I took a nap, feeling like I'd need a shower and six makeovers to climb up to said friend's level of attractiveness. Luckily, I napped late and missed the meeting entirely.

I've seen BITM Guy and his wife only one time since. I think dating an underwear model would make me a wreck. I'd spend all my time wishing I were dating a scruffy, gawky guy with black plastic glasses.

Still, I can't very well borrow pasta sauce from 10-U with BITM Guy and his wife --- and possibly said friend --- right across the hall. The one time I knocked I kept peeking out of my shoulder, expecting the other door to open. (No one was home.)

From this weekend's New York Times:

FLORIDA: COURT WON'T REVISIT FEEDING TUBE CASE The State Supreme Court denied Gov. Jeb Bush's request to reconsider its ruling that struck down a state law intended to keep alive Terri Schiavo, who is severely brain damaged. Last month, the court unanimously ruled that the law letting Mr. Bush order Ms. Schiavo's feeding tube reinserted violated the separation of powers guaranteed by the Constitution. Ms. Schiavo's husband, Michael, saying he was following her wishes, does not want to keep Mrs. Schiavo alive artificially, and lower courts have ruled that he could have the tube removed. Ms. Schiavo, 40, left no written instructions before suffering brain damage 14 years ago.

Is there anyone left out there who thinks Republicanism is synonymous with small government?

Run on by

2004-10-23T13:10:00.000-04:00

I had just started a morning jog through Riverside Park when I noticed an enormous group of people walking toward me. They were cheerful, wrapped in fleeces and scarves, and holding signs. I groaned: it was the Walk With Us to Cure Lupus Walkathon, and I was running in the other direction.

As I passed the hundreds of people who had donated their time and money this Saturday morning to help find a cure for Lupus, I smiled sheepishly. I quickened my pace, but it's impossible to outrun a Walkathon.

"Hey," I imagined one guy from the Lupus Asian Network saying to fellow walkers. "Who's that girl with the blue hoodie who doesn't give a damn about Lupus?"