Author: Stacy Horn

Part of me always regrets not taking a Keith Haring drawing when they were everywhere, all over the subway and no one knew who he was yet. But I felt that would be wrong. They were there for everyone to enjoy and I shouldn’t be so greedy and grasping about it. So I didn’t. Little Miss Goody Two Shoes that I am. (Mostly.) Except few would have cared and one of those drawings would be worth a fortune now. Poor Keith Haring though. Life is so unfair.

I just came across this on 1st Ave. between 3rd and 4th. I think it’s by the same guy who did the peace one on 14th Street. Like before, I wasn’t really tempted. I still think whoever puts them up is putting them up for everyone. I liked the peace one better, except it has since been vandalized. “Everyone” can be such a jerk sometimes.

Should be editing again today, but I’m a little burnt out. Too lazy to go out and do anything else though. I took the long way back from the dentist. I went by way of the lower east side to pick up some moisterizer by Christine Chin. This is the place to go for facial and having your eyebrows done, by the way.

Oh GOD, could this be a more boring post?? Proof I need a vacation. Which I never take.

Thank you Don Vassallo for the choir pictures! This is from our last concert.

Did I mention that I hurt my arm and have been going to physical therapy? Well, it keeps getting worse and worse and worse and so they are scheduling an MRI. Of course it’s Arm Cancer. I just get over the Bleeding Face Cancer and now this.

Here’s my plan for the day:

– Coffee and blogging and Echo.
– Start reading book again (I’ve tinkered and now I see what I’m left with.)
– Shower.
– Mediate (who would have freaking thought I would turn into a meditator??).
– Gym. (A little backwards, I know, showering before the gym.)
– Finish reading book.
– Look at myself in the mirror and obsess about my eyebrows.
– Oh, eat! At some point I must eat. At two points, really.
– Spend a few minutes expounding on the wonders of Finney’s belly.
– Perhaps take pictures of Finney’s belly.
– I hate the word belly when it comes to humans by the way, I prefer the word stomach, but with animals, belly is the proper word.
– Look at my own stomach/belly and go back and forth between “it’s cute” and “uh-oh, you have a stomach.”
– Call father at some point.
– Worry about something (dying, the cats dying, never finding love again, Joss Whedon never doing a TV show again, world cluster-fuck getting worse, our current government … oh I shouldn’t get started about that, I will implode, a spider might walk over me while I sleep, my cats might eat a spider, my hair is going to take forever to grow long enough to put in a ponytail again, the apocolypse. Just kidding about the last one.)
– TV TV TV TV TV. The 4400 starts up again tonight!

I love spanish moss, but this is over-kill I thought. I shot this on Morton Street, and you’re not seeing the piles and piles of it that is laying along the outer edges which I cropped out. Also, the color seems wrong, although for the life of me, I’m not sure what color I think it should be.

I’ve been working like a dog, editing editing editing, and for the past two days I’ve been wrong, apparently, about what day it is. It’s freaking Saturday, it turns out. How did that happen??

Howard and I went down to the river to work, and it was an incredibly nice thing we discovered. We want to do it again. At a certain point a storm came up and we got to see a fantastic lightening storm over in New Jersey. It was beautiful. I felt energized. Looming darkness. Flashes of bright light. Possible destruction. I feel reborn. Go figure.

I walked by this cop and his horse on 11th Street, on my way to the gym. Doesn’t this horse look way too small for this policeman? I thought, ‘well, maybe he’s a baby horse in training, out on his training run, on the quiet streets of the West Village,’ but still. He looked too small to carry that guy (not a comment on the guy, who was an average sized guy). The horse loved those kids though.

I found this absolutely adorable YouTube video of a mounted cop, I think I read it was made by the guy’s daughter. Very cute.

OH. I almost forgot. I found the most perfect song. The number one most perfect pop song in all the universe. I didn’t find it, my friend Aly told me I’d like it and he was right. It’s called Couldn’t Be Done and it’s by Tim Finn. I have to make myself stop listening to it over and over. Everything about it, the words, supported by the most perfect, mood-lifting, everything’s-going-to-be-alright melody. Go find it and listen to it. You’ll thank me. No seriously, go find it now. (Excuse me, but are you still here?? GO. I mean, please go.)

Last night I went out to Huntington to a dinner to honor my brother who was named the Man of the Year by the Kidney & Urology Foundation of America Inc. Most of my pictures didn’t come out so well but here are a few, such as they are.

This is me and my friend Chris. It looks like she’s squirming to get away from me, right? That’s because I have Bleeding-Face-Cancer. (A blood vessel broke and bled out into my face.)

The party was held at the house built by banker Otto Kahn because bigots in another location on Long Island wouldn’t let him live where they lived (because he was Jewish). Here are the grounds behind his home. I kept thinking, ‘this is a beautiful place where I don’t live.”

Here is the house that Otto built. Here I’m thinking, ‘too much to keep clean.’

This is my father introducing my brother. I have to say, I was terrified when my father got up to speak. 1, because my father is not an expressive man, so there’s the no-experience-expressing-his-feelings thing and 2, because he never expresses his feelings, he’s a complete mystery, so God knows what he’ll say. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to take this opportunity to discuss capacitors.” (My father’s degree is in electrical engineering.) And 3, because he was following the guy who was honored before my brother, Dr. Zelig Frischer, who spoke about the years he spent in a Siberian concentration camp. Good freaking lord how is my inexpressive father going to follow that?? Cringe, cringe, cringe.

Thankfully, he realized there was no following that, and he was brief and gracious. Good job, Dad!

This is my brother Douglas, who is public speaker extraordinaire, so I had no worries when he got up. He was great and moving as always. I wish I had gotten a picture of his friends Jon and Kat. We all took out pages in the program to congratulate him, and I was so sure mine was going to be the best (it was a snippet from the television show Angel) but Jon and Kat blew me out of the water by congratulating him on winning man of the year which was great considering the women’s clothes thing. (God it was perfect. Jon and Kat, I learn from you.)