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When I look at pictures of wood buildings in the neighborhood which were taken when they were new, or new-ish, they looked dilapidated, even then.  What I like about the White Horse Tavern is that is has that look exactly.  Even though it’s famous as a former writer’s bar I read that it was once a longshoreman’s bar.  That’s what it looks like, a longshoreman’s bar.

Here’s a detail.  It looks seedy, basically, which is more authentic to my neighborhood (the far West Village).  At least for a certain period anyway.  I have good camera news, by the way!  A friend’s boyfriend is a fashion photographer, and she also has a Canon G9, (the camera I just bought) and he uses one as a back-up, and he is going to give us lessons on what all these billion controls mean!!

Don’t go to see House Bunny.  I was hoping it was going to be a nice surprise, like Legally Blonde, but no.  Man was it bad.  And just weird. Like it wasn’t made by … people.  I actually thought while watching it that it was made by guys who had never spoken to a woman in their lives, and was surprised when the credits rolled and I saw that it was written, produced and directed by women.  And then I learned later it was made by the same screenwriters as Legally Blonde.

The humor, what passed for humor, just made me cringe.  Don’t go.

But do read The Brief History of the Dead.

And if you missed the new summer show In Plain Sight download it and watch it.

And get the Bridgid’s Abbey cheese from Cato Corner Farm at the Greenmarket (if you’re in New York).

I took this picture on Commerce Street facing Morton Street.  A pretty spot, no?

Every day, all day long, these double decker tourist buses drive around Manhattan, with some guy on the top with a microphone explaining the sites.  It’s kinda weird.  Anything having to do with 9/11 gets a lot of attention.  They especially like the corner across from St. Vincent’s Hospital (where they waited to treat the survivors who never came).  People started putting up tiles on a fence to honor the victims and now the fence is packed with tiles. 

I have to admit I always feel a little self-conscious when they go by and I’m in my crappy gym outfit.  I almost want to explain.  “I can look better than this.  Really.”

Here is the Incredible Hulk (Edward Norton, why??) protecting the visitors.  “Don’t hurt them, poorly attired New Yorkers!  Roar!”

Not bad.  This was out my window and that helicopter was pretty far away, relatively speaking.  But what is that thing on the front??

I love helicopters.  Too bad they seem less forgiving when it comes to crashes.

Today:  More camera learn-age, writing a behind-the-scenes type thing for my publisher, gym, house-cleaning, Olympics-watching, spending way too much time online doing nothing terribly important.  Oh life.  Am I squandering you?  Maybe I should start looking at the music my choir is going to be doing this season?

There was a guy on the roof next door talking on the phone and eyeing me warily as I took pictures.  Probably making drug deals. (More likely complaining about his roommate where they couldn’t hear.)

This is a picture of artist/filmmaker Julian Schnabel’s building.  I was admiring it the other night at the party, and everyone else was saying the pink was ugly, but you couldn’t tell at night.  I agree that the pink is not as nice during the day, but I still love it.  I think it’s one of the prettiest buildings in my part of town.

The pictures this camera takes are astounding, but I don’t think you can tell after I’ve shrunk them down in size and resolution for the web.

Also, I didn’t like the exposure it was choosing for a lot of shots, although I could see why it chose what it did. But I have to learn how to control everything manually.  It’s interesting that the better the quality, the more I can tell what I don’t like.  This camera may have been over-kill if all I do is shoot for the web and shrink them down.

Here’s another shot of the Schnabel building, which gives a more accurate representation of the distance between us.  I wish I could remember what people were saying about it, something along the lines of he’s been importing it brick by brick from some place in Italy, a la William Randolph Hearst and San Simeon.