Stacy Horn

I’m watching the new show Wayward Pines, and I’m freaking amazed at the place where it’s filmed. You have to see it. When they’re in the town you see these great big gorgeous mountains in the background, everywhere it’s all very green and lush, big trees, it’s astoundingly beautiful. So I google, “where is Wayward Pines filmed,” and the answer is: Vancouver. Packing my bags.

This is the tree in the courtyard behind my apartment building. I envy the people who live in the back of my building. It’s quieter and greener. The apartments in the front are sunnier and larger, so it’s pretty much even in terms of who has it better, but still. I want it all.

I’m still floating on a “I lead a charmed life” vibe. In part because I have such great friends. One had an extra ticket and took me to the play Hand to God last night, which was hysterical, but dark, my favorite combination. Thank you so much!!

Then there are all the few free things coming up that I plan to do. Weirdly, even though New York is one of the most insanely expensive places to live, it’s also one of the best places to be poor, as long as you’ve found a place to live, I should say, which is the hardest part of course. But after that you can find free or low cost health care, free hair cuts and color, and so on. (Notice the two things I mention, before wrapping it up with “so on.”)

First up, on June 9th, is the yearly Museum Mile Festival. All the museums along upper 5th Avenue, which include many of the best in the world, are free between 6 and 9.

Next, there’s this thing at Union Square on the 13th at 6pm called the Bubble Battle. A bunch of people are going to show up and blow bubbles. Come on! Can’t miss that. Should be beautiful.

Then there’s the yearly Make Music New York festival on June 21st. I’ve participated in this festival some years, and made music of one sort or another, and I’m contemplating doing so again. The one I might join is titled Bach and Sons. Like it says, we’ll be singing the music of J.S. Bach and his sons J.C., C.P.E. and W.F. It’s open to anyone, by the way, as are many other performances (which call for all sort of musicians). For a list look here.

On June 23rd I’ll be running around downtown participating in Night at the Museums. I did this last year, and had such a great time. (A few shots here.)

In short: June is going to be a fun month.

A couple of shots of dedications on Central Park benches. This one took my breath away. I remember having a few of those dawn to dusk, I-could-have-danced-all-night talks myself. The story behind this first one is told here.

Short and sweet, but how many of us have someone like this who will think of us every day when we are gone? So poignant. Says it all.

I can’t believe that I lead the kind of life where I can see outstanding musicians like the Chalfonte Quartet in an intimate and beautiful setting. Last night was the annual benefit for my choir, the Choral Society of Grace Church. The Chalfonte Quartet performed Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor (aka Death and the Maiden).

The place was packed (you can’t see all the people around me, I was sitting about midway to the front and on the right, as you can see in this picture). You can’t seem them but the musicians are: Jorge Avila (violin I) Alexander Sharpe (violin II) David Gold (viola) and Kathy Cherbas (cello). Thank you for a mind-blowing performance.

Planning my day and realizing that perhaps I should have made plans a little sooner than the morning of my birthday, in which I turn WAY OLD (59). Jesus. One year away from SIXTY. Except I thought fifty was going to be unbearable and it turned out to be fine. The 50’s turned out to be just fine overall so maybe my 60’s won’t be so awful either. It freaks me out just to type it though. SIXTY!!! That is absolutely, unequivocally OLD.

I’m proud to live in a city where people line up around the block just to see a painting. (It was a Gustav Klimt portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer.)

I was walking across on 7th Street to feed a friend’s cat when I came upon this impromptu memorial for the two victims on the March 26th gas explosion in the East Village. They represent the graves of 27-year-old Moises Ismael Locón Yac, an employee of the restaurant Sushi Park, and 23-year-old Nicholas Figueroa, who was in the restaurant at the time of the explosion.

It’s just so sad and it makes me mad. It’s terrible that we don’t all get to live out our one life, but when we lose it to something so stupid and avoidable it feels especially heart-breaking, although I guess every cause of death is stupid except “old age.” (Which is probably not a legal cause of death.)