Stacy Horn

A job ad I read recently said, “A Note of Caution – PLEASE DO NOT ASK WHAT OUR BUDGET IS, that might work negatively against you.” I think I know what a person asking such a question is getting at, although I would find a more subtle way to do it. You need to know that this is not some guy who thought he’d start a magazine out of his basement and has no support, no way of paying the people he hires, or paying for what the company needs to grow, and so on.

To me, a job ad with that line says exactly that, so don’t bother applying. Who answers job ads like that? Oh god, that reminds me, I watched a couple of episodes about the reality tv show about personal shoppers—Million Dollar Shoppers. This one client (who had great taste in art), I can’t imagine what she thought when she watched herself on the second episode. If she’s as insane and awful as she was portrayed, perhaps she’s happy with it, but she was monstrous. At one point the monster-client had a friend with her and I kept waiting for the friend to say, “Stop. You can’t treat people like this, you’re acting like a crazy person.” All in all it looked like a soul-destroying job that didn’t pay much considering the time involved.

A couple of shots in Washington Square Park.

I’ve got this collection of quotes about amateur singing. I sprinkled some of my favorites throughout the book but I couldn’t use them all, alas. Here is one that didn’t make the cut.

It was written by Richard Aldrich, the music critic for the New York Times way back when, and it was published in the paper on September 27, 1903. The title of the article it appeared in was, The Worcester Music Festival; A Critical Period in the History of an American Musical Association.

“There are not many influences more fruitful in results, more potent in diffusing a love and appreciation of music than the widespread practice of choral singing by amateur choristers …”

While I agree with every word, it doesn’t communicate the bliss, the sheer ecstasy felt when singing some of the masterpieces we’re called on to sing in choir.

When you sing a piece of choral music you fall in love with it in a way that doesn’t quite happen when you listen to it. You can get there at The Cloisters and the audio installation, The Forty Part Motet, though. I still think singing takes it all up a notch, but this is pretty freaking great.

I notice that people who search on “dental implants” sometimes find their way to my blog because I was posting about my own implant process so much for a time. I don’t know how typical my case is, but basically everything the dentists tried to do didn’t work so I’m not getting an implant after all, and instead I’m getting a bridge.

Quick backstory: A childhood mishap with my brothers when I was 9 led to me breaking one of my front teeth and getting a cap. I’ve been slowly losing bone in that tooth over the years and a couple of years ago they pulled that tooth and the one next two it. The plan was to get an implant and a fake tooth anchored to that, but I needed more bone in that spot, something to drill the implant into. I had a bone graft, it failed. I had another bone graft, that failed. I had gum surgery, that mostly failed.

They were suggesting another gum surgery when I cried, “That’s it. No more. I give up.” They agreed with my decision, it turns out. So, next week they start work on the bridge.

Not a very interesting story, I know. Here is a cottage in Fort Tryon Park. It’s lovely, but the downside is that it’s at the edge of a public park so you’d have people like me gawking all the time.

Avonte Oquendo, a 14-year-old boy with autism, has been missing from Queens since October 4th. When I went to Fort Tryon park last week I don’t remember seeing missing signs. But when I went on Monday they were everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Except not here in my neighborhood, I just realized. I wonder why that is?

Yesterday I went back up to the Cloisters and Fort Tryon Park to double-check a few things about Janet Cardiff’s Forty Part Motet Installation. Before heading uptown I talked to my friend Chris, who told me her mother grew up near the park and about all the times she’d visited it growing up.

She talked about the stairs all over the park, many of which are much more steep than the ones in this picture. I like these though, because they seem to lead to someplace magical. I kept being lured up by one staircase after another, often getting turned around and a little lost. But the park is basically a circle going around the Cloisters, so you can only get so lost.

Chris has a picture of her mom as a young woman, standing by one of the many lamp posts in the park. I hope she sends me a copy!