Stacy Horn

This is the alley where I watched the parade. I love this about the Wall Street area, lots of nooks and crannies, doesn’t feel particularly well planned, it’s crumbly and old in spots, and 19th century feeling in a lot of places. I should walk around and take shots some afternoon.

What’s up for me today … thinking … choir practice, make sure I’m ready for an interview on Monday, (for my audio forensics piece) work on the line edits for the parapsychology book. It has a tentative title. Unbelievable: The Search for the Supernatural at The Parapsychology Laboratory of Duke University.

Then, at some point, lay on the couch and read People Magazine and watch TV.

I’ve been thinking about my next book. I would really like to do another Waiting for My Cats to Die. Basically a series of essays about whatever is obsessing me. I don’t know if a publisher would go for that though, because Waiting for My Cats to Die wasn’t exactly a best seller. Hmmm. I have an idea though. I’m going to talk to my agent first.

Is there anything good on TV tonight? I enjoyed Lipstick Jungle, I have to say. Not great, but it roped me in. I must have some recorded things left to watch. Oh, I’ve got a movie called The Lookout that people are saying is very good. There I go. Day set.

If I have the time, I like to read the plaques on the benches around the city, or wherever I see them, on buildings, church pews, at the base of trees. I think I’ve posted pictures of them from time to time. I love reading these small dedications. I couldn’t find out much of anything about Cyrus Porter. I wonder who “C” is? But All About Us is a children’s book by Eva Knox Evans about why people are different, and have different skin color. According to the New York Public Library listing she’s still alive, but she’d be 102 if that’s correct. There’s a copy at the library way way uptown, but I’m curious to read what Einstein said, and there’s something else I needed to check up there. Maybe I will make it up there sooner rather than later.

I usually try to edit down to the best shot, but I can’t decide which shot really conveys what it was like for me yesterday, watching people watch the parade, because as I said, I couldn’t see a thing. Sometimes I tried to watch the parade from the tiny screens of the cameras they were holding up.

Loved the confetti, especially when it was pink or red.

Is this a better shot of the confetti? I don’t know.

Here’s confetti that almost looks like snow on the window ledges.

Here’s Jon Oliver again, because he’s so cute and funny.

And here’s the aftermath, on a side street, not even Broadway, the actual parade route. I love New York.

… along with thousands of others. I was looking for the least popular spot to watch the ticker tape for the Giants, and I decided to go with a small alley called Exchange Alley. It was still packed, but nothing like other blocks which were freaking mind-blowingly insane. I can’t see a thing, I can only hear when someone goes by, but I turned around and spotted Jon Oliver from The Daily Show! I took pictures of him instead. More pictures later, and also my traumatic experience voting.

The world exploded outside my window last night. Apparently there was some sort of sporting event, maybe a competition of some sort and New York won? I think? Or lost and decided to lose graciously? Yay other guys! We’re just happy to be alive!

It was fun hearing all that noise. I was tempted to go out and join them. I had a mostly quiet weekend. On Echo we have something called “yo’s.” They’re like Instant Messages. People can say something to you and it pops up on your screen. When I can’t (or don’t want to respond) I have a list of reasons I YO back, like:

On phone!
Cat on me!
On deadline!
Bones is on!

This weekend I added:

Meditating!

Because I do that now. I’m loving reading Eat, Pray, Love because she writes a lot about meditating (in the middle, India section anyway) and she’s both funny and moving at the same time. Although her descriptions about having a connection to God terrify me. It reminded me of when I was researching ghosts and people who record voices which they believe are the voices of the dead. I got so scared listening to these recordings that I looked around my apartment and said out loud, “If you’re here, please don’t talk to me.” That said, I wouldn’t mind having my prayers answered occasionally. Except maybe they are. I am still alive.