There has been a band marching around Williamsburg this afternoon, eight or ten members strong, like a New Orleans funeral march. The music is jazz-like, samba-ish, led by a group of horns and kept in time by multiple percussionists, each on small, hand-held instruments. I counted a
Showing more maturity and self-assurance than the self-titled debut of last year, Plays & Sings Torch’d Songs… shows an overt sense of confidence: some tracks are multi-layered, with relaxed horns, vocal harmonies, extra keyboards or guitar; others are strong and simple, just bass, guitar and Lee&
Sadly, not much. I spent yesterday afternoon, as seen by my link progress below, reading as much as I could (and there were many things I read that I didn’t feel like linking: columns too short-sighted or venomous, or simply repetitive, academic papers too difficult and contextual to
In all the different things I wrote yesterday (and the day before), I remembered this note I’d meant to post: I’d just heard about the second plane crash when a woman approached me on the street, wearing pins for Vallone (one of the mayoral candidates), and asked me
I can’t tell you how sad it is to walk up from Union Square, see the whole length of 14th Street locked off from traffic, the same cloud of smoke I saw above Broadway two days ago still in position, hear the same sirens every few minutes, and then
Summer hasn’t left Brooklyn yet and as my neighbors are playing a repetitive, pounding, techno/rap strain that has made its way through my bedroom wall, I’ve sequestered myself in the living room to ignore the heat and read all day. Plenty of books, a Tupperware bowl of
Writer Michael Chabon answers the five questions, mentioning real estate, Mr. Terrific, and Ashtabula.
Jeff from Stones Throw is one of our greatest fans; here’s the email he sent last night to feedback@starbucks.com. Dear Starbucks, Since making themorningnews.org the first web site that i read in the morning, i’ve reduced the number of times that I steal The NY
While waiting for friends to pay for their orders in a deli, I overheard the following delivery order, as read by the cashier: One Corona One pack of Parliament cigarettes One ham sandwich One quick-pick lotto ticket One Penthouse magazine The elements of life, contained in a lunch.
America's favorite writer Neal Pollack on sandwiches, the “Onion,” and the world’s inability to “top” him.
