Anna Blakney Sutton, friend, artist, illustrator for The Morning News, and now: Mom. We are excited beyond belief to introduce her daughter Iris, born today, March 1, 2003, at 5:37 a.m. Many, many congratulations to her and beaming father Jack Featherly on such a beautiful addition to their
1. Leaving the L train, up through the station, I nailed the smell. Winter smells like winter. Enough. It’s the same everywhere I’ve lived, and after four years of college in central Maine, I had it figured out: like leaves or branches burning but suppressed by cold, so
My in-laws’ relationship with basketball has been touched on before, but when the future father-in-law sinks 8 free throws in 30 seconds during a halftime contest at a recent U.N.C game, beating out the competition for the $100 prize, you can be damn sure I’
Not much news to report this week, but a few enhancements around the site: 1) If you read Web sites with an RSS News reader, (e.g., NetNewsWire, Amphetadesk), then you may like to try our new RSS 2.0 feeds, now featuring both the Features (complete stories) and Headlines
1. Two police officers are riding the train with me between Union Square and 6th Avenue. I’m sitting down; one cop, standing next to me, keeps her radio on her belt, right next to me ear. While we’re waiting to leave the station, it squaks ‘Anonymous caller reports
We saw Sam Mendes’s production of Twelfth Night last night at the BAM Harvey Theater, an early Valentine’s Day present from my mother (who may not celebrate all holidays, but seems to buy us gifts for most of them) and I was out of my mind with anticipation.
Though for many, Leslie Harpold requires no introduction, it’s Andrew’s and my great pleasure to announce that she has joined The Morning News as a new contributing writer. Leslie (previous stories at TMN here) reaches us from many points in the Web, including Smug, Hoopla, and the Hoopla/
I recently took a new job in Lower Manhattan, which is, in my belief, one of the most extraordinary Manhattan locales. An area totally unknown to me (I still can’t navigate it to save my life), I’m constantly taken aback by its dramatic landscape, harsh wind currents, and
There’s a report in the Times today that this winter may be the dreariest in New York’s history, which seems a slightly unscientific approach to measuring weather, but feels entirely accurate: it’s piss outside. Very cold piss. Friends from the great white North (i.e., Maine) who
Honestly, I have to get better about writing these editor letters. I’ve been confused about how to use this area of the site (Andrew and I had an editors’ meeting this week over drinks at the Cedar Tavern, once famous for hosting the likes of Frank O’Hara, Larry
