Memories of the Sweet Jane Hotel

Substitute "Oklahoma" for "Connecticut" and I might have written this. Culled from a Gawker comment.

When I was 17 I moved to manhattan and lived at the Jane West Hotel (parenthetically please add the tedious, as it was then called). It was a 10x8 room and shared showers. The clientele were either crazies or European kids on a tour (we didn't call them Eurotrash yet!). I was the only clueless refugee from the suburbs living there, so clueless that though a Dylan fan I had not yet heard of the Chelsea Hotel and therefore did not realize I was living out my youthful decadence and confusion on the wrong block. The movie Liquid Sky came out about then and the line, I was raised in Conecticut to come to NY and be alternative (or to that effect) summed up my adventure. I come from Connecticut and kill with my pussy is anatomically inappropriate for me.

I remember one guy who used to sit on the landing reading Heidegger. And the time I woke up late and ran to the roof to gauge what time it was and there was a cruiseship going down the Hudson and you couldn't even see NJ it was so big. The guy and the cruiseships are gone, I suppose. 

Some Kind of Effect

Obama's speech on health care has had an effect on at least one citizen. My brother, who normally leans conservative/libertarian/Republican, said that he agreed with many of the points Obama made, especially regarding health care companies. It's not quite hell freezing over, but there is a light frost, perhaps some flakes falling and lingering just a few moments before melting.

Political Promotion

While reading over the primary pamphlet for next week, I noticed one of the candidates has this to say about himself: "" . . .I wasn't born with a golden nor silver spoon in my mouth. I ate with a metal spoon." Point taken, but not well-said.

Protesting Innocence

This part grabbed me:

In June, by a 5-4 margin, the Supreme Court ruled that a prisoner did not have a constitutional right to demand DNA testing of evidence in police files, even at his own expense. "A criminal defendant proved guilty after a fair trial does not have the same liberty interests as a free man," wrote Chief Justice John Roberts.

Full article here: http://www.slate.com/id/2227222/

Another merit Badge for the Brownie Sash

I took a British Canoe Union assessment yesterday. I got the new two-star rating, which is the highest awarded in this assessment. I was with a group of about a dozen, mostly women. Only three or four of us got the two star.

It was an all day affair. We had three coaches; we paddled north and split into three groups around a mooring area that was, on a beautiful holiday weekend, mostly clear. Basically, we had to make tight turns, spin in place, go in reverse, and edge- put the boat on its side without rolling in. There are different techniques for each, and we had to demonstrate them. It isn't always clear which to use. The assessor might say "got may a figure eight turn around those two buoys" and you're supposed to show three of for different strokes.

After that we had lunch, then did assisted and self- rescues. I totally flubbed my first self-rescue and asked to o it again. We also - and this is part of the new rating - had to maneuver a canoe using specific technique. Paddling a canoe after becoming proficient in kayaking is like driving a Winnebago or a tractor-trailer after driving for years in a car. We all practiced ahead of time, and we all thought that was the worst part of our assessment.

Truly though, they weren't happy with our rescues. We're all too slow and fumbling. So, more practice. I was encouraged to go on fewer trips and spend more time perfecting my technique.

Everyone took it so seriously - the tension in the morning was thick. So, I just started telling people not to worry, the worst that would happened would be to not get another merit badge for the brownie sash. Then again, I did obtain mine.

Nostalgia

Tonight I found myself rounding the corner of 44th and 9th Avenue, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. There was the Producer's Club, a little off-off-Broadway series of nooks where actors might congregate to put on a show; years ago I saw my friend TG there, and I think may have seen another show there as well. Down the street was Bull Moose Tavern, where I once retired with some other theatre folks after a show, we were all young and in the city and dying to be actors, and we settled for Molsons at the Moose.

That was quite a while ago.

Then, I was involved in a show the was basically improv comedy resolved by Chicken McNugget food fight. Or, head shots, black and white, of office temps out of their day lairs, smiling and beaming, with credits on the back. Everyone works hard for their dreams. And my dream? The dream I'm living now, so I have no complaints. All the same, it is interesting to walk through one's old haunts.

Biking

I rode my bike to work again this week; for the past two weeks, I've ridden twice a week, in part to make it easier to go to the boathouse after work. It's been awesome - even on a cool day like today, the ride in and back is beautiful along the Hudson, the sun high enough in the clear sky that the water looks almost blue, and I can see the tide's direction as far up as 125th street. 

The only down side of course is that I get to work a bit sweaty, dressed in bike clothes instead of work clothes, so I have to engage in a little Wonder Woman routine in the restroom. It also makes perfume practically moot unless I bring it in with me. That said, one I'm changed, I have a normal day at the office . . . until I head out and realize that instead of cramming into steel cars in underground tubes, I'll be gliding down a path along the river, earning and burning calories and enjoying a pleasant view.

This is exactly what I was thinking of when I bought my bike this past spring.