Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Never man-bun at the theater. Never woman-bun either, especially a topknot of any kind. Hair should be low slung and, if possible, damp so as to avoid frizz. Someone is sitting behind you for chrissake. They might have a short torso. Also, do not move around your head like you're listening to polka music. You are not listening to polka music. Everyone with a view including your head now also appears to be listening to polka music, just in the opposite direction. It's a chain reaction. It would be a terrific play-by-play commentary: "The gentleman in G105 with the long spiky haircut-- he's at again with the agitated bobble-head moves. The woman in H105 reacts to left. And it's I105 to the right...   But now for the flourish! G105s girlfriend, there she is with the head tilt aaand... SHE PUTS HER ARM AROUND G105. The crowd goes wild.   It's a cascade folks, a veritable waterfall. Everyone in the 103 and 105 seats madly attempts to catch a glimpse the c

Usually, I sit down to write these blog posts and a theme comes to me. It's not usually an effort. I just think about the goings-on and notice a peculiar pattern. Or an odd outlier. I try to find some meaning in life, which might seem unbelievably quaint but usually I give it a solid college try. So far, 2018 has been a neurotic cat totally unwilling to get herded. Maybe Mercury is in retrograde or something. When I try to recall yesterday or last week or last month, it's all choppy and poorly lit. Probably normal people don't attempt to summarize their calendars. But when I don't or can't, it makes me harshly aware of the nature of earthly things --  mainly that anything I can touch with my fingers, hear or see is as mesmerizing as it is vacuous. Everything tangible I'm preoccupied with at this exact moment, I know I won't remember in a month. And time disappears without even a poof. Despite all my faults, which are numerous and occasionally spectacul

Oh and BTW, I’m now the mayor of the Met-Breuer on Four Square. Not sure who this says more about - me, the Met Breuer or the four square app. Nonetheless, I’m not one to walk away from fifteen minutes of fame, so hell to the yes. Here's the only screenshot I got of my inauguration, it's not that great. There was this apoplectic frenzy of a screen that came before this one with cash register noises and trumpets. I had to shut that shit down and fast. All the racket was not going over well in the middle of a gallery on the 2nd floor of the Met Breuer. I was getting a lot of stink eye. Not a good way to begin my term in office. There's a new Mayor in town! I visit a lot of museums. I love museums. I especially love my membership to the Met where I get to flitter into the members-only Balcony Lounge for tea and a snack. I show my member card to the very disinterested volunteers guarding the entrance and disappear into a sanctuary of quiet and mid-century mode