As they did every year on the weekend after Thanksgiving, Christmas trees appeared on Broadway. We didn’t get a tree — Stephen’s Jewish and I’m “Jewish for purposes of Christmas” — but it was nice to smell the pines/firs/spruces and to observe the pure excitement of a nearby girl whose family was picking out a tree.
It was very warm out, even under a December sky, although next year might be back to normal if the talks in Paris are a success. Riverside Drive curved gracefully south toward downtown Manhattan, or its silhouette.
Back on Broadway, I stopped on the median and thought about two articles I had recently read: one suggested that the world ban cars in order to reduce greenhouse emissions and otherwise save the planet, and the second described a proposal to turn Broadway (albeit just from Columbus Circle to Union Square) into a park that would slice through the middle of Manhattan. Since I don’t own a car and live near Broadway, I felt very comfortable endorsing both proposals. Other proposals I endorse include: adding tolls to the East River bridges and anything else that will help to improve service and alleviate crowding on the subway system, which in October had its busiest day in history, with something like 6.5 million riders, each of whom arrived at his or her destination with an “Excedrin headache.” This past week I had a “memorable” experience on a very crowded A-train that pulled out of 145th Street and promptly got stuck (for fifty minutes!) behind a stalled train; just when the conductor told us that they were going to reverse the train into 145th Street, it clunked forward to 125th, where an announcement was made requesting the presence of the police to assist a “sick passenger,” someone who no doubt had experienced a nervous breakdown after being trapped for an hour on a claustrophobic train. The other thing I’ve noticed lately is how people will say “excuse me” as if they’re going to walk past you and then, as you squeeze out of the way, take the exact place where you were just standing. I’ve been disappointed that, so far, no presidential candidate seems to be tackling the hard issues related to the daily commute.
After taking some time off to heal my “runner’s knee,” I couldn’t resist going back out in the perfect weather. It felt good to run again, although my stride was a bit off as a result of doing the elliptical for a few weeks. My gym has two types of elliptical machine: the one I prefer allows you to keep your stride fairly controlled, so that you almost feel like you’re running; the second makes you feel as if you were tumbling through an infinitely deep chasm filled with oil, so that you feel like you’re the falling man in the opening credits of “Mad Men.” I don’t understand this second machine — which I secretly refer to as an “ellipti-lol” because everyone looks so ridiculous on it — and I also hate using it, but sometimes the first type is filled and I don’t have a choice. (I also don’t like using stationary bikes, which have uncomfortable seats and awkward pedals). I’ve always been a pretty good runner, so I’m mostly hoping that my knees, with a little rest, will get better and remain strong for the next fifty years or so, at which point I’ll turn to swimming in the rising seas.
Winter roses are blooming all over the island.
Two swallows let me to get very close to them and take a picture, probably because they were made of metal. It seemed strange that I had never noticed them before, given that I’ve run up and down this path hundreds of times. I knew that change was possible, however; recently someone put out a leftover cake in the office pantry and I didn’t even think about getting a slice.
This morning, I went running in Fort Tryon Park, where for the first time I realized that the forsythia cascading over the rocks looks very similar in the early spring as it does in the late fall; obviously in the spring it has yellow flowers, whereas it now has yellow leaves. I found this discovery comforting for reasons I couldn’t quite explain.
Purple asters in the eastern sun.
I was the only person on the path through the heather garden.
Because it was December, I was thinking about my Top Ten list of television shows in 2015, which starting at the top are: 1) Please Like Me — a comedy about a group of friends (boyfriends, girlfriends) and relatives in the orbit of Josh Thomas, a twenty-something gay Australian who has somehow managed to produce a show with gay characters (namely himself, but not only) who seem more authentic and charming than any I’ve seen on U.S. television, where all the gay characters seem so “forced.” (I didn’t hate “Looking” and wish that it hadn’t been canceled, but “Please Like Me” is so much better in terms of capturing gay life); 2) Empire — did you see the scene in the last episode where Cookie — after nonchalantly looking for her sister in the most burned out areas of Philadelphia — is on the phone and says she can’t talk because she’s in a “dangerous neighborhood” and the camera pans out to a commercial street in a gentrified neighborhood (shops with awnings, etc), where an elderly white couple are leaning over a baby carriage, with (I think) the white mom nearby? No show is funnier or soapier or campier (in the great “Dynasty” tradition); 3) Les Revenants — French zombie drama/mystery that doesn’t make a lot of sense but is moody and existential and perfectly scored by Mogwai. Twin sisters Camille and Lena have amazing hair! 4) The Walking Dead — so far there have been some not-great episodes this season — the whole is-Glenn-dead thing was ridiculous, and I wanted more time with characters I like, including Daryl and Carol and Michonne — but no show better captures the sense of dread (and macho jerks like Rick) that/who define the current era. Plus, think of how much better the vast majority of shows would be if they were interrupted by hordes of flesh-eating zombies. Also, Carl’s hair is incredible this season; 5) Fear the Walking Dead — because zombies + Kim Dickens = perfection; 6) The Leftovers — I have no idea what any of it ‘meant’ (and I suspect the writers don’t, either), but sometimes meaningless symbolism can be very refreshing in such a plot-driven era; 7) Fargo — exceedingly violent but also hilarious, and Kirsten Dunst and her faraway eyes are perfect in the role of small-town beautician striving for a bigger life; 8) Halt and Catch Fire — more fun and interesting and truly 1980s than overrated/boring “The Americans” in my opinion; 9) pretty much anything on NY1, and specifically “The Call” — a talk show where actual people (many of them insane) from all over the city call in to discuss an issue of the day; also Travel with Val — news segment on NY1 featuring goodhearted, enthusiastic, and often spacey host (one segment had no audio but was simply a montage of random pictures from Italy); 10) Hemlock Grove — it wasn’t exactly easy or fun to watch, but there was something very unhinged/campy about it that made it worth watching. I don’t know, I liked it better than “Mr. Robot,” which was similarly unhinged but I found a bit too pretentious/self-aggrandizing.
Obviously no television show can outrank Fort Tryon Park.
An oakleaf hydrangea under the elms.
The heather will bloom all winter.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Golden Globe goes to Fort Tryon Park.”
My knees held up as I ran down to the river and thought about catching fish.
