Tag: #newyorkcity

  • Short Story Review: “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal

    (The short Story, “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal, appeared in the January 24, 2022 issue of The New Yorker.)

    To all the high school English teachers I had, the college English and Creative Writing professors who tried to teach me, and to all the writing group members who argued strongly against me, I can now conclusively say that you were all wrong. That I and my good friend, and sometime writing partner, John Esquivel were right; you can write a story that has no plot or climax, and it can still meet the cathartic resolution threshold for a short story to be successful. No matter your opinion of it, but The New Yorker is a preeminent publication of short fiction, and if their editors saw fit to publish a story of this form, then it must be true; a short story to be successful does not need a plot or climax, it just needs catharsis for its protagonist.

    “What’s the Deal, Hummingbird?” by Arthur Krystal is the story I am speaking of, and I applaud the effort of it. It is a simple narrative of an older male New Yorker dealing with the start of the Covid pandemic, and the thoughts that he has.

    I had the feeling, about half way through reading it, that this was a rather experimental story. Not stream of consciousness, nor modern absurdist, but like a filtered realistic consciousness. It exist in a linear timeline, but it feels like that is there more to show the movement of time, and not as a hard road sign of where the narrator is. Memories and thoughts float in, and so does the music the main character is listening to, which lead me to also feel that there was a music quality to the story; like how listening to classical music can sort of make you feel like the music is floating in the air.

    I did enjoy the story, and the structure of it, but I was still left feeling that the catharsis wasn’t complete. To use a music metaphor; the song didn’t end, but just faded out. Like it was a deep cut B-side from your favorite band. The song was good, but you understand why it didn’t make the album. I think I feel this way because of the structure Krystal used for the story, such as a question is posed in the story, and then referenced again at the ending which brings about the catharsis for the protagonist. Krystal placed the question close to the ending, which I feel didn’t give it enough time mix and fold with the memories, thus making the catharsis feel muted, but not ineffective.

    It is a minor criticism, because I felt that Krystal was successful in creating a realistic character that is experiencing, thinking, and remembering all at the same time. It makes the story feel honest, and, personally for me, proves that a short story does not need to behave like a novel. It can be its own art form.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Sounds of the City, No Vax Athletes, and Tottenham

    ODDS and ENDS is my continuing series of random thoughts and follow ups…    

    Last night, or I guess early this morning, at about 5am, I heard this faint sound of a bell ringing. Like one of those school bells; metal and red, with the piercing sound that tells you class is over, or this is a fire drill. This bell sound wasn’t close to our apartment, but it present enough to not be ignored. I got back to sleep, but when I woke up to my phone alarm, that ringing was still going. Things could have been worse. I remember when I moved to this neighborhood, and would routinely get woken up by car alarms. Also, I am very glad that car alarms has gone out of fashion.

    Novak Djokovic got his visa revoked again in Australia, for many reasons, but mainly for not getting vaxed. I think everyone should get vaccinated, but if you don’t want to, be upfront about it. Also, you have to come to terms with the fact that your choice has consequences. Like, a whole nation saying you have to be vaccinated to come in. Or, a sports league saying you have to be vaxed if you want to participate in all aspects of the league. I hold to this; if Novak was a stocker at the local CVS, making minimum wage, and he refused to be vaxed, his ass would be fired same day, and no one would give a shit.

    Tottenham has to beat Arsenal this Sunday if they want to salvage their season. Spurs have to start beating top 5 teams, or they will lose Harry Kane this Summer. There, I said it, I have no regrets, and if you look at my track record with Premier League predictions, it, most likely, will be wrong.

  • Random Thoughts of Living in NYC

    Funny thought… I would like to wear a suit again. Or, or, or… a sportscoat and tie. Nothing super formal, but dressed nice.

    I am casual all the time now, that I think a little style for the sake of style sounds fun.

    I grocery shopped today. I went to three different places, and it was enjoyable hopping around the Upper West Side, and then back to Harlem. I needed to get some dashi, and uncooked noodles, as I have it in my head that I will be making my own miso ramen sometime this week. I headed over to H Mart at 110th. Then there was the normal round of shopping at Trader Joe’s at 93rd. Funny thing was that at TJ’s, they had no produce, which was a little shocking. (The last time the store looked like that was the start of the pandemic.) Then back home to Harlem and hitting up the local grocery store for the final items. In all, about two hours to get it all done.

    I know that we are staring down another surge, and we all need to be careful, and I was. But, sometimes I do miss being out and watching the people. I miss seeing the weird, strange stuff that is piled up in front of buildings.

    Speaking of which…

    Most parks in the City have an area where people can leave their old Christmas Trees, so the City will dispose of them, and turn the trees into mulch. This morning, as I was walking by a park that had a huge pile of Christmas Trees, I saw that someone had left two bright orange pumpkins among all the green trees. It made me laugh as I walked by, and then after a couple of more steps, it hit me I should take a picture of this setting. When I turned around, there was a guy, a normal looking middle-aged white guy, who was pulling out the pumpkins from the pile of trees. He held the pumpkins in front of his face, as if gaging their worth, and then he took off with them.

    Why? What for? What could he possible be thinking that he needs with two, quite possible, four-month-old pumpkins? It was confounding with the amount of possibilities that these pumpkins could be used for.

    Yet another reason it is still fun to live in this town.

  • Covid in The City: Part 3 (But Could be Part 6?)

    I really wanted to write about Tottenham getting back to form and playing Liverpool to a draw. I even thought about putting a sport post together, and talk about the Cowboys as well.

    But alas, it was not to be.

    Because Covid is back in New York City. It feels like this is the third wave that has hit the City, but when I look at the US cases graph, this is like the 6th spike we have been through since the start of this whole thing.

    We can’t get away from it.

    Even though NYC has a 71.6% full vaccination rate, and Manhattan has an 80% full vaccination rate, I cannot deny that the lines of people getting tested, have been growing every day for a week, and now are wrapping around the block. The running of ambulances all day and night has started up again. Just about everyone is in a mask now on the street.

    Covid is back.

    Is it Delta, or Omicron?

    Who knows, but it is starting up again. And it is depressing and disheartening. New Yorkers had taken this thing serious. 70% to 80% was considered herd immunity, and we are there. Once more kids get vaxed, it looked like we were going to close in on 85% to 90%.

    But it feels like even if we do hit those numbers, it won’t stop people from getting sick.

    I have friends right now that are documenting their infection, and in one case reinfection of Covid.

    It has created a feeling malaise, and add that to the general oddness of this Christmas, and it makes a potent combination resignation going into 2022.

    I’m trying to stay upbeat, but a third year of a plague feels really awful. I wish I had a more creative way of saying it, but I have used up all the adjectives.

    It’s just awful.

  • What Defines Us

    Some people are great at coming up with a tagline for themselves, or a witty one liner that can define who they are. I love Roxane Gay’s Twitter Profile which says, “I want a tiny baby elephant. You clap, I clap back.” Man, that shit is awesome. I feel like I now know that she is funny, and don’t fuck with her.

    In the marketing world, there is the 15 second “elevator pitch,” which I always felt I sucked at. I was never able to concisely say to someone what I was all about, so they could feel comfortable and understand who I was. I felt like I was more like a tv show; you needed to get about three episodes in before I started to get good and become worth your time.

    I say all of this because last night I looked at my Twitter profile, specifically my tagline; “Theater, Pictures, and Words… Just Not In That Order.” I mean, it’s always been a placeholder until I came up with something better… because it sucks, you know.

    But what really stuck in my craw and bothered me most was the first word, “Theatre.”

    I haven’t done a show in three years. Does that word even apply to me anymore? Also, I haven’t perused any theatre work in two years. I’m not sure that word defines me.

    Now, if my puppetry friends and colleagues were to call me up and ask me to help out on a show, I would be there is a heartbeat. Yet, I can fully admit that I would be there for them, because they are my friends, and I believe in their talent and creativity.

    I think the passion for theatre has gone out of me. For twenty years, it was that thig that burned in me, that I thought about, and wanted to experience, and know about and discover new ideas about, and meet people who are trying new things in theatre. I don’t feel that now.

    When I hear about friends in shows, I do want to go out and see them, and support them. Or I see that the show that they are working on is opening, or started rehearsal, or is casting, or whatever; I am excited for them. But, I don’t feel the desire to do that career anymore.

    In fact, when I think about a theatre career, I feel like I have broken up with it. Like, “It’s not you, theatre. It’s me.”

    To be honest, this isn’t the first time I have felt like this. I was crazy passionate about theatre from like 15 to about 20. I was a high school theatre nerd, and when I first went away to college. I wrote plays, and acted, and directed, and was way too dramatic for my own good. And then one day, when I was at the University of North Texas, I just didn’t want to do it anymore, so I dropped out of school. In the meantime, I wrote, I worked shitty jobs, tried my hand as a sort of a roadie for a friend’s band, I explored playing drums in a band, and really just farted around with my friends.

    And then one of my friends went back to college, and joined the theatre department. I made friends with his theatre friends, by drinking at the same bar. Then one day while drinking with the theatre people, they told me they had a class project and were one actor short. “You used to act; can you help us out?” they asked. And I did. And it was so much fun.

    And I went back to school, and became a theatre major again. I had a really great time, and made some amazing friends. And I moved to New York City to have a theatre career, and married my wife, and had a kid. And here I am.

    So, I don’t know. Maybe this is a phase. Maybe this feeling is my new reality. Maybe looking back at it all, theatre still does define who I am.

    I do need to come up with a better tagline, though.