Street Cleaning

One of the pains in the ass about owning a car in NYC is the fact that they (you know THEY) make you move it so that the streets can be swept. Now, I am all for clean streets. I have seen historical evidence of dirty streets and I am pretty sure that if the garbage is left un-checked there will be rats and roaches and pigeons...oh my! So, that leaves the question of where exactly to park. I used to live in The Bronx; you parked as close to your house/apt as you could, and that was that. Some people took up two parking spots with one car so you would not park in front of their house, some used a second (unregistered I think) car as a place holder so they never lost the "perfect spot" and some, like me, drove around in circles looking for a spot.

Well, as the French say "Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose." I STILL drive around in circles looking for a spot, but now I have to do it twice a week at the least to avoid the ticket. There are certain parts of the on street parking that need to be free of cars so the street sweeper truck (AWESOME) can, ummm sweep the street. So, no matter where you park there are signs that alert the literate as to when the street sweeper trucks will be coming by. As with all things municipal you get a time frame, 9:00-11:00 Tues-Fri, 11:30-1:00 Mon-Thurs. So, now the chess match begins.

I am balancing connviniance with proximity. How close can I park to my building? (Not right in front mind you, the neighbors and the radio cars getting radios installed seem to have eminent domain on those particular spots) When do I have to move my car? What days, what hours? And sometimes you forget where exactly you parked and wake up in the middle of the night worried that you made a mistake and parked on the East side of the street, not the West. Then having moved your car for the sweeper, where did you move it? I often find myself in a spot for the NEXT round of sweeping the same day. I then run down to my car about 45 minutes before the window of the FIRST sweeping closes, park my car in a clean spot and wait until I can safely leave my venerable Tahoe Blue (blue Nissan Pathfinder).

For Instance: The WEST side of the main parking are is swept Tuesday and Friday between 9:30 and 11:00. The South side of my street is swept Tuesday and Friday between 11:30 and 1:00pm. So, I could get to Tahoe Blue at 9:15 and move her over to my street, find a spot on the south side of the street (not ideal spots because if you are in them in another two hours you will be ticketed/towed). Then, around 10:15 return to Tahoe Blue and drive over to a spot on the freshly swept west side of the parking street. I will sit and read a book and listen to ESPN Radio (1050 NYC Max Kellerman show) until 11:00 when I will be able to leave the car until the next round of shifting.

If you think it is confusing to read, think how hard it is to write, let alone do on a twice-a-week basis.

songs of the sea

When I was young, very young, I had a music teacher who played the auto harp. She also insisted that the boys in music class sing the classic song "Cape Cod" in which Cape Cod denizens solved all problems with codfish; "Cape Cod girls have no combs/ they combed their hair with codfish bones" and the like. Little did I know, that this song coupled with the classic, "What shall we do with a drunken sailor" would be my introduction to the traditional working songs of the sea.

I have sailed or been around boats for my whole life. I started sailing my own boat (a small, one sailed, affair to be sure) around the age of 10 I think, although it could be earlier. I never was one for commercial pursuits on the water, but I had a sense of history; and that has led to sea chantey’s. I remember vividly my class trip to Mystic Seaport where I corrected the docent about the correct use of "decimate". He said that the whaling ships "...decimated the whale population." I pointed out (out of earshot of my classmates) that the term decimate meant kill every tenth one, and there was no way that this could be proven or even undertaken by a whaling ship. My definition was met with tolerant and hostile silence from both my teachers and the docent. I suppose being a precocious twelve year old has some pitfalls to it.

But later in my life I was to encounter "Sea Chantey Night" at the Griswold Inn, Essex Ct. I worked at the Inn, but did not work Mondays. Long story short when I no longer worked at the Inn, I used to attend Sea Chantey Night for the good songs, the comradery and the fact that my roommate at the time knew all the words; I began to learn the words quickly. I now know that there is an oral history of life a sail, and like scrimshaw it is a dying art. I celebrate the songs I can find, and seek out those that I remember but cannot sing. I sing what I can, when I can. I still sail, quite a bit as has been pointed out by my friends, and try to keep the tradition alive but the more I know the more I realize that I know so little as to be almost insulting to the art form.

LimeWire is no help. There are few quality recordings of the traditional songs of the sea, and those that exist are often "Moderned" up to sound better. The problem with the moderning has sometimes erased the cadence or purpose of the original song. On the other hand, sometimes the song is pure and equally indescribable. I know of no resource to help me with all the lyrics, meanings and tunes.

The reason that I am going on at such great length is that I created a play list on my Itunes, being downloaded to my Ipod as I type, of all my songs of the sea, or songs that I felt belonged in that category. I would like to expand my collection, but am unsure how. Any and all help is appreciated.

Back in Black

So, it has been almost a month since my last post, but I am okay with
that. And from the lack of responses, and the lack of readership it
would seem you all are okay with it as well.

Back in School,
dealing with my last two courses for my Masters of Education, and let
me tell you I shudder to see the cannon fodder that is being thrown
into the New York City Bord of Education. Axe is not a verb folks,

I am also on Unemployment. Truly have I achieved my PWT destiny;
welcome me with open arms those of you who leach upon the system, I
come in peace, and unshaven. Basically, it pays more for me to not work
for a bit than it would for me to get off mytuchus and actually
contribute to society. I am reeling from the implications, I suppose if
I could get pregnant I could up my earning potential, but since that
wont happen I guess the kind taxpayers are safe for the moment.

That all being typed, I do plan on re-mounting my campaign
of decency and grammar in the hallowed halls of Education here in New
York City; just as soon as I have my dual masters and my pay bump.

Off to do some homework (who am I kidding I am going to grab a bite to eat and watch some TV) and then later for a ride.

Nonexistant readers, thank you for your indulgence of time.

A special room in Hell

Now I know that the title quote was referring to the resting place for un-baptized babies, not being baptized they would be precluded from heaven, but being basically sinless they did not really deserve hell so they would be afforded "a special room in hell".

Personally I have another special room, it is for bike thieves; and it should be uncomfy, perhaps with the thieves chained up to a rack while others try to break the locks around them.

My bike was stolen on Wednesday night. I was in my men’s knit night with my bike cabled to a tree outside. I have used the tree and that spot several times, but last Wednesday it was gone when I came out. I went through the stages quickly, especially the one where you wander around making sure that it was THIS tree to which it was chained. Then I went to the 20th precinct and made a report. They were nothing but professional and courteous to the point of calling me the next day to make sure I got my case number. Those guys were cool.

So, I was out a bike, in shock and upset. After some drinks and long thought I decided that perhaps I should replace my beloved Klein with something less flashy, and maybe even more suited for city life. I found a Cannonade Bad Boy NYC at my local bike shop, and after new pedals lights and a HUGE freakin’ lock (the Kryptonite NY Fugeddaboutit) I was back in business. I posted my loss on Craigs List, and asked my bike shop to be on the lookout for my old bike. Chances are it will come into a shop at some point and I hope to be able to talk to the thief, perhaps inform him of my displeasure with his actions. (Or her, I am not ruling out a band of bikini clad bike ninjas stealing bikes and riding away for pillow fights or something; just unlikely it seems what with the cost of quality fighting pillows)

So, re-biked in a more city friendly way I am about to go to Cape Cod for the weekend. I won’t be bringing my bike but I will be bringing my knitting.

Have a happy and safe Labor Day,

See you all in September.

Breakfast

Decided on Corn Muffins (from a box, but I did just move) and tea. Perhaps I will be cranking up and re-heating some rice and beans later, but for right now I wanted the comfort of tea and muffins.

I have the couch to myself for a bit, Sweetie is sleeping in a touch.

I was singing Colin Hay as I made my tea this morning; I was making Lapsing Suchong

Hello

Why did I decide to start a blog?

Well, I do blog about my knitting over at menwhoknit.com under the name BronxKnit;
I do post (less and less now) on Xmarksthescot.com under BronxKilt;
I commute to work by bike and had no outlet for my experiences there-of.

So what is an early twenty-first century man who missed his generation’s war to do? he Blogs, with pride.

Hello all, I am glad to have a place to say what I really don’t need to say. I must say though it is tough to get through an hour without trying to say something witty (or at least pithy and condescending) so I might as well let others into the voices in my head.

I cannot say that I will be as regular as an octogenarian on Metamucil with my posts, but I think I might be able to keep up with some of my thoughts.

In all I just want some positive feedback on my words. If you can do that for me, good on ya, if not, “lay on McDuff and cursed be he who first cries ‘nuff”