Ford Street

Bartlet for President

I want Jed Bartlet to be President. 

OK, I know this is complicated by the fact that he’s not a real guy.  But is the President ever a real guy?  He’s the face of the party he belongs to; so let’s bring in a face that’s comforting, recognizable, trustworthy and, well, Presidential. 

Aaron Sorkin could write all of the speeches.  Bartlet would win by a landslide, and we’d all feel good about the nation’s leadership again.  We’d sleep at night, and hold our heads up when we travel outside of the country. 

Clearly I’ve lost my mind. 

I want to love a candidate.  I want to wear a button.  Is that not possible any more?  Will any and every candidate be such a puppet of political correctness and political parties that we’ll never see a genuine person again?

I want a President who is smart, and decent, and heroic as all hell.  I want to believe in someone.  I want a leader.  My candidate should know how to resolve international disputes, chastise evildoers in Latin, cook an omelet and play poker.   

I want a President whose words and actions provide fodder for discussion, not fodder for Letterman’s monologue.

The person should command as much respect as the title does. 

Maybe in 2012?  I live in hope. 

How Quickly a Day Can go to Hell...

I know just how this kid feels. 

(Thanks to Marla and Scott for the pictures of cute baby Harry!)

The Tigger/Eeyore Debate

Randy Pausch died today. 

This guy died gracefully, and well.   

Watch this sometime.  Or read the book. 

I've always prided myself on being a Tigger; now I'm even prouder. 

I miss

I miss the smell of the ocean. 

I miss saying hello to people on the street. 

I miss my goddamn driveway.  A parking spot all of my own.  This is what I daydream about. 

I miss sitting on my front porch with a glass of wine.  Or a cup of coffee. 

I miss having a dog.

I miss my neighbors, even the old lady who sat on her porch and smoked pot all the time.

I miss the sound of birds. 

I miss sittin’ on the dock of the bay when I need to think. 

I miss my aunt and uncle.  And the loving cacophony of the Ferraras. 

I miss my home office. 

I’m going to Brooklyn this weekend.  Hooray! 

I miss the smell of the ocean. 

Life in the Big City

So I live in Manhattan now. 

It’s a very strange world.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a newcomer to “the city” – but there’s such a monstrous difference in spending a whole lot of time here and actually living here.  I left a press event two nights ago, at Webster Hall, all dejected and girding myself for the long drive home…and slowly realized, as I was walking the whopping five blocks to the apartment, that I could just walk the whopping five blocks to the apartment.  No driving home!  No tolls!  No Gowanus Expressway!  No fighting sleep!  I was home, stunned, in about ten minutes.  Did a couple of laps around the apartment because I couldn’t figure out what to do next. 

Things I enjoy:

Walking around with Rebecca. (but we could do that before.  Hmmm.)

Not worrying about having to get home to tend to the cat.

My new commute to work.  Actually, my new commute to everywhere I go. 

The sheer number of things to do. 

Things I don’t enjoy:

Alternate side parking.  ‘nuff said. 

Almost total lack of greenery. 

The f’ing never-ending noise.

The sheer number of faceless people wearing twee flip-flops and rumpled clothing, texting their friends as they walk.  The apocalypse could happen and three-quarters of the city would miss it because they never look up.

Life’s a bit of an adventure now.  And that’s fine.  I miss Brooklyn like the dickens, but I’ve always loved Manhattan.  I’ve added at least two and a half hours to every single day now, and that makes a huge difference in quality of life.  Though I haven’t gotten used to it, and am thus not spending it wisely, I am thoroughly enjoying the extra time.

Now if only I could get those texting twits on the street to look up.