the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: New York City (Page 15 of 24)

Corazon

Another lazy night. I was on the phone for two hours today about a project I am working on. I hope it doesn’t fall through.

I didn’t feel like cooking. I’m in the Dominican Diner down the block, writing this in longhand in one of those Mead Composition notebooks from grade school. Who needs anything fancier? They’re the best. I’m not in the mood for adventurous eating tonight, like they specialty – oxtail stew. I ordered a veggie burger (deluxe!) with fries, and a cup of coffee. Some people don’t enjoy eating out by themselves. I do. Although I usually bring a Mead Composition notebook along to amuse myself, like right now, where I am writing this stream of consciousness post to annoy you.

When I look out the window onto Kissena Boulevard, I can see that there is still snow on the ground, although it is now mostly slush. The diner is half empty and the staff is watching American Idol on the big-screen TV hanging on the far wall, to the right of the entrance to the kitchen. Usually, there is international soccer playing on the TV, but tonight is apparently American Idol night. Everyone on the staff seems to love American Idol. They are laughing hysterically at some nasty comment by Simon.

I just switched to the other side of my booth, just in case I decide to watch American Idol later on Tivo. I was getting distracted by the TV, and I didn’t want to learn who was being thrown out of the Kodak Theater, their dreams crushed, and returned to their miserable lives as checkout girls. Why does Ryan Seacrest call it the “legendary Kodak Theater?” It was only built a few years ago! The Chinese Theater, as disappointing as it is to every tourist who comes to see Humphrey Bogart’s footprint, is somewhat “legendary.” The Kodak Theater is in a new mall. Everyone in LA knows that.

Anyway, I’m in New York now. Stop talking about LA.

I am more comfortable having turned my back to the TV and American Idol. I cannot hear what is going on with the judges anyway, because the owners also have a CD of Dominican music blasting, and the speaker is near my table. I am not complaining. I love this music. I come here for the music. I find it beautiful and comforting. The owner must be a romantic guy, or Dominicans must be a sentimental nation, because all of their songs seem to be love. How do I know this? Even though I cannot understand most of the lyrics, despite years of high school Spanish, every song lyric contains the word “corazon,” which I know means “heart.” I’m glad the songs are in Spanish. If I could understand the lyrics fully, I would probably dismiss the songs as pap, like a corny love country music love ballad, but since I can only decipher the “corazon” part of the lyrics, I imagine the content to be extremely emotional, like a Shakespeare love sonnet. I feel like each song cuts right through all the bullshit, and hits the mark, like Cupid’s arrow, right where it counts — in the corazon! I think this is why foreign movies seem so much classier to pseudo-cultured New Yorkers than Hollywood nonsense. You don’t hear the lame dialogue, so it seems more poetic. Someone French, who goes to see a French movie and understand what everyone is speaking, knows that the film is just as crappy as any American one.

I’m now eating my veggie burger. The waitress is very pretty. I do not know her name. I should ask. The veggie burger is homemade, not frozen. I like that. The one thing I don’t like about the veggie burger is the bun. When I pile the lettuce and tomato and ketchup on top of the veggie burger (the lettuce and tomato come with the Deluxe!), the weak bun cannot withstand the pressure because of some structural deficiency, and the burger always falls out of the bun, like Lindsay Lohan having a nipple slip.

Why am I eating a veggie burger rather than a regular burger? Good question. It is because I had a slice of pizza earlier, and I want to be good to my corazon (high cholesterol). But I do have good news. My cholesterol, the bad DL (the HDL?) went all the way down, thanks to my friendly cholesterol pills. That is why I rushed and had that slice of pizza before it went up again.

My blood test to find out about my cholesterol was on Monday afternoon at my mother’s doctor. My mother was bugging me to see if the cholesterol pills were working, even though the visit would cost me money, because my coverage is still with an HMO back in California. In order to get an accurate reading, the doctor’s assistant told me that I shouldn’t eat for 24 hours before the test. You would think he could have given me a morning appointment. But no. I had to sit around until 4PM starving, like it was Yom Kippur, all for a measly two-second stab in the arm with a needle. Around 1PM, I was feeling lethargic from the lack of food, and I couldn’t concentrate on writing or even wasting time on Twitter. My blood sugar has plummeted. I decided to take a one hour nap. I turned the alarm on my iphone, and went to bed.

As I curled up, the wind and snow blowing against he window, my mind drifted from thoughts of food – pizza, bagels, ice cream, tuna melts – to a dream I had the previous night, when I was in a threesome with two of the waitresses from the Dominican Diner.

“Te amo,” said one of the girls, whispering in my ear.

“Mi Corazon,” said the other as she climbed on top of me.

Dominican music played in the bedroom. I started to do what came naturally to any man daydreaming about a threesome with two Dominican waitresses. The bed start to rotate and rock.

(Hold on. The waitress who is riding me in the fantasy is now pouring me another cup of coffee. I thank her, very politely. OK, I am now back –)

— as I caress her perfect breasts and kiss the second waitress and the first waitress sighs with pleasure and an old Linda Ronstadt song now plays, the Mariachi music —

(Wait a second. I’m screwing up. I need to constant remind myself that I am not in LA. There are no mariachis here. These are Dominican women who are taking me, intense women with powerful thighs, rich and fertile as the Cibao valley and as sweet tasting as the sugar from Llano Costero del Caribe.)

— and there I was, as hard and proud and tall as the pine forests of La Pelona, my heart beating faster, like a drum in a fast paced merengue. My corazon.

And then I remembered my corazon — my blood test! Back to reality, to the daydreaming man in bed alone. If I couldn’t eat for twenty four hours to get an accurate account of my cholesterol, does this mean I can’t do OTHER things that may cause any changes to the chemical structure of my body? Will my readings come out all wrong?

Will my mother’s doctor call me the next day and say, “Your blood test for your cholesterol was inconsistent. I thought my assistant told you not to eat for 24 hours.”

“I didn’t eat.”

“Well, something caused this chemical reaction in your body about a hour or so before the appointment that ruined the cholestrol test. Did you drink anything? Juice? Water?”

“No.”

“Well, the only thing I can think is — did you have sex?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“Don’t you know that you are NOT supposed to do that right before a blood test!”

“Actually, I didn’t know that.”

“It affects the cholesterol levels. I called your mother and told her that we will have to re-schedule the blood test. I’ll have to charge you again.”

“You called my mother?”

“Well, she’s actually my patient, not you.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. I’m a medical doctor. I told her I didn’t know for certain, but chances are that an hour or so before the blood test, you were blah blah blahing in the apartment like a crazed monkey.”

“I wasn’t like a crazed monkey. And hey, that doesn’t sound like something a REAL medical professional would say. In fact, this who conversation sounds like total bullshit.”

“That’s because your veggie burger is falling apart in your hands as you are trying to write this, and you are not very good at mult-tasking. And let’s be honest, Neil. I wasn’t the one who stopped what he was doing because he was worried that it MIGHT affect his blood test!”

“What are you doing, Doctor? You’re screwing up the conversation by having an inconsistent literary “voice.” You’re making this post too complicated and hard to follow. Let’s return to the story.”

“Deal.”

“So, anyway, DOCTOR, when can I reschedule?”

“I can see you next Wednesday at 5PM. Do not eat for 24 hours. And definitely do not do any blah blah blahing like a sex fiend. There is more to life than thinking about pussy. Don’t you care about your heart? Your corazon?”

“Mi corazon. Just like they sing about in Dominican songs. I do care about mi corazon. Mi corazon yearns for someone who truly understands mi corazon.”

“Ah yes, corazon. Love. There is nothing more to life than that”

OK, veggie burger is done. I’m done. No dessert. I’ll leave a good good tip for the waitress.

Return to Nature

In the past, I’ve made jokes about myself.    About my lack of “masculine” interests.   I don’t watch football or hockey or NASCAR.  I enjoy Broadway musicals and ABBA.  And I love chatting with the mommybloggers about their bra-shopping.

But now I realize it was all an act, my true nature being hidden out of fear.  As a co-dependent personality, I take on the traits of whoever I live with at the time.  So, when I share a space with a girlfriend, a female roommate, Sophia, or my mother, my male inner soul becomes feminized.  The pheromones of the female are such a powerful and hypnotic force  that they domesticate my animal instincts, like the aliens do in The Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

My mother has now been in Florida for two days.  I have not spoken with Sophia in two days.  I am left by myself, the way God intended when he created Adam.  I have returned back to my true nature, and my apartment in Flushing is my personal Garden of Eden.  Yes, I have become a Man.  For years, because of the negative influence of the so-called “weaker sex” I lost what the Chinese call the “ch’i,” the natural energy of the Universe.   I have returned to what the 18th Century French philosopher, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, called natural man — a savage man, “living dispersed among the animals.”  To Rousseau, natural man is more or less like any other animal, where “self-preservation being his chief and almost sole concern” and “the only goods he recognizes in the universe are food, a female, and sleep…”

I have become that man.  I eat Chinese food from the carton, I sleep ten hours a day, and I think about f**king.

In the two days since my mother has left, the once spotless apartment is a mess.  I have not made the bed or done the dishes.  Just like a real man.  No more watching “All My Children.”  On Christmas, I watched the FULL James Bond marathon, dreaming of my own fancy watches, fast cars, and Pussy Galore.  I have completely stopped wearing clothes in the house.  It saves me from having to do a laundry.  I like it.  I am like a wild boar roaming the jungle/two bedroom apartment, searching for his next prey.  Whenever I pass the large bedroom mirror, I stop and admire how hairy I have become, like King Kong.  I have stopped shaving and showering.  My only concession to vanity is flossing my teeth and trimming my public hair so my penis looks more prominent when I pose in the mirror.  It is looking good.  Life is good.

Leah of Daily Piglet clearly wants to sleep with me, which is not surprising.   Who doesn’t?   Why else would she send me a tin of Christmas cookies, with each cookie delicately wrapped in fine paper.  I admire the feminine touch of the gesture, because I would never do anything so nice.  I ripped open the box, grabbed seven cookies, and wolfed them down for dinner.  I’m not going to thank Leah for the cookies.  I’m figuring that the real pleasure was all hers.

After devouring these tasty cookies, I wanted some ice cold milk.  I took the container from the fridge and was about to pour the liquid into a glass, when I was struck by the flower design on the glass set that my mother recently bought at Pottery Barn during their Holiday sale.   I stopped in my tracks because I was falling from the manly wagon.  What guy drinks milk from flower-decorated drinking glasses?

I immediately did what I’ve seen in countless unfunny movies and TV shows — I drank directly from the carton, letting some of the non-fat milk dribble down onto my hairy chest, like the blood of a gazelle as the lion, the King of the Jungle,  feasts on the raw flesh of his recent kill.

Now it was time to leave the house, to go forth into the world on my own terms, and to do something dangerous and reckless, as men are adrenaline junkies wanting to push their bodies and minds to the next level of pain and competition.  But what insanely crazy activity could I do, something that would make a squeamish female like my mother or Sophia say, “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

I found it.  I would sail around Manhattan in the freezing December cold when most mortals just want to stay inside like weak hibernating bears, watching the Yule Log on TV

(I should add that I didn’t go by myself, or do any of the actual sailing.  And you could sit INSIDE the boat if you wanted to and drink hot cocoa and sing Christmas carols. )

But I would have none of that pansy stuff.  I ordered a whiskey and stood outside, enjoying the icicles forming in my nostrils, like in the sea-faring tales of yore.   I would have even stood outside naked, but there was a family onboard visiting from the Ukraine and didn’t want to give them the wrong impression of New Yorkers.  Or start an international competition with the father, who was way more hairier than me, and the type of guy who I bet would SWIM in the water in December.

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I Believed in Santa Claus

santaa

I never thought to tell this story on the blog, mostly because it didn’t seem like anything special, but when I told a blogger about it, her response was surprising, so maybe my experience was more unique than I thought.

When I was a child, I believed in Santa Claus.

Remember, I am Jewish.  Of course, there are many Jewish parents who tell their children about Santa Claus so the children don’t feel “different.”  There are others who avoid mentioning Santa completely, worried that their kids will lose their Jewish identity to the mainstream culture.

My father loved Santa Claus. It was sort of an odd obsession.  He dressed like Santa for the children in the hospital where he worked.  He shouted with excitement when Santa appeared at the end of the Thanksgiving Day Parade.   If my father was alive today, one of the question I would love to ask him is, “What the hell was it with YOU and SANTA?”

Our family did not celebrate Christmas.  We never had a Christmas Tree.  We never made eggnog.  I never felt like I was missing out.  We always celebrated Hanukkah. But for some reason, my father loved Santa Claus, and told me that Santa really existed.

Now here is where it gets interesting, because my father was an eccentric guy.   He told me that there WAS a Santa Claus, but that he didn’t come to OUR HOME because we were Jewish.   He skipped over us like the angel of death on Passover.

“It isn’t our holiday, so Santa doesn’t come to us,”  he said.

In retrospect, this might seem like child cruelty.  Why even say there IS a Santa, if he isn’t coming to visit you?   But it never bothered me or made me upset.  It made logical sense.   It wasn’t my holiday, so this bearded guy and his reindeer didn’t bother schlepping to me!   My father was able to  create a whole different meaning for Santa Claus, making him seem mystical, but from afar, like a visiting baseball team’s cool mascot.

So, I believed in Santa, even if he didn’t show up at my home.

“What about Anthony?” I wondered, referring to the Italian Catholic kid down the hall.  “How does Santa get to him since our building doesn’t have any chimneys?”

“Santa comes through the terrace door.”

“OK.”

It seemed sort of odd, but I figured that Santa had to deal with a lot of modern urban obstacles, like telephone wires and satellites.

Every year, my father would drag me downtown to Macy’s 34th Street to visit the “real” Santa Claus.  We would wait in this Disneyland-sized line.  Wide-eyed children from throughout the city were eager to meet their hero.  I was more excited about going to Nathan’s for hot dogs afterwards, but I saw my father’s happiness over ME meeting Santa, so I played along.

“There he is!  Can you see him?” he said, pointing to Santa sitting on his throne.  My father’s voice had the same enthusiasm of someone feasting their eyes on the Pope at the Vatican.  “It’s Santa Claus.”

After an hour, it was my time to go face-to-face with jolly St. Nick.  I would sit on his lap, which always made me feel uncomfortable.  Why did I have to sit on his lap just to talk with him?   When Kissinger went on diplomatic “talks” he never sat on the Chinese Premier’s lap.  But I was respectful to Santa and did what he asked, because — after all — this was Santa Claus.  And I knew our meeting was a special moment, and needed to be recorded for posterity, which explained the elf with the KISS shirt taking our photo with a bright flash.

“And what would you like for Christmas, young man?”  he asked me.

“Well, nothing really.  I’m Jewish.”

“Ho Ho Ho, Jewish boys and girls also get presents from Santa.”

“No, we don’t.”

“So, what do you want for Hanukkah?”  he retorted, already trained to handle the annoying smart-aleck Jewish boys.

“I don’t know.  Whatever my parents get for me.”

“Do you want to whisper to Santa something you really really want and I will put in a good word for you?”

I leaned in.  Santa had bad breath.

“Hot Wheels Stunt Track…maybe.”

“Very good.  And were you a good boy this year?”

“Yeah,” I said, with a “Duh” tone to my voice, considering that Santa should already know this answer.  Hadn’t he been taking notes all year on who was nice and who was naughty?  I was beginning to doubt the authenticity of  this department store Santa.  Years later, I had a similar experience in Hebrew School when I questioned why God had to ask Adam if he had eaten from “The Tree of Life.”

“Why would he have to ask Adam this question?”

“He was testing him,” said grouchy Rabbi Ginsburg.

“It makes no sense.” I replied, using my young Talmudic knowledge.  “If he was God, wouldn’t he already know this?”

As I left Macy’s, I told my father that I was not impressed with this Santa Claus.  I asked my father for the truth.  Was this red-suited guy with the fake beard and bad breath really “Santa Claus?”

“No.  This Santa was a BAD one.  Even I play a better Santa Claus.  And I’m not even that fat.”

Something clicked in my head.  If my father dresses as Santa, and the guy in Macy’s is a fake, then…

“There’s no Santa Claus, is there?” I questioned. “It makes no sense.”

“Nah,” he admitted, a little sad at the myth being put to rest. “There is no Santa Claus.”

He paused for a moment, and then took one more final stand, like the soldier climbing over the hill in a suicide mission.

“But maybe… just maybe… I AM Santa Claus!”

I didn’t buy it.

“If you were Santa Claus, you wouldn’t be living in Flushing, would you?”

I stumped him.

“No,” he said.

And that was the end of me believing in Santa Claus.  It was fun while it lasted.

My father and I walked down 34th Street and went to Nathan’s for some hot dogs, then we went home, just in time for sunset and watching my mother light the Hanukkah menorah.

Three Photographs

I bought an inexpensive Canon camera on Amazon during Black Friday and I received it in the mail last week.  As usual, I ignored the suggestion to read the manual and started to play with it without knowing what I was doing.  Why are there so many buttons and menu selections on a camera?

But so far, I haven’t broken it.

I’m not a true photographer at heart.  I don’t get tremendous urges to capture a moment in time or to shoot a scene on film.  I do like photos.  Especially your photos!   I would love to take more photos of people — quirky individuals doing funny or incongruous things, like nuns eating hot dogs, but I’m too shy to ask them if I can photograph them.  It seems rude.

Here is my first shot with my new camera:

coffee

I was in a very nice cafe at the time, by myself.  Most normal people might have taken a photo of the pretty cafe or the people in the cafe.  Or ME sitting in the cafe.  I didn’t think about it.  I’m not 100% aware of my surroundings.  I am more of a “storyteller” in my own mind, than a photographer interacting with the real world.   As I sat alone, sipping my over-priced coffee in this trendy Manhattan cafe, I created a story about the girl sitting in the corner.  She was wearing a black-and-white striped dress and a red beret.  In this homespun New York City tale of romance and adventure, I strutted over to her table and joined her.  We talked and laughed for an hour; the time passed as fast as the sun setting in the Pacific on a summer day.   As she cocked her head to the side and smiled, the light in her eyes…

…well, anyway, it was only a story.  And it was sort of cliched.   I never finished it.  Besides, she left.   It didn’t bother me too much.   Her table was a mess.  She left behind crumbs and crumbled napkins.  It was a big turn-off.   I probably should have just photographed her, so I would always remember what she looked like.   Already, her image is fading, like an old Polaroid.

I need to figure out how to use my zoom lens.  That way, I can take photos of people without them knowing.

Here’s my second photo:

broadway

It is from Thursday night.  It was pouring outside, but my mother and I schlepped into Manhattan to see the play “August: Osage County.”  This is the play that won the Tony and the Pulitzer Prize last year.  It is excellent, a skillfully written and acted drama about a dysfunctional family.  If you can, you should see it.  I know most of you can relate to the subject matter of the play, since so many of you are nuts or on anti-depressants.

I told Victoria, a blogger in New York, that I was going to the theater.

“Are you going on a date?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure what to answer.  It seemed pathetic to tell her that I was going out with my mother.  But with 2009 coming soon, and my #6 upcoming resolution being, “Never Lie to a Woman,” I decided to tell her the truth.

“I’m going with my mother.”  I said.  “She wanted to see it, too.”

“Oh, that’s so nice that you’re going with your mother.”

At first, I was taken aback by her positive response. Then, I remembered this Oscars ceremony from a few years ago, where Leonardo DiCaprio walked down the red carpet with his MOTHER as his date.   The pre-show host (Joan Rivers, maybe?) was all over him, saying how wonderful it was that he was bringing his proud MOTHER to the Academy Awards.  So, rather than hiding the fact that I went to the show with my mother, I am proudly making it into a public announcement.

I WENT TO SEE AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY WITH MY MOTHER, much like the handsome, extremely talented Leonardo DiCaprio, who clearly could have brought any gorgeous women in the world with him to the Academy Awards, including that hot Israel model he was dating — but he chose to pick his mother out of love and respect.   So, don’t assume that I went with my mother only because she is the only woman who will talk with me.   I just didn’t feel like going out with ANOTHER Israeli model!

This is my third photo:

train

It is from a large toy train display in the lobby of the Citicorp Building (soon to be renamed The Tower of Broken Financial Dreams).  I went with my childhood friend and his wife, and their two young boys.  The older boy, K, is obsessed — OBSESSED — with trains.  He can tell you about every episode of Thomas the Tank Engine.  He owns DVDs of famous train lines speeding through Europe and Asia.  One of his favorite activities is going to Grand Central and watching the commuter trains take off to New Jersey.  Even though K is only in pre-school, he is an expert on the New York City subway system.  When we were on the subway, he announced the stops before the conductor.   K can also point out the differences between the old trains and new trains on the “R” and “6” lines.

On Sunday afternoon, we were all traveling by subway to the Rubin Museum of Himalayan Art (only in Manhattan do parents bring their kids to see the Tibetan art as a fun activity).   As we took off from the station, K pressed his face against the window, watching as the train noisily sped through the mysterious subway tunnel.  K does this every time we enter a subway train.  This makes me smile, because we are kindred spirits.   I used to do the exact same thing when I was his age!  I would sit between my parents, knees pushing against both of their legs, peering out at the passing blurry lights, and I would imagine that I was a NASA astronaut in a spaceship speeding through the emptiness of space.

I thought this was a perfect way to bond with my friend’s son.  I sat next to K, facing the window, much like I did in my youth.   Together we sat, young and young-at-heart, both facing the dirty subway window, both of us directly under the “Drink Stolchinaya!” advertisement.

“I see you like looking out.” I said to K.  “It is dark out there… and all those lights.  You like that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I do that too.  I look out the window and I see all the darkness and I imagine that I am in a spaceship passing by all these stars and galaxies.  Like I am astronaut on an Apollo mission or on the Starship Enterprise!  Doesn’t it look like space?”

He gave me a WTF look, as if I was speaking another language.  Mentioning the Apollo mission and the Starship Enterprise was like my late Uncle Morris talking to me about Joe Dimaggio’s skill as a batter.

“It is space,” said K, finally responding to my statement.  “There’s space there so the express train can pass by on the other side.”

Smart ass.  I was dissed by a pre-schooler.

But I learned a lot from my young friend through that statement.

I’m not 100% aware of my surroundings.  I am more of a “storyteller” in my own mind, than a person interacting with the real world.   K will be a better photographer.

Wednesday Night Fever

Queens, Dec 10, 2008

Neil’s mother is cooking in the kitchen.  Neil is in the bathroom, combing his hair.

Mother: “Where ya going?”

Neil: “Out.”

Mother: “Where ya going?”

Neil: “I said out.”

Mother: “I know what you said.  I wanna know where you are going!  I wanna know who you’re gonna be seeing.”

Neil comes out of the bathroom, his hair slicked back.

Neil: “None of your f**kin’ business, Mom!  I’m going out.  Jesus.  What am I a prisoner here?”

Mother: “You live here, you live by my rules.”

Neil: “What are ya gonna do, throw me out?  You want me to leave?  You really want me to leave?  Cause I’ll walk right out and never come back?  Is that what you want?!”

Mother (crying):  “No, no, no.  I’m sorry, Neil.  Go, have a good time. (handing him ten dollars)  Here’s some money for you to enjoy yourself.  Just don’t stay out too late.”

Neil: “I’ll be home when I WANT to come home.”

Mother: “Sure, sure…”

Neil slams the door behind him, and leaves his apartment building wearing his tightest jeans, sexiest shirt, and disco shoes.  He confidently walks down the boulevard, in rhythm to Britney Spears latest single.  As Neil walks down the street, all eyes are on him.  Everyone in Queens knows, wants him, or wants to be like him.  Neil enters Valentino’s, the hottest pizzeria on Kissena Boulevard.  Everyone shouts his name.

Everybody:
“Neil!  The King is here!’

Neil has arrived and the party can get rolling!

Neil: “Yo! how ya doing, everyone!  Joey!  Tony!  Raj!  Bagel!  Mr. DJ!  BigBoy!  Donna!”

Donna comes up to Neil and rubs against him, like a lonely little kitten.  She is wearing the tightest dress imaginable.

Donna: “So, Neil, are you finally gonna f**k me in the back of your car tonight?  Cause I will do anything you want, even the crazy shit from behind.”

Neil: “Donna, ain’t you got any self-respect?”

Donna: “I do have respect  I respect ya a lot.  That’s why you don’t have to buy me a slice of pizza before you do me like a dog!  So, is your car outside?”

Neil: “Are you f**kin’ stupid, Donna!  My car is in LA, and even it was here, I’m not gonna be humpin’ some easy whore like you in the back of my new Toyota Prius.  It ain’t environmentally sound.  Now if I had my gas-guzzling Hyndai Santa Fe SUV, that would be a different story.”

Luigi, the Pizza Maker: “So, Neil, what do you want to eat — the usual — a plain slice?

Tony: “None of that pineapple shit on the pizza like those yuppie assholes in Redondo Beach, right Neil?”

Bagel: “Those California phonies are idiots.  We should bash their heads in.  Hey, let’s do that.  Let’s go over there right now and f**kin’ bash their heads in!”

Neil: “Bagel, California is 3000 miles away.”

Bagel: “F**k that!  F**k California!  F**k the LA Dodgers!  Brooklyn Dodgers!  Brooklyn Dodgers! Those Dodgers belong in Brooklyn!  Assholes.”

Luigi, the Pizza Maker: “So, how many slices, Neil?  And no money from you.  It’s on the house.  You’re the King here.  You’re the most famous person to ever eat in this pizzeria other than Fran Drescher (showing Neil the photo of Fran Drescher on the wall for the 100th time).”

BigBoy: “I’d f**k Fran Drescher.  I like her voice.”

Raj: “She sounds like a goddamn hyena!”

BigBoy: “My mother sounds like Fran Drescher, you dolt.”

Neil (to Luigi the Pizza-Maker):  “You know what, Luigi.  I’m watching my cholesterol.  I’m not going to have a slice at all.  I’m probably just gonna go home and watch “Top Chef” with my mother!”

Donna: “That is so sweet. I like a man who loves his mother.  You sure you don’t want to f**k me in the back of the pizzeria?  I’ll be loud if you want.”

Neil: “Not tonight, Donna.  “Top Chef” is gonna be on in ten minutes.”

Donna: “You son of a bitch, Neil. No one turns me down.  You’re gonna regret it.  You know why?  Cause I’m gonna f**k every guy in here tonight, every way, every position, and then you’re gonna regret it.

Neil: “I saw the promo for “Top Chef.”  It looks like a good chef challenge.

Donna: “Yeah?  OK, then maybe I’ll go home, too, and watch “Top Chef.”  There’s really not much doing on Kissena Boulevard at night anyway.

Neil: “No, it’s pretty dead.  See you, everyone!  Luigi!  Joey!  Tony!  Raj!  Bagel!  BigBoy!  Donna!””

Everyone: “Bye, Neil!”

As Neil walks down the street, back to his apartment, all eyes are on him, mostly from the two thugs sitting on the ledge by the bank, drinking some cheap stuff out of a paper bag.  Neil walks a little faster, remembering that somebody got mugged on Kissena Boulevard last week.

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Through Time


(photos from Macy’s and MZ on Flickr for Miley Cyrus)

I know who Miley Cyrus is (she needs to learn to lip-sync better), but who are the Clique Girlz?  The Harajuku Girls?  And do kids really enjoy seeing the Energizer Bunny as a balloon? And didn’t Santa seem a little drunk this year?  Or was he a little too excited to be in the same parade as the Harajuku Girls?


The Harajuku Girls!

Do Over

When people ask me if I blog to grow as a writer, I say no.  Blogging makes me a WORSE writer, since I spend most of my time pandering to the unwashed mob.  Do I blog for the friendships that I make along the way?  Don’t make me laugh. Have you read my new “hate blog” — “My Golden Nuggets,” where I parody the most popular mommybloggers, like Mother Jones, Mother Earth, and Mother Theresa.  No, I blog for one reason only — it enables me to step into my giant time machine equipped with all of the latest time machine accoutrements, and go back one day in time, allowing me to re-ask that same girl from yesterday if she wants to go see Pal Joey with me tonight, even though I just returned from the show.   But, this time no more “I just happened to have an extra ticket… and maybe, perhaps, if you don’t have anything else doing…”

This time, I’m doing it right.  Into the time machine — back a day —

Neil:  “Hiya, Susan.”

Susan:  “Hey, Neilochka!  What’s up?”

Neil:  “I was walking down 54th Street today, and I saw that a revival of Rogers and Hart “Pal Joey” was playing, and I said to myself, “You know, I bet Susan would really like to see this, even though I only met you once, so I bought two tickets — without even calling you first — for tomorrow night.  I’ll pick you up at seven.  What’s your address?”

Susan:  “Wow, you bought tickets because you thought of ME?!”

Neil:  “Sure, baby.”

Susan:  “It’s not like you had an extra ticket because your mother had to go somewhere, like to a funeral?”

Neil:  “Of course not.  Broadway musicals always make me think of you, because the very thought of seeing you again makes me want to sing and dance.”

Susan:  “Aww, that is soooo sweet.  I love contrived, dishonest sweet talking.  All women do.”

Neil:  “So, do we have a date?”

Susan:  “I appreciate the offer, but I already have plans.  I’m going out with this handsome and very wealthy internet mogul who has invited me to a black tie gala at the Museum of Natural History to “Save the African Black-Tailed Raccoon.”  U2 is going to be there to give us a private concert.”

Neil:  “Did I mention that there is a Subway sandwich place across the street from the theater, so we can grab some sandwiches before the show?”

Susan:  “It’s very tempting, but…”

Neil:  “Susan, let me ask you something.  And be honest with me.  When was the last time you had a really good orgasm?”

Susan:  “Uh…let me think.  About two weeks ago, when I was home alone in bed, reading the last chapter of “Twilight.””

Neil:  “I’ll pick you up at seven.  Wear something short, with high heels.”

Susan:  “OK.”

Neil:  (offscreen):  “This post is moronic,”

Neil’s Penis:  (offscreen):  “Just shut up and play along.   Think of this post as damage control for your reputation.   Like Motrin pulling that ad.”

Neil:  (offscreen):  “No one’s gonna buy what I am saying!  There’s no such thing as a time machine either.”

Neil’s Penis:  (offscreen)  “Aw man, you underestimate the power of new media.  People believe anything!”

Neil:  (offscreen)  “Shouldn’t I at least say something about the musical I saw.  There must be someone out there who is curious to hear uh…”

Neil’s Penis:  (offscreen)  “…uh, yeah, right.   Danny from Jew Eat Yet.  He’s about the only one you know who gives a shit about a revival of Pal Joey.”

Neil:  (to Danny at Jew Eat Yet)  “Danny, it was OK… it had some problems, although Martha Plimpton had a surprisingly good voice.  But the show seems old.”

Neil’s Penis:  (offscreen)  “Frankly, I don’t see why anyone would pay 70 bucks for a show that doesn’t have at least one semi-nude sex scene!  You can just stay home and watch HBO!”

Neil:  (offscreen)  “Can I stop writing this post so I can go to sleep?”

Neil’s Penis (offscreen)  “Oh, tell them that one more thing about tonight.”

Neil:  “Oh yeah, right.  On the way to the theater, I passed the Ziegfeld, where they were having the New York premiere of Australia.  And I briefly saw Hugh Jackman’s arm as he walked down the red carpet.”

Neil’s Penis: “And does he have the world’s sexiest male arm?”

Neil:  “It really wasn’t that much better than mine.”

Neil’s Penis:  “Good, I like to hear that.  Confidence!  Women like that.”

Blaming Others for My Cold

I am sick with a cold.  And it sucks.  And I feel miserable.  And I feel like lashing out at whoever or whatever made me sick.  Cause I am a big baby and I am a mean-spirited person.  So, here is my short list of the most logical culprits.  I curse you all!

1)  That red-haired kid near the dinosaur exhibit at the Museum of Natural History on Saturday who kept on coughing in my face, and the mother who was too busy with her Blackberry to notice or care.  Children should not be allowed in museums.

2)  New York City.  That’s right, the whole damn city.  I never got a cold in Los Angeles.  I’m in New York a few months, and BAM!

3)  That empanada place in Jackson Heights that I went with Astrogirl.  They didn’t have a restroom.  Did the cooks even wash their hands?

4)  HotBabesTakingOffTheirBras.com.  Too much porn watching lowers the immune system, making you more susceptible to catching a cold.

5)  My mother.  Yes, I am including dear ol’ Mom on the list.  She is the one who told me that it was time to wear “my winter coat already,” and I was so hot outside wearing this behemoth jacket built for Eskimos in Antarctica that I took it off and went around coat-less on Friday in the cool Fall weather.

6)  The blogging community.  You made fun of me for owning and wearing a jean jacket, saying it was too 80’s, so I didn’t wear it, out of shame, and ended up listening to my mother and wearing that hot, oversized parka.   If you would have kept your mouths shut, I might have avoided the whole situation.

7)  The motley crew of passengers who travel on the F train from Manhattan to Queens at 1AM.  I mean MOTLEY.

8)  The recent Chinese immigrants in downtown Flushing.  I hate to point my finger at any one ethnic group, but who else can we blame for the Hong Kong flu?  It isn’t called the Swedish flu, right?

9)  The four women who play mahjong with my mother. This week my mother hosted the game in her apartment.  Who knows what type of kinky lifestyles these strange women in their sixties and seventies lead on the outside?  Also, mahjong — Hong Kong Flu again?

10)  French kissing that sexy Hungarian supermodel at the nightclub.  (Oh right, that was just in my dream.  Skip that one)

11)  McDonald’s.  Just walking in there is enough to make anyone sick.  And this Flushing franchise across the street is so cheap, they only give you one napkin.

Lunch at Lenny’s Clam Bar


Commercial for Lenny’s Clam Bar from the late 1970’s

So, it was like my mudder’s birthday on Thursday and… that’s right, my muddah. What the f*ck is wrong with you? You don’t got no muddah? Just shuddup and listen to my story before I f**kin’ take a baseball bat to your head. Vaffanculo!

It was one of those Jewish holidays on Thursday, and you know how those friggin’ Jews are a pain in butt — non mi scazzare i coglioni — so we had to celebrate her birthday on Friday instead. So, we got a couple of her buddies and ding dang dong, before you know it, we are cruisin in Howard Beach, Queens to the famous Lenny’s Clam Bar. Now that is a f**kin’ place that knows how to treat a grosso calibro with dignity, not like that demeaning friggin stuff you get at the fake Goomba Olive Garden, where their manicotti is as hot and sticky as my balls and their garlic bread is as hard to bite as a .45 automatic.

Sure, when we first walked into Lenny’s, the lying maitre de told us they didn’t have no stinkin’ lunch menu when they really did, un bastardo, but whatcha expect? Times are fuckin’ tough. Even the Wall Street guys don’t want to pay a hooker two hundred bucks for un pompino! You want a lunch menu, take your big ass over to one of those places where that Chinaman puts who knows what merda into his chop suey. Vaffanculo a Lei, la sua moglie, e’ la sua madre. Lei e’ un cafone stronzo. Io non mangio in questo merdaio! Vada via in culo! (You, sir, go fuck yourself–and your wife and your mother. You are a common turd! I’m not going to eat in this shithouse. Fuck you!) from the book Merda! The REAL Italian You Were Never Taught in School by Roland Delicio © 1993 from Penguin Books.

But let me tell ya, the food at Lenny’s — la cena era deliziosa. Just like mamma used to make. And everyone’s been there. Frank, Frank Jr., Rocky Graziano, the “Family,” all the Sopranos — they love the shrimp and the clams!

Oh, by the way, the waitress at Lenny’s — una bella fica (very nice ass). It was a memorable birthday for my muddah, and for me.

Change

There has been a lot of talk lately about CHANGE.  Voting for Obama is for Change.   Yom Kippur is this week — a time for change.   Fall is about change.   The leaves have already started to change colors in New England.   Overnight, the dress code went from t-shirts to sweaters.
 
I need to embrace change.  My fear of change is one of my biggest faults.  Sophia and I cannot live in limbo-land forever.  It is frustrating for both of us.  Man cannot live without woman for long.  It is one of the few Biblical statements based on fact.  Look at Adam.  He had the wondrous Garden of Eden and the first human Penis – the prototype – and still it wasn’t enough for him.

“WHAT do I do with it, brainiac?” Adam asked God in a sarcastic tone.
  
God did not like Adam’s pissy attitude.
 
“No problem,” said the Big Prankster, ” I will give you a Wo-man!  Good luck, sucker!”

Within days of Eve’s arrival, Adam was so pussywhipped that he was doing her bidding.

“Eat this Apple,” said Eve.

“What for?” asked Adam.

Eve removed the fig leaf covering her nakedness.
 
“F*ck!” said the dumb-as-shit Adam, as he bit the apple.  “You always win.”

It is hard being alone.  OK, I did tell you about that one sexy email experience that I had a few weeks ago.   We did have another encounter after that, but I need her approval before I write about it.  But it was more depressing than fun.   What’s the point of virtual sex?  More frustration?
 
“Seriously…” I said to nice girl who I don’t really know, “Why would we want to send sexy emails to each other.  We live thousands of miles apart.  We’re not going to hook up in real life.  We don’t even know each other.  It’s just going to make us feel lonelier!”

“I love it!” she said.  “There is something so sexy about frustration, a fantasy that can never be fulfilled.”

WTF?  I could hear God laughing at me, just as he once did with Adam.  You wanted Wo-man, you are stuck with her, sucker!  

Last night, I watched Now, Voyager, starring Bette Davis, on the Turner Classics channel.  This is the famous film where Paul Henreid lights two cigarettes in his mouth and hands over.  He does this not once, but about fifteen times in the course of the story.   I’ve seen this film many times and always found it a corny, melodramatic girl-flick.    But have I officially changed?  Have I become an adult who enjoys crap like this?  I was completely taken in with the story about marriage, commitment, secret love, and lust.   For the first time, I UNDERSTOOD THE STORY!   No wonder I am having such a hard time writing a script about two single guys trying to get laid.  I’m not that person anymore.  I have joined the ranks of  adult “complications” where the getting “laid” is not the goal anymore.  I’ve already gotten laid, and I know what happens afterwards.   It is Wo-man!  The apple is never free.  They are trouble.  Thanks a lot, God! 

What was I talking about in this post anyway?  Oh right, change.  You see, I can’t even stay focused on talking about “change.”  I avoid it by chatting about Adam and Eve and Adam’s penis.  Let’s get back to the point. 

I need to embrace change. 

I came to New York to embrace change.  But so far, I have failed.   All that happened was that I got into another rut, another routine.  

For example, every day I take a walk, but it is always the same path, always encountering the exact same individuals. 

My Daily Walk by Neil Kramer

I leave my mother’s apartment building.   As I step out, I run into Juan, the building’s effective but hated super.  Juan works hard for the building and takes great pride in his work, but so much so, that he thinks he owns the place.   He treats the tenants — his employers — like shit.   He yells at them for walking in the lobby after he washes the floor.  God help you if you take a short-cut across the lawn.  He sees you with his third eye.

“Get off the grass, you jerk.  I just cut it!” he bellows.

In August, I got stuck in the elevator for fifteen minutes.  It was an unsettling experience.  When he finally “rescued” me, he blamed ME for taking the elevator.

“Kramer, didn’t you know this elevator had a problem?  You’re wasting my time!  I have work to do.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” I answered, still dizzy.  “There’s no sign on the wall.”

“I’ve been telling people all week.   You need to listen!  Don’t they listen in California, or are you too busy drinking margaritas by the pool with Tom Cruise?”

The “Board of Directors” of the co-op has tried to fire Juan from his job, but he is PART OF THE UNION, which means they have to come up with some legitimate reason to dump him.   Unfortunately, he does an excellent job and is a great super.  What can they say to the union – that they want to fire him because he is rude and obnoxious?   This is New York!   The supers have more power than the tenants!

OK, back to my daily walk.

My next encounter is with Eleanor, a retired woman who sits on the benches in the courtyard between the “A” and “B” buildings of the co-op.   We live in the “A” building.  Eleanor lives in the “B” building.  Her husband has been in a wheelchair since his stroke, so the best they can do for getting out of the house is sitting outside, watching everyone walk by.    My mother also plays Mah Jongg with her on Tuesday night.

Now my regular readers have read a lot about my mother.  You all seem to “love” her.   You think she is fun.    She is fun.  She is also cool enough to read my blog every day.    But she is private.   She would never keep a blog.  When I asked her if everyone at Farrar, Straus, and Giroux had seen the pictures of her retirement party that I had posted, she said no.  She revealed to me – for the first time ever — that she never told most of her co-workers about my blog.    

“Why not?”  I asked.  “Because of the cursing?  The sex talk?”

“Nah,” she said.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“It is none of their business to know about you and Sophia.”

I learned something new.  My mother has not been forthcoming with her some of her friends about our separation.

“Are you ashamed?” I asked.

“No, of course not.   You should hear about some of their screwed up kids?  Divorced, in rehab, Scientologists… you’re pretty normal in comparison.”

But it bothered me that my mother was hiding the truth, especially with those in the apartment building.   But then, I realized – so was I!   My mother was right… why does everyone need to know your business?!    There are a lot of yentas in my building, always prying for personal information.  Whenever I meet one of these yentas in the elevator, I freeze up, knowing  that she is going to grill me like an attorney questioning a witness on “Law and Order?”

“How’s your beautiful wife — Sophia?”  one yenta asked recently.

“She’s doing fine.”

“Is she in New York with you?”

“No, she’s in LA, working.”

“You’ve been in New York a few months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You must miss each other.”

“Yes.”

“Will she be coming here soon?”

Luckily, I live on the first floor, so my elevator ride is a short one.

“That’s my floor!” I shouted as I jump off.

“Send my regards to your beautiful wife, Sophia!’ 

There are some days that I take the stairs, just to avoid meeting these yentas.

I eventually convinced my mother to tell her friends at her weekly Mah Jongg game.    After all, if they are truly her “friends,” they are not going to mock her or think she did a crappy job as a mother.    I am separated.  I didn’t rob a bank.

Eleanor, the woman who sits in the back with her husband in the wheel chair, is one of those who knows the real story about why I am in New York.   After all, how long can I really be “visiting” for?  But good intentions have bad results.  Since then,  I cannot walk past Eleanor without her calling me over for one of her “helpful” lectures about marriage and relationships.

“I have been married for fifty one years,” she told me a few weeks ago, her husband nodding in the background.  “And let me tell you, it hasn’t always been easy.    But it wasn’t until about five years ago that I truly understood what marriage is all about… what makes a marriage work.  It was all because I read a book.  You must read this book.    This book changed my life.  I don’t know if you ever heard of it, but it is called… “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.”  Have you read this book?”

I have read this book and thought it was hogwash, so I lied.

“I haven’t read it.   But I have heard of it.  It is about how men and women are different.”

“Exactly.   After reading this book, everything about men and women became clear to me.  This book is as important as the Old Testament.  Let me give you an example of why.    A husband and wife are getting dressed to go to a Temple function.  Everyone who’s anyone is going to be there.  The husband says, “Let’s get going.  We’re going to be late.”  The wife is busy putting on her make-up, wanting to look her best.   The wife asks, “How do I look?”  The husband says, “Fine.  Now, let’s go.”  And then the wife is upset at her husband for the rest of the night because he said she was looking “fine” and not “beautiful.”  “What did I say?” asks the husband.    He doesn’t get it.   That’s because he is from Mars and she is from Venus.  You are from Mars.  Your wife is from Venus.  Always remember that.”

Frankly, I think a big problem with my marriage is that I’m from Venus and she’s from Mars, but I kept that to myself.

Every day, every time I take my walk, she is sitting on the bench with her husband, waiting for me.

“Did you read the book yet?” she asks.

“I’ll get it this weekend at the library.”

“You must.  You are from Mars.   She is from Venus.  Remember that.”

Only once she did try to be a matchmaker.    She has a granddaughter who is interested in television production, a “beautiful redhead” who is having trouble finding a “Jewish man with a good soul.” 

“But she’s just 22, so you are too old.” she added at the end. 

“No, she’s not,” screamed my Penis, but the muffled sound from inside my pants never reached Eleanor and her hearing aide.  Eh, her granddaughter is probably a Wo-man from Venus anyway, which does not bode well for our relationship.

Onward, with my walk.

A few blocks after meeting Eleanor, I pass another apartment complex, one for lower-income tenants.   The complex has many buildings, and looks like a typical urban housing project.   In front of one of the buildings, I always encounter Charles, a friendly tenant, working on his garden.  Charles takes great pride in caring for his flowers.   He can be interesting to talk to, but he is also mentally-challenged, so he tends to be long-winded and repetitive, going into the same details about his flowers.

“These are gladiolas,” he would say.

“Beautiful.”

“I water them a lot.”

“Do they need a lot of water?”

“Yes, that’s why I water them a lot.   I use the hose, but I have to be careful not to put it too high because then the flowers don’t like it… and the manger says I use too much water… but the flowers like the water… but not too much water…”

Sometimes I speed up as I pass, giving a quick “hello,” making believe I’m in a hurry to catch the bus.   I feel like a jerk, but so what… proof that I’m not THAT nice.

As I turn the corner, I enter an area of look-alike garden apartments, townhouses, each with two families.    All summer, at the third garden apartment from the corner, sat a little Puerto Rican girl on the lawn,  who had set up a table and was selling lemonade for five cents.   On the porch, was her grandmother, watching closely.   I found this scene very quaint.  I don’t remember anyone selling lemonade when I was a child.  It seemed very middle-American, like in a Dennis the Menace comic book, not an activity you would see in New York.

For some reason, I always said hello, but never stopped for a drink.  I think the main reason was because the grandmother gave me an evil eye whenever I approached.  It sucks being a guy nowadays.  You can’t even say hello to a little girl without being thought of as a predator.    I feared  buying a cup of lemonade, thinking the grandmother would send her German Shepherd, who was waiting inside with his black eyes, to attack.

On Friday afternoon, I took my usual walk in the neighborhood.    It was the same as every day.   I met Juan, the cranky super, Eleanor, the Men are from Mars Yenta, and Charles, the retarded gardener.      The sun had come out, giving New York one last gasp of summer before Fall took permanent residence.    As I rounded the corner, I noticed that the Puerto Rican girl was still in business.    I figured that today would be her last hurrah as the colder weather crept in, and the lemonade lovers went into hibernation.

I thought about my daily walks all summer.  Always the same.   Same path.  Same actions. 

“Whatever happened to my commitment to change?” I asked myself.   

I decided to break the pattern.  No more procrastinating.  I was going to start my change NOW.  I was going to fight my fears and have myself a lemonade before it was too late.  After a summer of passing by the little girl with just a smile, I was going to act.  This would have a domino effect on my life, creating changes everywhere as one tile fell, creating a chain reaction in my brain and in my heart.

I stepped onto the lawn and approached the little girl.

“I’ll have a cup of lemonade.” I said.

The grandmother, who was sitting on a rattan chair reading the National Enquirer, put down the paper, and leaned forward, her neck stretching outwards like that of a Bald Eagle.

As the girl poured me some of her lemonade from a plastic Tupperware pitcher into a Dixie cup, I realized that I had been reading the price wrong since day one.  It was 50 cents a cup.  The cardboard sign was folded, making me think it was just 5 cents .   50 cents for a Dixie cup of lemonade?  I thought it was a bit of a rip-off, but maybe I was living in the past.   After all, Lucy from the Peanuts used to give Psychiatric Advice for 5 cents.   Now, I bet she is $200 an hour!

But I didn’t protest.  This cup of lemonade was not to quench my thirst.  It was a symbol of change.

The little girl handed me my drink.  I handed her two quarters.  I had a tremendous urge to make some sort of traditional toast before I drank the elixir from my holy grail, the way I might before drinking wine at a wedding or at a Passover seder.    I lifted my glass to the young girl, making sure I kept my distance for the sake of the staring grandmother.

“Thank you sincerely for this fine lemonade.”  I said, speaking in a pompous tone, as if I was performing in a Shakespeare play at the Old Globe.  “My I just say that this lemonade is extremely important to me today.  It is more than a cool drink on a hot day.  It is about CHANGE.”

“No change,” the little girl said, angrily.  “It is FIFTY cents.”

“I didn’t mean that.”  I muttered.

The grandmother stood up, her National Enquirer falling to the ground, her hungry dog appearing behind the screen door of her garden apartment.

“Is there anything wrong, Lizzie?” she asked.

“He paid fifty cents.   Now he wants CHANGE!”

“NO CHANGE.  NO CHANGE!” yelled the grandmother.

I wanted to explain more, but it was hopeless, and I could already see the dog salivating. I drank my lemonade, and quickly left.

Any adventure requires an obstacle, and here was mine.    Just when I made the choice to change, the forces of the status quo were striking back, telling me “NO CHANGE.  NO CHANGE!”

Well, screw you, forces of the status quo.  Just you wait!

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