Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: New York City (Page 19 of 24)

Luck is Getting Three Chopsticks

December 19, 2007 / / 35 Comments

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Today, on the second day of my New York trip, I felt my luck changing.  Why?  Because we went out for sushi and when I opened my package of wooden chopsticks, there were three individual chopsticks inside.  Now getting three chopsticks seems as useless as three shoelaces in one package, but the waitress said that in her seven years of waitressing, she never saw this happen before, and said it was “for good luck.”

It is important to work hard and take chances, but let’s be honest with ourselves — there’s a lot of luck involved in life.    Sometimes, we just find ourselves in the right place at the right time.  I know there are some of you that think that everything is dependent on some “secret” or that God actually cares if you win the big game, but that’s insulting to the important concept of “LUCK.” 

Getting three chopsticks is pure luck. 

Unlucky is paying fifty bucks to take a romantic buggy ride through Central Park and getting stuck with a driver who spends the whole trip gossiping on her phone with her girlfriend from Brooklyn. 

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Unlucky is getting a modeling job where you have to sit around Rockefeller Center in your underwear… in late December.

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Unlucky is coming to New York to take a photo of your family in front of the “big tree,” not realizing that 1000 other families are also there, blocking your view.

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We had a nice day, so we were lucky.

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Feeling a Little Blue

December 18, 2007 / / 40 Comments

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Sophia, Flushing

I enjoy getting comments which read “Oh, Neil, that was so funny. You made me morning.” I like them so much, I hate bringing up times when I’m feeling a little down. I’ve only been in New York for one day, and while I should be absolutely joyous, I’m feeling sort of blue. I’m not sure if it is the bleak sky, the cold, or just missing therapy this week. Even seeing my Mom and eating the perfect bagels hasn’t broken me out of the rut.

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Bagels, Flushing

My screenplay pitch is still on the backburner while the writer’s strike continues. It is hard convincing yourself that you have the “greatest comedy story ever written” for more than a month before you start having doubts. There are a couple of big expense concerns coming up, and thinking about money makes me anxious.

On Monday, at LAX, we had a hour to kill before our flight, so I watched travelers running around, catching fights. It is big world out there, with so many countries and cities I want to see. Will I get to visit everywhere I want? Will I have the time? The money? Today, I found my old stamp collection in my closet. I had organized all of my international stamps into little envelopes titled France, India, Madagascar, etc. I must have been around ten years old. Some of the countries on the list, mostly African ones, don’t even exist anymore! I’m sure I dreamed of traveling to all of these places one day. Now, I’m less sure of myself. Maybe I won’t ever get to Madagascar after all! And that would be sad. Time is moving too fast.

Time also plays games with the mind. Although my mother had done a great job in redecorating the apartment in the last year, the memory of my father is still strong. Everywhere you look, there is a part of him, from his collection of slides he took in the army or massive collection of ties. His essence is here. While it is nice that his presence is felt, it is sad that he is not here in person.

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A familiar view from my old room while lying on the bed

I’m glad Sophia came along to New York. She’s always fun (except for the traveling by plane part where she brings too much luggage). Still, we are theoretically moving closer to the date when I will move out of the house. We both think it would be good to take a break and have some alone time. My therapist didn’t even think it was a good idea to travel to New York together, but what fun would it be without her? Sophia is sleeping right now, and I’m feeling all sorts of emotional ups and downs about our future.

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The confusion over our relationship has created problems for my sex life and my dreams are becoming more anxiety-ridden by the day. Last night, I combined all my fears about writing, Hollywood, and sex in to one big stew of bizarre dreaming:

In the dream, I had just spoken to this movie producer on the phone. The writer’s guild strike was still going on, so my pitch was postponed again. I needed to quickly make more money, so I looked in the newspaper. I ended up getting a job with a CSI crime unit. I was hired to be a special “closer.” My daily assignment: I would go down on a female suspect, and from her taste, I would learn all these facts about her. “She’s 32, runs two miles a day, and loves Cheerios,” I would say to the police captain as I lifted my head up from between her thighs. “She’s a graduate of Princeton with a B.A. in Religion and she is lying about hitting her husband over the head with that baseball bat.” My authority was never questioned and this Princeton religious studies graduate was thrown in jail for committing murder. Rather than feeling good about myself, I fretted about my “interrogation.” I had the nagging feeling that I tasted her incorrectly and put the wrong woman behind bars.

After this dream, I woke up with a terrible headache. And now there’s two more weeks without therapy! God help us all.

Tomorrow, we’re going to MOCA, and maybe meeting Tamar of Mining Nuggets for coffee (that is if she’s not afraid of me after hearing about my dream). Email me if you live in New York and know of some cool things going on or restaurants that you love.

Off to Visit Mom

December 17, 2007 / / 36 Comments

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How many suitcases are we bringing to New York?  (Remember, Sophia is coming with me.  And she is a woman.  A woman with a lot of shoes.  A woman who isn’t sure what shoes to wear in the snow.  A woman who dragged me along for four hours shopping in department stores for boots, but ended up not liking anything.  Are Uggs waterproof?  What do YOU wear in the snow?)

The person who first guesses most accurately how many pieces of luggage we are bringing to New York for a two and a half week visit will win — get this — a $1000 dollar gift certificate from my favorite retailer, Buyy.com! (that is Buyy.com, not Buy.com, you idiots).  Ha Ha Ha, I love when my own blog post makes me laugh.

Now, bring on the NY bagels!

Race and Ethnicity

November 7, 2007 / / 48 Comments

I grew up in Queens, New York, which just happens to be the most diverse place in the country. When we talked about each other as kids, we were always very race and ethnic conscious. I don’t mean racist, but aware of people having ethnic identities. I don’t even see this as a negative thing. Who wants everyone the same? A person’s race and identity was just an identifier, like their height or weight. I might say, “Remember Bob, the tall black guy from the party,” just like I would say, “Remember Ellen, the pretty red-head from the party.” We would even go further than just race. He could be the Puerto Rican-guy or the Italian Guy. We would separate Jews as being religious “frum” or not, or Israeli, or Persian.

Things changed in college, when I became aware that this type of identification seemed blue-collar in tone. Even when people still identified as Asian or Black, it seemed wrong to identify someone as such, at least in public. In private, between friends, one could be as racist as the next guy, but everyone feared being seen as a blue collar type from Queens.

College Friend: “Did you meet Dan yesterday?”

Neil: “Which was Dan?”

College Friend: “The history major. He was wearing the green sweater. From Maryland. With glasses. Bald.”

Neil: “Oh, you mean the black guy?”

College Friend: “Ugh, don’t say that!”

I found this attitude a little odd, as if acknowledging his color was akin to acknowledging some sort of weakness in his personality. What was the big deal? On the other hand, I guess I can understand the sensitivity. At Columbia, Dan might be the only black guy at the party, and I’m sure he would hate always being known as the “black guy” throughout college. The rules change when the amount of diversity changes.

I’ve never truly resolved this issue for myself. I’m pretty open to all types of folk here on Citizen of the Month, even though I’ve gotten in trouble a few times for some gay joke or stating that Portland only had one black resident. I don’t think of you as black or white, Jewish or gentile, although I have to admit that it is exciting to me when a reader is different in some unique way. The blogosphere can be so bland, that it is cool to interact with someone a little different. I’ve written about this several times already. I’m still waiting for my first Native American blogger friend! The question is — can someone be identified as different, and still thought of as the same as everyone else? Am I Neilochka the blogger or Neilochka the Jewish blogger? Or can I be both? I’ve already spoken to a few of you that took a while before coming out as “black” or “ethnic” because you felt that other bloggers would perceive you differently.

I think about these ethnicity issues while I’m writing. Recently, I was writing a post while sitting in Starbucks about this guy sitting next to me, a brainy-looking grad student, who kept on trying to read my monitor. He was Asian (another loaded issue — I sometimes find it difficult to tell if someone is Chinese, Korean, or Japanese) and when I was writing the story, I started to describe him as “this Asian guy.” Then I censored myself. I thought to myself, “People will wonder why I him making him “the Asian guy.”” Am I trying to make a statement about Asians? Is there some other meaning for making him Asian? In truth, the only reality was that — he was Asian! Still, did it add anything to the story that was unintended? If you read something you wrote where a “Jewish guy” was looking over your shoulder, wouldn’t I have the same concerns?

On of my new blog friends from Los Angeles, Los Angelista, also writes on a cool website called Anti-Racist Parent — for parents committed to raising children with an anti-racist outlook. It brings up some important issues for parents. The site was “my muse” for this post. You should also check out Los Angelista’s terrific blog, too.

Why Doesn’t Los Angeles Have a Local Tyrant?

September 25, 2007 / / 14 Comments

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As a former New Yorker living in Los Angeles, I sometimes feel envious of all the advantages of living in New York. Although LA has Hollywood, and I’ve seen David Schwimmer buying brown rice in Whole Foods, it seems as if all the really cool actors, like Robert DeNiro, live in New York. New York has hip David Letterman. We have blah Jay Leno. New York has Woody Allen. We have Paris and Perez Hilton.

Now, New York is abuzz with all the attention from the President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad – Columbia University forum/publicity stunt. It’s not fair. Where are the civic leaders of Los Angeles? Where is our local tyrant? Get off your asses, UCLA and USC. Forget football. It is time for people to take Los Angeles seriously. We’re not just bad sitcoms and fake tits.

Here’s a suggestion. Invite Kim Jong-il of North Korea to speak here! Let him become our local tyrant.

Do it for UCLA or USC. Do it for Los Angeles!

Dear Columbia Alumnus

September 23, 2007 / / 48 Comments

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Dear Columbia Alumnus,

The Columbia University Fund has had an exceptional year this year and we are hoping to grow in 2008. As a graduate of the university, you know what Columbia means to the intellectual and cultural life of New York City and the country. We have just launched an unprecedented $865 million effort in support of undergraduate students and the faculty who teach them. Inspired by alumni commitment, it is the largest campaign of its kind Columbia has ever undertaken. We need your help. Through your generous donation, we can continue giving a world-class education to all Columbia students. We want to continue to give Columbia’s students a unique opportunity to learn from the best and brightest.

Excitement abounds at Columbia this season. In an attempt to be attention-grabbing, we are now offering to the public the “Meet the Vicious Tyrant Who Looks Fondly on the Third Reich” series of lectures. For our first speaker, we are honored to present the honorable Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President of Iran. Mr. Ahmadinejad, known to many as “The world’s Most Dangerous Man” is best known for developing Iran’s nuclear bomb and as a Holocaust denier who has said that Israel is a “dangerous stain on the Islamic world that must be wiped off the map. While Columbia students would probably burn the school down before allowing President Bush to speak at the school, the administration thinks it is important to hear from a man who is one of worst abusers of human rights.

According to Amnesty International, dissidents who oppose the government non-violently face harassment, torture and execution.  According to Human Rights Watch, respect for basic human rights in Iran, especially freedom of expression and assembly, deteriorated in 2006. The government routinely tortures and mistreats detained dissidents, including through prolonged solitary confinement.  The Iranian government has also cracked down on gay civilians.

According to the Wall Street Journal:

Iran’s shari’a-based penal code defines lavat as penetrative and non-penetrative sexual acts between men.  Iranian law punishes all penetrative sexual acts between adult men with the death penalty. Non-penetrative sexual acts between men are punished with lashes until the fourth offense, when they are punished with death.   Sexual acts between women, which are defined differently, are punished with lashes until the fourth offense, when they are also punished with death.

In other exciting news, Columbia continues to strengthen the School of Arts with the addition of an exciting new member of the faculty — Star Simpson, the MIT student who recently strapped a fake bomb to herself and caused chaos at Boston’s Logan Airport. She will now be Dean of Performance Art.

Columbia Football has never been a strength at our school. The Lions have not won a league championship since 1961. All that is going to change as we welcome our new head coach, the legendary OJ Simpson to guide us to a winning season.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Hey, Dad

The Nicest Man in New York City

June 10, 2007 / / 40 Comments

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My mother called today and scolded me for being so “negative” on my blog.

“I can’t handle it, it makes me anxious,” she said, sounding very familiar, since I said the same thing to Sophia when she crying because of her pain.

“Write about positive things.  People like happy stories about people who do good things.” 

Now she was sounding like one of the Hollywood executives who want to re-do “Citizen Kane” and have it end with an elderly Kane gleefully sledding down a snowy hill  on “Rosebud,” all of his happy, laughing grandchilden in tow.

“I have a positive story.” my mother continued.  “You should write about that.”

My mother is a very nice woman, and can even make a good brisket, but a storyteller she ain’t.  But since this blog has been such a downer lately, I’m going to turn over the reigns of “Citizen of the Month” to my mother and present to you (lights and the roar of the MGM lion):

MY MOTHER’S POSITIVE STORY!

I’ve titled it “The Nicest Man in New York City.”

Mom, take it away!

“I was on the Q65 bus in Queens when a man came onto the bus at Kissena Boulevard.   He seemed confused about where to go.  He asked some woman…  but the confused man, a very nice man, only spoke French.  No one knew what he was saying.  Some college student, this Chinese girl, said she took French in high school, but could only understand that he “didn’t know where to get the Express Bus.”  Suddenly, the bus driver said, “I know French!”  He was from Haiti, and a very nice man.  He explained to the French man… in French… how to get to the Express Bus.  Even more… when the bus driver got to the right stop, he waited until the French man got off the bus and stood in the exact location on the street to catch the Express bus.”

And that was the story.

“That’s it?” I asked, laughing.  “That’s a nothing story.”

“Everyone thinks New Yorkers are so mean, but this proves differently, because the bus driver was so nice.”

I wasn’t in the mood for my mother’s Pollyannish ways, so I thought I’d trap her in her own story.

“And how did all the other passengers feel about the bus driver waiting around until this French guy found the right spot to catch the Express bus?  I’m sure they were annoyed and wanted to go already.” 

“No, not at all.  Everyone on the bus was very nice and cared about this French man.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.  So, why don’t you write about THIS?  It’s not a nothing story.  It’a nice story, about nice people.”

Two Live Reports from JFK

April 5, 2007 / / 16 Comments

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From Wired:

DANGER ROOM Editor Noah Shachtman is at JFK airport in New York where there’s been a security breach that’s thrown terminal three into chaos. Gotta love the wild ‘n crazy world of TSA, where security breaches mean you trap all the passengers in an enclosed area, leaving them completely vulnerable.

Anyhow, as Noah reports:

I’m at New York’s JFK airport, waiting to catch a flight to Los Angeles. And there’s been a major security breach here at the Delta terminal, number three.

According to TSA workers, someone ran through the security checkpoint, maybe an hour ago. No one has been allowed to pass through, since. There must be a thousand people here who can’t get on their flights.

The TSA workers have no idea what’s going on — “We know as much as you,” one told me.

Passengers are generally calm. But that could change, quick. Passengers in the “sterile areas” were just told to “evacuate the building.”

From Citizen of the Month:

Elaine Kramer, mother of blogger Neil, is at JFK airport, stuck on a Delta Airlines plane, sitting somewhere between the runway and the terminal, having just returned to NY after Passover. Since no planes can leave, no passengers can deplane.

Anyhow, as Neil’s mother reports:

“We had to fly around for an extra hour, but everyone was very nice and brought us an extra round of soda and potato chips.”

Rich Man, Hot Babe

February 22, 2007 / / 36 Comments

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I’ve never done speed dating before, but I know I would be good at it. I’m an immensely interesting person for one minute, and then I become a total bore, so with speed dating, I could capture a woman’s attention before she saw “the real me.” Also, since the woman finds it OK to interact with me for just one minute, I assume she won’t be rattled by my perennial problem of premature ejaculation. She’ll already be used to me making it through one minute, and then the conversation is over.

New York can be a tough place to meet someone, and speed dating is popular in the Big Apple. I was especially intrigued by this new form of speed dating that I read about on Zandria’s site.   The sponsors included New York Magazine and was titled the “Natural Selection Speed Date” — Rich Guys and Hot Girls.  The application requirements were very specific:

Men (solely based on wealth)

Salary:

  • Age 25 or below $200K +
  • Age 26-30 $300K +
  • Age 30+ $500K +
  • Invested Assets: $1 million +
  • Trust: $4 million +

*Men will be asked to provide documented proof

Ticket Price $500

Women (solely based on beauty)

  • 5 pictures will be submitted for judgment by celebrity Matchmaker Janis Spindel
  • Pictures are judged for beauty
  • No additional information will be accepted

Ticket Price $50

The first meet-up took place two weeks ago in a Upper East Side supper club. Now, if you’re expecting me to be all P.C. and all, and call this disgusting, I’m not. The company’s website makes a compelling case for this type of natural selection:

[Our company] is honoring the age old union of wealthy men and hot girls. Society has taught us to not publicly acknowledge the obvious – no longer dear friends. Women want money in a man, men want beauty in a woman – this is a factual force of nature. Women don’t ask “So, what does he do for a living?” because they’re interested in his personality and guys don’t ask “is she hot?” because they’re concerned with character. Guys know that money buys them the car, the house and the trophy wife. This genetic cleansing is how the wealthy stay beautiful.

My main problem is that the match-ups don’t adhere to true scientific testing. The qualifications for the men can be easily documented, but the choosing of the women seems as rigged as a Russian figure-skating event.

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First of all, is Ms. Spindel really that qualified to judge what I find beautiful?

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And does she just pick stereotypical-looking blonds like I might see on FOX drama as CIA agents? Where are the hot Asian chicks? Where are the slightly-eccentric looking redheads who you just know will show you a wild time? Look at the three women that Ms. Spindel considers beautiful.

#1 — Eh. Looks like my cousin Miriam.

#2 — Flat as a board and thinning hair.

#3 — She is OK, but has a pig nose. She also looks like she is very quiet when she has an orgasm.

Of course, if I were drunk and lonely and “American Idol” wasn’t on TV, I wouldn’t say no to any of these women saying, “Neilochka, let’s ****!” (this does not include Ms. Spindel, no offense… she just seems like she would be too aggressive). But are they THAT BEAUTIFUL? For five hundred bucks and opening up my bank records, I would expect more. I could easily come up with a list of BLOGGERS who are prettier than these women. Just go on Flickr, which is my new pornography.

I think many of my problems with Sophia are based on our total disregard for the rule of “Natural Selection.” After all she is beautiful, but I’m not rich. If the world worked perfectly, she would be with someone rich.

But alas, I’m not rich. Only beautiful. Why can’t I exploit my beauty as much as women? Maybe I was destined to be with a rich but ugly woman. After all, that still maintains the idea of natural selection. Are there any speed-dating services for rich, ugly women and beautiful, poor men? It’s the same principle of Natural Selection, just updated for the twenty-first century — I’m all for the equality of the sexes!

If a woman was really rich, I could deal with her being ugly. Hopefully, not THAT ugly. I mean it would bother me if she had warts all over her face. But then again, if she was rich… and let me feel her up while watching TV… hey, why not? It’s natural selection!

(Update: After reading some more about this, I’m beginning to think the speed-dating service was less a legitimate operation than a crass way to create some publicity through an actual speed-dating event. By creating a dating scenario as ugly as possible, they were able to get media attention from both the networks and bloggers like me. Now, they are in talks with VH1 about doing a show about this concept.  I look forward to seeing what advertisers want to get involved in a project that uses terms such as natural selection and genetic cleansing.  What fun!  So, I am now going to take out most of the links and names in hope of not giving them any more publicity)

Los Angeles Times to New York City: Drop Dead

February 5, 2007 / / 35 Comments

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In a calllous show of one-upmanship, the Los Angeles Times contrasts bundled-up New Yorkers freezing their asses off with nubile young Angelenos in Santa Monica enjoying a carefree afternoon having lesbian sex with popular LA-produced “Rabbit” brand strap-on.

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