After Officer Jessica Gavaras told Garcia she needed a carrier, Garcia had her cousin take the little pooch outside, and then pleaded with Gavaras not to give her a ticket. When Garcia went to check her phone for the time, Gavaras grabbed it out of her hand; when Garcia reached for the phone, Gavaras cuffed her. And now it'll probably cost the taxpayers some money.
Between me and you, though, Garcia isn't the most sympathetic victim of asymmetrical police response.
[It was the] worst night of my life. A prostitute offered me a job. There were women in there hiding drugs in their private parts. People were fighting. I've never been around that caliber of people in my life.
What, no hooker with a heart of gold?
For Newsweek, Seth Colter Walls runs down to the Strand to pick up what he can of the dispersed personal library of the experimental writer David Markson (author of Wittgenstein’s Mistress and This Is Not a Novel, among other novels), who died last month.
Earlier this week, the London Review of Books's Alex Abromavich informed readers that Markson's library of classic and contemporary novels, poetry and philosophy, inscribed with Markson's name on the flyleaf and heavily annotated in his hand, appeared to have been sold to The Strand in bulk, and were being resold. He found this out when someone passed on a tip from an undergrad, whose copy of White Noise had previously belonged to Markson: "oh god the pomposity, the bullshit!" he had written alongside one passage. A small flood of readers began scouring the Strand for Markson's books and marginalia—one Keith Lincoln contributed an account of his haul at htmlgiant—and are beginning to upload particularly interesting marginalia to a Facebook group created for the purpose.
Our favorite bit of Markson marginalia—so far—is above. It's always fascinating, owning books (or anything else) that used to belong to strangers; what's interesting here is how the dispersed detritus of the deceased is being used to piece a picture—of Markson the reader and writer—back together.
Oregonian welder and artist Jud Turner makes sculptures from metal casts bones, animal and otherwise, some of which are fully functional pedal-powered vehicles—how exactly he didn't get into either of the Museum of Arts & Design's current shows, Dead or Alive and Bespoke, is a befuddling mystery. At any rate, his 2008 sculpture "Bio-Cycle" (above) begs to become the next major bike nerd trend—forget fixies, fossil bikes are the next must-have hipster transportation accessory. (WKB)
Alas, though, The Hill did not dig up the facebook for the Dartmouth Class of '88, featuring one "Tina" Rutnik (as was her maiden name)—but as you can see in the photo at right, a onetime classmate turned political reporter did, and we're quite glad for it: The fresh face, the voluminous, heavily conditioned blond hair, the preppy white-collared shirt and argyle sweater combo—she looks like a model in an L.L. Bean ad from Newsweek in September of 1983...
(It should be clear to you by now that I did not "just happen" to know where to find a glamor shot of teenaged Kirsten Gillibrand. Frankly, this surprises me as much as it surprises you.)
After 11 previous unsuccessful attempts, Charles Bicht, 64, of Vero Beach, won the 2010 Ernest Hemingway Lookalike Contest at Key West's Hemingway Days (other competitions include short story writing and marling fishing), as reported by the AP and reflected upon by the Guardian's Alison Flood. The competition is held at Sloppy Joe's, a favorite bar of Papa's, and is judged by a panel of past winners (pictured, surrounding Bicht this year). You can see their photos going back to the first competition, in 1981, in the "Papas" section of the online home of the Hemingway Lookalike Society.
The surfaces are so rough and cracked that our bright new shiny balls were reduced to puckered brown husks after an hour and a half of play, two thirds their original size. (There is one good court, the one closest to Berry, but that was resurfaced by a bunch of old Polish dudes, who are always using it. Kurva!)
So it is with great pleasure that I can tell you the six remaining crappy McCarren courts will be receiving a full resurfacing thanks to a $50,000 grant from the United States Tennis Association, who've rewarded the old Polish men for showing so much initiative and raising the money themselves to resurface court seven (ok, it wasn't just old Polish dudes, credit goes to an organization called McCarren Tennis). Yup, once again in this dangerously socialist nation, private money steps in where public money cannot.
P.S. I'm looking for people to play tennis with (since my pal's back in England). I'm about a 3.8 on the USTA ranking. Anyone interested?
Yesterday, Delta unveiled the above Boeing 757 emblazoned with Salvador Dali's iconic mustache to promote an exhibition of the surrealist's late works at Atlanta's High Museum of Art. There's a long tradition of adorning airliners with artistic designs, stretching all the way back to, at the very least, British Airways' 1997 World Tails series (kind of like the BMW Art Car of the airline industry). A brief airliner art history, sorta, after the jump.
I also read that Cave was named one of Variety's "10 Screenwriters to Watch" in 2006, which I suppose is impressive, and got me thinking about other multiple-threat artists, most of whom are just plain crappy (think "Ethan Hawke, novelist" and go from there). The list includes, but is not limited to:
Just a day after news broke that Kanye West stopped by Facebook offices earlier this week to perform a cappella versions of three songs from his forthcoming album, we learn, via Nah Right, that he did the same thing at Twitter HQ. There is shitty iPhone video, of course. Enjoy. And don't forget to follow him on Twitter.
The supposedly Victorian sentimentality of a Charlie Chaplin movie—maybe “sentimental” for pointing feeling where it doesn’t necessarily belong—usually turns out to be based on the Promethean idea that somehow not quite everything in the world is worth destroying, even though the comic heroes usually upended most of it by the end of the film. Even then, if a girl’s worth saving—Chaplin usually provides the concise image of the innocent waif like him entrenched in and alienated from capital, labor, ideology, and brimstone seriousness—it’s because she’s not really part of the world, and pathos, estranged from efficacy and institutions, doesn’t really have a motivating reason. The underwriting irony of Chaplin’s films is that if the rest of the world doesn’t deserve any feeling, it’s because it has no sense of it; if Chaplin merits affection, it’s because he doesn’t get any. Chaplin’s wish-fulfillment, the little nobody who asked for nothing and got it anyway, is revealed as a comic mistake.
This image, uploaded to the Post Boy Flickr photostream on Tuesday—and so not necessarily the work of the actual boy who cuts up posters, just the larger amorphous entity made up of multiple billboard remixers, "Poster Boy"—marks a dramatic departure from the clever reorganizing of ad slogans into straight up public accusations. Whoever reorganized the text even took time to cite precedent, making New York's street artists even more responsible than its police officers. (ANIMAL)
Goodie Mob and Gnarls Barkley member Cee-Lo Green is an expert musical genre-mixer, so trying to describe "What Part of Forever," his track off the Twilight: Eclipse soundtrack, as anything more descriptive than sublime pop is really difficult. This dreamy new video pushes the twangy Western element pretty hard. (NahRight)
You see, the good people at Time's Up (our favorite activist group in the whole darn city), are worried about the future of the city's 600 community gardens, most of which exist thanks to former Mayor Ed Koch's decision to allow locals to cultivate vacant lots. Technically, the gardens are all protected under the provisional 2002 Garden Settlement, which expires in September, and despite claims by both the Department of Housing Preservation and the Parks Department that the status quo shall obtain, Time's Up member Benjamin Shepard wants to make sure people know about this deadline, and that the gardens will be granted permanent status. As he told the Daily News:
We are bringing Bloomberg a gift from the gardens, flowers and cucumbers. He is supposed to make this city green. I hope he will live up to his rhetoric.
This site has some great tinder stories! tinderon.com
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