cultural commentary from the desk of Don Shewey
“Kitchen Counter with Toaster Oven, Fish Oil Capsules, and Sliced Radishes in Hand-Painted Sienese Bowl” — the painting Rembrandt forgot to paint
Deal of the month
It’s official! You can walk from 57th Street down to 51st along NYC’s newest avenue
You will never guess what gift Steve brought back from Mexico for Andy in this Pink Princess box….
LIFE-CHANGING HANDJOB
[James] Joyce’s favorite writer was Dante, another exile, who created a verbal universe that he populated with old Florentine comrades and enemies, each caricatured with exquisite precision for all time, and who placed at the center of his imaginary cosmos a woman he had fallen in love with after seeing her on the street, Beatrice Portinari.
Joyce’s Beatrice, of course, was Nora [Barnacle]. She came from Galway, and was working as a chambermaid at Finn’s Hotel, in Dublin, when he saw her walking along Nassau Street in a manner suggesting that she was approachable. “Sauntering” is how Joyce later described it. He duly approached, and asked her for a date. She agreed, but stood him up. He sent her a note. “I went home quite dejected,” it said. “I would like to make an appointment but it might not suit you. I hope you will be kind enough to make one with me—if you have not forgotten me!” This time, they did meet. They walked to Ringsend, on the south bank of the Liffey, where (and here we can drop the Dante analogy) she put her hand inside his trousers and masturbated him. It was June 16, 1904, the day on which Joyce set “Ulysses.” When people celebrate Bloomsday, that is what they are celebrating.
Quirky fun issue that centers on four very detailed fact pieces: Patricia Marx on scavenger hunt mania at the University of Chicago; John McPhee gleefully cycling into print a long string of obscenity-laden passages that previous editors (including the famously squeamish Mister Shawn) deemed “not for us,” including a bravura extended account by McPhee of what goes on at a stud farm; William Finnegan making sense while writing about the ultra-complicated interplay of drugs and politics in Guadelajara; and Calvin Tomkin masterfully profiling Nick Serota, director of the Tate Modern museum in London. Louis Menand also contributes a very fine piece on the art of writing biographies of James Joyce. (See Quote of the Day.)
HAPPINESS
No effort is required to define or even attain happiness, but enormous concentration is needed to abandon everything else.
— Quentin Crisp
West Village
West Village
Pat LaFrieda Place, West Village
Astoria
good Czech beer
Astoria
Spa Day for Breast Cancer Survivors, Jewish Community Center, Upper West Side
gay marriage meets Marvel Comics
another eye opens 