LON-NY

Probably for the best if I put things into perspective.

Friday
On 3 September J and I flew to Newark and took the train to Manhattan where we checked into our Chelsea apartment for a month. We walked around in a jet-lagged stupor looking for a bar to hangout in and managed to wander in a circle approximately three times, bouncing off shop windows, street furniture and each other. Sleep was prescribed.

Saturday
A sunny day in New York town. It's hard to sleep with all the noise on the street. It sounded like Stomp were giving an impromptu performance under the window, and I don't like Stomp. I sat up in bed, and unaware it was on casters, it shot across the bedroom and I ended up in a never-before-attempted yoga position. J set up a web cam on the apartment to give that Big Brother feel – check it out at http://www.yuka.co.uk/. Hello mum. We took the subway to Columbus Circle and wandered through Central Park. We were fascinated by turtles in the lake, and sat and watched amateur rowers play bumper-boats. After a couple of hours, we took the subway from 77th Street to Bleeker Street where we dined in an old Italian café. We had planned to take in a movie, but lingered too long over our wine and missed the start so we found a bar on Bleeker Street called The Red Lion where we upset the waitress and caused a scene by ignoring protocol and wandering from the bar, drinks in hand, to an outside table. Rounded off a most pleasant day with G&Ts back in the apartment.

Sunday
I took myself off shopping which was fine in the Chelsea indoor market - but soon regretted the decision when I got out of the subway at Times Square and the whole area was heaving with people. Spent some time in the Virgin Megastore, and bought some sheet music in Colony Books – there’s a piano in the apartment and I’ve challenged myself to learn Kurt Weill’s September Song (appropriate huh?) by the end of the month. I walked all the way back down 7th Avenue to the apartment, picking up a copy of the New York Times on the way. Went out to a restaurant on Bleeker Street for dinner, but the pizzas were not so good. Finished reading John Steinbeck’s ‘The Moon Is Down’.

Monday
Started reading Jack Kerouac’s ‘Big Sur’ and loving it. We left the apartment about midday and walked down to Washington Square Park and on across Broadway and along East Houston to Lafayette. Found David Bowie’s loft apartment and skulked about furtively on the sidewalk, but he wouldn’t come out and play with us. Caught the subway all the way to Coney Island and explored the post-Soviet delights of Brighton Beach. I threw caution to the wind and bought a CD called Ivan Kypala (traditional folk songs, sung by babushkas from the countryside north of Moscow laid over modern beats) and we munched on pirogi as we wandered streets of houses tucked in under the railway and inhabited by a mainly Middle Easterners and Mexicans. We planned to take the boardwalk to Coney Island, but the sun was beating down relentlessly, so fearing sunstroke, we took the subway instead. We took in all the gimcrack attractions of the ‘fun zone’ – sensory overload with stalls named ‘Dunk the Creep’ and ‘Shoot the Freak’. I couldn’t be tempted onto the rickety Cyclone roller-coaster, so we played crazy golf in a crazy stylee. Paddled in the Atlantic, then ended up in the Freak Bar, beer in hand watching a man push ice-picks up his nose and snap mousetraps on his tongue, an Indian rubber-man contortionist and Eek the Geek on a bed of nails. On the long subway journey home, a man sitting opposite us pissed in his trousers and a trail of urine trickled up and down the carriage. Being English, we didn’t like to say anything.

Tuesday
Everybody should read Kerouac. Sadly his cat, little Tyke, has died. In a letter his mum tells him: "I never did anything in my whole life so heart breaking as to bury my beloved little Tyke who was as human as you and I. I buried him under the Honeysuckle vines, the corner, of the fence. I just can't sleep or eat. I keep looking and hoping to see him come through the cellar door calling Ma Wow." After a morning of intensive writing activity (in my mind) we wandered out to do a spot of shopping. I found a couple of decent shirts, which were going for a song. Circumnavigated Dave’s place again – nothing. Bought some 'best cheesecake in New York' at Eileen's and then ate heartily at a diner on 6th Avenue. In the evening we took the subway to Franklin Street and despite neglecting to bring out a map with us, managed to find The Knitting Factory – a very cool venue for band watching. Up first was Scout Niblett who sang and played the guitar accompanied by a drummer. She was fantastic – I was rooted to the spot, except when more beer was called for that is. She occasionally plays small venues in London – look her up on the Internet. Next on was Miho (Of Cibo Mato) who we also loved a lot. Finally, sometime after 11pm Electrelane (the band we had come to see) took the stage by storm with their exciting, climatic music. I thought they were great, but J wasn’t so keen. Back home by 1am, then sat up sipping G&Ts and listening to great music until the early hours.