i spy - vol. mickey mantle: buddies - part 1.

for ariela, my oldest buddy (yes, i know i get a lot of mileage out of that), and one of the most effortlessly classy ladies i know.

disclaimer: this post is highly self-referential in its linkiness, and very linky in general i might add.

The theme for this post - buddies - developed quite organically, which means that no animals were harmed and no pesticides were used in the process, and it is in no way financed - directly or indirectly - by corn subsidies. except that i am drinking not-kosher-for-passover cherry coke right now, what with its high fructose corn syrup. f*ck, you got me again, uncle sam! come save me, terrorists!

kidding!

anyway, this 'i spy' actually took place last weekend (jul. 27), as opposed to this past weekend (aug. 3). and i have thusly established a much-needed, solid system of weekend differentiation, analogous to the already-established system of future day classification. (this wed. is this week, aug. 8th; next wed. is next week, aug. 15.) i mention the latter b/c not enough people employ it. as far as im concerned.

ok, without further ado...

while going out to lunch that friday, i spotted this motorbike on the street. goes well with another one ive 'shot,' and serendipitously set the tone for the rest of the day (and post).

while walking to palm's pad in prospect heights after work, i passed derek on 7th ave. and some street i forget, and i bought a 75¢ cup of lemonade from him. i think he said he was twelve (i texted all the relevant info. to myself, but my inbox later filled up and i sadly erased everything).

then, no sooner am i walking away from derek, than i notice two other kids selling lemonade at the same intersection, diagonally across from him! my first thoughts were 'damn - this is a cut-throat area for tweenies!' and 'these boys have some balls!' so i went over to investigate. lo and behold, these tweenies were identical twins. twinnies! names were ian and patrick, and turns out they were friends with derek and they were all splitting the profits three ways (much to my relief). i didnt buy another cup, partly b/c the 'ade was mediocre.

not that i cared about that, mind you. how can you not buy a cup of lemonade from some kid (or consortium of kids) on the street? i mean, even mone and i sold lemonade outside our old apt. building on the les a coupla times. at least, i think we did. i honestly cant tell if im remembering my own life here, or some short story i read - kids selling lemonade is such a staple of americana. im pretty sure we at least had a yard sale one time. what do you remember mone?

(btw, mone, mom & dad - and maybe someone else, though i doubt it - will find the link to 'kips bay court' [the last link above] hilarious. it's quintessential proof of the gentrification of manhattan. when we lived there, the complex was called 'phipps plaza west,' and it was specifically middle-income housing, with some fairly dilapidated and smelly 'parks' [asphalt spreads punctuated by random, post-apocalyptic-looking jungle gyms] spread around it. now, apparently, it's '8 towers of 'luxury-lite apartments' within a garden complex.' i cant even begin to explain the hilarity of that description. it's way too much to comprehend. i mean, you just had to be there - for the entire 18 years! i mean, pops and i are gonna laugh about this website forever.)

after turning onto tenth st., towards palm's pad (towards the park), with the 'i spy - buddies' theme already in my mind, i was excited when i saw a classic pair of old maids sitting on the stoop of a classic brooklyn brownstone - lawnchairs and oversized sunglasses and all. they were just sitting there, straight out of a flippant 'visit your grandmother, she loves you' postcard. they looked like the oldest buddies around, so naturally, i asked them if i could take their picture for my blog. kind of not surprisingly, one of them said 'id rather not.' i was fairly shocked, so i didnt try to turn on the charm and try to convince them. actually, i was fairly annoyed - that might be a better way of putting it. so i walked away, and captured their essence (darkness) by putting my finger over the lens and snapping. i wonder why that woman wasnt down. was she once a tweenie, whose trust had been irrevocably eroded by experience in the interim years? or would she have been just as opposed to having her photo taken when she was twelve? i gotta wonder.

once at palm's house, over video conference, jay, ari, palm and i decided, on an inspired whim (is there another kind? well, yes, prolly - the foolish whim), to go to coney island for the night. on the way there, on the f train, i asked palm if he thought i could put both my contacts in, without a mirror, on the moving train. knowing my overall grace, he logically guessed not. but he did take his own camera phone shot of the attempt, to text to jay, ari and hales. as you know, palm doesnt like his face appearing on my blog, so i have seamlessly replaced it with that of one of his heroes. long story short, i got both contacts in, each on the first try!

finally, we were all together: palm, me, and jay. (and ari behind the camera) none of us had been to coney island in over a decade at least, despite all having grown up in manhattan.

first stop was obv. nathan's, where we indulged in hot dogs, corn dogs, fries and cheese fries. (the cheese fries were all me, b/c that's what i used to get when my dad would take mone and me to coney in days of yore.) there was a cheese 'dispenser' behind the counter, and above it a sign that instructed the employees as to how many 'pumps' of cheese each size order of cheese fries required. i got a large cheese fries, thinking wed all split it, only to learn i was the only one who wanted cheese on them at all, and had therefore been given way too many pumps. needless to say, the 'how many pumps do you need?' joke had legs. and also needless to say, i made the joke that an extra-large order of cheese fries was really just code for the woman coming from around the counter and giving you an 'as needed' number of pumps.

anyway, after eating, we went exploring.

the wonder wheel is truly a wonder. i mean, have you seen this thing? it's not a ferris wheel, it's a friggin gondola wheel. it makes other 'ferris wheels' look like bicycle wheels. and not for nuthin, but i cant think of the wonder wheel without thinking of ray allen and rosario dawson having sex on it in he got game. he def. had game on the wonder wheel, that was for sure.

jay & ari




palm & colbs

one of our incentives for going to coney was the friday night fireworks, which were supposed to be at 9pm and i think finally went off closer to 11. we were in the thick of the throng on the boardwalk just in time. anyway, the first eminently noticeable thing about these pyrotechnics was that they were literally being shot up right above our heads, at a height that seemed a bit too low for comfort. palm immediately voiced some concern to this effect, to which i responded, 'they always appear to be too close, but it's not like they ever hit you or anything!'

can you see where this is going?

shortly after my claim, i began to feel little bee-type stings on my face and arms. it was ash! not only that, but looking up, you could see we were just blanketed in smoke. we could barely make out the successive fireworks behind the thick cloud of smoke that preceded them! those fireworks were actually too close! my mind's best ralph wiggum voice kept saying to myself: 'hey, these fireworks hurt. :/ ' (and that's right - i can voice an emoticon. im stepping up your evolutionary ladder, jaime.)

anyway, we moved further down the boardwalk, so we could view them 'works at a comfy distance.

after we were able to just safely stare up and watch, we all grew quiet. i was struck by a particular thought. for the most part, whenever i see fireworks, my life has undergone a paradigmatic change from the last time i saw fireworks. this is so, i suppose, b/c i dont always see them on july 4 (didnt this year, for example) and sometimes i see them on some random summer day, like this time. so i end up seeing fireworks roughly every 1.2 years or so, which is just enough time for things to really change. the last time i had seen fireworks, they were being shot over the long island sound, and i was in scarsdale for chrissakes.

palm was also deep in thought. after they were over, palm made the excellent observation that whenever you have ideas while watching fireworks, they seem like really great ideas.

palm: 'I thought about how much more classy it is to invent the paradigm and parameters of an intellectual subject than to work within those parameters. Like how much classier Euclid was for inventing geometry than the dula who solved the most difficult geometric proof...or how much classier it is to invent a language than it is to be a great writer or speaker...'

the cyclone. jay and i braved it - each for the first time. lemme tell you something about the cyclone - it is effing scary. it is just as scary as any of the upside down loop-filled coasters ive gone on throughout this fair land (although i admit ive never been to the mecca, cedar pt). and it's not scary b/c it's wooden and 'rickety' as some might lead you to believe. the wood is a little jarring, but once youre flyin, it seems stable enough. it doesnt shake or anything. the thing is terrifying just on account of the many surprisingly steep, and surprisingly placed, drops. i mean, the heads who went on this thing in the twenties must have absolutely flipped their black and white sh*t! then again, they were about to ride the most famous roller coaster of all time, right? i mean, the people who had gone on the cyclone, then lost their shirts in the crash - they were prolly thinking 'all of a sudden, that cyclone doesnt seem too scary. sure beats not eating!'

and guess what! this michigoss isnt even over yet. TO BE CONTINUED...