Pass me a square

Palm cards: One of the ways my job at DN! and my exploration of NYC coincide this summer is through handing out palm cards at a variety of events around town. A palm card is a small, thick piece of paper with some info about DN! on it, how to listen to the show and such. Amy encourages us to pass them out at any and all events where there'll be a lot of people, and so, we do.

After doing this at several events now, I do have to say that when some hipster hits a card out of my hand, it affects me far less than when folks come up to me thanking me for being a part of the best show on tv and radio. Some people just shout, "Yeah! Amy Goodman!" That's rewarding, too. I try not to think about how many palm cards will be swept up at the night's end and try to remember what it was like for me to discover independent media for the first time and the whole torrent of consciousness and information that followed.

Freegans: I went on a trash tour with these folks last week, ended up with some good salsa and beets. NYC dumpstering is different. First, because there's no dumpster. Second, because it's right out in the open and on the street. Just opening garbage bags as you see them and trying to stay out of the way of people on the sidewalk. And, well, then there are the rats. We didn't see any (thanks God) but if you don't get to the trash quick enough, they will. Today a tiny mouse jumped out of my suitcase at me and I screamed like a child- a rat would probably paralyze me. I also went to a free (really free, they emphasized over and over) market in the East Village. At first, I thought I would only look for something I really needed, like sandals. 3 pairs of pants, 1 skirt, 2 pairs of sandals, a sweater and an armload of books later, I knew what I really needed was to get out of there (especially because I felt bad for not having anything but a lone book to donate). But the folks, from a group called In our Hearts, were more than generous and I even got some iced tea from the Freegans. It was a nice little quadrangle of people, although at events such as this in Kalamazoo, I would know most of them and here's not the case. I also didn't have time to stay and chat with many people because I had to go to Coney Island to pass out palm cards.

The Strand: Miles, miles, miles of books. I don't know how they measure it but what it amounts to in my mind is endless. I wove through shelves, scanned frantically, struggled to remember the names of various authors and books, climbed ladders and stairs, dreamed up stacks of books for my future bookshelves. I finally left after many hours with a portable Ingles-espanol diccionario, some Arabic lessons, and a Saadi Youssef poetry book. Love books, love the Strand.

Speed

Sometimes trains move at the speed of a funeral procession. When they are going very fast they shake and jolt into the darkness and I get anxious. When it is very late, the train slows in tandem with my waning energy. If I'm late for work, the train can miraculously make me on time. Other times stops come quicker when absurdity finds itself in one of the cars. A practicing preacher, a maniacal isolated dancer, a family of musicians, story tellers, avengers. Passed out passengers and explosions don't really seem to slow the trains down much. Watching a train pull out as you come down the stairs sure does.

East River to Moss

East River. Nearly every day I cross the East River on the Q. As the train approaches the Manhattan Bridge, I find myself wondering what color the river will be today, pulling my guess from the sun and time of day and musings about the city's feelings. Sometimes it is liquidy cement, like the edge of Manhattan finally couldn't stand up to the summer sun and slid down into the river bed. Other times it's a seaweedy green and the boats are thin silver fish skipping over a pond. And then there are the days where it hints at a deep blue, a faint reminder of the river's past and the islands' history, in the days where things were not made of steel or glass, but of thick forests and clear waterways. The river is always different, not one day the same, and I appreciate it for this. I like to see it daily, how it interacts with the bridges, how people look up from their books and papers to watch it glide underneath us, how it reminds me (us) that the city is so shaped by water and we so easily forget it.

Sights and sounds. I have been trying to utilize my monthly metro card to the fullest (and I have to buy another tomorrow). I've deepened my appreciation for smaller galleries, finding myself bored, distracted and overly air-conditioned after more than an hour in any museum. Luckily, this city abounds in small galleries in addition to the mammoth-sized museums (or the museums with mammoths). I saw a nice Brazilian photography exhibit at the Americas Society and a mixed-media exhibit on the 2005 riots in France at the Museum of Contemporary African Diaspora Art (easier to write, and more fun to say: MoCADA). Also, despite a temporary stomachache, Chad and I saw an interesting mix of "orientalist" art at the Dahesh Museum (right near the Trump Tower, a strange thing to see, for me)- I especially liked a painting that featured fog and camels. There were a lot of architectural drawings that didn't interest me as much. Tomorrow I'll be breaking this trend by going to the mammoth of mammoths- the MET. I've also had the great luck to witness some amazing concerts. Most notably: Manu Chao (free courtesy of volunteering with Celebrate Brooklyn!), Cafe Tacuba (also free, in Central Park), Built to Spill (free AND back stage, gracias a dn!), and tonight, the woman of many guitars, Ani DiFranco (free and sangria, dn! rocks). Also saw Zoe, a Mexican rock band who was enjoyable, along with the Pinkertones, an electronic group with a lot of energy and dance-y beats. Coming up soon are Neko Case and the Siren Music Festival (though I've yet to see who's playing). Finally, I've seen a couple of films. One, 'Y, tu cuanto cuestas?' was good, had funny and poignant moments though a bit long. And the other, Wait Until Dark, was shown in Bryant Park and it was certainly a good film to watch out doors with a big crowd. It also brought back many memories of playing the role that Audrey Hepburn plays when I was in the play way back in high school.

News: Working at Democracy Now! is great, better with each week. True, the office has bizarre undercurrents and moments (what office doesn't?)- but how many people can say that they work for an organization that they truly support with all of their heart? I mean, I feel really proud to say that I'm working with DN! because I run into so many people who love the show and respect Amy very highly and support our work. It's inspiring, really. Even being a intern, low down on the post, so to speak, is a great experience. It's actually quite the lovely mix of not any actual authority, free concerts and lunch, being surrounded with wonderful, experienced, dedicated and conscious folks, and the fact that, ultimately, Amy Goodman is my boss. Highlight: Amy called yesterday personally to get Katie (another intern) and I tickets to Ani. Nice. Also, our supervisor Clara is wonderful and I'm really happy to work with her.

Moss: This city is certainly growing on me. I need to start looking at schools to see if it's really a good idea or some heat-induced, summer fantasy inspired by too much good music and art, too many great people, and too much luck in this amazing city.