Urban poetry

Juxtapositions in Hell's Kitchen.

The building in the foreground is the Interborough Rapid Transit Powerhouse. It was originally the power station for the IRT, New York's first subway line (and I had lived here for decades before I knew what the letters IRT stood for). Now it's part of the city's steam system. It was designed by Stanford White and completed in 1905, and that's an era of New York history that will never come again—when a commission for a distinctly unglamorous building is given to a star architect and built in Renaissance Revival style.

Saturday morning meeting

A little urban poetry (those big windows hanging over Broadway putting all of the people inside on display), a few reflections.

Taken on the Upper West Side yesterday on my way to teach the first class of the semester. I was very glad that I no longer have a job where I might be required to attend a meeting on a Saturday morning; although I was on my way to work, I hadn't already spent Monday through Friday in similar conference rooms, unlike I suspect most of the people in that room.

Saturday reflections

A truck on the Upper West Side.

I had three separate sets of plumbers snaking my drains this week, trying to locate and fix some persistent clogs and leaks in the building. So I was stuck inside, unable to pee, and trying to create class materials while the machines rumbled and my apartment vibrated. It felt like a giant root canal, but without novocain.

When I was heading for the escalators after class today, I ran into two of my former students, then met three more in the lobby. All of them hugged me and told me that they miss me. I hadn't realized how much I needed a hug this week and I got five.