A Thousand Words

The night before last broke the all-time low temperature record for November 11 in New York City. The hard freeze cast asunder the annuals—begonias, impatiens, et al.—and there were no survivors. Last year, the same plants survived into December. The year before that, they lived to celebrate Christmas. While this past month has seen dramatic temperature fluctuations—I even had my air conditioner running a couple of weeks ago—there's been a whole lot more going on than weather. And one picture is worth a thousand words:

In the 1970s, a friend and neighbor of mine conceived the trailblazing idea of opening up a restaurant that sold salads and only salads. He encouraged one and all in his circle to brainstorm possible names for his business. The chosen one: Salad King. Runner-up: Land of a Thousand Salads. He never did open up that eatery, but made his fortune anyway—peddling pet food instead of salad.

This is a pricey infant and children's boutique in Manhattan's Chelsea neighborhood. If only I could have been a fly on the wall during their name brainstorming sessions.

Hopefully, the third time's the charm.

Manhattan hipsters be like: It's Saturday, let's go to the Bliss Bowl for brunch.

Manhattan hipsters be like: It's Sunday, let's go to the Motel Morris for brunch, even if it's not a motel.

From my "Never heard of it" file:  Kombucha.

New stand on the block.

Something for everyone: one-stop shopping.

See Jane do laundry.

"Night of the Stars" subway advertisement. One busted mylar balloon and counting.

Men from outer space or skywriting above my alma mater's deactivated nuclear power facility.

MTA cost-saving measure: Homework assignments for employees.

Subway terminal sign for MTA employees in desperate need of emergency eye wash.

View from the Henry Hudson Parkway this week of the Sun, which is expected to one day expand into a red giant star and swallow Earth. The scientific time table is billions of years, but perhaps now is as good a time as any.

"Somebody done lost somethin'."

I believe that a hot dog vendor is only as clean as his umbrella.

Now the children try to find it and they can't believe their eyes. Yes, there used to be a hospital right here.

If one is going to be a seagull in New York City, the harbor sure beats a Stop & Shop parking lot in the Bronx.

Now these brainstormers got it right.

There is nothing so beautiful as a sexy pizza.

I sat on a rare blue seat today—akin to finding a four-leaf clover on the Number 1 train—traveling downtown into Manhattan. I sit in the first car going down and last car on the return trip to the Bronx. The blue seat was there for me both times. Same train. So, the last will be first. But on a New York City subway: the first will be last, too.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)