vip in the city

Washout

SK invited me to a belated birthday lunch at Lemongrass Grill — my fifth day back in the country and already back on the Vietnamese food. Friday’s suddenly sunny skies had beckoned every downtown office drone into the streets; those not in the park were huddled around every available television set broadcasting the Germany-Argentina quarter-final. By the time the match went to penalty kicks, the din from the bar area had drowned out any possibility of conversation over spring rolls and papaya salads. But just as soon as it was over, the fans dispersed with remarkable speed, absorbed back into the glass and concrete towers from whence they came.

En route to the Wall Street station — with plenty of daylight still left, truly one of best things about summer — I was looking forward to spending an evening on a blanket in Central Park, where Joan Didion would be reading from her 2005 National Book Award winning work, The Year Of Magical Thinking.

But by the time I set out for the park 90 minutes later, the clouds had rolled back in, unleashing yet another storm of water.

So no Didion. I returned to the apartment, trading my blanket for an umbrella, and set out for a walk. Over at Lincoln Center, the Midsummer Night Swing musicians were packing up their instruments, and the plaza was cleared of dancers, save one lone couple swaying together in the drizzle.

Out front, an installation of boats — in progress:

Rainy day

I felt the first drops of moisture as I emerged from Penn Station. By the time I reached my destination three blocks away, the skies had opened, sending rivers of rainwater running through the streets. Only then did I think of my umbrella, hanging dry and useless on the coatrack in my office.

I waited for a lull, snapped this photo and bolted back into the subway station, dodging raindrops the entire way.

Later in the evening, at the Makor party, I met several members involved in the volunteer programs, including AH who participates in the Sojourners Detention Center Visitor Project, visiting new immigrants being held in federal custody as they seek asylum in the United States. Upon learning that I’d grown up in New York City, AH immediately followed up with the inevitable, “Which high school?”… despite the fact that we were both obviously years out of high school, and presumably had gone on to other schools since. Then we laughed, jointly recognizing one of the peculiarities of interactions among city kids meeting for the first time.

Whitney’s Full House preview

Attended the preview opening of “FULL HOUSE: Views of the Whitney’s Collection at 75” last night. I’d probably seen a good portion of what was on display in various forms (including pieces that were either identical or similar to ones I viewed at the Dia: Beacon last year). Probably enjoyed most the fifth floor Edward Hopper retrospective. On the way up in the elevator, I overheard some other patrons bemoaning the “ugliness” of the other exhibits. Citing a video installation of a woman twirling a barbed-wire hula hoop, one older gentleman sardonically remarked, “Ach, why? Life is hard enough!”

Indeed.

No photos allowed inside the galleries. This was the scene at the post-wine and cheese reception. The humidity and threat of rain seemed to keep most attendees inside. Also, perhaps, the museum’s decision not to set up bar stations on the patio this evening.