Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Putting the B back in BB
BB is putting the B back in BB ~ no not a beauty cure at the spa but back in Bombay ~ you might see various rambling posts while I'm here ~ but in the meanwhile, wish you all the very best holiday possible.
xoxo
BB
xoxo
BB
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Puppy love
I've had my car since October 4th - just over two months now - and I'm in love. Fun to be with, modest, not very demanding, stylish but not preening, always brings a smile to your face, nice with your friends and makes them laugh... Wish I were talking about the species homo sapiens sapiens rather than my car...Yesterday I filled the gas tank for the first time. It cost me about $26.00, even though I splurged on the higher octane fuel (no idea what this means or does, but the idea of "super" sounded, well, super.)
My only problem is the soundtrack... I'm finding that my usual musical tastes don't really match with my car. So if you have any suggestions for music that goes well with a ride in a Mini then please let me know!
xoxo
BB
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Weekend exertions
It was a brief but intense weekend for me here in NY. On Friday I caught up with a friend at a wine bar downtown. Somehow a one hour-one drink evening ended at 2 am and after a bottle and half between the two of us.
Saturday was an opera marathon - truly an extreme sport version of the art. First I saw Tristan at the Metropolitan opera, the matinee, which normally beings at 1 pm but on this occasion began at 11 am since the opera is 4'30" long. Tristan contains two very famous bits - the prelude and Liebestod - two glorious, achingly romantic pieces of music filled with overwhelming longing and desire (indeed! hot stuff!) But to hear the 4 hours of music that is between these was rewarding. You approach the end in a kind of delerious hyponosis, and when Tristan and Isolde die you cannot but shed a tear (and honestly be a bit relieved -- it takes Tristan about 45 minutes to die after being stabbed). Then I came home, napped, and went to hear Elektra, which is another 2'15" without interval. This opera is a lurid, expressionist masterpiece, and leaves you a little dizzy at the end. A few drinks with friends downtown cured that nicely.
Today I went to Port Authority to pick up a piece of furniture that had arrived for my apartment via Ebay and Greyhound. Port Authority is a crazy place. When you enter, you are transported into some bizarre world that exists by its own laws -- you feel like you are at a spaceport in a science fiction movie. The fact that there was a naked man - apparently changing his clothes - near the entrance doesn't bother you or him or anyone else one bit. Then I descend two levels into an underworld where lost American and European tourists are wandering to and fro -- trying to leave every manner of luggage at the counter.
But into this world my mover manages to make it and get my piece home. A word on the movers. For small moves like this I've used a company called NYCityVan. The first time I used them the mover was an Israeli who was into technoraves and offered (several times) to hook me up, with what he never specified. The second time the mover was a raffish American who tried several times to get the phone number of a friend who was helping me move. This time the mover was a would-be filmmaker who moves by day and goes to lectures by night.
After all of this I finally managed to set up my divider, which is shown below, and my dining table, also below. The divider is designer unknown, from the '50s or '60s. The table is by Bruno Mathsson and the chairs by Hovmann Olsen.
(The table may not look special, but it quadruples in length, from the 3' above to 12' if needed.)
Thus ends my weekend -- tomorrow back to flugelbinery.
Hope you've all had a lovely weekend.
BB
Saturday was an opera marathon - truly an extreme sport version of the art. First I saw Tristan at the Metropolitan opera, the matinee, which normally beings at 1 pm but on this occasion began at 11 am since the opera is 4'30" long. Tristan contains two very famous bits - the prelude and Liebestod - two glorious, achingly romantic pieces of music filled with overwhelming longing and desire (indeed! hot stuff!) But to hear the 4 hours of music that is between these was rewarding. You approach the end in a kind of delerious hyponosis, and when Tristan and Isolde die you cannot but shed a tear (and honestly be a bit relieved -- it takes Tristan about 45 minutes to die after being stabbed). Then I came home, napped, and went to hear Elektra, which is another 2'15" without interval. This opera is a lurid, expressionist masterpiece, and leaves you a little dizzy at the end. A few drinks with friends downtown cured that nicely.
Today I went to Port Authority to pick up a piece of furniture that had arrived for my apartment via Ebay and Greyhound. Port Authority is a crazy place. When you enter, you are transported into some bizarre world that exists by its own laws -- you feel like you are at a spaceport in a science fiction movie. The fact that there was a naked man - apparently changing his clothes - near the entrance doesn't bother you or him or anyone else one bit. Then I descend two levels into an underworld where lost American and European tourists are wandering to and fro -- trying to leave every manner of luggage at the counter.
But into this world my mover manages to make it and get my piece home. A word on the movers. For small moves like this I've used a company called NYCityVan. The first time I used them the mover was an Israeli who was into technoraves and offered (several times) to hook me up, with what he never specified. The second time the mover was a raffish American who tried several times to get the phone number of a friend who was helping me move. This time the mover was a would-be filmmaker who moves by day and goes to lectures by night.
After all of this I finally managed to set up my divider, which is shown below, and my dining table, also below. The divider is designer unknown, from the '50s or '60s. The table is by Bruno Mathsson and the chairs by Hovmann Olsen.
(The table may not look special, but it quadruples in length, from the 3' above to 12' if needed.)
Thus ends my weekend -- tomorrow back to flugelbinery.
Hope you've all had a lovely weekend.
BB
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Having given thanks
For our European friends, this is the Thanksgiving weekend, my favourite American holiday. Unlike festivals which have been commercialized ( you know the drill: Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day... summer), Thanksgiving remains about family and friends, about cooking rather than buying, although the day after (Black Friday as it's called) things take a turn in the more natural commercial direction and Americans being their Christmas shopping. (My father would be proud of that sentence, though not my English teacher: he likes them long and multi-claused.)
In any case, I usually travel but this year I had some friends from the Flugelbinder Academy visiting me here in Boston, so I joined them at a local Thanksgiving dinner. Wine was had, turkey eaten (by others - I'm a vegetarian), pie consumed, children entertained.
Now they've all gone home, and I'm here watching Breakfast at Tiffany's and wondering what to do next. I must learn how to answer that question in here in Boston.
BB
In any case, I usually travel but this year I had some friends from the Flugelbinder Academy visiting me here in Boston, so I joined them at a local Thanksgiving dinner. Wine was had, turkey eaten (by others - I'm a vegetarian), pie consumed, children entertained.
Now they've all gone home, and I'm here watching Breakfast at Tiffany's and wondering what to do next. I must learn how to answer that question in here in Boston.
BB
Monday, November 24, 2008
Love (material and spiritual), continued*
I'm not really an espeically materialistic person. I do love beautiful things, but can afford only a few them. But having moving recently (twice!), and had the chance to refurnish my apartments, I have come to realize that a well designed object, by its very materiality can become something that evokes pleasure, admiration, and even affection. Though perhaps not spiritual per se, a beautiful everyday object helps to evoke a sense of calm in me.
Here are two quick snaps of my Boston apartment. At the back is my table, designed by Gudme in period unknown (1950s is plausible). Not a super-famous designer, a clean expression of the circle in the square. More importantly it plays nicely with my chairs. These are Wegner 3-legged dining chairs. When pushed in, they tuck beautifully under the table. But somehow these chairs remind me of a Picasso goat (no accident that Wegner designed a bull chair with direct inspiration from Picasso).
I have come to love this sofa. It's a George Nelson daybed. They are still made, but none of the new ones have the wonderful floating arm on the left. The armrest tilts to become a headrest in case you're ready for a nap. And behind my bookcases. I had to organize the entire move and apartment around finding place for 80 feet (25 meters) of books. I know people who have more, but I don't know how they manage.
But there is something wonderful in possessing books. Of course the pleasure is not as deep as reading per se, but the physical relationship is different. You look at them, they stare back at you. The spines, the colors, the sizes, the lovely titles that sparkle back at you.
End to my materialistic outburst (for today).
xoxo
BB
* This post was inspired by a picture of PH's bookcase over on her blog.
P.S. The longer I look at this, the more I think this picture is revealing altogether too much about me! The coffee table is also be Wegner, the canvas chair and footstool are Nii's NY chair.
Here are two quick snaps of my Boston apartment. At the back is my table, designed by Gudme in period unknown (1950s is plausible). Not a super-famous designer, a clean expression of the circle in the square. More importantly it plays nicely with my chairs. These are Wegner 3-legged dining chairs. When pushed in, they tuck beautifully under the table. But somehow these chairs remind me of a Picasso goat (no accident that Wegner designed a bull chair with direct inspiration from Picasso).
I have come to love this sofa. It's a George Nelson daybed. They are still made, but none of the new ones have the wonderful floating arm on the left. The armrest tilts to become a headrest in case you're ready for a nap. And behind my bookcases. I had to organize the entire move and apartment around finding place for 80 feet (25 meters) of books. I know people who have more, but I don't know how they manage.
But there is something wonderful in possessing books. Of course the pleasure is not as deep as reading per se, but the physical relationship is different. You look at them, they stare back at you. The spines, the colors, the sizes, the lovely titles that sparkle back at you.
End to my materialistic outburst (for today).
xoxo
BB
* This post was inspired by a picture of PH's bookcase over on her blog.
P.S. The longer I look at this, the more I think this picture is revealing altogether too much about me! The coffee table is also be Wegner, the canvas chair and footstool are Nii's NY chair.
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