Handbill Handout

I have been staring at subway tracks for about a quarter of a century. Not continuously of course but at random intervals of varying duration. I would bet that I have spent more time staring at subway tracks (and the rails in particular) than 99% of the people alive on earth today which is of course a mathematical trick since probably at least 80% of the world’s population has never even been in a subway. The tracks lay there but if you stare at them long enough and pay close attention you can hear them speak. When a train is coming they make a sound like hailstones on a tin roof before the lights of the train even reach the station. If you watch carefully you’ll know that a train is approaching even before the rails begin to talk because you’ll see mice running out from under the rails. The mice feel the vibration of the approaching train before you can hear it and they run from under the rails into the gully separating the tracks or they scurry under the platform. The mice are more o

The United States is off to a great start at the Olympics. As of this writing the good ol’ USA leads the medal count with 14 total including 5 gold medals. This post is not about that. It is not about some hot chick skier with a bad leg taking better advantage of gravity than others. It is not the lovable, ragamuffin underdog story of some guy who had a multinational corporation build a secret practice facility so he could learn some new tricks away from the prying eyes of competitors. Rather, this post is about something more akin to the real life that most Americans lead, although as a culture we are taught to only admire (and in fact, aspire to be or pretend we are) the hyper-successful winners and deny the fact that most of us are just average schmucks with a few too many bills and crummy jobs. This post is dedicated to John Shuster and his curling rink. They are a group of guys who are living life as most of us live it on a daily basis. Just coming up a bit short, or long, or roll

Cold. It was cold when we took these. So cold I thought the statues were frozen brittle and would break if we touched them. When we arrived there were a few other people taking a quick look at the plaza but they quickly submitted to the conditions and we were alone on that Saturday night. The game was long over and we had wandered back intending to go to a little bistro we knew across the street from the arena only to find that it was closed. Then we saw the statues almost like we were seeing them for the first time because we were completely alone with them. The locals were all inside. Nobody was wandering the streets. There were cars going by but the windows were sealed cutting off any human noise. Only the drone of the engines remained and it was dulled by the air; yes, it was that kind of dull freezing air that acts as a sound buffer. It was definitely not the kind of crystal-cold night where you can hear sounds from miles away like a tree limb snapping or a train rattling over st

The Winter Olympics are upon us and the good folks at Deadspin were kind enough to publish a list of the seven things you learn about curling in every friggin’ “Writer tries curling” article (and there are loads of ‘em every four years). This reminded me of those rare occasions when the NY Times or some other mainstream media outlet actually pays attention to the place I have called home my entire life: Staten Island. Pretty much every article includes one or more of the following. “Hey, there are still rural areas out here, and yet it’s still (technically) New York City!” – Yes folks, people are amazed that if you travel to the southern end of Staten Island where you can see central New Jersey from virtually any elevated piece of real estate you find homes with huge yards and even (gasp) a horse stable. New Yorkers are pretty much convinced that the only oasis of green in the whole city is Central Park. Not true. But don’t tell anyone because then they’ll want to come and develop

Unlike many of my fellow humans who either have more sense or work for companies that allow telecommuting on a regular basis, I had to schlep through the weather today to get to the office. My compromise was that I would get in early, crank out a few things and get the hell out at lunchtime. So it was that I got to experience several NYC landmark-type areas in various states of Snowmageddon. 7:25am: Crossed the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Roadway clear, however neither Coney Island to the right nor Manhattan and North Jersey to the left were visible. In fact, it was as though we were traveling through a vaguely defined grey tunnel. 7:55am: Arrived in midtown, right between Rockefeller Center and Times Square. Grey slush lines the curbs, crews work feverishly to keep the plazas and walkways in front of their buildings clear. I almost collide with a small John Deere sidewalk plow when it stops abruptly in front of me as I hurry into my building. Worth noting: coffee cart guy did not make i

The demand has again surpassed our limited possibilities of reservations for one season and we regret not to be able to fulfill more requests. You can revise the situation during the season, near your available dates, to see if it is possible to find some solutions more when we confirm all the reservations 10 days in advance. Tel. +34 972 15 04 57 E-mail bulli@elbulli.com See calendar at www.elbulli.com (reservations) 2011 RESERVATIONS We do not have information about 2011 season at this moment but we never start the management until we have finished the season before. You will find information at www.elbulli.com (reservations) from December 2010. Thank you very much for all your interest. Sincerely yours, Luis Garcia ElBullirestaurant Cala Montjoi - 17480 Roses Tel. +34 972 15 04 57 Fax. +34 972 15 07 17 E-mail: bulli@elbulli.com Web: www.elbulli.com