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Juxtapose

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Some final words on Amsterdam.  It's a city of great juxtaposition where, for instance, you might have a corner gambling casino next to an apartment building next to a law office, next to the motorcycle shop, which we noted while waiting for a tram. Even more startling, at least to me, is the prostitutes on the right, the cities oldest church on the left and down where the people are walking is a day care center. Amsterdam is a city on built on a human scale and, because of the canals, a city whose center has changed little for centuries. It is a very easy city to walk, very compact with many streets too narrow for cars. An easy city to bike, of course.  I read that 78% of Amsterdamers have bikes. No one wears a helmet and their fatality count is usually 5-6 per year, which means the death per kilometer pedaled is tiny. Bikes get their own lanes everywhere, which no doubt helps tremendously, but the bike lanes constantly cross streets and sidewalks. And the riders must contend...
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overheard in East Harlem

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Two women at the bus stop at 103rd and 1st Ave. in front of the projects. "I didn't grow up here. No. I moved here in '66. I lived at 429. Then we moved to 446 and then 419, where I am am now. You like it back where you're staying? " "Oh yeah. Its real quiet back there. I don't hear no gunshots or nothing."
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What's YOUR soundtrack?

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Working title: “What’s the frequency, Kenneth?” [In a sort of Andy Rooney whine] Do you ever wonder why anyone would waste their natural soundtrack by walking around with earbuds stuck in their head? For the most part I love my ambient sonic environment. Birds, of course. Conversations heard above the rhythm of the rails on the subway. I like the random bits of music you get in public spaces. (ASIDE: I stepped into the coffee shop on High Street during a morning stroll with Ribsy in Southampton to get a cup o’ joe, and while I was waiting for some passive/aggressive politeness and apology to play out – a young man ordered a small chocolate milk and after seemingly endless machinations, settles for a LARGE white milk…Sooorry! – I heard what I thought was an en français cover of Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane”. I leaned over the lad sucking discontentedly on his white milk to listen closely to a ceiling speaker and realized that it was Bob’s original version, but damn, he really does ha...
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