Look at me getting all 2.0'd

Ironically, my Flickr photo Do Not Duplicate found its way into a presentation slide (slide 56) in the presentation Social Media for Communicators (Web2.0).

Hope Larson: The Escape Artist

The Times continues to feed my psyche. This time it's having Hope Larson whose Gray Horses enchanted me earlier this year. She's got a little strip on finding Elizabeth (Smith, nee Bond) Custance's grave in Nova Scotia. She was the estranged wife of Henry More Smith, one of Canada's most notorious con men. Larson is also the partner of Bryan Lee O'Malley whose Scott Pilgrim series is pure pop fun.

Astroland: A Night Over the Town

I've been to Coney Island three times this summer and gothamists seem universally nostalgic as Astroland and the Boardwalk will change with a huge redevelopment plan. So it was with particular glee I read constantly wonderful and usually rural Verlyn Klinkenborg's City Life piece today.

In particular:

If only more of life were as obvious as the Cyclone! What if every huge mistake felt as ineluctable as the moment when the gears mesh and the cogs cog and you feel those coaster cars lurch upward out of the station?

What if the pace of life always outpaced every dread and every dread contained so much secret pleasure? What if every day made your heart rise and your stomach sink and your head rattle, and the cost of doing it all over again was two bucks less than the cost of the original ride?

Here's to doing the good stuff over again, with a two dollar discount.

A Night Out With Dean and Britta at Heathers

Heather's on 13th is where we have 78 RPM Sunday's. It's a nice time listening to records, with the kids running around, Heather is a great host, and very conscientious of her neighbors. Still, since opening Heather has struggled with her neighbors who don't seem to want her no matter how quiet her patrons are. So it was with delight I read in the Style section about Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips grabbing a drink there:

The quartet walked up to Heathers, a bar on 13th Street. As they stood outside smoking Camels, the bartender — probably mindful of noise complaints — popped out to shush patrons like a wayward librarian.

In the paper there was a nice shot outside of Heather's that didn't make it on the web, but I'm happy to hear more stories of how considerate Heather is to her neighbors.