I hate New Yorkers. When I say hate, I mean, of course, wildly envy. We're talking parrot green contact lenses here. You know the line about life being elsewhere? It always feels like my life is elswhere - a hundred miles to the North-East.
As an example - check out this review of the new exhibition of Van Gogh drawings at the Met (by Updike, no less). By the end of it my mouth was practically drooling in anticipation.
And then people wonder why I spend so many weekends in Manhattan.
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7 comments:
Good to read the review. Definitely gotta chek this one out.
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Well ... a hundred miles to the NE is a lot more manageable than a thousand ... count your blessings ... in any case ... another 10 days ... yaayyy :)
I could sell my soul to see those paintings. Aaah! To be able to see them. My cousin lives in New York and she called me up to say she would be going to the exhibition. That got my goat!
guess who's going.
:)
The choice is not that great. There is only Oscar Bluemner at the Whitney, a Russian Retrospective at the Guggenheim, Wasifuddin Dagar on Thursday at the WMI and Peter Ackroyd on the Bard at the 92nd Street Y.
Count your blessings: You had Monday night football with the Cowboys upsetting your homies.
MR: Right. We're pretending you're going to NYC to see the paintings, are we.
Heh heh: Ya, ya.
tdrec: (Aaarrghhhh!!) Let me put this in perspective for you. I not only know where you live, but your doorman actually recognises me. Rub this in too much and you may no longer LIVE in Manhattan.
This is very interesting site... » »
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