Poets Invade Brooklyn!
Poets — and, apparently, Bill Murray — paraded across the Brooklyn Bridge yesterday afternoon to raise money for Poets House. We wish they’d instead crossed the Kosciuszko. What rhymes with that, you clever poets?
‘Times’ Couplets: Nobody Mention the Elephant in the RoomWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Tough Time Ahead for President
New War Czar Wins Praise, but White House Is Faulted —
Lack of Access to Polling Places,
For ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ Split on Party Lines,
It’s Subpoena Time!
Lies, Sighs and Politics
Victory, Defeat, Reality —
Part Coach, Part Motivator and 100 Percent Welcomed:
Waiting for Al Gore.
They Always Come Out Ahead; Bet on It?
Let’s Twist Again, Dude, as the Screws Turn.
the morning line
Maxwell Wheat Will Not Be L.I. Poet Laureate
• Nassau County had its first poet laureate all picked out: Maxwell Corydon Wheat Jr. Then they discovered his poem that begins “Males and one woman / Sip coffee mornings in the White House, / Talk of desires about Iraq.” So that’s a no. Good call, incidentally: The poem is beyond awful. [NYT]
• Meet Dr. Alain Kaloyeros, a SUNY-Albany nanotech scientist who happens to be the best-remunerated state employee in New York. After last week’s record pay hike, his various salaries add up to an annual windfall of $947,538. Not that anyone’s counting. [NYP]
• Nothing like a crazed-insurance-broker yarn: Noel Lauria bought a bow and fired arrows out his UES window, landing a stray one through a neighbor’s terrace door. His explanation to the cops: “I’m turning 40.” [NYDN]
• Oh, goody, another “edgy” magician dangling over Times Square. The ingredients in the current mess: a guy named Criss Angel, a glass box, 6,000 pounds of concrete, and a crappy A&E show to promote. Go concrete! [amNY]
• And over the weekend, all manner of deformed, tattooed, and hairy freaks played baseball. Also, there was a Coney Island charity game, with the Sideshow By the Seashore performers battling the Cyclone staff. See what we did there? [Metro NY]
They Report, You Decide?Wherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Still Unsettled in Wake of New Questions
What Seller Wants a Low Price?
Who Says They’re Too Old to Stay in the Game?
Where’s the Other Half of Your Music File?
Any Wonder It Wasn’t Built in a Day?
How Weird Are Your Daydreams?
Time Wasted? Perhaps It’s Well Spent.
Who Says Warming Is a Problem?
Where Now, for the Wind?
An Answer to Help Clear His Fog .?
Break a Confidence? Never. Well, Hardly Ever.
Martha Plimpton Isn’t the Only Duane Reade HaterSo now we know that Martha Plimpton hates Duane Reade. She’s not the only one, of course, and, as it turns out, there’s now a blog — why wouldn’t there be a blog? — devoted to chronicling the horrors of the drugstore chain that’s eating New York. I Hate Duane Reade launched in February and encourages reader to share their tales of woe. The first post meditated on the one-line-or-several debate; since then the site has included “Overheard in DR” posts (“Teenage girl shaking her fist: ‘Fuck you Duane Reade! Gah!’ –76th & Broadway”), numerous pharmacy horror stories, and April’s sort of genius taxonomy of your standard Duane Reade employees. (A sample: “Photo Guy — He’s there. He’s just standing there. He knows you want him to say ‘cash only’ and invite you up. Nope. He’s photo guy. Don’t mess.”) “After way too many bar sessions filled with rants about customer service, specifically the DR,” the founders wrote on the site, “we decided to vent our frustrations in prose … and sometimes haiku.” Here’s a try: Martha Plimpton stews / While filling a prescription / “You have a Club Card?” —Katie Hintz
Earlier: Don’t Get Martha Plimpton Started on Duane Reade
Related: The Mystery of Duane Reade [NYM]
‘Times’ Couplets: Must We Pay to Drive to Midtown?Wherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Mayor Has New Plan to Cite Drivers Who Block the Box
Ignoring the Warnings, Again?
In This Clash, Both Sides Are Good:
No Segways Needed.
Get Moving on Traffic Relief.
Get Out and Go,
Erin. Go Faster!
‘Times’ Couplets: Watch Where You’re Going!Wherein we arrange Times’ headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
The Troubles: A Walking Tour
No Sleep Is Part of the Ordeal.
Passing Mile Markers, Snapping Pictures
Woman Falls Through Sidewalk Grate.
Going Like 60 (Tick Tick Tick)
The Suns Forge Ahead Without Stopping for Pity.
Rescuers Try to Lure Lost Whales With Sound.
5-Year-Old Marathoner to Walk 300 Miles —
Not for Kids Only, Seeking Buccaneer Bliss.
A Long Road Ahead,
The Last Eden. Paradise Preserved — in a Restless Continent.
‘Times’ Couplets: Finally Over That Whole Tea-Party ThingWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret truths from the paper of record.
Back in U.S., Queen Celebrates Ex-Colony
Hopper’s America, in Shadow and Light:
Sometimes You Can Go Home Again.
Confusion and Deception as a Royal Family Affair
In a New Space and Time, a Classic Story of Tragic Love,
Family Values, Betrayed.
As the Climate Changes, Bits of England’s Coast Crumble
Away From Her– Time’s Wounds. And the Heart’s?
Yankees Find Just Enough to Get By.
video look book
How to Dress for Your Next Poetry Performance
In this week’s Video Look Book, performance poet Aja-Monet Bacquie likes to make sure she feels good in her own skin. In a long white dress, maroon high-tops, and a beaded necklace she bought in Chinatown, Bacquie leads a group of substance-abuse patients from Odyssey House in Union Square. “It’s one venue at which somebody can articulate their emotions,” she says, “or even how they feel the world has made them a beautiful person.”
Aja-Monet Bacquie [Video Look Book]
‘Times’ Couplets: The Children Are the FutureWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret truths from the paper of record.
Mankind’s Appetite for Destruction in the 20th Century
One Bad Swing Can Often Lead to Another:
The Drama of Daytime: Friendships, Feuds and Fury;
Murky Emotions Floating to the Surface,
The Pressure of Great Expectations —
Struggles to Regain Equilibrium.
Digging for Clams and Difficult Answers
(Not Any Time Soon)
Seek Balance of Unity and Differences.
Glimpsing the Future (and a Babe)
Change the World (and That Diaper).
David Halberstam on Poetry, Bush, and BaseballWe last saw David Halberstam, who died yesterday in a car crash in Menlo Park, California, two weeks ago at Alice Tully Hall. It was the annual Poetry & the Creative Mind benefit, which raises money for National Poetry Month, and Halberstam was one of the celebrity readers. He talked to New York about his introduction to poetry via the Kennedys, the “national tragedy” of the Bush administration, and his desire for a baseball stadium on the West Side of Manhattan, so he could easily “wander out to a good meal” after the game.
‘Times’ Couplets: There’s No Place Like HomeWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret truths from the paper of record.
An Anglophilic Yankee Aristocrat and His Finds Across the Pond
From Asia to the Caribbean to New York, Appetite Intact,
Putting Up His Dukes, for His Country, His Race and Money,
Going Against the Flow.
Ferry Required? No Bridge, No Problem.
Solitude and the Sea…
A Brutal Passage From India to Misery at Sea, and Back.
Innocence or Experience? An American Tale.
On Friendly Turf, Suggests History Will Be Kind to Him.
‘Times’ Couplets: Not Everyone’s Built to Be a Man-eaterWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Hooking a Big One?
Revolution Begins at the Beauty Salon.
Sallie Mae Said to Talk to Suitors —
No Matter the Message, It’s Delivered With Dazzle.
Mixing Poise and Panache
Parise Wastes Little Time in Firing Up the Devils.
Sharon’s “Condition” Is Said to Improve:
Statistics Show Ups, Downs and Betweens.
When the Haunted One Turns Into the Hunter
Paris Believes in Tears (and Love and Real Estate).
From Call Girl to Kant Girl in a Flash of White Panties
Giving All for Her Country but Also Feeling the Pain.
‘Times’ Couplets: Monogamy?Wherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
On Gilded Sharks and Loverboys
Gotta Minute? So, There’s This Guy Tony …
Going With the Flow.
Enter an Old Rival, Again
Material Muse for Some Strange Bedfellows
Creatures More Slothful Than You and Me.
Three-Way Connection of Minds and Bodies;
Episodes of Vanity;
Whimsy Collides With Tragedy.
See You in Court, Sweetie!
‘Times’ Couplets: A Rebellion in the Food ChainWherein we arrange times couplets in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Communing With Nature on a Grand Scale
The Way the World Ends, Vividly Imagined?
No Pet Left Behind:
Rats in His Sights, and in His Backpack, Too
Maple Leafs Fall, Crosby Lifts Penguins,
A Featherless Audubon Menagerie
Romping With Henry and His Rat Pack.
Bulls Clinch Berth in Playoffs
With the Greatest of Ease;
Unusually Good Food at an Unusual Hill
May Lower Scallop Population.
The Vicious Victim,
Pork Goes to War.
We Welcome You, Alien OverlordsWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret truths from the paper of record.
Government Opens U.F.O. Files
Minister Critical of ‘Blond’ Envoys,
A Hidden Populace in a Vacant Lot
Seeking Office Where Fiction and Fact Blur.
A Bittersweet Return
Stirring Up Cultural Storm.
Citizen of the World,
How to Come Close?
No Sex, Please! We’re French.
Better Buy a HybridWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret knowledge from the Gray Lady.
Real Stars of Darwin’s Turf
Just Like Life, With Quiet Journeys and Cosmic Whirls
Call for Speed Limit Has German Blood at 178 m.p.h. Boil.
Bending Toward Elegance With a Virtuosic Efficiency,
Fiat Plans a Low-Cost Car.
Relighting Snuffed Candles,
Green Energy Enthusiasts Are Also Betting on Fossil Fuels…
Between the Precise Layers, a Cultural Narrative:
The Sky Is Falling. Really.
The Greenness of Al Gore
Do You Know Where Your Slogan Is?
‘Times’ Couplets: Even the Galaxy Knows Urban RenewalWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret knowledge from the Gray Lady.
Big Wishes, Easy Credit, Tough Times
“A Seedy Stretch, Sure, but Worth Saving, Denizens Say—
Modernity and Tradition at a Cultural Crossroads”—
Where Is the Clarion Call to Arms?
Winners Amid Gloom and Doom
Describe How They Hope to Improve the World.
(Take a Big Hit? Then Deliver a Bigger Blow.)
Dividing Wall Starts to Fall …
Finding Peace, and Looking for a Job,
Saturn Goes Back to Warm and Fuzzy,
Finds He Can Go Home Again—
Goes Around, Comes Around.
‘Times’ Couplets: Urban CowboysWherein we arrange headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Man Is Convicted of Attempted Murder as Hate Crime in Village Rampage
Athlete and a ‘Cultured’ Tarzan
Savior of a Crumbling Village, Dies.
‘The Rats Will Not Win,’ Chief Varmint Hunter Vows
Hunting a Killer as the Age of Aquarius Dies.
In the Shootout, Two Stars, One Goal—
More Than Just Two Ex-Cowboys
Hitting the Road for Some Hot Man-on-Bike Action,
Exploring Identity as a Problematic Condition.
Deconstructing the Costs, and Emotions, of Warfare
Everything Crumbles Toward Eternities—
The Big Meltdown
A Suddenly Convenient Truth.
Imagine More Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here.
As Night Falls, Farmer Trades His Tractor for the Blues.
Pol and Poet Wouldn’t Support N-Word Ban
Felipe Luciano ran for City Council two years ago, and he lost by only sixteen votes. Which is too bad, because if he’d won, he likely would have been the only council member to vote against the “N-word” moratorium that passed unanimously yesterday. A generation ago, Luciano wrote a poem that he has since performed widely: “Jibaro, My Pretty Nigger.” Jibaro refers to a person from Puerto Rico, and Luciano, who grew up in Harlem, calls himself a black Puerto Rican. “I used the word nigger to defuse its negativity,” he told us by phone. “When Puerto Ricans call each other the Spanish word ‘negro,’ it reflects feelings of love. I think New York blacks picked up ‘You my nigger’ from Puerto Ricans.”
You Might Want to Skip LunchWherein we arrange Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
All the Body’s a Stage
Brother Who Left Wine for Cheese, Dies —
Agency Confirms That Peanut Butter Was Tainted.
Boston Police to Destroy Pepper-Spray Guns:
Bile and Vitriol by the Ton, and Yet Still Never Enough.
As Piazza Sips Elixir of Youth, Williams Nips a Bitter Tonic —
Only the Swans Know Why a Love Has Died….
Aid Sought for Fishermen:
Half-Ton Squid Reeled In,
A Tomato Soup Can, and a Pocketful of Coins.
Let Them Eat Foie Gras (Gift Bags Are So Last Year).
The Post-Valentine’s Day VerdictIn which our faithful correspondent arranges Times headlines in verse to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
On a Clear Day …
Looking to the Future, Living With the Past,
There’s Good News and Bad News
The Past Masks the Present,
New Grievance Deepens Old Quarrels
A Collision of Role Players on the Busy Avenue of Life,
Transcending Pain, a Friendship Fed on Imagination —
Adventures in Geometry and Color, as Well as Dancing,
Blasts of Color, Evoking Memories
Freedom from Fear?
Forget What You Know: Listen Anew
All Eyes Are on You.
Slate Knows No One Loves You, Provides Highbrow Dirty Talk
Don’t despair, lovelorn: Slate is today offering an anthology of sex poetry, presumably as a salve to those of us who won’t be getting any. We’ll leave it to you to read the actual verse, but we’d like to highlight three curious facts. First, that Robert Pinsky, the Webmag’s poetry editor and a former U.S. poet laureate, seems even more obsessed with who is gay than Rosie O’Donnell is; second, that Emily Dickinson’s “If You Were Coming in the Fall” is not a double entendre; and, third, that Robert Frost’s “Putting in the Seed” is. Class dismissed.
Great Poems About Sex [Slate]
Have Fun, Kiddies! (Just Use Protection)Wherein our faithful correspondent arranges Times headlines to bring you secret truths from the paper of record.
The Romance of a Dozen Roses, the Gritty Reality of a Truckload
In Defense of the Desperate (And the Notorious),
Who’s Afraid of an Artist Who Loved Flowers?
Relics of the 19th Century, in a Sentimental Mood
He’s Bringing Commitment Back (and Not in a Box).
How He Arrived at That Acquired Taste?
A Turnaround Born of Pain, Now Yielding Opportunity:
Sex, Repressed and Unleashed—
The Big Bang and the Bucks Set to Collide in Inner Space.
A Matter of Fair Play…
A Cigar Isn’t Just a Cigar? Ay-Ay-Ay.
‘Times’ Couplets: Water, Water, EverywhereIn which we assemble Times headlines in rhyme to bring you secret messages from the paper of record.
Slip-Sliding and Loving It—
World Climate Report Is Criticized as Too Optimistic.
A Tax at the Pump,
Praying at the Pump,
State Sues Wyoming Over Water.
Bolivia’s Only Ski Resort Is Facing a Snowless Future —
Houses With Saunas: The Hottest Amenity!
Snow or No, It’s a Party.
‘Times’ Couplets: Poetic Truths in the Paper of RecordWherein we arrange Times headlines in rhyme for your poetical amusement. Today’s message: Things just aren’t working out.
The Rules Are Different, but a Rivalry Remains
To Execute, or Not to Execute? That Is the Uneasy Question.
Approach Boss With Caution:
New Low on ‘Idol’?”
All Together: Let’s Go, Jack. Let’s Go, Jill.
A Talking Head Meets His Comic Doppelgänger, and Sparks Fail to Fly.
Innovator and Master, Side by Side,
Royal Ruffled by Aide and Partner;
Nowhere to Turn for Shelter—
Very Strange and Very Naked—
Apology Not Accepted.
in other news
A Visit From a Freaking Expensive PoemNews of Wall Street’s Gulfstream-altitude bonuses brings at least one Schadenfreudically bright note for the rest of us: a well-compensated New York businessman wholly scammed by his first foray into the literary world.
A businessman paid $280,000 for an original 1860 handwritten copy of the classic poem that begins “‘Twas the night before Christmas” and read it to friends at a party, an auction gallery said Tuesday.
The buyer, identified only as the chief executive officer of a media company, received the copy of the poem this month, just in time to read it to relatives and business associates at a holiday party in his Manhattan apartment, Heritage Auction Galleries president Greg Rohan said.
Rohan, you thief! Charging $280,000 just for a poem? An honest auctioneer would have explained to that media CEO that he could get a real, live poet to read a brand-new poem for a tiny fraction of that. Hell, a few bottles of Turning Leaf and some cheese cubes usually do it.
(Also: So who? Jann? Si? Dick Parsons? Any guesses or info, let us know.)
Copy of Poem Sold; Twas Worth $280K [AP via Yahoo]