The Handsome Cats of Sultanahmet

Thanks to my lovely and charming girlfriend, my negatives are getting organized and I am finding old pictures which were never shared for some reason.

Moving Pictures

I had a dream that I was back here, in this street in Riga, at this very scene, as if this frame of film animated itself before me. The running man grabbed his daughter and ran after his escaping dog. I flew overhead above the street and learned about the man in the distance. He was a Japanese cellist who had come to Riga to open a restaurant. I followed him walking through the old town and pressed my face up against the window out from the snowy street, fogging a circle as I watched him play and sing to his patrons. As I turned around, I saw the runaway dog which, now as I returned to the original position of the photograph, had revised its way into the frame of the shot.

It seems to have run off once again.

Cats.

I found this strange currency in a Bengali minimarket which stocked only this set of stickers and an ATM. Can you tell me which of these cats are real, and which are invented by slip of the translator's keyboard?

I'm going to take a guess that the Japanese Boobtail Longhair is probably actually available in Tokyo.

Waffle.

This strange relic was at the bottom of my shopping basket. I wish my Chinese was sharper than it is, as the only thing I can make out is the verb for "to eat" there on the second line.

The Garden of Typographical Delights

I know, I know. It has been a long time since I have written here, and it isn't for a lack of love for you that I've let up. I'm working hard and often and I have moved out of my old apartment and into a new one. I can't believe how far I came and went in the past year, in 2009, but here I am. My new home is located in Jackson Heights, a wonderful apartment in a long sought-after neighborhood.

Things are odd here, though. The 7 Train is a corridor of peculiarity. It is a homeland for the de-nationed, re-nationed, and the hundreds of groups of people of the world living together in strange harmony. Escaping conflicts in their homelands, Greek neighborhoods pop up next to Turkish ones, Indian neighborhoods next to Pakistani, Albanian neighborhoods next to Serbian. A corner store fashions itself bilingual, sporting both (and only) Spanish and Bengali signage, a shop called Himalaya Convenience stands devoid of irony, and a Chinese real estate agency provides services all along da-jie, Grand Avenue, or, "big road". And then, in order to communicate with each other, a new English is born: The Queens English. An English of the great many people.


One can go shopping for Eloctronics!


And afterward, have a snack at our local anagram, the Face Cafe.


Go to our Milk Farm and pick some some...



...Crich Crackers and Shred-o-Mate Ched-O-Mate!


Or if that is too exotic, stop by the Meat Barn and get...


Something more like what you are used to.


If this isn't good enough for you, why not spend your evening at New York City's angriest Chinese restaurant. Make a reservation at FU City!


And catch a movie at our theater.