The Luna Park Gazette

"There is nothing better than birthday cake. It's like a slice of concentrated love with butter cream frosting." --Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata When I was in my early twenties, I was always so worried about my career, or the lack of one, to be more precise. I was convinced that I was doing something wrong, that I should be successful, instead of struggling at some crappy office job or standing on the unemployment line. I whined to my mother that I was going nowhere, life was passing me by, and that I had no future whatsoever. “I’m almost 30 years old!” I wailed. “Oh, now,” she said, smiling, “if you look at it that way, you’re almost 50 years old.” I turned 51 years old on Friday and that conversation with my mother has this dual existence in my mind, where it seems like it happened yesterday and still manages to feel like ancient history. I'm whining about my career and all those big dreams have yet to materialize. And my mom's not he...

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. --Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army

You know, for a second there, I thought I was back on the farm. I came out of my bank branch on Hudson Street Monday afternoon and was heading back to my office when I swore I heard a sheep. Yes, a sheep—as in, “baa-baa, black sheep, have you any wool?” With Memorial Day so close, I was thinking about the annual sheepdog contest that’s held at a country fair near my aunt’s farmhouse in the Berkshires. I’ve gone there a few times and even though I have no idea of the rules of the game, I always enjoy watching the doggies get out there and round up them sheep. It is so soothing to be there, miles away from all the crap that threatens to break your spirit. For me, it’s the official start of the summer season, not July Fourth. But I wasn’t in Cummington, Mass. now. I was in Soho and you don’t expect to see a herd of sheep walking down the block. So where the hell was this sound coming from? Then I saw this man in his forties wearing a jacket and tie and walking down the street with a brief...

In this great future, you can't forget your past. --Bob Marley I was standing at the 59th Street subway station the other night when a man near me took out a trumpet and began playing a jazzy rendition of “Amazing Grace.” It was late and I was tired, but this guy was good. We never used to have subway musicians in the Bay Ridge area train stations. We had beggars, hobos, drunks or bums—we didn’t say “homeless” back then—but there were no street entertainers to speak of, none of the guitar players or singers or jugglers or other kinds of urban entertainment that you saw in “the city,” which is what people called Manhattan. I guess now that Brooklyn is getting more gentrified, the subway performers are migrating along with the new outer borough residents. Standing on that platform, I found it comforting to hear a song about being lost and then found, about being blind, and now able to see, especially in light of recent events in my life. It started with the numbers, or least that’s m...

I missed my train by just a few seconds today. I had come out of the gym and I was extremely tired. All I could think about was getting home and relaxing. I heard the train from upstairs and I was praying it was heading in the opposite direction. Then I saw people climbing up the subway steps at Ninth Street on my side of the tracks. I heard the "ding-dong" warning bell signaling that the train doors were about to close. And I got downstairs just as my train--I call it "my" even though I missed it--pulled out of the station and left me behind. This is torture for a hyperactive New Yorker like myself. Subway service is so terribly slow on the weekends that missing the R train on a Sunday afternoon is tantamount to entering the Witness Protection Program. No one's going to hear from you for a while. And what made it worse was the fact that I had just missed the damn bus up on Fifth Avenue. I usually take the bus back from the gym so I can spend time outside. It...

Okay, I know I'm late in the day with this, but I want to add my name to the list of people who had a great time at Thursday's blogfest. I thought we had an excellent turnout with a lot of new faces and an incredible variety of interests. I met some very nice people, while putting away beer and Mexican food. I introduced the shout-out and then helped coordinate the huge mass of people who wanted to take to the stage and tell the world about their blog. Big thanks to Louise of Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn and a tip of the cyber-hat to all the other fabulous folks who helped put this thing on the map, like Eleanor from Creative Times and Petra from Bed-Stuy Blog . There was a great video about the bloggers from Blue Barn Pictures and an excellent tribute to the photo-bloggers from The Brooklyn Optimist . Thanks also to my bud Xris of Flatbush Gardner , who took many excellent photos, including that one I ripped off for this post. Hey, if you're going to steal, steal from t...

The Third Annual Brooklyn Blogfest, a gathering of Brooklyn bloggers who write about their neighborhoods and anything else that matters to them, will be happening tomorrow. The excitement is killing me! If you're a blogger, an aspiring blogger, or you just love Brooklyn, get your butt down there and represent...or whatever you think is appropriate. I would love to see more Bay Ridge bloggers there, especially since I walked all over the neighborhood Sunday putting up Blogfest posters. I've been the only one from my hood going to the monthly blogades and I know there are more bloggers in the Ridge. So let me see your face at the place. The event was founded and is organized by Louise Crawford of Only the Blog Knows Brooklyn . WHEN : Thursday, May 8 at 8 pm WHERE : The Brooklyn Lyceum 227 Fourth Avenue at President's Street, Park Slope ADMISSION : $10, Students $5 What to Expect: Here's the line-up for the program. The show begins at 8 p.m. Video: Place Matters: Bl...

According to the dictionary, the word “fiasco” originates from the Latin word for “bottle.” How that word grew to become synonymous with a complete failure, I don’t know, but “fiasco” is the only way to describe what happened to me on Friday night. I signed up for a night of speed-dating at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, one of my favorite places on earth, which would be followed by a concert by the Brooklyn Philharmonic. I’ve gone to speed-dating events in the past, and while I never met the future missus, I always had a good time. You flirt, you joke around, you nosh on some pretzels, it was always fun. That all came crashing down on my head last night. I didn’t meet anyone I would allow to feed my goldfish—if I had goldfish—let alone date. All I got was cold from the damn air conditioning. I don’t know if the stars were in the wrong alignment or maybe some sorcerers put the whammy on me, but whatever it was, I could not connect with anyone last night. Nor did I want to. It was horri...

Today marks the fifth anniversary since a felon by the name of George W. Bush told us major combat operations were over in Iraq. Remember the arrogance? Remember the swagger? Remember how he used the tragedy of 9/11 to lie us into this disaster, which has now claimed more than 4,000 American lives and God knows how many innocent Iraqis? Sure, the neocons knew it all. We were going to march into Iraq, be greeted as liberators and be out of there in less than six months. Of course there were no weapons of mass destruction. Of course there were no links between Saddam and bin Laden. Of course Bush and his cronies were lying. Anyone with a brain had that figured out before the first shot was fired. But unfortunately, in America, that leaves a lot of people out of the loop. Does it matter that a new poll suggests that George W. Bush is the most unpopular president in modern American history? Probably not. But I am a little surprised that 30% of those questioned favored the war. Who are thes...