I would like to issue a shout out to the fabulous couple who saw me get punched in the head from behind and knocked onto a car last night around 10.30pm in Soho.

You were great. I would totally post a missed connections on craigslist or something but I am rather unclear as to your clothing and whether either of you were HOTT due to the haziness swarming around in my head from my ASSAULT. Or ATTACK. [I haven't figured out yet which sounds better].

Really though, your calm indifference throughout did nothing to deter the guy from snatching the handbag from my churlish grip. Sure, there were three of them and it wasn't as though I was going to ninja chop any of them and I certainly wasn't expecting either of you to spring into combat mode. But I am especially grateful for the absence of eye contact that you, the special guy, demonstrated on crossing the street at enough of a distance to maintain your detachment. Your date is one lucky girl. Well she might be if she drowned you in enough of this. At least she asked me, albeit rather too loftily, whether I was ok.

Mind you, I am not really surprised. I was conscious and relatively coherent and appeared to know what I was doing, perhaps? Why get involed? You probably had to meet friends somewhere or go back to her apartment to make out. or maybe you thought I might ask you to lend me money? Why even call the police on my behalf? Why shout when the homeless guy had jumped out from has garbage bed and screamed enough for all of us?

Am I guilting you out yet?

I think the police were irritated that I hadn't reported the INCIDENT immediately and well I can't blame them. I didn't want to leave may apartment last night once I had gone back home. Is that so wrong? It appears that this trio has been out and robbing in the neighborhood and whilst they are currently unarmed, who knows when an encounter with someone more burly will make them change tactics and put them in a position where they can actually do some harm to someone else and maybe even themselves. Because you know as crazy as it seems, they all looked like nice enough people. Nice enough that they didn't phase me at all. But maybe that's just me being too naively chirpy about the goodness in the hearts of fellow New Yorkers.

So anyway, the credit cards are all cancelled. I just hope my assailants had a nice time at the MoMA today on me, or maybe got 10% discount at Barnes and Noble. I am rather anxious that my driver's license may be in general circulation if only because that picture is so awful. My work security card is actually particularly bad. Both dispay an image of Russian hooker I would rather remained within a close circle of friends only.

I think, mainly though, that I am angry with myself for pottering purposelessly around trying to find an address and making myself an easy target. So I am taking it out on you both. I have decided that you owe it to me.

“Yah, cos it’s just like so annoying, you know? Everyone seems to be soooo anti-WASP these days. They say to me, well you are from so and so and went to so and so. You must be so arrogant. It’s so annoying all these stereotypes.”

I decided to take a closer look at my skinny neighbour at Studio 54 the other night. Bless, such a prime specimen of the American WASP. What's the difference again between a specimen and a stereotype?

Blazer – check.
Blazer that did not remotely match pants – check
Tan brogues – check.
Floppy hair, and this, I have found, is very important, GELLED AT THE SIDES ONLY giving the sporter a ridiculous side-slapped look, as if the sweat went up to the ears only – check.
Ooo and here we go – cold sore. Nice touch. Someone’s been looking for love in all the wrong places.

And then his date.
Skinny – check.
Blonde – check.
Gorgeous bone structure and features – check.
Long corduroy shapeless skirt and oversized cardigan – check.
Good boots – check.
I would have loved to dress this chick. I have only one look and it is slut. Slut on this girl would have been mind blowing. Mine obvioulsy.

“Great seats!” she said. “Yah” he replied, “I had a number of options.”

“Liar!” I wanted to scream. “These are the cheap seats!” I also wanted to point at the two empty rows in front of us with obviously better views.

I wondered if these two were sleeping together. Neither of them seemed to know what to do with their own bodies let alone those of each other. Perhaps a jolt of fleshless pelvis on pelvis, some bruising and then a miraculous birth nine months later of an infant already kitted out in tweed. My interest in this couple was predicated on the fact that I was on my own and rapidly losing interest in Home Land and its pointless ranting. Real-life sores to my right were far more interesting.

I don’t usually feel so harshly towards those who display an obviously superior fiscal background but the tosser flopped his legs languidly over MY side of the rail and snorted his amusement throughout the entire performance of “A Touch of the Poet”. Amusement in all the wrong places as though he were one of those tools who chortle through Shakespearean pun after Shakespearean pun.

Really though, there was little cause for amusement that night. Gabriel Byrne appeared uncomfortable in his role as Cornelius Melody. The character never developed any credible shape and the potential for endearing tragicomedy was completely missed by the director. My gut tells me that the fault is with the director guy since the supporting cast lacked constancy.
Nora and Sarah oscillated wildly.

Maybe Mr Byrne will grow to own the role as the show progresses since the second half showed some flashes of emotional depth. One can only hope that some sort of warmth will work its magic on the stage and liven up the audience. I must admit that the crowd looked more like an AARP conference.

Why is Broadway so tedious and full of geriatrics? Are they humanists or something?

There's a new class at the Tribcea Equinox which I think I shall be giving a miss.

Category:
CONDITIONING

Title:
Liquid Strength

Description:
Liquid Strength is a totally new discipline with it's own language and training. It is inspired by many forms of human expression including sports, dance, physical conflict of antiquity, martial arts and other disciplines. Each person in the group is asked to dig into their imagination to find the movement and make it real. "If you don't BELIEVE it, your body does not experience it" is heard often.

What the fuck is physical conflict of antiquity?

Mind you, you know I have peeered through the windows at an african drum and dance class and was initially amazed at the number of male attendees until I realized that they were staring at the instructor's breasts. Which I then found myself doing since they were nothing if not majestic.

Still I can't stand all this "If you don't BELIEVE it, your body does not experience it" bollocks as much as I hate having to listen to the hari krishna shit I get in the yoga class. Yoga instructors are worse than the Scientologists in the subway. Yoga lady, I just need to put my knees behind my ears. I don't want to experience the positive force. Not from you anyway, so put the fucking jangle bells down and shut it.

Thank fuck for that

All eight members up for re-election to the Pennsylvania school board that had been sued for introducing the teaching of intelligent design as an alternative to evolution in biology class were swept out of office yesterday by a slate of challengers who campaigned against the intelligent design policy.

Among the losing incumbents on the Dover, Pa., board were two members who testified in favor of the intelligent design policy at a recently concluded federal trial on the Dover policy: the chairwoman, Sheila Harkins, and Alan Bonsell.

The election results were a repudiation of the first school district in the nation to order the introduction of intelligent design in a science class curriculum. The policy was the subject of a trial in Federal District Court that ended last Friday. A verdict by Judge John E. Jones III is expected by early January.

From today's FT.

Low fashion and high diplomacy

The deliciously candid memoirs of Britain’s former ambassador to Washington could not have come at a worse time for Tony Blair, UK prime minister.

Serialised extracts of Sir Christopher Meyer’s book, DC Confidential, are currently gripping London’s political classes.

The claims made by the former top diplomat are highly damaging. On his trips to the US, Blair comes across as a star-struck innocent who fails to stand up to President George W. Bush. At home he is a leader who lacks any real grasp of detail and whose policies may have contributed to a rise in extremism.

It gets worse, especially when Sir Christopher swaps high diplomacy for fashion commentary.

Reflecting on a visit to the president’s ranch in Crawford, Texas, he concludes that the prime minister’s exceedingly tight dark-blue corduroy trousers (described in the book in vivid detail) fatally undermined Blair’s attempts to appear as an easy-going, regular guy. Apparently, Blair was not the only one uncomfortable as he struggled “to get his hands into pockets that appeared glued to the groin”.

DC Confidential is not available yet in the US by the looks of things but am looking forward to reading it. Am sure Blair will get his face stoved in for being a nonce the next time he goes back to Sedgefield.

One can only hope.

Vote for Jonathan Cockburn!

It’s been a strange week. Strange and exhausting. I have a new outlook with the Empire State to my right and the Chrysler Building to my left and I have new people to love and new people to hate.

“And so we beat on, boats against the current, being borne ceaselessly back into the past.”

Ah yes. Houdini we are not. But you have to laugh at the nihilism, since what is cosmic purposelessness other than the biggest joke ever at everyone’s expense?

Thankfully there will always be Max Boot for me to hate and fill the purposeless void. For him I felt a scary premenstrual surge of emotion based on frustration that people such can talk utter nonsense and believe it. Did he go to some crazy school which told him never to doubt and never to question? I certainly think he thinks everyone else at the Center for Global Affairs did. At first when I heard him debate his rejection of Europe, I laughed and then I just depressed myself. I couldn’t believe he could sit there and say that in no sense had the US delegitimized itself in the eyes of a large part of the rest of the world and deny that mistakes have been made.

The reason I continue to stay here and pay lots of tax is because I am attracted to the inherent optimism in the people who live here, American or otherwise, and which I find lacking everywhere else.

Optimism, Max, Optimism. I like your optimism not your faith.