In Greenwich Village, the neighborhood in which alive, if you do not have a dog you are totally out. This morning, walking tours between Hudson Street and the Christopher Street station, crossing dozens of people with the dog poop in his hand, while politely proceed towards the closest trash bin. Dozens of children go to school while fiddling with their parents, past a row of shops infinite and S & M fetish gear.
For Tuesday I had no programs, but surprisingly jumped out two free tickets to go see the New York Knicks against the Los Angeles Clippers at Madison Square Garden, so I could attend an NBA game in the company of Connie (to which his brother had procured the tickets ... which in theory they cost around 80 dollars each). Great show, cheerleaders, popcorn, Chuck Norris, Charles and Matilda (cited).
... and since I was in the vein of early experiences, Wednesday night I went to the Metropolitan Opera House to see my first opera (the next will be our main prison in the suburbs of Milan) good Verdi's Rigoletto. The only tickets that managed to get surprisingly only cost $ 26 more charges ... Climb climb up to discover that we are in the very last row, standing before the space for livestock ... I can touch the ceiling and getting up in the first ten minutes I was sure that everything is going to collapse and die with no way out ... Then I think of something else. In the end, an experience. Three hours of work, with lots of content proprietor replaced for sore throat between the second and third act. It
dinner at Friday's in Times Square, where the discount because there are `convinced the waitress that we are friends of Jennifer Lopez.
... and come home as usual at unlikely times, I wake up with difficulty, dazed children dribble shit bdsm and collectors to recover in good to take a liter of coffee from Starbuck's here in front, and literally have breakfast Tiffany's while I try not to come into the office late.
And last night, let me miss anything, I went with Linda to see Supergrass at Webster Hall, adapted to local theater, beautiful, capacity media, such as Rolling Stone. The support group, Pilotdrift, not worth mentioning. After the beer we decided to approach a little 'and without any kind of trouble we get into the barricade! Unbelievable. Only one to complain about the little guy fringed behind me ("Come on ... I can not see anything ... my favorite band" to which I answer with a quiet but eloquent "Sorry"). They are so close that Gaz Coombes, singer, is so big:
... and say that as a sex symbol a bit 'lost. They start in acoustics, with gems like the soft review of "Caught by the Fuzz", then pull the whole concert, slowing here and there, changing some parts, like "Mary", offering songs from the last and the classics (except, predictably, "Alright"), sweating like pigs, revealing the true meaning of the impressive fringe (ie, bring back ... like a famous DJ of a popular nightclub in Milan), they love, they give completely, will entertain and amuse us. Or at least amuse me and Linda: the American public can not go beyond the movement of the head as the highest expression of enthusiasm. An English-style dancing and shaking a bit 'and nearly a brawl breaks out. To say. Still them
And this complete lack of ignorance makes me feel very far from Italy, EXCEPT `with a one-dollar tip to a waiter, I can cheat hundreds of people in line for the jacket and it makes me feel at home. This morning, shit fetish coffee. Just in time.
Weather report: total cold and snow to come.
0 comments:
Post a Comment