What We Need, is pho

large bowl of beef pho, originally uploaded by roboppy.

Have you noticed the inordinate amount of sushi places popping up on the UWS, particularly between 84th and 77th street, ranging from Columbus Ave to Broadway? I mean how many sushi houses do we need?

What we really need is somewhere to get good Pho, so I don't have to trek all the way down to Chinatown or Chelsea.

So to all you restaurateurs out there, PHO. WE WANT PHO.

Preferably, on the Upper West Side.

-Bitter

Mr. Winter, part deux

You're fired.









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But it's only because you're messing up. Yes, thanks for the arctic blast from Canada, but it came a few too many days too late. I've endured the frigid cold outside for three days now knowing that a little snow was on the docket for this afternoon, but what do I see outside?

Powder.

Tiny ice crystals being driven sideways in a brisk wind. Not the wet, fluffy snow that I had in mind. You can go ahead and retire to Florida now, but before you go, please send the arctic cold back up North. I think I'm done for this Winter.

-Bitter

Open Letter, to old man winter

Old Man Winter
Formerly of the Mountains of the Whispering Winds
Hilton Garden Inn Boca Raton
8201 Congress Avenue
Boca Raton, Florida 33487


Dear Mr. Winter,

I’m writing in regards to the dearth of snow in New York City. We’d like this remedied.

It’s now February and we still have time left for a good storm. I’ve seen massive blizzards sweep in and deposit a few feet of snow upon an unsuspecting populace so I know it’s possible. You see, the problem is that the frigid cold that makes me appreciate the Spring and Fall (and kills all the scary looking insects like the ones that live in Florida) really hasn’t hit us yet and I’m not feeling closure to the end of the season.

It’s not too late to send snow our way and a little biting cold. This morning there were fat fluffy flakes that fell from the sky as I strolled along 207th street to the A train. But it didn’t last, since then all flakes have melted and it’s now raining.

I have fond memories of snow banks five feet tall, of tires spinning and squealing uselessly against the slushy snow and packed down ice as my neighbors attempted to drive up the hill outside my house, the toboggans we built when I was young, down the stairs off the back deck around a corner (reinforced by the stump of a giant tree) and down another two flights of steps. The sledding, the snowball fights, and even the giant rainbow snow sculptures we made one year with a pot of gold at the end.

But I digress, you’ve gone on vacation and it makes me a little sad. Yes, I too like the warmer weather of the Southern States and like to complain about the cold, but I live in the North, and the season is called Winter, not Extended-Fall. My heart yearns for the quiet hush that descends upon City streets as thick flakes of snow waft down upon black pavement, the glistening brightness as the sun rises the next morning, and of trudging through the snow after a big snowfall.

This is pretty much the only snow I’ve seen all winter and it only lasted for a few hours at most.



The view from my apartment on the same day.



So I would like you to nudge the weather a bit. There is a wet storm system headed our way, and if you can manage to bring some cold air down from Canada we'll get snow. I don’t need much, well actually I’d like a foot or two, and I don’t need it to stick for longer than a day or so, just long enough for me to take pictures, but I’d like snow just the same. Winter without snow just isn’t winter.

If you could manage to send some white fluffy goodness our way before Feb. 22nd when I fly to New Zealand it would be much appreciated. But please avoid sending it on the 22nd if you can, as I’d like my plane to depart on schedule.

Please send snow to:

Upper West Side
c/o Bitter
81st & Amsterdam
New York, NY 10024


Kind regards,
-Bitter

p.s. clearly I’m not the only one who’s missing the snow.

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix, the movie

I went to see Harry Potter #5 a couple nights ago, and boy was it fun. Spectacularly filmed and directed, the movie was wonderful to watch and was beautifully produced.

Let me reiterate before we begin, I loved the movie, and thought it was great, but overall I felt something was lacking, your average movie watcher won’t notice, but uber-Potter-fans out there will. Let me start by telling what I did like about the movie.

I arrived at the AMC Lincoln Square Cinemas 45 minutes early, theater #1 was already packed. For those of you non-locals, theater #1, aka Lowes Up, is an 876-seat theater with cushy burgundy seats, a HUGE screen, a balcony, and Thai inspired décor--complete with golden elephants in relief about the room.

The demographic for the evening: a lot of adults from mid-twenties to early forties, and many, many older teens. I was quite happy to note that there was not a stroller in sight.

The lights dimmed, everyone clapped, and when the previews were over, we clapped again. Excitement buzzed from one corner of the theater to the other, and it took a moment for everyone to settle down.

The WB flashed across a mist filled screen moving ever closer, yet the music didn’t start, turning into one of those delayed gratification things. After we passed through the giant WB, the music finally started and an excited chatter made the rounds again, accompanied by applause.

I noticed immediately that the music was different, that it didn’t evolve into the well-used themes from before, and now as I think back, the distinct musical tropes that John Williams uses in his compositional arsenal were missing.

Instead we got a whole other kettle of fish, which I was quite pleased with. Having only seen the movie once and not having listened intently to the score, I can’t describe the new musical themes except to say they were perfect. For me the new composer was a welcome change. During one part of the credits-- I’m a credits watcher-- the music became so sad, yet hopeful. For several moments while the music played, I felt anything was possible that I could rise up out of sadness and conquer the world. All because of the music, which demonstrated a masterful use of color, theme, and scoring.

Watching The Order of the Pheonix was fun with this particular audience. All the way through the movie as particular scenes began, people in the audience cheered, bubbling with anticipation for what was about to happen.

Near the beginning, I loved it when Harry produced a patronus charm and flung it around. I loved the way the kestrals were portrayed; they looked quite real and were fabulously executed. I absolutely loved (yet again) the fight scene at the end, you’ll know what I mean when you see it.

And, if you can believe it, there was even a spot in the middle when everyone gasped in surprise and shock. This is quite hard to do with an audience that already knows the story. All in all, the movie was well executed, and if I hadn’t read the books and had only been a fan of the movies, it would have been just great.

Unfortunately, I’m an avid fan of the books, and have read them each many times. So for me, I came away from the movie with a vague sense of disappointment.

The movie felt quite a bit short. I suppose that having watched Pirates of the Caribbean, At World’s End so many times in a row didn’t help, but never-the-less, it felt a little rushed.

Speaking of Pirates, I suppose my level of expectation has risen to an obscenely high level and needs to be readjusted. Yet I hoped anyway. How could the director of Harry Potter ever hope to match the ease in which Pirates left bread crumbs for the careful watcher?

So with my Pirates, At World’s End bias admitted and pushed aside, let’s move forward.

I think that when you get right down to it, the reason why I am so disappointed with Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix, (the movie) is that there were too many missed opportunities to delight and surprise us, the loyal readers and fans of the series.

Yes, I know that the movie would be ten hours long if the screenplay matched the book scene for scene. And I understand why it is necessary to cut things from the story, (keep the plot moving forward and keep pacing strong). But there were many instances when things could have been tucked into the movie that readers would recognize, know, and appreciate; but that the average watcher couldn’t care about. And more importantly, there are times when the audience trilled with excitement at the beginning of a scene only to have the buzz fall flat as a gutted scene left us wanting.

And this is what my disappointment boils down to; I think the director aimed to please just the surfacey fans of the series. The ones who wouldn’t miss the details, and wouldn’t recognize the strangulated scenes that left us to deal with weakened characters.

I’ll soften my opinion by saying, perhaps the choices in what to show and what not to show was a case of do it all and end up with something mediocre, or choose a few things and succeed beyond their wildest dreams. If this is the case and they chose the latter, then they succeeded. The movie was brilliant. But frankly I’m one of the ones that wanted it all.

It was a mistake to leave so many of the little details out. In the end, it will just succeed in alienating the loyal readers of the series, the ones who made the movies possible in the first place. (For example look at the poorly made movie, Eragon. Except Eragon was so badly gutted and rewritten, it doesn’t even deserve to be mentioned on the same page as Pirates and Potter.)

It wouldn’t have taken much to keep us going. Just a little bit here and there. As we noticed the trail of crumbs left us, we’d have felt like we were part of the inside crowd and ‘in the know’. Instead what we see are the missing things and are left puzzled, saying, “But Why?”

Yes, I’ll go see it again. It was a great movie, and very well done. I just wish it hadn’t left me wanting.

-Bitter

Spoiler specifics behind the cut, (the things I wish they'd done differently) and just a few of them since I’ve um, written enough already!

Update, . . . so blogger doesn't allow me to selectively put part of my posts behind a cut, it's either all or nothing. I'm going for the nothing route. If you don't want to read any potential spoilers, don't read past the line of *'s.
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It wasn’t until most of the movie was over that I began to notice the missing parts.

I wish…

-that we’d have seen the screeching portrait at the Order’s head quarters. We saw the troll’s leg, but not the portrait screeching. Just catching a glimpse of her screaming in rage would be enough.

-that both times Harry entered the Ministry of Magic, that he would have been given his visitor’s badge. They didn’t have to talk about it, or show a close up. Just the simple act of him emerging from the telephone booth with it on, would have been enough.

-that the script writers hadn’t written in Cho Chang as the betrayer of the ‘Dumbldore’s Army’ and since they did, the least they could have done was tattooed the word “Snitch” across Cho’s forehead in purple boils. As it stands, Cho gets alienated, the hex that Hermoine so cleverly worked into the sign-up sheet gets left out, and the whole group ends up in detention writing who knows what with those ‘special’ quills that Harry used when writing, “I will not tell lies.”

-that they would have shown the swamp in the hallway that Delores Umbridge couldn’t clear up.

-that the scene where the twins wreck havoc on the school wouldn’t have been as weak as it was.

-that in the final fight scene at the Ministry, we would have seen the jelly-legs curse, or the brains that get attached to Ron.

And lastly, I’d like to tell you about one particular scene that left me feeling iffy. It’s the one where Delores Umbridge is throwing Sybil Trelawney out of the school. It was beautifully set-up, Emma Thompson, as usual, did a fabulous job setting the tone and scene. All the students were there, anticipation was building, and low and behold, Dumbledore stormed out into the courtyard to save the day, only he didn’t. People cheered when the doors to the school flung open and he appeared, but what followed next was a pale imitation of the original. As Firenze failed to appear and Dumbledore strode about not doing much of anything, the excitement in the theatre ebbed and eventually fell flat.

These are just a few more things I wish we’d have seen. In all, the acting, directing, CGI, and music was fantastic. It’s just the little things that let us down, it wouldn’t have taken much to delight us, just a crumb here or there.

It appears the director needs to be reminded that it’s the little things that endeared us to Harry in the first place, and if you leave them out, well notice and wonder, “Why?”

The Phone Jack in My Apartment, not included

Problem solved!, originally uploaded by HOARY HEAD.

Due to the fact that none of my neighbors with unsecured wifi decided to be online last night, this post comes to you a little later than planned.

As you might have guessed from the paragraph above, I don’t have internet service at home. And yes, I’ve been one of those people, using the open Wifi connections from my nice neighbors, whether they’re in my building or the one across the street, to check my email and blog an occasional post from home. Hey, they’re either leaving it open on purpose to share, or don’t know enough to password protect it. I always assume it’s the former, because in this day and age, gheesh, securing your networks are one of those no brainer types of things.

However, I finally reached the point where I need a constant, stable, connection that runs faster than 11 kbps. Yes, you read that right. 11.

You see, I have grand plans for my site, and lots of cool stuff to design, upload, and give away for free. But it requires a connection of my own.

So like any self-respecting paper-pusher, I researched my options for the cheapest connection possible. Yes, I even looked up free-wifi spots in the City. But unfortunately, most of them are in mid-town and below. And no, I don’t want to haul my laptop out 100+ blocks at 11:00 pm to check my email or blog a new post. Let alone, the thought of me and my 20” iMac G5 sitting on a bench in Bryant Park. Can you picture it? I thought not.

I looked at cable options, they want you to buy the TV, phone, and internet combo for $100/month. Um, no thanks. I haven’t used a land line as my primary phone since 2002. And haven’t plugged a phone in the wall since 2004. Besides, I don’t need cable tv. As an aspiring author, the time suck that happens when I sit in front of that beautiful glowing screen is impressive. Whole weeks disappear at a time, unaccounted for. I think it’s a conspiracy.

So, no. No TV, no need for a land line, so I don’t need my internet provider to be cable.

And then I found Verizon. If I signed up online, I could get DSL in my apartment for $25/month without local phone service. It was perfect, sign me up, I want it now.

I opted for the free DSL router. If I ever decide to get wifi, I’ll invest in a wireless router later. (And yes I’ll share, and yes I’ll block people that hog my bandwidth, and yes I’ll permanently block people who watch porn over my network. It’s my bandwidth, I’ll share, but only a little. The phone company won’t like me, but tough.)

I scoffed at the $199 option to have a phone tech come to my apartment to check my lines, and run a line to wherever I wanted my computer. Being pretty handy, I decided that if I wanted my computer connection in a different room, then I’d just buy a 25 foot phone cable and run it there myself. So I clicked, no thanks.

A warning box popped up. Was I sure that I didn’t want someone to come? And second, was I sure that I had a phone jack?

I know where the cable wires run in my apartment. I’ve seen them in my bedroom, and how they run through my kitchen to the front room. So I knew the phone line couldn’t be too far away.

I clicked yes I’m sure. And another prompt come up announcing that if I changed my mind and had a tech come to my place, a fee would be assessed later.

I laughed, clicked okay, and continued my merry way through the rest of the contract.

I should have known better.

As a writer, couldn’t I have seen the foreshadowing? Why the multiple notices and offers to come check the phone line in my apartment? Why the exorbitant charge?

But now I know. Not having a phone jack in your NYC apartment must be a lot more common that I thought.

When I saw Spiderman 3 a few weeks ago, I thought it was quaint when Peter Parker called Mary Jane from the payphone in his hallway. I remember thinking, are there really places still like that?

No, my apartment isn’t as bad as Peter’s. It is at least two times better, the layered paint is there, the bowing lathe and plaster walls, the smells of old building, but it’s larger, my door opens quite easily, and with the two dead bolts I installed myself, quite safe. (Yes they work.)

But both Peter and I have no phone. I searched high and low, along baseboards, and through cupboards. In the back of my mind I knew it must be there, that I’d find it eventually. How could I have missed something so simple? Maybe it’s behind my bed, and even though I’ve already moved the bookcase in my front room, I feel the urge move it again.

How is it I wonder that an apartment could make it to 2007, and antiquated as they are now, still not have a phone line installed? I think the line should have been installed in the 50’s at least. Right?

So a few NYC rental questions for you all you ‘in the know’ out there. If there is no phone jack in my apartment, is it legal? Is my landlord required to have one installed? And I suppose more to the point, who should pay for it? Me or my landlord.

On a side note, I saw my Super this morning on my way to work. I asked him in passing, “If I were to have a phone jack in my apartment, where would it be?” He suggested the front hall closet, and said he would check with the management. The hall closet. I never would have thought about that.

Tonight, when I get home, I’ll be going through all my closets. Particularly the one in the entry way, the one I haven’t opened since I sealed it shut.

Why did I seal it shut? Well, because it sucks all the smoke from the inscent burning lover that lives below me and sends it up to mine. Sans scent, aka smoke only.

And why does my super not know where the phone lines are? Well, I think he only uses a cell phone like me.

Welcome to the 21st Century, caught between the old and the new, moving forward one jerky step at a time, while trying to save a buck.

-Bitter

Update 6/28/07: I found a phone jack in my front hallway, now I just need to see if it works. Cross your fingers for me.

Lamenting The Fact That I Don't Have Cable, or a tv...but mainly a rant about FOX

In my former life, in addition to being a bassoonist, I was a ballroom dancer. I know how to Foxtrot and Tango, to Samba and Rumba. I learned the New York Hustle and West Coast Swing, and have certificates and a trophy to prove it.

So you can imagine my excitement, when last year I lived with roommates who had a TV AND Cable, when I found a new favorite show, “So You Think You Can Dance.” Through the show I became an expert at critiquing, popping, interpretive dance, and MDT style dancing. You name it, I could spot the best. My laser-like focus had been groomed by the show's judges to detect even the slightest fallibility. So much in fact, that when I see music videos and commercials I find the fakes from a mile away. Besides, it was fun to watch and filled the void in the part of me that missed dancing.

You’re probably wondering why the lament about ‘watched’ (past tense). You see, I don’t have a TV, can’t justify paying for cable TV when I only plan to watch three or four shows a week. And therein lies my problem, FOX is behind the times. I can download Stargate Atlantis from iTunes, I can watch streaming video from ABC, NBC, and CBS. But does FOX offer the same feature? No.

I had hoped by this year they would have joined the current digital revolution and offer content online for the price of watching a sponsored commercial at start of the show, but it isn’t to be.

There is yet time "So You Think You Can Dance” could debut a new streaming service, but somehow I doubt it will happen. So come May 24th, you’ll find me tucked in my room, slightly saddened, and energetically working on my next book. (Which actually is a good thing.) If you have cable TV and are interested in dancing, give the show a try and report back. I think you’ll like it.

-Bitter.

p.s. For those of you outside The City, TV in NYC only comes via a cable connection. And No, I don't want to pay $10 a month to get the basic channels so I can watch the news and catch "So You Think You Can Dance" a few months out of every year.

Urban Jungle vs. Spot in the Country

This type of tulip is my favorite. Taken at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.


When I was young, I used to tell my sisters (I have lots) that I wanted to live on a farm. It was a dreamy place. Wide open spaces, green growing things, lots of plants and gardening, maybe a pond. I imagined a large kitchen where I could cook to my hearts content, and a conservatory where I could grow plants year round. Stone or slate floor, water features, nooks where I could curl up with a book and read, and flowers, lots of flowers. My imaginary dream place was wonderful.

And then my sisters burst the bubble, or tried their best to disillusion me. Farms, they insisted, weren’t what I wanted. Think Iowa or Kansas, endless rows of corn, or Idaho potato fields. Or maybe a pig farm, or places with lots of chickens, etc. I have to admit they were right, a barnyard full of animals didn’t quite fit in the picture, and neither did rows of corn. (Not that there is anything wrong with either of these, it’s just not for me.) I wanted to dig in the dirt and grow things that I didn’t have to turn around and sell.

What I wanted was a ranch. But then they did their best to tell me I’d have to get up early to take care of the horses or milk cows, or feed livestock. So I told them I wanted a ranch without animals, maybe I’d have a horse, but I’d hire someone to take manage the stable. They laughed and I stopped mentioning it.

But after all these years, part of me still dreams of that spot in the country where I can spread my arms and feel free, rolling green hills, trails through the woods, gardening, and riding horses. Complete with a professional kitchen where I can cook and a state of the art conservatory incorperating AeroGrow's technology.

So when I read The Pioneer Woman’s blog, which is a favorite of mine, it stirs my soul. And I wonder why I live in an urban jungle where the only plant I can grow sits on my desk at work.

Then I remember that I can’t get a job in the middle of nowhere to fund my ranch without animals; that I absolutely love the bustle of the city and instant take-out food from any ethnic region of the world; and that ranches in OK, MO, and TX have ticks. I can’t stand ticks. Ticks alone are enough to make a city girl sty in the city. I guess Central Park will have to do.

Sad Tale of a Paper-Pusher

So. Today I had planned to blog about the things that I plan to blog about at my blog.

But then the copier jammed. Again. And here I am writing about my day job.

Suffice it to say, that I plan to show you the things I like, the thoughts that pass through my mind (Some linger, some fly right through making a whistling sound. Does that imply something?), or the situations in life that happen to make me want to repeatedly bang my head against the wall. (Like today.) This blog will focus mostly on the current loves of my life. Writing, Food, and Photos. And since I live in NYC, my posts will be highly flavored with stuff from the 212, more commonly referred to as The City. (According to the natives, there really aren't any other cities outside of the 5 boroughs, just small towns and villages. I, of course, know better, or do I? . . .)

And now on to better things.

There are few things in the life of a paper pusher that will make the pitter patter of our hearts race faster and bring smiles of glee to our faces. Among them are nice neat stacks of files or paper, new office supplies or office supply shopping; a new box of nice pens. But above them all, shining in magnificent glory, is a new photo copier.

*Cue shining light from above, and singing*

When we replaced our OLD copier (which worked just fine), with a new one (yea! new tech toys) I was happy. Yes, the old one worked, but it wasn’t new and shiny. The new one came with all sorts of neat cool features. PDF's, rapid copying, network printing. It didn’t harass you to select a paper size when copying just one check, and oh the staple feature! Among the myriads of ways this machine can staple is my favorite, straight up and down, top left corner. I was sold, hook, line, and sinker.

The staple feature falls directly into the obsessive compulsive corner of my heart. All those pages (up to 45) stapled and stacked so tidily, pages even, staples in the exact same place, neatly folded. And that’s where my problems began.

To make an otherwise very long story short, the new copier jams. It jams when you make lots of copies, or when you make just a couple. Lots of pages, just a few? It doesn't matter. There's no rhyme or reason to it. The copier began sporadically jamming and has progressively gotten worse. Always in the same place, pages bunching up on top of each other -like playing sardines- while waiting to be bound. The copier man comes almost daily now, I think pretty soon they’ll just wheel it out and send it on its way to The Great Recycling Center in the Sky.

But oh how I hope. Each time I need to peddle a little more paper, I stand anxiously nearby, waiting. Listening for that tell-tale whir of components and gears, the shuffle of papers compacting upon each other, the screech of mechanical parts refusing to move. The resultant sinking heart as I clear out the jam. Again.

Today the Ricoh - Aficio MP7500 cried out this message after jamming twice in a row:

“Functional problem detected.
Press [Restart] after the current process.
Repeat settings after the machine has restarted.”

I say it's dying. Calling out with its last breath, wanting to be heard. “Save me! I'm dying. Help!” It says. But alas, all that the repairman can do is shake a screwdriver at it, tightening here, loosening there, as the rest of us stand by the wayside wringing our hands, thinking of pretty staples, orderly stacks of paper, and what might have been.