Tortoise

Jeremy introduces us to cool band Tortoise last night at some venue in Brooklyn (we dine at a new, old-school restaurant with tiled floor and excellent long-bar). Tortoise's almost entirely instrumental music defies categorization, and the band gained significant attention I learn from their early career when they came up in Chicago's music scene, playing in various indie rock punk groups. Tortoise was among the first American indie bands to include styles closer to Krautrock, dub, minimalism, electronica and various jazz styles, rather than the standard rock and roll and punk that had dominated indie rock for years.

Afterwards, driving home, I get totally lost again finding Bronxville. I swear this place impossible to find -- maybe it is a protective mechanism to keep wanderers from Yonkers or wherever away.

Today glorious and when such weather hits there is only one place to be -- Paris. New York is the runner-up and I take advantage of springtime to jog a couple loops around Central Park. This has to be one of the most entertaining runs on God's green planet. I pass a Jewish-Japanese Day Celebration on the East Side; on the other side of the road, baseball in full swing. A fire hydrant blasts water and kids squeel in their freedom. Mixed in are walkers and runners of every type and the freaks: wrongly dressed for the day or ghoulishly pale. Or obese. Then there is the flesh - everywhere, but especially Sheep's meadow which is like a college-campus only a few years on and, presumably, more sexually active (then, my comp is Brown). And naked - or at least g-strings and bikinis (men and women) and lycra tights (mostly men). The youth simply lounge, sometimes reading or more likely sunning themselves. London has no equivalent but the temps never so hot that a sensible gal would ditch her bra and go strapless. We Brits are much too sensible for that - it takes seven or eight tequilla slammers to get ours there. The day ends with a BBQ and, as I blog, everybody happy to be down for the night.