Oh, life on Wall Street…the glamour of it all.
I’m not joking, the mere stature of the architecture gives me a retro-Gilded Age contact high. As our guide pointed out on the Circle Line boat tour, the tall buildings built on narrow streets create the true ‘Gotham’, filled with canyons, the bottom of which sunlight doesn’t reach.
(In case you’re wondering, Superman’s “Metropolis” is Midtown, with the plain ole skyscrapers. In a vintage comic geek showdown, I choose Batman, hands down. And hello? The Sixties TV show with Adam West? Amazing. Hours of my childhood spent in front of those reruns. …Now if only I could find a partner to dress up with me as a hot Batman/Catwoman combo for Halloween I wouldn’t feel like those hours were quite such a waste. Though to critics who think that kids shouldn’t watch hours (and hours) of television a day- three words: Pop Culture education. Where else are you going to get it?)
Back to geeking out about architecture, not comics...
Many of the buildings on or around Wall Street were built in the 1930s for such venerable institutions as the The Trust Company of America, The Bank of Manhattan Trust and the City Bank Farmers Trust.
Bank, bank, bank, money, money, money…Oh those were the DAYS.
Not that the 1930s were known as a heyday of money but by the looks of the architecture you would think it was. High, gracious and delicate curves etched with gold coloring inside and out. Embellished but not gaudy. Streamlined.
Speaking of our own money grubbing days, does anyone else feel the pressure of the recession?
My jobless friends have found work, I’m no longer insecure about my job (because I made a conscious decision to change positions to something less sexy and more, how do we say, stable) and the stores were ever clogged this holiday season.
So, recession? Anyone?
Yes, I think we have a-ways to go to financial solvency (Solvent: able to pay all legal debts) but we’re getting closer. Maybe my company will even decide it’s not imprudent to give raises again. I mean, the Financial Industry is back giving bonuses.
Damn, that argument won't work.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Farm Economics
I write from my parents’ land in the country -- the Middle of Nowhere, TX-- where life is a little different.
To put my life New York life in perspective, out here, sixty acres is considered small for a family plot of land. I live in a 'spacious' 420 sq ft studio.
People here live purposefully, own possessions with purpose. Even the most necessary objects- like say, a car- better be able to pull their weight (SUVs focus on the Utility more than Sport) and the most important possession of all, land, has a definite purpose.
Ginormous plots aren’t a vanity like a large suburban lawn, they’re needed to grow hay or to allow cattle to graze. And by the standards of other Americans’, those in this community might appear to not have much, but they have what matters most- a commodity. (Commodity: An economic good, as a product of agriculture or mining. Something useful or valuable.)
Not to say I’m one for silly possessions (who has room for them with only 420 sq feet of living space?) but as far as these farmers are concerned, I’m surely a silly girl who spends an unimaginable amount on dinners, wine, Kettle & sodas and $8 beers as she lives the ’normal’ life of a young, employed Manhattanite.
And while I adore my petite apartment, I might feel a little asinine trying to prove that it’s good for anything beyond keeping me warm, housing my wardrobe and hosting dinner parties (the third point being most crucial).
What I find really amazing out here (other than the low price of a domestic long neck) is that they still barter. Meaning they trade possessions for objects of equal worth. Two of my parents’ surrounding neighbors traded pieces of land. Just completely exchanged ownership on massive chunks of acreage!
I wonder what would happen if I tried to barter for my Bliss Betweeny wax with my interior decorating know-how? Or attempt to exchange a Ted Gibson salon haircut for a homemade (and delicious) six-person meal of coq au vin?
The Magic 8 Ball would say, ‘Outlook not so good’ but I should really put some thought into this.
The closest I’ve come to a barter was offering my place as a pied-a-terre to Delaware friends as payment for the labor of painting my walls. But this was a childhood friend and her obliging husband. Until my cooking or one of my other –numerous- skills garner demand in the marketplace, I suppose I’ll remain a lowly consumer with nothing to offer than a Chase debit card.
Talents be damned, I have plastic.
To put my life New York life in perspective, out here, sixty acres is considered small for a family plot of land. I live in a 'spacious' 420 sq ft studio.
People here live purposefully, own possessions with purpose. Even the most necessary objects- like say, a car- better be able to pull their weight (SUVs focus on the Utility more than Sport) and the most important possession of all, land, has a definite purpose.
Ginormous plots aren’t a vanity like a large suburban lawn, they’re needed to grow hay or to allow cattle to graze. And by the standards of other Americans’, those in this community might appear to not have much, but they have what matters most- a commodity. (Commodity: An economic good, as a product of agriculture or mining. Something useful or valuable.)
Not to say I’m one for silly possessions (who has room for them with only 420 sq feet of living space?) but as far as these farmers are concerned, I’m surely a silly girl who spends an unimaginable amount on dinners, wine, Kettle & sodas and $8 beers as she lives the ’normal’ life of a young, employed Manhattanite.
And while I adore my petite apartment, I might feel a little asinine trying to prove that it’s good for anything beyond keeping me warm, housing my wardrobe and hosting dinner parties (the third point being most crucial).
What I find really amazing out here (other than the low price of a domestic long neck) is that they still barter. Meaning they trade possessions for objects of equal worth. Two of my parents’ surrounding neighbors traded pieces of land. Just completely exchanged ownership on massive chunks of acreage!
I wonder what would happen if I tried to barter for my Bliss Betweeny wax with my interior decorating know-how? Or attempt to exchange a Ted Gibson salon haircut for a homemade (and delicious) six-person meal of coq au vin?
The Magic 8 Ball would say, ‘Outlook not so good’ but I should really put some thought into this.
The closest I’ve come to a barter was offering my place as a pied-a-terre to Delaware friends as payment for the labor of painting my walls. But this was a childhood friend and her obliging husband. Until my cooking or one of my other –numerous- skills garner demand in the marketplace, I suppose I’ll remain a lowly consumer with nothing to offer than a Chase debit card.
Talents be damned, I have plastic.
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