Bourbon Cowboy

The adventures of an urbane bar-hopping transplant to New York.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I'm a storyteller in the New York area who is a regular on NPR's "This American Life" and at shows around the city. Moved to New York in 2006 and am working on selling a memoir of my years as a greeting card writer, and (as a personal, noncommercial obsession) a nonfiction book called "How to Love God Without Being a Jerk." My agent is Adam Chromy at Artists and Artisans. If you came here after hearing about my book on "This American Life" and Googling my name, the "How to Love God" book itself isn't in print yet, and may not even see print in its current form (I'm focusing on humorous memoir), but here's a sample I've posted in case you're curious anyway: Sample How To Love God Introduction, Pt. 1 of 3. Or just look through the archives for September 18, 2007.) The book you should be expecting is the greeting card book, about which more information is pending. Keep checking back!

Friday, February 22, 2008

Now THIS is Snow!

My last foray into shoveling was done on the merest excuse, as a way to make up for my laggardly way with a recycling tote. Today, however, I woke to actual snow. It's hard to describe for a desert rat like me with relatively limited experience with the stuff. But today's snow is the kind of snow that Hollywood has been using in Christmas movies for decades: just heavy enough to fall straight, but much lighter than it looks, silent, gentle, packing together at the merest touch, and so fun to watch that you hardly notice that it's cold. The Platonic ideal of snow. It took a good deal of character not to simply jump into a pile and romp around, to build a snowman or make a snow angel, and I still haven't ruled it out.
But this is where shoveling is actually a pain. Because unlike last time, where I was dealing with a thin layer of slush and sort of pushing it around like peas on a plate, there's actual heft to this, and I had to actually pile it up, one shovelful at a time, and although it didn't weigh much, you do start to notice how little room a single shovel fills up, and how vast an acreage the front of a building can be. I also started worrying that I was overpiling the stuff. What about the poor slob who has to get into their streetside vehicle? They'll practically have to vault over the wall of my little impromptu fort. That, I suppose, is another way New York has of punishing you for the temerity of owning a car.
I'm a little embarrassed to show the work I did, but please bear in mind that it was intended to be a sort of half-assed temporary job. I have four hours to tidy up after the snow stops falling, and the snow was still falling in earnest when I came back inside. So this was just designed, really, to keep the walk tidy enough to not inconvenience my fellow pedestrians, and also--I must admit--to give me an excuse to play in the snow in a responsible and (sadly) snow-destroying manner. Anyway, here's how I left things:

I'm about to take off for a local Starbucks in an attempt to get actual writing done--I never use the wi-fi at Starbucks, so it's the one place I'm certain I can work without being distracted by the Internet. But since I might be gone for a while, I figured I'd better shovel first. That ought to give me four hours plus to work in. More soon.

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Blogger airheadgenius said...

Just in case it snows again, a fast tip.
If you clear one side of the stoop completely, the stoop walkers get to hold onto the railing as they ascend and descend. Just in case you missed a bit of snow and it turned into ice and the salt didn't get it and they slipped and fell and banged their hip causing great pain and an ongoing injury causing them to sue their landlord who in turn would hate you for not anticipating the falling nature of slippery stoop walkers and the suing nature of the average New Yawker.
Just a thought.

2/25/2008 9:50 AM  

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