Egon Schiele

It happened again.

That wonderful synthesis of my reading, thinking, learning.

We were making our way along 89th (I think), from a subway station toward the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when street banners bearing the image of Egon Schiele's painting "Self Portrait with Arm Twisted above Head" (1910) attracted my attention. I thought, That is exactly how the narrator of Knut Hamsun's Hunger looked to my mind's eye. (More about Hamsun, Hunger, and all here and here.)

What do you think?

And, no, we did not visit the Neue Galerie. A more pressing NYC experience beckoned us.


There is nothing quite as delicious as a hot slice of good New York-style pizza. Mmm, mmm.


Russian nesting dolls
We walked from the Metropolitan Museum of Art to Central Park.

My very own nesting dolls (matryoshka) bounced in my bag as we made our way to the park.


Aunt M-mv bought them for me from the sort of street vendor who seemed so kind and helpful that one would be tempted to buy just about anything from him.

Doesn't the littlest one look unduly worried?

What I'm reading
The Metropolitan Museum of Art Guide

The Accidental (Ali Smith)
In October, I desperately wanted to shout (virtually shout, anyway), "I made a major-market sale!" An assistant editor from [insert household-name magazine here] had written "to make sure we have the correct information for an upcoming story," and I read the message as, "We bought your story." But then I heard nothing. And when the piece ran (short, fun, complemented by a photo but buried in the back and labeled in a way that did not necessarily whisper (let alone shout) "Major-market sale"), I began to wonder if, in fact, I had sold the piece...

Or simply given it away.

So.

I didn't talk about it much.

Then, in the hours before I left for the Big Apple (Do folks still say that?), the morning post bore a check (not big, but, oh, boy, that's okay with me!) from [insert household-name magazine's publishing company here]. And now I can shout:

I made a major-market sale in 2005!

Master and Misses M-mv were the first to hear, then Mr. M-mv, then Aunt M-mv, and now, several days later, you.

What has this to do with Ali Smith's The Accidental?

I will tell you.

When we arrived in New York, Aunt M-mv gave me a gift card to a bookstore.

Because she was proud of me.

[Insert huge grin here.]

I used the gift card to buy The Accidental.