Amy Middleton Loves New York

Last night being John Lennon’s birthday, I went to the Imagine Circle for four and a half hours of peace and music. True to precedent, it was inspiring and sentimental and perfect.

When we sang “In My Life,” I looked around the circle and saw mostly unfamiliar faces who had gathered for the same reasons I had. But that’s not all I saw. I saw Mitch dressed up in honor of the boys, dancing around the circle with Amber and Ashley. I saw Jo stalking Kato and repeatedly yelling her request for “I’ll Be Back.” I saw Corina become emotional, fixated on a peaceful young child while the group sang “Beautiful Boy.” I saw Jenny Hsu Ringosizing, and felt the magic of singing Abbey Road with strangers and friends who knew the importance of playing it all the way through. I saw Ashley singing “In My Life” in Portuguese in our apartment drenched in christmas lights as Nathan played guitar and I wondered how we would survive New York City without Jo Thomas.

All these memories flooded my head and my heart in that moment. And though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before, in my life, I love these more.

Dear Mr. Jovi,

I am writing to say thank you for your wicked awesome concert on Saturday night in the modest venue of Central Park. It was so nice of you to come play a free concert for the kids in this two-bit town, and none of us* have been able to stop talking, thinking, and dreaming about it. Nor will we. Ever.

Thank you Mr. Jovi for your stage presence, for every microphone trick you did, for still doing moves I swooned over when I was in high school. Thank you for playing the songs we grew up with. We admire and respect that you continue to release new albums, we really do, and we certainly appreciate that you spent those two hours indulging our nostalgia. We loved it.*

Thank you for the anthems we rocked out to, the ballads we sighed to, for keeping a show filled with 20 year old material from feeling campy or expired. It was entirely entertaining, but it was more than that. It was one of the epic, defining moments of NYC. Thank you for that.

Finally, thank you for not only correcting our mayor on his pronunciation of “Garfunkel,” but for referencing it in your encore.

You have brought so much happiness to our town, Mr. Jovi, and we won’t soon forget it.* If there’s anything we can ever do to make your stay in these parts more enjoyable, please let us know sir.

Our songs are our prayers… and I still believe
a

*except for Seth, but I’m pretty sure he was listening to his ipod the whole time.

Slightly doctored photo courtesy http://www.strawberryfieldsnyc.com/

Due to my apparent ineptitude as a “wordpresser,” I can’t upload the video I’ve been trying to post for the last ten minutes, but here’s a link to a clip of John Lennon’s birthday at the Imagine Circle.

Gathering at the Imagine Circle for a few hours of peace and music is one of the most rewarding things I’ve done in the city. It is the postponed answer to the longing of my teenage heart. The B-side of Abbey Road gives me chills and has moved me to tears even when I’ve listened to it alone. The power of an entire group recreating this music we reverence is a shared experience more beautiful than I know how to explain.

Yesterday I decided I’m going to make my kids write songs about presidents. Perhaps because of that, last night I dreamed I was going to marry John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants. I didn’t realize it in my dream, but at some point Linnell morphed into Flansburgh, so the John encouraging me to go for it was the same guy I’d be marrying. Besides being him, what really won me over was that he was wearing a striped t-shirt. (Does he even wear striped shirts, ever? It seems much more Linnell…)

I can accept that Flansburgh is married, and that I don’t even know him. But why don’t I know any guys who wear striped t-shirts? For as trivial as it seems, it’s been bothering me all day.

Finding out that Death Cab For Cutie got its name from The Beatles makes them feel less elusive somehow, makes them less haunting and more worthy of my obsession, makes me want to listen to Bonzo Dog Band.

Today David needed to know how to pronounce “Ng” so he could return the call of a potential client (or something. I’m not too sure who he calls or why. or what he does even). None of us knew, so I had to google it. I think this one is overkill, frankly:

http://www.superstart.org/phonng1.htm

Once we found out that it’s “ing” we realized we should have already known that, and started singing Ana Ng. I don’t know all the words, but it’s still in my head.

the 1st of every month, Corina and I go to a vegetarian restaurant where we’ve never been. This month was Sacred Chow, and didn’t end up on the 1st, but what can you do? Here’s a review:

Sacred Chow
Sacred Chow is a delightful vegan restaurant tucked away on Sullivan Street just off of West 4th. One thing that really added to its charm was the couple with the toddler who sat next to us. When they first walked in, I thought, “Oh great, crying baby.” But the kid (I think his name was “Cole”) didn’t do too much crying, and he got really excited when the server brought him a book. It turns out the store owner also has a toddler.

I never figured out whether the couple who brought him was dating, or married. It was clearly her son. I’m not sure if it was his. I’d like to think it was. There aren’t enough vegan couples out there, and this would be one more. Also they were with someone’s mom, I think, and you don’t usually go out with one of your moms unless it’s really serious. Yeah, they were probably married. We noticed that Cole’s mom ate a lot of the Tapas. Corina and I split five between the two of us, and couldn’t finish them all. But she got three and ate everything. We liked the crostinis and hommus a lot. The carrier thingy kind of got in the way of our conversation. There was one thing that was kind of spicy, and I didn’t try the mushrooms. I would go back. But hopefully next time it won’t be so rainy, because it was just wet and rainy all night.

i heard ‘Transmission Party’ today which of course made me think of amber and mitch. it’s a thin pancake that only has one side, and having super-creative friends can be a crazy dynamic. on one hand they inspire you and all that. but at the end of the day, you’re not them, and it’s a little depressing.

well, props to the girls who put this together. i think i’ll watch it again and try to rock away my inferiority complex:

http://homepage.mac.com/mitch.clark/iMovieTheater6.html

yesterday it was brought to my attention that the spice girls will be
reuniting. (here’s a legitimate non-u.s. newspaper to support the
claim:
http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/showbiz/articles/18888763)

i can think of no better way to pay tribute to this miraculous event
than to dig out that old domino’s napkin of napkins and take the
Sporty Spice poem digital. i’d like to give writing credits to mitch
and me, but most of the content was provided by a girl in central
park, so let’s just say fate wrote it. or mitch.

enjoy (if you dare….)

Sporty Spice, Who Are You?

Oh Mel C,
You put the “Sport” in “Sporty”
and the “Sporty Spice” in
“Ginger Spice, Baby Spice, Scary Spice,
Posh Spice, and Sporty Spice“-
Also known as Spice Girls.

But what are you?
What made you gain all that weight after
you broke up with J from 5?
How did you lose it again?
Was it Atkins? Was it South Beach?
Was it Yoga Booty Ballet?

Oh Sporty Spice, so famous yet so aloof!
Do you prefer Adidas or Fila?
Do you streak your hair?
Do you still live in Finsbury Park in London?
Can you tell me what I want, what I really really want?

Oh Sporty Spice from Liverpool,
I never saw Spice World, is it worth renting?