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Oh, what’s this? I have a blog? Fancy that. Sorry I’ve been MIA lately but it doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy. On the contrary I’m writing consistently for The Curator, have you checked out that magazine yet? If not, you should, it’s excellent. My latest piece was an attempt to explain where summer blockbusters get their awesomeness. My next piece will probably be about something techy. I’ve been having a lot of fun writing for and reading The Curator and highly recommend it.
I should probably explain the title of this post, “I’m smarter than Toni Morrison.” First of all, I’m not. But, sometimes I say I am. Or, at least, I said it to Steph last Wednesday night. Here’s the scenario. We got to go to the opening of the new American Wing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This was amazing. It was an invitation only kind of affair and we only got to go because Steph’s an intern there now.
A quick word about the new wing, woah.
And a few more words perhaps… It truly is incredible. You walk in and you feel like your outside in some kind of grand plaza with statues and old lamp posts and even the façade of a building that’s famous for something. The ceiling is mostly glass so the light is natural, outside light and it’s tall, very, very tall. Then, you can go into the building and there are rooms decorated with period pieces and this somehow attaches to the old American wing which I had walked around before but I found it difficult to figure out where the old stuff ended and the new part began. It was cool. (Eloquent, I know.)
Anyway, I’m trying to get around to explaining the title and I know I’m taking the long way. There’s an explanation for that too: Steph and I went to see “Away We Go” tonight (more on that later) and against Steph’s stern warning I bought myself a $5 medium Diet Coke and then drank it all. The movie was at 9:30PM. It’s quarter of one now. I don’t see sleep in my near future…or coherence for that matter.
Ok so, we finish walking through the American wing (did I mention they have these really cool touch screen computers to tell you about what it is your seeing…Art + Technology = Awesome), and we think we’re exiting when, suddenly, we hear jazz music. We turn the corner into the room with the reconstructed Egyptian temple (Steph’s favorite room she says, and also famous for being in “When Harry Met Sally”) and it is filled with people that are literally made of money (not literally, I guess, that’d be weird…but super rich), and there is a jazz band playing and there are three, count them, three, open bars. This was good for many reasons beyond the inherent goodness of open bars…I didn’t have any cash at all. None. And then, when I got nervous because although the bars were open I wouldn’t be able to tip the bartenders (I always tip a bartender), Steph informed me that it was tacky to tip at an event like this. Best. Baseless Social Convention. Ever.
So there was an open bar, we stuck around for a bit and wondered at the places that God has taken us in our collective life together (four years married, in a couple weeks), and then, when things seemed to be winding down and before anyone caught on that, by that point, we were just there for the free drinks, we left. On our way home we decided to stop at a favorite local spot, The Merchant, for a shared dessert. It was here that, for some reason, Steph accused me of thinking I’m so smart. A not entirely baseless accusation. (Not because I am so smart, just because I think I am) She started asking me who I thought I was smarter than and the group that followed was a completely random assortment of thinkers, politicians and writers. Namely, she asked, “Do you think you’re smarter than Noam Chomsky?” Yes. “Do you think you’re smarter than Barack Obama?” Yes, and isn’t it wonderful that our president is smart. Then, “Do you think you’re smarter than Toni Morrison?” Yes.
I honestly have no idea where she came up with Morrison. We’ve both read several of her novels, but not any recently; except that we downloaded her latest work as an audio book but as far as I know, Steph hasn’t got around listening to it yet.
So that’s the story. Not super exciting but it happened. And I don’t really think I’m smarter than all those people. Not yet anyway.
Briefly, about “Away We Go,” read this review by Alissa Wilkinson, editor of The Curator. She actually is a film critic and she takes on New York Times film critic A.O. Scott’s review. And, in my humble opinion, she wins.
I recommend this movie, I suppose with some reservations for some audiences, email me if you’re wondering if I think you would like it.
I suppose that’s enough for tonight. I should try to sleep again. My next publication is going to probably be a music review of two recent releases from Jersey City musicians, followed by a profile of a local author. Keep an eye out for those things coming soon.
In the meantime, thank you so much for reading to the end.

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