Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed: three guys who fancy themselves poets, who became fanatically-loved singer/songwriters. And yet Bob and Lou at least had some grasp of melody and what makes a song listenable. I just don't get that with Leonard.
It was nice to be at Fred's--I haven't been in a while.
Incidentally, there were not just two articles in this weekend's Times about yoga, there were a whopping five. WTF? But the remaining ones were lame--you know, "yoga fashions!" and "socialites doing yoga!" and other claptrap that you'd think the paper of record was too smart to print--so I shan't put in links.
Shopping for my sister Quilty's Xmas gift today was a neat little dip into another subculture: the world of quilting. I stopped at Sew Brooklyn in the Slope and bought some supplies for her, and marveled at the array of fabrics, feathers, shiny things and gadgets. It was swamped, mostly by young Park Slope hipster goils buying their weekly knitting yarn.
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