5 Feb 07

Time:

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Money:

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More interesting things:

Left the gym and noticed a school athletics van just outside the back door, which was unusual but not particularly fascinating until I further noticed its license plate holder: Franklin Square Ford.

Walked past one side or another (probably the southern edge or the eastern, given where I'm most frequently headed) of Washington Square Park and listened to pigeon burble. It was a whole flock of them, and I guess someone had put out food or something, because they were tutting around, pecking contentedly (I mean, I think they were content; I'm not quite an expert on pigeon body language yet) and making that collective-turkey noise all together. If a pot of boiling water ever wore feathers, that's what it would sound like.

Saw once again that great Jerry Orbach eye-donation advertisement and thought this time about the fact that it mentions sight for two "New Yorkers." Now, I guess I'm not sure, but I don't think you find a lot of ads addressed to Floridians or Arkansans or whoever (and probably not, if you're concerned that somehow the suffix "-an" is less attractive than "-er," Mainers either), but why? It's just as reasonable - or maybe even more so, given the enormous number of tourists coming through this city - to assume that people driving by Glades Road on I-95 are from Florida as it is to figure that someone on the subway is from New York, so it can't just be a demographic issue, and it's not a weird quirk of this particular ad agency, either: lots and lots of these things address their readers as New Yorkers. The only thing I can conclude is that in some way - not at all beyond my experience, but not, I wouldn't have guessed, within the imagination of a PR director - they are designed to appeal to a sense of shared identity. This would do a lot to explain my affection for reading and re-reading the "Invest in NY" line on the CUNY ads, the Delta signs about flirting with other places, the Hamptons beer posters, and all the others, because this idea is, of course, one of the central thrusts of this whole blog.

Took dictation from Professor Alpha. One memo included some positive information about "needing her" (that is to say, me) in May and July, and another consisted of directions for the supervisors. Alpha was not particularly thrilled with them at the moment, so when I asked him if he were sure he wanted to begin his note without a salutation, he sort of low-barked, "No, no salutation." A few minutes later, he went out to the lobby for a minute; he announced his return by commenting, in an interestingly edgy voice, "Okay, here's your salutation [insert my laughing objections here]. No, no, you wanted a salutation, and you're right, so here it is. Ready? Deeeeear Supes. Got that? Deeeeeear Supes. Will that be okay? I think that will be fine." Also enjoyed - very much, needless to say - walking with Alpha to a section on our floor populated mostly by people I hadn't yet met and being introduced with the sentences, "Yes, I control her... we're very close." (Someone commented drily, "I can see the strings," but I don't think she knew that that wasn't why I was laughing.)