One of the dancers took a break to say hello to a baby. You may not be able to tell from these photographs, but it was raining almost the entire time. Not a downpour or anything, but technically, it rained on their parade.

This is many blocks away, looking west. Some lucky someone gets to sit in that rooftop garden with coffee and good book (or ipad and a movie). And that’s Julian Schnabel’s pink house on the right. I hear he has a swimming pool in there. DAMNIT. I didn’t plan my life of luxury properly.

This is looking over to the courtyard behind my building and the building next door. Another lovely place to sit and wile away the afternoon with a fruit cocktail and World War Z (the book I’m currently reading, much fun). So, yeah. Is it too late to become a katrillionaire?

But I’m partial to the blue-sy quality of Kree’s voice. No matter what she sings I want to hear it. That is not true of Candace. If I don’t like the song she’s doing I don’t want to listen, regardless of how technically amazing her take might be. Kree, there might be slip-ups, or a hint of strain, like she’s reaching for a place she can’t quite get to, but I don’t care. I love the sound. I also find her more … authentic. Candace seems like more of an actress.

So I guess I’m rooting for Kree. That said, I think they both truly are equally deserving and if Candace wins, that’s okay too. I’m guessing Candace is going to win. People seem to prefer the belters. Except, they also seem to prefer country, so who knows?

I was premature when I posted earlier that One World Trade Center was the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere, because they actually hadn’t added that finally piece of the spire. It’s there now though. And the point I’ve been waiting for them to finish is almost, almost there!

I had much more fun yesterday, following the story of Amy’s Baking Company. By the end of the day they claimed that they’d been hacked. Given that for years they’ve been responding in this way to criticism, that’s a little hard to swallow. An article from 2010, describes similar meltdowns when they received bad reviews on Yelp. You can go back and read what they wrote at the time and make up your own mind.

Meanwhile, just how big is Bleeck? I’m used to 20+ pound cats, so when someone recently told me he was big, I was flummoxed. I just weighed him. 11.9. Come on, that’s teeny, right?

Okay, there’s a lot of shows, but nothing like Bunheads. Bunheads gets me. It completes me. I’m grasping at straws here because I can’t put my finger on why I feel so strongly. There’s that Gilmore Girls/Northern Exposure magic, the smart dialogue, incredible and real dancing, hope. I love the mostly all-girl cast which ranges in age from the students to the ever-amazing Kelly Bishop. Kelly Bishop is my grow-older hero, by the way. I love Betty White, but it always feels like she’s doing shtick. Which is great, but that’s not me. I hope to follow the always sharp, smart, adult, dignified, imperious Kelly Bishop path. Oh WOW. Here is Kelly Bishop playing Sheila on A Chorus Line!!

But I love the girls, I love Sutton Foster. I love Bunheads. It’s sweet without being sugary, it’s light but dark, it’s enchanting and endearing, and I NEED IT. Gods of the tv universe, I’m begging you, throw me a bone. Renew Bunheads.

A couple of dances from the show: Istanbul and Paper or Plastic.

I took this in Union Square last weekend. There was a parade that I’d missed. The woman on the left was one of the people in the parade.

Seriously, music and science, the best combination there is. Canada, I apologize in advance. Because we have to steal him.

Here they are, on public radio, to tell you about it themselves!

Greg’s family continues to blow my mind. Here they are, they’ve lost Greg, but while they grieve they also donated to our choir and encouraged others to do so, and for one of our rehearsals this semester they brought us wine (and also brownies I believe) and then came to hear us practice.

Where does such strength and heart come from? How are amazing people like this made? If I lost someone like Greg I probably wouldn’t be able to function for a long time. I’d lie down, curl up in a ball, and I wouldn’t get up for months. Here I am, feeling sad because our concert is over, but Greg’s family must be feeling so much worse. Greg will never get to sing anything ever again. His family will never get to go to one of his concerts ever again. One can only imagine what they must be feeling and yet they thought of us. In the midst of their grief they are also bursting with kindness, generosity and love to an extent I really can’t fathom. I can only hope for a fraction of this same strength for my oldest and dearest friend, who will be saying goodbye to her youngest son today.

Here are a couple of screenshots from the brief movies I shot at the end of our concert last night.

I know that reactions vary to a piece of music, and everyone has their own associations, but I can’t help feeling that when we all listen to a piece of music there is something about our response to it that is universal. There’s evidence that this might be true. From a press release about a recent study:

“Do the brains of different people listening to the same piece of music actually respond in the same way? An imaging study by Stanford University School of Medicine scientists says the answer is yes, which may in part explain why music plays such a big role in our social existence.

“The investigators used functional magnetic resonance imaging to identify a distributed network of several brain structures whose activity levels waxed and waned in a strikingly similar pattern among study participants as they listened to classical music they’d never heard before.” Full press release here.

I took this picture during a break, while our brains were taking a rest. In my book I describe how the altar is so white and bright it seems to vibrate. In all my pictures from last night I had to use the filter that tones down highlights full blast.

… and a conference downtown sponsored by WIRED. By the way, as you can see from this picture, I live on the wrong side of 1 World Trade Center. They’ve finished the point on this side. So beautiful and elegant, although not everyone agrees, of course. Also, last night …

… the 9/11 Tribute Center, where I used to be a volunteer, giving tours of the World Trade Center site, had an event which began at Fraunces Tavern, where in 1783 George Washington gave his farewell address to the officers of the continental army. Then we went to the Tribute Center …

… to a lovely night of storytelling, co-sponsored by The Moth (a storytelling organization in NYC). Various people with connections to 9/11, like survivors, first responders, and the children of firefighters who died that day, told their stories. I cried three times. It got personal for me a couple of times. Before I went to St. Paul’s Chapel to volunteer, I was one of the people who would go over to the West Side Highway to cheer the workers coming in and out of the site. Two recovery workers talked about what that felt like for them and it made me very, very glad I did it.

Here’s the thing: I will never forget one time cheering and a woman driving by in a car was sobbing, and trying not to sob, as she passed us by and drove into the site. I didn’t know if we had upset her, or if she was crying because she was moved. I swear to God, one of the storytellers last night looked just like that woman and she described what it was like going down into the site with all of us applauding her and the other workers. We hadn’t upset her.