‘I love it when the sun comes out and my leaves are still wet from the rain.’

—Columnar Pin Oak

Aww, someone built a lil stars-and-stripes birdhouse and hung it from one of the new trees on our block in Washington Heights. 

So after at least thirty years of being a burned-out shell, the vacant house next to us is being renovated. Today they unblocked the front door, which was kind of like seeing someone wake up from a coma. (I’ve never seen anyone wake up from a coma.) Which is to say that when it’s done, you guys should totally buy it and move uptown so that we can be neighbors! The block is coming along very nicely, especially when the weather is perfect. 

Just learned that in addition to winning Rookie of the Year, I’m a contender for MVP — Most Valuable Plant!

—Japanese Climbing Hydrangea

Here’s what the first hot day of the year looks like on 42nd Street. I mean, yeah, the heat was a drag, but the clouds were puffy and actually sort of fun. 

Here are some pix of the most variegated plant in the world, the Sycamore Maple. And speaking of plants (and cats), can I talk for a second about Goodreads, the site that has convinced me that “serious book readers” are all too often actually some of the worst people in the world? I am admittedly not a heavy Goodreads user, but when I have time (which okay, has been scarce lately), I will leave a five-star review of books I have read and enjoyed, usually with a few comments (and I only leave five-star reviews, because I think stars are stupid). Anyway, someone friended me last year and we traded a few messages about Patricia Highsmith (whose books I enjoy very much, btw) and today, s/he sent me a message with the following (and I quote verbatim): “Matthew — I am deleting you as GR fren as you seem far more keen on cats and flowers than doing any book comment. Which is ok.” (Sic throughout). Which whatever, I realize it’s not even a small deal on any measurable scale, but I was still a bit flabbergasted that someone would actually take the time on a holiday weekend to write/send such a stupid, passive-agressive note — as if I need their blessing — and if I’m going to be offended on anyone’s behalf, it’s on behalf of my plants and cats. Which sorry, I know I’ve evolved into a serious PLOTU/FLOTU/CLOTU and I wish I could provide illuminating 3000-word lit-crit essays every day of the week, or actually I don’t, because 1) writing such essays is generally speaking a LOT OF WORK for ZERO $$$, and 2) I’d rather just take some nice pix and enjoy a few moments of tranquility in a world that let’s face it is pretty much a shitstorm most of the time. Anyway, I didn’t respond, and I don’t want to sound more upset than I am — really, it only bothered me for like two minutes — but I’m sharing it here because I thought it might give you guys a LOL, and otherwise, I hope you’re having a nice holiday and blogging about whatever rocks your boat, even if it’s just cats or flowers or chocolate cake, hot gay bears, etc. etc. etc.  

Others may enjoy a long weekend, but guess what: my job never stops.

—Zephyr, on the lookout for flying snakes

Here’s a picture of my new house on 35th Street — you guys are all invited to a party I’m hosting pretty much constantly! Just kidding, it’s just a building I regularly admire on the way to/from work. Today as I was walking down 35th Street, some driver was leaning hard on the horn as he went through the light at Fifth Avenue at like 80 mph and everyone was like, ‘ugh, what’s wrong with that asshole, he’s really harshing our after-work commuting vibes.’ I fantasized about running after him and pretending to be an undercover cop (lol) when he was stopped at Sixth Avenue (which he was like fifteen second later, via crosstown traffic): I would knock on his window and when he gave me his license and registration (which he would do after being deceived by my wallet, which I would flash quickly in front of his face, notwithstanding the fact that I have nothing even remotely badge-like in it), I would drop the license/registration into the nearest sewer and be like, “that’s what you get for almost killing thirty people” before running off into the crowds of Times Square. Needless to say none of this transpired, because I’m still alive, which I”m sure would not have been the case had I followed through on my impulse; or well, none of it except disappearing into the crowds of Times Square, because that’s a daily thing for me now.