nabbott blog

Fall fell. The peeps upstairs turned their heat on - which in NYC means hot pipes running through my apartment - but I'll sit with the windows open, sipping tea in sweaters. I'll run from place to place, think to keep from thinking, dance 'til dawn while complaining about the music (can someone teach me some DJ techniques? 'cause seriously there are some poor music selections happening). Hope for favors and stay numb. Realize its Sunday night and I'm balancing on a concrete barricade above the westside highway. I'll know I'm a child and hope to never grow up. I'll spend time on coffee and books and magazines and pictures and wandering. I'll playing soccer in the cold. I'll work on art projects and get mad and get fired up and still make no progress. I'll work at 8 am and 8 pm. I'll pray for someone to do something with. I'll give up and walk out the door. I'll entertain myself by walking against the human flow of weekend crowds at the Met. I'll keep my IPod charged. I won't take my Metrocard out of my jacket for the next 3 months.

Pumpkins left outside my door - under the BQE. In the background are 3 men sleeping on mattresses they've had stashed here pretty much all summer.

I just got back from Ryan and Patty's wedding in Mexico. This is why you don't want me to shoot your wedding. There's lots more where these came from.

First Beer as a Married Woman.

First Chew as a Married Man.

I'm a despicable childish human being. No doubt.

Posted by nmablog at 06:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sometimes I don't know how to feel. I suspect I'm crazier than the average human, but how is anyone supposed to feel? The world seems a study in contrasts. In the midst of loving my life, being with friends and all I've inherited, so much terrible shit goes down. How dare I feel lonely or sad or restless? How dare I not make the world a better place? How dare I drink and listen to music and go out dancing and check soccer scores and obsess about myself. Without the easy protection of a resort on the beach or a cold frosty drink, life goes on. If I pick up a book or a magazine - about something other than sports and fashion - and read, life goes on. Or I act recklessly, excessively and uncontrollably happy. Drunk and in love with myself and the space I fill. There is no wave that passes from my cannonball leap. No splash. Nothing but me.

I read this story on my flight to Mexico. I can only share the emotion with you by having you read it - painful, moving. (There's also long bland feature about the jaw dropping waste in financing the Bush vs. Iraq war here.)

Contrast the first and last pictures of the bus which carried Benazir Bhutto back to Karachi from her exile. Pakistan.

And finally, part of the reason we're limited in dealing with the fires in California is the war in Iraq. My thoughts are with all of you in both places. National Guard problems.

Actually, a PS. I wrote all that a couple days ago and didn't post it. Today over a lunch of eight dollar veggie burger and three dollar latte I read this tidbit from " Tree of Smoke":

"Night again, the insects are loud, the moths are killing themselves on the lamp. Two hours ago I sat on the veranda looking out at the dusk, filled with envy for each living entity—bird, bug, blossom, reptile, tree, and vine—that doesn't bear the burden of the knowledge of good and evil." -Denis Johnson

Posted by nmablog at 09:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Trip #one to Mexico commences in a couple of hours, so here I sit in my boxers. I want to say goodbye. Goodbye to the jeans and sweaters that I've been cherishing these last few dayz: I love you and I'll be back soon. XOXO.

Posted by nmablog at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Working lots seems to inspire me to busier life. Long nights, meeting here and there, quiet time by myself, coffee, walks, dancing til dawn, projects, places, dreams. Thats the sum of it all. My internet went down for a couple of days, so I started in on a book I was saving for Mexico. Less than 100 pages in and I'll recommend it now. Go get it, maybe we can start a book club. Tree of Smoke.

The internet is an amazing being, the newest character in every crack of my 21st century life. Here are some pictures of tangible place and time, inspired by the internet and shared with you through that same medium. Enjoy the photos. As for me, it may be Sunday, but as "they" say, once more into the breach dear friends, once more.

West Brooklyn Beach.

Best trees in NY? Perhaps. Thanks to a new friend.

Posted by nmablog at 05:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Step one: Stop at Oslo for late afternoon work break and coffee.

Step two: L train to Manhattan, go watch Paul Haggis' new movie " In the Valley of Elah ".

Step three: Leave the theater considering war, literature, life, human purpose, death, Art, photography, filmmaking. storytelling, light, Charlize Theron, relative happiness, race, hatred, historical perspective, national identity, personal circumstances, morality and anything else that graces your synapses.

Step four: Turn on I-Pod, insert headphones and listen to the new Radiohead album " In Rainbows "

Step five: Wander home at dusk through Brooklyn to empty apartment and make yourself dinner.

Posted by nmablog at 08:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The next time I have a celebration, I'm having LCD Soundsystem play it. Honestly, I like listening to them on the ol' IPod. But nothing compares to the live show. About 25,000 people, almost everyone dancing. James Murphy being awkward, passionate, and incredible. So much fun. Go see them if you can.

The Arcade Fire played after and it was really good, but honestly, kind of a let down for me. Still among my favorite bands, but a totally different experience. I kind of slipped to the back of the crowd and listened more than participated.

The bike ride out there took quite a while since I still can't really push too hard on the pedals. Gave me time to enjoy the sunset.

And the view from the Triboro Bridge.

Blonde Redhead.

Hipster drum circle under the disco ball. LCD SS.

Arcade Fire. Neon Bible. Lots of cool visuals.

Posted by nmablog at 03:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I love being a still photographer, and the projects I've been working on this week have me all stoked on that. But I really enjoy the motion picture thing too. Since I've got broken ribs and can't fucking run or do anything except sit around for at least 2 more weeks I've seen quite a few lately and I'm gonna take a bunch of pills and go see a couple more this weekend (Into the Wild. 3:10 to Yuma. In the Valley of Elah. Who wants to go?)

The Darjeeling Limited. Go see it. Wes Anderson and Adrien Brody are tremendous.

The Squid and The Whale. Rent it. So funny and biting. I obviously have personal connection to cheating wives, divorce, Brooklyn, awkward childhood and loneliness. But whatever, I love story telling in any form, wether the songs, words, colors, and images are alone or in a conglomeration of dope ass filmmaking.

At Darjeeling there were great trailers the next round of movies I want to see:

Be Kind Rewind (Michel Gondry and Mos Def? Please.):

Grace is Gone. Not exactly a comedy:

Walk Hard. ROTFL!:

Finally, here is an advertisement filmed by Ryan McGinley, hot shot photographer slash city-lebrity. In case you can't figure it out, its supposed to convince you to buy a bike and bag made by Puma. Me? It just convinced me I want to ride around in the fields, swim naked and generally be in love.

PS. Anyone going to Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, Les Savy Fav, and Blond Redhead???

Posted by nmablog at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)