Metamodernism in a New York Moment

 Imagine being in a garden terrace where American ‘90s jazz plays and the art that hangs on the walls is a menagerie of midcentury color-swerving, obviously Picasso inspired. One particular painting strikes you, this one more Fauvist: a purple blonde clutches a pearl necklace as she emerges, orange-nippled and open-mouthed, from a parlor with sitting chair. Now imagine yourself as the painter, or voyeur or whoever, sitting comfortably in another chair watching self-satisfied. This is how I felt as I ate the steak au poivre avec pomme frites. This reminded me what it was like to be in love.

And I wish I could transmit the same feeling to you – it is so luxurious, so serene. So I looked up to the sky through the swinging beech branches that clamber over the black fire escapes and brown brick apartments and stored in my memory what New York was like.

Maybe I would do better to show you in a story of my own, how it feels to be in love. But that’s so 20th century, not metamodern at all. Or is it?

London Recap

Daniel Adler in Claridge's Hotel.

I just created my London album on Facebook which is supposed to give you an idea of what we saw and did. Overall I was ambivalent about being home when I returned last night and saw the rats in the sewer and the loud rude Americans. On one hand this is what makes America Amurrica - the high culture and the low, but London is simply more refined. Let me try to describe it another way: in London people pass by, in New York they are next to you. Everyone wants to stand out here, there they want to be recognized. The difference is subtle and plays out in our country's love for individualism and theirs for class.

We saw an interesting play about race called Clyborne Park. It was two acts. The first was about a Chicago family that sells their house to a black family in the late '50s. The next act was about a white family moving back into the now black neighborhood and wanting to build a big house. It was uproarious. This was the climax, told by the black woman, when all the Brits, three thousand miles safe from slavery's remnants were able to think about what it means to be politically correct w/r/t blacks: What do white women and tampons have in common?
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They're both stuck up cunts.

Of course, the white male was the one saying that he's not offended by any of it, privileged bastard that he is. But then his experience may be the most relatable, because it hasn't been clouded with the experience of prejudice. Relatable, boring. Make it interesting and universal, something even the Brits can relate to.

PB 'n' J 'n NYC

I eat PB 'n' J every day at my desk in Brooklyn, New York. Sometimes I'll blog while I'm eating it, or social bookmark, or read the New York Times.

The bread, for the sake of variation, is changed loaf by loaf. Right now, I have two slices of Potato Bread, but this is aberrant; tomorrow I will buy a fresh loaf of whole wheat/oat bran medley.

The Peanut Butter must be natural with or without salt added, but processed peanut butter is really nasty. Once, when I was in college, I bought the peanut butter and jelly in a jar combo, thinking it would save me time (because I was really busy smoking weed and reading Denise Levertov). It was a bad idea.

The preserves must be 100% fruit, or at least close to it. Jam has corn syrup and jelly has all kinds of nitrites and other shit in it.

I don't mess with organic milk because I'm a lowly writer, but I dig the 1%. You cannot drink anything else with PB n' J. If you do or try to deny me, I won't be your friend. I buy it by the half gallon and drink it from the carton. By Friday I'm usually running low, but it's a Friday so it's okay.

It's healthy and sweet, packed with protein and omega-3s and vitamins. I love my PB 'n' J with milk.

Daniel Adler's 100th Blog Post

Hey Guys and Gals,
This is my 100th blog post, and it has been nearly a year since I started this thing. I want to thank y'all for staying tuned, and I want to reassure you that there's a lot more good stuff to come. I hope you've enjoyed reading excerpts from my forthcoming novel, Hot Love on the Wing (which believe me, still needs about a year of work). My ideas and thoughts on our moment of late postmodernism, post postmodernism, metamodernism, or whatever you want to call it, are always subject to interpretation based on our the definitive quality of our interaction. And my hopes and love for Brooklyn and New York can always be enhanced with more information.

If you have any ideas for me as to what I should blog about, feel free to drop a comment. To all you new viewers, don't be scared to follow me. I'm working hard to make my blog the most interesting one on the internet, and with your help and my hard work, it will be.
All my love,
Daniel Adler