Two things I love about New York

My morning walk through the Heather Garden at Ft. Tryon Park.

When the Chinese food delivery guy rides his bike past the Mexican food delivery guy and shouts, "AMIGO!"

Joke by David

Q: What do you call a narcissistic cannibal?

A: Self-serving.

Fact # 14,977

When I was 17, I was shot at by a gang member.

Later, the police determined the bullet missed my head by about an inch.

In real time

Woke up smiling, another beautiful day, my mom and big brother just phoned from Ireland and June is right around the corner.

Parenting 101

Betta than bingo

There's never a dull Tuesday when you live in New York, and last night was no exception.

While I watched my good friend John Trombetta tear up solos at Swing 46, I sat stage side with the great Warren Vache who taught me a thing or two about jazz, and about my musical self.

In real time

I stare at the picture below and there is no me, only her.

On the blanket

Annie dreams...



Cousins talk...


The littlest eats...


and watches all the people.

Sitting at the sidebar

Off the beaten path but still, one of my favorite songs of all time.

The two of us

Family values

When I was a teenager and spoke to my mother about the matter of my virginity, she said this: "What I hope is that your first experience is with someone who has your best interest at heart."

After that, I spent the next few years as a serial kisser, until I met just such a boy. When the time comes, I will give my daughter the same advice.

In real time

Annie reads to Cousin Jack, the picnic basket is packed, and we're headed to The Great Lawn.

Pop

My father liked hot baths, road trips and opening gifts; he liked old stamps, old movies, books and comfortable shoes. He gargled in the morning, used bar soap to wash his hair, he ate cereal for breakfast and sang while doing dishes.

He would have been 76 today, and I miss him.

Sitting at the sidebar

Before I get lost in the weekend, here's a piece of music I got lost in this morning while washing the dishes.

Toreador by Steve Turre. Turre on trombone and shells, Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet.

Pretty things come to those who wait, so if you can, listen all the way through.

From pain to pleasure

Music on, the microcurrent machine works, and I love the little view outside my window.

May 23

What a difference a year makes.

Annie get your scissors

This is Annie my daughter and Annie the hairstylist. Annie the hairstylist is so good at her job, that Annie my daughter can no longer stay away from the mirror.

(Tai, notice the Goats For Peace t-shirt?)

A pain

I'm so much more comfortable with emotional pain than I am with physical pain, and for the life of me, I don't know what I could have done to cause a pinched nerve in my left leg. I've had no sleep, will be in bed much of the day, and both my left leg and I will miss seeing Steve Turre tonight at Smoke.

Ugh.

Sleeping honey

In real time

Up at five, Bill Evans and coffee, and those birds--I can hear them so clearly now.

Humor from another planet

Annie: "When Bruce visits again, I want to show him the youtube video, 'Shoes'."

Me: "I don't think he'll like it."

Annie: "How come?"

Me: "I don't think he's a satirist."

Annie: "But isn't he into astronomy?"

David: "That would be a saturnist."

Sitting at the sidebar

I haven't been feeling quite whole these days, but when I listen to Mr. Morgan and Mr. Shorter play Mr. Kenyatta, all the pieces start coming together.

Click the music player to the right and listen.

Blog clog

I love oranges and sour candy but not orange sour candy.

That's all.

k

Evolving 101

When I go to sleep at night I wait for the sun to come up, and when the day is over I wait for the moon to rise. I wait for a knock at the door, a promise, a party, or a moment of awakening. I wait for inspiration, a creative surge, another kiss or good cup of coffee. But mostly I wait for a time when I'm not waiting, when I can see the sun outside, hear those silly birds sing, and taste the good cup of coffee I hold in my hand right now.

Fast cars & bad boys

Santa Cruz California, 1987--my boyfriend Aaron called me from work and asked if I had his car. I assured him I didn't (I had my own), and he assured me that his was not parked outside the restaurant where he left it (India Joze, for those who'll appreciate the reference). Immediately after I hung up the phone, this is what happened:

I had the idea I could find the car, so I grabbed my keys, climbed into my '64 Dodge Dart and started it up. And as I pulled onto the street, just like that, Aaron's Toyota hatchback zipped right past me. With no time to process this most unusual occurrence, I put the pedal to the metal and took off after the little white car. Now here's where I'd like to unleash the part of the story where a wild chase ensued, but in reality it was just me, traveling at average speed, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver who was seemingly unaware I was in hot pursuit.

With no obvious destination, the hijacked car darted in and around side streets, and as I carefully watched the needle on my gas gage approach empty, I continued to follow closely behind. Then suddenly, the mystery driver of my boyfriend's wheels took off, and when it got too fast for me to safely keep up, I pulled over, called 911 and reported the incident. I don't remember what happened next, maybe I went home, but more likely I went straight to the restaurant to tell Aaron my amazing tale.

Two days later, the stolen car was pulled over by police and the thief, a 15-year-old runaway boy, was apprehended. The interior was a mess, the engine shot, and in the back seat was a thick wool blanket, a pack of condoms, and a paperback copy of The Outsiders.

No charges were filed.

Blog clog

I love cherries and peppermint candy, but not at the same time. At least for now, that's the best I can do.

Goodnight.

k

Atypical ten

Annie: "What movie should I watch tonight? Gypsy, The Great Race, The Beatles' Help, or Teenagers From Outer Space?"

Better than speed

"Watching Speed Racer in IMAX was like mixing magic mushrooms with crystal meth, then washing them down with a jumbo box of Crayola crayons." ~David Kosh

Sorry for the silence

I've never been good at doing more than one thing at a time.

Playtime 101

Annie comes into the bathroom and sits down while I wash up before bed.

"Here, let me give you a facial," I say, and I prepare a hot washcloth.

"OK.," says Annie. "Let's pretend we're at a salon and I'm your regular client. I always request you, and your name is Lucy."

"Alright," I say as I apply facial cleanser to her cheeks.

"It's so nice to see you again Ms. Kosh, tell me, how's the family?"

Annie looks at me and patiently whispers a gentle reminder: "I'm a widow."

woof

Sitting at the sidebar

I can't tell you why I love The Eagles, but I can tell you, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Here's one of my favorites.

meow

Peep

Tonight

My friends Yale Strom & Elizabeth Schwartz will perform tonight with Pakistani, Salman Ahmad and his band Junoon in a concert at Queens College called Common Chords. Ahmad with his Sufi Qawwali music, and Strom with his klezmer will play separately and together, demonstrating the common musical origins of Muslim and klezmer music.

For more info, contact Sophia McGee at 718 997-5000.

In real time

Meditative morning, a voice whispers in my head, Watch your flame.

Sitting at the sidebar

A couple of years ago, I saw trombonist Steve Turre play with McCoy Tyner at The Blue Note. Although I'm not a huge fan of the trombone, when this trombonist blows the conch shell, it blows me away.

Exploration, from the album Sanctified Shells.

The puppy whisperer

In real time

Annie reads, Honey sleeps, my friend Elizabeth visits from California.

Gift

Today, some moms opened boxes and found diamond earrings inside, and some received strands of pretty pearls or the promise of a spa day. But it's a stack of CDs for this mother, from two people who know me well.

Family values

My grandparents on my mother's side never celebrated holidays, they said it was part of the capitalist plan to steal your money.

Fact #471

When my brother Michael was a little boy, he couldn't pronounce the word flower, and instead he said flala. My family adopted the word and to this day we all, even Annie, refer to flowers as flalas.