Usually you might not notice Koko, which you should find mystifying because Koko was statuesque and ravishingly beautiful. She should have caused a crowd in a room to suddenly stop talking when she entered, because her presence was potentially spectacular. Her skin was flawless, alabaster and translucent. Her smoldering eyes could be inexplicably deep and compelling, except that she would never look at anyone.
This mysterious aloofness was not because Koko was fashionably inaccessible or naively detached. It was not because she was so completely self-assured and in control of her destiny, although to look at her you could have thought this should be the essence of her.
At the heart of this enigma was that Koko Minami seemed to have no idea who she was or why she was on this planet. Although men pursued her, she could not believe that anyone could really take an interest in her.
Koko had come to New York from Japan to escape her family. She strove to be anonymous. She did not friend many people on FaceBook, and she seldom used her phone to text anyone.
Her girl friends didn't really know her, but still tried to be the best of friends. Koko would occasionally go to movies with them or go to some popular restaurants or local clubs. On those occasions, her girlfriends often went home with guys they met, and Koko would go home alone.
Koko wandered through her life as though she had lost her way. She was not happy, but at the same time she didn't think of herself as unhappy. She preferred a quiet, simple life. For a while, Koko was a student at city university because it was a place where she could get by unnoticed.
There was Jerome, an older man she met in Central Park who spent his time watching people. Jerome recognized Koko's remarkable beauty and was mystified why she was so alone. He predicted someday she would surprise herself. He thought of her as slumbering through life as though she was in incubation.
Koko's days passed unremarkably. She would walk around her neighborhood on the upper East side, and then find herself in the rotunda of the Guggenheim, or wandering around the Metropolitan Museum saturated from overexposure to so much art.
She would spend long hours alone, often sleeping the day away, with nights becoming days and days becoming nights.
And then quite suddenly Koko disappeared.
On FaceBook appeared a most phenomenal posting. Using Check-in, Koko revealed she was at JFK waiting to board a plane for Paris. Her global positioning confirmed her location. Friends read her FaceBook status in bewilderment. Koko in Paris?
But indeed, in Paris, Koko became the exotic toast of the town. Emerging from the Paris Hilton in a provocative red dress that underscored her flaming sensuousness, Koko was pursued by an Italian film director who had fallen into obscurity but recognized that Koko was his ticket for a comeback. Perhaps the most incredible turn of events was that the camera positively loved Koko The camera embraced her incredible frame, her glowing complexion, and what had become a radiant, penetrating smile that could melt your heart.
Koko Minami became Coco Chenille. She never looked back as she enjoyed international acclaim in films and managed to go through several famous European directors and even one aging and popular American filmmaker, eventually becoming a celebrated director in her own right.
Jerome was somewhat astonished in later years when he went to the Angelika to see a film Awakening which starred his beautiful friend from Central Park. He found her transformation breathtaking. He thought maybe he had witnessed a subtle pattern of evolution.
Koko literally really did disappear. Emerging from her cocoon was the beautiful butterfly Coco who amazingly happened upon her place in the sun.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
CHOGA
Benjamin plodded along Bleecker Street headed west toward Sixth Avenue or Avenue of the Americas as it had been dubbed in 1945 by Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. That was before Benjamin had come to New York in the 70s. Benjamin had come to The Big Apple to seek his fortune, but it isn't clear just exactly how that turned out. Clearly, Benjamin was not wealthy, and as he walked along Bleecker he noticed how much it had changed when it was the center of the burgeoning music world of jazz, folk, and rock clubs that peppered the street with thousands of visitors milling around seeking the latest acts. Now the clubs had been replaced by drugstores and banks, The Village Gate was barely a memory, and Bleecker was becoming bleaker.
As Benjamin crossed La Guardia Place, he glanced up at a place that had almost been like a second home to him, a tiny Korean restaurant named Choga, up a flight, above The Bitter End. It was closed now... not exactly boarded up, but empty and lifeless.
Benjamin paused, and for a moment he felt inclined to struggle up the steps as though this might magically make Choga reappear. Maybe something like that should happen, he thought. Maybe like Brigadoon, Choga could appear every hundred years when something magical might happen to people who came looking for adventures in the Village.
For Benjamin, Choga was a place of enchantment. The owner and cook was Mi-sook who had come to New York from Jeju Island, by way of Daegu. She added a regional touch to her Korean offerings, not that Benjamin would have known, since although he liked Korean food, he had no experience beyond Korean Barbecue and Kimchi. Mi-sook's repertoire was far more varied, and she often cooked custom dishes for her friends that never found their way to the menu.
Benjamin had been introduced to Choga by his friend and colleague, Andrei, a composer from Romania. Benjamin regarded Andrei as the first true world citizen he had ever met. Andrei used Choga as a gathering place for friends to make plans for outrageous events in the village. Now Andrei was gone. Choga was gone. Benjamin felt as though his world was disappearing.
As he looked upstairs at the empty space that had once been Choga, he noticed the name and logos were still in place although it had been closed for almost a year. October was near at hand, and the Village seemed poised for a celebration of Autumn and the end of summer. Benjamin remembered the many feasts and celebrations in Choga with his friends. He had met Mi-sook because he had been talking about someone he had heard about called Mi-sook, and the waitress told her boss that someone was talking about her at one of the tables. Mi-sook came to inquire, and all at once they became old friends as though they had already known each other from another time.
Choga had closed suddenly, without warning, and Benjamin frantically tried to contact Mi-sook, but she had disappeared. He and his friends had so many celebrations of events, happenings, birthdays, and holidays, that it was hard for Benjamin to imagine his life without his second home. Every Sunday night he would have dinner at Choga and contact his friends through his smartphone. It had become a ritual. He even documented the many different dishes and posted them on FaceBook. Mi-sook had introduced Benjamin to Makgeolli, Korean rice wine, and would often offer an especially rare brand "on the house," for special occasions.
It was very quiet on Bleecker. Night was coming. Benjamin waved at the upstairs as though Mi-sook might be looking through the window. Many times she had watched him walking on Bleecker and waved to him. He felt a rush of emotion and tears welled up in his eyes.
What had disappeared was more than a restaurant. It was a way of life, a brief reality so precious that he never realized how fleeting and transient such treasures can be. If only once he could embrace that reality, celebrate it. He tried to keep such moments vividly alive, but Time erodes such corridors of permanence.
This is how it happens, he thought. We continue to remember even as we disappear.
Even so, Choga would always be a place he would return to in his mind, a haven for remembering some of his best moments and friends. As he continued along Bleecker he picked up his pace and smiled at people passing by. Benjamin felt something was enduring there on Bleecker Street. Despite the many changes eroding our sensibilities, there is substance to the past that shapes the present. He heard an echo of Choga resonating even as it faded into history... seemingly lingering forever.
As Benjamin crossed La Guardia Place, he glanced up at a place that had almost been like a second home to him, a tiny Korean restaurant named Choga, up a flight, above The Bitter End. It was closed now... not exactly boarded up, but empty and lifeless.
Benjamin paused, and for a moment he felt inclined to struggle up the steps as though this might magically make Choga reappear. Maybe something like that should happen, he thought. Maybe like Brigadoon, Choga could appear every hundred years when something magical might happen to people who came looking for adventures in the Village.
For Benjamin, Choga was a place of enchantment. The owner and cook was Mi-sook who had come to New York from Jeju Island, by way of Daegu. She added a regional touch to her Korean offerings, not that Benjamin would have known, since although he liked Korean food, he had no experience beyond Korean Barbecue and Kimchi. Mi-sook's repertoire was far more varied, and she often cooked custom dishes for her friends that never found their way to the menu.
Benjamin had been introduced to Choga by his friend and colleague, Andrei, a composer from Romania. Benjamin regarded Andrei as the first true world citizen he had ever met. Andrei used Choga as a gathering place for friends to make plans for outrageous events in the village. Now Andrei was gone. Choga was gone. Benjamin felt as though his world was disappearing.
As he looked upstairs at the empty space that had once been Choga, he noticed the name and logos were still in place although it had been closed for almost a year. October was near at hand, and the Village seemed poised for a celebration of Autumn and the end of summer. Benjamin remembered the many feasts and celebrations in Choga with his friends. He had met Mi-sook because he had been talking about someone he had heard about called Mi-sook, and the waitress told her boss that someone was talking about her at one of the tables. Mi-sook came to inquire, and all at once they became old friends as though they had already known each other from another time.
Choga had closed suddenly, without warning, and Benjamin frantically tried to contact Mi-sook, but she had disappeared. He and his friends had so many celebrations of events, happenings, birthdays, and holidays, that it was hard for Benjamin to imagine his life without his second home. Every Sunday night he would have dinner at Choga and contact his friends through his smartphone. It had become a ritual. He even documented the many different dishes and posted them on FaceBook. Mi-sook had introduced Benjamin to Makgeolli, Korean rice wine, and would often offer an especially rare brand "on the house," for special occasions.
It was very quiet on Bleecker. Night was coming. Benjamin waved at the upstairs as though Mi-sook might be looking through the window. Many times she had watched him walking on Bleecker and waved to him. He felt a rush of emotion and tears welled up in his eyes.
What had disappeared was more than a restaurant. It was a way of life, a brief reality so precious that he never realized how fleeting and transient such treasures can be. If only once he could embrace that reality, celebrate it. He tried to keep such moments vividly alive, but Time erodes such corridors of permanence.
This is how it happens, he thought. We continue to remember even as we disappear.
Even so, Choga would always be a place he would return to in his mind, a haven for remembering some of his best moments and friends. As he continued along Bleecker he picked up his pace and smiled at people passing by. Benjamin felt something was enduring there on Bleecker Street. Despite the many changes eroding our sensibilities, there is substance to the past that shapes the present. He heard an echo of Choga resonating even as it faded into history... seemingly lingering forever.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
THE WHOLE RIGAMAROLE
George was both elated and distressed as he stood on the deck of Staten Island Ferry while it pulled away from the ferry slip. He watched as the ferry churned toward toward Manhattan, away from the myserteous woman who had dominated his thoughts. He could only imagine what she must think, but the most startling development was that she appeared to recognize him! He could hardly believe his eyes when he thought she had noticed and remembered him. Yes. that was definitely a wave, he thought, and she really smiled!
His thoughts raced feverishly as to what he should do. Of course, he would catch the return ferry, but now it was evening, and the ferry crossings were fewer. She would wait for him. But would she? Maybe she would have the same idea and take the next ferry to Manhattan to find him!
But wait! What if all of this was just a fantasy? Just an illusion? George staggered backward and crumpled to the bench at the rear of the ferry. He watched as he continue to pull away from Staten Island. Hadn't he wondered if she had even existed at all...whether or not his encounter with this stranger and her butterfly in Washington Square Park was just a figment of his imagination?
What should he do? He was now halfway back to Manhattan. He took out his phone. He was so stupid! Why hadn't he thought to take a picture? That could have proved it wasn't just a dream. Yes, he should have the presence of mind to document his adventures. He started to think on the power of these smartphones... but if they are so smart why couldn't they use the global positioning technology to identify her frequency so he could track her and find her? Yes, he thought, they could that. Suddenly he thought maybe smartphones are not smart enough. If they were smarter he wouldn't be in this predicament. Just a few clicks and he could know where she was and who she was.
All at once George began to realize that Irving Berlin had anticipated this whole smartphone revolution in All Alone. How could he have known the phone would become the basis for relationships in the 21st century?
All alone,
By the telephone...
Waiting for a ring
A ting-a-ling
I'm all alone every evening
All alone feeling blue
Wondering where you are
And how you are
And if you are
All alone too...
(Just for a moment you were mine, and then
You seemed to vanish like a dream).
Amazing, George thought, except maybe now it is "All alone WITH the smartphone." He thought about all the people walking on the street caressing their phones.
George was alone, but still clung to hope. He had been astonished to see her again against at all odds, only to watch her vanish! Irving Berlin's melody was running through his head, distracting him from his real objective. He needed to figure out how to find her.
But this mysterious woman who seemed to hold George's destiny in her hands was oblivious to his distress and unaware she had triggered an identity crisis in this strange man who seemed to stalk her, but also appeared not to be a threat. Sylvia thought perhaps they would talk, but things took a strange turn when she left the park, half afraid that maybe he was deliberately following her.
This was Sylvia's last evening in New York, and on a whim, she had decided to ride the Staten Island Ferry. It was always such fun, and this summer day had been so beautiful. The ferry would give her a last glimpse of her favorite sky-line and remind her of all the wonderful moments spent in New York City after so many years of absence.
But she did become concerned during the ferry ride. She noticed the man who had followed her into the park had now apparently followed her to the ferry and maybe really was stalking her!
As the ferry came to the landing, Sylvia panicked and ran ahead losing herself in the crowd. She could see him running after her, but looking confused and agitated. She knew he would attempt to follow her, so she ran toward the return gate for the ferry. He would assume she had come for a round-trip ride. She disappeared into the women's restrooms.
True to form, George followed her and surmised she had boarded the return ferry. It would be perfect. He would introduce himself, and they would talk. Maybe even become friends. He thought he saw her ahead. He rushed to catch up. For a moment, he went to a woman with long flowing black hair, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Then the Ferry whistle blew, the gates were lowered and the Ferry cast off. George continued to search the different decks.
Sylva had seen him rush onto the ferry and felt relieved that she had escaped. Maybe he was dangerous. But as she thought about it, he seemed intense with a certain abandonment that she found attractive. In fact, on one level she thought he might be interesting to know. Why was she always so cautious, she wondered? She began to regret that she had tricked him to get on the return ferry.
She pressed forward to the ferry entrance and watched as the ferry departed its moorings. Then she saw him looking back at the ferry slip. She caught his eye. She smiled and waved at him. She wasn't sure why, but she could see that he recognized her waving and seemed so jubilant. Now she was certain she had been too cautious and hoped she might meet him.
And this is how the whole rigamarole began. George caught the return boat to Staten Island and Sylvia headed for Manhattan. For the rest of the evening they went round and round, always out of phase, never really touching. Finally Sylvia had to leave for JFK ,and George would probably still be passing the Statue of Liberty in both directions if he thought there was the slightest chance he would find her.
He was convinced there was something magical about her. He thought Rodgers and Hart had nailed it when they created:
I'm wild again, beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again,
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I...
That was it! He knew it. She had bewitched him that day in the park, that mysterious woman who could gesture to butterflies to land in her lap.
George never lost hope of finding her. He would dance around the places where he had seen her, celebrating her existence and singing "I took one look at you, that's all I meant to do, and then my heart stood still..."
He walked around and sometimes floated on air as he continued to search for her in Manhattan. He danced along the wharfs and piers, and made a ritual pilgrimage to Staten Island every week hoping against hope that he might see her.
There was something quite innocent and magnificent about George and his imagination. The world was always challenging him to rise above the mundane. To find adventure and to make miracles. George liked that about the world.
Yet, George could not forget the mysterious woman who had so beguiled him. He thought she embodied all that he had been searching for his whole life. He continued to search. He continued to hope.
His thoughts raced feverishly as to what he should do. Of course, he would catch the return ferry, but now it was evening, and the ferry crossings were fewer. She would wait for him. But would she? Maybe she would have the same idea and take the next ferry to Manhattan to find him!
But wait! What if all of this was just a fantasy? Just an illusion? George staggered backward and crumpled to the bench at the rear of the ferry. He watched as he continue to pull away from Staten Island. Hadn't he wondered if she had even existed at all...whether or not his encounter with this stranger and her butterfly in Washington Square Park was just a figment of his imagination?
What should he do? He was now halfway back to Manhattan. He took out his phone. He was so stupid! Why hadn't he thought to take a picture? That could have proved it wasn't just a dream. Yes, he should have the presence of mind to document his adventures. He started to think on the power of these smartphones... but if they are so smart why couldn't they use the global positioning technology to identify her frequency so he could track her and find her? Yes, he thought, they could that. Suddenly he thought maybe smartphones are not smart enough. If they were smarter he wouldn't be in this predicament. Just a few clicks and he could know where she was and who she was.
All at once George began to realize that Irving Berlin had anticipated this whole smartphone revolution in All Alone. How could he have known the phone would become the basis for relationships in the 21st century?
All alone,
By the telephone...
Waiting for a ring
A ting-a-ling
I'm all alone every evening
All alone feeling blue
Wondering where you are
And how you are
And if you are
All alone too...
(Just for a moment you were mine, and then
You seemed to vanish like a dream).
Amazing, George thought, except maybe now it is "All alone WITH the smartphone." He thought about all the people walking on the street caressing their phones.
George was alone, but still clung to hope. He had been astonished to see her again against at all odds, only to watch her vanish! Irving Berlin's melody was running through his head, distracting him from his real objective. He needed to figure out how to find her.
But this mysterious woman who seemed to hold George's destiny in her hands was oblivious to his distress and unaware she had triggered an identity crisis in this strange man who seemed to stalk her, but also appeared not to be a threat. Sylvia thought perhaps they would talk, but things took a strange turn when she left the park, half afraid that maybe he was deliberately following her.
This was Sylvia's last evening in New York, and on a whim, she had decided to ride the Staten Island Ferry. It was always such fun, and this summer day had been so beautiful. The ferry would give her a last glimpse of her favorite sky-line and remind her of all the wonderful moments spent in New York City after so many years of absence.
But she did become concerned during the ferry ride. She noticed the man who had followed her into the park had now apparently followed her to the ferry and maybe really was stalking her!
As the ferry came to the landing, Sylvia panicked and ran ahead losing herself in the crowd. She could see him running after her, but looking confused and agitated. She knew he would attempt to follow her, so she ran toward the return gate for the ferry. He would assume she had come for a round-trip ride. She disappeared into the women's restrooms.
True to form, George followed her and surmised she had boarded the return ferry. It would be perfect. He would introduce himself, and they would talk. Maybe even become friends. He thought he saw her ahead. He rushed to catch up. For a moment, he went to a woman with long flowing black hair, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Then the Ferry whistle blew, the gates were lowered and the Ferry cast off. George continued to search the different decks.
Sylva had seen him rush onto the ferry and felt relieved that she had escaped. Maybe he was dangerous. But as she thought about it, he seemed intense with a certain abandonment that she found attractive. In fact, on one level she thought he might be interesting to know. Why was she always so cautious, she wondered? She began to regret that she had tricked him to get on the return ferry.
She pressed forward to the ferry entrance and watched as the ferry departed its moorings. Then she saw him looking back at the ferry slip. She caught his eye. She smiled and waved at him. She wasn't sure why, but she could see that he recognized her waving and seemed so jubilant. Now she was certain she had been too cautious and hoped she might meet him.
And this is how the whole rigamarole began. George caught the return boat to Staten Island and Sylvia headed for Manhattan. For the rest of the evening they went round and round, always out of phase, never really touching. Finally Sylvia had to leave for JFK ,and George would probably still be passing the Statue of Liberty in both directions if he thought there was the slightest chance he would find her.
He was convinced there was something magical about her. He thought Rodgers and Hart had nailed it when they created:
I'm wild again, beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again,
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I...
That was it! He knew it. She had bewitched him that day in the park, that mysterious woman who could gesture to butterflies to land in her lap.
George never lost hope of finding her. He would dance around the places where he had seen her, celebrating her existence and singing "I took one look at you, that's all I meant to do, and then my heart stood still..."
He walked around and sometimes floated on air as he continued to search for her in Manhattan. He danced along the wharfs and piers, and made a ritual pilgrimage to Staten Island every week hoping against hope that he might see her.
There was something quite innocent and magnificent about George and his imagination. The world was always challenging him to rise above the mundane. To find adventure and to make miracles. George liked that about the world.
Yet, George could not forget the mysterious woman who had so beguiled him. He thought she embodied all that he had been searching for his whole life. He continued to search. He continued to hope.
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