This picture of an eroded angel on a gravestone is from Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery.

There is a yeti loose in Long Island City. And by yeti, I mean a piece by artist Cameron Gainer at the Socrates Sculpture Park, which is on display through March 4 as part of their Emerging Artist Fellowship Exhibition.

I actually visited the sculpture a couple weeks ago, but I was just thinking of her today because it’s raining quite hard outside. Big Foot is a concrete base covered in fake fur, and she was remarkably immaculate when I saw her. I wonder how well she will hold up to the elements over the next half year. The sculpture is also remarkably interactive – I had a lot of fun styling her bangs, first standing up straight like David Bowie’s fright wig in “Labyrinth,” and then hanging over her eyes like Nico.

You can read more about Crazy B here. I have some more photos of Big Foot (which is actually titled “Forest Through The The Trees,” but they also feature my Blythe dolls. It has often been brought to my attention that Blythe dolls creep people out. Therefore, I won’t offend certain delicate sensibilities. Instead, here’s a photo of an installation that is also at the park right now:

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/nyregion/11wire-plane.html?hp&ex=1160625600&en=12537f67b1ec2ff5&ei=5094&partner=homepage

http://www.gothamist.com/archives/2006/10/11/helicopter_cras.php

http://www.newsday.com/news/local/newyork/am-plane1012,0,6393800.story?coll=ny-top-headlines
http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/10/11/plane.crash/index.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6042306.stm

He’s a two-year-old who’s available for adoption at the Petco in Union Square. I often wonder if cats project a certain emotion because of the way their face is shaped or their fur is patterned across their face, or if they really do feel the way I think they do. On the other hand, most cats look somewhat befuddled, confused or alarmed when they see me. That is indeed because the cats I see around here are either strays or someone else’s cat, and do not understand why this stranger is cooing and waving frantically at them.

This poor little kitty just arrived at Petco and I bet he was tired and scared of all the people who were staring at him, changing the tag on his cage and snapping photos of him (well, that was just me). I hope someone adopts him soon – I would, but I have a no-pet-policy apartment and I’m planning to move to a rabies-free country, to boot. I think Taiwan quarantines animals for six months when they first arrive in the country.

Another pic:

And, yes, I did PhotoShop these pics for maximum patheticness. But I posted them to several NYC groups on Flickr, in hopes that someone with a more stable life than I will fall in love and take Mr. Sad Eyes home with them, where he will get all the canned food and belly rubs he deserves. Or, if it’s more to his liking, “quiet time” in dark closets.

The corpse flower, or Baby, as the staff at the BBG called it, stood tall and proud in the middle of a greenhouse, cordoned off from spectators by a thin black rope. A small stream of people slowly walked around it and snapped pics before exiting out the other end of the room. I thought the corpse flower held itself without dignity throughout…

… even though, as you can see, it had a trapdoor cut into its heiney:

To answer the obvious question – no, I am afraid to report that Baby did not reek like something crawled up its spathe and died there. I did smell a faint whiff of something unpleasant, but it was probably B.O. After all, this was New York City on a 90-degree day. As it turned out, Baby had bloomed and unleashed its hotly anticipated olfactory statement during the night a few days before I went. I, of course, was a bit sad that Baby couldn’t hold it in until I finally got down to BK, but just seeing it was an amazing experience. After all, the corpse flower is like Halley’s Comet, and by the time Halley’s Comet flies around again I’ll be 81 and too busy swallowing my remaining teeth to pay attention. So Baby will have to take its place in my little bank of memories.

I am shocked, just shocked, that no one wants to go with me to see a plant that looks like a penis and smells like rotting meat. Perhaps that is because we already live in a city that regularly smells putrid, and where penises are often on display. But I know I’m not missing this for the world. I’m going tomorrow, and I’m bringing my Polaroid and digital cameras, and – oh, I wish there was a way to record smell forever!

I had a great time making up for lost time by myself today, though. It was quiet enough to be relaxing, but there were enough people and their babies, dogs and frisbees around so I didn’t feel lonely. The current installation, Interstate: The American Road Trip, will be up until August 13th. Here are some Polaroids I took (I wasn’t very good at keeping track of which piece was which, alas):

Looking across the East River into Harlem:

And one more:

Deducing from the stacking patterns, I realized that my symmetry-happy intruders must have been my landlords. I was indignantly brainstorming moving plans when I saw water marks on the walls.

My semi-basement apartment had semi-flooded! Oh God, WHY?

The water came in from underneath the doors and seeped in under the radiator near my bed. Thanks to my landlords’ ministrations, the only things ruined are a few magazines and a couple books. That sucks, but considering my eccentric organization skills, I could be typing “photo album,” “irreplaceable anniversary gift from boyfriend,” or “my precious, precious iBook laptop, my only friend” in place of a “couple books” right now, so I’m going easy on the whine.

The funny thing is that I’d actually signed up for a renters insurance quote on State Farm Insurance’s Web site a few days ago, and had been planning to go into the office today to make my first premium payment. Needless to say, I scrambled into there this morning and plunked down that check. It only costs approximately $15 per month for me to get my studio’s worth of girly crap insured, and I highly recommend that everyone else do the same thing. This Gothamist article offers a bunch of tips that’d get you going.