This license plate was on a dump truck I saw whenI made my first trip to the TKTS booth at South Seaport. I enjoyed one of my first hearty laughs after the stress of moving here.

So, some weeks, not much happens. I read a biography of Jerzy Kosinski, my favorite writer when I was in grad school. I really enjoyed it because I'd actually read all the books.

I also read the worst book I can remember--Flowers in the Attic. You all know this book--if you grew up in the 80's, you had to read about the Dollenganger kids. Since I see it referred to so often, I thought I had to read it, and let me spare you the experience. It reads as if it was written by an English teenager: hypercorrect grammer, overexplained inner states, and multiple duplicate redundant repitition. But that ain't why the kids read it--after being shut in the attic for a few years, the Dollenganger teens get it on. And the son slits his wrist to feed the young twin kids and the mom tries to kill the kids with powedered doughnuts. Apparently there are four more volumes of this saga, which I assume will include such adventures as bestiality and poop-eating. You crazy kids, get back to work!

Wednesday, Andy invited me to a screening of "The Hoax" which is okay but hobbled by bad wigs and anachronisms. In one scene, Richard Nixon was supposedly lauding the newly-elected Governor Bush of Texas, which elicited the expected boos from the audience. W wasn't the gov until 1995. Also, in a Vietnam protest scene that looked like it was shot in an alley, one neatly printed sign says "Bring Our GIs Home". We called 'em baby-killers back then, director Lasse Hallstrom.

I tried a new recipe out on my favorite guinea pig Friday, Nigella Lawson's Christmas Eve Ginger Prawns. I've seen the show a few times, so I noticed that the recipe on foodnetwork.com omitted hot pepper flakes. Boast, boast, boast. The shrimp were good, and I'll use the recipe again, but amp up the flavors even more.

I'll try to be more energetic this week. The weather's getting right for walking across the Brooklyn Bridge . . .