Everything really is beautiful at the ballet! I got to go to the New York City Ballet Saturday to see three pieces. As you'll recall, Lincoln Center and I are celebrating a year of Prokofiev, so the first piece was "Prodigal Son", with a ballerina who looked so tall and reedy she looked like a Julie Taymor giraffe. The second piece was my favorite, an abstract dance choreographed by Peter Martins. The tableau at the end was the most beautiful assemblage of human flesh I've ever seen, then the girls moved slightly and it was even more beautiful. The last piece, like "Prodigal Son", choreographed by Balanchine, was my least favorite, based on American folk music and square dancing, but it had the attraction of two dancers falling. Normally when seeing a dance performance, I think about the fact that the dancers have the exact same allocation of joints, tendons, muscles, etc., as I do, and I reminisce about Gelsey Kirkland's book, Dancing on My Grave. This time, though, I also thought about the grace and balance of their upper bodies. I can't be a ballerina, but there's some room between what they do and the way I fling my arms around like a lowland gorilla is all I'm saying.

Have you all heard how scandal rocked the Brooklyn census offices last week? H hopes I get more work because of it, but I've been looking at July 10 as my parole date. But yes, I do need money. (Talking to you, #11 molar!) In another Times story about the 2000 census, I found this priceless 'only in New York' quote, " But at no time was it ever O.K. in the slightest way to file for fictitious incorrect falsification." Ladies and Gentlemen, Al Sharpton, census supervisor!

What I find very interesting in that quote is apparently the Times style book prefers O.K. to okay. Dudes, the shift key, really?

The super came over yesterday and installed the air conditioners I bought from my neighbor who moved to Amsterdam. Best thing about a/c? Sleep!