The boys playing basketball on the Knicks court. Not a bad day at the office.

The dashing Mr. Michael Sciortino, a building operations manager for MSG, makes his first appearance on this little website of mine.

Idina Menzel receives a 3,000-person standing ovation at a sold-out Avery Fisher Hall following her performance with the New York Philharmonic on February 5th, 2011 in Lincoln Center.

Idina Menzel performing "Defying Gravity" on Saturday, February 5th, 2011.

Photographed from stage right in Avery Fisher Hall.

Idina Menzel and conductor Marvin Hamlisch provide the audience with entertaining dialogue during the performance with the New York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall in Lincoln Center on February 5th, 2011.

This is twice now. Twice. That I got teary on a job. Cait can name the other instance in a heartbeat and I'm sure I'll share with you all someday... or if you care to look back through this blog, I'm sure I noted it somewhere.

Walking into this gig, I knew I was doomed. Who am I kidding, when I took the job, I knew I was doomed. Powerhouse vocalist. Internationally renowned orchestra. Gorgeous venue designed for pristine sound. And?

One of my favorite Broadway songs of all time - "Defying Gravity"

Ms. Menzel, if you didn't know, played the original Elphaba in the musical Wicked. Again, for those not in the know, Elphaba is the Wicked Witch of the West's name according to author Gregory Maguire's take on Oz. For all you L. Frank Baum fans out there, we can commiserate about the literary monstrosity that was the novel Wicked later, but for now, let's focus on more positive things.

To be honest, I didn't even love the show. I liked it a lot, but I was pretty opposed to seeing it, following my reaction to the book. It was actually my mom who said that I should give it a chance. And I did. And I'm glad I did for pretty much one reason: "Defying Gravity"

As you follow the show, you really do get attached to Elphie and this is her character's turning point, the moment she says, "enough with you people, I'm doing this my way." It is a gorgeous scene, beautifully lit. And yes, I absolutely had tears down my face in the Gershwin Theatre.

Fast-forward to Saturday, February 5th, 2011 in the stage-right wing of Avery Fisher Hall. The only other photographer in the venue is the Philharmonic's house photographer with his crazy 600mm lens and he is nowhere to be seen. There are about four stagehands and the stage manager behind me and I see the pianist change his sheet music.

Shoot. Why couldn't I be in the back of the house for this? Somewhere I could freely weep as Idina belted out this song and the entire orchestra backed her?

So again, as I did the last time this happened, I kept the camera tight to my face as I mouthed the words and waited for the single tears that were going to quietly roll down my cheeks, one at a time.

Then... I went to a boxing match. Photos to follow in the next few days.


Idina Menzel with the New York Philharmonic/Avery Fisher Hall/Lincoln Center/New York, NY/2.5.11

And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free...

Idina Menzel with the New York Philharmonic/Avery Fisher Hall/Lincoln Center/New York, NY/2.5.11

To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me...

Idina Menzel with the New York Philharmonic/Avery Fisher Hall/Lincoln Center/New York, NY/2.5.11

Tell them how I am defying gravity

I'm flying high, defying gravity.

"Defying Gravity" from the Broadway musical, Wicked

Idina Menzel with the New York Philharmonic/Avery Fisher Hall/Lincoln Center/New York, NY/2.5.11

Manager Burt Goldstein calls Ms. Idina Menzel at her dressing room door to escort her to the stage where she will perform with the New York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall to a sold-out audience.

A somewhat boring shot aesthetically, but this moment backstage is awesome because even though Idina isn't physically in the shot, she is absolutely present. One of my favorite non-show shots for sure.

Ms. Menzel's performance gown hanging amongst the photos in the green room at Avery Fisher Hall.

Patrons enter Avery Fisher Hall in Lincoln Center to attend Idina Menzel's performance with the New York Philharmonic on February 5th, 2011.

Ah yes, today is the day. Wave that towel, wear that jersey and say a few good words that may or may not include "yoi!" or "double yoi!" for Myron Cope.

We're from da tahn wit da great football team, we cheer da Pittsburgh Steelers!

Heeerrrre we go!

Social Animal

A pretty solid social observation by The New Yorker's David Brooks

Every so often, I receive an email constructed as a letter. Something that took someone time - minutes, if not hours, occasionally days and sometimes, though rarely, years of thought. These aren't just "hey haven't seen you in a while" emails, but they are of a more unique "I know you will love reading this as much as I loved writing this" breed of email. It's almost as if the letter went masquerading as its more modern counterpart. Sometimes these electronic notes are so beautifully crafted that it seems to, in a wonderful way, defeat email's purpose of speed, ease and efficiency.

Don't get me wrong, emails can certainly be heartfelt too, but the artistry of writing letters, physically feeling your favorite pen slide across a carefully selected texture of paper and the sincerity that tiny bit of effort reflects is far and away my favorite form of communication, save being face-to-face. However, when you are simply answering your niece's question about Italian cars, sometimes your passion for the subject turns your initially simple response into a fine piece of writing...

that later ends up on your niece's friend's blog because it was a charming, unintentional example of the letter dressed in email's clothing.

Please enjoy the email to me from Jen Bilec in bold, followed by the subject at hand in italics: an email from Uncle Ray.

I wanted to forward this piece of writing to you because it's stellar. And it's from my uncle. I had asked him about Italian cars, specifically the Alfa Romeo Giulia Supers that were made in the 60's and 70's.

This was his response:

Jen,

Since you seem to be about to be overcome by the red mist, I will share my thoughts on Italian cars with you. I became interested in Italian cars while in the Navy. I came home from a Med cruise intent on buying a Datsun 240 Z. The dealer had none but was willing to sell me the next arrival at over sticker. Joan and I drove home. On the way home we pass a Fiat dealer. I know Fiats from my med cruise. The car is a white 124 coupe. Bucket seats, five speed, twin overheard cams, four wheel disc brakes, wood rimmed steering wheel and a juicy tomato on the rear window shelf. We were smitten. The car was a blast to drive. Tight and responsive. It was not trouble free, however. It chewed up mufflers at the rate of 2 a year. The rubber gas filler hose wore out regularly. In cold weather the emergency brake would freeze. The vent windows broke off their hinges. Oil and filter changes were easy and tune ups, cheap. We bought the car in July 1970 and brought it home to PA in June 1976. Salted PA roads chewed it to pieces. The Italians used cheap Russian steel in their cars which had a higher iron content than anyone else’s steel. The cars floor boards rusted in about an hour. In order not to fall through them while driving we sold the car. Aunt Joan cried as they towed it away. I found a 1972 124 Spyder (convertible, 2 seater) in 1976. I bought it and had a ball driving it. A broken rear shock mount and some sub par radiator hoses were the down side. It too rusted so we sold it to a boyfriend of Aunt Gingers who promptly crashed it a week after he bought it. Just as well. Look in Hemmings motor news and you will not see many Fiats from the seventies. They all turned to iron oxide dust and blew away. Cars from different countries have different personalities. German cars are coolly efficient. English cars make you have that stiff upper lip brought on by leaky roofs, and leaky engines. Japanese cars are for boy racers, lots of decals and pizzazz. But Italian cars have soul, joie de vie (did I spell that right?) They make wonderful sounds. A lot of them are sculptur. They are never boring. That said, Alfas are in that breed. Don’t buy one thinking it is reliable transportation. That’s what Toyotas are for. An Alfa will always put a smile on your face, as long as it is running. Also, before buying any vintage car fill your bookshelves before you fill the garage. After you’ve read up on the make and model go to a couple car shows. The owners will love to talk to you. Don’t be afraid to ask the tough questions, ie. Rust! These cars are toys not transportation. On another note, look for the 2011 Fiat 500 to be on sale at your local Chrysler dealer this summer. Maybe it’ll come with a warranty.

Love,

Uncle Ray

On a separate note, Jen Bilec is an amazing human and fabulous friend for sending me this email. She just thought I'd appreciate it. And that. Is cool.

As a Pittsburgh girl who cannot keep her body warm to save her life, even I can't believe all of this media nonsense about snowstorms this year. Last year? Yes, last year was bad in the 'burgh, but simply mediocre in New York. Shovels, New York, shovels.

Please don't make me break out my "I survived the blizzard of '93" shirt. I will note, however, that aforementioned survival was by the skin of my seven-year-old teeth, as I fell into a snow hole, butt first, and had to wait for the neighbors and their German Shepherd to come rescue me. True story. A bit of a dramatization, but not by much.

Thanks to Ms. Kelly McStay for the illustration of the day, though I do wish that the older girl addressed the younger, albeit foolish, girl with a tad more courtesy. The only way I'd be truly satisfied with this cartoon is if the third and final speech bubble from the younger girl said:

"Then put on pants and some suitable footwear... Bitch"

Happy February, Everyone!

If you've not picked up on it, I've been on a photographic hiatus for a few weeks now and it will probably remain that way until next weekend. So instead of photos, I'll just keep posting some pretty awesome music/articles/words/etc. to continue to amuse both you and me.

The video below is done by Francis and the Lights... If you are going to Coachella, you probably recognize his name as one of the fine-print bands (Thanks Goldenvoice!). We won't go into how I feel about this line-up, because it makes me sad. Anyway, we tried to go see this dude at the CMJs last October, but couldn't get in due to the overwhelming line fondly associated with any CMJ buzz show. I mean, my press badge didn't even help. Haha, I say that like it means something.

So thank you to Jenny B for the heads-up on him however many months ago and please enjoy this single-take live performance edited with light.

It's pretty neat.



P.S. - If you like what you just saw and you need some new tunes to jam out to at your office or whilst you mop your kitchen floor, check out this 40-minute live set of more Francis and the Lights.

Be mindful of your heart

And heartful of your mind

And don't get fooled unless you have to...

By now, it is my sincerest wish that you have visited Mr. Roger Kisby's fantastic online body of work. There's really no excuse for you not to have, because I'm pretty sure with each mention of his name so far, I've linked to his website. That and his site resides in my very select "links" column to the right of this photo of a weird girl waiting for said photographer to look away so she can lick the snow.

But that's neither here nor there.

You may say, "Alli, why would I waste my valuable time at work looking at some photographer friend of yours when I could be posting albums of my friends in Cancun on Facebook or tweeting about the pungent smell of curry coming from my co-workers cubicle?"

Right, right, right you only make photo albums on Sundays and who cares if she reads it, because you never liked her or her curry anyway. Whatever.

First thing's first. I knew Roger's work, way before Roger or way before Roger knew me. I knew Roger as the dude that was covering all of the shows I wanted to cover for Getty... for Getty. It was almost creepy how I would go to his Getty library just to see what he was shooting and how he was shooting. Not how as in what lenses he was choosing, but how as in... could I do better?

For example, take a look at his opening photograph on his website. I absolutely couldn't have done better. If that isn't a tiny slice of live music history, I don't what is.

And the crazy thing about Roger was that most often, I couldn't have done better. Not only couldn't I have done better, but a few months later, I did a lot worse and he bailed me out.

There was a show in the lower part of town at the Mercury Lounge, otherwise known as a music photographer's Hell, that Getty wanted me to cover. A trance show that requires none of the cheap colors that comprises the Mercury's lighting "rig", just the artist's little, crazy-trance-person strobes. I was absolutely SOL and I knew it from the beginning. Not even Danny Clinch could have gotten out of this one.*

Shoot. Take (many) artistic liberties. Edit. Submit.

*Ring* *Ring*

It's my favoritest editor in the whole wide world telling me that Getty won't accept the images as shot and that she would like me to shadow one of their long-time music photographers at a show at the Highline Ballroom. Enter Roger Kisby.

Of course, I'm angry at myself, at the situation, at trance music in general, but on the bright side, I get to meet the dude who's been shooting every gig in New York that I wanted to shoot since I had arrived.

To make a long story short, not only was he a good shooter, but he had the nerve to be a pretty cool cat too. I found it quite kind that he agreed to take the time to show some 22-year-old punk (what? he didn't know. I could have been a punk) photographer the ropes of shooting shows, often small club shows, for a major international photo agency. Seriously.

After that, I always looked forward to running into my new photo friend on gigs I was shooting and/or working. Heck, I still look forward to it, because if nothing else, a good friend is great to have around on a job.

What I'm trying to say is look at Roger Kisby's work now and watch it grow over the next few years. Like everything in life, it just keeps getting better.

*That's absolutely a lie, but I'm going to leave it for dramatic purposes

Photo by Roger Kisby/Prospect Park/Brooklyn, NY/1.12.11

Alli walks away, the winter version. Minus beach, bikini, camera and haircut / plus snow, cow hide, scarf and pants.

Photo by Roger Kisby/Prospect Park/Brooklyn, NY/1.12.11

Photo title: "To Eat or Not to Eat"

Ok, I didn't eat it... But! I did lick the snow when Roger wasn't looking.

Duh.

Photo by Roger Kisby/Prospect Park/Brooklyn, NY/1.12.11

It's not often that I get to be goofy on photo shoots, but the past few shoots have just been a blast. No Beyonce and Champagne this time around, but I did have a) snow b) a fuzzy hat c) sled-riding children d) serendipitous Siberian Huskies e) posh Prospect Heights cross-country skiers (sans strollers) and of course, f) a pretty funny photographer.

All in all? A great day and a great shoot. So good, in fact, that tomorrow, I'll post a few more and chat a little more about Mr. Kisby's talents.

But presently, if I may quote someone as equally as full of life, "I've got a lotta bouncin' to do! Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! T-T-F-N: ta-ta for now!"

Photos by R. Kisby/Prospect Park/Brooklyn, NY/1.12.11

Photos taken on one cold and snowy day in New York City by friend and fellow photographer, Mr. Roger Kisby.

The bottom photo is one of the last shots of our 45-minute oh-shit-the-sun-is-setting photo shoot.

Prospect Park/Brooklyn, NY/1.12.11

Excuse me, Sir,
I'm lost I'm looking for a place where I can get lost.

I'm looking for a home for my malfunctioning being;
I'm looking for the mechanical music museum.

This is a warning I'll spell it out for you, for you.
This is a warning I'll spell it out for you.

Excuse me, Miss,
I'm a dog on heat, I'm a complicated being with love songs to beat.
I'm a problem-solving baby who could march all night.
I'm a mechanical music man and I'm starting a fire.

Excuse me, Child,
I am trying to see all the colors and wonder your brightness can be.
Return to nothingness and joy just might be right,
But prepare yourself for a mechanical fright.

This is a warning I'll spell it out for you, for you.
This is a warning I'll spell it out for you, for you.

Excuse me, Son,
I'm found I'm looking for a place where I was once found.
There's nothing in a world where the melody is broken;

There's always some way to make the silence be spoken.

This photo is from a while back... September maybe... but I had completely forgotten I wanted to pull some of these images until my annual archive reorganization (it's as taxing as taxes, really) kept me up night after night. I was at the event to cover another aspect aside from this dance performance, but per the usual, I'm drawn to something I'm not really assigned to be photographing. Shocking.

Congratulations, Dan Auerbach! You are my 1,001st post! Well... and 1,000th...

Cleaning out the archive again. Finding things I like. A lot of things I like.

Photo: Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys performs at the Classic Car Club in Tribeca last summer.

Don't you?

Small club. The Black Keys. Unbelievably crowded.

Not a bad summer night in New York.

Photo: (L-R) Patrick Carney and Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys perform in NYC last summer.

Final snow of Cirque du Soleil's "Wintuk" - over 4,ooo people in attendance at our theater for the 5:00 p.m. show on January 2nd, 2011.

Alex performing his final "Rock Dog" scene (ever) in Cirque du Soleil's "Wintuk" at Madison Square Garden. The show closed at MSG for good on January 2nd, 2011 after running for four years at our lovely little theater.

Of the four years, I've been with the show three and couldn't imagine it ending on a better note. My first job in New York City was on this show in 2008 and really, the catalyst for many of the amazing things I've seen in the past two years. I owe a lot to this silly little multi-million-dollar production and will miss the mats and trampolines immensely on any gig I have in the future.

So with love, I bid it a fond farewell.

NYE shoot, take two.

Photo by P. Zielinski

Having fun with strobes on NYE.

I laughed through this entire shoot, so my apologies again to Peter. I guess that's what happens though when you give me Beyonce and alcohol... and allow me to wear slippers through an entire shoot.

It was a grand end to 2010 and I can only imagine 2011 will be infinitely better.

Everything always, always, always gets better. Let's go get 'em, Kids!


Photo by P. Zielinski... and a few more from this shoot to follow in the coming weeks!

As our December sun is setting...

In a few short, or in our case, very long years, this room will have been completely transformed. Every click of the shutter is less than one second in rock history, less than one second in any of our lives. Come 2014, this room will not look as it does in this photo, in the photos below. While they aren't such a big deal now, these photos will be used to tell our children, both staff and patron alike, about our great days of arena rock.


DMB/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/12.13.10

After I snapped the shutter on this shot, TP and I shuffled off to the next location. Prior to arriving at said location, I stopped him in the middle of the aisle and gave him the biggest hug that me, a non-hugger, was capable of giving. Without him, this shot would have never happened.

And yes, that is what a 360° sell-out looks like. The row of shadow behind the upstage moving lights? All heads of concert-goers. Pretty neat, huh?

DMB/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/12.13.10

I asked a boy whom I dated once, "When does one get tired of this?"

"Of what?"

"I don't know, of this..."

While it was a serious, yet quizzical moment in my later college years, pondering love and its aftereffects, I find I'm now asked the same question about work. For as hopeless a romantic as I unfortunately am, I find myself never curious of impending familiarity, as there's never a chance to sit at the same table, let alone use the same dishware.

It's very similar to a roll of film, really - never the same frame - unless you are getting artsy with overlays and multiple exposures. But that analogy is for another time and another place.

So whether the question at hand is being asked of love or of work, I suppose my answers are, for better or for worse, very similar. Haha, fascinating, eh? A balancing act of epic proportions, for sure.

DMB/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/12.13.10

I love 360° shows. The arena is your oyster.

DMB/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/12.13.10

A million posts ago, I was writing about DMB's show on 11.12.10. Life gets kinda busy sometimes, so you end up skipping things that are quite important. Like day two of said DMB engagement at the Garden. I hope you don't mind, but the next few days shall be devoted to 11.13.10.

Carter Beauford of Dave Matthews Band/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/11.13.10

This man held the door for me backstage. If I could high-five God, I would have done it right then.

Tim Reynolds with Dave Matthews Band/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/11.13.10

Nothing says party! like a giant-penis foam-cannon! Woooo hoooo!

While the above scene is a little (um, a lot?) ridiculous, you cannot forget that this show was a grand moment in time for German industrial metal band, Rammstein. The Berlin-based, six-piece band hadn't played in the United States since 2001 and in their sixteen years of touring, had never played Madison Square Garden.

This show sold out in under thirty minutes - the first and only German band to do this at our tiny, little arena.

At over 120 dB, this is the only show I've ever found ear plugs appropriate.

Photo: Till Lindemann, lead singer of Rammstein/Madison Square Garden/New York, NY/12.11.10

Hey Jude, don't make it bad;
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid;
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.

And any time you feel the pain,
Hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool, who plays it cool,
By making his world a little colder.

Hey Jude, don't let me down;
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

"Let It Be" straight into "Hey Jude", McCartney sitting at the piano. Fannntastic. I'd like to let you all know that "Hey Jude"... man, "Hey Jude" is a different song to me live. You just sit there and sway with the rhythm of his fingers on the piano and find yourself singing along with such a soft smile on your face. Good, good night.

Photo: Paul McCartney/Apollo Theater/Harlem, New York, NY/12.13.10

Note: All photos from this night were taken on a crap pocket cam. Yeah... I wish I had had the baby too... but... not been anywhere close to that press line. However, despite me not shooting with a semi-decent rig, my dear friend, Mr. Bob Gruen was there as well, so I think we're covered in adequate documentation of the evening.

Confetti! Autographs! Abbey Road! Celebrities galore! When you are seated eight rows ahead of Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, Matt Damon Alec Baldwin and Val Kilmer, you can't help but look around, realize you are front row, center, and wonder if someone made a mistake. Whatever, you look great, so when Paul busts into "Back in the U.S.S.R" or "I Saw Her Standing There" or Marvin Gaye's "Hitch Hike" - all you can do is dance your little butt off. If you're going to be there? Be there... and hope Keith Richards enjoys your performance.

Check out Rolling Stone's coverage!

Photo: Paul McCartney signs autographs at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, New York, NY - his smallest gig since he played the Cavern Club in Liverpool in 1999 - on December 13th, 2010.

P.S. - "Blackbird" and "Back in the U.S.S.R"? Best performances of the night.

Who can figure out what makes this photo so rad? Yes, it has to do with the fact that that is Paul McCartney's hand and yes, that it's Paul McCartney's acoustic guitar, but that's not it.

It doesn't, however, have to do with the quality of the photo - pocket cam night for sure.

Photo: Paul McCartney/Apollo Theater/Harlem, New York, NY/12.13.10

6:07 a.m. Wednesday morning, I walk out of my friend's apartment. My brown-leather, jane-stitch boots stop at the door saddle right before I step into the 29° chill that is Cambridge, Massachusetts. My hands find my in-ears in my left pocket. One ear, two ears.

Play.

The boots step out of the door, up the stairs and make a right to what I soon notice as east. With the first beat of Jose Gonzalez's version of "Heartbeats", my iPod reads my mind. At that moment, I'm very glad to be walking toward the light with my little red rolling suitcase rather than away. For some reason, the cold makes it that much prettier... as if everything, except me, is moving slower due to the frigid air.

After all, I was dressed for work and had a train to a bus to catch straight back to Madison Square Garden. I have places to be, things to do, but as I approach the steps to the train station, I slow my steps to play the song one more time.

And then proceed to fall down the stairs. Head over suitcase.

When I reach the bottom, I sit there for a second and pause to think about how I've been living my life in those past two days. In the past two months. In the past two years. All to the sounds of Jose Gonzalez's version of "Heartbeats".

I pick myself up with a big grin, a chuckle and a shake of my head. My life couldn't have been more perfect in that moment. With a tap of my Charlie Card at the gate, back to South Station, back to New York I go.

I have way too much fun by myself. I wish I could say that it's becoming a problem.

Various lighting set-ups (halogen in this particular shot), a dozen roses, a glass of wine and a Lensbaby macro kit.

Macro kit courtesy of Mr. Tim Parsaca.

Whenever TP asks me to bring my camera to work, I know that adventure is going to ensue whether it's climbing to the roof of my favorite building in New York, climbing to the highest point in New York or perhaps just climbing over road cases to photograph Bono taking a snooze amongst the gear in the expo (missed that one, but... lesson learned).

December 1st, 2010 was no different.

The last time I had been to the top of this building was with the Beach Boys, haha and let me tell you, it was a little bit of a different experience this time around. But let's be serious. You can only climb to the top of the Empire State Building with the Beach Boys soooo many times.

Anywho, the above photo is precisely what thousands of people take multiple elevators to the top to see, to feel, to experience. Really, it's something that everyone, who remotely cares about what man has created during his time on Earth, should see. The asphalt jungle*. Years of growth, hand by hand, brick by brick. This elevated perspective grants, in its most ironic sense, the rare and quite literal view of the forest for the trees.

The funny thing about this town is that for most people, it's actually harder to truly see the trees than it is to know that there is a forest. That old building you walked by in Alphabet City last night serves the forest just as well as a moss as the more grandiose structures do as the Redwoods. Manhattan as an identifiable, functioning ecosystem with species and subspecies of artificial, yet intricately designed life.

It was freezing and it was windy, but again I find myself saying, there's nowhere else on the planet I would have rather been at that moment.

*I'll take 1950s film noir for $500 please, Alex.

Considering a revisit to this train of thought in the morning, so expect alterations and additions to come.

I couldn't help but snap a shot of my cliche, but personal favorite piece of late 1920s architecture.

Photo: Chrysler Building (1930) photographed from the Empire State Building's Observatory on 12.1.10

Now how about this for some perspective...

To me, this is probably a more poignant shot than any of those preceding it. It's not as glamorous. It's not as aesthetically pleasing. It's not as colorful. And in it's lines? It's not close to as grand.

What it is though, is the highest point in New York City. Yes, yes, the shots looking down upon the lights, the cars, the buildings, the rivers, the bridges are lovely, but why does one have a desire to be at the top of the Empire State Building?

Because it is the highest point in New York City and you are looking at it.

It is important in cinema. It is important in literature. It is important in history.

It is important as an icon.

Most people find themselves at the Empire's Observatory to look down and wonder, but I find it much more fascinating to look to the top of the spire, which was at one time, the top of the man-made world.

Just brilliant.

Photo: Empire State Building/12.1.10

Thanks to my dear friend, Jessy Qussar, I got to cross off bucket list item #984:

"Watch Ozzy Osbourne perform 'Crazy Train' and a variety of other hits from a suite at MSG"

My assessments? What a crazy old fellow he is. In fact, so crazy and old, I prefer all of my shots of his drummer.

Photo: Tommy Clufetos, Ozzy Osbourne's drummer, performs at Madison Square Garden on December 1st, 2010.

Tommy Clufetos, Ozzy Osbourne's drummer, performing at Madison Square Garden on December 1st, 2010.

No, the parade isn't for everyone, but if you're going to do it? Do it proper.

Personally, I love the parade. Very grateful for this city and all the incredible moments it offers.

Photo: The Thanksgiving Day Parade arrives on the Macy's Star in front of Macy's on 34th Street in New York City on November 25, 2010.