As I mentioned, I’ve been thinking a lot about transportation. So much so, in fact, that I was inspired to start a new board on Pinterest devoted to modes of transportation. It’s called Sweet Rides. I found some sleek cars that would make Neal Cassady‘s fingers itch, but I also looked at alternative vehicles and the writers and literary characters who might use them. I thought about Mark Twain and river boats. Wes Anderson and trains. Che Guevara and motorcycles. Anne of Green Gables and rowboats. Poets doing spoken word on the New York City subway.
Tag Archives: motorcycle
Yiasou!
Stephanie Nikolopoulos is a writer, editor, writing teacher, and speaker based in New York City.
She is the coauthor, with Paul Maher Jr., of "Burning Furiously Beautiful: The True Story of Jack Kerouac's 'On the Road.'"
You can email her at stephanie_701 {@} yahoo.com
A Neruda quote always sets the heart fluttering 🦋
I was so touched by my family’s thoughtfulness and generosity in sending me these gorgeous flowers! It’s not about the flowers, but the kindness behind them. They really lifted my spirits when I was feeling sick and overwhelmed. The gesture reminded me to likewise encourage others, especially when they need it most.
“School’s out for summer!” 🎶 June ushers in a sense of unabashed freedom. I think of walking barefoot in the grass, reading paperback novels for the library’s summer reading challenge as the breeze gently lifted the sheer drapes of my balcony window, picking peaches with my family and coming home with too many barrels to eat before the soft fruit began to bruise, laying on a big blanket in Memorial Field and watching the fireworks explode into sizzling colors in the night sky, doing cannonballs and accidental bellyflops into the pool with my cousins, eating Friendly’s Wattamelon Roll, and catching minnows in the brook. I think of not having to wake up at a certain hour, not having to be “on,” not having to be surrounded by people, but rather the bliss and freedom of unscheduled alone time. I think of how summer was the season I could be myself.
When an ocean separates you from your family, you cling to little things to feel closer together. Sometimes that means ordering a frappe from Kafe Neo, the cutest Greek coffee shop in Manhattan, and sitting and talking with a friend about anything and everything, savoring every drop of bittersweet coffee, every word of passionate conversation, just like you would back in the plateia, the town square, in your village back in Greece.
“The summer night was settling upon the neighborhood like a dark lace veil, casting dappled shadows on the roofs and sidewalks and lawns.” ~Victoria Kahler
When you think of Midtown Manhattan, do you think of churches and flowers? Do you think of rebirth and beauty? I passed Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on my walk the other day, amid the hot dog vendors and yellow taxis. On an avenue with window displays designed to capture my attention, it somehow managed to captivate me with wonder.