So much for that rain yesterday, eh? Today they're saying scattered thunderstorms, high of 84. Gothamist now knows that "scattered" is the forecasting equivalent of "giant shrug."
Have you seen the latest issue of New York Magazine? In honor of Bloomsday on June 16--the 100th anniversary, no less!--they've given four writers the opportunity to Leopold Bloom-ize (or should we say, James Joyce-ize) a day's worth of stream-of-conciousness thoughts pouring from the heads of four ordinary New Yorkers. In case you weren't a Joyce freak in college like Gothamist was, all you really need to know is that Bloom was Joyce's protagonist in the seminal Modernist novel Ulysses, and that the book is supposed to take place over the course of one day. In Dublin, there are reminders of Ulysses everywhere--landmarks all over the street point out exactly where Bloom was at a given time on that June 16. Having written Ulysses from a self-imposed exile in Trieste, Joyce gives all of us writing thinly veiled memoirs about our hometowns hope that we, too, can remember so many details.
Anyhoo, Gothamist was psyched to see that some other "ordinary" New Yorker was listening to WNYC in the morning and thinking about the mystery man behind the mic:
Soterios Johnson, what does he look like? I could Google him, but that seems excessive. I’ve been listening to WNYC in the morning for fifteen years, and I wonder this every morning. Why screw up a good thing?
Hey Abby, don't worry--Gothamist has done the dirty work for you. Once you figure out how to spell his name correctly, you land only a teency pic that accompanies his bio on the WNYC website. Soterios' image remains elusive. Gothamist wonders if like Deborah Schoeneman, Soterios is keeping his identity secret in the name of journalism. (Though that doesn't help to explain why Gothamist saw Deborah on the Trust Fund Babies True Life Story on E--or why all of the Babies were girls. What gives?)
"Soterios says rain later, but I don’t believe him," Abby continues. Ah, the life of the weather journalist...





I was dumb enough to choose Joyce as my senior AP literature project in HIGH SCHOOL. yikes. after that experience -- slogging through Finnegan's Wake and Ulysses -- I chose my freshman year college courses solely to avoid writing lots of papers, and wound up having to major in a natural science as a result.
That freakin' Ulysses damn near ruined my entire adult life!