July 14 2025

"Mr. Abdullah stands about five foot five and carries himself like a prince. Practically every word he speaks is incisive and funny, though he rarely cracks more than a slight smile. Once, I was chatting with him when a visitor interrupted to ask about the source of Abdullah's evident accent. The chief deadpanned: "Washington Heights." The fuller answer, I find out, is Washington Heights by way of Iraq, with stopovers in several great world cities (Milan, London, Istanbul...). Now, of course, he lives in New York, where he moonlights as an adjunct professor of Islamic art history. I am interested to learn that he doesn't actually like New York very much-"all asphalt, all aggression," he tells me, "no warmth, no air, no sense of history; anything that is old and meaningful is torn down." When I object by pointing out that constant rebuilding and reinvention sort of is New York's history, Abdullah doesn't disagree. "Quite right," he says. "That is well put. I just don't like it."" -Bringley from All The Beauty In The World.

Left at 9 and talked to my father on the walk to the subway, instead of taking the bus. Walking back instead of waiting for the bus, I had 13.2K steps. My average is 3K, so I kind of blew out my average. 

Love riding the subway for recreational activities, everyone seems amazing, feel like a bunch of accidental renaissance paintings. You can't take pictures of people on the subway, otherwise I would have some photos to prove it. 

Read in Bringley about a painting of a whirling dervish, but I wouldn't find that painting. Reading his book is interesting, but being there is person is more overwhelming and confusing. 

Went straight to the Asian wing. I took pictures of the most amazing Buddha's and sent them to Mahdi in Mashhad Iran. There was a fellow who was bowing to the Buddha statues in one room. I admired his devotion and thought to maybe ask him about his practice, but didn't. 

Came upon a fellow looking at a rock, saying nobody appreciated this rock. Apparently China gave the rock to Japan as a sort of state gift. The fellow kept saying how that rock was invaluable. I wanted to tell him the Met might have a Sobekneferu, first women rule in history, that we know of. I didn't. Turned out I didn't get to see it, the gallery room 111 was closed. I thought about being anti-social and just going in anyway, but I didn't. 

Liked Ksitigarbha, Fudō Myōō, Arhats, Portrait of Yinyuan Longqi, Hanshan and Shide, Sudhana. I finished the Asian wing and found a cafe and got a sandwich and coffee. I was exhausted, but leaving after an hour was absurd. 

There were Hindu and Jain statues too. 

Made a beeline to John Singer Sargent that builds up to Madam X. I thought about my stepfather who loves Venice. I thought about Bringley who liked to work "the show" that is crowded. I had to go back and read about why they didn't like his portrait. They thought he was an upstart, and that the woman showed too much flesh. Hard to imagine but it's a long time ago, 1884. Sounds like he had an interesting life living in Italy and Spain, and not coming to the USA until he was 20. Seems like he had a lot of interesting friends. I would have lingered, but it was so crowded. 

Next was an exhibit called Superfine, about dandyism among African Americans in America. I like Pharrell's pixelated suit.

Made a weird frequently lost search to get to Egypt, only to find the gallery I wanted to see closed. I'd had enough 4 hours exhausted me, I went outside. I need to get into shape to last longer at the museums. Meanwhile on the ride home, I listened to The Woman Who Would Be King by Kara Cooney and learned more about ancient Egypt. I'm sort of shocked how the Pharaoh must ritually fuck his mother, sister, daughter. I wonder when Egypt caught on to incest? Supposedly the practice was fading around 250 ACE according to Origen.

I walked by Carlowe East, where the guards go for drinks on Sunday night after work, now probably Tuesday night since the day off changed. 

I post the rupas on my Buddhism blog.