Michael Northrop

As it turns out, everyone was wrong: The world is slightly more awesome than we had previously imagined.

Day of run: Monday, March 7, around 3:00

Weather at start: 58 and sunny, proving that there is life—and even sun—after this winter’s extended Snowpocalypse.

I never know how to dress in this weather…

Weather at finish: A few degrees cooler with the sun mostly hidden behind the buildings

Route: Bridle Path + aftermath (three laps on the bridle path around the Central Park Reservoir, plus some of Central Park Drive)

Miles: 5+

Best dog seen: I suspect I might have to change this category now that my standard route no longer includes the Hudson River Park dog run, but not this time, because I saw two giant, jet-black Great Danes. They looked like the very hounds of hell—if the hounds of hell galumphed along in a gangly, good-natured way. So maybe the twin black sheep of the Marmaduke family.

Best song on mix: You know what? Screw you: Go ahead and judge me. The best song (not counting “Here Comes a Regular” by the Replacements, which I’ve already picked at least once) was Men in Black by Will Smith. Whatever, you try going on your longest run in months and not appreciating the fun, head-bopping half mile you get out of that thing. Plus, it rhymes “galaxy defenders” with “won’t let you remember,” so you know it’s good.

Dumb thing I said/did: I was waiting to cross Park Ave next to a little boy who’d picked up a vaguely gun-shaped stick and was pretending to shoot at the cars. When he pointed it in my direction I said to his mom, “Oh, no. It’s a stick-up!”

Final thought: Because it was just after 3, there were several school teams out on the bridle path. (S’up, Spence? Staying out of trouble, Trevor Phys. Ed?) Teens ran by in matching t-shirts, sometimes single file, sometimes in little clusters. Key words: “ran by”… They were all faster than me. By quite a bit. Le sigh.

For example . . .

I can’t find a copy of my poetry chapbook right now, but if memory serves me (what are the odds?), I published poems in places called Three Mile Harbor Review, En Plein Air, alt.reader, and, well, you get the idea. I am so sure that none of them exist anymore, that I don’t really think I need to check. But there are always new lit mags popping up, and they generally have names like (listed in the order I thought of them; apologies to any that actually exist):

10) Eight-toed Sloth
9) The Gooney Iglet
8] A Place to Gather
7) O’er Yon
6) Babblecar
5) The Paris Review
4) Basement Ladder
3) Pachyderm.net
2) Zine and Heard
1) Lucinda’s Cupboard

Exciting times! I have four—count ‘em four!—events on the horizon. Here are the details:

Otto the Event Otter says, “Go! Go! Go!”

NYC TEEN AUTHOR FESTIVAL
* Tuesday, March 16: I’ll be part of a panel discussion (and book signing) on Getting Inside the Mind of a Teen Boy at the spacious Barnes & Noble, Tribeca (97 Warren Street), from 7-8:30. Other authors taking part include Gordon Korman, Barry Lyga, Matt de la Pena, Nick Burd, and Jon Skovron. Amazing!

* Thursday, March 18: I’ll be reading on Staten Island as part of the Five-Borough Read. This is my second-straight year reading on S.I. (where I used to live), and they’re busing in high schoolers for it. Le Island du Stat is the borough that gave us the Wu-Tang Clan and three members of the Jersey Shore cast, so don’t play hooky or you may miss Snooki!

NYPL: West New Brighton, 976 Castleon Avenue, 10-11:30
Elizabeth Eulberg
David Levithan
Michael Northrop
Kieran Scott

* Sunday, March 21: I’ll be taking part in the MASSIVE, biggest-in-the-history-of-the-world, 77-author YA book signing at Books of Wonder (18 W. 18th Street), 3:30–4:15.

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YA NOT? at WORD
* Thursday, April 8: The inimitable Barry “the tyga” Lyga and I will be holding it down—talking, reading, signing, possibly arm-wrestling—at the v. awesome WORD bookstore (126 Franklin Street) in Brooklyn, 7:30–9:00.

Ever watch a really bad action movie where the guy just keeps firing and firing without ever reloading until you’re like, ‘How many shots does that revolver have?’ This winter is like that. Snow again here in NYC, and lots of it. On the other hand, writing this just reminded me of a classic Mission of Burma song so, you know, that’s something…

You know when you reach into a coat pocket and find a $20 bill? Or a candy bar? Or a candy bar wrapped in a $20 bill? That’s pretty much how I felt when I stumbled across this excellent new book trailer for Gentlemen.

Awesome. There are so many nice touches—I love how Haberman is tenting his fingers together! Thanks to librarian Robin Henry of Wakeland High School in the great state of Texas for putting this together!

I’m freelancing in-office all week, plus taking care of some book-related bidness and a few other things necessary to keep the lights on, so I haven’t been blogging much. Or Tweeting, answering emails, disposing of evidence or any of the other things I normally do. I’ll be back at it by the weekend, though: I have some cool book news to announce! And this evidence will be getting pretty ripe by then, anyway.

The McDonald’s at Karlsplatz in Munich is
the world’s busiest.

You know when you’re looking for something stupid online and you find something that is (still kind of stupid but also) awesome? Don’t you love that? Here is a partial history of McDonald’s ad slogans in Germany:

1971: Das etwas andere Restaurant (The somewhat different restaurant)
1978: Essen mit Spaß (Eating with fun)
1982: Gut, dass es McDonald’s gibt. (It’s good that McDonald’s exists.)
1987: Der Platz wo Du gern bist, weil man gut isst
(The place where you like to be because you eat well)
2001: Wenn Sie den guten Hamburger herunter schlucken, wissen Sie, dass es das beste Fleisch ist.
(When you swallow the good hamburger, you know it’s the best meat.)

So good—and vaguely existential! And you just know that last one was a big hit in Hamburg.

One of the things I really admire about the Olympians currently skiing, skating, and skidding all over Vancouver’s greater metropolitan area is just how impractical so much of it is. I mean, let’s be honest, if you’re a member of the U.S. luge team, you probably aren’t making a living from your sport; you’re making a living to support your sport. You probably get some sponsors to help defray the cost, but basically you’re doing it because you love it and you’re good at it. Maybe not German good at it, but good enough.

The Olympics were made and meant for elite amateur athletes, so here’s to the ski jumpers, biathletes, bobsledders, curlers, and the rest. It makes me think of many things: Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire; the weekends I piled into a rented van to compete in some taekwon-do tournament in New Hampshire or New Jersey; and, of course, Japanese Elvises dressed in black leather. Do it because you love it, and you’ll have Nothing to Worry About…

As witnessed at the Dunkin Donuts on 1st Ave and 66th yesterday:

Step 1: Be approximately 4 years old.
Step 2: A few bites in, drop your preexisting donut on the floor.
Step 3: Scrunch up your face and open your mouth in a long, obvious warning that you are about to cry. [Think: I am a snake, coiled and ready!]
Step 4: Hold this pose until your mother promises you another donut.

[Note: Do not drop this second, bonus donut.]