The view down 35th Avenue in Jackson Heights, Queens.
The view down at my doggie Ciara.
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In unrelated news, it's always funny to find former classmates not just doing well, but doing well enough to be mentioned in national publications.
My friend Lynda swears that this guy is the Judah Friedlander we went to high school with. Age is right, and as she notes, "how many Judah Friedlanders can there be?" but I've never seen a photo of him that made me think, "Oh, damn, yeah!" Needless to say, in high school he did not wear those sorts of glasses or have those sideburns.
Anyway, so he's in the paper. This comes on the heels of a few months ago discovering that fellow high school classmate Maarten Troost not just had a book out, but got an A from Entertainment Weekly for it. Maarten was kind of in my general circle; I hung out with the people who wanted desperately to go study abroad, and Maarten was both European and somewhat hunky and used too many vowels in his name, which indicated something both pretentious and foreign simultaneously. Anyway, I'm still not a hundred percent sure this is he, but using the Lynda philosophy, how many Maarten Troosts can there be?
The investigation continues.
LATER: Oh, yeah, this is the Maarten I knew.
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