A Lot In Lists

I’m so tired from running around town with my dad in the past three days that I’m only capable of…

Trip With Dad in List Form:

Restaurants:

Three Cups, Mermaid Inn with Kim, Angelica, and Hummus Place

Furniture purchased:

Mahogany desk from the 1940s, real curtains, white dresser

Play we saw:

Two Trains Running by August Wilson

Lifesaver:

Dad got my Uniqlo coat fixed after the zipper broke

Dad sealed the draft in my apartment

Moment:

We saw the first real snowfall of the year when we walked Kim back to the train.

Michal, the Israeli that works at Rite-Aid told my dad that he’s blessed.

Announcement:

My mother has updated her glorious blog. Sing praises!

Big, big thanks to my dad for spoiling me rotten.

Good night.

Parker Posey's Here

AT MY WORK!!! RIGHT NOW!!!

Hairless In The Arctic

Enough with that old post already. I’m putting an end to the silliness.

I just got home from Kinky Jews at the KGB. Lots of Jewish writers reading but on my end, very little attention span. I left as soon as I could.

The word “arctic” was used on the radio to describe tomorrow’s weather. Not pleased.

Major break-through at work: I put on my I-Pod and kept it on almost all day. This is a whole new level of sanity I didn’t know I could achieve.

Today “The Onion” (the newspaper) filmed upstairs in the bookstore. I don’t know what they’re filming but they took over. On Friday, "Law and Order: SVU" is filming so the store’s closed. I think I’m going to be the one to supervise the shoot. SVU is creepy.

Last night I had dinner and drinks with Kim at Lil’ Frankie’s. This might be her favorite restaurant. I can’t completely get down with a place that doesn’t have chardonnay by the glass. The dessert was pretty rocking. I’m kind of skeptical about over-priced menu items so I thought the nutella thing wouldn’t be worth it. I was wrong. We were served a baked dough-pie-type filled with nutella and strawberries and cream. Yum.

Also, Kim introduced me to an amazing gum. Not only does it last forever, but it also has smart packaging. I can't go into detail here because you will tune me out, but if you find this gum, get it. We're worried it's not going to catch on and we need your help. Buy Stride gum! (For us.)


I’ve been thinking about learning to ride a long-board. I know this could potentially be very unsafe and the chances of me ever doing it are unlikely, but I think it would go nicely with my general lifestyle. I don’t really know what that last sentence means. Basically, every time someone skates by on a long-board, I think to myself, “Wow, what could be cooler?” And I find myself answering, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Tomorrow night I have a kind-of-sort-of date that I will not be going into details about on this blog, NOR should you if you are privy to the situation. In preparation, I am about to take on the massive feat of shaving off most of my body hair. Suddenly being Jewish feels like a punishment. (You MAY speak of the shaving/Jewish problem freely.)

I’ve been horrible these past few days. Very little writing has happened and even less reading. Maybe in the morning I can redeem myself.

One of the best Prince songs of all time (not that I believe in choosing favorites since they’re all perfect) is “I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man.” Please find this song and put in on repeat. Then write me a thank-you card.

I heart Mondays.

I love having today off. It’s so fun to have the whole city to myself.

This morning, the website that I use to check the weather said there would be ice pellets falling from the sky. First, does anyone know what an ice pellet is? Is that like a frozen pigeon poop? Second, an hour later I checked the website again and they had completely changed their mind. No sign of ice pellets. Not even a mention of possible precipitation (which there wasn’t, mind you).

I got my Trader Joes fix this morning. Fell in love with the person who rang me up (is anyone surprised any more?). Oh! And before that I fell in love with the person in line in front of me at the post office.

For lunch, I had an open face tempeh sandwich from Angelica.

Today I felt like a real writer. I spent a couple hours revising my story and I’m finally getting somewhere.


I got The Way We Were from the library and took some notes (blame it on life-learning). Here are my thoughts:
-Writing class scene in beginning of movie accurately captures emotions of revealing one’s art in public. And Babs portrays a perfectionist with exactitude.
-Consider sense of betrayal when a person cuts in while you’re dancing with someone else. Where does this tradition come from? Shouldn’t a person be guaranteed a full slow-dance until the song ends?
-One of the improbabilities in movie that disrupts honesty of the characters: Hubble doesn’t know Katie’s mother’s name long after they are married and are about to have a baby.

(I know that only huge nerds take notes during The Way We Were, or to even admit to having watched this movie on their day off, so go ahead and paint a red “N” on my forehead. I dare you.)

*Music to make you shake your booty: Da Da Da (I Don't Love You You Don't Love Me Aha Aha Aha) by Trio
*Still reading: Nathan Englander
*A big howdy to my pimp, Ivan, if he’s reading this! Good luck with your interviews!
*And a follow-up I’ve been meaning to mention: FC, I haven’t read The Duke Of Deception, but you are the second person to recommend it, so I’m putting it on the list. Thanks!
*Note about digi-cams: I’m waiting for my dad (hi dad) to come to town next week, when I plan to ask him to purchase a camera, a real desk, a real chair, and real curtains.

To Stay or Not To Stay???

Tonight is the National Book Critics Circle Award Party hosted at my workplace. I could stay or I could go. I'm not really dressed to mingle with the literati. What's a girl to do?

A) go home and read
B) take a walk around New York, enjoy the cold weather, then go home
C) stay and shmooze
D) stay and hide in the corner
E) other (please suggest your own idea)

My First Snow As A New Yorker

I didn’t think I wanted snow, but when flurries started swirling at lunch, I got a little jubilant (is it possible to be just a little bit jubilant?). It’s hardly enough to make a fuss, but it was the first time this winter. I heard a rumor it’s supposed to snow more over night.

Every Thursday, two volunteers who work upstairs in the café bake spinach pie during their shift. I had a slice and maybe it’s the winter desperation, but I could have eaten the entire pie. Maybe even two of them.


And the best news of all!!!! I broke down and bought a real coat at lunch. Not only is it Polish goose down (sorry, E), but it was also 30 percent off. See, waiting until winter’s half over is a good strategy. Aimee’s going to flip when I reveal where it’s from: UNIQLO!!! I couldn’t help myself. I know, I’m a sheep. (I really AM since my Hebrew name means pretty lamb, my zodiac sign is a ram, and I was born in the year of the sheep.) Blame it on the information anxiety; I had to find out about Uniqlo for myself. The coat is a deep dark blue, almost a black, and it was originally 90 bucks, which is so reasonable and I only paid 60! I can’t complain. I wish I had a digi-cam (how many times will I say this before it actually happens??) so I could model for you all.

I’m loving all the new blogs I’m reading thanks to the residency. Provides me with good reading while I’m “working”. (Is Tavi’s blog the repeater? I’m a little puzzled.) (Here's a photo I stole from Jen's flickr site from the residency. This is me and a not very flattering shot of Jessica D out drinking it up in Cambridge. She's wearing the Bible Camp hoody that I wrote about in an earlier post.)

Tonight, I’m hanging out at home, sipping garlic tea, having a little dark chocolate, and reading more of Englander. I like his writing. He’s a smart storyteller and I can kind of see why two of my mentors recommended him to me.

The early morning rising is HARD. Once I’m out of bed and sitting in front of my computer, I’m okay. Although this first submission is forcing me to consolidate a lot of scenes in my story and I’ve no desire to delete anything. Learning to let go… Truly though, my main concern is finding the momentum to stand up and walk the few feet across my apartment to my desk.

Can someone please tell me how I can stop the frizz? My hair and I are in a big fight and I’m losing. I need to know what works.

Coldest Day In New York Yet. Still No Snow.

This will be brief. I’ve got to sleep soon since I’m on my new early-rising-to-write-before-work schedule.

Took a trip to the library and picked up all my holds:
Movie I finally watched tonight: The Notebook, which is horribly written but filled my romance quota for the week.

Moisturizer switch: Sorry, Aimee, the honey just isn’t cutting it. I’m back to jojoba oil.

Song on repeat: Loudon Wainwright’s The Swimming Song. Remember when I used to swim three times a week (and sometimes more)? Remember when I actually did physical activities besides running to work and running home?

Time to curl up in my igloo and dream.

Night.

Home

Yesterday I tried to take some time for reading and writing and gathering myself after the train accident. I finished This Boy’s Life, which was almost as good as Old School, and I began Nathan Englander’s For The Relief of Unbearable Urges. I’m starting to revise one of my stories and I’m having trouble letting go of some sections, but I think this draft is going to be strong once I’ve put the work into it.

Tonight after work, my friend, Kim and I met up to see her favorite writer/muse, Elizabeth McCracken read at Dixon Place. Kim was beside herself with enthusiasm and this really was a dream come true for her. McCracken read and so did her husband, Edward Carey.

I was there because I’m taking an interdisciplinary study in which I am required to attend readings and write a little about the experience. But mostly, I enjoyed watching Kim meet her favorite author.

After Kim got her book signed and schmoozed, we went to Café Mogador for dinner. I know St. Marks is mostly gross, but there are some really good restaurants spotted along the street, especially farther from 2nd and 3rd. I had goat cheese ravioli with squash and Kim had a hummus platter. We drank wine and celebrated Kim’s promotion, the meeting of her beloved author, and my homecoming. For dessert we shared a baked strawberry rhubarb tart and cider with brandy.

Leave it to New York to bring my spirits back up. It’s good to be home.

Debris

I swear to G-D. As we sped along, we ran over something and a loud noise just rang through the train. One of the conductors came running down the aisle, walkie-talkie in hand. The train came to a halt.

Announcement: “May I have your attention, please folks, we’re going to be here for a while. We struck debris. We got to make sure we are okay. Got to make sure the debris isn’t a dog or something.”

Five minutes later a woman conductor ran by: “We’ve been delayed two or three hours. We did strike debris.”

Gasps from everyone on board.

We haven’t even made it to Providence (not that it matters) and they aren’t going to let us off the train. I always have bad luck when I take the Accela. I have a feeling all the other trains are delayed too. How adventurous!

Wet brown leaves cover the ground. A silver garbage dumpster stands in a parking lot to the right of the train. On its side is lettered in white, “AMERICAN WASTE.”

I’m going to snuggle in with This Boy’s Life until I learn more.

Announcement: “No news. I’m waiting for the dispatcher. As soon as I hear, I’ll let you know. Thank you for your patience.”

A police SUV has just pulled up. He’s crossing the tracks toward the front of the train. We’ve been on board for an hour and a half. It’s getting darker.

Rumor: Another train is coming and we’re all going to be moved to the new one. New York feels like another country.

We hit a person. The woman called him “a trespasser.” We’re going to Providence in half an hour to an hour and then we’ll switch trains there. I think we killed someone. The woman didn’t want to make an announcement over the loudspeaker because she didn’t want to upset the children. Well, I’m not a child, and I’m upset. I’m having a heard time holding back from crying.

I can’t stop thinking about how that woman called the person a “trespasser.” Press has come and is taking photos and film of the train.

For over an hour the train has smelled like death. I never knew that smell but now it’s unmistakable. We rode over a body. More police have arrived. A white van with no markings arrived. All of them parked right next to the “AMERICAN WASTE” dumpster.

I feel responsible for a death. Strangely, the town we’re in is called Mansfield.

At 3:22 pm:
“Please take advantage of the café car. Everything is now comp. We appreciate your patience. As soon as we know more about the situation, we’ll let you know. It’s going to be at least an hour before we’re on the move.” (The smell of death is coming back stronger now.)

Seconds later, the same message but louder: “Ladies and gentleman, we apologize for the delay. There has been a tragic accident. We have opened up our café car for all our non-alcoholic beverages and snacks for you. Please take advantage of this. As soon as we know, we will let you know.”

There’s been a rush to the café car. As though there’s a scarcity of free food and drinks. You know how, when it’s really cold out, you can see your own breath? The entire sky is that color.

Life goes on, I guess. A middle-aged man walked by and just spoke into his cell phone, “Hey, I was just checking on the score.” And there are more calls like this. Nobody seems to be thinking about the loss of life.

More press has arrived. More police. What will they do with the body? How will they remove it without any of us seeing? Will they put it into black garbage bags? Is the body still in one piece? How old was the person we killed? Had they wanted to die? Was this what they were hoping for? Is the conductor okay? Is there someone there to console them?

I can’t concentrate on my book. I have to pee but I don’t want to talk to anyone and ask them to watch my stuff.

“Name some fun card games we can play,” a girl says on her cell. “We can’t remember how to play spit. I’ve read both magazines on the way here. I was going to bring a book.” And then my favorite part, “Okee-doke, bye.”

Another train is passing us on the left. I guess the tracks have been cleared on that side.

The neon sign in the aisle above the bathrooms just flashed “BE SAFE.”

And twenty minutes later, another announcement: “Although we will not be able to make up your time, our next move will be to Providence. Then we will be detraining you. Again, please take advantage of the café car.”

Three hours and ten minutes have gone by. Rain is falling and I think to myself, “Everything matters,” as I pile up on granola mix, snackwell vanilla cookies, and bottled water at the cafe car.

After four hours, “There’s been a change of plans. We’re going to do a train to train transfer at this very spot.” I found a new seat on a new train and we’ve been told we will all be partially refunded for our trip. This new train doesn’t smell like death.

The word “debris” is swirling in my head. To be reduced to such a word.

And now, we are finally moving forward.

A poetry teacher from my school, who lives in New York and loves her Sylvia Plath, just walked by. I should have looked at her and smiled. But she doesn’t know me and what I know of her is that her seminar was absurdly self-important and miserable. What would I say to her? I looked out the window instead. I guess after tragedy, we all return to our old selves. Still, I am left wondering how she feels after this whole experience. She may be the only one I know on the train. I don’t want to try to talk to her about this.

I did end up talking to the poetry teacher. A little. Mostly she wanted to offer me a mint and let me know she was about to see her boyfriend. I really don’t think there’s room in her head for anything beside herself. I know that’s a horrible thing to say.

We got to Penn Station about 9:30. We were all reimbursed the difference between accela fare and regional fare.

The rumor is that a fifteen-year old boy saw his parents across the tracks and ran to them. And he was killed.

The man behind me in the refund line said, “Fifteen. He should have known better.” I wanted to punch him in the stomach.

I’m home now. Corny is crying. Nothing could sound better.

Here's the first news story

Back to My Mole Hole

Lately, everything has the feeling of happening months ago. I can’t believe the residency is over and at the same time, I can’t believe that just yesterday I was in class.

Last night was really fun (was it really just last night??). I haven’t spent much time with other second semester folks and 16 of us had a big dinner at Tamarind House. Wine was drunk and characters came out of their shells. This felt like perfect closure for the second residency.

Kimberley and I pretended to be Bohemian today. We spent most of the rainy day lying around the house, doing close to nothing.

When I made my eyebrow waxing appointment this morning, I lied and said my name was June. The name came out of nowhere, but I was worried that they would match me up with the same woman I went to the last time I was in town. She seemed to resent me for forcing her to use hard wax and for living in New York.

I was chatting with another customer in the waiting area and when the lady called out, “June!” it took me a few seconds to realize she was referring to me. She barely spoke as she waxed and I have to say, she did a great job. She was quite the perfectionist. No resentment, as far as I could tell.

Before


After

Love how the salon tries to create an Amazon rainforest ambiance with constant wooden flute music, potted trees, and framed photos of naked women. I kept thinking how women who live in the Amazon probably don’t get their eyebrows waxed. (I could be wrong about this.)

I’ve started This Boy’s Life, which is worth all the hype and more. I want to have Tobias Wolff babies. Eight of them. Genius babies.

Tomorrow I head back to New York. Another example of feeling like I haven't been there for months.

I changed my blog’s name/address because life has moved underground. I’m honoring my burrowing existence (work and home). Or something.

Back to riding the rails...

The Residency Diet

Gaining weight is never as easy as it is when I'm at the residency. Today's menu (this is going to scare me, I think) is out of control:

coffee with milk; poppyseed bagel with butter; hot water; orange; hot water; spinach, chickpeas, green beans, peanuts, grated cheese, and onions topped with a watery sun-dried tomato dressing; a slice of German chocolate cake; half a brownie; another cup of hot water; another orange; Burdick's hot cocoa with eight women in the program; two bowls of Vive cereal; three pieces of philly roll; three pieces of avocado and eel roll; half a bowl of edamame; and a tiny chocolate truffle mouse.


check out the world's largest flower. scary cool, right?

exhaustion from eating and not sleeping has set in.

and I'll close with a direct quote from my mom's stay in my apartment. she said:
"Yes, Corny slept on me, and she may be queer."

*Longest Day of The Residency*

Started my day super early and ended late. Had good seminars, but overall exhausted.

Can't even be bothered to start my sentences with "I."

Spent way too much time with Andre Dubus. He's got one of those firm handshakes that makes you think when he releases, your own hand will no longer be attached. He's also unsettlingly good with remembering names.

It's gotten colder, but still no snow. Not complaining.

Get to sleep in tomorrow, but I think I'll get up and go bookstore browsing for organizing my reading list.

Has anyone read In Dreams Begin Responsibilities and Other Stories by Delmore Schwartz? I may add this to my list.

Apologies for such a boring post...

Let The Reading Begin. And Fun Feature: Creepy Marzipan Babies

First thing today, I walked into a metal barrier at the entrance to the library. I smashed my leg as hard as I could and kept walking. I read for an hour and checked my email and two hours later, I looked down. My jeans were covered in blood. I hadn’t stopped bleeding from the gash in my leg and I hadn’t even known I was bleeding to begin with!

All through my first seminar today (which rocked, by the way) my leg was pouring blood. I have to admit I feel pretty hardcore about this. But also fascinated by my ability to go for two hours without realizing blood is draining from my own body. It made me question what state I’m in that I’m so detached from myself.

My seminar had a genius icebreaker, maybe the best one ever, that was not just an icebreaker but also relevant to the topic (which was the revolt of objects). We had to go around the room and talk about what was a deal-breaker when it came to dating. I mentioned my hatred of horses and also something related to a question I have about a person that I’m thinking about sleeping with right now (though I won’t go into detail on this blog).

The stories people shared were so funny. One of the best parts was when Phillip told everyone that his name actually means “lover of horses” in Greek, so he and I could never be together. At the end of the two-hour very academic seminar, our professor wrapped it up by letting us know we’ll all meet someone right for us at some point.


I ran across this amazing website of babies made entirely of marzipan while researching the sugary substance. They're so creepy, I can't help feeling like they're fabulous.

With my new mentor, I worked out my proposed reading list for the semester. Here’s the list for Riva and mom and anyone else who cares to read along:

Tobias Wolff (surprise, surprise) - This Boy’s Life
J.M. Coetzee- Disgrace
Andrew Greer- Confessions of Max Tivoli
Elizabeth McCracken – The Giant’s House
Nathan Englander – Relief of Unbearable Urges (remember this one, Aimee?)
Andre Dubus – Adultery and Other Choices
Howard Norman – The Bird Artist
Amy Bloom – Come to Me
Junot Diaz – Drown
Jane Smiley – Age of Grief
Any stories I haven’t read by Flannery O’Connor
Richard Ford – Independence Day
Kazuo Ishiguro – Remains of the Day
Saul Bellow – Herzog
Michael Cunningham – The Hours (hated the movie, but the book is supposed to be way better)
Ian McEwan – Atonement and Saturday (I keep planning on reading him and not doing it.)
Tim O’Brien – In the Lake Of The Woods
Grace Paley- Collected Stories
Charles Baxter – Burning Down the House
I might try to read ZZ Packer’s stories again, only because one of my stories keeps reminding people of her book.
Prisoners: A Muslim and a Jew Across The Divide – Jeffrey Goldberg

New Shooties!!

My new shooties arrived in the mail today! Here are some photos of me wearing them around Kimberley's.

The rest of my day was not good, but I knew it wouldn't/couldn't match yesterday. Lots of long and uninspiring classes. And drinks with other students after the reading, which I should have skipped. Hindsight....

My mentor read from a nonfiction piece tonight and I was really impressed. I also ate dinner with her and I think she has a lot to teach me.

I've been thinking about the intense need I have to prove myself in all things that I'm passionate about. I guess it's a basic desire, but I think my need verges on obsession.

I had a fried pickle for the first time ever tonight. I can understand the appeal but I wish I could have tasted more of the pickle taste and a little less of the fried taste.

Sweet dreams.

Today was a great day. Go day three!

My morning seminar with Rachel Manley inspired and reminded me why I love to write. We all had to go around and say our reason for writing (like I’ve done a thousand times before, and may I mention that I don’t like that it has to be only ONE reason) and I’m curious to how my answer changes (I wish I had written down all my different answers over the years). Today I said I write because in “the real world” I’m always on the outside, looking in, but when I’m writing, I feel connection and a sense of community.

After lunch, my manuscript was the first to be critiqued in my large group. The feedback was really positive. All the work I put into last semester paid off. I love my story and I think it shows. Plus, I have new ideas for what may change.
This is why I’m here.

I also realized that what I said yesterday is ludicrous. Sure, most people primarily care about looks, but being smart is still most important to me. I loved being smart today. That’s right, I’m tooting my own horn. After all, a writer needs to celebrate the few times each year when she is not writing from an isolated place and when she is encouraged to continue.

I ate dinner with my new mentor and some of the other students. I know it’s going to be a shift, but now I think I am going to like her. She already gave me some solid, thoughtful ideas to grapple and puzzle over.

After dinner, I went to the faculty readings. Rachel Kadish’s new book is simultaneously hilarious, witty, sharp, and intellectual. I can’t wait until I graduate from my program, so I can read all the books written by my mentors that I haven’t allowed myself to read yet. From what I heard tonight, I really recommend this one.

I also enjoyed Rachel Manley’s reading of her memoir. Hearing her words is like swaying in one of those musical swings made for babies.

I just got home and Kimberley and I continued the celebration with a bar of raspberry dark chocolate. She’s enjoying pear cider while I’m having my nightly cup of garlic tea (garlic cloves steeped in water).

Day four can’t possibly live up to day three, but that’s okay. I’m going to try and ride this wave for a while.

Second day of residency

Best part of the day was the break in the middle where Jessica and I went to Cambridge Common and drank three glasses of wine each. Then we went back to school.
Mostly today was a drag. I accidentally ruined everything for my large group workshop and now we’re all going to have to read parts of our work out loud. I have to go first. Tomorrow.
In the evening, after the faculty reading, I went out with a bunch of students to imbibe. I had another glass of chardonnay before calling it quits.
I told Jessica she’s my only friend who not in an ironic way owns a hoody advertising Bible Camp. She’s fabulous. But I worry that in my program everyone thinks we’re a couple. What’s up with me having friends that everyone thinks are not just friends? That’s SO not the image I’m trying to project although it’s not as important to set the record straight (as it were) in my program as it is in my New York life.
I’m still not acting like this residency is actually happening. I hope this changes soon being that my work is going to be discussed tomorrow.
p.s. Lately, I've decided that being smart is not a main priority for women. What's important is to look as good as possible. Intelligence is secondary, if that. I feel like I already have the smarts, now I have to focus on looking as good as possible. I know most of you will think this is a waste of energy/not agree with me, but I don't care.
p.p.s. Okay, I do care, but I do think that looks come first in this world and I have to stop pretending that's not the case.
p.p.p.s. Therefore it's time for my beauty sleep.

Getting Into The Swing Of Things

Had breakfast with Matt M. and his new lady friend, Connie at the Oxford Spa. It was good to catch up; I approve of the match. Way to go, Matt!

Did a lot of nothing today except lie around in my undies and catch up on some reading for tomorrow’s seminars.

Tonight was the first night of my second residency. I chatted with friends, spoke to my old and new mentors, and went to the reading that my old mentor gave of his brand new book, Charity Girl.

The highlight of the evening was meeting a person that will be in one of my workshops who wrote a piece I really like. He told me that he really liked my story, too! And my old mentor had a some kind words to say about me, as well. After a day of doubting my abilities as a writer, that was incredibly encouraging and exciting. Now I’m really looking forward to having my work critiqued.

I’m going to sleep soon since I have my first big school day tomorrow. I’m still not totally in a school mindset (AT ALL!), but that might take a day or two to kick in.

song of the night: "Maybe You Can Owe Me" by Architecture in Helsinki

p.s. polarchip sent me this about Feng-Shui, which confirmed my suspicions. I am a feng-shui disaster.

Oh Give Me A Home Where The Amish Roam (But Make It Temporary, Please)

The reason I haven’t written in a couple of days is because NOTHING is happening. That’s the beauty of Somerville. It’s good to get my head cleared and into a non-frantic/non-New York state of mind before classes begin. (I still have two days before the residency kicks off.)

Mostly, Somerville feels like Amish Country. Without the bonnets.

Kimberley and I have been catching up. Tonight we’re going to hang out with Catherine, who is fabulous. She’s also a cook, and I’m hoping she’ll make something yummy for us.

If you read Aimee’s Blog, then you know I got a new blue coat yesterday (hence the picture, which if you need to know, was taken on Kimberley’s fancy computer and I still don’t have a digicam, because I’ve been told to wait and purchase one online).

Other news: I tried on a pair of pants at a thrift store today and there were four dollars in the pocket. Lucky me! Then, I tried on a sweater that I liked but there was a small hole in the chest region. So I told the woman at the counter and she gave it to me for 70 percent off. Now it’s at the tailor’s.

Seriously, there’s nothing new. I’ve caught up on a lot of boring television. And I had a breakfast burrito at this bookstore/café place this morning and I’m suspicious that they microwaved it, since it came really fast and tasted gross.

Also, my parents have randomly decided to hijack my apartment for part of the time that I’m gone.

What’s on my mind: I hope this residency is better than I expect it to be…

I need a good young adult nonfiction book to bring with me to one of my seminars. Any suggestions?

One Last Post About Me and Aimee (For A While)

I know, I know, you're all sick of hearing about me and Aimee this and me and Aimee that. Here's three pictures from our photo shoot. (See the genius haircut?!)


I still can't believe I won't be in New York for two weeks. I'm having culture shock.

Here I am entering my cave (also known as my home) with a new bookshelf that we found on the street.



And this is my "Sliding Doors" imitation, which I watched again today with Kimberley. We also watched "The Year My Voice Broke," which is kind of sort of the sequel to "Flirting," but it wasn't nearly as fabulous as "Flirting."

And three youtube videos of Aimee and my romp around the east village:
WHO in the sky
Keeping My Promises
Whenever We Think of Ellen...