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...

Another Train Ride, Heading Back To Bean Town

It’s hard to believe I won’t be seeing Aimee for two months.

I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions (not because I’m Jewish and we have our own calendar, but because...

(WHAT?!! I just passed this gigantic mall-type metal church with a big banner hanging from the outside that said, “Is it nothing to you? Lamentations some number: some number." Weird.)

...Anyway, back to New Years Resolutions: I don’t believe in them because they’re stupid. Still, I have one this year:

I need to make my home in New York a place where I can refuel with my writing. (We’re passing the Bronx now.) Not just blogging and emailing, but work. Real work. I need to get back to my characters.

I can’t believe I’m leaving New York. I know it’s only two weeks but I’m going to miss my new home. The chaos, the distractions, the extremes.

I’m going to see Kimberley in fivish hours and we’re going out with her friends for dinner (this is going to be fun, stop worrying, Kimberley!) and celebration. I feel like I haven’t seen my sister in forever. And I’m going to give her a red kettle because she doesn’t have one.

Aimee and I had brunch at 9th Street Market; don’t believe the hype. It’s way too expensive and they’re all over the place with their ambiance. The food was not memorable. When we left, the word “WHO” had been written in the clouds above us by one of those sky-writers. I wonder what it means.

We walked around, enjoying the sunny day, with a quick stop at Angelica to make a you tube video for E. Then I gave Aimee my shooties as a final farewell. We walked to the R and Aimee went to Brooklyn while I went to Penn Station. We took pictures, so dad, don’t be surprised that I have digital pictures to share. (Happy birthday, dad! Love you! Did you know you can eat the entire apple except the seeds, just like a pear?)

It feels like the end of an era. A very concentrated era, but isn’t everything like that in New York?

Hanging out with Aimee reminded me of summer camp. The city became a gigantic jungle gym. Now we must go out into the world and kick some art ass!

Twenty minutes until New Haven.

Movie of the day: Sliding Doors

Haircut Happiness

This morning, the bookstore needed my help up front. So I went upstairs and started chatting with this volunteer, a microbiologist from Romania. She also has hair like mine and I loved her cut.

So we ended up talking about hair and she offered to cut mine. At lunch, she cut my hair in the basement bathroom. I love it! It's way cuter than the way the woman on 2nd Avenue cut it, and today's haircut cost me nothing (as opposed to almost ninety dollars on 2nd Ave).

I'm really wishing I had a digi-cam today. (If have extra time in Somerville, I'll get one.)


E told me she's reminded of Mary Tyler Moore throwing up her beret when she reads my blog. From one Minnesota woman to another. (Maybe when I get a digi-cam, I can reenact this picture.)

I leave for Boston for my next residency in two days...

Bogosian and The Theater Girl

Yesterday I saw “History Boys,” which was the highlight of my day. If you want a really great story that feels like a really great book, this is the movie for you. I can’t tell you how happy I was to end my day with this movie.

Two days ago, something happened and I never went into detail about it, so here goes:
Eric Bogosian came into Housing Works and one of my coworkers pointed him out. Well, I misunderstood who she was referring to, so I started flirting with this older guy for a solid twenty minutes. I learned all about his life in Hastings, his eleven year old daughter, his ex-wife, how he felt about parenting, etc. He was ready to give me his phone number. Finally, I had to go help someone else. I said to my coworker, “So that was Eric Bogosian?” and she said, “No, Eric Bogosian left twenty minutes ago.” I spent all this time trying to hook up with some random 40 year old! He must have been so excited and confused to have so much attention from me.

Fast forward to today. Jessica, the real magic bullet owner came to pick up her package. First of all, she thought Aimee and I were lovers because Aimee was hanging out in her pajamas (actually mine) and why else would two grown women be lying around in their pajamas at 10 pm if they both didn’t both live there? Then I spotted her theater ring (you know, one of those comedy/tragedy face mask things) and she stood in my apartment telling us:
1. She graduated in 05!!!! from BU!!!
2. Her dad lives in the West Village and he’s lived there for 35 years and she’s from New York and she’s a real New Yorker and did she mention her dad’s from the West Village and he’s lived there even before it was SAFE and that she loves the West Village and, you know, the Meat Packing District, and did she mention she’s from West Village?
3. She went to a theater high school. I think it was in the West Village.
4. She has a shih-tzu. (Later, we got to see her apartment, which has a painting-- Aimee thinks it’s a photograph-- of her dog that she can look at while lying in her bed (weird and creepy and not very feng shui, let me tell you).
5. The only good thing about Jessica is that she told me which phone reception is best in our building. Verizon.
6. Did I mention she’s from the West Village?

So the cycle of the magic bullet has come to an end. On the upside, Aimee got a free cardboard box, I got a potential cat sitter, and I met the only person in her adult years who wears a theater ring.

Aimee feng-shuied my apartment some more. Now she’s all drugged up and we’re off to sleep. Good night lovely people.

Song of the night: “You’re Getting Too Smart” by The Detroit Emeralds

p.s. Jessica isn't that bad. Aimee just hates her because she's jealous and thinks Jessica will be my new Aimee Replacement.

My Vengeful Christmas: Part One

My whole schedule has been reworked and I may end up missing “For Your Consideration.” I think I’ll only see four movies. Movies make me forget my head. I’m very disoriented, but I’m going with it.

I’ve made a pit stop home in between movie number one (Dream Girls) and movie number two (Volver).

Dream Girls gets a four out of five stars in comparison to other big budget movies/holiday films and I’m SO wanting to see the original Broadway production that is available on video. Jennifer Hudson stole the show. She’s stunning. The audience applauded a lot. That was fun.

Volver gets three and a half stars out of five in comparison to other Almodovar films. The mother, who used to act in Pedro’s older films, was kind of weak in this one. But this was one of Penelope’s best performances by far. Bravo.

I had movie seat karma issues. Before the second movie, I was pretending to be saving seats for people so nobody could sit near me. When push came to shove, I gave up the two to my right to what seemed like a nice 40-something lesbian couple. But wait! They decided to talk through the movie. I kept asking them to be quiet, which they refused to do. Mind you, I had done them a favor by giving up the seats, but anyway, when the film ended, I got up and promptly placed all my weight on one of their feet. I paused, letting the pressure dig in, and she yelled, “Excuse me!” I ignored her and moved on. I know that karma may catch up with me at “History Boys,” which I am running out the door to go see, but what can I do? Revenge is my middle name.

Other things:

I want patent leather shoes kind of. The old ones, what were they called? With the white and black. Oh! Saddle shoes.

I think New York is a city of over-abundance and I am totally susceptible to this problem.

I love New York Christmas!! I’ve been bonding (when I'm not being vengeful) with other movie-goers about my marathon.

My Christmas Itinerary

10:10 am: Dream Girls
noon: Borat

Lunch Break: Snacks

3:15 pm: For Your Consideration
5:15 pm: Volver
7:45 pm: History Boys

Dinner: Chinese Food (Take-Out)

Home for three hours of writing

1 am: Sleep

It's traditional to go to The Jewish Museum on Christmas and this year they are having an exhibit of Jewish comics, which I would love to see but I don't have time with my movie schedule. Plus it's all the way uptown. Usually, there's a line down the block and they serve Ghirardelli Hot Cocoa while you wait. What do you think, Jewish Museum or movies? (Here's a picture of Christmas 2 or 3 years ago.)

p.s. I think I might like to meet my next lover at Trader Joes.

the difference is clear:

i am not like new yorkers. i am flamboyantly happy and here is a visual aid to demonstrate the difference between me and others:


(thanks to kimberley for the jeans pictured above. i think they're a little baggy on my chicken legs, but I'm going to keep wearing them.)
(my head looks gigantic in this picture.)
two nights ago, i was up the whole night minus one hour of sleep. last night i took sleepinal and went to bed at 7:30 pm. some day i'll get it right. (have you ever noticed how so many of all of our posts revolve around the topic of sleep?)

fun with a digital camera! here i am trying to appreciate my profile. this is very much not my favorite angle, so while i had that ridiculous disposable camera, i tried to work it out.

happy last night of hanukah!

p.s. In my theory of hyper-connectivity, i came up with a possibility while falling asleep last night: maybe the faces of people you can remember are the people you consider sincere and the faces of people you can't remember are those that aren't. maybe this theory is too simplistic. it made a lot more sense while i was drifting off...

It Would Be Wrong To Keep It... A True Story

Dear Jessica,

Today I came home to find two UPS packages at my door. The smaller one contained more treats from my sister. The larger one contained this incredible As Seen On Television Magic Bullet Blender Mixer System. The thing is, this was a gift sent to you. I don't know who you are or where you live, but the package had my mailing address and your name on it. As much as I would love to have my very own Magic Bullet Blender Mixer that purports to make chicken salad in six seconds, I cannot, in good conscience, keep this gift that does not belong to me.

I have sent you an email and left a message at a random number that I'm hoping is yours. Please let me know where you live and I will personally be your Jewish Santa and deliver your MBBMS.

For some reason, I'm worried you're not going to fully appreciate this amazing gift in the ways that I think I might take to it, but that's no reason for me to withhold handing it over.

My biggest dream would be for you to either tell me you don't want the MBBMS and give it to me just because and/or for you to give me eight million dollars just for doing the right thing and going to all this trouble.

Or maybe you live in my building and you can be my second friend that lives on my block (Robb is number one).

Happy Hanukah! (I saw from your last name that you are a member of the tribe.) I hope you make lots of yummy latkes in your MBBMS and don't forget to leave some for your friend in the basement.

Love,
Gili

I Think I Found My New Favorite Book Series...

On my lunch break, I ran over to Moishe's Bake Shop to purchase sufganiyot (jelly donuts) for Tara's Hanukah party. How great is it to live in a cty where I can ask for sufganiyot and they not only know what I'm talking about, but wish me a happy hannukah on my way out?! Jewish cities rule!
I didn't want to use this picture of sufganiyot because it's from Martha Stewart (could you be more waspy??), but it's an accurate representation and as we have all learned, far too clearly, I does not own a digital camera.



The best thing that happened today is I sold the "Bridge To Terabithia" book to a book dealer in Georgia, so I got to personally deliver it to FedEx. It was like seeing my baby off at the ferry. It was hard to see her go but I know somewhere in Georgia, some young child is not going to understand the magnitude of the Christmas present they are about to receive.... And that's how I sleep at night.



During the White Elephant part of Tara's party, I got this amazing young adult book, which was regifted by Emily, who I've met before. (Emily basically brought all the junk from her house that she didn't want.) The book is written for me. And I quote:
"The Phatom reared, silver power against the white fury of snow.... Sam walked toward the hidden home of the wild horses. She was one of them now."
If this woman (or ghost writer) can get published, I feel pretty good about my chances. Maybe I'll start a collection of frightening young adult horse books. It turns out that the one I got is number 24 in a huge series. What if I tried to read all of them?

Tales of A Teenage Loose Cannon

I have been accused on more than one occasion of being a loose cannon. Which is why I’m worried. (I know I’m not a teenager anymore, but I still feel like one.)

I visited Aimee at lunch today and everyone was so calm and under-excited. Enter Gili, The Tornado, and dear G-D, please don’t let me have embarrassed Aimee. Oy, I talked about my double periods. I worry I did damage.

It is truly gift-giving time!!
Today I received:

*Pee-Wee’s Playhouse Season One DVD from Mom and Dad
*A beautiful green rug for my apartment from Kimberley
*An amazing print from Aimee that says, “My Name Is Not China” (I know there was some confusion about this issue and my name.)
*A mix CD from Aimee
*The biggest surprise ever: A package from Aimee with handmade greeting cards (These are a reason in and of itself for me to have a digi-cam), a beautiful necklace/bracelet, a tiny tree print, AND another homemade card.

At the post office this morning, the man behind me told me I have beautiful eyelashes. I had been staring at another person wishing I looked more like them and it was so nice that he just came out and said that. I was thinking this world would be so great (if not slightly creepy) if everyone gave everyone else the compliments that they are thinking.

Dispelling A Rumor:
I’m here to announce that Aimee and I are not a couple. We are not lesbian lovers. Enough, people.

I’d like to go see Yusef Komunyakaa read tonight at KGB, but we all know I never end up making it to readings.

Biggest hope:
I will finally talk to Riva today.

p.s. My mom thought that Tompkins Square Park was called "Munchkin Square Park." How weird would that be? And SO not approrpiate!!

Hanukah Treats

My blog swap food person sent me a package that arrived last night. Inside I found cystallized ginger cookies, rugelach with hazelnut peach filling, gelt, a moon hanging thingy, a hanukah lollipop, and mango tea. How did she know I love tea?? I have not been able to stop the intake of ginger cookies. Either has Cornelius. They are so freaking good!! Thanks, Beth!

Ah, home

This week has gone on too darn long. Here’s a list of things that happened today:

1. A tree fell on a woman on 10th Street on my way to work this morning. It’s a long story, but the point is, a man was driving a truck and basically hit a tree and then the tree split in half and the branches fell on a woman. She’s okay, I think. The driver didn’t even get out of the truck. This is how I started my day.

2. I held a first edition, signed copy of Bridge To Terabithia that’s worth 750 dollars. I might be shipping it off on Monday if the book dealer that I spoke to today wants to buy it. This is my favorite young adult book. Ever.

3. Talked to an angry man (actually, I was talked at by him) on the phone today (he had a right to be angry) who kept calling me “lady” over and over again (he didn’t have a right to be calling me “lady,” especially the way he was calling me it).

4. Met Corrinne Bailey Rae and watched her practicing for her show at Housing Works tonight. I didn’t stay because Aimee told me I needed to go home. And also because the thought of watching some woman (that I’ve never even heard of) sing while being squished between three hundred other people sounded like a bad way to end the day.

5. Came home to my blog swap package. I have to take pictures of the food, which I will post tomorrow. In the meantime, I have been stuffing myself with ginger cookies all night.

6. Took another shower and tried out the honey all over the skin thing the way I’m supposed to do it. So far, so good.

Tonight’s plan: Two hours of writing, one hour of reading stuff for workshops, reading fun stuff until I go to bed, which will hopefully happen by midnight.

Ah, home.

Q: How Many Ways Can I Entertain Myself While Never Getting Any School Work Done?

A: A lot.

I have blotches of honey all over my face and arms. After spending the last five hours hanging out with Aimee, I stopped by Trader Joe’s and bought a 3 lb. can of honey. She convinced me that it would be good for my skin. I think I put too much on because I’m all sticky and keep leaving little dabs of honey all over my apartment. Did I do it wrong, Aimee??

Today, Sarah Michelle Geller was at Housing Works. The store was closed and the street was closed off for the movie shoot. They’re filming “A Girl’s Guide To Hunting And Fishing,” which was the dumbest book ever but I might go see the movie to see Housing Works. Aimee witnessed a lot of really bizarre interactions that I had during the filming of the movie. I won’t get into it, but at one point, this strange Italian woman seemed to get angry with me for not speaking Italian even though she was the one trespassing.
I don’t care about Sarah Michelle Geller, but I need to say this: She is very, very skinny. Make no mistake. She is so skinny, she’s almost not there.


I was supposed to go to a reading tonight, but Aimee and I played hooky. We stopped at Black Hound and ate lots of dessert samples. They were playing Delilah After Dark and I was way happier about it than the guy working behind the counter. I don’t know why. And get this, Aimee had never heard of Delilah. Wow. I am really exposing her to a whole new world. I like to think of it as my form of community service. (Just kidding.)

We had a late dinner (post-bowls of cereal and free samples and yummy ginger dark chocolate) at Souen. I stuffed myself with bok choy and rice and other macrobiotic treats. I had written “Eat Healthy” in my planner for today. Maybe tomorrow.

I got more Feng Shui tips and what I'm learning is that I am the opposite of Feng Shui.

One last thing: on my walk home, I saw a man dressed in completely in tinfoil with only a pair of striped boxers on top. I’m not even sure he was a man, since his face was covered. It was for a photo-shoot. Again, wish I had a digi-cam.

Music: “All Night” by Damien and Stephen Marley

The Glow In The Dark Stars on My Outer Space Pillowcase Are Keeping Me Awake

...kind of. But maybe I’m just scapegoating my pillowcase. The time is 2:15 am. I’ve decided to make tea.

Today was a bad day, and I am realizing that I have to be more honest with my workplace when I’m frustrated. I can’t keep it to myself because it will find a way out of me and it’s better to be direct than pent up. I don’t do pent up well. Never have.

I’m not anywhere near tired. This is the pattern: begin my week pretending to be healthy, then stay up really late several nights mid-week, and finally, drag myself through the last days of the week. This is not a good pattern. Note to self: work on this.

Aimee Feng Shui’d my apartment. It’s a really big improvement. Someday I’ll have a digi-cam and harass others with pictures. In the meantime, just know she made it work in a major way. Dad, the big tall bookshelf is now lying on its side and it looks way less precarious and way better.

I’ve been wondering lately why it’s so satisfying to read incredibly real-to-life fiction, but living incredibly real-to-life nonfiction is not so satisfying. Seriously, explain this to me.

Tomorrow, the store is closed and we will be supervising a film shoot. At night, I’m going to a reading. (Tomorrow is actually today, but later.)

Right now, it seems much more important for me to be in the habit of loving things-- like writing, New York, my apartment, random strangers-- intensely and not worrying so much about having things love me back. There’s a part of my brain that decided I need to actively pursue what makes me excited and happy and curious. So that’s what I’m doing.

Music That’s On:
Birthday mix from Riva.

New Club I’m Starting Right Now:
Conspiratorial Artists (I’m not sure what we’ll conspire about, but I’m now accepting members. We can discuss our thoughts on conspiring at our first meeting.)

Pressing Question:
Which is worse? Listening to Britney Spears or Nelly Furtado?

Busy Week With Blood

That's right folks. I'm doing such a bad job of taking care of myself that G-d served me up a second period. Believe it. Needless to say, I'm not a fan.

On the upside, Aimee slept over last night!!! Yea!!! How fun. For dinner, I wandered the streets looking for pumpkin soup. Everywhere I went, the cafe staff looked at me like I was out of my mind. Like, why the heck would we have pumpkin soup? So I gave up, went home, got in my pajamas, and ate cereal.

This week is busy busy, as usual. Plans: reading to attend tomorrow night, next night is some singer that's supposed to be AMAZING, then party with Aimee's artsy friends, then ice skating, then hanukah party with Tara.

Must make time to write. Have I learned nothing???

Paulette: come visit NY and we can have sleep over parties and be silly. Wish you were still here.

Sandra: call me again next week!! I want to hear everything!!!!

song of the day: anything but "New Year's Resolution" by Nick Lachey. Grrrr.

Not Peter Dinklage

Guess what? I saw another famous person on the street five minutes ago. I was heading to my brow wax (FINALLY!) and Wallace Shawn was trying to break down the Village East Cinemas doors. What is up with me seeing very short men? Okay, it's only two, but still. Lots of people looked excited to see him. I didn't say anything. It was a magical moment, so I knew the brow wax would be great. Loved him in "The Princess Bride" and in "Sex and the City."

Turns out, I'm pretty sure I've been to this brow wax place before. I think Ellen took me once a long time ago. It might have been my very first time ever. They were fast and furious and I'm happy with the results.

All my errands are complete (except I'm mid-laundry right now) which is a miracle. Today is beautiful and sunny and I'm loving running around.

Song of the day is dedicated to Ellen:
Rollercoaster By The Sea: Jonathan Richman. Here are the lyrics.

The Cure For Winter Blues=

1. Sierra Designs down booties. I have worn mine down, but they are still part of my indoor winter uniform.

2. Dagoba Hot Cocoa. See previous post.

3. Trader Joe's Honeybush tea. See previous post.

4. Trader Joe's Red Pepper and Tomato soup. See previous post.

5. Scarves.

6. Strolling around New York. Yesterday, a stranger told me, "Transcend the nonsense." I'm working on it.

7. Fingerless gloves. It's still not cold enough to have the fingers completely covered; they just get sweaty and suffocated.

8. Sleep. Last night I slept for twelve hours. If I'm not a bear, I don't know what I am.

9. Coffee. Today I got up at 2 pm, so I didn't have any coffee. That's right, no coffee. A clean and sober day to detox. But in general, coffee is my main ingredient for curing those winter blahs.

10. Hot showers. Lots and lots of hot showers.

Truth: So far, winter blues haven't really happened. There's still too much to do and to love in this city.

Tomorrow's goal is to get myself a New York Public Library Card.

quarantined

Paul Muldoon read tonight at Housing Works. I stayed for a while, but the guilt I felt was too great. Or maybe it was too much to listen to someone who spoke so slowly. My brain just isn’t that patient right now. I hurried home to work more on my writing. It’s official: I’m the last person in my class to upload my manuscripts for workshop. Sigh. Maybe next semester, I’ll be better. Probably not.


I’m taking tomorrow off to finish up my second piece. It’s got to go out, no matter what.

This is an official apology: Hanukah gifts will be late. Sorry.

New York has gotten a bit colder, but I still love it. Everything’s better here, and I’d love to expand on this, but writing beckons.

Thanks to Aimee, I’ve begun a jumping jack regimen, which is a nice way to end the day, but doing them kind of makes me feel like I’m in prison. I guess I sort of am until I get through with this frickin’ story.

Grocery list (hopefully this can happen tomorrow once writing is complete):
Bananas, cherry tomatoes, carrot juice, soy milk, apple sauce, soup, tea, cereal, carrots, spinach, tofu

Plus I need a brow wax big time. And a hair cut. And black tights. And a new printer cartridge. (This is what happens when I never allow myself to leave my house.)

Music: Ray LaMontagne
Obsession: Dagoba Xocolatl (Hot Chocolate w/chilies and cinnamon)

Please Leave Me A Message And I'll Get Back To You As Soon As Possible

Work, coffee, school, coffee, repeat. Running just as fast as I can...
I'm so ridiculously busy and it's totally my fault for putting off school until the last minute.
I'm on lunch in the middle of a New Hire Orientation and I've come up with a self-diagnosis/new vocab word:
I've decided I have Neurasthenia. Not really, but it's always fun to find new possible illnesses.

One of my pieces I'm wokring on is getting to the place where I want it to be, but the other one is very stubborn (okay, it's me that's stubborn) and it refuses to conform to my wants (actually, I think the problem is, I really have no idea where I want it to be going). Unfortunately, it's due today. I'm ignoring that part because I'd be ashamed to turn it in and call myself a writer.



Along with Alice Munro, I'm partaking in some light reading. I finally got my hands on a copy of Rats which is perfect-timing for moving to New York. It's my subway and lunch reading and so far, I think it should be required reading for moving to this city.
Back to orientation....

Thoughts from the 12th Annual World AIDS Day Reading of the Names Vigil

The reading at City Hall takes place from midnight to midnight today, and consists of five podiums in a semi-circle with five people simultaneously reading names. You can read for as short or as long as you want and for people who don’t like the sound of their own voice (me), the good news is that we are all reading different names at the same time.

Here are my thoughts that I scribbled during my four-hour shift at the reading:

First time reading:
*Whose lips have touched this microphone besides mine?
*What if I read names incorrectly and people ask me to stop reading or start laughing at me?
*Maybe I need to read louder to give the people who’ve passed away respect.
*Slow down, think of each person, each life, each meaningful existence. Who were they? What was their life like?
*Listen to the other people reading around me. What are they thinking about? Who are the people that they are naming?
*What if I accidentally skip a name? Will they be remembered? Will their name be spoken aloud before next year’s vigil?
*This is being broadcast live on NPR. I hope the families are not disappointed with the way we’re pronouncing the names.

-When I sat down after the first reading, I realized some of the same names are at different podiums, so if I accidentally skipped a name, someone else would read it.

Second reading:
*I’m more distracted and I keep messing up names.
*I touched my lips to the microphone again. I ended up at the same podium again, so it’s the same microphone.
*This time, I’m trying to take my time, breathe, and read louder.

-And then the rain came. At first, it was gentle:
*My coworker, Eddie was holding an umbrella for one of the women reading. It was time for him to leave (his shift had ended) so I offered to hold the umbrella.
*The wind picked up and the woman kept going. We got soaked, the rain flooding in from every direction.
*I huddled closer, and one of the volunteers handed us another umbrella so I was trying to shield this woman and myself from two directions.
*The wind kept picking up and I wasn’t strong enough to hold the umbrellas.
*I liked huddling next to this woman, watching her read from the list of names. I don’t know her and I may never see her again, but standing under the umbrellas with her in the pouring rain, I felt so close to her and so good.
*When we finally got off the podium, she turned and said, “Thanks” to me. Stupidly, I said, “Thank YOU.”

With an hour left until my shift ends, I’m standing under the tent with other volunteers and employees, protected from the rain. My jeans, shoes, and socks are soaked. But I’m alive and listening to the names and the rain is finally letting up.

tired of the long haul (or maybe just a little sleepy as i try to settle in)

I was lying in my perfect bed, not sleeping, but trying my darndest. The Be Good Tanyas were playing on my CD alarm clock and I was listening to “Midnight Moonlight,” which got me thinking about all the moving around I’ve done in my life. So I drew a map of the U.S. in my journal and made arrows going from place to place. (This doesn’t include summer camps or trips/semesters abroad.) The goal of this visual aid is to help me sort through my scattered brain. (Thank goodness I get to sleep in tomorrow.) I don’t have a scanner, so I’ll try to do it through pictures.

Minneapolis, MN: 0-5

Miami, FL: 5-8

North Palm Beach, FL: 8-16

Interlochen, MI: 16-18

Oberlin, OH: 18-22

San Francisco, CA: 22-26

Again to Minneapolis, MN: 26-27

New York, NY: 27-??

Nope, still not feeling like I can sleep. Maybe I'll turn the lights off again...

Maybe 8 should be my new bed time...

I’m so tired. So, so tired. Today was one of those days where I left my house late, walked five blocks, realized I didn't bring my planner with me, turned around and walked back home, and then started out again.

It’s 8 o'clock and I was planning on revising tonight, but a lot of me wants to get in bed, read, and fall asleep. I might hang out with my friend, Megan tonight, but it’s feeling less likely. The advantage to seeing her tonight is that she likes to drink and we’d probably be out late, which is perfect since I get to sleep in tomorrow. The disadvantage is that I’m so sleepy.

Yesterday I had the day off. More errands happened than any other day since I’ve lived here. I got to cross off everything on my planner. And I got writing done. I went out with Kim to this restaurant called Poetessa. It’s right near my house on 2nd Avenue and as I always am when Kim picks the place, I was skeptical. She goes in for the really fancy places that tend to be overpriced and gimmicky, but this was amazing. I had a potato-encrusted salmon with spinach and mashed potatoes (a lot of potatoes) with a chardonnay. The fish tasted like a potato latke with a hint of fish. It was SO good. I’m still mystified.

Then we went back to Astoria to watch the second to last America’s Next Top Model and look at all of our prospective lovers on the internet. I got home late and woke up early, hence the tiredness. Nothing interesting happened at work today except I found out that my least favorite volunteer is going to be around a lot more. Sigh.

Tomorrow is the real World AIDS Day, as Riva brought to my attention. In the evening, I have to read names at the vigil at City Hall. I get paid to do it, but I’m really not excited about listening to my own voice projected throughout downtown for four hours. I know it’s petty, but that’s what I’m thinking about.


It’s 70 degrees here and the heat is on in my apartment. That’s not making me less sleepy.


My new cereal of choice: Trader Joe’s Organic Morning Lite.
Oh! Kim gave me all this free crap from her workplace including a Lionel Richie album. I’m supposed to re-gift whatever I don’t want, but I’m psyched to rock out to Lionel tonight while I write.
New constant body sensation: since I’ve been drinking so much coffee and tea every day (it’s free at work and then there’s the honeybush at home) my mouth/tongue is perpetually burned. At this point, it’s almost comforting.
Proof that I need to go to bed soon: I just forgot that I had soup on the stove and it boiled over. I could hear something sizzling, but it didn't register at all. Now it's everywhere!