I will be sleeping in.

It's been a freakishly busy week.

Last night Brad and I had the second best burger in New York at Good World Bar & Grille and we got a round of drinks for free because Brad's burger tasted minty.

Today, Riva met me at my workplace in the early afternoon. I gave her a tour of the building and then we traipsed all over New York attempting to purchase the perfect office accessories for my boss and myself.




Stop one: Clinton Street Baking Company to test out my Perfect Breakfast Theory for the second time. (Yes, still perfect.)

Then, Muji; Club Monaco; Uniqlo; Surprise! Surprise!; The Container Store; Bed, Bath & Beyond; and The Wrong Watch Store.





We crashed at 'Snice where Riva was attacked by cilantro and I was attacked by a nun. Okay, she didn't really attack me, but there she was, being all nun-like. Too close for comfort.

We headed off to Billy's Bakery to use more of the gift certificate from my folks. We ran into lovely Erica, who always will be one of my favorite roommates I've had.


And as quick as she arrived, Riva was gone again.

Chop Shop, Again.

I saw Chop Shop for the first time many months ago and ever since I have been passionate about the film.

Tonight, Socrates Sculpture Park screened the film and Kim and I (and hundreds of other locals) threw caution to the wind (with a 99 percent chance of major storms) to watch a locally shot classic.


When we arrived, the clouds hadn't quite turned from gray to black.


From a distance, we could see that Manhattan was already drenched.


The Director, Ramin Bahrani; the star of Chop Shop, Alejandro Polanco; and the star of Man Push Cart, Ahmad Razvi introduced the film.


We made it through half of the movie before they decided to shut the evening down due to lightning.


But all in all, this was another magical evening in Queens.

It wasn't until TI commented to me recently that I watch a lot of films that I realized I truly am a (picky, sure, but voracious) cinephile.

Next Wednesday, Socrates is screening another fab contemporary classic, The Host.

Still celebrating

To celebrate our graduation from our MFA program, Alana and I treated ourselves to cupcakes and fresh OJ from Billy's Bakery. (We used the gift certificate to Billy's that my parents gave me for graduation. Thanks!)




Alana and I tried to reenact our previous photo shoot.


The last time we visited Billy's, we were mid-thesis and I was a total wreck about the whole thing. (It was also the night we went to see Tobias Wolff.)

That feels so long ago.


After dessert, we thought we'd try Blossom right across the street for dinner. We both ordered the special, which was pretty fantastic.

Then much book browsing ensued at 192 Books. All in all, a perfect evening to continue celebrating our writer selves.

Michael sent the best writer video of the week.

apparently nobody can COME OUT and play

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is not gay. This should be good news, but I think I would respect him more if he could be a bit more fluid with his sexuality. After researching with Riva and coming up with unhelpful information like this, I took matters into my own hands and went to a credible source who knows J G-L personally.

I’m trapped at home, waiting for the Verizon fairies to come to my house and magically install internet. That’s right; I am finally going to stop stealing from others and use my very own service.

So far this morning, besides learning about J G-L, I have started reading a new book (Voodoo Heart by Scott Snyder), launched into writing a new story, and discovered the perfect hotel for Kim and my weekend getaway in Lake George. I think I may have fallen in love with the woman at the front desk after she said in the sweetest little sing-song voice, “Let’s have a look-see.”

This weekend I saw two movies, both of which I left with mixed feelings:

Before I Forget is a French, gay movie about an older HIV-positive fellow, who hates life and wants to die. Two hours of suicidal depression does not make for an uplifting Friday night. However, the older, Canadian woman sitting next to me was a hoot. After the movie she decided we should go see something like Mama Mia to break free from the despair. I did not partake.

I had high hopes for The Edge of Heaven. My new boss raved and so have the reviews. I thought the characters were nice to look at and parts of the story kept my attention, but the tone felt inconsistent. The pacing moved at a hurry-up-and-wait speed.

What am I going to do all day? I need an art project.

This evening, Phillip and I are going to the Corner Shop Cafe.

Help needed: I want to get my new boss a small birthday gift by tomorrow. Suggestions are appreciated.

The tree in a hole/And the hole in the ground/And the green grass grows all around

The big lesson this week, this year, this life: Love is (almost) never simple.

My father’s father died late last night. He is my first grandparent to pass away. It’s easier to state the facts than to know what to do with them.

A few months ago, I decided to reconnect with my father's mother. I tried to call her one night and my grandfather picked up. My last phone conversation with him went like this:

Grandfather: Hello?
Me: Is Grandma there?
G: Who’s this?
M: Gili
G: Why don’t you state your grandmother’s first name so I can make sure you’ve got the right connection?
M: You know what? Forget it.

And then I hung up.

I’ve known for a while that he's been close to death. I’ve carefully considered how the end of his life would feel for him, but also for everyone in my family. He’s caused a lot of hurt and suffering, sleepless nights, anxiety for my family and myself.

He taught me stubbornness and resentment.

My only positive memory of him is from my life in Miami. This was years before I stopped speaking to him altogether (which happened around my first year in college). I must have been six or so. He tucked me in one night, and he taught me that song:

“And the green grass grows all around, all around, and the green grass grows all around.”

He sang verse after verse until either he got sick of singing or I fell asleep.

Here is an engineering article written by my grandfather in 1953 that I recently found. I know that he was discriminated against--unable to be promoted-- at one point in his life because of being Jewish. He must have had many interesting stories to tell. It was clear that he had been badly bruised by life.

I can’t access the love I had for my grandfather now, but I am sure it still lives inside of me. I wish that he could be revealed, that I could somehow understand why he was the way he was. Instead, I am left with that big lesson. I’d like to meet this challenge.

To complicate things, today my Zaddie (my mother’s father) celebrated his birthday. Since his strokes, he barely does much besides sleep. I called today and he hurried to get off the phone. I heard his voice crack; he cries so easily now. He may be the only relation I have where love is truly simple. I have never known a kinder soul.

a perk

One perk of my new job is getting out super early in the summer. I roamed the streets of my old neighborhood, the East Village, and spent some time writing, reading, and eating an avocado salad from Yaffa Cafe ("f--- the carrot dressing!") in Tompkins Square Park.

Bomb Magazine celebrated its 104th issue (not sure why that's the number to celebrate) in Tompkins Square Park, so I stuck around for some of the readings.

on the train: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
drowning out others with: Iaian Matthews

summer bursting in air

Tonight Kim and I had the opportunity to listen to one of my favorite contemporary authors, Ethan Canin read from his new book and speak about writing.

He's an excellent reader. He said, "I'm always hyper-conscious of boring people" because he hates being read to.


When asked which of his own books is his favorite, Canin said, "I'm sort of semi-humiliated by them all." He shouldn't be.

He mentioned his view of fiction, which is to "ask a lot of questions without giving any answers."


Kim and I strolled around the Upper West Side, and ended up passing by Central Park just as the New York Philharmonic was playing their finale. Fireworks lit up the summer sky.

I like to think of her as a Professor of Love.

Even though it's been years since I've owned a television, I recognized Gwen Wright immediately as I passed her on the street in Chelsea today. She's the super hot Architecture Professor on History Detectives. I tried to act casual, but I was starstruck. My nerd crush was inflamed after years of latency. I don't even like learning about history, but I would happily listen to Gwen teach me anything.

*Book: Etgar Keret's The Nimrod Flipout.
*Music: I haven't been listening to much lately although Donovan is a staple.
*Change: Tomorrow I begin my new job, which means today was my last 4:15 Aikido class. Soon I'll have to meet the 5:30 folks.

Roots

According to some studies, "Queens is the most ethnically diverse 115 square miles on earth."

This morning, Astoria was visited by National Geographic and IBM for a genealogy project, a five-year endeavor "using DNA as a study tool to map how humankind populated the planet."


Along with hundreds of other neighborhood folks, Kim and I stood in line to participate in the project.


Helicopters with cameras circled above.


We had to swab the insides of our mouths. The samples will be sent to a lab and in October, the television crew will return to Queens to reveal the results of our genetic makeup. Unfortunately, women can only find out their matrilineal descent from this study. My father's family is much darker, and I would like to learn more about the origins of his side, but you need a Y-chromosome to access this information. Kim's father's side is interesting because her father's grandparents hid their Jewish identity. Additionally, some of her father's family may be buried right here in Queens.


We couldn't help ourselves; we (more than) consented to be on camera.


Dr. Spencer Wells, host and geneticist of The Genographic Project


The street fair was swarming with camera crews.


Dr. Wells, who is about as white as they come reddened over the course of the day. His next stop is Malaysia and I hope he remembers to wear sunscreen while he's there.


Each participant had a quick photography session. Here's Kim, hamming it up.


Am I famous yet?


Another amazing Sunday brunch, street fair, and bizarre adventure with Kim.

A reason to stay in bed all day

I was just biking home over by Astoria Park when an unmarked red van flashed its lights at me and two officers pulled me over. I was issued a citation for biking on the sidewalk and I will have to appear in court in September for my wrongdoing.

The cops explained that there are video cameras everywhere because there have been a lot of shootings lately in the projects (where I was passing through) and since everything was on tape, they had to give me a ticket. I looked up and saw two heavily-armed police officers on top of a building, staring down at me. I felt like I was on the set of The Wire.

As I was waiting for the ticket to be filled out, three kids biked by on the sidewalk. I pointed them out to the cops, but I was told they’re allowed because they're children.

The officer’s nametag read, ELCOCK. I held myself back from asking if that was his real last name.

Missing person

I know I kind of disappeared this week.
Since I've returned from Boston, I've hit the ground running. My new job doesn't begin until this coming Tuesday, so I've had the week off.

Sadly, I haven't remembered to take my camera with me, so I'm recycling a picture from Providence.

Tuesday, Scott and I went to Harry's Water Taxi Bar. We reminisced about the Bay Area and we wondered if the difference between nostalgia and sentimentality is time.

Wednesday, I met up with Matt D. for after-work drinks (though I skipped the work part) at the No Idea Bar. I don't really drink very much, so I was a bit overwhelmed by the time I left and marched across town to meet Kim.

Kim organized dinner at a fancy-pantsy restaurant in Soho, Aqua Grill (I found it on yelp), to celebrate my graduation. We ate the finest of foods surrounded by the wealthiest, most privileged people. Kim was taken (as could be predicted) and I tried to let some of her easily pleased attitude rub off on me. We fell in love with the bread and the pan seared Alaskan halibut was pretty outstanding. Thank you, Kim!

Yesterday, I was stopped on the street in the West Village by the CBS Evening News to answer questions about a Free Bike Program in New York. I said that I thought it was a good idea and I talked about how much more bike-friendly other cities where I've lived have been: Amsterdam, San Francisco, and Minneapolis.

Speaking of bikes, this afternoon, Scott is going to help me pump up my tires for a ride around town.

Other good news is that I'm writing everyday. So far, I'm less than thrilled with the work, but I'm maintaining a schedule.

I believe that brings my blog up to speed.

Media report:
Best television discovery: Slings and Arrows
First attempt to read historical fiction: Charity Girl by Michael Lowenthal (my mentor)
Can't get enough of: Road to Ronderlin sung by Vetiver

My second Bookslut interview is online now!

This month, I've interviewed Kimmie at Bluestockings.

Have a look.

Or start from the front page.

process

Back in New York and it’s sinking in that almost everything is beginning and ending right now: jobs, relationships, school. I don’t remember the last time, if ever, that I was nervous about returning home.

This week I’m developing a new writing schedule and I’m going to try to form a small writing group. The bigger goal is to learn to enjoy the writing process/to stop being so hard on myself.

My first semester in grad school, Michael said that he worries that my self-criticism could become immobilizing. I used to joke about how much of a circular problem this is: finding a proportionate amount of criticism to criticize myself (or being self-critical of my self-criticism). But he’s right. This criticism applies to my writing life, but also to the rest of my life.

Jen H. inspired me. She believes that we can change the stories that we tell ourselves that reinforce the idea that good work only comes from an internal, relentless, and often, unforgiving critic.

As nervous as I was, when I read my work out loud at graduation I realized that I like having an audience and a readership. Until now, I have been incredibly private about my writing.

After the reading, I spoke to people who only knew me through the excerpt of my story that they had just listened to me read. I loved the feeling of closeness to strangers. Two of my mentors have told me that my stories are usually about characters losing/gaining power, but also about finding connection. I found connection this past weekend and now that I know what it feels like, I want to continue to seek it out.

ipse

Brunch: Deluxe Diner in Watertown


4 letters across, ____ dixit


(He himself said it.)

Hey baby, what's your

sign?

(Here we are at Redbones.)

We discussed our signs in depth.


Riva = Cancer
Matt = Leo


Sara = Leo
Connie = Gemini


Gili = Aries

And I'm a believer.

strangest vacation destination

One of the graduation presents from my parents was a vacation with Riva. For many reasons including affordability, last-minute planning, proximity, and adventure, Riva and I chose to take the train to Providence, a place that neither of us knew very much about. Thanks to my mom's Internet-savvy researching skills and thanks to Priceline, this old Mason building turned out to be our hotel.


And what a hotel it was. We're pretty sure the interior decorator was high or uncomfortable with the world of the subtle. The hotel's theme is "carnival" and there isn't a lamp or pillow that survived untouched.


All I knew about Providence (besides Brown and RISD) was that they have a Nordstrom. We had better luck at H&M.




We ordered room service for the first time in my life.




Besides visiting five out of the six independent bookstores that exist in Providence, we took a trip to the RISD Museum.








And ended our stay with a banana split.

What we learned: Providence is a very weird place because it's:
1. immaculate
2. normal
3. subdued
4. without personality

Still, we had fun walking all over town. It's been a long time since both of us were so relaxed that we kept slurring our words, crossing the street without checking for oncoming traffic, and running into each other. This was a much needed vacation.