Brighton (your day) Beach with Oscar & Rafael

More proof of my existence

Kasey and I enjoyed a delicious brunch at Maggie Brown's in his new neighborhood, which borders Fort Greene and Clinton Hill. Someday I hope I can move to the area with all its cute Brooklyn tree-lined streets. The apartment buildings are so pretty, each with their own stoop.

On my train ride home from Kasey's neighborhood, I read the paper. There's an article in the Times today about how people feel like they have to document their lives: “We are fighting against this whole idea that everything people do has to be constantly chronicled,” Mr. Malice said. “People think that every thought they have, every experience — if it is not captured it is lost.”

Yes, it's true, Mr. Malice. As a writer, I have a very real fear that my life will be forgotten if I don't continue to write letters, emails, stories, keep a blog, and a journal. Of course, I try to bring integrity and honesty to each form of writing. (Well, I may not bring integrity to journaling, but that's between me and myself.) I try to be very careful about writing about other people and respecting/protecting privacy. Most people who are acquainted with me know I keep a blog and tease me about posting constantly. "Is this going on the blog?" is a question I hear about once a week or so. Most often my answer is, "Yes, if that's okay with you." Blogging has become my living photo album and memory book.

Just because I keep detailed accounts of my life doesn't mean I expect anybody to read it; I do it because I like creating and to produce proof that I exist.

Everything must go!

After a fun beginner Aikido class, I thought I'd treat myself to an afternoon in the park with a snack from Yogurtland. On my way to Bleeker Street, I ran into Laura, who is moving back to Colombia on Wednesday now that she's finished her photography program in New York.

She is ready to leave the city and said that she feels like New York is vomiting her out of the United States. I told her it's good to leave when New York isn't working, and that soon enough she'll miss being it here and when that happens, she'll be back. I know I'll see her again.

One thing I love/hate about New York is how frequently people come and go. This works for me in a way because I have been known to disappear for stretches of time, to get lost, to stop returning calls, to vanish into my own private New York. On the other hand, I don't like it when friends go missing. A double standard? Sure.

My favorite consolation prize: Yogurtland.

Goodbye, Laura. See you again someday!

Late-night standoff

For the most part, Cornelius and Nancy have been living in a culture of avoidance. Unfortunately, this apartment isn't big enough for them to have much distance from each other.

Nancy is a bully, and she has taken over the hottest commodity of all, the bed. Last night Cornelius, in an attempt at bravery, jumped onto the bed only to be met by the enemy. Their standoff continued for several minutes until I couldn't stand the thought of Cornelius being ripped to shreds. Finally, I kicked Cornelius off the bed even though I am very sad that I can't sleep with her because of Nancy.

I hope Cornelius gains some power, but it's not looking good. I miss spooning with her.

Ground control to Turkey

Joseph has touched down in Istanbul! He's staying at a hotel right around the corner from a Starbucks, where he was able to pick up a wifi signal to skype. Here are our very first international skype conversation pictures. At the last minute, I learned how to do screen snapshots, so I didn't manage to capture decent shots before Joseph's computer battery died.


He looked a lot happier for most of the conversation than these pictures indicate.


He's only slept for about thirty minutes since leaving New York yesterday evening.

Since he mentioned that Istanbul is a lot like Astoria, there is a small part of me that suspects he is merely taking a vacation in Queens while pretending to be in Turkey. We don't have real proof that anyone has ever been to the moon, right? How is this situation different? Perhaps it will be easier to believe that he is in Turkey when I meet up with him next week.

Boring Airport Drama aka DELTA IS EVIL!

NEVER FLY DELTA!!!!!!!!!!

Due to a traffic jam and other circumstances, Joe missed his afternoon flight yesterday. He was supposed to be flying to Turkey via Paris, but instead we were sent to the Accra line for delinquent travelers. Nobody knows what accra stands for.

According to google, accra is defined as:
the capital and largest city of Ghana with a deep-water port
or a Caribbean dish of salt cod fritters, often served as an hors d'oeuvre. Also known as stamp-and-go.

"Stamp-and-go" might make sense if the line had been speedy and efficient. Instead, we stood in the grossest JFK terminal, surrounded by belligerent travelers and angry Delta workers for three hours.

Three hours, people.


(The two tall gentlemen in the line in front of Joe and me are from the band, Vampire Weekend. In some circles, though not my own, this proximity would make us almost famous thanks to Delta.)

Here is one of Joe's first attempts to contact a Delta representative over the phone.


Long story short, we made it to the front of the line. Ivan Charity, the evil Delta man behind the Accra desk yelled at Joe for missing his flight. I broke into sobs, which didn't help because Ivan Charity has the hardest of hearts. It also didn't help our case that the customers in line were verbally abusing the Delta employees. He told Joe that he would have to pay $3,200 plus an extra $250 to get to Istanbul.

Mercy was nowhere to be found.

Three hours in line to be told that Joseph would need to find $3,450 or else no Turkey.


(I warned you that this story was boring.)

Anyway, phone calls were made. My parents were running a command center in Florida. Joe and I were trying to get a hold of Delta and the online site where he bought his ticket. To make matters worse, the airport cell phone reception is almost nonexistent. An hour of phone calls passed and still, nothing seemed to be working.

I finally made it through to a sympathetic woman from Delta Airlines (maybe I was hallucinating) and I lost my reception.

AND THEN! Juan appeared in my life. Juan, the angel. Juan, the guardian of all good things. Juan, the hero.

I explained the situation to Juan, the Delta International customer service rep, and he didn't seem to understand why I was distraught. He let me know that Joseph had already been reissued a new ticket for tomorrow (today), flying to Paris and then to Istanbul. No extra charge was required.

I didn't believe Juan; how could I? He kept going away to check on things and then returning to confirm that indeed, Joseph was ready to fly away tomorrow afternoon. He gave me the confirmation number and after checking my sources (my parents), we agreed that it was true. Somehow someone had pushed a button giving Joseph a free pass.

We will never know who did this, when it happened, or why Joe wasn't charged.


Today we returned to the airport (ON TIME!) and arrived at a whole different terminal, beautiful Terminal 1 where Air France is housed. Where Delta had run away from us when we tried to seek help, Air France sought us out and demanded to give us understandable instructions in a polite, patient, and educated manner. We were able to quickly move from station to station in a well-lit, beautiful terminal with lovable banter between the woman behind the counter and us. And she was very clear, "NEVER FLY DELTA!"

I asked her if I should be worried since next week I will join Joseph in Istanbul by way of KLM. She said that KLM is great, not to worry. Even though both Air France and KLM are affiliated with Delta, they are worlds apart.

Speaking of worlds apart, Joe is now on board his aircraft, buckled in next to "the male of a middle aged het couple with a deep tan, baseball cap, paunch. She has a copy of The Berkshire Eagle on her lap." (As reported via text message.)

As he flies high above the confusion and distress brought on by Delta, I wish Joseph happy, relaxing travels to his final destination.

Chickens are done and I am finished.

I need to blog. I need to make contact with the outside world. But mostly, I need to sleep.

Please hold while I dream.

Lionize the Leo

Joseph and I celebrated his birthday on Fire Island.


We stayed on Ocean Bay Park with a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who I met through craigslist.


But we found Cherry Grove, a place we had already visited over the Fourth of July weekend to be much more enjoyable.


Most of the Cherry Grove beaches are clothing optional; I chose to opt out.


Two lovers in a sheet dance.






There are deer all over Fire Island.


We met two European tourists who had never seen deer in real life before.




At dinner, we watched the sunset.


We had a perfectly decadent weekend celebration.


Happy birthday, Joseph. You're the one for me.