Saturday, November 28, 2009
The food was traditional and comforting. Traditional because it was the same food my mom makes, comforting for the same reason. I went 40 minutes north of Manhattan with Andrew to spend the holiday, eating, watching Home Alone, Planet Earth, and sitting in a cozy loveseat surrounded by houseplants, cherrywood, and books. The house looked like the one from The Royal Tenanbaums, but 30% less surreal. I kept blinking, wondering how I ended up sitting at a table with a jovial Evangelical minister, his inviting wife, and their son. I was watching myself in a movie, from a sphere of mormons and track homes.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
She rushed in a cab to make it in time to the reading in Ft. Greene. Up a winding whitewashed staircase and onto the polished wood floor she stepped quietly as not to interrupt the reader, who was just finishing her first person story. She was late, but noticed her friend and they sat together in the front row at the pause between readers. The short essays were good, the last 2 were the best and the most risque. She listened in support as her friend read aloud, when midway through the story a man sat next to her. He was late as well. She glanced over and recognized the disheveled salt and pepper hair and glasses. It was Ira Glass. The story ended, the hostess thanked everyone, and then it was out for drinks. The group comprised of about 7 people, all writers, all the kind of people that take delight in noticing funny details. The conversation topics ranged from fraternity boys, to nose bleeds. At one point Ira held her arm and said that she looked like someone he knew in Chicago that was pure evil. The girls asked if she wanted to skateboard on Saturday. One man had the perfect feathery pompadour and ate in a clockwise pattern. Mrs. Glass had noteworthy eyebrows, black frame glasses, and a huge smile. She talked about loving to teach teenagers and going back to grad school. At 11pm they all said goodnight outside the German bar on Fulton. The cars kept driving, the trains kept running, the rain kept falling.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
I woke up at 4:15am this morning to watch a beach sunrise with 5 of my favorite people. Totally worth it.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Yes, sometimes I still think about what those kids that are a little older than me, who were so cool when I was in high school. Matt Gubler, Jen Ianni, Rhonda Turnbough, Ronnie Vannucci. I still think Rhonda is the prettiest girl ever. I hardly know any of them, they were untouchable cool, nice, and talented. I still have not seen their match since. But it is easy to idealize someone when you are 16 years old. I wonder if Las Vegas will ever be considered a Manchester, the way that its desolate yet goodness comes out of it.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sometimes living in new york is like being in a medieval village. You can hear people out of your window, peek out of your window, and know just about everything that is going on. All that is missing are the potato sack clothes, missing teeth, and "Hark" being yelled out. (p.s. this comment is inspired by a very embarrassing happening over the weekend.)