Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Globespotters
I LOVE THIS BLOG from the New York Times. A little solace for those of us not able to do quite as much pleasure-travel right now. (whimper whimper)
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Independence Day 2009
aka A Multicultural Celebration of the USA And All Her Alcoholic Beverage Varieties
aka Happy Birthday America!
11:40: finish tube of toothpaste. happy birthday america!
(note: colgate packaging is poignantly red, white and blue)
11:50: don picnic-table plaid red and white halter dress with full marilyn-monroe-esque skirt. my attempt at stylish patriotism and the only thing in my closet remotely patriotic-hued.
13:30: brunch with seattle friends in town (slightly hung over from giant $3 vats of bud light in williamsburg the night before) - espresso followed by brazilian omelettes and mimosas. happy birthday america!
15:45: purchase large bottles of water from woman wearing patriotic twin towers and american flag tee back in brooklyn at williamsburg convenience store. we ask for paper bags. she also offers to sell us red party cups. we are clearly in the right place. happy birthday america!
16:00: barbecue efforts thwarted, team settles for hipster-spotting with case of bud light at mccarren park. themes include fedoras, pale, faded, and/or see-through cotton on top, tight, faded, torn and/or acidwash denim below; bulldogs, oversized sunglasses, showy and or ridiculous bicycle flaunting, and clothing old enough to look outdated but not nearly old enough to be called "vintage". notable moments include a couple guys in fluorescent spandex on bicycles, and a six year old boy wiping out dramatically in a giant mud puddle. white girl gets mild inaugural sunburn.
(17:15: must use restroom of previous-night's bar gathering; spot local in large-print american-flag-and-aggressive-eagle theme polo)
18:00: margaritas at friends' in fort greene. feel very "american dream" in ogling the couple's large, clean apartment. happy birthday america!
19:00: mojitos, cuban food at habana outpost patio, brooklyn. nothing says patriotism like cuba. happy birthday america!
21:00: take mojitos in subway back to manhattan for fireworks over hudson from friend of friend of friends' rooftop in west village/meatpacking /chelsea.
21:22: must-pee-so-bad. miss firework beginning in elevator and restroom.
21:29: enjoy fireworks with other drunk, young and attractive, and significant portion of gay freedom-revellers. view from 20th floor of fireworks over hudson, those beyond over jersey and the horizon, a moon-drenched lower manhattan, and jeweled glowing taillights illuminating 8th avenue is intoxicating. also intoxicating is the vodka and likely red bull that the host kindly makes for himself and I. nothing says classic americana like overdoing it with vodka-redbull with a male model, the wind catching your lightweight dress repeatedly, up and over your head to expose your under-areas to many. secure dress in oversized-80's-teeshirt style on the side with hair tie. happy birthday america!!!!!
22:30: party moves to apartment downstairs. long island click of girls posing for eachother on host's bed leaves something to be desired in party atmosphere.
23:00: someone uses smooth moves to get us in cover-free, line-free into beautiful but, well, clubby club in meatpacking district. club features striped wallpaper, chandeliers, and a bed we spill our drinks on. random aspiring actor gives female friend and I his card, does hit of coke while talking to us. happy birthday america.
0:30: crew meets up with others in more suitable west village bar; request for water turns into water followed by another g&t, some of someone's whiskey, and a bottle of beer. michael jackson mixed with a few 80's standards all night long. intoxication tipping point documented through photography, when I attempt to ruin photos with ridiculous faces per usual.
2:50: chelsea apartment
3:20: flatiron apartment
3:45: realization that any more intoxication of any sort would be nail in coffin. leave friends and weed agenda for home.
4:05: skewed decision-making decides current budget is too tight for cab. walk to subway.
4:20 R to 8th street. attempt to use internet at home. realize this is futile when one eye must be closed to do so.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA
aka Happy Birthday America!
11:40: finish tube of toothpaste. happy birthday america!
(note: colgate packaging is poignantly red, white and blue)
11:50: don picnic-table plaid red and white halter dress with full marilyn-monroe-esque skirt. my attempt at stylish patriotism and the only thing in my closet remotely patriotic-hued.
13:30: brunch with seattle friends in town (slightly hung over from giant $3 vats of bud light in williamsburg the night before) - espresso followed by brazilian omelettes and mimosas. happy birthday america!
15:45: purchase large bottles of water from woman wearing patriotic twin towers and american flag tee back in brooklyn at williamsburg convenience store. we ask for paper bags. she also offers to sell us red party cups. we are clearly in the right place. happy birthday america!
16:00: barbecue efforts thwarted, team settles for hipster-spotting with case of bud light at mccarren park. themes include fedoras, pale, faded, and/or see-through cotton on top, tight, faded, torn and/or acidwash denim below; bulldogs, oversized sunglasses, showy and or ridiculous bicycle flaunting, and clothing old enough to look outdated but not nearly old enough to be called "vintage". notable moments include a couple guys in fluorescent spandex on bicycles, and a six year old boy wiping out dramatically in a giant mud puddle. white girl gets mild inaugural sunburn.
(17:15: must use restroom of previous-night's bar gathering; spot local in large-print american-flag-and-aggressive-eagle theme polo)
18:00: margaritas at friends' in fort greene. feel very "american dream" in ogling the couple's large, clean apartment. happy birthday america!
19:00: mojitos, cuban food at habana outpost patio, brooklyn. nothing says patriotism like cuba. happy birthday america!
21:00: take mojitos in subway back to manhattan for fireworks over hudson from friend of friend of friends' rooftop in west village/meatpacking /chelsea.
21:22: must-pee-so-bad. miss firework beginning in elevator and restroom.
21:29: enjoy fireworks with other drunk, young and attractive, and significant portion of gay freedom-revellers. view from 20th floor of fireworks over hudson, those beyond over jersey and the horizon, a moon-drenched lower manhattan, and jeweled glowing taillights illuminating 8th avenue is intoxicating. also intoxicating is the vodka and likely red bull that the host kindly makes for himself and I. nothing says classic americana like overdoing it with vodka-redbull with a male model, the wind catching your lightweight dress repeatedly, up and over your head to expose your under-areas to many. secure dress in oversized-80's-teeshirt style on the side with hair tie. happy birthday america!!!!!
22:30: party moves to apartment downstairs. long island click of girls posing for eachother on host's bed leaves something to be desired in party atmosphere.
23:00: someone uses smooth moves to get us in cover-free, line-free into beautiful but, well, clubby club in meatpacking district. club features striped wallpaper, chandeliers, and a bed we spill our drinks on. random aspiring actor gives female friend and I his card, does hit of coke while talking to us. happy birthday america.
0:30: crew meets up with others in more suitable west village bar; request for water turns into water followed by another g&t, some of someone's whiskey, and a bottle of beer. michael jackson mixed with a few 80's standards all night long. intoxication tipping point documented through photography, when I attempt to ruin photos with ridiculous faces per usual.
2:50: chelsea apartment
3:20: flatiron apartment
3:45: realization that any more intoxication of any sort would be nail in coffin. leave friends and weed agenda for home.
4:05: skewed decision-making decides current budget is too tight for cab. walk to subway.
4:20 R to 8th street. attempt to use internet at home. realize this is futile when one eye must be closed to do so.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
for a visitor
some lesser-known new york (good weather) recommendations:
- walk down a major avenue such as madison, fifth, or broadway above 34th listening to flight of the conchords' "fou de fa fa," with gusto.
- eat a bagel with lox
- eat it standing or walking
- go to central park; lazily enjoy people-watching at sheep meadow and toy boat pond. feel concerned at being misinterpreted for pedophile in wanting to take photos of kids with their frenchie model sailboats and crawling on alice in wonderland statue just north of pond.
- a long walk, such as battery park, east river park, across brooklyn bridge (okay not as lesser-known).
- visit a deli that offers way too many ethnic cuisines under one roof. select from the most credible/benign cuisine. often this means diet coke or bagel, usually you want to steer clear of the indian food that's been sitting under lamps for hours.
- newly opened highline in uber-trendy meatpacking district.
- stroll through williamsburg, the LES, or even (gasp) the east village, secretly smirking at over-done hipness.
- have some frozen yogurt, and/or a cupcake. so hot right now.
- sit in bryant park. suck up the beautiful calm in the storm.
- see a free outdoor performance, such as shakespeare or concerts in the park/ on the river.
- buy food from a cart. street meat if you are brave.
- ride the subway to one of the outer boroughs. stand clear of the closing doors.
- stand in line for a ridiculous length of time at shake shack in madison park, to be rewarded for your patience with delicious burgers or ice-cream based desserts.
- walk through SoHo, residential West Village, and/or billionaires' townhomes around the Met uptown to marvel the lives of others. it's amazing what other people's walls, light fixtures, and ceilings say about them.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
overheard on broadway
I was walking directly next to a a black guy who was walking up to a group of other young black men, part of the import-export scene on the crowded sidewalks of broadway at twenty-seventh street. Hugging one, in a tone of both intimacy and youthful bravado, he says:
"you gotta get some pussy and stop fighting, man."
truer words... truer words....
"you gotta get some pussy and stop fighting, man."
truer words... truer words....
twilight zone
Not that it really came out of the blue, but my professional life has turned haywire with a sudden jerky acceleration of a downward cycle of my office. Bad economy combined with a tremendous flux of people and work here put the design office I began working in eight months ago into a spin at pretty much the same time I started. There were maybe two awesome morale-building events the month I started at this fancy-looking penthouse office with a stunning view, and then things started to turn sour.
So here we are eight months later, three rounds of layoffs and twenty-five less people later, and we're starving in the drought. In a couple weeks more than half of us will be on reduced salaries. Not all, and not equitably, which has caused stress. I am lucky enough to be in the first round and have my salary reduced to nearly half... 24 hours. Ouch.
I'm getting resourceful and contacting my firm's offices in other cities in an effort to take control of my own destiny. Normally I'm a bit of a passive individual, but I can't make it long on half pay in Manhattan. I wasn't that flush to begin with, with rent that's half my salary.
I have moments of frustration, but I maintain that this is all an opportunity. I may rewrite my identity and destiny if the circumstances bring major change. Part of me thinks that I have a lot more in me than I'm using right now; I have the potential to be a modern renaissance girl if I ever develop the gumption and plan to try it. Writing, art, craft, botany, community service, education, and environmental awareness are all things I'm pretty passionate about and could love working more on if the opportunity arose.
If it all comes down to it, I still love Seattle. Going back at the end of the summer would feel like the experience was brought to a premature end, but it's been pretty great as it is.
One should love and embrace what they've had for what it was, what one has currently for what it is and may become, and anticipate all that one may have in the future. It makes this unsure period kind of exhilarating. Mystery writing, museum-guiding, city-blogging, garden-designing me, here I come...
So here we are eight months later, three rounds of layoffs and twenty-five less people later, and we're starving in the drought. In a couple weeks more than half of us will be on reduced salaries. Not all, and not equitably, which has caused stress. I am lucky enough to be in the first round and have my salary reduced to nearly half... 24 hours. Ouch.
I'm getting resourceful and contacting my firm's offices in other cities in an effort to take control of my own destiny. Normally I'm a bit of a passive individual, but I can't make it long on half pay in Manhattan. I wasn't that flush to begin with, with rent that's half my salary.
I have moments of frustration, but I maintain that this is all an opportunity. I may rewrite my identity and destiny if the circumstances bring major change. Part of me thinks that I have a lot more in me than I'm using right now; I have the potential to be a modern renaissance girl if I ever develop the gumption and plan to try it. Writing, art, craft, botany, community service, education, and environmental awareness are all things I'm pretty passionate about and could love working more on if the opportunity arose.
If it all comes down to it, I still love Seattle. Going back at the end of the summer would feel like the experience was brought to a premature end, but it's been pretty great as it is.
One should love and embrace what they've had for what it was, what one has currently for what it is and may become, and anticipate all that one may have in the future. It makes this unsure period kind of exhilarating. Mystery writing, museum-guiding, city-blogging, garden-designing me, here I come...
Friday, June 5, 2009
swept away
Been awhile... the hubub of spring and warmer temperatures has engulfed me and the city in a fog of busy-ness. Not to mention working a lot, but that's another story itself.
Shedding our shrouds of dark wool and down, the true seasonality of New York is fun. Spring is like waking from hibernation. We lose the leggings and stockings and find hems creeping and shoulders bare. Boots give way to the strappy sandal of the moment and the plumage of bright fabrics and patterns emerge. We dive deep into spring fever in a matter of a week or two when the temperature breaks.
Spring fever... it's everywhere. Eyes in the subway, glances over happy hour drinks, walking arm in arm beneath the street trees. The East Coast is a little more traditional in relation to the genders- men will more openly check women out here, and if you find yourself in a more working-class neighborhood, a girl on her own or among other ladies is likely to be addressed in terms relating to her appearance, in coos or whistles if not shouts. Doors are held. Older men smile at you as if to say, "oh, if I was younger..."
I found myself in Spanish Harlem yesterday on my way to the Museum of New York City and it was like being in a stereotype of NYC from another era- thick with people socializing on the streets; men in groups on the corners almost territorially; conversations sitting on the stoops; and people shouting from the fifth floor windows down to their neighbors across the street; all happening on a per-block basis. Of course I was addressed and watched, but it made me smile.
Feminist that I am, and coming from the more gender-neutral, Scandinavian-esque northwest, I notice this more than some might. But I love it. I won't say I've not been caught up in the spring fever the past couple months. It's fun.
Shedding our shrouds of dark wool and down, the true seasonality of New York is fun. Spring is like waking from hibernation. We lose the leggings and stockings and find hems creeping and shoulders bare. Boots give way to the strappy sandal of the moment and the plumage of bright fabrics and patterns emerge. We dive deep into spring fever in a matter of a week or two when the temperature breaks.
Spring fever... it's everywhere. Eyes in the subway, glances over happy hour drinks, walking arm in arm beneath the street trees. The East Coast is a little more traditional in relation to the genders- men will more openly check women out here, and if you find yourself in a more working-class neighborhood, a girl on her own or among other ladies is likely to be addressed in terms relating to her appearance, in coos or whistles if not shouts. Doors are held. Older men smile at you as if to say, "oh, if I was younger..."
I found myself in Spanish Harlem yesterday on my way to the Museum of New York City and it was like being in a stereotype of NYC from another era- thick with people socializing on the streets; men in groups on the corners almost territorially; conversations sitting on the stoops; and people shouting from the fifth floor windows down to their neighbors across the street; all happening on a per-block basis. Of course I was addressed and watched, but it made me smile.
Feminist that I am, and coming from the more gender-neutral, Scandinavian-esque northwest, I notice this more than some might. But I love it. I won't say I've not been caught up in the spring fever the past couple months. It's fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
