Volna

I mean, roe and blinis and solyenka, in the enclosed patio, on the boardwalk, at Brighton Beach, with my Mom? Well that's about the best goddam Sunday I've ever had.

Curb stuff

Thursday night I was baking, so when I noticed all that furniture on the curb across the street, I had to wait a few minutes before rummaging and as a result lost out on that fantastic white full-size filing cabinet, but I did score this Sony Trinitron tv. Yes.

How do I teach it to go above channel 13?

Is it laying or lying?

Laying in bed, wishing I had a baseball bat, or at least that there were eggs in the fridge, because that car alarm went off last night from 4:30 until 7:45 I shit you not.

SMS highlight reel, vol. 6: Phone.. Sex.

So yeah... I've been drinking. So what? You coming out or what? You should. I'll be sure you have fun. Text back with a decision (the right one).

I don't know which one of you smacked me in the ass. I'm just glad it wasn't Chris.

Do you have any desire to go to a swingers club?

I fucking miss you.

I wanna smoke cigarettes (of my own) with you and walk you to the subway. Wink once if you assent.

You know I like it rough.

Marianne i am a whore. bangover. slept w another stranger. way to go!

Let's get married.

.

Thursday night is late night

That's the second time some suit has commented on how I walk faster than him. More: that he can't understand why or how I walk so much faster than him.

Relatedly: you cannot not give our your number in NY. That is, if you are not in a decisive "Fuck you" mood. Because just as how anywhere, the phone number game is to pretend that the acquisition is innocent (viz., for a later platonic meet-up), here - as I suppose anywhere - the magic of cell phones allows that person to immediately text/phone you their own. If it doesn't ring, you are a liar.

Which means that you not only have to give your number but take theirs, and enter it into your directory, under a name, so as to know whose calls not to take.

Today, on the other hand, I met no one

I have two days a week straight through til Friday, then I have half a day, then no day at all on Saturday.

Witness: I didn't even tell you people about going for drinks on Monday with...
my friend M gave me a book because a chapter (short story) in it was titled [me-and-then-swain]. The whole book kicked my ass. So Monday I went for drinks with M and the author.

"Marianne, this is Sheila."
"I fucking love your book."

By the way, read The Middle Stories by Sheila Heti. You will cackle.

Damn you passing 4/5 train!

(You have to imagine this conversation taking place between two very classy, heavily-accented Long Island girls)

"Okay so you know how he had a black eye, right? And he tsold me he got it at work. Well yestaday, my brothah says to me have you seen the paypah? And I say no, why? And so he showed me and there was this story about how Rick had .............. with .... because..................................... And that's the real reason he had a black eye."

"Don't even tawk to that guy. Why do you tawk to him? Just don't tawk to him anymoar."

New Amsterdam

This is a map from 1660. I of course had to combine my internet research skills with my I-temp-in-an-architects' office-skills and figure out exactly where my house is. It would have been beachfront property. And it would have been inside the wall. That's how old my patch of Manhattan is.

Field trip

I run a feminist reading seminar in the philosophy department and today we took our bra-burning selves up to midtown and held our discussion in the courtyard at the MoMA. That's a nice way to spend a fall afternoon.

Someone needs more B12. Or something.

I can't buy vegetables because I am never home and they will rot before I eat them, so my main source of vitamins is vegan buffet with guy friends. And by that I mean it's happened twice in the past week. And at the one today, there was this woman sitting alone at the next table. My age-ish, put together but not in a fashionable way, lean but solid, eatin alone all confident-like while texting on her iPhone. I noticed her because she is what I hope I look like from the outside.

Hahaha - okay, and then she turned to my friend and I and asked, "Hey, do you guys know those microwaveable poaching cups?"
Friend: "No."
Me: "Um, maybe - are they sort of shallow little plastic cups?"
Her: "Yeah, yeah."
Me: "Okay."
Her: "Right: How do you spell poaching?"

Fashion is my life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Suzanne is in a fashion show and wants us all to go. As advertised on Gawker. Yay! Friend and I get there right at 10 and the lineup is around the block. Boo. I go to buy cigs and when I come back, friend has found some underage NYU students who have just realized they won't get in willing to sell 2 of their 4 tickets to us. We immediately get to the front of the line to join the other two people buying their tickets. Yay! The BITCHIEST GAY MAN IN THE UNIVERSE at the door tell us we can't use someone else's tickets and literally tries to use the velvet rope to sweep us out of the line. Boo. But the other door woman, whom we had checked with first, says that we can, and waves us on. Yay! But then some other door guy -- ok, I will just say that this was the worst organized event ever. While the fashion bitches argued, I quickly pushed friend through the door. (The other two people who had bought the NYU students' tickets never made it through.)

Yeah, that's way more interesting than the rest of the night. I drank. Suzanne's team made it to the second round of the Style Wars. She also sent me this SMS: "Im like fucking dying in these shoes lol!"

Rat

Okay, I don't know if you can tell what this picture is, but it's a rat - holy shit I can't believe I was able to take this, it was so effing gross - that has been completely flattened onto John St. That's its curlicue tail top left, its head bottom right. It was so thoroughly flattened that its tiny bones were actually spilled outside of its body. I think I just stopped believing in the three second rule. Obligatory joke about the streets of New York being paved with rats.

Koronet pizza, UWS

My work phone speaks Spanish; I merely transcribe (poorly)

Hey Carlos it's Jorge
Today is Thursday it's about 9:45
Ela pa selecte recomendari tedela photo
I didn't know if you had received them yet
Sorry I missed you
telajo

So hungry today

How hungry were you?

So hungry I had to leave in the middle of critical theory class and get a hotdog from the Sabrett's on the corner, stand there on the street and eat it, and then go back.

This, by the way, is actually the reason people blog

I got innundated with compliments this week. Mnh! that feels good. Especially when someone walks over to you just to drop that info bomb, then walks away.

Imma write them down, so that I have something to read while I eat this extra pan of tiramisu that I made.

"He said he thinks you're so beautiful he can't concentrate in class."

"I'm really enjoying the feminist reading seminar."

"That was a good question you asked."

"I like your hair like that."

"By the way, your presentation was really great."

"You made this?"

Thanksgiving

Spent eating and drinking and laughing in the most grown-up apartment of all of my friends in New York. Walls! Art! Silverware! In a solid, old Brooklyn building, too. You can feel that generations of families lived in those apartments.

Then I took the N train home with a surprising number of people, for 2 am.

Jesus Christ, all I talk about is real estate and the subway.

The Chinese take-outs are actually set up the same way

See, when I go get liquor in my neighbourhood, it's either at some affected wine shop (as this Friday, at 7:00) or the bodega (as this Friday, at 1:00). It's isn't, THOUGH IT SHOULD BE, like this:


all the booze, the money, and the humans behind bullet-proof glass. For the sheer suggestion of violence. The skids.

More proof that "hey beautiful" and "I hate you" mean the same thing

Guy selling CDs on Broadway: "Hey, you wanna hear some new music?"
Me: " "
Guy: "Hey lady, you're an artist! Come over here!"
Me: "I'm not an artist."
Guy: "Hey come over here! Come on, just for a second. That's not nice. Hey, FUCK YOU!"

SMS highlight reel, vol. 5

Day 1 in the West Village: just saw Macaulay Culkin AGAIN!

Are you in Jay's Critique of Judgment class tonight? If not, wanna [insert fun thing to do here]?

Ma pa howard judith me around the chimnea listening to "i fought the law". And of course we all know what happened next.

I need a fucking drink.

Currently rubbing copy of your syllabus on nipples: I've traced the phrase "the debt the latter owe to woman" in hot candle wax.

Hey lady: dont ever forget: we live in nyc! eeee! i just remembered

Reverdy, apparently

Had eine couple of beers in Alphabet City on Sunday, and lemme tell you it is a pain, pain, pain in the ass to get to. So on my marathon walk back to the subway I got to pass a shit-ton of covetable furniture on the sidewalk, it being the last day of the month. If only there was a train nearby I could have, you know, likewise done nothing about it.

I also passed this sign in a window: "There is no love, there are only proofs of love." The city speaks. The truth!