Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Now he'll just need more therapy

Roy: So I was talking to my therapist, and she said that -
Me: Wait, your therapist is a woman?
Caroline: Haha
Roy: Yeah. Why?
Caroline: That's pretty Freudian, Roy.
Me: Yeah, Roy.
Roy: What do you mean?
Me: Well it makes the whole transference thing a little easier I guess.
Caroline: Haha
Roy: And you know what?
Caroline: What?
Roy: My therapist's name is Linda. And my mom's name is Linda.
Caroline: HAHAHAHA!
Roy: I didn't realize that at first.
Me: Hahahaha
Caroline: hahaha
Random Guy: haha!...... Oh, sorry, I couldn't help but overhearing. That's funny.
Me: Is your shrink a man or a woman?*
Random Guy: A man.
Me: See, Roy?

*It's New York, so you don't have to ask whether someone sees a therapist.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Oh, hi

Hey, when you've been in a long-term relationship with someone, especially if it has spanned most of the time you have lived in a city, the city begins to resonate with them; they are written all over it. But now imagine having that in New York, where the city's frequencies are already so intense, so impressioning, now what? Especially given the New York geography that dictates that places endlessly be accidentally rediscovered.
Me: "Where is this shindig tonight?"
Friend: "Art bar, in the West Village. Have you been?"
Me: "Pff, I don't know."
Friend: "What do you mean, you don't know?"
Me: "I mean, I'd say no, but then I'll get there and be like, 'Hey, I've been here before!'"

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Sexy, this is your hangover cure

You're never smoking or drinking again, right? Right. Well in the meantime, this will fix you. I am so nice I pick it up and bring it over in a cab.

Stage one: Blueberries or strawberries to antioxidize all your broken cells and reintroduce the idea of eating as innocuously as possible.

Stage two: Grease to stifle the churning in your stomach and soak up any remaining alcohol.

Stage three: one of those really spicy Nong Shim noodle bowls from the bodega to schvitz out all those toxins.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I'm working it out

So, as I've mentioned, my relationship with the city has evolved into a kind of dialectical arrangement where I both need to be here and need to be away enough to want to be here. One of those "aways" is the beach, and my friends and I have taken to going a couple of times a week. Another is the driving range at Chelsea Piers. Driving them into the sunset from the third or fourth floor, now that's nice. As soon as you hit one, the tee drops and sets up another shot automatically. On and on for a couple hundred balls.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

What's left

As soon as I moved to New York, my mother started clipping every New York article she came across and saving them for me in the top dresser drawer of the room I sleep in during my visits back home. I find that now, when I read "things to do in New York" or "hidden gems" or "must-sees" or "best brunches" or "off the beaten tracks" or "best deals," half of them I have already discovered (visited, seen, eaten) for myself, and half of them I have never heard of. And I get equal delight in both: being in the know, and realizing that the city is infinitely discoverable, that it will always outpace me no matter how fast I chase it.

photo source

Monday, August 10, 2009

SMS Highlight Reel, vol. 23

was there at least a sexy part!? * Ah. Shit. I left my credit card at the bar. * do it. I'll have a cold gazela waiting * Why do nyu students dress so horribly? theres a woman here in jogging shorts and stilettos. wtf. * i want you back. the russians cant keep you. * I'm walking up broadway, on the west side of the road. Where you at? * Jim Jarmusch. St Mark's. * Ok it's a cave. * heat + meat = eat tomorrow at hewes and harrison. * RIP Ed McMahon. Bye-ooooo! * I.m driving i'll be there it twenty, thirty, dep level, last doors. my glasses dogged, I.m hurrying so much * o my god i just licked the phone. * We just got back from the ER. Multiple fractures. She got some morphine, so we're going to try and go out for a bite. * You're early, so i might be late. * would you eat bad chinese take out? * went to loup last night despite myself. the guy who wrote blade runner tried to alpha male me. * You are a bad influence. The rayanne to my angela.It could take me years to get out there! You would be long gone! I know you already have one foot out the door * We're coming! We're coming on june 11! * correction: a bench on 105th * Oh man! I took the train w the lady w the kitten in a bag! Too cute. * Nap that ass and text later. * No. Place your bets at park place. Go for the filly. * If you bring tomato juice and tobasco, We'll be set. * Stars are beautiful and plentiful here. * Did you forget that you're the prettiest girl in all of New York? * something else. not sure what. get here soon i need to get outta here. * sweeeeeeet! beeees! * Did you ever get those socks I sent you last year? * it didnt turn into a russian porno i hope * Some tarps caught on fire in a bin somewhere and set off the site alarm so we're having to gather outside at the muster point. * Bottom half of my head: tomato. Top half: white kidney beam. * just peed In a coffee cup in the back of a staten islan bus. long ass ride! * Add me to face book and invite me to your party. * you look sexy walkin away in those shoes

Saturday, August 08, 2009

My New York Resolutions

Every time I leave New York, I realize how exhausted I am. This summer I made some resolutions for saving my sanity (I do have eight years left on my degree, after all). Here, I will share them with you.

1. Peel off early. Come on, you know how this ends. Twenty more dollars down the drain and then a subway ride home drunk, ugh. Just leave the party. Better yet, sometimes don't go out at all. Just stay in and indulge in your guiltiest pleasures (your guiltiest pleasures are Y&R, jigsaw puzzles and vinho verde).

2. Always Be Doing shit on the train. Like watching movies on your iPod. (Amazing. It's like going to the cinosh every time you get on the subway.) Or reading Winter's Tale and other absorbing, transporting fiction. Or sudoku and ken ken in the free dailies (Metro and AM New York).

3. Take a car service to the airport. Forget trying to drag your luggage to the right street corner and hail a cab going the right direction because chances are there suddenly won't be any, or they'll all be going off shift or whatever. And taking public transport is admirable, but come on. (Note: even with a car service, Newark is completely out of the question. Fuck Newark.)

4. Order Fresh Direct. It's cheaper than other grocery stores and someone else carries it up the stairs for you. Besides, there is nothing cozier than having provisions (extra TP, breakfast food, food for entertaining, meat in the freezer).

5. Slow the fuck down. Switching from the local to the express and back again just to skip those twelve stops doesn't save that much time, and the waiting in between kills. Besides, the local train always has seats. Also important is just walking with the flow of traffic when you're not in a hurry. Incidentally, the way to make people get out of your way on the sidewalk is to walk in a straight line but look like you're not paying attention to where you're going - either by keeping your head down, or looking up at the sky or whatnot.

6. Leave town. Always take those invites to suburban New Jersey or Long Island or Westchester County. Go to where it smells good and people barbecue in a yard instead of on a rooftop. Especially in summer.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Wrote something

for my friend Shaun's new website. You can read it here.

Monday, August 03, 2009

I'm back, back in a New York groove (but not according to this asshole)

When I was re-entering the country, the customs agent at Logan airport asked me where I was staying in the US. I told him right now I was on my way to a wedding in Worchester, but that I lived in New York. He said, "You don't live in New York."


"You don't live in New York. You study in New York. You don't live there."

Now, I have spent enough time fucking around with immigration matters to know that the word "Resident" is a technical term, but I'm pretty sure I fucking LIVE in New York. Cuz if I don't LIVE in New York, I sure paid a lot of fucking New York rent last year. For someone who doesn't LIVE in New York, I sure know a lot about the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, L, and R trains. And unless I LIVE in New York, I don't know how you can account for the three hundred dollars I owed in NEW YORK taxes this April, or why I have a standing order at Café Loup, or who is eating all the groceries at [###] Greenwich Street, or what this Duane Reade fob is doing on my keychain. GR!

Saturday, August 01, 2009

This is how we do

This is the drive to the lake. That's canola. It's even brighter yellow IRL. Todd thinks it's very "David Lynch."

This is the lake.

This is putting on goofy shit from the closet.

This is a food staple at the lake (to carry you between breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, happy hour, dinner, and roasting european wieners on the fire).

This is cribbage (alt: Nertz).

This is dinner.

This is hitting balls at the spit of land on the far side of the lagoon. "Spitballs," as we call them.

This is distraction from the fireworks and the Perseid meteor shower.