they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
revert to old habits, + 2004-10-24 = 11:41 p.m.
Notes from recent NYC weekends... One night it is terribly cold. Smith St. is a mess of lights and rainwater and seasonal coats. I buy things for dinner at the Fancy Health Food Market on the corner. The cashier girls have to wear white butcher's coats. When the tall girl with freckles hands me my change I can see a huge tear along the side and a bit of her funky outfit underneath. I had to wonder (that line is for Peter who, when drunk, leaves messages on my cell for Carrie and signs off as Samantha.): why dress code=butcher's jackets? After his CMJ show at Tonic, Ben and I find old school desks on Baltic. 4 a.m. and we are charmed by the blue legs and shiny wooden tops. Very 1960s. We search for initials and naughty phrases, alas, none are found. Birthday party at a loft in Fort Greene. Climb three flights of stairs and leave your shoes in the brightly lit hall as Randi (who turns 25 two days later. And is robbed at gunpoint one block from aforementioned loft. The thief makes off with $15, a few pieces of Orbit gum and apologizes for robbing her on her birthday.) & Jacob have painted their floors white. Rambling on about Salinger at 2 in the morning to a boy with cropped hair. He's in a Canadian rock band and nods earnestly before telling me that while he loved Catcher in the Rye, he really hasn't read the others, and thusly, has no idea what I am talking about. Blush furiously. At BH's birthday party we climb a dark staircase (seriously dark...as in you can't see two feet in front of you) to his rooftop. View of Manhattan and ghostly looking brownstones and old men on Clinton St. digging through trashcans. Someone keeps passing around shots of something awful and much giggling ensues. One night Ben and I visit Eduardo in his 11th St. apartment. Leaning stacks of books, ancient radio, empty whiskey bottles, cigarette wrappers, Herodotus in the bathroom. You feel inclined to pinch him to see if he is real and not actually a figment of your overactive imagination. Grey, overcast afternoon spent searching out eccentric Williamsburg shops with Keith. The entire afternoon has the feel of a visit to a favorite Aunt's mad country home. My favorite place turns up on a side street that K leads us to. Dark blue painted floors, piles of boys' pants on a low table, moleskin jackets, beat-up boots, old luggage. K. buys a silver whale pin for his lapel. The charming owner files K's $20 bill away in a creaky desk drawer. We eat dinner on Grand St. at my new favorite restaurant in all of Brooklyn. Pomegranate martinis, risotto, mashed potatoes + long conversations about college, foreign cities & his San Fran art gallery. Drink at Great Lakes.
xooxxo
mew-mew
Subway smells like green cleaning fluid.
Ben is coming home from tour tonight!
Miss: Fall Foliage.
Play: old radiohead, old rolling stones, arcade fire, q and not u
Did I forget to tell you that I have become super model? See below:
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