Hey folks, I know I’ve been an errant blogger. Bad girl! ha ha, i mean bad Woman, I mean, good effort, nice try, better luck next time. I mean…. here are some photos of my recent trip to Silver Lake aka a fun neighborhood in L A. There are some photos of Venice and Santa Monica too. I really enjoyed hanging out at Intelligentsia cafe on Sunset and checking out the local take on Hipster fashion, going to the West Hollywood Farmer’s Market, where I had amazing lavender honey ice cream and dipping into the hot springs in Ohai. Here are the pics:
It’s as bad as you said. No, it’s worse. When you spoke of the Food Coop and Tea Lounge, I commiserated and hated in solidarity. But, the real life version is, oh so much, worse. As I sit here in Tea Lounge attempting to have a freelancers daytime public internet moment, I am surrounded by approximately 50 toddlers, 2s and 3s, during a performance by a kiddy band. I feel I’ve crossed into a very dark realm. They just played a song called “I can do it all by myself” to the exact same tune as that “Don’t turn your back on me brother” song. Oh, but it’s too late for that, my brothers and sisters have turned their backs and stayed on the safe side of the tracks. I will now think twice before complaining about the ghetto-ness of Bed-Stuy. At least there it’s safe to venture out by day, without a trendy baby sling.
Posted in day off on July 7, 2009 by thebrooklynsocialite
Well, in time I recovered. I still have a slightly wicked cough, which I can use to scare off leering men, but other than that my Bronchitis is on the decline. That’s right, it turns out that it was Bronchitis, not Swine Flu or The Flu or anything related. 2 weeks of abject illness then slight fogginess have brought me to now, so I have good reason for my lack of blog activity, but still, I’m sorry. For the 4th of July I took a break from the ghetto, which I affectionately refer to my neighborhood as, and went to Fire Island. F I was clearly fabulous and I was overwhelmed with nostalgia for Australia. Ah, I miss that place. I miss living somewhere clean and beautiful. Near the ocean. Thus Fire Island was kinda like going home. Pictures to come x
Whoah, I have the flu. It is no fun at all. From throwing up to stomach pains, fever, dizziness, cough, head cold, I feel like I’m in 2 no Trump. For all the non-bridge players that means, I’ve got high cards in all the suits, a little of everything, enough to win with out naming a suit. Or in this case enough to loose, with every symptom rolled up together, it’s got to be the flu. I know this because I’ve had it before. I hate doctors and don’t have a reassuring level of health-care coverage so I’m going to have to stick with the self diagnosis for now. My dear friend trekked over into my sick room yesterday, bringing me much food and love and good company. When she joked that it may be swine flu, I nearly started to cry. Do you think it could be? That would be a reason to go to the doctor, if I’m not substantially better by tomorrow I will try to make myself go.
For now its ice-packs on the head and tylenol and thinking about all the great things I’m missing. No that’s sad, how about reading Eilleen Myles and watching Barbara Kopple docs and writing stories in bed. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past 4 days, man I haven’t been sick like this for a long time.
Since last we spoke, I spent a busy few days in Brooklyn, taking in the Northside festival in Williamsburg and Greenpoint (saw a fun band called The Dodos, which confirmed that I am not too old to be pushed around by crowds of hipsters) , spent time with my friends (going to rainy Brooklyn Pride) and feeling guilty that I had no time left to make it to The Brooklyn International Film Festival. Ahhh, my alma-mater suffers, but to make up for it I have traveled all the way to the lost (and found) beautiful end of the known (gay) world. That’s right, Provincetown. The pilgrims landed here, the artists came and planted flags, soon those flags turned rainbow colored and now I’m here for a film festival.
The Provincetown International Film Festival opened last night with Woody Allen’s new film Whatever Works. It was typical Allen with a lot of wildly unrealistic Oedipal scenarios. The basic premise is attractive yes, but why must it always be couched in the notion that anyone, let alone a young, beautiful, perfect-bodied, long haired woman would want to sleep with Woody Allen or one of his stand ins, in this case Larry David.
Allen is very funny, David is funny, Seinfeld his award-winning show was hysterical, but all three rest upon some very misogynistic assumptions, which in my experience just aren’t true. Usually when the young girl goes for the old guy, he is modelesque not a limping hostile geriatric. Whatever Hugh Heifner would have us believe this is not a sane norm.
Okay, if you have not seen the film and would prefer not to read the Sony Pictures Synopsis I’ll tell you what happens: Larry David is an unhappy old guy, he has a hot rich wife, teaches string theory and considers himself to be a genius, but he doesn’t appreciate any of it and tries to commit suicide. He fails even at this, and then one day meets a runaway played by Evan Rachel Wood, who begs him to let her stay in his apt and eventually develops a huge crush on him. She is a southern beauty pageant princess and is ignorant in many ways. Wood and David serve as an odd couple until both of her parents in turn journey to NYC and try to get her to return to the south. Instead of her leaving they both stay and go through significant transformations.
Polyamory plays a role, along with the concept of New York as re-education camp and the lesson that David’s monologues issue directly to the audience is Whatever Works. This means, maybe your perfect sophisticated wife and great job wont make you happy, maybe a simpleton who worships you will, and maybe not. In his final speech David’s character, Boris Yellnikoff, says basically ‘If your not hurting anyone else do whatever makes you happy, take whatever bit of love you can find in this world.’
Hmmm, almost convincing, except when that translates to sleeping with minors and people who are, I don’t know, your adoptive children.
Ok, so I was a bit freaked out in my last post, but now I’m really starting to enjoy the Simple Life. Here are some of my favorite experiences so far, in pictures…
My first creek trip
the creek
The unattended apple store where they trust you to leave your money in a tin
My new Apples
The natural pool at the top of Katerskill Falls, had to take a dip in that one
Hunh, I just wrote this whole post and then when I published it it was blank. What’s up with that? WordPress gods swoop down into the country and save me. That’s a command. Not being heeded it seems.
Nevermind, I will just have to start over. My last post was about how strange it is to be in the country. It’s like the polar opposite of my actual everyday life. Rather than dance parties, there is a local brasserie with live harp music tonight. Instead of constant speed, chatter, noise, vibrancy, there is just silence, interrupted by the occasional lawnmower or bird song.
This location is bringing out the chef in me though, soon this is going to morph into a recipe blog, but not yet. I’m holding out, remembering the days of social activity and not letting that woman at the garage sale call me a mom, and get away with it. She really did, it must be the mini-van that I’m driving. Not mine of course, part of the house sitting bundle, I even feel weird using it though, it’s funny, I feel like Where would I go? and Isn’t it a waste of energy to drive? Definitely not a middle of American, surely guilty as charged, I’m a City Folk.
I tried buying baubles at a antique shop and watching hummingbirds and little caterpillars. Actually, these acts were all fun, but I had a visceral feeling of being out of place. Am I allowed to sit around and do nothing but enjoy being alive? That is so faux pas in NYC, let’s face it. Running around, being creative, or trying to make money, or be smart or whatever, that’s kinda the flow in the shitty isn’t it. It’s ok to say yes.
I say this not disparagingly. I miss the place like really a lot. Seriously though, I am even beginning to long for the invasions of space and the irritating little noises and disturbances. They come with vitality, expression — Life. I miss Brooklyn.
I’ve missed you, its time for an irreverent ranting session, hold on to your hats. After recently beginning a residency as a Blog editor in training at an institution of repute, which will remain nameless, I have to admit that my head is sorta spinning. It’s not only that, my personal life, which will also remain a somewhat secret is also spinning a bit as well. What was constant and weekly has now become irregular, while what was freelance has become institutionalized. While I remain cryptic, I have to reflect on some of the comments that were hurled at me last night in a series of conversations with drunk friends. Note to all: Avoid being sober, while surrounded by drunk friends, especially if you’re given to fits of introspection at such times.
In fact, I’ve noticed this to be something of a problem more than once lately. As if I’ve been unwittingly placed inside a scene in the B film What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, even though 1. I have never seen this film actually and 2. My Brooklyn life is not aesthetically similar to Vegas in any way…ok, but the point is, that ( and I hope this is ranty enough for you!) I keep finding myself, who has the alcohol tolerance of an old sailor, in bars and cabs at parties etc with friends, lovers, strangers who are in a significantly altered state, while I’m straight sober- almost-but not sober enough to know when to not engage- this is the tragic flaw. So, I find myself taking these people seriously, when it would probably be best to expect less. But, if I can’t have genuine interactions with people while drinking then why drink at all?
This perhaps is a watershed moment.
Wow, I feel a detox coming on. So to calm my raging moods, feelings of disappointment, excitement etc, this time I will drink an orange juice or something, cause clearly the booze are not working.
So I am away, couldn’t take anymore NYC, had to get away! No, it’s not really that, I love Brooklyn, but I am doing some dog sitting in upstate New York. I am alone with 2 sweet dogs, in the country, resting, reading, eating well. My gosh I don’t even feel like an undernourished city hipster/starving artist- almost. That’s where I’m at right now! I will be back soon and in the meantime I have a few books to report back on, plus the catalogue of things I’ve been meaning to talk about. Stand by. feel the love-the storm is passing and thank God.
Forever the Grinch, this particular season of holidays naturally gets me down in a massive way, yet this time I managed to survive my negativity and bad past associations, (barring a few teary outbreaks) with a modicum of composure and some good old fashioned cheer. I spent the eve with French ex-pats, just my style, failing miserably at veganism, I had an excellent foie gras, oyster, salmon, cheese etc meal avec plenty of wine. As I spent the Christmas eve in an airport in Paris last year on zero sleep and loads of impatience after my flight was delayed for 24 hours, this year served as an entirely more comfortable trip down memory lane. Speaking French in a “cheer” infused manner, is much more fun than violently arguing with apathetic airport employees in that language.
I spent Christmas rather contentedly in bed. Then I went to another orphan dinner at a gorgeous duplex inside an unsuspecting apt building on Jane st. Cinderella for a few hours, soon the clock struck midnight and it was time to return to the hood. Next day, I regrettably scheduled some family time in and saw Benjamin Button and ate at 10 Downing st with my mother. The highlight of the evening was clearly 10 Downing st…will talk more about this later. The new Brad Pitt movie on the other hand just goes to show that after a while talented actors, who are paid too much money, just morph into big fat losers.
The next day, i woke up sick. Just when I thought I had survived cheer week with a sufficient amount of “Spirit” I remembered that the fates were not done mocking me. Now it seems that in addition to being sick, I have put my back out again! All I want for Christmas is a free massage and a private jacuzzi. I hope your holidays were better than mine!
Hey loves, more VU pictures. I promise you words tomorrow, had a bit of a busy day today. It seems that when every one else is sleeping I’m awake, and when everyone else is on vaycay, I’m working! Ah, such is life, rent day comes as often as the full moon. Speak soon!
Since I’m so much enjoying silence these days and loving pictures too…here are some shots of Voluntary Ugliness as promised. They are vintage if you will, culled from my mis-guided summer jaunt over to the Oregon County Fair!
1. The final Happy Endings Reading Series that I attended last night
2. a production of The Colonial Nutcracker , which I caught on Sunday
3.More on Chocolate, the Gym, La Esquina, 8th St Wine Bar, and how I hate holidays
But for now, I just wanted to post-announce my day off. Yes I have been MIA for the past 24 hours planning my next yellow-color combo outfit, hedging my bets on whether it will snow or be 65 degrees, spending time with people in (I know this is crazy) but actual real-time physical space, and daring to feel a little peaceful. This week I have been threatening all my friends with my potentially serious plans to become a Vegan. Last week I was threatening to become a go-go dancer, so apply whatever amount of doubt to this claim that you feel is appropriate. The week before I had deputized myself to police VU. Next week i will threaten to be a movie actor, so if you have a role for me, please let me know! Perhaps its best to harness these whims as quickly as possible.
So goodnight, and dream well. Tell me what your threatening to be on this eve of the new year!
Wow, so its 2:30 am and I’m exhausetd again. I’ll tell you why exactly this is, tomorrow. For now all I can note quikly is that I spent the better half of the day organizing my bookcase. This was a truly healing expierience and I recommend it highly. There is something quasi-spiritual about communing with books. I’m thinking of starting a lending library, so holler if your looking for something to read. Goodnight and speak soon!
Stumble It!
