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:
Archive for the day off Category
Dear Fucked in Park Slope,
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.
The Brooklyn Socialite
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.
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.