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Wed, September 29
Paris Pictures
Long awaited!
Posted by lexzog at Wed, September 29 | Comments (3)
Mon, September 27
Monday Monday
Just came back from a reading/storytelling slam at The Bitter End, organized by The Moth (link below).
http://www.themoth.org/
Basically, there is a theme to each slam, around which those who wish to participate must prepare a five minute stand-up (not necessarilly comedy). Each storyteller gets judged, from 1-10, on their story and storytelling capabilities.
There were two stories that struck me...Well, the first, was more a person who struck me. It was this old man, who shook when he spoke, and he was blind. He had a prop--his cane. He talked about what it was like to walk around NY when his sight first started failing him...How he would swim through crowds. People would bump in to him, and he'd say, "Hey, you want to cop a feel, it's gonna cost ya," or something witty like that. I liked him.
Then there was this girl Sarah, whose story was so intruiging, I wish she'd been able to speak longer. The short of it (and short is all we got--she needs to work on getting to her point faster if given a time constraint like this) was that when she was 14, she reconnected with an old boyfriend, named Noah at a party. After the party, Noah invited her to get a ride home with him (in his mom's Volvo of course). Just then, two cool girls invited Sarah to hang out with them, so she told Noah to wait by a tree while she hung out with the girls until his mother came by (even though there was a giant thundercloud looming in the sky). While he was waiting for her, lightning struck the tree, killing him and injuring other kids who were standing under it. (The audience was NOT prepared for this at all, or certainly not me. In her next breath, she told us that at the memorial Ska show that was held for Noah ( he'd been in a Ska band), she was raped by a Skinhead). !!!
What?!? I needed more story.
I met Koba of Kobablog (see blog links). He was the only brave soul willing to go to the reading with me...We chilled and got pizza at Two Boots. He witnessed me say something really stupid to a guy I dated once, who lives in the apartment down the street. (We never ended up calling each other after that first date, if you can call sitting for one hour at No Malice at 2 in the morning then me falling asleep at the table cuz I'd been on a date earlier that night at date). This dude points to his girlfriend, and says, "This is J--." I said, "NO way! My boyfriends name is J--!" (Name withheld for reasons of privacy). How lame of me. So loser. Somehow, Koba didn't seem to mind. He didn't judge. KO-BA! KO-BA!
Oh, saw "Bright Young Things" with J last night. It was cool, in that it made me rethink about pre-WWII Europe...I never considered the lives of the rich and idle young, at the time. Funny how being rich and idle transcends time and place...You could have just inserted Paris and Nicole for some of those people (except, I think the actors were meant to portray more intelligent persons in the movie). The best part of the movie was the music.
We were forced to see this, since "Motorcycle Diaries' was sold out.
Ate at "Cacao y Pepe" on 2nd and 11th? 12th? Across from City Cinemas Theatres...Not too bad. The pasta beats the meat dishes, or at least my meat dish. I like "Pepe Gallo" much better.
I like the word "Pepe."
I am beyond tired. Last night at 4 am, J and I woke to what we thought was a Latin dance club in his room...But no, it was the car radio of someone 11 flights below us. So friggin loud! Hardly slept.
J's all happy cuz he framed two of the Victoria Secret model black and whites we found on the street two weekends ago...Just what I want to see when I'm about to get undressed: Tyra Bank's flawless physique bent over in a suggestive pose. Couldn't he have opted for the traditional Jimmy Hendrix poster, or better yet, a Van Gogh? A picture of me? SOMETHING?!
Ugh. Men.
shop
Posted by lexzog at Mon, September 27 | Comments (0)
Fri, September 24
Overhearing My Coworker
Right now I just heard the following one-sided convo (with HBO On-Demand), from over my cubicle:
K: "Hi, I was watching "Dirty Dancing Havana Nights", and it just cut off in the middle...?"
"Yes, it was at a good part."
"Uh huh."
"Right."
"Yes, Patrick Swayze was in it. Um hm."
"Yeah, he is looking a little old (giggle."
"So will I be reimbursed, or will you turn it back on later?"
"Yeah. Cuz otherwise I'll never know...If they'll win the dance contest!"
This made my day.
Posted by lexzog at Fri, September 24 | Comments (0)
Thu, September 23
Always Shave Your Legs
When a woman gets ready to go out for the night, there are certain choices she can make, that she is convinced will help ensure that she will not do anything she'll regret later, after a shot or two and a couple martinis. For exampled (she thinks to herself), if she doesn't shave her legs, she probably will not want to hook up with a guy, because stubble is never sexy. Or, she can choose to wear ass-covering underwear, that is decidedly boring and not cute.
The truth is, what will be will be, and in the end, she inevitably finds herself drunk enough to have forgotten the night's earlier (erroneous choices), and about to hook up with someone. And that is the moment when she says, "Oh crap, WHY just WHY couldn't I have taken those extra two minutes to make my legs silky smooth?" Or..."Shit. I'm wearing f-ing Granny Pants."
My mother always said, "Never leave the house without lipstick." I personally abhore lipstick, but when you really get down to it, the mantra is simply, "Never leave the house without feeling sexy." Not to say that you should wear makeup and put on stilettos every time you go outside. I feel sexiest when I'm in my workout pants and a hoodie, with messy hair. But those are choices I made that I knew would make me feel good.
Even if you do not plan on having sex, you can be sure, that that one choice you made in the getting ready process, be it not washing your hair on the fourth day of no washing, or, trying to get away with pantylines when you're wearing tight yoga pants, you can be SURE that something will happen that will make you regret missing that one step.This has to do with the "negative" choice, and perhaps should be termed the "Stubble Law" (much like Murphy's, only more specific).
A month or two ago, I decided that because it was a Friday, a half day at that, that I just wasn't going to put ANY effort into getting dressed for work. I looked like shit. Of course, not only did I end up getting FILMED during an on the street interview for CosmoGirl, but an ex-boyfriend ran into me as well.
On those days when you make a conscious decision NOT to do something (funny, this seems to never happen when you just follow your normal routine),I have learned that you will MOST DEFINITELY a) run into an Ex who broke your heart, b) be filmed, or c) meet your new physical therapist who is totally adorable, and who will massage your unshaved legs for half an hour. Which is what happened to me today.
I wore pants, on PURPOSE, because the receptionist said to wear "shorts or pants, whatever you feel comfortable in" before my visit. I decided pants would be more comfortable, because I wouldn't have time to shave that morning, and I wasn't seeing J until tomorrow night anyway. And besides, my luck, my physical therapist would probably be a 59 year old Swedish woman named Olga, who is 6'2 with a unibrow.
Instead, I get Brian. Who is in a band.
I apologized, even, because I know its not fun to rub your hands against the grain of stubble. He said "It's all good." So polite. So lying. Love Brian. I want to set him up with Becs, cuz I think he is her type...But he might think my friends are a league of hippy women who don't shave, and not trust my recommendation.
Confidence though, was restored, when we were talking about what exercises I can do in the meantime (he told me basically to lay low the next two weeks). He suggested that I just do some ab work, but added, "Not that you need any though."
Tee hee.
So tired, I'll have to edit this for sure. Just got back from the FREESTYLE LOVE SUPREME show. Carebare volunteered to have them "freestyle" a day in her life. They reenacted her waking up for school, going to the Bronx where she teaches, preparing her lessons, teaching her classes, then going to Staples. They even proclaimed, "Caroline has the best life EVER!"
We all laughed.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, September 23 | Comments (0)
Wed, September 22
The Vindow Vipers and...Music
The window in J's room hardly ever is covered by a shade. It is really large, and lets a huge amount of light in. When you look outside, you see a big billboard in the distance, for Armani. And perpendicular to it, is one side of part of his building. But there are no windows on that side of the building, that could see into his...Except those that belong to a penthouse apartment, which is empty at the moment.
But this morning, as we were kissing, I looked up and noticed for the first time EVER, there were people --contruction workers, up on the roof of that side of the building. He acknowledged it, but reassured me they couldn't see in. We continued to fool around, and eventually, I couldn't ignore the sounds of Spanish getting closer and closer. By the time we were both fully unclothed, it was too late: I looked out the window, and there they were, practically 7 feet away, hanging down from the building on one of those scaffolding contraptions...J got up to close the blinds, FINALLY, while they shouted and hollered protests (believe me, their tone transgressed the language barrier) for him not to. Later, J offered his own translation:
"Muy- Pablo- check out the ass on that chica in
there..it's getting waxed!"
(Note: I personally didn't know what "waxed" meant, but J explained that it was a sexual term of some sort. I still don't really get it. But it sounds funny.)
And now onto the music. I was thinking about this last night, on my way to meet my friend Stephen (from art class, as I always refer to him) at Cafe Colonial...I was listening to "Death Cab" on the subway, and that reminded me I hadn't listened to "Postal Service" in a long time. So I started listening to one of those songs..and it brought me back to like, Jan/Feb of this year, when I was absolutely obsessed with a guy I'd met at Welcome to the Johnsons, of all places (he deserves an archive actually). We'd never listened to PS together, but we had both agreed it helped us through some rough times (for him, the rough times were over, for me I was in the throes of them). I listened to nothing else for those three months of my infatuation with him...And now, when I listen to it, I feel sad, the way I did during that time in general (Grandma's passing away, the winter, other fun stuff), but also that bittersweet way you feel about guys that kind of broke your heart a little.
I think heart break is worse when you have music to associate with it.
But there are other kinds of music associations, those that are more sweet than bittersweet...When I hear Bob Dylan, I think of my college boyfriend. His music tastes were mainly in the classical realm, if he had musical preference at all. I usually like to date guys who can introduce me to something new to listen to. I hate to be the only one with a preference. So one day, he started playing Dylan and then he never stopped. To be honest, it took getting used to--the gritty voice, the not so singable tunes. But in the end, I fell in love with it, and when I hear it now, the music is wrapped up in this sexy, weird time--those three (or more, we dated on and off and on and off) years.
There's even music that I associate with guys, but that I never even listened to WHILE we were dating. This is what I call breakup music. My roomate bought David Gray right before I left for Paris by myself last December to go stay with my aunt there. I was dating my neighbor at the time, and though things were definitely "fun", I didn't have a settled feeling about it. Perhaps there was maybe one day that I can think of, in those, what was it, two months, that felt googly-eyed good. Not a good sign. I heard the album playing in her room the week before I left, but didn't pay close attention to it. When I got back, it was the first thing I wanted to listen to. And two nights later, he told me he wanted to "date other people, and wasn't ready for a relationship". (And by "date", he meant, "sleeping with" (because that's as serious as our relationship was). And by not being "ready for a relationship", he meant he had met someone else and would soon take her with him to St. Thoma with his family hree weeks after we split. Oh, and not long after that, he would have sex with her while I was in the next room watching TV with his roomates.) But at the time, I didn't speak "Guy", and instead of being angry, I was kind of crushed..David Gray was there on my CD player. I heard him for the first time a couple of months ago, and it made me think of that sad post-Paris time. But it was different-there was no bittersweet association between the music and the neighbor--just that time period itself. I don't think I've formed any moving musical associations with guys that treated me very badly. Or with guys that I didn't really fall for--the ones I'VE broken up with don't get musical accompanyments either :(
But relationships build on each other, and the one you're currently in seems to always be a billion times better than the ones you were in before (in the case of J and I, it not only seems to be, but acutally is, and that is unrefutable. But I'm trying to be general here as well). So everything you might have experienced in a past relationship is EVEN BETTER when you get to do them with your current love. Now when I hear PS, or Bob Dylan, yes, my brain goes back to those other boys, for like, a fraction of a second. But then I think, "wow, how lovely is this to be sharing this music, that has a little bit of heartbreak in it, with someone who makes me feel anything but broken." Now my brain has wandered...and I think I think about these "redos" I've done...places I've gone with J that I had gone to with other guys, that or places that I associate with a sad feeling--Paris, for example, that are just compeletely different, entirely something else now, because I'm experiencing them with someone who truly makes me happy.
Badman once talked about how you can decide to make new associatons between music and new people...can't find the entry to post it here.
I listened to David Gray at J's the other night, that is one of his faves too, and it is entirely associated with him now. Weird.
Posted by lexzog at Wed, September 22 | Comments (3)
Mon, September 20
Problems...and Other Fun Things
OK, quick bitch and moan session about my health, a la BADMAN: I now have a full entourage of people taking care of my body. No, not a masseuse, hairstylist, and personal trainer. My "peeps" consist of the following: My podiatrist, gynecologist, my "special" gynecologist (for really important matters, I see my father's colleague, cuz I get extra special "treatment" haha), my dermatologist (my mom found a scary freckle under my second toe that she thinks could be melanoma. It is the size of a pin prick but still), eye doctor, gastro, orthodontist, dentist, am I leaving anyone out? Oh, yes, my newly acquired, physical therapist (meeting him/her on Thurs. to deal with my damn leg pains). I feel like I'm Alicia Keys at the World Music Awards the other night. And as she said, "To the crew, you know who you are...One Love."
On to the weekend--Click on the link below for a picture of me and Clara at J's Birthday, at BLVD on Saturday.
http://www.joonbug.com/shopPreviewImg.asp?PhotoID=420140&Page=6
Earlier that night, Clara tried to get us into the Jamie Kennedy show, but we showed up too late. Two cool things happened, though. The guy who was manning the line and in charge of the list, ended up being someone I went to elementary school with. I can't believe my knack for remembering faces. We're talking like, 6th grade. It was funny because earlier that day I was telling J about my 6th grade boyfriend Mike Cassidy, who happened to have been best friends with this guy. Mike and I started going out the day my best friend Linz (same Linz on this blog) called him and asked if he "liked liked" me, and he said yes. My mom picked the two of us up from school each day, and we'd hold hands in the back of the car. We used to explore secret passage ways in his house, namely in the basement (as I kid I was obsessed with secret passageways). Every day we slipped notes in each other's lockers, and he'd address mine as "Cat" but I don't remember why....Ok, so now YOU TOO know the story. So this kid Nick remembered me too, but either way, it didn't help us in getting in. He did, however, give me 12 VIP passes to the next show, so if anyone wants to offer themselves up as a one day masseuse/hairstylist/makeup artist, you can be a part of my entourage and come with.
BLVD was fun, basically because the group J invited was a fun one...But the bouncers were PRICKS. I hate places that create "hype" by making you stand outside for an hour for no reason at all, and when you get to the front of the line they don't even look you in the eye. And when they do let you in, you practically feel like asking if you could get them anything--coffee? tea? water? because they were so very kind enough to let you into their stupid little club. They do have a nice party space, and the drinks are not bad...Music was good too. I guess I'm still getting used to the whole club thing..I never quite feel in my element at places like that--this past year I spent so much time in bars in my neighborhood, wearing clothes that I had deconstructed and put back together. Now I "dress up" to go out and damn it, I'm running out of short skirts and cute dresses to wear! I'd much prefer a fun lounge that has music to dance to, where you can just go in a ripped T shirt, like Key Bar, which we happened upon on Friday night (a bit too late though for it to be fun. At that point, only 8 drunk girls were there, dancing in a circle). Even Plaid is fun (that was Friday night), because it has a hip hop thing going for it...Not the annoying Murray hill girls who work in PR or advertizing and weigh 90 pounds. But people who fight tooth and nail to dance on the one little stage in front of the DJ booth...Like Em, Michele and I did! (See? I told you there'd be a dancing Em story!) We clamored onto the stage, and enjoyed dancing for about two minutes, when this "cop" got on the stage too. I felt uneasy about dancing with another guy, so I pulled Michele near me. But, he was a "cop", and Michele and I just thought it best to obey the law, so we didn't act like complete tightasses. Well, Michele and I were having a blonde moment, because we really thought he was a cop. We realized our misunderstanding, to Em's amusement, as we saw the cop strip off his uniform and hoist a girl onto his waist as she straddled him and danced that way for 10 minutes without putting her down. Glad it wasn't me...But it inspired Em and I to try to give each other piggy back rides on our way to Key Bar afterward. J looked at us and said, "Yeah. That's how my sister broke her ankle. Exactly how. But do it anyway." So I didn't get MY piggy back ride.
Anyway, BLVD was fun. J had table service, and everyone was in a party mood. Erica and Zach showed up too, and we tried to teach Zach how to dance. He kept on trying to "dance formally" with Erica, like they were about to enter a Waltz competition (tight grip on her back, firm hand to her hand, etc.) Just as he was getting the hang of it, I came over to tell Erica something, and he said, "Hold on! Erica and I are FREAKING here."
Very cute.
Spoke to the college ex boyfriend yesterday. Funny, because I feel so warm and happy for him, and his new life at Harvard. He just moved into his new apartment with a good friend. He has a cute little french girlfriend who is hoping to visit him in October. I asked him if he was in love with her, and he said, like he always said to me when I asked that, "I don't think on those terms". Some things never change. But we both sighed, and he said "Ah, the changing of", nodding to the fact that we had both so very much moved on from one another...And, which is a phrase that we used a lot in our relationship, "the (blank) of", because we often didn't have conversations, just constant streams of inside joke narrative. It is hard to build a friendship, or keep one, with an ex, with whom you practically had a scripted routine. Most of our conversations had no substance at all, just "things one would say". It worked. Or, it didn't.
I am exhausted. I never have evenings like this...Tonight I just went home after work, ordered in food with Linz, and hung out on the couch. I just checked into friendster, which I rarely do anymore. Looked up my friends to see whose pictures have changed.
I shoud totally be reading MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN, but lately all I can do is write. Sucks for you guys, you have to read this crap.
Posted by lexzog at Mon, September 20 | Comments (2)
Thu, September 16
Howdy!
This is a special special tip of my (cowboy) hat to my new Texas readers. Em's new man (the one who we made the bet about a few entries back--would he expect to sleep with her when he came to visit her in NYC?) now reads my blog, and he's passed it on to his friends. I can't say if we won the bet or not...That was still up for discussion, last time I asked.
Don't worry...I will not censor anything on this blog, even if he's reading it. For example, if Em dances on a table with me at Michele's birthday tomorrow night, you will hear about it.
hee hee hee.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, September 16 | Comments (0)
Home for the (Jewish) Holidays
Derty Jerz. I love being with my family, but I really hate the suburbs. Too f-ing quiet. Where are the car horns? The hip hop blaring out of car windows? The garbage trucks backing up at four in the morning? I need my noise.
And...The driving. That kills me too. In the city, I'll walk from my house to J's (East Village to Flatiron) without more than a second's thought (unless I am wearing heels, or if I am late, which is most of the time but still). I just took my sister to get our nails done, to a place that is a two minute's drive away. Two minutes!!! Which means, what, a ten minute walk? Maybe 15?
Yes, you easily could say that I should have walked if I felt so strongly about it. But yesterday, I finally met with a podiatrist about my shin splints, knee aches, and general painful feelings from my ankles on up. As I thought, all this running on pavement has bit me in the ass. I need orthodics, which are expensive (especially right now, having just come back from Paris). And I'm supposed to start thinking about all movement that involves my feet the same way I think about them when I exercise--and that means wearing the right shoes. The doc says that there's no difference between walking three miles on the weekend, while shopping and doing whatever, and getting on a treadmill. Both activities require functional shoes. Not flip flops. Not cute flats. But RUNNING SHOES.
Does this mean that now, I have to look like a commuter from Jersey, on my way to work? Am I suddenly going to sport the skirt and sneaker look? I think it does, at least until my legs heal. And worse, I'm not even supposed to run. Well, he told me he couldn't "tell me what to do" and I should "use my own judgement." Well, I'm kind of weird in the head when it comes to exercise (no pain no gain type gal), and even if my legs are killing me, I'll still run, just because. But then I think about the "long run" (hahaha), and the damage that I'm doing to my body that will definitely affect me later in life.
So...I guess I just need to lay off the running outside, do the boring boring elliptical or stationary bike (BORING!). Can't do my African Dance class (or else I'll be the only person wearing shoes in it). And now I have to wear my running shoes for the next few weekends (at least they are cute Newbalances.)
But I can't be the only person with this problem. What do the rest of the pavement pushers do? Does all of NYC have foot problems? If not, then this is totally unfair. It even hurts to walk around my house barefoot. Didn't God intend for us to be barefoot? Am I supposed to wear running shoes ALL THE TIME?
Maybe I am being paranoid...I definitely need to talk to my doctor again, because clearly I must be misinformed on some level. I am freaking out.
Speaking of God...Today my family and I went to the "Temple Without Walls" services at the John Harms Theatre in Englewood. Temple has been too expensive to join these past years, so this organization is a perfect alternative for my family...You can just go to services on the high holy days, all you sacrifice is going to an actual synagogue. The gospel choir was a nice Reform Temple touch. Sometimes I worry that the Reform Jews sometimes stray too far from how Judaism should be practiced...But who is to say how it "should" be practiced (lots of people I am sure, have their own ideas about this of course)? I enjoyed the energy and spirit they brought to the service. But sometimes I wish I had been raised going to a Conservative temple, so that I could have made a choice of how extreme I wanted to practice my religion, instead of being raised in the most lenient of Jewish traditions...and feeling like I might be missing something.
I don't know. Rambling here.
Let's get off these serous whiny subjects...And onto last week. First of all, I took J out for his birthday dinner at Blue Hill. We did the tasting menu, where the chef decides what it is you're going to eat. You have no say in the matter, they just keep bringing you food according to his whimsy. I decided I was a rockstar, and ordered a straight up martini with olives at the beginning of the meal. I think our server could tell I had had quite enough to drink, because she barely filled my wine glass, when it was time for the "wine pairing" that they offered to do, as our third and fourth course arrived. I will not go into specific food details, because J is much more eloquent, and he'll only laugh when he reads this. I tried to post his detailed description of our meal from egullet.com, but you have to be a member. Maybe he'll post it for us, in my comments section.
But if he doesn't...I really recommend this restaurant. The textures, freshness, and innovative presentation of the food are just a few reasons to check it out. According to J, the price was right when it comes to restaurants of this calibre (I was too drunk to figure out the tip, so he did see the bill...So tacky I know). But to the rest of us--save this place for a special occasion. Like your boyfriend's birthday.
And now...The show at Stand UP NY. I had such a blast! I had no idea how comfortable I would feel being on stage. The first time I got up there to read my "warm up" piece, I was shaking with nervousness. But by the time I got up to read "Ass Man" (the D.C. Rich Archive piece), I was so excited. So many of my friends came to support me, and I think that helped my comfort level. But I never have been on stage before, and what do you know, this experience taught me that it is something that feels very right for me. I'd like to do it again, and hopefully soon.
My friends told me I should organize more readings like this one. I'm thinking of having casual, low-key readings at coffee shops, kind of like poetry jams but instead, a "Journal Jam: A Night of Personal Narrative." I'll see if networkinggirl wants to join, or if the other bloggers from Wed. night would be interested. Let me know if you'd like to help me organize this...Consider it on the horizon.
As for the other readers--they were FANTASTIC. "Teuqus's" delivery was perfect. His "Bunny Girl" story is much better than mine (different bunny girl). "Buttercup" opened the show with a story titled "The Stripper", and set the funny/sexual/whimsical/tongue-in-cheek tone for the night. During Jim's "Zit" story, in which an annoying zit that appears on his face on the day of any special or big event earns the affectionate pet name "Larry", MY Larry (as in the ex, Motorcycle Larry) got up, threw his helmet on the floor and stomped out of the room, for dramatic effect. Another reader, Michele, told her story about the perils of dating a fat guy, and the embarassment of being rejected by HIM in the end. Networkinggirl did an awesome job putting the whole shindig together, and making the eveneing a sucess. She closed with a personal, very very sexual piece...If the girls in the audience were uncomfortable, I wonder if the boys felt quite the opposite.
We went drinking at Brother Jimmy's afterwards...J's roomate Thomas made friends with the owner of the bar, using his Frenchman charm...and got us a fishbowl. Way too much alcohol for me, but fun. We ate a late dinner at Silk Road Palace, which I am sure is usually a lot of fun when it is not packed with belligerant college freshman, shouting and holding back vomit, after drinking all that free boxed wine. The best part of dinner was when Thomas was picked up by a sophomore from Fordham, who actually came to our table of 8 people, unintimidated, and rarin' to pick up the Frenchman. Killer moves on his part. Well, actually, she did all the moving. But we were impressed with his ability to pick up a chick without speaking or even getting out of his seat.
I am going to do a new posting now, cuz I want it to be noticed...
Posted by lexzog at Thu, September 16 | Comments (1)
Mon, September 13
Nervous...
A bit nervous, but really giddy and excited about the live reading tomorrow. It was so cool to finally meet my blog friends face to face. And also, to have a forum in which to discuss writing in general...I hadn't had a round table discussion about writing, in so long. I miss college.
The stories are hilarious. Can't wait to see how it turns out tomorrow.
Before I post on the weekend, and specifics, here is a new blog to read:
http://fearlessdater.blogdrive.com
Enjoy!
Posted by lexzog at Mon, September 13 | Comments (0)
Fri, September 10
Watch This.
Please watch this video, and let me know what you think. It is really spooky. Makes you think...I'm not a conspiracy believer, but damn. Crazy shit:
http://www.freedomunderground.org/memoryhole/pentagon121.swf
Posted by lexzog at Fri, September 10 | Comments (3)
Good Morning
"Good Morning", a voice from behind me said, as I was walking along 2nd St. to Avenue A. I'm used to being hooted at, whistled at, (hell last week on my lunch break, someone actually asked me, "you want to sit on my dick?"), so I sometimes do have to just ignore "good mornings" however innocuous they may seem.
But it was beautiful out this morning, so I just turned around and said "good morning" back. The tall, side-burned twenty-something guy smiled and said, "You know, people always look at me funny when I say 'good morning.' I just moved here from Boston, and people just aren't as friendly here."
I don't remember if people shouted good mornings down the street to one another during my brief visits to Boston, but I have noticed, that men are actually surprised when I respond to their 'good mornings', or even their complements, when I walk down the street in New York. I think it's because most '"sidewalk conversation" is rarely a conversation, or even a brief interaction. It is more just an editorial remark from one person observing another. Editorial remarks or comments do not merit responses (except, for some, like the "sit on my " comment, which received a middle finger response from me).
If someone just mumbles, as I walk by, "beautiful eyes." That is a comment. Not quite directed at me, but just stated. Put out there.
If a man, however, says, "How are you today beautiful", I usually turn, smile and say, "Very good, thanks!" and keep walking. I must truly seem like I am from another planet, because I think New York women are so jaded by the uninvited audience they acquire when walking down the city sidewalk/catwalk. And I don't blame them. Men can be pigs. But sometimes, they're just being friendly.
Perhaps my tolerance and yes, appreciation too, comes from many experiences, as a little girl, walking or driving places with my mom. Wherever we went, whoops and hollers followed out of construction sites and the open windows of trucks. She smiled, and each time said, with a smirk, "I still got it." So I assumed that "it" was something that was nice to have. One day, when I was twelve, and we were walking to the park, the honk of a horn from a passing car, and a shout, elicited the following, slightly sad response from my mom, "Oh. I think that honk was for you, honey. I've passed on the throne."
Note: Though I do have my own little throne, my Hot Mama still maintains hers. Her male friends at the Body Builder gym she goes to (not to work out so much as to take a brisk walk without breaking a sweat or ruining her hair), ask her to walk away when she comes to say hi to them--and then only a few minutes later does she realize they're just trying to get the "back view." ".
So, the guy this morning and I shared a nice walk to the subway. I learned that he was here for only a week so far, and that he was about to go to Queens to visit his aunt who he hadn't seen since he'd moved here. He also told me I had "very pretty feet." I looked at him oddly. Never heard that from a stranger before...unless it was mumbled in Korean at my nail place on Delancey street.
He then smiled bashfully, looked at his fet, and admitted, "Yeah. I have a foot fetish."
Of course.
Posted by lexzog at Fri, September 10 | Comments (0)
Tue, September 7
Jetlagged...
It was way too short. J and I left for Paris last Wednesday, and arrived on Thursday morning. That automatically kills half the day. We had enough energy to check in to our hotel, which was a cute little place in the Latin Quarter (the "student" area of Paris, that caters to the Universities there). We had a clean, tiny room, with two french windows and a balcony. The building across from us was so close, we could see what the attractive neighbors across from us were having for dinner each night...But basically, we just liked spying on them because the woman was hot and the guy had a great body. We even saw a twenty-something loungin on his couch eating a sandwich, wearing a T shirt and nothing else. All the lights were on! There wasn't much "to see" but occasionally he'd rest his hand on his balls while the other hand fed himself the sandwich. There was also a big cat that watched us from his perch on a little table in another apartment across the way, and his owner, a very old woman, occasionally teased him with string. J liked to tease that there was "a big fat pussy just staring at us through the window, just out there, staring." It took me a moment not to slap him (I thought perhaps he was having some fantasy about the hot neighbor, watching us), and realize he was joking, and referring to the cat. The balcony also served for some great spitting contests too. Romantic, no? But let's leave this balcony scene and talk about the rest of Paris...
One restaurant we ate at only printed its menu on a chalkboard. Sadly, my semester abroad did not prepare me for comprehending the haute french cuisine before us...(On my student budget my Junior year, I had survived on bread and cheese, and occasionally some sort of salad.) J and I barely escaped from ordering veal brains (the Australian girl at the table next to us told us she had made that mistake), and I actually enjoyed my plate of sardines on a frisee salad. I knew that "canard" was duck, so my order was delicious.
People smoke like fiends in Europe and I always forget this. We've been blessed with those great new no-smoking laws in NY, so it was really hard to be around chain smokers all the time. This, my friends, is the secret to the french being thin. We actually witnessed two women with impossibly long torsos, lounging in a park by the Seine, get approached by an extremely buff, tanned and moppy haired french guy...He offered them melon and they refused, happier to puff on their cigarettes. Either their standards are super high (they were somewhat attractive, but not really--just super thin); or, they couldn't stand the thought of a refreshing melon on a hot day, interfering with their enjoyment of a smoke.
Another enigma, was that between the hours of 6-10:30pm, barely anyone ate dinner in restaurants. Yes, there were hordes of people in the restaurants during the dinner hours, but they were just drinking kirs, and beer and wine. And kitchens in all the non-touristy places closed at 10:30!!! Please explain? We think that they must eat big meals during the day, and just sandwiches or something small at night. Our hypothesis.
The best meal was at a little restaurant called Fish, that we happened upon during one of our many walks (we took a subway only once, and that was because there was no way we could walk from Le Marais to the Arc de Triomphe in less than two hours, and time was limited). We attempted to eat there each night, but each night we were turned away for one reason or another. On our last night, we decided to go early, and skip our routine nap before dinner. We got to the restaurant, at 7:00, and sighed with relief: only two tables were taken. When we asked for a table, the girl said, "Sorry, we're totally full." What? (And then I remembered years ago, on Spring Break in the Loire Valley with Michele, where the inhabitants of the little town we were in were like, 20 people in all, and the restuarant we walked into refused to seat us without a reservation. One man was eating there. One.) J told them of our devoted attempts at trying to eat there our whole vacation, and remarkably, they seated us. As we ate the bread they put on the table, we chewed and wondered why it tasted so familiar. Then we saw the waitress run across the street to pick up bread from a shop there...and guess what the shop's name was? Cosi! Cosi bread- like the food chain!!! Who knew it was in Paris too?
Another interesting thing I noticed about Paris is the really hot guy with the ho-hum girlfriend phenomonon. There are just scores of good looking men, walking with their arms around frumpy, plain, dirty-haired women. It actually made us do some double takes (come on, don't we all size up couples we see on the street and decide who is the more attractive one, of if they are both equally so?) I think it is because everyone in Paris wants to be in a relationship (shocking, I know), and they look more for someone they can have fun with, rather than the most appealing eye candy in the store. So you don't get the New York phenomenon of banker-bellied, greasy-haired upper east side boys with model-like girlfriends--the guys who never settle because there could be an even prettier woman who would date them and let him take her to Nobu.
The best parts of the trip were just walking around, and really getting a feel for the layout of the city. We walked EVERYWHERE. And by the end of those three days (Paris is really small if you think about it), it felt like our neighborhood. The weather was clear blue skies, warm, no humidity, every single day. We spent a lot of time throwing our chests over the ledges of bridges and admiring the views of the water below and seeing the cheezy tourists pass by in cheezy tourist boatrides. (I couldn't resist: Against J's protesting, I waved back to the pale guy in the flower print shirt with the large Nikon camera, as he waved at "real french people sitting along the Seine doing french things!)
Then, looking up at the ornate architecture all around us, sturdy, and built with such attention to detail. The way I feel walking through the Village, or Chelsea, when I look up at apartments and on each block I can say, "God I'd love to live there...and there...or there"--that is ALL of Paris. Every building has its own charm.
On our last night, we ran through the darker, narrower streets looking for cool posters to pry out from their plexi frames and take home. J scored some really cool ones for us (I was the lookout guy).
We escaped with only one minor fight...And it was because of a dressing room incident. No, not that kind of incident. I knew J was trying things on in the men's section of Zara, so I took oh, say, 13 items to try on in the women's dressing rooms in the mean time. Well, for women, trying on clothes is a time warp. Hours can pass, and you wouldn't think it was more than five minutes. Needless to say, my "mean time" resulted in J spending half an hour looking for me in the store, going upstairs, downstairs, outside and getting more and more frustrated. He thought we probably kept missing each other as each one searched for the other. When he finally realized that I might possibly be trying on clothes STILL, he came to the dressing room. I had no idea so much time had gone by.
"What do you think of this skirt? I have something like it, but I have it in pink, and this is khaki, with a belt. I know, it is the end of summer and I should be thinking fall wardrobe but..."
at which point I realized there was practically smoke coming out his ears, and he told me he he'd been pacing the store as our short time in Paris was being eaten up in Zara. Note: Even in the best of relationships, even if you are dating a metro-sexual (yes J, you are), too much time spent in a dressing room is something one must always be mindful of. And he minded.
But we made up by the time we'd walked ten blocks.
No one wants to hear about the mushy romantic stuff right? Good. Then I gave the audience what they needed.
So those are some Paris snippets. I am so tired and jet lagged (we got home yesterday at 1:30 pm), I am still on Paris time, and my run tonight took everything out of me...I will upload photos to go with this entry, cuz we took some cool pictures. Not one of them is, "Me and J in front of the Eiffel Tower," or "Me and J sitting side by side in a cafe." So don't worry, they will be fun.
Posted by lexzog at Tue, September 7 | Comments (0)
Stand Up NY: The Real Invite
Below is the link to the live-reading event, where Lexblog will expose herself to a live audience...In a literary (not literal) way, that is.
http://www.evite.com/pages/invite/viewInvite.jsp?inviteId=EUVJVDJONNONYOBLCMRO
and.....
http://www.moxieinthecity.net/id29.html
Gues what? The elusive "J" will be attending, as well as my roomate Erica, my friends Em and Michele, Lindsay...so many of the folks featured in this lovely blog. And "Email Breakup Guy" will be doing his own reading too! He even mentioned our pending crossing of paths in his own site, as fellow blogger OneFace pointed out to me today.
I am back from Paris! A long email on that, to come.
Posted by lexzog at Tue, September 7 | Comments (0)