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Sun, May 29
Please Come Up and Light A Candle
Bar and Bat-Mitzvahs are the 1980's school dance of the '90's thru the '20's. You walk in, and you know just what to expect: A DJ with a goatee, overly salted food, a variety of carbonated non-alcaholic drinks, girls in tight dresses, and boys who are a whole foot shorter than those girls.
Its a template, a tradition, one that we can experience with our eyes closed and we'd still know what was happening.
But yes, there are some things that are very specific to the Bar and Bat Mitvah party, where the school dance analogy falls off.
For example, every Bat or Bar Mitvah party has the candle lighting ceremony. A chance for every guest to hear the awkward forced rhyme that most likely, the Bar or Bat Mitvah kid's mother wrote to honor each guest asked to come up to light a candle. "We've shared so many me-mo-ries, from ski-ing-to-the-shore, Aunt Ca-thy-and-Uncle-Da-vid-pleasecomeupandlightacandle." (I always want the kid to say,
"please light candle number four, but its not my party.)
Then there's the dancers: Two twenty-somethings in too-tight outfits, flipping their hair and trying to entice a pre-adolescent boy to dance, or worse, old Uncle Leo. You can always count on one of the dancers leaning towards eating-disorder thin, and the other towards, "needs to lose about 10 pounds to wear those pants." The anorexic looking dancer at the party I went to last night tried to tell a story to the kids playing Coke and Pepsi (a game that requires the kids sit on each other's laps of all things!), about how she ordered egg whites that morning because she "doesn't like the taste of eggs, ya know?"
Then there's the business with the socks. Why do these poor girls go and buy outrageous heels to wear with their too sophisticated dresses, only to get to the party and be told to put on scrunchy socks "so they can dance?" I think the socks are actually a good idea, but then the party ends up something like the entry to a Japanese restaurant: You've spent time picking the perfect shoe to wear to dinner only to find out you could have showed up in your comfy house slippers. Why not save everyone some money and in the invitation state that "shoes are optional?"
Boy have dresses changed since my Bar and Bat-Mitvah days. There was always one girl in a slinky dress that seemed more suitable to Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" than on 12-year-old Rachel at "Jonathan's Bizarro Bar-Mitzvah Extravaganza!!!" But most girls in my day wore puffy sleeves, and long skirts a la Jessica McClintock. A few wore the more trendy Betsy Johnsons, but even those dresses at least went to the mid-thigh. What I saw last night was a whirlwind of just-below-the-tush lines, a poor girl trying to pull up the strapless dress that kept falling down (since she hadn't yet reached training bra stage), and, a deeply disturbing glimpse of a THONG on yet another pre-teen.
My friends Karina, Noa and I were just discussing the other night how we didn't really even know what thongs were until like...last year.
Above all, you can't say that dancing the Hora and awkwardly holding the stranger's hand next to you isn't somewhat exhilerating. The free and unlimited alcohol is nice too.
I love Bar/Bat-Mitvahs, if only for the chance to see how even though people may scoff and say "I have to sit through another father-daughter toast?" that they still will shed a tear when "The Wind Beneath My Wings" starts playing and the poor party girl starts cringing with embarassment at having to dance with her dad in front of all her friends.
You can feel the excitement, the conversations, the thoughts among all those kids on the dance floor, as they stand motionless in circles waiting for everyone else to start dancing first: "Will Drew finally ask Amy out? Is Sam gonna do her famous butt dance and make the rest of us a bit less self-conscious about dancing? Will there be free tampons in the women's bathroom, because I'm still too embarassed to buy them myself at the store..."
I would have had a little more fun last night, if my ten year old sister had been un-self-conscious enough to dance to the Black-Eyed-Peas with me...But I forgive her. She hasn't been to even one Bat-Mitvah yet of her very own. Maybe after 25 or so parties, she'll let loose.
Posted by lexzog at Sun, May 29 | Comments (0)
Thu, May 26
Who Loves Peanut M&M's and US Weekly?
I do. I have no money but I spend $3.29 on stupid trashy magazines. Did it for the third week in a row. Sure, I could read my book, but I'd rather read about Jessica Simpson's dieting secrets.
Speaking of Jessica, you have to check out my friend's website:
nickandjessicabreakupwatch.blogspot.com
And, I think "M&M" is short for mmmmmmmmmm....
Posted by lexzog at Thu, May 26 | Comments (0)
A Writing Contest I Can't Enter
You Write their Book
Random House is encouraging nonfiction submissions for the book TWENTYSOMETHING ESSAYS BY TWENTYSOMETHING WRITERS: The Best New Voices of 2006. The web page says they "looking for the most original voices of the twentysomething generation, writing about their lives, their passions, their world." One of the posted contest rules is, "Don't trust anyone over 30."
The grand prize winner gets $20,000; up to 28 others will have their essays included in the anthology, but with no compensation.
www.randomhouse.com/rhpg/20by20contest/rules.html
Posted by lexzog at Thu, May 26 | Comments (0)
Thu, May 19
Would you date a fireman?
Today I was waiting by the M14 bus stop on Avenue A...A big firetruck was blocking the bus stop, and I was about to ask one of the firemen milling about if the bus might not stop there (I never take that bus) because of the truck. Before I could say anything, he asked, "You waiting for the bus?" Duh. "Yes, I am." "It's a beautiful day, why don't you just walk?" I would have responded, but four more firemen appeared out of nowhere. "Hey, I'm asking for my friend," one of the guys asked, and pointed to another fireman. "What do you think of him? He's single." So all of a sudden I was at the center of my very own dating game, "Which Fireman Will Win This Girl's Heart?" Before I knew it I had all of Ladder 31 flirting with me. "Look at her, do you THINK she's single?" "I'm not single," I said, to close the topic. "Of course she's not single!" And then, "Hey, so how long have you not been single? Like, since last night, or for a while?"
???
Then one fireman asked me, "What's your background?" I had to ask what he meant, because my ready response would have been, "Well, I studied psychology in college, but ended up in sales for children's books and now I'm..." He clarified, "Like, where's your family from, before they came here?" I told him "Austria and Russia." He hit himself on the head, and said, "No way! You're KIDDING!" "What?" I asked, expecting some surprising revelation from him. "I think I know someone with that same background!" What like, maybe an old high school teacher? Wha?
From behind me, I heard someone say, "I see you go to NY Sports Club." (My membership card was dangling from the key chain I was holding). "Yep," I said. "It shows. Are you getting ready for the beach?"
"I'm always ready for the beach."
Thankfully, one of the older firemen said, "Hey boys, let's leave her alone. We gotta get movin'." They scuffed their feet on the ground, and mumbled.
Talk about a nice little ego boost. But I bet they do this to all the girls waiting alone for crosstown buses.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, May 19 | Comments (0)
Sun, May 15
The Weekend Update
I spent nearly all of Friday night getting my hair done...But it was worth the wait because Mario blew my hair straight! I've been walking in my alternate identity all weekend. Straight hair Alexis!
When the blow out was finally through, I met Tom and J at Cafe Noir. My cab driver and I talked about how the girl in the cab before me not only looked like me, but also declared that she was "starving", and also was meeting her boyfriend for dinner. Coincidence? I think not. Ok, yes it was.
The food was great, but the bar scene was so packed that we felt as if WE were intruding on the people at the bar's having a good time. Not a good thing. On line to the bathroom though, I did get to speak french with a Parisian. Amazing what, "is this the line?" can lead to!
My allergies were so damn awful, I couldn't make it out after dinner...
Saturday, after the most wonderful egg sandwich ever form Witchcraft, I met with two of my new writers for the next Inner Monologues (June 13!!!) in Thompkin's Square Park. It is going to be difficult narrowing down the number of readers for the show.
Had a brief nap, then met Jarrad at Ludwig's reception for his art show at the A-Forest Gallery. I wish he had a website so you could all see how talented he is. And to think I paint next to him in class. The amateur and the master, side by side...
Took a bus up to the MOMA to meet J, where he had been attending a reception for the International Furniture Show (hey, we all have to get our kicks somewhere). We had drinks at The Modern. Very sleek, a bit snotty, but it definitely felt like a "destination" spot. An hour or so later, friends poured in and we overtook four or five tables by the bar. I'm still not used to being among people who can afford to even sit in a place like that, let alone shout out drinks willy nilly, with no attention payed to who is going to account for all those drinks...and foot the bill.
A couple of us sat down to dinner. I had such a good time with Martine's Swedish friends, because I got to practice my french. The food was tiny, tiny, but since it was so rich, I left feeling like I'd eaten five courses. I guess that's what happens when those tiny portions consist of foie gras, steak tartare, and sweetbreads...Oy.
We all went to a club and danced to hip hop, and somehow didn't end up back at my apartment until three in the morning. When we got there, J noticed some old furniture dumped on the street, and immediately saw its potential...Like one man's trash is another man's...you get the picture. We ended up not going to sleep until four, because the construction worker in J (pumped from his furniture find) decided that three in the morning was a good time to take my dresser apart and put it back together (its been broken for a very long time, it could have waited till tomorrow.)
Today I got up with the roosters, at 8:00am, to meet Karina and Noa in Central Park for the AIDS walk. It was my job to pick up bagels...I went to Bagelzone, and I guess I didn't have all of my faculties so early in the morning and with no sleep, because the bagel guy YELLED at me!
From what I could see through the counter, there were only three individual bagels available. I asked the bagel guy what bagels they had. He pointed to the sign on the wall that describes all the possible bagels one could order if all bagels were available...which I didn't think to consider because there only were three bagels before me. I asked if they had pumpernickel or rye. "Look at the sign!" the bagel guy admonished. Ok, ok. I pressed my luck: "Do you have light cream cheese?" I asked.
"TOO MANY QUESTIONS!" he finally roared.
I let him prepare my bagels however the hell he wanted for fear of his next words being, "No bagels for you!"
The AIDS walk today was, unfortunately, humid, overcrowded, and loud. We walked seven miles, packed like cattle. There were traffic congestions of people, from mothers with their strollers, people with their boom boxes, kids playing around. All in all, not a pleasant experience. Our feet felt like they were about to fall off.
We made it the whole way, despite our complaining. And as luck would have it, we scored a table outside at Isabellas. First time in four years. Guess the walk brought good karma?
I should be catching up on sleep now...But "Grey's Anatomy" is actually worth watching.
Posted by lexzog at Sun, May 15 | Comments (0)
Ah....Friendster.
So I logged into my gmail account and found I had a new message in my Friendster inbox:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date:
Wednesday, May 11, 2005 4:11:00 PM
Subject:
Allies
Message:
hi my girlfriend tati and i saw you and think your
crazysexycool. here is our backgrounds
T writer poet
34-27-38 120lbs 5'7" nigerian & german mixed with
hazel eyes reddish brown afro great skin and killer
body
K artist designer
150 lbs 5'11" 150lbs well endowed 10" athletic
build
we both love sex and drugs and like you to join us
if you want to see pics please send us your email
and we'll forward you some. also check out this
party were gonna attend @
www.sublimediversions.com
im also having a art show may 21st @ a loft in LIC
so send your email and we'll forward you more
info...lookin forward to you joining us in bed for
sexy misadventures - STD free!!
peace
K and T
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Only on the internet, Kids. Only on the internet....Don't worry. I'm not responding!!!
Posted by lexzog at Sun, May 15 | Comments (0)
Mon, May 9
So...
Haven't written since last Sunday because last week was just a big whirlwind of activity. On Tuesday, I took my first painting class since last May. It was wonderful. So many of my old classmates were there. They were all like, "Where have you BEEN?" I felt like I received a hero's welcome. During the twenty minute break, I got to hang with some of my friends in the cafeteria. Alex asked, "Where's your yogurt?", because that's what I always ate during the break last year. It was great to be back in a community separate from my regular friends, and work, and J's friends. Just a place where I am me, without attachments. Unfortunately, a year away from painting has taken its toll. I just hope the teacher is patient with me when I ask him to review what order the colors should go in on my pallet.
After class, I met J at La Lanterna, to see his friend Dave play base in a jazz trio. That place is like my new Small's. You just pay a five dollar cover and can sit for hours listening to music in a cozy atmosphere, with candle light all around.
I stayed up too late that night, or something, because I was DEAD the next day at work. I went home at four, and missed dance class and a dinner date with friends uptown. It was good though, because I got to sit home and just chat and watch TV with Erica. Sometimes you need days like that. Days without obligations, where you can veg out and laugh with a friend.
Thursday night I saw a Mars Volta (don't worry, I'd never heard of them either until recently) concert with Koba. We met at Vynl on 9th Ave. for dinner, and bounced on to Roseland. The crowd was an eclectic mix of older frat boy, goth, and punk. The lighting was amazing. It reminded me of the Pink Floyd lazer light show I used to see with Gillian when we were in 9th grade. On the stage, were two gigantic corrugated cutouts of ominous looking eagles, each clutching a leg of a naked woman, putting a knife through her foot. Lovely. The music was somewhat less so. Save for one song, called "L'Via", I thought it was one of the most painful concerts I have ever sat through. Maybe because I'm not familiar with that kind of music. But I am sure there is some aesthetic level that an average music Joe or Jill should pick up on. I thought the band went too far in their electronic jazz riffs. One song, that on the albumis only seven minutes, lasted thirty-five minutes at the conert! To Koba's delight, I declared that the band was reminiscent of White Snake. Koba's description of the night is much more eloquent (see Kobablog on my links).
Friday night was supposed to be a big dinner party night at J's, but only Jen ended up coming through. J cooked enough steak, potatoes, and salad to feed seven, but the three of us managed to eat most of it ourselves. I drank too much wine, and went to bed before the party was over (toward the end, Thomas and his french friends joined us.) This is becoming a bad habit: First J's party where I passed out on Rahul's shoulder on the couch, at the Tribeca party I fell over into a deep sleep in a hotel room, and now at a dinner party I hit the hay earlier than everyone else!
Saturday night I had dinner with Gillian, Lex and Linz at Pepe Giallo. I hadn't been there since my birthday last June, but it was every bit as delicious as the last time. I had a wonderful ravioli special with ricotta and eggplant stuffed inside, in a perfectly creamy pink sauce.
We ran downtown after dinner to Billy's bakery to snag a cupcake, since Linz's sister works there now. Talk about friends in high places! Then we went to see the ElephantLarry show (www.elephantlarry.com), which put me in stitches. I recommend it if you like The Onion type humor.
Shout out to Chris Principe!
Met up with J and Chien at The Campbell Apartment in Grand Central. This is so cool- it used to be an actual apartment, belonging to John W. Campbell (part of the Robber Baron set). At the time it was built, it was the largest one room, ground floor apartment in New York. You can order drinks that you will not find anywhere else, since they come from the Prohibition era. I ordered a "Klondike" thinking it would taste like...a Klondike bar. What I got instead was a nasty concoction of whisky, gingerale and OJ. Ew.
Next, we went to Tribe, and danced, danced, danced. A full night indeed. I looked for Jonathan, but he wasn't at his favorite haunt.
Sunday was Mother's Day brunch at Amuse on W. 18th street. The most amazing french toast: Candied almonds and bananas are baked inside! I bought my mom irises to go with her name.
Sorry this is so choppy. I have a lot to report, and need sleep, badly. Will try to clean it up tomorrow.
Mwah!
-me
Posted by lexzog at Mon, May 9 | Comments (0)
Sun, May 1
How do you sleep?
Erica and I were just discussing sleeping habits of men versus women. Hands-down, (or pants down), almost every guy we know prefers to sleep in the nude. Occasionally a guy will come along who sleeps in his boxers, but the majority claim that wearing clothes in bed makes them feel "restrained". Women, on the other hand, much prefer a big T shirt and comfy pants. Call us repressed ('cuz that would be true!). Men, do not be fooled. If you call your girl just as she is getting into her bed and ask her, "What ya wearin'?", you may expect to hear about frilly thongs and lacey Victoria's Secret lingerie. Sorry to disappoint, but the honest response would be "a T shirt from 5th grade that says I LOVE CATS and boxer shorts from my best friend's Bat-Mitzvah."
But then I asked Erica if she has the same memory from childhood as I have: Sleepovers with friends who revealed that "in their family, they sleep in T shirts, but no underwear." "Why wouldn't your family wear underwear?" we remembered asking. "So our privates can breathe," the friends would explain. After Erica and I tried to figure out if we each separately knew this family whose "privates" required extra breathing space, we had a good chuckle. What does that really mean, "So our privates can breathe?" Were they really so constricted in the first place? Were they suffocating? Do our nether regions deserve that time to breathe freely? Was my family and Erica's family, (the underwear wearing kind), harming our poor you-know-whats all these years?
You the reader, can decide...
On to safer topics...I went with J to the Tribeca Film festival closing night party. Besides free drinks, and a cool band, there wasn't much to see. No Celebrities, not even C-list. We even snuck downstairs to where "the really cool kids hang out", but it was the same crowd of unkowns as upstairs, only here they were in a special roped off section.
The cool band was "FisherSpooner", and they had some interesting "dancers" dressed up like coked-out Cleopatra's doing interpretive dance to the three sets the band performed. We ended up hanging out in their hotel room (after they'd left) after the show, waiting for the screening of "House of Wax" to let out so we could hop over to the after party. I know hanging out in a band's hotel room sounds really cool, but when all that is left to ingest is salted peanuts and Sprite, things can get a little dull. Like, so dull that Jen and I had a drawing contest on the hotel paper until my eyes slowly closed and I fell dead asleep on the couch. That's two weekends in a row, Lex! Party animal!
Today J and I checked out Diane Arbus and Max Ernst at the Met. I learned a lot about Ernst in my Surrealist Art class in France four years ago, but all I can remember now is that my teacher described every painting as being "angsty" (there's a french word for this that escapes me even though I heard him say it ten times a class). I guess taking art history classes and learning a lot about art isn't so much about retaining all the little facts you learn about the art, but to be able to look at a work years later and say, "Hey, I wrote a twelve page report on this painting!" I think what is most important is that when you see a painting, it speaks to your memories of the first time you saw it. You remember that it meant something to you at the time, and you try to figure out what it means now. So maybe the loss of art history memory is a boon?
That show "Grey's Anatomy" is actually good. I seldom watch TV, but on the days that I do, Sundays are my absolute favorite.
Oh, and you'd be proud to know that I ate my very first "Papaya King" hot dog. I have never in my whole life eaten at this fine eating establishment, nor others like it such as "Gray's Papaya". I felt like a real New Yorker--Me and my dog.
Posted by lexzog at Sun, May 1 | Comments (0)