The View

I went to the Met today and was reminded why I live in New York City.

Last night was an emotional drain and I needed some good hand-holding one-on-one time with the boyfriend. I was thrilled this morning when he declared "Look, today we should go to a museum of some sort. The Whitney or..." and then proceeded to list a million museums that are on the long list of museums-to-go-to that we will never have time to go to. He ended with "... or The Met." In a rare moment of assertiveness, I said "Look, I don't think I can look at another piece of contemporary art for at least two weeks. Let's go to The Met."

We looked at mummies and armor and a hilarious exhibit on photography and the occult and Van Gogh drawings and some Santiago Calatrava sculptures (and no, the exhibit did not feature his bridge from Buenos Aires) and smiled and ooh-ed and aah-ed and said things like "I knew you would like that because I know your taste now." I revelled in being able to look at skilled art that's good without being challenging. I liked Van Gogh's sketches of trees because that's all they were.

We ran to the roof, excited to see the Sol Lewitt sculptures but more excited to see our city.

"This is why I live here," I said as soon as I stepped into the freezing air up there and saw the view. I gasped. I looked at my favorite new building from above. D said "There's your building. It's a really good addition to the skyline."

I am feeling better about New York City today because today was easy and made us both happy. No amount of cockroaches that just walked past my alarm clock as I was about to set it for my nap that isn't going to happen can prevent my happiness! No getting dark earlier will interfere with my enjoying life! No! I will just think about mummies and everything will be fine.

And... here are some photos!

Syrup!

I have been hating New York lately, but sometimes I can't help but smile when I think about all of the bizarre things that have happened during my time living here.

Despite being sickly last evening, I decided to, against better judgment, accompany D to this contemporary art fair to which he'd been given two free tickets to an opening reception cocktail party. I have, dear readers, decided that I am contemporary-arted out. I'm just not an art person. I like art, but I am not obsessed and I don't get much out of looking at it constantly.

The art fair was cool, if, of course, you are rich, and can afford art. It's actually billed as an affordable art fair - prices range from $100 to $10,000, though the least expensive thing I saw was $1200. There were some cool pieces, and in my former life when I had money and was not in a constant financial panic, I'd probably have considered buying something.

I overheard a woman who said "I wish I had a bigger apartment so I could buy all of this stuff!" which struck me as odd, because if she could afford to buy all of this stuff to put in her small apartment, she can most likely afford a larger apartment. I feel like the appropriate thing to declare loudly was "I wish I had more money in general!"

Anyway... I wasn't drinking because I was sickly, and D tends to involute and not speak when we look at art, so I wasn't having the best time. Being sober when everyone else is drunk is never fun.

This was supposed to be our date night - out for dinner! Yeah! We never do this - we never make plans to go out together, so I'd been very excited before the sickness kicked in. D suggested we take a cab from the art fair to a restaurant. When we got in the cab, D said "Can we go to blah blah blah and take 9th Avenue, please."

The cab driver decided to ignore D and take a ridiculous route that was much congested with traffic. This meant lots of stop and go, which is not good when you are sick. About ten minutes into the ride, I yelled "Ummm, can we please get out?" because I was fairly certain that another minute of his insane driving would cause me to lose what little food I'd eaten that day. D said "Can you just drop us off here?" The cab driver kept going. "Can we just get out here? This will be fine..." Still he ignored us. I felt myself turning more and more green and was about to scream when D did. "Please, HERE!" he said and the cab driver was all "What? You want to get out?" and KEPT DRIVING!

Once we were out, we decided that he must have been deaf. CRAZY.

Anyway, we got in another cab and were dropped off in the vicinity of some restaurants we'd seen earlier in the week that we thought looked cool. It smelled really good outside. "Hmmm.... smells like cookies!" I said. D said it smelled like something else... I can't remember. "Or caramel!" I said.

We ate. Well, D ate and I had like three gnocchi and some water. When we left the restaurant, we walked for a few minutes and still it smelled delicious. "I guess what we were smelling was from over here!" D said as we walked a bit.

He then smiled and said "It smells everywhere. Maybe it's me!"

Heh.

Back at my apartment, I swore I could still smell it. "Maybe it's me," I thought, but said nothing while compulsively smelling my hands to see if it was something I'd touched that day.

This morning, I saw this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/28/nyregion/28odor.html

Upon reading more on the blogosphere, I have learned that everyone everywhere smelled maple syrup last night. People in Harlem! People in Brooklyn! People in Astoria! People in NJ!!!! I love being part of insane New York news.

This being said, this is a little weird. Apparently we are not to worry, but really, what could possibly cause everyone to smell maple syrup? I don't think a spill. It's a release of some sort - chemical? On purpose? Someone online suggested that maybe its a plot to determine the successfulness of a chemical release on the city. Or maybe it is a chemical release on the city.

NUTS, folks, nuts.

I just mentioned this to Bench Buddy and he was all "Oh my god, I thought it was me! It was driving me crazy! I hate things that smell sickly sweet!"

So yeah. Another crazy thing in NYC.

And now it is the weekend. Thank god. I am going to Princeton to visit my brother because I am in desperate need of some unconditional affection. And I will sleep lots, because I am still feeling weird.

Have good weekends.

Until Monday...

Christian Slater

I was home sick from work today.

This finally afforded me time to watch "Pump Up the Volume," which Netflix sent a few weeks ago.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I was much in love with Christian Slater back in the day. I think I saw "Gleaming the Cube" 4 million times. And, as I mentioned in a song, I unsuccessfully launched a search involving hundreds of people to find a very specific "Gleaming the Cube" poster.

Anyway, I never saw "Pump Up the Volume." I know what you're thinking - how could any self-respecting Christian Slater fan not have seen "Pump Up the Volume?"

The answer is: conservative parents.

I think I was nearly grounded for throwing a fit about not being allowed to see "Pump Up the Volume" because, dear readers, it was Rated R.

All of my girlfriends were going to see it and they didn't love him nearly as much as I did! I was livid. My parents were insane about things Rated R. "Not until you're 17," they would say, and I knew that even when I was 17 they would be distressed about my seeing boobs onscreen. When "Pump Up the Volume" came out, I too was conservative and too conservative to consider lying to my parents and sneaking into the movie.

So I never saw it until today!

And oh my god. I still love Christian Slater. Not Christian Slater now, but Christian Slater then. Dear god. I think I would have combusted if I'd seen it in 1990.

I am thinking that D has slightly Christian-Slater-like hair. Awwww yeah.

OK. This is boring because I am delirious. Hopefully I will be coherent tomorrow. Until then... Christian Slater. Yum.

Umbrella

What makes a good umbrella good?

Or, why is my umbrella the only one, in a sea of umbrellas, that inverts every three seconds!??!?!?!?

Conspiracy

The weekend is over and I am thrilled.

I had fun this weekend, but the plot also thickens.

Bad things that have happened recently:

1. No hot water in apartment.

2. No heat in apartment.

3. Cockroach infestation in apartment (traps are not working! will have to involve super; this is not only gross but makes me feel gross - I run a tight, clean ship in that apartment and I can't comprehend why these roaches are torturing me! D blames renovations in the building but I can't help but take it personally).

4. IPod battery in the process of dying.

5. Eye-piece protector on digital camera vanished and cannot be replaced unless I want to pay $150, which is freaking absurd.

6. Bird crapped all over fabulous pink coat. I was supposed to meet D at the 8th Avenue stop on the blue line to go to some galleries. We decided to meet underground as the weather looked ominous. I was at 34th Street, about to get on the train when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and she said "Ma'am, I don't know if anyone's told you this, but a bird shit all over your pink coat." Oh my god! Ma'am?!?! Oh my god... the PINK COAT! I quickly ran into the Tick Tock Diner, where I assessed the situation, which was bad bad bad. It was BROWN, all over my coat, and in three places! I ripped the coat off and went home. I had to make the snap decision that salvaging the coat was more important than meeting D on time. I don't have enough money to be replacing a coat, and I am too attached to that coat to just give up on it. I called D and left him a message, fully knowing he'd never get it since he was underground. I ran home, freezing since I didn't want to wear the coat. I cleaned it off with a combination of water, Tide, and hand soap, all the while throwing shit-filled paper towels into the toilet bowl.

7. Toilet bowl overflowed due to bird shit-filled paper towels.

8. As I was leaving the apartment, running, to meet D, I noticed that bird shit was also all over my pants. D was not underground when I got there. I figured he'd given up and just left after I was 45 minutes late. I decided, on a whim, to go outside to see if he'd left a message, and I ran into him as he was getting my messages. This was actually a good thing, because had I gone out any other exit I would have checked my messages, there wouldn't have been a message from him since he was literally in the process of checking his messages, and I'd have gone home, thinking he was mad. So this was a good thing.

9. Got caught in a rain storm on Saturday night while waiting in line for half an hour.

10. Watch stopped. Not because of battery - battery is new-ish, so I think watch is no longer for this world.

11. Credit card(s) didn't work at the movie ticket kiosk, which means that I'll probably have to contest the charges on all the cards because you know when machines tell you they don't work they are actually taking your money. Seven times.

12. Change explosion from bag due to mystery hole. So embarrassing. Still have no idea from where change fountain originated. Luckily E was there to pick up stray quarters and dimes and to prevent my having a total meltdown.

This being said, some good things this weekend:

1. New glasses - a big hit!

2. Winterized!!! Although - this should go in the first list - only have one of favorite pink mittens, which is suspicious given that I packed them to move. Why would I have packed only one? As of right now I have only a spring coat and fingerless gloves, which is not ideal given the weather.

3. PhotoPlus Expo (free!!!) at Javitz Center - shock to confidence but very exciting nonetheless, mainly because I got to indulge my desire to attend a conference at the Javitz Center and learned that the food court at the Javitz Center is extreme. It was overwhelming and stressful and since I don't have my own real camera yet, it was fairly pointless. I did, however, sign up for the ICP's mailing list.



4. Galleries - saw some lame stuff but also some good and/or freaky stuff and got to hold D's hand, which made me happy because I haven't seen that much of him lately. He tried to cheer me up about the Pink Coat Calamity, and I said "Dude, you have to just let me be upset about this for five minutes," and within five minutes of silence I was fine.

5. Pumpkins! And tango in Chelsea Market!!





6. Dinner party!!!

7. Demetri Martin!!! I got in trouble for taking this photo. I wasn't even using the flash (obviously). Demetri Martin is clearly and mostly influenced by Mitch Hedberg, so his show caused much happiness. I guess they're calling his brand of humor "observational." I'd never heard of him because I guess having heard of him requires a TV - he writes for Conan. He's doing a month-long residency at the Village Theater. I laughed so hard I almost passed out because I couldn't breathe correctly.



Here is a gratuitous photo of Jonathan Safran-Foer from Barnes and Noble last week. I meant to write lots about this last week but didn't get to upload the photos until last night.



There is a backlash against this boy and it troubles me. I have been thinking a lot about the backlash phenomenon as of late. If you thought something was good, why does what's happened since discolor what once pleased you? Everything is Illuminated is a good book. End of story. People liked it when it came out. Are people annoyed that he's successful? Are people annoyed by his demeanor? Even still, does this mean the book is bad? No.

It's like this with music too. VB said, as a possible conversation topic to deflect tension, "We could just talk about how much we all think Weezer sucks!" I said "I don't think Weezer sucks." Bench Buddy said "So I guess you're just ignoring the last two albums?" "Yes, I liked the first one." "But doesn't the recent crap ruin it for you?" "No, because the first album is good." We then discussed Death Cab for Cutie, and I was like "Look, yeah, they sold out, and that's weak, but that doesn't mean the first couple albums are now void. I loved them. I listened to them all the time. I still think they're good."

Same thing with Liz Phair. I don't know what is up with her right now and I am disappointed in and by her, but I still listen to the first three albums in heavy rotation.

Incidentally, Anne Patchett was there for the reading and said something about Jonathan Safran-Foer dating another author. Does anyone know who he's dating?

8. Saw Mirrormask.

9. Took pictures. It's been too long. Class has discouraged me. But I actually my homework this weekend (some of it, not all). This is "High Key #3."



10. Finally told D that I've been less-than-satisfied with NYC and he said all the right things, which surprised me in such a lovely way and made me happier.

So that's that.

The heat is on in the apartment (finally!), the coat has been dropped off for dry cleaning, I might go home to ease the homesickness and nostalgia and trick myself into thinking things are cozy because its fall - I will walk on rugs and sit near the fire and hear silence outside at 3am, I am looking forward to a party in my old house and to being able to be in someone else's house without feeling claustrophobic, I will become a person who doesn't need a watch and will just accept that my camera is unsightly, I will talk to my super tonight about roaches and will take a personal day when someone shows up to spray my apartment, I will make plans in NYC and will have things to look forward to and will pursue further education and then fabulous new business idea and change life and make loads of money and have job satisfaction and then I won't have to worry about money or the uncertain future.

Right.

OK!

With that, I should work. Mondays are so difficult.

Nano

While I find the new IPod Nano a bit gratuitous and a bit offensive (I don't know why - I'm probably just jealous because my IPod keeps misbehaving and I predict that I will soon be without IPod), I must admit that it is pretty damn cute.

What's even cuter, you ask?

A man's IPod Nano being held, protected, in a baby sock on the subway today.

I laughed out loud.