no man's land.

so, i have one toe in park avenue country club and one toe in the bowery ballroom.

in new york, where does that leave me?

the ol' miss, the ol' man.

the pictures on tv are unbelievable.

i haven't a clue if my old house is underwater, or my high school, or the venue of my first date, or that coffee house that donald and i patronized when we learned of kurt cobain's death, or the thrift store from where i bought the majority of my clothing in 1994, or the bowling alley where paige had her sweet 16th birthday, or the club where i had my first alcoholic drink (naturally, a screwdriver), or the site where i lost my virginity, or the sites of any of my memories, actually.

these buildings mean little when the poorest residents of new orleans are being raped, shot, and are dying near the convention center with slow response from the federal government--even four days later.

the amount of death and destruction is overwhelming.

here's the red cross website if you'd like to donate.

cbgb

look at bloomie acting like he gives a shit!

as my coworker said:

It became more of cock rock place where just about anyone could play. It's easy to see how they lose money, but it is a historic landmark and should be preserved somehow, but that doesn't seem to be happening.

so long, cbgb.

oats & soy.

last night i discovered that my sweet roomie, nurse annie, was raised a quaker. she doesn't necessarily identify with the friends now, but is still interested in returning to a service in the near future. i think i'm going to tag along for the ride.

(of course, this does remind me of nate & maggie.)

anyhow, it's true: the congregation apparently sits in silence until one is moved to speak. should be interesting.

for the record, i was raised without religion, as my mother is presbyterian, my father is buddhist, my stepmother is baptist, and my stepfather is formerly catholic. i suppose the lot couldn't decide upon which side of the fence i should fall. i was dragged to a few services by my mother during one of the divorces, but didn't get much out of it. later, i spent some time going to mass with an ex and (gasp!) took communion. as i've been told, for this i will be going to hell.

i have a feeling that i would have been headed there--if there were such a place--anyways.

so there you go.

in other news, the new yorker this week is the food issue! interesting article on tofu on page 66.

rammer jammer yellow hammer.

(kb, i know i owe you a long-ass email and it is forthcoming, but...)

i think i've just found the next book i will read. i've been in search of one, and the fact that i'm attending this sec happy hour tomorrow night (and that i miss watching football with kb terribly) inspires me to pick this one up.

btw, this boy is hott.

galette me be sick.

so, remember that gorgeous galette that i was to make this weekend? with pears and blueberries and a flaky vegan crust?

i made it.

i've been sick for two days.

i don't know if it was the extra-margarine-y crust or the balsamic vinegar in the pears (yes, s.m! vinegar!), but i felt like shit all day yesterday. could barely keep down the slice of pizza i ate. just conjuring up the flavor in my mind is the best appetite-suppressant i've found as of late.

next time? filo dough, apples, raisins, and no vinegar.

fun fact: this wednesday, a.w. (who will henceforth be known as alabee) and i are hitting an sec happy hour at the park avenue country club, commemorating the release of a new book on paul bear bryant. we're hoping to meet some darling ex-fraternity brothers from down south and snag us a couple for the night.

(oh, and kate moss, alabee, and i went to ex-athenian alan corey's bar on friday night--but didn't see him. his place is pretty cool: games of horseshoes in the backyard!)

hey, boo.

i been wanting to check out this neighborhood, and now have an even better reason: theater in the street! i love this idea. i doubt, however, that i will be able to get a seat after the piece in the times.

perhaps i will just read the book again.

hurricane.

now that i know that the few people i know residing in new orleans are safe, i'm thinking about how my high school home will probably not exist after today. i'm thinking back to every single weekend i spent in the french quarter with donald at the age of 17.

not to be overly dramatic, but i'm choking up.

rusty nails.

ugh. i buy these salads often.

from gothamist:

Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of New Yorkers partake in the made-to-order salad for lunch. Some chick peas here, a little corn there, grilled chicken, too... But forget chatting with your co-worker on line: Watch what goes into your food, as one Midtown lawyer claims to have found a nail in his salad. Ron Dayan told the NY Post, "I pulled out this rusty, disgusting-looking, gooey nail, like a construction nail. I showed it to my colleagues...who didn't believe me at first and then didn't believe the size [over an inch]."

tech-ulinary.

wow!

too bad a) kate moss doesn't have an ipod and b) a.c. doesn't give two shits about food.

galette me down easy.

today has been quite busy, but i prefer it that way. the day flies.

had a delicious salad from hale & hearty for lunch: baby spinach, granny smith apples, chickpeas, shredded carrots, and cucumbers with a carrot ginger dressing. (i feel like i'm writing to, and hearing from k.b., as the majority of our emails contain detailed accounts of our meals.)

(speaking of meals, i'm trying to convince kate moss that we should make one out of this--veganized, of course. i think she's game. oh, and caddy, i would love your pastry crust recipe if you ever want to part with it. i've got tarts on the brain.)

tonight brings me to brooklyn to see "the 40 year-old virgin". why brooklyn? because we've actually found a theater in the area that charges only $5 on first-run movies! hurrah!

spent a bit of my down-time today researching wineries for my trip upstate in october. i think i've successfully convinced s.m. to come along.

(my dear, buy that ticket tomorrow! you won't regret it!)

finally, to answer many of your questions: no, i haven't switched jobs (yet) and no, i'm not moving (yet). fantasizing is simply my favorite pastime.

esquivalience.

to catch you up-to-date, gentle reader(s)...

i enjoyed this article in the new yorker this morning on the train to work.

i discovered this channel and i'm loving it--thanks al gore!

this movie was on the other night and it was one of my favorites as a kid.

i had this at lunch--it was catered and i couldn't pass it up. the ultimate dessert, however? two words: fried twinkie.

going to see this movie tomorrow with kate moss, though my coworker informed me that it's "overrated."

we're going to begin using this book at work and i love it's premise: eat more more more.

i've decided to spend my (ahem...) 30th birthday in this city. you have time to save, however--it's still 18 months off. (fuck! only 18 months!)

and finally, i've actually budgeted my money for once in my life and am happy to report that come the end of november, i will almost be debt free. (um, except for those pesky student loans, but they're not even worth mentioning.) this is no small feat in new york, mind you.

now, i encourage everyone to continue recommending places for me to move after my tour of duty in nyc is through. i have a vote for memphis, a vote for the research triangle, and a vote for providence--or, rather, i have a vote to go visit allison in boston.

close enough.

plum nuts.

is it just me or does that sweet potato picture down below look really fucking weird?

i've been sort of bored at work today and have gone back to read my "sent" mail from back in 2002. good god. how did my friends deal with me? i was plum crazy, y'all. i really allowed c.d. to do a number on me. i'm glad that things are copacetic between us now because from the sound of some of those emails, i was about ready to jump (or push him) off a cliff. i mean, for fuck's sake. path-et-ic.

so, now i'm thinking about dinner. i mean, if it isn't boys (not so much anymore, folks) or jobs or where i'm going to live, it's food. i think tonight it's going to be burritoville. (oh, how i miss taco stand chips-and-cheese-dip and baja burritos. oh, how i miss grit brunches [back when i didn't need a bloody mary with brunch at 11:00 am on a sunday morning, as i do now. i mean, brunch without alcohol? huh?]).

could i live in charleston, south carolina? or is savannah more appealing? i was this close to applying for a random public health educator gig in south dakota the other day just for the hell of it. i still want to visit providence. memphis also seems promising.

sigh.

i'm so creative.

i was going to enter this contest to create a new ice cream flavor, until i realized that you have to submit a videotape along with your application. as I am lazy, i will not do this, and so i am submitting to you my ideas:

dark chocolate rosemary
milk chocolate cinnamon cayenne (mexican chocolate)
mint chocolate orange (props to kate moss)
...and my personal favorite: sweet potato casserole (sweet potato, marshmallow, and candied pecans)

if you submit one or more of these, avec videotape, please give me a shout-out.

if you win, you better share the wealth.

random.

this weekend, i lost:

a few inches of hair off of my head
my favorite h&m black cardigan
my silver gap sandals
a few ounces of dignity on a bathroom floor in tribeca

i discovered the beautiful rockaway beach. to think, i've been frequenting coney island this entire time without realizing that rockaway is much, much better (aka, cleaner).

kate moss and i decided that we would become inventors. a list of some of our works-in progress:

deodorant clothing
veggie burger on a stick
never-melting ice
self-cleaning cutting board
beach-in-a-box
fries with cheese in the middle

we realized that many of these inventions would require some sort of enzyme, and thus, we are on the lookout for scientists to assist us.

i have decided that i want to move to providence, rhode island, even though i've never been there.

the series finale of "six feet under" was beautifully tear-inducing until the last five minutes, when it turned into a cheesy car commercial and was disappointing beyond belief.

i think i might want to get into pharmaceutical sales--even though, yes, i'm in preventive health currently.

drinks with coworkers = good times.

i want to take a cruise for my next vacation. solo.

...okay, i think that just about sums things up.

satan!

why is it that of all the cars on all the queens-bound f/v trains in the entire 10:00 am hour, i keep running into the crazy-jamaican-man-who-screams-about-satan? i mean, three times in the last month. ridiculous.

things got better this morning, however, when i ran into this man in the lobby. even cuter in person!

last night was good times. listening to overpriced summerstage shows in the park for free is, um, totally worth it. kate moss and i hit a likka store beforehand, picked up some mixers (coke zero for me--not bad!--and ginger ale for her) and bottles of our favorite likkas (bacardi for me and whiskey for her). by the time the show was over, i was tipsy as all get out. the best part? i walked home, down fifth avenue, still sipping on my rum & coke, disguised as a coke zero in a plastic bottle. i tell you, there's nothing like listening to abba's "lay all your love on me" and "voulez vous" while drunk and dodging tourists in midtown.

oh, and though i don't usually like encores, i made an exception when death cab and the decemberists came back out and played fleetwood mac's "go your own way". it wasn't "rhiannon," a.c., but close!

tonight brings more drinking (sheesh!) with the cutie coworker at a dive bar in the l.e.s.

fuck, or is it on the l.e.s.?

planz.

without giving too much away, i have a jam-packed weekend ahead of me:

things start out nicely tonight, with kate moss and i visiting central park for the death cab/stars/decemberists show. as we would never pay such a ridiculous amount for indie rock (ha!), we are instead bringing a sheet, some little bottles of liquor, and soda and having an emo-nerdy time for free.

tomorrow, apres-work, i'm set to have drinks with my cutie musician coworker and his friends. (i'm also holding out that evening for kate moss to set the wheels in motion to hook me up with one of r.r.'s tall friends--though i'm not sure if r.r. has any tall friends. or friends, for that matter. i don't even know the guy.)

saturday is the big sassy haircut day, thank god. my hair has been driving me nuts lately. i can't wait to have it back into some sort of style. perhaps then i will actually use the $20 hair products i purchased a few weeks ago on a binge at duane reade.

...following the haircut, i plan to meet up with kate moss and together we will find a.c. and my dear ex-pat pal, kevy. i have known kevy since my freshman year of college, back when he had a big-ass multi-colored mohawk and had not yet found veganism. fast-forward eleven years and i look forward to our reunion. a.c. is back to retrieve his belongings (including his kitties, for whom i've been caring) before really leaving for the left coast. together, the four of us plan to hit up a swanky party at my bro's pad in tribeca.

sunday, it looks like it might be rawk-rawk-rockaway beach, folks.

fuck! i'm in love with new york again.

murder at teany.

people are losing their god-forsaken minds--not so much over the murder, but over gothamist's supposed lack of sense of humor and over hipsters au generale:

Hipsters have iPods.
Hipsters use the word "like" and "totally" as sentence filler (I was all like, yeah, and she was all like, that's like totally so big) and end their sentences with an upswing.
Hipsters drink Pabst Blue Ribbon and Rheingold.
Hipsters hang at Lit, Pianos and the Dark Room.
Hipsters say "for here" instead of "to stay" when they order a slice.
Hipsters still have their old ID from Wisconsin even though they've been living in New York the past three years.
Hipsters call blacks "hip hop guys."
Hipsters complain about gentrification every time they go out.
Hipsters have tattoos of stars.
Hipsters say "in" the Lower East Side instead of "on" the Lower East Side.
Hipsters deny that they are actually hipsters themselves, despite all of the above being true.

what time it is.

my bro, who has the fuckin' hookup, is getting me this ecko watch just because he can.

thanks, def jux!

fraternizing with frat boys.

per kb's suggestion, i looked up where the local georgia-alums watch football in the city. found this place.

it looks rather frightening, but perhaps i should just suck it up? it would be sad to spend a whole season watching games alone in my apartment.