Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Have A Nice Day

"Get the fuck out of my way, " he says to me,
only after I have stopped walking, he has passed me on the small sliver of space to my right and I am looking at him with a blank expression, calmly waiting for him to pass.
My first reaction is to laugh at the little man with flaming red hair who I am towering over.
I begin to open my mouth and stop as I have just been reading an article in THE NEW YORKER about a man who snapped and went on a shooting rampage in Michigan, killing three teenagers who had been swimming on a hot summer day.
He looks slightly unstable but his comment seemed more like a response to my stopping rather than an offensive tactic to get me to move.
I wanted to tell him that clearly he knows how to speak, and that a simple "Excuse me," would have done, but this is New York and this minor infraction pales in comparison to the scene Mike and I witnessed the other day.
A Latina woman and her child got on the subway and whether it was on purpose or not, she pushed a black woman so she could secure a seat for her son.
The black woman shoved her back.
The mother was taken by surprise and asked the woman why she pushed her,
which unleashed a fury in this black woman.
"Yeah, I pushed you. Don't fucking push me."
The mother explained that she didn't see her.
The black woman shoved her again and then said,
"You're not even fucking legal."
She then went on a tirade about how illegal immigrants and "homos" are ruining this "fucking" country.
"Pinche, puto tu madre!" she went on. "There's something you can understand."
A young man laughed, fueling the woman's fire. She now had an audience that approved.
A white woman spoke up and told the woman not to speak like that in front of a child, but the woman called her a fat bitch and told her to shut the fuck up.
When the black woman stepped off the subway followed by the laughing young man, the car went quiet.
The mother stood, with her eyes downcast as her son sat on a seat dangling his legs below.
The white woman looked like she was on the verge of tears and for a moment it seemed as if we all took a collective breath.
We had all been held hostage to this woman's sickness, forced to listen to her anger, but knowing that silence was the only thing that would get this woman off the train.
I caught myself wondering when the last time this woman had been touched tenderly.
I don't know why.
It seemed like she would break someone's arm if they offered her a hug, maybe even bite.
I looked at the Latina mother and wanted to tell her that I was sorry I didn't speak up, but she looked as if she wanted to disappear
and maybe we all wanted to.
Last night I had a dream that I was in a movie theatre trying to convince Mike to leave because I didn't like the movie and someone told me to "shove it up my ass,"
to which i quipped back, "go fuck yourself!"
it's hot in new york right now.
it's almost as if we've all been bracing for this scorching summer that has yet to rear its head but something about the anticipation of it almost seems worse
like a jack n box wound too tight, waiting for the last turn to spring it lose into the world.
now its finally hot and humid but the mounting tension of the past few months makes it much hotter than it is.
i think new yorkers should get a day off just for living in new york.
like Canada's Boxing Day or like a Labor Day for city dwellers
Cause right now, it looks like we could all use a day to cool off.

Friday, July 24, 2009


seven days, baby....
please let those rain cloud icons disappear from you weather forecast.
keep the 87 degrees "feels like 95."
i like it hot.
margaritas, food, beach, catching up with an old friend, making new ones...

Thursday, July 23, 2009

what's in a style?

have you ever gotten to work or perhaps arrived at a bar to meet a friend
or hell, even a date and caught a more accurate glance at just what the hell you had decided to wear before stepping out of your apartment?
today i had one of these style crisis moments.
while a worn out purple tee shirt bought at target several years ago
(and yes i am aware that target clothing has more of a "couple months" shelf life)
matched with hand-me-down gray capris,
black ped socks and blue converse seemed like an okay, comfortable idea at eight in the morning
it became a disaster by nine o'clock
especially since i decided to pack my light gray cardigan with rainbow stripes as the sweater i would wear at work because the air conditioner is sub-zero
and yes, i am wearing a v-neck sweater over a high collared tee shirt.
my hair reveals roots now an inch long and a haircut that is neither here nor there.
I decided on a pony-tail that resembles more of a half-up, half down early nineties look
but, hey, i got silver hoop earrings...
does that count for anything??
i think the negatives outweigh the positives in this style match-up
or rather style mis-match-up
i need to shop for clothes after work today for my vacation but the thought of walking into any retail place dressed like this makes me cringe just a little.
at the same time, i am sure there will be lots of people dying to help me correct this situation.
i have a friend who has a blog where she posts "gratuitous outfit" posts
she is incredibly stylish, has hundreds of followers and i'm sure
saves many a lady from black socks and blue converse.
maybe i should start a list of "if you are dressed like this, turn back around and do some more closet digging" posts
the thing is, while i wish i could be incredibly fashionable
my interest in fashion goes about as far as my interest in algebra
as a kid, i vintaged shop as way of rejecting the clothes that pretty rich girls had
i called them names like "conformists" and "posers"
and then vintage shopping became cool
like all things
-the counter culture becomes the pop-culture-
and now i am amiss at what exactly my style is
caught somewhere in between bohemian, hippie, outdoors, and yet somewhat conservative
i guess the only way to look at it with complete and assured confidence
that whatever disaster i might be wearing is exactly what i should be wearing.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

No Sleep Till....

Have I mentioned that recently Mike and I
moved to BROOKLYN!!!!!!! Every day I fall more and more in love with my new neighborhood and our charming little apartment. Park Slope is gorgeous and I could not be happier with where we landed. We are surrounded by historic brownstones, mom and pop shops, boheHave I mentioned that recently Mike and Imian boutiques, along with cute cafes and awesome bars. Prospect Park is two blocks away and there is a movie theatre right across from it. For years people have been telling me that I would love Brooklyn but I was stuck on living in Manhattan. It took one visit to know that this was absolutely the perfect place. So far Mike has consistently got a parking space in front of our building and I have yet to see a rat or cockroach. (Fingers crossed) I am sure that I have rose colored glasses on, but I am so happy with the new change. Being able to get myself to and from work without depending on NJ Transit, PATH and Mike picking me up or dropping me off has also been a welcomed adjustment. The commute is still 45 minutes, but taking one subway that comes every 5 minutes has made all the difference in the world.

We also have acquired new awesome neighbors that are old friends of Mike, who moved into the neighborhood and are literally one block away. They have a roof deck that looks out over the Manhattan skyline. It is nothing short of amazing. Anyhow, I am looking forward to exploring this borough and more importantly getting a Brooklyn State of Mind.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Gone Too Far

How do you know when its gone too far?
It has now been a week since the news of Michael Jakcson's death and yet I find myself more disturbed by it now then seven days ago. I have been consumed with listening to his songs, watching his old music videos, sifting through photographs of him throughout the last thirty years. And at lunch I even watched the infamous 60 minute interview of Michael Jackson on Christmas Day when he finally spoke out about being charged with seven counts of child molestation. I remembered when that interview aired and I couldn't watch it because looking at his face made me feel this horrible deep depressing feeling. One of incredible loss and yet total disappointment. Michael Jackson was my very first crush and I obsessively loved him and yes, even lusted after him. When I watch his music video for BAD, the same feelings creep up and I realize that perhaps that part of me that saw him as the most incredible man I'd ever seen still exists. Even though my fanaticism for Michael stopped many years ago, my love for this artist never did and now I find myself obsessively tracking the years I missed as if I might piece together what the fuck happened to him. I also find myself consumed with remembering. Consumed with remembering me as a kid and all the years that were great in my childhood, the same years where Michael was on top. And then how everything fell to shit as did the life of my idol. Nothing is guranteed. Things fall apart. I also have to acknowledge that this obsessive chase down the rabbit hole is something I see myself doing but can never seem to stop. Its like a virus and it just has to run its course. Much like my obsession with collecting postcards of vintage Hollywood starlets which lasted several years and then one day just stopped. Like a lightswitch that had been switched off, I lost all interest. Or my obsession with James Dean whose face papered my walls. At one time I had seventeen pictures of the tragic star. I had a similar obsession with Marilyn Monroe. Perhaps all of these tragic stories so completely grip me because I am still trying to answer my own questions about the tragic figure I see in my mother. Regardless of why, I felt if I tried to write about it maybe, just maybe I could pull myself out of this Michael Jackson funk. RIP MJ.