Private Shopping Event Invitation...

In case anyone is interested, sometimes there are good deals on these things:

Rue La La--click here to join

From Stinkfish, a mural in Oaxaca. Look at his website — I really like his work.


Last night, went to an after party for a photo show at Milk Gallery in Chelsea. Rode the elevator with David Schwimmer, who complimented my "porcelain skin." He is an intentionally goofy dancer. It was fun to watch.

Apparently I got there an hour after Johnny Depp left... le sigh. Not that I would have been able to say words to him or anything.

Afterward we went to 1Oak. A fun Tuesday night.

Werner Herzog Reads Children's Books: Where's Waldo? and Curious George

If only it really were Werner Herzog, but I give credit to the creator of these brilliant analyses: Stupid is the new awesome

I want I want

Block lamp from Yanko designs




bubble LED lights from Yanko designs

Why doesn't she shut up???

I have so many problems with this speech. First of all, stop preying on ignorant Americans who are just looking to get angry at something — to blame the Democrat-run government for their problems. (They love big government when Republicans are in office...talk about overreaching, telling women what they can and can't do to their own bodies, telling people who they are allowed to marry). What bothers me is they are blaming Obama for the recession, and for our debt to foreign countries. Maybe Palin was blacked out from all her campaigning in the past years and failed to realize that Bush was in office when the recession started. Hmm not very convenient for her ploy. And in the same speech, saying that Obama is responsible for the unemployment rate--which started to plummet, again, under Bush's administration. All the while cooing over missing Bush.

Also, I love this quote about how someone needs to protect and defend the most vulnerable by supporting pro-life candidates.... Protect them from what?? Is there a secret cult of abortion-happy doctors running around and forcing this procedure on unwilling pregnant women? I bet I just haven't heard about it because of the massive liberal media conspiracy...

Maybe, too, don't pimp out your down-syndrome kid. She claims to be so family-oriented, but even after she stepped down from being a governor, she's still out and about all the time and I don't imagine she's spending any actual time with her special needs child. She's using her choice to birth a special needs child as another reason to completely disallow abortions, but fails to acknowledge that not every woman pregnant with a special needs child has millions of dollars to spend on child care while you're running around the country giving speeches in outfits that cost more than any house I'll ever own. Also, super sensitive mama grizzly chooses to put herself on the national stage when her teenage daughter gets pregnant, subjecting her child to national ridicule. She blames the media, but anyone who couldn't predict them jumping all over this is not smart enough to hold public office. A real strange way of protecting your "cubs," mama grizzly face. Her real priority is fame, not her family.

Some reasons in bold

I think I'm in love with this man...


Rocky Dennis' Farewell Song by Jens Lekman

Blind girl I missed you
I've missed you so much
I've been sending you letters, trying to call you
But I can't seem to get in touch
I bet your mom and dad are scared of me
Or maybe they just care about their daughters

I think back upon summer camp
and I think I want to show you more colors
Here's white, here's black
Here's the color of my heart as it started to crack
Beet red, not blue
I think I'm in love with you
I think I'm in love with you

Blind girl I wish you were here
I wish we'd come closer
I wish you had met my family
My mom and Bulldozer
I think back upon summer camp
On New Year's Eve when we danced
I could sit and watch my life go by
Or I could take a tiny chance
'Cause some day I'll be stuffed in some museum
Scaring little kids
With the inscription carpe diem
Something I never did

But can you remember how we rode shiny horses
And we set courses for the sky and the ocean
And I tried to explain it to you but it was too huge
Blind girl I miss you
Blind girl I miss you
Blind girl I miss you



Also, from "When I Told You I Wanted to Be Your Dog":

Everyday make a fine loaf of bread
And after work just before sunset
You hang down to the city park
There you're alone with the burbs in the dark

And I've seen other people do that too
But they're older than your twenty-two
They lost hope and soon they'll be gone
They'll just vanish with the setting sun

But I know, yes I know,
They're flying within you again,
But I won't let them get you
'Cause you're my only friend
You're my only friend

When I said I wanted to be your dog
I wasn't coming on to you
I just wanted to lick your face
Lick those raindrops from the rainy days

You can take me for a walk in the park
I'll be chasing every single lark
I'll be burying all the skeleton bones
Peeing on every cold black stone

But I know, yes I know,
They're flying within you again,
But I won't let them eat you
'Cause you're my only friend
My friend
My only friend
You're my friend

Important!!

A guide to the facial hair styles you should either prevent or avoid...

http://i.imgur.com/PHmF5.jpg

Some interesting things from the interweb

First, something that made me laugh...although I guess it is meant to have a deeper meaning:
What American English sounds like to non-English speakers

Second, a reason I love the Washington Post:
Peeps Show

Third, some beautiful photos of the volcano eruption in Iceland

Agh I just got this message from a random spammer on Skype:

European and American women are too arrogant for you? Are you looking for a sweet lady that will be caring and understanding? Then you came to the right place- here you can find a Russian lady that will love you with all her heart. Can't find a queen to rule your heart? How about beautiful Russian ladies that have royal blood and royal look? Here you can find hundreds of portfolios of these fine women of any age for every taste. Please excuse us if you are not interested.

They also listed a url for their website, hilariously named, but I will not post it here for fear of inadvertently advertising for this nonsense.

It was so nice outside this evening that we had dinner on the roof.

Later, I dipped into a delicious Vosges Ganduja chocolate bar — it basically tastes like solid Nutella.

Feeling slightly productive at the moment; I applied for two jobs —well, more like paid stints — one of which I would be shocked to get an interview for.

It is apparently so hot in DC that the cherry blossoms were all fried. I missed my chance, but perhaps this weekend I will instead go to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

Am hoping to do some traveling this summer...Also, perhaps some health-insurance-getting.

Roxana Saberi and Easter recap

Yesterday I particularly enjoyed going in to my internship. After a full morning of interviews, Roxana Saberi stopped by in the early afternoon for an informal Q&A with the staff and anyone who wanted to attend. She made some very interesting points in response to a few questions:

What should the U.S. government be doing to encourage the respect for human rights in Iran/how do we create a better dialogue with that country?

As she pointed out, the U.S. is not exactly on top of the human rights pedestal at the moment. When Roxana explained to the prosecutor that she was pressured to make a false confession, one of the prison guards argued that she made the confession while they were having an informal conversation, and that "this isn't the United States; we don't waterboard here." In short, before we can expect to gain any headway with a state that is vehemently opposed to our culture and government, we must embody in the best way the ideal that we claim to represent/aim to spread throughout the world. Another political tool they used against us, in response to denunciations of secret prisoners/illegal detention is...dun dun dun...Guantanamo...surprise!

What coping mechanisms did you use to maintain sanity during your captivity?

She said that during solitary confinement, she would sing quietly to herself, pretend to play the piano on the wall, and try to do some exercise in the tiny space she was given. After making her confession, she was moved to a cell with other political prisoners, including a member of the Baha'i leadership (who was charged with spreading corruption). There, they helped each other cope by praying together, except for the atheist in their cell who would watch, apparently. Also, her cellmates were interested in learning English, so she gave them some instruction each day. They also told each other jokes. I can't even imagine having that sort of mental fortitude, especially when your arrest is arbitrary and your future totally uncertain, although having cellmates who are actually not hardened criminals would help as well.

This brings me to another interesting point she made:

She said that in virtually every interview, she was asked whether she didn't know that what she was doing was dangerous, and if she knew she could be arrested for it. I don't believe this is the way she answered them, but she said to us that it is more important to consider why those things could be considered risky--not just whether they are or not...As she said, "Do you expect people to just sit around in their homes picking their noses all day?" To be a real, fulfilled human in that country seems to carry an inherent risk, and this is what she is trying to say. We all know that those who were arrested in similar circumstances are not really guilty, but we still expect, from our Western perspective, that the people over there should still try to follow random, unpredictable, and fluid laws, while it seems that the only way to do that successfully is to either be a hermit or work for the government.


And now to talk a little about part of the reason we garner so much hatred from those cultures in the first place...or, How I Spent My Easter

Because everyone was a little groggy from the previous evening, "brunch" began around 4 PM. I had been up for a long time because of dog-duty, and C and I went to visit her new apartment in Bushwick. Her neighborhood is really great and has a wonderful communal feel, perhaps because it was warm, sunny, and everyone seemed to be on the streets, yelling or playing cards. Afterward, we went to Chez Sheep, where her roommate, M, whose birthday was celebrated the night before, was cooking up a storm. The spread was amazing: cold black bean salad, oriental salad, hot zucchini stuffing (I'm generally not a fan of either zucchini or stuffing, but this was amazing!!), pancakes, homefries and, for the non-veggies, sloppy joes. We also had mimosas and a ton of margaritas. We spent the remainder of the daylight hours on the front stoop enjoying the weather and watching little kids go by in their fancy church get-ups.

I am hoping to get the stuffing recipe...

Dinner Party

Tonight I decided to pretend to be grown-up. I hosted a "dinner party" at my flat and served:

Starter
Fresh Mesclun Salad with diced apples and home-made lemon vinaigrette

Dressing:
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Dollop of Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp olive oil
Splash vinegar (I used wine vinegar—it has a distinctive fruity flavor, less salty than reg. vinegar)

*This dressing went over quite well, and is a tasty citrusy match for the apple. I will make two points about it:
1.) When trying to replicate a similar dressing without fresh lemons (or any lemon juice) at hand, I improvised and used 100% orange juice instead, with olive oil and the wine vinegar (no mustard, though I'd be curious to try it..). This formula went over really well with the kids! The orange juice has a similar citrus tang that they are used to, but less of a bite and a little more sweetness (it is important not to use too much wine vinegar, or else the formula will be too sweet).
2.)With the recipe I used tonight (with lemon) described above, I would like to play a little more with the salad. In my opinion, the greens I used were an absolutely perfect match for the dressing — perhaps I would consider adding some arugula or a little baby spinach (maybe I should try it as a sauteeing sauce for fresh spinach! That sounds kind of good..), but next time, with a little more preparation, I would like to go slightly more Greek. I am thinking that this dressing (either the original or the one mentioned in Note #1) would go quite well with a mesclun salad with halved seedless red grapes, crumbled either bleu, feta, or chevre cheese (depending on your audience's tastes), and yes, some diced apple of the sweet variety — considering the cheese, a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper might be appropriate.
Wine pairing: Bitch (seriously, it's called Bitch--a sweetish red good to be opened before beginning the feast, and a nice accompaniment to the salad)

Entree

Eggplant Parmesan:
It is always a little different each time I make it. But this is one of the few times people were taking seconds, and thirds, at the dinner table. As usual, I sweated the eggplant slices (sprinkle salt on each slice, layer them in a colander and let them stand. After (ideally) an hour or two (or however much time you have, preferably at least 30 mins), pat them off with paper towels. Then coat them in scrambled raw egg, and cover them in (my version) mixture of panko bread crumbs, coarse salt, and black pepper (I have sometimes included some smoked paprika in this mixture, when I plan to be feeding those used to eating meat) spread out on a dinner plate. Fry these in olive oil, ideally, but veggie oil will do.

I have actually found it is best to do this frying and prep work the night before 1) so that you are not sweaty, gross, and stressed the evening you are serving up this delicious food, but also 2) because when you fry them up the next day (after they have cooled in the fridge overnight) they crisp up better — they already have a bready coating, so don't absorb so much oil, and can just sit in the frying pan without really burning and get nice and crispy.
This time, I used Newman's Own tomato basil pasta sauce--spread a thin layer on the bottom of a baking dish (ideally for a casserole dish, but used what I had), put on the first layer of eggplants, covered those with a smearing of sauce, sprinkled on a shredded cheese mixture of mozzarella, Parmesan, reggiano, and provolone; next layer: same until the cheese, which was a little of the cheese mixture, plus some freshly grated smoked Gouda (see! my substitute for smoked paprika — I find it gives a more substantial flavor for meat-eaters). Third layer was again eggplant, sauce, a minor sprinkling of the shredded cheese mixture, and then some conservative slices of fresh mozzarella, plus all the leftover breadcrumbs in the pan. If by some good fortune you don't have any strays, it would be delicious to sautee some extra (panko) bread crumbs in either olive oil (healthy) or salted butter (decadent!!), and sprinkle a layer on the very top, to add some more texture. I also sprinkled a bit of coarse salt, plus the tiniest bit of freshly ground black pepper (would have done more, but I am a pepper fiend and my friends are not...).
I baked the whole thing for 40 minutes at 325, but I suggest checking in regularly after 30 mins, or if you know your oven to be strong, safely at 300.

A lot of people serve this with a side carb, especially angelhair pasta, but I think if anything it would be best with a light veggie, such as edamame (we did not do this, as one of my friends is allergic to soy)

Wine pairing: Casillero del Diablo — a strong red that stands up to the full bodied flavors of the eggplant parm.


Dessert

Home-made whipped cream with fresh berries

To allow yourself more time with your guests, it is best to prepare the whipped cream immediately before you expect your guests to arrive, then stick it in the fridge. It took me about 7 minutes or so with a manual beater, though probably less with an electric. I added a tiny bit of cream honey, a couple drops of pure vanilla extract, and a sprinkling of cinnamon to about half of one of those school-sized mini cartons of organic heavy whipping cream. It is best to stir in your flavorings with a spoon first, so that they are evenly distributed, then go at it with a beater.
For the berries, one of my guests brought amazing blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries (which we quartered). A refreshing end to a fairly heavy meal.

Wine pairing: Scuttlehole Chardonnay, a fairly delicate white


Surprise palate cleanser

Green tea ice cream with fresh strawberry

While we were watching the Ricky Gervais Show, I ran to the kitchen and served each about two teaspoons full of some lovely green tea ice cream (although any sorbet or peppermint without the chocolate chips would do) that went well with some of the remaining strawberry. They were pleasantly surprised, and it is quite a light and slightly exotic/pleasantly surprising end to the food portion of the evening.

Super tip!! If you are the one left holding the excess eggplant parm, it is actually pretty delicious if you heat it up and put it on a baguette as a sandwich, or eat it cold gradually out of its dish in the fridge--also delicious. Perhaps why it is my favorite to make--it is almost as good as leftovers as it was the night you first served it.

Holy crap, just looked over and realized the puppy was on my bed--was wondering what that giant black blob was...

Disappointment and enchantment with Obama

There are a lot of reasons I am disappointed with Obama, but I must admit that not all of them have been his fault. I also blame the Senate, and the most partisan people of all: pigheaded Republicans who are ready to stage a coup just because one of their own isn't in the executive anymore. It is really easy to cry "partisan politics" every time something doesn't go your way. Much easier than admitting that you need to suck it up and wait your turn in the minority for once, as if it isn't enough to control most of the wealth in this country and use it to suppress foreign populations.

What the hell can be evil about guaranteeing that people in your own country can see a doctor if they need to? What is this culture of angry, vicious selfishness and how did they manage to convincingly wrap it in a cloak of Christian morality? To tell the truth, I have issues with giving people money on the subway. I feel bad about it, but after naively giving a fiver to a sad homeless lady in DC who had been following me for a while and realizing that she was undoubtedly a crackhead, I don't feel much like supporting those types of habits anymore. If I have extra food I happily give it away, and in the summer I gave a woman inexplicably wrapped in blankets a bottle of water I bought specifically for her...but universal health insurance is nothing like that. When there is clear evidence of healthier and more productive societies with this system overseas (i.e. the Scandinavians, Switzerland, and other pinnacles of Western development known for chocolate, watches, and beer), why would we prefer to group ourselves with developing countries?

Which brings up another question: why do we seem to enjoy being in the company of Somalia when it comes to our human rights record?? The Convention on the Rights of the Child has been ratified by every other UN member but the US and Somalia. Balls. And now we have yet to sign something newer and extremely important (although for obvious reasons): the International Convention against Enforced Disappearances (ICAED). They have a very good website. Well I must say if we want to keep up this practice of disappearing people ourselves because of the "war on terror" it would be a bit hypocritical to sign this. But perhaps we should just change our ways, no? Even Guatemala has sign on, for chrissake.

Enough of my annoyed blathering on...here is one of the most lovely things I heard about this week, which ensures that, despite all this nonsense, Obama still holds my heart:

*This is a translation from Watching America of an article originally in French from La Presse, please to find it on the WA website here here.

Obama 10, Harper 0

By Nathalie Petrowski

Translated By Andrew Lusztyk

6 March 2010

Edited by Brigid Burt

Click here for the original

Every second Monday for the past three years, almost religiously, the author Yann Martel sends a letter and a book to Stephen Harper. Rather than educate him, the books are meant to accompany his moments of silence, as Martel explains on his Web site [See here].

So far, 76 books have been sent to the prime minister, each accompanied by a polite and comely letter, in which the author explains his current literary selection and what the prime minister should look out for in the book.

With the exception of five letters of acknowledgment, the first sent by an assistant and the remaining four by correspondents, Martel has never received a letter, note or single word from Harper. Nothing in three years — a great epistolary silence.

In addition, Martel recently experienced quite a shock when checking his mail. Rather than finding a dispatch from Harper waiting in his mailbox, he found an envelope sent from the White House. Inside, there was a note that addressed him personally, handwritten by President Obama himself.

Imagine his astonishment. Snubbed for the past three years by his own prime minister, Martel is now receiving consolation from the most powerful man in the West without ever having asked for it. What delicious irony …

“Mr. Martel,” wrote President Obama, “My daughter and I just finished reading Life of Pi together. It is a lovely book — an elegant proof of God and the power of storytelling.”

Martel nearly fainted from joy. His heart skipped a beat as he wrote back, adding that the selfless gesture was what had stunned him the most. How, indeed! Barack Obama had effectively nothing to gain politically, financially or even diplomatically by writing to a Canadian author who lives in the deep end of Saskatchewan. Martel wouldn’t help Obama get reelected, pass his health care reform or regain full control of the Senate.

Obama had nothing to benefit from his gesture. And yet, he wanted to do it anyway. He wanted to write this little handwritten note in person, which says everything. Before this, he wanted to read a book that wasn’t a thriller or a bestseller sold in airports, but a beautiful philosophical story — one that was deep and complex. Lastly, he wanted to share this story with his daughter.

Do you know many presidents who read books with their children? Does Harper do the same with his children? I certainly hope that it happens from time to time. After all, Harper is also a father. Except that, so far, he’s been a father who gives his children a handshake rather than a kiss when dropping them off at school. He’s also a man who recently admitted that if he had had the choice to become a prime minister or a hockey player, he would have rather been a hockey player.

This coming June, it will be exactly five years since Harper told us that he was writing a book on the history of hockey. At this point, writing the book seems to be a laborious process that consumes all of the prime minister’s free time. We could suppose that this is the real reason why Harper never replies to Martel. Otherwise, how can we explain that the prime minister of Canada — who, moreover, recently enjoyed an extended vacation from Parliament — hasn’t taken the time to write three sentences to one of his country’s important authors and winner of the prestigious Man Booker Prize when, on the other side of the border, the most powerful and busiest man in the free world could do so? If it isn’t a question of time, then I can only think of two reasons for Stephen Harper’s epistolary silence: arrogance and a lack of class. How worrying.

Today I went to the playground with one of the girls. A good way to enjoy the glorious weather, and I got to make a lovely fool out of myself. There is a large silver dome-like object protruding from the recycled tire playground floor, which is ostensibly for climbing but is effectively a source of frustration for small children, the parents (or babysitters) who have to push those children as far to the top as possible, and obese kids. It took me about five or six tries, with large running starts, to scale the slippery surface. I was chiefly motivated by the setting sun and my eight-year-old charge, who was taunting me from the top and threatening to not come down unless I "got" her.

Earlier, when she was on some sort of ultra-modern Miro-esque jungle gym, I had a strange encounter with a young mother. Out of the blue, she began asking me all sorts of questions, starting with identifying my relationship to the little one. When she realized I was a nanny, she asked what else I do. Perhaps she was foreign, because when I told her I was in intern and what that entailed, she bluntly asked, "Why do you do that?" Kind of a good question, although from a strange source. She also asked what my ambitions were, had no idea what an NGO is, and then seemed to vanish into thin air. Even the youngster was dubious.

Random note: The other evening, my friend and I ventured down the street from my apartment to get some pizza. Outside of a very expensive, and quite famous Italian restaurant, a well-dressed and seemingly sober man said to us as we passed, "Hello ladies, meowgrrrr."

Upset I did not get to the Danielson show last night, but was not relieved of homework assisting duties on time, and was far too exhausted anyway. This Friday looking forward to the Real Estate show.

At times I think I'm working for a relatively unconventional nanny-having family, and it's true that they are not the traditionally stiff UES types they show in the movies, but the extent that the parents financially dote on their children is nearing the insanity mark.

for one: buying a 9-year-old a $1000 laptop. It's pretty gross at this point; it has food and grease and all kinds of other stains all over it.

a $125 hair brush [keep in mind that this is for children who are routinely exposed to lice outbreaks]

most recently: a highly expensive pair of sewing scissors

Yesterday alone the youngest received two dresses, one of silk; two t-shirts; and four bathing suits. They get a new clothing item or gift at least every day. It sounds like it would be a fun childhood, but I wonder if I'd be bored getting everything I wanted. I guess you just have to find new things to want.

Mostly Ramblings about 8 1/2

Lately I have been trying to make up for my depressing and extreme lack of familiarity with classic films. One I particularly enjoyed was Holiday with Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. I think I'm quite in love with Cary Grant as it turns out, seeing as so far, Holiday and His Girl Friday are my favorite movies of that genre and time (although, as I said, these are picked from a very minimal selection of material I'm acquainted with).

Today I finally got around to watching Fellini's 8 1/2. Without knowing any objective truths about his filmmaking style, when I watched this I saw not just a finished product, or a neat little package, but about a million decisions. Everything seemed so deliberate, and for me that is extremely impressive, to imagine someone making choice after choice, specification after specification. I think this only hit me at the end, when we see the little parade of clowns playing horns. I thought, Wow, someone said, now there will be about 4 clowns and a small boy marching toward the spaceship, and the mind-reader will come back, and Guido's hat will be slightly squashed and askew.

Perhaps I am crazy, but I wonder if David Lynch got any sort of inspiration from his films. From the relatively little I have seen of either of them, there seems to be some sort of sameness that I can't describe in any real way. Perhaps the disjointed nature of both of them, the aesthetic integrity of individual scenes and shots [and the viewer's ability to appreciate their dreamy quality independently from the rest of the film] that transforms when seen in their larger context. Although 8 1/2, and similarly La Dolce Vita, remind me of an abstract quilt in their construction, or a mess of orange peels sewed back together in a new order: there are tons of connections and common threads [in particular by way of music], but often where you don't expect them. They made me wonder at what was real and what wasn't, because the beginning of the film had very clear delineations between dreams and reality, but those two get somewhat fused with memory later on, while the three blur together and fade in and out of one another.

Perhaps it is the philistine in me, but I can't seem to watch it straight in one sitting. Or perhaps it's the constant interruptions. However, every time I return to the screen, the sensation reminds me of simultaneously splashing cold water on my face and drinking a mug of warm milk. If dreamlike can be refreshing. Lastly, I will just add that I love Marcello Mastroianni.

Final note: For some reason I found this funny: While walking the dog, we converged with three other canines on the sidewalk, including one that lives in my building. Her human termed this "a meeting of the minds." Perhaps I only saw humor in this because the particular doggy "mind" I was accompanying pertains to a creature whose favorite snack is pencils. I must say that he seems to have a pretty good memory because every time I have given him water since The Chocolate Icing Incident, he sniffs it suspiciously as if trying to determine whether I have laced it with hydrogen peroxide. He will now only trust me to give him ice cubes.

Tonight the puppy discreetly consumed an entire bowl of chocolate icing. We called the vet, who suggested that we induce vomiting by smearing some peanut butter on the bottom of his food dish and covering it with hydrogen peroxide (the amount varies based on the weight of the dog). So, I spent part of my Friday PM cleaning this sludge off the floor with the mom, who was wearing a Missoni dress and YSL lacquered toenails. I guess neither of us envisioned this sort of evening.

On the other side of the planet (actually just down on Prince St.), an acquaintance is singing at a miniature fashion show, complete with after-party. Bah.

Tomorrow is G's birthday party. Take a dozen screaming girls, combine with sugar, sugar, messy taco ingredients, trampolines, and a trapeze. Bound to be at least memorable, if not disastrous.

I started watching "I'm Not There" this evening, but I think I'm really more in the mood for a classic, linear, feel-good film. Or perhaps I will watch Taxi Driver.

Earlier this afternoon I took the puppy on a walk and almost (literally) bumped into Chris Noth. I think he noticed me being a total creepster, or he was laughing at the dog. It would seem we are sort of neighbors...It is quite surreal to see a face you see all the time on tv suddenly in front of you because it almost seems to ordinary, until you remember why their face is so familiar.

A friend from home is in town with her dad and sister for her birthday. We are headed to the only jazz "club" I could find that allows minors–oddly enough it is one of the only two jazz places I have ever actually been to in New York, Cleopatra's Needle. Off I go..

Perhaps I will continue to say things...to myself

This evening I watched a movie that both made me want to eat forever, and never want to eat again. La Grande Bouffe is pretty slow for a movie that is totally insane–and I don't mean that in a bad way at all. Perhaps the pace is meant to add a more realistic dimension to what sort of reminds me of a combination of Tampopo and Como Agua Para Chocolate or some other magical realistic film. The food has such a strong hold over these people, as diversion, comfort, a means of celebration, and a medium through which to live extraordinarily, it sort of makes me want to be a chef or just mess around in a kitchen while I also am feeling pretty good about being vegetarian.

Before I forget, I would just like to note that the other weekend, on the way home at about 3 or 4 in the morning, my friend and I met a man named Lou in the subway. He was middle aged, and as my friend said, had a face that looked like the surface of the moon, but was very friendly and we were both quite smashed. The long and the short of it is he said I look like Fiona Apple ("around the eyes") and forced us to leave a voicemail at Drew Barrymore's film company beseeching her to give Lou a ride to the airport. Too weird.

Today, one of the girls I look after got a cello–she is to begin lessons next week. Meanwhile, her sister got out her castaway guitar and the two had a jam session on the respective instruments that neither could play. The sounds coming from their room resembled, as I imagine, a party of cats and roosters giving each other rabies, but louder.