Daddy's Girl

attn: Elizabeth Wurtzel: "Sylvia Plath with an ego," while perhaps accurate, is not a compliment*


*better yet: "way less talented Sylvia Plath with an ego"

Dead Soles

Unexpectedly, gold ballet flats were the most practical shoes I owned.

Catch-212

I'm thinking very seriously about leaving New York. I'm not one of those people who is in the throes of a passionate love affair with the city: it's cold and status-conscious and mean; the pace condones, if not encourages, jerkiness; groceries and food and rent and movies seem to cost what they're worth, times two. I hate it here. And yet, there is a problem with every other American metropolis: it's not New York.

Me, Myself, and Mnouchkine

I saw Ariane Mnouchkine's Les Ephemeres at Lincoln Center Armory last week. After four years coerced into singing her endless praises, part of me was hoping for a let down (she's not that great). No luck. It was amazing.

I went alone. It ought to be liberating to go to something so decadent alone; instead, it was profoundly lonely. Still, there's something to be said for being freed from the obligations of companionship: it's nice not to care whether or not it was good for you, too.

Fresh Fruits and Vegetables

Conventional wisdom says that you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry. A sensible adage that ought to prevent impulse purchasing. However, there is something more dangerous than shopping while hungry: shopping with a craving. This is how, for example, I ended up with a refrigerator stuffed with nothing but fruit. And in the freezer? fruit-flavored Popsicles. I'm hungry.

Cheers!

I know it's gauche (despite its brief comeback the summer of 2008), but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it:

I really like rosé.

[the fast and the] FURIOUS

Premise One: I am concerned that my super thinks my lease is up August 1. He has apparently been giving out the key to brokers so they can begin showing the apartment. A month early. With no warning. I am very angry. And very nervous we're going to have to whip out the contract in order to prove we get to stay here (granted the privilege?) of staying here UNTIL THE END OF THE LEASE. Which, with our super, will definitely be a pleasure.

Premise Two: Starting now, I need to keep this place immaculate. For two months. I am...not really...an immaculate person.

Conclusion: I hate Rapid Realty. I hate my super (nothing new here). Increasingly, I hate my apartment, which is over-priced--if only we'd known better--and tiny and poorly designed and at least 30 degrees overheated year-round. I have to keep reminding myself that this does not mean I hate New York.