Thursday, June 28, 2007

i think i know my geometry pretty damn well

Well, it's been a few weeks. Since my last entry, I've gotten a little older, a little wiser, a little busy. So I'm making a list, because we all like lists, right? For inexplicable reasons to you and me, these are not in chronological order.

1. I celebrated the beginning of my 23rd year in style. Brunch at Park Luncheonette, perusing misshapen baked goods at the farmers' market, throwing a highly unattractive and ill-advised tantrum about the magical perfect birthday outfit and my newly shorn hair. We made it through Central Park and a temporary thunderstorm to see Apples in Stereo and Television, traveled to Williamsburg to meet Rebecca for dinner at Moto (my recently declared favorite eatery, with a real speakeasy feel), an experience highlighted by cheese fondue, a big-as-your-head bowl of mussels, bittersweet chocolate pudding with a candle, and a live balkan brass band. Met up with others for drinks in Greenpoint, which ended in a 2 a.m. drunken ping pong battle. Needless to say, my birthday was the bomb.

2. This past Saturday, after a wasted morning and four subway transfers, I arrived on Coney Island. It was a momentous occasion on many levels (well, two): it was my first visit, and it was the annual Mermaid Day Parade. A full day of mermaid- and pirate-inspired chaos, culminating in a three-hour (it might have been longer, but I got impatient and hot and withdrew early) freakshow parade of sorts. Entertaining, naturally, but one can only bear so many costumed mermaids, drawn-out minutes of jammed parade traffic, and shrieking, sunburned babies born from shrieking, sunburned parents. Sat on the beach, rode the Wonder Wheel, ate gigantic sausages, people-watched, flexed my impressive bumper cars skills (three times, for good measure). Around 9 we stumbled home, feeling pink, stuffed and exhausted, but happy.

3. I'm jumping a plane to Michigan in six days. There will be a Pentwater excursion (lake michigan! boats! trees! no garbage smells and incessant car honks!), a seven-year-old's birthday celebration, a big fat Greek wedding in Motor City and other unplanned excitement.

4. My lease is up in a month, and because Astoria has proven to be safe, clean and fantastically boring, I'm moving to Brooklyn. I haven't met my new roommate, but she definitely exists and her name is Alicia (a friend-of-a-friend setup). As a fellow Midwesterner (a Wisconsiner!), I'm sure we will have a jolly time saying "pop" and "in line" to the shock and dismay of East-Coasters everywhere.

5. Four days after my return from the pleasant penisulas, I'm flying to Chicago for the Pitchfork Festival to spend two full days with Brian & his Oklahoma entourage. Amid seeing some great and not-so-great acts, I'll also be staying in the "joke of Chicago" hotel, according to my brother's recent review. Allegedly, our selected stay is famously home to Chicago's miscreants, bums, live-ins and the ilk, which should make for some unforeseen adventures.

6. I'm going to a pool party barbeque on Saturday. It's on Staten Island (uncharted territory). I'm a little wary, but confident that the heaps of free barbequed meat will assuage my fears. And maybe the ferry. But no, mostly the meat.

Friday, June 8, 2007

the chrysler building was talkin' to the empire state

There were three birthdays in the office on Wednesday, which meant I shoveled too much cake (a moist, delicious, brownie-like cake that didn't make me gag!) and Mexican food into my esophagus for celebration's sake. Yesterday, I opted for a half day (because I can) and spent the afternoon in parks instead of slumped over a desk. After lunch with Brian in Battery Park City, I walked up Fulton Street just in time to see a middle-aged, beer-gutted man in a full pink tutu, with lacy garters and a frilly headpiece, just cruising down the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette and on his merry way somewhere. At Bryant Park, I indulged in overpriced ice cream and propped myself up with two park chairs about 10 feet from a sundried, thunderously snoring man with his shirt inched up past his mountainous belly. Just after settling into my book, a woman set up shop five feet ahead to prepare all of us naysayers for Christ's second coming, which is apparently soon. I stayed just long enough to hear about floods and fire, then witness a passer-by's failed plea for silence, closely followed by a police citation. When I exited the park, the policeman had gone and I could hear the woman's confident, steady voice start up again. Tonight, I'm attending an experimental show in a converted silo on the Gowanus Canal, tomorrow is a mystery, and Sunday I'll be picnicking and paddling a boat through Central Park. Sometimes life isn't so bad, you know?