I walked to Union Square with my sweet, insane friend Babatunde. He always dresses better than me, without any of my squarish inhibitions. I wish I had the nerve to walk about in spraypainted shoes and a gauzy blouse! I also wish that I had his friend Chris's number. We once ran into Chris at the movies, and after I told Chris that I wanted to have sex with him, Chris promised we would someday. He was probably teasing me, which is a strange trend that I've been noticing, but at my age, I have to pursue these leads! As we walked to Union Ssquare, Babatunde offered me Chris's phone number, but I declined, as is my way, and instead he left Chris a voicemail with my phone number. I will be waiting, in a way, for Chris's call for the rest of my dark, unnatural life. That's what I love most about life: hoping.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
My second boyfriend (and the only one worth speaking to) Josh came in from San Francisco, and managed to squeeze me into his busy schedule. He is a busy man, on the move! I took him to Billy's Bakery on 9th Avenue, and we were on line, waiting to be served. We had just been discussing, for some reason, the characteristics of his people, the Jews, when a member of the Billy's staff announced that free samples were being given out of a particular dessert. Joshie exclaimed, "samples!" and honed in on them with a terrifying speed. I was so embarrassed for him! I looked away discreetly.
Sitting down, I told Joshie that his character in my novel-in-progress, THE OMNIVORE, was a Trekkie. By making that character a Trekkie, I was really making fun of Joshie's clothing at the time we were boyfriends. He used to wear tight polyester sweaters with designs on them, such as the crew of the Starship Enterprise might wear. He told me that he used to buy those sweaters at Aardvark, but now he doesn't wear used clothing. I asked him where his outfit had come from today. Apparently, the shirt was from Singapore, the jeans from Israel, the socks from Japan, and the underwear from I forget where - the moon, perhaps. He has become so international! And I? What have I become?
No matter! Joshie looked as foxy as ever (even more so, perhaps) and I offered to "plow his hole" if he needed it to be plowed that day. He wisely demurred, and we went our separate ways, me to itemize my days' purchases, he to lurk about in Chelsea. Lurk on, Joshie! : )
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I wore this outfit on my last day of work at HMH. All day, I was cleaning out my office and coming close to tears. I've been there four years, and I loved that job. I've never loved a job before. But it's time to move on. I emailed my authors, I sent out a goodbye email to my colleagues, and I started emailing myself some contacts. Andrea sent me a sweet, sad email, and I wanted to respond, but leaving Andrea is the most painful part of this split. She's challenged me so much, made me a better person, and I still have a bit of a platonic crush on her. I'll email her plenty later. Around 5 p.m., George came and sweetly said goodbye to me. I'll know George forever. Around 5:30 p.m., my network access was taken away, and then Brigid came and offered to share a cab home. That woman is so sweet, and also so smart, and I will miss listening to her crazy-making plans in meetings. I carried my bags into my apartment and spooned with the Colonel, who always senses my weakness and knows when to move in. I felt myself go into the paralysis I experience whenever I'm going through a trauma. I was weak as a kitten, and couldn't bring myself to call anyone, but I managed to text a couple of people. Mike responded and said he was going to 1st and 1st. Chris responded and said he would meet me there. I met up with Mike, and Chris arrived soon after. Mike had a dinner for his birthday after, and couldn't hang out for long, and Chris wanted to go home. But he walked me to 3rd Avenue and 14th Street, at which point a bus was waiting - right there! - and whisked me home. I took off this outfit (here it is lying, emptied, on my bed) and thought about how, earlier that day, I had amused myself by wearing a Rogues' Gallery shirt to my last day at HMH. Life is a rogues' gallery, and sometimes I feel like the biggest rogue. My friends are all rogues, too, and today, a few of them may have saved my life: George, Andrea, Brigid, Mike, Chris, and everyone I know and thought of today - I love you all.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
I was lurking about in Union Square this past week when I saw the most amazing hat ever! A cat! Ahhhhhhhh! I tried to take a surreptitious picture of this sight, but the man with the cat hat saw me, and tried to shake me down for one dollar. I talked him down to 50 cents. What a racket! Why can't my stupid cat help me shake down pedestrians in a public square? C'mon, Colonel! Of course, he would never lift a paw to help me. And if I ever put the Colonel on my head in public, I would soon be wearing a hat made of blood.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
As many people will tell you, I've been in the market for a track suit for years now. I've never had one! I have many criteria for the perfect one - it must not have a "swoosh" on it, the jacket must zip and have a hood, and it must be slightly cheesy. Really, if I could ask Al Sharpton where he got the track suits he used to wear in the 90s, I would be in good shape.
I met a friendly fellow named Aidan on the street near my apartment, and asked him if I could photograph his track suit, which is perfectly delicious, although hood-less. Now that I'm typing this blog, I'm remembering that when he called me back the next day (I was going to give him the url for my blog) I informed him that I was "enjoying myself," and that I would have to call him back another time. Now I really do have to call him soon, so that I can erase that perfectly inappropriate image from his mind, and make a nice second impression. (Or third).
If anyone knows where I can find a website with lots of exciting track suits, let me know!
George took me to the 20th-anniversary performance of Sandra Bernhard's "Without You I'm Nothing." After the performance, we waited for her to come out and greet us. I ran into my old pal Chris, who used to work at Chelsea clothing store Camouflage. I swear, I used to go in there at least 4 times a week. Back then, everyone thought I lived in Chelsea, because I ate everyday at Food Bar and was always lugging around a Camouflage bag. But sadly, I lived a mile away, off Gramercy Park. How sad that I cabbed it everyday to an alien neighborhood and walked around alone and drunk, pretending I was fabulous.
I asked Chris where he had gotten his fabulous white leather shoes. He looked down and smiled, "I don't even know!" I accused him of pretending to be some fashion ingenue, not even aware of how good he looked. He probably had them handmade for him in Germany, which seems to be a standard response these days to my fashion inquiries.
After the show, Sandra Bernhard told me I had a "great face." Really, she did! I replied, "Gracias por la musica," which was a nice thing to say. An even nicer one might have been: "You too." And she really is smokin', inside and out. If we were both straight, we'd probably wear out our mattresses together.
I purchased a "signature piece," a cranberry-colored hoodie from American Apparel. This was my first clothing purchase in weeks - because of the economy (and my own efforts at making my wardrobe less off-putting) I have removed the daily Gilt.com alerts from my calendar, thus ensuring that I do not purchase multiple ridiculous items a month from that wonderful website. But I wanted something a little red for the summer, and so I marched down to the neighborhood American Apparel and purchased this hoodie. My friend Christopher took this picture, as we headed home after a dynamite performance by PJ Harvey and John Parrish at Town Hall. She was amazing!