I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Holding Hands"]

Thursday, June 26, 2003

Candles and setting up my altar for the first time in 4 years. I needed to start meditating again.

Escargot, which slipped my mind altogether in Paris. I only noticed last night that one of my favorite neighborhood restaurants serves them and, feeling a bit peckish, I ordered an appetizer. In the end, I didn't like them a great deal, but like Paris itself, I'm glad I tried.

Learning above restaurant no longer serves warm chocolate cake, a sort of individual, fudgy chocolate souffle that was my favorite menstrual treat.

The old favorites -- Double Fantasy by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, though I wish at times it werea Yoko-free Single Fantasy.

"Lady Marmalade," the Patti LaBelle version, so "Creole Lady Marmalade" and "skin the color of cafe au lait" make sense, her being in New Orleans and all.

I didn't need to employ what little French I knew, from "Lady Marmalade," while in Paris. You know, "Voulez vous coucher avec moi? Ce soir?"

Boy George, "Step into a life of maybe." Boy, do I know how that is!

I've been worried about stupid things, when someone I loved was losing someone they loved.

Not getting to know someone and now it's too late. Life is too short to waste on people who don't let you in, but it's also too short to avoid letting others in because so weary of phonies.

A excerps from books published by Red Dress Ink. Although the imprint is owned by Harlequin, I am delighted with the sharp, sardonic writing and smart, outsider female protagonists. I stumbled upon Carrie Pilby at the bookstore tonight and delighted in
Rough Guide to Love in New York
. Both books seemed almost as familiar as if I'd written them myself. It gives me hope that there's a market for my fiction out there.

Bad unreality TV, when I should've gone to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at Bryant Park.

The perspective of the many older women in my building. The women my age and younger tend to be insipid, or princesses.

Someone who can't deal with you directly when they do something funky, but who signs you up for every spam list known to man and then some. Passive aggressive fuck.

I am...reading in what spare moments I have. With school out until after Labor Day, I thought those would be a greater part of the day, but I seem to be rushing off to this event or date or the next since I returned from vacation.

I can't believe the summer is 1/3 over. I caught myself about to complain that I hadn't done anything with the summer, in spite of my big plans. Then I remembered, I went to Europe!

I haven't written nearly enough. Ive yet to have developed the discipline to do it consistently, daily. I need to develop this good habit as a writer. There is much material in me and making time for it to flow is vital.

: : :

I am...really enjoying my coworkers of late. Were in the midst of moving and painting and having construction because Non-Profit is subletting half a floor to another non-profit in the building. Everything is torn up, no one knows where anyone sits anymore and were all living out of boxes.

Even as we kvetch, the sense of humor is there. The movers put down squares of cardboard over the carpet, so their carts would move more easily. In one department, someone drew hopscotch squares. In another area there are Monopoly squares (Park Place and Go to Jail); I hope they finish the tiles, which form a rectangle around an interior set of cubicles.

: : :

I am...having an air conditioner installed tomorrow, thank goodness. It went from 55 degrees to 105 in less than a week. Its the kind of heat one forgets about every year, somehow. The air is thick, like breathing cotton. Last week, everyone complained about the cold and rain and how wed had no spring and would we have a summer. This week, its good lord is it hot! Insane.

[Next entry: "Ivy League Material"]
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