Wow, so much. So much real stuff and so much personal stuff and so many realizations and so little time until this bus pulls up to 34th and 8th and I’m away for a few more days of not writing to you.
So let’s list this up in here:
- moving to brooklyn in 6 days. That’s right.
- starting grad school in about two weeks.
wait, that’s it. well there is a whole another part about accidentally falling head over heels in love, but that’s not really stuff I blog about it.
Bod Dylan just came on the iPod and I didn’t need identification .
Blogging will go back to a three time weekly thing beginning 8/24. So watch for it. Tuesday, Thursday, & Random Weekend posts.
This doesn’t mean the pictures and the terrible tweets will stop. I love that stuff.
Speaking of which I’ll throw some more pictures up too.
Just got back from a family vacation, which is awesome in so much as now I won’t feel obligated to see my family for a year. This does not include the little sister, she’s coming up to Brooklyn to help me move in and hopefully I’ll see her within six months and talk to her often.
Moving to New York from Philly doesn’t feel like moving out of state in a lot of ways. Since it is only two hours away I still feel like I’m able to do things I’ve meant to do, eat at restaurants I’ve planned on eating at, and seeing people I care about (read: friends).
I’m way more nervous about the whole unemployed thing. I’ve never just been a student before, and I’ve never lived on a fixed income.
I don’t know why but I have a compulsive need to dress up while traveling lately. I always seem to wear a skirt and lipstick. My feminism has finally fully evolved enough that I feel as comfortable in heels as I do in combat boots. But l also that I find some sort of comfort in antiquated manners and customs, like thank you cards and fancy hats.
One day I’ll blog about the neo-victorian era that I’m bringing into fashion. It’s going to be huge!
I am still without an i[hone, but now it has been extended another couple weeks. So please don’t be upset if you haven’t heard from me in a while, it’s likely not going to change anytime soon. Still available all the fuck over the internet.
So the only really big thing left to freak out about is packing and the actual move. I’m remarkably zen, but this could have as much to do as being less than two hours from my guy as it is from any real sense of security in my ability to do this stuff.
I actually shouldn’t worry, because I’m not moving myself. I totally forgot to tell you. My friends are so awesome that Sparky and Bennett are actually packing the truck and driving it up to Brooklyn so that I can take my little sister up on the train the night before. Yeah, this is the only reason it is going to work.
Once again, all the things that you would think a family would do, my friends do. Totally selflessly moving me out of freaking state, putting up with my mother while they pack the truck, and taking the freaking bus back to philly.
In exchange I will feed them and booze them till they cry out for mercy. Hey, I’m italian, it’s what I do.
The no phone is really fucking up some stupidly simple stuff, like I can’t make appointments for new york that I was planning on making (new therapist, doctor, etc.). And I never know what time it is anymore either.
Okay will try to get to emails sent while on vacation now, and put some pictures up. Love the free wifi on the bus.
Just finished Philip Roth’s Goodbye, Columbus. Perfectly timed for this point of my life and the time of year, as 2008 slowing winds down, leaving me contemplating my life and my world.
As much as Catcher in the Rye should be read around the age of 16, this should be read around the age of 25. I’m amazed how very little has hanged about the quarter-life since 1959, almost exactly half a century.
Sure we aren’t as uptight about birth control, must of us reared to fell that contraceptives are life snow boots, it’s just the appropriate apparel for most situations. But sex wasn’t demonized by the young couple. It was an unspoken agreement, the way that I often find it still is when I meet someone I want to sleep with.
I’m reading it with my fiction workshop, and I’m the oldest in the class by three year physical years, and probably seven emotional years. I wish they could see what it would be like to read this once school has gone away. When there is nothing clear for them ont he to-do list.
Do we marry?
Is this job our career?
Is this our home?
Are these our families?
Is this the kind of love that I want to be forever?
Or is it all just another day.
If Catcher in the Rye is the quintessential book of our teenage years, surely this is the text that bridges the quarter-life crisis. The pure antithesis of being a teenager, where everything was life or death, now nothing is. Everything is gray and meaningless. And we are left feeling bereft of significance as each day tumbles into the next. Waiting for some real life to begin.
Sorry about the lack of posts, I’m trying to come up with a way to work around that. Things aren’t going to slow down for the next couple months, so until I figure out what I’m doing, I’ll do my best to post when I can.
Lots int he works. Lots indeed.
I’m working on 3 presentations today, to final exams, and a final portfolio. Plus I’m short 4 pages on a academic paper needed for a grad school app, and I’m still down two apps from being complete.
And I’m going to start work on a novella/novel/creative non-fiction/satire thing in between semesters, which means that if I stop leaving my house, it is purely due to trying to get 50,000 words done by March.
I’m a week and a half shy of finishing my fall semester. It’ll be my last fall semester as an undergrad.
There will be many posts working their way in to the beginning of 2009 about the passage of time and the growth I’m awaiting. Plus the long awaited Zombie Christmas poem I’ve been promising since 2006. That’s right, I’ve unearthed it, and it will finally be published here this year.
For more regular updates you can always check My Tumblr Acct. It even shows when this has been updated.
Okay back to the grindstone. More eventually.
I’m fed up. I’m irritated. I’m actually pretty heated over this Philadelphia Pride that I’m supposed to have over the Phillies winning.
I’ll give you my street cred first. I’ve lived around and in most parts of this city and surrounding area for most of my life. I love this stupid city with all my heart. And as a native, I can talk shit on this city. Those not from around here, can not.
I was psyched we won the world series, bringing a championship title home is something that’ll hopefully boost morale and put us in a positive news story that the rest of the country sees. We need that.
That mild excitement (sorry, just can’t get fired up over baseball) lasted less than 5 hours. It lasted until the stories of destruction and vandalism began to come across my computer screen the following morning.
This is how we show our excitement? By trashing the city that houses the world champions of Baseball? You want to yell at me for not wearing my Phillies shirt and not ditching work to get drunk? Why don’t you yell at the asshole next to you turning over the SUV?
Have some pride and don’t smash some windows.
But the problem is, that these assholes aren’t from here. If they were they wouldn’t do this. They are the same tourists that make us hate going to Old City on the weekend and South Street anytime after 8am.
These people have pride in our win, but not in our planters along Broad Street. They have pride in our teams, but know nothing of the tax money that goes into trying to maintain some small aspect of beauty around this city.
In short, these people are from Jersey and the suburbs. They are not your friends, they are not your neighbors. These “Phillies Fans” are the same people who you hate when they are “Irish” in March and half naked groping women walking by for “Mardi Gras”.
You hate these people.
I hate these people.
And labeling these people as Philadelphians is slander against everyone else in this city.
You know what makes me smile?
Old men in lawn chairs trying not to cry with joy that they saw us win two championships in their lifetime.
A woman in my office becoming a grandmother for the second time moments before we won, and her knowing that the two are very much related. Plus she gets to buy World Champ series baby schwag.
People having a reason to talk to their neighbors about something other than who stole their parking space.
People celebrating in their neighborhoods, because we are a city of neighborhoods. And leaving Broad Street to the drunks and the tourists.
Do you want to take pride in this win? I can tell you how to do it. Grab your favorite baseball bat, put on your favorite Phillies shirt, and go stand a sober guard over something along the parade route and don’t let these assholes ruin our moment as a city.
Ugh. English difficult.
It’s a triple beverage breakfast in bed today in chicago. Trying to motivate to shower and decide what to do today.
Yesterday was an odd odd day.
It started with breakfast next door at the Corner Bakery which we have a few on the mainline back home, but they have a shit ton of out here. I’m ecstatic because their signature breakfast thing involves avocado. It’s a good thing.
Then I took the L and went to see a few interesting buildings on the way to Millennium Park.
I had fun taking pictures at the park with its odd shapes and beautiful juxtapositions.
I sat down to enjoy a lemonade and try to decide where to go next. I lit a cigarette. A tall, handsome in that smokes way too much pot kind of way, nigerian guy who lives in cincinatti comes over and starts talking to me.
A guard comes by and tells me there is no smoking int he park. I put it out and field strip it and pocket the butt. The guy and I are talking about where we are visiting from. The guard comes back leans in too close and asks what the guy is talking to me about. He raises his eyebrows and pulls on his belt loops.
I’ve never wanted to punch someone so badly in my life.
The Cincinnatian is standing right there and he is neither deaf nor dumb. I was horrified.
Then a epileptic with Alopecia comes over and starts to ramble off all the buses numbers and destinations within five miles along with every McDonalds location. So that took up a decent portion on time.
Afterwards, I ducked into the Chicago Art Institute. It was a brilliant collection, with the most beautifully curated modern art galleries. They are building a new modern wing and I’d love to see it when it’s done.
I’ve maxed my flickr account for the month so most pictures will trickle through over the next few months.
Then I decided to nap before a late dinner.
I went to this great family friendly biker bar called The Twisted Spoke. Great local beer on tap, really great menu and food. Not your usual biker fare. I had the avocado and crab soup. Mmmmm……guacamole with crab basically. Fantastic. Shared a couple beer with tese two guys finishing up a pub crawl. They were both in their middle ot late forties and the one looked like a CPA while the other looked like he was kidnapped from a Jimmy Buffet concert.
While the Jimmy Buffet concert goer was int he WC the CPA gave me the international sign language for “Do you smoke dope, cowboy?” To which I declined without comment or judgment and then they went on their way.
I don’t know what i want to do today, tonight I’m thinking Navy Pier. I’m just enjoying being lazy right now.
I am writing this from a king sized bed on the 35 th floor of a hotel on the Chicago river. The funnies thing for me about king sized beds for me, is that they are so wide I sleep parallel to the headboard with total comfort.
I’ve landed. I’m checked in. I’m rested. I’m going to go grab breakfast and plan sightseeing as soon as I blog a bit.
The flight was slightly delayed, but I hung out in an airport bar and ate grilled cheese and chatted with fellow travelers.
Took the L or the train into town, found my hotel, checked in, went for food.
I’m int he Chicago equivalent of Center City I believe, but I their cost of living is probably better, because a light dinner and two pints didn’t bankrupt me.
A forty something guy sat down next to me a the bar. He was already wild-eyed drunk and had the definitive looker of a licker.
I am trying to watch Obama’s speech, thrilled to be in chicago for this where they actually turned one of the 12 tvs playing a cubs game to show his speech.
The drunk guy waves at me. Waving is an odd gesture since it’s something often done from afar and he’s sitting 3 inches from me.
He begins speaking to me and telling me racist iris jokes.
I think that he is drunk and doesn’t know how to start a conversation.
Then I ignore him to watch the speech and he begins hollering rascist things at the tv. Like rhythmically clapping and shouting at the tv “He’s black, he’s black, he’s black.”
yeah.
He was shouting about Obama will bankrupt us.
I got up and signaled the bartender that I’d be outside catching a cigarette, and he left shortly after, I think lacking an audience bored him, but my night was ruined without my friend Dave here to start shit with him.
It’s a luxury to lie in bed with my laptop and CNN on and really not need to be anywhere. I’m irritated that McCain stole the news cycle right out from Obama, but it doesn’t matter in the long run I don’t think. I just would have liked to see more coverage of the speech, which I thought was beautiful and less coverage of McCain’s VIP.
Okay one real quick thing to do for work then to a bakery around the corner for coffee and breakfast. I’m starving.
More later
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