These pictures were taken of me at Karma by K at my 26th b'day party a few weeks ago. BAH! Why do I assume such trite positions when photographed? The signature head tilt is conspicuously absent.
October 31, 2006
Typical Poses
These pictures were taken of me at Karma by K at my 26th b'day party a few weeks ago. BAH! Why do I assume such trite positions when photographed? The signature head tilt is conspicuously absent.
October 30, 2006
The Frick Collection
Cimabue's late 12th century devotional paintings are on display at The Frick presently. It's a glorious space with indoor and outdoor water fountains and flora.
My first visit to the mansion on 70th Street just east of 5th Avenue was marked by my first time carrying and using an audio guide. The information imparted was a bit too detailed and sophisticated for my palette, but the basic take-away was enhaced by the context. Talk about getting a free Art History lesson~
I'm never museum-ing without the audio guide. I'm also leaning away from going with others. NO reason to slow or speed up to suit the pace of another when you have a array of experts to walk you through at a pace you choose.
My first visit to the mansion on 70th Street just east of 5th Avenue was marked by my first time carrying and using an audio guide. The information imparted was a bit too detailed and sophisticated for my palette, but the basic take-away was enhaced by the context. Talk about getting a free Art History lesson~
I'm never museum-ing without the audio guide. I'm also leaning away from going with others. NO reason to slow or speed up to suit the pace of another when you have a array of experts to walk you through at a pace you choose.
The Bodies
The eight elements that affected me most at The Bodies exhibit, located three short blocks from my apartment building, were as follows:
1. Teratoma: a visual of teeth and nails growing in an ovary! This is a kind of germ cell cancer prevalent in children.
2. A room filled with fetuses floating in glass jars. I felt like I was in an episode of The X-Files--David Duchovny, why won't you love me?--except the plot was more in line with Unsolved Mysteries.
3. The absence of malodor. Considering that the bodies had been preserved with a specificty to muscle, nerve, and blood (via polymerization) channels; I couldn't help marvel at the lack of nose scrunching I did as I ambled from room to room.
4. The room dedicated to the brain with particular emphasis on the thin segmental slices carefully displayed on slides highlighting the true INSIDES of our heads.
5. The fact that every single body, predominantly male bodies, were of Chinese descent. Gives real credence to the Falun Gong ads and protestors all over Manhattan--silently sitting in cages.
6. The pristine preservation of the bodies and organs both still and in motion.
7. Kicking myself for not availing myself of the audio guide--lesson from the Frick learned but not practiced--Regret!
8. A liver with cirrhosis...enough said! Vowing to drink less.
1. Teratoma: a visual of teeth and nails growing in an ovary! This is a kind of germ cell cancer prevalent in children.
2. A room filled with fetuses floating in glass jars. I felt like I was in an episode of The X-Files--David Duchovny, why won't you love me?--except the plot was more in line with Unsolved Mysteries.
3. The absence of malodor. Considering that the bodies had been preserved with a specificty to muscle, nerve, and blood (via polymerization) channels; I couldn't help marvel at the lack of nose scrunching I did as I ambled from room to room.
4. The room dedicated to the brain with particular emphasis on the thin segmental slices carefully displayed on slides highlighting the true INSIDES of our heads.
5. The fact that every single body, predominantly male bodies, were of Chinese descent. Gives real credence to the Falun Gong ads and protestors all over Manhattan--silently sitting in cages.
6. The pristine preservation of the bodies and organs both still and in motion.
7. Kicking myself for not availing myself of the audio guide--lesson from the Frick learned but not practiced--Regret!
8. A liver with cirrhosis...enough said! Vowing to drink less.
Death of a Dream
As I sat at the Angelika, my elbow touching his I realized that wish I did for there to be some iota of lust left between us--it was only in my head--there truly wasn't. How can chemistry disappear? I'll tell you how: isomers! The shifting of some isomer had caused our stereochemistry to mysteriously vanish. Like Keyser Soze it was "Poof!" gone.
The movie--Death of a President--was blah. That's my best attempt at a review. I couldn't feel for any of the characters, unlike his perception, mine had nothing to do with the events being fictional and everything to do with the dramatization lacking drama. Also trite to call out the Muslim with a plot twist indicating that the black man was the real killer. Pick on a white woman, already! Bah.
But as I ate his popcorn and he accommodated my disdain of Coke with a Hawaiin Punch purchase, I found myself asking the same question in my head a hundred times over--WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?
If there's not chemistry and we don't have the closeness friendship breeds given the awkwardness of having seen each other naked more than a handful of times--what in the good Lord's name were we doing watching movies together on a bi-monthly basis. You don't talk during a movie. You don't catch up. You sit and stare at moving pictures in a dark room. How does that bring two strangers any closer to one another? Why do we do it--over and over again?
The movie--Death of a President--was blah. That's my best attempt at a review. I couldn't feel for any of the characters, unlike his perception, mine had nothing to do with the events being fictional and everything to do with the dramatization lacking drama. Also trite to call out the Muslim with a plot twist indicating that the black man was the real killer. Pick on a white woman, already! Bah.
But as I ate his popcorn and he accommodated my disdain of Coke with a Hawaiin Punch purchase, I found myself asking the same question in my head a hundred times over--WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?
If there's not chemistry and we don't have the closeness friendship breeds given the awkwardness of having seen each other naked more than a handful of times--what in the good Lord's name were we doing watching movies together on a bi-monthly basis. You don't talk during a movie. You don't catch up. You sit and stare at moving pictures in a dark room. How does that bring two strangers any closer to one another? Why do we do it--over and over again?
October 29, 2006
UGH
Yesterday afternoon I awoke from what began as a serene dream--full of wish fulfillment and erotic satisfaction--with an ache in my heart muscle. With the exception of waking up crying from dreams a few years ago, I don't recall a dream evoking emotions powerful enough in the unconscious to bring me to consciousness.
The memory was vivid on awakening but as the mist of sleep lifted I felt its potency evaporating; ignoring the strength of will I employed to hold onto the finer details and emotion jarring perceived truths.
This is how the dream unfolded--as best I can recount, accuracy may be compromised--
It was an airy spring day (light jacket weather), I was perched in a basket chair in what appeared to be Zayan's new apartment and he was leaning back on his expansive bed. For some reason there was a parade of people moving in and out of his common space--to my best estimation it had an open house vibe. We were enjoying our typical caliber of banter--chuckles abounding--when conversation turned to his "present" chica.
The actual subject of conversation is hazy--I'm pretty sure I brought her up--but as we talked the room seemed to shrink or maybe we just moved closer to one another. We sat facing each other cross-legged on the floor, knees touching, breath in each others' faces. You can imagine the tension at that proximity--the sexual tension. We were each hesitant to close that final gap: couldn't have been more than a few inches, half a foot at best. The anticipation was palpable, the energy astronomical.
My mind was blank, my heart was racing and my patience was waning. For once, I chose to let nature take her course. I sat as still as I could and kept reminding myself to breathe. We sat like that for a while; it felt like an eternity. Finally, we were kissing...I have no idea how it happened or who initiated it, but there we were kissing. It was just like that Chris Rock sketch--my entire being was singing because we were kissing. I felt 14!
But unlike when I was 14, I wanted more and more was on its way to being had. Hands were everywhere, clothes were falling to the floor...the floor was no longer under us, there was plush bedding and Bounty-Fresh linens. But before matters could truly escalate to a level that precludes all others--Zayan pulled back.
He reverted into himself and I felt it happen before it did. The few seconds I had to prepare for his withdrawal were devastating in and of themselves, but more so I was devastated by the stopping. After all this time waiting for it to start up again, to be so close and stop was heart-breaking. Not nearly as gut-wrenching as the original heart-break, but the heartache was back. It's the dull pain in your chest cavity with no medical cure.
There we lay in a familiar position as complete strangers. I wanted to cry but no tears were forthcoming. He wanted to speak but no words were accommodating him. We just lay there. A few moments later, the figure that represented his "person" entered the room searching for her panties. That was the last straw. I climbed out of bed and in lieu of getting dressed and walking out sat back down on the basket chair. Zayan was in an awkward predicament, but I didn't care. She didn't notice me consumed as she was in her hunt for red panties. His deer caught in headlights look didn't pass till she gave up her search, kissed him lightly on the lips, and departed. Then it ws back to just us...sitting, staring, and being uneasy.
We had nothing to say that had not been rehashed a thousand times before and neither of us is much for repetition. Finally, he looked at me--directly at me--and said, "I cant' do it. I'm sorry I can't do it." I nodded mutely--hearing the tear in my heart--feeling it widen and spill emotions I'd locked up a long time ago. He didn't approach me--I knew he wouldn't, but I had still hoped--he just looked at me with trepidation, unsure what I would do next. I sighed, hugging myself tighter in the basket chair, trying to take up as little space as my body would contort to let me inhabit. Finally, I asked him, "What do you want from me? Why am I even here?"
And as the question haunts my days, haunted me two nights ago...I awakened with that question in the forefront of my mind, consuming my being and reverberating through my brain. He didn't want drama and I didn't want to give it to him--but there we were like we've always been--dramatically drawn and withdrawn.
The memory was vivid on awakening but as the mist of sleep lifted I felt its potency evaporating; ignoring the strength of will I employed to hold onto the finer details and emotion jarring perceived truths.
This is how the dream unfolded--as best I can recount, accuracy may be compromised--
It was an airy spring day (light jacket weather), I was perched in a basket chair in what appeared to be Zayan's new apartment and he was leaning back on his expansive bed. For some reason there was a parade of people moving in and out of his common space--to my best estimation it had an open house vibe. We were enjoying our typical caliber of banter--chuckles abounding--when conversation turned to his "present" chica.
The actual subject of conversation is hazy--I'm pretty sure I brought her up--but as we talked the room seemed to shrink or maybe we just moved closer to one another. We sat facing each other cross-legged on the floor, knees touching, breath in each others' faces. You can imagine the tension at that proximity--the sexual tension. We were each hesitant to close that final gap: couldn't have been more than a few inches, half a foot at best. The anticipation was palpable, the energy astronomical.
My mind was blank, my heart was racing and my patience was waning. For once, I chose to let nature take her course. I sat as still as I could and kept reminding myself to breathe. We sat like that for a while; it felt like an eternity. Finally, we were kissing...I have no idea how it happened or who initiated it, but there we were kissing. It was just like that Chris Rock sketch--my entire being was singing because we were kissing. I felt 14!
But unlike when I was 14, I wanted more and more was on its way to being had. Hands were everywhere, clothes were falling to the floor...the floor was no longer under us, there was plush bedding and Bounty-Fresh linens. But before matters could truly escalate to a level that precludes all others--Zayan pulled back.
He reverted into himself and I felt it happen before it did. The few seconds I had to prepare for his withdrawal were devastating in and of themselves, but more so I was devastated by the stopping. After all this time waiting for it to start up again, to be so close and stop was heart-breaking. Not nearly as gut-wrenching as the original heart-break, but the heartache was back. It's the dull pain in your chest cavity with no medical cure.
There we lay in a familiar position as complete strangers. I wanted to cry but no tears were forthcoming. He wanted to speak but no words were accommodating him. We just lay there. A few moments later, the figure that represented his "person" entered the room searching for her panties. That was the last straw. I climbed out of bed and in lieu of getting dressed and walking out sat back down on the basket chair. Zayan was in an awkward predicament, but I didn't care. She didn't notice me consumed as she was in her hunt for red panties. His deer caught in headlights look didn't pass till she gave up her search, kissed him lightly on the lips, and departed. Then it ws back to just us...sitting, staring, and being uneasy.
We had nothing to say that had not been rehashed a thousand times before and neither of us is much for repetition. Finally, he looked at me--directly at me--and said, "I cant' do it. I'm sorry I can't do it." I nodded mutely--hearing the tear in my heart--feeling it widen and spill emotions I'd locked up a long time ago. He didn't approach me--I knew he wouldn't, but I had still hoped--he just looked at me with trepidation, unsure what I would do next. I sighed, hugging myself tighter in the basket chair, trying to take up as little space as my body would contort to let me inhabit. Finally, I asked him, "What do you want from me? Why am I even here?"
And as the question haunts my days, haunted me two nights ago...I awakened with that question in the forefront of my mind, consuming my being and reverberating through my brain. He didn't want drama and I didn't want to give it to him--but there we were like we've always been--dramatically drawn and withdrawn.
Sleep Debt
Norman and I are discussing the notion of sleep debt. The idea that once you skimp on sleep for X number of years you no longer have the ability to keep that up. I'm no sure it works that way, but he's using all his lawyering know-how to convince me or at least disagree with me vehemently enough that I feel slightly silly about my stance. I'm sure it's not his intention--to make me feel silly--but that is the net result.
All this talk of reaching your sleep credit limit is making me cringe at my actual credit limit which is fast approaching....eek, would suck to run out of money in Berlin.
On an unrelated note, Li has convinced Tom and I that we NEED to see The Killers in Berlin and 50-cent on his German tour. HA! Holding up an American flag may just get us on stage--that's Li's thought.
All this talk of reaching your sleep credit limit is making me cringe at my actual credit limit which is fast approaching....eek, would suck to run out of money in Berlin.
On an unrelated note, Li has convinced Tom and I that we NEED to see The Killers in Berlin and 50-cent on his German tour. HA! Holding up an American flag may just get us on stage--that's Li's thought.
October 28, 2006
Crack Music
I spent a significant percentage of my waking hours today downloading music illegally off Limewire. Gotta love that Limewire.
The majority of the tunes I selected were in Hindi...just when I think I'm all-American a wake-up call like my taste in music raises it's FOBBY (Fresh Off the Boat) head; after all, I grew up in Bombay till I was about 12. I've rid myself of the accent, but many of my values, beliefs, and general worldview are still rooted in the subcontinent. This is not to say I'm not westernized to the point of ostracization from my home--because I am--but I'm neither of this world nor that.
The plight of us 1.5 generation kids...no one writes about us, except in passing, sandwiched between our parents and the 2nd generation immigrant kids.
The majority of the tunes I selected were in Hindi...just when I think I'm all-American a wake-up call like my taste in music raises it's FOBBY (Fresh Off the Boat) head; after all, I grew up in Bombay till I was about 12. I've rid myself of the accent, but many of my values, beliefs, and general worldview are still rooted in the subcontinent. This is not to say I'm not westernized to the point of ostracization from my home--because I am--but I'm neither of this world nor that.
The plight of us 1.5 generation kids...no one writes about us, except in passing, sandwiched between our parents and the 2nd generation immigrant kids.
Death of a President
I'm itching to see Death of a President directed by Gabriel Range--released in Canada and extremely controversial in these here United States--this fake documentary hypothesizes the global ramifications of George W. Bush's assasination.
Morbid, perhaps, but interesting in the zeitgeist of films like the Dixie Chicks movie--Shut Up & Sing--and The US v. John Lennon. Government conspiracy and black listing has never been far from what the marginalized minority--particularly the indie film circuit and the media junkies therein--is keen to expose the public to.
Morbid, perhaps, but interesting in the zeitgeist of films like the Dixie Chicks movie--Shut Up & Sing--and The US v. John Lennon. Government conspiracy and black listing has never been far from what the marginalized minority--particularly the indie film circuit and the media junkies therein--is keen to expose the public to.
October 26, 2006
Borat
I will not write a long review for fear of misleading my readers into believing that
a> I am a film critic...I know relatively little about film.
b> I watch a lot of movies...off late, I have but by no means am I a film buff.
c> This blog is quickly turning into a rant and rave section about movies.
I laughed harder than I thought I would, this is not to affirm that it matched my, admittedly, specific and bizarre sense of humor.
There was gratuitous fat, male nudity--testes should never be shot from any angle.
Poor, sweet Pamela Anderson.
I've never seen the Ali G show, I think that was a good thing going in but not a great thing coming out.
I will never tire of watching movies in New York that were shot in New York--Times Square just doesn't get old on film.
Roadtrips rule!
Texas will forever be the butt of every joke.
Enough with the Jew jokes.
I liked the ending.
WWJD (what would Jesus do?)
Speaking in tongues is always cool and very weird.
The Regal Cinema in Brooklyn is definitely not swank--far less crowded for a free screening than any Manhattan theater--this loses a bit of the edge that watching these advanced screenings lend themselves to.
a> I am a film critic...I know relatively little about film.
b> I watch a lot of movies...off late, I have but by no means am I a film buff.
c> This blog is quickly turning into a rant and rave section about movies.
I laughed harder than I thought I would, this is not to affirm that it matched my, admittedly, specific and bizarre sense of humor.
There was gratuitous fat, male nudity--testes should never be shot from any angle.
Poor, sweet Pamela Anderson.
I've never seen the Ali G show, I think that was a good thing going in but not a great thing coming out.
I will never tire of watching movies in New York that were shot in New York--Times Square just doesn't get old on film.
Roadtrips rule!
Texas will forever be the butt of every joke.
Enough with the Jew jokes.
I liked the ending.
WWJD (what would Jesus do?)
Speaking in tongues is always cool and very weird.
The Regal Cinema in Brooklyn is definitely not swank--far less crowded for a free screening than any Manhattan theater--this loses a bit of the edge that watching these advanced screenings lend themselves to.
October 25, 2006
"No LAGS"
I was just IMing Li Chen since it's only 11pm where he is--whilst I battle another night of reversed circadian rhythms--and he said the funniest thing:
Li:not lags (lame asian girls) tho
Mi: That is so funny...did you make that up?
Li: Yea...like two years ago, I only use it with Tommy though
How awesome is that? I love it...LAGS!
We were discussing my move to San Francisco. OH yeah, I've decided that if LBS fails me and b-school is no longer in the cards, I'm moving to the Bay Area. Well, to San Francisco proper, preferrably between the Castro and Lower Haight in Duboce Triangle. Special K has already agreed to be my faithful companion in this transamerican journey.
Li sends me links to potential houses we can rent since there will be three of us and two pets between us. Mr. Bojangles, K's feminine feline, and my Luckey Duckey Love Bug.
Li:not lags (lame asian girls) tho
Mi: That is so funny...did you make that up?
Li: Yea...like two years ago, I only use it with Tommy though
How awesome is that? I love it...LAGS!
We were discussing my move to San Francisco. OH yeah, I've decided that if LBS fails me and b-school is no longer in the cards, I'm moving to the Bay Area. Well, to San Francisco proper, preferrably between the Castro and Lower Haight in Duboce Triangle. Special K has already agreed to be my faithful companion in this transamerican journey.
Li sends me links to potential houses we can rent since there will be three of us and two pets between us. Mr. Bojangles, K's feminine feline, and my Luckey Duckey Love Bug.
Netflix cures homesickness
Standing in line at Blockbuster to purchase a gift card for Jo's b'day--I overheard two NYU students discussing potential story pitches for what I can only assume was their college paper--
White Girl: You should pitch a story about Netflix?
Asian Girl: What kind of story?
White Girl: Talk about how getting netflix makes you feel less homesick..like you're getting mail that aren't flyers or bills.
Asian Girl: That's a good idea...but that's not a full story.
White Girl: Well, you can add a bit about how it's like a present in your mailbox. Everyone loves snail mail. Yea, talk about subscriptions too.
Me: Wow--that's clever...I should put that on my blog.
White Girl: You should pitch a story about Netflix?
Asian Girl: What kind of story?
White Girl: Talk about how getting netflix makes you feel less homesick..like you're getting mail that aren't flyers or bills.
Asian Girl: That's a good idea...but that's not a full story.
White Girl: Well, you can add a bit about how it's like a present in your mailbox. Everyone loves snail mail. Yea, talk about subscriptions too.
Me: Wow--that's clever...I should put that on my blog.
October 23, 2006
The Prestige
Advanced screeings are delightful, not just because they are free, but because they are marketed to a cross-section of the movie-going population in an effort to create an adequate sample size. A packed theater is not fun in any other context than an eager group of advanced screeners.
Last week, I took Jaylin to see The Prestige thanks to a pass mailed to me by Let's Meet Out. On the outset, he was enthused to spend time with me more so than to witness the cinematic thrill of a screening; however as the plot twisted and turned unfolding in a manner I can best liken to the confusion and suspense The Usual Suspects instilled in me, he got really into the film. The truth was that we got there in the nick of time to secure two seats together, unfortunately they were in the VERY first row. I'm very much a middle of the middle kinda theater seater.
I withhold commentary on the caliber of the acting itself for fear of wrongly assigning credit due a magnificient plot to actors of great acclaim. Michael Caine, Hugh Jackman, and Christian Bale came together to create an aura of masculine competition tempered by vengence bred by shared mentorship and mishaps. The infusion of science at the tail end of the film elevated the stakes but diminished the overall flavor of the film. However the moral dilemmas that sprung up from the revelation within the final,supernatural plot twist were worth the somewhat hokey nature of what was introduced.
While the movie did not disregard the importance of a love story to reach the mainstream, it focused its cinematic energy on mostly non-violent representations of testosterone-charged aggression. The primary emotion in the film was unbridled, obsessive one-upmanship. The desire these men felt to outdo one another and learn the other's secrets just to best him at his own trick was palpable--kudos to Hugh and Christian.
It's been a long time since I wanted to re-watch a film in the theaters, The Prestige definitely made its way onto that list.
Last week, I took Jaylin to see The Prestige thanks to a pass mailed to me by Let's Meet Out. On the outset, he was enthused to spend time with me more so than to witness the cinematic thrill of a screening; however as the plot twisted and turned unfolding in a manner I can best liken to the confusion and suspense The Usual Suspects instilled in me, he got really into the film. The truth was that we got there in the nick of time to secure two seats together, unfortunately they were in the VERY first row. I'm very much a middle of the middle kinda theater seater.
I withhold commentary on the caliber of the acting itself for fear of wrongly assigning credit due a magnificient plot to actors of great acclaim. Michael Caine, Hugh Jackman, and Christian Bale came together to create an aura of masculine competition tempered by vengence bred by shared mentorship and mishaps. The infusion of science at the tail end of the film elevated the stakes but diminished the overall flavor of the film. However the moral dilemmas that sprung up from the revelation within the final,supernatural plot twist were worth the somewhat hokey nature of what was introduced.
While the movie did not disregard the importance of a love story to reach the mainstream, it focused its cinematic energy on mostly non-violent representations of testosterone-charged aggression. The primary emotion in the film was unbridled, obsessive one-upmanship. The desire these men felt to outdo one another and learn the other's secrets just to best him at his own trick was palpable--kudos to Hugh and Christian.
It's been a long time since I wanted to re-watch a film in the theaters, The Prestige definitely made its way onto that list.
October 22, 2006
The Flowers the Boy Sent for my Birthday
He sent me two dozen red roses and then came over to take their picture...just a ploy to get through my front door?
October 20, 2006
When It Rains...
It Pours~
Or rather I pour myself a tall one and sit back to write--stewing in my self-indulgence to a degree which makes eating chocolate bon-bons in front of the TV seem like healthy living.
I'm no Shirley Manson, but sometimes I'm happy when it rains. Happy that I have a roof over my head, happier still for all the sunny days I've lived...happy that there is love in this world and warm soup for the weary.
Or rather I pour myself a tall one and sit back to write--stewing in my self-indulgence to a degree which makes eating chocolate bon-bons in front of the TV seem like healthy living.
I'm no Shirley Manson, but sometimes I'm happy when it rains. Happy that I have a roof over my head, happier still for all the sunny days I've lived...happy that there is love in this world and warm soup for the weary.
October 19, 2006
Sleep Deprived
There is a high you get from sleep deprivation that borders on the lull of a night spent sipping wine or a novice's marijuana high...it's disarming. There is nothing particularly potent about the effect but it eclipses every thought; ridding you of coherence and drawing you into a wakeful dreamscape.
It's surreal. Every moment stretches endlessly into the next as drowsiness creates unfurling curtains of your eyelids: fighting is futile, like quicksand it exacerbates the sensation of your control slipping away from you. A fight between your conscious will to stay awake and unconscious need to sleep.
It's surreal. Every moment stretches endlessly into the next as drowsiness creates unfurling curtains of your eyelids: fighting is futile, like quicksand it exacerbates the sensation of your control slipping away from you. A fight between your conscious will to stay awake and unconscious need to sleep.
Shortbus
Shortbus is a long ride on a sexual roller coaster. The movie focuses primarily on the sliding scale that has become sexual preference and orientation in our day and age. Specifically, the film walks us through one Canasian "couples' counselor's" (read: sex therapist) journey to finding her orgasm. She describes her life as "pre-orgasmic". Shortbus is rooted in varying degrees of sexual discovery and the exploration of the emotions that lie therein.
There are multiple plots that converge: think Love, Actually meets porn with a plot. A gay couple of Jamie and James battle James' depression and Jamie's need to explore outside their five years of monogamy. Throw into the mix a self-loathing dominatrix with serious intimacy, nay interaction issues and her trust-fund baby-hipster client; a drag queen who looks like David Bowie but acts like RuPaul with a healthy dose of Patrick Swayze's character from "To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar" and runs the eponymous den of sexual exploration. Ceth, a beautiful gay model who looks for love via an online service called Yenta650 only to find himself in a triangle amidst the Jamie's as James' gay next door neighbor and stalker watches wistfully via telescope, ear piece, and high-fi camera.
While the sex scenes are gratuitous for the most part some of them unearth a vulnerability that are pivotal to the initmacy component of the plot. For example, James' depression consumes him leading to attempted suicide but a rescue by his stalker leads to a sexual experience that opens him up for Jamie once and for all. Apparently, James has never been penetrated--the perennial pitcher, this act of catching saves him from himself and enables him to "feel" Jamie's love. I'm not sure how allowing a stranger, no matter how adoring, to explore a piece of you which was kept from your partner of five years can bring the original couple closer together but in Shortbus it does just that. Similarly, Sophia (the sex therapist cum couples' counselor) does not achieve orgasm with her sole sexual partner and husband, Rob--after much agonizing in a repressed model minority way--self-climaxes in a surreal scene of winding through central park only to find her way to an isolated lush beach circa southern California meets Cambodia. At least there I can glean a the following trite lesson: You can't open yourself up to love if you don't love yourself--to put it another way, if you don't learn what gets you off you can't train your partner to do it for you.
The opening, closing , and transitionary scenes of the movie are presented as a graphically designed illustration of the Manhattan and Brooklyn: Monet meets Manet? The masterful cityscapes are true to New York in scale and scope. I felt a thrill and a chill as I watched the camera pan over Central Park onto the Upper West Side to zoom into one window and the scenario within, then move down and across the Brooklyn Bridge to illustrate another copulating couple in a window in the next borough. A clever method of transitioning between seeming unrelated plot lines till they converged into a meaningful and coherent story of intertwining sexual discovery. The colors used to graphically capture the city are muted and sketchy at best blurring into one another, perhaps a metaphor for the bi-curious within each of us. The dominatrix, Severn whose real name is ironicaly Jennifer Aniston, presents domination as a hollow series of acts void of emotion. In fact, her ineptitude to relate to other human beings is debilitating until she befriends Sophia and communes with her weekly in a sensory deprivation tank.
The oh-so-New York aspects of the film are a bit force-fed. In a monologue the geriatric, former, gay Mayor of New York delivers to Ceth at Shortbus in the earlier part of the movie. It covers the bases of AIDS, gay sex, and politics in one fell swoop and moves on to conquer depression, repression, and regression. The issue of prolonged and glorified adolscene is often attributed to the residents of our fair but sinful city. While there is not talk of past lives, the characters of James and Severn spend 5 minutes in a closet as a result of a game of spin-the-bottle and discuss their experiences as sex workers fixating specifically of the choice or lack thereof in their chosen careers. This is also an emotionally ripe scene, showcasing that in the unlikeliest places humans can and will connect.
Overall, the movie had its moments of shock value but delivered a series of messages. The big ones: safe sex is best, intimacy is important, orgasms are a girl's best friend, and stalkers save lives. Gay sex is hot, gay threesomes are hotter. The small ones: a boy can blow himself without removing floating ribs and just because you sell something does not mean you are a customer/client.
Movie Grade: B-
On a side note:
Tracey trudged into the city to see me on my 26th birthday with a bevy of gifts in tow. Highlights include a full set of Italian vocabulary books, black Uggs, a golden jewel box filled with assorted earrings and a flapper-esque necklace, a calligraphy set, a multi-striped Coach iPod cover, and a the smallest wristlet ever.
There are multiple plots that converge: think Love, Actually meets porn with a plot. A gay couple of Jamie and James battle James' depression and Jamie's need to explore outside their five years of monogamy. Throw into the mix a self-loathing dominatrix with serious intimacy, nay interaction issues and her trust-fund baby-hipster client; a drag queen who looks like David Bowie but acts like RuPaul with a healthy dose of Patrick Swayze's character from "To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar" and runs the eponymous den of sexual exploration. Ceth, a beautiful gay model who looks for love via an online service called Yenta650 only to find himself in a triangle amidst the Jamie's as James' gay next door neighbor and stalker watches wistfully via telescope, ear piece, and high-fi camera.
While the sex scenes are gratuitous for the most part some of them unearth a vulnerability that are pivotal to the initmacy component of the plot. For example, James' depression consumes him leading to attempted suicide but a rescue by his stalker leads to a sexual experience that opens him up for Jamie once and for all. Apparently, James has never been penetrated--the perennial pitcher, this act of catching saves him from himself and enables him to "feel" Jamie's love. I'm not sure how allowing a stranger, no matter how adoring, to explore a piece of you which was kept from your partner of five years can bring the original couple closer together but in Shortbus it does just that. Similarly, Sophia (the sex therapist cum couples' counselor) does not achieve orgasm with her sole sexual partner and husband, Rob--after much agonizing in a repressed model minority way--self-climaxes in a surreal scene of winding through central park only to find her way to an isolated lush beach circa southern California meets Cambodia. At least there I can glean a the following trite lesson: You can't open yourself up to love if you don't love yourself--to put it another way, if you don't learn what gets you off you can't train your partner to do it for you.
The opening, closing , and transitionary scenes of the movie are presented as a graphically designed illustration of the Manhattan and Brooklyn: Monet meets Manet? The masterful cityscapes are true to New York in scale and scope. I felt a thrill and a chill as I watched the camera pan over Central Park onto the Upper West Side to zoom into one window and the scenario within, then move down and across the Brooklyn Bridge to illustrate another copulating couple in a window in the next borough. A clever method of transitioning between seeming unrelated plot lines till they converged into a meaningful and coherent story of intertwining sexual discovery. The colors used to graphically capture the city are muted and sketchy at best blurring into one another, perhaps a metaphor for the bi-curious within each of us. The dominatrix, Severn whose real name is ironicaly Jennifer Aniston, presents domination as a hollow series of acts void of emotion. In fact, her ineptitude to relate to other human beings is debilitating until she befriends Sophia and communes with her weekly in a sensory deprivation tank.
The oh-so-New York aspects of the film are a bit force-fed. In a monologue the geriatric, former, gay Mayor of New York delivers to Ceth at Shortbus in the earlier part of the movie. It covers the bases of AIDS, gay sex, and politics in one fell swoop and moves on to conquer depression, repression, and regression. The issue of prolonged and glorified adolscene is often attributed to the residents of our fair but sinful city. While there is not talk of past lives, the characters of James and Severn spend 5 minutes in a closet as a result of a game of spin-the-bottle and discuss their experiences as sex workers fixating specifically of the choice or lack thereof in their chosen careers. This is also an emotionally ripe scene, showcasing that in the unlikeliest places humans can and will connect.
Overall, the movie had its moments of shock value but delivered a series of messages. The big ones: safe sex is best, intimacy is important, orgasms are a girl's best friend, and stalkers save lives. Gay sex is hot, gay threesomes are hotter. The small ones: a boy can blow himself without removing floating ribs and just because you sell something does not mean you are a customer/client.
Movie Grade: B-
On a side note:
Tracey trudged into the city to see me on my 26th birthday with a bevy of gifts in tow. Highlights include a full set of Italian vocabulary books, black Uggs, a golden jewel box filled with assorted earrings and a flapper-esque necklace, a calligraphy set, a multi-striped Coach iPod cover, and a the smallest wristlet ever.
October 18, 2006
Happy Birthday To Me!
In typical fashion, a year in review will commence...NOW:
November--Meaningless sex got me over the X
December--First family Christmas with Marc
January--Got Luckey,the puppy! Girls trip to Praha!
February--Single on V-day (not a first but possibly the worst: Mom got engaged
March--Paid off credit card debt from last unemployment stint in 2003.
April--Decided on Hamptons share with Special K and Karen
May--Official parting of ways with Jaylin: off, finally! We're still friends.
June--Actually went to the Hamptons: Westhampton blows!
July--Mom got married and I quit the German Bank
August--Decided to go on Eastern European Excursion with Li Chen
September--Club Getaway: my life is a vacation, not sure what I got away from. Reconnected with the boy from a year ago
October--Took the GMAT...taking it again in December! Still not working!
Where I am today?
$6K in debt to Visa since I haven't held a job since 7/11.
Unemployed
Seeing someone who dotes on me...and someone very different who adores me.
Celebrating almost a year of celibacy--self-imposition or not is still unclear
Bent on b-school but waiting to retake the GMAT before I begin the gruelling process of applications.
November--Meaningless sex got me over the X
December--First family Christmas with Marc
January--Got Luckey,the puppy! Girls trip to Praha!
February--Single on V-day (not a first but possibly the worst: Mom got engaged
March--Paid off credit card debt from last unemployment stint in 2003.
April--Decided on Hamptons share with Special K and Karen
May--Official parting of ways with Jaylin: off, finally! We're still friends.
June--Actually went to the Hamptons: Westhampton blows!
July--Mom got married and I quit the German Bank
August--Decided to go on Eastern European Excursion with Li Chen
September--Club Getaway: my life is a vacation, not sure what I got away from. Reconnected with the boy from a year ago
October--Took the GMAT...taking it again in December! Still not working!
Where I am today?
$6K in debt to Visa since I haven't held a job since 7/11.
Unemployed
Seeing someone who dotes on me...and someone very different who adores me.
Celebrating almost a year of celibacy--self-imposition or not is still unclear
Bent on b-school but waiting to retake the GMAT before I begin the gruelling process of applications.
October 16, 2006
DESI(RED)
The Red Campaign Bono from U2 helped launch for Gap via the Oprah Show is putting real dollars into the Global Fund to eliminate AIDS in Africa.
Incidentally, they didn't think to market DESI(RED) to Indians--it would be a big hit, given that red is an auspicious color in Desi Culture and well, Desi is after all the English spelling of the word for "native" or "resident of India" in Hindi--c'mon Oprah, get with it...target us!
Speaking of Target, wouldn't it have made more sense to do this campaign through Target--after all, Red is their signature color, especially in all things marketing--not to mention you wouldn't stop at T-shirts; you could have lampshades, pillows, coforters, PJs, and myriad of other RED items.
Incidentally, they didn't think to market DESI(RED) to Indians--it would be a big hit, given that red is an auspicious color in Desi Culture and well, Desi is after all the English spelling of the word for "native" or "resident of India" in Hindi--c'mon Oprah, get with it...target us!
Speaking of Target, wouldn't it have made more sense to do this campaign through Target--after all, Red is their signature color, especially in all things marketing--not to mention you wouldn't stop at T-shirts; you could have lampshades, pillows, coforters, PJs, and myriad of other RED items.
Why Spice is Right!
Spicy Gratification is a great article explaining the aphrodisiac qualities of chillies and spicy food. It it likened ot a runner's high--endorphin release--which makes the eater happy.
This finally explains how my hedonism is directly linked to the mass quantities of curry I consume. I just put a whole habanero in my guacamole and felt NOTHING--next time, two habaneros! The three habaneros in my Chili didn't suffice either--next time some cayenne pepper powder for extra effect.
This finally explains how my hedonism is directly linked to the mass quantities of curry I consume. I just put a whole habanero in my guacamole and felt NOTHING--next time, two habaneros! The three habaneros in my Chili didn't suffice either--next time some cayenne pepper powder for extra effect.
October 15, 2006
Minor Violation
At 1:30am, I hopped off the 6 train...cursing the 4/5 for continuing its haitus on service south of Brooklyn Bridge and flipped open my phone for the walk home.
It was a ghost town, per usual, as I ambled--without weaving--down Beekman under some scaffolding that seems to permanently live on that buildings, texting with a fury that only a strong buzz could bring on. A small, Mexican-looking man suddenly reached out and honked my boob. This complete stranger was not just touching me--he had grabbed an entire breast and squeezed it. My reaction rate may have been quicker if I'd been sober but I think the sheer shock of what was happening may have slowed me down anyway. I spat in his face and began hurling epithets which would have made a sailor blush.
I felt outrage wash over me, followed by humiliation--shortly after he walked away and I continued insulting him loudly (there was no one to hear!), I felt fear. Fear that if he had wanted to fight me, I would have lost. Fear that had he chosen to rape me, then and there, I'm not sure I would have been unscathed. Fear that walking home from the subway at night alone just wasn't safe--especially in my desolate neighborhood--that was the fear that stopped me in my tracks.
I think it needs to be noted that I was wearing a black tunic with long-sleeved thermal underwear under it--nothing even remotely revealing--and loosely-fitted jeans. In fact, it is one of the few going out clothes that I have that is modest and proper.
As I got further from the scene of the event, I came to terms with the reality that it was a minor violation at best--passing the cop car on Fulton Street, I imagined myself telling the police what had happened and whilst they might not have laughed at me, it's hardly an offense worth mentioning in the context of crime in New York City. To say it simpler, I got over it!
It was a ghost town, per usual, as I ambled--without weaving--down Beekman under some scaffolding that seems to permanently live on that buildings, texting with a fury that only a strong buzz could bring on. A small, Mexican-looking man suddenly reached out and honked my boob. This complete stranger was not just touching me--he had grabbed an entire breast and squeezed it. My reaction rate may have been quicker if I'd been sober but I think the sheer shock of what was happening may have slowed me down anyway. I spat in his face and began hurling epithets which would have made a sailor blush.
I felt outrage wash over me, followed by humiliation--shortly after he walked away and I continued insulting him loudly (there was no one to hear!), I felt fear. Fear that if he had wanted to fight me, I would have lost. Fear that had he chosen to rape me, then and there, I'm not sure I would have been unscathed. Fear that walking home from the subway at night alone just wasn't safe--especially in my desolate neighborhood--that was the fear that stopped me in my tracks.
I think it needs to be noted that I was wearing a black tunic with long-sleeved thermal underwear under it--nothing even remotely revealing--and loosely-fitted jeans. In fact, it is one of the few going out clothes that I have that is modest and proper.
As I got further from the scene of the event, I came to terms with the reality that it was a minor violation at best--passing the cop car on Fulton Street, I imagined myself telling the police what had happened and whilst they might not have laughed at me, it's hardly an offense worth mentioning in the context of crime in New York City. To say it simpler, I got over it!
October 14, 2006
Friday, Oct. 13
I came home early today--midnight.
My day started (not just my night, I actually got out of bed for just this!) at Sugarcane at 5:30pm where I met the boy for drinks. Gary joined us in his lawyerly garb and ordered a bento box--delicious edamame. Rani was scheduled to meet us out, but her insistence on Haru's 1/2price special led me to meet her there at 7pm just in the nick of time to order some lychee martinis. There was no room for the boys, so Gary went to Muay Thai and the boy went ot meet his friends at Butai. I joined him and some of his friends there whilst they sipped Sapporos--the bartender made me a special martini, still no idea what it was!
Around, 10pm we all went back to his place to drink some wine and eat Indian in an effort to coat our stomachs for the night ahead. He had a friend in from MA and another one flying back from a week in Houston, TX. We rallied onwards to The Cutting Room--a la Sex and the City--where the show wasn't impressive but an in with the guest bartender made for free drinks...though I couldn't stomach the white wine given the 7 consecutive boozing hours that had harmed my liver.
I left them there to head home shortly before Tommy--I made some quesadillas and we opened up the leftover Coors Light from our housewarming and enjoyed a calm Friday at home with Luckey.
My day started (not just my night, I actually got out of bed for just this!) at Sugarcane at 5:30pm where I met the boy for drinks. Gary joined us in his lawyerly garb and ordered a bento box--delicious edamame. Rani was scheduled to meet us out, but her insistence on Haru's 1/2price special led me to meet her there at 7pm just in the nick of time to order some lychee martinis. There was no room for the boys, so Gary went to Muay Thai and the boy went ot meet his friends at Butai. I joined him and some of his friends there whilst they sipped Sapporos--the bartender made me a special martini, still no idea what it was!
Around, 10pm we all went back to his place to drink some wine and eat Indian in an effort to coat our stomachs for the night ahead. He had a friend in from MA and another one flying back from a week in Houston, TX. We rallied onwards to The Cutting Room--a la Sex and the City--where the show wasn't impressive but an in with the guest bartender made for free drinks...though I couldn't stomach the white wine given the 7 consecutive boozing hours that had harmed my liver.
I left them there to head home shortly before Tommy--I made some quesadillas and we opened up the leftover Coors Light from our housewarming and enjoyed a calm Friday at home with Luckey.
Where should I go?
It has long been the case that guy friends call me from a location in the city with these magical words, "I'm in ___ neighborhood (in Manhattan), looking for ___type of food under $___ on a _#_ date with ___ kinda of girl! Where should I go? What should I order?"
I was reminded of this today when Tommy asked me for a place south of 14th St. serving non-Chinese food which would be good for a second date with a girl whom he only sort of liked for dinner on Sunday evening--under $70.
Based on the following list of recommendations:
Pylos
Le Souk
Otto
Osso Bucco
La Caverna
'inoteca
Suba
In Vino
Rosa Mexicana and Pipa were north of 14th St.
I pushed In Vino and that's where he is going--yay!
I was reminded of this today when Tommy asked me for a place south of 14th St. serving non-Chinese food which would be good for a second date with a girl whom he only sort of liked for dinner on Sunday evening--under $70.
Based on the following list of recommendations:
Pylos
Le Souk
Otto
Osso Bucco
La Caverna
'inoteca
Suba
In Vino
Rosa Mexicana and Pipa were north of 14th St.
I pushed In Vino and that's where he is going--yay!
October 12, 2006
Housewarming Pictures--Long Overdue
EBaux, Tommy's younger cousin--we've been known to bicker.
Jaylin's still around...
An unposed pic--for once.
Roomie Love! Tommy & Norman & Me. 
A bunch of boys whose names I still don't know.
Celebrity Sighting #4
I saw Queen Latifah, the female rapper extraordinaire
at Slate Plus, great pool lounge in Flatiron, on Wednesday.
at Slate Plus, great pool lounge in Flatiron, on Wednesday.
October 11, 2006
Amazing Hotels
Check out these Unique Hotels on AOL thanks to Forbes.
The pictures give life to the amazing features.
It's a three-way tie between Quinta Real Zacateca in Mexico, Ariau Towers Hotel in Brazil, and the Beckham Creek Cave Haven in AK, USA of all places.
The pictures give life to the amazing features.
It's a three-way tie between Quinta Real Zacateca in Mexico, Ariau Towers Hotel in Brazil, and the Beckham Creek Cave Haven in AK, USA of all places.
October 9, 2006
Brooklyn Museum
This photo does not do justice to this regal structure as I first laid eyes on it as a dusky twilight cloaked Eastern Parkway and I raced up the stairs of the 2/3 stop, wrapping my black coat a little tighter around my short black dress as a crisp autum breeze whipped my hair back and gave tinkle to my oversized, Indian earrings.
I attended First Saturday at the Brooklyn Museum this weekend for some live music, ZoZo AfroBeats--thanks to Target--for Stella's birthday party. I wholly missed her and the eclectic crew of women she had assembled from Quakers to AA attendees...and the sexy Andrew Jackson--the woman doesn't own a cell phone. Who, in this day and age, lives sans cell?
Whilst in Brooklyn, I realized I very much wanted to be wed within the walls of this glorious structure. I hope we can afford to buy a run-down brownstone in the vicinty and spend free weekends restoring it to its former grandeur. I'd also like us to own a red Mini Cooper with a white top and a black Vespa with a tan seat and matching helmets...hey, a girl can dream.
More than one tree grows in Brooklyn by the way.
October 7, 2006
Quarter Life Crisis
I attended a screening of Quarter Life Crisis as part of the South Asian International Film Festival (SAIFF)this week.
Here is the official SAIFF synopsis of the film:
Dumped on his 27th birthday by his college sweetheart Angel for being indecisive, Neil makes a silly bet that takes him on a wild ride through New York’s singles scene, accompanied by four testosterone-packed imbecile buddies and one crazy scheming New York taxi driver. On these madcap adventures Neil journeys from life choice paralysis to real life manhood.
The famous star in the film was Russell Peters, a Canadian comic of Canasian acclaim, whose role in the film consisted of driving a black car and providing a running commentary on the actions of the protagonist. Having never seen his stand-up I was not influenced by Peters' humor, and as many comics go I certainly wasn't impressed with his appearance.
The main character, Neil Desai, recently turned 27 struggles with the life decisions I'm all too well aware exist: taking that promotion at a job you never thought you'd accept in the first place, committing to that person you've been with since college--whom you can't imagine living without but still tremble at the notion of forever--and the age-old peer pressure of being the first in your in-group to make those choices. It didn't hurt that Neil's flashbacks with his sweetheart, Angel, took me down memory lane a la V--the fact that V used to call me Angel helped with the nostalgia. Incidentally, the actress who played Angel was GORGEOUS--hands down one of the prettiest women I have ever seen on screen. It didn't hurt matters that Neil's star sign was Libra--much like mine--and the premise of much of his decisions through his journey to maturity was guided by a book detailing women based on their signs.
While the supporting cast was believable and fresh, there were moments I thought Peters' injections of truth were trite and the actor who played Neil could have brought more to the table. Overall, I enjoyed the film for its ability to address the concerns of generation Y without melding the East with the West but focusing on a South-Asian hero very much of the West in the West.
As we exited the theater, a camera crew was taping audience reactions to the film. I was quick to accept the girl with the microphone's offer to present my view, much to the boy's chagrin. I never get how someone can be so social and talk to every stranger ambling down the street but frown at the opportunity to BE on camera! Anywho, he's DVR-ed it for me since I missed Asian Variety Show at 10am today.
Here is the official SAIFF synopsis of the film:
Dumped on his 27th birthday by his college sweetheart Angel for being indecisive, Neil makes a silly bet that takes him on a wild ride through New York’s singles scene, accompanied by four testosterone-packed imbecile buddies and one crazy scheming New York taxi driver. On these madcap adventures Neil journeys from life choice paralysis to real life manhood.
The famous star in the film was Russell Peters, a Canadian comic of Canasian acclaim, whose role in the film consisted of driving a black car and providing a running commentary on the actions of the protagonist. Having never seen his stand-up I was not influenced by Peters' humor, and as many comics go I certainly wasn't impressed with his appearance.
The main character, Neil Desai, recently turned 27 struggles with the life decisions I'm all too well aware exist: taking that promotion at a job you never thought you'd accept in the first place, committing to that person you've been with since college--whom you can't imagine living without but still tremble at the notion of forever--and the age-old peer pressure of being the first in your in-group to make those choices. It didn't hurt that Neil's flashbacks with his sweetheart, Angel, took me down memory lane a la V--the fact that V used to call me Angel helped with the nostalgia. Incidentally, the actress who played Angel was GORGEOUS--hands down one of the prettiest women I have ever seen on screen. It didn't hurt matters that Neil's star sign was Libra--much like mine--and the premise of much of his decisions through his journey to maturity was guided by a book detailing women based on their signs.
While the supporting cast was believable and fresh, there were moments I thought Peters' injections of truth were trite and the actor who played Neil could have brought more to the table. Overall, I enjoyed the film for its ability to address the concerns of generation Y without melding the East with the West but focusing on a South-Asian hero very much of the West in the West.
As we exited the theater, a camera crew was taping audience reactions to the film. I was quick to accept the girl with the microphone's offer to present my view, much to the boy's chagrin. I never get how someone can be so social and talk to every stranger ambling down the street but frown at the opportunity to BE on camera! Anywho, he's DVR-ed it for me since I missed Asian Variety Show at 10am today.
October 6, 2006
October 5, 2006
October 4, 2006
Tea
from left to right: Suchi, Lauren, Stella, Kelli, Me, and Jo!
Suchi is the new girl Jo invited to tea. She's pretty accomplished with a two-book deal with Random House and eternal student status.
Lauren, lives with her bf, just quit a crap job for a sweet gig at Maxim.
Stella has a new job, a new apartment, and a sexy Andrew Jackson whose ass she can't stop grabbing.
Kelli of the live-in boyfriend sector works for the city, hates it but loves the comp time. She's studying for the GMAT.
Me--well you know all about me!
Jo writes for a high profile weekly magazine, lives with her gum-maker bf (who is incidentally older and Jewish), and generally has sayings that rival me in pithy.
Home base
My homepage is CL.
My home is Manhattan, NY, USA.
My favorite color is red.
My favorite food is Indian--specifically, spicy vindaloo with basmati rice.
My favorite drink is the caipirinha.
My favorite shoes are flip flops with a kitty heel--I have simple green ones.
My favorite outfit is a long, flowing skirt with a fitted, cap-sleeved tee.
I don't re-read books, but some have affected me profoundly on the first go.
Books I've adored over the years include:
Little Women
The Great Gatsby
Catcher in the Rye
Memoirs of a Geisha
The Time Traveller's Wife
Tuesdays with Morrie
The Alchemist
The Namesake
Most things by Stephen King
Anything by Anais Nin
Movies I can watch over and over and over again:
Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle
Eurotrip
Frequency
Shawshank Redemption
The Mummy & The Mummy Returns
It's a Wonderful Life
Any movie with an all-black cast--particularly, The Wood and For Love and Basketball
All the Indiana Jones movies
Bollywood: Anything with Shahrukh Khan in love
Shows I've seen the re-runs so many times, I know the words:
Charmed
Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Sex and the City
Will & Grace
Six Feet Under
Friends
Fraser
Beverly Hills 90210
Currently into Grey's Anatomy
Songs I'll never get sick of singing along to on my iPod:
Nelly Ride with Me, Air Force Ones
50-cent Build You Up, Hate it or Love it, In Da Club
Kanye West Hey Mama
John Mayer Your Body is a Wonderland
Strokes Last Nite
Cat Stevens Wild World
Billy Joel Uptown Girl
Maximillion Sexual Healing
Don McLean American Pie
Vanessa Williams Save the Best for Last
Frank Sinatra Fly Me to the Moon
Songs that take me back to a place or a person:
Peter Gabriel SMS--Rec Dances
Peter Cetera The song from the Karate Kid--Middle School
Green Day Good Riddance--High School Graduation
Drifters Save the Last Dance for Me--I wonder how Jamie Sample is doing?
Goo Goo Dolls Iris--Norman still calls me everytime it comes on
Cypress Hill Insane in the Membrane--Driving in high school
Sarah McLachlan I Will Remember You--Tracey and Helen...tracks to campgrounds
Alanis Morrissette Head Over Feet--First chick song I was angry enough to like
Jewel Pieces of You--Summer of '96 at Cornell
Sublime Caress Me Down--Summer of '97 at Hopkins
Bon Jovi Livin' on a Prayer--College
Build Me Up Buttercup--Freshman Year
Kenny Rogers The Gambler--India, Summer 1999
Juvenile Back that Thang Up--Sophomore Year
Nelly Country Grammar--Junior Year
Fat Joe & Ashanti What's Luv?
Norah Jones Come Away with Me--I'm finally over you, Zayan!
Eagle Eye Cherry Save Tonight--Dorm Life
Shaggy Angel
Monica Angel of Mine--I miss you, V!
Third Eye Blind Semi Charmed Life--Zecki
DMB Say Goodbye--ugh...A I banker
Mario Just a Friend 2002--Moving to NYC
Rick Springfield Jessie's Girl--I miss you, Amy...how's SD?
Sean Paul Temperature--Summer 2006
Nelly Furtado Promiscuous Girl--My first ringtone ever!
Wyclef & Shakira Hips Don't Lie--Hamptons 2006
My home is Manhattan, NY, USA.
My favorite color is red.
My favorite food is Indian--specifically, spicy vindaloo with basmati rice.
My favorite drink is the caipirinha.
My favorite shoes are flip flops with a kitty heel--I have simple green ones.
My favorite outfit is a long, flowing skirt with a fitted, cap-sleeved tee.
I don't re-read books, but some have affected me profoundly on the first go.
Books I've adored over the years include:
Little Women
The Great Gatsby
Catcher in the Rye
Memoirs of a Geisha
The Time Traveller's Wife
Tuesdays with Morrie
The Alchemist
The Namesake
Most things by Stephen King
Anything by Anais Nin
Movies I can watch over and over and over again:
Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle
Eurotrip
Frequency
Shawshank Redemption
The Mummy & The Mummy Returns
It's a Wonderful Life
Any movie with an all-black cast--particularly, The Wood and For Love and Basketball
All the Indiana Jones movies
Bollywood: Anything with Shahrukh Khan in love
Shows I've seen the re-runs so many times, I know the words:
Charmed
Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
Sex and the City
Will & Grace
Six Feet Under
Friends
Fraser
Beverly Hills 90210
Currently into Grey's Anatomy
Songs I'll never get sick of singing along to on my iPod:
Nelly Ride with Me, Air Force Ones
50-cent Build You Up, Hate it or Love it, In Da Club
Kanye West Hey Mama
John Mayer Your Body is a Wonderland
Strokes Last Nite
Cat Stevens Wild World
Billy Joel Uptown Girl
Maximillion Sexual Healing
Don McLean American Pie
Vanessa Williams Save the Best for Last
Frank Sinatra Fly Me to the Moon
Songs that take me back to a place or a person:
Peter Gabriel SMS--Rec Dances
Peter Cetera The song from the Karate Kid--Middle School
Green Day Good Riddance--High School Graduation
Drifters Save the Last Dance for Me--I wonder how Jamie Sample is doing?
Goo Goo Dolls Iris--Norman still calls me everytime it comes on
Cypress Hill Insane in the Membrane--Driving in high school
Sarah McLachlan I Will Remember You--Tracey and Helen...tracks to campgrounds
Alanis Morrissette Head Over Feet--First chick song I was angry enough to like
Jewel Pieces of You--Summer of '96 at Cornell
Sublime Caress Me Down--Summer of '97 at Hopkins
Bon Jovi Livin' on a Prayer--College
Build Me Up Buttercup--Freshman Year
Kenny Rogers The Gambler--India, Summer 1999
Juvenile Back that Thang Up--Sophomore Year
Nelly Country Grammar--Junior Year
Fat Joe & Ashanti What's Luv?
Norah Jones Come Away with Me--I'm finally over you, Zayan!
Eagle Eye Cherry Save Tonight--Dorm Life
Shaggy Angel
Monica Angel of Mine--I miss you, V!
Third Eye Blind Semi Charmed Life--Zecki
DMB Say Goodbye--ugh...A I banker
Mario Just a Friend 2002--Moving to NYC
Rick Springfield Jessie's Girl--I miss you, Amy...how's SD?
Sean Paul Temperature--Summer 2006
Nelly Furtado Promiscuous Girl--My first ringtone ever!
Wyclef & Shakira Hips Don't Lie--Hamptons 2006
He remembered me!
I had dinner at Lawrie's with K and Jon (Lawrie's very cute British friend) on Saturday night. As I rushed into her building, late per usual, set of saucepans from KMart in tow--I asked if she needed anything and she asked for the pots she could create dinner in, strange, right?--her doorman ushered me with a friendly hello as he insisted on notifying her of my arrival, josh as I did with him on my imposing physique. She paid me back, but I was expecting for a wine bottle ask. This was unexpected and quirky.
Lawrie made a delicious spread--mini burgers, pork, sirloin and filet mignon, a veggie medley, and sole stuffed with crabmeat we were too stuffed to enjoy. She's my kind of hostess--insists on cleaning up after you and serving you! Over dinner we split three bottles of red, then two bottles of dessert wine over dessert. She is a Duckwalk Wines lover, as K and I have become from our summer at the Hamptons.
The point of this post isn't my delightful evening at Lawrie's dinner party: the point is the doorman reappeared at Bruno's Bakery. I took Jim, my very first gay boyfriend from high school, for coffee and treats after our air kisses off the 14th St. stop. I hadn't seen Jim since our 5-year high school reunion, save the time he called upon me to avail himself of my shower when he was auditioning for American Idol last Fall. I didn't recognize the doorman, but he remembered me. Jim marveled at my ability to leave an impression as the gentleman kept gawking at me and provided the most attentive service one could without blatantly eavesdropping.
I felt guilty for not recognizing him. I hate people who forget me, even if our meeting was once and brief, and I pride myself on remembering faces no matter how fleeting...but here was a guy I had completely overlooked, arguably given his station--at the door, then behind the counter--I was appalled. I hate being faced with my hypocrisy. Not that I wasn't touched by his recollection of me, but I want to write off forgetting him as result of being rushed (I was an hour late to Lawrie's dinner) and I know I will definitely recognize him the next time I see him...but I still don't know his name. It never occurred to me to ask him; I suppose he could have asked me, but I feel like I should have made the effort.
For a big city, New York has a way of feeling very small.
Lawrie made a delicious spread--mini burgers, pork, sirloin and filet mignon, a veggie medley, and sole stuffed with crabmeat we were too stuffed to enjoy. She's my kind of hostess--insists on cleaning up after you and serving you! Over dinner we split three bottles of red, then two bottles of dessert wine over dessert. She is a Duckwalk Wines lover, as K and I have become from our summer at the Hamptons.
The point of this post isn't my delightful evening at Lawrie's dinner party: the point is the doorman reappeared at Bruno's Bakery. I took Jim, my very first gay boyfriend from high school, for coffee and treats after our air kisses off the 14th St. stop. I hadn't seen Jim since our 5-year high school reunion, save the time he called upon me to avail himself of my shower when he was auditioning for American Idol last Fall. I didn't recognize the doorman, but he remembered me. Jim marveled at my ability to leave an impression as the gentleman kept gawking at me and provided the most attentive service one could without blatantly eavesdropping.
I felt guilty for not recognizing him. I hate people who forget me, even if our meeting was once and brief, and I pride myself on remembering faces no matter how fleeting...but here was a guy I had completely overlooked, arguably given his station--at the door, then behind the counter--I was appalled. I hate being faced with my hypocrisy. Not that I wasn't touched by his recollection of me, but I want to write off forgetting him as result of being rushed (I was an hour late to Lawrie's dinner) and I know I will definitely recognize him the next time I see him...but I still don't know his name. It never occurred to me to ask him; I suppose he could have asked me, but I feel like I should have made the effort.
For a big city, New York has a way of feeling very small.
October 2, 2006
October
It is October. The seasons are a changing, again.
As I climbed out of the 6 stop at Brooklyn Bridge this evening, I felt that distinctive nip in the air and a singular leaf fell on the step before me. I paused to gaze at the lit bridge and inhale a lungful of crisp air as I jauntily put one foot before the other and emerged above ground. My iPod pumped my favorite song, "Ride Wit Me" by Nelly as I clutched my phone in one hand and adjusted the strap of my oversized tote with the other.
It is finally fall and I'm not in school but prepping for the GMAT. It has sure made me feel like a real student....in lieu of libraries I sit at the Starbucks' in Astor Place for hours at a time poring over practice tests; drinking melted, strong , iced coffee hoping against hope that apathy's last kiss is but a distant memory--yet I know it is not. Tomorrow is another day I'll lay in bed, watching TV, checking e-mails and surfing Craigslist; haunted by the reality that I wasn't born a woman of leisure. My craving for freedom, my lust for empty hours, is a reality in this era of credit--credit which turns curdles in the heat of my prolonged abuse.
As I climbed out of the 6 stop at Brooklyn Bridge this evening, I felt that distinctive nip in the air and a singular leaf fell on the step before me. I paused to gaze at the lit bridge and inhale a lungful of crisp air as I jauntily put one foot before the other and emerged above ground. My iPod pumped my favorite song, "Ride Wit Me" by Nelly as I clutched my phone in one hand and adjusted the strap of my oversized tote with the other.
It is finally fall and I'm not in school but prepping for the GMAT. It has sure made me feel like a real student....in lieu of libraries I sit at the Starbucks' in Astor Place for hours at a time poring over practice tests; drinking melted, strong , iced coffee hoping against hope that apathy's last kiss is but a distant memory--yet I know it is not. Tomorrow is another day I'll lay in bed, watching TV, checking e-mails and surfing Craigslist; haunted by the reality that I wasn't born a woman of leisure. My craving for freedom, my lust for empty hours, is a reality in this era of credit--credit which turns curdles in the heat of my prolonged abuse.
The Empty Car
If a packed subway has an empty car there are only a few explanations:
1. For some ridiculous reason the doors to that car DO NOT open.
2. It is summer and there is NO AC in that car.
3. There is the most rank odor known to mankind emanating within that car.
1. For some ridiculous reason the doors to that car DO NOT open.
2. It is summer and there is NO AC in that car.
3. There is the most rank odor known to mankind emanating within that car.
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