Stolen

Poor D'Souza! His car got stolen as it sat innocently in his driveway in Jersey City late Sunday night/early Monday morning. Who is out stealing cars to commemorate the Risen Christ? Honestly....the outrage.

He wasn't as disgruntled at the loss as the theivery at hand.

WFC

The World Financial Center (WFC)stands across the West Side Highway from where the World Trade Center (WTC) towers once stood. WFC has 3 towers--Tower 1 stands apart from the attached Towers 2 and 3. D'Souza's main office is in 2 and my current assignment has me shackled in 3.

Yesterday, we had the unique privilege of walking to work together through the financial district across the West Side Highway into Battery Park City (BPC) to the WFC.

He took me to a delicious non-meaty lunch at SouthWestNY at 1pm--in observance of Good Friday. He also met Taurean and I for a quick coffee break at Starbucks around 4pm. Of course, D'Souza's day was a wrap at that point, so he got to go home...walk the dog and take a nap before meeting me for Liturgy at 6pm.

Bah work!

That's where I am right not, clackety clack clack!

Midnight Mass

It seems that Manhattan for all its conveniences does not offer a midnight vigil for Easter. I scoured the internet to find the latest available vigil at 8pm tonight, but that just doesn't cut it for D'Souza. Devout Catholic that he is, thankfully this vigil is at the appropriately Roman Catholic St. Patrick's Cathedral.

I escorted him to a 6pm Good Friday Liturgy yesterday at St. Paul's Chapel--which wasn't to my liking for the quality of the sermon--his qualm lay more in the lack of Roman in their Catohlic. In fact, I think they are Episcopalian...linked to Trinity Church as they are. Conveniently located across the street from the World Trade Center PATH station with an excellent proximity to the World Financial Center--home of US Xpress and Hoyt (workplace of D'Souza)--where we were both busily at work yesterday.

Good Friday

All believers in Christ, take a moment or mass/service to speculate on just how momentous today really is...Good Friday, indeed.

For the non-believers, drink hard on behalf of us non-imbibers and eat loads of RED meat...

Apartment of my Dreams

Apartment: XXL Studio or One Bedroom in Manhattan
Location: South of 96th St. on the West Side or 65th St. on the East Side
Space: 525+ sq. feet
Features: Walk in Closet, Eat in Kitchen, Windowed bathroom and kitchen
Amenities: Laundry in the building, dishwasher, microwave, hardwood floors...if a studio an alcove for the bed that can easily be screened off would be clutch.

Would be cool if there was a gym/room with weights included in the rent, but in the grand scheme of the things I want, I care about this the least.

Would be cool if it was less than 5mins. to the subway, but if I can get more space further away I'll take the space.

Elevator preferred but I'll live in a walk-up as long as it's not higher than the 3rd floor.

My neighborhood preferences are as follows:
Gramercy
Murray Hill
Financial District (not Battery Park)
UWS (ideally near Fordham)

Finding all of it for under $2K/month without paying ANY brokers' fees:
A Dream Come True!

Eulogy for Chiara

One of the greatest virtues we can attain in our lifetime is knowing how to live. Knowing how to make the whole room dance at just the right moment, knowing how to tell a captivating story, knowing that everyone should take out time to learn the art of bongo drumming at some point in their life. It is the ability to seek joy and bring it to those we meet every single day that allows us to really know how to live. The will to share your happiness with people around you—whether they are strangers, friends, foreigners, or just passersby—is a human ability we were all born with, yet it is so rare that you see someone embody this value as much as Chiara did.

How many people here can tell a story about meeting Chiara for the first time, going on with your day, week, or month, and then running into a girl who is suddenly hugging you and saying, “hey, you’re Claire McTaggart from Connecticut, I’m Chiara, we met the other day.”

This love of life and all the people in it is what has always made Chiara absolutely unforgettable. While most of us settle into what is comfortable and most familiar, Chiara set out to explore all she could that was unseen, friend any whose path she crossed, and ingrain herself into our memories as that really friendly girl with the wild curly hair.

It is Chiara’s style of living and her hunger to embrace everything outside her comfort zone that we should take with us. We should think about that eccentric Italian Jewish girl from Danville, Kentucky, and remember her emails from Montpellier France, the stories from deer camp in Marquette Michigan, the pictures of Chiara tearing up the dance floor in downtown Brooklyn and the great hat she bought for the Kentucky Derby.

We are all at such a great loss in her absence, but Chiara would never want us to sit here mourning. In her death she has still managed to bring people from all walks of life together, where NFL players can meet Italian New Yorkers who can meet Kentucky locals who can meet Michigan sorority girls. If anything, our obligation is to imagine those things about Chiara that made her so vivacious and so unique and incorporate that into yourself.

If you have trouble meeting new people, just remember Chiara and go introduce yourself to someone new. If you have never left your hometown, think of Chiara and find a way to travel to an unexpected city. If you find yourself stressed or working all the time, keep Chiara close in your mind and do something spontaneous with your friends. If your friends are all one age or one nationality or one race or one religion or one class remember our friend and learn how to appreciate those different from ourselves. And all of us, whenever we have the urge to speak badly to another or look down on someone else, please, let Chiara become a life long lesson so that we can all come out of this better people than we were before.

What happened to Chiara was a tragedy, but we must comfort ourselves knowing that in 23 years Chiara lived more than most people could in a lifetime. So lets each take a part of her with us, lets become that part of chiara that you always admired but never had the courage to be, and this way she will be living throughout each and every one of us as long as we live. Once we have wiped away the tears and expressed our condolences, please, let us each go back into our lives and become those people Chiara would have been honored to see us become, because through this she will never be outside our hearts.

THIS WELL WRITTEN EULOGY MELTED MY HEART AS IT ECHOED MY SENTIMENTS.

Movin' Out

My building is going condo come June, so I am back in the rental market. D'Souza has asked me to move in with him and after much deliberation, I have consented.

I will be one of the co-habitating masses living blissfully in sin and going to mass on Sundays. Does that cancel it out? Gotta make it to confession EVERY week now.

This is going to be a transition but given that the man has two suitcases and I have...er...many more and loads of furniture the dream remains a walk-in closet and enough storage space for all my shoes and bags. I've given up all hopes of squeezing my small dining table into what I can only assume will be our "large" studio, but it's a sacrifice worth making.

I'm all grown up! Look at me!

My Boyfriend's Back...

And he's better than EVER.

Standing on the corner of Hope St. and Anxiety Avenue at 5:26pm yesterday my eyes awaited their first D'Souza sighting in 3 weeks and 3 days. The minute I saw his signature strut in a gorgeous pin-stripe suit with Men in Black sunglasses, my breath caught in my throat. How could that glorious specimen of manhood possibly be ALL mine? That was the only thought in my otherwise racing mind. A passing thug hooted his approval at the smile which lit my face as my man sidled up to me sweeping me into a crushing embrace and amorous lip lock.

Time literally stopped as I breathed him in, oblivious to the rush hour bustle of the financial district around us. It was another movie moment to add to our long list of romantic rendezvous.

Of course, now he's back to work in distant OH till Saturday...but I can survive three days without complaint after the 12 hours of attention and affection he showered on me last night. God, I missed him.

Palm Sunday

Running up the steps on 5th Avenue, you leave the bustle of Midtown as soon as you set foot inside Saint Patrick's Cathedral--the oldest Gothic church in the United States.

Sitting in a pew near the back, I picked up two fresh stalks of palm and bent them--as I'd seen a thousand times at St. Theresa's and St. Mary's in Bombay--to make a cross in reverence to folks 2000 years ago welcoming Jesus to their town. The same folks who stood around and watched him get nailed to a cross five days later.

I said a prayer for Chiara...who never went to church or cared about organized religion--more for me than her--what did I have to offer her wherever she was. I could only hope her beliefs had led to a place where the wine never stopped flowing and the men were all foreign or at least had foreign accents. I knew she had been as close to happy as anyone could be who was taken prematurely and/or without warning.

I said a prayer for my Mom and the new family she had formed with her new husband. A family I tried desperately to keep myself separate from but realized with every passing day, despite my best intentions, I was alienating loved ones and gently damaging my mother. I vowed to do a better job of embracing that family--a family that included me with open arms and supported my most inane decisions.

I thought fondly of being in that churh with D'Souza and the family we hoped to be some day. I wondered if that fantasy was a reality I was truly ready for and I wished with all my heart that God would prepare me for what I hoped was the long road ahead. I prayed for his safe journey back to me, knowing he was on a plane somewhere over Europe where churches like St. Patrick's abounded--towering steeples and stained glass windows built by devout men hoping for heaven.

I made a mental note to cook an extravagant feast for Easter despite my culinary shortcomings and general disdain for all times spent alone in a kitchen.

I value tradition. I've come to accept that much of my faith is rooted in the customs I was raised with adherence to as well as the do-it-because-the-Bible-says-so-ness impressed upon me as a child. Perhaps that is how organized religion continues to weild power over the masses. Perhaps as I age, my inclination to cling closely to where I come from strengthens. I'm not much of a Catholic, in truth. What I am is a lover of the ritual and tradition of Catholicism planted in me as a child that despite infrequent watering has blossomed into a flower that frequents church.

I'm a pro-life/pro-birth control, pro-gay marriage Christian and I have no trouble reconciling my faith in Jesus with my value for freedom and free will.

US Xpress Desk Minion=Me

I will be working on migrating data at US Xpress in the WFC starting Monday, April 2. After 8 months of waking, sleeping, eating, leaving as I saw fit I will again be slave to that routine schedule employed individuals are forced to keep.

Yes, this will be the most boring assignment on God's green Earth but it pays a good deal for what it is with the opportunity for 10-20 hours/week in time and a half overtime promised. There is also no danger of me cutting and running as the actual contract is for 2 months with option to renew should the work be incomplete or prolific, at their discretion.

Incidentally, the WFC is where D'Souza works when he is actually at his home office. It is also a 10-15 minute walk from my current residence.

To living a debt-free existence: hip hip hooray!
To being a menial computer monkey: boo!

Into the sunset with cash lacking sleep in my drive to be productive and civilized.

My Other Blog

Here is a post I wrote on 230 Fifth for my other blog.

Don't worry...I'm still loyal to you, darling readers of my life. I won't leave you without Sweetly Vicious updates.

Missing D'Souza

Today marks three weeks since I've seen D'Souza.

It seemed so long and it was so long and it's done yet it drags on. He's scheduled to land at JFK at 7am on April 2, only to make his way onto a plane at 9am to OH where he is stationed next week. He should fly back into the tri-state on thursday night or Friday afternoon of next week--which means another week of me missing him.

In some ways I haven't had the chance to agonize over his absence because he actually made an effort to call/text/e-mail/skype/AIM with enough frequency that I didn't have long periods to examine the hole in my heart growing from his absence.

That said, it's been a difficult transition from spending every waking, non-working minute with my man to laying my weary, wistful eyes on his glorious visage. I can tell you that I'm going to stick to him like glue just as soon as he's in a touch-range of Sweet self.

D'Souza--Come home, pronto! I miss you.

Pachyderm Parade 2007

A caravan of elephants--the leader donned a sequined I *heart* NY coat--walked across 34th St. as hordes of New Yorkers whipped out their camera phones and high tech digital devices to capture the annual crossing of Ringling Brothers Circus onto our fair isle.
Tom, Norman, Kelly, and I were part of the eager scene...once they passed a full sprint was required to keep up with the tail-to-trunk parade. There were also a slew of beautiful, glossy-coated black horses followed by white horses and TINY, fuzzy-hooved ponies.
\

This one is on Tommy's camera which is still better than my attempts on a real digital--in my defense it's a REALLY OLD digital circa November 2003.

Where Does the Good Go?

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?
What do you do with the left over you?
And how do you know, when to let go?
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Chorus:
Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive
Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go
Look me in the eye and promise no love's like our love
Look me in the heart and un break broken, it won't happen

It's love that leaves that breaks the seal of always thinking you would be
Real happy and healthy, strong and calm
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Chorus

Where do you go when you're in love and the world knows?
How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down?
What do you say it's up for grabs now that you're on your way down?
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

Off the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack, I dedicate that Tegan and Sara song to the memory of Chiara "McWeepy" Levin...the good left with her.

D'Souza's Doppleganger: Desi Model/Bollywood Actor

John Abraham's got nothing on my baby. Seriously, D' could be John's body double.

Ciao Bella

My neighbor and short-time but lasting impact friend, Chiara was killed this weekend. She was visiting her great aunt for her birthday and hitting up a law school prom in Boston when a drive by in Dorchester, MA tragically took her from this world.

Chiara was a beautiful, intelligent, imaginative, creative, culinary, sensitive person with exquisite taste and an elan I can best describe as Euro-Fab. She looked remarkably like Rebecca Gayheart, the former Noxema girl also hailing from the state of Kentucky.

She was a reveler of life. She was unadulterated in her zest for experience and exploration of the world. She had been planning to move to Italy this summer after spending this year in New York. She'd been here since July when she graduated from the University of Michigan and moved here to start a new life.

I will miss her every thursday as I tune into Grey's Anatomy without her McWeepiness. She was often reduced to tears by some sadness on screen or in real life--she just felt with a quiet intensity I can only relay as empathy. Her generosity in spirit and with spirits made my world a brighter place. Like her voluminous, untamed curls she quickly became something to everyone whose life she touched--like the sun in its wanton rising and setting. She radiated a warmth and curiosity that I can best sum up as genuine and youthful.

Here's an article in the NY Post about Chiara Maria Levin.

Ciao Bellissima Chiara!

I should have written this!

Stirring has piqued my attention a bit too late--since the last show was yesterday--but it has brought my attention to another project Shalimar Productions is developing: Immigration/Love Project. How fascinating!

Riding the 6

Going In Hard To Be Soft

This weekend I had the unique experience of being complimented for my brand of insightfulness on more than one occassion.

Friday:
Pixie, my friend from high school, whose boyfriend I'm reputed for stealing a decade ago (they broke up in July! we started dating in September!), celebrated her 25th b'day in Williamsburg. I'm not convinced that Graham Ave on the L is still Willy-burg, but given our tenuous history I don't argue with her. This is the annual event at which we share oxygen--for my part, I keep my head down and glug my drink with a religious fervor. It is upon Tracey's insistence that I arrive at the scene with a meager gift in tow under layers of winter wear.

Sean, GaGa's best bud (Pixie's current cohabitating boyfriend), and I in the course of conversational factions found ourselves discussing culture and identity in the great American landscape. At what might have been the terminus of my intellectual tirade, Sean looked at me with genuine respect which I could easily have mistaken for sarcasm and uttered every aspiring teacher's favorite words, "I never thought of it that way. That's a really interesting perspective you've added to how I look that." After his assurances of seriousness, I found myself enthralled by the compliment of a smart stranger. It's amazing how strangers can influence us, flatter us, create pools of self-doubt, bring a smile or a tear to our cheeks and seemingly vanish from our lives.

Incidentally, Sean is no small potato in the audio film community. Check HIM out! He's an extremely polite person predisposed to pensive bouts with an appreciation for my pedantic pandering. In my limited experience based on one-time contact--Great GUY~

Saturday:
Milan--one within the growing populous of men I've been on A date with only to realize his residence rests firmly in the friend zone--in the course of many hour-long conversations this weekend called my attention to how keenly I listen. He marveled at the level of detail at which I observe him and others in their actions and inaction. He was kind enough to insert at appropriate times, his commentary on my observations. Calling me out of using psychological jargon and analysis in daily observation.

There were moments our ruminations had the rumblings of a recording of Frasier and Niles Crane discussing the merits of Merlot vs. Chianti--except our presuppositions rested firmly in the psyche--why do or don't we do/say/act in certain ways. An exercise in complete self-absorption and at times narcicissm: it was an expression of our education coupled with the rebellion of intelligent desi kids with the have-no-desire-to-make-mucho-$ chip on our non-medically trained shoulders.

Moments of clarity were clouded by moments of self-loathing and doubt. Finally we summed the experience thus: I am a pot of uncertainity stewing on a stove next to him, a dilute pot simmering in discontent.

Our Song

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.
It's not warm when she's away.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
anytime she goes away.

Wonder this time where she's gone,
Wonder if she's gone to stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away.

And I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know

Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone,
But ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
only darkness everyday.
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
And this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away.

Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.
Anytime she goes away.

Guess who is learning to play this song on his guitar while he's gone?