...more recent posts
Mar 5, 2000
Haven't been here for a while. Winter creates those numb
interstitial bits. I like the display of abandoned garments on the
railings on the south side of the street on Rivington between
Norfolk and Suffolk. It changes regularly and I have no idea where
it comes from or who takes advantage of it. Entertaining in a way
that an installation could never be. I went to Asbury Park, New
Jersey today; I'd like to know what happened there. It looks like it
took far too much LSD. It's nearly 4am and there is a BBC voice
floating out of NPR reassuring me that the opposite end of the
spectrum to Asbury Park does exist somewhere on the planet. Or
does it? Apparently we have forgotten how to nourish ourselves.
The statisticians tell us that the number of obese people have
caught up with the number of malnourished. Complicating the
matter is that many of the obese are also malnourished. Have
decided to approach Lent with seriousness in the year 2000, as
an Irish Protestant I thought it might be fun to go the whole hog
and besmirch myself with ash on Wednesday coming and give up
something really fundamental, like liqour, again. It feels like it
might be time for a little sackcloth and self-flaggelation. Ah,
spring's sweet tremors toying with the loins.
Feb 25, 2000
The neighbor is ranting again. That's what happens when you run
out of story, you rant.
Feb 12, 2000
Recovering from flu contracted from those damn Britons, ever the
colonialists, even if reduced to spreading foul viruses. Picked up
several books, as well as a foul lergy, in their tempting book
shops: one a foodie paradise ("How to Eat") written by the
gorgeous Nigella Lawson, food editor of British Vogue and one
called "C, Because Cowards Get Cancer Too" (don't be repulsed
by the title) by John Diamond. It turns out the two of them are
married, which I manage to ascertain after some delirium induced
detective work. How charming. Both their books lie intertwined
with my heaped bed clothes. I feel compelled to write them a fan
letter. With a fever of 103 I'm chanelling them: been to their
annual summer party in their back garden and even given Nigella
a couple of recipes (recipe exchange is a sublime form of intra-girl
flirtation). You don't give your recipes to just any old cunt. So here
I am with the Anglo-flu and some sort of Anglo-mania and 400
chocolate truffles to make for St. Valentine's Day at the
restaurant. Perhaps my mother's misgivings were justified.
Feb 8, 2000
You go away and come home. You had a good time but you
missed the place that smells like you. You want to make your
home orderly. So you take apart the spice cupboard and put
everything from Whole Nutmeg to Tandoori Masala in labelled
containers, it takes the better part of three days. Mania?
Probably. It makes you feel like you are stroking the walls of your
apartment, licking the ceiling; It's a Good Thing. You're in the right
place.
Feb 5, 2000
Recently returned from London, where I did travel on the number
19 bus. But wouldn't you know it, it's days are numbered, rear
entry buses will be phased out by 2004. Try it while you can.
Some undigested observations: food tastes better (this is not
delusional and tourist-based, I think it's related to the
environment); one can have a lovely time in the UK if you just
pretend that sterling is really the dollar with another symbol
preceding the figure and not an entirely different value; the NHS
(Britain's free health care system) is a bad idea if you happen to
get ill, our profit driven health system, if you can afford it, is the
best in the world; spring is an entirely different season in those
latitudes: long, rolling, and spirit raising as opposed to vulgar and
sudden, already begun there and truly worthy of all that poetry
those people wrote about the English spring; croissants are
vastly superior there to here, while the reverse is true of the
bagel; London, like New York, is booming, with cranes dotting the
horizon (I wondered, while walking the Southern bank of the
Thames, was that anecdote a construction working student friend
told me true: that cranes are parked, at night, pointing in the
prevailing direction of the winds? He lied a lot and I liked it.)
London is all horizontal like LA; people live in their homes rather
than merely sleeping in them; there appears to be a greater
enthusiasm for books there (this could be delusional, but there is
a lot of reading and book shopping going on from what I saw).
Will tell you more.