everything is alive again. it is 11pm and there is a man
walking down 1st avenue with a black and white piano tie
and a goofy pointed hat. he is buying incense from an
african man on the street and asks, 'do you sell vanilla
flavored?' i am walking past Xunta and am wondering
how and where you are. i peek in to see if i can spot
another potential budding relationship in the works but
see only a lonely man in a black leather coat smoking
a cigarette and reading the Village Voice. all at once
i am swallowed up by a sea of class trip students
obviously from some small town somewhere . a few
students appear to have been 'hitting the bottle'
(peach schnapps?) in the shadow of their oblivious
chaparone. trailing behind the group are the two class
lovers, too cool for school, too cool to let one another
know how much they really care about the other.
they shuffle along hiding under baggy pants and fluffy
fleece sweaters while dragging their feet - elbows
touching. i pass two teenage girls spending time
together on their seperate cell phones. one says
into her phone, 'And I was like..what are you talking
about?' the other says into her phone, 'And I was
like...whatever!' They stand back to back smoking,
their bodies touching as if being measured.
so what is it to be yourself or alone while together?
not sure really but decide that tonighti am enjoying
the beauty of the trial and error. it is dark and it is
raining. i am overdressed in my white winter coat
with fur. i attract the eyes of a laughing couple in
the picture window of a Japanese restaurant.
the girl looks shy as she kicks back her tiny
cup of warm sake.
1.24.2002
1.18.2002
Last week I started knitting class in the East Village.
I arrived with a bag full of tangled yarn and hand written
cheat sheets only to find that it was a somewhat
advanced class I was signed up for not 101.
'Well...' said the teacher with a large sigh, shaking
her hand made seashell earrings and pulling at her
complicated looking hand knit vest, 'you can try
your best but...have a seat...'
The other women were a wide range of knitting
experts. I was the only one planning to make a bag
and everyone else was in the market to make a baby
blanket for either themselves or someone they knew.
Needless to say class ticked away slowly.
Over the weekend my friend Julie shared some rockin'
knitting tips. I also practiced knitting like mad. When
I arrived next class and took my knitting out on the long
wooden table the teacher gasped, 'Oh my god class!
Come look at how much she has improved!'
The puff paint shirt wearing woman who introduces
herself as 'a former potter' even though it's kitting class
seemed miffed by all the attention I was getting. She
didn't think I heard her but I did when she leaned over to
a fellow classmate and said, 'I was really worried she
wouldn't make it.'
Lesson here: Start off really really lame in whatever
you do. You are bound to shine like a superstar.
1.7.2002
yesterday i worked at the 2002 Boat Show at the Javitz Center.
my job was to stand in front of the hottest boat of 2002 made by
Cobalt boats ( http://www.cobaltboats.com/main/home_frm.html )
with the interior designed by Coach leather.
I had to ask 7.6 million people (well it felt like that many)
"So where do you do your boating?" and about 7.6 million
'hilarious' people would say, "In the water!" and then they would
crack upand nudge the people they were standing with. I thought
I was going to die.
To make it worse the annoying man from Kansas I was working
with played practical jokes on me all day. He did the 'I'm tapping
your shoulder from the other side' thing which I didn't fall for, he
stole my phone and pretended to be calling someone long distance
on it and he even switched the name tags on our jackets when I
wasn't looking. Wow. I wish I could be as funny as that guy.
Next to our booth was a skinny stick Twiggy model girl who glared
at me all day from her giant yacht. Her boat made our Cobalt boat
look like a tub toy. i watched as tacky Long Island boating men
took photos with her all day and her long haired tacky boyfriend ran
and got her Starbucks coffee. Writing this makes me want to have
a cigarette.
you know what? sometimes i'm so mother fucking bored.
not unhappy bored just fucking bored. when we were kids
we were not allowed to say we were bored. my mom would
go totally nuts and say, 'creative children don't get bored.'
gee. no pressure there. this from the same woman who
would not buy me a Lite-Brite.
1.3.2002
For The Love Of God Someone Bring Back Sweet Caroline
today i went to my bartender in training job. instead of
being greeted by sweet cool bartender girl Caroline who
usually trains me (she was out sick) there was a tall,
ape-like, failed Hollywood actor, conceited man in her
place.
conceited man would say things like, 'you know what?
how 'bout i get that...' when i took stools down off the bar
or 'how about you relax and just shadow what i do' when
i started to get ice from the ice machine or 'yeah...i wasn't
good at spearing olives either when i first started' while
watching me put olives on a toothpick for martinis. He
even put water in an empty Vodka bottle and had me
practice pouring water out into rock glass 75 times in
a row which was dumb because the manager walked
by and nearly had a heart attack as it appeared that I
was pouring and dumping several glasses of good Vodka
down the drain. Sheesh!
it was a slow night and i thought by 8pm i'd rather kill
myself then hear any more about what natural acting talent
he has and how this bartending thing is just 'temporary'
(he's been there 4 years) the highlight of my night was
waiting for him to poison all of the customers by leaving
the metal shovel in the drinking ice which he did and
Caroline said was a BIG no no.
i miss Caroline. down with the conceited ape man who
doesn't talk about Yoga or music or living in London or
traveling in Italy or swimming or men.
1.2.2002
today a man at the 2nd Ave deli forced me
to try chopped liver and i actually liked it.
today my mom spent 14 minutes telling me
the proper way to open an oyster and i actually
didn't mind listening.
1.1.2002
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