Cheating on NYSC (New York Sports Club)

The weather has been glorious.

And I have been free.

It is so wonderful to just do what I’ve wanted to do.

Things like jamming out on the piano and singing on the top of my lungs in the middle of the day when no one else is around.

And looking through baby pictures trying to decide which to finally digitalize so I have them for eternity.

And experimenting by cooking random food just for fun.

So why not rebel against my routine at an indoor smelly gym?

Exactly.

That’s why today I pulled out my very dusty rollerblades from the back of my closet.

They had not seen sunlight since I was in highschool, and it’s kind of funny that just because our feet stop growing at some point, we can accumulate all sorts of footgear and save it for ages, and pull it out whenever.

And I went to a beautiful lake which has 3 miles around it in trail.

And I skated round it five or six times in pure bliss. 

I made sure I watched out for little caterpillars crossing the road. This was an arduous task since they were e-v-e-r-y-where, but I didn’t want any part of preventing more butterflies from entering the world.

 

 

Guilty Pleasure

{muttering to herself:}

“Stupid corny idiotic…I cannot believe I did this…Stupid loser son of a…I could be at home instead of..ugh…Stupid brain man.”

{to him:}

Where have you been?

I’ve been waiting and waiting for you and I did this stupid embarrassing, humiliating, corny thing.

And I was just going to tell you that this over here is our kitchen

And this is our living room and over there, that’s the room where our kids could play.

I had this whole thing about how I was gonna build us a house.

But I don’t build houses, because I’m a surgeon.

And now I’m here feeling like a lame ass loser.

I got all whole and healed.

And you don’t show up

And now its all ruined cuz you took so long to come home.

And I couldn’t even find that bottle of champagne…

{her to him after his bit:}

I’m still mad at you and I don’t know if I trust you.

I want to trust you but I don’t know if I do so I’m just gonna try.

I’m gonna try and trust you because I believe that we can be extraordinary together.

Rather than ordinary apart.

And I want to be with you.

 I kind of hate myself for loving this, but I can’t help it. 

 

 

Dummy

Generally girls do not like hearing they’re just like their mothers. When we’re little we think our mothers know everything. And as we get older we know everything and they know nothing. We call them names and think they’re dumb. Maybe it’s one of those tales as old as time that generations rebel against their elders, doing things the exact opposite way from the way they were brought up. I was brought up with independence, and my parents never said “I love you,” so my kids will probably be smothered with kisses and hate me for saying I love them, and hate me for making sure I know where they are and what they’re doing and that they’re safe. But I have to say, my mother amazes me in way which I can’t see myself ever living up to. She can build things, uses and loves tools and machines with such skill that would put most men to shame. And she can sew. She hasn’t in a while because being a lawyer takes most of her time. But when I begged her to be my seamstress for my bridesmaid gown, she agreed. And though I haven’t been home in months I’d ask every once in while how it was coming along. Her response was generally not too confidence inspiring. But now I know that’s cuz she truly is a pessimist and too hard on herself. I took one look at the thing and new it was brilliant. Despite the awful color yellow, which the dear bride chose, she turned the poly-satin crappy material into art. My Mum ain’t a dummy at all. 

 

Name

I read into things all the time. I overanalyze people’s words even when they are just electronic letters typed on a screen or messages sent through a cell phone. I replay conversations over and over in my head searching for meaning when it was just shallow nothingness. And I also wonder when random people keep popping up unexpectedly in life. Like recurring themes in an author’s style of writing, and reruns on TV. Is it some sort of mystical power system where people are strung together? Or is it mere coincidence. I mean I keep running into you in the streets of New York, and we always smile and share a few words of English conversation. Then we just move on until the next time. And at Baggot Inn you always remembered my name. Now Baggot is over. You’re a rockstar, awing the world with your mandolin skill and Nicklecreek. But we run into each other and you remember my name. This is me, the over analyzer.

Suddenly I See

 It wasn’t actually as sudden as it should have been. But here you are, holding this spot in my life and it happened when I was least aware of it. This weekend in the Hamptons was as “Unhamptons” as I could have hoped for, and I have rekindled my love for bike riding. I guess bike riding is in fact one of those things that you don’t forget, though I daresay I was a bit wobbly for the first few seconds. It made me happy to see an old-ish car riding down the road still with it’s ribbon on the front as if it was brand new. It reminded me of the people who can find their youthful spirit despite their age in numbers. And of love which is still as fresh as when it started. Doors are closing. Windows are trying to be opened. And blogs are addictive. We’re kindred spirits and your parents trust me and we’re so in synch that it’s like a seesaw which makes our mood swings sometimes inconvenient. But thanks for this weekend. You amaze me. And the food was Yum.

(My Little) Hoegarden…I mean (Pony)

Who would have thought that fun grade school teacher you adored was secretly an alcoholic in her outside of school life? Well it’s true. I met her in the bar tonight at happy hour and she said she was a schoolteacher and I nearly choked on my Shiraz. I should have guessed that would be a reality, but it hit me pretty hard amidst the ballgame blasting from the TV and the rowdy already drunk at 8 p.m. folk in the bar. She told me she thinks of herself like Marry Poppins. Like she is some sort of superstar to the children.
Disillusions clearly can be useful.
Well at least teaching keeps her youthful in her mind.
And I have to say I was kind of jealous.

It is My Little Pony’s 25th anniversary.
All toy companies are using this idea to bring back toys from the 80’s and make the now Moms incredibly nostalgic and need to pay exorbitant prices for the toys of their youth so that their children grow up with the same magic. My sister and my three-year-old niece are on to marketing sham. But My Little Pony still has one more home. Happy Birthday.

Penny

A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned.
This is genius.
The nose that was turned up in snobbery for so long to loose change from purchases has been humbled.
I found out about Coinstar this weekend, and placed lots of coins into the machine on Saturday. I ended up with a small fortune considering it was just bits of metal laying around my apartment.
From now on, piggy banks are friends. They should be yours too.

Shoot for (the) Thrill(s)

Well first I just walked into the little boutique shop because I’ve been having a thing for thrift and vintage shopping lately. And because apparently I’m one of those victims of retail therapy without even thinking about it.

All refreshed and happy from a walk, I was chipper and my eyes dashed about the store rather quickly, sizing it up as a place for charming objects. Cool little vintage bags (one was a carpet bag which I still deeply desire). And many random adorable creations in the way of clothes and jewelry. The girl behind the counter was on an iBook, and clearly busy, but that didn’t stop my incessant babble as I cam across more and more things which were darling. As I fell in love with various items, and kept yapping to her, she managed to get some words in about how these are all unique, handmade creations from recycled clothing. The dress I was holding was actually three different articles of clothing in it’s previous life/lives. Cool. And I wanted so many things, so minutes later I wondered out loud to her how she doesn’t just leave with all of it. She found it funny and said she sometimes does. And so I asked her how she got the job. Well if you’re ready for a barrel of laughs…

She IS the job. She’s two years my senior and she has already started her own creative business doing what she loves. And she kicks ass. Her stuff is wonderful, and even though I had no business buying clothes last night…I had to. And now we’re facebook friends and I’m luring her into the music scene. Hey, the Arts need to stick together, and I’m the Darling of all mediums.

And then today in my long plaid thigh socks and bright pink rain boots and black little dress and big black umbrella, I stormed into Wholefoods to get the weekend munches. There were many taster booths out, but I was drawn to the design of a totally sleek looking bottled product and its booth master. The substance was tonic, and I cynically thought in my mind how tonic is awful plain no matter what. So I inquired what the deal was and the Dumbo based genius said he started this brand because back in college his friends couldn’t stand how bad tonic tasted. So this tonic is all natural, with guava, and 60% fewer calories…etc. It was good stuff too.

When I expressed how impressed I was, and questioned how he did it, and isn’t it such a risky move. His response was “well so is going into a corporate job at some big-shot firm.”

Shizza!

Sheer admiration is what I’ve realized I have for young entrepreneurs.

It’s hot.

If you take the risk, and get successful with your mission…

I salute You.

Window to the World

The guy must have thought I was the most egotistical amateur on the face of this earth. But I can’t help it. I know I was that good with my first encounter with a digital SLR. I think that this photography thing is going to be wonderful. Being behind the lens is like diving into a whole other world while being amongst the same world. I hope I don’t become a creepy antisocial freak because of it, but it is damn cool.

Enchantment Passing Through…

I am sometimes like a toy.
I’m fun to play with and I like to play.
And I like to take walks in the park on nice days.
Whatever hatred for Brooklyn I might have had growing up due to The Family’s influence, was officially dissipated this morning for good.
Park Slope is stunning on sunny days.
I walked around for ages after the games were over and I pretended to sleep and pretended to wake up.
So it was a lazy, tired sort of morning walk.

Brooklyn is like a reality balancing on a tightrope. I say this because it is virtually in the city, and has all the conveniences of one. Yet it also has this beautiful nature part of it. So I phoned Mum and told her this, and she agreed. So I guess she doesn’t hate it as adamantly as I recall. Funny how perceptions by a little girl can be so dramatized.

Pete & J in all their Mondays in May glory keep escelating their performances, and I sat there with a smile plastered on my face and my eyes glued to the stage for their entire set. Enchanted little girl I (still) am.

I certainly had no intention of falling asleep mid-day and oversleeping for naptime, but I did. And then I walked with Chloe to pick up her skates and listen to her tales of getting blood tests. Those stories were like repeating my own experiences with blood work. I can totally relate. We certainly are kindred spirits.

And then I came upon a sidewalk block suddenly, and asked the well-dressed doorman with an earbud in his ear, looking all important, if it was closed. His response was “It’s actually an obstacle course, it’s a contribution to fitness,” and after the second or two I needed to digest the statement (because of my gullibility)…

I thought him humorously clever.

Be Good

“Be Good”

It’s one of those greetings I just never got.
Tonight Mim’s Grandma said that to me when I was bidding them all farewell.
Be Good? At what? For what?
Whenever The Father says it to me I kind of laugh it off to him and say “I’m always good.” More like teasing him about how he thinks I must do all sorts of outrageous things and I’m playing all-innocent.
I remember that time when I met Natalie Portman and chatted with her for a little bit in her trailer, and I got two autographs. One for Dov because he loved her more than any girl in the world. And one for me for the hell of it. On his she wrote “Dear Dov, Have fun! Love, Natalie.” On mine she wrote “Dear Max, Be Good! Love Natalie.”
People have a way of saying “Be Good” to me as if I need the authority.
Maybe I do.
Maybe I’m not good at all.
I’m just plain Naughty.

Little Rascals…

I did it! I finally slept a decent amount of hours. Damn Zyrtec. From now on, I will not turn my back on the good ole’ healthy way. Chemicals suck. They charge you all sorts of money to do creepy things and trick your body. So local bee honey and pollen it is. And alfalfa sprouts. And even fucking apple cider vinegar; but no more medicine nonsense.

Allergy Coma

I suppose “allergy coma” describes it well.

This entire week I’ve been in a cloud of complete daze and strange, aloof, sort of fatigue.

They gym has been utter torture, and I’ve been slipping.

Which makes me so frustrated.

I had all this buildup of excitement for last night. Between Baggot closing so this being the last Wednesday. And Steve coming into town with Jay. And the Rebel event at Rockwood.

And of course yesterday was stunning out and I enjoyed the day. And then as soon as evening struck, I felt like a blob of nothing. Poor Steve must think I’m a loon. We ate while I interrogated him about his life in South Carolina. He lives in a beach-house! Rosi was amazing. She has a very pretty voice, and when she sings even really high notes she doesn’t look like she’s straining herself at all, which makes it a beautiful thing to watch. I’m not sure if I’m really confused about my position with Rebel or not. Last night all I wanted to do was run and hide in a corner. Maybe I’m good at talking to people just because I have nothing else to offer the music scene, so I got friendly to do something. But I don’t like being that person with the clipboard convincing people to sign up. I can’t be talkative on command. In fact, last night made me think I might actually be socially awkward if I’m not in a friendly mood. I spent most of the Rebel even standing on the sidewalk talking to people who joined. Adam’s a little sweetheart. And he’s funny too. It amuses me so much how the entire music scene is so small. It’s borderline incestuous. Everyone plays together. Everyone overlaps. But it’s kind of comforting. Nico was adorable too. She was all tipsy and friendly and witty. And while I stood next to her in my cloud of daze I wished I could be her. But I wasn’t, I felt like a shadow removed from everything in front of me, and eventually I realized I could not stay. I could not even stay to see Jay. And so I hugged Steve goodbye, And all the other random people I met. And I went back to get the shuttle.

Turns out Baggot wasn’t even open for their last bluegrass night. Some sort of sewage leak.

Ugh. (on all accounts).

“Slowly Grind Away the Innocence”

She is three years old now.
I never think of myself as an aunt, but I do think of her as my favorite.
They’re back at the Living Room. For Mondays in May. And you’d think I was seeing them for the first time the way I was taking it in. Sarah & Above The Noise are now creeping up there with It May Be Late and This Is It. Powerful stuff.
That guy Chris who played with Jon back in the day was there too, randomly.
He’s starting to play in a new band. The band is nameless, he can’t describe the music, but it’s happening. And he has a pretty friend Alex who took a liking to Nikki.
When I watch her excitement, her flirtatiousness with no concept of the consequences-  I feel like I’m watching myself just a little while back.
But I’m too young to be saying stuff like that.
But it’s so true. Because I got involved with all this when I was too young. And naïve.
And that’s how I ended up on this sick-cycled carousel. And sometimes when I’m there I wish I could be invisible so I can just experience it without having to be social.
There’s a quote in Almost Famous when she says to him “you’re too sweet for Rock & Roll.” Every time I see the movie, that line gives me chills. Because she’s really talking to herself. And maybe it’s because so am I. I’m sensitive. I feel it all.
Music is not just entertainment for me.
It becomes part of me.
And usually it sets me free.
But sometimes, every once in a while it feels like a weight on my shoulders. Because it’s so unclear to me what my part in all of it is.
I wish I could go back to when I was just an innocent, anonymous, little girl, lying about my age, just to get to listen.

“…Know when to Walk, Know when to Walk Away.” But that’s just Jay singing. And I certainly have a habit of walking away, only to come crawling back.

Maxie Heart

Perhaps it’s appropriate that I have acquired a new nickname.
She called me Maxie Heart.
I love it to be honest because it brings a whole new mysterious character to mind.
If you picture it since- she has xoxo in front of her name and if I had a heart after mine as a corny sort of afterthought, if we put our names together for a project, it’s surrounded with love. How lovely. Except I don’t like hearts.
That night at the Satellite party I got to talk about Rebel Spirit with Dean. He is the most ambitious, pure lover of music for music’s sake, guy. And it’s kind of inspiring since he has been so involved for so long. And he knows how down & dirty and unglamorous the industry is. His vision for Rebel Spirit is a great one, and I only hope it goes in that direction.
So it was a good time.
But then I couldn’t sleep properly. And now I’m desperately exhausted. With so many worries abut the next few weeks. But something tells me it’s not just about the next few weeks. It’s about the next few months, years, and generally: the rest of my life. I’m a wanderer. I have no idea what I want to do in January. I have no idea what direction I’m going in. And although I like not being tied down to one set of decisions. I find this very unsettling. I can only play limbo in the middle of the road for so long, before I stumble on my own feet and get run over.
Which brings me back to the start.
All these nicknames are like stages and twists in the path of my life.
Maxie Heart might be a subconscious choice.

“Steady as she Goes”

I had a bleak sort of epiphany yesterday.
I now know what the probable cause of my death will be.
Not any of the horrific ways my imagination has lead me to dream up in the past.
No- the cause of my death looks like it might be merely from trying to navigate my way through the crowded streets and sidewalks of New York.
It’s really amazing how many people are on each and every damn block of the city. It’s serious traffic, and I’m certain that there will soon need to be similar walking traffic guiding systems to the ones we have for cars.
Perhaps even tolls. Walking at red (or in this case, white man light) tickets. Fast lanes. (I w-i-s-h). Walking highways, which can avoid walking-lights altogether. O the possibilities…
But honestly. Yesterday I had the worst case of walking road rage. People were so in my way the entire time, and although I’m used to weaving through crowds of people since I’m a fast walker in general, yesterday was particularly awful.

• The woman yapping on the phone really loudly, arms thrashing about in the heat of conversation, totally unaware of her crowded surroundings, and taking up the entire width of the sidewalk.
• The lady in the tallest stiletto spike heels, trying to balance herself as she clumsily progressed at the pace of truly aged molasses. Also walking smack in middle of the walk so there was no way to get around, and Me behind her.
• Don’t even get me started on the various tourists with cameras glued to their faces; faces which are turned upwards by the way, so granted they are not looking where they’re going, at however minimal a speed.
• And of course there are the truly intelligent individuals who text and message on their cells & PDA’s, and just assume people will watch out for them while they employ a walk which brings a drunken (& possibly blind) sailor to mind.

It was one of these who inspired my epiphany after she bashed right into me. I tried, and almost succeeded in avoiding her, but you know when you assume there is only a certain amount of time a person can last walking without looking up and making sure the coast is ok? Well she just didn’t, and by the time I realized that she must be an idiot, I did the whole twist and try to move action. I still got ran into. And it hurt. A lot!
And that’s when it truly hit me how dangerous and possibly life threatening my daily walks through NYC are…

A Vision

When I was a little girl The Father made us rent a national geographic movie about ‘something real’ every time we rented something we found entertaining. This lead to all sorts of interesting events in my young life, including many times in the classroom where I was able to (and did indeed) call a teacher on incorrect details they taught us about certain animals. Yea. I learned that much from those movies. But the important part of all of this is that the national geographic series provoked my first idea of a dream job. I wanted to be a photographer for National Geographic when I grew up. Variations on the photography dream job popped up throughout my adolescence, and when it came time for college I still wanted to pursue a career in the arts. My family vetoed this hands down. They called it impractical. So here I am, about to start my last semester as an undergraduate this fall, and I’m left with this longing. Further, I recently met a girl at Rockwood at JV’s show, who basically is what I thought I’d be- a photographer for National Geographic. So it’s like someone was sending me a message that I mustn’t ignore that voice in me that has wanted to do this. Now, honestly I don’t think I’d really want to go out and be on the field photographing random wildlife. I do know I’m dying to learn more about photography though. So today, I decided that after I leave the office, I’m heading straight down to FIT and enrolling in a summer photography course. I’m ever so ecstatic. Now I won’t be one of those “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve” old people with regrets. (at least for this).

Just one Drink

Just one mojito makes me borderline drunk now.

I know they say that the more you drink, the higher your tolerance get, but that is just

Lies.

I met with the dean on Tuesday, and it looks like I will be graduating in January after all. Weird. Kinda scary.

So after that I decided to use my last day off to walk around the city, as usual. I knew I wanted to get to the Red Lion by 10. So I had loads of time. I walked through union square, and then to Bleecker. I temporarily contemplated getting wine at The Room where I had gone with Johnny, and he even kindly texted me the exact location, which had slipped my mind. But then I decided to go with someplace new. So I went to a little place which advertises itself on the awning as a wine bar.

More lies.

I mean they did have some wine, but most only by the bottle. If one glass gets me tipsy, I certainly wasn’t going to get a bottle. So I went with the mojito.

The girl sitting at the bar next to me was being all coy and smiley. I took out my paper to write down ideas for my senior thesis. Which, by the way is ridiculous since there is so much other work that needs to get done, and senior thesis really is for next semester. (one might also point out that writing a paper at the bar is an interesting alternative to the library, but anyway…)

The girl behind the bar looked like a very young version of Wynona Ryder. She was also smiley and coy, and I started to wonder whether everyone in the place new something I didn’t. Then the girl beside me took out a book/journal sort of thing, wrote a bit, and went for a cigarette break. Wynona came over and asked if I knew her. I said no. She said it looked like I did because we were friendly. Ok. So then of course I started a whole conversation with Wynona, whose name is actually Nino. She loves music too, and also lives ridiculously far uptown like me. If she hadn’t had to work until 2, she would have come to Red Lion. Oh well.

So cigarette break ended, and the girl is from Switzerland. She is moving to New York to live with her Swiss boyfriend who moved to New York a while ago. Her name is Caroline, and she was great bar company for conversation (and something of English language lessons as well) while she waited for her man to come back from work. (a bank, obv.) It’s funny cuz he did show up eventually, and he sounds remarkably a lot like Shrek. Turns out he learned English from someone who lives in the very far north of England. (Where accents get all convoluted and can sound somewhat Scottish). So it was all fun, and I made three friends. We exchanged info, and I will start telling them about the music I see.

Pete & J were amazing as usual. I was sitting with Matt at the bar for most of the time, and it was driving me nuts to try and watch the show through the mirror, and finally by “This is It” I convinced him to come stand. During their break I said hello, and caught some words with MJ. You know when you blank out entirely about someone’s name even though you know them so well? Well I did that to J when I was referring to Matt, and instead of making it obvious that I blanked, I stumbled for sound and called him Mike, which is utterly ridiculous. And then to make up for it I said “oh… I mean Matt, see…he has a brother Mike.” (which again makes no sense in any sort of context). And now J thinks I slept with Matt’s brother. O dear.

 I met a guy named Adam who actually drums for Ian (start humming ‘It’s a small world after all’ here…) and he had just been to Feist and gave me a heads up that it will be an awesome show. He gave me a ride to the train which was lovely, only I quickly found out that the trains weren’t running.

So I power walked.

 

FEISTy

“More than a fun status, it’s actually a really corny pun” (my status for the day)

To be honest, I was not so excited for her show.

Jesse, Mim and I met at Chipotle and waited in a very long line for people to wrap some dough around rice, beans, and salad. After feeding their bodies, and we went outside and across the street to yet another, much longer line. This line was to get into Hammerstein Ballroom, and we had enough time to catch up on the walk in the long line to the door.

We got seats even though it was kinda far away. The opening act was a single man called Hayden who got up with a single guitar. Dun Dun Dun. No kidding he made a little speech before he started saying that the night before people spoke his whole set and he couldn’t even hear himself play. Ok. A) don’t announce to your audience that people actually spoke your whole set- that just shows that your music leaves something to be desired. B) you, as an artist, selling your art have no right to tell people not to speak. If you’re good enough, they will listen.

First impression: Stated by Jesse- “Whiny little bitch.”

But to be honest, I think he had a beautiful voice. His songs are strange- there was one which he said was a love song about a bear attack. This takes the whole artsy thing a bit far. Another song was about his cat. Charming. He had one incredible song in which he sang and played the piano to (which is automatically something which makes me love you)…called “More than Alive.” Other than that the set started to drag, so although he has a nice voice- a cross between David Grey and Chris Martin- it does get a bit long after some time. So Mim & Jesse were speaking about going to a Crosby, Stills, and Nash show with their friend who found out her Grandma passed away while they were in middle of the show. Apparently it was expected, but still it’s gotta be awkward to handle that sort of situation. They (being the darlings which they are) offered her a hit. (see why I love them so?!)

We waited and waited for Feist. I saw Hayden standing pretty near by in the balcony which clearly tickled the part of me which neeeeeds to meet every musician I come across. So I did go over and introduce myself.

Here is what I want to say about Feist: She is an angel. Her voice is like tranquility entreating to the heavens. And along the way it conjures up a marching band with all the glory of musical instruments in front of a curtain of shadows and grace. It was a hauntingly beautiful and mesmerizing show. I noted that there were many couples at the show. And it didn’t look like it was the guys doing their girls a favor by treating them to music they’d never want to be caught seeing if she weren’t there. It was obvious that Feist has a following of lovers. Perhaps this is because her enchanted songs and voice touch the enchanted. When listening to her sing, and watching the show of lights, shadows, and graceful movements being projected, it’s impossible not to wish she can sing you to sleep every night.

I’m totally thrilled.
And I gotta say- Mim has amazing taste and great intuition for what will be a good time. I notice it time and time again….