Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I skipped yoga this morning to get my life together: do laundry, pack, and clean out my space for our summer sublet (a cute cornell junior interning in the city). It feels like I'm moving out-esentially I am. I've lived here for 2 & 1/2 years- longer than anywhere else since I was 17. Fairly short by conventional standards, but in 2007 I moved 7 times. I was a packing pro. Now I'm out of practice.

Monday, June 13, 2011

"Having Smoked all my cigarettes during my morning workout..."

Clearly the above is a Carry Bradshaw comment. Sex and the City is slowly (or quickly) becoming a photograph of a bygone era, during which I think I was fantasizing about dying my hair purple, and running around Park Slop before it gentrified. But I digress before I even begin. You'll have to blame the nostalgia; I'm a nonsmoker. I hear it kills you.

A few topics to address. First, the morning workout. I will be heading out to the west coast, specifically Santa Monica, to spend 27 days, from 6 am to 6pm, doing yoga, and somehow, I don't think they welcome smoking in the studio. I'll return to New York to join the thousands of certified yoga instructors. I originally planned to go to the training for ME, but now I want to teach too. I think I have a good eye for people hurts and pains, and how to make them better. Before and after, I will be traveling to Seattle, San Francisco, and San Diego.

I have finally been been coerced, flattered and convinced that there is value in my writing beyond the mere vanity of "having a blog." Thanks guys. Which leads to an interesting point. This blog, my pretend Time Out New York column, is rooted in New York. It's called Localizing. I suppose I could have called it "Going Native," though my parents are from Brooklyn and Queens. So the question... how do I write a blog about becoming a local during a period as a nomad and tourist? I think it's not possible; the focus will shift into an analysis of my destinations and road-stops as a psuedo new yorker would see them: the pros, the cons, and the anomalies.

Stay tuned kids, there's more where this came from. Anyone have a light?

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Smelling Salts

"Prone to spells of dizziness, she felt like a woman from a victorian novel"


"And having begun to referto herself in the third person she wondered 'have I been watching too many romance movies while recovering from head trauma?'"

Friday, April 23, 2010

Movie Options

I have a concussion, and 50 first dates is on.. perhaps i'll pass on that one.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Well Then.

This post is dedicated to a certain aerialist.

Hello, hello, hello. Well now. Aren't you just looking darling? It's spring break (though we are spending it in dark, wet nyc, with the beginnings of a cold) and the absurdities have piled up so high they're peeking out from under the bed. I tried to sweep them back under, and much like a cross dressing diva, they demanded attention.

Some days, I feel like a rockstar. Other days, I feel like a bafoon. Or Angelina Jolie (some combination of the 6 kids and the collagen lips). But today, I felt like a giggly Audrey Hepburn. As I was walking home in the drizzle, in my peacoat with my Fairway bags (American cheese, check. Brown rice cakes, check) 2 very adorable-dare I say handsome- young frenchmen accosted me ever so wonderfully.

"Hello. This is my friend ____. He's visiting from France. Would you like to join us for a drink?" I stammered. Mentioned groceries. They proceeded to interview me with their umbrellas "What delicacy are you whipping up tonight? The world desires to know!" I giggled, naturally, then gracefully declined their invitation, citing a cold (which is true). They walked me home, their umbrellas gallantly protecting me from the rainy onslaught, and carried my groceries, flirting as only the french can.

It was truly delightful. And perhaps I will join them for drinks tomorrow night..

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

25 days of Absurdity

In an attempt to expand our target audience here at "to live in this city (.blogspot.com)," as well as avoid alienating our fan base we have decided to rebrand December as the "25 Days of Absurdity."

Why absurdity? Well.. it's universal. It speaks to the spirit. And the soul. And... we don't have to build any churches or anything. The decorations are inexpensive, the gifts are joyous, and the eggnog is strong and spiked.

Today is day 2 of our 25 Days of Absurdity and we are off to a fairly positive start. Yesterday I decided to outsource my office needs to my father's office at a nonprofit that will remain unnamed. To my delight, I was greeted by quiet hoopla. Let is be said, there was

This morning, the absurdity started early, and simply. Went to starbucks. Got my $0.54 refill, because I save cups, and drink brewed coffee. Walked across the street, and the top commits suicide like a repressed goldfish, leaping off my cup, and into the street. I now have to high tail my poor coffee cup and I for 5 blocks, and attempt to stay clean. Thankfully, the laws of physics were on my side, and the majority of coffee that sloshed did so in the forwards, in front of me direction. But the amount of care I was forced to put into the walk and the coffee... was absurd.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Horns and the Himalayas

Dearest readers (both of you. Hi Mom!) and people who only come here to leave religious propaganda....

I feel little need to comment on my absence, as you can read all about it in the nytimes. I have been trekking the Himalayas with only a single, trusted malamute puppy, riding on his back and throwing back the occasional drink together. Photos shall appear on my facebook, once we clear the copyrights and finalize the book deal.

By which I mean... I started graduate school. And it devoured my life with immediacy and ketchup. That said, blogable, notable things have continued to occur, despite the imminent digestion. I suppose I will find a procastinatable moment to put them down in writing.

A single Highlight, to tide you over:
Being serenaded by a bus driver, honking out a surprisingly musical melody on his horn to win my affection. He most certainly succeeded.