Tuesday, November 27, 2012

thanksgiving in philadelphia


After partaking in my annual T-Give tradition of pizza and sweatpants I caught the Bolt Bus down to Philly to visit a dear friend and nourish my stress-diet ravaged body at the cheese steak capitol of the world. Lucky for my arteries I don't eat cheese or beef, but I do eat candy - and there was a store that sold in bulk, right across from her amazing apartment in Queens Village - so I was good to go.

After walking around QV, fraught with cute boutiques and questionable tattoo parlors I realized why people say Philly has charm. Sure there is history and patriotism oozing out of it's brick facade pores, but its these little neighborhoods with street art mosaics and painted sidewalks that really provide the setting for some generally nice strangers. You know you've lived in New York too long when common nicities become foreign and luxurious.

My first night there we popped over to the Royal Tavern to have a drink and although seating was a real issue the place was warmly lit and the staff was friendly and accommodating - so I give it a thumbs up. Being the gereatric swinging singles that we are we soon headed to bed - or in my case couch - where an electric blanket with my name on it was just waiting to whisper radioactive nothings into my ear all night.


















Early to rise - sort of - and we were off on a walking tour of sorts. Both of us have at some point lived in both San Francisco and New York, so walking doesn't present an issue - however - frigid temperatures do and late November in Philly can be brutal. I have been talking about seeing the Liberty Bell for years so I anxiously awaited my first view in a long line wrapped around the building in which its housed chaulked full of midwesterners. And yes, I can tell. Once inside I have to say - I was underwhelmed. Perhaps I am not giving it it's due respect in terms of historic significance, but it was kind of small, broken and there were people droves waiting to get a shot of their mug next to a big chunk of metal to immediately post to FB. Needless to say, it was not my scene and we kept it moving, right past Ben Franklin's grave which evidently doubles as the wishing well at the Sunrise Mall and briefly pausing at Betsey Ross' house to make note os some strange cat statues in teh coutyard.

Being in what seems to be the art gallery district (Old City) we stopped into a unique galleries and upscale boutiques masked in flannel and pine scent until we could no longer go without ssustenance or heat and decided upon Cafe Ole for some wraps. Carbs - check! Tea - Check! Sitting on my fat ass for at least an hour - check! And then we were out the door again. Not far down the road Meghan talked me into buying an artisnal hat - which is fancy white talk for home made and expensive - but the head warmth was appreciated as we hit up the first church in the US before hopping on the inefficient subway and headng to what, at this time, is called Christmas Village in which stands the LOVE statue in the city of brotherly love. Let me tell you - that statue doesn't make me want to love any brothers. Once again small and unimpressive - and really - who wants that review?

An artic wind assisted our walk to the Rocky Museum as I call it by smacking us directly in the face on teh 20 minutes or so it took us to mount the infamous steps. After racing some 9 year olds in track pants and sadly losing we had our moment and hopped in a cab as fragrant as a Russian deli back to my electric blanket boyfriend. 

A little repreive from the cold and another coat of mascara got me prepared to head to Northern Liberties where you can find all the people that escaped Williamsburg and Park Slope because rents were getting too expensive or they were recruited by one of the corporations based in PA. First stop was Johnny Brenda's where I decided it was time to be a girl-drink drunk and have two greyhounds - making my spirits lift out of the gutter in which they currently reside. Then off to Frankford Hall where the friendly Philean (yeah- I think I made that up) proved to be true and Meghan and I made fast friends with some locals who escorted us to Barcade where I played video games from the 80s for maybe the first time ever.

Having chosen to have one additional beverage and still be the most sober of this motley crew it would only make sense to head to the late night diner where you're corralled in the foyer with wasted ladies covered in spanx and aqua net. My toast was divine and one of the more lubricated stranger/new friends was just the right amount of arrogant and hammered so I was thoroughly entertained. Good drinks, good toast and good stranger/new friends. If that isn't the holy trinity of a good time in Philly - I don't know what is...















































































november 2012








Thursday, November 22, 2012

10 Things I Am Thankful For...


1) My Best Friend. Seems like I am pandering, because I am sending this to you, but I'm not. I think you have topped my list for years and continue to amaze me with your patience and generosity. I feel truly lucky to have a best friend that doesn't judge me and allows me to feel like she is always there for me, despite my having moved across the country many years ago. 

2) My Family: You understand to a large degree what my relationship is with each member of my family - and I am pretty sure you also know when I say this I mean Mom, Dad and Sister. Each relationship is so different, yet each has assisted in creating your best friend. My mom, although totally mental and infuriating has instilled a lot of the thoughtfulness and generosity into me through her attempts at doing so herself. She is, when it comes down to it my Mom and no matter what I know she loves me and I love her. My sister, although a stranger for many years now offers this amazing bridge between elder and friend. I respect her as a person and when she gives me insight or advice I really take it to heart. I know she cannot relate to my being emotional or tendency to be depressed, but she does her best to make me feel like I am not wrong for doing so. Anyone who has a 10 minute conversation with me knows how I feel about my Pops. No longer in the haze of childhood adulation, I now very much see him for who he is - a flawed man who has difficulty with punctuality and awareness of his surroundings, but, especially as I grow older, an individual I know I can always count on, a shoulder I can always cry on a person with whom I can have conversations with that I could not with most people - even if I don't always understand what he is saying in return.

3) My Cities: My mom will often tell me not all people are 'lucky' enough to do the things I have done in my life and been the places I have been. To that, I say horse shit. Sure, luck plays a role in everyone's life - unless you're a big time bible person and you think its all part of God's plan - but I am most certainly not there yet. That being said, I am thankful to have made the choices and taken the risks to have lived in and experienced both my first love, San Francisco, and my current affair, New York. Each has it's own flavor, its own rhythm and its own sanitation issues. And each has provided the backdrop to my life. Sacramento clearly played a role in the early years, and for that I give due respect, but the places in which you create your own life and make your own adult decisions holds another place in your heart and in your history. San Francisco is still the most beautiful city I have ever been to - and that list is every growing. I love it in an unconditional way and even though my mail does not currently go there, it will forever be my home. New York has been a crazy place to experience my late 20's and now my early 30's. Rough terrain for such an adventure, but I am not so sure I could have done it any other way.

4) My Country: Now I realize this sounds a little red state coming out of my mouth - but bear with me. Perhaps Tom's recent funeral revved up the love for the red, white and blue as he was such a patriot, but I am thinking a little broader here. As I travel to more and more places I realize that the United States is not so bad. Sure, it doesn't seem as chic as France or as authentic as Guatemala, but at least the US I live in has running water and was theoretically built upon the foundation of free speech and some level of autonomy. I have tested the theory of saying pretty much whatever I like and have no once been thrown into jail. I was not considered property and therefore sold into marriage or servitude and I am in a country where I can use Google to look up anything from Drake to dildos and as stupid as that may sound - not everyone has that right. And really, who wants to live in a country where you can't online shop for dildos?

5) My Education: This is casting another large net, because when I think about what this means to me - it is certainly more than the ability to add or comprehend a short story. The standardized tests never bore much weight on my self worth. Lets start at the beginning. Harry Dewey Fundamental - a school that not only offered a great once over of reading, writing and arithmetic, but also taught art and music and created an environment to make life long relationships. As you know, my heart has been broken a few times by these early-founded relationships coming to an end. Likely, I will never fully recover - but perhaps I should pretend to be a positive person and be thankful for the years I did have with the ladies who have chosen to go their own ways and those who still stand by me today. This transitions seamlessly into Will Rogers Jr. High where I became an adult (in my own head) and learned how the other half lived. And by other half I mean those who wore torn flannels, huffed magic marker in the bathrooms and would occasionally being weapons to school. I learned a lot in those 2 years and seemed to just collect more memorable characters and life long friends. Del Campo High School was a pretty typical experience in white suburbia I imagine - with only one of my own to reflect upon. My journalism foundation was set, some responsibility skills were acquired and my love for all things Mexican sprouted. Although I was not a cheerleader or homecoming queen - I actually think school was a great experience soup to nuts and there is very little I would change if I could. San Francisco State University came next, where I perfected my craft with a degree in Fine Arts but also learned how to survive a broken heart with girlfriends for the first time and learned that sleeping with said broken-heart maker for a 18 months after the relationship has ended is a sure fire way to maintain a broken heart. Lest we forget it was the means with which I paid for school that taught me Spanish, salsa dancing and that family most definitely does not have to share DNA. As you know my Hispanic brethren offered the family I never had and showed me what it really means to be warm and open. Also, I learned how to live with the most disgusting roommate on the face of the planet and if you can survive that, you are really up for anything...

6) My Health: Ok, I hate to go for the most generic of all responses, but I suppose it is said with good reason. Sure, I wish this 'health' translated to a killer rack, un-wrinkable skin and ass for days - but 2 out of 3 ain't bad. With a minor health scare a couple of years back and watching the man I loved go through a similar ordeal recently - I will say that I am glad that I have no major health issues and therefore am able to take it for granted as everyone does until something bad actually happens. I suppose there is no reason to spend your life worrying, although if there were, I would get a gold medal, but I will take this one singular moment to be glad I, at least for now, that I seem to be good to go for the foreseeable future.

7) My Experience: This makes me sound like a geriatric and is perhaps particularly ironic given my current state of depression and disdain, but let me tell you - at least I never lack for a story. If i were famous and needed an anecdote to recount to David Letterman or Jay Leno while seated on their well lit couch it would certainly not be a problem. My former co-worker and dear friend Megan will say to me occasionally that she assumed the well will run dry at some point - but never seems to. Sure, I could have chosen to live in a more affordable environment. Sure, I could have chosen to recognize my fear of commitment at a younger age and settled down with one of the nice boys I can now see were in love with me many moons ago, but that is water under the bridge. What I have instead are a million dating stories about Christian basketball players who were 7 feet tall and actors who swept me off of my feet one balmy summer. I can conjure up a tale about the love affair sparked in some foreign land with a 16 year-old or a 62 year-old. I know what its like to open your cupboard and see cockroaches scurrying from the light of day. I know what its like to sleep at an airport where donkeys are still considered a viable form of transportation.  I know what its like to work 85 hour weeks and not sleep and still find time to create my own drama. I know what it is like to be grinded on my DMX in front of thousands of people. And, most recently, I know what it is like to be in love, and to lose that. Perhaps I am not feeling terribly thankful for that last part just yet - but I feel hopeful that as the pain passes and perspective is gained some outcome involving this great love of my life will be one with which I am at peace and feel thankful. 
8) My Career Path: Irony is abundant in this list, as you know I have had a rough go of it for the past 6-8 weeks, but lets pretend like Fall 2012 didn't exist and I was still a busy, happy, in love woman. I think I told you years ago, Henriette was here in New York and trying to figure out which way to go in terms of what to do for work. I believe this is right before she got her current position. She said something to the effect of how lucky I was that I always knew what I wanted to do. At the time this seemed preposterous,  who doesn't know by 26 or so what they like? Turns out - lots of people! As I grow older and meet more people, either in a social or professional realm I often get asked about what I do and what led me there. I wish I could tell some story about being a tortured teenager who could only express myself through the quiet of the lens, or it was some later in life epiphany after seeing an Ansel Adams shot that spoke to me and realizing what my true calling was. Truth me told - it was never a choice. It just was. I was blessed enough to have parents that not only didn't discourage me following an education and, in turn a career in the arts - they encouraged it. Hell, my Dad wanted me to go 'find myself' after high school when I was like - no, I am going to college - and a normal 4 year one, not one of those overpriced art schools where everyone has bad haircuts and questionable grooming habits (see: most disgusting roommate ever!). I don't do a job. I am a job. As you also know, being laid off this past Spring was hard for me - as it is for anyone - but even more so because it is almost impossible for me to separate what I do with who I am. I suppose that is a blessing and curse, and in the spirit of this Thanksgiving list we will focus on the blessing. So far I have managed to keep a roof over my head and food in my ever fluctuating belly with money only derived from creative sources and that is no small feat. So it looks like I am thankful for that too - now if I just had some more to be thankful for in that particular department at the moment things would be even better...

9) My Hair Color: I was two things as a child. The big girl - and the brown-haired girl. Both were evident and both were inevitable. As I swept the soccer field every Saturday morning body checking any little thing half my size and months behind me in the pubescent spectrum I would often be congratulated by a Cinderella-inspired golden haired lassie gliding down the field to give me a feminine hi-five. Now, always wanting to be different an unique among my peer group, it was never too much of a disappointment to look like the foreign exchange student in our annual team photo which read like a catalog for Aryan child adoption, but I remember very clearly my mother, a raven haired lady herself although not by any influence of nature for decades now, telling me brunettes age better. Turns out - she is right. My youthful glow could also be attributed to never falling for the late nineties obsession with tanning beds and body glitter, but alas, here I am at 31 and still being approached by men in their early 20s who are at least naive enough to assume we could have gone to high school together. I graduated in the 90's - Prince sang our theme song - do you even know who Prince is? Alas, there are some greys mixing into my chocolate tresses these days and yes, if I were blonde the process of maintaining blonde after the age of 15 would allow me to more easily cover up these bad boys - but at least as my head begins to resemble a calico cat more than the dark coco of my youth - my face remains that of a brunette. 

10) Candy: Since the request for this list was a number somewhere between 7 and 12, I felt like 10 was a good round number. Most of the first 9 are profound or meaningful - even if in a vague and distant way. This one is simple - candy is good. It comes in colorful boxes with happy illustrations indicating the childlike magic that is awaiting you, just on the other side of the box or plastic packaging. The pure sugar, devoid of any nutritional value will soon be coarsing through your veins, giving you a momentary high as the raspberry flavor hits your tongue or the candy coated chocolate refuses to melt in your mouth. Soon thereafter will come the desire for even more of this artificially flavored and sculpted wonderment after which the inevitable stomach ache or headache will occur - but much like the other pleasures in life - this will not detur you from buying that 25 cent pack of Mike and Ike's at the corner Bodega before hopping on the 1 train downtown or perusing the See's Catalog that is sent to you bi-monthly like it is the sweetest free porn you've ever received. Bottom line - Eat Your Feelings - Have  A Snickers.

november 2012

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

eerie hospital





















november 2012

Thursday, November 8, 2012

it snowed...























november 2012

Wednesday, November 7, 2012