our apartment has been photographed for a tour, as have i, though joe and the cats will i guess remain unknown to the blogosphere! i wish we'd made an appointment even earlier, since by the time we got down to business the last of the extra-golden light was slinking out of the living room, but at 9 a.m. i was already a scattered babbler, so god knows what would have happened if we'd aimed for some properly rosy-fingered dawn. the photographer spent a full two hours doing her thing, only 15 minutes of which were watching me try to convince maya to let me hold her for more than three seconds (the shape of a proper camera is scary, and it makes such mysterious clicks). i wasn't nervous, but i still can't smile on command, so we'll see what J the blogger and her team think about that.
apparently it could be months or even a year or more before anything is published online, which feels like fair play after all the house tours i've kicked down the calendar as a freelancer. and sometimes tours get killed? though that seems unlikely here, since they shelled out for a proper photographer and i don't plan on becoming a flamboyant public racist or anything? even if i do and it is, the apartment's in the best shape of its nearly 15 years with us: with this shoot hanging over my head i finally got the coat rack installed beside the front door (it had been crouching against the mirror on our dining table for at least six months, which probably means a year), the curtains are up in the bedroom (they'd been in the back of the closet since february of 2020), the bowls of christmas ornaments and lights are out from under the dining table and hidden behind the crazy silk flower garland i created above the kitchen cabinets, and those flowers are all off the dining table. it's all very exciting.
Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts
11.25.23 [on the J train]
i finished the book i was reading, i finished the book i was reading! that's generally what happens if you keep at it and turn the pages when you should, but this book kept getting longer, as if a malevolent troop of gnomes was scaling my etagère each night to add new chapters. if i hadn't come to the end at last after three hours of reading yesterday i was seriously considering setting out sticky traps. i have been splashing around in horror and horror-adjacent novels since my mycological society's book club read mexican gothic (appropriate for a bunch of mushroom enthusiasts but kind of squelchily confusing in its own right–i would have gone for some lovecraftian uncertainty at the end, e.g. "what i beheld when i followed the tunnel of luminous fungi to the unholy altar overwhelmed my senses so completely that darkness swallowed me whole and i knew no more," but part of the author's whole deal was to poke holes in racist lovecraftian bullshit, so i soupfooted my way through the too-too climax like a realatively good sport). i then read leech, which the cool kids at pegasus books in oakland recommended as i was buying mexican gothic, and that i appreciated much more; turns out i was in the mood for mid-apocalyptic, bipedal parasitism, and the premise was both terribly clever and well-developed. i still don't really understand why the image of dogs' noses kept popping up, but we're all entitled to a mystifying metaphor every now and again, i hope. speaking of, the weird humor piece i finally finished this fall and sent off to the new yorker right before we left for canada was at long last rejected, and then mcsweeney's rejected it with dispiriting alacrity. i was so sure i had a weird gem on my hands! joe, who isn't in the habit of inflating my expectations about writing stuff, was so sure i had a weird gem on my hands! maybe i'll just post it here, and dance like three readers are watching.
our trip to paris was remarkably pleasant–i'd built in a bunch of toothsome stuff, as i mentioned, and figured it would be decent, but i feel like a couple of decades have really done a number on the city's ambient misanthropy, maybe i'm a better tourist now that i've lived in a big city for a long time? maybe all the extra-crotchety boomers that made my family's visit difficult and then ingored me as a solo flâneuse have buggered off to the suburbs? people were great about speaking french with me, and having a smartphone meant that i was able to be generically chatty rather than a supplicant most of the time. our airbnb appeared to be some dude's actual apartment as opposed to some LLC's investment, and the sneakers i had to buy when my chuck taylors fell apart on like our second day didn't give me new-shoe blisters, a no-shit travel miracle. we even found what genuinely seems to be an old isfahan rug at a flea market, and while its mysteriously low price probably means that its previous owner was murdered on it or that it's full at the very least of continental poltergeists, it seems so far that they're the less-is-more sort of phantasms that knocked around that novel the gnomes kept writing. we really needed an extremely big floor covering, so this tradeoff is okay with me.
our trip to paris was remarkably pleasant–i'd built in a bunch of toothsome stuff, as i mentioned, and figured it would be decent, but i feel like a couple of decades have really done a number on the city's ambient misanthropy, maybe i'm a better tourist now that i've lived in a big city for a long time? maybe all the extra-crotchety boomers that made my family's visit difficult and then ingored me as a solo flâneuse have buggered off to the suburbs? people were great about speaking french with me, and having a smartphone meant that i was able to be generically chatty rather than a supplicant most of the time. our airbnb appeared to be some dude's actual apartment as opposed to some LLC's investment, and the sneakers i had to buy when my chuck taylors fell apart on like our second day didn't give me new-shoe blisters, a no-shit travel miracle. we even found what genuinely seems to be an old isfahan rug at a flea market, and while its mysteriously low price probably means that its previous owner was murdered on it or that it's full at the very least of continental poltergeists, it seems so far that they're the less-is-more sort of phantasms that knocked around that novel the gnomes kept writing. we really needed an extremely big floor covering, so this tradeoff is okay with me.
04.02.22
for the last few months i've been a big, docile albatross tending a kinder egg instead of an eventual chick: all of the apartment improvements we summoned last year are beginning to arrive at last and i've made more to prepare for their settling, and the nest, she is feathered. i've painted the once-grey bedroom walls blush pink, logged hundreds of manhattan miles collecting and framing new-to-us art, ferried books and clothes to crosby street for donation, found and arranged for drapes' tailoring,* woven a cradle for the tradescantia i propagated and hung in the bathroom we reglazed and are outfitting with a new vanity and sink–and we haven't even had anyone over since the before times! but the cats love draping themselves over the new, fancy sectional's tufted humps, and i fantasize about pitching a home tour to the lifestyle blog i've been not-so-quietly charming with little comment-anecdotes for a year. i want so badly to have strangers tell me my adjectives are winning! and here my poor kidchamp was all along, the cobbler's barefoot child.**
this rejuvenation is absolutely runoff from the umpteen design pieces i've been churning out, and i'm alright with that. a lot of the day-to-day work has been pitched-to-me tours of designers' projects, and interviews aside, the features are rather like the essays i used to write for visual art classes? my mother taught me the rudiments of that analysis when i was in elementary school, and the albatross parts of my brain are very pleased with themselves when they egest bits on perspective and lines of beauty. also, let's be honest, i have excellent taste now. but it is time to swoop at new-to-me outlets, so i spent several hours the other night crafting a pitch based on something i remembered about beethoven from when my best friend and i had to dress up as historical characters in seventh grade. (i was cyrano de bergerac, but that won't come up in the essay, probably.) i'm also working on a really short piece about chopping up mice, so what i'm saying is i guess i could use some gobbet-luck, if you're interested in manifesting on someone else's behalf. this march was my busiest freelance month to date! put that in your crop and regurgitate it.
this rejuvenation is absolutely runoff from the umpteen design pieces i've been churning out, and i'm alright with that. a lot of the day-to-day work has been pitched-to-me tours of designers' projects, and interviews aside, the features are rather like the essays i used to write for visual art classes? my mother taught me the rudiments of that analysis when i was in elementary school, and the albatross parts of my brain are very pleased with themselves when they egest bits on perspective and lines of beauty. also, let's be honest, i have excellent taste now. but it is time to swoop at new-to-me outlets, so i spent several hours the other night crafting a pitch based on something i remembered about beethoven from when my best friend and i had to dress up as historical characters in seventh grade. (i was cyrano de bergerac, but that won't come up in the essay, probably.) i'm also working on a really short piece about chopping up mice, so what i'm saying is i guess i could use some gobbet-luck, if you're interested in manifesting on someone else's behalf. this march was my busiest freelance month to date! put that in your crop and regurgitate it.
*i walked uptown with a painted piece of cardboard to see if some velvet curtains i'd seen online would match the bedroom walls' updated color, and when i wandered through the clearance corner en route to fabrics i found four long panels of what i'd planned to eyeball at like 80% off (a return?)! i still haven't repaired the beautiful little sewing machine i don't know how to use, so i took the panels to the great guys at our local dry cleaner and everyone is happy.
**my mom was walking into a store last week and, in hauling the door open with the excessive force that characterizes women of our line, managed to very nearly rip off her big toenail. an urgent-care doctor made an incision to finish the job and stitched her up, and she now has the whole nail, which is a festive pedi-red she'd just painted herself. i can't wait to see what she makes with it! i also wish she would contact the store, as "this little piggy went to ulta" should really have earned her free makeup for life. this was her deep-fried mcdonald's lizard!
05.06.13
the cocktail of the summer, in case you were wondering, is the aviation (our version is 2 oz. nolet's silver dry gin, 3/4 oz. lemon juice, 1/2 oz. luxardo maraschino originale, and 1/4 oz. rothman & winter crème de violette; shake with ice and strain into a chilled coupe). it is one of those beverages for which you must purchase liqueurs you're sure you'll never use again (any old gin will likely work and who doesn't have that, but the maraschino and the crème de violette cannot be approximated with other things), but an aviation makes you feel as though you're on a zeppelin in a spangled cocktail dress, and if that isn't your idea of an incomparable friday-night situation we probably wouldn't get along. they say it's called an aviation because it looks like the evening sky. joe downloaded a flight-tracking app a few weeks ago, so as we sit on the balcony with our drinks he tells me who's causing each vapour trail in the eastern air.
04.29.13
101 in 1001 {III}: 005 refinance the apartment [completed 04.15.13]
it's unfortunate that my not-entirely-unjustified fear of the co-op board caused me to delete all of the posts i wrote about how joe and i found and bought our apartment a few years ago; the ins and outs of that process (ten letters of recommendation! home visits from inspectors in two states! my father forced to sign an affidavit saying he would never have a dog!*) were much more interesting than this winter and spring's** clerical shenanigans in pursuit of a new and improved loan. that said, this dance of the seven tax forms has made me feel much more adult than becoming a homeowner did; like booking and keeping your own dental appointments, refinancing for a better interest rate is the quotidian TCB of a grown-ass woman. my teeth are clean.
*because new york city real estate nonlogic makes you crazy, joe and i thought at one point that we would be more attractive to the board if we included my dad as a non-resident co-applicant. actually it made no positive difference, and we have been tied together like freakish six-legged-race contestants ever since.
**it took four months, all told. just looking at a bank statement or a fax machine now makes me feel itchy.
it's unfortunate that my not-entirely-unjustified fear of the co-op board caused me to delete all of the posts i wrote about how joe and i found and bought our apartment a few years ago; the ins and outs of that process (ten letters of recommendation! home visits from inspectors in two states! my father forced to sign an affidavit saying he would never have a dog!*) were much more interesting than this winter and spring's** clerical shenanigans in pursuit of a new and improved loan. that said, this dance of the seven tax forms has made me feel much more adult than becoming a homeowner did; like booking and keeping your own dental appointments, refinancing for a better interest rate is the quotidian TCB of a grown-ass woman. my teeth are clean.
*because new york city real estate nonlogic makes you crazy, joe and i thought at one point that we would be more attractive to the board if we included my dad as a non-resident co-applicant. actually it made no positive difference, and we have been tied together like freakish six-legged-race contestants ever since.
**it took four months, all told. just looking at a bank statement or a fax machine now makes me feel itchy.
11.02.12
joe and i got up an hour early this morning, as we'd agreed last night, to straighten up our borrowed upper east side apartment, collect our things, and head downtown for the last time. the lower east side is still without power, so i took leave of my stepbrother's shower with titanic-grade drama ("never let go, andrew's dented old bottle of head & shoulders! never let go!"). when i emerged from the bathroom, joe was packing unenthusiastically. it made no sense to leave, he noted. our cats would be just fine without us for another day or two, we have no food and are halfway through our water and batteries, and we'd be returning with difficulty after nightfall to a neighborhood that was already getting sketchy when we left. why?
i told him that i was tired of being a fire monster, and that's true. the stress i didn't register when the storm was shrieking at us on monday night seeped into me just the same, and in unfamiliar surroundings, i've been short-tempered and even more scattered than i usually am. i've picked a fight every night over where we'll have dinner, and i nearly started crying at the drugstore when a turkey-shaped chocolate reminded me of steve. what the fuck?
the more significant truth is that i feel something like survivor's guilt. in our lively hand-me-down neighborhood of warmth and light, of packed restaurants and bars, one isn't asked if one is alright; everyone is alright. i think of the candles i saw guttering in the window at the little mexican restaurant down by where we really live, doors flung open on tuesday night even though they were lighting the stove with matches, and i feel sick. appropriating others' misfortune is even more unforgivable than ignoring it, i would argue, and that's not what i mean to do. one's home is simply one's home, even in the dark.
10.28.12-10.31.12: on sandy, from nyc {updated throughout the storm, at least in theory}
14:21 new york sports clubs are opening their doors to locals (18 and over with ID) in need of a shower, electricity, or a workout. the southernmost manhattan locations currently in operation are at 41st street.
14:00 the transportation situation is expected to improve this afternoon (as metro north and the long island railroad are restored) and tomorrow (when parts of the subway will come back up, above 34th street, at least). this is good news, but i'm still inexplicably furious at the new york city marathon (still on for this sunday), which i have decided to blame for the uneven distribution of city services.
11:57 the crane at one57 continues to dangle, and the blocks surrounding it are shut down as far as eighth avenue to the west. a bus is parked diagonally across 57th street to prevent traffic from continuing east.
10:35 central park east is the new 4/5/6 train; the sidewalks were packed with commuters in business suits and old sneakers. i thought at first that the park's magnificent old trees had fared better than the ones surrounding our apartment complex on grand street, but they've simply been cleared more quickly. chainsawed trunks litter the grounds north of columbus circle.
09:05 "i love you," says joe. "don't walk under any trees." i'm taking the 40 blocks to my midtown office on foot, which is actually quite reasonable; we've walked manhattan top to bottom several times, and i dislike buses under the best of circumstances. today they're free and the only public transportation in town.
{tuesday}
22:41 there was, i will concede, a bit of post-storm weepiness this afternoon; call it two parts "will the windows explode?" sleep deprivation, one part leaving the cats alone in our apartment for the next day or two (we migrated north to my dad and stepmother's place on the upper east side, as we aren't expected to regain power for a few more days), and one part gouging my head on a cabinet as the sun set and our kitchen darkened. passing between 38th and 39th street on our way up first avenue felt like crossing into oz from kansas: a sudden riot of lights and commerce, the promise of the grid replacing the horrid possibility of hitting a pedestrian in the gloaming (pedestrians in the dark zone of lower manhattan, please wear reflective gear).
19:09 a gal with a duffel bag watches me hit the button for the 35th floor. "boy, YOU'RE glad the power stayed on up here." "yeah i am," i reply. "we live on the lower east side; this isn't our place." "i'm downtown too," she says. upper east side expat fist bump.
10:48 power remains out, / though matches will light the stove. / showering's the rub.
{monday}
22:25 wind's still indignant, / but the moon let the tide go. / we've got this, new york.
21:05 unsurprisingly, / i'm alone in fondness for / compulsory night.
20:42 and the power's out. stay safe, team; expect update haiku for a bit.
20:25 the lights are flickering regularly now. it's like a séance. at a municipal airport.
19:54 the east river has climbed over its bank across the street, we're expecting to lose power in the next 15 minutes or so, and the wind is picking up again; alors, it's time for the magic of apartment tent.
19:21 the beige sea foam erupting from jamaica bay is, if anything, even more frightening after dark; abc's on-scene reporter appears to be having a slap-fight with a root beer float. it could be time for me to rethink my leisurely swims at rockaway beach.
19:02 the weather channel is reporting gusts of up to 64 mph in new york city, and i believe it; joe claims he heard a window pop on a building next door, though i think it was just a beleaguered air conditioner. it's loud, is my point.
18:17 as of half an hour ago, the east river is over the sea wall down at the south street seaport near pier 11; battery park is underwater.
17:50 in re eating habits forced upon us by sandy, we're somewhere between 'csa survivalism' (i baked bread and roasted a bunch of beets last night) and 'snack opportunism' (my college roommate texted this morning, concerned that we might not have enough candy on hand; i assured her we made it to cvs last night for screme eggs and sour patch kids.) this is not our first rodeo.
17:35 our friends in jersey still have power, which is actually kind of shocking; they went without for something like three days last summer. chris christie is now telling the rest of the state to save their own asses tonight. he is the angriest man on television.
16:02 because i am twelve, i spent the first part of governor cuomo's press conference wondering how first girlfriend sandra lee is preparing for the storm. predictably, she tweeted a cocktail recipe (and, to be fair, disaster-preparedness tips).
15:48 reuters backs our neighbor up; it sounds like we could lose power around eight tonight (that is, high tide). "Blackouts could affect streets as far north as 34th Street, in line with the Empire State building, a Con Edison spokesman said, though would likely be limited to those avenues closest to the East and Hudson rivers."
15:31 saxelby, our neighborhood cheesemonger, is keeping us abreast of the culinary situation on the ground via twitter and facebook (a cheese evacuation in red hook relocated their stock to brooklyn soda works three hours ago; pickle day is rescheduled for this sunday, and so on). september wines & spirits, in turn, wishes us well with gene wilder, as one does.
15:15 a neighbor i don't recognize materializes at the front door and tells us con ed is thinking of cutting the power; we should fill our tub with water. we do, and make a huge batch of popcorn for good measure. mostly unrelated, since tub-water is for flushing the toilet: when we lived in our horrible tenement apartment in hell's kitchen, the water in the bathroom was ice-cold and tasted fantastic.
14:50 my friend lisa checks in from washington, dc: "not even 12 hours in and people are already going stir-crazy." the wind through the bridge is now a banshee's moan.
14:01 in brooklyn, in turn, our friend dan files a report: "Streets are empty but barely any rain and only moderate wind. More importantly, it seems that roughly 20% of restaurants are open, but 80% of bars are." here in manhattan, there's still a decent flow of pedestrian traffic on the williamsburg bridge.
13:34 the first round of "is-everybody-okay?" group emails is scrolling into my gmail account. "My bathtub is full of water like they said to do," our friend tony reports from wall street, "but i dont know why. It tastes so bad."
13:21 pcmag.com reports that the new york times, the wall street journal, and the boston globe are all dropping their paywalls for storm coverage, though the globe's site doesn't seem to have caught up with the announcement yet. joe is home, thank goodness; the fdr is already closed uptown, and we're expecting closure down here soon. the times's midtown webcam is similar to the view from the lower east side, for now.
12:40 big hiccups in our internet access (i'm making this update with my iphone); it's going to be a long day. i balloothanized justin bieber, who was hovering around listlessly at eye level, and steve refuses to look at me.
11:51 the citywide reaction to bloomberg's most recent press conference has been resounding: everyone is captivated by his expressive sign-language interpreter.
11:31 governor cuomo announced that the battery park and holland tunnels will close at two. joe is on his way back from work now; the wind is comparatively tame for the moment, but i made him promise he wouldn't take a bridge.
10:18 the gym is once again packed to the gills, which makes sense, i suppose; since we're all indoors, why not? most of us are indoors, that is; i circled our building after my run and met a guy en route to the mailbox with a netflix envelope(?). we clucked at the downed branches and wicked potential projectiles scattered about the back garden.
08:55 @JitneyGuy (in atlantic city): "80 feet of boardwalk floating free at Atlantic and New Hampshire Ave."
08:32 gothamist posted the mta's grand central terminal photos; the halls are empty and gleaming. they're reporting that this is only the second time in history that subway, train, and commuter rail service has been suspended all at once (irene was the first).
07:28 woke up to whitecaps on the east river; fdr heading south is nearly deserted, and the northbound side is full of emergency vehicles. joe is leaving for work soon.
{sunday}
23:01 per an update at nymag.com, the gowanus canal started flooding an hour and a half ago (a senior editor for the new york observer lives in the neighborhood and has been tweeting updates). ew.
20:49 nasdaq reports that all new york city and long island starbucks locations will be closed tomorrow. now everyone really does have to stay home: there's nowhere to pee.
20:18 we've got most of the windows open - we figure we'll have to shut them up soon and want to ventilate the apartment for as long as we can - and the wind has sent steve's mylar justin bieber balloon whirling around the apartment. this does not please him; he's now on our bed in loaf position, his tail wrapped tightly around the balloon's long purple ribbon.
18:16 suspension of critical services continues. from my inbox:
16:35 welcome to hurricane bloggin' II: electric boogaloo (previous episode here). once again, we're going to stay in the apartment; it looks i'll be working from home tomorrow, since the subways are going down as of seven this evening. at present joe is still expected at his office out in queens.
14:00 the transportation situation is expected to improve this afternoon (as metro north and the long island railroad are restored) and tomorrow (when parts of the subway will come back up, above 34th street, at least). this is good news, but i'm still inexplicably furious at the new york city marathon (still on for this sunday), which i have decided to blame for the uneven distribution of city services.
[new york times sports reporter mary] Pilon said the downside of canceling the marathon not only includes an economic impact for the hundreds of companies involving in putting on the event, but also for the many runners who have trained for months. "There's a lot of emotion tied to this event," she said.there is indeed; i, for example, think of the nypd escorting athletes instead of directing traffic after dark on the lower east side or figuring out if elderly nycha residents are stranded in their high rises and i feel like starting a bar fight.
11:57 the crane at one57 continues to dangle, and the blocks surrounding it are shut down as far as eighth avenue to the west. a bus is parked diagonally across 57th street to prevent traffic from continuing east.
10:35 central park east is the new 4/5/6 train; the sidewalks were packed with commuters in business suits and old sneakers. i thought at first that the park's magnificent old trees had fared better than the ones surrounding our apartment complex on grand street, but they've simply been cleared more quickly. chainsawed trunks litter the grounds north of columbus circle.
09:05 "i love you," says joe. "don't walk under any trees." i'm taking the 40 blocks to my midtown office on foot, which is actually quite reasonable; we've walked manhattan top to bottom several times, and i dislike buses under the best of circumstances. today they're free and the only public transportation in town.
{tuesday}
22:41 there was, i will concede, a bit of post-storm weepiness this afternoon; call it two parts "will the windows explode?" sleep deprivation, one part leaving the cats alone in our apartment for the next day or two (we migrated north to my dad and stepmother's place on the upper east side, as we aren't expected to regain power for a few more days), and one part gouging my head on a cabinet as the sun set and our kitchen darkened. passing between 38th and 39th street on our way up first avenue felt like crossing into oz from kansas: a sudden riot of lights and commerce, the promise of the grid replacing the horrid possibility of hitting a pedestrian in the gloaming (pedestrians in the dark zone of lower manhattan, please wear reflective gear).
19:09 a gal with a duffel bag watches me hit the button for the 35th floor. "boy, YOU'RE glad the power stayed on up here." "yeah i am," i reply. "we live on the lower east side; this isn't our place." "i'm downtown too," she says. upper east side expat fist bump.
10:48 power remains out, / though matches will light the stove. / showering's the rub.
{monday}
22:25 wind's still indignant, / but the moon let the tide go. / we've got this, new york.
21:05 unsurprisingly, / i'm alone in fondness for / compulsory night.
20:42 and the power's out. stay safe, team; expect update haiku for a bit.
20:25 the lights are flickering regularly now. it's like a séance. at a municipal airport.
19:54 the east river has climbed over its bank across the street, we're expecting to lose power in the next 15 minutes or so, and the wind is picking up again; alors, it's time for the magic of apartment tent.
19:21 the beige sea foam erupting from jamaica bay is, if anything, even more frightening after dark; abc's on-scene reporter appears to be having a slap-fight with a root beer float. it could be time for me to rethink my leisurely swims at rockaway beach.
19:02 the weather channel is reporting gusts of up to 64 mph in new york city, and i believe it; joe claims he heard a window pop on a building next door, though i think it was just a beleaguered air conditioner. it's loud, is my point.
18:17 as of half an hour ago, the east river is over the sea wall down at the south street seaport near pier 11; battery park is underwater.
17:50 in re eating habits forced upon us by sandy, we're somewhere between 'csa survivalism' (i baked bread and roasted a bunch of beets last night) and 'snack opportunism' (my college roommate texted this morning, concerned that we might not have enough candy on hand; i assured her we made it to cvs last night for screme eggs and sour patch kids.) this is not our first rodeo.
17:35 our friends in jersey still have power, which is actually kind of shocking; they went without for something like three days last summer. chris christie is now telling the rest of the state to save their own asses tonight. he is the angriest man on television.
16:02 because i am twelve, i spent the first part of governor cuomo's press conference wondering how first girlfriend sandra lee is preparing for the storm. predictably, she tweeted a cocktail recipe (and, to be fair, disaster-preparedness tips).
15:48 reuters backs our neighbor up; it sounds like we could lose power around eight tonight (that is, high tide). "Blackouts could affect streets as far north as 34th Street, in line with the Empire State building, a Con Edison spokesman said, though would likely be limited to those avenues closest to the East and Hudson rivers."
15:31 saxelby, our neighborhood cheesemonger, is keeping us abreast of the culinary situation on the ground via twitter and facebook (a cheese evacuation in red hook relocated their stock to brooklyn soda works three hours ago; pickle day is rescheduled for this sunday, and so on). september wines & spirits, in turn, wishes us well with gene wilder, as one does.
15:15 a neighbor i don't recognize materializes at the front door and tells us con ed is thinking of cutting the power; we should fill our tub with water. we do, and make a huge batch of popcorn for good measure. mostly unrelated, since tub-water is for flushing the toilet: when we lived in our horrible tenement apartment in hell's kitchen, the water in the bathroom was ice-cold and tasted fantastic.
14:50 my friend lisa checks in from washington, dc: "not even 12 hours in and people are already going stir-crazy." the wind through the bridge is now a banshee's moan.
14:01 in brooklyn, in turn, our friend dan files a report: "Streets are empty but barely any rain and only moderate wind. More importantly, it seems that roughly 20% of restaurants are open, but 80% of bars are." here in manhattan, there's still a decent flow of pedestrian traffic on the williamsburg bridge.
13:34 the first round of "is-everybody-okay?" group emails is scrolling into my gmail account. "My bathtub is full of water like they said to do," our friend tony reports from wall street, "but i dont know why. It tastes so bad."
13:21 pcmag.com reports that the new york times, the wall street journal, and the boston globe are all dropping their paywalls for storm coverage, though the globe's site doesn't seem to have caught up with the announcement yet. joe is home, thank goodness; the fdr is already closed uptown, and we're expecting closure down here soon. the times's midtown webcam is similar to the view from the lower east side, for now.
12:40 big hiccups in our internet access (i'm making this update with my iphone); it's going to be a long day. i balloothanized justin bieber, who was hovering around listlessly at eye level, and steve refuses to look at me.
11:51 the citywide reaction to bloomberg's most recent press conference has been resounding: everyone is captivated by his expressive sign-language interpreter.
11:31 governor cuomo announced that the battery park and holland tunnels will close at two. joe is on his way back from work now; the wind is comparatively tame for the moment, but i made him promise he wouldn't take a bridge.
10:18 the gym is once again packed to the gills, which makes sense, i suppose; since we're all indoors, why not? most of us are indoors, that is; i circled our building after my run and met a guy en route to the mailbox with a netflix envelope(?). we clucked at the downed branches and wicked potential projectiles scattered about the back garden.
08:55 @JitneyGuy (in atlantic city): "80 feet of boardwalk floating free at Atlantic and New Hampshire Ave."
08:32 gothamist posted the mta's grand central terminal photos; the halls are empty and gleaming. they're reporting that this is only the second time in history that subway, train, and commuter rail service has been suspended all at once (irene was the first).
07:28 woke up to whitecaps on the east river; fdr heading south is nearly deserted, and the northbound side is full of emergency vehicles. joe is leaving for work soon.
{sunday}
23:01 per an update at nymag.com, the gowanus canal started flooding an hour and a half ago (a senior editor for the new york observer lives in the neighborhood and has been tweeting updates). ew.
20:49 nasdaq reports that all new york city and long island starbucks locations will be closed tomorrow. now everyone really does have to stay home: there's nowhere to pee.
20:18 we've got most of the windows open - we figure we'll have to shut them up soon and want to ventilate the apartment for as long as we can - and the wind has sent steve's mylar justin bieber balloon whirling around the apartment. this does not please him; he's now on our bed in loaf position, his tail wrapped tightly around the balloon's long purple ribbon.
18:16 suspension of critical services continues. from my inbox:
Due to Hurricane Sandy, we will be closing our spas starting Sunday at 3:00pm and continuing all day Monday. We will be monitoring the weather closely to send you updates as the storm develops. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Please stay safe during the storm.18:06 plenty of water at the grocery store, though our neighbors appear to have stockpiled...diet root beer? storm-related carb loading is in full swing; bread, she is long gone.
Yours truly
The completely bare team
16:35 welcome to hurricane bloggin' II: electric boogaloo (previous episode here). once again, we're going to stay in the apartment; it looks i'll be working from home tomorrow, since the subways are going down as of seven this evening. at present joe is still expected at his office out in queens.
02.22.12
we had another party this weekend! pretty soon parties are going to be breaking out at our apartment all the time, and not just the kind at which joe and i make a casserole dish of seven-layer dip and eat it for dinner (though who am i kidding, those parties are amazing). we were more like the host venue for this one, as it was our friend stewart's birthday, and putting together birthday events in new york when one is boston-based (as stewart is) calls for teammates. so i carried in great chunks of ice like an arctic ant, hung a little orange paper lantern from our rhinoceros head made of pants, and waited for clever and dashing people to show up, meet all of our neighbors in the elevator,* and play sexy music for us. technically it was a round of sonic proselytization, defined as
{above: the sonic proselytization track log}
i'm not convinced that certain periods of our adult lives are superior to others, but i do think that, as a general proposition, parties have gotten better as we've gotten older. have we set aside childish things? is it that the gimmick tracks have spun out of our circle of friends over the years, leaving us with greatest hits? in this case i think it's that stewart is made of magic.
we had another party this weekend! pretty soon parties are going to be breaking out at our apartment all the time, and not just the kind at which joe and i make a casserole dish of seven-layer dip and eat it for dinner (though who am i kidding, those parties are amazing). we were more like the host venue for this one, as it was our friend stewart's birthday, and putting together birthday events in new york when one is boston-based (as stewart is) calls for teammates. so i carried in great chunks of ice like an arctic ant, hung a little orange paper lantern from our rhinoceros head made of pants, and waited for clever and dashing people to show up, meet all of our neighbors in the elevator,* and play sexy music for us. technically it was a round of sonic proselytization, defined as
basically, everyone sits around in a comfortable, mood-lit room with a good stereo and takes turns playing songs at each other. people generally tend to go for their more obscure titles in order to show off, but you don't necessarily have to be married to that concept; i played a frickin' REM song one time. whatever you feel like sharing.or, earlier, as
bring your favorite music and force it on others. all fashions, styles, genres welcome.joe played songs from 1979, i went off on a tangent about walter johnson (at which point stewart pulled out a bunch of walter johnson postcards he and eva had found on the street in williamsburg; brooklyn is helpful like that), greg from the internet made an adapter for 7" records out of cardboard apartment detritus. the mysterious-liqueur inventory got more significant as the evening wore on. steve hassled people who ventured into apartment tent.
[...]
system: go around room. each plays one song. everyone listens.
{above: the sonic proselytization track log}
i'm not convinced that certain periods of our adult lives are superior to others, but i do think that, as a general proposition, parties have gotten better as we've gotten older. have we set aside childish things? is it that the gimmick tracks have spun out of our circle of friends over the years, leaving us with greatest hits? in this case i think it's that stewart is made of magic.
*one of whom announced to them that she's promised her daughter she'll shave her hair into a mohawk? i, in turn, only know three of the people on our floor by name - two if olya's husband isn't called jeff.
08.27.11: on irene, from nyc {updated throughout the storm, at least in theory}
11:19 i've packed up apartment tent, drained the tub, and released our plants back into the wild. it's probably time to get started on fan letters to the folks who offered to put us up if worse came to worst (though irene has been losing steam for the past few days, we were convinced on thursday that we'd be evacuated from the building over the weekend; i very nearly cried with relief when friends told us that of course we could stay with them).
09:54 back from surveying the city from our roof. a news crew is now filming our trees.
09:28 the poor old gentlemen.
09:07 williamsburg is just visible across the river.
08:17 the weather channel reports that irene is still a "low-end" hurricane with winds of about 75 mph; "it's gotten kind of elongated and fucked up," joe notes. 125,000 people in the tri-state area (including several thousand in each of the five boroughs) are without power, but we're going strong.
08:00 the sea wall on the east river has been breached down by wall street, but it seems to be holding up here. someone just crossed the overpass between us and the park on foot.
07:53 we woke to screaming winds at about three this morning; another band of rain has moved in, and joe says the eye wall is coming at us from the southeast (it's a darker grey in the sky). the fdr seems to be under a few feet of water.
{saturday}
23:54 administrative note: if we lose power, i'll continue to update via twitter (the most recent tweet appears on this page at right). i will also try to convince joe to have a flashlight party.
23:43 abc news is reporting that con ed could cut power to lower manhattan, as salt can collect on cables; the housing authority, in turn, might shut down elevators in high rises (in public housing, not private buildings).
23:24 out on the balcony the air is soft and warm, the windblown rain like confetti in your face; it's not unpleasant. the current in the east river is picking up speed.
22:30 @twintermute (my friend stewart, in boston): "fenway letting people in for free, so we cabbed over. so empty you can hear the drummer guys out on lansdowne." traffic on the fdr hasn't disappeared altogether, but it's lighter than i've ever seen it, and mostly city vehicles.
21:30 took a farewell bath and left the tub full of water (in case we need it to flush the toilet). truth be told, the idea of going without bathing saddens me more than the idea of going without flushing; i'd be showering right now if i could figure out how to waterproof the laptop. it's an interesting reversal of my concerns as a girl scout camp counselor years ago, when i could deal with showering once a week but fixated on "real" toilets after getting trapped in a port-a-potty with a nest of earwigs (concealed in the tp roll).
19:27 the staten island ferry will run for another two and a half hours, which is very much in character, if a bit baffling. with bus service suspended and a terminus deep in the evacuation zone, who will be riding those ferries? an suv loitering on fdr drive (that is, on the border of zone A) was just hastened along by a police cruiser; we could hear the loudspeaker barking.
18:49 am baking icelandic-chocolate-and-walnut cookies. what the news reports won't tell you: child-free hurricane area residents end up with terror-food babies.
18:01 on a phoner with the huffington post this afternoon, "must-read" scientist-slash-weather-blogger jeff masters said, "I'm not too worried about the wind. But the big damage will be from the storm surge and fresh water flooding. That is going to be the big worry." flooding i don't mind; we're just across the street from the east river, sure, but our building's ground floor is full of wet vacs, water pumps, and sand bags. i've been eyeing the neighbors' balconies and thinking about airborne projectiles, as we seem to be the only people on the lower east side who brought our stuff indoors (thanks, guys). i don't actually want to find and throttle the guy with the potted japanese maple on the terrace next door.
16:48 our plants and chairs are in from the balcony, our extra-breakable stuff (joe's speakers, a lamp, a decanter and glasses) are tucked in the closet, and our little stockpiles of batteries, water, and emergency supplies are in easy reach. as we can't completely avoid the windows (which are in every room), it gives me great pleasure to announce the return of apartment tent.
15:20 my friend lauren (in durham, NC) tells us to be prepared to lose power; she's been having off-and-on surges since last night, and "now it's just off." FEMA reports that 500,000 people are without power in north carolina now, up from 250,000 just two hours ago, and it's expected to get worse as the storm moves up the coast. our building has a generator for the lobby; we, in turn, have three flashlights and several thousand stinky candles.
14:56 @MCSnugz (our friend sarah): "So Fresh Direct did that thing where they cancelled our order and we had to fight the Brooklyn hordes for 10 bottles of Smart Water." the hoarding started early in midtown manhattan: when i headed out for a late lunch at about two yesterday afternoon, C and D batteries were long gone. i found an overlooked stash at a bodega near columbus circle; joe informed me that 2-packs like the ones i scored were going for $15 on the upper east side. (i did not buy them all.)
14:36 our building's exercise room is as lively as i've ever seen it: every machine was enthusiastically occupied, and katrina and the waves (a bold choice, local radio station) blared out of the sound system. televisions tuned to the local news informed us that new jersey governor chris christie is still livid ("get the hell off the beach in asbury park and get out"). it suits him.
13:10 just got my first hurricane-related commercial email, courtesy of fredflare.com - "EVERYBODY WAS TALKING ABOUT IRENE BUT SHE WASN'T ONE TO GOSSIP. STAY CUTE & SAFE THIS WKND. XOXO" - and as far as i can tell, the irene in question is a striped cardigan. in other news, raising a hand and saying "stay safe" every time i walk away from someone has started making me feel like the pope. i don't know how that works.
12:52 back from our last trip to the grocery store. it's calmed down since last night, when a small mob gathered around a woman with something like seventeen items in the fifteen-items-or-fewer aisle. plenty of water, but the bread was long gone. here comes the rain.
12:12 we've decided to stay in the apartment (on the border between evacuation zones A and B); while we're on the 18th floor, our building management maintains that our windows can handle 75 mph winds and gusts of 80-95 mph. local news reports that many zone A residents are ignoring the city's evacuation order. staying behind is foolish and dangerous, bloomberg says. a guy on a sea-doo just passed us, heading up the east river.
11:19 i've packed up apartment tent, drained the tub, and released our plants back into the wild. it's probably time to get started on fan letters to the folks who offered to put us up if worse came to worst (though irene has been losing steam for the past few days, we were convinced on thursday that we'd be evacuated from the building over the weekend; i very nearly cried with relief when friends told us that of course we could stay with them).
09:54 back from surveying the city from our roof. a news crew is now filming our trees.
09:28 the poor old gentlemen.
09:07 williamsburg is just visible across the river.
08:17 the weather channel reports that irene is still a "low-end" hurricane with winds of about 75 mph; "it's gotten kind of elongated and fucked up," joe notes. 125,000 people in the tri-state area (including several thousand in each of the five boroughs) are without power, but we're going strong.
08:00 the sea wall on the east river has been breached down by wall street, but it seems to be holding up here. someone just crossed the overpass between us and the park on foot.
07:53 we woke to screaming winds at about three this morning; another band of rain has moved in, and joe says the eye wall is coming at us from the southeast (it's a darker grey in the sky). the fdr seems to be under a few feet of water.
{saturday}
23:54 administrative note: if we lose power, i'll continue to update via twitter (the most recent tweet appears on this page at right). i will also try to convince joe to have a flashlight party.
23:43 abc news is reporting that con ed could cut power to lower manhattan, as salt can collect on cables; the housing authority, in turn, might shut down elevators in high rises (in public housing, not private buildings).
23:24 out on the balcony the air is soft and warm, the windblown rain like confetti in your face; it's not unpleasant. the current in the east river is picking up speed.
22:30 @twintermute (my friend stewart, in boston): "fenway letting people in for free, so we cabbed over. so empty you can hear the drummer guys out on lansdowne." traffic on the fdr hasn't disappeared altogether, but it's lighter than i've ever seen it, and mostly city vehicles.
21:30 took a farewell bath and left the tub full of water (in case we need it to flush the toilet). truth be told, the idea of going without bathing saddens me more than the idea of going without flushing; i'd be showering right now if i could figure out how to waterproof the laptop. it's an interesting reversal of my concerns as a girl scout camp counselor years ago, when i could deal with showering once a week but fixated on "real" toilets after getting trapped in a port-a-potty with a nest of earwigs (concealed in the tp roll).
19:27 the staten island ferry will run for another two and a half hours, which is very much in character, if a bit baffling. with bus service suspended and a terminus deep in the evacuation zone, who will be riding those ferries? an suv loitering on fdr drive (that is, on the border of zone A) was just hastened along by a police cruiser; we could hear the loudspeaker barking.
18:49 am baking icelandic-chocolate-and-walnut cookies. what the news reports won't tell you: child-free hurricane area residents end up with terror-food babies.
18:01 on a phoner with the huffington post this afternoon, "must-read" scientist-slash-weather-blogger jeff masters said, "I'm not too worried about the wind. But the big damage will be from the storm surge and fresh water flooding. That is going to be the big worry." flooding i don't mind; we're just across the street from the east river, sure, but our building's ground floor is full of wet vacs, water pumps, and sand bags. i've been eyeing the neighbors' balconies and thinking about airborne projectiles, as we seem to be the only people on the lower east side who brought our stuff indoors (thanks, guys). i don't actually want to find and throttle the guy with the potted japanese maple on the terrace next door.
16:48 our plants and chairs are in from the balcony, our extra-breakable stuff (joe's speakers, a lamp, a decanter and glasses) are tucked in the closet, and our little stockpiles of batteries, water, and emergency supplies are in easy reach. as we can't completely avoid the windows (which are in every room), it gives me great pleasure to announce the return of apartment tent.
15:20 my friend lauren (in durham, NC) tells us to be prepared to lose power; she's been having off-and-on surges since last night, and "now it's just off." FEMA reports that 500,000 people are without power in north carolina now, up from 250,000 just two hours ago, and it's expected to get worse as the storm moves up the coast. our building has a generator for the lobby; we, in turn, have three flashlights and several thousand stinky candles.
14:56 @MCSnugz (our friend sarah): "So Fresh Direct did that thing where they cancelled our order and we had to fight the Brooklyn hordes for 10 bottles of Smart Water." the hoarding started early in midtown manhattan: when i headed out for a late lunch at about two yesterday afternoon, C and D batteries were long gone. i found an overlooked stash at a bodega near columbus circle; joe informed me that 2-packs like the ones i scored were going for $15 on the upper east side. (i did not buy them all.)
14:36 our building's exercise room is as lively as i've ever seen it: every machine was enthusiastically occupied, and katrina and the waves (a bold choice, local radio station) blared out of the sound system. televisions tuned to the local news informed us that new jersey governor chris christie is still livid ("get the hell off the beach in asbury park and get out"). it suits him.
13:10 just got my first hurricane-related commercial email, courtesy of fredflare.com - "EVERYBODY WAS TALKING ABOUT IRENE BUT SHE WASN'T ONE TO GOSSIP. STAY CUTE & SAFE THIS WKND. XOXO" - and as far as i can tell, the irene in question is a striped cardigan. in other news, raising a hand and saying "stay safe" every time i walk away from someone has started making me feel like the pope. i don't know how that works.
12:52 back from our last trip to the grocery store. it's calmed down since last night, when a small mob gathered around a woman with something like seventeen items in the fifteen-items-or-fewer aisle. plenty of water, but the bread was long gone. here comes the rain.
12:12 we've decided to stay in the apartment (on the border between evacuation zones A and B); while we're on the 18th floor, our building management maintains that our windows can handle 75 mph winds and gusts of 80-95 mph. local news reports that many zone A residents are ignoring the city's evacuation order. staying behind is foolish and dangerous, bloomberg says. a guy on a sea-doo just passed us, heading up the east river.
05.23.11
we entertain small knots of people on a reasonably regular basis, but i can count the actual parties i've hosted on one hand: the jen and i had an alice's adventures in wonderland party in our room over the high street when we lived in england, joe and i accidentally threw a new year's eve party at our place in hell's kitchen when everyone met up at our house and never got around to leaving, and we had a poker night which sort of functioned as a housewarming for our new place about a year ago. neither of us is fond of making a big deal of birthdays, see, and our friends are such fine holiday-party-organizers that i'd hate to disappoint them with, like, inferior halloween counterprogramming. harold camping's rapture, though - that could be mine.
{homemade kirk cameron and debbie harry votives & blessed mother candle (courtesy of amanda) by me; peeps on our roof by george}
we entertain small knots of people on a reasonably regular basis, but i can count the actual parties i've hosted on one hand: the jen and i had an alice's adventures in wonderland party in our room over the high street when we lived in england, joe and i accidentally threw a new year's eve party at our place in hell's kitchen when everyone met up at our house and never got around to leaving, and we had a poker night which sort of functioned as a housewarming for our new place about a year ago. neither of us is fond of making a big deal of birthdays, see, and our friends are such fine holiday-party-organizers that i'd hate to disappoint them with, like, inferior halloween counterprogramming. harold camping's rapture, though - that could be mine.
date: Wed, May 18, 2011 at 10:54 AMall of the people came to our party, internet! okay, our friends who were still in barcelona didn't come to our party, but two friends-of-friends came unexpectedly, so i'll claim perfect attendance anyway! i got to use all of my creepy glassware (who knew i'd been thrifting for a rapture party all this time?) and everyone liked the cookies and steve didn't eat anyone! we watched a monsignor who looked like a honey-baked ham and interpretive dancing on the (muted) catholic channel, the moon rose into the mist over the same old brooklyn, and i was very happy.
subject: the end is nigh
good morning, all! the joe and i have been kicking around the idea of having a thing at our apartment for awhile now; i've also been reading about the rapture and have learned that many civilizations consider our having a party to be one of the last signs of the apocalypse. i was just telling steve the other day that kirk "left behind" cameron and i are birthday buddies, and he responded by reciting thessalonians in a guttural voice:
For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are on the Lower East Side and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall have wine and cheese and those weird cookies you make. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and probably we'll have a good view of something spectacular happening to Brooklyn, what with this balcony.
what: beholding the rapture at joe and lauren's
when: this saturday, 5/21; texts vary on whether festivities begin at 6pm PST or 6pm everywhere, so let's split the difference and say 8pm local time
where: [our apartment]
per steve, we'll have wine and cheese and a variety of baked goods; we've also supplemented our bar with apocalyptic spirits. feel free to supplement that in a world-ending manner of your choosing, or to bear faith and faith alone. hope to see you there!
be pure, take a tour,
LMO and JMS
{homemade kirk cameron and debbie harry votives & blessed mother candle (courtesy of amanda) by me; peeps on our roof by george}
05.09.11
RULE I
THE LAUNDRY
When Just-Tumbled
1. Warm Underpants shall not be repatriated until each Member of the House has napped to his or her satisfaction.
RULE I
THE LAUNDRY
When Just-Tumbled
1. Warm Underpants shall not be repatriated until each Member of the House has napped to his or her satisfaction.
04.23.11: the dirty dozen {some questions i have for the neighbor with whom we share our southern wall}
01 what does one do while one pumps the techno at ten in the morning?
02 are you, like, wearing a bathrobe and eating cereal?
03 what kind of cereal goes with techno?
04 can i imagine it's count chocula?
05 can i imagine you are count chocula?
06 is there a real live lady in there with you, or are you just watching porn?
07 is this the same techno you pump at four in the morning, or do you have a dark-morning mix and a light-morning mix?
08 would you like us to hook you up with someone who could get you some higher-quality pot?
09 are you just burning cereal in there?
10 are you the result of some ancient offense to a minor long island deity?
11 is it possible to make things right with said deity?
12 i have to burn my what?
01 what does one do while one pumps the techno at ten in the morning?
02 are you, like, wearing a bathrobe and eating cereal?
03 what kind of cereal goes with techno?
04 can i imagine it's count chocula?
05 can i imagine you are count chocula?
06 is there a real live lady in there with you, or are you just watching porn?
07 is this the same techno you pump at four in the morning, or do you have a dark-morning mix and a light-morning mix?
08 would you like us to hook you up with someone who could get you some higher-quality pot?
09 are you just burning cereal in there?
10 are you the result of some ancient offense to a minor long island deity?
11 is it possible to make things right with said deity?
12 i have to burn my what?
08.30.10
much is afoot, you guys. THUNDERTOME, secret project, and GRAVITY'S RAINBeh posts are all on the horizon; until they rear their ugly heads, here's (an extremely mixed metaphor and) a big ol' photo of joe on our roof.
much is afoot, you guys. THUNDERTOME, secret project, and GRAVITY'S RAINBeh posts are all on the horizon; until they rear their ugly heads, here's (an extremely mixed metaphor and) a big ol' photo of joe on our roof.
06.18.10
{excerpts from "lenny hearts eunice," gary shteyngart's "20 under 40" new yorker story featuring the co-op in which both he and i live}
{with commentary}
{not that i'm defensive.}
{excerpts from "lenny hearts eunice," gary shteyngart's "20 under 40" new yorker story featuring the co-op in which both he and i live}
{with commentary}
First order of business when I got back: to celebrate what I already have. I began with the seven hundred and forty square feet that form my share of Manhattan Island. I live in the last middle-class stronghold in the city, high atop a red-brick ziggurat that a Jewish garment workers’ union erected on the banks of the East River back in the days when Jews sewed clothes for a living. Say what you will, these ugly co-ops are full of authentic old people who have real stories to tell (although these stories are often meandering and hard to follow; e.g., who on earth was this guy “Dillinger”?).{eight months into ziggurat living, i've developed the same sort of secretive, slightly unsavory affection for said brutal '50s architecture that i have for late '80s volvo sedans. when i lived in southern california, the local drug store, my family's church, and the virulent beige cafeteria that served soapy green jell-o to which my sisters and i were addicted were all right next to leisure world, supposedly the largest gated retirement community in the country. moving to our tower was a bit like going home.}
Then I celebrated my Wall of Books. I counted the volumes on my twenty-foot-long modernist bookshelf to make sure that none had been misplaced or used as kindling by my subtenant. “You’re my sacred ones,” I told the books. “No one but me still cares about you. But I’m going to keep you with me forever. And one day I’ll make you important again.”{i've seen and will admit to giving his wall of books The Bookish Hipster Appraisal; those of you who remember last summer's frantic apartment-hunting and co-op-approval-seeking posts (deleted in a fit of orwellian paranoia when we were getting ready for our co-op interview in september) might recall my sentimental favorite, a sixth floor balcony apartment with so-so views, a renovated kitchen, and good-looking modern furnishings. it also had stacks of the russian debutante's handbook and absurdistan tucked in the closet like a litter of kittens; it was gary's, you see. we totally yoinked his clever faux crown molding technique when we painted our bedroom gray, so i think of him fondly as i drift off to sleep.}
I celebrated the low-rise housing projects crowding my immediate view, the so-called Vladeck Houses, which stand in red-brick solidarity with my own co-ops, not exactly proud of themselves, but resigned and necessary, their thousands of residents primed for summer warmth and, if I may speculate, summer love.{those houses were one of the big reasons joe was skeptical of casa de gary, actually, and part of why we didn't make an offer on it; they aren't so bad to look at, really, but they are indeed right there. though i've only run into the guy whose pit bull wears a fur coat that once.}
In my trendy old man’s getup I ambled with easy grace down Grand Street, stepping off each curb with the profound “oy” that is the call-and-response of my neighborhood.{it sort of is, actually.}
She was disappointed by my apartment, by how far it was from the F line and how ugly the buildings were. “Looks like I’ll get some exercise walking to the train,” she said. “Ha-ha.” This was what her generation liked to add to the end of sentences, a kind of nervous tic. “Ha-ha.”{OMG IT'S NOT FAR. and it's hipster-approved, fictional missy.}
{not that i'm defensive.}
imaginary reading group discussion questions
01 could you live in an ugly building?
02 would knowing an apartment belonged to an author affect your interest in buying it?
03 why d'you think gary keeps those books in his closet?
04 how was your week? work carried me around town in its mouth and buried me under the azaleas; i've missed you, internets.
06.15.10
weekend project the second was rehabbing a frame for the hand-printed ac newman poster i bought from nate duval at last year's renegade craft fair (and rolled up and hid in assorted closets for the next year). last sunday i finally bought an old 18"x24" piece (with glass! i like to fix things, but i did not want to forage for and/or cut glass) from a garrulous woman in brooklyn who spent fifteen minutes telling me about the cats in her barn. i might need to start lint rolling a bit more carefully before i leave the house.
the frame's main selling point was its dimensions, since the gesso was webbed with cracks and the joins weren't especially tight. i added new d-rings and hanging cable, sanded down the front a bit, gave the whole thing two coats of white paint, and finished it with polyurethane. you'll have to imagine the original finish, which was what i'll call "disconsolate umber."
it was blustery last week, so the frame took on airborne bits of the lower east side as it dried out on the balcony, which is alright with me. i sentimentalized the bubbles under the "boys don't cry" sticker on my volkswagen back in san francisco the same way; clinically smooth surfaces are nice and all, but i got to drive around with little pockets of the mission c. 2001 on my bumper. when one is in town one amuses oneself.
weekend project the second was rehabbing a frame for the hand-printed ac newman poster i bought from nate duval at last year's renegade craft fair (and rolled up and hid in assorted closets for the next year). last sunday i finally bought an old 18"x24" piece (with glass! i like to fix things, but i did not want to forage for and/or cut glass) from a garrulous woman in brooklyn who spent fifteen minutes telling me about the cats in her barn. i might need to start lint rolling a bit more carefully before i leave the house.
the frame's main selling point was its dimensions, since the gesso was webbed with cracks and the joins weren't especially tight. i added new d-rings and hanging cable, sanded down the front a bit, gave the whole thing two coats of white paint, and finished it with polyurethane. you'll have to imagine the original finish, which was what i'll call "disconsolate umber."
it was blustery last week, so the frame took on airborne bits of the lower east side as it dried out on the balcony, which is alright with me. i sentimentalized the bubbles under the "boys don't cry" sticker on my volkswagen back in san francisco the same way; clinically smooth surfaces are nice and all, but i got to drive around with little pockets of the mission c. 2001 on my bumper. when one is in town one amuses oneself.
06.14.10
it was a crafty weekend, internets, a sporty and a yuppie weekend; i put the last nails in three projects which had been floating about the apartment, we migrated up to our old local for the usa-england match on saturday afternoon, shakespeare was parked at last on saturday night - first night of the merchant of venice! - and we returned frosty the beleaguered helper robot yesterday afternoon.* i'm up to my eyeballs in the august issue and haven't a luxurious lunch break in which to tell you about shakespeare just yet, but i can get started on the crafty stuff. a design*sponge sneak peek featuring a cambridge apartment full of staghorn ferns convinced me that we needed one of our own. a catproof plant that addresses the antler trend without, you know, requiring any antlers!
sprout home had a fern for me, so i spent last week staining and sealing a plaque with which to mount and hang it.
i screwed a bunch of eyes into the plaque so that i could lace the moss-wrapped fern against it with wire, gaga-corset-like.
i gave the root ball and moss a good soaking; wild staghorns cling to trees and get most of their moisture from the air, but as houseplants they need to be doused every now and again.
we eyeballed a spot with strong but indirect light, sunk a nail into the wall, and boom.
meet moose the fern. he's cute, no?
it was a crafty weekend, internets, a sporty and a yuppie weekend; i put the last nails in three projects which had been floating about the apartment, we migrated up to our old local for the usa-england match on saturday afternoon, shakespeare was parked at last on saturday night - first night of the merchant of venice! - and we returned frosty the beleaguered helper robot yesterday afternoon.* i'm up to my eyeballs in the august issue and haven't a luxurious lunch break in which to tell you about shakespeare just yet, but i can get started on the crafty stuff. a design*sponge sneak peek featuring a cambridge apartment full of staghorn ferns convinced me that we needed one of our own. a catproof plant that addresses the antler trend without, you know, requiring any antlers!
sprout home had a fern for me, so i spent last week staining and sealing a plaque with which to mount and hang it.
i screwed a bunch of eyes into the plaque so that i could lace the moss-wrapped fern against it with wire, gaga-corset-like.
i gave the root ball and moss a good soaking; wild staghorns cling to trees and get most of their moisture from the air, but as houseplants they need to be doused every now and again.
we eyeballed a spot with strong but indirect light, sunk a nail into the wall, and boom.
meet moose the fern. he's cute, no?
*and somehow managed to hire a 93-year-old man to ferry us and two new window units from wall street back to the lower east side, a trip which was both fascinating and more than a little terrifying.
01.25.10
our walls have been nude for a long time. we wanted to paint the wall behind the sectional, you see, and we couldn't possibly know what color to use until said sectional actually materialized, grey meaning different things to different people and all. it materialized on friday, thirteen weeks and a day after we gave up and ordered it. (it's no accident, incidentally, that the last piece we settled on was the biggest and squishiest by far; couch-shopping-weariness seeps into your bones and steals your will to live. i was on the verge of napping under a generic yuppie coffee table when we decided to buy this thing.)
the sectional is transit grey, i'd say, for it is the size of a bus.
joe sent me a photo on his blackberry. "it's the david byrne big suit of sectionals," he said. the big suit was an arty statement, though, and the sectional is an "i order furniture drunk" statement. it's not returnable, for grey was one of the sort-of-standard-but-not-standard-enough-to-take-fewer-than-thirteen-weeks color options. i suppose we could try to unload it on craigslist, but i don't have a lot of interest in selling at a serious loss, squiring skeevy craigslist types around in our apartment,* or shopping all over again.
so we slapped ten pictures on the wall in a granny cluster, the theory being that a big vertical gesture might counter a big horizontal one. we also added a scorpion pillow, for scorpions just make things better. it's possible that my design ego is just buffering itself at this point, but i...think i don't hate the sectional quite so much now?
our walls have been nude for a long time. we wanted to paint the wall behind the sectional, you see, and we couldn't possibly know what color to use until said sectional actually materialized, grey meaning different things to different people and all. it materialized on friday, thirteen weeks and a day after we gave up and ordered it. (it's no accident, incidentally, that the last piece we settled on was the biggest and squishiest by far; couch-shopping-weariness seeps into your bones and steals your will to live. i was on the verge of napping under a generic yuppie coffee table when we decided to buy this thing.)
the sectional is transit grey, i'd say, for it is the size of a bus.
joe sent me a photo on his blackberry. "it's the david byrne big suit of sectionals," he said. the big suit was an arty statement, though, and the sectional is an "i order furniture drunk" statement. it's not returnable, for grey was one of the sort-of-standard-but-not-standard-enough-to-take-fewer-than-thirteen-weeks color options. i suppose we could try to unload it on craigslist, but i don't have a lot of interest in selling at a serious loss, squiring skeevy craigslist types around in our apartment,* or shopping all over again.
so we slapped ten pictures on the wall in a granny cluster, the theory being that a big vertical gesture might counter a big horizontal one. we also added a scorpion pillow, for scorpions just make things better. it's possible that my design ego is just buffering itself at this point, but i...think i don't hate the sectional quite so much now?
imaginary reading group discussion questions
01 have you ever made a terrible furniture decision? how did you deal with the mistake?
02 how would you un-bus this sectional?
03 {esoteric kidchamp bonus question} one of the ten pictures we slapped up on friday is of tucson; another is chicago, another is oxford, and another is detroit. which is which? (large version here)
*i know we ourselves are skeevy craigslist types; this is my point.
12.01.09: the dirty dozen, part I {twelve seasonal things}
what a fortnight it's been, internets: mystery illness (that made me miss the pixies show last monday and is yet ongoing, hooray!), our first overnight guests in the new apartment, new blogging work at the office, thanksgiving, risotto-making injuries, the action just never stops. though i haven't been especially forthcoming, i've missed you.
01 one of the big hits at our t-giv table: crack pie, a butter-and-sugar-and-butter-and-eggs-and-butter-and-oats concoction we discovered at momofuku milk bar with jacob and megan. there are no photos of the two crack pies i prepared, for they never really got plated (we ate right from the pie tins); the sugar tremors they induced would've ruined the shots, anyway. i'll make them again, though i'll cut the butter down a bit and be sure i have a few ectomorphs about to bat cleanup.
02 i was also quite pleased with last thursday's edition of no-knead bread, a recipe i've used five times in the last month. i added a few teaspoons of fresh chopped rosemary before i set it out to rise and cracked some sea salt over the top just before chucking it into the oven, and it was glorious.
it's been reported that joe's pork (for it was a pork thanksgiving) was toothsome as well; as the resident vegetarian with stuffed sinuses, i can't even tell you what it smelled like, but apparently we all had fancy bacon auras for the next few days. oh, ventilation.
03 as we'll be hosting a holiday get-together or two later this month, we've decided to acquire a dining table. a dining table! we've never had one, and are disproportionately excited. it will probably spend most of its life in the kitchen and catch mail and magazines while we eat at the coffee table in the living room, but i feel this is a legitimate grown-up milestone nonetheless. as it happens, we already have dining chairs (a quartet of teak n.o. moller model 84s we stumbled across at a thrift store in chelsea) and we have a fairly good idea of the sort of table we want (something from blu dot's strut line). we're having a bit of an issue with color, though: which, o internets, would you pick (click on the 'strut' link to see the options)? the kitchen-space looks like this, though we'll probably be adding wallpaper at some point and, you know, the rest of the apartment isn't nearly as nude now.
04 speaking of wall-clothing, i spent part of last week's sick day (singular, for i am an idiot) turning toilet paper rolls into a quasi-seasonal wall hanging.
bear in mind that i shot the finished project after an unconscionable amount of chloraseptic.
how was your holiday? which table-shade do you fancy? should i spray paint the toilet paper rolls silver? (metallics say 'holiday' to me. i think it's a publishing industry thing.)
what a fortnight it's been, internets: mystery illness (that made me miss the pixies show last monday and is yet ongoing, hooray!), our first overnight guests in the new apartment, new blogging work at the office, thanksgiving, risotto-making injuries, the action just never stops. though i haven't been especially forthcoming, i've missed you.
01 one of the big hits at our t-giv table: crack pie, a butter-and-sugar-and-butter-and-eggs-and-butter-and-oats concoction we discovered at momofuku milk bar with jacob and megan. there are no photos of the two crack pies i prepared, for they never really got plated (we ate right from the pie tins); the sugar tremors they induced would've ruined the shots, anyway. i'll make them again, though i'll cut the butter down a bit and be sure i have a few ectomorphs about to bat cleanup.
02 i was also quite pleased with last thursday's edition of no-knead bread, a recipe i've used five times in the last month. i added a few teaspoons of fresh chopped rosemary before i set it out to rise and cracked some sea salt over the top just before chucking it into the oven, and it was glorious.
it's been reported that joe's pork (for it was a pork thanksgiving) was toothsome as well; as the resident vegetarian with stuffed sinuses, i can't even tell you what it smelled like, but apparently we all had fancy bacon auras for the next few days. oh, ventilation.
03 as we'll be hosting a holiday get-together or two later this month, we've decided to acquire a dining table. a dining table! we've never had one, and are disproportionately excited. it will probably spend most of its life in the kitchen and catch mail and magazines while we eat at the coffee table in the living room, but i feel this is a legitimate grown-up milestone nonetheless. as it happens, we already have dining chairs (a quartet of teak n.o. moller model 84s we stumbled across at a thrift store in chelsea) and we have a fairly good idea of the sort of table we want (something from blu dot's strut line). we're having a bit of an issue with color, though: which, o internets, would you pick (click on the 'strut' link to see the options)? the kitchen-space looks like this, though we'll probably be adding wallpaper at some point and, you know, the rest of the apartment isn't nearly as nude now.
04 speaking of wall-clothing, i spent part of last week's sick day (singular, for i am an idiot) turning toilet paper rolls into a quasi-seasonal wall hanging.
bear in mind that i shot the finished project after an unconscionable amount of chloraseptic.
how was your holiday? which table-shade do you fancy? should i spray paint the toilet paper rolls silver? (metallics say 'holiday' to me. i think it's a publishing industry thing.)
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