WHAT I'D LIKE TO DO WITH YOUR VIOLIN (AND ITS BOW)
You could say that I've been awfully errant in the blog posting. I suppose you would be right. There are reasons, of course. The main factors in my lack of blogness would be: 1) I just got back from visiting NYC with my parents, and that took up a few days with packing and driving and yelling at each other on the subway, 2)Sometimes I feel like nobody reads it, so why? but then I realize how good it is for me to write something every day, but by then it's 8:00 and it goes against my personal constitution to do anything past eight that I don't want to do. Um. 3) There has been a tremendous Real World marathon the last week or so, and I am just the pathetic loser who stays in her jammies, reads vegetarian cookbooks, and bitches about how everybody tries to figure out which roommate is gay right off the bat. (I mean, gosh, you can't get to know them as people before you apply whatever prejudices you have? Assholes.) So now we're all present and accounted for.
Yes, so I was visiting the great big city this week on "vacation." Any event, however, which demands that you constantly argue with your parents about which street Cultural Attraction A is on cannot really be a vacation. I don't think I'll get into the complaining so much because there won't be any stop if I do. Still, if you want me to do an impression of my dad in the big city, just ask the next time you see me. We got out okay, and we were kind of friendly on the drive back, so what else can you ask for?
We saw the Trade Center site, and it was a big hole in the ground to me. There are a lot of other places that mean something to me, but I had a hard time getting all worked up about this huge construction site. I thought that the multitudes were a lot more important than a stupid hole in the sky. Afterwards, dad wanted to go to the exact same street in Chinatown we had visited a few years ago when the literary club (well, three of us, anyway) accepted an award at the Columbia Scholastic Press conference. We walked along Canal street at the hottest time of day, and I loved it. Little Italy and Chinatown converge around Mott street or so, and the day was sunny and the cannoli was good. As taxing as it is on our family situation, visitng that particular city is like image hunting for me. I find myself scribbling the whole time just to try to keep some of it in.
On day two we went to the temporary location for the MoMA in Queens, which was pretty small but still awesome. Apparently they had a parade to carry a few of the pieces to be featured in the retrospective, and it was chilling to see whole flocks of people carrying Duchamp's bicycle wheel across the Queens Bridge, among other things. We saw the Whitney after lunching on Park Avenue (which sucked, in my opinion) and went to bed early. Our last full day was full of waiting in line for discount tickets to Urinetown, me shopping at H&M, seeing Urinetown, and then schlepping down to the East Village for one final, grande argument about where to eat. We ended up at Veselka, a Ukranian diner, which my dad was thoroughly prepared to hate. Instead he had some pierogi and some Pilsner Urquell (a Czech beer that is his favorite above all). I looked in the record shops on St. Mark's while they had another beer in a little bar that was playing OK Computer and browsed around Search and Destroy, where I bought my infamous Boy Scouts of America t-shirt. Unfortunately they were playing Atari Teenage Riot and had jacked up their prices to $25 a shirt! While they are well chosen, no self-respecting bargain hunter would take it. Whatever. I found a nice Pirates shirt for cheap, even by my own standards, and walked out happy.
I listened to Trompe Le Monde about five times on the way home and ran into Scott and Ethan in the supermarket. They were just getting back from a week at the beach. On the rest of the way home I closed my eyes and tried to figure out where we were just based on the curves and the hills. It used to be my favorite game.
You could say that I've been awfully errant in the blog posting. I suppose you would be right. There are reasons, of course. The main factors in my lack of blogness would be: 1) I just got back from visiting NYC with my parents, and that took up a few days with packing and driving and yelling at each other on the subway, 2)Sometimes I feel like nobody reads it, so why? but then I realize how good it is for me to write something every day, but by then it's 8:00 and it goes against my personal constitution to do anything past eight that I don't want to do. Um. 3) There has been a tremendous Real World marathon the last week or so, and I am just the pathetic loser who stays in her jammies, reads vegetarian cookbooks, and bitches about how everybody tries to figure out which roommate is gay right off the bat. (I mean, gosh, you can't get to know them as people before you apply whatever prejudices you have? Assholes.) So now we're all present and accounted for.
Yes, so I was visiting the great big city this week on "vacation." Any event, however, which demands that you constantly argue with your parents about which street Cultural Attraction A is on cannot really be a vacation. I don't think I'll get into the complaining so much because there won't be any stop if I do. Still, if you want me to do an impression of my dad in the big city, just ask the next time you see me. We got out okay, and we were kind of friendly on the drive back, so what else can you ask for?
We saw the Trade Center site, and it was a big hole in the ground to me. There are a lot of other places that mean something to me, but I had a hard time getting all worked up about this huge construction site. I thought that the multitudes were a lot more important than a stupid hole in the sky. Afterwards, dad wanted to go to the exact same street in Chinatown we had visited a few years ago when the literary club (well, three of us, anyway) accepted an award at the Columbia Scholastic Press conference. We walked along Canal street at the hottest time of day, and I loved it. Little Italy and Chinatown converge around Mott street or so, and the day was sunny and the cannoli was good. As taxing as it is on our family situation, visitng that particular city is like image hunting for me. I find myself scribbling the whole time just to try to keep some of it in.
On day two we went to the temporary location for the MoMA in Queens, which was pretty small but still awesome. Apparently they had a parade to carry a few of the pieces to be featured in the retrospective, and it was chilling to see whole flocks of people carrying Duchamp's bicycle wheel across the Queens Bridge, among other things. We saw the Whitney after lunching on Park Avenue (which sucked, in my opinion) and went to bed early. Our last full day was full of waiting in line for discount tickets to Urinetown, me shopping at H&M, seeing Urinetown, and then schlepping down to the East Village for one final, grande argument about where to eat. We ended up at Veselka, a Ukranian diner, which my dad was thoroughly prepared to hate. Instead he had some pierogi and some Pilsner Urquell (a Czech beer that is his favorite above all). I looked in the record shops on St. Mark's while they had another beer in a little bar that was playing OK Computer and browsed around Search and Destroy, where I bought my infamous Boy Scouts of America t-shirt. Unfortunately they were playing Atari Teenage Riot and had jacked up their prices to $25 a shirt! While they are well chosen, no self-respecting bargain hunter would take it. Whatever. I found a nice Pirates shirt for cheap, even by my own standards, and walked out happy.
I listened to Trompe Le Monde about five times on the way home and ran into Scott and Ethan in the supermarket. They were just getting back from a week at the beach. On the rest of the way home I closed my eyes and tried to figure out where we were just based on the curves and the hills. It used to be my favorite game.
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