- accepting what you need
- communicating what you want
- dining, drinking, doing anything really solo
- wandering aimlessly with the hopes of getting lost
- hot yoga in the summer
- calendaring the good stuff too
- knowing your neighbors
- taking time to clean your apt
- being the one who can kill the cockroach (upon request)
- texting your parents
- cooking for friends and family
- buying the ticket
- taking the ride
- putting on pants sans any hands
- leaving a note
- googling it
- checking the weather before you get dressed
1. still dreaming about the black rice large plate (eggplant, kale gomae, chili cucumber, bonito, sweet potato mash, grapefruit ginger ponzu, hard boiled egg, avocado) from dimes, a new-ish baby chick food spot on the always baller chinatown les border. decided to end a delightfully unorganized sunday there where i easily snagged an open booth-side window seat, sipped on a fennel-ginger lemonade, dug into the latest cherry bombe magazine, texted my mom to find out what foods she craved while she was pregnant with me, squealed when she replied with her first emoji, and watched the world come down from its 4th of july high. tldr = never better.
2. meet nancy huang, og foodie and luxury w-burg apt hunter extraordinaire. her master bath? en suite. her rooftop grill? gas and communal. her wraparound view? f-ing incredible.
3. in case you were wondering if i still take random photos of grow nyc vegetables … i do.
4. on saturday night i took a selfie with the moon. but, like, nbd. stars → they’re just like us!
5. last weekend i had the supreme pleasure of being my sister’s date to lindsay & michaela’s #bumpercarwedding in dc. long story short, those ladies put the cool in realfuckingcool.
miserable, darling, as usual.
this some good shit.
love dat snaptrack, ryn.
1. toby’s estate is killing it in hefty dogs with major personality waiting for their owners to get coffee so he/she can take them on a walk good times. this guy’s nombre? hombre, obviously.
2/3. i spent last saturday with wifflegif and company picking strawberries at patty’s berries and bunches in mattituck (population 4219 … in case anyone was wondering). i rarely make weekend plans outside of my 263 block radius, so hitting the open road (driving! in zipcars! with boys!) for some wholesome day tripping was a welcomed change of pace. big ups to tinabeans for cruise directing. her strawberry outfit was the envy of us all. dat hat, yo. srsly.
4. apologies for getting so lj with my last post. sometimes it’s just a hot, tired, semi-sad tues wherein you feel a lot of feels and post about them on the internet. that’s all. red flags down.
5. i found a way to work an early morning stroll through tompkins sq park and a pit spot at ninth street on 10th street into my friday therapy / work commute. so, yea. fridays? still good.
6. that’s wifflegif. he likes: obscure bodega beverages, long walks, animated gifs, his iphone, bonchon chicken, making fun and useful things for people to play with, fat cat, smart effortless music discovery, tri-blend concert tees, obeying crosswalk signs, emojis, me.
a little bummed and uninspired, less confident and clear than i’m used to. i’m stuck in my head and waiting for a sign instead of printing my own. at least i don’t need people telling me you’re okay, it’s okay, we’re okay. heaviness happens, lightness returns. i just really want to get there already (probably why i walk so fucking fast). granted, not updating this thing isn’t helping so that’s one shift i can make. did make.
what you’re doing
1...skies like this make me really miss my bike, specifically that one time molly, candice, and i rode out to rockaway park and sunnied ourselves on candice’s pepto pink beach sheet.
2...lately i’ve been trying to be less judgmental slash put down the haterade and relaaaaaaax. for example, i always assumed toby’s estate was too big, too beautiful, too conveniently located to have both good coffee and reliable wi-fi. turns out i was wrong (i.e. hoorayness).
3...got caught in a quickie rainstorm on saturday afternoon while shopping for a little something something (new top? new dress? new shoes? idk sooooooomething) and popped into walter foods to dry off / wait it out / steal an umbrella / have foods. i’m really glad i did because now i can highly recommend the walter breakfast with soft scrambled eggs and bacon (obvs).
4...omg guys bulldog on a skateboard bulldog on a skateboard bulldog on a skateboard.
5/6...on sunday, allie and i went on a lady date whereby i convinced her to take the ferry to governor’s island to check out hammock grove. brb while i look up “worth it” on wikipedia.
7...just a friendly reminder to never move above 14th street … ever.
cleaning up my feedly
and decided to donate
some misc links & thangs
to my local internet.
hello, pre-holiday short week.
bracing myself for the vvv busy.
hoping some answers will follow.
fill what’s empty.
empty what’s full.
scratch where it itches.
friend: i’m having some feelings about this. full disclosure my friend wrote it. i think it’s smart and sassy, but i’m still having trouble assigning a value judgment on basic.
me: pls hold while i read this.
me: i already have my defenses up.
friend: i’m just not sure how i feel about the idea that i might have basic tendencies.
me: according to this article, i am the carrie b of basic b’s. a lil bit of all these except maybe the ues one which i’m pretty sure means i am none of them which also means the idea of having basic tendencies is bunk to me. i have routines and interests, but i don’t have tendencies. just because i like soulcycle and hot yoga doesn’t mean i can’t quote mcluhan and read code.
friend: truth. i can quote mcclanahan, if not mcluhan.
a lovely bunch of
little black bras?
about it ’bout it.
that’s where you’re wrong.
i am ready for this jelly.
drinking coffee at mcdonald’s
out of a paper cup
is almost more victory than we can
it ain’t fair i don’t care
don’t know what to say
same old song, life goes on
i wish i could change
i’m too good at leaving love
i’m too good at leaving love
i don’t wanna be
nov. 15, 1971: “it’s that time of year, when ethnic society, homesick for its native accents, gets together to whoop it up,” reported the times … “pepe, as he is called, not only produced a sumptuous buffet, but he also emerged as a superb flamenco dancer. at 2 o’clock in the morning, after having served a breakfast of churros (ropes of cruller-like fried dough) and hot chocolate, pepe danced to the guitars and mandolins, losing his white chef’s toque as he whirled.
may we all lose a toque as we whirl.
“more and more i really believe that doing our best isn’t about loving unconditionally but about just saying something truthful. and letting the other person have the rare advantage of knowing what we’re feeling uncloaked, even if it doesn’t make sense, even if the feelings are confused, even if there are conditions. because making things seem uncomplex, making love seem easy and unconditional is just another deception we sweet-talk ourselves into, with all the should-ing that never lasts.
so there i was on the subway, picking feverish fights in my head with some stranger’s self-help book. and feeling like we’re all missing a better point here. a point not about love or conditions but about something simpler. about trying to be good and kind and patient with each other and knowing that there are always conditions, that we’ve all got our knots and bends in our brains, and holes in our hearts.”
these two paragraphs,
especially that last part
on being kind, having knots.
that’s where i’m keeping things.
for a while.
iced out lights out,
me and ceasar leo.
there’s only one rule
that i know of, babies –
“god damn it,
you’ve got to be kind.”
people who try
to bring you down
like, this guy.
oh, and me too.
chloe: i just saw 826 is doing scrabble for cheaters on may 3rd. maybe we should get a team together.
me: oooooooooo i’m down.
chloe: we should ask anders, too. he’d be seriously brilliant.
me: that is an excellent call.
chloe: on it.
[a few minutes later]
chloe: anders is in.
chloe: who would you like to ask? i could also ask my roomie. she’s cool. she works for the atlantic wire. you’d like her.
me: i’d ask my friend amy who is vvv clever and wise (not talking about myself, i have another friend named amy).
[a few minutes later]
me: it sounds like you can only have teams of two …
me: ok i think you and anders should be a team because you will kick total f-ing ass and, to be totally honest, i’m actually really bad at scrabble : (
chloe: isn’t that the point? bad player = great cheater.
me: i guess. either way, you must beat peter dinklage!
[a few minutes later]
me: well, i’m happy to be your teammate OR root for you and anders. the choice is yours.
chloe: oh no. this is like sophie’s choice. only different. and with fewer nazis.
me: does anders know there’s a $50 registration fee per team member? does chloe know?
chloe: i think i’ve made it clear that i know the least about this event of everyone.
to be continued …
ps – did you get your tickets? to the cloud show?
just a friendly reminder:
summer will rise again.
… i do think, also, that—oh god, now this is really the stuff of shitty women’s magazines and heteronormative nightmare trend pieces—but i think that having it all can be a stumbling block for men, but it’s a stumbling block for the kinds of men you absolutely don’t want in your life. your general togetherness and attractiveness, when paired with a cautiousness and quietness upfront, is really fluffy bunny ass for a traditional man. when you show your sharp bunny claws, though, this kind of man is going to turn cold and turn tail and run. the magazines will tell you to fluff up your tail and play down your giant brain. i’m going to give you the opposite advice. if i were you, i would try flashing the bunny claws earlier, to see what you’re dealing with. is this a bunny chaser, or a guy who likes real assertive happy human women? mutter a few ribald remarks, make your opinion crystal clear, then look the guy frankly in the eye as if to say, “that’s me, buddy. like it or lump it.” many, many men with an eye for a princess will get gone real quick-like after that.