Finally remembered to take a picture while furiously packing in my dusky little basement. Sorry so schlecht.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Unstumped!
Wasn't sure what to make with this Denyse Schmidt fabric, but ended up with a properly huge tote and a folded lunch bag for my little cousin. You can't see, but Velcro under the fold and plum lining (because it hides stains bahah).
Finally remembered to take a picture while furiously packing in my dusky little basement. Sorry so schlecht.
Finally remembered to take a picture while furiously packing in my dusky little basement. Sorry so schlecht.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Juliano on Lexington and 91st
Gonna swear to it: the best coffee on the Upper East Side. Juliano Gourmet Coffee in Yorkville. This semi-dark corner cafe. Seems family owned. Crowd is a not as stuck-up as the rest of the neighborhood -- bit more granola. And their small is only $1. But it's too late!! I've only been there twice after MM of The Plain Scone's recommendation and I'm leaving New York today! Small regular black yesterday, upgraded to a large today as I definitely wanted to savor all of it. Incredible.
Joe, maybe we'll have to do a side-by-side comparison to the Blue Bottle in Brooklyn...
This makes me so excited for pear almond tart at Woodstar in Northampton and the sticky pecan rolls at Arizmendi!!
Joe, maybe we'll have to do a side-by-side comparison to the Blue Bottle in Brooklyn...
This makes me so excited for pear almond tart at Woodstar in Northampton and the sticky pecan rolls at Arizmendi!!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Deepest sleep last night
that I've had in a long long time. (Will credit this to my adorable new pajamas.)
I've been trying to edit this paper for weeks. I open the document, stare at the title, do a bit of scrolling, heave and fidget, watch the rest of the Saturday crowd in the Rose Main Reading Room, and end up doing this or spending some quality time with old HIMYM episodes. This had better not persist at school where the libraries seem to specialize in the most dangerously soporific of conditions.
I've been trying to edit this paper for weeks. I open the document, stare at the title, do a bit of scrolling, heave and fidget, watch the rest of the Saturday crowd in the Rose Main Reading Room, and end up doing this or spending some quality time with old HIMYM episodes. This had better not persist at school where the libraries seem to specialize in the most dangerously soporific of conditions.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Vulcan mind meld
I'm sitting in the Main Library again. Beaauuuutifuuul! But I can't seem to get any work done, even though I imagine people seeing my computer screen and cursing me for being unproductive. This is the downside of having an adorable little netbook - I always feel like I'm doing something secret and devious....
Soo, this came in letters and emails to some of my closest friends and family. Apologies for using the same thing, all. I often get pegged for repetition. It's just that I want to tell you all about farts and fat people... Anyways, tidbits of my days I've remembered to scribble down:
I am only able to carry bags on one side. I think this is the case with most people. The left side is bruised from slinging a duffel across my collarbones during my travel to and fro SF. I told someone that my right side is my Schlepping Side and they pointed out that even with my bag on the right, I was still standing crooked.
The worst thing about the heat and the humidity is the stagnancy of smells. Farts linger exactly where you expelled them from your anus. And where there is no breeze but your own intake of breath and when the sense of smell is heightened by the heat, it is a good thing that I like -- nay, love! -- my own brand, as the Fat Bastard says.
Walking home. Two little girls skip past ahead of me. Little girls nowadays smell like berries and plastic.
Woman on the train in night wear. From a Tuesday night! Oh girl I am totally judging you! Or does she normally dress this way! Her thigh cellulite is frothing over her high-waisted booty shorts. Trashy trashy. But her boyfriend is so attractive!
In the 96th St Station: An androgynous boy, most definitely a model. Tall, thin, and slightly slouched. Velvet monogrammed slippers. Blazer and silk dupioni trousers. Still had make-up on. Yellow eyeshadow up to his temples. Legen...wait for it...
Siblings on the train with the same laugh and sandals. It made me feel so lonely! Another family of a mother and two children. She is ill-equipped for this, sitting with her legs spread and eyes adhered to a tightly clutched Gameboy like a growth from her hands while her older daughter screams, fidgets, and thrashes about the seats. While all six of the other family giggles in unison. I guess it's not productive to blame her?
Guns n Roses says, "What is civil about war anyways?" It made me think for a second and then I decided that the phrase lost all credibility when squealed by Axl Rose. I disagree anyways.
The D Train is so crowded I'm forced to face my side and can either close my eyes or stare on this giant of a woman's midsection. She's wearing a b/w floral shirt in some polyester material and the tire several centimeters below her belly button moves at twice the speed of the train's regular lurching. I watch it jiggle and wait at each stop for all-aboard. All the ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn.
I will not tolerate making out on the subway.
This man has a thin line of a beard. Makes him look severe. Which is I suppose effective because the only reason he has a stupid line beard is to sculpt his face, as he has too prominent of a double chin to reveal any bone structure.
Walking home, a kind-looking old man approaches. I smile at him as we pass. He does not return my smile but leaves behind a trail of second-hand smoke for me. The air is still not budging.
Soo, this came in letters and emails to some of my closest friends and family. Apologies for using the same thing, all. I often get pegged for repetition. It's just that I want to tell you all about farts and fat people... Anyways, tidbits of my days I've remembered to scribble down:
I am only able to carry bags on one side. I think this is the case with most people. The left side is bruised from slinging a duffel across my collarbones during my travel to and fro SF. I told someone that my right side is my Schlepping Side and they pointed out that even with my bag on the right, I was still standing crooked.
The worst thing about the heat and the humidity is the stagnancy of smells. Farts linger exactly where you expelled them from your anus. And where there is no breeze but your own intake of breath and when the sense of smell is heightened by the heat, it is a good thing that I like -- nay, love! -- my own brand, as the Fat Bastard says.
Walking home. Two little girls skip past ahead of me. Little girls nowadays smell like berries and plastic.
Woman on the train in night wear. From a Tuesday night! Oh girl I am totally judging you! Or does she normally dress this way! Her thigh cellulite is frothing over her high-waisted booty shorts. Trashy trashy. But her boyfriend is so attractive!
In the 96th St Station: An androgynous boy, most definitely a model. Tall, thin, and slightly slouched. Velvet monogrammed slippers. Blazer and silk dupioni trousers. Still had make-up on. Yellow eyeshadow up to his temples. Legen...wait for it...
Siblings on the train with the same laugh and sandals. It made me feel so lonely! Another family of a mother and two children. She is ill-equipped for this, sitting with her legs spread and eyes adhered to a tightly clutched Gameboy like a growth from her hands while her older daughter screams, fidgets, and thrashes about the seats. While all six of the other family giggles in unison. I guess it's not productive to blame her?
Guns n Roses says, "What is civil about war anyways?" It made me think for a second and then I decided that the phrase lost all credibility when squealed by Axl Rose. I disagree anyways.
The D Train is so crowded I'm forced to face my side and can either close my eyes or stare on this giant of a woman's midsection. She's wearing a b/w floral shirt in some polyester material and the tire several centimeters below her belly button moves at twice the speed of the train's regular lurching. I watch it jiggle and wait at each stop for all-aboard. All the ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn.
I will not tolerate making out on the subway.
This man has a thin line of a beard. Makes him look severe. Which is I suppose effective because the only reason he has a stupid line beard is to sculpt his face, as he has too prominent of a double chin to reveal any bone structure.
Walking home, a kind-looking old man approaches. I smile at him as we pass. He does not return my smile but leaves behind a trail of second-hand smoke for me. The air is still not budging.
Rich Frog Rulers
I saw this several weeks ago in a Crane and had to have it! Especially since I've permanent markered and X-ACTOed my roommate's poor ruler for two consecutive years now...
Downright adorable! The perfect little gift, I'd say. And there are many others from Rich Frog: Rulers of Exploration, Jazz, various sports, the Sea, Women in Literature, Impressionism, la la la.
And ah, of course the top man (never a woman of course for architecture) is Le Corbusier. I really could not find a better image. Just sayin'...their marketing and buzz are not very effective.
Image: Rich Frog
Downright adorable! The perfect little gift, I'd say. And there are many others from Rich Frog: Rulers of Exploration, Jazz, various sports, the Sea, Women in Literature, Impressionism, la la la.
And ah, of course the top man (never a woman of course for architecture) is Le Corbusier. I really could not find a better image. Just sayin'...their marketing and buzz are not very effective.
Image: Rich Frog
Friday, August 6, 2010
"Darling Vikki"
Dear anime guy on the 4 train,
Sorry about reading the letter you were writing, but it's not my fault you were scribbling in public. Particularly because any concept of private space is diminished on da bus yo.
I spied...:
He spent the rest of the ride with his head in his hands. I don't know. That's not really sad to me. This is not because I have a salted duck gizzard (sooo delicious!!) for a heart -- if you know me, you'd know that I'm very inconveniently sentimental -- but he just emitted such feelings of uselessness that I really could not empathize. He wasn't going to send the letter. SEND THE LETTER! (Or, should he send the letter? I always send the letter, so perhaps I cannot determine...)
Sorry about reading the letter you were writing, but it's not my fault you were scribbling in public. Particularly because any concept of private space is diminished on da bus yo.
I spied...:
Dear Vicky,
I don't know what to say. Thinking about you drives me insane and my brain is triggering the smell of lavender everywhere. I can't believe it's been 5 weeks since we last spoke.
He spent the rest of the ride with his head in his hands. I don't know. That's not really sad to me. This is not because I have a salted duck gizzard (sooo delicious!!) for a heart -- if you know me, you'd know that I'm very inconveniently sentimental -- but he just emitted such feelings of uselessness that I really could not empathize. He wasn't going to send the letter. SEND THE LETTER! (Or, should he send the letter? I always send the letter, so perhaps I cannot determine...)
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