Thursday, August 21, 2008

You know what is wonderful?

... not knowing how much I weigh and not caring because noone else does. You know what is exhilarating? Riding my bike through the East Village in cut-off 501's with my hair blowing in my face and no helmet. You know what is delightful? Getting a text message that says "You are the coolest girl ever to breathe the mix of gases that enables a human to live on this planet." You know what is astonishing? Dancing at a dive bar to cheesy 80s music and poking a munchkin in the back who turns out to be Mary Kate Olsen. You know what is magic? Sitting in Doma Cafe in the absurdly beautiful West Village eating breakfast at 9 o'clock at night and listening to Bjork's All is Full of Love. You know what is breathtaking? Walking through Central Park on a sticky July night and watching fire flies light up the hillside. You know what is unexpected? Meeting amazing, inspiring people who completely change the way I look at life. You know what is gut-wrenching? Knowing that in less than a week it'll all be a memory.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Street Style - East Village

Pee is Not Fertilizer

Down the road from Beacon's Closet.

Not after money, just having a good time

On Bedford ave in Williamsburg, very obviously high and very disturbingly entertaining.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

How to Tell a Girl You're Interested

Today, hungover and tired I took my first walk through Central Park and stopped at the Ballplayer's House Cafe for a combined breakfast/lunch at 3pm. I hassled my Californian Jack Black-lookalike-only-younger-and-thinner waiter about what I should order in my listless state and then set about ingesting my Vegie Burger goodness along with the accompanying packet of crisps while reading Joseph Campbell and eavesdropping on uninspiring nearby conversations. After wiling away a good part of the day in this lazy, indulgent fashion, I packed up my stuff and put a $20 bill in the bill folder and waited for my change.
I waited.
I waited.
I waited.
I worried that perhaps they assumed I wanted to leave a big tip.
After making subtle googly eyes at random staff members, my waiter finally returned with the folder before quickly disappearing.

Inside the folder, along with my change, was this:

I should be honest with you and admit that I don't intend on calling him. But man, did he sure make my day.