Two months in New York, and I am starting to notice some changes. It's sort of indescribable, so I thought I should just post a current pic to keep you all in the loop.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash
Dearest readers,
Two months in New York, and I am starting to notice some changes. It's sort of indescribable, so I thought I should just post a current pic to keep you all in the loop.
Two months in New York, and I am starting to notice some changes. It's sort of indescribable, so I thought I should just post a current pic to keep you all in the loop.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Spill The Blood
Oh the novelty!
Oh the frivolity!
Oh the sluttitty!
Kids in New York actually celebrate Halloween. Like, it's kinda lame NOT to be costumed. After my second Halloween in New York, I have come to some conclusions about the laws of the dress up:
1. Women must be slutty versions of whatever it is they choose to dress up as. The origin of the outfit could be totally un-slutty (ie. A Rhino), then one must slutify for Halloween (ie. A Slutty Rhino). Nothing is sacred! Also, Halloween scary in Manhattan is a lot of ass, hanging out of not a lot of skirt. Apparently donning a garter belt is the new 'cut two eyes in a white sheet'.
2. Should a man have ever repressed any interest in cross-dressing, he may disguise this desire in a lady's gown, as long as there is blood spill. To give myself some credit, I actually came to this conclusion at the tender age of 16, as a student at my esteemed Jewish High School. Each Purim, (Jewish Halloween) the teenaged boys would get into their mothers Saturday morning best, denounce Haman, and still be allowed on the basketball team.
Being a traveler with the bare minimum in this 'backpack' of mine (actually, it's a rather large suitcase, with a hair dryer in it), I had very few items available to me, and that in itself was not going to be my 'Slutty Australian' costume. I found a pair of love goggles that my dear friend Brit had given me, and decide to be a Nu-Rave Brat. You can see love hearts when you look at lights through these.
And now all the people that I love:
ED THE RUSSIAN BEAR - Ed made this costume with his bare hands on Wednesday afternoon. He had never sewn before.
SHARA THE TIGERESS - This photo was actually taken at a weekend Halloween party. She was a fabulous Cory Kennedy for the real Halloween.
TIN THE SMOKING BULLCAT - I don't understand what Tin was. But he had a black tail and smoked a lot of cigarettes
STACEY THE HOTTIE - Stacey didn't want to leave the house. But I got her out. Her costume was just general hotness.
And the freaks I do not know:
Fun times in the big city. I even got to immortalise my name on the drying footpath of Ludlow Street.
Oh the frivolity!
Oh the sluttitty!
Kids in New York actually celebrate Halloween. Like, it's kinda lame NOT to be costumed. After my second Halloween in New York, I have come to some conclusions about the laws of the dress up:
1. Women must be slutty versions of whatever it is they choose to dress up as. The origin of the outfit could be totally un-slutty (ie. A Rhino), then one must slutify for Halloween (ie. A Slutty Rhino). Nothing is sacred! Also, Halloween scary in Manhattan is a lot of ass, hanging out of not a lot of skirt. Apparently donning a garter belt is the new 'cut two eyes in a white sheet'.
2. Should a man have ever repressed any interest in cross-dressing, he may disguise this desire in a lady's gown, as long as there is blood spill. To give myself some credit, I actually came to this conclusion at the tender age of 16, as a student at my esteemed Jewish High School. Each Purim, (Jewish Halloween) the teenaged boys would get into their mothers Saturday morning best, denounce Haman, and still be allowed on the basketball team.
Being a traveler with the bare minimum in this 'backpack' of mine (actually, it's a rather large suitcase, with a hair dryer in it), I had very few items available to me, and that in itself was not going to be my 'Slutty Australian' costume. I found a pair of love goggles that my dear friend Brit had given me, and decide to be a Nu-Rave Brat. You can see love hearts when you look at lights through these.
And now all the people that I love:
ED THE RUSSIAN BEAR - Ed made this costume with his bare hands on Wednesday afternoon. He had never sewn before.
SHARA THE TIGERESS - This photo was actually taken at a weekend Halloween party. She was a fabulous Cory Kennedy for the real Halloween.
TIN THE SMOKING BULLCAT - I don't understand what Tin was. But he had a black tail and smoked a lot of cigarettes
STACEY THE HOTTIE - Stacey didn't want to leave the house. But I got her out. Her costume was just general hotness.
And the freaks I do not know:
Fun times in the big city. I even got to immortalise my name on the drying footpath of Ludlow Street.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
1,2,3,4 and other indie hits
I am currently having what could only be referred to as one of those classic New York experiences. I returned home to my shared Lower East Side sublet at 2:00am on a Saturday, ready for my first early night in weeks. My housemate was playing the Feist/New Buffalo mega hit, '1,2,3,4' loudly from behind his closed door. Nothing wrong with that. But within moments, the song was being accompanied by a woman shrieking and panting, and it dawned on me that in all my share house years, this was my very first overheard sex encounter.
His ITunes shuffle in full swing, it was an indie rock fuck fest like never before. Arcade Fire's 'No Cars Go' (shriek, pant), followed Sufjan Sevens 'Chicago' (shriek, pant). The bed smacking against the wall to the beat of Regina Spektor's 'Fidelity', the panting escalating as Neutral Milk Hotel's 'In the Aeroplane Over the Sea' was heard through these Very Thin Walls. I swear I heard her yell "Pitchfork!!!" in a moment of pure ecstasy as Spoon came over the stereo.
I searched desperately for my headphones to block out the hideous sound of this most obvious indie rock playlist, which I decided was worse then the grossness of hearing two people going at it. Of course, they are no where to be found.
Track change, where on earth will this go next. I would kill for some Lil Wayne right now. I wonder if it would be inappropriate to shout out requests. I hear the whispered vocals of a strangely familiar voice. They are copulating to Ben Lee. The chorus sets in..."Just do it, do it, whatever it is", and I have a little revelation of my own. The Shuffle mode is truly the most human of all program functions.
His ITunes shuffle in full swing, it was an indie rock fuck fest like never before. Arcade Fire's 'No Cars Go' (shriek, pant), followed Sufjan Sevens 'Chicago' (shriek, pant). The bed smacking against the wall to the beat of Regina Spektor's 'Fidelity', the panting escalating as Neutral Milk Hotel's 'In the Aeroplane Over the Sea' was heard through these Very Thin Walls. I swear I heard her yell "Pitchfork!!!" in a moment of pure ecstasy as Spoon came over the stereo.
I searched desperately for my headphones to block out the hideous sound of this most obvious indie rock playlist, which I decided was worse then the grossness of hearing two people going at it. Of course, they are no where to be found.
Track change, where on earth will this go next. I would kill for some Lil Wayne right now. I wonder if it would be inappropriate to shout out requests. I hear the whispered vocals of a strangely familiar voice. They are copulating to Ben Lee. The chorus sets in..."Just do it, do it, whatever it is", and I have a little revelation of my own. The Shuffle mode is truly the most human of all program functions.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Double Red Dots
This inner city Jew girl got close to nature last Sunday on a short 'hike' through a State Park, about an hours drive out of NYC. While I am a big fan of the paved road, there was definitely something nice about getting my boots a little dusty. The idea was to check out the Autumn leaves as they changed colour (Americans: "..Fall leaves as they changed color.")
We had to follow these double red dots to get to the top of the mountain. Once we got there, we ate humus sandwiches and carrots.
I saw this really amazing snow dog on the way back down
A couple hours lately I was safely returned to the city.
We had to follow these double red dots to get to the top of the mountain. Once we got there, we ate humus sandwiches and carrots.
I saw this really amazing snow dog on the way back down
A couple hours lately I was safely returned to the city.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Australian dollar, I love you
Back in 2001, I traveled to the United States of America to the tune of 50 Australian cents per American dollar.
Today, is a truly beautiful day, as we hit a
20 year high at 89.21 cents. Apparently we are likely to enter the "nervous nineties". I think that's when all the economists have to start wearing flannel shirts.
p.s I should totally start writing for the Financial Review
Today, is a truly beautiful day, as we hit a
20 year high at 89.21 cents. Apparently we are likely to enter the "nervous nineties". I think that's when all the economists have to start wearing flannel shirts.
p.s I should totally start writing for the Financial Review
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Gloria in Excelsis Deo
No, this is not the post where I tell you I have moved to New York, a city with the same population of Jews as Israel, to become a Roman Catholic.
I will however tell you about roaming the streets of the West Village with a Jersey woman who called herself 'Gloria'. Of course her real name was either Laurie Joe or Aurora. She was convinced I was Michelle Branch, undercover as a girl from Australia. My duet with Carlos Santana was her favourite of my songs. For some reason she was carrying two fishing rods, apparently this is a Jersey thing.
Turned out Gloria was a Jewish witch who had recently had a boob job. She wanted me to take a photo for her.
She wanted a glass of wine. We walked up 6th Avenue, and she launched into an 'all men are scum' speech, referencing Gene Simmons relationship with Cher. The fishing rods were becoming entangled in various tree branches and street signs and inspired myriad double entendres from passers by...
PASSER BY: "Caught anything today, honey?"
GLORIA: "Nothing big enough"
Gloria briefly became involved in a lover's triangle. She was taken by a 96 year old Pole called Tony, who had no front teeth. He was being walked by his nurse, Joan and Gloria decided they should marry before he hits 100. Unfortunately, when Tony discovered Gloria was single, he wanted to marry her instead.
We met her friend Tommy, a drunk who also happened to be Debbie Harry's hair stylist. He insisted we follow him to Julius, a 'classic gay bar in the village', and Gloria danced on a stool to Diana Ross.
I will however tell you about roaming the streets of the West Village with a Jersey woman who called herself 'Gloria'. Of course her real name was either Laurie Joe or Aurora. She was convinced I was Michelle Branch, undercover as a girl from Australia. My duet with Carlos Santana was her favourite of my songs. For some reason she was carrying two fishing rods, apparently this is a Jersey thing.
Turned out Gloria was a Jewish witch who had recently had a boob job. She wanted me to take a photo for her.
She wanted a glass of wine. We walked up 6th Avenue, and she launched into an 'all men are scum' speech, referencing Gene Simmons relationship with Cher. The fishing rods were becoming entangled in various tree branches and street signs and inspired myriad double entendres from passers by...
PASSER BY: "Caught anything today, honey?"
GLORIA: "Nothing big enough"
Gloria briefly became involved in a lover's triangle. She was taken by a 96 year old Pole called Tony, who had no front teeth. He was being walked by his nurse, Joan and Gloria decided they should marry before he hits 100. Unfortunately, when Tony discovered Gloria was single, he wanted to marry her instead.
We met her friend Tommy, a drunk who also happened to be Debbie Harry's hair stylist. He insisted we follow him to Julius, a 'classic gay bar in the village', and Gloria danced on a stool to Diana Ross.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
It's not you, it's me.
I have many excuses for the tardiness of this follow up, although I figure none are necessary when one is residing in New York City.
There have been THREE truly life altering experiences that have gone down these past few days. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. I saw Bjork at Madison Square Garden ("The World's Most Famous Arena in the heart of New York City" if you haven’t heard). I had a stupid smile across my face the entire show, and at one point my hand found its way to my heart. This may have been influenced by the trio of totally amazing fist pumping Bjork obsessed fags I was standing next to (collective noun? A 'pride of gays'?). Bjork bounced around the stage in a gold puffy dress, green headband and was possibly shoe-less. The stage was a castle hung with giant emblematic animal flags, the fort protected by her 10-piece all-girl battalion/brass section. And THAT voice, THOSE songs. “Joga” was almost unbearable. "Human Behavior" epic, with a rave-like finale. Bjork, you might have just rendered all future live performances irrelevant for me.
Declare independence
Don't let them do that to you
Make your own flag!
Raise your flag! (Higher, higher!)
A special thanks to 'Vinnie' my ebay seller from Park Slope, who made my night by deciding to stay in and watch the football. "Beejork" as you called her, was worth meeting you outside a downtown Brooklyn Dunkin Donuts for.
Also worth noting, were the faux-jorks:
2. I went to Chelsea markets on the weekend. Aside from purchasing $10 black vintage patent witches shoes (great, but not life changing), and a $2 wooden pineapple necklace (essential, but no catharsis), I found a dog that has made me want to become a better person. The Pomeranian you see below has a genetic disorder, thus grows no fur on its body, only on its head. I have fallen deeply in love.
3. I had the best Veggie Burger of my life at a place called Penelope’s (159 Lexington Ave @ 30th St). The burger was shy, so I ate it quickly before taking this photo.
There have been THREE truly life altering experiences that have gone down these past few days. Here they are, in no particular order:
1. I saw Bjork at Madison Square Garden ("The World's Most Famous Arena in the heart of New York City" if you haven’t heard). I had a stupid smile across my face the entire show, and at one point my hand found its way to my heart. This may have been influenced by the trio of totally amazing fist pumping Bjork obsessed fags I was standing next to (collective noun? A 'pride of gays'?). Bjork bounced around the stage in a gold puffy dress, green headband and was possibly shoe-less. The stage was a castle hung with giant emblematic animal flags, the fort protected by her 10-piece all-girl battalion/brass section. And THAT voice, THOSE songs. “Joga” was almost unbearable. "Human Behavior" epic, with a rave-like finale. Bjork, you might have just rendered all future live performances irrelevant for me.
Declare independence
Don't let them do that to you
Make your own flag!
Raise your flag! (Higher, higher!)
A special thanks to 'Vinnie' my ebay seller from Park Slope, who made my night by deciding to stay in and watch the football. "Beejork" as you called her, was worth meeting you outside a downtown Brooklyn Dunkin Donuts for.
Also worth noting, were the faux-jorks:
2. I went to Chelsea markets on the weekend. Aside from purchasing $10 black vintage patent witches shoes (great, but not life changing), and a $2 wooden pineapple necklace (essential, but no catharsis), I found a dog that has made me want to become a better person. The Pomeranian you see below has a genetic disorder, thus grows no fur on its body, only on its head. I have fallen deeply in love.
3. I had the best Veggie Burger of my life at a place called Penelope’s (159 Lexington Ave @ 30th St). The burger was shy, so I ate it quickly before taking this photo.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
America, Fuck Yeah
It's taken me 4 days in New York to finally sit down and write up the tale of my arrival. My excuse has been jetlag but in all honesty, I have felt wide awake since getting here.
Staying with my best friend in Brooklyn has meant my re-entry into the New York life has been a very relaxed one. Although when I finally made it into Manhattan yesterday, it was business as usual.
It's hot as hell at the moment, especially for a girl emerging from the Melbourne winter. But not nearly as um "hot" as the Irishman that served me a drink on Saturday night. Add this to my collection of photos of men behind bars in stupid tshirts
I am a big fan of a good hybrid species - The Zonkey (Zebra + Donkey), The Labradoodle (Labrador + Poodle), The Scott Howard (teenaged Michael J Fox + werewolf). So you can imagine my joy upon discovering the latest in interbreeding technology.
A Saturday strolling around my temporary neighbourhood Boerum Hill, I stumbled upon a tiny shop called The Brooklyn Circus. The owner Ouigi told me about a free Talib Kweli show happening in Fort Greene Park later that day, about a 20 minute walk from the store. My obvious bewilderment was met with "This is Brooklyn Baby!!", a phrase I plan on re-using, possibly even once I am back in M-Town. So I found my way down Fifth Avenue to Fort Green Place and sure enough there was Talib and Jean Grae playing in the park, just because.
My first Saturday in NYC was becoming dusk. My friend Brian texted me about the Vampire Weekend show at Williamsburg Music Hall. I put my shoes on and head out to the sold out show. You could possibly sense the hype all the way back in Australia, or rather the deep depression of a good 40 ticket-less W'burg indie kids coming to terms with having nothing to blog about come Monday.
The weekend is drawing to a close. Being 8:30am Monday morning in Australia I have just got 'into the office', which today takes the form of The Fall Cafe on the corner of Smith and Union. Mark E Smith is not here.
Staying with my best friend in Brooklyn has meant my re-entry into the New York life has been a very relaxed one. Although when I finally made it into Manhattan yesterday, it was business as usual.
It's hot as hell at the moment, especially for a girl emerging from the Melbourne winter. But not nearly as um "hot" as the Irishman that served me a drink on Saturday night. Add this to my collection of photos of men behind bars in stupid tshirts
I am a big fan of a good hybrid species - The Zonkey (Zebra + Donkey), The Labradoodle (Labrador + Poodle), The Scott Howard (teenaged Michael J Fox + werewolf). So you can imagine my joy upon discovering the latest in interbreeding technology.
A Saturday strolling around my temporary neighbourhood Boerum Hill, I stumbled upon a tiny shop called The Brooklyn Circus. The owner Ouigi told me about a free Talib Kweli show happening in Fort Greene Park later that day, about a 20 minute walk from the store. My obvious bewilderment was met with "This is Brooklyn Baby!!", a phrase I plan on re-using, possibly even once I am back in M-Town. So I found my way down Fifth Avenue to Fort Green Place and sure enough there was Talib and Jean Grae playing in the park, just because.
My first Saturday in NYC was becoming dusk. My friend Brian texted me about the Vampire Weekend show at Williamsburg Music Hall. I put my shoes on and head out to the sold out show. You could possibly sense the hype all the way back in Australia, or rather the deep depression of a good 40 ticket-less W'burg indie kids coming to terms with having nothing to blog about come Monday.
The weekend is drawing to a close. Being 8:30am Monday morning in Australia I have just got 'into the office', which today takes the form of The Fall Cafe on the corner of Smith and Union. Mark E Smith is not here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
