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 woke up this morning...

... and there was a devil in my coffee cup.
I'm fucking serious kids.


Photo by Lorelei Vashti

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.

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.