Big Apple Core

It’s only fitting that on my last day in NYC I sat alone, at a starbucks, drawing and musing over the latest issue of Vogue. There is a spread of Jack White and Karen Elson, photographed by Annie Leibowitz, which was the #1 reason I bought the magazine. I love this article, not only because my favorite rock star flanks the pages, but because it is about Karen’s new record and her road to self-discovery. Who wouldn’t want their stories of failures, accomplishments, and passion shared with the rest of the world, while posing in couture gowns with your husband and friends?!

I couldn’t help but ponder my last few inspiring moments of my year in NYC. Alone. Content. And Dreaming of my future. The feeling of confidence I spent 10 months searching for had suddenly appeared, in an instant, accompanied by revelations of destiny and what it means to me. I (perhaps temporarily) no longer felt that the pinnacle of my existence was a 22 year span of success, that within the last year abruptly changed to a life of failure. I had something I didn’t believe existed anymore…I had hope.

I was sad to leave NY, but unexpectedly excited, too. What’s next?...hopefully something great, but equally bad. If nothing else I have learned that the bad can not be ignored, but only received kindly. I will no longer ignore death, sadness, and broken hearts, but confront them head on, with an open mind and an open heart, My views may not change, but I understand how these experiences are what make us whole, or balanced.

The true meaning behind the slogan ‘If you can make it in NY, you can make it anywhere,’ is not about money, fame, and fortune. It is about surviving the ‘struggle.’ My Struggle. It is the process of being alone, learning, and surviving. It is the journey.

…And for now, my journey there has ended.

The LES is just a place to hide; a place to privately dream.

My last two nights in NYC were a lot of fun. Friday night I met my friend Michele for a walk around Soho. We ended up hungry and went to the best 'hole-in-the-wall-southern-style' restaurant in the city. It is called Jones Cafe and was so delicious it gave us the itis. We had cornbread, pulled pork, gumbo, and abita beers in a small room, with dim lighting, a black board menu, and a juke box playing jazz and zydeco. It was very New Orleans style, and I highly recommend it if you want a moderately priced, southern, home cooked meal.

Saturday night was my going away party. I had it at Pink Pony, as mentioned a few blogs earlier. After a bit of trouble with our reservation, the manager came over to introduce himself, explain the mix-up, and offer us a free bottle of wine. The painting above is of his mother and is my favorite part about the restaurant/cafe.

It was great company, a great meal. and we left the restaurant a great gift. The volcano candle holder featured below belonged to my room mates. I brought 'gifts' to dinner, meaning everything I had to get rid of (from toothpaste to the volcano). We left it as pictured, on a shelf in the restaurant. We hope they like it, as much as we did.

After dinner a few of us went further into the LES to a bar called Elsa. I had an S.M. Jenkins, a gin drink served in a jelly jar. But, probably the coolest thing about the bar is the vintage sewing machine where a bar tap would be! Pretty cool. Ok, I'm a nerd. Anyway, when we asked for our check the bar tender forgot, so she ended up taking my drink off the bill!

K: Maybe you shouldn't leave? Free drinks all night probably means you should stay.

Me: A good night, with free drinks, means I am doing the right thing. I think it is time to go.

Apples and Oranges

While I'm trying to say good byes, pack, work, and everything in between I have also made time to see a few visitors in town. One being my sister, and the other being my friend Lauren. My sister is in town for her Visa (now that she has officially moved to London), and my friend Lauren is here on business (after spending the last 10 months in Vietnam).

My sister and I had coffee and saw a small Monet exhibit in a gallery on 10th avenue somewhere, but that is all. Lauren and I had dinner at Penelope (my 'go-to' place). I got to ask her all about her time in Vietnam, her job, love life, the usual... It was really entertaining comparing New York to Vietnam, apparently they are a lot more alike than I would have ever imagined. It may also have to do with how similar our experiences have been. It was fun, but I better get back to packing! There is so much to do before I leave, and I only have 3 more days!!!!

bRoOkLyN

...Or should I call it Broke-lyn? After my day and night yesterday, I'm scared to look in my wallet...

Innocently enough, I traveled to Brooklyn after the miscellaneous furniture had been removed from my apartment by anonymous craigslisters. My first stop was Beacon's Closet, a stupendous vintage store that has become too popular and well-known for it's own good. I heard about it almost 2 years ago, and good merchandise and deals can be found, but it takes a lot more effort. Neither myself, nor my friend Michele, found anything worth while.

Brooklyn Brewery is across the street, so naturally we went there next. We thought there was a tour, but perhaps that is only if you follow the brew kitty (featured below). We walked up to the bar for our beers, without tokens, which was the best decision ever. While we waited in line for our tokens we concurred that we could use them on the second beer, instead of the first. This tactic only works if the bar is extremely crowded, which it was, and you wait for a different bartender, which we did.

Feeling a spectacular buzz we walked up and down Bedford Avenue. We stopped into Catbird, an indie jewelry, nic-nac, and stationary store, as well as a handful more vintage stores. I left with a sparrow charm, but nothing else.

Food became our next mission. The beer was taking over and hunger pains were striking fast! We smelled a place called Peter's and were drawn in by the fabulous aroma! It was southern-soul food, had outdoor seating, and has been around since 1969, our choice was made. A food coma was induced shortly after devouring macaroni and cheese and a pulled pork sandwich...literally. We each went home for a nap (college style).

Several hours later around 10 pm we met in Union Square. Margaritas were calling my name and that's where we started, Mary Ann's in the East Village. Around midnight we discovered a non-crowded bar, especially one with music, wasn't an option, so we ended up at Rockwood.

Big Surprise?!

It was pretty late and started to empty out when we walked in. We watched Luke Wesley, a pretty good singer who plays the piano with a guitarist and a drummer. The band after them played a funked up version of Paul Simon's Graceland before we were ready to leave.

We decided on a really bizarre way to take the train home, which ended up pretty nicely. We ran into this guy I went to high school with on the platform. He was always the stoner-slacker kid in high-school and has since changed his ways. He worked on Bloomburg's re-election campaign and is now working with Charter Schools! When did he decide to change the world?! Oh, and he's got some good genes, an athlete and not bad on the eyes...at all. You could say I was excited to see him. I had just enough time to find all of this out before we needed to transfer. I spent the next half hour waiting for the train and thinking about how bizarre it is that I would see him now. Of course I am leaving next week. Typical.

Good Byes Beginning

My room is suddenly bare. The big-girl-bed that would set me into an instant coma is now gone, as is the notorious dresser, and an entire suitcase has been packed. It's pretty depressing when you walk out of my room, too. The remains of our apartment include the couch, coffee table, and tv.

I don't leave for a week, but I've already started saying my good byes. Wednesday night I met up with my friend James. We haven't seen one another much since I moved to New York, but we were in the same program at college, a year apart. I met him in Williamsburg for a delicious burger with a brioche bun at Dumont Burger. After catching up on what is sure to change momentarily (maybe only in my case) we took a walk and ended up at bar across the street from his apartment. The rest of our evening was spent fantasizing about what kind of fame and fortune we desire. James wants to be able to explore and conquer now, and I'm just fine accomplishing that kind of success post-death.

I'd love to write more, but I'm on my way out to Brooklyn for some shopping, eating, and drinking...and possibly a few more good byes:(

NYC 1923

I took this picture in Astoria, about a week ago at a vintage car dealership. But, doesn't it look how you'd imagine the 20s in New York?! Makes me want to go to a speak easy! Or, rob a bank and speed off in a car chase! ... Or, just watch Gangs of New York. Anyone?

What Baby Doesn't Question?

I catch myself thinking a lot. This is nothing new. It reverts back to the days when I used to roam the city alone for hours on end, but I've really been doing it my whole life. Now I do it whenever there's some down time, drifting off into space, meditating to music blaring through my headphones, drowning my soul in thoughts. An ex used to complain that my wheels were always turning. Doesn't everyones? I guess his didn't. That explains a lot. Anyways, I digress...

Today I ventured to Astoria to see a baby. This is not just any baby, just as the (soon to be sold) dresser, was not just any dresser. This is the baby of my friend I was teaching pre-natal yoga to, and her husband. They are two of the sweetest, most intelligent, artistic and in love people I have met. I secretly wish I was their child.

They let me hold their 2 week old baby, the youngest baby I have ever held. I didn't think anyone would ever trust me with their child! I'm not sure I would trust me, but he loved me, so I guess my arms aren't maternal-less. And I love every bit of him...right down to his itty, bitty, baby fingers and toes!

So, as you may imagine while I will be having dreams about a baby so cute, I wish it was my own. Shocking to most of you, I am sure. I am also pondering so many parts of our discussion. We were together in part for me to see their new addition, and in part because I was there to tell them I am leaving. Our conversation evolved into the perfect conclusions to my thoughts here, and I thought I'd share the cliff notes of my New York Revelations:

1) Everyone has a guard up, because they are (not so secretly) insecure, which then makes me insecure (which I've always had issues with...surprised? no not really). This results in me needing more confidence (a statement I've been told by 4 people and counting, this week alone). How do you measure confidence? In achievements? In love? In tablespoons?

2) There are about 5 styles of guys to choose from (not to put labels on anyone, or anything). You can have a ray-ban wearing, hipster, banker/ financial analyst, guido, metrosexual, or dirty, trying to be homeless, trust-fund child. Which would you choose? I don't want any of them.

3) I have to find what's missing in fashion, what people need, and design that! Sound easy? Not so. But, this has been the 2nd conversation this week where people think I need to go out on my own and start my own business. What do you need?

4) Closely related, the Fashion Industry is turning into a low cost, mass production, trend focused industry. Values have changed. Can I, and Do I want to try and change this? I don't know. Do I?

5) Every great person started somewhere, often lacking the experience and knowledge I say I need. Why not you?!

6) Will you ever consider yourself a New Yorker? And, what defines a New Yorker, when just about everyone here...is really from somewhere else?

7) Is New York over? Will it ever be over here? If it's over, where's next?

You could say I have a lot to think about...I think I'm going to get on that, well, just as soon as I finish editing these photographs from a vintage car dealership down their street...

I'm good at thinking, but I'm even better at procrastinating.

A Night of a Different Color

Yesterday, another friend from college arrived for a one night stand avec moi. We ended up at a place called Via Del Pace in the East Village with my friend Michele and her boyfriend for dinner. Sangria, pasta, and mozzarella started off the evening.

We wandered down to the Lower East Side for a sort of bar crawl attempt, but mostly to stay out of the cold weather. It seems NYC has forgotten it was spring, soon to be summer, and is making an attempt at fall again.

We warmed ourselves up inside Arlene's Grocery for a few solid drinks. By the way, if you ever find yourself in there, take note of the sign next to the juke box telling you how to do the Heimlich maneuver. It looks more like Kama Sutra then safety precautions.

After Arlene's we walked down the street to Pink Pony. This restaurant is well known for being a celeb-siting-hotspot. It is very french in style with MJ playing from speakers hidden, behind the bookshelves, white table clothes, brown wooden chairs, and paintings of horses lining the walls. I split a delicious tarte tatin (apple tart) with Michele. I will make a point to return, before I leave, for the mouthwatering burgers and sandwiches I saw a nearby table devour. The only down side to Pink Pony is that it totally killed my buzz. A super cool and chill place, but probably not appropriate for my 'party' mode that was dropping butter, hiccuping, and falling asleep at the table. haha.

I was ready to head home, but the three other people in our group were ready for more. We ended up at a small Mexican joint I've never seen before. I was done drinking and eating at this point, but our world tour wasn't over for them. They had margaritas, burritos, quesadillas, and nachos before we were able to call it night. I came home exhausted and fell asleep watching Betty White on SNL. Definitely a good night.

Jazz + Festival = Jazztival

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymr0wPGEcn8

The clip featured above is The Dead Weather at the Jazz Fest 2010.

Jazz Fest is perhaps one of the best 'holidays' in existence. It is a two week span in April/ early May where music, food, art, and heritage are celebrated. Jazz Fest, unlike other popular music festivals, does not take place at only one tent or stage. There are many tents featuring local artists and world known legends.

This year I planned a trip for the second weekend, missing out on a few big names such as the Allman Bros., Elvis Costello, and the first reunion of Simon & Garfunkel. I decided to plan my trip for the second weekend, because one of my personal favorites would be there...Jack White.

The first day my best friend from home and I spent our time eating, drinking, and just roaming from tent to tent. Oh, and we ate crawfish bread and daiquiris for lunch. yum! For the less fortunate group of people reading this blog, crawfish bread is a delicacy similar to a grilled cheese sandwich with crawfish and lots of seasoning inside. Underneath a sky of clouds, we watched Band of Horses, Galactic, and Pearl Jam play.

The second day was what I was looking forward to the most. It had finally begun misting, but it wasn't until later that the rain came pouring down...just as my hero, Jack White began to sing. We got to the tent where The Dead Weather would be playing later that day. We wormed our way to the front and center for Trombone Shorty (a young, local band) and stayed put until my lover came on. As you may recall from my post on the Woody Awards, I had seen The Dead Weather once before. This time was much different. The way they rocked it, the way rain was pouring down, and the amount of energy in the crowd; it was a truly epic performance.

After we went to dry off and get something to eat. I had an oyster po-boy not long after we passed a very drunk, tall, and alone Jason Spegel. In a bright purple shirt and trashed, he was not hard to miss. In case you are drawing a blank, he was in 'I Love You Man' and 'Forgetting Sarah Marshall'...don't worry, it took us a few minutes, too.

We closed out the fest with The Neville Bros., an old, local group that close the fest every year. And, we made a quick stop to a very crowded tent to get a glimpse of BB King. It was everything we expected of Jazz Fest, but as I get older I'm really beginning to appreciate days like these. As promised by my friend, it was an escape from reality...and, I sure as hell needed it.

Reality Nibbles

A few months ago my parents got a new puppy. Her name is Paddy, like Paddington Bear, as you can see below they have a strong resemblance. When I went home last weekend, we had our first encounter. It may have been a bit more exciting, had she not gotten to see both of my sisters a week earlier, my aunt a few days earlier, and my uncle the day before that.

It didn't take me long to find out this dog has only one problem...how to contain her excitement! She began licking, jumping, wiggling, and biting. With all the joy and happiness in her little body she can only express herself by nipping at your fingers and toes. But really, the best part about this little pooch is the pleasure she provides both of my parents.

It was when I went to see my grandmother I realized how important this new addition to our family has become. Several days before my return, my grandmother was readmitted to the hospital. Before my visit I was prepped by my mom, dad, and aunt...

'She's beginning to say things, and we just want you to be prepared.'

'What kind of things?'

...an awkward pause ensues. They look at each other and proceed.

They went on to tell me about a variety of possible lies or truths she is confessing. She claims there is no reason left to live when a guilt like this encompasses your body for 20+ years. I will not go into what kind of statements these are, but if they are true...

they are a very heavy burden.

I was really frightened the first time I entered the hospital, wondering what the locked ward would reveal. I summoned as much bravery as I could and tried to remain calm. She was not the independent and strong woman I remembered. She looked thin, hair disheveled, and pale.

We were able to guide her down the hall to look at pictures and do some trivia during the two hour visitation time. The second time I went was not so lucky. She could hardly get out of bed this time and seemed so full of despair and grief. She is losing the will to live.

When I left at 5 am yesterday, despite all of the sadness, I felt relieved. I have to wait until my mother speaks to the doctor tomorrow, to have any idea about what to expect in the future. But, I have a little more faith they will all be alright, no matter what the outcome is with my grandmother. And, it all comes down to the little bundle of joy they have added to their home. My little sister, as they like to call her, is helping to ease a lot of the pain. I can only hope that the decisions made tomorrow are positive and that the puppy is not the only one smiling when I return.