im not rappaport

boss is gone for two more weeks.
cry me a river.

thank god for this:
http://www.jacksonpollock.org/

and this:
http://smalltime.com/dictator

something in the deli aisle

i am loving the blow.
we make a pair of parentheses. just terrific.

finally made it to bourdains spot, les halles.
sometimes your best is just not good enough, tony.
i will forgive you this once.

spring buck

when i was small the nurse had trouble finding my vein to test my cholesterol levels, and poked around haphazardly until she found a good one. twenty-two years later i was forced to get a spinal tap when i had prepro for what would have been the most lucrative photoshoot of my career.

as far as i am concerned most doctors cannot be trusted.

there are twenty-six recommended vaccines for johannesburg. zero are required. i am choosing to forgo all vaccines even though when emily caught dengue fever she was stuck in bangkok alone for ten days. i cannot get stuck in johburg cause the wedding is in capetown. it falls on a wednesday which i think is rad. i leave in thirty days. i cannot wait for this trip. i cannot wait for the game drive. i expect to see some SERIOUS animal carnage and i will not return to ny until i do so.

my friends in japan said that over there, spring has sprung.
that troubles me.

tracey emin

LIC is a motherfucking ghosttown. i hate it so much.
yesterday, at the show, this dude said to this pregnant broad, "i really dont think three hundred thirty grand is that outrageous for a print." they were barely pushing forty.

he was talking about a photograph.
at that point i attemped homicide.

then i saw this.
this saved my life.

genius bar

the staff at b+h camera makes me perpetually anxious.
why must they talk to me in questions.

every great intellect working at the mac store deserves a raise.
those people continue to make my life alright.




im saving up for this

junior high

say you havent seen someone in three years.
then you see them, and they say "wow. did you get plastic surgery?"

do you take that as a compliment or do you spit daggers in their face?

morning after girls

no seven train til april.

my ipod is frozen. it has a check mark as a screensaver.

the pilgrimage from manhattan this morning felt like this.





feels good to be home.

marisa miller

they have six mac machines in their studio apartment.
six.

i still cant get over that.


while the boys played ATV offroad fury, wii salivated over marisa miller.

rainbow connection

under no circumstances, will i eat eggs.
except these

god only knows what id be without you

good weekend

i have reverted back to sophomore year of highschool, which, can only be a very good thing.
my parents have been away, so i have been weekending in their crib with my friends.

LI is actually pretty magical.
we have gone thru a case of white star and walked around exclusively without socks or shoes on clean cold proper hardwood floors and it has felt wonderful.
last week, we propped ourselves up on my moms convertible and smoked the dankest shit our career.

we screamed really loud, from one floor to another, and sang and danced and carried on, "CHANNEL 55 HURRY UP! WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER- ITS ALMOST OVER" and ate and drank and didnt clean up.
then, when it was time to leave for nyc, and only then, did we utilize manners.

long islanders are just so retarded. i really love how all LI diner owners are called nick and wear mockturtlenecks and how none of the waitresses listen to your order. they assume you want sauerkraut and pickles with your challah french toast (you do?)
i love the ubiquitous LI forced alliteration on shop signs "KARENS KANDY SHOP" and balding dads in juicy couture sweatsuits. all women wear cableknit sweaters and burberry and use those handsfree earpieces. people are really into hibachi steakhouses and fro-yo.

last weekend, when i brought my friends out, every single patron in the entire restaurant dropped their forks when we walked in the door and stared blankly.
that actually made me feel really good about myself.

the same was true this weekend, when the other kids came.
this time, we drove around listening to peanutbutter wolf and serge gainsbourg, a little TI, MFDoom, tapes n tapes and the walkmen, for good measure.

we went to check out PS at target, and when we left, an 18 yr old marshall mathers, who was driving, and two small creatures who sat in the rear of the suzuki sidekick, had the audacity to cut us off we exited the parking lot.
the results were not pretty. we had just watched the chase scene in mr+mrs smith and incidentally my friend drives the very same car (sans stripes). good times my friend good times.

i did two loads of laundry, jacked two cases of water, and any other decent leftovers, and we drove back into nyc.

my parents return on tuesday, then no more fun on LI.

the end?

this really happened

so i leave work at 915 last night

i decide to take cab home cause its cold
thinking to myself, wow, this is the first time in a very long time that i have nothing to do. i will be in bed by 10.

i am on centre st by la esquina.
this freak of a cabdriver swerves across 3 lanes of traffic in order to pick me up.

i get in and direct him to lic (he has no idea how to get there)
he is driving 80 mph over the williamsburg bridge.

the heat goes from dreadfully intense, to off entirely.

we are now on the BQE... .5 miles from the exit ramp at mcguiness

then
suddenly
the engine DIES...
the taxi is crawling at 2 mph in the exit lane and i smell fumes.
i can see my breath
it is freeeeeeeeezing and i believe this man is ready to throw me out of the car and bend me over.
there is solid traffic coming from behind at 90 mph banging on their horns as they careen to avoid us...
now the driver is panicking.
he is screaming, "i just came from the bodyshop- someone did this to me intentionally- it is not the battery-somebody did this to fuck up my dayyyyy"
we are rolling forward in the exit lane with our hazards on

i dont know whether to laugh or cry

so i say to the driver "i will go get help- i will get out and walk- ill be right back"

hes like "you can not walk on the highway- you will get killed"
teeth chattering.

suddenly
a colossal 18 wheeler comes to a screeching halt behind us (we are now STOPPED IN THE EXIT LANE)
its a tow truck

the driver of which is one of those really hot dominican dudes who asks, "what nationality are you? you coming from work? you live in queens? ill drive you home"

(he left this morning)
kidding

but seriously- the two of them battle back and forth about money- we jack up the taxi.



i am seated in an 18 wheeler tow truck-between 25 yr old the dominican, and the 50 yr old jamaican cabbie.

i thought i was going to be driven to the middle of queens and sodomized

the towtruck driver says he cannot drive me home because there is a GPS in the tow truck, and it costs $4/mile and he cannot go out of his way.
i offer him money- he refuses.

he drops me on metropolitan ave just off the BQE
at 10pm

in subdegree weather

(remembering of course that initially i had wanted to take a cab bc it was FUCKING COLD outside and i was too lazy to take the train)

now i am walking

im half crying blood
half happy to be alive

but im still in the middle of industrial brooklyn at 10pm on a wednesday alone.

i call my boss.

she misses the entire point of the story and is like "im so glad you called- i was thinking we should have dinner and drinks at marlow and sons- its been so long"

so i walk there

which is like the distance from Broome St to Grand Central, maybe further

IN SUBDEGREE WEATHER

she shows up around 11 and we drink a bottle of wine and eat lots

and after several mojitos at bembe i go home.
i am asleep by 130.

the end

highlights for children

my exstudents kana and rie
both are pregnant.

york, england

worst food ever