is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Nueva York.
Nueva York.
It takes about two hours to drive from Amherst to New Haven, CT. And then it takes about 1.5 more hours to take a Metro North train from New Haven to Grand Central Station. And then it takes no time at all to take the 6 train three stops to 23rd Street, and walk a few blocks over to Linda and Marian's. And so that is what I did on Friday. I went to the art opening where Bill and a bunch of other ultra-hip boys (and some girls) were showing their political art. Normally I'm a bit wary of an opening devoted to political art, because often the art ends up being, well, not so subtle? But, well, maybe these are not the times for subtlety. And, nonetheless, I really did like a lot of the work at this particular opening. And it is always fun to attend such events with Wendy "well-connected" Dembo, because she knows everyone in the entire world. I particularly liked meeting her friend Ari, aka JK5, because he was funny and sincere and ironic and smart all at once, and covered in tattoos, and wearing the most crazy sunglasses I've ever seen.
Then we went to David and Josie's party for Emma's PhD-action in Prospect Heights. We were in Williamsburg, but the way of the subway dictates that in order to get from W to PH you have to go back to Manhattan and switch trains. So we did that. But we made a few errors. Not because we are dumb. We both know the subways pretty well, especially Wendy, seasoned New Yorker and public transit enthusiast that she is. But trains stopped running and made us exit them. And then some directions given on the party invitation were imperfect. At some point we had to get off yet another train and go back in the opposite direction, but the route we followed to find the opposite track sent us in Kafka-esque circles in such a way that I actually said, twice, "wait, haven't we been in THIS EXACT SPOT before? what is happening?!?"
So we left Williamsburg at 10:30 and got to Emma's party at midnight. Which made us seem so fashionably-late hip, as if it were intentional. Until Wendy started to fall asleep. She had just returned from working in Italy for a few weeks and was jetlagging. So David and I walked her to the subway, and I stayed at the party, and proceeded to drink a lot of bourbon. There were many funny conversations, and a late night tortilla de patata in the Spanish style. In the meantime everyone was trying on a furry hat, and it made everyone look different. One guy looked like a Viking, another like a grizzled hunter. At some point they were trying to get me to try it on and I warned them that every hat makes me look like a poor hairless girl dying of leukemia, and they didn't believe me. Until I put it on. They laughed. One guy valiantly insisted that I looked gamine. But we all know I am not waifish enough for such a thing. Anyway, the party went on late into the morning.
The next day when I emerged from the guestroom/office an energized Marian, looking all tennis-tastic because she was on her way to the U.S. Open, was all, "you were out LATE last night!" I said, "oh, sorry, did you hear me come in?" And she said, "no, but I went to bed later than two and you were not home yet!" Etc. I took a car service home at 3:30.
On Saturday I saw my friends Ramsay and Julia, and their daughter Amelia. Then Linda and I went to look at art at the Whitney. Then she and I went to H&M and got sucked into a rift in the space-time continuum. While we were missing she got two cute shirts and I got a very cute very short skirt for only $6. It is really short, and, looking at it now, I'm not sure when I'll have occasion to wear it, living in Amherst and being all Professor-y. But, hey, it's cute, it's $6: win-win.
Apparently I had promised to go dancing Saturday night while I was drinking bourbon on Friday night. Emma called. I felt like Batman when he's tied up and trying to get to his utility belt. Got to… got to… get… to… the Bat-… dancing shoes. But I am not always a superhero. I stayed home, ate ravioli and pesto that Linda cooked, watched TV, and talked to Mr. Perrone.
The sheets that I sleep on whenever I sleep in the office/guestroom at Linda and Marian's are funny. This time the bottom sheet was of schoolhouses and the topsheet was decorated with all the McDonaldland characters. It's funny, and slightly infantilizing. Which is appropriate, since I spent a bit too much time after having gotten in bed Friday night (AKA morning) feeling sad that I had forgotten to bring a stuffed animal with me for sleeping.
I was supposed to go to a Pie Social on Sunday with Linda, and had even brought a dress that seemed to me to be made for a pie social, but when I woke up on Sunday I knew I really had to get back to Amherst and get some work done. So that's what I did. On the train back to New Haven I was aiming with Evany about Adam's wedding, and was giggling and multitasking, which led to me pouring a bunch of pepsi down my cleavage when the train jerked. And it just so happens that I was wearing the same shirt I was wearing when I was in Los Angeles with Mr. Perrone and three times spilled Agua Fresca down my cleavage, without there being a train to blame. I think maybe that shirt has to be retired, because it can't be MY fault that these things happen.
I am going to pick up my road trip photos today, so I will go back and add them to the entries soon. I will let you know when I do. In the meantime, here is my Pie Social dress, in effect at a Barbeque in San Francisco, with Liz hamming it up for the camera, and Sunny looking very serious.
2:54 p.m. - September 14, 2004
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