kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In New York ... If I wasn�t so in love with C. I think I�d want to marry the guy at my nail salon who gives me ten minute back rubs. Went to the gym this morning and then got my usual right side of the neck pain. Liberally applied Tiger Balm (so strange that it now comes in Ben Gay-esqu tubes rather than the little hippie finger pots of my childhood). Still no good. So I hoofed it to the nail place and presto! Much better. Today was a good day on the tail end of a good weekend which would make the optimist in me get all giddy for an even better week � but come on now, we all know there�s no optimist in me. My mom and brother were here for a lovely fall in NY weekend visit. It was a relief to see them on my own turf instead of in Vermont where I become such a basket case it really can�t be any fun for anyone involved. It�s not Vermont�s fault, or my family�s, it�s mine. I hit Northern Vermont and suddenly I�m nine years old again and no one likes me and I feel itchy and dirty and well, just generally crappy. Oh yeah, then there is that desire to crawl out of my skin or eat everything in sight. And since crawling out of one�s skin isn�t really an option you can guess what happens next. So then I feel fat and itchy and dirty and disliked. Oh yeech. Can my neurosis be anymore boring? But here in NY I still feel like myself and it was so good to see them. I even played domestic goddess, which is a stretch for anyone who knows me. On Friday I prepared a little wine n� cheese spread (with all the yummy pre-made goodies that Fairway offers, including ten different kinds of olives, three cheeses, Carr�s crackers, hummus, roasted veggies, and sweets). Oh yeah, and wine. Then mom and bro went to see Full Monty and C. and I joined some friends at my favorite Italian restaurant Il Bagatto for dinner. We sat in the lounge next to Patricia Field. Of course no one cared, or even knew who Patricia Field was but me � I know, I know. Fashion victim. Go ahead, say it. But really, the woman has to be given credit for starting a gargantuan portion of the trends over the last three years (c�mon name plate necklaces, big hoop earrings, those huge flowers that everyone pinned to everything, the little newsboy caps, white stilettos, 1950�s pouf skirts � the list goes on and on). Of course I have to admit that probably not everyone gives a crap about any of this. But I do, so pfffft. After dinner we went dancing at Sway which was nice actually because they played all the cheesy music I like to dance to and no Techno which always makes me feel like I�m in a bad movie about a rave. I�ll admit it; I love boogying down to a little Prince now and then. C. and I got home late and had one of those conversations you only have late at night after a lot of wine � y�know, kind of about the meaning of life and why writing was so important to me and what is an �artist� anyway. So, getting up Saturday morning was a bit rough needless to say. But I managed to do so and we made our way down to the World Trade Center (or I guess I should say what was the WTC). It was really bizarre to be down there. People were everywhere taking pictures like it was one of the seven wonders of the world. I guess I understand their need to capture it on film. It is such a huge part of everyone�s history now. But I felt kind of like I was desecrating a sacred place. I felt like there were the spirits of thousands of people floating around. I felt very sad. Then we went to SoHo where I entertained my family by having them follow me to M.A.C. to buy some lipglass. When you�re feeling sad nothing like some lip goo right? Well, whatever � Then we met Lizzie for lunch at Spring St. Natural which was really nice. She is one of those people who just radiates sweetness. It�s always good to see her. Saturday night � yet another domestic goddess feat! C. and I cooked dinner for family. Everything went off swimmingly, nothing was undercooked, overcooked or just downright uneatable. Afterwards we went to see From Hell, which scared me to death. So much so that I wasn�t sure which was more horrifying � walking home alone afterwards or getting in a cab and putting my life in some strange man�s hands. I opted for the latter knowing that cabbies have no real interest in molesting young women (or cutting their throats and disemboweling them). Sunday we went to the Guggenheim and to breakfast then I deposited mom & brother in front of the Met and headed home to nap before going to the U2 concert with C. and friends. U2 was amazing by the way. Really fecking amazing. When they played �One� they listed all the victims of the planes that went down, then all of the NYPD and FDNY. The list for the FDNY was staggering. So many lives. There really isn�t anything you can say. Of course when they played �New York� the crowd went nuts including me � I can�t explain what it�s like to be so in love with a city. But I am. Even when it�s kicking me in the face I love this city. �The world is grand, awfully big and astonishingly beautiful, frequently thrilling. But I love New York.� Dorothy Kilgallen, 1936 I got a letter from dad today � just so he knows, I can easily close my eyes and picture him skipping down the street in Eugene Oregon, skinny limbs flailing about in a manner that was both astoundingly graceful and ridiculous at the same time. He will always be like that in my eyes. Me watching him as a painfully self-conscious child feeling humiliation and gleeful pride all at the same time. 6:14 p.m. - 2001-10-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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