Bizzee Bee

I've been slacking off here, sorry! I hiked on the 4th of July, went to the beach for a few days, then had my niece in town for week for what turned out to be an extensive and exhausting tour of the city. Limped back to the real world in time to get sick with a cold. But this creative process has been important to me so I'm [re-!] making it a priority, I'll be back to work here Monday morning, just like the rest of the world! 

Ignorance is Bliss

Man, that place isn't called "Bliss" for nothing. 

I pretended I wasn't worried about my dwindling income this morning and had a spa day. In my own defense, I paid for a decent chunk of the treatments I chose with a generous gift card; but really, does pampering need to be defended? I got that card almost two years ago, I'd held on to it for exactly this kind of occasion: when it would really be a welcome treat. Nothing necessary, not routine maintenance, but a real, sensual, relaxing, transporting treat. The New York Times is reporting the unemployment rate has risen to 9.5% and my severance checks are about to run out, but fiddle dee dee, I'm having a facial! La la la la la, I can't hear you! I'm having a seaweed mask applied! I don't have a job but my skin has fabulous elasticity, dammit! I took in the gratuitous compliments, the foot massage, the fresh lemonade and brownies in the lounge, the plush robe, and the hot rain shower like the balms against harsh reality that they are meant to be, and was happy to overpay handsomely for them. Because sometimes you should, even if you probably shouldn't. Because sometimes it's worth it to feel like a princess instead of a pauper for a few hours. Because, aaaaahhhhhhh...

This kiss you give, is never ever gonna fade away

I burped my last motherfucking burpee today. I counted down the last 10, 9, 8, 7... and then quietly said "fuck you" after my last one. 

"Enola Gay," one of my favorite songs of late 1985, was playing over the gym loudspeaker and as I stood there huffing I took the occasion to think back on my former 19-year-old self, dancing with my college boyfriend, both of us with silly hair; I considered my current self, pushing determinedly through this workout, a concern I never would have imagined 23 years ago; and of course I thought about being done, and the freedom I would feel once this chore was off my plate. Past, present, and future come full circle courtesy of a snappy synth pop song overheard between my last-ever burpee sets. A very sweet accomplishment indeed.

The day the 70s died

Two celebrities I've felt fondly about since childhood passed on the same day. 

Rest in peace, Michael and Farrah. 

Hi from the High Line!

The sun finally came out today and so I visited the High Line, the new elevated park that runs along the West Side from Gansevoort to 20th Streets. I entered at the north end via stairs on 20th Street, walked the whole length and then returned to street level the way I'd come. It's a very pleasurable stroll: there's beautiful plantings amid railroad tracks, remainders of the park's former life; great views of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty; and the elevation provides fresh views of some of the newer local buildings. I was surprised to see how modern and geometric the architecture has become, has become a bit like Legoland down there. And where was I when the Standard Hotel went up? I felt bittersweet overlooking the meat-packing district at the south end, I used to live nearby when it was more Tranny Hooker than Helmut Lang, I find the current high level of expensive hip much too exclusive. Still, a bit of grubby patina remains in those cobblestone streets and I was glad to be standing there. I'm not sorry to see the sun after so much rain, but I'm hoping further construction creates more shady spots, it felt a bit roasty up there, and though I'd brought a book I wasn't comfortable sitting out in such direct blaze. I'd considered bringing Biscuit but was relieved I hadn't: sadly, there's no dogs allowed on the High Line at this time. 

Dem bones

I like an animated skeleton.

I went to MOMA today to see a painting by James Ensor called Skeletons Trying to Warm Themselves:

[it's hard to see here but the inscription on the stove reads, in French: "No fire. Will there be any tomorrow?"]

as a bonus, I also found Skeleton Looking at Chinoiserie:

I don't consider these paintings or myself morbid, I enjoy the hint of macabre. Spooky can be fun, and skeletons are just cool. A few of my other bony favorites:

The sword fighters from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad

The Richard Avedon series "In Memory of the Late Mr. and Mrs. Comfort."

Mexican "Day of the Dead" folk art

Jack Skellington, from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas

And hey, you learn something new: while Googling images i found this neat bit from artist Tessa Farmer. 

That's a real bee and animal bones, she uses a microscope to create her pieces. Cool! 

What I Ate and What I Learned, or There Was Butter (kind of)

In order, starting from about 7:30 AM:

• salted caramel, chocolate graham cracker, peanut caramel. First two are outstanding, last is just OK. 

• one small and one large coffee with milk and sugar

• 2.5 Pillsbury Homestyle Buttermilk biscuits: one with butter, one with butter and melted cheddar cheese, half with butter and honey. The cheese one takes it, amazing. 

• stack of pancakes [from mix] with butter and syrup. I'm slowed down at this point, thus the decision to make them at home rather than going out. Is ruled that mix pancakes are in no way as good as out pancakes. 

• second large coffee with milk and sugar, 3 more chocolate grahams, more salted caramels.

• Chinese food lunch: General Tso's shrimp, shared scallion pancakes, shared crispy dumplings, white rice. I give my friend the rest of the chocolate grahams and the peanut caramels. 

• Cape Cod Buttermilk Ranch potato chips and 2 Diet Cokes. Never had these before, good stuff. 

• reheated biscuit with melted mozzarella cheese

• big plate of spaghetti with red sauce and melted mozzarella

• remainder of the salted caramels

Curtain. 

Gluttony is a sin--purposeful gluttony is I don't even know what--and so there's has to be lessons learned. First, I don't actually have a multi-chambered cow stomach; I got full and needed breaks throughout the day. It was a chore finishing that plate of spaghetti and yet i felt like I was on a mission to do so. Which brings me to: Second, the fact that i won't actually eat the house down even if I'm allowed to--my actual desires turn out to be more moderate than my fantasy desires. Humbling but true. And while I'm coming to terms with my foibles, full disclosure: It wasn't real butter. It was Smart Balance. Oh, the humanity!

Lastly, I wouldn't do it again. I didn't enjoy the extremity of the off/on, or feeling like I had to eat a huge amount just because the window was open. I felt overstuffed by the end of the day and slept like crap, I'm still now trying to get my physical bearings back. It was a worthwhile experiment but I'd like to find more middle ground with my food freedoms from here, get more comfortable with moderation. A smart balance, if you will. Stay tuned.