Tuesday, August 30, 2005

She's a MAN, BABY!

INT. OFFICE - DAY
NICK is at a table with three other girls, all of whom are casually checking the Village Voice.

GIRL 1
Man, there are A LOT of ads for porno!

GIRL 2
Tell me about it, the prostitution ads are right next to the horoscopes, so everyday when I check my horoscope it looks like I am looking up call-girls.

NICK
Yeah, I just moved here and I've noticed that New York has an inordinate amount of she-males.

GIRL 3
(SILENCE)

Thursday, August 25, 2005

the times, they are...

one of my favorite things to do now is poke myself out my 4th (and top) floor window and take a gander at the neighborhood. up the street there are kids playing baseball amidst regular traffic and ambulences, behind them the high-risen M train pounds the night's shinanigans flat like a penny. down the street many busses flash by, the same bus, tailgating its doppleganger for the sake of making their rounds on time. many puerto rican families just inhabit the sidewalks, showing off their babies and smoking. their music can be heard for blocks, sometimes, and it's all very authentic. the neighborhood is also inhabited by the likes of me and heather, young couples hoping to take the city by storm. our music only fills our apartment, but is authentic all its own.

we've painted one room red, one room green, and the other have been left white. it's not as christmasy as you may guess, and once we're all moved in i trust our authenticity as new yorkers will be as heart felt as the couple in Edward Hopper's "Room in New York," which i've mentioned before.

i'm rambling, but that's how i know i'm home.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Splinter

We're slowly but surely getting things in order: we've recently acquired a bed, painted a room and are in the process of settling some hash down at the NYC Board of Education.

there are so many things to blog about, but all i want to say is this: if someone ever tells you a sewer rat won't bite your pinky finger, they's lyin'.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Ringo No More

i'm not sure if you are aware of this, but we initially flew out here July 18th, on the premise that our apartment would have been ready by then. upon arrival we were assured by our agent that the unit would be ready no later than august 1. that date got pushed back to august 15, which then in turn got pushed back to september 1. at this rate, we would be in our place by september 15, meaning we would have squatted at my cousin's place for 2 months inconveniencing everyone we know in the process.

so last week we walked around Bushwick all day and found another place: a little better, a little cheaper and A LOT newer. so here it is, in all its glory. we move in today, you may ship your well wishes and care packages accordingly.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

by edward hopper...

there's a painting, if you can find it, by Edward Hopper. it's called, "Room in New York." it shows a couple: the man reading his newspaper intently, the woman casually tapping keys on her piano. and all i want is to capture this moment (forgoing any insight one might cull from a deep reading of the blocking of the characters, and the way light plays not with them but on them) in my own apartment with my own girlfriend, piano or not.

it's been almost four weeks since we've arrived in new york, and we have not one word on the move-in date of our coveted apartment, except that it theoretically should be happening soon. i'm starting to wonder if we'll ever get in there, as it's the only one we've deemed perfect for our purposes.

minus the apartment thing, everything else in this city is grand.

Monday, August 08, 2005

the Ocean State

we've been in Providence, RI since Saturday visiting my parents and other family. the Atlantic is a wide dream.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

one night we went to staten island (the ferry is free and takes us right under the statue of liberty) at sundown, became so disenchanted with this forgotten borough that we ate chinese food and fled soon thereafter. heather does look wonderful with the sea wind blowing in her hair, though.

one night we went to chinatown and had, hands down, the best chinese food we've each ever had. after our meal we walked down canal street where an ornery old coot insisted i buy his strange fruit. "i give you two pounds, one dollar!" he said, obviously doing me a favor. but i wasn't in the market for street fruit, let alone fruit i had never seen before. he gave me a sample, and i sucked its juice. it was slightly sweet, mundane if not tart. i didn't like it that much, and the man shook his fists at me as heather and i walked off.

we turned north on mulberry street, into little italy. and looked at shoes and the wannabe Sopranos. if the mafia is dead, tourism killed it.

Monday, August 01, 2005

that you do so well...

i've taken on another student. he lives in the bronx, is named dennis, and is terribly bright. i take the 5 train to east 180th street and walk a few blocks to his house. on my way i pass by an old cemetary which a sign says contains the graves of veterans of 4 wars, starting as far back as 1812.

so i stand there and marvel a bit at the green lawn, unkempt and ramshackle mosoleums. as i grip the locked gate, i look down to my feet where a plate of rice and fish sits, uneaten but decaying, like it's been there for weeks. the rice is black, the fish mummified. i wretch a bit and an old man walks next to me and sees how i react to this food that someone seems to have placed there as an offering.

"voo-doo," he whispers and walks on.