I WON THE FULBRIGHT!!!!!!!!!

I AM GOING TO SEOUL TO WRITE/RESEARCH MY BOOK--here's the kicker-- on the government's dime!!!!!

dancing/sushi/sunshine/how long can i stay in my bathing suit?

Somehow Monday is really cramping my style. Its not like i didnt get enough sleep- although i think i woke up every hour on the hour and looked at the clock- but today is just crawling by. I think im just a little mentally-stuck at work, on what im writing. You know when that happens? If only you could push over the hump- but its like the hump lasts for days and by the time youre over it, youre just too exhausted to re-configure and re-exite yourself.

Rightly so though, i shouldnt complain - i had a lovely weekend that was busy and packed and involved sunshine and everything else floridian. Friday after work i went directly home to take a nap, woke up at 8.30pm (although i set an alarm, it didnt go off so waking up was total happenstance). While i could barely figure out if it was day or night (only the darkness outside gave it away), i slowly nourished myself back to health by eating popcorn for dinner and watching ‘american beauty’ on tv. Yes. American beauty. That movie is weird. It got such hype when it came out, and then you see it now, and its like, i dont get it. Its not that great. Anyway, moving on. Ashley had a friend in town & we were all supposed to get together & go out- two other coworkers from down the hall were also heading out- so we were all set to meet at the florida room- a club, within the delano hotel. Except its in the basement, so it has a low ceiling, and its not that big- kind of oddly-spaced so that the actual dance floor is small. After eating my scrumptiously nutritious popcorn dinner, ashley tries to bail on me and i force her to agree to meet there at 11.30. I know, can you imagine trying to motivate and leave the house at 11.30pm? Neither can i. I dont know how i did it. I think it was the nap. Otherwise, by that point in time, me and dexter would have already hung out and then gone to bed.

The florida room had djs there on friday as part of ‘winter music conference’ - this several-day-long rave/techno/electro music festival down in miami. The music was, allegedly, supposed to be hip-hopish, but of course it wasnt. Either way we had fun. I managed to take a cue from ashley’s spaniard friends who had just brought little bottles of alcohol with them everywhere, so instead of buying drinks, i just drank my little mini grey goose from my purse. Trashy? Yes. But can you blame a girl? Kind of like high school, isnt it? Whats next- vodka and snapple in plastic water bottles?

Bearing in mind there was electro-techno-music playing all night, we had a lot of fun dancing on booths, making random friends, and engaging in a conversation with total strangers about what we would eat for our last meal before we died. Me? Heirloom tomato salad with salt & pepper, basil, olive oil. And sushi. Which the next day apparently i remembered enough to go to the farmers market and buy like, 12 tomatoes. Um. Great planning on my part.

Saturday was another leisurely day in the sunshine, mostly at the pool. I finally tackled reading several issues of the new yorker that ive been meaning to finish. Well, ok. Lets be honest. That ive been meaning to actually open and read. After a nice run on the beach, i headed over to ashley’s house for the night- her friend julie had left- and we had a low-key girls night in, involving delivery-sushi and the movie "definitely maybe"- which i saw previews for months ago, and expected to be a totally painful shit-show- but it was actually really cute. We had been gabbing so much before dinner that the movie didnt end until about 1am, at which time i got into the car and made myself drive straight home to bed even though i *kind of* wanted to stop for a drink at the beloved sandbar. Holler back.

Whilst laying poolside Sunday morning, i got a call from jedd (of bronx-science-fort-lauderdale-fame) - and when i picked up- it was actually elana (high school weekend represent). Elana and her fiancé were visiting jedd and they all wanted to drive down to hang in miami for the day. This prompted me to leave the pool, but i made the strategic decision to keep my bathing suit on. Dont ask why. Maybe i was too lazy. It was mildly uncomfortable but thankfully soaked up some sweat because it was disgustingly humid and hot everywhere. Summertime in miami, here i come?

We ate some cuban lunch down in south beach, walked around; scooped my friend justin from his house, and then headed to the gansevort hotel- where candice (ALSO of bronx-sci fame) was throwing/hosting/whatevering a party as part of the winter-music-conference– supposedly on the rooftop of the gansevort, but then it rained, so there was a dj-rockin-pool-party in... the lobby. i know, a little odd. Also, a little miami. Where else do you actually expect to see girls dancing around all the time in their bathing suits? We stayed for a little bit & then dropped a totally hungover & barely functional justin at home, & the fort-lauderdalers headed back up north.

By this point the humidity had overtaken my body and was making me so cranky- as soon as i got home, i went right up to the pool and swam laps for a while. So cool and refreshing! Even better, i was all alone up there bc it had been raining earlier, although the sky was mostly clear and the sun was trying to poke through for me. All in a days work. Although i was planning on going back out again, instead i took a run, made a delicious healthy french-inspired chicken provencale dish courtesy of my mark-bittman cookbook.... and then put dinner away- opting again, for popcorn and sauvignon blanc. Is this a theme? Its like the bookend to my weekend. How clever of me.

Today i am back eating zinc lozenges and drinking tea and hoping that this cold goes away soon. I cant really take much more of it. The lozenges are disgusting in this indescribable way, but sometimes-- its like i love them. A little love-hate on a Monday morning. simply deliciously disgusting. like work in general. I want to find a way to just live in my pool for a few months. I know ill get wrinkly and gross and cold, but i think i can find a way... Just give me a little more time.

xoxo

P: Quick Recap of last week!

So, I'm turning in another 50p this Wed, followed by another story due a week and a half later, and...then technically I'm done with all of my "writing" for the year. I just have to continue grading papers, critiquing my classmates' stories, etc, which comes out to about 200+ pages of reading a week. But it's totally manageable! So I just basically need to get through Wed and then the following Mon April 13, and I can breathe a semi-sigh of relief. Before--dum dum dum!--I have to revise extensively for my thesis.

Last week was somewhat interesting. In a bizarro coincidence, I met a couple in Miami--they were sitting next to us at the Sand Bar (I snapped a photo of them on that blog post). When they learned I was living in Boston/Brookline (the guy of the couple had just moved from Boston a few months back), Adam was like, you should totally meet my friend Nate! He lives in Brkline, and he's coming to Miami in a few days! The girl said, you should change your ticket and stay longer! And in one of these--oh they're totally not going to follow up--kind of way, Adam's like, give me your contact info, and I'll have my buddy email you. If only to get to know someone else in the neighborhood.

So I forked over my info on a napkin, thinking--oh, it could be nice to make a new friend in the area--but fully expecting flakiness to ensue. Low and behold, some three days later, I get an email from this Nate character. We talk a bit about the bars in the area, and we make plans to meet for a drink at Washin.gton Sq Tav.ern once he's back from Miami (he emailed before he even left for Miami). So we met last Wed, and he's really nice, and I'm just continually struck by how people in Boston seem to do follow-through. Like, this kid had never met me, so it's not like he had an ulterior romantic motive, per se--for all he knew, I could've looked like a dog. I just feel like this kind of thing would never happen in NY/among NYers. How many oodles of friends of friends do we know who've moved to NY, and we never have time/motivation to invite them out to do stuff? As Jessi would say, "the application process is closed." (My other favorite Jessi quote, from her father: "never show your contempt." indeed.)

This wknd was supposed to be low-key, because I'm in the midst of banging out these pages. And it was, pretty much. I mean, Wed night set me back because Nate and I had 4 beers apiece, and as i walked home (the T stopped running, so I walked the 2+ miles home), I found a late-night Chinese take-out place that my brother and I went to when he moved me up here in August. Perhaps I was struck by a sense of nostalgia/homesickness?, so I went and ordered chicken and broccoli, carried the stupid food back home the remaining 1.5 miles (in that whole walk on busy Beacon St, nothing was still open--it was 1am). So, I was all prepared to have a Friday night all to myself, watching "Kissing Jessica Stein" from my Netflix queue (it was cute) and making dinner (baked breaded chicken breasts and baked onion rings and Florida avocado (believe it or not, I still have it)). But my friend Alexis calls, and the playwrights are at the Lower Depths bar, and I pop over for one beer, which I nursed over the course of 2.5 hrs. I'm in bed by 1am, but I'm somehow struck with the munchies and can't fall asleep. So I eat leftovers from dinner, and I'm still hungry, and I'm like, this is f-ing ridiculous.

Sat: run 5 miles with Amy and our running club, chat with some people over breakfast/lunch, go to the library. Again, I was going to stay in and catch up on work and hulu videos, but my friend Adam and the poets were going to Om in Har. vard Sq. I've been to Om before (back in the Fall, for a bday party), and I'm kind of like, ugh, I don't feel like going, but I should, etc. So I pop over late, drink only water and get my dance on their dance floor for 45 minutes, and then I catch the bus home, followed by a 15min walk. Getting to Harvard is kind of a pain in the butt. It took me 45min to get home.

Sun: a beautiful day in Somer.ville's Davis Sq-- shout out, Jessi! I met Amy at Diesel, which is this coffee shop, at 9:30am, and we did work until 5pm, and then we went on a 4 mile run around Tufts U. Then Amy made stirfry, and my roommate Sheila came over, and we had a really nice dinner evening! By the time I got home, I was exhausted, so I put myself to bed at 10:15pm. But still I overslept my alarm for 7:15 and rolled out of bed an hour later.

So it goes.

Back to work in the library...

P: Belated St. Paddy's Day, Bday, etc.

So, I know I was supposed to post more commentary on our Miami trip, but (A) Annie covered pretty much everything and (B) putting up those photos and captions were kind of exhausting! Suffice it to say, Annie was the perfect host, and I missed her mucho, so it was fabulous to catch up.

Anyway, last week was rough because I arrived from Miami (nearly 80 degree weather) to 30 degree weather. And I had to rush off to class shortly after I landed. Then it was St. Paddy's Day, and my ethnically Irish roommate Sheila, her hs friend/my new running friend Amy and I had to celebrate with homemade Irish soda bread (HOLLA!) and then we went to O -Leary's down the block for some live old man Irish band music. My roommate Sheila (left) and our friend Amy practice their step dancing routine

And--in another small world that is Boston coincidence--I saw this kid who was on the elliptical machine next to my treadmill at the gym that afternoon. So--in the spirit of 'craic,' that friendly Irish gift of gab, I mentioned the connection. To which this dude (his name was Peter) said, "what's an elliptical?" I said, you know, at the BU gym. "What's BU?" and then I just said happy St. Paddy's Day and he said, "What's St. Paddy's Day? I just arrived in Boston a few hours ago." I felt slightly mortified. Anyway, turns out he's here for a journalism conference, and somehow we end up talking about Jane Eyre, and he mentions "Wide Sar gasso Sea," and I'm like, you should talk to my roommate! (who lent me her copy.) So he joins our table, and they're talking, and then he asks what cool stuff there is to do in Boston, and we're all giving him suggestions. Then eventually he excuses himself. My roommate told me when she went up to the bathroom, he said to her, "Oh, you still exist." Which had faint echoes to the last guy I made her talk to in a bar, who insulted our friend Amy re her height and said to Sheila, "You look like you don't eat red meat." As we're ready to leave, he circles back to our table and says, "sorry I didn't get to talk to you guys more." Thanks, buddy. You just cost yourself an invite to my birthday party. (Not that my party is some kind of huge event, but still.)

Anyway, Thurs evening rolls around, and Sheila--so sweet--has bought flowers, a framed poster for me, AND she cooks a delicious chicken -lemon butter sauce-asparagus-bowtie noodles dinner! Amy comes over with not one, but TWO bottles of vino--one of each--and we have chocolate cake. It was the sweetest birthday dinner ever. Thank you, girls!

From there, we headed to Audu..bon, my favorite bar, although my favorite Korean bartender buddy took the night off that night. As is usually the case with these things, I get very antsy that no one will show up, and when the first couple of people arrive, I awkwardly introduce them to each other by mentioning tangentially related things they have in common: same color sweater, both being from states starting with the letter "M," or whatever other details that spring readily to my mind. ALSO: Birthday outfit was a Forever 21 black top that Annie helped me pick out in Miami! I was going to wear black leggings along with it, but when I did a fashion show for Amy and Sheila, they both confirmed that jeans would read as more casual.

People in attendance: my friend Hahn (who I actually met through Kevin, at a Michigan alumni game viewing party), my friend Paul (perfect square; Carroll Gardens and Columbia UP friend), MFA fiction writers, poets, playwrights, a kid I played frisbee with in college who invited me to his Commonwealth of Britain party last semester...and then all at once my running club friends descended upon the scene. When my underaged cousin Jeannie arrived, she said, "Dude, it's a sausage fest." I mean, I didn't mean for it to be so many dudes--I invited some, and they all showed up with their friends, and so on and so forth. And then when I surveyed the room, I was like, wait, most of my friends in Boston ARE guys, and I was like, sheesh, can we please bus up all of the single ladies in NY to Boston instead? Granted, they are not all of the six-foot, chiseled cheekbone, socially graceful quality (well, a couple are), but still...still! It made me really mad that in NY, there are so many beautiful, attractive women, and there just aren't enough men to go around. At least, that's what it feels like.

Anyway, at some point, the Ipswich ale pints kept flowing, and then I was buying drinks for my little cousin and her friend, and then Sheila had to steady me home. Poor girl.

Running clubbers. A bunch of them do a 9mile run Thurs nights, and Audubon just happened to be on their route.

Lindsey in the PhD program to the left, Sheila to the right.

my Korean language partner made it out, although I felt bad bc he's still new to navigating social situations in America.

Mo' runners. Andy, to my left, is co-coordinator of our running club. Also, this shirt at this angle kinda makes me look pregnant.

Paul, Hahn, playwright Chris, phD Sheila (my roomie) and poet Heather--more MFA people in the back of the photo.

Some more runners. Dave, in the middle, started our running club. He might end up in NYC next year for his PhD program, so I--in my birthday-tipsy state--told him I'd pimp him out to my friends. Any takers?

Um, I vaguely remember this photo being snapped.

Contents of this photo are too awkward for words. Long story.

My cousin Jeannie. This was snapped before my camera broke (namely, because it fell to the floor. Because I dropped it.)

The fabulous life of...

Its been too too long. I would provide an rich and thorough post on last week if only I could keep the days in order, or really remember them, but alas, i cannot. All i vaguely recall is drinking too much jameson on st patricks day (totally not on purpose– or with intent. I swear.); finally checking out 8 oz burger bar down on south beach (a hamburger that was good going down but wrecked havoc on my non-red-meat-eating body for several days; apparently it no longer knows how to digest such things); seeing "sunshine cleaners" and having drinks at the standard hotel as part of a gen-art event (funny and witty but also kind of melancholic; sure, supply me with free wine after a movie like that, its much needed); more dinner and drinking with friends and staying out too too late; breathlessly awaiting Friday to get into a hot bath and drink wine with ice cubes (holler patty!); and then finally, liv at the fontainebleau on Saturday night. All things considered, i think thats a pretty good brief summary of a week in the life of– even though i cant remember all the details. The moral of that story is that eye-witnesses are not that reliable. I mean, can you even remember what you wore yesterday? I can, but thats because ive somehow only been wearing black & white all week.

Last night ashley & i were supposed to go out for sushi and drinks, have a quite little girls night (being that every time we saw each other last week, it involved her husband & 3 visiting Spaniards- the ones who were pushing rum & coke like it was going out of style). So i was very much looking forward to making a calm night of it, some catch up, laughing, gossip, you know. Girl things. Then in the afternoon ashley gets an invite from a friend of her’s who was working at this fashion show down on south beach - something called "funkshion"? Um. I dont know. Anyway we decide to ditch the sushi plans and go to the show- supposed to start at 7; followed by another show at 8 at the setai; followed up by drinks, naturally.

We get there and of course, predictably, this fashion show doesn’t start until about 8.30. In the meantime we are eating organic nibbly-bits and drinking and taking free hand-rolled cigars from this little man who is just sitting there rolling them. I mean, who knows. Its miami after all. The theme of the show is green fashion- which normally id be all about. Yes, organic, cotton, green, im all for it. Unfortunately, the show itself was more like a blood-bath of feathers, buttons, glittery-things, prom-like dresses, tack and— here’s the best part— models with fake boobs. Where else but in miami do you see models who not only are not-waif-thin, but who also have huge tits? Nowhere people, nowhere. The good part: we weren’t feeling badly about ourselves (well, some of us anyway). Because fake breasts, no matter what other people say, are just totally weird to me.

The bad part: the show was otherwise, really quite atrocious, minus this one designer who made all these insane head-gear type pieces that looked like tree-branches, with bits of lace and ribbon and things all stuck in- almost like... the horns of a reindeer, except they went up super super high, maybe three or four feet. Honestly, if i could somehow rock that look, i would. I just dont know how one could walk down the street (or anywhere, actually) with that on.

Other highlights included a dress made out of magazines that was all pleated and wrinkled and very cool looking. For the remainder of the show though, i was standing next to our friend sarah and commenting that michael kors and nina garcia would not be so into these looks. In fact they would be making barf-faces. In other words? It was like a really bad episode of project runway, but minus the hilarity that often ensues, and minus tim gunn (although there was a guy sitting in the front row who would have passed for a steven tyler impersonator, wearing some kind of tye-died, batikish patterned denim shirt and pants. I mean. Stop. I cant go on. Not at all related to tim-gunn but still. It was ... im at a loss of words). The finale of the show involved two really horrible singers performing "i will survive", the woman in pleather leggings and the man in this plaid-pajama-like-jump-suit, as they walked (or strutted) with models down the runway– models who looked like they were wearing the new prom line from macys. Not only that, but they just wouldnt stop. The thing just kept going. They just kept singing more and more songs from the 1970s. When it was finally over, the only thing we wanted to go was go home- no setai, no more shows, no more anything- just a hot shower and some water. Exhaustingly funny and odd and everything else you could hope for on a Wednesday night when all you really wanted was to eat raw fish. All in all though, a perfectly good trade.

This week also brings a whole new slew of touristas to miami: the people who love electronic and house music. You think im kidding? But sadly i am not. Its part of winter-music-conference, which is ironic and dumb, if you ask me, considering that its march and springtime. And its never really winter here. Anyway there are tons of electronic/house/clubby shows going on all over the place, and lots of people walking around in odd clubby-outfits, along with a few random hardcore straggler fans in all black, who *almost* resemble hipsters (or at least the vegan militia that hang out in the east village with their bicycles), but not quite. Thankfully i have no plans to attend any of those events and continue to feel overjoyed during such times when i can leave south beach and head back up to where i live. North beach baby. North. Beach. Ok, so its not true- i do have one event in my back pocket for Sunday, but its technically a bbq with djs at the ganesvort hotel, and i figured, well, why not. Its an excuse to sit outside at a hotel on a beautiful day at the pool and eat. Or, you know, dance to trance music. Cant you just picture it now? (well, neither can i, really).

now im off to start another day, already re-invigorated by the coffee and rehashing.

xoxo

lazy town!

how lazy have we been. seriously. no post updating! ridic. well to be fair it was a busy week and its kind of hard to follow up after the weekend-of-last with miss park. even worse? while i want to write and fill in the on the past week, i am super tired and ready to fall asleep at 10.09pm on sunday night, and my left nostril is full of snot (sorry) and i think im getting a cold- that or insane allergies. so this girl simply needs to brush her teeth & go to bed.  as  a very brief coming attractions, the week went by rather quickly! there were many social engagements and too much drinking all around and a night out at the fountainbleu, at the night club "liv", which included some minor-celebrity sighting. i drank rum & coke for the first time since... geez, i dont know when....? not high school, not likely anyway- maybe early college? that shit is gross. pardon if i am insulting anyone's bev of choice. so more ranting to commence tomorrow after ive blown my nose repeatedly and gotten enough sleep.

and P! we need to hear about your birthday shennanigans!!!

xoxoxo

Bienvenidos a Miami: Part I-- Thurs night and Friday

Well, theres a lot of fabulous territory to cover here... starting at the beginning. I (annie) will be posting in a different color just so you can all follow along without getting too confused on the joint-posting effort... thursday after work i went to pick miss park up from the airport. it involved me driving around in circles because (expectedly) miami international airport does not really have any signage telling you how to get back to the terminal once you drive through it. so after somehow getting lost in a small little restricted enclosed area where they were filming a movie, i found my way to patty.

Arrival to/at the land of hedonism!

Although by that point I was well in need of a serious cocktail, patty motivated me to engage in a beach-side run; the sun was setting, the air was warm, and we were on packed sand having a lovely time. (Well, ok, she was having a lovely time, i was physically unable to compete). Still though, way to motivate. We then took a walk to have some cuban food, fulfilling patty’s need for the luscious avocado salad and some mofongo-esque shrimpy dish, which i could not get enough of.

Friday patty had the day to herself: i seem to recall some beach time, pool time, and running-then-jumping-in-the-ocean time for her, while i jealously sat at my desk trying to research impossible questions and stay awake.

Monty's Raw Bar in South Beach.

Patty was brave enough to take the bus down to south beach in the afternoon, and I meet her at montys for happy hour. Although i knew it was ‘spring break’ time, i honestly did not know what we were getting into. The place was packed, knee-deep in random assortments of people: not just the normal old dudes in hawiian shirts (although trust me, they were there) but also younger people, ladies in sundresses with fresh sunburn-bathingsuit-tans exposed, and honestly, no one youd really want to associate with. Well, at that point anyway.

We managed to wait in line for our raw bar samplings and patty got to try her first stone crab- holler. Delishie, with fat gulf-coast oysters and tons of shrimp, not to mention pitchers of bud light.

Pre-raw bar platter =)

Post-raw bar platter =(

Me posing, with a tropical paradise in the backdrop.

Later, ashley & a bunch of friends from spain showed up at monty’s - there was a pre-bachelor party that was going on that her husband was involved in, and i had met a few of the guys before (including, i think, the bachelor? So hard to remember at this point). Either way, patty spoke spanish like a pro to ashley’s spaniard friends and i was wholly impressed. The evening somehow ended with take-out sushi and watching gossip girl on dvd. Kind of awesome.

Much seafood was consumed on this day.

Annie thinks I look very Asian in this photo. I wonder why.

Bienvenidos a Miami: Part II-- Sat and Sun

Saturday!!!

The day started with patty somehow mobilizing at about 6.45 am. Ok ok, so not that early, but probably by 8.30 she was up and on the roof and doing work. Once 10.30 struck, i was up and shortly thereafter we were on the beach for another beautiful sunny miamian day. The thing with laying on the beach though? You kind of get hungry for breakfast and realize there’s nothing around and you’re hot and kind of sunburnt (already? On my ankles? How did that happen), and the more you lay there the more you realize you dont want to have to go back into the ocean to pee (again) so you just decide at that point to go home.

La playa e bella.

On the walk to the farmer's market.

I wonder if these babies are artificially inflated, just like everything else in Miami...

In the quest for more avocados, we walked over to the local farmers market and stocked up on produce & flowers, wine and pita and went home to construct guacamole & patty’s fabulous pita chips.

A successful trip to the farmer's market!

The fruits of our labor, literally.

Although it kind of looks like poop in this picture. I swear, it was good.

Me (and my hair) getting very excited for homemade guac.

How cute is P’s hair? I just cant get over it. It was talking to me the whole time saying, "let me out from behind these straight-hair bars! Please dont make me be ironed or blowdried. I want to frolic." patty allowed it to run around several times a day but then tried to tame it at night. Fuck that. Well, no. That sounds aggressive. I just love her curls. How could you not?!

Anyway, back up to the roof after polishing off our bottle of white wine. I somehow managed to also open our *bargain* $2.50 rose and brought some of that up to the roof as well. The water in that pool is always freezing but it felt ultimately refreshing being that it was so hot out and we were both slightly crisped on the edges (or so i assume... although i maintain that full sun damage did not occur until Sunday). Either way, we frolicked up on the roof for hours.

Annie channeling her inner third grader at summer camp.

I still can't believe the view from the rooftop pool.

Suddenly, it was 6.40. I dont know how it happened. We had managed to run 12 miles, swim 40 laps, and do pilates! Or not. In reality our day was leisurely and drunk. We cleaned up real nice to head over to wynwood for the 2nd Saturday events, which i had never been to but always wanted to go. Thankfully patty was more than excited in the prospect; we glugged some cheap free wine, ate cheese cubes, and saw some art that patty respectfully-but-snarkily derided as "illustrations." love it. Truthfully most of the art was crap, but it was fun to walk around the neighborhood and have all the galleries open- like chelsea, but before chelsea became so popular (i imagine).

We asked one gallery owner what we should see, and she pointed us to this thing. It was blue rubber-strings hanging from a larger frame that you could walk through, except after touching it, you could tell it was really, really dirty and gross, and black crappy dust was all over your hands.
Second Saturdays in the gallery district. This is considered Very Good Art, including the background guy who kindly posed with us.

The below is still Saturday night-continued– post a short stop in south beach where we considered going to dance at buck 15 but didnt want to wait for it to get crowded; ate cuban toast while walking on lincoln road; and then patty tried on dresses in american apparel. After getting home, we headed right back out to sandbar.

Oy. Many interesting offers were proffered that evening.

Many interesting offers indeed. We arrived at sandbar and patty got her local brew (brooklyn!!!! in the *house*) and i had a little summery wheatbeer. Before we retreated to a table by the window, the barmaid gave patty a brooklyn shirt. How cute is that? Not five minutes went by before we were approached by an odd looking fellow who asked if he could join us. Here is where it gets good. Patty insisted that he could only sit with us if he could contribute to the conversation. He offered that he would talk to us for 2 minutes, at which time we could decide whether he could sit down. (He was a pretty good bargainer, huh? Maybe he just liked her sass). I would make up a name for him but i dont even remember if he introduced himself before he started telling us how he was in town for calle ocho festival, and how he was staying nearby, and how he was from ny and in the moving business, number three contractor for the city, evictions, welfare, blah blah blah it was like he was bragging about it. Well, ok. He did fascinatingly tell us how to sterilize second-hand mattresses- you need to pull everything off the springs, DIP THE SPRINGS IN ACID, and then cover them up again with padding. Amazing huh? We were particularly enthralled. Actually though, i felt bad because patty was being very snarky and sarcastic to him, which i dont feel like i see enough of her-doing-so in person these days, (which i *loved*!) but i also felt like i had to be nicer to accomodate her spunk, which seemed like a total role reversal, but was entertaining nonetheless. After his 2 minutes were depleted, patty sent him on his way. Kindly, yes, but still sent him on his way.

Annie's hot back.

At that point, we moved over to the bar for more drinks. After we chatted for a while and enjoyed the juke-box selections, the bartender came over to deliver us a message: "the gentlemen over there would like to know if you ladies like mint chocolate chip ice cream. (Pause). If so, they would like to buy you a shot." we looked at each other in total confusion. Is that a pick up line? Or were they psychic, knowing that i had just eaten mint-chocolate-chip taste-delight down on lincoln road? We conferred with the bartend: he revealed to us that horrible truth you never want to acknowledge... if you let them buy you a shot, you kind of have to talk to them. Hmm. Although patty was still allowing the offer to settle, i figured it was a bad idea being that the two alleged "gentlemen" were leathery-faced older dudes who were doing something akin to leering from across the bar. After their shots were rejected, they again offered to buy us beers– but the bartend reminded us that if we gave in at that point, we would still be entrapped. So we again politely declined. (Everyone should have a bartender tell them things so honestly, huh?). my favorite part of this interchange was when patty asked the bartender, "but they’re not so age appropriate, are they?". to which he agreed, no, of course not.

Shortly thereafter, the guy on patty’s right (who had sadly been drinking miller light and doing jager shots all night alone) left and a couple took his spot. Ever being the social hostess, patty made new friends with the couple who also happened to live in the neighborhood. I somehow was accosted by a small gay southern flight attendant from continental who kept asking me, "who do you fly" (before i understood that he was a flight attendant) and i was like "what the hell is this guy talking about?". after spilling his drink all over my feet, he invited his pilot over to say hello- this big burly guy. Is this not getting weird? At this point, the two older-leather-faced men start yelling at us across the bar, "COME OVER HERE" or something akin to that, getting angry that we rejected their drinks but are now saying hello to random continental airline employees. Thankfully this interlude was short. The next time i turned around to talk to patty, she had been simultaneously approached by two *other* guys who both wanted to buy her drinks. What was weirder is that i couldnt tell if they were friends, or if they had just simultaneously decided to make a move. On my way back to the bathroom, i nearly sidestepped another offer of drinks from some random italians. All i can say is the male-to-female ratio in this bar was obviously a little off-skilter that night. Once patty turned back to her new couple-friends, the gay flight attendant reappeared and proceeded to fall flat on his face. Literally. On the floor. At which point we all suggested that maybe it was time he went home, which was followed by a more stern suggestion by the bartender.

Very cute couple we met at Sand Bar. Though the guy kept insisting on getting a photo with the dude in the white shirt.

By this point it had somehow morphed into 3am or 3.30 or something, and we still needed something more substantial for dinner than cheese cubes and cuban toast, and headed to ihop, always a regrettable choice (in my opinion) since its not like real diner food, and it always manages to taste the same no matter what you get. Our fajita burrito had really nothing to do with anything fajita in nature, just that it came with sour cream. Patty still managed to fashion the accompanying pancakes into a savory vehicle, which of course is one of the many reasons why i love her.

Sunday we managed to sleep "in", but not really, considering we werent in bed until about 4.30 or so. First thing we were suited up and on the beach. after getting nice & toasty, we decided to go into the ocean. The waves were very disagreeable with our decision to do so, and decided to slap us around a bit, rightly knocking out our sinus passages and physically washing the hangover right out of my head. The tide somehow managed to push us into this much deeper area where the waves were not as bad, but there were these old dudes fishing in that spot and their fishing lines were in our faces so we decided to swim in– that, and one of the old dudes on shore was yelling something at us. Once we got out, he warned us that we shouldnt be swimming there because we would get sucked into a "lake" and not be able to come out and that two people had died there last weekend. Really? I dont know, but it freaked us both out considerably. Then he said we looked like california girls. Really? really? We dried off and decided to head back home for some more guacy lunch on the roof and another swim in the pool.

This is the point where i definitely achieved sunburnness. I fell asleep on my face while a small child pretended to drown in the pool to get his mother’s attention: "AYUDA ME!". patty of course jumped into rescue the child who was faking and his mother didnt even batt and eyelash. patty was sufficiently angry not only that she jumped in, but because she got her sandals wet in the process. Plus, she later informed me that the very loud family that accompanied the faux-drowner also did not live in the building. Color me annoyed. This child continued to scream and be horribly loud for quite some time. Then my phone rang at the same time patty commented that it was already 4.20 and we had agreed to go to calle ocho that afternoon with my co-worker justin. We hurried downstairs, changed, and headed out to pick him up, get lost in little havana, and ultimately park in some dude’s backyard for $10.

The madness that was Calle Ocho, aka "Little Havana."

The festival was much like you would imagine- lots of teenagers, music, lots of food. Our mission? Eat as much cuban food as possible. Consumed items included: chicken empanada, arepa, cuban sandwich, more arepas, and a pork sandwich. The cuban sammie won our hearts by a landslide. Then we managed to kidnap justin and take him to forever 21 so that p could get some pretty party dresses. Justin moderately behaved himself dressing up in ladies accessories and marveling that people over 21 not only worked in the store, but shopped in it. What? Its fabulous.

On the road again: we dropped justin off at his house, decided we needed one last jump in the pool; but then quickly decided it was too freezing at that point (not to mention it was 9.30pm). Patty lasted approximately 5 seconds although i seemed to find the frigid temp wholly soothing on the sunburn cripsy edges so i was able to stay in perhaps a minute. Then downstairs for some packing and arranging...

Now, im sure there have been important tidbits left out— like how we bumped into the mattress-disinfector from Saturday night at calle ocho and he grabbed patty’s arm so excited to see her; and like how we walked into my elevator and there were 4 very tall german men with lots of cologne on who said (as we entered) "Party Time." after no response from us, "Or maybe not Party Time." – but you know, this post is horribly long and i figure that patty will want to add more to it, so i will rest my case. It was a fabulous, exciting yet relaxing, ridiculous yet sensible visit. All the paradoxes happily accounted for.

previews

later today (once patty is back in the frigid north, but compensating the temperature drop by having sunburn-hot skin) there will be some pictures of our wonderful-miami-weekend together and the beginning of a truck-load of hiliarious stories. til then, hang on tight...

weekendsies forever, please!

Sigh. It feels like ive had the longest extended weekend known to man. Ironically, its Wednesday; still, i’m not letting that bother me. So much fun has happened! Let’s see... Friday night I drove up to fort lauderdale to get benjamin from the airport; we got back and went out for sushi boats – sadly on the disappointing end... i still vividly remember the mackerel being very dry, as if it had been going about on the boat for like 10 days, lost at sea; but of course we enjoyed ourselves as much as we could, drinking sake and feasting on salmon, tuna, and various rolls. We finished the night off at a sports-bar next to the sushi boat spot, where we played some pool and then were engaged in conversation with two friends- both of whom played pool considerably better than us but kept trying to get us to have a friendly game of doubles that was interspersed with them making joint-trips to the bathroom while she brought her purse, only lasting about a minute each time– friendly, happy, funny, sassy, and obviously, on coke. Oh, miami. (The same girl who was involved in this pool-playing couple was from spain and would later allegedly be spotted sunbathing topless on my roof when ben was up there on Monday. What a small, weird world).

Saturday morning, after leaving me to sleep a few more hours, ben came down from the roofand woke me – we snacked on a lovely breakfast of fresh fruits and cottage cheese and then suited up for a few hours on the beach, reading in the sun- he, a novel- me, teen vogue! (ummmmm, not a joke). After a few hours tanning this way and that, and even going in for a swim (finally not icey cold), we drove over to the vagabond farmers market, loaded up on tomatoes, onion, cucumber, scallions, and a quart of fresh coconut water; then off for a desperately-needed-car-wash at the local eco-friendly spot. While we waited we had lunch at this cute little place next-door called ‘dogma’- basically like an old-school hamburger joint- you just walk up to the window, order your free-range hamburger or hotdog (veggie and turkey options to boot) and your beer of choice, and sit in the sunshine, reading the weekly local papers and relaxing. I tell you. Life does not get much better. Once the car was all spiffy, we proceeded to toodle around the design district- walking up and down the streets, which again were mostly deserted. Too bad, too, since most of the stores appear as if they focus on the same thing any old furniture, bedding, or interior design store in soho would- but yet are barely open or not-occupied- so of course you dont want to be the one person in the small store with the storekeep; and so the empty cycle continues.

After digesting our shared hamburger, we decided it was finally monty’s time- we sat for a few hours, had some more beer and snacks, and then headed back home as the sun was setting. Much later that night, i seem to recall there was some disappointing cuban food that we tried to make the best of; a walk around the neighborhood ending in chullos and latin american short-bread cookies with guava and caramel; and the looming knowledge that we would not only loose an hour of sleep with daylight savings, but also have to wake up absurdly early for a Sunday to make it to the red soxs spring training in fort myers.

No whining the morning of though! It wasnt sunny when we left at about 9am, but by the time we drove across alligator alley and through the everglades, across the state and north, the sun was in full force and it was gorgeous and warm and everything was right in the world. The spring training field was much smaller than any other baseball field ive seen or been to- seated maybe a few thousand? We got some beers and hotdogs and wandered around for while before the game started- the first few innings went by rather quickly, but then i got horribly dehydrated and cranky around number 3- that is, until i was saved by ben’s instinct to keep me supplied with water. I dont know how i rationalized not needing water when i was simultaneously sticking to the little plastic seat with my damp sundress, but somehow it slipped my mind. Anyway, saved.

We left the game a little early and stopped in naples on our way back to miami. Naples... the only thing i knew of it was that it was a haven for the wealthy and apparently, like palm beach but newer and somehow... less classy (if that is possible with wealthy enclaves?). We didnt see much of it, honestly, but we did find a little marina with several crab-shack-style restaurants and engaged in a feast of stone crabs, shrimp and salad bits, looking out on the water and boats- and apparently there was a manatee that swam by, although sadly this girl did not see. After finishing the two-hour trip home, i have a vague recollection of cocktails at a local bar, followed by an impulsive order of the national dish of colombia- beans, rice, fried egg, avocado, beef, and a nice fatty strip of pork fat with little tiny tidbits of actual meat on it. I dont know how or why we did it, but we did, and it was good.

Never-ending fun, huh? Monday we hit monty’s again for happy hour; followed by more food at joe allens- a really nice, quiet restaurant also on south beach, but on the bay side, and it was late- so it was tame and not that populated. And last night, we ended the whole shebang with a long walk on the beach at sunset, followed up by cocktails at the neighborhood "sandbar"- an amazing gem! I had run by it before and thought nothing of it- but the wall facing the sidewalk must be like a garage door- it was totally open and we were able to just walk through and sit there and get the best breeze possible without being flatly outside. Some random guy at the bar bought us jager shots (ha!) and proceeded to tell us his whole life story (law school, practicing lawyer, then med school, now doctor, ex-girlfriend is a GI doctor; from key west, old family, old money, blah blah blah), and we just narrowly escaped to grab take-out sushi and relax at home. The wonderful thing about people visiting is that the feeling they get rubs off on me– its like im on vacation with them (minus going to work), and i get to try all the new things they get to try, things i normally wouldnt just walk into.

A lovely lovely neverending pseudo-vacation...

As if the feelings couldnt get more positive? Today i received some lovely work compliments from the big man, which i’ve never heard before, and it really made my day. To finally feel somewhat recognized and competent? It makes me more relaxed being here than ive felt in a while...

And with that, off to finish up the day with a run outside and a little tidying up before miss park arrives tomorrow night! Unfortch the internet at home isnt working at the moment, but never fear- we’ll just have to replace a little modem and it should be smooth sailing for a little dual-posting-action. AND, coming attractions? Patty goes to montys, patty goes dancing on south beach, and patty gets to see latina culture in all its glory at the calle-ocho street fair on Sunday. I know, you can hardly wait.

xoxo

P: Where I'm Calling From (A Photo Essay)

Diane's RPI friend/my roommate Sheila's hs friend/my friend Brian bought Sheila and me these awesome sets of NYC gloves, as an advance thank-you, as he'll be crashing with us during Boston marathon weekend. So, inspired by my new favorite artist Christoph Niemann (of the "I LEGO N.Y." fame), I have made a little collage about my birth city. Also, I came home from Davis Sq/Somerville with Amy (shout-out-- Jessi!) and I'm really tired and I have to wake up and run 5 miles with her tomorrow.

love,

Patty

PS- Title borrowed from Raymond Carver...

Five boroughs, unite! (Uh oh, am getting PTSD flashbacks from the marathon experience...)

Where I'm from. A great excuse to flip people off.


Where I spent my childhood and adolescence wishing I was from instead.


Where I met you guys! Also, where we spent way too many hours on the 4 train...


The borough I miss most.


And this little borough cried, "wee, wee, wee," all the way home.

P: Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Morning

Annie, it sounds like you had an awesome part of weekend in Palm Beach--jealous! But I totally hear you about getting tired and wanting to have some down time to yourself. And...I'm glad to hear your foot is doing better! I hope you will soon be back up and running at full capacity. Also, that sushi at the strip mall sounds to die for...I can't wait to experience that all in less than one week! I was inspired by your various photo montages, and I realized I had yet to take pics of my immediate domicile and general life circumstances. These were photos snapped on our snow day on Monday, which means they were neither woodsy nor taken in the morning (I took them at 4pm). Here 'tis:

My apartment, the home where I hide...

Across the street from my apt (view of Beacon St; Fenway is towards the back-left)

My block. An excellent Mexican restaurant called Sol Azteca in the distance (despite its sign, it's actually a classy joint). To the left, across the divide, is Taberna de Haro, a Spanish tapas restaurant.

Down the block from me is the St. Mary's Green line C line T-stop. This is a large trolley at 3 cars. Sometimes it's only one.

In true Patty fashion, I've included a pic of my local supermarket, Johnny's. It's one block away. They charge $0.80 cents for a skinny bundle of scallions. That is a lot of money.

Around the block from my apt, tucked away from Beacon St, there are beautiful suburban-style houses. This neighborhood is called Brookline. Sydney Schwartz describes it as "where all the rich, Jewish people live."

FIN!

(sigh)

just got back from a mid-week sushi extravaganza. ok, not really an extravaganza, just dinner with the co-workers in coral gables. everyone had been trying to coordinate schedules to go have dinner at this sushi place, apparently for months. so finally it all worked out. on a tuesday night, no great shakes right? i was at work late and all i wanted to go was literally go home and flake and watch my beloved pacey from dawson's creek on his new sciencey-show, "fringe". but no-- a girl must buck up when she makes dinner plans, so buck up i did.

i spent the last 30 minutes at work making these cold-calls to kids who had been accepted to brooklyn law, to say "hi im an alum, do you have any questions," basically- which is a great idea, very warm, involving, caring- but on the other hand, so potentially awkward right? first, few people actually pick up. when someone does pick up, all i can think is, "you saw that an unlisted number was calling you and you picked up? who are you?" ... answer: they are either not phone-screeners, or perhaps they are just that kind of psycho person who *always* picks up, no matter what. dont worry, curiosity doesnt kill the cat in this story. i thankfully only dealt with one person who picked up today, and of course she barely had any questions, but she was sweet and we chatted for a little bit before i then went on to leave 5 more identical messages: "im an alum! congratulations! call me!" 

when i was leaving these messages it was like i had this brief out-of-body experience, where i could basically hear myself singing into strangers' voicemail. i mean, i know i tend to leave such messages for friends, varying in tones, pitch, rhythm- and i never really think about it. its just the sing-song message, right? normal to me. but then i thought, wow, there are two options here: the law school admitted nerd who listens to this version of me on their answering machine will either think:

 (a) this person is justifiably insane, the lady in the corner who is a middle aged modern dance teacher or "performance artist" who uses too many gestures in speech, still wears spandex leggings way past her prime, and has way too many mismatched accesories on,  making everyone cringe slightly in embarassment, or 

(b) how cool is this random person who apparently doesnt care that we're not friends? shes like ten years older than me and she is still leaving me a message as if we are besties. 

you know, in retrospect, i would rather contribute sing-song random messages in voicemails all over, on any day of the week, rather than sounding like the stuffy-faced lawyer that im sure otherwise makes these kind of cold calls. so bring it on.

anyway after going through this alumni-charity rigamoral, i met the girls & assorted husbands for dinner. the sushi restaurant was in a strip mall in the middle of coral gables- totally unassuming. next door is "georges pizza and pasta," and down from that? "blue by the pound" (some kind of pound-buffet? i dont know, read the title of that restaurant how you may: are you blue because you are eating pounds of gross food? thats the normal reading, isnt it?), and down from that, a walgreens, some trashy clothing store, and a quest diagnostics (you know, where they dispose of all your medical samplings after you go to the dr. gross.). so i walk to this sushi place and go in, and its like i was transformed into a heavenly little japanese kingdom- blonde wood paneling, clean, light, soothing, crowded but still peaceful. yes, perhaps it had something to do with my anticipation at popping ikura into my mouth, feeling those little salmon eggs pop against my tongue, but it was just so unexpected for a strip mall. the food was delicious, and we laughed and talked for over two hours... 

the only problem with going home after such a lovely time is this weird spaced-out-surburan feeling-- i never felt this way in new york, in the east village- but theres something irksome about leaving people to drive home and go into your apartment building where you barely see or hear anyone and just lock yourself away for the night. not that i am reminessing for those "better days" when i had to bang a hammer repeatedly on the floor to shut up my inspiring-rapper neighbors downstairs in apt 14, but it is quite a change to go from the vibrancy of a city to the apartment in a tower with a solitary view of the ocean.  maybe its a good thing, though, to be able to enjoy the best of both, without necessarily being uncomfortable in your surroundings- not always being trampled on in your personal and mental space. 

work was really freaking me out last week and earlier this week, but i think i finally have a somewhat minor hold on things- unfortunately, i also somehow keep thinking its wednesday night. i mean, i thought it was wednesday last night, and again tonight... wednesday night must be my default mood. no matter-- tomorrow it will be wednesday night for sure, and then i might feel normal again.  ive only got the rest of this week & then next to finish up my case-load for the next round of hearings in march, so the pressure is quite literally on. when im so hectic at work i think, "was this what finals time was like?" because i think that was probably the only time in the past 3 yrs (other than as a summer associate) where i legitimately felt like i barely had time to get up and pee and drink water because i was so frantic at researching and writing. how do the hours peel by so quickly? .... then again, after a few days of that kind of pace, once that job is all over and done with, its hard to transition back into normal: the default position then becomes facebook, facebook, email, nytimes, email, facebook. and the brain takes a minivacay until it has to kick into turbo gear again. can we ever find a place in the middle? i would quite like that. unlimited time but slight pressure, please.

enough random ranting. time to sign off and smell the wonderful groupings of tulips and baby's breath that are scattered around my apartment in random vases and pickle jars.  i must admit, i am jealous that i missed the snow up north yesterday, but i am also happy it is set to be 80 & 83 degrees on saturday and sunday respectively, so that i can loll around in springy dresses and watch the spring-training red soxs game with benjamin in the sun. i tell you, sometimes i think i could get used to this! the disclaimer of course, is that you would all have to relocate down here with me...

xoxo

sunday sunday

alas p, they are working you to the bone. just think- soon enough youll be on the beach and/or rooftop poolside.

this weekend was relaxing and lazy and lovely. friday after work i drove up to palm beach, to visit kim & ira- who were in town from nyc for a few days. kim & i went to her grandmas condo there last march for spring break- but this time she was staying at her aunt's place. anyway, wow. if youve never been to palm beach, its pretty insane to explain. picture the hampties, times a thousand- with a gorgeous beach and palatial houses, streets lined with balanciaga, sax, ferragamo, brooks brothers, pucci, and restaurants knocking out $37 pasta plates; fancy cars like bentleys, cadillacs, sports cars roaming around; and who could forget, the old people in wowza bright-hued outfits, and inappropriately dressed middle aged women showing obvious signs of plastic surgery... in fact, i think we saw no face younger than 40 while there.  its one of those places that you cant quite believe exists, yet.. it does. kim's family has an amazing condo there and i had my own bedroom suite complete with full bath, across the apartment from them so we all had plenty of space.  friday night we went out to a restaurant in town--drank and ate marvelously, and we were the only ones there until closing time. initially our waiter was so hesitant approaching us, so cautious- but all 3 of us just wanted him to feel more comfortable- 'dont worry, we're not going to yell at you tonight.' i wonder the stress level in that kind of environment- with every patron knowing exactly what they want and/or what they think they deserve...  after seafood all around, we ended the night sharing key lime pie, and then took a bottle of champagne down to the beach in plastic cups; briefly followed by a trip up to the roof for another hour or so.

saturday i woke up feeling as if i were on drugs- one of those moments when you cant tell if you feel that way because you dont remember what its like to feel hungover, or if you just feel that way because you havent slept that much in weeks. either one, there was little time to contemplate- just enough to put on a bathing suit, grab some diet coke and water, and head to the beach with our collection of trashy magazines.  gorgeous day, lovely sun, warm... and sharks. no, i kid you not. apparently there was a school (if they even exist normally) of about 5 sharks relatively close to the shore line, so no one was swimming- you could look up and down the shore line and see clusters of other humans just gazing at the water, every now and again nodding, pointing, agreeing that yes, there were sharks out there. to be honest, i still cant believe it, but then again, i wasnt about to be the only kid to go in the ocean that day.

saturday night i drove back down to miami, avoided a night out, and woke up expecting to see thunderstorms all day. just my luck it was sunny and warm again, although i was feeling highly lazy. i guess its the first weekend in a while that i had to myself- first my dad, then home, then my sister- so it was nice to clean, run errands, buy flowers, and cook. i also was able to sit upstairs by the pool for a while in the sun reading- it was practically heavenly- minus the 3 other people up there. one was barking into his cell phone, far away from me on the other side of the roof- and the other 2 were a couple who came and sat like 2 chairs away from me. you could tell they were fighting over something, and then the girl just literally got up, and lay on top of the dude, and every now and again would gyrate on him. this went on for at least 30 minutes before the clouds descended on us and i left. um... do you two realize that is kind of inappropriate to do in front of your neighbors? i dont get it. well, isnt that just the miami lifestyle.

so here we go. another week! good luck handing in your writing patty! my foot is starting to feel much better so hopefully i will able to take it easy with a little run later this week. for now, a little more sunday itchiness before i make myself get to bed and read. i *finally* finished this historical novel (barf) that my boss gave me for xmas. it was literally 500 pages, if not more. im just amazed i was able to read it all within 2 months. HA. to be honest though, its hard to keep eyes open at the end of the day, particularly when the reading involves the 1800s and alexander hamilton. i kid you not.

xo

P: Wait, ANOTHER story due on Monday?

Sheesh. I'm back to eating carbs by the mouthful while trying to eek out more words, words, words. Beyond an interesting BU-MIT grad school mixer at--oy vay, Tequila Rain--which my friend Heather described as "Nerd Heaven," this week/end has been pretty low-key. Got a haircut, had coffee with Diane and Sheila's friend Brian who was in town, went to bed by 9:50pm on Friday, went to northeast MLA (Modern Languages Assoc) conference to see my friend Paul chair a panel discussion on early African-American lit and archives, then my friend Carolynn and her boyfriend Jason came into town for the night and we had a great catch-up session, and today I spent 4.5hrs at Espresso Royale writing, only to come back home and make turkey meatballs in a chicken broth and Belgian honey ale gravy, and then running out to buy Nutella to fuel me through more writing.... nothing much has been going on, nope. Just stressed re another story I'm turning in tomorrow.

On that note, I will leave you with a poem I stumbled upon while sorting through my files. I wrote it in 2003, and it's interesting to note because it continues the Annie-Patty long-distance dialogue! It is also evidence of why I don't write poetry anymore. The title's a lie--it was originally kisses from Oxford, but Newcastle made a pun off of the expression 'coals from newcastle'. Sorry for the cop-out, but don't have time for a proper post....

Kisses! From Newcastle

We send each other emails

that splash their way across the Atlantic.

I picture you in a North Country pub

your grip slipping round a pint of cider

and you toss back your wild, tangled hair

surrounded by local boys, mesmerized

by your pierced tongue and eyebrow

and exotic Manhattan accent.

And maybe you see me in a Midtown counterpart

—you know, one of those Asian-fusion after-work corporate hot-spots—

sitting awkwardly across two glasses of Merlot

and a Merrill Lynch man

as we chat about third quarter earnings

and his generous benefits package—

and I bet you’re laughing hysterically at your computer screen.

Next you’re chugging along on the Intercity counting sheep

out the window to lull you to sleep

while I’m plugging away at work:

press releases, review lists, galleys

hoping for the blue moon phone call from The New Yorker or Boston Globe.

From Amsterdam Centraal you hop on the #5

along the canal

past the dome-shaped Pannekookenhuis

with the apple and Gouda crepes

but you stay on, as the tram heads to Museumplein.

After two hours and seven euros of hash

you’re staring at that famous Rembrandt,

one amidst the crowds of young Americans—

high, tilting their heads in awe.