Outside, past gauzy wrinkled lilac curtain from Target, blues and oranges and almost-island sunset obscured and blocked and elucidated by downtown buildings and I can see the empire state building from my window--and it's beautiful, this space, I don't want to leave ( Read more... )

Your whole life goes by and it only feels like a minute . . .

Wouldn't have it any other way. A year ago, I came home from London. And that chapter is finished, book is closed, and now . . . into the woods, you go again! Always wonky when I quote musicals.

I hate Emmy Rossum.

xA

I love my jeans. They are American Eagle Jeans, purchased online in February of 2002, the pre-hell week weekend when Bryn Mawr was beautiful and emerging from a sort of winter frost, and they fit just the way I wanted them too, studied sexy, tousled college girl look I imagined I saw. I wore them all the time at camp Nor'Wester, slept in them in ( Read more... )

It is the mist slowly rising and rain all around as perspective/landscape and the simplistic majesty of the Plaza and CPW towering over Central Park--an as always was/always will be tribute to something larger than selfhood and self. The moment, when, just as Woolf predicted, it is happiness, before and after fade away and blurred on the pavement ( Read more... )

Why does everything have to be so hard? I don't think I want a job. The idea of working makes me feel a tiny bit sick. I hate being under flourescent lights, sitting all day, going through my circuit of checking various websites and slacking off. I want something more magical and quixotic and interesting. I don't know if I want to do the ( Read more... )

Been awhile, kids . . . and where to begin? Hmmm. Need to turn in my Mary Gordon story on Tuesday. 100 pages + revision into first chapter of twenty of those pages+ one page parody of Mary McCarthy. HUUUGE philosophy quiz on Tuesday. Wasn't sure if we were supposed to read Cymbeline or The Winter's Tale for Shakespeare, so chose to read neither ( Read more... )

Last year was "Thanksgiving: London Style." It was terribly awkward, augmented by good friends appreciating the ridiculousness of the situation. It was a tube ride from Blackfriars to god knows where and trying to memorize the directions on the map outside the tube, walking in the wrong direction, using the London Eye as a reference, then ( Read more... )

It seems like the personal has become the political in a way that we can't quite--I guess it all is morality (mccarthyism) and putting the heart and soul back into Hollywood (and can I say that I love Frank Rich so much and he has this great article on TV Self Censorship in the NY Times today which is spurring this, but I feel like . . . I was ( Read more... )

We're reading Hamlet in Shakespeare, and I came across this quotation in act IV, something like, "we know who we are, but not yet who we will become" and it struck me, because for so long, I thought Hamlet said that, but he doesn't, it's Ophelia in her mad scene, and it makes me think--maybe what ties us to sanity is this narrative force within us ( Read more... )

eeeesh, so I just realized that my like, 200 carpet catalog requests were sent with the wrong zip code--I e-mailed the request with the zip code
"10027" which is Barnard. THIS zip code is 10036.

Yikes, yikes, yikes, yikes, yikes.