Oh, New York Part 2

Yes...oh New York. I left off at the risotto, but I believe I failed to mention yesterday's activities. After an amazing brunch in Brooklyn with Olav and Betsy, Betsy and I went to midtown to meet up with an old friend, Josh. He took the bus in from Jersey. We then headed to Ground Zero. I thought there'd be more to see, but there truly isn't much to view yet - it's a huge chunk of space left empty in the chaotic city. Although pretty empty, it did leave a lasting impression on me, just being in that area and remembering that day. It was a somber morning. We peeked into the construction area as much as we could (it was blocked off pretty well) and then strolled into St. Paul's Chapel which is located right across the street. St. Paul's acted as a sanctuary for the rescuers, families of victims and volunteers of 9/11. Inside St. Paul's you can see the posters and flyers and notes that people scattered around the city in the days following 9/11. Viewing these artifacts, you couldn't help but tear up and feel the sadness. (On a sidenote, it was pretty embarrassing when I strolled in to the church as quiet as a ghost, since that is how you are supposed to be, I thought. But then I promptly knocked over a "Caution" sign that was placed on the wet floor, creating a loud SMACK!!! noise; all eyes on Jojo, forever the klutz).

We then strolled through the financial district and eventually wound up in the East Village. We grabbed a drink at the Telephone Bar, this crazy bar filled with telephone booths (could you guess?) and British paintings. Betsy ran to catch a conference call and Josh and I made our way up to Central Park, where we strolled among the sunset-colored leaves and shade of the towering trees. To me, Central Park is Peace. I could have stayed there all day. Eventually we found ourselves at a diner in the Upper Eastside, where I drank the Tiniest Milk Shake There Ever Was and Josh inhaled an egg salad sandwich. Let's just say...not impressed. And then Josh was off for Jersey once again and I on a train bound for Brooklyn to meet up with the girls.

Today I got to play Local. Another fabulous brunch with Olav in Brooklyn (skillet french toast!) and then wandering the streets of the lower east side solo. I discovered some charming shops. I met a woman who collects old books, a man who wanted me to pick a purse that "complimented me" and "brought me up." He held my jacket while I tried on purse after purse and I felt guilty in the end for not buying on. I stumbled upon a nail salon and joined the herds of NYU ladies for a Sunday afternoon manicure. After, I met Raymond, the owner of a wine bar in the East Village. I drank a flight of high end reds at a candle lit table; he took my picture so I could remember. The wine bar itself was original, very New York, but the name was clever only in its simplicity: Wine Bar.

I enjoy New York, but I know I'm not done in LA. New York has a sense of grittiness to it, this feeling of never being done and never being clean. When it rained this weekend, I felt like I needed to shower 20 times a day. Everyone is in such a rush. No one gives a shit where you are coming from and who you are, what you are wearing. Olav gave me a great example: In LA, if someone spoke to you, one might think "Screw you." In New York, you say hi to man on the street, and he actually says, "Screw you." I do like that everyone here has a story; they have this sense of cool that I know I'll never have. It's infused in their posture, how they glance at you when you get on the F Train, the way their sneakers are worn from walking miles and miles of New York streets.

I'm not ready for New York yet, Los Angeles is it for me, for now. I think if I were to leave Los Angeles tomorrow, I would miss it very much.

I'll post pictures when I return from the east coast. Tomorrow afternoon a train will take me to Philadelphia, land of the fashionless and miserable (or, so the newspaper says). Til then.

Oh, New York

I'm sitting here in Betsy's kitchen in Brooklyn, in her historic one-bedroom pad, drinking a glass of pino while she makes mushroom risotto. She and Olav, her boyfriend, have a pretty big one bedroom place considering this is NYC. The place is ancient and amazing. Their landlord has restored the maple floors to their original look and feel, and in the lobby you can see all sorts of ornate detail in the molding and ceiling. The stairway itself is incredibly narrow and that alone makes you feel like you're walking back in time. Lugging my suitcase up that narrow passage was no fun.

Their street in Brooklyn is occupied by families and eclectic Brooklyners (what do you call people from Brooklyn?). A few blocks down, a bakery makes fresh bread daily, and the smell floats down the street, guiding you in. Random clothing stores, vintage wine shops and sidewalk cafes give this place color and personality. I like it here.

Yesterday Betsy had to work, as did Ricer, so I took the train in to Manhattan to catch Free Fridays at MoMA. The line wrapped around the building; the turnout almost made me suffocate. But the museum is neat; a great solo outing. Afterwards, I had just seated myself at a bar near Radio City Music Hall when Betsy called me and I left in a hurry to meet her in the lower east side at Barmarche for dinner. Tasty pesto mashed potatos, bistro salads and wine.

More later...time for some risotto action.

Drained

I worked 'til 2 a.m. last night and then came into the office at 7 a.m. I'm not sure how I'm standing right now. Still need to pack.

Blah. But NYC is waiting!

The Other City

Tomorrow night I am off to "the other city," just that small town they call New York. I haven't been since I was a little tyke with a fading perm and my first pair of glasses. That was the summer my aunt and uncle took my brother and I to NYC, where we took many a walking tours, and I somehow managed to have the perpetual hiccups each time. Between the hiccups and flashes of embarrassment, we managed to do the whole laundry list of touristy stuff: carriage ride through central park, climbing to the tippity top of the Statue of Liberty (what a gal!), literary walking tours, ghost walking tours, Empire State Building, nights spent at the Plaza (when it was still that classic old Plaza!)...and my hunt for my then Hollywood crush, McCauley Caulkin. If you haven't figured it out yet, I was a pretty cool kid!

But seriously, I loved it. I told my aunt that summer that I felt like I had lived there in a past life, if such a thing exists. I loved walking the streets and watching the people, looking into their eyes and wondering where they've been, where they're going.

This trip it's work that brings me out east and friends await me in a quaint home in Brooklyn, where I'll stumble in early Friday morning after my red-eye flight. I'll fall onto a blow up mattress with my friend "Ricer" to catch up on sleep, while Betsy heads off to face the advertising world in Manhattan. I know these girls are the best of old friends when I can just show up so early on a Friday morning and simply sleep for a few hours before I explore. Josh will take the train in from Jersey for an afternoon of NYC surprises and familiar talk and catching up...only this time in a NYC coffee shop, or perhaps at a street corner as we wait for the light to turn.

If you don't hear from me for a few days, assume the city has snatched me up and entwined me in one of its thousands of tales. I'll be taking my pathetic work notebook (the reason why I am now working from home at nearly midnight on my personal computer; don't get me started on that one) so perhaps I'll squeeze in a blog entry or two. After a Monday morning business meeting in Manhattan, I catch a train with Asian Equation for Philadelphia, to return to the west coast for Halloween festivities (so festive, I don't know what they are yet).

Back to some late night number crunchin' and diet coke.

Tales of the Virgin Bird

Roomie and I are hosting a pre-Thanksgiving feast at our Brentwood Chateau. By chateau I mean our tiny abode, with antique appliances and charming decor! One might refer to said feast as the Roasting of the Virgin Bird. We've never made a turkey before, but somehow we thought it'd be a great idea to cram a bunch of friends, cheap wine and some down-home cooking into a Sunday afternoon in November. Bring your own Pepto!

We're excited. If anyone has any good recipes they'd like to share, don't bother sharing them with us and just bring it, ok?

So much to be thankful for this year.

Note: Virgin Bird Feast does not occur for a few weeks but I thought I'd let the anticipation begin now. Stay tuned. A test turkey is on the way...

Fire Fire!

Check out this picture that I took this weekend from the Santa Monica pier (or rather, my brother took this picture). Can you believe that smoke?

Thank God for Girlfriends

I'll say it again: Thank God for Girlfriends. Last night was a great night in Brentwood. I treated myself to a massage (and it was a strange massage - more on that later) and came home and made myself dinner. No pity party for Jo. My friend invited me to an event for the CW Network, but I didn't feel like putting up with the Hollywood types and playing that game "Who knows the most celebrities." Also - I don't know any celebrities, so I wouldn't win. And losing is never fun. My guy friend invited me to drinks in Westwood...but I didn't want to be around new people; I just wanted to be comfortable. And as I was making dinner, I could tell Roomie and her boyfriend didn't want to leave me alone, especially when they threw out a last minute invite to a dinner party they were off to.

But I was really happy. I had a great day yesterday. As I was walking around my neighborhood I couldn't help but smile. My friend ended up coming over and we drank a bottle of wine, and later Roomie came home to help us finish another. What a simple night, and that's all I needed: to laugh with my friends, who will always be there.

But about that massage. I was told that the woman who was going to be my massage therapist, my masseuse....la Massager, if you will--that she used a combo of Swedish, deep tissue and Thai techniques. Sure, I said on the phone, I can hang with that. And it started off just great. But I guess I was unprepared for the DEPTH of her deep tissue (I feel like I lifted weights all night last night), plus...that Thai technique. I was unprepared for her to literally climb up onto the table and put nearly her whole body weight on me. Damn, that hurt. Hurt so good.

On another note, got a phone call from Grammy about The Breakup. I know I've reached some strange point in my life when Grammy calls to tell me she is praying for me and that "if a man can't commit within a year, he isn't a man!"

To change--and there will always, always be change--and to knowing who you are. To being at peace with change when life seems to unfold in the most mysterious and curious ways....