anyc







my hands are calloused & red from all this lifting. I didn't think I could do it myself - but damn, I did it all by myself. I totally needed help. But everyone was busy on Wednesday, so I did it alone. seems kind of appropriate i guess.

the cool part about loading up the car & driving across the country, is door to door service.

people. word of advice. if you move? DRIVE THERE.

half of my stuff has been packed in boxes and is on its way to mysterious LARKIN street in San Francisco. Yipee. My bike was the most expensive at 108 - artwork a close 2nd @ 103. My lying about things being books in boxes was the least expensive at an average cost of 12 dollars a box.

getting to use a dolly all day from the mechanic shop by my apt? PRICELESS.

yesterday on the train someone left their black plastic bag behind. my friend yelled out: "That is an unmarked package!" and then someone else yelled "throw it out of the train!" and then someone else yelled "it could be a bomb!"

all very thrilling. but another example of enough is enough. for me at least. one of the perks of SF is that nothing is underground EXCEPT the bart on market street ONLY. I don't plan on stepping one Birkenstock in the bart. at least not for now.

Many people have expressed jealousy and tell me that they are going to move too. Everyone except one couple. The couple said "we are still going to keep plugging away at this. We like New York." That was great. I was growing tired of everyone saying " I am so jealous and want to get out of here too." type thing. its like "okay then. leave."

right?





My pope jope:
instead of saying "is the pope catholic?" (in response to someone asking me an obvious question.) I am going to say: "is the pope dead?"

don't you think his death was such a wish-wash, that maybe he will take on the assumption like elvis?
like: oh I saw the pope the other day at better burger getting air baked fries.


I love this picture of Leyla. Hmm. I don't think I took this one. buts its on my camera.

wow. sometimes I walk around new york and I am like kind of floating because I don't really believe that I am leaving.

am I?

the only time I know I am leaving is after taking the subway ANYWHERE. I get out of the stinky, sweaty car - run up the stairs holding my breath all the way and gulp in the fresh air to exclaim "OHHHH GOD!!!"

The subway air was suffocating my poor spirit. I could feel it in my pores & taste it on my buds.

So I am taking cabs this week. last night I went to a birthday party. 79 to 18. 14 dollars. no joke. I'm goin out in style.

I will be living in California next week at this time. doesn't that seem so fake? "California Max". Sometimes its more like a joke, right?

Sometimes I worry that they might not be as "serious" and "gloomy" as we are in NYC. We are a serious people. We are dark. I fear that all of the patchouli & "lets look towards the sun" stuff might wear thin. Well not "wear thin" but I fear I am not going to take it seriously. like at first I will laugh about it and be like "wow that’s nuts!" but then I will want them to laugh about it too -and once they don't start laughing, and keep doing the patchouli thing - I will be like "oh shit."

and that’s why I was placed in apartment number 22. According to my Reformed Deadhead Landlord on Larkin, he placed me in 22, because a girl from Brooklyn is in 23.

I already think she wears black and has dark hair. its going to be funny to meet a blonde bombshell.

I hope she has a jewish mother that visits often. That’s the most I can hope for. But if she moved west, chances are she is from a broken home.

Its funny when people start reciting Beastie Boy lyrics together. We all know them. People in Atlanta say "party people going places on the D train." and they don't even have a D train. Or is it G train, because we don't really have a D train either. or maybe its Mike D talking about you know, his "d-train" like "if I ate spinach I'd be called Spinach D." type thing. Anyway after a Beastie Boys rant - I am always shocked by who knows what song, and then I sit there the next day wondering when people learned the lyrics to 3-minute rule. I like to know when people learn lyrics and why. Why 3-minute rule? How old were you? 15?

the age range at my going away party was 8 months to 77 years. Is that a sign of success? or is a successful party the fact that I was able to pretend like I was in college again = dancing to the pixies at this place that everyone called "the G-spot". I'd say that was the kicker.

Tonight at Swatters Birthday, I would like to demand a little Interpol dancing, and I would like to suggest we move from Pauls Boutique to Ill Communications.

4 10 12 8 2 6 9 & 3






I went over to San Francisco to get a transfer with my job, and check things out. I liked what I saw, and I got the transfer.

Here is my new office. Kinda looks like NYC, right?


But not quite.
I gotta switch gears like a cable-car yo.

Cities have different languages. I obviously know NYC language. For example - Greenwhich is pronounced Gren-itch, Flat-iron is not Flateron, and Howston is not Hewston.
I am pretty sure I messed up one word already - because I got a strange look when I asked about "Minna" street - and pronounced it Minna - when it should have been Mean-ah.

My fave part of the trip was taking a ferry over to Marin County - where I plan on living - not immediately - its going to have to be put on hold for a few months - because i want to try the city for a little bit.

I repeat. A little bit. I am tired of pavement. I want a dog. I don't want to pick up dog shit on pavement - nor do I want my future pooch shitting on pavement. So thats the plan. I went across the bay to investigate.

Here is the boat:


Sausalito is the first town when you enter Marin from the Golden Gate side:


Since it was cloudy, i indulged and took a picture of a little bit o' blue.


I didn't have my camera on me when the sun was shining & I was kind of rushed - so thats a little sneak-peek at the new digs.

on a closing note:
San Andreas Fault lyrics from Tigerlily - Natalie Merchant:
go west,
paradise is there
you'll have all that you can eat
of milk and honey over there

you'll be the brightest star
the world has ever seen
sun-baked slender heroine
of film and magazine

go west
paradise is there
you'll have all that you can eat
of milk and honey over there

you'll be the brightest light
the world has ever seen
the dizzy height of a jet-set life
you could never dream

your pale blue eyes
strawberry hair
lips so sweet
skin so fair

your future bright
beyond compare
it's rags to riches
over there

San Andreas Fault
moved it's fingers
through the ground
earth divided
plates collided
such an awful sound

San Andreas Fault
moved its fingers
through the ground
terra cotta shattered
and walls came
tumbling down

o promised land
o wicked ground
build a dream
tear it down

o promised land
what a wicked ground
build a dream
watch it fall down




Don't these pictures look like those creepy victorian pictures they used to take of dead people? Kinda cool. But don't worry, I am not dead yet, and I am not victorian, silly!

I went to the Rodan+Fields counter at Bendels, because Proactive has been eating away at my skin. Joann at the YSL Bergdorf counter sent us over to check it out.
They have this really cool camera at the counter where they take a picture of your skin twice. The first photo is my face as you & I see it. The second image shows the sun damage on my face. yikes! looks like I don't really put sunscreen on around my chin/cheeks area. I thought mine was bad, but then my friend had hers done, and YOWSER. her face was BLACK in the second image. literally.

So for the rest of the afternoon I called her Shanikwa.



I am reading a travel book called Coastal California published by Compass American Guides. Its such a shiny little gem! Here is a typical passage describing a walk through San Francisco:

"The last time I took in the view from Coit Tower was one of those beautiful clear mornings, when the cerulean sky above San Francisco Bay was streaked with fair-weather cirrus clouds, and house finches were singing in the shrubbery of tiny city backyards."

Now isn't that a sentence for the folks back home. If only all travel books were so eloquent. Bravo John Doerper. Bravo.




Sitting on Broadway after
Lenape performance with paper-mache deer.