ANYC: 08.04

I love
The Shins right now. Its one of those things I can't really get enough of.
Here are my favorite lines from the song "Caring is Creepy" -

This is way beyond my remote concern
Of being condescending
All these squawking birds won't quit. (note drumming)
Building nothing, laying bricks.

This is a picture of me & Julie. We were friends in Kindergarten. We lived in Minnesota. She was the coolest girl in school. Here, as I attempt looking cool at an early age, all Julie needs to do to is stand there. After moving away from Minnesota, I never really met anyone cool like that.
Until I met
The coolest girl in my office.
Kat is so cool that she went off and got another job in the fashion industry. Right where she belongs. Kat is the girl that I brag about to my Grandma (another fashion maven). She is the one that will take you to the hippest place in town. On Christmas day she will go ice skating and take you to Chinatown to chill with the Jews. No one has spent the night at my apartment more than Kat (especially during her anti-rat phase). Lastly, Kat is the only human I have known to win a game of pool in one turn.
So Kat - I would like to say that I am more sad than happy about the move. I just liked seeing you & your outfits every day. You make me smile.

Jersey Girls

On Sunday I traveled down to
Asbury Park on the famous Jersey Shore. I have always wanted to go, so of course I jumped at the opportunity to watch Nicky play bass in his band the Garbage Warriors, at the Stone Pony.
The band was AWESOME. My favorite song is 'Playdate with Satan'. Nicky & the group kicked ass. They didn't win the Battle of the Bands tho. Maybe next year.
The Stone Pony was cooler than I had imagined. It is the type of place that makes you think: "well there is really no need for me to go back to the city, everything is pretty cool right where we are". The scene was pure Jersey, meaning that all the kids had that extra Jersey Jump that consists of a 2 part streets smarts, and 1-part suburbs. I was probably the only one from out of state. I didn't fit in - I should have worn black - everyone was wearing black.
Asbury Park was totally derelict. I didn't know it was like that. At first I was surprised, and then I looked around and proclaimed its wicked authenticity. There is so much potential at Asbury Park that it will make you scream. I dreamed about fixing up this old hotel there called 'Metropolis'. It's everything you want in an old white beach hotel - columns, sun decks, you name it - however it has been left for the birds and more...
I wish I could have stayed longer and had dinner with everyone on the boardwalk while watching those crashing Jersey waves.
Here are some postcards from the adventure:

The Garbage Warriors!!

For the past 2 weeks I have been working the evening shift. I call it "west coast hours" because it gives me the opportunity to chat with my w.c.ers all day. I typically work at 7am. I like mornings - but was kind of feeling a little run down, and wanted a change of pace.
The break has been nice. The break has been nice backwards - ecin. But even still, the night person (not naming any names Romel Veerasami) wants his shift back. I am a little saddened. I now know why.
Time is irrelevant on this shift. The only time I worry about is 2:30pm - a half an hour before I should start making my way to the office from wherever I am in the city.
Other than that - the only time I check is 11pm, when its time for me to go out. Which is what happens on a shift like this.
You go out.
You morph into this creature of the night. You don't know bars during the previous hour happier. The hardwood floors are stickier. The people left are those pulling the all-nighter. The people that lurk in the shadows - sulk at the tables.
This is something that can only really happen in New York of course. The leading city of the dark bars. The bars that never contain work topics. The bars that make you order dark drinks minus the straw & rock.
So this is what I have been getting my taste of yet again. I used to work this shift, and I used to know the dark bars. I had since forgotten what it was like and that I like what its like. Cheers to the evening crew. It's been nice, relaxing, and intoxicating. "ching"

I went to the end of the
M & J lines. There was nothing really notable at the end of those lines. Well there was a cemetery at the end of the M line that looked peaceful - so I can't discredit that. However, at Myrtle Ave., I transferred to the J line and enjoyed the stained glass metro station sign art.
All of these works were made my Verna Hart, in 1999.

I was walking around aimlessly after saying goodbye to a friend. At one point while crossing the street, I realized that I didnít want to be crossing the street, so turned around and walked back to where I started.
You get the point.
About a half an hour later I found myself at the end of the 1 train - Van Cortland Park. Basically all the brothas and sistas were out grillin with the family. I didn't fit in, and the streets were vacant.
The only thing open was a tanning salon directly across from the park. So I went tanning.
Then I got some ice cream.
And then I got back on the train.
I felt like Van Cortland was my first BUST of a subway trip. I didn't feel like going back to my hood, or any hood remotely close to mine. Basically I didn't really feel like I was ready to see white people - it was strange.
So I decided to go bowling in the Bronx. I decided to get off the train at 125, and walk across 125 to the green line.
While walking through Harlem however, my day started taking a turn for the better. I felt so cool. And white. There were Martin Luther King speeches being played every few blocks. There were women selling peach cobbler from the street! My new favorite brand
'babyphat' was everywhere. I indulged as usual, and bought a babyphat t-shirt, and ate peach cobbler.
Then, I remembered Tamara telling me about this great place to have soul food. Sylvia's. So I called her, and once again she showed me the light, and got the address. Once inside I was very intimidated (hence no pics - it was crazy). I was the only white girl. As my black friends say "they are used to you tourists". I finally grabbed a seat at the counter, and ordered the famous ribs. Seriously? I was licking my fingers and making that pop-noise that one makes when they lick their fingers, and I didn't care. I couldn't even touch the collard greens and mac n'cheese. By dinners end, I was happy and content.
As I walked away - belly protruding below me, I looked around and have to admit that I was a little sad that I don't really belong to any kind of family/community like the one that exists in Harlem.
White people are so conservative. And so skinny.
I could continue about all that I saw in Harlem - but I more want to urge those in NYC to travel up to Harlem and see for yourself. It really is one big family. See for yourself, eat cobbler, elbow your way to a seat at Sylvia's.

I liked how all of the billboards in Harlem featured those of us with darker skin.