I’ve made it something of a regular occurrence to post anniversary checkins every year at August 15, but this year, my fourth anniversary as a New Yorker came and went. Rather than a long winded essay—as is my wont—I thought it’d be appropriate to post some lessons I’ve learned so far. (Hashtag basic, amirite?) I posted a version of this on my Facebook, so apologies for the repetition. Without further ado: It’s ok to cry on the street. It’s even better to cry in an ATM vestibule. Let your account balance be your guide. If you believe a cab is a quicker way from Point A to Point B, you WILL get stuck in traffic. More money makes it easier to live here, yes, but don’t underestimate the restorative power of a walk through Central Park while eating a plain slice. New Yorkers are a lot nicer than their reputation belies. Except the Times Square Cookie Monster. He’s an asshole. Never tell a cabbie where you’re going until your ass is firmly in seat. Until then, …
A few weeks ago, on one of those fall Sundays that slap you in the face with fire-y leaves and clear skies, Ian took me on an adventure through the Upper West Side. Stately brownstones and single-family homes lined the shaded, narrow streets, while the sun peeked through the canopy of trees and cast an emerald-filtered shadow over the ground.
“Anyone here know Bethesda Fountain?” Phil asks the gathered group of men (and one woman). “The statue is known as the Angel of the Waters, and its sculptor happens to be our first lesbian artist on the tour.”
Before moving to NYC, I watched Devil Wears Prada and Ugly Betty. I was plucky as fuck, pluckier than those underdogs combined. I thought I’d be fine.
Here, the crowd awaiting last night’s live Welcome to Night Vale reading, a modern take on classic pulp and sci-fi radio shows, outside the historic Town Hall theater. The show was charming, charming, charming and so full of hahas! Give it a listen if you want old school radio play-realness, amusing wordplay and entertainment. …Long live Tamika Flynn and the Glow Cloud.
Last week, I joined the ranks of so-called “prosumers” and got my hands on a sweet new toy: a Lumix GF6 Micro 4/3s camera. While I’ve wanted to go the DSLR route, I don’t have the capital or the desire to lug a beast of a camera around me when all I’ll end up doing is posting to here/Instagram. At the same time, I didn’t want a dinky little toy camera that would produce grainy photos. Months of research lead me to Ruthie (yes, she has a name). Interchangeable lenses, lots of manual features, built-in WiFi (for, you know, Insta-ing): She’s packing the “just right” heat I’ve been looking for. While I’m still getting use to her, I am excited to get over the learning curve and blog about my goings-on around the city more. First things first, though: I gotta get over how self-conscious I get when I’m just out and about, shooting like a schmo. Before I blather on for too long, here’re a couple of shots from this weekend. So far, so …
Chelsea, Wednesday, February 26, 7:57 PM “You have to pick the places you don’t walk away from.” —Joan Didion