Sunday, September 28, 2008

love letters

Inspiration: 300 400 love letters



I'm in love with love. Regardless of: false expectations, false starts, false endings. Regardless of: reality, conflict, disappointment. Regardless of: indifference, naivety, sex. 

I love falling in love. With the wrong boys, for the wrong reasons, with wrong outcomes. Regardless. Sometimes I want so badly to believe in something that isn't there. I want so badly to believe that there is truth that love is real. So much that I quote love songs at every other opportunity. Aren't all songs love songs? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's just a line, a sentiment, a melody. There's a love story behind every song. And maybe a love letter too, waiting to be written. Or maybe the song is the love letter. Regardless. 

There is a lot of love in the world. Or maybe not. Maybe there is not enough. Maybe there is too much of the wrong sort. What sort of love is wrong, in any case? Unrequited love? Jealous love? Lustful love? Regardless.

I think I rather like love letters. Or the idea of them. Or maybe just writing them. I don't think I write enough of them--no, that's not true. I've written quite a few, in my head, or in my diary, tucked away where no one will ever read or ever know. Sometimes they are brief, fleeting love letters: hi turn around look at me smile. Let's be friends. Let's fall in love. Pronounced one minute in my head until he turns the corner and all is forgotten. Sometimes they are long and tedious. Impossible to articulate. Or too long and too easy to articulate, words and words and sentences and sentences running on forever and forever until I should have nothing more left to say. But isn't there always more to say? Maybe the hundred and one scenarios running through my head are too much to say. Maybe. Love letters are so good. They are so filled with hope and so exposed and vulnerable. Here, here is my heart, spelled out in cramped letters and paragraphs, here is my desire shimmering inside that ink smudge, on the folded corner of the stationery, in this last hopeful closing sentiment. Picking off daisy petals. Love. Not love. Love. Not love. 

So why not. To writing them. Maybe about songs and stories and sharing them here. Maybe on notebook paper and napkins and fancy stationery left on benches. Maybe tucked in a mailbox, unsigned and lipstick kiss sealed. It is not all just romantic love (what is that? Does that even exist, anymore?) it is love of a moment a place and maybe waiting and hoping for a sign. Maybe writing it down will be like a wish lifted on the tip of the breeze and the rain and it will drop on any unsuspecting stranger. Or maybe just the stranger that I want.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Tuesday

Some things I've been doing recently:

+Going to too many shows (Goldfrapp. amazing. worthy of three posts all on its own. religious experience. Bloc Party. fun and made me want to see of montreal more. Stars. amazing. i walked away with a rose and having met the band and invaluable secrets of Torquil's top five favorite things ever: 1. girls 2. songs about girls 3. milkshakes 4. dogs 5. marvin gaye. And in between, Noah and the Whale for free at a record shop. Today, earlier, Calexico for free in a tiny intimate record shop. so so so so good.)

+Staying up way way too late (one in the morning is considered early. Three is normal. This is not okay. So tonight I'm making a vow to go to bed before midnight. It's 11:40 but I'm finished with my essay and will adhere to my goal.)

+Little mini ridiculous adventures and conversations (hard to explain! and hard to elaborate. every moment has something in store)

+Cherishing my solitude (having your roommates gone for a weekend reminds me of the wonders of waking up and falling asleep alone. it is absolutely precious. other people want to wake up next to someone special, i want to wake up and fall asleep in my own bed in my own room and without anyone else there please and thank you.)

+Planning (having lunch with a bum?!, future adventures, my schedule and time better, reading books I finally got from the New York Public Library!)

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

the real, the surreal, and fantasy

Lately I have been blurring the lines. Is it me? Or is this this city?

Regardless. I could elabroate but I think I've been doing a bit too much of that lately. So off to other assorted tidbits. Capsule summaries of life, maybe. I went to Gala's birthday extravaganza in Central Park. That was the bit that seemed unreal. There she was, in her hot pink her hair and betsey johnson dress and extravagant jewlery. Barbie on acid indeed. And there were other bloggers, internet celebrities, maybe, in lavish outfits that seemed more like costumes than clothes. Maybe that was the look they were going for--heaven knows I've worn things that did not belong in the realm of every day wear for no reason at all. But being there, in that small island of rocks, with that select group of very fascinating people, it felt more like a dream even as hints of reality seeped through. They were just people, after all. The girl I admired from a blog was a girl with a lot of bravery, a cute Australian accent and some great clothes. And yes, most of them looked incredible from bar off, but standing so close and having conversations I saw beyond the outward beauty and excitement and saw the effort that had to be made for those extrodinary looking photos to show up the way they did. Make up, bright colors, oversized accessories. Everyone had a camera. No joke.

The contradictions. It was remarkable. I think I am too realistic and cynical to proclaim it as an absolutely incredible experience with absolutely fabulous people. It was fun and interesting but I can just imagine, if I hadn't been there, if I had only read her blog post and saw those pictures, how incredible I would have thought it all was. Instead there is a faint sense of something close to disappointment. Maybe this is why I am not one of those lavish lady bloggers. Reading their blogs I get a sense of familiarity. They are really quite the same. The same advice and flashy style. Admirable up to a point. Smart, too. Excellent marketing skills. But they are selling themselves as a product, a brand, their blog being the company beneath the brand. And the brands have the same premise beneath it all.

Reality. Fantasy. I'm sure I could have interpretated it differently if I wanted to. I could have posted photos (funny how photos can make certain things look so much more magical they are sometimes, isn't it?) and babbled about how enchanting it all was. But that is not me. Me, yes, I wore a dress with ruffles and a big bow and a sparkly purple vest. Yes I chatted with those bloggers and characters (for they seem far more like characters than people) and complimented their outfits and accessories. Yes I enjoyed the little gathering and wished I had a business card to hand out. And yes I still read iCiNG each day and generally walk away a little happier. But there is something that is not quite the same.

Maybe I just have been slightly more pessimistic lately. Maybe it's that desensitazation thing. The longer I live in New York the less amazed I will be by my myriad of adventures? Maybe if I had gone my first weekend in New York I would have gushed and gasped and endlessly marveled at the beauty of it all.

Now I look at the photos...



Gala in all her stunning flashy colors. Awfully skinny. Pretty but maybe in an unconventional way. Tattoos are eye catching as her hair. Glitter acid eye make up. Shoes that kill. Literally.



Doe, another blogger I've never heard before. Looking very much like a Russian doll. At first looking much younger than she probably is. Hard to not stare at. Adorable. Impeccable. Her make up alone I could have stared at forever. Switching into a pair of sandals very shortly after arriving in purple blocked heels. And whom, if I hadn't talked to her and found out about her blog and heritage and what not, I may well have had a completely different impression of..

But the girl whom I probably had the most affinity for, as far as clothing choices was concerned, at least, was not a fabulous glammy flashy blogger but a friend of the photographer..



Those were not exotic elements but the simple, classic, and ever so sweet. Her peter pan blouse and simple black skirt, quirky colored tights and mary-jane-ish strapped heels. The subtle little bow clip in her hair. Maybe it was just because it was much more alike something I'd wear and even our purses resembled one another's...maybe it was just a refreshing change from the excessiveness of every one else around us.

Maybe. Maybe. It's so easy to think a different way each and every time. These photos could tell a much different story from the reality of is. And it is all too easy for me to disintegrate into discussion about fashion over this paradoxical existence and my constantly shifting perception of things. A billion maybes and what ifs and instances of disbelief. Maybe this is the best spot to leave off--always a spot without a true ending, without a solid conclusion.

And maybe that is why I could never be one of them. And maybe that is why, despite their glamour and boldness and photogenic beauty and enthusiasm, I'd prefer, still, to remain this way.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

fashion week: from the outside

I went to Bryant Park twice during fashion week. Did not get into any of the shows, of course, but I absolutely adored the atmosphere in the park and seeing these stunning and stylish people every where, not to mention the paparazzi and glitzy celebrities, meeting The Sartorialist (he is so sweet and amazing in person!), the Face Hunter and discovering my potential new favorite blog, Garance Dore (now if only I knew French...next semester!)


My friends Kacey and Adrian accompanied me the first time around, this shot snapped while waiting for The Face Hunter to finish shooting a girl next to us.


This was the only girl I dared to approach and photograph. I saw her around a number of times before I even had the nerve to ask. That little vintage vest and the flash of the belt, her purse and dress and shoes ever so quirky, and her sweet haircut and smile made it impossible to stop staring.

The first trip was definitely an eye opener, and a bit of a shocking wave of non-stop celebrities. We spotted: Eva Longoria, Uma Thurman, Jennifer Lopez, Rosario Dawson, Michelle Trachtenberg, and Leighton Meester coming out of the tents shortly before we left. To be honest, I didn't recognize basically any of them and didn't know whom have of them were. But seeing Blair in person, in a yellow draped dress with a big smile, looking ever so adorable and fantastic was a moment worth celebrating. That, and meeting Scott Schuman, of course. In fact, the whole experience seemed too surreal.

Which meant, of course, that I couldn't not come back. Armed with what I thought was a better outfit and two stylish (and apparently intellectual) friends Thomas and Rommie:



Bryant Park was significantly more quiet. No celebrities, but a drunken obnoxious asshole making a scene outside the path to the tends. Screaming about celebrities and arrogance, it was amusing for the first five minutes and quickly became an irritating, hateful source of annoyance. We walked around for a bit, hung out by the entrance, got our pictures taken quite a few times (by the end of our time there, we strutted across paths that were almost runways and expected attention), and found fashionistas worth shooting.
She came out of the tents and we stared. I caught her just before she crossed the street--she made that gorgeous headpiece herself!


I generally applaud anyone with a bow on her head. Especially if she can manage to look hip and effortless and unique as well as adorable at the same time.


But you didn't have to be young, skinny and perfect to get attention. These folks looked like they were having so much fun, I adored her hair and her retro starlet attire. They were a delight to chat with and personalities I'd have liked to known.


And this, this is Tyler. We saw him walk past earlier on, and I regretted not taking his photo then. But as I made my way around the park I saw him again sitting with a number of other attractive boys on the bench. This time I had to do it. Tyler is a model (of course). In fact he is a rather famous one, but I didn't find that out until much later. He is a sweetheart.



But if you didn't know any better, we could have very well graced the floors inside the tents!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

in the rain

I love New York when it rains. Yes, after being drenched and splashed by disgusting puddles and being lost in Chinatown in the darkness/wetness and navigating the subways and streets trying to handle all our possessions and umbrella and keys and IDs and Metrocards, it loses a bit of the romance and beauty. But, on days like this, when it is just raining hard enough to be noticeable but not so much that it is an outright downpour, when the temperature is at that perfect level where it's not too cold to just wear a dress and without hints of that terrible humidity, and the sky is a pale gray blue, it seems wonderful just be walking back from class (armed with an umbrella, of course) and marveling at the simplest beauty around me.

This new (or rather, renewed) fixation with seeing beauty in unexpected places and writing about its marvels and what not is actually a semi-direct result of my two current writing-centric classes. We learned about "showing vs. telling" in Writing the Essay today--which I found rather amusing and purposeless. It's just not really the sort of thing you learn in a classroom environment. It's something I learned from Stephen King years ago by reading On Writing , and mostly something you pick up over time with a lot of reading and writing. But pulling it aside and discussing it in that environment, though, just made me (re)realize that this is what I am meant to be doing. Now, then, and forever. Would I give my life to write? Yes, yes I would. And I mean it.

Meanwhile, the Writer in New York involves my brilliant professor who is an inspiration if nothing else. The things that he says, the readings that we will do, I am sure, directly or indirectly is going to make me work like hell to write better. He talked about the beauty of the New York sky--jigsaw pieces, unique only to the city. The way the leaves and sunlight danced on the sidewalk at a certain hour. Soaking in this, everything around me. It is the perfect class for me, bringing out what I may have forgotten or had tucked away in the back of my mind. But this is it, here I am, in New York and more than just doing the "college experience" but beginning the other experience. You know, the one where I learn outside the classroom and breath in the city and life buzzing around me and turn its unique brand of beauty into something else.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

My new hero:



I think I'm walking to Bryant Park tomorrow to watch the fashion people and perhaps take photos. For now though, I'm content admiring Fay and her impeccable sense of style that is at once classy and quirky, unique yet intelligent, sweet and playful and sophisticated, modern and retro at the same time. Oh, oh, this is what fashion week should be. Thank you, Sartorialist, for capturing yet another timeless beautiful piece of fashion and art. Maybe I shall even run into him tomorrow...and die of happiness. Sigh.

In other news, it is hardcore raining outside. And it is wonderful, for the weather is finally and probably purely momentarily cooling down a bit. We made a journey to Chinatown in the rain--it was kind of an experience. My first weekend has been amazing. Tonight feels like Sunday. I'm doing statistics homework which involves actual math--a truly novel concept. I'm feeling exhausted. But still very much excited for everything to come.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Things I Love Thursday!

Idea stollen from the lovely Gala, of course. This is the first time I'm officially doing it on my own blog, though, so even that's a cause for celebration!



♥ Living in New York
♥ The few poster decorations I've put up that makes the room so much more interesting to look at
♥ Laughing forever about the littlest things with my new friends
♥ My roommates! Tila Tequila and Alice are so incredibly different but so incredibly fun.
♥ The Writer in New York class--my professor seems absolutely insane and brilliant. He is going to force me to start writing again, I can feel it, and I love love love that!
♥ Christopher Street, all the gay bondage shops, the Spy Shop, Oscar Wilde bookstore and of course the fact that it leads to the gorgeous Hudson.
♥ Being able to walk everywhere--and finding everything I need within walking distance, or at most a Subway ride away
♥ The church across the street. It helped me pinpoint my way in the start and is just a lovely monumnet to have in general.
♥ The fact that one of my RAs is working for Marc Jacobs!
♥ Seeing BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE for free tonight, thank you NYU!

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

welcome to new york



It would be difficult, really really difficult, to try to sum up everything that's happened in my past week here in New York. I mean, sure, I can make laundry list of all the things I did and the places I went to and (sometimes) the people I did them with. I can describe all my little misadventures and getting lost and awkward moments and embarassing times. I can talk about the beauty of just walking around the village, of being at the Hudson at night with the beautiful sparkling skyline. I can gush about Madison Square Garden and the Guggenheim and the MET and central park. I can try to capture a little spark of what I've taken away from every interesting person I've met, and there have been quite a lot...so many that it's a bit hard to keep track. But if I did that, even if I did that, it wouldn't quite capture the truth of what happened and the magic of each and every moment. Maybe it's just enough to say that I love it.

Today was my first day of class. I only had the infamous Writing the Essay, and I can't quite form a distinctive opinion about it or my professor or my classmates yet. But I am rather glad to be getting into the academic side of things--as incredible as welcome week was, it did make NYU appear to be all fun and no work. I'm slowly but surely getting the hang of things. And I like that feeling.

But it is so very hot....oh dear air conditioning, why can't you be sweet good enough for our dorm?