Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
My roomates are fattening me up to eat me at the end of the summer OR Where I live and some things I've done
The Apartment
So, our apartment is huge. We all are doing our own work from home, and some days I don’t see my roommates all day. I’ve made whole meals without them even knowing. It’s like I’m in a separate wing of the household. It’s great.
A lot of days, though, all three of us will congregate in the kitchen, mostly in the mornings and evenings. In the mornings, there’s an air of possibility as we wake up around the table, like that day could hold anything, and that anything is ours to accomplish. Kate gets a little frustrated from time to time, because Chris and I will have our heads buried in a book, magazine, or laptop, and she wants someone to talk to. She is in the right here, obviously; Chris and I make for rude breakfast company on mornings like these. Still, a little quiet time in the morning with a whole bunch of coffee and some Cheerios is not a bad way to go either. The evenings are a little more social.
A lot of cooking goes on at night, hence the title of this post. I have been eating like a king out here. Some days I’ll eat about seven different times. One of the first nights I was here, when Pete (Chris’ musical cohort) was out here staying with us, he, Chris, and I, after a show they had, went to a pizza joint for a slice, then walked across the street and ate some Turkish food. One needs to get all the flavors of this city. And if it’s back to back at two a.m. on a Wednesday morning, so be it.
Chris, it turns out, is quite the cook. Although he has some trouble paring down the recipe for just three people. There are currently six containers of vegetarian Jambalaya in the freezer (we’ll save some for ya, Dustin. It should keep till August). And that is after we went through the leftovers in the fridge that pretty much filled a large cooking pot. Along with the Jambalaya we’ve had some great Thai dishes, and all this stuff is from scratch. None of the bottled sauces or boxed concoctions. And then there is my lame pasta. I need to start pulling my weight. Which, at this rate, will soon be considerably greater.
The neighborhood
There’s not much going on in the immediate neighborhood: a lot of auto shops, small grocery stores, gas stations, and fast food joints. Nothing to really go and do. There is a massive cemetery two blocks from us. When I was in the cab coming from the airport, this thing looked like a smaller version of the skyline on the horizon behind it. Huge. I have yet to walk through it, but it’s on the agenda.
About twenty blocks north is Park Slope, which borders Prospect Park, which is pretty, and absolutely hopping on the weekends: soccer, biking, volleyball, Frisbee, cricket…cricket?! Park Slope is a good neighborhood to hang out in. There are a lot of restaurants and bars. It’s about a twenty-five minute walk or ten minute bike ride. I have yet to find that place to call my home away from home, where the bartender gives me a tab for $6 after I’ve been there for 6 hours. But I don’t really know if I had that in St. Paul anymore. Not since the good ol’ days of the Tap (What up, Ellen? That was that bartender’s name, right?).
Just beyond Park Slope another mile or so is the Manhattan Bridge, which dumps you right into the lower east side, which is where all the pretty people hang out. I’ve never seen so many guys in horizontal-striped shirts and tight jeans and girls with short skirts and tights underneath. Originality loses something in such places, I think in more ways than just the dress code. Still, it’s a fun place to be. Chris has a consistent gig at a place called The Living Room that is right over there, so we’ve been in that neighborhood a few times.
So that’s the run down on my immediate vicinity, and a little ways out. I haven’t ventured to either of the Upper Sides yet. Went to see a free Apples In Stereo show in Central Park—that’s as far north as I’ve been. I went to a poetry reading at Battery City Park, which is right on the Hudson, as far west as you can go, just past Wall St., and you can see the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. That was nice.
That’s where I’m living in Brooklyn. And those are some places I’ve been. And now you know about some of them.
So, our apartment is huge. We all are doing our own work from home, and some days I don’t see my roommates all day. I’ve made whole meals without them even knowing. It’s like I’m in a separate wing of the household. It’s great.
A lot of days, though, all three of us will congregate in the kitchen, mostly in the mornings and evenings. In the mornings, there’s an air of possibility as we wake up around the table, like that day could hold anything, and that anything is ours to accomplish. Kate gets a little frustrated from time to time, because Chris and I will have our heads buried in a book, magazine, or laptop, and she wants someone to talk to. She is in the right here, obviously; Chris and I make for rude breakfast company on mornings like these. Still, a little quiet time in the morning with a whole bunch of coffee and some Cheerios is not a bad way to go either. The evenings are a little more social.
A lot of cooking goes on at night, hence the title of this post. I have been eating like a king out here. Some days I’ll eat about seven different times. One of the first nights I was here, when Pete (Chris’ musical cohort) was out here staying with us, he, Chris, and I, after a show they had, went to a pizza joint for a slice, then walked across the street and ate some Turkish food. One needs to get all the flavors of this city. And if it’s back to back at two a.m. on a Wednesday morning, so be it.
Chris, it turns out, is quite the cook. Although he has some trouble paring down the recipe for just three people. There are currently six containers of vegetarian Jambalaya in the freezer (we’ll save some for ya, Dustin. It should keep till August). And that is after we went through the leftovers in the fridge that pretty much filled a large cooking pot. Along with the Jambalaya we’ve had some great Thai dishes, and all this stuff is from scratch. None of the bottled sauces or boxed concoctions. And then there is my lame pasta. I need to start pulling my weight. Which, at this rate, will soon be considerably greater.
The neighborhood
There’s not much going on in the immediate neighborhood: a lot of auto shops, small grocery stores, gas stations, and fast food joints. Nothing to really go and do. There is a massive cemetery two blocks from us. When I was in the cab coming from the airport, this thing looked like a smaller version of the skyline on the horizon behind it. Huge. I have yet to walk through it, but it’s on the agenda.
About twenty blocks north is Park Slope, which borders Prospect Park, which is pretty, and absolutely hopping on the weekends: soccer, biking, volleyball, Frisbee, cricket…cricket?! Park Slope is a good neighborhood to hang out in. There are a lot of restaurants and bars. It’s about a twenty-five minute walk or ten minute bike ride. I have yet to find that place to call my home away from home, where the bartender gives me a tab for $6 after I’ve been there for 6 hours. But I don’t really know if I had that in St. Paul anymore. Not since the good ol’ days of the Tap (What up, Ellen? That was that bartender’s name, right?).
Just beyond Park Slope another mile or so is the Manhattan Bridge, which dumps you right into the lower east side, which is where all the pretty people hang out. I’ve never seen so many guys in horizontal-striped shirts and tight jeans and girls with short skirts and tights underneath. Originality loses something in such places, I think in more ways than just the dress code. Still, it’s a fun place to be. Chris has a consistent gig at a place called The Living Room that is right over there, so we’ve been in that neighborhood a few times.
So that’s the run down on my immediate vicinity, and a little ways out. I haven’t ventured to either of the Upper Sides yet. Went to see a free Apples In Stereo show in Central Park—that’s as far north as I’ve been. I went to a poetry reading at Battery City Park, which is right on the Hudson, as far west as you can go, just past Wall St., and you can see the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. That was nice.
That’s where I’m living in Brooklyn. And those are some places I’ve been. And now you know about some of them.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Here We Go
So, it’s taken me a while to start this thing, this blog. I’m finally doing it and am not one hundred percent comfortable with that yet. But here it goes anyway.
Why am I starting a blog? Good question. As my friend Dustin’s blog--blogsareaboutego.blogspot.com--states in the title, blogs are about ego. All writing is, though, and that is a fact that I am coming to terms with as I venture deeper and deeper into my attempts to be a writer. Writers feel that they have something someone else wants to hear. This is egotistical. But, ask anyone who writes and you will get the same answer as to why we write—we have to. It is not really up to us. Like a junkie, if we go without for any length of time, we become irritable or worse, and the need builds until we sit down and get some words out. I have been writing for a number of years and only recently have I wanted anyone, much less encouraged anyone to look at any of it (besides in college where those pesky workshops force you to show other people your writing). I mention this only to further the point that writing itself is less about the writer thinking he has something to say, and more about a need to say something. And so, writing is less about ego (hopefully) and more about necessity.
Blogs, however, seem to be more ego-driven. They venture into journalism and away from artistic endeavors. Journalism means to say that the writer has something to tell a reader. It is not writing for writing sake. But, in the end, you, reader, have that fantastic quality in yourself—free will. It is ultimately up to you if you log onto your computer, check your email, check your bank account, send some emails, read some celebrity gossip, and eventually bring your eyes to rest on this page. This, in the end, is my solace in starting this blog: you can take it or leave it. I accept no responsibility for time wasted looking at this thing. It is your time. Do with it what you please. If you come here, hopefully I can offer you some mild entertainment. Or, at the very least, an update as to my goings-on for those of you who might give a damn.
Moving on.
What you will find on this blog. In the early stages I expect this thing to be a re-cap of my daily events of my life in Brooklyn, which as the sub-heading above implies, may not make for the best reading. (Closed circuit to listeners of The Hold Steady—since I’m living and writing in Brooklyn, does that make me a Brooklyn writer?) This expectation is a result of the fact that this is a big, new city and there is a lot to take in, and therefore, even if I’m not taking full advantage of everything the city has to offer, a lot to tell. And, since I am apparently incapable of sending mass emails, this will offer people who care to know, a place to see what I am up to.
I hope that for your sake and mine that this quickly becomes a place where you can read things of greater importance and of greater interest. What that will be, I’m not sure. Thoughts on books, music, politics, life, love, etc. As noted above, I take no responsibility if the content is actually of any importance or interest. I will try and I will hope. As I figure this thing out—I am not very technologically advanced—I will try to offer links to other things on the web that I find interesting, and which I think you may as well. Like, for instance, my friend Trevor’s blog, http://theamazingpudding.vox.com/. Unlike me, Trevor is technologically savvy, and therefore his blog is filled with videos of concerts and other fun stuff that just make my old computer move at a snail’s pace. He can also be counted on to take pictures at social events, and so, if you need a re-cap of an evenings events—for any reason, see St. Patrick’s Day post—The Amazing Pudding may offer some helpful hints. Two other places I will direct you right off the bat are where my New York roommates/friends can be found on the internet. This goes along with everything I’ve mentioned so far, as it gives an update on me out here and directs you to interesting things on the world wide web. Chris Koza is at www.myspace.com/chriskozaband and Kate Casablanca can be found at www.myspace.com/casanovakate . The living situation out here is one of the best things about this little adventure I’m on. Chris still says some of the strangest things you will ever hear, and getting to know Kate has been nothing short of wonderful. Plus they are both so motivated and doing such great work creatively (Chris is a musician and Kate is a visual artist), that I am forced to try to throw my hat in the ring and get to work on my own art. More on them and the living situation to come.
This maiden post is becoming burdensome, so let me throw in a few last things here and let you go (if you’ve made it this far, remember the disclaimer).
On the name of the blog, This Is How I Love You: I wanted to use a line from one of my poems and this fit the bill. It seems to work since, if you know me at all, you know that I am drastically more comfortable expressing myself with the written word than with those spoken. So, in a sense, this is how I show my love to those who care enough to come see what I’m doing…with my writing. Also, as stated above, lacking in tech-savvyness, I accidentally created another blog when I was trying to make this one (don’t ask). It is www.readingthemrightnow.blogspot.com, which is another line from a poem I am working on, one that I took from Dustin (an act of reciprocity for the title to his blog). Even in what should be mundane emails, he has quite a way with words. I plan on making this a site you can link to for things of a literary nature. What that means, I’m not sure. Don’t go there now. There’s nothing there.
A quick example of why I am the most boring person in Brooklyn: spent my weekend nights this past weekend watching The Last King of Scotland and Pans Labyrinth, rather than going out in “the most exciting city in the world.” And today? Haven’t left the apartment. Spent the day cleaning; making a whole bunch of iced coffee, because it’s disgustingly hot here; then doing this. It makes for good reading, doesn’t it?
Why am I starting a blog? Good question. As my friend Dustin’s blog--blogsareaboutego.blogspot.com--states in the title, blogs are about ego. All writing is, though, and that is a fact that I am coming to terms with as I venture deeper and deeper into my attempts to be a writer. Writers feel that they have something someone else wants to hear. This is egotistical. But, ask anyone who writes and you will get the same answer as to why we write—we have to. It is not really up to us. Like a junkie, if we go without for any length of time, we become irritable or worse, and the need builds until we sit down and get some words out. I have been writing for a number of years and only recently have I wanted anyone, much less encouraged anyone to look at any of it (besides in college where those pesky workshops force you to show other people your writing). I mention this only to further the point that writing itself is less about the writer thinking he has something to say, and more about a need to say something. And so, writing is less about ego (hopefully) and more about necessity.
Blogs, however, seem to be more ego-driven. They venture into journalism and away from artistic endeavors. Journalism means to say that the writer has something to tell a reader. It is not writing for writing sake. But, in the end, you, reader, have that fantastic quality in yourself—free will. It is ultimately up to you if you log onto your computer, check your email, check your bank account, send some emails, read some celebrity gossip, and eventually bring your eyes to rest on this page. This, in the end, is my solace in starting this blog: you can take it or leave it. I accept no responsibility for time wasted looking at this thing. It is your time. Do with it what you please. If you come here, hopefully I can offer you some mild entertainment. Or, at the very least, an update as to my goings-on for those of you who might give a damn.
Moving on.
What you will find on this blog. In the early stages I expect this thing to be a re-cap of my daily events of my life in Brooklyn, which as the sub-heading above implies, may not make for the best reading. (Closed circuit to listeners of The Hold Steady—since I’m living and writing in Brooklyn, does that make me a Brooklyn writer?) This expectation is a result of the fact that this is a big, new city and there is a lot to take in, and therefore, even if I’m not taking full advantage of everything the city has to offer, a lot to tell. And, since I am apparently incapable of sending mass emails, this will offer people who care to know, a place to see what I am up to.
I hope that for your sake and mine that this quickly becomes a place where you can read things of greater importance and of greater interest. What that will be, I’m not sure. Thoughts on books, music, politics, life, love, etc. As noted above, I take no responsibility if the content is actually of any importance or interest. I will try and I will hope. As I figure this thing out—I am not very technologically advanced—I will try to offer links to other things on the web that I find interesting, and which I think you may as well. Like, for instance, my friend Trevor’s blog, http://theamazingpudding.vox.com/. Unlike me, Trevor is technologically savvy, and therefore his blog is filled with videos of concerts and other fun stuff that just make my old computer move at a snail’s pace. He can also be counted on to take pictures at social events, and so, if you need a re-cap of an evenings events—for any reason, see St. Patrick’s Day post—The Amazing Pudding may offer some helpful hints. Two other places I will direct you right off the bat are where my New York roommates/friends can be found on the internet. This goes along with everything I’ve mentioned so far, as it gives an update on me out here and directs you to interesting things on the world wide web. Chris Koza is at www.myspace.com/chriskozaband and Kate Casablanca can be found at www.myspace.com/casanovakate . The living situation out here is one of the best things about this little adventure I’m on. Chris still says some of the strangest things you will ever hear, and getting to know Kate has been nothing short of wonderful. Plus they are both so motivated and doing such great work creatively (Chris is a musician and Kate is a visual artist), that I am forced to try to throw my hat in the ring and get to work on my own art. More on them and the living situation to come.
This maiden post is becoming burdensome, so let me throw in a few last things here and let you go (if you’ve made it this far, remember the disclaimer).
On the name of the blog, This Is How I Love You: I wanted to use a line from one of my poems and this fit the bill. It seems to work since, if you know me at all, you know that I am drastically more comfortable expressing myself with the written word than with those spoken. So, in a sense, this is how I show my love to those who care enough to come see what I’m doing…with my writing. Also, as stated above, lacking in tech-savvyness, I accidentally created another blog when I was trying to make this one (don’t ask). It is www.readingthemrightnow.blogspot.com, which is another line from a poem I am working on, one that I took from Dustin (an act of reciprocity for the title to his blog). Even in what should be mundane emails, he has quite a way with words. I plan on making this a site you can link to for things of a literary nature. What that means, I’m not sure. Don’t go there now. There’s nothing there.
A quick example of why I am the most boring person in Brooklyn: spent my weekend nights this past weekend watching The Last King of Scotland and Pans Labyrinth, rather than going out in “the most exciting city in the world.” And today? Haven’t left the apartment. Spent the day cleaning; making a whole bunch of iced coffee, because it’s disgustingly hot here; then doing this. It makes for good reading, doesn’t it?
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