November 2011
2 posts
Today at Home.
I woke up at Pirooz’s. He is sweet. We’d gone on a date to see Martha Marcy May Marlene. It was intense and raw and crazy and afterward we had Mocchi Ice Cream. Then we slept and woke up so early that it feels like it was a week ago. I went to work at Radish, where I bake once or twice or three times a week. I got a long burn on my right arm; I made applesauce and baked two tall...
Yesterday at Ashbox.
Dear, Often, when I am alone, I think of all sorts of things to write about. I think about what I am up to lately, things I like to eat, and that special moment where you garner a certain lonely and selfish feeling of being in your 20s.
I am a server deep down in Brooklyn, near where the Brooklyn Bridge leads into downtown and around where quiet streets where people walk their dogs and millions...
October 2011
4 posts
Intimacy
A mouse and a frog meet every morning on the riverbank. They sit in a nook of the ground and talk.
Each morning, the second they see each other, they open easily, telling stories and dreams and secrets, empty of any fear or suspicious holding back.
To watch, and listen to those two is to understand how, as it’s written, sometimes when two beings come together, Christ becomes visible.
The...
The day was here when we said, "The day is finally...
I was in bed with the light on. It was around 7pm. I wasn’t going to sleep, but resting in my room in the only place my body fits right now; otherwise the floor is packed with suitcases and bags of serving and baking dishes from last week’s baby shower.
I was on the phone and fumes were being gassed in my breath. The post office had repackaged a box I’d filled to the brim with...
Hey guys.
Hey people. Hi. I’m here outside. Right out there. I’m at a cafe. Champion. It’s 4:00p.m. and it’s October 10th and it’s 75 degrees. I’m in navy silk shorts with pocket flaps and an equally silky top with jagged stripes. We are in Brooklyn. About me: I have a trail tonight - I am hoping to secure some work as a server as a means to ends and means to beginnings....
August 2011
2 posts
Things to cook in Utah.
Angela asked if I would help with a baby shower. I might. She wants to make:
A ribbon cake. I want to make: hand-pies, panna cotta, cream puffs, macarons.
My dad is insisting we are “invited over for dinner” to his friend Troy’s, where I will be doing the cooking. My mom pointed out that that is like asking her to go to a party where she could nurse the party guests. He tells...
Irenian.
It’s Monday. My last Monday at the diner. On Friday night, after the day’s 241 cover take and having made several desserts—I made more still by simmering evaporated milk and mango juice and adding in sheets of gelatin. That would be for one of the finale dinners in our series of “FareWells” dinners, a way for us to make more money and cook, still, whatever we wanted.
...
July 2011
3 posts
The Bib →
Lackadaisical.
The New York Times →
This review, to me, is how I read old Ruth Reichl reviews years ago. Okay, 2 or 3 years ago. I gripped her books in my knuckles and read them cover to cover, some before I moved to New York and less after. She was a wonder to me; I wanted her job and her palate and to go to the places she went and to see them as she did. As the NY Times restaurant critic her reviews were romantic, tasteful,...
24 Still.
Hello there. It’s me, visiting from beneath 25. Still down here for two more days until I am a mid-twenty officiant. Where I will, no doubt, wonder if I’ve wasted too much/not enough time.
I’m a fraud. A word fraud, a… once articulate person. And though I’ve promised to keep documenting I’ve found myself on several occasions coming home from work, entering my...
May 2011
1 post
Memorial Day (by way of 6 months)
I am dead center on a couch in a Queens high rise. It’s the second tallest building in all of Queens, and normally my bosses live here. They have an impressive collection of, in my opinion, very French things and artwork I like. I look at a painting done in neon and bright acrylics and think I am that cherub in that tulip with my arm extended to poke the pink snake’s underbelly. The...
March 2011
1 post
Jane
Dear Mom, It’s late in New York City. It feels too normal to be here; writing to you from the Upper West Side. I walked through an aisle of Easter candy today and thought about bowls of jellybeans and my Easter baskets and the lovely glow of that front room with the white couches that you picked out. The “nice” room. I miss your soft, sweet voice and your poofy bangs and your...
February 2011
2 posts
And these are my friends.
These are links to special, kind of secret, serious and prank-style “exclusive” brunches at Brooklyn’s darling butcher shop.
You may read about them here: (one of the courses is pizza wrapped in tin foil, served with a Miller High life)
http://blog.zagat.com/meat-hook-brunch-what-to-expect
And here:
http://quickandcurious.com/2011/02/brunch-at-the-meat-hook/
Where one course...
I used to sleep.
I’m certain of it. In Reno in the Fall, in Salt Lake City in the Summer, and never in New York. I’ve spent more red-eyed nights here than I’d like to admit; tonight is absolutely no exception.
Perhaps this lack of sleep contributes to my bosomly philosophy that no news is good news. It can be assumed that everyday I live under beautiful skies and eat eggs and greens with Matt...
January 2011
5 posts
I always do the opposite of what I would advise.
In the days before I left Reno, I would get in my car when I noticed the sun was setting and drive west. I knew the sky in New York looks much different than it does over the Sierras at sunset, and I wanted to be sure I was soaking each second of them into my skin so they would set up a home in one of my heart quadrants. I’d loop around on I-80 and drive in the same circle, watching the...
86 + 25 = 111 and birthdays in general.
Yesterday my mind my blown. Per usual, my day started by turning on some Sheila E. and thinking about going for a run and getting coffee, then maybe doing some work. Before making any moves, I plopped down on the couch (that comes with a view out the window of midtown and the Chrysler building), checked my usual news sources, CNN, NPR, The Times—and then on to my latest favorite: facebook.
...
Homer Says.
I feel like the fig is a recurring theme in my life. I will take this time to mention that when sliced in half, a fig looks like some well-maintained female parts. Moment gone. Below is something lovely.
Here luxuriant trees are always in their prime, pomegranates and pears, and apples glowing red, succulent figs and olives swelling sleek and dark. And the yield of all these trees will never...
December 2010
7 posts
Alta.
Alta is my bosom buddy. I’m sure I’ll collect more, but dang, girl has got this one all tied up (there might be a third, Natalie, but I can’t include her until she approves of this title). I’m willing to grab a bosom gang. The Bosom Gang Gaggle. I guess “gang gaggle” is redundant, but we are poets and don’t care. I feel like collecting bosoms is of the...
We begin this journey with a heartfelt photo.