Tis The New Year

And so, yet another year bites the dust.
The events that collided that made up the past year of my life are beyond poetic pontification, but upon further thought processes, I realized just now that 2009 may have been one of the most important years of my life.
I moved in to my very first apartment with the man of my dreams and his/our two cats. We have a balcony and beautifully enormous windows that fill the entire apartment with sunlight. We live a short walk from the park, which is nestled against the river and flanked by two impressive bridges.
I graduated college, I got a job in a restaurant in the middle of Times Square that I actually really like a lot, I started acting again and started putting things in play for my career, and have kick started what seems to be a promising career in art.
I experienced the death of someone who meant a lot to me for the first time.
I made my first diner from scratch and it was delicious.
I stared myself in the face in a way that I haven't needed to in the past and made some mistakes and learned from them and felt like my heart was breaking and filling up all at the same time.

In many ways, this is the beginning of a new age.
I can just feel it in my bones that I have crossed over something in my life, where childhood is a nostalgic fantasy and the future doesn't have a definitive horizon line like it used to.

It seems fitting to me that on the eve of this passing year, I signed up to allrecipes.com and am overwhelmed with excitement about the potential meals I will cook, somewhat as a mini-resolution.

Goodbye, 2009.
You were an excellent friend, and you will be missed.

Bring it on 2010.

Bring. It. On.

The "Cheer Up" Series

Junction of Toulouse and Bourbon, New Orleans


Pirates Alley, New Orleans


Frenchmen Street, New Orleans


It is currently 19 degrees in the outside world.
The walk home from the subway with flowing vertically into my face somewhere around 50 mph was dreadful...especially since that is the exact same way I started the day.

Winter depresses me to the core.
I get so depressed, so jittery with cabin fever, and so generally stifled that it feels as though there is no hope, as though no light exists and there is no tunnel.
There is only winter, and cold, and grayness that never seems to go away.

And so, on this mortifying, all-encompassing tangent, that mythical "light" at the end of the tunnel just happens to be the almost incomprehensible city of New Orleans, Louisiana.
For those who have never gone, it seems that there is a sense of desperate desire to travel there. People who don't personally know anyone to have made the leap still have this strange, dormant urge to make the journey there, like an unquenchable thirst.
Boyfriend and I went there over this past summer. I had received a large sum of money for graduation, and instead of doing anything reasonable with it like...savings...I decided to blow it all on a dream vacation deep into the heart of darkness...The One and Only Big Easy.

New Orleans is not a picture, and it is not a long, rambling love letter, and it is in no way a postcard. It is an experience into a completely different universe, where the people are so friendly it is almost frightening, the food is so good you want to punch yourself in the face, and you can drink outside without any harassment...because drinking outside is legal.

In this first segment of my "Cheer Up" series, I posted 3 beautiful pictures of New Orleans that are the most appealing to my eyes. I judge this on how my eyes seem to melt into something that I find truly beautiful. These pictures seem to capture a lot of the sentiments I felt when I was there. As I stare out into Queens in my less-than-legally-heated apartment, I yearn for those rambling walks through the humidity soaked air, hearing the tinkling of music coming from somewhere and knowing that oysters and Abita were in my immediate future. Walking through Jackson Square at night, where you pass at least 5 different tables where people sit and claim they can tell you the complete version of your fortune for only $15, where the Mississipi River is just up the road, and there is just this sense that you've entered a zone of beautiful madness.
Something opens up in your heart...maybe it's the colors, maybe it's the heat, or the general sense that hedonism is bubbling very close to the surface in these parts, but it's something that stays with you for a very long time.
Someday I'll travel back there, and stay for much longer than a week, and then see if I ever wind up leaving.
At this point I would bet not.

Thoughts & Thoughts & Thoughts....thoughts...

Honestly, Tavi Gevinson amazes me.

I remember when I was 13...terrified of my own reflection, let alone any thought I came up with without any particular back up from a particular source.

Her bravery, as a 13 year old, is something my 23 year old self admires.
Wisdom occasionally comes in packages, without copious heartbreak and without years of misery.
Sometimes wisdom has nothing to do with bitterness.
Sometimes it has everything to do with the bravery learning.

In this age of precociousness and hopefulness, I fully appreciate a girl who is able to be honest amongst a throng of "peers..."

who couldn't see beyond their own reflection.
Who loved something and, according to some vial of online information, had to have her parents fully informed in order to fully appear in a magazine article.

I admit I haven't done my research, and I try to cover my ass with pleas of rent and phone bills and health care, all of which fall on shoulders that shouldn't, and although I digress, I can't help myself because ultimately this is my brain stem and I am growing tired of filtering my own thought process.

No one reads this anyway.

I remember a time when I had it in my brain to organize a beach trip between myself and the two closest people to me at the time, my two best friends in the whole world. We went to the beach, the New Jersey Shore, and my mother had to bring my 7-years-younger little sister along for the ride. The trip as a whole faded somewhere into the mistier corners of my brain...

but one morning....

none of us could live with going home to the mundane existence of Yardley, PA without a true, real experience.

So one morning, the three of us and some chaperon....
I honestly can't remember which of the 3 mothers it was...
came with us to the surf of the great Ocean at Sunrise.

We laughed hysterically and made morbid jokes and kicked at the rushing surf while the infinity of youth remained untouched.
The sand melted underneath, and the laughter lived on, and even the perpetual reminder couldn't kill us then.
Life went on forever
...and the sun rose...
and I swear to a god I don't quite believe that I will remember that 'vacation' for the rest of my life...
because it included people who aren't with us,
and it included a portion of myself who no longer exists.

It took something beautiful to remain as a memory in order for my own living perspective to continue on.
The more years you accrue, the more pain it takes to keep the message.


Regardless...
I digress...
I digress...

Monday in the Snow

It snowed somewhere around 18 inches the other night.
When my job released me out into the world, my immediate universe happens to be Times Square. Seeing the entire metropolis covered in a blizzard was really surreal and beautiful. People were swarming all over the place, snow stinging their faces, throwing snowballs and laughing. Sometimes this universe is beautiful.

Regardless.

As our money grows towards getting a camera, all of my previous obsession with photography has swarmed my soul again and I spend hours hunting down every image I can on the internet. At one point in history, mainly the 60's and 70's, photography was a thriving part of the artistic community. Perhaps it's the advent of the internet's potential to catapult nearly anyone and everyone with a faint interest into global exposure that somewhat killed it off, or maybe it was the introduction of the pixel, and the whole digital age.
Somewhere, the "art" of it was lost.
What was so explosive was the concept of taking a medium, film, that was only what it was. It was a process involving light and chemicals. It was not for the impatient or the flighty. It was not something that someone could take a slight interest in. It was selective. In a way, it selected you. If you didn't have "the eye" you knew right off the bat, and you would be damned if you would spend another day of your life trying to develop an image that wasn't extraordinary.

Edward Weston was one of the first photographers to really capture my entire sensibilities. The image of the bell pepper is so brilliant in its obviousness. This is clearly a man who was born an artist. Given the strenuous and costly aspects of photography at this time, ideals of grandeur ran rampant. To see an every day object, an edible one at that, and see beyond the usual adjectives to see into the beauty of its contours, and to then be able to capture the humanistic aspect of those curves, is pure genius. Weston's sensibilities seemed to peer beyond first sight and able to delve into that rare second glance.

The Completion

Today I went to EIS to present to Audrey this beautiful .jpg, taken by a most benevolent and kind fellow artist. Her appreciation and excitement about this project is inspiring.

It's also kind of cool, because a PR guy from Marymount, my ex-college, came to talk with me about potential New York News 1 coverage and even coverage in Philadelphia, since Yardley is basically considered Philadelphia to the rest of the known universe.

It's amazing what a small idea can turn into. I never in my wildest dreams thought that this concept would be appreciated by anyone else but me and Audrey.

In other news....I can't stop listening to the Stones, particularly "Beggars Banquet" and "Their Satanic Majesties Request." Anyone who owns a "Best Of" album needs to be smacked in the face.
The Rolling Stones are more than "Paint It Black" and "Satisfaction."

And so, the day rolls forth into freezing temperatures and jobs as a Hostess in Times Square. Let's see what further adventures may unfold...

All I Want For Christmas...

...is everything Gemma Slack has ever created.

Today's Muse

Freja Beha Erichsen is a Danish model who I just discovered today by my sporadic forays through The Internet.
I love women with a strong and unapologetic sense of who they are, especially when that is maintained through a career that can easily suck your soul out if you let it.
Yet another example of how individuality reigns.

(a special thanks to the "fashionleaka" blogspot for the second Freja picture!)

Art

During this year's month of September, I embarked upon a rather interesting project.
In an acting class I was taking in Philadelphia, my acting teacher gave us all a quote to help further our personal capabilities:
"boldness has genius and magic in it."-Goethe
It stuck with me, and inspired me to go forward with an idea that had been filed away into the dusty corners of my eternally buzzing brain.
During my last semester at college, I took a service learning class which required a minimum of 12 hours time spent over the course of the semester working with a Non-Profit Organization called EIS: Eviction Intervention Services. Since I didn't realize that I had signed up for something that required me to do more than doodle in my notes and spew out elegant BS on quizzes, I was somewhat upset. I didn't see how I could fit a few hours a week into my already bulging schedule, but as I also didn't have the emotional fortitude to go and switch classes, I just took it as a lesson to read the fine print next time.
I truly believe this is one of those situations where the most unexpected and somewhat distressing situations can really turn into something that changes your life a little bit. EIS is one of the most amazing organizations I have ever come in contact with. These people work long hours for a very insecure amount of payment, all to forward "homelessness prevention." EIS works with people who are at the end of their rope, who are about to be evicted from their housing either through unfairness of the landlord, or through faults of their own. These people come seeking help, fully admitting the error of their ways, and ready to cast any prideful foolishness aside in the hopes of keeping their homes.
One day, I was stuffing envelopes for an upcoming event of theirs, zoning out and staring at the clock. A woman came in and, due to the lack of sufficient office space in their tiny basement establishment, the woman had to have her meeting with the pro bono lawyer at the conference table in the middle of the room...with me at the other end. Her story was heartbreaking. She was a recovering alcoholic who had alienated everyone in her family, lost years of her life, and I believe lost the custody of her daughter. She finally found a way out of this deep, dark hole and now had to face the fact that her rent was overdue and her landlord had had enough. To have this woman, this complete and total stranger, have to relay the private details of her sad and troubled life while some bleary eyed college student is stuffing envelopes, trying politely not to be noticed, is a situation I can't picture from the other end. And then it occurred to me that this is a typical day at EIS. This story is just one in a million, which is the core of their foundation, the reason they wake up in the morning, just like the rest of us. Except instead of fighting off the afternoon haze with some absent minded internet browsing, you have to sit in a large room and have someone break your heart.
Sitting in their windowless and somewhat depressing waiting room one morning, the idea to give back to them came fully formed in my head. The head of EIS, Audrey, and I had been talking about my plans after college to paint a mural in some sort of lower-income area that needed something cheerful. While that plan fell through, I decided that the idea itself shouldn't get lost in the shuffle and so, new Goethe quote in hand, I called up Audrey months after I had been in her office and proposed my idea to paint a picture for their waiting room. She responded far more enthusiastically than I could have ever hoped for, and in a flurry of mild press (my college's alumni magazine did a brief interview with me about the process) the painting is essentially completed! A few details will be administered tomorrow, and then...it's complete.
It feels really good to be doing something that I believe in. I'm not getting any profit off of this project. EIS has offered to reimburse me the materials I needed to acquire to make it happen, just the canvas, some paint, and some paintbrushes, and here we are. It's going to be strange to not have it sitting around the apartment anymore, but I'm extremely pleased to know that it will be doing some good in the world.

Holly Golightly and The Brokeoffs

12.10.09
Holly Golighty and The Brokeoffs.
My dear friend gave me their cd on my birthday this summer, and I haven't stopped listening to it since. In fact, it has snowballed into one of my favorite listening activities.
Holly Golightly has had a singing career completely independent of this collaboration, and is worth listening to on her own, however the addition of Lawyer Dave into her musical universe has produced some of the coolest, darkly beautiful music that comes swinging out of a dark, shadowy corner of your favorite saloon.
Holly Golightly's voice is unique and memorable. It has a sort of twang to it that indicates this is the type of music she had in her for a while. Lawyer Dave's voice compliments hers, balancing it out with his lower notes, and suddenly your head is spinning.
Their show was ridiculously amazing. The fact that my crew and I shoved our way right up to the front of the stage probably had something to do with it. Holly Golightly plays the guitar, and sings her soul out. Dave, however, is a force of nature. He sits, plays guitar with a slide, plays the drums with his feet, and sings. With his eyes closed. Wearing a vest and a tie. I don't understand how a human being is capable of being a one-man band, unless they have some octopus ancestry...which shouldn't be entirely ruled out.
Every single song they played erupted shouts and dance moves. I can honestly say I danced their entire set. It was impossible not to. The banter between the two of them was absolutely hilarious, as they seem like the weirdest two people to hook up and thank satan they did.
I must say, this is easily the best live show I've ever been to in my life.
Hail Satan!
Hail Holly Golightly and The Brokeoffs!

She Keeps Bees

12.10.09
She Keeps Bees as the final band in the "Opening Act" section of the Holly Golightly and The Brokeoffs show.
To be honest, I'm never the type to seek out the opening bands, which is largely unfair being in a burgeoning band myself, however a quick myspace music page hunt yielded gold. I was hooked at the first power chord, the spine crunching drum beat, and the dark, whiskey vocals.
She Keeps Bees is made up of one part Jess Larrabee, guitar and vocals, with one part Andy LaPlant as the driving percussion. The second they start playing, there is no escape. It drives your body into dance-like convulsions, or, if you choose to keep your cool, a very dedicated head nod.
Jess rocks out like she's been doing this her whole life. Andy dissolves into a cloud of perfect beats that pump the song through you like a good drug, and suddenly it's like New York in the 70's is alive again.
The band, Jess specifically, has drawn comparisons to Cat Power, Janis Joplin, etc. The Cat Power reference to me seems largely because she's a girl and has the same haircut...and I think it's a lazy comparison at that. She Keeps Bees has got a dirty, grunge edge that isn't trying to be anything else than what it is...a breath of fresh air in this Glam-Rock-Androgyny studded universe that is recently clouding the stratosphere.
This is a band to follow.
I am in love.

Aaron Siskind

Aaron Siskind is, in every way, one of the most influential artists for my personal aesthetic. He took the very broad medium of photography and was able to wield it in a way that wasn't standard. Siskind can technically be considered a street photographer, however his artwork was more about the secret universe that is so easy to pass by on a daily basis. Peeling paint, rust, the edge of an old graffiti mark are given their say. Siskind was able to show us the door to the world we barely knew we were missing, teaching us to slow down a little bit, to abandon the thoughts of swift categorization and to simply accept things as they are, as they come, without question or answer. Dirt isn't necessarily ugly, and if you take the time to look just a little bit longer at the world around you, suddenly things start to reveal themselves as so much more than initially suspected.

Boyfriend and I have been saving up to buy a Canon Rebel, and so I feel that it is necessary to be reminded of the vast potential photography has to offer. Photography has always been something I love to follow but have not quite done on my own.
I got one of those excellent little Holga cameras from the Lomo people, but it's mainly collecting dust these days as I have trouble getting the film developed.
It's worth it to figure out though...the Holga photographs are so beautiful and unique, very grainy and always full of surprises. It will be interesting once our arsenal grows.

Today is a day for families.
We're going to Long Island, and Creedance is helping me bustle myself around the apartment in a half-daze of hangover thought leftovers.

I feel somewhat concluded on previously frayed edges.

Today reigns hopeful.

Pontification

I realize that I have started something I don't quite know how to finish. In many ways, I am the only one reading this thing.
In many ways, I want it to stay that way so I can remain as honest as possible.
In many other ways, however, I know that to do any of this, to place my thoughts in such a public domain, means that it is somewhat crucial to have other minds prying into this world that I am laying out on a plate.

It's a strange sort of dissection, where the the view comes from both the edge of the scalpel as well as the flesh looking up at it. I'm seeing them congruently.

I wonder where this will go...what will become of this electronic diary. Maybe it will be something great. Maybe it will just be another fleck in the vast expanse of The Internet.

Maybe something.
Maybe nothing.

Friday

Tonight, I am filming a scene as some sort of "Upscale/Arty Type" in the BG of this in-production movie:



It seems that everyone in the entire world is in this, with theatrical heavyweights such as Paris Hilton and Derek Jeter.

I woke up thinking about this:



Maybe I'll impose this philosophy upon my cats.

It Begins

This shall be my brand new toy.
Nice to meet you, universe.