Missy | August 29, 2006

Walking home from work tonight–dare I even say it, as it is still August–I was chilly. I’d already gleefully pulled out my slippers from under the dresser the other night. (And I’m sure my downstairs neighbors love the sounds of kuh-sleek kuh-sleek kuh-sleek on the wooden floors upstairs as I walk around.) When I got home this evening I slowly put myself into a sweater–to see if I started sweating of course; I didn’t–as well as the new favorite boots that have been sitting in the corner, taunting me for the last couple of months since I got them, and then I hit the town.

I’m a little bit of a sucker for boots. Shoes in general, I suppose–just this morning I discovered a pair that I forgot I owned, even though they’re fewer than 4 months old and they scarcely left my feet for the first few weeks I had them. And they’re going to go out of season soon! I need to hurry up and wear them.

(As another example: Love, thy name is Stella. I don’t know about you, but I don’t got 695 clams laying around. Much as I love shoes, that kind of money is better put towards savings. Or a new camera lens.)

Remember these boots? I created a photographic triptych and accompanying essay around those boots. I’ll be honest, I don’t wear those boots as often as I’d like. But I think we’re entering the rainy season so I am prepared. Also, fox hunting season. I long for the days of good, solid downpours just so I can go out and jump in puddles in those boots. Except not when I’m walking to work in white pants, which won’t be for much longer because white after Labor Day is a faux pas. (Please, pronounce it as I do, “fux pass”. A small handful of you may know the origin of that pronunciation.)

Sorry for the possibly annoying fashion-y post. I’m a girl. Except for maybe the jumping in puddles part.

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Missy | August 25, 2006

I don’t need to see the movie. (Not like I was planning on it anyway.)

I like to think that I’ve loved fried worms since the first grade. But, there’re too many three-syllable words in this book and in grade 1 I was still reading about Pug. (”Run, Pug, run.” I wonder if they used commas like I just did. I suppose the nuances of punctuation came later.) This book, along with this one, are not actual remnants of my childhood bookshelf but are instead finds from about a decade and a half ago when my local library was purging old books. Let’s hope that these were replaced with newer printings. Oh, and by the way? My mother was equally ruthless about getting rid of our old stuff as well, which is why I was happy to reclaim these books when I did. I do still have a sprinkling of Judy Blumes on my shelves but, sadly, no Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing or Superfudge, none of Beverly Cleary’s Henry & Beezus/Ramona Quimby (remember little Sarah Polley as Ramona in the Canadian television series? No?)

Not that I ever go back and read any of the books I do have, mind you. Except for Tiger Eyes.

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Missy | August 20, 2006

Finished the Saturday NYT crossword. This almost never happens, which is why I celebrate it here.

I’ve been a little bit too much consumed with work lately. It’s partly my fault; I have a difficult time saying no and, trust me, I’m working on that. It’s part of my development plan. You may think I’m joking, but I’m not.

I haven’t even had much time for watching season 3 of The Wire which, as you probably know, is something I feel very strongly about. I come home at the end of the day and the last thing I want to do is, really, anything at all. You could tell as much by the appearance of my apartment and the extent of the stacks of mail and papers and magazines, as well as the clothes and shoes thrown about every surface of every floor and piece of furniture (appliances such as the refrigerator were exempt): What’s that pair of pants doing on my computer? Hey, there’s a flip-flop in my bed. (It’s like I’m taking out my exhaustion on my clothes; I’m angry at them for having to be worn.)

Meanwhile, I’ve been meaning to alter a bridesmaid dress, something I know I should pay someone to do except that it’s probably getting too late and I can probably do it if I just sit down and do it, but I keep forgetting. This could be ugly. (I find it especially aggravating when I give someone all my measurements and they say, “That makes you a size x“, and it turns out size x is three sizes too big (no exaggeration). Isn’t it your job to know my size.)

So yesterday, I didn’t do that alteration, but I did do my cleaning chores (an activity I find relaxing), and I did do the crossword (another activity I find to be relaxing). And I got my nails done. That is it. That is all I could do. Still, this morning I woke up with a left-brain headache.

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Missy | August 13, 2006

Hazy Statue of Liberty as seen from the Red Hook waterfront (except this is a crop from a 2240×1488 resolution photo shot at 70mm focal length; in other words, she’s further away than I’m leading you to believe)

There are these two old, old dudes who hang out sometimes in front of my building. Not sure who they are or where they come from, probably one of the buildings on my block, but they’re always having a conversation in stereotypical lifelong New Yorker voices, which is to say, it sounds like they are yelling. Today it went a little something like this (yelling): “We need flour, and sugar, and wine, which is fucking sugar.” I don’t know. Last week, I walked by and one of them said, I swear, “There’s your girlfriend.” I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be insulted, since we know the colloquial form of that phrase is pretty much the opposite of flattery. Regardless, it made me laugh.

I’m finally getting off the “Should I get a bike?” fence. I’m getting a bike! I settled the matter when I was talking to my friend Laura about physical therapy for my wonky knee and she offhandedly mentioned that one of the things that can help strengthen certain muscles (so that my kneecap doesn’t get pulled by the dominant muscles) is to ride a bike. Okay then. (I’m still scared to ride a bike in the city, I admit.)

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Missy | August 10, 2006

Stencil, Summit Street footbridge over the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway

Lately my apartment has been rattling. I couldn’t convince myself that I was just now, well over a year after moving in, noticing the traffic on Atlantic Avenue, or feeling the reverb from the blocks-away BQE. Awhile back I began noticing an excess of boxes down in the trash room, which I deduced must be the result of my downstairs neighbors’ impending (now happened) wedding. They always used to have music going but, though I could never specifically make out that music (only the beat, especially when I would lay my head on my pillow after a long day/night), they are sweet and look like the kind of people who have decent taste and so I let it slide. Plus my speakers sit directly on the floor, so I’m sure I deserve some of it coming back at me. Recently, however, the boxes revealed a new arrival: a bombastic entertainment system, complete with a television as big as about three of me. Seriously, I could have built a swell fort out of that box. Even after happening upon this evidence, I still couldn’t figure out why they’d be watching programming of revving motorcycles or movies of volcanos all the time…until it occured to me that something worse was likely afoot: video games. Jesus.

Tomorrow my old boss and boss’ boss are coming into town. In an email exchange to finalize our meet-up plans, my only request was that I be in a well-enough condition to get myself home to Brooklyn at the end of the night. That’s how we roll. (Also, I’m seeing them for the first time since I moved because I am a terrible person and have yet to visit DC. My DC flag t-shirt needs to be revoked.)

Listening to the new TV On the Radio, I’m still really into that male falsetto. But as you get deeper into the album, though still choral, the percussiveness starts to take over. Such intelligent music! I think we’ve just found the thing that will unseat Ghostface…

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Missy | August 3, 2006

“Balls” is right. As in, “Hot as”. Red Hook, Brooklyn.
(I swear, I did nothing to enhance the color in these recent street photos.)

More lots of things, some dance-related:

Kristin “Kip Winger” Sloan, an NYCB corps dancer whose blog I discovered last year, has started vid-casting on top of all the guest blogging (it’s out of season, so there’s not a whole lot of dance going on).

My friend and occasional dance teacher Ezra got a mention on New York public radio today for this photo, which is at nearly 1,100 hits. Nice one, dude. Speaking of which, my 15,000th Flickr viewer came and went without me noticing. Thank you. And thank you Flickr for forcing me to take this hobby more seriously. I still suck, though.

I don’t know what to make of Park Slope Mommy except to say that mommy has been hanging out with the babies for too long and is in serious need of a copyeditor. I want to beat her with those semi-colons; however, I am a fan of the semi-colon when used properly.

Sorry, there. The heat that was supposed to break this evening is still hanging around and making me bitchy. My AC can’t keep up and I sit with a fan six inches from my head, sleep with a fan six inches from my head, and still I want to die.

There were other things….Oh! Two things that I am looking forward to: the DVD release of Season 3 of The Wire next week, which means I won’t leave the house except to go to work–and, who knows, I could even back off of that decision–and also TIFF. You remember TIFF. The thing on which I spend a ridiculous amount of money annually and end up sleeping through? Well, I’ve got a new plan this year, and it involves zero midnight films and zero East Asian films, unless I am particularly keen on the director. And, I’m considering the avant garde route this year. Only funny or intensely cerebral things can happen now. (Sicinski and Stults, I’m your girl.)

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Missy | August 1, 2006

Union Street, Gowanus, Brooklyn

Sheezus chroist it’s hot. Sweaty. Can’t stand it. It also gives license for everyone to run around in what amounts to little more than underwear, which explains why I’d actually go out in public in tiny terry American Apparel shorts. It’s too hot to care. Listening to a lot of Cat Power lately because a) it’s too hot to listen to anything louder, and b) nothing coming out these days is any good. (Ignore my sidebar. Also, I don’t yet have the new TV On the Radio.)

I popped over to the DCeiver today and re-discovered the annual event that I always forget about until I read about it on someone’s blog, the appreciation for the two things that most of the time don’t go together–politics and hotness (the latter being questionable in this case), the publication of the Hill Hotties. I’ll concur with the winner; I mean, I couldn’t stop looking at those shoes. (Main site here.)

Elsewhere in blogs: an endearing tribute to the original Bad News Bears, at the expense of the remake. A fun read.

And, Michael Showalter: funny guy. “Gang-raped by a gimp” is maybe my new favorite phrase.

Finally–and I’m late in linking to this–GammaBlog interviews street artist Elbow Toe, whose art has made frequent appearances in my Flickr photos and whose art I should have bid on at the sale/auction at ABC No Rio last week. (I also think a minimum bid of $2K on Swoon’s pieces was not unreasonable and if I hadn’t shelled out enough cash in recent months for other, probably unnecessary things like new boots and TIFF tickets, I would have considered bidding. Although it would have hurt.)

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