At Tropical down on the
At Tropical down on the lower east village, then to see Nika Costa.
July 2008
June 2008
Play
Sometimes sneaking into the background
Sometimes sneaking into the background is best.
Watching "Extra"...
…I know…its terrible. Kristin Johnson lost 60 lbs!!! I thought she looked adorable and healthy before. Now she looks kinda scary.
“That bananas have long been the cheapest fruit at the grocery store is astonishing. They’re grown thousands of miles away, they must be transported in cooled containers and even then they survive no more than two weeks after they’re cut off the tree. Apples, in contrast, are typically grown within a few hundred miles of the store and keep for months in a basket out in the garage. Yet apples traditionally have cost at least twice as much per pound as bananas. Americans eat as many bananas as apples and oranges combined, which is especially amazing when you consider that not so long ago, bananas were virtually unknown here.”
—Yes, We Will Have No Bananas - Op-Ed - NYTimes.com (via peterwknox)
Today is my last day at work!
After staffing briefings all day, I get 10 days off until I start the new gig (at a school - i’m hoping they won’t block my Tumblr access, or I may have to quit immediately).
Last night I had a dream that my payout (i.e. my final paycheck for the 4 days worked since the last payday and my PTO payout) was enormous and much larger than my regular paychecks. Sigh. That woulda been nice.
“
Somewhere in North Dakota, there is a town called Owl that isn’t there. Disco is over, but punk never happened. They don’t have cable. They don’t really have pop culture, unless you count grain prices and alcoholism. People work hard and then they die. They hate the government and impregnate teenage girls. But that’s not nearly as awful as it sounds; in fact, sometimes it’s perfect.
Mitch Hrlicka lives in Owl. He plays high school football and worries about his weirdness, or lack thereof. Julia Rabia just moved to Owl. She gets free booze and falls in love with a self-loathing bison farmer who listens to Goats Head Soup. Horace Jones has resided in Owl for seventy-three years. He consumes a lot of coffee, thinks about his dead wife, and understands the truth. They all know each other completely, except that they’ve never met.
Like a colder, Reagan-era version of The Last Picture Show fused with Friday Night Lights, Chuck Klosterman’s Downtown Owl is the unpretentious, darkly comedic story of how it feels to exist in a community where rural mythology and violent reality are pretty much the same thing. Loaded with detail and unified by a (very real) blizzard, it’s technically about certain people in a certain place at a certain time…but it’s really about a problem. And the problem is this: What does it mean to be a normal person? And there is no answer. But in Downtown Owl, what matters more is how you ask the question.
” —The new Chuck Klosterman book sounds like the fucking worst thing ever written. (via fek)
His fiction is so boring and messy.
Earplugs?
So my boyfriend literally can’t sleep at my apartment during summer because of noise from the street through the open window. Anyone have any recommendations for good earplugs?
Please reblog or email me at kristin [dot] l [dot] miller [at] gmail [dot] com. Thank you!
BWHAHAHAHAHA. Poor Sethles.
Stuck in the W Hotel
Stuck in the W Hotel Times Sq. There’s a song on loop that keeps repeating ‘Tres tres chich’ it’s making me crazy!
Winging Dinner
My dinner plans changed drastically when I got off the subway to see the Farmer’s Market still in full (okay, like 1/3) swing. Any excuse to NOT go to Whole Foods and I’m willing to completely overhaul the menu. Tonight we’ll be having (provided I can pull it off):
- Dueling Local Summer Squash (one yellow, one zuke) stuffed with mahogany rice, swiss chard, goat cheese and herbs (home-grown rosemary & local cilantro)
- Sauteed spinach and garlic-greens
- Local Chardonnay
- Possibly dessert from Black Hound!
Why Isn't Anyone Fucking Anymore? →
villagevoice.com
This is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever read.
Daniel Nardicio, the promoter who put on the Memorial Day–eve event, sees himself as a veteran of the battle to bring sleaze to the masses. He’s perhaps best known for TigerBeat—underwear parties held at the Slide on the Bowery, where everyone had to check his (or, occasionally, her) clothes. The city shut down TigerBeat in 2004 by orders from the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene, citing complaints about sexual activity.
Since then, Nardicio has been a nomad, exploring various venues. He’s had bathing-suit parties at a Turkish sauna on Wall Street; organized a road trip to Atlantic City; and tried out a Chinatown photo studio, other Lower East Side bars, and, most recently, the meatpacking-district loft space. His themes always brush the far end of good taste: For Memorial Day, he gave out Fleet Enemas. So he doesn’t blame the authorities for the lack of sexual license as much as a fundamental change in the attitudes of gay men themselves.
“These things are ending because people don’t want them anymore,” he says. “People are spoiled, petulant, uninteresting. I’ve been throwing outrageous parties again and again for years, but the only time I was busted was at the Slide.”
Like everyone else these days, Nardicio blames the Internet for the lack of public engagement. Even so, he adds: “If people wanted dirty, raunchy parties in New York, it would happen. But people don’t want it.”
“If people wanted dirty, raunchy parties in New York, it would happen. But people don’t want it.””
Ummm…try inviting people. I never got no raunchy party invites. I’ll fill his guest list.
Play
Cancelled Regional Morning TV Shows →
mcsweeneys.net
My all-time favorite McSweeney’s list.
