And then.

Glorious, brilliant New York! What’s not to love?

Shock and awe, brimming with promise.

Kelly and Jacob turn 61 and celebrate with mealy shrimp, government issue cod and Soviet Union potatoes at an unnamed Chinatown/Lower Lower East Side eatery.

Ohio time warp– $1.75 gas!! (and that was the pricey stuff!)

Good times and sweaty night terrors had by all in the George W. Bush room at the Golden Lamb Inn.

No better place for unintentionally euphemistic or otherwise random and wacky signage than the heartland. There’s a sad dearth of it in Manhattan. Like babies and old people.

What I’ve been doing since I’ve been gone.

I went home.

Twice.

I helped launch Ben 3.0.

I got pink eye.

I got robbed.

I fell in love with New York all over again.

Still going….

I had 2 more best friends bite the dust– I mean get engaged.

I went to the Interesting 2008 conference and learned that laughter is related to our fight or flight response.

I went to the After Nature opening at the New Museum and got very disturbed.

I rediscovered the power pop awesomeness that is Nada Surf.

I went to Venice, CA to see my lil’ sis. I went to Seattle a few times.

I saw Man on Wire and wondered where my singular passion was (again), I saw Vicky Christina Barcelona and wondered why I’m not waiting tables in the south of France like I always said I would, I saw Batman IMAX and wondered what took me so long.

I signed up for a public speaking course at NYU, yet another example of me inflicting pain upon myself for the sake of….????

I got in the pitiful habit of eating 3 meals at my desk.

I lost sleep over the possibility of layoffs following the demise of our biggest client Wamu.

Which brings me here….

Yeah, hi, I’ll take a medium iced coffee, a blueberry cheese danish and an insult to my intelligence. THANKS.

fat free water

Originally uploaded by thenavigatrix

Oh my god, have I been drinking full-fat water this whole time?!!? I hope it’s at least been low-fat… I must buy all my water from Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf from now on. But oh shit, are they in New York or just the west coast?? Must buy cases while in LA and ship them back east so as not to get fat ass and cankles.

Favorite Things…

1. Jose Gonzalez at the Fillmore. Just magical.

2. $150 cross-coast one-ways. (The other side of that coin: hour and a half taxi rides to JFK, missing your flight, hour and a half taxi rides to Brooklyn, rebooked and subsequently canceled flights on 2 different airlines the next day, getting stopped at security, finally securing a middle seat in row 96 and finding you’re #30 in line for take-off).

3. Call Zingo, a new concept in designated driving. Fully-insured, attractive (Flash intros don’t lie) drivers arrive at bar of your choice on COLLAPSIBLE MOTOR BIKES, stick the bike in your trunk, drive you home, expand the bike, and scoot off to their next client, all for a $20 base charge + mileage. (Awful logo but) neato website to boot.

4. Then We Came to an End by Joshua Ferris. Catch-22 meets Office Space at a bar and runs into American Psycho on their way back to her place. I can’t read a chapter without thinking of the “goddamn fucking shitty paperwork” cartoon that gets me every time (“One hundred forests must be cut down!”) so basically I can’t go a page without laughing my face off. I can’t find it on the internet but will scan asap.

5. A mid-morning weekday walk to Tennessee Cove in Marin with the sage and lovely Nicole Burke.

6. “Ocarina” by Birds and Batteries. Best when consumed while flying through the San Francisco hills in 15-year old stick-shift Saab with sunroof open and windows down.

7. WiFi at Farley’s (but still no free refills).

8. 2 words: Lonni’s Punani.

9. 60 Minutes and Sunday Sushi. The ultimate aphrodisiac tranquilizer.

10. Um, um…!

Favorite Things Friday.

1. Tinderbox in Bernal Heights. Dinner consisted of the following: white shrimp and cheese grits with candied maple bacon in a vanilla-scented balsamic jus; crispy tofu noodle soup; char 2 ways (smoked and slow roasted and tartare on a cornbread blini); a bottle of Assyrtico from Santorini (“full-bodied with background notes of jalapeno and smoke”– definitely unique but a lot lighter and sweeter than it sounds) and the above pictured dark chocolate cake with molten blue cheese center. Oh and popcorn sprinkled with nutritional yeast, parsley, chives and butter to start. I fully plan to repent these sins another time.

2. School night poker parties!

3. Long, early-spring walks to nowhere listening to Radiolab podcasts. Also- the canopy of flowering trees on outer Folsom.

5 . The only real mail I get these days are Christmas cards and wedding invitations. This whimisical-chic YSL wallet makes me smile.

6. MGMT, “Oracular Spectacular.” Something’s (finally) astir in Brooklyn again.

7. Coffee Bar on Mariposa and Bryant. A cup of Kenyan blend and an almond croissant in the AM and a glass of their amazing South African white in the PM.

8. Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City and Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt. Modern classics I finally got around to reading.

9. Coincidentally opposing color exhibits at MoMA (“Color Chart: Reinventing Color, 1950 to Today”) and the Met (“Jasper Johns: Gray”).

10. Pandora’s Zero 7, Guster and Rodrigo y Gabriela radio stations.

Favorite Things Friday.

1. Spork, on Valencia and 22nd. Namely the roasted brussels sprouts and calamari appetizer, the friendly, respectful staff and these tiny cookie sandwiches that came with the bill. A nice little Hamburgler nod to their previous life as a KFC.

2. Cat Power, The Greatest. I’ve been listening to it nearly non-stop this week for some reason.

3. Spy Valley Sauvignon Blanc.

4. These fun little memory sticks.

5. Cajun Boy in the City’s conversations with God and Dealbreaker diary entries as fake Goldman trader “Thad.” Reaffirms my decision to twice date San Franciscans while living in New York and my belief that the Caribou Club is the 3rd rung of hell.

6. This German park in the shape of a giant human ear, courtesy of Metropolis.

7. The Elements of Style illustrated by Maira Kalman. Flipping through it helps me drown out the noise of a rough day at the office. Or in life.

8. These building blocks that help Chinese children learn questionable English.

9. The awesomely aloof, emotionally detached Jillian from Project Runway. She’s gonna take it all, I don’t care what Project Rungay says.

10. Origami on steroids and Amy Tan at the TED conference. Pretty much all the write-ups from TED. If anyone has $6k and wants to sponsor my attendance next year, holla back.

4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days

4月3週又2天 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days

Originally uploaded by foxKMar

I took a “me” day on Tuesday while in New York, spending the morning at the new Grey Dog’s Coffee on University (an eerily exact replica of the one in the village, picket fence and all… Grey Dog’s lost a bit of what I naively thought was authentic charm), browsing the stacks with fellow bookworms at The Strand, taking a vigorous yet soothing afternoon yoga class at Jivamukti, wandering through the West Village talking on the phone to an old friend about my indulgent, perfect New York day while indulging in a perfect piece of New York pizza. I strolled over to the IFC and bought some Dots and a ticket to see the Palme d’Or winner 4 Months, 3 weeks, 2 days, which quickly succeeded in shattering my la-di-da mood into a million pieces. My actually educated and very cultured boyfriend wouldn’t see “the abortion movie” with me back home in San Fran (like my “suicide music,” a love of dark, pensive movies with subtitles isn’t something we share), and I was looking forward to learning more about the “new wave” of Romanian realism I kept hearing about but my god, I was wholly unprepared for this kind of raw, unnerving intensity. Set in Bucharest towards the end of the communist era, 4 Months is gripping and bleak, a cold-toned film about a young woman trying to help a friend get a late-term illegal abortion. It’s a raw and unsparing portrait of power, helplessness and the lengths one will go to for friendship and I was so deeply unsettled by it I couldn’t stand to part with the comforts of my furry winter coat, just sat there for 2 hours with my knees pulled up to my chest, sweat pouring down my back. When it was over I practically ran out of the theater, desperate for air and light and to be in the company of loud, happy people. I walked back to the apartment, immediately got into bed and turned Millionaire Matchmaker and all the lights on. Truly disturbing but so, so well done (4 Months, not Millionaire Matchmaker).

Waverly Schmaverly.

Met a former co-worker for a drink and light bite at Graydon Carter’s notorious Waverly Inn last night. I didn’t think you could get in without a famous name, Black Card or bobble head full of blond extensions but apparently he lets the little people have a drink (A drink—just the one!) at the bar early on Tuesdays. Our dapper neighbor on the bar stool next to us wore a sharp 3-piece suit and spent an hour sipping amber cocktails and furiously scratching something into the inside cover of a book with a fountain pen (a love letter written in a handsome hand, surely). It was a winter wonderland outside and the subterranean, nearly empty bar felt especially warm and cozy. We caught up, had big glasses of wine (our delightful bartender Doug’s “MOST favorite/expensive wine on the list”) and warmed our hands and toes by the roaring fire. We couldn’t have been happier with our choice.

And then sometime around 7:30 things started to SUCK ASS. We decided to eat at the bar. That was our first mistake. I attempted to order a bowl of the New England Clam Chowder. (I’d had a 5:00 snack attack at the office and inhaled 5 Chips Ahoy cookies so wasn’t famished, and the weather was making me crave something rich and creamy. I was actually really looking forward to the soup. When was the last time I had clam chowder? Puuuurfect.) “And for your entrée?” “I think I’ll just start with the soup and see how I feel, I’m really not that hungry, thanks.” “You can’t place a second order, I have to put it all in at the same time,” he huffs. Fed up with us already, he walks away without letting Ann (or me, turned out) order. He cools off and returns, pad in hand and eyebrow cocked. I’m normally not intimidated by waiters with attitudes– I actually quite relish the challenge –but I somehow was made to think that I truly was not allowed to only order the clam chowder. I was breaking a serious New York social code/law. Uncomfortable internal turmoil ensues. “I’ll think I’ll have the chicken pot pie.” “And to start?” Now he’s really starting to piss me off. “That’s it.” “Fine. I’m done trying to sell you the crabcakes or the tartare. Clearly not going to do any good here.” He snatches our menus away, ripping mine out from underneath my elbow and sending my nose into my wine. Doug’s strange spell over me abruptly broken, I realize that the noise level has jumped 10 decibels and I turn around to discover our cozy little hideaway packed with women in leopard print coats and slick older men. Some cheesy-looking dude drenched in juniper cologne is yelling in my ear and giving me a sinus headache. A woman with big eyes and bad skin reaches through Ann and I to give “Douggy” an air kiss. “Kendall Darling” commands his full attention from then on. We order more wine and I find I can’t hear Ann above someone yelling to Doug, “Dude, what’s that?” “An absinthe fountain.” “Sweeeeet. Give me 4 of those.” We take a pass on Doug’s “first and second favorite desserts on the menu” and pay the bill, leaving way too generous of a tip, afraid of having to come back for a client dinner or engagement party and finding ourselves blacklisted. I feel ashamed of myself for not stiffing him completely; it feels like the pot pie in my stomach is shaking its meaty little fist at me. We don’t even get a thank you. We never hear another word from darling Douggy, actually. And here’s the weird thing (not that this should matter, but in a place like this it always does…): we were a couple of attractive, well-dressed blonds in our late 20s with time and disposable income to spend. We drank well and Ann even had an entrée! (his “SECOND favorite/most expensive entrée,” the pork chops). Who knows what we did to deserve such foul treatment. I almost could have gotten over the nightmare crowd but Doug’s special kind of service was inexcusable. 2 thumbs way down, and that pot pie was friggin’ good.

Forcing myself to get over it (or– Random cool stuff in NYC).

I didn’t actually spend my whole weekend in New York crying, I did manage to get out and see a few cool things. Okay sometimes I did both, so sue me.

#1. Julian Schnabel’s pink townhouse. There are few words that accurately describe the fantastic, fairytale grotesquerie that is Schnabel’s Palazzo Chupi. The above photo doesn’t come close to doing it justice, and not just because my camera’s a piece of crap. I was expecting to be shocked by the color, which I wasn’t (it’s not Pepto-Bismol or Bubblegum pink as the mags and blogs described it, it’s more of a washed cherry), but I was BLOWN AWAY by the architectural heinousness of it. Imagine if Donatella Versace and Paris Hilton collaborated on an extravagantly gaudy, 11-story Italian villa and then decided to paint it pink and plop it down on top of a 3-story historic West Village stable building overlooking the Hudson river. I wasn’t expecting to hate it– I’m pretty open-minded about these things– but good lord, it is god-awful.

#2 Lower East Side coolness. No, the Lower East Side isn’t what it used to be, but there are still good times to be had.

My insatiable sweet tooth loves this place.

PawnShop– gallery posing as an old school pawn shop. Tiny but oh so cool.

TG-170, one of my 3 favorite clothing boutiques in NYC. 9 out of 10 visits I’m there browsing their wares just for creative inspiration.

Also– Cake Shop for a coffee and a muffin. Every girl about town’s gotta take a break sometimes.

#3. Dinner at The E.U. (photo courtesy of NY Magazine). I have a slight (okay, maybe greater than slight) obsession with the design shop AvroKO and begged my friends to pretty please come with me to check out their new restaurant in the East Village when I came to town. Good friends that they are they obliged, and we had a lovely, classic New York-in-February meal under big windows that began at 9:30 and ended somewhere around 4 hours later. Service could have been better (“abysmal” per Jonah… I didn’t really notice), but the food was excellent, wine reasonably priced and atmosphere everything I was hoping. I couldn’t take my eyes off their gorgeous light fixtures.

#4. The Morgan Library. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’d never been to the Morgan, despite working 3 blocks away in the Empire State Building and having a best friend with an apartment around the corner. Maybe since I associated the neighborhood with work, I was always trying to evacuate the area as quickly as possible once the work whistle sounded, and wanted to stay far, far away on the weekends. Said friend with apartment around the corner had embarrassingly never been either so we decided to grab the shame by the horns and go on Sunday– and we were STUNNED by the beauty of the space. Forget the exhibits (though the current Irving Penn portraits are spectacular), the tall, airy atrium, original library and basement auditorium are what you go for. Even the glass elevators are cool! Well worth the $12 entrance fee and overpriced café lunch.

#5. Sol Moscot optometrist on 14^th and 6^th. True, Sol’s seriously lacking cool factor, but I have to give them a shout out for their always-incredible customer service. I love that they quickly pulled up my original file, gave me a new hard case for free and are replacing the lenses in my pricey sunglasses for $50. These are the guys who gave me my Chanel eyeglasses for the cost of the other no-name pair I was considering because they saw how much my heart (but not my wallet) was set on them. It’s one of those old school New York institutions that just make me happy.

Favorite Things Friday.

Churro & ChocolateOriginally uploaded by Steve Kay

Things I love right now…

1. “Idiot Boyfriend” by Jimmy Fallon. Recently rediscovered and every bit as hilarious.

2. This Utah viewing platform designed to curb (quite literally) speeding and drivers falling asleep at the wheel on a particularly dangerous straight stretch of I-80. (Thanks, Metropolis.)

3. Paste magazine. Who doesn’t love free music every month?

4. Spaghetti with red sauce, cinnamon and cheddar cheese. I guess it’s a midwestern thing. It’s my new comfort food.

5. Esthetician extraordinaire Nicole Burke. She’s the cool, hot, NorCal earth mama you pray your boyfriend never meets.

6. Losing 2 hours of my life to CostCo makes me want to guzzle a family-sized jug of Clorox but god DAMN, those dollar churros are good.

7. Double-features at the Parkway Theater in Oakland.

8. 11am weekend Vinyasa classes at the Valencia St. Yoga Flow with yogi/drag queen Jehfree Spirit. Pretty much anyone named Jehfree Spirit is alright in my book.

9. My fantasy (as in: something I coveted but would never in a million years own) watch the men’s Hermes Cape Cod, given to me for my birthday by my partner-in-crime. I still can’t believe I own something so beautiful.

10. The barrage of emails I’ve received in the last week about my 10-year high school reunion…. JUST KIDDING! What is the deal!? Make it stop!