Tuscan weekend fun

Weeks of anticipation finally give way to chestnuts, films, excessive giggling, torrential rains, fog, real estate, lashings of hysteria, A. In short, bliss.

Dumplings and two-for-one vod-poms all night long

As a birthday should be.

My thoughts exactly

Community-based furnishing

Had quite a mix of people over last night to see the place. All guests were required to bring a useful household item, of which I am in need. Just as in traditional societies where the entire community pitches in to build a dwelling, so did I call upon my friends to, as it were, mix dung and mud into a sticky consistency to spread over my thatched walls.
Included in the haul: A lovely sponge and scrubby thingy from W, some Hale family heirlooms back from N, funky martini glasses from A, a printer from M, ecological napkins from V, and an enlarged picture of a famous pop star from S (pictured):
Then this morning I took delivery of two new roommates:
Got them from shady Russians on 28th st. who insisted I pay in cash. No doubt smuggled out of central Africa to finance some insurgency. But they're pretty!

And note, no bamboo. Yet.

Of Montreal

Saw these guys tonight, hoping that Kevin's glam-rock theater of the absurd would translate into a fantastic live show.



It didn't. Just a jumble of confused metaphors lacking stagecraft, showmanship, and--critically--musical talent. And not for lack of trying--there were ninjas, tigers, gallows, and even a real live Lady Godiva-esque white horse. But it never amounted to anything, just came-off as self indulgent, even masturbatory, art school crap. Oh well.

The City Taketh; the City Giveth

Spent the evening running around town in a GIANT rental truck picking up various used furnishings I got on the internet. Absolutely terrifying . Fortunately the lovely M was along to provide moral support and muscle.

The last item of the night was an office chair. I had returned the truck by this point because I could easily wrangle a rolling chair on the subway. Went to the yuppies' house and bought their chair for a pittance. But I had barely rolled it half a block when I come across, on the curb, a superior chair! One of those high-tech ergonomic sitting machines that Anne-Marie complains Princeton wastes all its money on. After ascertaining that the chair was in fact abandoned, I added it to my herd and rolled down 15th St, sheparding my charges like some modern-day goatherd.

Before I get even half a block more I am stopped by a frat-boy / banker-type man who says, wow, what a nice chair and asks me if I would part with it for a sum of money. I decide that the sitting-machine, while valuable and ergonomic, is a bit too 'corporate' for my grad-student decor. And I quite like the other chair anyway. I say yes. He asks how much. I say the first number that pops into my head. He pulls out his wallet and gives it to me. He takes his chair and rolls one way, I take mine and roll home. And now as I write this I am reclining comfortable, enjoying excellent lumbar support. But I can't help but think what it would be like with the one that got away...

The Crib

I have a new place! Many of you have been pestering me for details about it, presumably because you take an interest in my life. Or maybe just because you want a nice place to stay in NYC. I suppose they're not mutually incompatible motives.
With flagrant disregard for the democratic process, I now live on 48th street in Hell's Kitchen. The neighborhood lays to the west of Times Square and takes it's name from the centuries of gang warfare that took place here. In cinematic term, the area's ill repute began with Gangs of New York and ended with West Side Story, both of which were set in the 'hood.
But Midtown proved too close to allow HK to remain uncivilized, so once Giuliani ran the pornographers out of Times Square, the gentrifying masses swept West to the tree-lined streets of tenements beyond. The result is quite a pleasant if somewhat neutered residential neighborhood where yuppies and Puerto Rican abuelas live happily side-by-side. The lack of edgyness is somewhat compensated by the corresponding lack of strutting hipsters. This is my spot in it:
I found this abode thanks to M, who used to live next door. The real tenants have moved to Ireland and so are subletting to me at their very attractive rent-stabilized rate. I just love American socialism. Yes it may be illegal, but it's also the only way one can live on this island on a student stipend!

The apartment is on the fourth floor, the top. It peaks up a story higher than the rest of the buildings on the block, so gets some great views of Midtown. You can also climb up the fire escape to the roof for expansive vistas.

The living room:

The living room with visitors:
The boudoir:

The Liliputian kitchen:
Regin confronts the bathroom / the gaping maw of the inferno:
As you can see, I need things. The apartment came rather unfurnished and so I've composed a wedding registry-esque list of home furnishings to acquire. Feeling very domestic. High on the list is a sofa (would-be visitors, take note!). This is basically all I own in life:
And the TV was left here. If anyone wants it you're welcome to it, though it has been working well as a bench.

So, in sum, I am very pleased with this place. Provided I don't get evicted, it will be a good base for now. Come visit!