Buzz Buzz

Cold and rainy weekend. Friday night was happy, as in University sponsored happy hour in the West Village, made even happier by free drinks. They won't fund the Masters Students but if we start a club they have all this money available. Ours is not to reason why. Ours is to order free vodka tonics and talk about school.

Friday was special because I got to see some of my old Masters Seminar compadres. Every 1st year Masters Student has to take a seminar on How To Be A Graduate Student. We all bonded over deconstruction theory and the shared experience of going deeply into debt in the name of a career that may never pay us anything. Our last class was a six hour marathon in which we all delivered our papers over wine and Chinese food. It was the sort of experience that one simultaneously misses desperately and hopes never to repeat.

I lost touch with far too many of them. One in particular. Mikka was one of the few who I saw outside of class. We had an abortive adventure in Long Island last fall, involving the Gin Blossoms, a Yankees game that ran over, and a train we needed to catch far too early. Good times. Anyway she was there. And Mike. And Spence came. Each time I have a fun outing I feel the residue of this past summer finally slipping away. It's hard to be social when broke and stressed.

I made up for being social by not leaving the house at all this weekend. Bad weather kept us in. Plus I spent half of Friday night getting eaten by mosquitoes. Our new apartment has torn screens. Fun. Worst place to have a mosquito bite? The pinky knuckle.

Tea, Pizza, Cocoa, Mansfield Park, Netflix.

Just A Perfect Day

Fall is a good time to be in New York. Especially considering how miserably hot this summer was. S and I were sitting in Washington Square Park on Friday, after having cappuccino and chocolate mousse cake at this Italian place (R dubbed it The Pane and the Chocolate in lieu of actually pronouncing the name), and he said, “I hate days like this because they fool me into thinking I don’t hate New York.” And he’s right. In the summer, the heat makes everything worse. The subway platforms, the missed garbage pick-ups, the people everywhere. Everything smells. On a really bad day you end up showering at least twice, because you come back feeling like you’re coated with grease. By the time August hits, and you’re waiting for the subway on a platform that is ten degrees hotter than it is outside while watching two rats fight on the tracks, you think that you’ve had it. New York has beaten you.

And then the weather cools. And somehow the sidewalks don’t seem so crowded. The smells that cut through the air aren’t of sweat, and urine and garbage, but of roasting nuts and coffee and sausages. And you’re aren’t running from air-conditioned place to air-conditioned place, so that if you have an hour to kill you can sit in the park, and pretend to read while you watch the dogwalkers try to keep their leashes from tangling, and nannies running after toddlers, and listen to a parkbench debate between NYU professors.

On Friday S and I went shopping for new spectacles por moi and ended up meeting up with friends. Indian food on the Upper West Side, and drinks in the East Village. I end up being taken so many new places for food, that I never remember the names of restaurants. Since I moved here I’ve been to dozens of places to eat but I can only remember about ten. This place at really good samosas and served food out of these adorable copper dishes. At Odessa’s we met up with a bunch of students from the English department and talked about pollution in Mexico City with a first-year Ph.D who’s from there over the cheapest wine I’ve ever had here. It’s funny. We live 30 minutes outside of Manhattan but because we get Unlimited Monthly Metro Cards we end up seeing far more of Manhattan than before. Still it’s nice to leave at the end of the day. Hop the F train, nod off slightly and then go home and sleep.