Jason and I just watched Speaking in Strings, the documentary about violinist Nadja Salerno Sonnenberg. It was a good movie, but a bit vague. My only conclusion is that it must be difficult to make a documentary about someone who is still alive, still harboring secrets. It reminded me a little of Bob Dylan's No Direction Home, where his personal life was almost never mentioned. Sonnenberg's personal life is mentioned, but other than her suicidal attempt, and perhaps even more poignant, the father shaped hole in her life, there are rarely specifics.
In other news, Dan Jackson has left the state. To sate our sadness, Jason and I left several strange and insipid comments on his blog. Well, more than several.
This is probably where we're going to getting married. It's like Las Vegas. It's glitzy and nice and ornamental. The really really fake photograph scenery is both scary and oddly alluring. The best part is, it's three blocks away from our house. No having to schlep to Flushing and to God knows where for the reception.
Now to find the (shudder) dress.
Dan Jackson's farewell party (aka the drone) was tonight. It's a sad, sad night. I've never been in New York without knowing Dan, or in my earliest Sarah Lawrence days, knowing of Dan (there was a student reading involving Dan's "I" piece. If I remember correctly, it was interactive). He's the person that Jason and I hang out with the most. So needless to say, we're dismayed to see him go.
The droning was very nice, however. There were guitars and synthesizers and bells and feedback from cell phones. I kind of wish Jason had brought his guitar and that I'd had my violin (dreaming its endless dream under my bed in Kentucky). But it was still good. Soothing, when it wasn't jarring.
It was good for Dave to show up, too. He told Jason earlier that he didn't have the train fare from Connecticut, so it was a pleasant surprise to see him standing there in Dan's living room. When we left (we had to go early, Jason was kinda tipsy), he seemed to be having a good time. Making new friends. Eating cheese.
This is all very sad. It feels like there's a version of our New York life is ending. Never again will we sit in Dan's living room and watch Herzog movies. Or meet him in Chinatown at that strange little bun bakery with the old men and decaying cat. Or aggravate him by spending too much time browsing at the Strand. Or - anything.
Is this what it means to grow up? Jason and I are working so much now, coming home just to go to bed a couple of hours later. Our lives were more carefree. We had more time to hang out and go places, do things that actually interested us.
Work becomes more tedious at 4:00. Time drags, minute by minute. I am updating the returned mail spreadsheet. Also, utilizing the hole puncher. Answering the phone when it rings. And that's about it.
After work, it's home to feed the animals. No fun for us this week -- we don't have the cash to spare, after I was home sick for most of last week. I'll probably end up watching an episode of Charmed (I got Season 1 a couple of months ago and started watching it when I was sick -- I forgot how much I liked it) and tinker with the internet. The connection was off this morning. I hope it magically fixed itself. I am a firm believer of technology fixing itself.
Maybe I'll read another story from Kelly Link's Magic for Beginners. The first three stories were great, especially "Stone Animals." Her stories are much more polished and complete (maybe a better word is 'solid') than they were in Stranger Things Happen. And the weird qualities aren't so arbitrary.
Jason doesn't home until 8:00 tonight. He has tutoring. I hope he likes his new temp job. Three weeks of filing ... I worked at the same company for two weeks and loved it, but I didn't have to file the whole time. I also fell in love with the beautiful company cafeteria and its amazing $1.99 french toast and belgian waffles. Waffles are always a good idea, but especially when they're only $1.99.
I could be a commercial.
Jason just called me, drunk and lovelorn. Is it wrong to like his drunken exclamations of love? Because I do.
Rue is finally beginning to calm down. No more bouncing off the side of the couch, or running up to Piper and smacking her tail. She looks deceptively zen.
Just to clarify an earlier post: The American version of The Office is a kinder, gentler beast. It only vaguely shadows the original version. I like it very much.
I miss Jason. He's in Dunkirk, recovering from his routine out-patient surgery.
But it's Friday night -- which means no work for three (3!) days. I love Presidents' Day. I've never loved Presidents' Day more. I got my Netflixed copy of Corpse Bride in the mail, the heat is cranked up all the way, and the pets are hyper.
And I'm installing an external hard drive onto this wee computer. After two hours of banging my head (not literally, of course), I think I'm finally figuring out what to do.
There is a plate controversy regarding the wedding reception. Jason's cousin is kindly catering the event for free (calamari for appetizers!), but he doesn't have any dishes. The cheapest place to rent out is the Unitarian Church in Flushing, which has a kitchen, but no dishes.
Jason's mum says having paper (or plastic) dishware at a wedding reception is tacky. My mother says they have paper plates all the time at Hawaii wedding receptions -- including her second wedding to my first non-stepfather. Which means I can have paper plates at my New York wedding.
I don't want to buy 70+ plates. Even if we got them at Ikea, they would cost a fortune. And what would Jason and I do with 70 plates when the event was over?
Arghh.
I wonder how cold it will be tomorrow. I'd like to take Piper to the park -- something I've been meaning to do for months now. Our apartment doesn't catch the morning sun, and Pi sits in a dark home all week long. It doesn't seem fair. But I need to pay bills and develop photos and other such things too. Oh, and at some point I'd like to take more pictures of Manhattan.
I downloaded the first episode of "The Office" (America) from itunes. I'm confused. Is it supposed to mirror the British version? Will everything that happened in the original version happen in the American version?
I certainly hope not. I love the original "The Office," but I think it would be a shame to completely mimic it in this version.
On a more positive note, I finally started reading Shelley Jackson's The Anatomy of Melancholy after about a year of giving it lovesick eyes everytime I passed it in St. Mark's Bookstore. It should be a pleasant shock to the system.
Being an executive assistant is very strange. I feel stripped of myself somehow. I am no longer me. Instead, I'm the assistant. I'm the help. Glorified secretary. I'm the fucking wallpaper.
Don't get me wrong. I've been the wallpaper before. But that was all well and good, because I still had a good sense of who I was beneath the facade (speed reader, pen horder, fiction writer, olive fiend, daydreamer). Now I don't know anything. I write only sporadically, I don't recognize myself in the mirror, and I'm wearing an engagement ring. My hair feels all wrong. I feel wrong.
Leaving the MFA lifestyle has been very traumatic indeed. It was nice to have people take my art seriously. Now people assume that I'm just a cardboard cut-out, good for answering phones and ordering lunch. They yell at me for spelling words correctly -- because I couldn't possibly know how to spell now, could I?
