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It’s September tomorrow but it already feels and smells like fall in NYC.
School kids sleeping in while they can. College coeds moving in, rolling those big plastic bins down the sidewalk. Checking under the bed for sweaters. Missing lazy weekend afternoons sunning in Central Park. Goodbye summer.
| Maybe you’re afraid of sinking. Don’t think about it. If you don’t think about it, you won’t sink. If you do, you will.
- Mao Zedong |
The problem with treading water is that you don’t really go anywhere; you are lucky if you just stay in place. Things move back and forth, without any resolution: all you know is that you absolutely do not want to go down.
Doing absolutely nothing in Central Park makes me really happy.
(11:55:25) Tim: WOW
(11:55:26) Tim: Don’t marry career women
(11:56:09) me: i guess that’s why rich men just go to strip clubs all the time
(11:56:18) me: unless they are considered ‘career girls’ too…
(11:56:28) Tim: they make more than $30k right?
(11:56:36) me: yeah
(11:56:40) me: not sure about the university degree
(11:56:49) me: i bet Forbes is going to get a ton of letters about this article
(11:57:02) Tim: why haven’t i seen the shitstorm yet?
(11:57:42) me: that’s alright with me. if guys don’t want to marry me ’cause of a career, i probably wouldn’t want to marry him anyway
(11:57:59) me: there was a shitstorm when the Times ran a similar article a few months ago (a year?)
(11:58:05) Tim: it’s because you’ll be a homewrecker
(11:58:10) Tim: you homewrecker
(11:58:26) Tim: and you lack childbearing hips
(11:58:27) me: i know, you’ll have to watch out: i’m going to sleep with all of my male coworkers
(11:58:33) Tim: so you’re definitely out
(11:58:41) me: because i obviously cannot contain myself if i am let out of the kitchen and around the male sex
(11:59:51) Tim: i’ll say it proudly yet again. foot binding is true love
Today I felt depressed that summer is nearly over.
I just want to fall asleep outside in the shade, next to a body of blue water, for a nice long time.
I came back from work today and had the sense that someone had been in my apartment. The door to my fuse box was slightly ajar, which is odd. The pink Financial Times that usually sits on top of a pile of magazines and papers on the kitchen table was next to the pile. Were things this way when I left, did I really just forget what my apartment looked like in my morning haze? It didn’t feel right in my head.
Last night (or maybe it was this morning, I couldn’t tell), I was floating in and out of sleep and dreaming. I was in bed and there was an old skeletal man lying next to me, on top of my new covers, with his eyes closed and snoring, breathing. He wouldn’t stop and it drove me mad, then scared by my own madness.
This stuff never ever means anything.
When in the world did Pitchfork get to be big and an authority?
I remember reading Pitchfork back in the day, in high school (7 years ago??) when it was a small bootleg operation. Being an insufferable elitist in high school, I thought that Pitchfork was exciting for what it represented: the non-mainstream. Me and my “cool friends” would talk about the albums in the morning when we showed up to school. I would stay up late talking to my crush and boyfriend at the time, and we would joke about the time of night that the new reviews would be posted (it was usually around 3am Eastern time.)
College came and Pitchfork picked up steam, as did the community around it. Meeting Pitchfork people at the local shows in NYC was an exciting novelty. I was the fifth person to register on the original Pitchfork Smackdown message board when it opened up in 2001 (should I be embarrassed about that?) and probably spent way too much time on there for the next two years or so (I definitely should be embarrassed about that, though I did meet some very cool and interesting people.) Then I sort of fell off the Pitchfork bandwagon in the second half of college…
I guess it wasn’t an overnight thing, Pitchfork growing into this internet phenomenon: it’s something that’s been rolling for the past few years. I mean, shit, they got an interview with Thom fucking Yorke this past month. If you proposed that scenario five years ago, even the Pitchfork faithful would have snorted in their milk. Though its magnitude changes depending on whom you ask, Pitchfork’s influence in the music and hipster circles has undoubtedly grown to the point where it can launch a band and inspire vitriol from the internet community, and sometimes even in the same breath.
It’s cool to be a hipster now, cool to be uncool, and with the growth of places like MySpace and online blogging, it’s even easier to pronounce your uncoolness. I don’t know whether Pitchfork is riding or pushing it along but it’s placed itself firmly in that wave.
I’m thinking these days that being a hipster is too exhausting and takes too much effort… to make it look like you’re, err, not making an effort… err, hrm.
You know what sucks? Getting your site hacked into by some lameass hackers and then having to delete and reinstall everything.
To quote a very wise man: I SWEAR TO GOD I’M PUNCHING EVERYONE I SEE FOR THE NEXT HOUR
This glorious Saturday afternoon was dedicated to our favorite Canadian, Trish.
The Moth Man was out.
Who knew that spending 5 hours in Sheep Meadow could be so exhausting?
Fareed, reclining.
Trish and Fareed, contemplating this week’’s Economist
Yay
“How does this work?”
BBQ at R.U.B., perfect ending to a day in the park.
Tim is thinking about bbq chili cheese fries.
Fareed tackles his dinner.
yum.
