Listening:
"Forgiven/Forgotten" by Angel Olsen. "If there's one thing I fear / It's knowing you're around / So close but not here / So close / Oh, but not with me here / So close / But not with me here"
"New York" by St. Vincent. This video is good.
"Milestones" by Buddy Rich. I love this song in all forms and iterations. Birdland in it's entirety is really groovy too.
Reading:
This week brought to you by The New Yorker's humor section—
The Dark Truth Behind the Making of Pumpkin-Spice Lattes
As a bonus: For the Rock Star, Love Has Finally Landed. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for reading the Weddings section of the New York Times. It's like my inner romantic is constantly trying to melt the nonchalant/fear of rejection/un-celebratory parts of me. Anyways, in a long and winding path, I found my way to this wedding from a year ago (I went to get lunch at Eleven36 and was looking though their Instagram page and saw this photo and went to the source and it had to do with this sweet and magical love story with a record store and a musician and long distance and triumph).
“Matthew floats just above the earth,” said their officiant, Ms. de Wilde. “I think that he needs someone like Emily to help bring him down to earth and make the ground less punishing.”
Craving:
There are rare times in life when I do not want chocolate cake. So as a celebratory treat for my successful move to New York on Saturday, I got myself a slice of Brooklyn blackout cake from Cinnamon Girl. It was light and rich, cakey and puddingy, I could hardly savor it—I completely devoured it.
"Blackout cake, sometimes called Brooklyn Blackout cake, is an American chocolate cake filled with chocolate pudding and chocolate cake crumbs, and frosted with chocolate icing. It was invented during World War II by a Brooklyn-based bakery chain named Ebinger's, in recognition of the mandatory blackouts to protect the Brooklyn Navy Yard."
I think I could make it my quest to find all the best blackout cakes in the city.
Wearing:
It's like I have a uniform. Stripes. Denim. Slip-on, solid-colored shoes.
I'm ready for fall gear, though the heat seems to have followed me up north thus far. Lusting for layers. Scarves. Jackets. Boots.
Watching:
Keeping up with: "This Is Us" (crying and bonding); "Project Runway" (so much drama and twists this season!); "The Deuce" (entertained but not entirely sold).
Recently viewed: "The Meyerowitz Stories" (typical Baumbach—lots of laughing and cringing)
Want to see: "Blade Runner 2049" (positive recommendations and Gosling); "Mindhunter" (I like Jonathan Groff and David Fincher).
Treasuring:
My cat. Considering the variety of sensitivities he has (loud noises terrify him, knocks on the door terrify him, plastic bags terrify him, the presence of most large men terrify him), I was hoping for an okay experience driving 12-13 hours straight with his company. Turns out he's a phenomenal travel partner. He was patient and quiet and easy—he never made a single terrible noise! We chatted, I sang to him, I cried to him, I felt so grateful for his companionship.
A majority of my life was spent wishing I lived elsewhere. I made it out of my hometown for a few years, then found myself back—a stay that was longer than anticipated. Yet, this last stint was one of the best. I made some of the most amazing relationships. I felt joy and excitement and satisfaction. I discovered so many things about the place and myself. What a relief (and some serious heartache) to leave on such terms.
My feet in Florida.