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January 11, 2011 · 7:05 pm

Baby, it’s cold outside!

: snowpocalypse 2010

On Christmas night, my dear friend and ex-bandmate from The Merch Grrls, Charlotte Eerie, visited New York City from London. After my delicious, filling, meat-less holiday meal and her long, fatiguing flight, we rendezvoused at our old neighborhood quaffing grounds, Black and White, on 10th Street between 3rd and 4th Avenue. I extinguished a cigarette after only a few drags, and dropped the remains into the dented metal pail hanging in a corner of the smoker’s recess under the awning before stepping into the warmth of the votive-lit bar and my friend’s tight embrace. Our bartender, a mutual friend and a wry writer with dark, disheveled humor and hair, poured our mixed drinks. He mingled witty repartee into our gossip and convivial conversation while an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. (Plug: Check out Richard Allen the first Sunday of every month at Black and White for Fahrenheit, a five minute open mic for writers presented by the Antagonist Art Movement.)

Comfortable in old habits and hangovers by the next morning, we sojourned to our favorite diner, 7A Cafe, (where the front windows conveniently framed our favorite “dive” bar, Niagara) for our regular brunch as though a year had not passed. While we devoured our usual orders of vegetarian eggs benedict, mimosas, and coffee, snow began to fall outside. After eating, we attempted to brave the already vast and intimidating snowpocalypse. First we tried taking a cab uptown, however when the car drifted and hydroplaned on the wet road, we opted for the crammed subway at Union Square. Before that week, both Charlotte and I struggled with the superflu on our respective coasts, but, upon her arrival, we pretended the virus was not severe because we wanted to see one other. However, as soon as we trekked back to the apartment, Captain Trips (read: Stephen King’s version of the flu) flourished like the onslaught of the blizzard raging outside. Since Snowmageddon and sickness barricaded us indoors, we settled for a slumber party. Continue reading →

Try kinda hard to make it not look like you tried at all

"Yellow Hair, you are such a funny bear"

Focus is not my forte. I do want to prosper, and I feel such a strong sense of accomplishment when I reach my goals, but motivation is sometimes difficult. If I take small steps and limit myself to having only one to a few goals at I time, I am usually more successful. For example, six years ago on New Year’s Eve at the urging of vegetarian and vegan friends, I resolved not to eat anything that once had flesh. Now, I am a meat and potatoes girl from the Midwest, so the first few months I suffered terribly. My then boyfriend and my college friends chastised my decision since it was neither for moral reasons nor health benefits, but my resolve was firm. Up until then I never stuck with a project for long, and because it was a new year, and I dreamed of a new life, I chose that one random task to prove myself. After all, if I could give up meat, I could do anything. Today, I rarely crave it.

In 2009, after learning guitar basics and attempting to write my first few songs, I signed up to sing and play them at an open mic at Nightingale Lounge, a sleek and elegant bar on Second Avenue between 12th and 13th Street. Although the meager regulars were polite and supportive, my hands and voice trembled with wild abandon, and I felt as though my throbbing heart plunged dejectedly into my acidic stomach. Even after about 25 shows, my knees still knocked together and proverbial butterflies still fluttered around the remains of my heart in my tummy. I lamented to my ex-non-boyfriend (in NYC a non-defined relationship may nevertheless end in rejection) that although I tried to portray confidence, the stage fright was relentless. Continue reading →