Sitting on the subway, shaking the water off my umbrella, I saw this:
E.B. White Here is New York "There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something... Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion."
Part of the reason I don't blog here as much anymore is that I have become addicted to facebook. There, I said it. Sue me, myspace. I simply like it better over there. Feels more intimate for some reason, even if people throw chickens at me.
But the real reason I haven't been blogging is that I've been vlogging. I know "vlogging" is such an annoying word, but I don't know what else to call it other than "a little video rambling," which sounds, well, ridiculous.
Anyway, this is all just to say that I thought you might want to check out my vlog over at www.crucialminutiae.com (my writers group's website).
I spent one whole hour yesterday on the perimeter of Gramercy Park, standing in the sun, feeling its warmth on my face, enjoying spring weather in the dead of winter. It was fucked up, but glorious, kind of like eating a piece of a deep-fried chicken with honey, delicious, but artery-clogging, free radical hell. Enjoy global warming, but be aware.
I love the New Year. It's sort of silly, I know. Has anything really changed? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I have a clean slate, a chance to start over, to be new.
This year, while I was watching fireworks with friends in Brooklyn, unbeknownst to me, a stranger was spending the New Year with me...
Your book was both the last book of 2007 and the first book of 2008 that I read. Which means, I started it around 7pm yesterday (12.31.07) and finished it after the ball dropped this morning (1.1.08). I guess that also means it took me a year to read, but not.
What I'm trying to say is: I LOVED your book. I really, really, really loved it. I so appreciated everything you shared and the way you shared it and you carried me through the whole story all night. It left me hopeful, and relieved.
I'm glad the Internet is alive at this hour so I can say, thanks. And happy new year.
--Rachel
Thank you, Rachel, and to everyone else who has read my book, to everyone who has reached out to me, to everyone who connects with my story.
I was in Minneapolis the week before last and saw Jeff Garlin from Curb Your Enthusiasm speak at a Fundraiser. He was slightly thrown off by the 10-year old sitting in the third row, but other than that, he was outrageous and funny and insecure and neurotic, everything you would expect him to be. He opened the evening with a joke about how men shouldn't boast about how big their penis is, they should boast about how clean it is. He went on to say he had a very clean penis. People laughed. He continued to talk about his wife, about traveling, about the show. He had a whole bit where he impersonated various people in a conversation and then made fun of the fact that all his characters sounded the same, even the woman. He often forgot where he was in his story or what joke he was setting up and tried to make that charming. Then, not knowing what else to talk about, or how to read the crowd, he asked for the house lights and opened the floor for questions. Someone asked him how he liked working with Larry David. Someone asked him, "Having never seen the show, and being in theater, I was wondering how you auditioned for the show and what the process was like for you?" Jeff got a kick out of that one, the earnestness made him giggle. But my question won hands down. I raised my hand high, straight back, and asked, "How do you keep your penis so clean?" Jeff busted out laughing, along with everyone else. 1500 people! I've spoken to 200 people before, performed in front of 300 people, but never 1500. It was a small moment, but it gave me a taste of what it would be like to rock a stadium, and I liked it.
Recently, I've been trying to figure out what's sexy to me and thought this evening would perhaps illuminate some secret, hidden desires lurking in the recesses of my vagina. That's not what it did. It ended up pushing me, challenging my comfort zone, making me look at all of my good girl/bad girl issues, which I thought I had put far behind me.
I admire people for being bold, for going to the edge, for being fearless. I'm definitely bold, but I'm still working on being fearless and finding my edge.
