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Archive for the ‘Feelings’ Category

In about 6 hours, I will hate the snow.

But right now, nothing is more beautiful.

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August 2nd sensibilities

It’s August now, and so palpably not July.  It’s not quite the end of summer, but I wistfully sense the dwindling of those carefree, floaty, distinctly-summer celebrations.  The big music festivals are over, Hamptons share houses are down to their last few weekends, and drinking wine out of colored plastic cups in Central Park is starting to feel like an endangered pastime… no longer are we safely cushioned between two seasons.  Okay, maybe it’s a bit early to be feeling nostalgic, but I tend to get ahead of myself.  My old boss would call it “managing expectations.”

Suitably, on this lovely second day of August, I am feeling a blend of late-summer-lazy and crisp-autumn-academia:

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My New York

One of the first photos I took with my Canon Rebel XS, and it remains a favorite.  It’s a picture that makes me love New York in the pit of my stomach – the near-hidden basement pottery studio, the random vine of Christmas lights snaking around the railing, the glow of light in the distance, the painted brick wall, the gritty, gray sidewalk lit up by the yellow bike with steely wheels…even the black trash bags that I initially saw as an obstruction, but now embrace as an authentic element of the city’s sidewalks.  It captures the feeling of turning onto a street that you may have walked a thousand times, but for whatever reason, suddenly feels new and uncharted.  I sense that this is a picture I would want to avoid looking at if I ever had to leave New York…

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I am a chocolate lover,  I really am.  Dark/semi-sweet/milk/caramel-laced/cookie-embedded…even the non-technical variety of white.  It’s simple, really – a melty nub of silky smooth chocolate on your tongue can satiate to your very core.  And when I close my eyes and imagine this, I see milky brown hues, fluid, organic ripples, and soft, muted, neutral shades.

What I don’t see is green and black, and when I see Green & Black’s written on the wrapper of a fine bar of chocolate, my brain starts to cramp from the disconnect.  “Green” and “black” are rigid.  They’re harsh and sharp.  There are no shared tones across green and black and chocolate.  It’s an uncomfortable thought and it makes me enjoy the chocolate less.

I read the story on the website…I get it.  Appreciate the thinking, even.  But I don’t like it- chocolate is such an experiential food, and you don’t want to tamper with that by throwing in seemingly random words of a clashing color palate.  That’s like hanging up a Jackson Pollack next to a Monet.  Or wearing a mink coat over a Gore-Tex sweatshirt.  Wrong, just wrong.

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IMG_0683

In an outrageously out-of-character moment, I loved the rain so much today.  It came down violently and thunderously at around 6pm, and covered the streets in dimpled sheets of glass.  It pounded against the top of my AC unit and swept across my window, loosening specks of black grime that left gray dribbles sliding across the pane.  Across the street at the Chelsea Hotel, someone was taking full advantage, sweeping the grit off her balcony and unleashing a wall of water that poured through the iron-wrought railing and flowed onto the sidewalk.  Lightening illuminated the sky even with the sun still peeking out through the clouds above, and the thunder would crack and resolve into a rolling rumble that seemed to ripple the streams of water that flowed over the streets.  The sky was a marbled hue of slate, navy, dusty cerulean and dove gray.  It was relentless and consuming and so thoroughly cleansing, it was like someone gave New York City a good hard shake of the shoulders.

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Americano Misto

With lousy news comes excellent coffee, because what better way is there to deal? When I find myself in the deepest pits of work-related pessimism, I like to escape to Joe’s at Grand Central and immerse myself in a rich, dark, robust Americano Misto that is topped with a light frothy foam that is branded with an adorably optimistic heart, all created from the hands of my friendly, artistic neighborhood barista. Amazing how coffee and hearts help to put things in perspective.

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