Verbally Yours

When American exchange students stayed on Campus at the University of Queensland, Australia, I was utterly fascinated – especially by the women - the way they would voice every thought that entered their head.

“God, I’m having the worst hair day.”

“I was going to go jogging this morning, but then I decided to work on my assignment for another hour, and now I don't know what I feel like doing.”

My friends and I would hear them talking as they passed outside our window. “It’s like a constant stream of verbal diarrhoea” we’d muse in agreement.

Now that I’m emersed in this highly vocal culture, I am indifferent towards it and even admirable to the extent that I can participate.

Gone is the uptight filter that would sort thoughts that I should keep to my self and those I should air.

“What the hell!” I’ll yell to myself at the smallest of things: perhaps I noticed it was later than I thought or; my coffee tastes weird. And others will respond in turn.

It feels good to lay everything out on the table. “This is me. This is what I’m thinking. What are your thoughts?” is the true beauty of a culture that embraces freedom of speech in its most literal sense.

Of course there are obvious draw backs… and that’s what ipods are for. As for perks? Well, there’s this website – Overheard in New York.

It seems that unlike the American exchange student at uni, I can assimilate to other cultures with ease: In China I happily munched on boiled chicken’s feet and began littering within months of arrival; In New York I watched Avatar 3D and joined the audience in applause on three separate occasions, and; In Australia I will readily go back to walking silently down the street until large enough quantities of alcohol are consumed so that I can let it all out and applaud or glass people as necessary.

Peace.

Once an Adult, Twice a Child

Sometimes Ada will be sitting quietly then start pointing at her apartment, and exclaim "This is all mine! Everything is mine! I own the place!"
(She rents.)

When marveling at her child-like behavior, her Caribbean carer's will chuckle and say "Once an Adult, Twice a Child." And it's true. We are all growing into our second childhoods - especially if we plan on developing dementia.

The circle of life seems so complete when I look at Ada:

• She has soft white downy hair, that covers her face
• She throws tantrums
• She would eat ice-cream for every meal if we let her
• She can only eat soft foods
• She has no teeth
• She is forgetting how to walk
• She needs constant attention
• She wears diapers / wets the bed
• She needs a potty
• She hates taking baths
• Sometimes, she babbles and gurgles for hours in a foreign language - or as we call it 'tongues'
• She is becoming memory-less
• She doesn't care who sees her pick her nose, or flash her privates

Living with her makes me realize what kind of mother I might make. Evidently I'm a good, patient mother who enjoys dressing their kids in ghetto beanies and making them do gang signs with their hands.

Apparently I'm also be a mother who only wants to be there 'some' of the time, and if I'm there too much, all I can think about is my escape.

New York Cityscapes

I wish I had a digital slr camera so so much. But even with out it, the textures of New Yorks buildings are hard to mess up.

Upper East Side

Lower East Side

View form Anya's looking from Union Square to Lower Manhattan

Appartments on 14th st, near Union Square

Upper West Side

Upper West Side - View from Ada's

It makes art direction a redundant job in this city.

On The Streets of NY

A boy gives a girl a flower...

He says: 'Here have a flower'
She says: 'Smelly boy,' but she smiles and takes it anyway.
He says: 'I really like you're new perm.'
She says: 'Thanks. I'd give anything to have your natural curls. Do you use product?'
He says: 'A little bit. What are you doing tonight?'
She says: ' Watching re-runs of The Wire. You should come over. We could order some pizza, Mom gave me her credit card.'
He says: 'Done. I could do with a night in. Works been absolutely horrendous this week.'
She says: 'Tell me about it,' she rolls her eyes. 'I'll see you 8.' She tucks the flower in the front pocket of her denim dress and wonders away.

And that's how it's done in New York. 

Sexy-Exchange

It's hard to explain just how sexy and in-your face these Armarni Exchange billboards were. I'm hoping these pictures will help describe:

These were taken form the 'High-Line' walk in the Meatpackers district.

Snakes on a Train

When this girl sat down next to two unsuspecting passengers on the uptown #1 train one evening, they didn't notice... at first. But 2 seconds later, when the snake caught their eye - their survival instincts kicked in. They practically flew out of the train! Horrified expressions on their faces! Poor things. The others sitting in this shot had some time to get used to it. One of them even let it slither all over them.

Brooklyn Sky

I'm culling my photo library, and thought I'd share some unique experiences over my next few posts.
Last spring I emerged from a subway in Brooklyn at dusk, and saw this sky:

I've never seen anything like it, in all my sky watching days.

Makes me believe in something greater.

Katyn Forest

In April 1940, the Soviet NKVD (police) put a memo from Stalin into action.  They were to execute 25,700 Polish prisoners of war, that had been placed in Russian prison camps. Prisoners were to be shot individually in the back of the head, many after being forced to dig their own mass grave in Katyn forest, where this Saturday’s plane crash occurred. I’ve just found out, that one of the Polish Officer’s killed in the Katyn Massacre was Ada’s father (my great-grandfather). Can you imagine what that would have been like?

Ada and her sister would have been unaware of his fate, as they were in a Siberian labor camp throughout the war. Both her and her sister never spoke about their experience. We have no idea which camp they were in, or what it was like. The only thing they ever said to Dad was that they were lucky to have enough food to survive, and while my Grandma did manual labor, Ada was spared and allowed to do administrative work indoors. Apparently Ada had the brains and my grandma had the brawn.

I have tried to ask Ada if she remembers the war. Like most things, she draws a blank. Probably better for her that way I guess.

No Distracting This Doggy

See this doggy? Look at the dedication and attention in his expression and posture. When I saw him on 96th st, looking up at his owner like a poised statue, I just had to take a pic. It's that kind of focus and attention I want possess when I'm learning new tricks. I think this dog could teach me a thing or two about concentration. Good on ya doggy!

Single Lady- Surprisingly Unjaded

When I’m single, there’s nothing I enjoy more than being completely preoccupied with the thrill of the chase. Let me explain.

When you’re single, and you venture out of your home  - the air is always thick with possibility. (Especially when you haven’t had time to do your hair or makeup.) Even when you’re not thinking about it, it’s there in your subconscious. There’s a chance you might bump into a nice stranger on the street, be stalked by gorgeous customer in the supermarket, or drop a weight on a cute trainer at the gym.  And who doesn’t just love when you’re single, and boarding a plane - hoping (praying) you are seated next to a hot billionaire who accidentally sat in economy. It makes going out at night about ten times more exciting. You should try it!

The feeling is addictive. How ironic then is it that we single people are hunting the very thing that will inevitably end this thrill. Mmmm… perhaps that why I’m still single?

Or perhaps it’s because I don’t like the idea of having to close myself off from other ‘possibilities,’ or answer to someone, or compromise and worry about someone in my spare time. I love my selfish single life.

Or perhaps, and I highly suspect it is, I’m single because I just haven’t met the right person.

The one. Someone whom is even better than my selfish ways. (Not possible!) But I do want someone I can fall deeply and utterly in love with. Where the look of them, their smell or the sound of their voice all point to a button that tells me they are for me. Full Stop. Which means being wildly attracted to them. And I will want nothing more than to be in their presence; to bask in their ‘ness.’

Is it unrealistic to want a partner that is so right that I know I will NEVER look at a single lady and feel jealous? Nor will I EVER conceive or consider being with someone else, so long as I should live? (Is this even possible?)

Most importantly, I do want to see them fully - for who they truly are – warts and all, and I want them to see me – honestly, warts and all, and still be in love… perhaps even more so.

I’m worried I’ve watched one too many Nicolous Spark movie here. It’s hard to imagine this kind of love without loosing yourself completely – especially when you’re as fiercely independent as I am. And yet I don’t want to settle for anything less. I’d much rather be single. Am I setting myself up for failure? I don’t need Mr Perfect, just someone who is perfect for me. There’s a huge difference. And it doesn’t need to be now… just one day, preferably before…35? (Can I put a number on it?)

Somebody wise once told me “You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.” (And it is possible to fall in love with the wrong person. Dangerous I’ve done it before!)

All I know is that I want my heart to flutter when I glimpse ‘the one.’ 

How do I know this kind of love exists? I don’t. But I do know something.  When I look at pictures of a certain beloved family members, they make my flutter. Not in a romantic way - obviously, but in a deep profound loving way, that means that I love them so much... it actually hurts, and the thought of losing them sends pin-pricking tears to my eyes in an instant. So I know that exists.

Plus scientists have proven that true romantic love exist… and lasts forever. They measured peoples physical reactions to looking at their spouse even after 50 years of marriage. Those in ‘true love’ still got flutters. Amazing, though surely very rare.

Subway Penis

Recently, I sat at a dinner party with 6 New York women, discussing the first time we ever saw ‘subway penis.’

Mine was 2 weeks ago. I was innocently walking down the stairs to the L-train platform, when a homeless man standing less than an arms length away, unzipped and whipped it out. Thank god I was travelling at a speedy trajectory and had passed him before I could see what he was going to do with it.

It’s not an uncommon discussion to have. Most of my improv classmates have seen homeless men whacking-off in the subway. It seems to be unavoidable. What's your subway penis story?