Con Lulú (izq.) y Caro frente al venerado edificio del J-School, en Columbia. El de la entrada no es Pulitzer, como alguna vez pensé, sino Jefferson. Por lo del First Ammendment, creo.
9.01.2005
Una foto
Con Lulú (izq.) y Caro frente al venerado edificio del J-School, en Columbia. El de la entrada no es Pulitzer, como alguna vez pensé, sino Jefferson. Por lo del First Ammendment, creo.
8.19.2005
I L N Y 2
I almost forget to mention the cover of the last TimeOut.Mary-Louise Parker staring at the camera, one arm over her belly and the other spread on the floor, which is covered with food wrappers. And the headline:
Stoned in the city
37 Summer activities that are better when you're baked
Gotta run. Summer's almost over.
8.18.2005
Things I will hate
Which means I love them, most of them, and I'll stick to them because they're cheap, or because I have to, or whatever reason. Hence, I'll be sick of them in 10 months or less.
Turkey swiss cheese with a little mayo. On a hero. And a large coffe. Black, no sugar.
The J-School elevator (this one I hate already).
Having a roommate.
Being a roommate.
Speaking in English and writing in English and having a small accent that doesn't let them know that when they talk slang I just won't understand.
Williamsburg (my beat).
Snow (I'm thinking ahead).
www.nytimes.com/metro
Bills. All of them.
Being friendsick.
Having crushes (there's no time for that).
FALSE: What I will hate is the no-time part. But I'll work on it.
Turkey swiss cheese with a little mayo. On a hero. And a large coffe. Black, no sugar.
The J-School elevator (this one I hate already).
Having a roommate.
Being a roommate.
Speaking in English and writing in English and having a small accent that doesn't let them know that when they talk slang I just won't understand.
Williamsburg (my beat).
Snow (I'm thinking ahead).
www.nytimes.com/metro
Bills. All of them.
Being friendsick.
Having crushes (there's no time for that).
FALSE: What I will hate is the no-time part. But I'll work on it.
8.07.2005
Viva el mestizaje!
A Briton told me I look Italian. A Mexican said I look from Mexico's farmlands. And a guy from Tel Aviv said I look Israelian. Maybe I'll quit journalism and start modeling for Benetton.
Not.
Not.
8.01.2005
La primiparada (a perfect day)
Hoy llegué a mi nuevo cuarto. Tiene una vista espectacular sobre el Hudson, a la altura de la 109, y se ve el Washington Bridge por otra de las ventanas. Llevé mis cosas en el carro de mi hermano, aunque no eran muchas. Mientras fui hasta el décimo piso, J. Guerrero me puso un parte. Encima de esto, dejé las llaves adentro del cuarto y me gané la primera vaciada de la gente de seguridad porque me fui antes de que llegaran con el duplicado, a parquear el carro mejor. La vida es bella!!!!
Hace sol y mucho calor. El forecast de la semana dice que vamos a estar por los 30 grados celsuis. Me presenté al decano de estudiantes internacionales. Por armar charla le pregunté por la ropa adecuada para la 'international orientation' que empieza el miércoles. "Where are your socks?" me dijo mientras me miraba de arriba a abajo. Todavïa no sé si estaba mamamdo gallo...
El aire acondicionado de esta biblioteca es nocivo. Me falta la C.
Hace sol y mucho calor. El forecast de la semana dice que vamos a estar por los 30 grados celsuis. Me presenté al decano de estudiantes internacionales. Por armar charla le pregunté por la ropa adecuada para la 'international orientation' que empieza el miércoles. "Where are your socks?" me dijo mientras me miraba de arriba a abajo. Todavïa no sé si estaba mamamdo gallo...
El aire acondicionado de esta biblioteca es nocivo. Me falta la C.
7.27.2005
I L N Y
My brother's rottweiler licking my face was enough for a wake up call at 7:30 this morning.
It's past 9 p.m., the sun finally set a while ago, and I just got out of the shower. The drops falling down my face are no longer water. Those evaporated a long time ago. These are coming out of my body. THIS PLACE IS TOO HOT!!!!!!!!! (En este momento marca 26 grados celsius pero "feels like" 27. Claro, por lo que el viento sopla, pero de para adentro.) And I am writing these lines thinking about cold, cold February...
"Dear passengers: if you see any strange behavior or package don't keep it to yourselves. Please inform the MTA authorities or call (call!!!!!!) 1 888 FREAKED."
The London bombings have had their effect in the subway. It is not as I expected, people are not running away from trash cans and lost bubblegum or something like that, but there's this feeling in the air that everybody has their eyes wide open. I was aware of that when I was changing lines today at around 3 p.m: I was moving from the red line to the yellow one when I realized I was missing something in my hand. Not my bag, somebody would've freaked out. And not the chilled Coke, something a little more important. OK, the housing lease, the newly opened checking and savings account numbers, paperwork from the international student's office. All lost inside a train. And I had been in NYC for 14 hours...
My first thought was that there was no problem. I had nothing important in those files. Nah, wrong. Lots of important stuff. So what next? I was thinking about the MTA's lost and found I saw someday in 'People+Arts' (or was it in 'Friends'?), the phone call asking if someone had found a red file, all the time I would spend on this, but then it hit me. What else did I have in my hand? The Coke. Surely I had changed the file for the bottle.
I didn't run into the yellow line but instead I changed direction over the red one and turned back, uptown. I rushed out at 110th, ran three blocks (remember the heat?) and then found the Coke machine. At the top, sitting there like there was nothing else to do, my file was in the same position I left it. The guy from 362 Riverside Drive who wouldn't let me in to take a peak at my future home "because the paper says clearly it is during or after August 1" laughed at me (with me?), told me how lucky I am (I know that) and said things seemed to be starting out quite alright for me.
I agree.
It's past 9 p.m., the sun finally set a while ago, and I just got out of the shower. The drops falling down my face are no longer water. Those evaporated a long time ago. These are coming out of my body. THIS PLACE IS TOO HOT!!!!!!!!! (En este momento marca 26 grados celsius pero "feels like" 27. Claro, por lo que el viento sopla, pero de para adentro.) And I am writing these lines thinking about cold, cold February...
"Dear passengers: if you see any strange behavior or package don't keep it to yourselves. Please inform the MTA authorities or call (call!!!!!!) 1 888 FREAKED."
The London bombings have had their effect in the subway. It is not as I expected, people are not running away from trash cans and lost bubblegum or something like that, but there's this feeling in the air that everybody has their eyes wide open. I was aware of that when I was changing lines today at around 3 p.m: I was moving from the red line to the yellow one when I realized I was missing something in my hand. Not my bag, somebody would've freaked out. And not the chilled Coke, something a little more important. OK, the housing lease, the newly opened checking and savings account numbers, paperwork from the international student's office. All lost inside a train. And I had been in NYC for 14 hours...
My first thought was that there was no problem. I had nothing important in those files. Nah, wrong. Lots of important stuff. So what next? I was thinking about the MTA's lost and found I saw someday in 'People+Arts' (or was it in 'Friends'?), the phone call asking if someone had found a red file, all the time I would spend on this, but then it hit me. What else did I have in my hand? The Coke. Surely I had changed the file for the bottle.
I didn't run into the yellow line but instead I changed direction over the red one and turned back, uptown. I rushed out at 110th, ran three blocks (remember the heat?) and then found the Coke machine. At the top, sitting there like there was nothing else to do, my file was in the same position I left it. The guy from 362 Riverside Drive who wouldn't let me in to take a peak at my future home "because the paper says clearly it is during or after August 1" laughed at me (with me?), told me how lucky I am (I know that) and said things seemed to be starting out quite alright for me.
I agree.
Ladies and gentlemen...
...welcome to New York City.
If the Taca-Tica hadn't said that before in Spanish nobody would've understood a word of her pig English. But then again... I just wanted to let you guys know it's 3:27 in the a.m. of July 27, I haven't slept in three days, I just got off a plane in JFK and, (unlawfully) stealing words from someone else, there's something about New York that makes sleeping useless.
Bye, gotta walk the dog.
If the Taca-Tica hadn't said that before in Spanish nobody would've understood a word of her pig English. But then again... I just wanted to let you guys know it's 3:27 in the a.m. of July 27, I haven't slept in three days, I just got off a plane in JFK and, (unlawfully) stealing words from someone else, there's something about New York that makes sleeping useless.
Bye, gotta walk the dog.
7.14.2005
Del ahogado, el sombrero
Es bueno saber que Efraím Medina Reyes (si, el wannabe Bukowski colombiano) descubrió a Harold Brodkey. De pronto, si estamos de buenas, a sus seguidores les da por leerlo también. Es, tal vez, el más importante escritor norteamericano del siglo XX. (Yo sé, también estuvieron Capote, Roth y Auster y Salinger, Whitman, Bret Easton Ellis y Hunter Thompson y decenas más, pero es que Brodkey...). Bueno, el caso es que si estamos de buenas, de pronto a los lectores de Medina les da por leer a Brodkey, descubren de qué se trata la literatura, y dejan de leer a Medina.
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