Manhattan to MTL
I’m baaaack. Not to steal a noteworthy entrance from another blogging bird, but it seems applicable. I have survived another round of the big apple and I couldn’t be happier to have left manhattan.
It feels good to be home. It feels good to be home. It feels good to be home. Dick, I don’t know how you do it (though I do believe I may have bumped into Ryan?) It is too much for me. Too much motion, too much eating, too much shopping, too much humanity! Too much! To be fair, we were staying a stones throw from times square – which is mental – but after about day three I just couldn’t take it!
Almost certainly I am not the first person to declare a disdain for the infamous ‘I heart NY’ but I’m gonna do it again: NYC is not for me. Today I made myself a shirt by printing OVER one of those iconic logos and added three little letters – wpg – to remind myself that the next time I need a vacation I should go where I belong. Where I do not feel overwhelmed or swallowed. Where I can see skies instead of haze and know my bearings and the ones around me. next stop is definitely my darling Winnipeg. I don’t care how small of an apple she is.
I am both refreshed and exhausted in these times. The hill of things to do is growing taller by the minute as we approach our June issue and a fat camp flaked on my feature & I, and there are serious correspondences with a person on the other side of the globe looming in the distance.
Oh, and Stuart Ross hasn't gotten back to me yet. (fuck?)
--- --- ---
So I am back and my world has changed. I forgot how lofty and brilliant my apartment is in the summer. I forgot how it feels to MANAGE. I forgot how it feels to sex&spoon in just the right position. But mostly, I forgot how small we actually are where we are. Swimming amongst millions will do that.
AND, I am full of Voisinage news! this cartier’s gonna be a BIT smaller in the coming months, since best friends will be moving in with best friends and live a two minute walk from my front door. It feels priceless. Welcome to French Winnipeg.
But as one comes, another goes. I feel it necessary to give a public adieu to my darling Red: I can’t even believe the story of this friendship we have crafted. I am so grateful. good LUCK in Winnipeg this summer (calzone upon my return) and all the endeavors to follow in Ottawa. God knows that only two hours away can never stop our man-eating power!
---
Finally, I was going to upload some fotos and allow those who linger on to amuse themselves with random NY photography and all that was found inspiring (& some random acts of tourism), but I have misplaced my cable.
… I think the Frenchman ate it.
So here is all there is at the moment. Taken at the godly hour of six in the morning en route from mtl.
Until the cable comes around, bisoux.
oh ps: pour la Reine du Reves! J’ai eu und reve malade:
I was working on Canada day at Paramix and it was nuts. People everywhere, faces painted, the whole fucking ball of wax. To my distaste, Candy presented me a tray of meat to be basted, grilled and served. Though thinking it completely odd I complied, and took the tray down the streets of Osborne, along the streets of Corydon, up McMillan, down Grosvenor, around my town. Caught up in a New-York-style frenzy of people in motion – without seeing a soul I knew. On top of that, I fully blew my responsibility of heating meat and showed up at para and was scolded! SO disappointed in uncooked meat!
This whole thing made me completely stressed out as I realized I was actually in New York and waiting for the sun to rise, another day to start and my mother and sister to wake.
… weird.
It feels good to be home. It feels good to be home. It feels good to be home. Dick, I don’t know how you do it (though I do believe I may have bumped into Ryan?) It is too much for me. Too much motion, too much eating, too much shopping, too much humanity! Too much! To be fair, we were staying a stones throw from times square – which is mental – but after about day three I just couldn’t take it!
Almost certainly I am not the first person to declare a disdain for the infamous ‘I heart NY’ but I’m gonna do it again: NYC is not for me. Today I made myself a shirt by printing OVER one of those iconic logos and added three little letters – wpg – to remind myself that the next time I need a vacation I should go where I belong. Where I do not feel overwhelmed or swallowed. Where I can see skies instead of haze and know my bearings and the ones around me. next stop is definitely my darling Winnipeg. I don’t care how small of an apple she is.
I am both refreshed and exhausted in these times. The hill of things to do is growing taller by the minute as we approach our June issue and a fat camp flaked on my feature & I, and there are serious correspondences with a person on the other side of the globe looming in the distance.
Oh, and Stuart Ross hasn't gotten back to me yet. (fuck?)
--- --- ---
So I am back and my world has changed. I forgot how lofty and brilliant my apartment is in the summer. I forgot how it feels to MANAGE. I forgot how it feels to sex&spoon in just the right position. But mostly, I forgot how small we actually are where we are. Swimming amongst millions will do that.
AND, I am full of Voisinage news! this cartier’s gonna be a BIT smaller in the coming months, since best friends will be moving in with best friends and live a two minute walk from my front door. It feels priceless. Welcome to French Winnipeg.
But as one comes, another goes. I feel it necessary to give a public adieu to my darling Red: I can’t even believe the story of this friendship we have crafted. I am so grateful. good LUCK in Winnipeg this summer (calzone upon my return) and all the endeavors to follow in Ottawa. God knows that only two hours away can never stop our man-eating power!
---
Finally, I was going to upload some fotos and allow those who linger on to amuse themselves with random NY photography and all that was found inspiring (& some random acts of tourism), but I have misplaced my cable.
… I think the Frenchman ate it.
So here is all there is at the moment. Taken at the godly hour of six in the morning en route from mtl.
Until the cable comes around, bisoux.
oh ps: pour la Reine du Reves! J’ai eu und reve malade:
I was working on Canada day at Paramix and it was nuts. People everywhere, faces painted, the whole fucking ball of wax. To my distaste, Candy presented me a tray of meat to be basted, grilled and served. Though thinking it completely odd I complied, and took the tray down the streets of Osborne, along the streets of Corydon, up McMillan, down Grosvenor, around my town. Caught up in a New-York-style frenzy of people in motion – without seeing a soul I knew. On top of that, I fully blew my responsibility of heating meat and showed up at para and was scolded! SO disappointed in uncooked meat!
This whole thing made me completely stressed out as I realized I was actually in New York and waiting for the sun to rise, another day to start and my mother and sister to wake.
… weird.
1 Comments:
Drunk and bored means internet research.
I'm still smart or something, but mostly I work at super cool restaurants that get write ups in the New York Times.
If you've decided to eat meat again-I'm not certain that you ever did not- I will come visit if you promise to eat 3 meals per day that involve fois gras. Yes, all three at Au Pied de Cauchon.
As I'm rather wasted I cannot guarantee that this message has been free from either grammatical, or punctuation related errors.
Let me know.
jamievro@gmail.com
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