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Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

where i usually post my long serial photo blog entries in the opposite chronological order, so the reader, casual browser does not have to sc roll down then up to read about my mundane cosmopolitan adventures, this morning sees me too jetlagged and floaty to even attempt a-chronological actions, let alone thoughts. so scrolldown to the first picture in the sequence and all will be explained. today will take me to amsterdam where public transportation is on strike and i will be hanging with my dutch metropolitan friends, all of whom will receive 'i heart ny' shirts, and seeing 'batman and katie' with sis and her boyf.

my first mac and cheese

my first mac and cheese
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

fannypack with tofu

fannypack with tofu
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

flash close-up

flash close-up
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

our guests mostly wore suitable attire: big hair, tattoos, fake pregnancy bellies, short skirts, platform shoes, handlebar moustache, leggings, huge loopy earrings, fannypacks, more visors and 'the world's greatest bingo player' caps, yet no one stared at them in the subway or when they walked down the street...

white trash roof party

white trash roof dinner
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

the food table had all things trashy, pringles, cheetos, cupcakes, hotdogs, beans and park, cupcakes, macaroni and cheese, cheap vodka, plastic forks (no knives or spoons), more cheese snacks, spray cheese on crackers (truly hideous), canned tomato soup, marshmallows, etc.

vertigo staircase

vertigo staircase
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

so when you throw a housewarming/going-away-for-a-month-to-europe party an dyou think it would be cool to hold it on your roof, when you decide to give it a theme, you know, everybody gets dressed up, brings appropriate food and drinks, when you think, especially inspired by a great junior senior concert, as well as the legions of badly dressed tourists streaming through our street, it would be a great idea to have white trash be that theme and you go to kmart, two subway stops, buy crazy visors, put back that overpriced willie nelson shirt, that too small, really, yes, guns and roses girly wifebeater, get every cheesy snack there plus crazy timewarp drinks in electric colors and plastic containers, when you take 6 shopping bags full of this crap home, then you realize that not only will you have to lug all this beer and those snacks eight flights up to the roof, but, due to the abscence of doorbell and buzzer, you will have run down -slightly intoxicated and in costume: visor, jack-and-coke stained wifebeater, huge five-dollar white sneakers, boxers not merely peeking but comfortable staring from above my new plaid pyjama pants, one leg half rolled up gangsta style, headphone cord tangling around every turn on the stairs - to let everybody in...

sliced clock

sliced clock
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

the famed blinds semi-obscure the clock i have a hard time reading (i prefer the 24-hour digital kind)

room

room + roommate
Originally uploaded by nyresolutions.

the southwest quadrant of my room, with added 'four tet' balloon, sliced sunset, found bookcase, gold woodpaneling, lomography on the wall, plus reading roommate.

cool notes from new york

when i went to kmart yesterday, it was my day off, the apartment was stifling and suddenly filled with the newly returned k's possessions, i arrived at the checkout with my new transparent vinyl covered clothing rack only to find i was without my trusty american atm card. panicking only slightly i thought back to the last time i used it, a shopping spree at h&m, pants, socks, shirts? sticky tape to finally attach the japanese tautou to her designated position and to try and fix some of the amazing records i bought at the street fair on saturday (music of the alps, loungy compilations called, sunrise, temptation, or featuring bored housewives with cocktails and fake picket fences) to the gold and white wood paneling, or was it at the dynasty supermarket just above canal street, where i am always the only caucasian shopper, trying to find cheerios among the many different chicken feet and dried sea urchins.
i returned from kmart, huge martha stewart box in tow, to find that the apartment was thrust in an even deeper, but decidedly cooler chaos, since k's too kind fireman brother had sprung for a remote controllable air conditioning unit, which now obscures part of the, according to him, extremely fire hazardous fire escape. i was just about to call the bank and have my card canceled when k suggested i go back to the store and ask if i had left my card there. the jaded city dweller i have become was immensely shocked at the show that unfolded at the supermarket. i spoke to the manager who was extremely helpful and talked to all the checkout girls in turn, one of whom remembered me and in rapid fire chinese directed her boss to my card.
faith in humanity restored, i spent the following hours blissfully unclammy, camped out on the couch correcting a paper on gender mainstreaming for my mom, interrupted by a groovy night out with the archi-pals at the new, and undiscovered hipster hotspot, palais royal complete with the ramones on flatscreen, lingerie drying outside, hidden on the other side of our block among the exterminators and herbal medicine stores of mott street. i returned, pleasantly buzzed on vodka limes, that perennial of summer drinks, strangely unfamiliar to americans. the electronic hum of the airco put me in a buddhist state sedate enough to help sleep the night through without escaped to the kitchen to down huge glasses of icy filtered water or to the cutesy bathroom to dunk my head under the new york tap. i am now just about to finish my recommendations on coupland's eleanor rigby and look forward to the rest of the week, which will bring more visitors, more humidity, a concert by the lcd soundsystem, and more, much more nights of non sweaty, remote controlled sleep. x. f.

kismet, dawson, nuclear bombs

after finishing my coverage on the quite rollicking film adaptation of dangerous parking by peter howitt, who wrote and directed sliding doors, i was put to work on an assessment of douglas coupland's latest, eleanor rigby. kismet, since i had read the entire book on the same flight on which i saw howitt's cinematic work of dull boredom the laws of attraction. another very happy coincidence is the fact that one of my due papers is on coupland's use of storytelling as religion. for this heady project i've reread the charming and still mysterious generation x and my former favorite book ever, the now sadly overbearing girlfriend in a coma to mine them for quotes and meaningful notions of faith and hope. coupland's work is hard to get a grip on because it so unabashedly borders on sentimental or, much much worse, inspirational.
still, i'm ever glad to be able to examine my own fascination with his work, just as a did with my other half-explained crushes buffy and dawson's creek, which, thankfully but not unexpectedly, has tumbled a lot of rungs down my ladder of esteem; mainly because of the horrible main characters, never as captivating as the vampire slayer or coupland's lonely storytellers.
having written this, i should probably still admit that i am now rewatching the third season and am just about to head into the final episodes where the show's major twist starts to hit hard. the irritating dawson loses the neurotic joey to his talky best friend, and ultimately preferable teen, pacey and the show died a slow death with only jen, michelle williams, who i just saw in the very odd lobotomy drama a hole in one, to tide the viewers over to the very last and very fine episodes which finally end pacey and joey's arc as they finally hook up at jen's funeral. tears all around and i'll be ready to start my latest netflix obsession, before this one i did bette davis' melodramas and now i'm gearing up for coupland-inspired nuclear war dramas: on the beach, testament, but also my perennial tearjerking favorite, deep impact.
ps my boss just asked me for my thoughts on a hiroshima movie. hmm, kismet, strange but sweet.

strange things i've won

an electric raser when i was eleven
shiny rollerblades i wore only once
a pair of promotional tighty-whities for the movie nowhere
tickets to the gala premiere of the beach that i got a week too late
a new eames chair