Two Things. May 22, 2010
Dear New York,
I think we can both agree I’ve been nothing but complimentary about you since I arrived here. I’ve admired your general climate, your mostly efficient—and always entertaining—transportation system, and your abundance of parks filled with people wearing tight pants. For the most part, New York, you’ve treated one of your newer citizens very well. That being said…
Thing Number One. The allergies, New York. What is up with the allergies? Perhaps you don’t understand quite how good looking and put together a large percent of your populations is? And how this might make me wish to look sort of…nice? Attractive, if possible? So maybe you don’t quite realize how hard it is for me to wake up every morning looking like Sloth? To wake up looking like THIS, New York…
…is not easy. It does not make me feel attractive, New York, but rather dowdy. And no one wants to make out with the dowdy girl.
Thing Number Two. China. New York, you know that I am a bit of a hippy. To my father’s everlasting chagrin, I hug trees and communists every chance I get. You also know that I am a bit of a crafter. In light of these two facts, I was hoping to combine some reducing/re-using/recycling with some sewing to create a lovely and whimsical apron out of a old men’s work shirt. I was hoping, New York, to go to a thrift store and buy an old men’s work shirt, for something along the lines of $2. This seems to me like a reasonable price to pay for something a strange man named Richard once wore to audit people, or perhaps to call strangers during dinner and offer them the deal of a lifetime on a new windshield. So imagine my disappointment to find that there actually are no thrift stores here. Instead there are ‘vintage’ stores. ‘Vintage’ is code for ‘we know the tight-pants people will pay triple for this’. ‘Vintage’ means that I have to support China, New York. I had to buy a new old men’s shirt, most likely made under less than karmic circumstances somewhere very far away. LIKE CHINA. This new old shirt cost me less than half of what I would have had to pay at the Good Will. THE GOOD WILL.
New York, I think we should be able to work this out. I just need you to be reasonable. I’m still a big fan of your abundance of ice cream trucks! And I also very much like all of your stoops. You have so much to offer! Please don’t cheapen what we could have with ephemeral airborne nuisances and a lack of bargains. I’m not asking for much! Just the ability to open my eyes and see reasonably priced junk. In return I promise to…umm…not litter? I mean, I already sort of do that. I also pay taxes! I am holding up my end of the relationship, New York. Don’t make me leave you for Vermont.
For those clever readers out there able to read between the distinct lack of lines, that means I’m cheating. Sort of. Meh. For those compassionate readers out there who only assume the best in people, that means you get to look at photos! Specifically, photos of some of the things that I have been particularly enthusiastic about lately.
So that’s a glimpse of my new life. It’s lovely. Tonight I’m headed to Manhattan with my new (and equally lovely) roommate. We are going to a party, which scares the living daylights out of me. In part because I often prefer books to strangers, but mostly because I have spent the last two years ‘partying’ with 20 very specific people, and I’m sort of terrified that I’ll accidentally ask a hipster about his poop or something. And then I will have to try to explain how that seems normal to me and then said hipster will walk away and tell all the other hipsters that not only is the weird girl over by the cheese table NOT A HIPSTER, she also asks strangers about their bowels after trying repeatedly to shake their hands. And that is when I will bring out my most charming mango fly anecdote.