30.11.10
28.11.10
Fromage
Things have been rough lately, though nothing more complex than overworkage. I've been slaving away about 50 hours per week for the last three weeks, all in an attempt to free myself from the bonds of serving tables: I am now the proud slinger of cheese, seller of curds: a cheesemonger. I still work at the same restaurant, though there is something magically calming about tending cheese that waiting tables just couldn't deliver. Sure, I make less money, but a financial sacrifice for psychic sanctity is a good exchange to me. I'll just have to cut back on a few things (e.g., Park Avenue Odwalla juice, $3 organic avocados, bottles of port, etc.).
In the meantime, I've accomplished and discovered a few minor things. I explored the Queens Museum of Art, which is essentially a World's Fair museum; registered for class at Long Island University (starting in January!); and bought a couch at Ikea, which is too big for the room and makes my apartment look like a post-modern scattering of silly furniture.
In the meantime, I've accomplished and discovered a few minor things. I explored the Queens Museum of Art, which is essentially a World's Fair museum; registered for class at Long Island University (starting in January!); and bought a couch at Ikea, which is too big for the room and makes my apartment look like a post-modern scattering of silly furniture.
The famous "Panorama" at the Queens Museum: a to-scale model of New York City, all five boroughs; one inch = 100 feet. Fascinating.
My "new" place of employment.
3.11.10
Routine
I've slowed the whirlwind of my touristic activities to an andante, I guess. The end of October marked a return of American habits for me -- Halloween (I was Peter Pan!), a social life, great autumn weather (missed out on that one up in the mountains last year; l'automne in Gerardmer consisted of one day of golden leaves and immediately gave way to freezing rain). I've officially defected from my penguin-vested servantry at Artisanal, and will be soon working behind the cheese counter -- making considerably less money, and achieving substantial psychic relaxation. I like changing my lifestyle with the seasons.
Here are a few pictures that are long overdue. From the Cloisters:
...from my and Don's beer-brewing venture, which has so far turned out fantastically well:
...and Halloween:
I also recently had my first concert with NYRO, which was loud and well-attended and exciting. The Church of St. Mary the Virgin (Episcopal, not Catholic -- and silly me thought only the latter used censers) has echoey acoustics (no bueno for timpani) but the space is impressive and playing in there, I feel like a lowly Baroque-era musician performing for the High Priest, which is kind of neat. [Aside from the type of paper and ink it's now printed on, there's little about most classical music that's changed since it's original composition. As in, it's pretty darn easy to imagine what it would've been like playing a piece for the first time of all time. The one thing I really wonder about is the sound -- w/r/t (new abbreviation from David Foster Wallace: "with respect to") real gut strings, differently constructed instruments, different interpretation of dynamic, etc.] I may be sitting in the back of the section, but I really, really love playing in an orchestra again.
In other news: I had another piece published by Assembly Journal, this time on the pricing of digital books versus that of printed books: The Price of Paper. I like writing and researching, but for some reason I'm not feeling particularly inspired by print culture. Everything print-related these days seems like it has to pit itself against digital culture, using keywords like "tactile" and "experience" and "authentic." I'm sort of sick of the little war these two cultures are waging against each other. Maybe I can write about that.
Here are a few pictures that are long overdue. From the Cloisters:
...from my and Don's beer-brewing venture, which has so far turned out fantastically well:
...and Halloween:
I also recently had my first concert with NYRO, which was loud and well-attended and exciting. The Church of St. Mary the Virgin (Episcopal, not Catholic -- and silly me thought only the latter used censers) has echoey acoustics (no bueno for timpani) but the space is impressive and playing in there, I feel like a lowly Baroque-era musician performing for the High Priest, which is kind of neat. [Aside from the type of paper and ink it's now printed on, there's little about most classical music that's changed since it's original composition. As in, it's pretty darn easy to imagine what it would've been like playing a piece for the first time of all time. The one thing I really wonder about is the sound -- w/r/t (new abbreviation from David Foster Wallace: "with respect to") real gut strings, differently constructed instruments, different interpretation of dynamic, etc.] I may be sitting in the back of the section, but I really, really love playing in an orchestra again.
In other news: I had another piece published by Assembly Journal, this time on the pricing of digital books versus that of printed books: The Price of Paper. I like writing and researching, but for some reason I'm not feeling particularly inspired by print culture. Everything print-related these days seems like it has to pit itself against digital culture, using keywords like "tactile" and "experience" and "authentic." I'm sort of sick of the little war these two cultures are waging against each other. Maybe I can write about that.
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