An unspoken transcript

The Raines Law Room is exactly why I love New York.

It’s private and exclusive – you only go if you know. There’s no sign, no phone, and the door’s locked. If you want to come in, you ring the doorbell and wait until there is enough space for you to be seated.

The drinks are inventive – mixology at it’s next turn: reversion back to classic cocktails, now with exotic twists or supersmall batch liquor.

The place was meticulously thought-out. The wallpaper – a cheekily-designed pattern that integrated silhouettes of people in various sexual positions, the furniture placement for optimal intimacy and conversation, the inconspicuous chain we pulled to alert the server in the back room that we needed something.

So please, leave my little gem alone. Or it’ll get too crowded and I’ll have to wait outside.

Delicious champagne cocktail and popcorn snacks in old-tyme glassware.

P looking a little wild, wild west himself.

I’d been excited about going to the New Museum for a while – so on Valentine’s Day, we headed over there. Once we’d investigated the whole space, I was pretty disappointed. There are only four galleries and two of them had video installations – I can only handle a short period of fixation on extreme close-ups of leaves in the wind.

But looking at these pictures, I guess the New Museum held up to its name: the coolest pieces weren’t in any galleries at all.

P looking custimarily badass in the elevator.

A dj spinning on the top floor. It created a totally cool feel, the combination of the music and the view.

There’s a sign on the top floor balcony that explains this piece of art: it’s a line that is drawn from somewhere inside the museum, onto the median (see that little sea foam green dot?) and up onto the buildings (line continues vertially on the light beige building and, way back, on the dark red brick). Really fcking cool.

21. smoothies. That I actually want to drink and don’t send me into a hypothermia shock.

22. farmers’ markets. And maybe a community-supported garden. There’s one near my apartment and I could join. Get KEYS to the garden. But I’m scared. I feel insecure compared to the Park Slope elite (the first co-op in the country was started here…and now there’s a guard at the door. Members only).

I think my MN-programmed body clock has been grating against the calendar. It’s only February and I am SO DONE with winter. I feel like spring should be just around the corner. Today, I thought I smelled daffodils. Normally, I’m not so antsy about elbowing past winter into spring, but I think the decentish weather in NY has tricked my body clock into thinking it’s late March. ALMOST APRIL! Sigh.

This is one of the days-of-trickery. 55 degrees, sunny and we were out breathing it in. Jar, P, JC and I trekked over 7 miles down the west side of the island – from 120th to south of the park.

J-rod enjoying the afternoon light.

Stringbean Crum

A frisky dog in Central Park. That ball was dirty with love.