My First Time.

This memory occurred to me yesterday after "accidentally" going home with a pair of gloves that were hidden in a coat at the thrift store. I also bought a pair of really amazing white studded boots. Anyway, the memory might become a short story...

The first time I stole anything it was close to my fifth birthday. I was still living in Queens with both of my parents, long after their disdain for one another had begun but three years pre-divorce. We were shopping for a Christmas tree in one of those typical parking lot gone pine tree factories that begin to appear just before you're ready to accept that it's already Thanksgiving. The kind of places that made me promise myself at an early age that I would someday raise kids in this city, if for nothing other than the inescapable smell of Christmastime in New York.

In the tree lined lot two blocks from our building, I fell in love with a branch spray painted white with a faint silver shimmer that glistened in the brisk yellow dimmed air, and I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before. With the kind of confidence you rarely find in a 5 year old, I walked up to my mother and asked if she could buy it for the front door of our 6th story apartment. Without knowing at the time that she would skip meals in order to buy quarter pound containers of seafood salad for me, I could not find reasoning for her stern "No" and tucked the branch under my zebra print down coat with neon pink lining as I ducked into the next row of pines...

Asian Invasion Finale

Last night, after the most delicious scallion pancake ever, I crossed the Wburg Bridge to check out Tokyo! at the Sunshine on Houston. Michel Gondry did a little introduction for the film, being 1/3 of the equation of this portrait of a city. I love how magically confused he seems at all times. It's all about the focus on the subtleties of life, and Mr. Gondry tells us how the most inspiring thing about this wonderous city on the island of Japan was the 'lack of the shyness to sleep on one another on the train', and also his realization that in comparison people walk like horses here in America.

Gondry via iPhone

(SPOILER ALERT)

In his 30 minutes of Tokyo, Gondry's Interior Design depicts a girl who is very much like the buildings in the city, one never touching the other. Her transformation into a useful being touches upon a sort of butterfly in reverse ideal. Gondry's vision can only be explained by what my mother calls fantasia (read: with adorable Polish accent). 

Leos Carax's Merde, with all its apocalyptic flare, kind of missed the mark for me. Although entertained by Mr. Merde's crazed gait, a Delicatessen-esque entrance into the world, and his slap-stick gibberish, Carax fell short of allowing us to sympathize with this literally misunderstood villain-- leaving me unmoved by his death sentence. But I will admit that I am looking forward to the New York edition.

And finally, what I believe to be the most affecting story told within the triad-- South Korea's Bong Joon-ho with Shaking Tokyo. Ok, so I happen to be a sucker for low dialogue loner romances, which I'm gonna go ahead and blame on my feminine nether-regions, but precision camera movement acts as an ethereal invitation into the world of a hikikomori in this tale of seclusion and rebirth. Moved by the fainted beauty of an innocently risque pizza girl, this man's emergence into the blinding sunlight put an approving smirk upon my jaded New York lips. 

Preface

The avoidance of chronicling the episodic spectacles of my life on the interweb has gone on long enough. I'm at a point of over-saturation and I just can't help but want to share. Coming back to New York has been good to me, just real good stuff...

There will be magical stories to follow, I promise: