"vagabond shoes longing to stray" -frank

first to admit that i am an idiot; mr. hyde is the psychotic one, and dr. jekyll the sane one. don't worry... i am JEKYLL again... and evidently not well-read.

so being mature for my age and being 20.75 years old doesn't count in this city. sinatra fanatics are apparently only allowed to be 21 and up (aka even a classy place like the carnegie club cards at the door). i even ironed my black dress for the occasion (i am usually too lazy to iron). i was really excited to hang out with my co-worker, but hopefully we will get to do dinner sometime soon, somewhere without age discrimination. maybe they would've let me in if i would've proved that Frank liked young people, since he sings, "Young at Heart" and "You Make Me Feel So Young."

i walked upwards of 100 blocks, or FIVE miles yesterday. talking on the phone always passes time and you can walk forever. i walked all the way to the moma from my apartment, and realized that i had paint, a palette, a brush, and no wallet. so i jumped a 1 train back to my apartment, and hoped to make it back to see the fab Calder exhibit before it closes. of course, the train had mechanical difficulties (knock on wood, right?), so i just decided to snub the straphangers and explore my neighborhood instead. I walked through Columbia University campus, and felt like a true scholar amongst people who were probably working on winning the Nobel Prize or something. Went to Grant's Tomb by Riverside Park, and made a true fool of myself. I don't remember the last time I studied the Civil War, probably sophomore year in high school, so I looked like a real idiot asking the tomb guard a bunch of lame questions. He literally asked me, "Didn't you learn any of this in school? Grant ended the Civil War!" But some questions were legit, because mysteriously he is from Ohio, yet buried in New York City, and has his own tomb randomly in Riverside Park. I should have quizzed him on thermography or en and em dashes to make it fair.

best part of the evening was watching the sun set on the Hudson River and New Jersey. I have made several unsuccessful attempts to see the sunrise in Cincinnati; i either drive in the wrong direction, end up in the middle of Kentucky, or fall asleep in waiting. I have moved to sunsets because I can avoid the groggy morning, and i can sort of luck into them.

saw Juno at the big Loews by lincoln center; not as cool as Sinatra, but still loved the movie. i never thought pregnancy could be so humorous. i loved the illustration, and the moldy peaches (the band, not the fruit). sat next to a couple that thought it would be a good idea to go to bed, bath, and beyond before the show. my legs kept getting tangled in their full bed set and container system. and they spilled popcorn on me. at least it wasn't their 1000 oz. blue icee.

i have decided that i like awnings. there was a long period in my life where i found them atrocious. they are growing on me! especially the stubby ones with no purpose. why have i had this revelation? no idea. i mean, why do i like green beans now, or asparagus, both considered "vial weeds" in my childhood? why do i consider one of my favorite colors brown? there are alot of inexplicables of me.

went to moma today. it takes two tries. i saw two little girls, probably 8 or so, sprawled on the floor in front of Edward Ruscha's "OOF" painting, which is pretty much a royal blue canvas with a giant yellow, sans serif "OOF" painted in the center. these girls were drawing with their prismacolors the painting. i found that absolutely amazing. this museum has "starry night," wyeth's "christina's world," warhols "campbells" series... serious paintings of the general knowledge, yet these kids are drawing the OOF. cultured new york parents spawn cultured new york kids. these girls were discussing what the painting meant, if they were choosing the right shade of blue...and EIGHT years old. i was pleasantly aghast.

went to the folk art museum, and tried for some broadway tix, but left emptyhanded. ate brunch in east village, at 7A, and paid ten dollars for some scrambled eggs. i miss the egg lady, the elderly woman down the road from my parents house, where we could get 2 dozen farm fresh eggs for 50 cents. yes, we actually called her "the egg lady."

NO WORK TOMORROW! ciao