California Day 1

Sunny San Diego is grey and damp and yet I still feel like I've stumbled through a time warp and onto the set of the OC. I have not seen so much pin-straight blonde hair since...well, ever. I must still be wearing Smith goggles of some sort because I am overwhelmed by this valley of the dolls. I like it. Last night I ate at this somewhat trendy restaurant (cucumber water, tiny menus, roasted marrow) called Whisknfork. I know. I spent half of the meal mesmerized by the couple seated next to us, a highlighted emaciated china doll and her tanned hobbit-like companion who could not stop bragging about his many paramours. The girl looked enraptured, twirling her toes beneath the table to lightly brush his legs, nodding in rapt attention when he launched on another tirade about the craziness of the fairer sex. He, in turn, seemed oblivious to the spell he was casting on this woman. Perhaps that was the point, the game, to keep her chasing. Perhaps that was the plan, the game, to keep her wanting as they picked at their $10 ice cream and exchanged not-quite-clever banter over cocktails. I keep reminding myself: We're not on Northampton anymore. Is this a preview of the culture shock to come?

Coconut Custard Pie

I've been feeling like a failed blogger cos I haven't updated. Why? Because in the persuit of devoting my life to pleasure and solitude, I have relinquished participating in most blog-worthy activities. Like leaving my house. For example today I wrote a letter, unpacked a box, walked to the co-op to buy milk and eggs and pears, baked a coconut custard pie, and started "The Age of Innocence". I couldn't have had a better day, but it must be a bore to read about. 

Oh! So my craigslist addiction is starting to spiral out of control. Craigslist is my trusty procrastination pal, the site I turn to when I have a paper to write, of hundreds of pages to read, or just about anything else that I SHOULD be working on. I browse the personals in a specific order: men seeking men, women seeking men, women seeking women, men seeking women, missed connection (my favorite). I am not on the prowl for some NSA (no strings attached, natch) fling or long term cyber love, rather, I am super fascinated that these people, these freaky, lonely, horny, optimistic, creative people, populate my community. Could my former high school principle be "Looking for a hot torrid love affair"? Might "Plus sized pillow princess" be that woman squeezing radishes at the co-op? Honestly, I look because I want to find someone that I know. Seriously. The Harriet the Spy that lives in my heart peruses these advertisements looking for familiar syntax. A couple of months ago I am sure that I spotted a schoolmate on the Western Mass site, describing herself as a young (insert insipid formerly cool middle aged actress here). About a week ago I spotted a girl I went to high school with in a section that I didn't expect with a subject line that I can't help but post: "CUTE FAT CHICK SEEKS SWEET GIRL TO TAKE ON THE WORLD WITH!"

 It's strange how the invention of the internet has taken previously public courtship rituals underground, but allowed people to reveal their kinks and quirks to potential mates, not to mention the whole world wide web. Recently Nicole Brydson wrote a pretty fluffy piece for the New York Observer about the difficulty of meeting mates in bars. Have we, as a society, evolved to a point of social awkwardness where we need a forum without faces, without names, without labels, to truly connect?  

My pie is ready. 

All-nighters make me sentimental

Right now is a perfect moment. I am living a perfect moment, sitting on my back porch. It's dusky and windy but with spaces of stillness. After a week of rain, Takoma Park is achingly lush and verdant, and I am surrounded by whispering, rippling leaves. Every so often I hear the rush of the trains, or a faint siren, or a car engine sputtering, but I cannot see a single person. If I close my eyes I can pretend that I am alone.

I am eating blueberries with greek yogurt and mint syrup. It's a strangely fragrant and alluring combination, and is equally delicious with blackberries. To make the syrup, pour 1/4 cup boiling water over a mint tea bag and let it steep for a minute, and then stir in a tablespoon of sugar and chill. Then pour the concoction over berries with a dollop of sour greek yogurt. It's divine.

37 days until I leave and I've barely unpacked. Crap. I can't find my copy of "Brief Interviews With Hideous Men" so I will be left hanging, forever on page 103.