Last night I truly reconsidered my decision not to go to culinary school. (Yes, this was something I considered.) Jess and I headed to Williamsburg for a reading/concert at the loft of the sister of one of the girls who helped me post-ice fall. The relationship sounds complicated, but let’s get to the point. THIS LOFT WAS GORGEOUS. We only saw the downstairs, but what we saw was entirely too much to handle. Soaring ceilings (we’re talking 20 footers), a stainless steel custom kitchen, gorgeous wooden floors, a room devoted entirely to yoga… basically, the perfect apartment. And after I was informed she had worked for quite some time as one of Bobby Flay’s chefs – I had one of those [slap leg] “damn!” moments. The event was a lot of fun – inspiring poems and book excerpts, and some great acoustic folk music. Unfortunately, there were no single men in sight. Am I living on Noah’s Arc these days? Jess and I proceeded to bar hop through Brooklyn and then Alphabet City… it was a fun night. So today, I find myself with writer’s block as I try to compose a story on the topic of “New Beginnings.” My storytelling class has decided to continue on and work on more stories together, in hopes of hosting a regular storytelling show somewhere in the city. Such a broad topic, but my initial thought was of my obvious transition in moving to New York. But there’s not really one story in there that would warrant an audience’s attention. Any ideas for me?
I leave you with this. Because you deserve it.