Saturday, September 21, 2002

Vagina Monologues

I went to see the dirty play with the nasty name this weekend, and it was better than I thought it was going to be.

It wasn't that I was squeamish about the subject matter. But based on the play's premise, I thought it was going to be a bit too girl-power, down with men, rah-rah-sis-boom-vagina to carry me through an hour and a half. After 30 minutes, I figured I would have heard all that I needed.

But it was a fairly engaging, and very funny, production. Admittedly, some of the monologues didn't ring true or seemed a bit gratuitous, but the performances of the three actresses that read them were very good, and there was enough valid and interesting stuff that it didn't seem too silly.

It goes without saying that it's not for everyone. If you think you're going to have a problem with the subject beforehand, you probably aren't going to enjoy it. But if you're so inclined, it could be worth a look. I wouldn't not recommend it.

Robyn

Sunday, September 15, 2002

Do the Doogh

Oh boy is it ever raining here.

I haven't been caught out in a rainstorm such as we had today in a long long time.

As mentioned, it rained a lot in London, but it was rarely a torrential downpour. Except that one time in Kew Gardens, which sucked heartily.

Anyway, Jeffrey visited this weekend, which means that I got to go out to eat. We visited one of our favorites from the days when we lived on 26th and 1st Avenue, Bamiyan. Bamiyan is a very nice Afghan restaurant where you can sit on the floor, if you wish, and enjoy kebabs and pasta and dumplings and oceans of delicious yogurt sauce.

My favorite part of going to Bamiyan is the doogh. Doogh is a delightful concoction on yogurt, salt, mint, and seltzer water. I enjoy it, although I have yet to find a sympathetic doogh taster. It complements tasty seasoned meat very nicely. For honest.

Crissie said it tasted like the dentist's office. I don't know what that means.

She didn't take a very big sip.

Perhaps next time she'll be more open-minded.

Robyn

Saturday, September 14, 2002

A Spot of Pessimism Before Bedtime

I just read a passage stating that the twentieth century went off-track in 1914 with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo. This, of course, is no big news. Anyone with a high school diploma knows the awful repercussions of that act, and the world war that followed it, and the atrocities that were to come. But then the book, which was written in 1994, went on to say that the events of the 1990s were somehow un-doing all of the nastiness of the previous decades: bringing down the Berlin Wall, ending apartheid, dissolving the Soviet Union, etc., so that the coming century would have a fresh new start.

It would be terrible to think that it all got screwed up before the first year of the new century was over, wouldn't it?

Of course, you'd have to agree with the idea that the 90s were a shiny, happy decade that did more good than bad for world history, and I think that remains to be seen. And you'd have to be mighty superstitious to believe that one event can set the tone for a whole century anyway.

Or would you?

It's just an idea. But if September 11 becomes the turning point for this century the same way that World War I was for the last, I quit. I quit, or move to Anarctica to live happily among the penguins.

Sorry.

A little pessimism never hurt anyone, right?

I've been watching too much TV.

Robyn

Thursday, September 12, 2002

Rotating the Pants

Christine thinks I may be a bit anal-retentive.

She thinks I may be somewhat less than spontaneous.

She says this because she caught me in my rotating the pants ritual, wherein I transfer the pants that I did not wear this week to a different hanger, to make room for the freshly clean pants, who must wait their turn.

I just want my pants to have equal wear.

Is that really so wrong?

Time to alphabetize the pantry.

Robyn

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

Sad Day, Not a Bad Day

I confess that I was a bit anxious as to how the anniversary of 9/11 was going to be commemorated. I was afraid it would be a very heavy-handed, depressing day.

Of course it was sad. I knew that the same thing was going through everyone's minds as I walked through SoHo, Greenwich Village, and Union Square. But people were going about their business just the same. And it was a lovely day. A gusty day, but a welcome change from the ickiness of the past week. Lots of people were outside, stopping by the parks on their lunch breaks. During my particular lunch break I went to Union Square, where there were stations at which you could create a drawing or a message and have it put up on a wall. I sat down and made a contribution, and then took my lunch next to a very nice Jack Russell terrier named Spot. I followed up lunch with a visit to Petco, because no matter how sad I get, watching small furry animals will always make me happy.

Tonight Christine and I went to a candlelight vigil in Washington Square Park. Although it was very nice to see the NYU community gather together for something (anything), I have to say that the event didn't go off as planned. For one thing, the wind, which was beyond anyone's control, made the science of candlelighting considerably difficult. For another, the orchestra (which was supposed to be the centerpiece) was barely audible, so no one really knew when to start being reverent and carried on talking and laughing and trying to keep the candles lit. I guess there was something redeeming in that, but it wasn't the solemn occasion I thought it would be. Real reflection occurred on the walk home south on LaGuardia Place, where there was nothing but pitch black where the towers once sparkled.

But all in all, New York didn't seem to be a depressed city today. Last year, it was a place drained of its energy and spirit. Today people were solemn, but not somber. It was a day to honor the people that died, and celebrate the city that went through a crushing blow, but somehow got its rhythm back nonetheless. It will never be the same, but it's still very much alive .

So September 11, 2002 was a reflective day, but reflective in a positive manner. Not a bad day at all, on the whole.

Robyn

Tuesday, September 3, 2002

A Big Honkin' Slice of Americana

Wanna know where I've been lately?

I've been riding halfway across the country in a big green Blazer full of Jeffrey's worldy possessions with a bag of pork rinds and several dozen CDs at my feet, keeping track of the miles and various exotic roadkill that rolled by.

Our trip took us through Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia, Washington, DC; Maryland, Delaware, and my own little corner of Pennsylvania.

It's a very interesting drive, starting out flatter than all get-out and winding through the Smoky Mountains and then through the vehicular nightmare that is the Beltway before ending in the familiar chemical-plant-lined highways of Philadelphia.

I saw my fair share of smooshed armadillos on the side of the road and ate my fair share of greasy fried meat along the way.

Though it should be noted that the smooshed armadillos had nothing whatsoever to do with the greasy fried meat that I consumed.

At least I hope that's the case.

It was a very successful trip, ending in Jeffrey securing a place in lovely Forestville, MD and the obtainment of a fine green sofa and comfy mattresses.

Is obtainment a real word? Does it really matter?

So I'm back in NYC for the time being. Classes start tomorrow, which should result in a welcome return to routine.

Robyn