Imagination in Central Park

My previous post reminded me of some pictures of Strawberry Fields that I took about a month ago on a particularly lovely 'hattan day. I'd never seen the Imagine sign before that trip.

Month.

Bob Dylan
and Suze Rotolo
1963

Right now, I'm watching CBS Sunday Morning, a delightfully heartwarming program hosted by the grandfatherly Charles Osgood that I never get to watch because I'm always asleep at this early hour of 10am. They just showed a segment on two ex-rock-stars' girlfriends: Suze Rotolo, Bob Dylan's girlfriend for four years at the very beginning of his break into fame, and May Pang, John Lennon's mistress during his split from Yoko Ono. I was particularly moved by the interview with Suze Rotolo. The pictures of she and Dylan together--smoking cigarettes, holding each other on the sidewalk, lying beside each other in bed--were so darling, and strangely reminiscent of something, something antique and beautiful. She was a gorgeous young woman, as you can see from The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan album cover, and he was a skinny, smooth-faced boy with normal hair. Looking at the way they grin at one another in these fuzzy black and white photographs makes me wonder about my own friends--who I'm closest to, which of them I truly love--and which I'll go down in history with, if any. Many years from now, I hope to God I get to gaze at some shoebox photographs, point at someone as young as I am writing this and say, He changed my life.

Check out the text of the segment here.

Nostagically yours,
Kim

The Costume Institute at the Met

This past weekend, I dropped by the Metropolitan Museum of Art for about two hours, which was a delight and an unexpected luxury. I usually don't have any time anymore to spare for museums or long walks or shows or even movies, even on the weekends. I seem to be always booked solid, which is tragic, especially while living in New York City, where there is always so much to learn and see and experience. But my family was in town, so I kept them company on Saturday at the Met before I had to rush back downtown for my call time for a show.

The Costume Institute at the Met has always been on my list. However, I've never actually gone. This is firstly because I have never found it. Never in my nearly-two-years in New York City have I gone to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and actually located the Costume Institute gallery. On Saturday, I actually found it. The entrance is in a deep cove on the first floor, which leads you downstairs to a sexy, dimly-lit basement area. There, I saw the BlogMode: Addressing Fashion exhibit, which was totally thrilling and gorgeous! I was expecting to see lots of stuffy costumes from theater and film, which would have been interesting too, but lo and behold: THERE WERE ACTUAL CLOTHES HERE. Galliano. Chanel. Vivenne Westwood. Dior. It was a pink satin lacy patterned orgasm; a dream come true. The dresses down there in that basement were absolute masterpieces. Some actually were costumes, others were reconstructed historical pieces, but most were from recent collections designed by names we have all heard of.

Below is my favorite piece, the piece I went back to see today. And it was even more stunning, seeing it the second time around!

This is Vivenne Westwood's "Propaganda" Dress, from her Fall/Winter 2006-2007 collection. How delectable is this dress? It's creamy, yet sturdy and shaped, and its folds are spontaneous yet elegant. The fabric is called "faille," which I just looked up on Google. It creates a big, lush skirt, and yet the lightness of the material is still conserved. Oh, it's just exquisite, isn't it? I just want to slip inside of it and run down some marble stairs, hearing the silky bulkiness behind me swish against the floor.

Wonderful. Check out the entire exhibit online here: http://blog.metmuseum.org/blogmode/

Picture source: Met Blog

The sexiest vs. the grossest

Something I put up on my Creative Writing Blackboard forum.

The sexiest
Legit italian restaurants
Drinking tea
Cigarette breath mixed with cologne
Glasses (maybe not the Clark Kent kind, but they work for some)
Text messages with exclamation points
Old books
Shameless laughing
Movies at home
Movies at the movies
Sunday excursions

The grossest
McDonald's bags
Muddy shoes
Leering
Hair that could pass for pubic hair on random places of the body, like on the back of the neck
Text messages with too many abbreviations
Sleeping in too late too much
Forgetting to ask
Forgetting a birthday
Fear of failure
Indifference

A plug for veganism

Best vegan brownies I have ever had, anywhere. True, they are $3, but they are worth every SINGLE bite.











Think Coffee
Mercer Street between 3rd and 4th Streets
Manhattan

Picture source: NY Daily News

I want a man hat

I just bought man shoes. They are a reddish-brown with laces, a pointed toe and no heel. I bought them for $5 at Savers---and, yes, I always wear socks with them.

Now, I want a man hat to go with them! (And to also go with my favorite Gap Men's sweater vest from this past summer collection. And all other manly things that I own and wear.)

Mind you, I don't want a dinky, girly fedora that would simply perch atop my head and blow away at the first breeze. I want a MAN HAT. A man hat that will cover my hair when it is up.

Frank Sinatra knows what it's all about. Tall hat, wide brim = yes. A thousand times yes! My man hat, where are you?



Frank source: Timeless Stracks

No Air, No Air

I am nothing short of completely digging this new song, "No Air," a duet between American Idol winner Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown. The video is what sold the song to me. To me, the video is emotional and powerful in a perfect, only semi-cheesy way. I dig the confrontation between the two at the end, as well as their imaginary selves begging each other for "air" in the windy, stone-wall sequences.

One qualm: maybe it's just me, but don't the shots of their different locations kind of seem like the same New York City area to you? Come on, kids, just take the subway.

Check out the HQ video here on YouTube. I really recommend it. Great vocals, great concept...great makeup. And great body, Chris Brown! Kudos.

Tiny picture credit: MTV

Trendy for a reason

I'm not even a quarter of the way done, but I'm loving Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love, despite the fact that whenever I read it in public I feel like EVERY, WOMAN, EVERYWHERE. She's funny, honest, and optimistic even in the roughest of times, and I respect her greatly for seizing complete control of her life at the exact moment she let everything and everyone go. Her story and her comeback are so inspiring that I feel almost compelled to take notes of her wise words on Post-Its to scatter around my room. And she is a real woman. This is all real.

Favorite quote so far: "I couldn't stop thinking about what my sister had said to me once, as she was breast-feeding her firstborn: 'Having a baby is like getting a tattoo on your face. You really need to be certain it's what you want before you commit.' "

Picture credit: NPR

Free advertising

Something I wrote for my Creative Writing class's Blackboard this week. I liked how it turned out by the end.

Coupa Café on Ramona Street in downtown Palo Alto only has one wall of electrical outlets.

It also has 3 trillion customers per day.

The countless coffee-sippers and cookie-nibblers who find themselves banished to the tables in the center of the cafe sadly open their laptops, glance at the clock, and start counting down the minutes until their dear computer has trickled down to the final seconds of battery life.

The kings sitting at the tables against the Wall of Electricity sit comfortably, ordering latte after coffee, vegan brownie after oatmeal cookie. To snag a table against the Wall of Life is to remain there in luxury for hours, if not days.

The banished eye the kings with wistfulness, each of the forsaken pleading desperately with the fortunate in silence.

And when one of the lucky sitting alongside the Wall decides that he must return to his car, his children, his family, his job or his television, he slowly reaches for his computer cord, yanks it from the wall, and looks up to see five of the forsaken already at his side, their laptops clutched against their chests, their eyes wide with anticipation at his leaving.

He pushes past them to exit the cafe, and the four or five fight to the death for control of the Wall.

I sit with my book far from the battle. How silly of them, I think. They should do what I do when I want to work here with my laptop: arrive at Coupa Café 2 hours before opening, huddle in the chill and dream ahead of a day of free electrical usage, bathing in the glares of the forsaken who have arrived after me.

Picture credit: Palo Alto Online

Amélie, all the time

I absolutely cannot get enough of the Amélie soundtrack. I saw the film for the first time (yes, the first time) this past weekend and immediately checked the library for the soundtrack, composed by Yann Tiersen. (Library = free, legal music downloading. Fantastic.)

Thankfully, my library had it. If not, I would have flipped...the soundtrack is strangely not on iTunes.

Anyway, if you haven't seen the film, oh God, do it now...if you don't have the soundtrack...do the same.


The music is whimsical and melancholy, and somehow it makes me yearn for my mother, a husband and a bubble bath all at the same time.

Lovin' it.

Picture sources: Fake Jazz, Guardian.co.uk